pb & m.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 4. Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader 

Word Count: 2,749 words

Warnings: Referenced animal death/gore

“Are you sure he’s okay?”

Klaus sighs loudly, bringing his foot up to his face with practiced ease. “He’s probably just stewing over his training again,” the boy says, flexing his toes gingerly before blowing on his big toe. You purse your lips at his words, screwing the cap of black nail polish shut, and Klaus looks up at you from underneath his eyelashes. “It’s Five, [Y/n]. You should see him when you leave for the weekend. Total shut in.”

“But he hasn’t even come down for lunch or supper.” Setting the nail polish down, you tuck your knees up towards your chest, brow furrowing. “I mean, he doesn’t usually do that, does he?”

“I dunno. Sometimes!” Klaus exclaims, throwing his hands up. “You know, he talks all the time about what a mess I am, but he’s hardly more functional than me.”

You frown at him, eyes narrowing. “You don’t skip meals when I’m gone, do you?”

He waves you off. “Of course not. But that’s not the point. The point is, Five is a broody boy obsessed with his powers, so don’t be surprised if he wants to be alone for a day or a week.”

“He’s not a loner.”

“Well, he tries to be more sociable when you’re here.”

“No.” You pause, resting a cheek on one knee. “I’d still like him even if he wasn’t.”

Klaus just raises his eyebrows, sending another gust of air toward his toes.

The black and red stripes on his nails are settling quite nicely, but the success doesn’t make you as proud as it usually would. You chew your lip and look at the closed door. Normally, during this time in the late evenings, you wouldn’t be surprised if Five blinked through, supposedly to take back something Klaus had snuck from his room or to make sure neither of you “had died” – though you’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that he just wanted to hang out with you and Klaus, since he’d stay a little longer after confirming that you and Klaus were, in fact, still alive. No such visit tonight. In fact, you’ve barely seen him all day.

The thought dampens your mood quite a bit.

The next thing you know, Klaus propels himself to a stand.

“Where are you going?” you ask, blinking as he stretches and gives you a particular look.

“More like where are you going,” he replies, sighing. He grabs a hold of your wrist and starts tugging. “If you’re going to pine after Five all night, you might as well do something about it. Go … pop in and see what he’s up to.”

Break into Five’s room? Even though it’s tempting, you shake your head vigorously, ignoring the pining part. “You said he wanted to be alone. He might get mad at me.”

“He can’t get mad at you. He’d die of guilt.”

Klaus continues to pull on your arm until you’re sure it’ll come off if you stay on the floor. You give him an imploring look as you stand up, though the thought of checking up on Five is sounding more and more necessary by the second.

“Klaus –”

All the boy does is say your name right back as he throws the door open, nudging you outside into the dimly lit hallway. “Go have your quality time and come back when you’re done.”

“Are you sure –”

“He’ll be ecstatic. Especially if I’m not there.” And with that, Klaus shoos you off with a smile, closing the door.

Now alone, you look down the empty hallway, feeling mildly exposed and hoping that Five doesn’t come down the stairs right at this moment. There’s no doubt in your mind that you’re going to go up there, but … it’d make more sense if Klaus checked up on him, wouldn’t it? No matter how well you get along with Five, he and Klaus are brothers. They know each other a lot better than you probably ever will.

You should get him some food.

Inhaling sharply, you turn on your heel and make your way down the stairs, trying to make much less noise than you usually would – though you doubt anybody would care too much about a squeaking step, travelling through the Hargreeves mansion, especially down to the kitchen at night, still makes you wary of making your presence too big sometimes.

The air gets a bit chillier as you descend the last stretch of stairs leading to the basement, going faster as you get closer to the ground. Strangely, the lights in the kitchen are already on; you skip the last step and hurry through the gaping hole in the wall, curious.

Number Seven looks up from the table as you enter the kitchen, her surprised expression mirroring yours.

“Vanya?” you blurt.

She opens her mouth, then closes it, and you look down at the ingredients spread across the table. A jar of peanut butter, a half-finished bag of wonder bread. A bag of marshmallows – the mini ones used for rice krispies. Intrigued, you venture closer. You didn’t know Vanya had a sweet tooth.

(Suddenly, you realize that you don’t know much about her at all.)

“What are you doing down here?” you ask as you approach the table.

She looks at you, still a bit wide-eyed, then looks down at the slice of bread in her hand. “Um,” she starts, then pushes forward, “I was … Five missed dinner and lunch, so I was going to make him something to eat.”

“Really?” You beam, glad that she had the same idea. You could go together. “So was I. Mind if I help?”

For a moment, Vanya hesitates. But then she nods cautiously, smiling a little, and you give a thumbs up and head over to the utensil drawer. Opening it up, you take a moment to try to attract one of the butter knives to your hand, but after it does nothing more than quiver a bit, you sigh and pick it up with a finger.

“Five really likes peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches,” Vanya explains when you walk back to the table. “They’re his favorite.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

You fetch a bread slice from the bag and set it on the cutting board, then, after peeking over at Vanya’s work, scoop up a big glob of peanut butter and slather it onto the bread. She sprinkles some marshmallows on top of hers and squishes another slice on top of the marshmallows. You follow her lead exactly. The minute or two that you spend making the sandwich are all wordless, very unlike when you and Klaus are together, but you find yourself enjoying them either way.

“Maybe we could bring him a drink, too? What do you think?” you ask.

She nods. “There’s apple juice in the fridge.”

—

The presentation isn’t anything fancy, but it gets the job done, and you get the task of carrying the cup of apple juice while Vanya holds onto the sandwiches.

“I hope it’s okay,” Vanya murmurs after she knocks on Five’s door, shifting on her feet.

Even though you’re wondering the same thing, you instinctively nod your head. “Don’t worry,” you whisper back. “We did a good job.”

She looks over at you out of the corner of her eye and manages a small smile in return. Right after that, the door opens.

You immediately feel a bit better upon seeing Five; however, the happiness gives way to concern when you see his expression.

Five looks at the two of you, then at the plate in Vanya’s hands and the cup in yours, before speaking.

“Now’s not a good time.”

His tone isn’t cruel or dismissive. But it is a little dry, and very heavy and tired, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from telling him so.

Vanya’s face falls.

You’re unable to stay quiet any longer when both siblings’ gazes move away from the other. “Five,” you say, reaching out to touch Five’s shoulder gently. “Vanya’s been really worried about you. And me, too. We, um, wanted to bring you something to eat.”

The boy glances at Vanya again, who seems to have shrunk a little but still nods, and to your relief, his lips purse. He finally backs away from the door to let the two of you through.

“I’m not hungry,” he says, heading back to his desk. “… But thanks.”

Trailing after Vanya, you inspect Five’s room as you walk in. The walls are already crammed with chalky equations and notes and graphs, none of which you can begin to understand. When you look over at the corner where Five is, you spot the wastebasket next to his desk, filled to the brim with crumpled notebook paper.  Klaus was partly right, you think with worry. You’re not completely surprised.

You make your way over to Five and put the cup of apple juice on his desk, right next to the plate of peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches. “You need to eat to think better,” you plead when he looks at you. “Right, Vanya?”

“I put lots of marshmallows,” she adds. “And I showed [Y/n] how to make one for you too.”

“I might’ve put too much peanut butter,” you mutter, scratching the back of your neck.

“That’s fine.”

You crack your brightest grin. “Famous last words, Five.”

He shrugs and turns back to his work. The two of you wait expectantly, albeit somewhat awkwardly, watching Five stare at his math and the textbook propped up against the wall in front of him. The end of his pen taps against the open pages of his notebook: tap tap tap tap tap. But he doesn’t write. You don’t think he even blinks. Troubled, you share a glance with Vanya; this time, it’s she who nods at you, reassuring.

Finally, Five sighs and puts his pen down. You don’t know if you’re glad or feel bad for it. Maybe both.

“Do you want us to leave?” Vanya ventures to ask.

He shakes his head, raking his fingers through his hair. “Stay,” he mutters, standing up. He picks up the cup of apple juice and takes a gulp, then grabs the plate and strides across the room to his bed. “Just in case my jaw is glued shut from [Y/n]’s sandwich.”

Vanya suppresses a snort. Your mouth drops open.

“Hey!”

Still, the joke – a Five joke, but a joke nonetheless – brings a cautious but real smile to your face as Five sits on the edge of his bed, taking a bite out of one of the sandwiches. You don’t know which one is yours and which one is Vanya’s. Not that it matters, unless his jaw really does get glued shut because of the peanut butter. You’ll shoulder the blame in that case.

(… Could your jaw get glued shut from peanut butter?)

You gravitate toward the bed as Five eats, sitting down next to him; Vanya lingers by the desk a little longer, and you wave her over.

“Come sit, Vanya.”

She looks between the two of you, then obliges, going over to sit on the other side of Five. She rests her hands on top of the comforter, leaning back on them as Five finishes the first sandwich and starts on the next one.

“We barely saw you after joint training,” you say after a minute or so of watching him polish off one half of the sandwich. Not hungry, he said. His actions definitely say otherwise. “Have you been working all day?”

He gives a brief, affirming grunt.

Taking that as a sign to go on, you swing your legs slightly back and forth. “I missed seeing you,” you say.

You think you see Vanya’s expression shift in your peripheral, but she turns her head before you can make sure. You also think Five stops chewing for a split second, but there shouldn’t be a reason for him to be surprised, so you’re probably just imagining things.

Five is your friend. Of course you’d miss seeing him if he disappeared all day.

In any case, he finally speaks again once there’s just a single piece of crust left; and when he does, his voice is so low that you wonder if he’s talking to himself.

“I had a drawback today.”

Vanya furrows her brow. “What do you mean?”

Five stares down at the last scrap of crust, picking at a loose crumb. It falls onto the plate. “I could blink with mice on my first try. So Dad wanted me to blink with a dog today.” His voice remains low. “And I …”

For the first time today – and perhaps even this month – you witness Five’s expression crumple just the slightest bit. An uneasy feeling squirms in your chest.

“I botched it.”

“It’s … it’s okay, Five,” you try to comfort, “I’m sure you tried your –”

He shakes his head, cutting you off with a glare. “No,” he snaps, “you don’t get it. I botched it. I blinked with the dog and it turned inside out.”

Vanya’s eyes widen.

Your stomach turns.

So that’s why. Biting your lip, you stare at Five, horrified, trying desperately not to imagine what that had looked like. What that had felt like. Inside out. Sir Hargreeves doesn’t care for animals, you know that, but you didn’t think – you don’t know why you didn’t –

“I’m sorry, Five,” Vanya whispers as you hug Five, her voice shaky. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugs blandly, and you tighten your hold, feeling how tense he actually is. “Intentions don’t mean anything if you screw it up in the end.”

He finishes the crust, moving away from your hug to put the plate on his nightstand. Vanya wipes her eyes. When he comes back, you reach for his hand and squeeze it.

“Thanks for telling us, Five,” you tell him softly.

If Five looked tired before, now he seems utterly drained. But the tension seems to have ebbed. Just a little. And after a few seconds, he squeezes your hand back; well, not really a squeeze, but his fingers tighten, just barely, around yours. He meets your eyes and you smile a small smile.

Vanya gives her brother a brief hug, then stands up. “We should go,” she tells you reluctantly, glancing at the alarm clock. “Dad’s going to check our rooms soon.”

Dammit, you hate curfew. “Yeah, you’re right.” You pull away, not quite liking how cold your hand feels when you let go. Quickly weighing your options, you wrap your arms around Five one last time and give him a quick peck on the cheek before standing up as well. “See you tomorrow, Five. Try to get some sleep?”

He just shrugs, looking at the equations on his wall. Oh. Hopefully, you think as you grab Vanya’s hand and open the door, you didn’t make him too uncomfortable. The door creaks loudly and you cringe.

With one last “goodbye” from the two of you, which he returns in a murmur, you and Vanya hurry out of Five’s room and head quietly down the stairs.

“I hope he feels better,” you whisper, letting go of Vanya’s hand to hold onto the railing.

“I think he does. A little bit, at least.”

You reach the bottom, hesitating before saying what’s on your mind. “Um, Vanya?”

“Mhmm?”

“You know Five really well, right?”

The girl blinks, then smiles a little proudly. “… Oh, well, I guess so.”

“Does Five not like hugs?” you worry. “I just – I kinda do it without thinking, you know, and I think I might’ve made him uncomfortable back there.”

Vanya stares at you openly for a moment, tilting her head. “Not usually,” she eventually responds. Then a corner of her mouth twitches upwards. “But … I think he likes yours.”

“Oh.” That makes you feel better. “That’s good.”

“You should ask him later, though.”

“Yeah, I will.”

Footsteps lighter, you head to your room across from the stairs and twist the doorknob, then stop short. That’s right – Klaus wanted you to come back after you visited Five. Gnawing the inside of your cheek, you figure that you’ll need to talk to him tomorrow morning, not wanting extra repetitions for loitering in the hallway. He’ll understand.

Pushing the door open, you look back at Vanya. “’Night, Vanya.”

She smiles, and you feel the warm glow of a newfound camaraderie with the seventh sibling.

“’Night.”

Hi Den! I just saw your depressive reader request and I really appreciated it, of course and your other contents, they were amazing. I wasn't really feeling myself lately and seeing the characters comfort the reader, believe me it really helps me, especially I'm going through a big test right now. I was wondering if I can request a Vlad King version, or any other characters you have in mind? I really wanted to be in his big arms, if no then it's ok too💗please stay hydrated at these times and be safe, I'm looking foward to your great work💗

 Hi! I'm really glad you liked them! I have another ask looking to get Mic and Yagi so I’ll add them here too, i hope your test goes well! 

Sekijiro Kan / Vlad King Hindsight is always much clearer. You wished you'd started the assignment when you got it rather than continually putting it off, but no, so everything had piled. You somehow managed to churn it all out the night before but it left you thoroughly exhausted. So much so that you end up flaking on your plans with Sekijiro, he doesn’t seem too perturbed on the phone though, he knew you had a lot of work right now, he’s been guilty of the same thing on occasion.  Though that was a week ago. Nothing particularly devastating had happened, nothing out of the ordinary, and yet you just felt so exhausted. Everything was a chore to you. Which made staying in bed with the lights out for days on end incredibly easy. But it made doing laundry, changing your sheets, doing the dishes, and even just finishing a glass of water basically impossible. All you had the energy to do was get up, go to your job, and come straight home and get back into bed. If your coworkers noticed your rapidly declining state no one said anything.  It was rare for Sekijiro to go more than a few hours without at least a text from you. You sent him literally whatever crossed your mind, pictures, random ideas or thoughts, questions about what you should eat for lunch or dinner, should you get mocha in your coffee or vanilla? You also usually called him when you were doing some sort of mindless task, cooking or cleaning and other things of the like. Not to mention how often you saw each other, practically everyday you usually stopped in on him while he was paroling, or asked him to come to your place when he was done. Now he was going full days without hearing from you at all. Since you’d given him a raincheck on your plans earlier last week he’d hardly heard from you. He texted you first of course, he’d asked how you were feeling numerous times now, but you always just said ‘I’m alright’ or ‘a bit exhausted’ at the worst before turning the conversation around to him again.  “You look nervous.” Aizawa doesn’t look up when he speaks, but it was an elephant in the room. Sekijiro was sure everyone had noticed how often he was checking his phone, or the nervous jitter in his leg every time it went off. “Yeah big guy what’s got you so rattled?” Mic agrees from his spot beside Aizawa in the teachers lounge.  “Nothing really.” Vlad cracks his knuckles, a nervous habit. “I bet you told Ryo. You shouldn’t play favorites it’s-”  “I didn’t tell him and I don’t play favorites.” He cuts Nemuri off.  “Is it romance troubles?”  “Why do you always take it there, Midnight?”  “So it is.” She looks proud, “I don’t always take it there, I just have a keen eye.”  Sekijiro lets out an empty huff of a laugh, “sure.”  “Maybe we can help.” If anyone but Aizawa said that Sekijiro would have written it off. It’s not that Aizawa wasn’t a nice guy, he was a hero after all, but for the most part he liked to keep to himself. Him offering help must have meant that Sekijiro was jumpier than he’d previously thought. “I have this...friend..and they’ve just been sort of MIA lately is all.  I don’t wanna barge in on them but they’re just not acting like themselves. I’m worried I did something to offend them, or that they’re hurt or sick and not telling me, when I ask they just write it off. I don’t want to seem like I don’t trust them but something just feels wrong.” Now that he said it out loud this did sound like the type of thing Ryo would have been really useful for, though that in mind Ryo knew you better than the others, the chance of him just barging in on you was much higher. The trio ponders this new information before Mic seems to have a lightbulb. “Why don’t you go there with a gift? That way it’s less like barging in and more like surprising!” Mic jumps, holding up an inquisitive finger, “or bring some take out or something like that!”  “That’s..not a bad idea..” Sekijiro murmurs to himself, it wasn’t out of character for him to surprise you at random times either...  “Great. Why don’t you head out now?” Aizawa offers and Sekijiro turns to him.  “No I mean, I would but I agreed to stay back for my class so they could use the-”  “We’ll be here for a while.” He’s curt but his kindness isn’t lost on the taller hero.  “Thank you Eraser. I really appreciate this, I’ll repay you.”  “Don’t mention it. If this’ll get you to stop shaking like a wet dog all the time.” He mutters to himself turning the paper before him over, “let us know if we can do anything else.”  You were starving. Yet you didn’t have a single morsel of food in your whole apartment, not even a jar of peanut butter. The hunger pains in your stomach weren’t enough to motivate you to venture out into the world, the terrible gloomy weather wasn’t helping either. You rolled onto your chest with a groan, wondering how much longer you could go on like this. Maybe after work tomorrow you could stop some place and pick up some groceries, for now though sleep was a great distraction.  Despite having a key Sekijiro still knocked, though after receiving no reply he elected to let himself in.  It seems like you’re in, your shoes are by the door, and your key is on the hook above them, but the coffee table is covered in plates, utensils and half empty cups of water or juice, your favorite blanket was strewn haphazardly over the couch, dangling onto the floor, you normally folded it neatly and draped it over the back. Your work papers and other things were cluttering the arm chair on the far end of the room and there were various wrappers around the floor and couch.  “Hello?” Sekijrio calls out for you but gets no reply. He clears a spot on your coffee table for the take out he brought and sets the other bag of various odds and ends on the couch before setting to straightening up. If you were asleep, which is what he figured, then you probably had a cold or something. He doesn’t wanna clean everything, incase you..liked it like this? He’s not sure himself but maybe you were trying something out. He empties the glasses into the sink and cleans them and the utensils off before discovering you had literally no food in your whole apartment. This was becoming concerning.  “Hey..” He knocks on the slightly ajar door of your bedroom, there’s no light coming from inside.  “I’m gonna come in alright?” He nudges the door open with his shoulder and the light from the hallway illuminates you, asleep. You didn’t look sick, though somehow you still looked worse for wear.  He shuffles over to you, “hey you?” He crouches down but keeps his voice low, “wake up.” He doesn’t want to startle you or anything. His efforts are fruitless. He straightens up and looks around a bit, pondering his next move.  He elects to climb into bed with you, he isn’t sure why he does this, but it feels like the right move. He carefully maneuvers your limp and sleepy form to rest against him. You start to mumble sleepily, still deadweight stacked against him, “Sek?” You’re wrapping an arm around his ribcage.  “Hey’re you up?” He looks down to you, only to find you are in fact not up. So he stays like that for a while, holding you by the back of your head to his chest, his other hand running long strokes over your spine, he could reheat the take out for you when you woke up.  When you do wake up you’re fully prepared for the terrible pang of hunger to be the first thing that you feel. But instead you just feel warm, you didn’t remember bringing a heavier blanket in here with you, but the warm weight on your back was comforting and...moving? Why was your blanket rubbing your back? The next thing to hit you was the scent, warm and piney to mask a slight metallic twinge, it was Sekijiro’s.  “Hey you’re awake.” His hand halts, “sorry to barge in like this.”  “it’s...okay.” You wipe your eyes and sit up, his hand slides off your back and wraps around to hold your waist.  “You feeling alright?”  The hunger hits you then.  “Honestly? No..” You’re straddling his leg, hands resting on his stomach.  “Yeah, I had a feeling. What’s up? It didn’t feel like you had a fever.”  “I’ve just been exhausted lately, Everything’s a chore. It’s all piling up and I have no motivation, and then I isolate myself and that doesn’t help.” You scrub your face. It clicks for Sekijiro then.  “Oh.” He sits up, “oh.” He holds either of your arms in his hands, “why didn’t you say something sooner? I would have come to help.”  “I didn’t wanna be a burden or seem childish, normally I can be pretty high functioning when I get like this. I’m still going to work and all so I figured I’d just pull out of this slump and then..apologize to you for being so aloof. I just-” Your stomach growls.  “And another thing! You don’t even have a crumb of food in here!” Sekijiro scolds you, “seriously I was worried sick when I got in. And you’re starving! You could have asked me to bring you something!”  “I didn’t wanna bother you, especially when I was being so cold I-”  “Okay. Don’t work yourself up.” Sekijiro uses the hand not being held by you to pull your bedhair back from your face, “well I brought food anyways. We can heat it up. So why don’t we talk after you eat?” “I’d... rather talk now..” You murmur, holding one of his hands in both of yours, “I’m really sorry Sekijiro. I shouldn’t have acted like that. I should have called you and explained and-”  “That’s a lot easier said than done babe.” Sekijiro stops you, “I won’t say I wasn’t worried, I was. Aizawa even said something to me.” He laughs a little, “but...this isn’t always something you can help. I didn’t wanna seem like I didn’t trust you by just barging in so I let it go on too long. I’m sorry for not coming sooner even though I was worried.”  “It’s not your responsibility to-”  “Shush. Anyways, now I know this kind of thing can happen from time to time, are you okay with me coming to check on you if I’m worried?”   “Of course I am..” You lean forward and drop your head onto his shoulder,  “I’m sorry too, for shutting you out and being cold..I didn’t make you think I was mad at you did I?”  He laughs, “It had..briefly crossed my mind.”  “I’m sorry Sek..” You wrap your arms around his back, you feel it shake with quiet laughter.  “It’s alright. Everything is fine now. You must be starving though, do you feel better? Enough to eat at least? Let’s go out to the couch, a change of scenery may do you good?”  You agree blindly, affectionately leaning into him as he rubs your back, truthfully you weren’t even sure what you agreed to until you were rounding the corner to the living room.  “Oh no it’s-” Not half as bad as you thought?  “I just picked up some stuff while you were asleep.” He waves, “I left your work stuff and the blanket, I know you can be particular about them. Get comfy and I’ll go heat this up.”  You sit on another bag by accident, curious you peek inside to find a niche collection of aspirin, a heating pad, and some socks among other things. You can feel your eyes getting wet.  “Hey why don’t you pick a movie too?” He’s coming back with two plates, “I can even give you a pass this time I won’t mind if you fall asleep because I-”  “Did you get all this for me?” You scrub at your eyes and he rushes over, quickly setting the plates down.  “W-well yeah I though you were sick!” He pulls you forward again, into his chest, he wraps his arms around you, “what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”  “It’s just really nice of you-” You sniffle, carding your hand through the back of his hair, “thank you for coming Sek.”  “Well..yeah of course I came babe. I’ll always...geeze, don’t cry..I didn’t wanna make you cry. Come on buck up.” His hands are sort of aggressively rubbing your back, but it’s actually kind of comforting..  “You could never bother me with something like this. I wanna help.”  “I’m sorry.” You pull away and wipe your face after he squeezes you one last time, “sorry I’m..I don’t know why I’m so emotional right now-” You sniffle and look up at him, “I'm such a baby aren’t I?”  “No..I don't think so.” He reaches out and nudges a tear with his knuckle, “I think it’s sweet. Babies are cute anyways.” His palms cup your face and his thumbs rub comforting strokes over your puffy cheeks, “let’s eat, okay? Put on a movie and you can fall asleep again if you want, I’ll even carry you to bed after. Tomorrow we’ll both go to work and then come back here and start getting you back on track alright? You’d help if it were me so don’t worry about troubling me. It’s really not any trouble at all. I feel better knowing you’re taken care of so really you’re doing me a favor.” 

Hizashi Yamada/Present Mic The pair of you were quite literally inseparable. You called each other during every commute, texted and chatted throughout the entire day. So when he started lamenting to Aizawa that you’d pulled away a bit Aizawa told him to buck up, you probably just needed time to recharge. He’d been friends with the voice hero for over a decade now and even he needed to take time to himself on occasion, and he didn’t see Hizashi half as often as you did sometimes. He always reassures Hizashi that loudness can be exhausting but that doesn’t mean he’s disliked, sometimes people just can’t match his energy. That was probably the case now. While that put him slightly at ease he was still a bit disgruntled. You’d never had an issue talking to him about this sort of thing before, you were always the first person to ask him to quiet down, or to lower his energy level, and usually you were the one of the few who could do it in a way that was somehow sweet rather than hurtful. The fact that you were plain ignoring him now sort of...actually hurt his feelings. You answered his texts, though usually with much less gusto than before, and you always cut your talks on the phone short with some random excuse, ‘i think someone is at the door’ or, ‘sorry someone else is calling me’ or ‘my phones about to die’ and so on. When he asked to see you you deflected, you had a migraine, you were backed up at work, you wouldn’t be home till later, you had to get up early the next day, any excuse under the sun to take a raincheck on him. He spent about 2 days brooding over it, genuinely hurt by your actions and wholly unsure of your intentions.  To be honest, his high energy, loudness, and general excitability was exactly what you needed right now. You never had trouble asking him for help with things before; Help me open this jar? Could you pick up dinner on your way back? Do you mind moving my couch please, I’m trying to redecorate.. Will you straighten my hair I always miss pieces in the back. So you didn’t know why you couldn’t ask him to just be here. You didn’t need anything else, just his company would have been nice. You’d had an awful week, there was so much to do and you could feel your interest waining as the seconds ticked by, it was normal for you to get dragged down this time of year. Your coworkers and teammates were understanding of it, everyone had their ticks and this was yours, they were happy to help pick up what overwhelmed you and you were grateful for that but at the same time guilt gnawed at you, you felt useless and burdensome, the last thing you wanted to do was ask yet another person for yet another favor. Begging for help when you should be able to do it yourself. You didn’t want to suck the energy out of Hizashi, you already felt guilty enough for leaning so heavily on your colleagues. In hindsight your reasoning would make no sense, but all you wanted to do now was isolate yourself. It was as if your growth wouldn’t mean anything if you didn’t achieve it all on your own. You’re never really sure how you reach these conclusions but in the end they always feel logical.  That being said, it didn’t feel like you were achieving much of anything right now. All of these tears were over nothing, it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be fixed but still. You’d written it all in pen, and now the error..it’s not that you couldn’t white it out, you surely could, but the white out would look sloppy now and it would be clear you made an error but you were so close to being done you didn’t want to start the whole page over. It felt like a silly thing to cry over, but you did anyways. Eventually it tired you out enough to get you to just resign to bed. Hardly past 10 pm, but bed. You needed bed. You were so wrapped up in work that you didn’t even notice him texting and calling, you hadn’t even spoken to him once today, and then when you decided to call it a night you just left your phone at your work space.  He was antsy, jumpy and even a bit irritable. Worry didn’t really begin to describe it. Eventually, late into dinner Nemuri tells him to just go to you. “Check up on them, if they really are exhausted they’ll tell you that to your face, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”  Everyone seemed to echo her sentiments, which was largely unsurprising considering his change in demeanor was probably the least refreshing thing to befall the group of teachers the semester. Dorming wasn’t entirely unpleasant, they liked each other enough, but when things like this happened everyone’s patience was tested.  He calls when he’s outside your complex, he’s mostly sure you won’t answer but he at least wanted to try before knocking, and then eventually deciding to just use his key. Not answering wasn’t going to be enough to get rid of him, he decided he was going to get to the bottom of this tonight. Even if the issues was simply that you just needed the time to recharge from him you could say that instead of just dropping off the face of the Earth, it wasn’t like you to be such a terrible communicator. Which is why he had trouble believing that as the truth, but even if it was there needed to be some sort of conversation about how this was not effective for either party because now he was mad at you and even if you had recharged sufficiently he wouldn't’ want to see you until he cooled down.  Hizashi isn’t surprised when you neglect to answer the door. He is surprised by the terrible state of your apartment though. Papers and pencils are scattered around the living room, the kitchen is practically turned upside down despite the only food on the stove being a pot of plain rice that looks hardly touched. The further he ventured into the apartment the less he worried about you being tired of him and the more he worried that something awful had happened, and he’d neglected to notice you when you were in harms way.  Your bathroom wasn’t much better than your kitchen, once neat medicine cabinet shelves were disheveled, cabinet doors were left open things were far from their usual place, not to mention the pile of laundry in the corner. He hand’t announced himself yet, normally it was the first thing he did, loud and boisterous and probably incredibly annoying to anyone but you, “I’m here, where are you?? come say hello!!” But something unsettling was constricting in him, his chest, his stomach, his throat it made his shoulders tense. Had something terrible happened to you while he was trying to give you space? Had he ignored an obvious cry for help? Was he too late? Would his neglect cause him to lose someone else? The last place to look was your bedroom, but the light was off, and it was hardly past 10, he brain wrote off any possibility of you being there, you were a historic night owl why would you be in bed at 10?  He wasn’t relieved by the lump under your covers, in-fact he’d go as far as to say his panic only rose, bubbling up to the point he could feel it behind his eyes, like some awful pounding headache, the kind you get after driving home from a loud concert and having to look at all the city lights at night, though this was much less euphoric.  “Hey?!” He can’t help tearing the covers back, flicking the lamp on, he hates to startle you, but right now startling you would be one of the best case scenarios.  You jump, it presses you back into your pillows, into your mattress, the sheets crumple beneath you, it’s just instinct, you don’t know what else to do, you throw a pillow at him.  “Get out!”  “Hey it’s just me!”  You were flinching, bracing for some sort of retaliation, though when nothing comes you open your eyes.  “Hizashi?”  “Babe, thank god,” he exhales like he hadn’t taken a breath in 10 minutes, not before pulling you up into a rib crushing hug.  “What are you doing here?” Your hands hover over his back, confused.  “What am I doing here??” He scoffs holding the back of your head, huddling you into the crook of his neck. “Looking for you! That’s what I’m doing here!” You feel a twinge of guilt at that, especially since he’s holding you so tightly, “are you alright?”  “I’m fine..Zash..I’m okay.” One of your hands fall limp into his lap.  “I was so worried.” He pulls you back, “seriously I was going insane, I thought something happened to you, you got abducted or hurt or worse I thought-” He stops himself, “please don’t ever disappear like that again.” He presses his forehead into yours, “you don’t need tot ell me where you’re going, I’m not trying to keep tabs on you, just please at least tell me you’re safe. Promise me you would tell me if you weren’t, that you’d be honest with me if you were in trouble or scared-”  “Of course I’d...Zash is something wrong?”  “I should be asking you that! Where have you been?” He’s pulling away again, squeezing your arms, “did you just get sick of me? Is this your way of-”  “No!” You jump, “no, Hizashi I’d never do that to you-”  “So then why? Why isolate yourself like this? Why would you do this? Did you just need a break from me? Was I being too loud, too much to-” “Zashi please stop you’ll make me cry-” You shake your head, “this didn’t have anything to do with you. Please stop thinking that, I’m sorry I made you feel that way I-”  “You’ve already been crying!” He’s inspecting your face, “why didn’t you call me, how long have you been upset for? Is that...” You can see the gears turning until the dots are connected.  “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner I-”  “It’s not your fault don’t be sorry! I should be sorry I- and you-” You hiccup.  “Me? What about me?” He Looks down at you, “this is about you babe I’m fine-”  “No! You thought I was upset with you! Or tired of you! Or worse that I didn’t want to be with you and that’s not true! I worried you for no good reason and I’m sorry!”  “Oh babe...no..” He shakes his head before pulling you into another hug, “no..no way it’s not like that-”  “But it is! Isn’t it? You even asked me if you were too much lately! You aren’t you never are Zashi, there’s no such thing as you being to loud or annoying or..anything. I just want you to be yourself, I’m okay when you’re like that, getting to see you like that I.... I don’t want you to change anything, please don’t change anything-”  “Babe that’s sweet.” He squeezes you, you feel his lips on your temple, "but I’m worried about you. What happened to make you so emotional?”  “I just got overwhelmed. I hate this time of year.” You fist his shirt in your hands, “work was too much. Everyone is nice, they understand, but somehow I feel even worse taking help from them. It feels like if I can’t pull myself up on my own it makes me weak, it doesn’t count if I don’t do it by myself. Which is why I didn’t call you. Or text you, or try to see you at all. I was already leaning on so many people I didn’t want to take from you too. I didn’t wanna suck up your extra time, you energy I...you’re my boyfriend not my caretaker I just-”  “Stop me if I’m butting in unfairly.” He rests his chin on your head, “and I mean this respectfully. But that’s stupid.”  “Asshole! I just poured my heart out to you don’t call it stupid!” You shove him.  “Hey let me finish!” He catches your hands before you can get up, “it’s stupid because I lean on you all the time.” He pulls you forward again, “are my accomplishments null because you help me out all the time?”  “Zash When do I ever-”  “Don’t even finish that sentence. And don’t answer a question with a question.” He scoffs, “you help me out all the time. Even if it’s not always big emotional stuff...babe this past week’s been hell without you around. Even things that feel small, like making a bed, or doing laundry or running a bath for someone make a huge difference, they mean a lot to me and knowing I’ll get to see you has always helped my mood. I lean on you for stuff like that constantly. But I don’t feel guilty because I know you like doing it. So don’t feel guilty when it’s the other way around, I wanna give too, I want you to lean on me, to take from me. Seriously, nothing would make me happier than knowing I helped you.”  “I’m sorry I pushed you-”  “Don’t cry over that!” He laughs, “god you’re sweet. It’s okay. I was being mean. I shouldn't have said it like that. Anyways you never answered my question.”  “What question?” You look up at him.  “Are all my accomplishments null? Because I lean on you? because I need you?”  “...well it’s not-”  “It’s a yes or no question. It is the same. It’s okay to need help, more than just opening a jar. It’s okay to need support, that’s normal. No one is meant to do it all on their own. So yes or no?”  “...no you’re right. No.” You turn into his chest and he plaits his fingers through  the crown of your hair.  “And you’ll always be there for me right? Because you love me, don’t you?”  “Of course I’ll always be here for you. And don’t ask a question like that you know I love you.” You mutter, ducking closer towards him and wrapping your arms around his ribs, “i’m sorry I didn’t call. You really didn’t think I got sick of you right?”  “No.” He swings his legs onto the mattress and lays back with you, “Shota and the others said you probably just needed a break but it didn’t really sit right with me, you’re the only person who never seems to need a break from me. ‘s why I showed up. To be honest I wasn’t really that worried about your wellbeing, I just figured you were swamped with work and didn’t want me worrying, but then when I saw..you know the mess..I panicked. I thought something happened to you, and you hadn’t answered my calls all day, or even yesterday.”  “I’m so sorry-” You warble, “god I’m so selfish I shouldn’t have-”  “It’s okay. You were overwhelmed. But if this happens again just..try to let me know you’re safe okay? If you aren’t ready to ask for help...and on the topic of help, how can I help now that I’m here?”  “I just wanna go to bed.” You murmur, latching onto his arm.  “Hm..nonsense. How about I run you a bath? And hey what were you crying about before?”  You flush, this was embarrassing.  “I messed up the page I was writing. But I did it in pen so I didn’t know what do to and I didn’t wanna start over because I was almost done but white out will look messy and so I got upset and then I got overwhelmed and then I started crying and then I went to bed.” You press your forehead into his arm petulantly, “and if you laugh at me I’ll make you leave.”  “I’m not gonna laugh.” He promises, “I’ll run you that bath, while you’re in there I’ll rewrite the page for you so you can stop worrying about it. But you should use pencil from now on.” He squeezes the nape of your neck, “sound like a square deal?” You silence says otherwise.  “What’s wrong?” He looks down to you.  “I want you to take the bath with me.” You mutter it, it hardly registers, “please.”  “Huh? Did you just say what I think you just said?” He looks delighted, despite his tone being almost devilish, “why would you want me to do a thing like that?”  “because..I missed you...and I still feel bad and I know you like taking baths with me and..” You look down at your hands where they’re interlocked, “and...I want you to wash my hair. I can figure out that page tomorrow or something.”  He sighs, “I can’t be mean to you when you’re being so sweet.” You get pulled along as he sits up, “of course I’ll come, and I’ll wash your hair for you.” He cups your cheek, “what else do you want? You can have anything just ask.”  “After that I...I think I just want to go to bed, and deal with the other stuff tomorrow. I want you to stay though.”  “I’m gonna have a heart attack.”  “Hey! Don’t say things like that! It’s bad luck!”  “Don’t be so sweet then!” He argues, pulling you to stand.  “Of course I’ll stay. I’ll stay tomorrow, and help then too, if you want. You don’t have to decide right now I know asking for help can be hard. In the meantime let’s just take that bath okay?” 

Yagi Toshinori/ All Might Retirement had left Yagi with some rather pleasant spare time. He’d never gotten to have many hobbies before but now he was enjoying freedoms life as All Might had never permitted. Chief among them being a continuous close proximity to you. Even though you didn’t technically live together it didn’t really feel as though either of you had a designated space either. It felt right for Yagi to be in your space, using your things, like he belonged there. It felt equally right for you to be in his space, existing and using his things as you pleased. You didn’t need permission and neither did he, it just felt right to exist around each other. Especially now that he had the extra time to spend with you and you both realized how easy and comfortable being together was. Though right now nothing felt easy or comfortable or right, your entire existence felt like a pair of jeans that was way too tight. Just taking a breath that was too deep felt uncomfortable.  Your closeness to Yagi made the shift in your mood apparent to him from the very beginning.  It was silly in hindsight. The proposal had a 50/50 chance anyways and it’s not like you had anything directly to do with it’s failure, it was just the last straw, the tiny thing that made all the other things seem huge, and as quickly as you’d realized that your mood had already plummeted. You’d run out of motivation, any drive to do anything but sleep and drag yourself to work had dissipated, at work you did what you needed to to get by and afterwards you went back to your place, even though Yagi’s was closer. Just being with someone else privately seemed like it would be overwhelming. Despite the fact that Yagi was the least overwhelming person on the planet, if anything you’d say he had the opposite effect, he was amazing at pulling your attention away from the little overwhelming details. However you couldn’t shake the gnawing nervousness that popped up at the thought of seeing him or anyone really. So when you crossed paths it was short, you poked into the school with lunch, into his place with dinner, you never stuck around to eat though. A conference call pulled you away, an important meeting you couldn’t be late for, you were catsitting and it needed your attention, you promised to call a relative and they’re just soo chatty, a late assignment needed tending to, all overused excuses that you normally practiced on everyone but Yagi, usually to get the pair of you out of an unwanted dinner or social event. You tried to avoid letting him into your apartment, you knew it was getting cluttered, you avoided the dishes and your laundry like the plague, putting another plate in the sink atop the pile only fanned your anxiety but the thought of actually cleaning it up makes you sicker than the sight of it. You tried to keep the front living room neat, luckily the overflowing sink was out of sight around a small corner, and the laundry cluttered a small closet out of sight as well. The only things out of place at first glance were the shoes, the coat rack and the copious amount of cups, cans and bottles littered around the apartment, some empty, some full, others in between.  Of course he noticed these things, to a passerby it wasn’t extreme, but Yagi sensed the shift in you like it was a shift in himself. Though you insisted it was fine, you were just exhausted, it was the busy season after all, come February things would plateau. You promised him. So he resigned, he trusted you after all if you said it was okay that must mean you were dealing with it on your own.  To be fair you were trying to. You honestly were. You just didn’t know how to ask for help in a way that didn’t make your stomach want to grow legs and run away from you. You said you were okay though, even if he didn’t totally buy it he’d wait patiently for you to tell him the problem, to seek him out. He knows how overwhelming it is for people to pry when you aren’t ready to divulge information. He doesn’t want to contribute to anymore bad feelings. However he could tell you were hiding something, still he plays dumb for your sake. He doesn’t try to poke further into your apartment, to your bedroom, or kitchen, places he’d normally allow himself without double checking with you, he doesn’t prod at you when you seem unusually emotional, when your excuse doesn’t hold up. He know’s you’ll come to him when you’re ready, at least that's the hope.  When you were like this a mediocre day is a terrible one, and a genuinely bad day is world ending. Today had been genuinely bad. You woke up early to prepare for a meeting, you put extra time into getting ready, you even stopped for a coffee at your favorite spot, all things you hadn’t had the energy to do even just a day ago, you really felt like today may be when things start looking up. But then the first coffee the barista made you was burnt, the machine was acting up, you assured her it was fine, it wasn’t her fault after all, you woke up early so you had time to wait for another one. Even that wasn’t really sullying your mood, it was nice to chat with the young girl while she remade your drink, there were no expectations of you, she didn’t care about pile of energy drink cans in your apartment, or the mountain of dishes in your sink, she didn’t even know the existed and she’d probably never consider that they did as a possibility. She was friendly and she always looked happy to see you. But then your bus was early and you missed it waiting for your coffee. You could see it receding down the street. It’s okay though, you woke up early. You had time. Then it was raining. Then the next bus arrived but skipped your stop so you had to walk. And suddenly all the time you put into your hair meant nothing.  Nothing terrible happened in the meeting, it was as lifeless and uneventful as ever, you weren’t sure what you were hoping for. And somehow your bus skips you stop again on the way home. Why hadn’t it stopped raining?  You’re about to climb into bed, drenched clothes and all when you hear someone knocking on your door. It was Yagi, you could recognize it anywhere.  “Hey Yagi I’m really-” You want to send him away, you do, you don’t want him seeing you so upset you felt like a child, but he just looked so concerned.  “I just got back.” You change your phrase last minute, “wanna come in?”  He sits on your couch, you appreciate how he doesn’t try to peek into the kitchen. You know you haven’t been subtle.  “I’ll wait here. You can go change into something warm. Please.” Yagi takes your hands, “and we can order dinner.” He wants to offer to make you tea, but something stops him from it. “You’re shaking. You must be freezing. I’m cold just looking at you. Go on, I’ll sit on the couch.” So you do what he says, sort of grateful for the demand since you would have fallen asleep like this, freezing and miserable and wet, and woken up sick the next morning.  “Much better! Good you even got a towel! Comfy?” He’s grinning at you as you round the corner, now in dryer, warmer apparel.  “Sit in front of me, I’ll dry your hair for you a little, it’s still dripping.” You nod as you follow his directions, any excuse to not have to look at his concerned face, getting out of his earnest blue gaze was top priority.  “The rain was totally out of left field huh? It even lasted all day.” His hands are big and warm, even through the towel how gentle his touch was is obvious.  “Yeah..” You draw your knees up to your chest, “I couldn’t seem to avoid it.”  “Well at least we can warm you up now.” You can tell his grinning again, trying to brighten up your mood. You felt like an ugly gloomy cloud, and he was a big bright cartoonish sun.  “Go ahead, you can lean your head on my leg, close your eyes. I can see your head drooping.”  You do that too. You sit there for a quiet 5 or so minutes, it does wonders to quell the nervousness in your stomach. You feel him pull the towel away and card big familiar hands through your only slightly damp hair. His palms are soft and comfortable against you, it feels right.  “You’re exhausted.” He observes, combing your hair off your forehead and pulling your head back a bit, closer to him.  “Mhm.” You don't open your eyes to give your minimal reply, instead thoughtlessly coiling an arm around his leg.  “Why don’t you come sit up here with me? It’ll be more comfortable. Your hair’s much dryer now.”  “You don’t have to baby me.” You stand up then, “I’m alright.”  “Ok I won’t baby you.” Yagi’s smile is soft and he casts it upwards to where you stand before him, “how about some tea? Are you up for making it? I’m still a little cold from the rain. Then after that you can some back and sit with me. Not because I want to baby you, but because I want to sit with you okay?” “okay..” You relent, “I can do that.”  “Perfect. I’ll wait here.”  You don’t know why you bit at him like that. You watch the kettle warm up as the guilt gnaws at you. It’s not like you were mean. All you did was tell him not to baby you. That wasn’t mean. You didn’t bite at him. But you kind of did. He was just trying to help. You aren’t mad at him so why are you mad? You open the cabinet. Of course there’s not a single mug to be found. You venture to the sink in search of two.  You’ve found the last one by the time the kettle starts to whistle which startles you enough to get you to drop the stupid glassware. The ceramic shattering on the floor is sort of akin to a dam breaking. Tears are stinging your eyes.  Things were looking up, Yagi was here, he was gonna take care of you, you were gonna feel better and now this stupid mug. You crouch down to pick it up.  “Are you alright? I heard a crash?” Yagi’s there, of course he is.  “Hey be careful, you’ll cut yourself.” He’s turning heat below the kettle off, "sweetheart here l-" and then rushing toward you. "I've got it." You were collecting the bigger shards in your hand. "Let me. I’ll get a broom, before you cut yourself. Please let me." He insists and you snap, ever so slightly, "Yagi. I said I have it."  “Hey, okay, it’s okay," he takes a step back, "do you wanna be alone for a minute?" He offers and you sigh, "Tosh I just-" then you slice your palm open, "oh fuck everything," you hiss and drop the bits you were holding and Yagi kneels beside you, "hey." "I'm sorry." You could feel yourself starting to cry, the stinging tears pouring out, "i'm sorry I got so short with you." "Hey it's fine, I understand." Yagi murmurs, a large hand rubbing your back, "it's alright, leave this for now so we can clean your hand up." He takes your wrist in his hand, but you don’t say anything. “Do you hear me?" "Yes." You nod, and take in a deep breath, "yes I hear you...yeah let me just get the-" "It's okay, the shards aren’t going anywhere." You just sort of stare at the muddled mess of ceramic and now a bit of blood mixed up on the floor. "Hey." Yagi takes your face in his hands, "look at me." "I'm looking at you." Your lips barely move. "No, look at me, not through me. Ignore the mug, look at me." He presses and so you do, you focus on him, his face, his eyes, his nose, his hands on your cheeks, the warmth that radiated from him. "Let's clean you up." You nod, "yeah. Sorry." "Don't be sor-" Yagi stops himself, "it's alright, not a big deal. No permanent damage. Go sit on the couch, I’ll get the first aid kit.” “My bathroom’s really-”  “It’s alright.” He promises, “it’s okay. I’m here to help you. That doesn’t bother me. None of this,” he gestures around, “bothers me. I’m here for you, whatever you need that to mean. Go sit down okay?” He wipes a stream of tears away. It’s quickly replaced but it’s a nice gesture.  You do manage to get the loudest tears out before Yagi comes in. "Alright let's see the damage." He opens the first aid kit on the arm of the couch beside him, "does it hurt?" "No-" Your voice gives your current state away. "Sweetheart.." Yagi kisses your temple, "come on.." "I'm sorry-" "I don't mean like that." "I know-" You wipe your eyes, "I know..I’m sorry I just-" He shushes you and extends a hand, you hold out your palm to him, you had pressed an old face cloth to it which did help ebb the bleeding a bit. "It's not that bad." You murmur as he wipes the blood away, "just a lotta blood.." “That’s how it always is.” He murmurs as he presses the wet cloth to the cut and pulls your hands up to his lips, kissing the damp fabric over the wound. You tilt your head at the sight of it, "I love you Tosh..I’m sorry." "It’s okay sweetheart, it’s alright. I love you too." He murmurs back, squeezing the cloth for a little longer before pulling it away. He goes through the routine you'd so regularly followed on him, before, when he was All Might all the time, cuts and bumps and head injuries that you always tended to for him, you cleaned up all his wounds before wrapping some bandage around it and kissing it, he mimics the routine on you "good?" "Good." You nod back voice soft and wet with tears. "I'm no expert but..did pick up a few things from one." He grins and you snort a little which makes him coo, "hey there's that smile 've been missing." He kisses the high of your cheek, "how do you feel?" "A little better..." You nod, "sorry you had to see that..." "I know that you feel like you have to apologize for everything but trust me okay? Stuff like this? I'll always rather help with. It's never a chore, but even if it were that’s okay. I want to be there for you." He kisses your forehead, "I wanna make you happy." "Then.. thank you I guess.." You look up at him and he wraps you in a hug. You spend a comfortable few moments there until he pulls away. "Don’t mention it...now," He stands and takes you with him, "let's go clean up the mug? Together. Then we’ll sort out the other stuff tomorrow, together too.” 

Nut Up, Novak (au / 1.7k words)

Prompt 13 from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ for @caslikescoffeeandfreckles

ao3 link

Castiel hummed to himself. He felt like a bumbly bee, happily buzzing around the kitchen. He was packing up a lunch to have on a picnic date with Dean. 

The thing between them was still a little new. They’d only been on a handful of dates since they’d met at the library where Castiel worked. 

Castiel had been stacking and rearranging the shelves when this man had come sauntering up to him loudly asking about a book he needed. 

After telling him, politely, to lower his voice because the green-eyed man was getting glares from the college students trying to cram for finals, Castiel took him to the correct area that he needed in order to find the book he was looking for.

“Thanks, man, you’re a life-saver.” He said. “My nerd-ass brother needs it for his final but he’s deep in study mode.”

“You’re most welcome.” Castiel assured, with his customer service smile tacked onto his face. 

The man hesitated for a moment, raking his eyes up Castiel’s body, taking in the slacks and sweater vest Castiel was wearing. “How do you remember where all the books are in this place?”

Castiel shrugged, trying not to feel self conscious at the stranger’s examining gaze. “I’ve read a few from each section, which helps a little, I suppose. I also happen to enjoy my job.” 

“Wow,” he said, “you must be super smart.” He grinned a lop-sided smile. 

Castiel blushed. “Well, I don’t know about that. But thank you.”

The lop-sided smile on the man’s face turned into a cheeky grin. “So,” he said, leaning his shoulder against the bookshelf he’d just picked up a book from, “how about we get together one day soon and you tell me some of the stuff that’s in your big brain?”

Castiel’s face couldn’t get any more red. Was this, frankly beautiful, man asking him out? It couldn’t be. They’d barely known each other for even a few minutes but Castiel could tell this man wasn’t the kind of guy that was normally into him. 

Castiel’s tie and sweater vest certainly weren’t the typical match for the ripped jeans and henley that this wonderful man was wearing. 

“What d’ya say?” The man asked when Castiel still hadn’t given an answer. He seemed a little cocky to Castiel but, instead of being put off by it, Castiel just thought it was a little goofy and endearing. 

“I think I’d like that.” Castiel smiled. 

“Good.” The man pushed himself off the shelf he’d been leaning against, and pulled his wallet out of his jeans pocket. He produced a card and passed it over to Castiel. 

‘Dean Winchester. 

Singer Salvage & Autos

TEL: 07593123344’

Dean. It was suddenly the best name Castiel had heard (or seen, he supposed). 

“Text me.”

*  *  * 

Since then, Castiel discovered that Dean was much more than the cocky ‘bad boy’ vibe he’d tried to give off. 

For example, Dean cared a lot about his brother, Sam. He talked for most of their first date about Sam being the most hard working kid, and how he’d got into Stanford on a full ride. 

After about an hour, Dean had stopped for a second and cringed. “I’ve been talking about my dork of a little brother for our entire date, haven’t I?”

Castiel had chuckled and nodded but was quick to assure Dean that it was nice to hear about someone Dean cared so deeply for. He only hoped that one day Dean could care that much for him too. 

Now, Castiel was preparing for their third date. He’d planned a picnic to have on the grassy expanse overlooking the river on the edge of town. 

He was hoping that today would be the day that he’d finally work up the nerve to ask Dean to officially be his boyfriend. 

Putting the finishing touches to the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Castiel licked the remaining peanut butter off the knife. If he wasn’t saving room for when he ate with Dean later, he’d finish off the jar. 

Peanut butter was a gift from the Gods as far as Castiel was concerned. 

Noticing the time on the clock, Castiel rushed to pack the remaining parts of the picnic into the basket and leave out the door. 

*  *  *

Later, at the river, Castiel arrived first and set everything up in anticipation for Dean’s arrival. 

Looking at the spread of food laid out on the blanket, Castiel couldn’t help but feel proud of what he’d put together. He just hoped Dean would like it. 

The nerves began to set in and spotting Dean across the way, walking towards him, only made it worse. 

Dean looked good today. His dark blue jeans and khaki henley hugged him in all the right places. And it sent Castiel’s heart racing. How was he meant to pluck up the courage to ask Dean to be his boyfriend now? 

“Hey, Cas.” Dean waved, as he approached. 

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel replied, patting the spot on the blanket next to him, inviting Dean to sit down with him. 

“Oh man,” Dean said, taking in all the elements of the picnic in front of him, “did you do all this?”

“Yea,” Castiel couldn’t help but blush, “I thought it would be nice for our third date. I hope that’s okay?” 

Dean nodded with an excited smile on his face. “Yeah, dude, this looks awesome!”

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean grinned from ear to ear. 

Gosh, Castiel thought, Dean truly was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. 

He couldn’t wait any longer. 

“Dean?” Castiel asked, making eye contact with the other man. 

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Um, I was wondering, considering we’ve been on a few dates now, and I really enjoy spending time with you, and you’re very kind and caring and-”

“Cas, you’re rambling. What do you want to ask me?” Dean teased, a knowing grin on his face. If Castiel wasn’t so nervous he’d tell Dean off for winding him up. 

“Sorry. I just wanted to ask if you’d be my boyfriend? Officially?” Castiel immediately closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see Dean’s reaction. 

A hand came to rest on Castiel’s cheek. 

“Castiel, look at me.” Dean whispered. 

Castiel fluttered his eyes open to find Dean’s green ones intimately close. 

“I would love to be your boyfriend.”

A huge smile spread across Castiel’s face. He was so happy. He’d never expected it to lead to this when he’d helped a slightly cocky guy look for a book but he would never change a thing. 

“Can I ask you a question now?” Dean smiled. 

“Of course, Dean. Anything.” 

“Can we eat some of your food now?” Dean gave Cas a cheeky grin. 

Castiel chuckled and nodded, moving to take the food out of the packaging he’d wrapped it in. Dean’s eyes lit up when Castiel took a pie out of the basket. Already, Castiel knew that he’d do anything to keep that look of happiness on Dean’s face. 

Dean’s happy smile stayed on his face as he reached over to pick up a sandwich from the pile Castiel had carefully constructed. 

But the smile quickly turned sour when he brought the sandwich to his mouth. Castiel frowned when Dean sniffed at it instead of taking a bite. 

Just as Castiel was about to get really offended, Dean spoke up. 

“Uh, Cas?” He asked. “What’s in these sandwiches?”

“Just peanut butter and jelly. They’re my favourite. I ate some earlier though so it’s okay, there's nothing wrong with them.” Castiel explained. 

“No, no Cas. It’s not that, it’s just,” Dean awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck, placing the sandwich delicately back on the pile, “I have a nut allergy. That sandwich could literally kill me.” 

The blood drained from Castiel’s face. Dean had only just agreed to be his boyfriend and now Cas was trying to kill him! God, Dean would probably never want to see him again, let alone date him after this. 

“Oh my god, Dean! I’m so sorry! I had no idea. I didn’t even think. Oh god. I could have killed you.” Castiel frantically apologised, breaths coming fast and deep. 

“Woah, dude.” Dean raised his hands in a calming gesture. “It’s okay. It’s an honest mistake. You couldn’t have known.” 

Castiel could hear Dean’s words but his body wasn’t watching up. Deep breaths kept being drawn into his body. 

“Cas,” Dean gathered Castiel’s hands in his, “focus on your breathing and listen to me. It’s okay. I hadn’t told you yet. I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re okay.”

Castiel finally snapped back, his eyes focused on Dean’s. They then moved down to look at his hands enclosed by Dean’s.

Dean noticed Castiel calm and leant down to place a soft kiss on their joined hands. “Are you back with me?”

Castiel nodded. He didn’t trust his voice to speak. 

“It’s not something I usually tell people right away,” Dean explained, softly. “I dunno, I guess I feel embarrassed by it. It’s kinda nerdy. I tend to just avoid things where I don’t know that the food situation will be, y’know?” 

Hearing Dean speak badly of himself made Castiel find his voice. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You can’t help it.” 

Dean shrugged. “I just feel bad. You went to all this effort for me and I can’t eat it.” 

Castiel shook his head. “It’s okay, Dean. We still have the pie. I got an apple one because I remember you mentioning that it’s your favourite?”

Dean blushed. “You remembered that?” Castiel nodded. 

The two men looked softly at each other for a moment. Dean looked into Castiel’s eyes like he was searching for something. After a couple of moments, he must have found what he was looking for because he opened his mouth to speak. 

“Cas, how long ago did you have some of that peanut butter?” Dean whispered, moving his hand to cup Castiel’s cheek. 

Castiel frowned. “A few hours ago. Why?”

“I just wanted to check it was safe for me to do this.”

And with that Dean leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Castiel’s lips. Once Castiel got with the program, he opened his mouth to allow Dean to deepen the kiss. 

*  *  * 

Eventually, when Dean and Castiel moved in together, Castiel had to give up his favourite food. 

But he’d found that the taste of peanut butter wasn’t his favourite anymore. Instead, it was the taste of Dean every time they kissed. 

Now that was the true gift from the Gods. 

-

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it Lexi!

Fun fact: I have a severe peanut allergy so I really enjoyed writing this one lmao. And much like in the fic, everyone else is always more concerned about me dying from it than I am haha

If you liked what you saw, REBLOG! and consider reserving a prompt from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ challenge, or just send me your own prompt you’d like me to fill!

-

TAGS: @eccentriccas @starrynightdeancas @credentiast @imbiowaresbitch @starclaire @cockleslovesdestiel @bend-me-shape-me @destielfactory @dea-stiel @wendeano @wingsandimpalas @aggressivedean @flowersforcas @chill-legilimens @pancakesofthelord @saltnhalo @caslikescoffeeandfreckles @assbuttboyfriends @jhoomwrites @breathingdestiel @simplymisha @thekingslover @aelysianmuse

(once again tagging my faves, let me you if you’d like to be removed from future fics - or added if you’re not already there! we don’t have to be mutuals)

Survey #421

“hunted by hundreds and never to be caught  /  descent to wander, bring terror and take 'em all beyond”

Which do you prefer, donut holes, jelly filled donuts or normal donuts? Normal donuts. When you get old, are you going to make a will? I mean probably. Ever made your own definition for something on Urban Dictionary? No. What do you call your grandparents? "Grammy" and "Grampa." Do you like weddings? Not especially because I'm a bitter fuck. Do you want to live in a dorm in college? I never wanted to, so I never did. Have you ever had your tonsils taken out? No. Are you single/taken/crushing/confused? Single/confused. Is your best friend single? Yes. Is your first real best friend still there for you? I mean we have one another on Facebook, but that's the extent of it. Do you still care for your first love? Very much. I hope he's doing okay since his mother passed. What color is your blanket? Navy with black swirls. Are you listening to music right now? Yes. I am obseeeeeessed with Alissa White-Gluz's cover of Powerwolf's "Demons Are a Girl's Best Friend." Have you ever felt as if you lost your one true love? I feel like that all the time. But I should add that I don't believe there is JUST ONE person designed for you. There are way, way too many people on this earth to have just a single, perfect match. Which do you like better: Bowser, Mario, Luigi, or Princess Peach? Well I mean I always picked Luigi in Mario Kart, so I got a bias, ha ha. How many tattoos do you have? Six. Plenty, PLENTY more to come, though. Would you ever consider getting a mohawk? No. What do you like to do most in your free time? Do random shit on the computer. What’s your work title? Unemployed. Do you pay rent? I don't. What was the reason behind the last time you wore a bandage? I cut my finger opening up a cup of yogurt. Yes, I'm serious. What music artist have you listened to a lot lately? Powerwolf, lately. And Motionless In White. Who is taller, you or your best friend? Me. When was the first time you ever listened to your favorite music artist? Well, as a little kid, Mom would play some Ozzy in the car occasionally, and I actually loved "Perry Mason" so much that I would ask for her to play it. Growing up I'd obviously heard "Crazy Train" through random things, but I never truly listened to him until I got into middle school and went through my mother's CD case, discovering new music as I got into rock and metal. Do/did your siblings cause trouble? Nah, not really. If your siblings are old enough, what do they do for work? I honestly don't remember my half-siblings' positions, but my immediate younger sister is a children's social worker, and my older sis is a mammographer. Have you ever been jealous of your siblings? Jealous, no. Envious, extremely. They know what the hell they're doing with their lives and making shit happen. Do you still live with your parent/s or do you live alone/with a partner? I live with my mother. What feeling do you have the most difficulty in expressing? Jealousy. How do you think you would handle yourself in a crisis situation? Freeze up and probably die lol. Does any particular season make you happier than others? Why/why not? Yes, autumn. It's not hot as fuck, the air always feels so fresh to me, and I love the many colors of fall. It's just... chill. Can you adapt to change easily? Any examples? FUCK. NO. Do you see yourself as worthy of love? Why/why not? This answer can change from "yes, because I'm a good human" to "fuck no because I'm worthless" in 0.5 seconds. Do you think you are competitive? Do you really dislike losing? Not in general, but I can be in some areas. What would you be famous for? Fuck if I know. If you had to, would you rather dye your hair red or black? Red. I loved my hair when it actually took red dye well. What do you typically do on Easter Day? Go to my older sister's house. Have you ever viewed the moon through a telescope? No. Do you normally finish one book before starting another? Always. If you were given the chance to be immortal, would you take it? Heeeeeell no. Would you pierce your nipples for $100? Almost certainly yes; I mean that's $100 for something I can just take out if I don't like it. Have you ever dated someone who had a child? No. Would you ever consider adoption? Even if I wanted a child, no. I know I would need either the blood connection or for the child to be my partner's that I truly love. Do you tend to go for guys/girls with certain eye/hair colors? No, I really don't care how you look on the outside. Do you know anyone who plays guitar? Yes. Do you live within an hour of the ocean? More like two hours. What are you currently sitting/laying on? My bed. Have you ever dated a friend of one of your siblings? No. Did you have an imaginary friend as a child? An imaginary wolf, yeah. Which parent do you look most like? My mom, I think. Ever failed a test? Yes. That's all I did in algebra during my last college attempt. Do you have any friends who are famous? No. Your most recent ex breaks down and tells you they love you, what do you do? Well I know she loves me as a friend, but idk if she still does romantically, but either way, I'd tell her I love her too and ask if I can do anything for her. You and your last ex: who should hate who? Neither of us. We have a perfectly fine relationship. Do you believe you pick who you fall in love with? Definitely not. Last thing you ate? I had a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast. Are you obsessed with someone? *discreetly eyes Markiplier* If you had to write a brief message on a dollar bill that many people would eventually see as the currency circulates, what message would you write? I'd have to think longer on this, but definitely something about not putting so much worth into the money and not allowing greed to rule the individual. What serves as the greatest motivation for you in your daily life? The hope for a happy, prosperous future. If you were a multimillionaire, what do you believe you would be doing at this very moment? Well, it's morning and this is my prime time to really just chill and do my first scope of the Internet, so I'd probably be in a beautiful house in the woods of the mountains by a beautiful waterfall. I'd have the windows down to listen to nature, make sure via AC if necessary that it's cool... Damn, that sounds nice. If you could have a cookie jar full of anything you wanted, except money or cookies, what would it be full of? Hm. Perhaps a very motivational quote that I'd draw each day, kind of like fortune cookies, but actually good and applicable, ha ha. If someone were looking for you in a bookstore, in what section would they be most likely to find you? YA or fiction. If your ex came up to you and asked you to take them back, what would you say? Anyone but Jason or Sara would be an automatic "no." Jason would have to really prove himself. Sara, I'd be willing, but would ask her if that's what she really wants given our positions right now. Do you think Ke$ha is annoying? I don't know anything about her personally. I actually liked her music back in the day, even when I was all about metal. Last time you were hit on? No idea. Do you ever write in pencil any more? I always do if I have that option. I don't like that you can't erase with a pen. If you HAD to get a piercing (not ears) what would you get? At this current time, my right nostril again. What do you wish you had more knowledge about? Politics. Would you ever get someone's name tattooed on you? Noooo. Do you have a lot of scars? Yes. I scar very easily. Have you ever had stitches? Twice. Have you ever dealt with a divorce or parents fighting or any kind of abuse at home? Before my parents divorced, there was a lot of fighting. Do you remember the person you first kissed? Of course I do. Have you ever kissed someone you weren’t dating? No. Who was the last person you fell asleep with? Sara. Have you ever listened to music you hated just to fit in? "Hated," no. I just tried to get into bands that I just couldn't, but didn't hate. Ever been called babe? Yeah. What is your favorite Pop-Tart flavor? Chocolate sundae. Have you ever made your parents cry? Yeah, sadly. Do you wear glasses? Yeah. And yet I'm still blind with 'em. Have you ever made out with somebody on a bed? Yeah. Are you tan? Most definitely not. How did you meet the last person you texted? She kinda like, gave birth to me. Next big event? My nephew's fifth birthday. Ugh, how is he getting that old. Do you think you have to be skinny in order to be beautiful? Fuck off, no. There are some gorgeous/attractive plus-sized people. Have you ever made out on a couch? Yes. Has the last person you kissed ever seen you cry? Oh god, she witnessed me sob once. Would you ever get gauged ears? I want very small gauges in my bottom earlobe piercings. What is your favorite sushi? Ew. Have you ever been in a school talent show? What for? Noooo sir. What were you like at 17? Oh god... so sad and yet so happily, madly in love at the same time. I both love and hate that era. Tell us about your worst date. Haven't really had a bad one. I had one with Tyler that was an adventure that most would consider awful (flat tire, had to walk in the whipping wind), but I had fun, ha ha. What should be illegal that isn’t already? I dunno. What’s the song you most wish you had written? Probably John Lennon's "Imagine." What is the worst break up you have experienced? Y'ALL KNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW. Do your parents wish you were more successful? Oh, I am CERTAIN they do. They'd never admit it, I'm sure, but I know I'm disappointing. I had so much promise in school. Has a significant other called you unattractive before? WOW, no. Has a significant other ever called you by the wrong name? omg no Have you ever caught someone doing something bad? Cheating on their bf, yes. Has a dentist ever screwed up on anything when working on you? No, I don't think so. What is the worst birthday you have ever had? My 16th. I felt very, very unloved. I don't even like going into it. Have you ever been spit on by a llama? No. Have you ever locked yourself out of your car/house? The house, yes. With my elderly dog with arthritis, in the middle of winter after a good snow. I was freezing, sitting on the front porch and eventually crying. My phone was inside so I couldn't reach my mom, who was at work. As night came, I finally broke and went down the street knocking on my neighbors' doors, and probably the worst fucking one opened. With a gun in his hand. He was apparently an ex-sheriff, and he clearly didn't trust me. He was kind enough to let Teddy, who was incontinent and marked territory, inside (thank fuck he didn't pee in the guy's house), and he gave me a jacket, but Christ, we played 20 goddamn questions to see if I was legit, I'm assuming. I was beyond thankful when Mom finally got there when I used his phone to call her. And as it turned out? The door wasn't even fucking locked, our old dog just jammed the hell outta it by jumping. I was so, so pissed.

1034

survey by tater-tots What is a fruit that you might eat in the morning? Hahahaha. That’s a pass for me; I can’t imagine regularly eating fruit at any set time of the day.

Do you enjoy any food combinations that others might consider to be weird? I like to eat fish with mayonnaise, which was always normal in our household but I realized was weird when I first saw the horrified expressions on my friends’ faces when they saw me use the combination. I like mayonnaise with a lot of other foods as well, which a lot of people generally find weird.

What is a green vegetable that you enjoy eating? Broccoli and asparagus.

Name something you might find in a salad. In my salad, you’ll always find tuna sashimi in it heh.

What is your favorite type of sandwich? Anything that’s like an Eggs Benedict or Monte Cristo. 

Which condiment do you use the most often? Mayo, for sure. Banana ketchup too. I also like sriracha sauce but my dad hasn’t been buying a new bottle of it for a while. 

Name a chocolate bar that you enjoy eating. It’s called Whittaker’s - just not sure what country it hails from; maybe Australia? - and I like their peanut butter variant. Google also told me it’s a New Zealander brand.

What is a meat that you do not eat - ever. Dog or cat.

Are you lactose intolerant, or have any other sort of food allergies? I’m mildly lactose intolerant but I ignore it because a lot of my favorite foods use dairy. Other than that, no food allergies.

What was the last food that you burnt your mouth on? Just plain rice, haha. I had been extremely hungry and I just wanted to dig in; but I ended up spitting it back out.

Which brand of soup do you eat? I don’t regularly have soup, much less buy canned brands of it. 

What are some flavors of ice cream that your enjoy? Cookies and cream, mint chocolate, coffee, chocolate chip cookie dough, queso real.

What is the best type of cookie, in your opinion? I like keeping things classic when it comes to cookies, and I’ve always been perfectly happy with chocolate chip cookies :)

Would you rather have popcorn, pretzels, or chips as your salty snack? Chips. I dislike the other two as I only like the softer, doughy version of pretzels.

Have you thought about going on a diet & actually went through with it? No.

--

survey by pinkchocolate

When you woke up today, was there anything on your mind? Kinda. I felt sad and I was aware of it instantly, compared to most days where the sadness will take a while to build.

Who was the last person you interacted with for the first time? Literally speaking, maybe the barista at Starbucks who took my temperature at the entrance before I was let in the store. I interacted with her yesterday.

What colour was the wrapper of the last snack you ate? White. It’s more of a tiny bag than a wrapper, though.

Do you have a favourite mug to drink from? What does it look like? Yeah, I’ve since claimed my mom’s mug for myself. It’s a copper mug with the Starbucks label on it. It looks super minimalist which I appreciate.

What was the last thing you used, that came in a spray can? It was a Lysol spray.

What colour is your favourite bra? Don’t really have one.

Who was the last person you went to for advice about something? I think it was Andi. I’ve been going to them a lot for help, advice, extra sanity, etc. lately. If it hasn’t been for them I probably would’ve left a few months back.

Have you had a deep conversation with anyone lately? Yes. I finally met up with Gab yesterday to discuss a lot things, iron some stuff out, figure out where to go from here.

What was the last compliment you recall receiving from someone? I’m not sure, I haven’t been receiving any.

And the last compliment you gave to someone else? It was most likely a compliment for Andi on how helpful they’ve been to me.

What kind of bread did you eat most recently? Flatbread.

What was the last sound you heard, that you found pleasant? We were watching a mass livestream earlier and I was delighted when they played the closing song.

How many books do you think there are in your house? Take a rough guess. I would guess around 60, the overwhelming bulk of them mine.

Of all the books you own, which do you think has the most pages in it? It would definitely either be Gone with the Wind or Les Miserables, but I’m not sure which one is thicker.

^ And how many pages is that? I checked both of my copies and they’re soooo close – GWTW has 1,440 pages while Les Mis has 1,463.

What was the last film you saw at the cinema? What did you think of it? Knives Out. I went to the mall yesterday and the cinemas were still closed, so it’s not like I’d be able to watch new movies at theatres anyway. Anyway, I’ve been vocal about the movie enough times on my surveys but I didn’t enjoy it. Whodunnits were never my cup of tea, but Gab had wanted to see it and I didn’t want to make her watch the film alone.

In the last book you read, what was the main character's name? Haven’t been reading.

What was the last song you heard, that meant something to you? Lose by Niki.

How many people do you know whose name begins with Z? I can only recall one such person at the moment; it’s one of my mom’s aunts who also doubled as a principal sponsor for my mom and dad’s wedding.

What do you expect to be doing at this time tomorrow? Maybe doing my embroidery (my package finally arrived!!) or surveys or watching Start-Up, because tomorrow will be a holiday :)

--

survey by luckforlemmy

Did you start listening to more Michael Jackson after his death? I can remember that there was definitely a brief period after his death that I caught up with his discography and listened to MJ nearly everyday; I read up on him and his life as well. 11 year old me figured he must’ve been an interesting figure because of the big reception around his death, so I wanted to know the reasons behind it.

When was the last time that you played hide and seek? I can vividly remember the day when Nina and I played hide and seek when the house was newly-built and still devoid of furniture, back in maybe ‘07 or ‘08. I’m fairly certain that was the last time I played hide and seek.

Who was your first celebrity crush, if you can remember? It was a tie between Ashley Tisdale and Zac Efron, though the older I get the more I’ve been convinced that I ‘crushed’ on Zac only because I was surrounded by girls who went crazy over him in school. I’m pretty sure my first real celebrity crush was Ashley, hahaha.

Do you worry about money? Yeah, especially now. I can’t even enjoy my first paycheck because most of it’s gonna go to Christmas presents, but oh well; at least I can finally buy gifts for my loved ones who’ve always gotten me presents.

Have you ever had to beg for a second chance? Kind of, when I was trying to convince Gab to let our relationship have another shot four years ago. Beg is a strong word for what I actually did, though. It was more of me pitching the idea, not begging.

When was the last time that you sent an actual letter through the mail? I don’t think I even ever did that, not even when I was younger and snail mail was still kind of a thing.

Are you excited to return to school? There’s nothing to return to anymore. Unless I decided to take up a post-grad course in the future, I’m done with school.

Do you hate Internet abbreviations? It can just feel a bit jarring when they’re used excessively in a single sentence, but I honestly don’t mind it for the most part. It’s understandable especially now that most, if not all, of my interactions whether personal or for work happen online.

What was the last insult you gave out? I was never really the roasting type of person, not even towards my friends.

What'd you last look up on YouTube? Hahaha I looked up ‘skynwallz.’ I was looking for the episode of Rhett and Link’s vlogs where they painted the rooms of their offices in the color of their entire person – hair, eyes, and skin. They were joking about starting a new business for it called Skynwallz, so that’s what I looked up.

Are you texting someone really awesome right now? No, I prefer to be alone today.

Do you know when to be serious and when you shouldn't be? Er sure, it’s not that hard.

Do you think that you're funny? I like my sense of humor, yeah, but I know it’s not always going to translate to everybody’s tastes. For example, I’m still figuring out the dynamic in the team I was put in at work, so I can’t make the same jokes that I would normally say with my co-interns with whom I have a more comfortable relationship.

Have you ever sent a secret to Post Secret? I don’t know what this is, so no.

What movie do you really want to see in theatres right now? They aren’t showing anything at the moment. A movie I want to see badly, though, is Ammonite.

Have either of your parents shown affection for you today? My mom made breakfast for us, if it counts. She also gives each of her kids a kiss during the peace-giving portion at mass, so there’s that as well.

What's the last thing that you sang out loud? I watched Start Up before this survey and was humming to the song that was being played at the end of the episode. I couldn’t sing along to it because it was in Korean, but I knew the melody so I hummed.

Is there a word that you always misspell? Rhythm is one of my worst enemies for sure. I also have a love-hate relationship with accommodate.

What was the last thing that you bought that someone else benefited from? I met up with Gabie yesterday and bought her her favorite meal from Yabu to break the ice – menchi katsu with brown rice. I originally got mozzarella sticks for myself but when we got to talking, she mentioned her sisters at one point; I remembered how much I miss them, so I gave up my food and told her to just give my food to her sisters since I hadn’t touched it yet anyway.

Has someone ever made you a really great mix CD? Andi gave me one before she made the flight to New Zealand 10 years ago to permanently live there. I believe I still have it, but I’m just not sure where it currently is.

Have you ever been on Omegle.com? Yes, when I was a teenager and it was new.

Did you talk to someone cool there? Not really; most seem to exit our chat after we did the whole asl thing. I also avoided the webcam option because my anxiety for video calls has always been present.

What song reminds you of your best friend? Any song by The Maine.

Who was the last person to hit on you? Some creep on Facebook.

What's on the paper nearest you? It’s the guide for my embroidery kit. It tells me what stitches to do and the colors of thread to use for the different parts of the template I was provided with.

Do you have a set of lyrics that you really love? From Paramore’s Pool: “As if the first cut wasn’t deep enough, I dove in again ‘cause I’m not into giving up Could’ve gotten the same rush from any lover’s touch, But why get used to something new When no one breaks my heart like you” I scream those lyrics every time they come on. I know I often showed the good, shiny side of my relationship on these surveys; but it was very much toxic at a lot of points and those lyrics - and that song - served as a nest for me, something that told me someone understands how I sometimes felt about my own relationship.

Did you get an A in your last English class? I got a 1.25 instead of a perfect 1.00, but I think that’s still equivalent to an A so yes.

What did you last use scissors for? Cutting thread.

Did you ever secretly hate a friend of yours that thought you liked them? That makes me sound shitty lol, but yeah I’ve acted nicely to people I don’t particularly like.

What do you think of when I say "boat"? That episode of Friends where Joey bought himself a boat at an auction; and Canadian accents.

Would you ever get a tattoo sleeve? Nope. I planned on getting one as a teenager, but I grew out of that phase.

Do you know any really fake people? Yep. I think everyone’s got to be at some point.

What does the last blanket you used look like? It’s pink and has multi-colored polka dots on it.

Do you have appreciation for graffiti? Sure, especially if it’s for political purposes (that I agree with).

Why don't you drive? I do. I just have done it a lot less because I have had little need for driving and traveling to places throughout the pandemic.

Does it annoy you when your printer runs out of ink? I think we have the kind of printer that never runs out of ink, but I’m not exactly sure about the terminologies or how the technology works. I let my sister do the printing hahaha.

Have you ever drank anything from a thermos? Yes, mostly water and coffee.

When was the last time you played in the snow? Never.

Do you know any ignorant people? Sure, mostly Gen X-ers and Boomers.

What is the coolest name you've ever heard? Thylane.

What did you last argue with someone about? Relationship stuff. It wasn’t a full-blown argument, but when Gab and I talked yesterday it was natural for us to disagree on a few points.

Is there anyone that you dislike for no real reason? Hmm, I don’t think so. If I feel that strongly about someone, I usually have a reason otherwise it wouldn’t be fair to them.

Have you had a good day? It was okay; it was nice. I got to do my embroidery hoop art thing, got to watch a couple episodes of Start Up, played with Cooper, and now I’m doing these surveys and am planning to continue my embroidery later. It’s nice to feel productive about non-work things :)

Are you going to have a good night? I hope.

in my skin

i’ve been thinking about writing this for a long time, and I think I’m at a place where, more so than being comfortable talking about it, putting my thoughts down might help me continue to chip away at my complex.

I want to preface this by saying that my fixation on how my body looks is infuriating to even me. this is for 3 reasons:

1) there is an endless list of more important, broader existential crises to be concerned with instead of how I look (what am I heading towards? am I genuinely happy pursuing a capitalistic, societal definition of success? what is purpose or value in my life???)

2) even on an individual level, so many other aspects of a human make up their person and make them interesting other than how they look and its stupid to be so concerned with this one thing that means so little if anything at all

3) I’m not even that stupidly far away from societal beauty standards anyway wtf like stfu

regardless, I think my thoughts about my body are reflective of how I think about myself relative to the world in general. I’ve also found that the relationship I have with my body is often a symptom about how I am feeling about my self worth at a certain point in time, and also manifests in how I see and treat the people around me. for these reasons I think it can be valuable to unpack these feelings even though they may seem asinine.

the first time I became conscious of my body was in my primary school dance club, when we had to get measured for our costumes. most of my friends were generally skinny and I wasn’t significantly larger than any of them. but the nature of (chinese) dance and the kind of girls that joined it made the general impression that it was better to be lithe and delicate - the moves just looked better that way. the revelation that I wasn’t as thin as I could be was not groundbreaking. it didn’t trigger any immediately toxic thoughts either. it was just a thought I hadn’t had before, that my body wasn’t perfect. It also didn’t affect me much because I had a lot of good stuff going on in school; I had great friends, I did well in school, everything looked good on paper and in real life (I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I peaked in primary school). so it wasn’t a huge trigger for anything, just a planting of a seed, I guess? dormant.

as I grew into my teens my body was often too busy serving its intended purposes for me to be concerned with how it looked. I played sports all the time, I woke up early and went to bed early (when possible). I ate well and I was active. It wasn’t difficult to be relatively fit, so I wasn’t really that concerned with how “good” my body looked. like all teens, I did become more concerned with standards of attractiveness and whether or not I conformed to them. I noticed how people’s bodies differed and what people liked. I was aware that I was not on the top of my teenage male acquaintance’s who-would-you-bang list, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. I wasn’t super pleased with my body but I definitely wasn’t unhappy with it. and frankly speaking, I didn’t think I was unattractive lah like ya I might not be hot shit but I was definitely not ugly and I was pretty confident with what I had to offer. this was probably also due to the fact that I did well in school and extra-curriculars, so I found my validation elsewhere. 

for a short time between high school and college I had a body goal I wanted to work towards, time on my hands and a motivated support system, so I started working out for an aesthetic. It wasn’t super serious and there were no hard and fast rules, plus it was genuinely fun to work my body. I had been an athlete for several years at this point and I knew I felt good when my body was well-worked and maintained, so it was never difficult to bring myself to work out. the results were a happy bonus. looking back that was probably the time when I had the healthiest relationship with my body. I liked using it and spending time on it for the sake of doing it, I liked how it made me look but never to the extent that it became my main motivation for working on my body. if I had the luxury of unadulterated, stressless time, I could probably do it again. when I started college I was healthy, I looked good and I didn’t even care (we’ll come back to this).

when I started college things started to fall apart. my time in university was, overall, pretty shitty for my mental health. it was great in a lot of other aspects, and I can say with little doubt that it’s helped me grow into a person I not only want to be but am comfortable with. but the process was a shit show to put it lightly. when it comes to my relationship with how I look in particular, I think my years in London have unfortunately left me with a considerable amount of trauma. to make a long story short, I had an ideal of what I wanted my college experience to be like, but half a year into it I found myself severely unsatisfied with every aspect of my life. I wasn’t doing well in school, I felt like I was underperforming socially, I was conscious about the difference in affluence between me and the people around me and I was generally unhappy with the space I took up in my own and other people’s narratives. amidst all this, I put on some weight because (1) I wasn’t working out anywhere as much as I used to (2) the weather, my mental wellbeing and the food readily available made me eat a lot of junk. but instead of acknowledging and focusing on the underlying inferiority complexes that were eating away at me, I sought alternative validation through things I could seemingly control i.e. how I looked. it became the case that it was no longer that I looked a certain way because I worked out, but that I worked out because I wanted to look a certain way. and when I didn’t look a certain way because I was eating shit or going out or because it just plainly was not realistic given my living situation, the lack of validation would further aggravate the inferiority complexes and unhappiness with my person that started this toxicity to begin with. i ended first year treating the people around me like shit, not having anything to show for the hours of studying i put in, and a lot heavier than when I started it. family and friends pointed it out and i was pretty chill about it whenever it happened. i honestly thought i wasn’t that affected by it (again, brushing under the carpet the problems I had with the expectations I set for myself), and that i could lose the weight if i put my mind to it.

then in second year i developed an eating disorder. a couple months into second year I hadn’t made much progress with either my mental or physical health. I often ate till I was physically uncomfortable because I had a general problem with self control (I had none, in fact I didn’t want any, but that’s a story for another time). One night after eating too much, I went to brush my teeth and I was so full that when I gagged lightly from brushing my tongue, I involuntarily threw up the food that was filled up to my gullet. A normal person would’ve registered this as a cue that they should be more conscious about how much they’re eating. I saw it as an opportunity to eat as much as I wanted (for what?) and still be (or at least feel like I am) in control of how much weight I put on. and so I developed bulimia. the bulimia was closely followed by a binge eating disorder - seeing that now there was a mechanism to keep my intake in check, I could let my eating habits, which were in fact reflective of my control problems unravelling, go crazy. I told a couple friends about it because I thought maybe I needed help, but I never really told them how bad it could get. some nights I would go down into the kitchen in the middle of the night twice. thrice. seven times. I would look for anything I could inhale. cashews dipped in peanut butter. seaweed with a cup of yogurt. three packets of chips and a large slice of cake. instant noodles and jam straight out from the jar. it didn’t matter. it all ended up coming back out of my mouth and into the toilet bowl anyway. I would go out for meals with my friends and we would over-order. the paiseh pieces would be left on the plate and if no one wanted them, i would eat them. immediately afterwards I’d go to the restaurant washroom and throw it up. and all this time while I treated both food and my digestive tract like they were toys, my fixation on how I looked grew. spoiler: i did not lose weight from being bulimic. but I very much did lie to myself about it in order to keep at what was actually a coping mechanism for the rest of my life that was falling apart around me. I threw up everything I ate today, do I look different? I didn’t throw lunch up, but I worked out, so it should cancel out, does it show? I ate a salad but because for dinner we had baked rice I threw half of it up, it didn’t make me bloat did it? 

towards the end of second year I had a rude awakening that forced me to drag myself out of the shit hole of a mindset I had casted myself into to address the personal issues and the lazy, irresponsible, selfish attitude that had gotten me to this point. luckily, when I dealt with the underlying dissatisfaction I felt towards myself, my problems with food disappeared along with it. right now I don’t have an unhealthy relationship with food. if i were being generous, I’d say it could even be considered pretty healthy. my relationship with my physical body is also pretty good. I eat balanced meals, I sleep well, I work out when I want to and lay in bed and eat junk when I want to. I don’t force myself to get activity in, I don’t force myself to eat more or eat less. in fact, I think I am really inching towards getting the intuitive eating and living thing down. I’ve lost some weight and I definitely don’t hate how I look anymore. so I think I am in a good place for the most part.

my relationship with body image and the validation I feel from how I look however, has been (permanently?) affected. as it stands, I am scared about two things.

first. I like the person I am right now. my life is not super in check, but I’m holding it down pretty well. but in the past two years, when i had nothing under control, the way I looked was the only measure with which i valued my worth. do I only place less emphasis on how I look right now because, like when I was in high school, I have other things going for me? if, come one day, life happens and the going gets tough, will I once again come down on myself because I don’t look perfect, even though I don’t look shit? will how I see my body and how I feel about it be affected every time something else in my life causes anxiety or unhappiness, and if that happens is there a risk of it starting a vicious circle of self-toxicity?

second. like I said, I don’t hate how I look right now. but I also don’t love it. since coming back home, after a shower or when I’m changing or whenever I’m deciding what to wear, I stand in front of the mirror, and I look into it for what I can tell is longer than I would like. I don’t give myself shit for how I look or dislike what I see. but why am I looking anyways? am i checking to see if i like my body any more or less today? why do I care? why should it matter how close or far I am to society and my own definition of an ideal body?

recently I watched a video that said despite the positive intentions of the body positivity movement, a better approach would be radical body acceptance. body positive says that even though I’m fatter or shorter or flatter or whatever-er than the beauty standard, I am still beautiful. radical body acceptance argues that words like fat or thin or flat or short or thin should just be neutral words. there is no good or bad linked to them and there is no good or bad body type. bodies are not “beautiful however they may look”. they are just bodies. I’m trying to strive towards this idea of body perception, to go back to a place of not caring how I look in and of itself or relative to anything else. how I look will just be how I look. to be clear, I don’t think this mindset is the best one that should be universally promoted. I do however think it is the best method for me. this is because I’ve found that ever since developing a fixation on my body and how it looks, sometimes when I see other people the things I take notice of most are their bodies as well. I don’t think I go as far as to assign worth to their person or character because of how their body looks, but I can tell that I’m developing a fixation on other people’s bodies (even if I don’t compare it to mine) and I feel like it subconsciously blocks a clear, genuine perception of them as people. and, of course, it feeds into my obsession about how I look. the more I care, the more I care. so I want to focus on caring less, and eventually not caring.

I would like for a day to come where I can put on clothes and not feel the need to change out of it because I don’t like how I look in something before leaving the house. I would like even more if I didn’t feel the need to look in the mirror before leaving to begin with. I would like to be able to not feel badly if someone points out I gained weight, but I would like even more to not feel happy because someone says I’ve lost weight. I would like to stalk fewer girls on instagram to see what their bodies look like in different photos. I would like to stop being concerned about how my body looks in different photos. I would like for a day to come where, whenever I’m not actively thinking about it, I forget how I look. slowly but surely, I will take steps to make this happen. it took a while to rebuild a healthy relationship with food, and then a healthy relationship with my physical body. surely it will take longer to rebuild the relationship with the image and idea of my body in my mind. I think the moment I forget the image exists will be the day I manage to do so.

The Mid-Point Reversal

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 2,100

Summary: Jaime stops by Arden’s apartment after one of the worst days ever. 

Note: Today’s chapter left a bad taste in my mouth and I had to do something about it. I tried not to make any changes that would significantly impact canon, but the thought of Arden spending the night alone just didn’t sit well with me.  

Fair warning: This fic is messy and probably has copious errors. Compared to my normal turnaround time for stories, the 3ish hours I spent on this is really pushing it. If you notice any issues, feel free to (kindly) let me know so that I can correct them. 

The headache still hadn't gone away. For hours, both temples had throbbed, followed by a gnawing ache in the back of her skull. Headlights on the drive home had just made it all worse. By the time Arden arrived at her apartment, she couldn't stand anything brighter than the nightlight above her bathroom sink.

But the headache didn't even matter. What mattered was that she was finally left alone with her thoughts -- finally forced to face the reality of all that had happened over the course of the day.

Heart pumping with an alarming pace, she finally acknowledged what she'd known for hours. Since leaving the hospital with Anna, she'd been hedging around the fact that something very serious had changed.

She'd hit her mid-point reversal.

She'd fallen. Compromised her morals for what had, in the moment, seemed the greater good. But a compromise was still a compromise. No matter what the circumstances had been, she'd broken her most sacred rule.

In stories, Arden knew that this was a defining moment that could lead to the resolution of the plot -- an either-or sort of choice that could lead to either a happy ending or tragedy. And in all the stories she knew, abandoning one's convictions rarely ended well.

But what else could she have done?

Through the day, her thoughts had layered and stratified -- building upon each other to the point where she could hardly make sense of all the varied threads of questioning and considering. Yet, in all of that wondering, she still hadn't come up with a solution better than the one she’d chosen. 

Arden tossed off her work clothes, opting instead for an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of well-worn leggings. She padded back into the couch and lay down on her side, bringing her legs to her chest. A cold, damp nose nudged at the fingers covering her eyes and she reluctantly pulled them away.

"Hey, Opie," she managed against a tight throat, extending one hand to cup his furry muzzle. His mouth fell open, tongue lolling in contentment.

But instead of his usual litany of the day's events, the quiet endured. Arden heard only distant street noises several stories below. A fresh wash of uncertainty spread over her. How was she going to be a star reporter now? How was she going to do anything?

Much as she appreciated Opie's presence, it wasn't enough to comfort her tonight. She needed a distraction -- a way to get out of her own head, if that was even possible. All other ideas exhausted, she reached for the remote and turned on Netflix. She couldn't watch the brightly lit screen, but having some noise in the background would have to help. 

Silence was intolerable.

Arden was well into her third episode of The Office when she heard the quiet rapping at her front door. No part of her wanted to stand and confront another living human being. After the day she'd had, the chances of it being someone she hadn't disappointed were close to zero. Arden pinched her eyes shut and willed the visitor to leave, hoping against hope that it was just an unwitting guest who'd gotten the wrong apartment number.

Of course, she wasn't that lucky. The tapping sounded again, this time ever so slightly stronger than it had been before. Eyelids scrunching harder to confront the sudden burst of pain that came with standing, Arden made her way to the door slowly and pulled the handle without bothering to look through the peephole. She finally willed her eyes open, keeping her gaze close to the floor to avoid the flare of fluorescent lights in the hall.

Jaime's presence came as little surprise, but after their last conversation it wasn’t much of a relief either. Eyes trained on his shoes, she widened the crack and took a step backward. "Come on in."  

Sensing her discomfort, he accepted the flat invitation and followed her into the apartment. "Listen," he began quietly once the door had latched shut. "The last thing I want to do is bother you, but I couldn't stand to leave things where they were. It's been eating away at me and I just needed to see you."

"I know." She swept a mass of unkempt hair from her eyes, trying to focus on his face. The sides of his mouth turned down in a heartbreaking frown, concern for her evident in every feature. "I'm doing fine. Trying to get myself good and tired so I can get some sleep tonight."

She wouldn't blame him for not believing her. Not when she didn't believe the words herself.

"I hate seeing you like this, Arden. But if you think you're better off on your own, I can give you these and leave." He stretched out a hand and placed a small paper bag on Arden's coffee table. "I found some treats I thought Opie might like. I've had them for a couple of weeks, but kept forgetting to bring them by. I figured they'd help in case I needed an excuse to show up here tonight."

"You never need an excuse." Arden's neck prickled at how easy it was to slide back into their familiar intimacy. After what had happened that evening, why would he even want to visit her again? She didn’t deserve it. 

"Good," he said approvingly. But his smile didn't reach his eyes. "Look, I'm sorry for what happened before. I should have just kept my mouth shut instead of trying to solve your problems for you."

Fresh tears stung Arden's eyes. If only Jaime could solve this problem. Unfortunately, nothing that had happened today was going to be so simple.

"Anyway, I'll let you get back to Netflix. But if there's anything I can do to help -- anything at all -- please let me know. I can't stand having you hurt like this and not being able to do anything." As he hugged her goodbye, the tears spilled out, rushing down her cheeks in two hot streams. 

"Please don't go," Arden whimpered into his chest.

"I'll stay as long as you want me here," he promised, stroking her back with one broad hand. With his arms as a barrier to the outside world, she finally felt some measure of comfort.

She eked out a whispered, "Thanks, Jaime."

"Do you want to go back to watching The Office? I'm up for some Scranton shenanigans if they’re any help." He pulled back slightly to read her face.

Arden shook her head and extracted herself from the embrace. Grabbing the nearby remote, she quickly powered off the television. "I wasn't really in the mood for it, but it was better than sitting here with my thoughts. I felt like I had to have something on so it wasn't so quiet." She plopped back to the couch, resting her ankles on the end of the coffee table. Jaime joined her, Opie in close pursuit.

"Is it okay for me to..." Jaime motioned toward the bag he'd brought.

"Of course. He deserves one after today."

"They're supposed to taste like peanut butter," he explained good naturedly, though Arden wasn't sure if the words were for her benefit or Opie's.

"As long as this means you're not letting him eat from the jar again..."

"Nope, we learned our lesson the first time, didn't we, boy?" Jaime waved the treat with a flourish, Opie's eyes following his every move. "Now, sit." The animal did as instructed, quick obedience rewarded with the desired treat and several enthusiastic pats on the head.

Arden's lip curved slightly at the sight before her. Even through her headache and all of the day's frustrations, she couldn't deny the adorable partnership before her. Why did Jaime have to be so damn perfect all the time?

Guilt roiled her stomach at the reminder of how imperfect she was by comparison. 

"Jaime?" She took a deep sigh and slid her hands into the overlong arms of her sweatshirt. Tucking her fingers around the thick cuffs, she measured her words. "I'm sorry that I can't be honest with you right now. Today's just been..." 

No words could do it justice.

"You're fine, Arden. I don't understand what happened with the Carmichael interview, but I shouldn't have pried."

"You were right to. There's an explanation, but I can't tell anyone about it yet -- not even you. I know that's not fair, but I have to work it out for myself first."

She almost missed the quick flash of pain in his eyes. "I don't understand why, but I'll try to accept it."

"That's all I can ask."

"You're sure there's nothing I can do?"

"Just being here is helping. I've made a big old mess of things already.  Bringing you into it would probably just make it all worse."

"Okay," he agreed weakly.

For a spilt second, she considered telling him everything. Maybe if the truth had all been laid out, he'd be able to convince her that she didn’t deserve the terrible names she’d been calling herself since leaving the hospital. Maybe he'd echo Anna's earlier assurance that she'd only done what any other person in her shoes would have done. Or maybe he'd be disappointed and remind her of every misstep she'd taken in the course of this miserable day.

Worse, he might try to do something about it.

Jaime’s interference wasn't going to help her expose Charlie Carmichael. He always had lacked common sense when it came to standing up for her. Until she had a plan, it was better if he remained completely ignorant of what had transpired in the hospital room.

But even as she made the decision, a small voice throbbed: you're making a mistake.

Jaime’s voice cut through the sound of her conscience. "Are you feeling any sleepier than you were when I came in? I don't want to keep you up if you could be getting rest."

Arden gave him a sidelong glance, wincing as the abrupt movement sent a shock of pain through her head. "I don't think I could sleep now if I tried."

His brow furrowed in thought. "Maybe...no, nevermind."

"What?"

"It's just, remember how comfortable you were when we were out stargazing? Do you think you might be able to sleep if I was there with you?" His cheeks colored at the suggestion.

"I have no objections to trying it," she admitted. The thought of tossing and turning alone was pretty miserable. Even if she didn't sleep, she thought that she might at least be able to relax with him.

"I'm not just trying to get in your bed -- I promise."

Arden snorted in spite of herself. "Jaime, I know you're not.” Under other circumstances, she’d have reveled in the opportunity to drive the blush a deeper shade of pink. 

“Phew.”

"I think I've even got some sweatpants that would fit you. Lemme go check.” After a brief trip to her bedroom, she tossed the pants to the couch and headed into the bathroom. 

Teeth brushed and face washed, she returned to the bedroom to find Jaime stretched out on top of her quilt. He’d donned her pants and stripped down to his innermost layer of shirt. Arden had seen him in loungewear plenty of times before, but she couldn’t ever remember having such a strong urge to curl up beside him. 

“You can get under the covers, you dummy.” She plugged her phone into the charger, watching him from the corner of her eye. 

Jaime did as she suggested, flipping down the blankets on both sides of the large bed. She climbed in next to him, running an appreciative hand along his shoulder. 

“Thanks for coming by to check on me. And thanks for staying. I really don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You never have to worry about finding that out. At long as you want me here, I’m here, Arden.” His fingers traced the apple of her cheek, as if sealing the promise in skin. 

In return, she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Goodnight, Jaime.”

“Goodnight.”

Easing down onto the mattress, she rolled to her side and pressed back against the length of his body. His long arm wrapped around her torso before settling against the flat of her stomach. She nestled closer and shut her eyes, exhaling a contented sigh. With him, the guilt no longer felt so suffocating. 

Maybe there was still hope of using this twist of fate for good. 

Botched Plans

Rating: M

Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual Content.

Word Count: 3033

Donald Ressler X OC Maggie Waters.

Chapter: Fifty-Five

Chapter Index

Story on Wattpad

Ressler

Undercover missions bored me, specially if I had to be the one left out of it, it could be a very long process just to get the information we needed, not to mention the logistical effort we had to go through to make contact and avoid blowing the cover, putting the person who was undercover, in this case Liz, in danger of being hurt.

We tried to monitor her every move, but for the most part, we had to wait for her to request a debriefing meeting with her handler, in this case me.

I'd been at home for almost the entire day, and by the looks of it I wasn't going to be called today, Mags of course had to go to work, the aftermath of our wedding had been settled finally and things were going back to normal. I don't understand how people can get divorced and then do the whole wedding thing all over again. It was fun, sure, but it had been so physically and mentally exhausting I was glad everything was over.

I'd poured myself a cup of coffee and was settling in the living room with the remote in hand when the front door opened, and I could her the characteristics noises of Mags arriving to the house. I turned the TV on which made her question out loud if I was here.

"I'm in the living room" I sat in the sofa and took a sip of my coffee while I head her make her way to the living room, she stood next to me with a frown, her purse still hung heavily from her shoulder.

"You didn't go to work today?" She asked while lifting her feet to her hand and taking her heels off

"Not today" she sighed annoyed and took off her other shoe

"We need to talk" she said leaving her things over the coffee table.

"Oh oh" I said taking another sip

"Yes, oh oh is right" she walked to the kitchen quickly to get herself a cup of coffee and in a minute she was sitting next to me, legs laying on top of mine "I'm going to show you something that I'm not really supposed to, but I'm confident you'll shut up about it" she said taking a thick binder from her purse

"Top secret confidential stuff?" I teased, she gave me a little look and then smiled

"We also have confidential stuff okay? It's not exclusive to you people" she opened the binder and let me look through it "remember two weeks ago I was kinda freaking out, reading a lot and talking on the phone too much? It was because of this. This is a new project for some rich Chinese investors" she passed through a few pages until there was a sketch art of a sign.

"A casino?"

"Yeah, so these people came and kind of made a contest between the different architectural agencies to present projects for their casino. Now, I don't want to say we won because of me, but we kinda won because of me."

She told the binder back and threw it on top of her purse.

"We did the structural design and also the vault and the other metric security system for the same investment price and they loved it, we basically did a 2 for 1 deal. So we have this huge project on our hands, I wouldn't be surprised if it's like in the news or something, a luxury hotel and casino being built here is kind of a big deal."

"But...." I said implying there was a problem, because so far this sounded great for her.

"I..." She sighed and left her cup on the table "I feel like my plans have been botched, like, this is going to take me a year, between building and then overseeing the other sides of the project not only the ones that regard my side of the project. And maybe all the other side work..." She covered her eyes and sighed again "I'm pissed because..." She stopped and let her hand heavily fall on her thigh. "I wanted to get pregnant" she said looking at me, searching for some kind of reaction on my eyes. I didn't give her any, because I knew what she wanted the whole time, I was surprised she wasn't off her pills.

"And...?" I beckoned.

She gave me a complaining whine and pulled her legs to her chest

"You're not helping" she complained..

"Fine, how do you want me to help?" I said turning my body to fully engaged her.

"I want you to be my voice of reason, like "no baby, we can't have a baby yet we've been married for barely a month". Something like that, because if you don't want it then I can wait until you're ready"

"Well, I'm not going to say that" I said with a little chuckle that I was sure was going to make her mad "and I'm also on my late 30's, I think I'm ready, I've known you would want to get pregnant as soon as you could. It's all the matter of your own priorities baby"

"This is my priority" she said motioning between us "you, us, our family"

"Then there's nothing to discuss here" I simply stated, however she wasn't done complaining.

"My God" she said rubbing her eyes and hiding her face between her legs "he's gonna fire my ass"

"If you're going to get pregnant might as well just stop working altogether, to fully dedicate yourself to what you want. I've got you" I said rubbing her arm. She looked up at me and pouted dramatically.

"Why are you so nice?" She complained again, leaning to me and unfolding her legs, I accepted her embrace and pulled her to me, cradling her chest to mine whilst her legs staid at my side. I smiled when I felt her breath on my neck, and even more when she turned to kiss my lips.

With the hand that was previously on her waist, I pulled her closed by the neck and finally felt her smile a little over my lips.

"If you want I can make you a baby right now" I joked

"Stop, this is serious" she complained again.

"I am being serious Maggie. Why-" I stopped to sigh a little annoyed "why do we make such a big deal about the 'right time' to do things. Like you can't get married until you've dated at least two years, you can't have a baby until blah blah blah. Stop thinking about anything or anyone. Stop taking the pills, stop taking them"

Mags pouted and hugged herself to my chest, I did so too, kissing her forehead.

"Thank you" she said against my neck.

"Don't thank me for anything. Everything is just a matter of priorities baby, if your boss can't understand that this is your priority then..." I shrugged "his loss"

Maggie.

I set my toothbrush down and looked at my reflection in the mirror.

It was all or nothing today, I was going to tell my boss that I had other priorities, and in case there were some changes about how we were going to handle this huge project, I wasn't going to be working on it.

It was a scary thing to know that this time I might not get away with it, that I was going to be dropping on him some heavy news, because I knew he thought I was going to be dealing with a lot of it and he would just smile to the cameras of the press that showed up to cover the press conference that was set up to announce the investment and the project to the public.

Then, there was the other thing. Last night Don had told me to 'stop taking the pills'. That was such a scary though, it mad it all real, this was happening. Next time we had sex something could come out of it.

I'd been standing in front of the bathroom mirror for a while, thinking about everything. I pulled my hair up in a ponytail, then opened the cabinet to look for my birth control pills. I'd had all of the required medical examinations to check if I was in conditions to get pregnant and I was, taking the pills would effectively increase my chances. I waved the plastic in my hands while the pills rattled inside of the container.

I debated myself for only a second to maybe hold the baby thing for a while, but I quickly threw the pills inside the bathroom bin and stopped myself from trying to back out of this one.

I walked downstairs, expecting to be alone, but Don was standing in the kitchen, watching the waffle machine.

"I thought you were gone" I motioned at him, he was dressed casual today which made my suspicious "you're not going to work?"

"Mm" he shrugged "I haven't been called, and Keen's out of the country so, we'll resume when she makes contact. Made you breakfast" he pointed at the waffle machine while taking the lid and opening it.

"Thanks" I said walking around the counted and sitting in the high stool "I'm-" I caught his attention "you know..." He was scrapping some peanut butter off the jar and gave me a fast look "I stopped taking the pills today"

"Good" he shot me a smile "is that instant or?"

"Yeah, it's instant. So just so you know" he set the plate in front of me turned to the fridge to take out some syrup. "Something might happen"

"Hopefully" he replied. He then took his cup from the counter mad gave it a sip, I hadn't realized there was a cup of tea also waiting in front of me.

"Do you want to be a dad?" I asked him, I saw him smirk over the cup, then he set it down.

"Why would I not want to?" I looked down at the plate and took the fork and knife.

"Because, you know, I feel like most men don't really want to have kids they just have them and they're like 'well, let's deal with this'"

He pulled the other stool and sat next to me.

"That's not how I feel" he shook his head "I feel like I want to slowly start moving along with other things in life, I'm just sick of everything being about my job. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do and I'm proud of my job it's just..." He gave me a look and a smile "I see you, you know, with your nephews and stuff and it warms my heart, and that's only for a while. Children certainly complicate things a bit but.... I don't know, I like the idea of it, of this little thing that's a bit of you and a bit of me who's also waiting for you when you get home, who sees you as their personal hero... I want to quit" he gave me another look while he ran his finger over the rim of the mug "and I think that this would be the final push to make me realize that there's somewhere or something else I'd rather be doing than what I'm currently doing in the task force"

He finished, then leaned back to leave the mug on the sink, he then turned around and held my jaw with his hand, leaning in to kiss my lips, then my temple.

"Finish up here and I'll drive you to work"

"Okay" I said quietly, he smiled and leaned in for another kiss.

In the car ride to my work office, I was a little fidgety, playing with the straps of my purse. I felt Don's hand slip into mine to take it, he parked along the front door and I turned to him.

"Well, let's see how this goes" I took of my seatbelt and felt a kiss on the back of my hand.

"Call me, either to pick you back up or to have lunch later, I'm free all day" I nodded, then leaned in to give him a long kiss.

"I love you" I said over his lips, he kissed me again and patted my thigh encouragingly.

"I love you too baby. Good luck"

I crossed my fingers in front of my face as I opened the door and exited the car.

Inside, the ambiance was definitely a little hectic, I could see the accountants running around, people walk from office to office with handfuls of blueprints.

I stopped at Oscar's office and knocked, I received the come in and opened the door.

"Maggie, just the person I wanted to see, close the door" he motioned at the door and opened a blueprint over an adjacent desk he had on the side of office.

"Yeah, I need to talk to you, it's important"

"Okay, but make it quick, we need to start evaluating this and head to the site to oversee the terrain we'll be building on."

"Okay, quick. I'm not going to be working on this project"

I saw his shoulders square up and he turned at me with a little confused and angry frown.

"What do you mean? This is a lifetime opportunity Mags, your next promotion for sure, Vice-Presidency is what we're talking about here"

Oh wow, I didn't know he was planning to make me vice-president after this project.

"I understand, but Don and I had other personal plans and we both agreed that this would set us back a lot, so... If your have to fire me I un-"

"No no no, nobody is getting fired. What are we talking about here? Kids?"

"Yeah, we're already looking"

"Well" he ran his eyes over his desk, then placed his hand on his hip thoughtfully "we can do this. We will start working on this normally, when you can't go to the site anymore because you know" he motioned at me "you're showing, you will resume your work here, and try to lead everything from here, hopefully we can get your side of the project done on 5 or 6 months" he looked at me to confirm the timeline.

"3 months if we throw everything we've got at it"

"That would be amazing. And then when you near the final months, work from home, cellphone availability during work hours, and weekly meetings here with me and the rest of the team. Does that sound good?"

"I..." I stutter "that sounds amazing. And I'm sorry if I'm completely rude or you feel like I'm prying on an special deal but-"

"Maggie, I appreciate you were bold about this from the beginning rather than show up halfway through this project telling me you're quitting because you're pregnant. Everything is fixable. Now" he extended his hand which I gladly took in a firm handshake "that deal aside, let's continue with this one" he motioned at the papers again.

I had a stupid smile all day I couldn't believe things had gone as good as they had. Either Oscar was going to regret this deal he made me later on, or I was that important to him.

I spent the rest of the day at the terrain we were going to be building on, we couldn't have asked for a better location, the access to it was mainly deserted, which was a huge advantage because we could really turn up this side of town, have an avenue come right this way and we could set up the entrance to the casino and the eventual guests if the hotel however we wanted it. The excavation process was going to take up to a month, between that and levelling the terrain, we had to dig down approximately half a mile, it had to be massive to accommodate both sides of the business.

I hadn't realized it was nearing down on lunch break until I got paged on the walkie, telling me Don was waiting for me at the security gate.

I had to walk a few feet until I saw the guard and motioned at him to let Don go through with the car, and while he parked on the far side away from all the trucks, I walked the long distance towards the car.

"You're still here" he said as soon as I got into the car. I gave him a smile and nodded, pulling the seat a little behind so I could stretch my legs more comfortably.

"I am. I can't believe what happened today" he handed me a plastic container with a plastic fork.

"And what was that?" He also took his own food to eat it.

"Mm" I hummed while I swallowed to continue the conversation "he basically said I could do it, and when I get too big we would have to adjust working hours and the likes, I could work from home if I needed to. He was planning on giving me the Vice-Presidency after this, now I'm not to sure"

"I'm sure he will" he assured "man, it's been a while since I've eaten fast food behind the wheel"

"You did that a lot?"

"Yeah" he said with a tired sigh "not since the task force, but before, in the other special force it was a daily occurrence. At least now I have some good company" he said moving his hand to touch my thigh up and down. I smiled back and him, then looked down at the almost empty container.

We continued talking after that for the remaining 20 minutes of my lunch break about everything and nothing. He said he didn't know if tomorrow he would have to go to the blacksite, but he wanted us to go out on a nice dinner after I finished my work.

I felt nervous just thinking about it, I felt like a virgin all over again thinking too much about the next time I had sex.

We said our goodbyes, then he was off again.

Hopefully the nerves at the pit of my stomach I was feeling now would go away tomorrow.

‘A Small Phone Call ( lll )’ - Harry Styles Divorce Series

Words: 1,767

Pairing: Harry Styles & (Y/N) (Y/L/N)

Warnings: swearing

Part 1 Part 2

“It’s been a week. A week of you sitting in this room and rotting.” Myléne walked into her bedroom and saw her at the window watching the snowflakes, “You haven’t told me anything about signing the papers.” she turned her head, and a tear fell down.

“I thought period mood swings were bad, this is worse. I’m crying over the old lady walking her chihuahua. Chihuahuas are not dogs, they are like rats, any small dog is a rat.” Mylène chuckled, sitting on the chair next to her, and handing her a cup of tea.

“Says the girl who literally just bought a dachshund.” Y/N looked over and glared.

“Dachshunds are simply humans who got bad luck, God made a mistake and hit the wrong switch; that’s why they’re dogs. It was like a mistake...like...like this baby,” she mumbled the last part, beginning to get worked up again, hiccuping and sobbing.

“Alright you hormone druggie, come here.” she grabbed her and brought her into a hug, “Have you told Harry?” Y/N pulled back from the embrace.

“No...” she tsked.

“You fucked up.”

Eyes widened, she looked to her best friend, “What do you mean, I fucked up. You're supposed to be my support system. My FH... you know like AA, Fuck Harry...squad?” she just looked at her, not knowing how to respond to that.

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I know.”

“Anyway, he can sue now. You didn’t disclose it at the divorce.” Y/N shook her head.”

“Then he doesn’t need to know. Anyways, Harry is Harry, he won’t sue me.” 

“Keep saying that. Harry is Harry, he figures shit out. Like fuck, dude, he figured out you had a bad day before I even did. He figured out the whole bar situation, dude. He reads you like a fucking book. He’ll notice something is up.” 

“News flash, M. We are divorce, we don’t see each other anymore.” she sassed back and looked at the window. 

“Speaking about your ex-husband...” Y/N looked up and gave her the puppy eyes.

“I’ll answer it.” she mouthed, ‘thank you’, as she walked out.

-

“Before you ask, she’s in the shower.” she opened the door to him, holding a box. 

“Hi to you, too. Haven’t seen you since—”

“The wedding, I know. What do you want?” Harry huffed.

“Don’t make me the bad guy. We decided to do this together.” Myléne looked at the box.

“Is that Y/N’s?” he nodded, handing it off. She placed the stuff on the counter and turned around.

“Is she ok?” she gave a short nod, and Harry walked in.

“I’ll call security,” she said, Harry looked unfazed by it.

“Like that would fucking help.”

“You know what, Harry. I never was on board with this relationship. I never liked you, nor did I liked you and Y/N together,” she walked up to him, pointing at his chest. 

Y/N knew the tension between them. It was obvious, she always reckoned it was the fact that Mylène was jealous that she was married before her or that she was happy. But, she doesn’t regret Harry. She doesn’t regret her experience and memories with him. But, she does regret not trusting Myléne. She could sniff out things long before they even happen.

“Can you not fight, you’re giving me a headache.” Y/N walked out of the room to the kitchen, both of them looking up to her entrance.

“Do we have peanut butter?” Mylène turned away from Harry and grabbed it from the pantry.

Harry coughed, getting their attention. 

“Hi,” she mumbled, grabbing a spoon, and digging into the jar of peanut butter, “Come in, don’t be scared. I don’t bite. She does though.” Y/N said, pointing the spoon to Myléne. Harry laughed.

“Week one being divorce, day one out of your room, and your breakfast is three, wait, four spoonfuls of peanut butter. I’ll have to throw that out after because of salvia and germs.” Y/N rolled her eyes. 

“Anyway,” Harry said. He was confused, she was way too preppy to be just divorced, it was weird. Maybe she is better off without him? “This is just your curling iron, makeup bag—”

“I was looking for that, thanks!” she walked over grabbing it and heading to the ensuite.

“Why is she happy?” Mylène raised her eyebrow.

“She is happy to get you out of her life.”

“She hates peanut butter,” he muttered.

“She’s a new person.” 

~~~~~~~~~

Three drink is done, a million to go, yet they don’t make anything better. It was week two of signing the papers. He hasn’t talked to her since that simple morning, where she was so...different; to put a label on it.

“I liked you and Y/N,” Niall said, pushing another beer to him. Harry took it willingly, and downed it fast, “Careful, bud. Don’t drink your feelings.” Harry scoffed.

“Isn’t that the reason why we’re here.” Niall shrugged, looking off to the side.

Harry didn’t know how to deal with the situation. The only thing he did in the last two weeks was putting the townhouse up for sale. He couldn’t be there anymore. It was supposed to be their house, not his house. Then, he moved in with Niall, because he can’t simply walk the halls of the house that reminds him of her. The chipped mirror, for instance, reminded him of the time they came home wickedly drunk.

~~~~~~~~~

She chuckled into the kiss, holding him by the hips while they were backed against the wall of their house. He pushed his lips against hers again, grabbing her hands off his hips and placed them above her head. She pulled back.

They just came home from a house party. It was a party to signify the hiatus. During it, both of them had too much to drink and started to get cheeky to one another, till the point where Niall had to intervene. When doing so, he muttered a few words that the two of them took literally, ‘just go and make a baby already’. So, here they were.

“Are we really doing this?” she said, he smiled, kissing her again. Y/N taking that as an answer.

The decision was made, it was time for them to bring someone new into the family. Someone that was made up of them, half of her, and half of him. 

He grabbed her by the waist and picked her up. Y/N’s legs came around his middle, as he walked back in the foyer of their home, pushing and fighting for dominance with the kiss; their backs hitting the wall again and her foot came in contact with the vase across of them. 

“Oops,” she muttered, seeing it falling off and hitting the mirror. They chuckled, but soon walked towards the couch. Little did they know, that this was going to be one of the many times they will try. 

~~~~~~~~~

That was two years ago. They’ve been trying for two years now, and no success. He couldn’t do anything in that house, he can’t without having a panic attack.

Today marked his first day moving in with Niall, so they decided to go out, and drink and be normal mid-twenty-year-olds.

“Here mate,” he was taken out of the daydream by Niall, passing him a few shots, Harry took them greedily. 

He grimaced, not use to the heavy liquor anymore. Since marrying Y/N, they didn’t drink a lot, just wine, beer, and, “Y/N loved her gin and tonics.” he said.

Niall rolled his eyes, “Dude, you’re divorced. These shots are from those pretty blondes over there. If I was you, I would walk right over to one, use your charm, and get laid. You need it.” he patted him on his back. Harry didn’t even want to bare that thought at all.

“And lose the ring, you signed the papers two weeks ago,” Niall added. 

“She liked her hard liquor, but I had to ban it from the house,” Harry started talking, Niall looked over to his mate, talking about something he has never heard from Y/N before, “It would get so bad. She just loved the burning from vodka or tequila. Her twenty-first was the worst. She drank so much, I thought I lost her. So, the only alcohol that was in our house was wine, beer, and those god damn gin and tonics.”

Niall took the shot glass and downed it, “Don’t worry about her, mate. She isn’t drinking anytime soon.” Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Why?”

“’cause she’s pregnant, ey?” he raised his beer glass to him and took a swig. 

Harry didn’t say anything, just starred off in space. Niall instantly became sober from his friend’s lack of words.

“Fuck...you didn’t know.”

Harry looked back at him, “Yeah, I fucking didn’t know.” he was angry. Why, though? Is it because Y/N didn’t tell him, or because he heard from his friend such big news. Or maybe because they tried for two fucking years to have a kid, and it so happens now.

“Look, H, I’m sorry—”

“I gotta go.” Harry stood up from the stool, grabbing his jacket and placed a few bills on the table.

She was cuddled up on the couch, watching some random rom-com that she has seen a hundred times, but nothing beats that and a glass of red wine. But, with her little one on the way, she couldn’t even have a small sip, therefore her cuppa had to do for now. 

Y/N has come to terms with her pregnancy. It was really happening. She had her first ultrasound that week, and she has accepted it. It was time for her to have a baby. Now is the time.

“Urghh, this is the best part.” she muttered, hearing a pounding on the door, “I swear to god, Mylène, if you forgot your keys again, I will kill you.” she walked over, wearing just a tank, and sweatpants; her belly starting to show.

Harry looked up when the door opened and saw her; hair down, makeup off, and a tiny little bump, “You’re pregnant.” he muttered, Y/N stayed still, not knowing how to respond.

“You’re pregnant, and you didn’t even tell me,” he said again, looking in her eye, and pounding his fist against the wall, “fuck you.”

Baby Alpha

READ ON AO3

The first time Peter sees the baby Alpha, he’s at the park with Derek and Laura, Cora resting on his hip.

The little boy is in the sandbox, chattering as he plays with a bright eyed Alpha, which is strange, in and of itself.

Alphas don’t play together. Not even ones as young as they are.

He loses track of them when Cora starts crying, and Laura shoves Derek off the slide. He hates Talia for saddling him with the children. Omega or not, they’re hardly his responsibility and he’s not cut out to be taking care of small children.

Still, he calms Derek with a sucker, scolds Laura who huffs and flashes her eyes at him, gives Cora a bottle.

When he’s finally able to breath, and glance around, he’s startled to see the baby Alpha standing next to him. His expression is intent.

“Hello, there,” Peter says, smiling at him. His little playmate has disappeared and the baby Alpha climbs up next to him, sitting quietly next to him as Peter rocks Cora to sleep.

“She’s pretty,” he says, finally, and Peter nods. Smiles down at the baby in his arms.

“I think so.”

“You like pretty?” he asks, and Peter blinks, startled.

“Yes, I suppose I do.”

The little boy flashes a blinding smile, and wiggles down, darting across the playground while Peter watches, bemused.

He comes back a few moments later, clutching a ragged clump of wildflowers, and shyly holds them out. “For you. ‘Cause they’re pretty.”

Peter hides his smile in the flowers that he takes carefully and his eyes are bright, taking in the baby Alpha’s delighted preening as he says, “Thank you, Alpha.”

~*~

The baby Alpha is named Stiles Stilinski, the only child of the sheriff, something Peter doesn’t pay much attention to. He sees the boy and his mother around town, on occasion, and he’s aware that the Alpha stares at him, eyes bright and assessing. Talia teases him, but Peter brushes it aside.

His baby Alpha is sweet, but no one puts any stock in children playing to their dynamics. It doesn’t mean anything, when Stiles brings him a smushed cupcake on his sixth birthday.

It doesn’t mean anything when he makes Peter a blanket when he’s eight.

It doesn’t mean anything, when he gives Peter his popsicle at the fourth of July fireworks when he’s ten.

None of the countless gifts of flowers and toys and food and clothing mean anything.

~*~

Stiles  is twelve when the gifts change. He’s befriended Derek,  and he’s spending more and more time in the Hale house. It’s amusing because now, there is no production to it. Stiles will slip in and rub his fingers over Peter’s shoulder before dropping his offering into Peter’s hand, before he’s trotting off to find Derek.

But the sweaty gummy worms, melting peanut butter cups, and jars of fireflies are being replaced now. The first time Peter looks up to smile at his baby Alpha and sees a book, he almost stops breathing.

The little shit knows too, his grin going wide and pleased, and his knuckles bumping over Peter’s cheek before he darts away.

The book is followed by a pair of movie tickets, a volume of poetry, a sandwich of tender roast beef and perfectly sauteed onion that Peter makes truly pornographic noises over. There is a watch, and a painting, small and lovely that Peter knows Claudia did, before her death, and it’s that--

It’s the painting that makes him begin to wonder if the baby Alpha’s offerings don’t mean something after all.

~*~

The thing is--Peter is not a normal Omega.

He’s courted, of course, all Omegas are. Deucalion comes around every year, like clockwork, and other Alphas drop by, with their extravagant presents and leering smiles and promises of a good life and plenty of pups.

For a while, Peter had worried that Talia would force him into a marriage he didn’t want, but she never had.

Who and when Peter took an Alpha, would be Peter’s choice.

It wasn’t just that he was an unbound Omega in his late twenties. It was that he hadn’t had a heat in over six years. It was that in six years he hadn’t that. Hadn’t wanted an Alpha to fill him and care for him during his heats. He hadn’t craved the sweet kisses and deep voice coaxing him to eat and the thick fullness of a knot in six years.

Sometimes, he thinks he’s broken.

He thinks he has to be, because Deuc smiles at him, all warm promises and Ennis kisses him and presses thick and hard against him and Kali runs proprietary hands over his shoulder, and he wants to shudder away from it, away from them.

He hates their touches, and hates even more the way he wishes he didn’t hate it.

~*~

“Does Stiles give you gifts?”

Derek looks at him, his eyes wide and appalled. “No,” he says, scandalized. “Why the hell would he?”

Peter stares at his nephew. “Because,” he says, carefully. “You are his best friend, and--so far as I can tell--the only fucking Omega he’s friends with.”

Derek rolls his eyes in the way that only fifteen year old Omega’s could, all sass and impunity. “Just because he’s an Alpha and I’m an Omega, doesn’t mean he wants to knot me, Uncle. God, I thought you knew him.”

Derek stalks away, muttering to himself, and Peter falls back into the couch.

He thought so too. But then, his baby Alpha had been startling him since that day in the park.

~*~

Peter doesn’t let people in his apartment very often.

As Cora steps in behind him, she whistles, and he stiffens, remembering why he doesn’t.

“Damn, Uncle, did you let Stiles move in?”

He glances around. “Stiles hasn’t been here.”

She gives him a curious look, and then slow knowledge slips across her face as she looks around.

“Oh, Peter,” she murmurs.

~*~

When Stiles is seventeen, he struts into Peter’s office with dinner, and Peter’s head snaps up, tracking the Alpha’s movements.

He smells...different.

Musky and sharp and mouth-wateringly good. Peter whines a little and Stiles freezes.

“Peter?” he murmurs, voice pitched low and curious and Peter blinks, shakes himself out of it, and forces a smile.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

Stiles nods, and watches him as he settles across from the Omega, laying the food out and waiting patiently until Peter begins eating.

They don’t talk, but then they don’t usually talk, when Stiles brings him food, something he started doing when he was fourteen and realized how close Peter’s office was to the sheriff’s station.

It’s nice, Stiles’ presence soothing and calming. Sometimes, he stays and works on his homework after they eat, slipping out as night begins to fall. But most days, it’s just eating together before he darts away and Peter is left to finish his work day.

Today, Stiles lingers, sprawls across Peter’s couch and reads until he falls asleep there. He’s distracting, with his heavy scent and deep breathing and the deceptively soft curve of his lips, the lingering baby fat on his cheeks.

Peter’s gaze slowly tracks down, down, down over his sleeping form, and snags on his crotch.

He’s an Alpha, and he’s big, even sleeping and soft, and Peter’s mouth waters, a little, thinking about it.

He almost falls out of his chair as he jerks back, so startled that he curses and trips over his feet, and rouses Stiles.

What the fuck.

“Shit,” the Alpha groans, dragging himself upright. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He smiles sheepishly at Peter and the Omega licks his lips.

“It’s fine, sweetheart.”

Stiles smiles at that, the way he always does, when Peter uses the endearment. He stands and stretches, his shirt riding up to expose a thin line of his belly and Peter bites his lip to keep from whining. Then he’s brushing a hand over Peter’s shoulder, and walking backwards. “See you later, Peter.”

He’s gone before Peter can respond, or even figure out what the hell he’d say, and he almost collapses into his chair, the scent of his baby Alpha washing over him, and the undeniable urge to beg for Stiles’ knot still pressing against his teeth.

What the actual fuck.

~*~

That night, Peter comes with three fingers shoved inside his wet hole, and Stiles’ name on his lips and aches with an emptiness he can’t fucking fill.

~*~

The scent doesn’t go away. It gets thicker sometimes, and Peter bristles, when Stiles comes to the Hale house smelling like Omegas he doesn’t know. He wants to rub against Stiles, wants to cover him in his scent and bite his neck, claim him so every bitchy Omega knows he’s taken.

And that--that right there is fucking insane.

Stiles is a sweet kid, his baby Alpha who has been peppering Peter with gifts and affection since before he knew what the hell it meant.

But it doesn’t mean anything. It sure as hell doesn’t mean Stiles is his to claim.

It’s depressing as hell, and he spends a few miserable nights curled on his couch, wrapped up in the fluffy blanket Stiles made him when he was twelve, eating ice cream and hating the Omega who would be Stiles’ mate.

He hoped like hell they were worthy of his baby Alpha.

~*~

Stiles is eighteen when the gifts change.

There are still books, but now--

Peter almost swallows his tongue when he opens a silver wrapped box that smells deliciously like Stiles and finds a red leather copy of the Kama Sutra.

A week later, it’s a anal plug with a fox tail which--Peter laughs and wonders if this is something he should take seriously, or if Stiles is being a little shit.

They don’t talk about the gifts, when Stiles brings him food. Stiles chatters about graduation and school and the Alpha courting Derek--he likes Braeden, but after Kate and Jennifer, both of them are wary of anyone interested in Derek, and Stiles is an overprotective Alpha to his very core--and leaves with a quiet brush against Peter’s shoulder. Sometimes--most times--he leaves a cluster of flowers, a coffee or small framed picture, but never mentions the silky lube, or black lace panties, or slim dildo, or even the vibrating plug that Peter wears when he knows Stiles will be by.

Stiles isn’t playing anymore, and yet it still feels like a game, and the disparity in the gifts--the sweetness balanced against the blatantly erotic, is making his head spin.

The day Stiles leaves a snapshot of fireflies in the Preserve, Peter realizes the truth.

~*~

<Peter> my heat is coming next week.

<baby A> what

<baby A> peter, what??

<baby A> answer me!

<baby A> fuck you so much, Peter, i’m coming over.

~*~

Stiles doesn’t knock, he batters at the door, and Peter exhales as he opens it.

His baby Alpha has never been to his apartment, never asked where it was, but it’s not surprising that he knows.

Stiles knows everything about Peter--favorite food, favorite movie, prefered lubricant, the kind of chocolate he eats when he’s sad and the fluffy socks he adores but only when he’s reading. He knows when Peter’s sick and when he’s angry, and when he’s so overworked and tired he’s going to be sick and angry.

He’s been caring for the Omega for longer than Peter ever realized, and it’s not surprising, not even a little surprising, that Stiles is here, without ever asking where he should be going.

“You don’t get heats,” Stiles says, urgently, pressing pass when Peter lets him in.

“I haven’t, not for years,” Peter agrees, and his voice is shaky.

It feels surreal, having Stiles here.

“Then what the hell--”

“You’re going into rut soon,” Peter says, cutting him off.

Stiles goes still, staring at him. Peter licks his lips. “Why--why have you always given me gifts? Fed me, provided for me? Why?”

“Because you’re mine,” Stiles says, simply, with the quiet assurance he’s always had when he’s talking to Peter.

Like this is set in stone, an irrefutable fact.

“You were never playing,” Peter murmurs and Stiles’ eyes go wide.

“You thought I was?”

“Most Alphas do!” Peter insists and Stiles snorts.

And looks around, like he has to look away from Peter.

His eyes go wide, when he sees the snapshots clustered on the wall, the tiny painting under the larger one he gave Peter when he was sixteen. The jars on the bookshelf, and the seemingly endless clusters of dried flowers.

The mountains of books and movies and rocks of all fucking things--the three months when he was seven and brought Peter rocks every damn day was a hard phase to get through--and he looks at Peter, his mouth open and eyes shining. “You--you kept them. My courting gifts.”

Peter nods, looking at twelve years of gifts that fill up the life he’s built, and thinks how it was never strange, keeping them.

How odd and wrong it felt, when he considered keeping any of Deuc’s or Kali’s gifts.

“Of course I did,” Peter whispers and Stiles crowds into his space, hands gentle as he presses him against the door.

“Why are you going into heat, Peter?” he demands, breathless.

“Because my alpha is finally going into rut,” he answers, and Stiles groans, kissing him hard and desperate, and Peter whines into it, melts under it, clinging to his baby Alpha and kissing him back.

~*~

When his heat hits, Peter is a panting mess, and Stiles licks down his body, spreads him open and licks the slick dripping down his thicks, up and into him while Peter curses and thrashes.

When he fills the Omega, Peter screams and comes, cock hard and dribbling against the sheet.

“More,” he begs, and Stiles smiles against his shoulder. Peter bites at the wrist braced across his chest. “Stiles, more!”

His Alpha gives him more, fucks him open until the Omega is sobbing with it, until he’s shoving back mindless for the knot he’s suddenly desperate for, and Stiles give it to him, shoves in and shouts, biting at Peter’s exposed neck, tieing them as he comes, shuddering and shaking through an endless orgasm.

“Mine,” he slurs, licking at Peter’s throat. “My Omega.”

Peter sighs, and nods. Smiles into the pillow, and says, soft and happy, “My baby Alpha.

Here, have a list of tips on how to be good to the Earth and not spend a fortune on it. Organic is good, but actually being able to eat the whole month is even better (especially on a student budget, yikes).

Leave the air con off when you are not at home. At some point, your house can’t get any warmer than it is, and having the AC on to constantly combat the heat just will burn so much energy that you do not need to pay for. Also, the difference between the temperature on your air conditioning unit and the outside temperature should be no more than 5 C. The smaller the difference is, the lower your energy cost!

Turn off the heat, or turn it way down, when you’re going to sleep. Grab an extra blanket and put on some socks instead!

Don’t cover your radiators with anything; the heat won’t spread efficiently and you’ll waste energy.

Same goes for your fridge. Try not to have anything touch the back wall. Same principle as above, just with the cold. Plus, the stuff touching your back wall might actually freeze. I’ve had this happen with yoghurt.

Let’s reverse all that. If you have a wall or corner that’s drafty as hell, put stuff up against it. Put your bookshelf there. Hang up posters and paintings. Cover it as best you can.

Save on dish soap by buying a small spray bottle, they cost like, nothing. Fill it 4:1 water to soap. You still get plenty of the cleaning goodness from the soap, but you use much less of it. Make sure you use all the soapy water that same day to avoid bacteria growth. Better for the water, better for your wallet. Of course, this is only relevant if you don’t have a dishwasher.

Don’t waste your money on expensive Magic Stain Removal For Clothes. Get some normal, clear dish soap. Wet your t-shirt or whatever it is that you got grease on. Rub dish soap on the opposite side of where you got the stain and let it sit before you wring out the soap again. That way, you get the stain out of your clothes fibers the same way it came in, so to speak. Wash clothes as normal afterwards. It’s magic, I swear.

Recycle! Find out where you can return glass (!), metal (!), cardboard, and what else your city asks you to sort. Save up bottles and cans in a bag or box, and take them there when it’s full. Donate clothes to charity.

While we’re at recycling, buy clothes that last, instead of poor quality clothes produced in a sweatshop that will stretch, twist, and tear after a few times in the washing machine. Spend a little more on your wardrobe a little less often.

Upcycle! Clean jam/pickle jars make for cute candle holders, pencil cups, hell, grow plants in them if they’re big enough. If they smell funky, wash them with lemon juice, salt, and water.

If you can, hang your clothes out to dry instead of using a dryer. It’ll smell nicer, and sunlight helps bleaching your whites!

Check the kilogram/pound price on stuff when grocery shopping. That’s where you really compare differences. I found out that a store near me sells organic peanut butter, which, per jar, deceptively costs a lot more than conventional. However, when I looked at the kg price, the difference was minimal. You should be able to find the kg/lb price on the price tags. Go organic when you can afford it! Less poison in the water, less poison in your body. Tomatoes, cucumber, and strawberries are some of the biggest sinners regarding how many pesticides they contain.

Figure out what fruits and veggies are in season when where you live. Buying stuff that’s in season means it’s a) produced locally or as close to your country as possible, which b) means that tons of fuel hasn’t been used to cart these vegetables all the way to you from the other side of the planet.

That goes for everything else, pretty much. Check where it’s been made, go for the stuff that is produced the closest to you.

The Forest app - you’ve heard about it. But were you totally aware that you can spend your imaginary coins on planting a real tree? You can!

Also related to forestry, check the list of ingredients for palm oil. Harvesting palm trees for oil means a crazy amount of deforestation and replanting of oil palms, leading to animals being robbed of their habitats, and overall the palm oil industry has a devastating impact on biodiversity. Say no and look for an alternative.

Quit the car in favor of walking, biking, or public transportation. A bus carrying 30 people spends less fuel per person than a car carrying only 1.

If you already have a car, carpool! Find a neighbor, some friends, classmates, colleagues nearby. Ask them if they want to go with you. Bonus: you can totally ask for gas money if it becomes a regular thing, and no one will think you’re a jerk.

Bring a fabric shopping bag for your groceries and avoid plastic and paper one-time-use bags! More and more countries are moving to ban plastic bags at grocery stores, which is fantastic.

Get kitchen rags (for wiping the countertop and such) made from cloth, not the microplastic ones that, when washed, allow plastic to go out into the water. The cloth ones will last you longer, too, as they’re more durable.

Lots of soaps, lotions and cleaning supplies have more environmentally friendly alternatives at no or a very small extra cost, and these should be helpfully marked with ecolabels! In the Nordic countries, for instance, we have the Nordic Swan, among many others.

All of these tips are nothing more than habit changes. They’ll take very little extra time out of your life and doesn’t require much dedication. You can do it!

Let Your Heart Be Light Ch. 8

John is home on leave from the Marines and Clarice is home on winter break from grad school. While they used to date in high school, Clarice and John haven't been together in a long time... But it's Christmas time, and it seems like everything and everyone in their small, holiday-obsessed hometown is trying to get them back together. Modern Thunderblink AU!

FF.net | Ao3

"You've got a coffee problem."

"No. I don't."

"Do toooooo," Norah said, letting her voice travel up the scale and down as she leaned against the doorway of the kitchen. "Clarice, come on. That's your second cup of coffee, and you're going to get another one. You've got a problem."

"Hush, you'll wake up Mama D and Karl. Besides, I'm prepping. I'm not falling asleep in the truck," she mumbled into the travel mug, both her hands wrapped around it like it was a lifeline. Not again, she wasn't going to nap during the ride up to the tree farm. She shouldn't have fallen asleep last night, but she had been super tired. Even if she had to drink enough coffee to give herself a heart attack, she wasn't going to conk out in John's truck again.

Clarice shuffled over to the coffee pot and dumped the rest of it into the travel mug. It still dark outside the kitchen window. When she had said the butt crack of dawn, she had hoped that, you know, it would actually be dawn. Instead the sun hadn't even started to peek over the horizon yet.

"Damn John's early mornings," Clarice grumbled to herself, rubbing the corner of her eye. Even with all the coffee and extreme determination, she was worried she would be asleep before they got out of Westchester. She wasn't running on much sleep.

When she turned back toward Norah, her little sister pointed at a glass jar on top of the fridge. "I heard that."

Clarice narrowed her eyes at Norah and dipped a hand into her pocketbook. She scrambled around in the abyss that was her bag until she found a quarter. Holding it up to prove that it was, in fact, a quarter, she headed over and went up on her tiptoes to get the swear jar down. She plunked the coin in and set the jar on the counter for easier access. She was home and Remy and some of her other foster siblings might be home within a few days, so it was a good idea to keep the jar in reach.

Lights flashed through the living room windows as someone pulled up to the house, and Norah jumped toward the door. "They're here!"

"Yeah, I see that," Clarice said. She turned off the lights and grabbed her bag and a jacket before following Norah out the front door. John's truck wasn't the only vehicle at the house. There were two more, a small hybrid car and a Jeep Wrangler, both of them idling in the quiet street. Clarice held up a hand against the headlight glare as she and Norah headed over to get into the truck.

"It really is a party," she said as she climbed into the passenger's street, automatically putting her travel mug in the cup holder. There was already a mug there, a dark blue one with a Marines symbol on it.

John gave a half-smile. "You could call it that."

In the backseat, Norah was buckling herself in while Riley jabbered at her, the two of them excited about going to the Christmas tree farm. Riley was already talking about getting a giant tree, which made Clarice wonder how they were going to convince her that an eight foot tree was just as good as a monstrous twenty-footer.

"Are we going or what?" a voice crackled, "I saw Clarice get in, let's go. Damn, you're slow."

Clarice looked down at the handheld radio that was laying on the console, recognizing the cranky voice. Also, she recognized the radio. "Oh my god, these still work?"

"They're well-made," John said as he picked it up. "We're going in just a minute. Seatbelts are important."

Clarice reached over and plucked the radio out of his hand. "That's right, Lorna, don't you care about safety?"

"Hey, wandering traveler," Marcos' voice responded. She could hear Lorna cussing her out in a friendly, warm tone in the background. "How's it going?"

"Fine, just wondering why we're going old school with communication today," she said. She turned the radio over in her hands, running her thumb along a series of scratches in the hard plastic surface. That was from when it had accidentally fallen out the window one summer when they had been going to the lake. Luckily it had only hit the road and gotten scratched instead of falling under the tire. Even though these were hardy, there was no way it could've survived getting run over. John had gotten them for his birthday when they were sophomores back in high school. They were…ancient.

"Because old school works where phone signals don't," John said, taking the radio back from her. He pressed the speaker button. "Is everyone ready?"

"Obviously," Lorna replied.

The other response was a garbled mess of static and arguing. Clarice could pick out James' voice along with a few others, so she guessed it was the Jeep Wrangler crew. Most likely to not know how to work a handheld.

"James," John said, "You there? Or do I have to text you…"

"Here," James finally said, sounding exasperated. "This is dumb, over."

"You don't have to say over," John said as he put the truck into reverse.

"We're using radios, so we're using radio lingo," James said, "Over."

"That's stupid," Lorna put in, "Don't be a brat."

James' tone became lazy. "Are you done talking? You didn't say over so I can't tell. Over."

Clarice smothered a smile at John's longsuffering look as Lorna and James started bickering over the radio. Lorna and Marcos had always liked to tease James mercilessly when they were younger, and it seemed like things hadn't changed. James, for his part, always gave as good as he got.

"John, can we listen to Christmas songs?" Riley asked, "Maybe for part of the way there? Or all the way? We've got lots of hours."

"You would think it was Christmas or something," Clarice said, giving the little girl a grin. Riley beamed back, all bright-eyed and excited. She still had that little-kid love for the holidays, and it was sort of infectious.

John changed the radio station, switching it around until 'Frosty the Snowman' started playing. "Is this okay?"

"Yep, thanks!" Riley said, kicking up feet up onto the console. She had gotten her shoes off already and her little socks had reindeer all over them. Norah's feet joined hers a couple moments later, though she had normal purple socks.

"Five bucks they'll be asleep in thirty minutes," Clarice said.

"That's a bad bet," he replied with a small smile, "You're almost entirely guaranteed to win."

"We won't fall asleep," Riley protested, "We're awake."

"We could drink their coffee," Norah said with a laugh, "Then we'd be super awake."

"Can we have your coffee?" Riley asked, tapping her foot against John's arm. He reached over and squeezed her toes, getting a laugh out of her. She tried to pull her foot back, but he grabbed her foot and kept it in place.

"You don't need coffee, you've got enough energy for all of us," John said, shaking her foot, "You're the last person on this planet who needs coffee."

"But you just said I'd go to sleep!" Riley protested. She leaned forward and pulled at his arm, trying to get him to release her foot. "I need it."

"You need a nap? I wholeheartedly agree."

"I'm so confused," Norah said, "Are we sleeping or not sleeping?"

"Sleeping," John said.

"Not sleeping," Riley said at exactly the same time.

Clarice leaned back in her seat as the girls argued with John and he fought back with a playfully stoic expression, his eyes bright with amusement. He liked teasing his baby sister, and it was easy to see that she loved it too. There was something extra cute, she supposed, about seeing big, tough Marine John playing with his little sister. She had always thought that was sort of adorable how much he cared about his younger siblings and didn't care who knew how much he loved them.

They stopped briefly at a gas station on the outskirts of town to fill up and get snacks for the long ride. Clarice was immediately side-tackled by Lorna the moment she got out of the car and she flailed a little, caught off-guard by Lorna's baby belly.

"Wow, swallow a basketball, buddy?" she asked as she hugged Lorna back. Lorna wasn't terribly affection, but it had been a long time since they had seen each other. A somewhat violent hug was only natural.

Lorna socked her in the shoulder. "A beach ball, you ass," she said with a grin.

It was definitely weird seeing Lorna pregnant. If Clarice had chosen any of her friends to be the literal Mom Friend, it wouldn't have been Lorna, but she knew Lorna would be an awesome mom, complete with ripped jeans and combat boots. "Is Marcos completely smothering you?" Clarice asked, looking over at her childhood BFF. He was busy fending off Riley and Norah, who had gotten out of the truck and wanted to help gas up the vehicles. He gave Clarice an absent wave and went back to trying to keep the kids away from the pump.

"Pretty much," Lorna said, "But he means well."

"Always does," Clarice said. Marcos was a complete teddy bear, but she could see how he might turn into a worry wart when it came to Lorna's pregnancy.

"He hasn't wrapped me up in bubble wrap yet, which I'm thinking is a good sign," Lorna said with a smirk.

"Give it time," Clarice said.

Lorna laughed. "Hey, brats, let's go get candy!" she yelled. Norah and Riley looked at each other and then headed over toward Lorna.

Riley slipped her hand into Lorna's as they headed toward the convenience store. "Can we have coffee?"

"Heck no," Lorna said, "But you can help me find some salt and vinegar chips and peanut butter."

"That's an awful combo," Clarice said, and beside her, Norah wrinkled her nose.

"It's not my weirdest craving," Lorna said, "Have you ever tried those pizza-flavored Combos dipped in tartar sauce? It's amazing."

"That's…beyond disgusting," Clarice said.

In the store, James and his friends were stocking up on candy and snacks like they were going camping for a week in the wilderness instead of a day trip to a tree farm. There were four of them besides James, and Clarice recognized the little blonde that James liked so much.

"Hey!" Ali called to Clarice and Lorna as James held a packet of M&Ms out of her reach, "Morning!"

"Hey, Ali," Clarice said. She had babysat Ali some back when they were much younger; her dad had been overprotective and hadn't let Ali stay home alone until she was at least fourteen.

Riley and Norah disappeared into the shelves, probably looking for something extremely sugary. While the others picked out snacks, Clarice went to the refrigerated section. Absently, she grabbed a couple drinks and then rushed through the snacks section, collecting the girls as she went. Outside, Marcos was pushing the horn on the hybrid, so it was making plaintive little beeps to encourage everyone to hurry. The teens jostled each other as they bought way too much food and then hurried out the door, heading back to the Jeep.

"Riley, Norah, let's go," Clarice called as she headed to the check-out, stepping up behind Lorna. The dark-haired woman had an armful's worth of snacks spread out on the counter. Clarice raised an eyebrow and Lorna frowned at her.

"Don't comment on a pregnant woman's snack choices."

"I wasn't going to," Clarice said, allowing herself a grin. "I didn't say a word."

"You had a look."

"What, now I'm not allowed to have a look?"

Lorna jostled her with her elbow. "You know what I mean."

"I'm just saying, you have Ho-Hos and vinegar chips." Clarice reached over to touch the items she had mentioned, which made Lorna brush her hand away.

"It's a surprisingly good combination," Lorna said. She paid for her food and headed outside, two plastic bags hanging from her elbow.

The two girls raced up to the counter, both of them carrying more candy than Clarice was willing to buy. "We're not…is that an entire container of Reeses?"

"It's important," Norah said, "We need protein."

"Then get some jerky," Clarice said, taking the little carton from Norah. She set it on the counter, a little embarrassed by the exasperated look the sales clerk gave her. "Sorry." Neither of the girls looked very apologetic.

The bell over the door dinged as Clarice finished paying for the snacks that she was actually going to buy, and Riley shot over to John as he stepped into the store. "Clarice won't feed us."

"She's not obligated to feed you, squirt," he said as he reached down and ruffled her hair. He looked up at Clarice. "But it looks like she bought you stuff. Unless you're eating all of that on your own?" He smiled at Clarice, and she couldn't help but smile right back. An actual, true smile from John was something of a rarity.

"Yeah, this is all mine," she said, holding the bag close, "You guys can get your own."

Automatically the kids started complaining about how that wasn't fair and how they were going to starve and how it was too early to be mean to them. John laughed and hushed Riley before glancing around the store.

Clarice headed for the door, pausing beside him. "It's okay, I got yours, too. Coke, pork rinds, and sunflower seeds, right?" His tastes couldn't have changed that much, right? "Oh, and a reheated sausage biscuit."

John stared at her, and Clarice shifted from foot to foot, suddenly rethinking her actions. "I can put it back…"

"No, sorry, that's great," he said, shaking his head as if clearing it. "Thank you."

"No problem," Clarice said, wondering if she had made things weird. Luckily, John broke up any awkwardness by grabbing Riley and tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before taking the plastic bag from Clarice. Marcos was beeping the little hybrid's horn again, and John smirked as they all headed out.

"That is the sorriest excuse for a horn I've ever heard."

"Right?" Clarice said, grinning, "It sounds like its crying every time he hits it."

"I think it's sort of cute," Norah said, "Like it's saying 'eh,' 'eh,' 'eh.'"

"Or meh, meh, meh," Riley said, and both the girls giggled.

Once everyone got back on the road, it was about an hour down the road before the girls fell asleep in the backseat. John turned down the Christmas music as he glanced up at the mirror, making sure they were both out.

"Took longer than expected," Clarice said. She took off her coat and tossed it over Norah before snagging John's coat from behind his seat and draping it over Riley. The seven-year-old snagged the coat and snuggled up to it, halfway hiding under it.

"I'm surprised you're still awake," John said, glancing over at her.

"Eyes on the road," she said, making a face at him. "I drank coffee. I'm prepared."

"Must've been a lot of coffee," John teased.

She reached over and gently socked him on the shoulder. "It's none of your business."

John smiled and turned his attention back to the road. Behind them, the teenagers were following along in the Jeep and right behind them was Lorna and Marcos' hybrid. They were a little troupe heading down the road, enjoying the crisp morning now that the sun was officially out. However, some clouds in the distance made it look like the sunshine might not last.

"Is it supposed to snow today?" Clarice asked, briefly pressing her nose against the window. Fog clouded the window and she rubbed it away with her sleeve, pulling the end up over the palm of her hand.

"There's a chance," John said, "But it could happen."

"That'd be nice and cliché," she said, "Cutting down Christmas trees in the snow."

"Hey, I like this particular cliché," John said with a small smile, "Don't insult it."

"I didn't say I didn't like it," she replied. She reached for her bag and fished around for her phone, eventually finding it. After taking a short vid of the sky and blasting it out on Instagram, she set the phone on the dash.

The two of them settled into a comfortable silence, and Clarice reached over to turn the channel. While she loved Christmas music, it was tiresome after a while. Besides, the kids were asleep. She flipped through a few channels and finally found a rock station, one that John would like and she wouldn't mind. Outside, the woods were flashing by, bare-limbed tree after tree, as they made their way to the Christmas tree farm.

Ten Things I Won’t Miss

I take a walk around the Ho Hoan Kiem for the last time.  It's been less than two months since I first set foot in Hanoi, and now I'm filled with nostalgia for the first days of my arrival when everything was a novelty.  I've grown accustomed to the language, to street vendors, tourists, to scooters swerving around me, crowded streets and little shops.  I can see why Lady came and stayed.  It's easy to stay here.  I shop for a few souvenirs then head to my favorite cafe in Hanoi; the Tous Les Jours!  I take a seat on the second floor, open my laptop and work while having one of their delicious pineapple bread.  The cafe has wi-fi and soothing golden lighting, while outside the window the blue sky gets darker with each passing minute.  The soft music is perfect and the staff is super friendly.  Today there are few customers besides me, and I appreciate that too. My only problem with the place, as well as most cafes in Southeast Asia, is that tea and coffee are served in such tiny cups.  In South America is the same thing; you ask for a cup of coffee and get a little sample.  They're rather proud of their coffee beans, but never want you to be satiated.  Instead, they dispense it like medication.  I miss the States' big mugs and free refills! I'm at the end of my summer internship, and I've loved being here.  However, there are a few things in Vietnam I will not miss.  Let's make a quick list, shall we? 

1) Probably the number one thing that really gets to me is the habit the Vietnamese have of clearing their throats and spitting on the ground.  This happens everywhere.  You're walking around the beautiful Ho Hoan Kiem lake, having the best thoughts conceivable to men, then you hear someone right beside you making a deep sweep in their throat and spitting its phlegmatic contents right on the path.  Gosh! I do avert my eyes, my ears, and all my senses as I find the habit deeply repulsive, but this seems perfectly normal and acceptable in the Vietnamese culture.  I want to ask them if you have to do that, can you at least spit in the nearest trash can?   Close related to that is their habit of picking their noses.  It's not that people all around the world doesn't do it, but there's a time and place for everything, which is a concept that evades the average Vietnamese.  Also, consider dropping the habit altogether and using a tissue instead.  

2) Poor sanitation. This is both a personal issue and a major social one.  I believe many people wouldn't want to visit Southeast Asia because they don't do well with a hole in the ground instead of a toilet bowl.  So, yes, my travels would have been much more pleasant if I could count on proper sanitation, but I also believe that these countries could get a major boost in tourism, and consequently in the economy if they just made sure that public restrooms were properly equipped and clean.  

3) Cutting in line.  This only happens when you're in line, so, it's not a constant pebble in my shoe, but when it does occur, it's unbelievably annoying.  How can anyone think that this is okay?  How do they feel when someone cuts in line in front of them?  I have talked to Vietnamese people about that and they laugh like it's a Vietnamese cute quirk.  It's not cute! A quirk shouldn't interfere with everyone else's schedule.  It's not that Vietnamese people are arrogant, because generally, they are not.  It's just that they don't put that much stock in this kind of social organization.  On this matter, China is quite different.  Even by visiting the Chinese embassy in Hanoi one notices that cutting in line is a major no-no.  Chinese people can be very rigid on a lot of things, not always sensibly, but in queueing they can teach Vietnam a thing or two.

4) No sidewalk to speak of.  Well, yes, there are sidewalks, but they're not for walking.  They're used primarily as parking spaces for scooters. If there aren't parked scooters, or if there's extra space, then people may walk.  But most likely, it's been already taken by tables and people cooking, eating, playing checkers, or fixing appliances.  If you're walking on the sidewalk at rush hour, remember that the sidewalk is free game, and you'll most often see a motorcycle rushing at or behind you.  The fun never stops. 5) Smoking.  This is something that surprised me.  I thought that smoking was in decline all around the world, but apparently, that's not the case in Vietnam -- especially among young people.  The Vietnamese young men and women seem unmoved by the disturbing ads on cigarette packages. Everywhere you go, there are people puffing away. What I find ironic is that most people use a mask on the streets to prevent contamination by air pollution but see no problem in lighting a cigarette.    

6) Trash.  Sometimes I think of Vietnam as a person with low self-esteem,  who just doesn't realize his potential and how precious he is.  That would explain why they don't care much about some of their beautiful beaches and parks.  That's not generalized, and Hanoi has many places well cared for, but in a beautiful beach in Phu Quoc, for example, there was plenty of trash, so that you had to watch where you stepped. The rule of thumb seems to be that, unless a place is considered sacred, like a pagoda, or classified by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site, it doesn't require maintenance.  Therefore, if you visit the Temple of Literature, for example, you'll find it clean and well maintained, but if you take a walk around a small park or lake, it might be littered with empty bottles, food wraps, and dog feces.  

7) Toothpicking. After a meal, most people in Vietnam reach for the toothpick -- which is conveniently placed on the table -- to do some teeth cleaning.  Okay, this is a personal peeve of mine.  As a teenager, I worked as a dental assistant and that was something my boss hammered in his clients' minds; don't use toothpicks on your teeth, it does more harm than good.  The Carefree Dental site has the following to say about the habit: "...if you're not careful, you could be damaging your tooth enamel, lacerating gum tissue, and even causing a broken tooth... Additionally, aggressive toothpick use could damage the roots of the teeth, especially where the gums have pulled away from the teeth leaving root surfaces exposed. A broken splinter could also lodge itself in the gum, resulting in an infection if not removed."  I understand the drive to get food from between your teeth after a meal, but there are other ways, more effective, to do that, like flossing.  I also don't like the fact that this is done at the table, but that might just be me.  I'm one of those people who believe that a restroom is a perfect place to put yourself back to rights.  Especially if that restroom is well lit, has all the appliances and is clean. #see sanitation above.   Vietnamese people are notorious for bad teeth and oral hygiene, and I believe that toothpicking is only one more bad habit in a multifaceted issue. https://www.carefreedental.com/resources/16-dental-tips/153-10-bad-habits-that-are-hard-on-your-teeth

8) Unwelcome solicitation. Vietnamese people are very helpful and most of the time their help is quite welcome.  However, it can get annoying when you can't take a ten-minute walk without being offered at least five things.  It's fruits, hats, juices, food and, of course, rides.  There's a man leaning on a motorcycle at almost every corner, and every one of them asks if you want a ride.  That's also the case in Cambodia, Thailand, and Laos.  It's nice to have rides easily available, but it becomes a pain when you can't go twenty steps without having to decline something.  There are also those who follow you for a little while, insisting.   If you do accept whatever they're selling, be ready to haggle.  Sometimes haggling is fun, especially if you're doing it for exercise and are not very interested in the product. But in that case, I'd rather spend my time in more interesting conversations.  When making purchases, I like straight-forward transactions. I prefer fixed prices and being able to count on finding the same product at the same price day after day.

9) Scarcity mentality.  The scarcity mentality is the idea that there's never enough to go around.  I use the word never instead of not, because the scarcity mentality subscribes to a sort of pessimism.  It's not that there isn't enough for today, but a constant belief that tomorrow there won't be enough either. Some people with this mindset are very selfish, believing that resources cannot be shared since more for you means less for me.  I'd not say that the Vietnamese is selfish, much on the contrary.  The people I met in Vietnam were very considerate and extremely generous, especially my supervisors and colleagues at The Gioi.  However, the notion of poverty is very present in the Vietnamese society's words and actions.  This is hard to explain, so I'll give a few examples: the tiny teacup at homes and cafes, as I've mentioned before, the scant toilet paper, narrow streets, tiny bathrooms, little water in the shower, bath towel about the size of an American hand towel, recycled water for many needs like washing dishes, flushing, etc.  Anyone who knows me knows that I dislike waste and truly believe we should use our resources more effectively.  My problem is with the mentality itself, with the belief that we don't have enough, the posture that everything is scarce today and tomorrow will be worse.  While I can't speak much about the economy in Vietnam, I do notice that people have money to eat out, to buy cigarettes, to go to the movies, and to travel.  And yet, that cultural restriction is often present, as though the resources are meager and must be carefully divided.   I have often compared Vietnam with Brazil, and on this too the similarity is astonishing.  I was away from Brazil for twenty-four years, and at my return, I was surprised by the size of things like soap bars, peanut butter jars, mayonnaise, jam, tomato sauce, shampoo bottles, and of course, teacups!  Do people eat or use less of a product because it's in a smaller package?  Or do we use or eat as much as we need, independent of the container?  Like Vietnam, Brazil also keeps and encourages a scarcity mentality.  In a culture with this mindset, goods are distributed as though from a parent to a child -- this is all you can have, Junior, so make sure it lasts, -- while in places with an abundance mentality, goods are spread freely, even if they are meager, with the trust that people will responsibly take what they need and nothing more.  In this case, people are treated like responsible adults and not like children who can't be trusted. 

10) Order and Progress. It could be the slogan on a flag, right? Oh, wait! It is! It's the slogan on the Brazilian flag.  And it doesn't work very well over there.  But, disappointment notwithstanding, it's a good slogan.  No.  It's a great slogan because you really can't have progress without order.  I'm sure if one day Brazil succeeds in attaining the first part of the slogan, the country will have no problem with the second. Order, or organization, allows us to take a full assessment of our surroundings. It's by organizing that we know the resources we have and can plan around what we don't have. While traveling in Southeast Asia I noticed that the absence of some basic structures -- sanitation, for example -- is not the result of lack of resources. Everything necessary for an efficient and pleasant rest stop, for instance, is already there.  The electrical wires in Phnom Penh is an example of that; apparently, the Cambodian capital expanded quickly and there was an immediate need for more and better electrical wires.  Instead of organizing and extending the existing cables, they haphazardly added more as demand increased so that now it's a tangle of wires which defy logic.  I can only imagine how electricians deal with that mess.   So, why can't it be organized?  I don't know.  Perhaps they have been dealing with bigger emergencies, putting out fires for too long, or maybe order is just not a high priority in the Vietnamese culture.  However, there are places where much thought and planning have been applied, like the Train Tien Plaza in Hanoi, a shopping center with all the organization and sophistication one can expect.  The airport, some hotels, stores and upscale restaurants show a stark difference to the facilities for the public, which have yet to benefit from the same kind of organization.

Eater Staffers on the Kitchen Tools They Can’t Live Without

Shutterstock

These pots and pans, appliances, and utensils have made cooking in quarantine a little bit easier

As the weeks of social distancing and recommendations to stay home as much as possible stretch on, cooking has taken on both more urgency and more burden. Luckily, there are products that, whether by intention or not, can ease the load, making spending so much time cooking so much easier.

Below, a roundup of the tools and products that have made Eater editors’ kitchen lives better. And if you’re looking for more on what to cook with said tools, check out our guide for folks who literally never cook as well as our pantry-cooking guide.

Pots and Pans

Whirlpool nonstick griddle

“Maybe the best part of a recent move has been playing with the nonstick griddle that straddles two burners atop my new stove. I’ve used it to char tomatoes, peppers, and garlic cloves for salsa, revive leftover steak, toast slices of sourdough, and inflate Indian chapati to accompany this cilantro chutney chicken recipe. A quick wipe down keeps it clean, so that accounts for one less dish to wash while the sink piles up.” — Gabriel Hiatt, Eater DC editor

Cook N Home nonstick wok

“I never knew that I could fall in love with my wok, but here I am. This wok brings me so much joy when I’m cooking. It’s sturdy so it can hold a lot of stuff; it’s big enough to cook a family-sized portion. The pan’s marbling coat makes sure that nothing gets stuck on the bottom, from braising short ribs to frying eggs. I use this pan for everything from stews to fried rice; it’s incredibly versatile! I know it’s overwhelming to look through different wok options, but for home cooks who want to cook many different dishes without having to clean up any residuals, this is the one. The price is also extremely affordable, so what’s not to love?” — James Park, social media manager

Great Jones sheet pan

“This is the first ‘fancy’ sheet pan I’ve ever had, generally preferring basics from restaurant supply stores or else the cheapest available from retailers like Williams-Sonoma. Intrigued by the company’s promise that it doesn’t warp, I ordered one last year and have not been disappointed. Since shelter-in-place started, though, I’ve found myself reaching for it over my other sheet pans, and I’m 99 percent sure it’s because the vibrant color stands out among my pans and makes cooking feel that much more lively. I’ve used it to make cookies, nachos, and all sorts of roasted vegetables, but also as a Bananagrams board and a photo backdrop.” — Hillary Dixler Canavan, restaurant editor

Appliances

Panasonic toaster oven

“I grew up in a toaster oven family — even now, everyone in my immediate family has the same one — but even I, a super fan, did not fully appreciate the appliance until I moved in late March, just as the COVID-19 outbreak hit NYC, and found myself living in an apartment with no gas for about a week and a half. As a result, I spent a lot of time with my toaster oven, sometimes cooking three square meals a day in it. It’s fast and versatile, good for so many things: roasting vegetables, baking brownies and small cakes, and, of course, just toasting bread or bagels or nuts and spices.” — Sonia Chopra, director of editorial growth

Ninja Express Chop

“I never really thought I needed a food processor — big or small, really — until I got the Ninja Express Chop. I had somehow managed to avoid all recipes that required one, since it seemed so bulky to move and a pain to clean. Once I got the Ninja Express Chop, all that changed. It’s small and easy to fit in the cabinet; and it easily comes apart into four simple pieces, all of which fit in my sink or dishwasher, so I don’t mind cleaning it, even when it’s coated with oil from herby salad dressings or flecks of basil from my homemade pesto — all things I never would have made until I got it.” — Ellie Krupnick, managing editor

OXO tea kettle

“Weirdly enough, I have been relying heavily on a tea kettle. I’ve been using it every single day at various times to boil water. I start with it in the morning to make oatmeal for breakfast and continue throughout the day to make tea and repurpose hot tea for iced to switch it up. I am trying to stay as hydrated as possible while I am home.” — Stephen Pelletteri, executive producer

Anova sous vide machine

“We’ve been using the Anova to cook large portions of pork shoulder that we then eat for days and days in tacos, ramen, and more. It’s a multi-day process including a 24-hour sous vide, 24 hours in the fridge, and then oven-roasting before pulling — lots of time, but mostly hands-off. (Try J. Kenji López-Alt’s recipe to start, and then experiment with your own variations. We’ve enjoyed adding a molasses glaze before it goes in the oven.) Hint: Reserve the cooked pork juices after the sous vide process to use with ramen — boil with the water in a one-to-one ratio for the best fancied up packaged ramen you’ve had.” — Rachel Leah Blumenthal, Eater Boston editor

Hamilton Beach panini press

“My cheap-ass panini maker is so much more than a device on which to make grilled cheese, even though that’s its most common use. It’s also a lovely way to make toast (that’s a grilled cheese sans cheese) or just warm up bread enough to apply butter. Going further off-label, I’ve been using it to cook up frozen hash brown patties (they’re done in a flash with a nice crispy crust, way better than the 20 minutes in the oven version) and grill baby asparagus (while full-sized asparagus is too girthy to cook completely, the babies do just fine). Is this why people bought George Foreman grills back in the day?” — Eve Batey, Eater San Francisco senior editor

Utensils

Sur La Table fish spatula

“I’m an evangelist for this tool even under normal circumstances, and have gifted it more times than I can count. One of its purposes is obvious from its name: it’s great for flipping fish without having it break apart or damaging the skin. But I find myself using it daily, whether it’s to remove my meatloaf from its loaf pan or lift up a focaccia to see if it’s browning underneath.” — Missy Frederick, cities director

McoMce plastic bench scraper

I’ve gotten really, really tired of cleaning my kitchen during shelter-in-place, but this plastic bench scraper is a life-saver. It’s good for pushing dough out of bowls or scraping stubborn bits out of pots and pans, but I mostly use it to clean my kitchen sink. It makes quick work of collecting food scraps without having to pile them all into my hand (yuck). Once I’m done cleaning, I rinse it with a bit of soap, so that it’s ready to cut cinnamon rolls, collect herbs on my cutting board, and clean the sink — again.” — Elazar Sontag, staff writer

Storage

Comfy Package plastic kitchen containers

“During this time where I’ve been cooking a lot and ordering a lot of food, plastic food storage containers have been my saviors. It’s a habit I picked up from my dad, who works at a New York City market. The multiple sizes, from the slim eight-ounce cups to the large 32-ounce containers, makes it easy to store anything, from leftover cream cheese to portioned-out frozen lentil soup. The sizes also make it easier to downsize leftovers in the fridge, thus clearing up space for more food.” — Nadia Chaudhury, Eater Austin editor

Ball glass jars

“Last summer we had a crazy infestation of pantry moths, so on the advice of our exterminator I started saving all of my glass jars to store flours and cereals and other moth-attracting ingredients in. Now that my pantry is more valuable than ever, I’m using these jars to keep all of my bulk staples like beans, grains, and pastas organized and easily visible. I use old peanut butter jars for the most part (my kids go through a jar a week), but I’d actually advise going a little bigger if you’re buying them new, with some wide-mouth half-gallon Ball jars or invest in some fancy straight-sided ones like these wood-topped ones from Target.” — Lesley Suter, travel editor

Other Stuff

Final Touch rocks glass with ice ball

“I wanted to up my Manhattan game during the coronavirus pandemic, and the only new tool I bought was this rocks glass that includes a silicone mold to make a round ice cube. The rocks glass has a glass cylinder at the bottom so the round ice cube will roll around the bottom of the glass. It feels sophisticated to drink out of this glass, almost like I’m at a restaurant instead of at home.” — Susan Stapleton, Eater Vegas editor

Aerogarden countertop garden

“Two words: Breakfast salad. Yep, That’s been a thing in my life anytime I have my AeroGarden up and running and this quarantine called for it. Fresh herbs and lettuce in just a few weeks. I even threw some wild flowers in this time for some much needed cheer. Take that shallots-in-a-jar.” — Maureen Giannone Fitzgerald, production executive

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2zxaSRX https://ift.tt/3euFvpS

Shutterstock

These pots and pans, appliances, and utensils have made cooking in quarantine a little bit easier

As the weeks of social distancing and recommendations to stay home as much as possible stretch on, cooking has taken on both more urgency and more burden. Luckily, there are products that, whether by intention or not, can ease the load, making spending so much time cooking so much easier.

Below, a roundup of the tools and products that have made Eater editors’ kitchen lives better. And if you’re looking for more on what to cook with said tools, check out our guide for folks who literally never cook as well as our pantry-cooking guide.

Pots and Pans

Whirlpool nonstick griddle

“Maybe the best part of a recent move has been playing with the nonstick griddle that straddles two burners atop my new stove. I’ve used it to char tomatoes, peppers, and garlic cloves for salsa, revive leftover steak, toast slices of sourdough, and inflate Indian chapati to accompany this cilantro chutney chicken recipe. A quick wipe down keeps it clean, so that accounts for one less dish to wash while the sink piles up.” — Gabriel Hiatt, Eater DC editor

Cook N Home nonstick wok

“I never knew that I could fall in love with my wok, but here I am. This wok brings me so much joy when I’m cooking. It’s sturdy so it can hold a lot of stuff; it’s big enough to cook a family-sized portion. The pan’s marbling coat makes sure that nothing gets stuck on the bottom, from braising short ribs to frying eggs. I use this pan for everything from stews to fried rice; it’s incredibly versatile! I know it’s overwhelming to look through different wok options, but for home cooks who want to cook many different dishes without having to clean up any residuals, this is the one. The price is also extremely affordable, so what’s not to love?” — James Park, social media manager

Great Jones sheet pan

“This is the first ‘fancy’ sheet pan I’ve ever had, generally preferring basics from restaurant supply stores or else the cheapest available from retailers like Williams-Sonoma. Intrigued by the company’s promise that it doesn’t warp, I ordered one last year and have not been disappointed. Since shelter-in-place started, though, I’ve found myself reaching for it over my other sheet pans, and I’m 99 percent sure it’s because the vibrant color stands out among my pans and makes cooking feel that much more lively. I’ve used it to make cookies, nachos, and all sorts of roasted vegetables, but also as a Bananagrams board and a photo backdrop.” — Hillary Dixler Canavan, restaurant editor

Appliances

Panasonic toaster oven

“I grew up in a toaster oven family — even now, everyone in my immediate family has the same one — but even I, a super fan, did not fully appreciate the appliance until I moved in late March, just as the COVID-19 outbreak hit NYC, and found myself living in an apartment with no gas for about a week and a half. As a result, I spent a lot of time with my toaster oven, sometimes cooking three square meals a day in it. It’s fast and versatile, good for so many things: roasting vegetables, baking brownies and small cakes, and, of course, just toasting bread or bagels or nuts and spices.” — Sonia Chopra, director of editorial growth

Ninja Express Chop

“I never really thought I needed a food processor — big or small, really — until I got the Ninja Express Chop. I had somehow managed to avoid all recipes that required one, since it seemed so bulky to move and a pain to clean. Once I got the Ninja Express Chop, all that changed. It’s small and easy to fit in the cabinet; and it easily comes apart into four simple pieces, all of which fit in my sink or dishwasher, so I don’t mind cleaning it, even when it’s coated with oil from herby salad dressings or flecks of basil from my homemade pesto — all things I never would have made until I got it.” — Ellie Krupnick, managing editor

OXO tea kettle

“Weirdly enough, I have been relying heavily on a tea kettle. I’ve been using it every single day at various times to boil water. I start with it in the morning to make oatmeal for breakfast and continue throughout the day to make tea and repurpose hot tea for iced to switch it up. I am trying to stay as hydrated as possible while I am home.” — Stephen Pelletteri, executive producer

Anova sous vide machine

“We’ve been using the Anova to cook large portions of pork shoulder that we then eat for days and days in tacos, ramen, and more. It’s a multi-day process including a 24-hour sous vide, 24 hours in the fridge, and then oven-roasting before pulling — lots of time, but mostly hands-off. (Try J. Kenji López-Alt’s recipe to start, and then experiment with your own variations. We’ve enjoyed adding a molasses glaze before it goes in the oven.) Hint: Reserve the cooked pork juices after the sous vide process to use with ramen — boil with the water in a one-to-one ratio for the best fancied up packaged ramen you’ve had.” — Rachel Leah Blumenthal, Eater Boston editor

Hamilton Beach panini press

“My cheap-ass panini maker is so much more than a device on which to make grilled cheese, even though that’s its most common use. It’s also a lovely way to make toast (that’s a grilled cheese sans cheese) or just warm up bread enough to apply butter. Going further off-label, I’ve been using it to cook up frozen hash brown patties (they’re done in a flash with a nice crispy crust, way better than the 20 minutes in the oven version) and grill baby asparagus (while full-sized asparagus is too girthy to cook completely, the babies do just fine). Is this why people bought George Foreman grills back in the day?” — Eve Batey, Eater San Francisco senior editor

Utensils

Sur La Table fish spatula

“I’m an evangelist for this tool even under normal circumstances, and have gifted it more times than I can count. One of its purposes is obvious from its name: it’s great for flipping fish without having it break apart or damaging the skin. But I find myself using it daily, whether it’s to remove my meatloaf from its loaf pan or lift up a focaccia to see if it’s browning underneath.” — Missy Frederick, cities director

McoMce plastic bench scraper

I’ve gotten really, really tired of cleaning my kitchen during shelter-in-place, but this plastic bench scraper is a life-saver. It’s good for pushing dough out of bowls or scraping stubborn bits out of pots and pans, but I mostly use it to clean my kitchen sink. It makes quick work of collecting food scraps without having to pile them all into my hand (yuck). Once I’m done cleaning, I rinse it with a bit of soap, so that it’s ready to cut cinnamon rolls, collect herbs on my cutting board, and clean the sink — again.” — Elazar Sontag, staff writer

Storage

Comfy Package plastic kitchen containers

“During this time where I’ve been cooking a lot and ordering a lot of food, plastic food storage containers have been my saviors. It’s a habit I picked up from my dad, who works at a New York City market. The multiple sizes, from the slim eight-ounce cups to the large 32-ounce containers, makes it easy to store anything, from leftover cream cheese to portioned-out frozen lentil soup. The sizes also make it easier to downsize leftovers in the fridge, thus clearing up space for more food.” — Nadia Chaudhury, Eater Austin editor

Ball glass jars

“Last summer we had a crazy infestation of pantry moths, so on the advice of our exterminator I started saving all of my glass jars to store flours and cereals and other moth-attracting ingredients in. Now that my pantry is more valuable than ever, I’m using these jars to keep all of my bulk staples like beans, grains, and pastas organized and easily visible. I use old peanut butter jars for the most part (my kids go through a jar a week), but I’d actually advise going a little bigger if you’re buying them new, with some wide-mouth half-gallon Ball jars or invest in some fancy straight-sided ones like these wood-topped ones from Target.” — Lesley Suter, travel editor

Other Stuff

Final Touch rocks glass with ice ball

“I wanted to up my Manhattan game during the coronavirus pandemic, and the only new tool I bought was this rocks glass that includes a silicone mold to make a round ice cube. The rocks glass has a glass cylinder at the bottom so the round ice cube will roll around the bottom of the glass. It feels sophisticated to drink out of this glass, almost like I’m at a restaurant instead of at home.” — Susan Stapleton, Eater Vegas editor

Aerogarden countertop garden

“Two words: Breakfast salad. Yep, That’s been a thing in my life anytime I have my AeroGarden up and running and this quarantine called for it. Fresh herbs and lettuce in just a few weeks. I even threw some wild flowers in this time for some much needed cheer. Take that shallots-in-a-jar.” — Maureen Giannone Fitzgerald, production executive

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2zxaSRX via Blogger https://ift.tt/2Ajcw9F

In Retrospect

In May of 2015, I set out on a backpacking trip through Europe. It was supposed to last two months, but I came home after only five weeks. 

While I still have a lot of mixed emotions about the trip, it did teach me a lot about myself. Namely, that it's not a great idea to go to backpacking when you're in denial about your eating disorder.

CW for descriptions of disordered eating behaviours, including bingeing and restricting.

The bus ride to Munich took five hours, and I cried the whole time.

For what it’s worth, it was a nice bus. I mean, it had wifi, and a USB plug in so I could charge my phone, which I took advantage of to watch the latest season of Orange is the New Black while I sobbed softly, occasionally looking up to wonder why no one was asking me what was wrong.

The tears had been building up in my chest for a while, and I’m not sure what specifically broke the dam—maybe watching the buildings of Prague whiz past the window in a daze and thinking gee, I’d like to go to Prague someday, even when I’d spent the past 48 hours exploring the city. Maybe it was the comfortable seat, or how when I finally sat down I could actually feel how twisted and bloated my stomach was. Maybe it was the knowledge that as tired and as sick as I felt, I still had four more weeks of what was supposed to be the best experience of my life stretching out endlessly before me. I tried to imagine Greece and Rome—the white sandy beaches I had been so looking forward to visiting, the ruins, the beauty of Cinque Terre that everyone had told me I absolutely had to see—but when I did I only felt lonely, and tired, and numb.

I don’t think I’ve ever truly experienced depression, but when checked into my hostel room in Munich later that day and sank to the floor sobbing before I could even take off my backpack, I was closer than I’ve ever been.

I had set out on my quintessential backpacking journey five weeks earlier, after months of planning. I had carefully budgeted $6000 for my two-month trip from Ireland to the UK, mainland Europe, and the Mediterranean. I was “winging it” as much as I could—I hadn’t booked any hostels or flights, and had only a loose idea of the things I wanted to do and see. This would leave me open to experiences, I reasoned.

For the record, I still like this approach to backpacking, and my chosen method of travel was not the problem.

The problem was that for the previous two years I had been fostering disordered eating habits that had lead me to lose almost fifty pounds in ten months while simultaneously descending into a hellish binge/restrict cycle that occupied most of my waking thoughts.

I’m still not comfortable saying I had (have?) an eating disorder; “disordered eating” feels better for some reason. I’ve always dealt with anxiety, and maybe OCD, so the way I see it, an obsession over food and exercise was just a fun new way for my mental illness to manifest. At the time, though, I didn’t see it as mental illness.

When I boarded my flight from Vancouver to Dublin, I still thought that my obsessions and anxiety were a flaw. Just like the way I sometimes opened the cupboards and ate everything in sight, my fears were something to be conquered. If I could just grit my teeth and get over my stupid neurosis about food, I could have a good time in Europe, god dammit. I mean, it’s Europe! Once I got there, I told myself, I would be so distracted by the cool things around me that I wouldn’t have time to have a panic attack because I ate a fucking French fry.

As soon as I boarded my flight, my thoughts turned to food. What would they be serving? Would it have protein? Would it be fried? If there was a dinner roll, could I resist eating it? If I couldn’t sleep, I would be hungrier—I would probably end up eating a whole extra meal just because of the time change. What if I ended up eating two breakfasts? I could always just not eat the protein bar I had stashed in my purse; that could make up for it… Shit, the mere thought of my protein bar made me want it. I wasn’t hungry, but I ate it, and then felt simultaneously terrible that I had caved and relieved that it couldn’t taunt me anymore.

I watched movies on the in-flight TV. The first meal came, and I ate the dinner roll, with butter. In the bathroom, I lifted up my shirt and studied my stomach. I’m still okay, I thought. If I don’t eat all of the breakfast meal, I’ll be okay.

I ate all of the breakfast meal.

By the time I had landed in Dublin and found my hostel, almost all of the shops were closed. I ended up getting Subway, because I still remembered how many calories were in my favourite sandwich. I ate it in the restaurant and thought about how many meals I had eaten that day—too many.

It’s okay, I told myself. If I just have a light breakfast tomorrow, I’ll be okay.

I did not have a light breakfast.

So here’s a thing about hostels—they’re cheap. And guess which food macro is the cheapest? That’s right: carbs! My hostel in Dublin offered several breakfast food choices: corn flakes, Muesli, and toast.

I avoided it for as long as I could. I thought of buying eggs from the shop next door and cooking them, but a quick tour of the hostel kitchen ruled that out—it smelled like garbage and there were flies crawling on all of the dishes.

I walked into the dining hall and surveyed my fellow travellers, eyeing their sugar-topped cornflakes and white bread with Nutella disdainfully. I resolved myself to have one bowl of Muesli with milk and a cup of tea. That would be okay. But after that I was still hungry, so I poured myself another bowl.

Fuck, I thought as soon as I sat back down. I really fucked that up, didn’t I? God dammit. Well, if I just eat this last bowl, I’ll be okay—I can still save this.

And then that thing happened. My heart started racing, and my brain was filled with two opposite sentiments: hey, when in Rome! You’re in Europe! Enjoy the food! and Fuck fuck FUCK you fucking failure, what the hell are you doing?

So what the fuck do you do then?

Well, you get another bowl. And another. And the whole time though your brain is screaming at you to stop, for the love of all that’s holy, STOP but you keep getting up, you keep pouring yourself bowl after bowl, and when you realize how spectacularly you’ve fucked up you just and pour yourself some cornflakes, too, with sugar, and make yourself some toast with Nutella, because if you’ve already failed so badly what’s 500, 1000, 2000 more calories anyways?  The whole time you try to be casual about it, you hope no one notices, but you’re sure they do.

By the time I met up with my travel buddies I was so full I could barely move. And it only got worse from there.

Now, I’m not going to relive every time I binged in Europe—that wouldn’t be very interesting, because every time kind of looks like that. Every binge starts with me hating myself for eating, and every one ends with me in pain, short of breath, and promising myself that that this will be the last time.  

I won’t relive every binge, but I will tell you about a few of the worst ones.

In London, I stayed with an acquaintance who I had met through a mutual friend, and who had graciously invited me to stay with her. While I was there she went to work as normal, and I filled my days with sightseeing in the big city. She also very kindly gave me permission to eat whatever was in her cupboards—a nice, normal thing to do. But for me, it was terrifying.  

One day I got home before she did. I decided to have a snack—peanut butter on toast. The peanut butter was good, and slightly different from the stuff we have in Canada. Peanut butter has always been one of the things I am most afraid of—delicious and high calorie, it was one of my favourite binge foods. I had banned it from my house, and even got mad when my partner bought it solely for himself. Consequently, I hadn’t eaten peanut butter in a very long time.

So, I had another piece of toast. And another. And then I didn’t even bother toasting the bread. And then I started eating it by the spoon.

I paced the kitchen, spoon in hand, horrified at myself. Why was I doing this? This wasn’t even my fucking food. Surely my friend would notice how much of her peanut butter I had eaten. It was a smallish jar, and it had been almost full when I started.

And still, it taunted me from the cupboard. My mouth watered. She wouldn’t notice one more spoonful missing, would she?

It took me just over an hour to consume the entire jar, and it was one of the worst hours of my life. I felt sad, sick, out of control, and guilty. At a certain point I decided the only way to fix what I had done was to finish the peanut butter altogether and buy another, identical jar to replace the one I had stuffed myself on.

I still remember lying on Kaitlin’s bed after it was over in the fetal position, in pain, clutching my stomach, yet feeling almost victorious. I had eaten it all. I had replaced the jar. She wouldn’t know what I had done and now I felt so sick and awful that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I would never, ever, binge again: this was the low point. The fever dream was over now; I could see clearly at last, and I would be better now.

In case you haven’t guessed it already, that’s not what happened.

Another version of this story: I’m staying with relatives in Holland. They’re distant cousins, all removed and various degrees of separated from me, but they’re some of the most welcoming and hospitable people I’ve ever met. One day they leave me alone in the house. In a daze I rummage through their drawers for food, stuffing myself on cheese, meat, cookies, chocolate, sprinkles—anything I can get my hands on. I pace the house, berating myself but unable to stop. I’m out of breath so I lie down and think this is it; it’s over; I’m done, but that lasts five minutes before I get up and eat another cookie. When they get home I wait for them to say something—to make some surprised comment at how half their food is missing—but it never comes.

Another version: I’m staying on a farm in rural Ireland. They eat mostly bread and potatoes, and I should be grateful that they’re feeding me but all I can think about is how much I hate that the nice old Irish grandma making my dinner insists on making up my plate herself. She sets it in front of me and I feel bile rise in my throat. After dinner they take me to a gathering with a few of their friends and I eat the meat and cheese and bread they’ve laid out until I feel like I might puke. In the bathroom I lift my shirt and stare at my stomach—to my eyes it looks distended, bloated, horrific.

Another: I’m walking through downtown Brussels with an American girl I met at my hostel, eating from a mixed bag of chocolates. I laugh about how I don’t even care that it’s my breakfast, lunch, and dinner but I feel panic rising in my throat, and because I don’t know what else to do or how to stop myself I eat the whole bag.

I’m sitting on the back steps of a hostel in Amsterdam. An Australian boy is sitting beside me, waxing poetic about British Columbia and its wonderful natural beauty, and I’m eating my fifth peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The calories are all I can think about.

I’m in the train station in Berlin, trying to find something to eat for breakfast. I get candy and cookies and eat them while I wait for my train. By the time I get on board I feel like I’m bursting out of my clothes; I give the remainder to the girls sitting beside me and silently congratulate myself for not finishing the bag.

I’m in a cat café in Prague. The cats aren’t very social but there are free snacks; I keep making passes by the table to grab fistfuls of peanuts and cookies before returning to the cats. I play with them as best as I can and try not to cry.

I hold out until an hour later, when I board the bus to Munich.

When I check into my hostel later that day, the boy at the counter looks at me with concern. I don’t quite know what I looked like then, but it couldn’t have been great after five solid hours of crying on a bus.

“Do you need anything?” he asks uncertainly as he hands me my room key. A few sad tears leak out of the corners of my eyes and I shake my head. As I walk away to the elevator, I wonder if he thinks something terrible has happened to me.

I make it to my room, but just barely: as soon as I shut the door everything I’ve been holding inside my chest spills out and I’m sobbing with all my heart, gasping, clutching my face with my hands. Somehow, I manage to call my mom, and she answers.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“I can’t do it,” I say between sobs. “I thought I could do this, but I can’t. This is so much worse than I thought—I’m so much worse—and I don’t know what to do now.”

“That’s okay,” she says. “You don’t have to—you can come home.”

“I can’t,” I say, thinking of the hotel I booked on a small Greek island and my return flight from Rome that doesn’t leave for another four weeks. Oh god. Four more weeks of this? It seems like an eternity, and the thought fills me with a deep, aching exhaustion I can feel in my bones.

“Don’t think about money,” my mom says. “If you need to come home, you need to come home.”

When I finally make the decision to cut my trip short, it’s the best I’ve felt in weeks. I find the cheapest—and soonest—flight back to Canada that I can, and book it before I can second-guess the decision. My hostel is noisy and uncomfortable so I check into a hotel for the last two days of my time in Munich.

Those two days are filled with more anxiety, more binges, and more pacing around my hotel room. Eventually I find my way to the airport and board my flight home.

I wish I could say that when I got back I was instantly better—that being back in a familiar environment with people I loved somehow fixed me. I wish I could say that, after some reflection, I realized that the good memories of my trip outweighed the bad, and I didn’t regret going.

The truth is, I shouldn’t have gone to Europe. Two years later, the memories are still painful, and even though there were some good times and cool experiences, what I remember more than anything else is my obsession with food. Thinking about it, fearing it, and bingeing till I couldn’t move or breath and I hated myself more than anything.

At the same time, that trip was a wake-up call. Would I have realized the extent of my eating disorder if I hadn’t gone? Or would I have just kept going—kept counting every calorie, measuring every spoonful, spending hours every day working out on an empty stomach until I couldn’t take it anymore and binged again, only to redouble my efforts to restrict in the morning.

I don’t know. But I think I’m glad things happened the way they did. The most valuable thing to come out of my experience was the realization that I wasn’t okay. The things I thought were simply character flaws ran much, much deeper, and it just wasn’t possible to grit my teeth and will myself better.

My journey back from that hostel room in Munich didn’t end when I got off the plane in Canada. Two years later, I’m still working to repair my relationship with food and my body and to figure out how to deal with my anxiety.

I haven’t shared this story too freely, because I think a big part of me is still ashamed. Not just because I bought into the toxic attitudes towards food and our bodies that society pushes on us every day, but because part of me still buys into them. Part of me still thinks my life would be better if I was thinner, even though I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that that’s not the case. This belief is the product of decades of messages telling me that the only way to be valuable is to be thin; decades of people all around me repeating this simple truth ad nauseum. Not always with their words, but with their actions, spurred on by their own self-hatred; their own attempts to strive for nonexistent ideals.

This is what I am trying to unlearn.

I haven’t weighed myself in years, but I’m pretty sure I’m back to where I started. It’s hard to make peace with that, especially now that I know what it feels like to be thinner, like I’ve wanted to be since I was eight. Every time I have to buy clothes in a bigger size I panic, and all the old feelings come up again—if I just eat less, if I just exercise more, if I just…

But if I did those things, I know I wouldn’t be happy in the long run. Whatever satisfaction I got from being thinner was hollow. Sure, it made me feel better about myself in the short term, but it was more like a fleeting ego boost than any genuine increase in self-esteem. Because no matter how smug I felt about losing weight, my sense of satisfaction was always, always coupled with fear. More more than anything, I was absolutely terrified that I would slip and lose control and gain everything back. That terror drove me to restrict, and it drove me to binge. I don’t want to be in that place again.

I don’t count calories anymore, nor do I restrict or over exercise, and I haven’t binged in a long time. I finally enjoy eating out at restaurants again, and panic doesn’t grip me when my coworkers bring treats to work. That didn’t happen overnight, and some days are still hard. But you know what? I think that’s okay.

Truthfully, I’m afraid to share this. I’m afraid that you will judge me, or think less of me, or maybe that you won’t even believe me. But maybe someone will see themselves in my story. To you I say: please know that you are not a failure. Please know that it is okay to ask for help. And if you want, I’d love to talk.

569.

Bold Survey

I like where I’m at right now. My feet are freezing. I hate feeling awkward. I love driving on country roads. I love driving fast, too. I currently have a cold. I have a crush. No, it’s more than a crush. I always wondered what it’d be like to start over, where no one knew me. I go on Yahoo Answers. I get nostalgic every once in awhile. I really don’t like my father. My mother is one of my best friends though. I don’t mind when people stare at me. No, it’s annoying as fuck.

I can’t stand people who are extremely selfish. A Change Of Pace is a good band. I have gotten a new phone within the past month. I want to go to Florida soon. Peach Snapple iced tea is the best. I wrote books when I was younger. I’m really creative, especially when I apply myself. I use Facebook a lot more now than I used to. I’m constantly told I’m beautiful, but I still sometimes don’t believe it. One of my friends came out as gay this year. I feel like I’m the only one who doesn’t have someone. I’m way too quiet, and I wish I could change. I need to party. Music and books are my favorite. I love everything about the fall. I always smell really good. My hair looks nice today. I have long fingernails. I’ve kissed a Ryan, Mike, or Justin. I’ve been in love with a Josh, Christian, or Scott. I envy no one. I’m going to an amusement park soon. For a halloween-related thing. I don’t like beer. I don’t like soda. I’ve worn a turtle neck in the past year. I wear them often. Outspoken is something I’m not. I express myself through quotes and lyrics. Photography is beautiful. There’s beauty in everything, you just gotta find it. I ordered a pizza recently. Tonight, actually. I wish I could have a whole new batch of friends. Even though I do love the ones I have now. My nose is stuffy. I like orange juice. And sandwich wraps. I love cozy nights at home. I like playing Hebi. Apples to Apples is fun. I have to start applying for jobs. I really need one. Ahhh life is changing fast. I tend to drive a little bit over the speed limit. My razor only has two blades. My keyboard is black. I use my friends as arm rests and pillows. My favorite number is odd. My favorite number is a single digit. I love having butterflies in my stomach. The last makeup I wore was eyeliner. I’d love to have a winter wedding. I’m really ticklish. I have a facial piercing. I’d only get a tattoo that has significant meaning to me. My boyfriend husband is taller than I am. My school has a shitty football team. I play Pet Society on Facebook. All politicians are the same, in my opinion. I can’t eat sushi with a fork or else it feels awkward. I’ve never been to New Mexico. I’d definitely consider adoption if I couldn’t have my own children. I like plain-colored t-shirts. Horror movies don’t really scare me. I have a decent vocabulary. Lord of the Rings doesn’t appeal to me. I don’t play any sports. I prefer orange juice to apple juice. I like my toast with butter and jelly. I love cream cheese. I have a celebrity crush. I get frequent headaches. I can play a little piano. My boyfriend drives an Asian car. And so do I. I WANT MORE PIERCINGS. My favorite fruit is a type of berry. I miss somebody right now. Some of my friends live far away. I can burp out the alphabet. I love breadsticks. I can count to ten in at least two languages. I’d love to have a pet owl. I prefer dogs to cats. I only wear actual perfume on special occasions. But I wear body spray on a daily basis. I have pictures of my sibling/s on my phone.

[Family]

My brother’s name starts with a D. Neither of my grandfathers are alive. I look more like my mother than my father. Both my parents are in a serious relationship. I am the youngest of three children. I am the only girl. My mom’s mom is NOT your typical grandmother. I don’t really like my cousins. I have less than five cousins. I’ve shown up at a family party while under the influence.

[Religion & Politics]

I was raised Christian. But I’m no longer a Christian. I believe in God. But I think the Bible is bullshit. My beliefs aren’t influenced by people around me. My dad is religious. My mom tries to be, but who is she trying to fool? I hate church. I wouldn’t have voted in the last election even if I was old enough. I hate politics more than anything.

[Food]

I honestly never stop eating. Chocolate + peanut butter = orgasmic. I only eat Cains mayonnaise. I’ve never eaten a fruit I didn’t like. I love cooked broccoli but not raw broccoli. I love raw peppers but not cooked peppers. I’ve gone a day or more without eating. I crave chocolate on my period. Pizza Hut has the best pizza around. Cookies & Cream ice cream is one of my favorites.

[Sex, Love & Relationships]

I’ve been told that I was a nine out of ten at giving head. A guy has cheated on his girlfriend with me. I’ve never been cheated on. I had my first kiss when I was fifteen. I lost my virginity in the woods. My best friend lost her virginity a week after me. In the same place I did. I’ve been in the same room as someone having sex. I would rather be on the bottom.

[Music]

I download my music from LimeWire. I love country. I love old school rap. I love alternative. I have All Time Low’s new CD Nothing Personal. And I love it. I love to sing, but I suck horribly at it. I cannot play a musical instrument. I want to learn to play the drums. I used to take piano lessons.

[School]

My GPA is between 2.0 and 3.0. I took Algebra 1 in 8th grade, and again in 9th. I’ve passed a class with a D-. I don’t do my homework at home. I prefer mechanical pencils. I always do projects the night before they’re due. I’m really smart but don’t always apply myself. I text in school. I’ve gotten my phone taken away in school.

[Beauty & Hygiene]

I straighten my hair often. On lazy days, I scrunch my hair to go out. My only make-up necessity is mascara. I like to wing my eyeliner. I’d rather take a shower than a bath. I’d rather use body wash than a bar of soap. I’d rather use a bath scrunchie than a washcloth. My solution for make-up on lazy days: sunglasses. I use the same routine every day in the shower.

[Smoking, Drinking & Drugs]

I smoke cigarettes. I’ve gotten drunk within the past month. I’ve smoked weed when by myself. The first time I got high was on a holiday. Marijuana should be legalized. I have never and would never drink and drive. I hate light beer. My lighter is purple. My favorite cigarettes are Turkish Silver or Camel Crush. I’ve quit smoking but started again.

[Random]

My nails are pink right now. Going to bed at midnight is very early for me. I could never date a guy that didn’t make me laugh. I have a jar of peanut butter in my room right now. I wear sunglasses a lot. Gogurt is really good in the freezer. I’ve been in Hollister, but I don’t own anything from there. Purple is my favorite color. There is no such thing as an ugly color. I need more pens. day or night bed or couch or floor boots or converse or flip flops UK or US paper book or e-book facebook or twitter or tumblr TV or music sunrise or sunset groups or one/two people or alone concerts or watching on TV or CD sci-fi or horror or rom com computer or pen and paper fiction or non sun or rain or wind big spoon or little spoon or both gold or silver or bronze heavy metal or country coffee or tea or hot chocolate hug or kiss car or motorbike or bicycle liquor or wine cop or robber fly or swim or run disney or marvel burial or cremation or viking cold or warm new or old long hair or short hair or no hair You don’t eat dairy. You work best at night time. You take a selfie almost every day. You laugh at the end of your sentences. You wink at people. You hate being tickled. You want to travel the world in a boat. You want to travel the world in a hippie wagon. Your hair is fluffy sometimes. Your hair is sleek. Your hair is an artificial colour. You get takeout at least once per week. You dislike the general public. You have been caught sleepwalking. You sleep with a plushie. You have eaten an entire block of cheese in one sitting. You have eaten a red hot chilli pepper. You draw hearts on top of your i’s. You have watched an episode of My Little Pony. You have a crush on someone who knows you. You keep plants in your room. You collect music CDs. You take vitamin supplements. You read mostly non-fiction. You go on Tumblr every day without fail. You have published a YouTube video. You have a fandom blog. You have eaten Pocky. You can play the cello. You can play the harp. You prefer vampires to zombies. You prefer zombies to vampires. You have been described as naive. You have been described as suspicious. You have had a stalker. You like going to school. You have a pear-shaped body. You have an apple-shaped body. You have sensitive teeth. You like your job. You have a slow internet connection. Your phone is not a touch phone. You are the dominant one in the relationship. You like watercolour painting. You like playing the drums. You are scared of loud noises. You eat food in your bed. You are shy but not quiet. You are quiet but not shy. You plan a lot of parties. You have an alter ego. You are good with money. You are afraid of intimacy. You normally have dinner after 8pm. You normally wear high heels. You have been grounded more than once. You have never seen Shrek. You have won a trophy. Your favourite ice cream flavour is mint. Your favourite ice cream flavour is vanilla. Your favourite ice cream flavour is strawberry. You are good at sports. You have a skin care routine. You are a D-cup or larger. You have long legs and arms. You add ketchup to everything. You have an anime figurine. You have danced and not cared who saw it. You want to go into outer space. You want to rule the world. You constantly hurt somewhere. You are scared of mice. You are scared of horses. You are scared of butterflies. You have one or more moles on your face. You are good with children. You drink at least 7 pints of water per day. You want to be a singer in a band. You have bought a frame for a special picture. Your favourite Disney Princess isn’t Belle, Ariel or Rapunzel. You prefer to watch than participate. You have dark skin. You have dated 5 or more people. You have been told you are a cool person. You have been told you are a scary person. You are doing this post because you are bored.

Emotional bolding. Anger/Irritability/Frustration :

You get irritable quite often. When you get frustrated, you’d rather be alone. You’ve been so angry you’ve blacked out. You break things when you’re angry. You’ve hit someone when you were angry. You’ve actually punched someone before. People in general make you angry. It takes a lot to calm you down when you’re mad. You get irritable when you PMS. You get irritable when you’re tired or over tired. You wake up grumpy all the time. You bottle your anger up inside. If someone pisses you off, you don’t care who they are, you’ll let them know, in some way, that they made you angry.

Happiness/Excitement :

Sometimes you’re happy for no reason at all. You are generally a happy, optimistic person. The small things in life make you happy. There are many people in your life that make you happy. You know exactly how to make yourself happy. You can turn (almost) any negative situation into a positive one. You get complimented on your smile a lot. You laugh very, very often. When you’re happy, it doesn’t take a lot to make you mad/upset/sad again. Sometimes you get so happy that that you actually feel lighter (physically.) You try your hardest to be happy, no matter what life throws at you. Out of every bad thing in life comes something good. You cry “tears of joy” fairly often. It doesn’t take a lot to get you excited. People have told you your entire face lightens up when you smile.

Sadness/Depression/Loneliness :

You’ve been diagnosed with depression (this includes in the past). When you get depressed, you often feel drained and exhausted. You like to be alone when you’re sad. You cry a lot when you’re sad. When you are down, you like others to cheer you up. Thinking of the future gives you a sort of depressing feeling at times. When you’re sad, you like to cheer yourself up. You want to help other people going through depression, because you know how it feels. When you’re depressed, you have trouble looking forward to/enjoying anything. You went through depression in the past, but you still have those days. You know how to control your depression now. You hate when others act like they’re depressed and hurting just for the attention. You know someone who intentionally hurt themselves just for attention. You have anxiety. You don’t have anxiety, but you know what it is. You have more than one legitimate phobia. You’ve had more than one severe panic attack before. You are sort of afraid to develop an anxiety disorder. You have actually physically hurt yourself (by accident) somehow, while you were having a panic attack. Anxiety sometimes disrupts your sleeping habits. You have social anxiety. You have generalized anxiety disorder. You sometimes enjoy the thrill of adrenaline. People don’t always understand your disorder. Not a lot of people know you have anxiety. You know more than five people (personally) that have anxiety. Someone you know has tried to say they have anxiety when you knew for a fact they didn’t. Even though you don’t have panic attacks, you feel the beginning effects of them daily, or almost daily. Sometimes your anxiety makes you feel like you’re slightly “crazy”, so you have trouble talking about it/explaining it to people.