I Want Eat Your Pancreas นิยาย & เรื่องราว

May pov I'm holding the cutest little boy ever as he eats pancakes and I drink my broth. I had to explain I was sick and unable to eat pancakes with him and he looked sad. "I share with you",but I nod no. "sorry baby I can't eat that yet but when I can I will share with you",I absolutely love kids but I won't let Duke know that. He probably doesn't want me in any way because I was raped. I still have freaking nightmares and flashbacks.

I stopped half way; should I call the police or an ambulance first? A series of questions flew through my mind, but they slowly became more and more blurry, as one obvious one made its way through. I was a Kindred. I should only be thinking about how to be able to eat a full meal. Rules? To hell with rules. Since he was going to die anyway, it didn't matter if I ate a few mouthfuls. I crawled up to his neck. The smell of him was intoxicating. I breathed him in—all of his previous fear, dread, and sadness—and bit down hard.

"What will happen then if the whole pancreas will be removed?" "A person can normally live without pancreas but he will be needing to have a lifelong support of insulin and enzyme replacement" "What? he may not be able to do work?" "He can still work though I can highly suggest not the heavy kind of work" "Insulin and enzyme replacement, that would be too much for us, it will cost us a lot" The wife said which seriously makes me feel pissed from the moment she open her mouth!

Tummies start rumbling sooner or later, and then their willpower goes out the window. “Fine.” I shrug. “I already made pancakes for myself, so I guess I’ll just eat them all alone.” I extract a couple of golden brown discs from the stack I made, and slide them onto a plate, carrying it to the table and sitting down to have breakfast. I can see the pups staring at me out of the corner of my eye, their little mouths hanging open in surprise. I pour syrup over the stack and cut off a small triangle, moaning theatrically when I pop it into my mouth.

But it seemed like he did have some intention of telling me what was going on after all, because once he had to calm down, he turned to look at me, although he was still struggling to maintain his composure. “If there is any piece of advice that I could give you, I will tell you to never eat the pancakes here. There are made without sugar and they taste absolutely horrible - so, if you were lying to me about the fact that they were nice, I accepted. But if you actually like them, we’re going to have a big problem.”

“Which set are you wearing today? The I’m-thinking-about-a-sordid-banking-scandal blinder, or the I-just-kissed-a-gorgeous-complicated-man blinder?” “Neither.” I laugh because if I don’t I’ll tilt and spill. “Can we have a moment with normal pancakes, please?” He slides a plate in front of me like a peace treaty. “Normal pancakes. Unlikely, but we’ll give it a go.” We attempt normal. Jamie complains about the annoying, pregnant influencer, who wants him to come back for another shoot because her astrologist told her the last one was done on an inauspicious day.

Nathaniel POV Pandora and I were sitting in McDonalds eating our usual chicken nuggets and fries. As long as I have known Panda, she has had this crazy fetish for McDonald’s fries and ranch dressing. I couldn’t help but watch her intently as she slowly dipped the fry in the ranch dressing, flicked her tongue out and consumed the treat. Damn, I thought to myself, watching her eat that fry was one of the most sensual things that I had ever seen.

Which is what makes it all the more lame. I like to think of it as the grief diet. A model-skinny figure in exchange for endless panic attacks and crying myself to sleep most nights. Fun. "I ate earlier," I lie. Besides, I'm scared I'll drop food all over myself while they watch, or get something stuck in my teeth. "No matter," Lyall says, breaking an egg into a large mixing bowl. "Ye'll find room for me world famous blueberry pancakes." I start to protest, and Alastaire places his finger over my lips.

Who cared about embarrassing themselves? Jimmy stared at Andrew, his eyes suddenly turning cold. He hissed, "Give me one good reason not to kill you. Otherwise, this time tomorrow, your organs will be scattered across the globe, except for your head, which my guys will turn into mush. Your liver will be sold to Vestra. A martial artist's heart is powerful, and buyers in Meurico love that stuff and pay top dollar." He continued, "As for your kidneys, they look pretty good. I'll eat them myself. I like to pan-fry them in butter with a little coarse salt for seasoning. It tastes amazing. After I eat them, I can go all night with seven girls."

“First of all, you don’t dictate what I eat. That’s controlling behavior. Second of all, those aren’t mini pancakes – they’re Poffertjes, a Dutch delicacy with cultural significance.” “My place, my rules. You’re here to work, so you need brain food. A pancake by any other name would still be diabetes in bite-sized form.” “You can’t just butcher Shakespeare to prove a point.” “Watch me.” I closed the pancake container and stuck it in the fridge, pulling out fresh vegetables and pre-diced teriyaki chicken from last night’s meal prep. “Comfort food makes you sluggish.” “I don’t like tomatoes,” she interjected, watching me slice vegetables with the wariness of someone who’d been food-policed bef