#don’t get me started on the kolache

[kkpwnall]

gotta love the midwest, where you can find a donut shop and a crematorium colocated in the same strip mall

[chrometheraptor]

man I’m just gonna be in a shit mood today huh

[viridescent-din]

favorite food

you and joel discuss life before the outbreak, and he shares a bit more than you expected.

no warnings apply. just some very sweet (though melancholic) borderline domestic joel and reader bonding time <3

btw i am NOT sponsored by shipley’s do-nuts and shipley’s do-nuts: plz don’t sue me

~

“I think she’s finally out,” you quietly tell Joel. He turns in his sleeping bag, looking across the dying fire at Ellie’s sleeping form. He frowns, but not entirely in annoyance. You can see traces of affection etched into Joel’s face.

“First real meal in weeks. Makes sense she’d go right to sleep,” he says, then glances at you. “Good catch, by the way.” Warmth blooms in your chest at Joel’s approval. You shrug.

“I do feel kind of bad for that bunny, but...” you trail off, looking at Ellie once again.

“She’s more important,” Joel says, surprising you with the gentleness in his tone.

“Yeah,” you agree. The two of you are silent, the air suddenly seeming heavy. You know Joel feels this, too: the affection building in both of you for Ellie. You liked her from the start, but that fondness is becoming palpable. It’s the same for Joel, and you’re sure it’s harder for him to reconcile with. “Hey,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. “If you could have any meal in the world, what would it be? Like, what was your favorite food before all this?” Joel looks at you, brow set, and you realize how stupid you are for bringing up the world before it went to shit. But to your surprise, Joel doesn’t chastise you.

“C’mere,” he says, making room in his sleeping bag. You blink.

“What -”

“I’ll answer yer question,” Joel begins to exaggerate his drawl to get a smile out of you. You shake your head, looking at the ground. “But not from all the way over here. I don’t want to wake her up,” Joel glances one more time at Ellie. “She needs her sleep.” You nod, but still don’t move. Joel tilts his head back, gesturing for you to come closer. “I don’t bite.”

Before you can even stop the thought, it flashes through your mind. What if I want you to?

You shove the thought away, making your way to Joel. Your whole body is screaming at you as you slip into his sleeping bag, red alerts of this is it! It’s happening! sounding in your brain. You try to ignore them. You lay on your side, facing Joel, and he does the same. You blink.

“Warm enough?” He asks, practically whispering. You just nod. “Good.” Joel lets out a long sigh. “My favorite food... Well, I can’t remember the last time I ate it, because I was Atkins when this all happened -”

“Wait, what?” You ask, interrupting Joel. “You were on Atkins? You?”

“Now what’s so hard to believe about that?” Joel counters, borderline offended. You let out a short laugh.

“Nothing, I guess, I just... I can’t imagine you caring about that sort of thing.” You leave out the fact that you think Joel is the most handsome man you’ve seen.

“Diets could be for health you know.”

“From what I’ve heard, that one wasn’t.” Joel lets out a chuckle.

“No, I suppose it wasn’t.” He concedes. “Anyway,” he continues. “Texas was one of the states with Shipley’s Do-Nuts. If I remember correctly, the headquarters was somewhere out there.” You listen intently. Joel’s eyes aren’t focused on you, though you can barely tell. The only light is coming from the dying fire. “Every so often, I’d get a coffee, a kolache, and two donuts. See, I’d always hide the second donut from Sarah. She’d start to eat hers, then run away to watch her show, or grab her journal or something - and when she’d come back, I’d of eaten half of it. And she would grumble, saying I had my kolache, and it wasn’t fair for me to eat half of her donut because she didn’t like kolaches, so she couldn’t eat half mine. And every time, I’d pull the second donut out of the cupboard. She knew I’d do that. But she always grumbled anyway, because that was just... it was just...” Joel trails off. “It was just part of what we did.”

You don’t say anything. Joel looks distant, like he’s not entirely here with you. You take a breath.

“Sarah was your daughter, wasn’t she?” You ask carefully, not wanting to press him. Joel tenses.

“She - I always drank my coffee black. But I’d order it with cream from Shipley’s, because it came in these tiny little containers. Sarah loved to pour the cream in for me. So I’d always drink it with cream from there, just because she liked to do that for me.” Joel knits his eyebrows, snapping out of his memories. You watch as he hardens himself, slipping back into the guarded man you know better than the one who just told you about Sarah. You expect Joel to get upset, kick you out of his sleeping bag. But he doesn’t. 

“Was she - yes. Smart girl,” he tells you. You shiver at the praise. Joel frowns. “You cold?” You shake your head.

“No,” you say it like you’re telling him a secret. Joel softens.

“Alright,” he murmurs. You curl into yourself. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I -”

“It’s okay.” You don’t let Joel doubt himself anymore than he already does. “I don’t mind.” Joel seems uncomfortable, antsy with the fact he just revealed so much. You swallow. “I don’t remember much from before. I was on a plane when it all happened. And my mom was sort of a health nut, so she packed fruit. I was eating an orange instead of the pretzels the flight attendants handed out. That was how it happened, wasn’t it? The grains.” Joel nods. You continue, hoping hearing about your experience helps Joel with the fact you now know something about his. “My parents didn’t make it off the flight. I don’t know how they managed to keep me safe, but... they did.”

“Did you have any siblings?” Joel asks, a slight rasp to his voice. You meet his eyes.

“My mom had just had a baby,” you tell him. “I was... I was so excited to be an older sibling. I even asked to name it. If I recall correctly, I wanted Cinderella if it was a girl and Prince Charming if it was a boy.” Joel lets out chuckle. You smile at the memory too. The laughter dies down.

“Which was it?” You clench your fists.

“I, um, I don’t remember.” You bite your tongue, tasting blood. You let out a bitter laugh. “Isn’t that fucked up? I don’t remember.” You’re both silent.

“Your,” Joel clears his throat. “Your parents are lucky.” You look at him incredulously, almost glaring. “They are. They managed to save you. That’s all a parent wants: to protect their kid. And your folks did that.”

All a parent wants is to protect their kid. You poke your head out of the sleeping bag, looking at Ellie. The fire is gone now, but you can still make out her form. She’s still sleeping, and safe. You burrow back into Joel’s bag.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I guess so.” Joel’s hands slide over your waist, pulling your back to his chest. He’s so sturdy, emanating warmth. He moves his arm under your head, giving you a pillow of sorts.

“Go to sleep,” he says. “I’ll take first watch.”

“But -”

“I’ll take first watch,” Joel is firm. “I won’t be sleeping tonight, darlin.’”

If Joel wasn’t holding you so tight, you’d be afraid that he’s angry. But instead of shutting you out, he presses his lips to your temple, and tells you he’ll see you in the morning. When you close your eyes, you dream of coffee and donuts.

[trashyinfernomusic]

The Big Texas Post

Y’know what’s funny? Explaining Texas culture to non-Texans.

People from Dallas: Dallasites. People from Houston: Houstonians. People from Austin: Weird.

Texas has two pro baseball teams, three pro basketball teams, two pro football teams, two pro soccer teams, and one pro hockey team (and tried to get a second in the Houston Aeros but that didn’t work out).

Most sports orgs are based in either Dallas or Houston, and the two cities have a rivalry that when left unchecked causes brawls in restaurants and bars (among other chaotic things). The general rule is that Houstonians hate Dallas, Dallasites hate Houston, everyone hates Austin, and San Antonio and El Paso are just the two kids in the corner trying to stay out of the fighting. However, if you’re from out-of-state and you hate on any of them, you’ll be the one on the receiving end of a beat-down because “no one messes with my little brother but me, damnit!”

Meanwhile, you have all the people who self-identify as being from one of the big cities even though they’re really from a suburb that’s about an hour away. Live in Spring, TX? “Oh, I’m from Houston.” Live in Arlington (which is where the Texas Rangers - largely considered a Dallas sports team - are located)? You’re considered from Dallas or the DFW area. We Texans don’t really care about the accuracy. We care more about whether or not you’re from the coast (Houston), the middle (Dallas/San Antonio), the weird (Keep Austin Weird was supposed to be a slogan that would promote mom-and-pop small businesses in the city. The rest of Texas leapt on the opportunity to make fun of it. Sorry, Austin), the border (El Paso, Texarkana), or somewhere out in the middle of nowhere. The state’s too big to get into the nitty gritty.

And don’t even get me started on college rivalries. You’ve got U of H, UT, A&M, SFA, and even more acronyms and mascots and history and - well, let’s just say it can all get out of hand. Actually, A&M and UT refuse to play each other anymore out of stubbornness - they hate each other that much. (Personally, I land on the Aggie side of things. Anyone who goes so far as to genetically engineer maroon bluebonnets to prank another school has earned my affection. Though UT can give as good as they get.)

Some other weird/fun things about Texas include: - Drive through margarita places - Kolaches (which are a Czech sweet pastry that we bastardized into a savory breakfast option) - The Battle for the Boot (I kid you not, two baseball teams compete against each other for a silver cowboy boot every once in a while. It’s the silliest and yet most Texan thing ever.) - Buck-ees - The second largest port in the US (the amount of people who don’t understand that yes, Houston is on the water, and yes, it has a booming transport industry is alarming) - Really good barbecue (ours is tomato based, which makes the sauce thick and sweet) - Strange laws including one where you’re not allowed to have pliers in the back pocket of your jeans (it’s a holdover from when cattle rustlers would use them to cut barbed-wire fences) - There’s a law where in the US, no state capital is allowed to be taller than the US capital. Texas built theirs on a hill - it’s not taller, it just happens to be... higher. - People argue over this one, but Texas DOES have the right to secede from the union. - Six Flags the theme park was named such because it stands for Six Flags Over Texas. Why? Texas has had six different flags flying over it: France, Spain, Republic of Texas, United States, Confederacy, and Mexico. Yes, you read that right: France. No, we were not acquired in the Louisiana Purchase. - Dry counties are a thing. No alcohol is allowed to be consumed or sold! That being said, a trailer park of 200 came together to create the town Mobile, TX so that they could sell and consume liquor in the 90s - In 1963, Janice Joplin was voted “Ugliest Man on Campus” at the University of Texas - The Houston Grand Opera is considered one of the best opera companies in the world!

[twinkleallnight]

12 Days of Fictmas

Thank you Erin and Alicia for this wonderful opportunity. This is my first time at fictmas and I hope you enjoy this little treat.

Thank you @txemrn for brainstorming.

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Word count: 1389

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

A/N: This is also my submission for sibling appreciation month hosted by @lovealexhunt.

Santa Comes to Town.

It was a cold winter morning when the tiny toddler jumped up into her elder brother’s bed. She frantically moved her tiny hands around the blankets which covered her brother in a warm slumber.

“Dekey! Dekey! Gey-Up! Up! Kishmush! Kishmush!”

The boy pulled the covers over his head. His muffled sound came out. “Not yet, Savvie. It’s still a week to go. Let me sleep.”

The little girl frowned and shouted out at the door, “Mommy! Dekey not getting up. Eeaam mama weebe anggy."

Listening to this, Bianca walked in, her hands full of neatly folded clothes that she stacked properly in the children’s cupboard. She turned around and walked to the little girl who was still sitting at the edge of the bed with pouted lips. Bianca sat down in front of her and looked into her brown eyes. “Sweetpea, you don’t say Liam’s mama. She is the queen. You address her as ‘your majesty’ or ‘madam’.”  

Then she called out, “Drake, you need to get out of that bed, and prepare to host your friend.”

“Yes Mother.” The four-year-old obediently plopped up into the bed rubbing his eyes.

Bianca picked up her daughter in her arms and started walking to the washroom. “Let’s get you dressed up pretty. How would you like that?” The little girl nodded enthusiastically.

The next hour was spent in getting the kids through the morning routine.

While her husband was busy at the palace, as the head of king’s guard, Bianca spent time bringing up her kids with just a bit of the Texan touch in a foreign land.

 Staying in the kingdom of Cordonia, she had carried her roots from the life back from Texas. It could be seen in her lifestyle and her home.

She had beautifully decorated a wall with some rustic crosses where her children stood praying with her, now. After offering their prayers, the kids got busy in decorating their little Christmas tree, that Jackson, their father had managed for them.

“It’s quite small.” He had sighed after placing it in the corner of their living room.

“It is perfect Jack.” Bianca had assured him as they watched Drake and Savannah jumping around it. The tree that appeared small to Jackson, was towering over the little stature of the kids. Savannah was clapping her hands in excitement.

The siblings spent each day adding a little of this and a little of that to their tree. Today it was special as Drake’s best friend, prince Liam was visiting them with his mother, Queen Eleanor.

Bianca was flabbergasted when she received the queen first time, during her stay at Cordonia, soon after her wedding to Jackson. But, over a period of time, she got accustomed to the loving nature of the Queen and her unique ways of mingling with common people. It had somehow become a tradition to host the Queen a week before the Christmas day, at the Walker’s humble quarters.

Bianca was occupied in the kitchen preparing the menu for the visit till late noon. She realised there was pin drop silence in the house. ‘What are these two up to now?’ she worried. She rushed to the bedroom but stopped in her tracks to find Savannah dressed up in her red frilly frock sitting on the floor.

 Drake was holding the little girl’s hand delicately in his, as he was busy painting her tiny nails red. It looked like he had done up her brown curls  in a slightly messy braid. When Savannah sensed her mother, she looked up and Bianca saw her pearly whites shining through the brightly coloured red lips.

Bianca’s heart warmed up to see the doting elder brother still engrossed into his job. “Mommy!” Savannah shrieked. Drake shook with the sudden sound and tipped the nail enamel bottle he was holding on his dress. “I am sorry mother.” He looked apologetically at his mother, worrying that she may scold him for the mess.

Her favourite nail enamel was spilled over and there was a messy shirt to clean but she ignored it all to keep up the spirit. “Don’t worry Drake. The Queen will be here any minute now, it’s time. Let’s quickly change your shirt. As she was helping him into fresh clothes, the doorbell jingled.

Eleanor walked in with Liam.  Savannah was the first to run up to her. She curtsied trying to balance over her wobbly feet. Eleanor picked up the tiny tot in her arms admiring, “Look at you! You are all grown up.”

“Dake dessed me.” Savannah stuttered.  Bianca rolled her eyes and Eleanor caught the gesture, understanding what must have conspired, looking at the makeup and the hairdo. Drake came ahead and bowed to Eleanor shyly.

“Here, here little guy. You did it all by yourself?” she asked him, putting Savannah back on her toes and giving Drake a warm hug. “Look at the hairstyle and the make up! You are good at this Drake. Isn’t she looking cute?” Drake blushed while Savannah twirled around with a glee . “May be some day I can have a little girl just like you!”

The last statement brought big expectant smile on Liam’s face. Bianca gave him a hug, “Bless your heart! Our little prince will love it!”

After everyone exchanged greetings, the ladies settled down for a chitchat while the brother and sister pulled Liam to show their Christmas tree.  

They enjoyed playing around it for some time and then decided to move to the playroom. Drake and Liam each held one of Savannah’s hands and walked with her slow pace as Eleanor watched them go. “Aww! They are so adorable!”

Drake pulled out the wooden blocks and the three of them sat together to make a castle. “Who weebe the king?” Savannah asked.

“Liam will be, Savvie. He is the prince.” Drake told her while Liam smiled at her acknowledging.

“Ann you Dekey?”

“I will be king’s guard, just like daddy.” Drake said with a puffed-up chest.

“Ann I?” Savannah questioned again to understand her role in the pretend play.

“You can be a Duchess!” Liam added.

“Wha do duchesh do?”

“She helps the king at his work.” Liam explained patiently.

Savannah was delighted and agreed to play her role. 

Their game continued till Bianca came in to take them for snacks.

“Momma, Eeaam made me duchesh!” She started telling her mother about their pretend play. Eleanor listened keenly. Liam and Drake exchanged shy looks. Being boys they preferred to keep their games to themselves.

 Bianca served them her traditional chili, Frito and tortillas. They all sat together and feasted over the delicacies. After munching the kolache for dessert, some more plans were made for the coming week and Christmas party.   

Soon, it was time for departure, and Savannah found it overwhelming to let go. Her big brown eyes were welled up as she hugged Liam and addressed the Queen, “Eeaam mama, I wan Eeaam play weeme!” Eleanor laughed at her sweet request.

Bianca picked up her little one and told her firmly, “Savannah Jane Walker! You do not say that. You say ‘Madam'.”

Eleanor ignored the formalities and cupped her cheeks, “Liam is going to go to the palace and set up a big Christmas tree for you. How about you visit us with your Momma and brother later?”

Savannah half-heartedly nodded.  Bianca put her down next to her brother, “Drake, can you take her to her room?”

“Yes mother.” Drake quickly bid farewell to his friend and walked his little sister, who was sobbing silently, to her room. Bianca saw her guests out. When she returned to the children’s room, she was treated with yet another sweet moment. Savannah had lay down with her head in Drake’s lap, her eyelids drooping. Bianca's little son was singing to her in his baby voice, “...Santa’s coming to town…

You better watch out; you better not cry.

Better not pout, I am telling u why.

He sees when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake.

He knows when you’re bad or good so be good for goodness sake.”

She patiently waited for him to finish his verse and then walked in to hug him, “Oh punkin! I love you!”

She kissed him and then lifted almost asleep Savannah from his lap. She cuddled up with her kids humming ‘Santa comes to town'.

12 Days of Fictmas Writers:  @texaskitten30  @zaffrenotes @alj4890 @burnsoslow @kat-tia801 @darley1101 @msjr0119 @annekebbphotography ​ @god-save-the-keen ​ @plumeriavibes @ofpixelsandscribbles ​ @camillemontespan ​ @ao719 ​ @cocomaxley ​ @cordoniansgonewild ​ @the-soot-sprite ​ @cordoniantrash ​ @axwalker ​ @innerpostmentality ​ @lucy-268 ​ @janezillow​ @katedrakeohd ​  

Readers : @mom2000aggie ​ @sfb123 @bbrandy2002 @debramcg1106 @desireepow-1986 @speedyoperarascalparty @hopefulmoonobject  

My tags: @choicesmonthlychallenge @bebepac @charlotteg23 @choicesficwriterscreations @cordonia-gothqueen @cordonianroyalty @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @hopelessromanticmonie @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @jovialyouthmusic @jaxsmutsuo @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @mrswalkers-blog @no-one-u-know @ntoraplayschoices @princessleac1 @ritachacha @shanzay44 @queenrileyrose @sanchita012 @theroyalheirshadowhunter @yourmajesty09

[dcforts]

[day 14: christmas lights]

The last question she asks is the one Claire wanted to avoid at all costs.

"Are you coming back to see the lights?"

In the dark of her car, she bites her cheek and breathes into the phone and doesn’t say anything.

"You know, it was one of the first things we did together, remember? We only had one string of lights, but it was pretty special for me," Jody says and her voice is soft and unbearable.

Claire remembers – standing outside with her arms crossed on her chest, holding a tape roll as Jody stood on her ladder and talked about doing something normal for once.

"Alex bought a inflatable Santa. So it's gonna be crazier than ever," she lets out a quiet laugh, "You don't wanna miss that, I'm telling you," she says, with a light tone Claire knows she's faking.

"I don't know, Jody."

There's a sigh from the other side. Claire doesn’t like disappointing her.

But she can’t stop, not even for one night. She’s got a mission. She’s got – nothing. Just dead leads and a bunch of notes she stares at every night. She’s going nowhere.

She’s failing.

"Okay," Jody says in the end, "whatever you decide, kid. We're gonna be waiting for you."

Claire has a knot in her throat and again, stays silent, playing with the keychains attached to her car keys.

Their conversations sound a lot like that these days.

Jody keeps going, "You know, the boys are coming too. They told me last night."

"Yeah, I know. Cas texted," she says, and makes it sound like it means nothing to her, like she hasn't opened up their coversation three times since that morning.

One text came at eleven p.m. as she was brushing her teeth in a bathroom outside a gas station.

It said: We will be coming at Jody's this weekend. I hope to see you there.

She hadn't replied.

Another one, at four a.m., as she was scrubbing graveyard dirt from her hands.

It said: Turning on the lights around this time of year originally meant to attract the sun's light and warmth in opposition to the dark. It sounds to me a little like hope.

She hadn't replied to that one either.

"Claire -" calls her Jody.

She can almost see her, out on the porch, her jacket pulled tight around her, her mouth pressed against the receiver, and the yellow light of the kitchen behind her back. Alex and Patience probably upstairs, asleep, warm.

Something that tastes like homesickness spread inside of her and Claire frowns.

"I have to go," she says.

"Alright, just - "

Claire hates that Jody doesn't know how to talk to her - hates more that she made it so.

It was never easy, but after Kaia -

"I'm fine, Jody" she says and it's final.

She misses her voice as soon as they hang up.

Her phone in her hand, Claire looks up at the desolate parking lot outside her car and the uninviting motel sign blinking in the dark.

She sighs, shoulders her bag and checks into a room. She takes out her notes, but can’t bring herself to look at them, turns on the tv but spaces out every few minutes.

She's cold and tired. She asks herself, not for the first time, if there’s a point to what she’s doing. Kaia's gone and she's not coming back. She asks herself, not for the first time, if she’s overestimated herself. Maybe she’s just not strong enough.

She sleeps with her clothes on, a knife under her pillow and her phone opened to a text conversation she hasn't replied to and wakes up with a weird taste in her mouth and the memory of a dream. Black curls, dark skin, Kaia's eyes and her voice calling, "Claire?"

It’s a sweet dream and it hurts. It hurts and she doesn’t want to be alone. She slips into her car in the morning fog, grabs the steering wheel and takes a deep breath. She tells herself she’s gonna drive towards home just until she won’t feel the need anymore, then she’ll stop.

She doesn’t.

*

When she gets there, they’ve already lighted up the house but not too long before cause they're all still standing outside.

She recognizes the same old strings, the colours twinkling brightly. It’s not an impressive display but Jody loves it. Even that weird looking reindeer on the lawn that Claire’s always wanted to throw out.

Claire turns off the headlights and pulls her car to a stop across the road to watch them from afar.

There's Alex and Patience right up at the front. The inflatable Santa sways and bumps against Patience. She pushes it back and laughs and it makes Claire smile.

A little to the side, Donna, Jody and Sam are chatting and then right behind, Dean has an arm around a familiar trenchcoat.

As soon as she fixes her eyes on him, Cas shifts on the spot, as if he’s sensing her.

She steps out of the car but stays on the carb, to give herself the chance to sneak away without anyone noticing if she wanted.

But Cas turns his head to the side again, leaning in to whisper something to Dean. Dean lets his hand slip off Cas’ shoulder, and throws a quick look behind his back in her direction so she has no doubt that they know she’s there.

She waits for them to betray her presence but it doesn’t happen. Dean looks back at Cas and nods, then turns towards the house again.

It’s just Cas that slips away from the others unseen, crosses the street and quietly joins her side.

"I'm glad you could make it," he says. He tries to catch her eyes but she only gives him a quick look. "I understand you've been feeling a bit down these days," he says, softly.

"What, you got a group chat about me now?" she snaps.

"No," he says and she can hear the frown in his tone. He stays quiet for a moment, then starts again, "You know, what I told you about the lights..."

"I'm failing, okay?" she interrupts, and it was meant to come out sharp, but it comes out weak and full of shame. She keeps her eyes to the ground, "I don't know what I'm doing anymore, it's like I'm running in circles," she tries to keep her voice as steady as she can, but it gets so quiet that she's actually surprised he’s able to hear her at all.

"You're not failing," he says, sure, as if he knows something she doesn’t, "We all have setbacks, Claire. What I told you about the lights," he repeats, "I believe it. Certain things can hold the power to keep us going, and serve as a reminder that the despair we’re feeling won't last forever.” He throws her a look, "It can be Christmas lights,” he says, “or simply seeing your family. And I think this is what you need now.”

Claire scoffs but her eyes are stinging. She keeps her head down, "Is that what you tell yourself?"

He ignores her bitter tone and replies earnestly, "I do. More often than you think.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that. He makes it sound easy and she wants to believe him because she’s tired and she badly needs to hear that it’s fine, or that it will be at least.

Cas doesn’t disappoint.

"You are doing good Claire,” he says, “and you will be alright. You're not betraying your mission if you give yourself a break and try again tomorrow."

She finally looks up at him. "Do you tell yourself that too?" she asks again, her tone softer this time.

Cas sighs, "Not as often as I should," he admits. He smiles a little, "But that doesn’t mean it’s not true. Rest, recharge. Maybe indulge in Jody's kolaches?" he says, "I heard they're quite scrumptious."

She surprises herself with a smile. It does sound appealing, "Yeah, they're pretty great."

He raises his eyebrows in encouragement, "Enough to make you cross the street?"

She can't stifle the laugh that bubbles up in her chest. It makes her feel lighter all of the sudden, and think that maybe she should try. She’s got nothing to lose after all. She rolls her eyes a little, "I guess."

Cas smiles at her and puts a hand on her shoulder, "Good."

She doesn't know how to tell him how lucky she feels to have him, so she puts a hand on his on her shoulder and hopes it's enough, "Thanks," she says and it comes out a little choked up. “Do you really -”

He squeezes her shoulder and doesn’t let her finish, “Whatever happens Claire, I’m proud of you,” he says and before she can say anything, or worse, start crying, he adds, “Go find Jody now.”

Claire nods then. She looks back at the house, takes a deep breath and crosses the street.

She taps Jody on her shoulder and as she turns around, Claire sees her mouth widen in a delighted laugh and her eyes fill with joy. As Jody wraps her arms around her and lets out a small sob in her ear, Claire closes her eyes.

From the distance she hears cries of surprise and then Donna and Patience and Alex are hugging her from all sides.

The lights of the house dance behind her eyelids and she feels warmth and relief and something a little like - a little like hope.

joining @bend-me-shape-me in doing this!

[copperbadge]

Okay Statesiders, time to pass judgements and start fights. 

Alabama: Lane Cake Alaska: King Crab Arizona: Cheese Crisp (WHAT. No. Sonoran Hot Dog!) Arkansas: Biscuits with Chocolate Gravy California: Mission-style Burrito (this is highly regional, I think it should be some specific forms of sushi, but I’ll let it slide) Colorado: Rocky Mountain Oysters Connecticut: White Clam Pizza Delaware: Blue Crab Florida: Cuban Sandwich Georgia: Peach Cobbler (come on Georgia you must have something less peach-based) Hawaii: Shave Ice (OH MY GOD what a snub to Spam Musubi, how dare you) Idaho: Finger Steaks Illinois: Italian Beef (AGREE) Indiana: Sugar Cream (aka Hoosier) Pie Iowa: Loose Meat Sandwich (I admit I am dying to try one of these) Kansas: Fried Chicken (I...how could you not say some form of barbecue?) Kentucky: Hot Brown  Louisiana: Beignets (...not crawfish? Really?) Maine: Lobster Maryland: Blue Crab (uh, Maryland and Delaware gonna FITE) Massachusetts: Clam Chowder (I want to argue but I refuse to say Baked Beans) Michigan: Coney-Style Hot Dog (Detroit-style pizza is the correct answer) Minnesota: Hot Dish (you’ll regret it, but yes) Mississippi: Gulf Seafood (come on now, you can get a little more specific) Missouri: Gooey Butter Cake Montana: Pork Chop sandwich Nebraska: Runza (this looks amazing) Nevada: Prime Rib New Hampshire: Lobster Corn Chowder New Jersey: Taylor Ham, Egg, and Cheese New Mexico: Green Chile Stew New York: Pizza Slice (yeah ok sometimes you gotta play to the stereotype) North Carolina: Barbecue Pork North Dakota: Knoephla Soup  Ohio: Buckeyes (you don’t HAVE to play to the stereotype, guys) Oklahoma: Fried Onion Burger Oregon: Marionberry Pie (Marionberry ANYTHING they are the BEST BERRY) Pennsylvania: Roast Pork Sandwich (I say no. I say either water ice, pepperoni roll, or anything ordered from a computer screen at Sheetz.)  Rhode Island: New York System Weiner (THE CORRECT ANSWER IS A QUAHOG STUFFIE HAVE YOU NO GODS. Sci don’t even START ON ME about pizza strips) South Carolina: Frogmore Stew South Dakota: Fry Bread Tennessee: Nashville Hot Chicken Texas: Brisket (NO. KOLACHES. Texas Brisket is average at best. If you must have meat in Texas get smoked turkey from Rudy’s.) Utah: Utah Scones (these look amazing) Vermont: Sugar on Snow (have also long wanted to try this) Virginia: Country Ham Biscuits Washington: Dungeoness Crab (y so much crab, Chicago Tribune) Washington DC: Half Smoke West Virginia: Pepperoni Roll (maybe Pennsylvania can let WV have this) Wisconsin: Fried Cheese Curds (Wisconsin has so much to recommend it but realistically...yeah, it’s the curds.) Wyoming: Chicken-fried Steak (I feel like they must have given this to WY as a consolation prize becaus they couldn’t think of anything else. Wyomingites, weigh in, all 3 of you.)

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Sibling Bond- Pietro Maximoff x OC

Pietro Maximoff x Alina Cetus

Description: Wanda becomes worried when she realizes that her brother and Alina have become very close and sets out to see Alina’s intentions.

Word Count: 1.7k

“I win,” Alina said smugly once Pietro reached her. They had just decided to race after working out in the training room together. Last one to reach the kitchen had to make lunch for the other. Pietro had obviously used his enhanced speed, but it showed to be slower than Alina’s teleportation ability. 

“I do not understand how you can be faster than me.” He shook his head. 

“Maybe you’re having a hard time accepting that I’m just better than you,” she teased as she walked in. The boy shook his head with a small smile and followed her, only to almost run into her as she had stopped in the doorway. Wanda was standing at the stove already staring at them with a look that Alina couldn’t describe, but Pietro brushed off. 

“Christ Wanda, you scared us,” Alina joked, deciding to follow Pietro’s lead and brush it off. Wanda gave them a small smile. 

“I’m sorry, I was just making lunch. Are you two hungry?” She questioned. Alina glanced at Pietro, then at Wanda, figuring that she preferred Wanda’s cooking over Pietro’s if given the chance. 

“Sure,” she shrugged, leaning against the counter. She felt the older twin move to sit at the island beside her. 

“Guess that means I’ll just have to make it up to you for dinner,” Pietro muttered, gazing at her with a small, charming smile. “How about Natalita’s tonight?” Alina’s cheeks flushed and smiled shyly at the boy. 

“Sounds great. How about 7:00?” The Sokovian man nodded and threw an arm around her shoulders casually, pulling her closer to him by just a smidge. Neither had time to notice Wanda’s tense smile before she turned back to the pot on the stove. 

“I’m just saying!” Alina exclaimed, followed by Pietro’s boisterous laughter as they stepped out of the elevator. Wanda, who had been talking to Clint, stopped their conversation to look at them as they reached the living room. Upon seeing her brother’s contagious smile, the younger Maximoff couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“What are you guys talking about?” She inquired, leaning back against the couch. Pietro and Alina could only glance at each other for a second before bursting out laughing, causing Wanda’s eyebrows to knit together in confusion. 

“Okay so we were discussing the cube rule of food,” Pietro started between giggles. 

“Again?” Clint questioned. Wanda’s head snapped over to him. 

“They’ve had this conversation before?” The archer smiled amusedly and nodded. 

“More times than necessary,” he responded simply. 

“Because Pietro isn’t listening to reason!” Alina added, making the man in question burst into another fit of laughter. 

“What was tonight’s discussion about then?” The younger twin inquired. 

“Okay so, based on the unifying cube rule of food,” the girl said, obviously trying not to laugh before she finished speaking. “There is no evidence against the fact that a kolache technically counts as sushi.” By the end of her sentence she had a wide smile on her face. 

“But it sounds wrong!” Pietro exclaimed. “Sushi is sushi! It’s rice, uncooked fish and seaweed, not sausage in crescent rolls!” 

“That’s not a decision for you to make,” Alina countered. “The food experts have already spoken about it.”

“Well maybe they’re wrong,” he shot back. Before Alina could respond, Clint shook his head with a small laugh. 

“Why don’t you guys go get changed so you’re debating in comfort,” he suggested. “Weren’t you guys supposed to watch a movie tonight as well?” That seemed to snap them out of their discussion and they faced him again. 

“Oh yeah!” Alina realized. “That new horror movie came out on demand.” A sincere grin appeared on Pietro’s face as he looked at her. 

“My room in five minutes?” Alina agreed and before Wanda or Clint could say anything, they were out of the room by means of their respective power. The archer couldn’t help but chuckle as he stood. 

“They’re definitely made for each other,” he commented as he gathered his stuff to head to bed. When Wanda didn’t respond, he turned back. 

“Yeah they are,” the girl responded, though she didn’t sound as enthusiastic. Clint thought better than to say anything and instead bid her goodnight and left her to her thoughts.

Wanda really had no idea what to think of the new couple. Of course she thought they were nice together at first, but now her thoughts constantly ran rampant about her brother’s new girlfriend. 

If she was being honest, her discomfort mainly stemmed from the fact that she now felt alone. All their lives, the only thing that stayed constant to Pietro and Wanda were each other, no matter what happened they’d be there for their siblings. Now that Alina was in the picture, Pietro was spending more time away from his sister. 

Change terrified her, and no matter how much has happened to them, how many changes they went through, Wanda could never get comfortable with it. All she could do was power through it and hope for the best. This was a whole new kind of change, one that she hadn’t been ready for so she couldn’t have enough time to prepare. 

She had to talk to Alina and set her mind at ease. Before having second thoughts, Wanda stood and made her way to the girl’s room. She had to do this before she siked herself out and continued to question the girl’s motives. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Alina, she just had to be sure and there was nothing wrong with that. She hadn’t even realized she’d already walked into her bedroom until she heard Alina gasp. 

“Jesus Christ Wanda!” She exclaimed, thanking any god out there that she had already changed before Wanda walked in. The woman snapped out of her thoughts, her cheeks burning in embarrassment. 

“Sorry, I guess I was lost in thought,” she apologized sincerely. Alina forgave her of course. 

“Is there something you need?” she inquired, standing from her vanity, where she had just finished taking her makeup off. 

“Yes actually,” Wanda responded. “I wanted to talk to you about Pietro.” Her answer surprised Alina more than it showed. 

“Oh, okay,” she responded, sitting back down. “What’s up?” Wanda took a seat on the girl’s bed before answering. 

“Well, I have noticed you and Pietro becoming very close,” she started, not missing the girl’s cheeks flush afterwards. 

Pietro, who was just a couple doors down, was becoming confused. It had been at least ten minutes since they went their separate ways to change. Alina was always on time, never even late by a minute. Once he finished setting up the movie, he decided to go check on the girl. He stopped just outside the door just in time to hear his sister’s voice. 

“I just want to know what your plans are for him,” Wanda finished simply. Alina’s confusion was amplified by this. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Your plans,” Wanda repeated. “It’s obvious that something is going on between you two, and I would like to know what it means to you.” Pietro was appalled by his sister’s request, but had no time to interrupt before Alina responded. 

“Wanda I have no idea what your brother’s past lovers were like so I can’t speak for them, but I am not that kind of girl. I want to be with Pietro because I care about him dearly, I don’t date just for fun. I’d like a relationship with him because he genuinely makes me happy, and I can only hope that he feels the same. If that’s not the case for him then I would like to know so I can end it. Pietro is the most caring, loving and amazing person I’ve ever met and I’m so thankful that he cares about me. What are my plans for him? Happiness in any form that I can offer to him.” 

There was a long pause as both Wanda and Pietro processed her words. While Wanda was surprised, Pietro was giddy at the girl’s speech. She felt the same way about him that he had! It felt like he was floating on cloud nine as he walked back to his room. He closed his door as quietly as he could then jumped on the bed with a happy sigh. He felt like a teen in those stupid rom-coms that Alina loved, and if it always felt like this then he could understand why they acted that way. 

“Wow,” Wanda finally said, still thinking about Alina’s words. “Well, I believe that my question has been answered.” She stood up after speaking and began walking out. 

“Was my answer satisfactory?” Alina questioned. The younger twin stopped at the door then glanced back at her. A small smile graced her face. 

“Yeah, it was,” she replied before walking out, making sure to close the door behind her. Alina could only sit there, going over everything that just happened. She could understand Wanda’s concern, Pietro told her what it was like for them growing up in Sokovia then going to Hydra. It just felt jarring for Wanda to be so protective, that was all. But she decided to let it go, Wanda trusted her and that was all she could ask for. 

She finally stood again and grabbed her favorite pillow, heading to Pietro’s room after making a quick stop in the kitchen for some snacks. After knocking on the door, she only had to wait for a second before the boy called her in. Alina made sure to close the door behind her then plopped on the bed beside him. 

“I got the snacks,” she chirped, holding out some candy for him. When he didn’t take it at first, she finally looked at him. Pietro was just looking at her with a small, giddy smile, and she couldn’t help but giggle. 

“What’s up?” She questioned. The Sokovian boy seemed to snap out of the little trance he was stuck in. 

“I just love you,” he responded simply, making Alina blush profusely. She grinned blissfully and leaned in to kiss him. 

“I love you too,” she whispered upon pulling away. They settled into their cuddling position and faced the tv before Pietro pressed play. His arm wrapped around Alina and pulled her as close to him as physically possible, not that the girl minded. Their relationship had been pretty undefined before today. Of course they were very touchy with each other and didn’t mind being in each other’s personal space, even sharing more than a few kisses at this point. But it still felt nice for the both of them to finally have a label on each other: love.

[lorei-writes]

MC who experiences “Linguistic Brain Lags”

Hello, @zazax42​ ! Thanks for the request, friend :D  Though, truth be told, I... Don’t get a lot of moments like that ^^” BUT, that’s because I had always sucked at orthography - and since I sometimes don’t know how to spell the basic words (oh dear, apparently I spelled “który” as “ktury” at least once... I just didn’t notice it. No, I wasn’t a child then; Polish folks will understand how atrocious this is), I’m really used to improvising (golden rule of “use synonyms or rephrase the sentence so that you never have to use this one particular word”). That’s still my go-to thing whenever I forget a word or a phrase ^^” I’ll try my best here, though! :D I hope you’ll like these :D

Content Warnings: none

Nobunaga

He’d find the entire situation somewhat amusing - seeing her brows knit together, listening to how she tries to find this one particular word combination that makes sense, the utterly annoyed and irritated look on her face? Most entertaining, indeed - and all because of words!

That being said, he’d encourage her to simply describe the expression or the word - at worst, he’d know instantly what she meant, at best, he’d get a chance to see her come up with newer and newer abominations of word clusters. 

Sometimes, though, he wouldn’t be able to find a fitting expression. If her native language provided it, though, he’d be delighted to hear it, translated directly word by word. Apparently, those could be rather interesting at times.

He’d be especially interested in any idioms which could justify his sweet tooth. 

For example (sorry, I know only Polish and English, so bear with me): “Bez pracy nie ma kołaczy” = “ Without work, there isn’t any cake” (kołacz - kolach, a kind of cake). I presume it would lead Nobunaga to think: “If there isn’t any cake without work, then if work has been done, there must be some cake... Cake is sweet... Sugar is sweet... I’m working hard, I deserve konpeito, wise indeed...”

In general, I think he’d be rather understanding of said linguistic lags, given how much joy those could bring to him.

Masamune

Firs off, this man would experience those as well. An opportunity to learn a language his lover could speak? Yeah. He’d be up to it. Absolutely.

He’ tease her about it, mercilessly. 

If he had a clue as to what word she’d be looking for? Oh. He’d come up with the most ridiculous substitute for it, just because he could. 

“ You mean big knife pouch?” he’d ask, as she sighed in resignation, looking at the scabbards at his waist. 

Most of the time though, those wouldn’t be really all that funny.

“ You’re... You’re...!” “ Irresistible? Charming? Intelligent?” he’d joke, seeing her anger melt away. “ I hate you.” “ I think you meant ‘I love you’, didn’t you, kitten?”

That being said, she’d tease him back.

If she ever needed him to be serious for a moment, though, he’d help her out immediately. She forgot a word in a meeting? Masamune would try to either somehow help her find it fast enough or would interrupt the scene, so that she wouldn’t stress too much about it.

Yukimura

At first, he’d have no idea what happened to her. Why was his lover suddenly frozen? Why was she staring somewhere far away, just to start mumbling to herself a few minutes later? Was she feeling unwell?

Before she explained to him what was really happening, she’d interrupt her multiple times, demanding an explanation - to his defense, he was worried! 

That being said, he’d try to help her... But he wouldn’t be really good at it.

“ You know, this sad feeling, but not just sad, more like overwhelmingly sad?” “ Isn’t sad good enough?” “ No, it isn’t.” “ Okay, maybe depressed?” “ Not that overwhelmingly sad. Make it a noun.” “ Sadness?” “ I would have came up with that by myself.” “ Oh come oon...” “ YES, YUKI! SORROW. SORROW. IT WAS SORROW.”

Shingen would like to give him classes on usage of language for that very reason...

Shingen

Oh, he’d absolutely try to find the right words for her... But he’d shingenify them.

Do you know those ridiculous names of wall paints? Shingen could have very well came up with those.

She looked up at the cloudless sky, warm wind playing with her hair.  “ I love this... This... What shade of blue is it?” she wondered, the question being directed more at her than her lover. However, Shingen took it upon himself to provide her with an answer: “ Sparkling dew blue? Blue twinkle? Morning drizzle?” “ I think I was looking for ‘azure’, but thanks,” she’d laugh. 

As much as his attempts at helping her would be rather awkward, he’d never tease her about experiencing this sort of lags. 

If anything, he’d find her even more adorable - and in the end, hadn’t she made him speechless multiple times by then?

Tag list: @datenoriko , @nad-zeta , @tsubaki3192 , @choi-jiyu , @missjudge-me If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)!^^ Also, if you have some preferences (for example: you’d rather not be tagged under some series, etc.), please, tell me.

[jadekitty777]

Baker’s Dozen, Part 1

Oh my god we are at the home stretch and I am still amazed I managed to do all eight days. This is a two-parter, so the second chapter will be up tomorrow.

Day 7: First Morning @taiqrowweek

Rating: K

Words: 6,000

Summary: When a desperate escape from fans leaves Qrow seeking shelter in a nearby restaurant, he expects little of the rundown, failing business that offers him a table. One bite is all it takes to change his mind. [Actor and Chef AU]

Ao3 Link: Baker’s Dozen

~

Early Saturday afternoon found downtown L.A. bustling with traffic on the sidewalks and the road. Qrow found himself in the heart of Pershing Square, lying on the grass and enjoying the midday sun beaming down on him, wondering why he didn’t do this more often.

“Oh my god! Qrow Branwen?!”

His eyes shot open, seeing a small gaggle of women hurrying his way as every head within earshot turned to look right at him.

Oh right.

That was why.

He shot to his feet, yelling over his shoulder as he sprinted away, “Sorry! No autographs today!”

He thanked whatever gods might be out there that his last role forced him to stay in excellent shape, because he was easily able to outdistance his pursuers. Unfortunately, as he skirted around the foot traffic, their yells only seemed to be attracting more attention his way. He ever spotted one desperate teenager pulling a phone from her purse.

He was about to be all over Instagram, wasn’t he?

Knowing this called for every actor’s Superman disguise, Qrow pulled his sunglasses from his pocket, shoving them onto his face as he took the first alleyway he could find. Coming out on the other side, he slowed his pace to a fast walk, lowering his head to avoid further detection and slipped into the doorway of one of the businesses a few doors down before the other crowd could catch up.

He sighed, grateful for the dark atmosphere inside the building as he pulled out his phone. Alright, time to call his driver and get out of dodge.

“Table for one?” The question had him jerking around, seeing a young woman in a cowboy getup smiling his way from a little podium. Her golden hair was particularly eye catching, long and untamed in a way that reminded him of his twin sister’s. Her name tag, which was in the shape of a star, read ‘Yang’.

He took in the environment around her, noticing the array of booths and tables that made up the majority of the room, and realized he’d ducked right into a restaurant. “Uh, no sorry I uh-” He started to say, only to trail off as he actually considered it. Why the hell not? It wasn’t like he’d eaten, and it would take his driver about the same time to get there when having to slog through the weekend traffic. “I mean, yeah, just me. Can I get a booth as isolated as possible?”

“You got it!” Yang agreed, picking up one of the menus and leading him to a booth in the back. He couldn’t help but notice she even had spurs on her boots that clanked when she walked. The walls were decorated with a similar Texan flair, bull horns and deer antlers interspaced with paintings of farm homes and woodland creatures and metal lone stars. How quaint.

Despite the aesthetics though, it was obvious from the minute he sat down and the bench creaked loudly, that upkeep wasn’t a priority. Or, he reassessed as he took note of the lack of patrons despite it being the lunch hour, it probably just wasn’t in the budget. That probably wasn’t a promising sign on the quality for his upcoming meal.

“Ruby will be with you soon.” Yang said, setting the menu before him. The cover had the name ‘The Dragon’s Den’ proudly printed across it. Wait, that wasn’t southern. Did he somehow run all the way to Chinatown instead?

“Uh, thanks.” He flipped the menu, but with the lighting so low, he couldn’t read the finer script. He pulled off his sunglasses, setting them on the table before looking through his options. Despite the slightly confused name, everything within seemed pretty par for the course; roast beef, fried chicken, catfish, and a large array of barbequed meats that any Tramp off the street would gladly steal for his Lady.

“Howdy there, can I get you started w- Oh my god!”

Ah, shit.

He looked up, seeing yet another starstruck gaze aimed at him by a petite girl in a similar get up to the hostess but was a few years younger – was she even old enough to work here?

He held up his hand in a desperate attempt to ward off any screaming. “Kid, I swear to give you the best tip of your life if you keep quiet.”

His waitress pressed her notepad against her mouth, a muffled squeak escaping around it. After a moment, she took a breath, then lowered the notepad slightly to reveal a sly smile. “I’ll make sure Yang seats any customers far away from you if you promise me an autograph and a picture too.”

He snorted. What a devious little brat! He could appreciate that. “Deal.”

“Hehe, yes!” She gave a little hop before quickly composing herself, placing her pen to the page. “Alright stranger that I’ve never met and do not know the name of, what would you like to drink?”

“Don’t oversell it kid. And water’s fine.”

“Coming right up!” She scurried away. He watched her detour towards the front, dragging the blond woman to the back where they disappeared behind a set of swinging double doors.

He counted down from five in his head.

“EEEEEEEEEEEE!” Came two screams from the kitchen.

Right on cue.

“OUT! BOTH OF YOU, OUT!!” Was the next shout he heard, the tone definitely masculine.

Yang came back out first, her gaze lingering his way before she hurried away, giggling all the while. Ruby was next, setting a glass of water on his table along with a straw.

“Your drink, mon-sir.”

He laughed. “Did you mean monsieur?”

“Yeah, that one!” She giggled good-naturedly. Despite the fact she was an obvious fangirl, he found himself taking a liking to her.

“Heard a bit of yelling back there.” He gestured towards the doorway.

“Yeah, dad just thinks we’re being dumb. He doesn’t believe you’re out here.”

Dad? Well, that might explain why it seemed this rustic establishment was getting away with breaking child labor laws. “Eh, it’s probably better that way anyways.” Kids were cute; but adults fawning over him was always a little weird, especially if they were around his age.

“He wouldn’t know how to appreciate the moment anyways.”  Ruby clacked her heels together, spurs chiming when she did. “So were you ready to order or did you want a few minutes?”

He glanced down towards the menu. He wasn’t really used to food like this. Growing up, his dad would favor getting the rice cooker going rather than tend to the BBQ gathering dust outside. As for now, his career tended to call for strict dietery needs depending on what shape he needed to be in for each role – none of which ever called for anything steeped so heavily in grease and fat. “Any suggestions?”

“Ooo,” She tapped her chin with her pen thoughtfully. “Well dad just took out the kolaches a half hour ago, so those are extra good right now.”

The question was out of his mouth before he could think to fake it, “What’s a kolach?”

“Oh, it’s a Texas thing. Basically, it’s a pasty with filling. Today’s strawberry, which is my favorite.”

“Trying to sell me dessert before the main course?”

“Well yeah! That’s like the highlight of being an adult, right? When I move out, that’s how I’m gonna do it.” Ruby said proudly. “But if you want to be all traditional about it, then by far dad’s best dish is the country-fried steak.”

He knew what that dish was at least. Steak fried in batter and slathered in gravy. It sounded like a heart attack on a plate. He closed the menu decisively, handing it to her. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Great!” She quickly wrote it down.

As the girl hurried over to go place his order, Qrow took the opportunity to look up the address and text it to An. ‘Pick me up in forty-five?’

‘Certainly sir.’ She replied.

He had just switched back to his browser, when Ruby came back, setting a small plate in front of him. The Kolach was about the size of a cookie, with a breading cooked to a nice golden brown and the bright red strawberry filling dusted over with powdered sugar.

“Here you go! The best dessert you’ll ever have.” She proclaimed.

It certainly looked good, but it wouldn’t have anything on his mother’s Ichigo Daifuku. “Maybe second greatest kiddo.”

Ruby looked about ready to defend her dessert’s honor when a call of ‘waiter’ had her drawing back. “Um, gotta go. Enjoy!”

Picking up the pastry, Qrow turned his attention back to his phone. He eyed the 2.9 rating the restaurant had on Yelp, his stomach turning with trepidation as he took his first bite. The outer crust had a nice crunch but the inner dough was fluffy and light, with a hint of butter. The sweetness also hit with less punch than he was expecting, the strawberry standing mostly on its own with only the sugar on top adding to it. Just the way he liked it.

He was right, it didn’t out beat the Daifuku… but it was pretty close.

As he polished it off, he pulled up the reviews, scanning through them.

‘Great food but the decor is just awful. Pretty sure the place hasn’t had an upgrade since the 70s.’

‘Nice staff but everyone looks like they should be operating out of a western drama.’

‘Terrible! The kid waiting on me didn’t even look fifteen. She was super clumsy too. Dropped a whole cup of BBQ right on my sweater. When I demanded to speak to the owner about it, the hostess gave me attitude about how he was too busy and called ME a blowhard! What a circus show! Never coming back!’

‘The food’s amazing, but the wait times are ridiculous. Forty-five minutes for a rack of ribs? Is there only one cook back there?’

And on they went. Complaints about the location, the confusing name, more on wait time and the staff. But, beyond a few issues on the food arriving too cold, there was nothing but stellar compliments for the taste. He lent back in his seat, hearing it give another dying groan. He watched Yang sit another table of five while Ruby bustled about to get their drinks. Eyed his crumb-dusted plate, realizing the treat was probably offered to him because someone hungry was more likely to notice the wait for the main course. What a sad state. Apparently great food but poor management and lack of funds to fix anything. The place probably wasn’t going to last another year.

Ruby was all smiles when she came back to him, clearing his dish. “So, did you like it?”

“It was excellent, just like you promised.” Qrow told her honestly. For a split second, he almost let that be the end of it all. To just have his meal and leave, forgetting all about the reviews that foreshadowed the Dragon Den’s closure and the innocent kid whose family would be facing thousands of dollars in debt.

Instead he found himself strangely invested. Perhaps it was just human curiosity or pure boredom, but whatever it was, something made him lean forward, cross his arms over the table and ask, “So Ruby, you said your dad’s the one cooking, but who runs the place?”

“He does.”

He arched a brow. “He’s the owner and the chef? And he makes his kids work here?”

She shifted on her feet. “Uh well, I only help out on weekends and maybe a weekday here or there when dad really needs me. Yang’s got it real bad tho. She has to rush from her classes at Cal State to here five times a week.”

As the suspicion niggled at the back of his mind, he almost asked, but figured the deliberate omission about the whereabouts of their mother was all the answer he needed.

“There’s no other waiters?” He asked instead.

“No, we’ve got a few part timers, just not enough for a full day. Dad keeps saying when business picks back up he’ll hire a few more and a new chef too but,” Ruby averted her gaze. “That was a year ago.”

“What happened?” He pressed.

She shook her head. “We kept losing staff and now I just think he’s too busy. He sometimes doesn’t even come home. He’ll just sleep at one of the tables and then be up for the next day.”

“He’s here every day? From open to close?”

“Yeah.”

He whistled low between his teeth, placing his palm under his chin. He’d had some rough shoots over the years, but at least he had the solace of taking breaks. “Wow. That’s awful. And I bet a teenager like you hates having to work when you’d rather be at home playing video games.”

“Oh, no. I don’t mind.” Ruby refuted, before amending shortly after, “Uh well, most times, at least. Jerky customers kind of ruin my day. But otherwise, it’s okay.”

He had a feeling it was anything but. “You sure ‘bout that?”

“Yeah. I mean, when we first moved here, this place was dad’s dream.” She waved vaguely in the air as if to encompass the little establishment. “He always loved making people happy by cooking for them. Even when I was a kid he’d tell me that the gift of a good meal is the smile on someone’s face when they eat it.” She faced him, resolute and steady. “I know it’s important to him, so if I can help him keep this place by working here every now and again, then that’s just what I’ll do.”

He studied her carefully, but nothing he could see seemed imply she was lying in any way. It was a value he could certainly respect, as he and his sister had grown up being told the importance of caring for and respecting their elders. But living in America taught him that not all families operated this way. It was surprising, but uplifting, to see it here. “That’s rather admirable of you.”

Before they could say more, a hiss of ‘Ruby!’ drew her up short, and then Yang was sidling over, an impressive stack of plates balanced precariously along her left arm. “Table 3 needs their check before they bounce on us.”

“Oh right.” She paused, just long enough to place the pastry dish on top of her sister’s already full load with an overly sweet smile.

Once his waitress had left, Qrow said, “Guess I’m distracting her.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised. You can distract half the nation.” Yang replied. “Must be awful, never having enough privacy.”

He shrugged it off, as if he hadn’t sprinted several blocks twenty minutes ago. “Comes with the business.”

“Well, I’d hate it. I get enough attention as it is.” She shifted some of the weight on her arm.

“Ah, what? You’re the total heartthrob in school or something?” He could see that. She had other assets that matched Raven’s – and he remembered how often that had the boys trailing after her like stray dogs desperate for affection.

“Or something.” She echoed vaguely. “I’m going to go check on your meal.”

It was only as she turned away, he noticed her right hand as it caught the faint light from above. The shine to the skin too bright to be natural and its immobility too revealing that the limb was anything but real.  

Or something indeed.

God, maybe he should pitch a show because this was starting to feel like a classic TV sitcom. A single dad, running a failing restaurant and just struggling to get by to provide for his two kids, one of whom was disabled and the other was sacrificing the last of her childhood. Ruby, with her boundless optimism, would be the star of course. Yang would be the sassy, fiery-tempered co-host. Their dad would be a bumbling fool with a heart of gold. It would either top the charts or fail after the first season.

Not having much else to do as he waited, he texted the inane thought off to his agent.

Your writing leaves a lot to be desired. Stick to acting Qrow. Willow ordered.

He chuckled silently, replying: Is this why you gave your daughters such icy names? Because they were born from someone so cold?

Watch your tongue Branwen or I’ll tell Tommy Wiseau you want to co-star with him.

Ouch, I’ve got freezerburn.

I’m again questioning why I work with you.

You love me. He sent an obnoxious amount of kiss emojis along with it just to really annoy her.

She sent back swords. Ah, she was the best.  

He decided to leave her alone, switching over to one of his racing game apps and immersing himself in the competition. Every now and again, he’d catch sight of the girls in the corner of his eye. Ruby taking orders and checking on customers. Yang fetching refills or cleaning up. His red Alpine racer was just passing the finish line of the second race when Ruby was coming back.

“Here you go, the best meal in the house.” She set down the dish before him. It was an excellent presentation, like it came right out of a cooking magazine. The fry-battered steak was a light, golden brown, slathered with a brownish-white, peppered gravy. A generous helping of fluffy, buttery mashed potatoes and bright yellow corn, both flecked with more pepper, completed the meal. All of it was framed by the plate with its dark blue flower trim that made the colors pop and really sold the southern charm.

“Thanks kiddo.” He said, feeling his stomach grumble.

“Enjoy!” She hesitated, adding in a small rush, “Just um, call me if you need me!”

He unrolled his utensils as she hurried away, shaking his head. She was probably hoping he’d call her every five minutes, just so she’d have more of an excuse to talk to him. Poor kid probably thought she was missing the opportunity of a lifetime. He didn’t let it bother him. After all, everyone who’s ever sat down with an interview with him knew he was a terrible conversationalist.

He cut down into the steak, finding it came apart easily and was perfectly cooked through. He dripped the bottom in the gravy, twisted it around on his fork, said a silent prayer to his arteries, and took the first bite.

Oh.

Oh.

Holy Mother of Mary.

The fried breading crunched nicely but the steak practically melted into his mouth, combining with the gravy and a series of spices he couldn’t even begin to name but knew it was doing something wonderful to his taste buds.

He hummed happily. It was good. It was beyond good. As he cut another piece and took another bite, finding it as delectable as the last, he still couldn’t believe it. There was just no way anything could be this delicious.

He was over three-quarters of the way through the steak by the time Ruby came to check on him.

“Sooo,” She glanced at his plate then to him, smirking, “You like it, don’t you?”

“Don’t look so smug.” Qrow replied halfheartedly, stuffing another forkful in his mouth and hearing her fading giggle.

He didn’t get it though; with food like this, the place should be packed. If people could wait in line to get his autograph for six hours, then why couldn’t they wait a measly half hour for an incredible meal?

“Hey kid.” He said when Ruby came back around again, this time to collect his empty plate.

“Yeah?”

“We still got to take your picture. Any chance I can give my compliments to the chef while we’re at it?”

“If Yang can be in it too, you got yourself a deal.”

He chuckled. Should have expected that. “You got it.”

“Eeeee!” She squealed, hopping in excitement. “Okay, okay, let’s go now!”

He obliged, finding it hard to move at first. Wow, he was stuffed. He managed to follow Ruby to the back, seeing her wave her sister over before he was led through the double doors.

Walking into the kitchen was like walking backstage on a set – wherein the stage was just a collection of pieces meant to play their positions and what was behind the curtain was where the magic truly happened to bring it all together. But instead of sound design and lights, it was sizzling grills and knives chopping down. And instead of half a dozen people rushing about, there was only one. He was mincing up an onion with a swift finesse only the best of chefs had while singing along with a cassette player that was peddling out country tunes.

“It’s a quarter after one, I’m all alone and I need you nooow.”

Singing badly, Qrow thought, cringing inwardly.

“Dad, no!” Ruby cried. Not even looking their way, the man just continued on, more loudly and off-key then before.

“Oh god, please smite me.” Yang groaned as she walked in, hiding her face in her hand.

Her sister raced across the room, pulling at his sleeve, hissing insistently. “Dad, we have company.”

“Meaning I have an audience that actually appreciates my performance?” His laughter was hearty as he peered over her head. The cutting stopped immediately. “U-Uhh…” Was all he managed to splutter before looking down at his daughter. “Uh?!”

“Told you he was here.” She said in a know-it-all sort of tone.

Used to this, Qrow just cleared his throat, introducing himself even if it felt a bit arbitrary. “Qrow Branwen. A pleasure to meet you.”

The man didn’t reply straight away, still taken aback by his very presence – or perhaps, from the faint lines of panic crinkling his brow, weighing over the fact he’d just served a celebrity without actually knowing it. Whatever it was, he seemed to catch his bearings, setting down his knife and crossing the kitchen. As he introduced himself in turn, he held out his hand, “Believe me, pleasure’s all mine. Name’s Taiyang Xiao Long.”

Xiao Long? Strange, he didn’t appear to have any Chinese in him, which likely meant he was married into the surname. At least now he really understood the restaurant’s title. Qrow shook his hand, surprised by the strong grip. He could feel the calluses built onto his hands from years of using cooking utensils.

“I apologize,” Taiyang said as he pulled back. “Had I taken my daughter’s word for it, I would have offered you a meal more extravagant. Or at the very least, some good wine.”

He had to keep himself from chuckling at the way Ruby stuck out her tongue at her dad’s back. “That’s alright. If I’m being honest, that was one of the finest meals I’ve had in quite some time.”

The chef’s cheeks turned a little rosy but his smile was just like his daughter’s, toothy and bright. “That’s mighty kind of you to say.” Heh, cute. He even talked like the aesthetic.

Before they could converse more, the ringing of a timer drew Taiyang’s attention. “Ah, pardon me.” He hurried to the stove, pausing only long enough to wash his hands.

“Sooooo,” Ruby stretched out the word as she slid back over, pulling out her phone. “Picture?”

“Wait, hold on!” Yang ripped off her hat, finger-combing through her golden locks. “Does my hair look okay?”

Her sister gave her a thumb’s up. “Like a rat’s nest. So yes- Ack!” She got smacked in the face with the hat.

“Girls, don’t be bothering him like that.” Their father chastised, stirring something in a large pot.

“We’re not!” Yang claimed.

He shook his head, but it was hard to tell if it was at her or at the soup he was tasting. “Really Mr. Branwen, you don’t have to.”

Ruby looked scandalized. “What?!”

“He owes us. I kept all the other customers away from him.” His eldest explained.

His head whipped around. “That’s worse! A man shouldn’t have to pay for his privacy!” As he pulled down some spices, he continued, “What you two ought to be doing is just appreciating the moment.”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea dad. Now if only I had something to capture it with and keep it forever. Oh wait!” Ruby waved around her phone violently. “I DO!”

Unable to hold it in anymore, Qrow started to laugh. He was right; they would make a good sitcom. “It’s been a long time since I’ve met such interesting people.” He addressed the chef, “It’s alright, really. I did promise them.”

Taiyang opened his mouth to protest further, but another timer went off – how many did he have? – so he just said, “To each his own I suppose.” Before he turned to go check something in the oven.

Taking the opportunity for what it was, he held up his arms. “Alright, bring it in ladies.”

Ruby tossed her own hat next to Yang’s, giggling as his arm came around her shoulders. Yang was a little more uncomfortable, so he let his hand rest on her shoulder, above where he assumed her arm ended, and felt her relax almost instantly.

“Okay, 3, 2, 1!” They all smiled widely as the camera shutter clicked. They pulled away and Ruby looked it over to make sure it was good, before squealing happily. “Oh gosh it’s perfect! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“You’re – oof! – welcome.” He huffed out when she nearly tackled him with a hug. He pat her back. “Now, I believe I promised an autograph too?”

She grinned hugely. “Right, yes!” She grabbed Yang, “Come on we got to find something for him to sign!” The two hurried to a small office, and he caught Ruby saying, “He could even sign your arm!”

“You think?” Yang’s voice faded to the background, overtaken by a loud sizzling.

As Qrow came as close as he dared, Taiyang said, “Thank you for this. You really made their year.” He was stirring the onion he had minced earlier around a nice heap of melting butter in a hot pan.

“Like I said, it’s fine.” He echoed.

“Still, it’s appreciated.” The burner was flipped off and the pan taken from the heat, but the onions continued to sauté.  “‘Fraid I can’t offer you much in compensation though, beyond giving you your meal free.”

He tilted his head. “Can you afford that?”

“Really, I insist. As they say, happiness is priceless.” Was the curt reply.

Only the rich say that. He scoffed at the obvious farce – not that Taiyang noticed as he turned away to attend to something else. Subtlety by words had never been his strong suit, and it wouldn’t be in the next five minutes either. So, he cut to the chase, “Listen bud, I’m not going to sit here and pretend I know everything, but it’s pretty obvious from the state of this place to the lack of non-relative employees, that you’re not exactly in good standing.”

“An astute observation, but I don’t believe you needed to bring up all that just to make a case to pay for your meal.” He was back to chopping – this time, potatoes. Stubborn as a mule was a term invented for this guy, wasn’t it?

“It wasn’t.” Qrow assured. “It was a case to buy your restaurant.”

The knife chopped down so hard, it went right into the wood. Taiyang turned around to stare at him. A clatter to their left caught Qrow’s attention. The girls were both standing just outside of the office, the things they’d brought for him to sign now strewn across the ground.

No one spoke.

A beeping filled the air, and still no one spoke.

“Uh. Timer?” He said, awkwardly.

Taiyang seemed to blink out of whatever daze he was in. He came forward, almost aggressively enough that Qrow tried not to shrink back, but the other man only reached over his shoulder to turn off the timer, side-eyeing him as he walked away.

“Really?” Ruby’s small but hopeful voice shook the tense air.

Yang’s was more suspicious. “You do know you’re buying a failing business, right?”

He offered the duo a smile. “Won’t be failing when I’m done with it. This place just needs a bit of sprucing up. More staff. Maybe a new location-”

Slam! Went a cooking sheet on the countertop.

“No.” Taiyang said rigidly.

Unperturbed, Qrow carried on. “Alright, no new location. Kind of a bad move but I can work with that. But the name has got to-”

“Stop.” He commanded. “Do not treat me like a fool. I may not have grown up here, but I learned rather quickly that folks around here will do a lot for 15 minutes of fame. I will not allow you to do the same to my family.”

“What, dad-!” Yang started

“Can’t you just-!” Ruby spoke over her.

“Quiet, both of you!” He bellowed, before turning his back to them, grabbing some tongs to turn the racks of ribs around a bit more aggressively then needed. “The answer is no, and that’s final. Now, I will thank you kindly to take your empty offer and walk it out the door.”

When the girls started to raise protest again, Qrow was the one to silence them this time, raising a finger to his lips, before he took a few steps closer to the chef. “Believe me when I say the offer is not empty. Your daughter over there tells me how much this place meant to you when you first got it, but now you’re letting it rot under your feet. Is that really how you want it to go out?” The other man’s jaw clenched and he refused to look at him. He took that as a good sign, reaching out to place a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Let me help you and your family.”

For his efforts, a set of tongs were shoved so close to his face, they almost touched his nose.

Behind the makeshift weapon, Taiyang’s eyes bored into his own. He spoke steady and sharp, “Mr. Branwen, I will say this once and only once. I have put everything I got, my entire heart and soul, into this restaurant. It is the only thing I have for my girls and I am NOT about to gamble it away on some publicity stunt to stroke a rich man’s ego. So, you ask me to believe you? Then come back with a lawyer and a contract full of terms we both agree on, as I will settle for nothing less. Am I understood?”

The storm brewing in those blue eyes didn’t intimidate him, because this close, he could see the dark circles etching a deep exhaustion around them. The mark of a person desperate and at the end of their rope. Despite only knowing him for a few minutes, Qrow could tell that he was a good man, as well as aggravatingly hardheaded.

“Got it.” He told him, reaching into his pocket to fetch his shades. “I’ll see you in a few days then.”

As he pulled them on and turned away, he thought perhaps he heard Tai give some biting remark about how tomorrow, perhaps he’d be offered the moon. But he didn’t let it faze him. Instead, he crossed over to where the girls still stood, frozen – but unlike their father, they did nothing to hide the tentative hope on their faces.

Qrow lent down, fetching the sharpie and two sheets of paper, using a nearby counter to pen out the autographs. He even took the time to add his signature calligraphy, making the tail of the Q look like a feather. He offered each one in turn, “Ruby, Yang. Thank you for the pleasant experience.”

Yang was slow to take hers, as if she might say something. In the end she only thanked him.

Contrastingly, Ruby’s vibrancy was back, an almost nervous energy pitching her tone as she quickly offered to walk him to the door. It didn’t take him long to figure out why, as she hid her face in her treasured autograph and groaned. “I’m sorry about my dad. He’s just so, so, embarrassing!”

“He’s not so bad.” He refuted, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Against his fingertips, he felt the buzz from his phone signaling an incoming message – no doubt An letting him know she’d arrived. “He’s playing it smart. Even I don’t do a job without a contract.”

“Still, he could have been more polite.”

Her tone allowed no argument, so he didn’t bother to tell her that for him, it was actually a refreshing change of pace. He had all sorts of people tripping over themselves to fawn at his feet and, while some celebrities ate up all that attention, Qrow had certainly never been one of them. It was nice being talked to like an equal – a privilege often reserved only to his closest coworkers and manager.

There was also just something so honestly genuine about Tai. Call it simple intuition, but he knew what it took to play all sorts of characters and he could say without a doubt that the blond wouldn’t be able to fool a preschooler if he tried. He was the kind of man who hid nothing and wore his emotions right on his sleeve.

Qrow, who shuttered his behind fake smiles and sunglasses all day, could really appreciate a quality like that.

“It was really amazing to meet you.” Ruby said as she pulled open the front door for him. “Like, as in the-best-thing-to-ever-happen-to-me amazing.”

“You’re setting the standard pretty high there, considering it won’t be the last time you see me.” Qrow said, stepping outside.

Her expression lifted, her youth seeing to shine through in her eyes. “You mean, you’re really coming back? Ever after dad was, well, a total jerkwad?”

“Well, you know what they say. You feed a crow once, and it’ll come back to roost.” He pulled down his sunglasses, enough to wink at her. “See you ‘round kiddo.”

“Y-Yeah! See you! Thank you so much, Mr. Branwen!”

He was pretty sure she waved after his car long after it left the street.

~

Three days would pass before Qrow would return to the Dragon’s Den. Like a knight readying for battle, he stood in front of the door over an hour before opening time.

When Tai finally arrived, he almost dropped his keys in the gutter at the mere sight of him.

“Why hello thar pardner.” Qrow drawled, tipping an imaginary hat. “Fancy meeting you here.”

For a moment, he just stared blankly. But finally, a snort escaped him. “You need to do more westerns if that’s the best you got, pardner.” He stepped forward, adding more softly, “You, came back.”

He nodded. “’Fraid I don’t have the moon to offer you, but I got the next best thing.”

Taking his cue, the gentlemen standing nearby fixed up his tie and strode forward. “Mr. Xiao Long? I’m Hei Xiong. I work in property management. It’s my understanding Mr. Branwen here would like to strike a deal with you.”

“Does he now?” That same bite Qrow’d heard in the kitchen was back, the blonde’s hackles already raised. Not missing a beat, Hei ruffled through a few papers in his folder, pulling out the top one to show him. Tai read it aloud. “Claim of co-ownership?”

“Yes. Mr. Branwen is interested in becoming your business partner.” The manager supplied.

“…Does he now?” He echoed as he looked towards Qrow, but the fiery attitude he’d expelled like a shield had doused some.

“We would be happy to discuss it in more detail this morning, if you’ve available?” Hei asked.

Anticipation held Qrow’s breath and anxiety jumped his heart as he waited for the other man’s response.

For the second time, he was rewarded with another of Tai’s bright and toothy grins. “I certainly am.” He stepped past them both and opened the door to the Den. “Please come in.”

[yourholidaymom]

Your Holiday Mom: Mama Lisa

Welcome home, my sweet baby.

We are so glad you are here. My strong arms grab you in a full embrace as soon as you step through the front door. Every time I see you, my love grows stronger. Here comes your super tall, skinny, goofy dad with an even bigger hug. But wait for it, around the corner comes running your rascally Kindergarten brother, who jumps on your back, followed by your 2-year-old sister, who latches on to your leg. Is this enough love yet? Watch out. More is coming your way, buddy.

Our home is small but full of good energy around the holiday season. All about the house I’ve strung pine branches that fell from a windstorm. In our cozy living room the scents of our fresh tree, garland, and pumpkin candle are ever-present. Even better is what awaits you in the kitchen. Your ol’ ma expresses a lot of love through her baking and cooking. I’ve made iced cinnamon tea-rings, kolaches, dozens of cookies, spiced nuts. The smell of Wassail fills the steamy kitchen: orange, clove and cinnamon. After you grab a warm cup and a few cookies, we sit down on our leather couch with the pellet stove burning in front of us. Your little siblings try to steal your cookies, but I’ve already thought ahead and brought the whole dang tin in to share. It’s the holidays, no such thing as spoiling your appetite. (For Christmas Eve, I’ve made Aunt Verna’s tortilla soup recipe, I’m sure you’ll make room for it.)

Holidays around here have been a combination of old and new traditions. I hope one day you can start some new traditions of your own. Morning walks, board games, a holiday movie like The Christmas Story. On Christmas Eve, each one of us gets to pick one gift from under the tree to open. The most important tradition is making sure we’ve caught up with each other by the end of our holiday break. I love you, honey, and want to know who you are, what your dreams and passions are, who your friends are, what blogs or funny youtube videos you like.  Let’s talk politics in a safe and respectful way. You know your mama isn’t perfect, but I have always strived to show you respect so I could earn yours in return. I will always have an ear to listen and a heart to love you unconditionally. I won’t forget what you tell me about yourself, in fact I’ll follow up on things and try my best to stay updated on your life as it changes day to day. I try so hard to honor and listen because I’ve never had that kind of respect from my parents. In fact, I’ve known many people over the years who don’t honor, don’t listen because they’re afraid of what they don’t care to understand. So, I know, honey, what it’s like to be on the outside. To feel disrespected, ignored, lonely, humiliated, hopeless, grief-stricken and severely depressed. I want to tell you something my parents neglected to tell me. It’s so simple, but here goes: It is not the end. This is not your last page, but your first every day. It can suck around this time of the year, I know. But all this pressure to perform at acceptable levels of happiness or perfection isn’t expected here in this home. Let’s just sit and be together. I will tell you again and again – every day gets easier and if it doesn’t seem that way, I will hold you until it does.

xo,

** This year we are reprising your favorite letters. The original post date of this letter was Nov 26, 2017.

Your Holiday Mom: Mama Lisa was originally published on Your Holiday Mom

[davidddbojay]

lost in mysterious shades

no aid to what I have played

(myself)

falling into an illusion

the pursuit of love

there's no need to desire if it's all around

yet, I'm alone in bed wanting to hold someone to sleep

the memories are deep

I question what I truly seek

practicing everyday to communicate feelings

art is the result

expression through mediums

I've always known.. this is what I would do

there's no room for people like me, so I'll remain in solitude

(i have so many new posters to hang up)

my week has been weird, I sleep a lot these days... it's not that I want to... I wake up and lay... think... long for her...

my eyes slowly begin to close until...

IT'S FUCKING 1 PM AND I THINK TO MYSELF... I COULD'VE BEEN DOING SHIT...

(I reason with myself..."you do work from 10 to 3am...every night of the week)

I'm not used to my schedule

growing up after college kind of sucks... where I want to be will take some work

(mostly financially)

a stable job... my own place... solitude... good weed...

soon.. I hope

I've been doing my best to overcome yesterdays "self"

even though I know ultimately there is no "self"

little day by day accomplishments drives the human

let me be human with inconsistent reasoning and carelessnes... I'll learn from it

... and also be nothing.. at the same time?

isn't it all the same

anyway, it's 4:39 am and I always wonder why I'm so drawn to specifying the time in some of my poems

it's not that deep... I promise

maybe I should be the first person to introduce cubist poetry??

could that be a thing??

just write about different times in my life in a "poetic manner" and jumping to when I was 10 years old busting my first nut

the internet was weird for me those days

soccer compilation vids of my idols and porn

(writer later on becomes a monster and commits suicide)

(in my dreams)

anyway

these days... I feel alive, I was talking to this girl but I know... it won't work

time requires some entertainment and I'm just... a piece of shit when it comes to feeling something for someone other than who I'd want to... start a family with...

I know right

those hopes have evaporated into nothingness and I'm here... I'm capable

different people make me realize different things about myself

that's why I choose to expose myself... their way of being changes when I let them know... it's okay to be, no pressure

no ego

we're just a shit load of atoms... communicating

(I don't want to believe in anything)

I want to learn so many instruments

stringed

percussion

fuck

I'm on a good track.... I believe

I wan't to write my parents symphonies

and the girl I miss...

I always comeback to that

thinking about what to type

live for my wrongs to make them right

go through the dark to get to the light

fear no repercussions, out of perspective sight

I feel like I've gone off track

it's been a long day

I can't wait to wake up tomorrow

I might go get some kolaches later... my spot opens in 4 minutes

should.. I leave now???

mm.... I'll give it 30 minutes

after I post this I may lay down and fall asleep though

I never have the desire to eat in the morning

gives me more time to plan what I'm going to stuff my face in later on

intermittent fasting bro

I hear you can sell your art via crypto currency...I've also made research about how it's bad for the environment???

weird... but I want to give the future generations more time to solve modern day dilemmas... like that shit

it'd be dumb if I fell asleep mid sentence and my computer died... I'm actually pretty tired... I closed my eyes for 10 seconds and thought 30 minutes had gone by... I'm... hungry though (lol)

I think I will go out for those kolaches after fucking all (as my eyes close slowly)

I'm here... awake...listening to Polyphia

getting hype

this solo

how the fuck??

my days are numbered

so are yours

we will all vanish... every word people say about us after we're gone means nothing but will be missed somehow

I'm going to end it here

the poem

hahaha

I have... a lot to live for

finally

[annazverina]

It’s been a while.

Howdy, y’all. 

I’ve been... well... I honestly don’t know what to say. I’ve been stuck in quarantine for two and a half months. There is so much I want to say right now, but I can’t. There is nowhere on the internet where I can truly be anonymous. 

No one really uses Tumblr except for fangirls and attention seekers. This post probably won’t be seen by anyone, but here I am writing because there is nowhere else for me to do so. 

I have this amazing idea for a composition that would knock any band nerd’s socks off, but I know nothing about composing parts for instruments I don’t play, and I’ve gotten nowhere with it. I want to work on it and finish it before some famous composer does it first, but I doubt that will happen.

I was supposed to be a part of Eric Whitacre’s sixth virtual choir, but I completely forgot to record myself... actually, I didn’t forget. I just couldn’t find the right time. I don’t like making music when my family are home, especially my mother, who will never give me privacy in my music for as long as I live. 

I write mediocre books. The only book I’ve finished that I think would do really well is a book that antagonizes people in my life, and I won’t be able to release it until I move out, which won’t be until I’m 25 at the earliest, since my mother wants me to live at home for the first year or two after college to save money for a house, even though I don’t need a house. The book I have finished was one I wrote as a freshman, which I rewrote last summer and posted. Meanwhile, I’ve been spending the last two and a half years writing a seven book Harry Potter spoof about band, which won’t be done until 2030 probably. 

I can’t seem to keep up with reading. Last week I started reading again, and even though I’m reading a really good book, I can’t seem to keep up with it. 

Staying healthy has been hard. I haven’t gained any weight; I’m actually a healthy weight. But I have never had muscle mass, and I can’t stop myself from eating without my ADHD meds. Even as a child, when I was still skinny, I was skin and bones. No muscle whatsoever. I’ve asked my parents, repeatedly, to stop buying Pop Tarts, but they keep buying Pop Tarts. When I was at school I made a schedule for the meals I ate. I was only allowed one trip to the local coffee shop a week for pancakes. I could only get kolaches from the place next door once a week. In addition to eating as best I could, I was working out three times a week. I wanted to come home from college having lost a few pounds and my muscles toned. That did not happen. 

My brother has been advising me to exercise every day. I was running every day at the start of quarantine. I did some light exercise at home. Now, I’ve been pigging out and I feel really bad about myself. 

I’ve been procrastinating everything. I wasn’t like this when I was still at school. I was the person I wanted to be at school, and now that I’m stuck at home again, I can’t be that person. 

I hope there’s someone out there who is in the same boat as me. 

[lez-exclude-men]

Orchard maize

orchard - share one thing that you’d like to happen this autumn

I’d really like to be able to go visit the girl I have a crush on, but it’s looking less and less likely:( (our schedules + she’s immunocompromised so there’s a list of safety measures we’ve agreed on so we can be certain I’m not carrying it and we can share space/touch/etc, but these add a few days to travel prep and our schedules don’t make things super flexible) still holding onto hope tho 💙

maize - share the weirdest encounter you’ve had with a stranger on the street

well this wasn’t on the street, technically, but I was in line at the Czech Stop (a kolache shop in central Texas that is also a gas station but is famous for their bakery), and the guy behind me started making small talk, and I was talking back but being cautious because I don’t trust strange men by default. But he seemed nice enough and was apparently on his lunch break from his construction job, which made me less concerned.    

Anyway, eventually, as most people small talking at a common travel stop do, he asked where I was from. I gave him just a vague general idea/metroplex, because again, I don’t trust men. To which he responds “Oh, well, ‘cuz if you were from around here, I was going to ask for your number.”

Caught me COMPLETELY by surprise; I’m in llama pj pants, my hair is unkempt, and I’m wearing a shirt with a huge ass rainbow on it that says “SOUNDS GAY; I’M IN”. Like, there’s a lot of outfits I don’t expect to hit on in, but this one probably beat them all, and yet. Here we were. 

So I’m just dumbfounded, my facial expression had to be something, and I bluntly say “I’m a lesbian”, like, kneejerk. There was not a thought in my head but shock and confusion.

At this exact moment, his buddy walks up, and immediately doubles over laughing. He gets out something to the effect of “you have no luck” and “she’s obviously not into men”.

Needless to say, he’s super embarrassed. The woman in front of me must’ve been listening, and she glances back, trying not to laugh herself. The guy goes, “oh, well, that’s nice. You seem cool. Uh. Yeah sorry, you’re nice and I um.” 

Now I’m half-laughing half-smirking, and put him out of his misery. “You seem cool too, it’s been nice talking to you.” The woman in front mumbles something about this being both sweet and hilarious.

We don’t say anything more really, until I’m about to walk out the door, and he calls out that it was nice meeting me, and I reply in kind. 

It was pretty great honestly, he didn’t say any of the usually dumb straight man shit, and his buddy walking up when he did made the whole thing 10x better. Gave me something to chuckle about the rest of the drive home.

[profitinaecho]

Dark! Max pt 3

Shout out to @latessitrice for talking through part of this with me this morning.

Max took a deep drag of his cigarette, the end lighting up red on his inhale. It made his lungs hurt but it calmed him down so the habit was growing on him. And he needed to calm down. He didn’t know why but something about that man bothered him to his core. If Liz hadn’t intervened, he probably would have killed that guy. Liz had a weird effect on him and her name curled easily from his tongue. He saw a drunk figure bump into the wall near him and waited for it to come into the light before he decided how to react. Seeing that it was Wyatt, Max tensed and tossed his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his boot.

“You leave your bitch inside?” Wyatt slurred and Max clenched his teeth, the lights outside flickering from his anger.

“I’d just move on if I were you. You’re going to make me cranky.” Max warned him.

“I just don’t get why you can’t be with your own ki..” Wyatt was nose to nose with Max. He was cut off by Max placing his glowing hand over Wyatt’s chest. Wyatt’s eyes looked up into his with fear as he felt his heart rate accelerate to a dangerous level. Then Max pushed all the dark energy that had grown inside him from resurrecting Rosa into Wyatt Long. Wyatt’s heart stopped then he burst into flames from the redirection of energy.

Seeing the lights flickering inside, Liz and Isobel ran outside to see Max walking away from a burning body. Liz dropped to the ground in fear and Isobel placed her hands over her face in shock. “Oh my god. Max, what happened?” Isobel was trying not to become hysterical.

“He had a smoking accident. Someone should put him out.” Max shrugged nonchalantly and walked over to his Jeep to leave while Isobel and Liz just stared after him. They were going to have to ask Michael for help moving a body again. He was the only one who could do it without leaving fingerprints.

——————————

That night, Max climbed in Isobel’s guest room window to watch Liz sleep. She stirred something in him and he couldn’t quite figure it out. Pulling out a cream piece of parchment paper and a black pen, he neatly wrote “you burn me” in perfect cursive. Then he folded it three times and set it beside her sleeping face. He had the urge to reach out and run a long finger down her cheek, across her long black eye lashes and her pursed lips but stifled the urge. He didn’t particularly like anyone. He wasn’t sure why he was so drawn to this woman. Shaking his head, he climbed out the open window.

——————————

Liz rolled over in bed and her cheek was hit by something smooth that crinkled when she turned to look at it. It was a smoothly folded piece of paper. Liz’s eyebrows drew together as she tried to figure out where it had come from. Maybe Isobel had gone out and left her a note. Gently unfolding it, Liz read “You burn me -M” in Max’s smooth cursive. Gasping, she dropped the poem to the floor and looked around for Max. Realizing she had left her window open, she got up to close it. She knew she should be afraid, after all Max had killed someone last night and had come back from the grave much graver. But she still felt safe. And he seemed to have some sort of fascination with her even if he couldn’t remember that he loved her.

Padding down the white stairs, Liz found Isobel watching Legally Blonde on the couch. Liz handed Isobel the note Max left her and shuffled to the kitchen to make some coffee.

“What’s this?” Isobel asked from the other room. Liz could hear her unfolding it then her reading it out loud. “You burn me? Thanks, Liz but you’re not my…” Her brother's handwriting and words finally hit and Isobel gasped. Isobel came around the corner shaking the letter to emphasize her words. “Where did this come from?”

Liz shrugged. “From Max obviously. He left it on my pillow.”

“So let me get this straight. My brother killed a man, lit him on fire, then snuck in your room to leave you poetry? Maybe we need to get him some medication or something. Level out his mood swings.” Isobel hmmed.

“He wouldn’t take it and to be honest, I’m not sure it would work.” It was hard enough to get Rosa to take her meds. But technically, nothing was wrong with Max in a way that medication could fix. He had just come back wrong. Maybe she could make a regenerative serum to heal whatever had been damaged while he was dead?

“Do we need to get window locks?” Isobel knew her brother would normally not harm anyone unless provoked but now she wasn’t completely sure.

“No. I’m not worried. I still feel safe, I promise.”

——————————

That night, Max once again crawled into Liz’s window in the middle of the night. It was a hot night and Liz had kicked one leg out from under the covers to cool off. He felt the need to trace the arch of her foot with his fingertips but stopped himself from actually doing it. He didn’t know if she was ticklish and didn’t want to wake her up. Taking out the poem he had carefully written for her that day, he left it next to her on her pillow. As he turned to leave, he heard Liz softly whisper “Max?” And he quickly got out of the room and onto the roof. As he moved towards the tree in the front yard to shimmy down, he swore he heard her say it smells like rain. Whatever that meant.

——————————

The next morning, Liz woke up to another neatly folded letter on her pillow. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she reached for the neatly folded letter and opened it. In Max’s neat cursive, it said:

Open your legs wet, Ready for our pleasantries, And painful torment.

Liz flushed red. It was much dirtier this time. Hiding it in her dresser, she took a deep breath and went downstairs for coffee.

“Morning.” Isobel yawned coming from her room down the hall. “Any night time visitors?”

Liz blushed from her cheeks to her hairline. “Well…” She was interrupted from responding by the doorbell.

Answering the door, Isobel was surprised to see Max standing on the porch. “Well, hello.” Isobel teased him.

Max shoved a box of kolaches at his sister. They were half sweet cherry and half spicy jalapeño. “I brought breakfast.” Not waiting for a response, he moved around his sister to go flop on the living room sofa.

“Max!” Liz startled. She definitely wasn’t ready to be around him after reading his letters. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Max could tell she was flustered and smiled at her. “I believe the pleasure is all mine this time.” He looked her up and down in her pink nightgown. It was both innocent and accidentally sexy. “I brought breakfast.” He shrugged. So he had woken up wanting to see Liz’s face after she read her poetry. He couldn’t help it.

“Why are you really here, Max? You killed a man yesterday.” Isobel cut to the chase. She was tired of him playing with Liz like she was a mouse.

“That was self defense. He cornered Liz then he found me outside and got in my face. No one will miss him. He was an awful person, it isn’t a loss.” Max shrugged nonchalantly. “Besides, he would have hurt Liz if I didn’t intervene. She was scared. I could feel it. He was enraged and hateful. I could feel that too.”

“He did threaten me but it isn’t okay to…” Liz started.

“Read any good poetry lately?” Max interrupted her.

Liz shifted from foot to foot. “No.” Looking away, she headed for the stairs to get ready for work. “Thank you for breakfast, Max. And for protecting me. Just do it without killing someone next time.”

“You got it.” He assured Liz.

“Promise?” Liz stared into his eyes hopefully.

“Promise.”

[pandemic-diet]

I hate shaving. It’s not a unique complaint to have - most women I have talked to about this topic detest the chore of somehow removing their natural fuzz from their bodies. I don’t enjoy contorting in the shower to reach the back of my legs, I don’t like the stinging sensation of water entering a small nick from the razor, and I don’t like the waste of precious time I could be doing literally anything else. Although, I do have to admit, freshly shaven legs under clean top sheets is a delicious sensation - but not one worth the rest of the work. I truly don’t mind most body hair. If my body wants to regress to the classic neandranthal state of hairiness, that’s fine with me. 

Like everyone else during the winter, I put aside a razor for several months and cross that maintance ritual off my list but the question ‘to shave or not to shave’ dances around my mind when the weather begins warming up. Spring has necessitated the exchange of sweatpants to shorts for my daily outings to the cluster of small shops across from my apartment complex. I put on my cloth face mask, earphones, and began a slow pleasant trek to the donut shop to get some kolaches for my partner and I. Then a car passed me slowly and the familiar creep of shame edged around my throat. 

 I didn’t actually notice my own body hair until a boy in 6th grade gym decided to tell me that it was disgusting. I don’t remember being embarrassed or even upset, because I was confused as to what the issue actually was. Another kid chimed in and said I should just talk to my mom about shaving. I stared at the short black hairs on my legs with a new perspective quickly being tinted with shame, beginning to see another flaw on my body to obsess and hate. I went home and tried to convince my mom I was ready to be entrusted with blades sharp enough to cut my skin, which was the results of 2 hours in a bath that weekend. Whenever I had finished slicing hair off my small legs, I felt like I really achieved something. This was the beginning of my transformation into someone my peers would be too impressed with to make fun of anymore. 

Which of course, was not the case.  Two years later, I was in 8th grade and we moved to a different town. I was in band class and was 2nd chair, knocking Andrea Cortez down to 3rd chair and away from Keith Kotal, who I believed she secretly had a crush on despite constantly denying it. I was a little lazy with shaving after 2 years of discovering it and allowed some stubble to remain unbothered on my leg that was noticeable in my fashionable capri pants, and fucking Andrea Cortez and the girl next to her made fun of me throughout the duration of band class. I tried to ignore them. I rolled my eyes at her defiantly and stared straight ahead, making notes on the music, but I still remember how hot my face felt with the slow burn of fear washing away all the excitement I previously had about starting over at a school. 

My senior year in high school, a friend who had a loud voice embarrassed me outside the hallway by saying “Lot’s of women have mustaches, it’s perfectly normal”. And while, yes, it was true and he was just trying to be supportive, we were both already the losers in our AP Economics class who were generally ignored and discounted by our classmates unless Eric Limbocker grew bored of torturing the teacher set his sights to subtly undermine the confidence and comfort of one of the kids lower on the totem pole, which, a few times, was me. I had still been clinging on to hope that I’d be welcomed into the outskirts of the cool smart kid crowd if I could prove something, anything, and calling attention to the small wisps of inferiority on my face were not going to win me any points. I remember walking away after he said that, fleeing to the band hall instead of going back to the classroom with the rest of the class before being dismissed.   But now, in 2020, when people are literally dying from a modern plague, I have flashes of a confusing mix of self hatred, fear, and anger whenever I leave the house in shorts with unshaved legs or sleeveless shirts. I’ll be turning 30 this year, literally a whole god damn adult, and I am uncomfortable if someone on the walking path behind the house gets too close to me because they might see my legs and say something. Or snigger to someone with them.  The disgust that Julia Roberts, one of the most beautiful women in the world, garnered from having a little bit of armpit hair on the red carpet in 1999 is all the proof one would need to know that people are not only comfortable expressing their views about what individual women should look like at any point in time, but that if she doesn’t comply, that she deserves to be humiliated back into submission. Honestly, the fear of these kinds of attacks on my worthiness is the number one reason I continue to endure the annoyances of shaving, putting on make up, or worrying about what is considered office appropriate - because I don’t want to feel like the child being bullied in school. And the conflict between wanting to be my own person who will do what I want to do with middle fingers flying in the air and wanting to be the person who perfectly complies to certain societal norms is too much to bare sometimes. 

Is now the perfect time to begin dismantling these ideas I have in my head? I’m not quarantined - I still go to work everyday and try to social distance and just stay away from everyone as much as I can - but during the Slow Down, people across the world who have the luxury of thinking about what influences they let control their lives. While today these particular childhood insecurities flared up in my mind while living my sheltered day to day life, there are other hang ups and thought patterns that I want to start examining. 

Who decides what the rules are? Who enforces them? Why do I care about being the kind of person who follows them? What are the gains? What are the loses? How do I become brave enough to make up rules for myself?

I’m hoping to be able to find the answers and soon. If I am to survive this stupid fucking virus and continue living in a country run by fucking idiots, I want to live my life the way I want to. Whether I’m thinking about career, finances, or wearing cute dress with hairy legs, I should be the one in control of what little control I actually have of my life.  So, tomorrow, I’ll wear the fucking shorts.