#i am not including pots and pans and other things that have to be hand washed regardless

[fanaticsnail]

hi sis can you write me a sanji fic pleaseeeeeee

One hurt/comfort Sanji fic here for you, Smol-Snail.

Limits

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 2,500+

Synopsis: Baratie has been overbooked, and the tension in the kitchen has been overwhelming. Being a hard-working kitchen hand, you have been covering far too many shifts. Sensing the overwhelm, your coworker attempts to aid you through your emotions.

Themes: Sanji x gn!reader, hurt/comfort, kitchen slang, eating food, minor swearing, fluff, angst, domesticity, hidden feelings, almost kisses, playful banter, nicknames.

Notes: Spoiling my sister usually includes Mihawk or Garp, but I am absolutely loving the change. Thanks for the ask, sis! Hope you like it. Also, gosh it's good to be back in Baratie again.

The crackle of water hitting a pan of hot oil popped and simmered, a string of curses and yells following the large rukkus. Voices overlapping, music blaring, orders expediting, and the clangs of silverware shuddering with ceramics in water continued to mute their tones in the air surrounding the lively kitchen of Baratie.

It had been a mean shift tonight. The restaurant was overbooked, over packed, and overwhelmed. Guests on the waiting list were made to wait longer than they had anticipated, adding to tempers flaring and temperaments turning foul on all sides. The front of house were begging with the back of house, the back of house pleading with the front of house. Chef Zeff had even jumped on the line, cooking alongside the lot of you to fight against the rush. The thump of his peg leg hitting the linoleum swelled within the serenade of the lively kitchen, the chorus finally rising without any indication of an interlude.

“Carne, 'hot behind', damn it!” Zeff growled angrily while standing to full stature. Carne was holding a tray of simmering desserts at chest height behind him while shifting from one surface to the other. “Communicate, kitchen. Ya’ hear?”

“Oui chef!” The kitchen all repeated the phrase like a prayer on their tongues to their hierarchical clergyman.

“Ca Marche-!”

“Sharps-!”

“Plate up-!”

“Push-!”

“To the pass-!”

“Through-!”

Sanji stalked through the rows up until the pass, pacing two and fro while jumping in to aid all those that needed support. Garnishing mains, whipping cream for desserts, assorting steel bowls of oils and accompaniments to coincide with breads and greens: Sanji did it all. Each time he stepped in to aid in the dance of the kitchen, his eyes fell to your frame to mentally check in.

Eyes down, shoulders hunched, rubber gloves thrust up to your elbows, you ensured the kitchen remained functional with the fluctuation of crockery, cutlery and dishes for truly impeccable service. The kitchen-hand, or 'Dish Pig', was the backbone to a functional restaurant, the mental wellbeing of the house truly on the shoulders of that individual.

How could a chef create masterpieces without a canvas? How could guests in the dining hall consume their delectable arrangements without the means to raise each bite to their lips? The kitchen-hand ensured all was possible, and the chefs barely paid you any heed while you slaved away to grant them relief in their supplies.

You attempted to hone in on your craft, using your fingernails beneath the rubber gloves to chip at caramelized and caked scorches on iron pots like a scourer. Breaths heavy and labored, you shifted everything from your focus asside from one thing and one thing only:

Keep the kitchen clean.

Bubbles and suds consumed your senses, your hair sticking to your forehead in heavy clumps of sweat and soap. Your nostrils flared with the burn of eucalyptus, lemon and menthol. Working a fortnight of splits and doubles to cover for your colleagues had finally taken its toll on you, and stressors in your personal life added to the tension in your bones. The loss on your own mentality began to slip into a panic as another wave of silverware made their way to your arm side.

The mention of, “‘Ere ye’ go, dish pig. Clean up,” barely phased you, regardless to the usual playful temperament you displayed. You didn't even crack the smile you usually had on your face, your permanent exhaustion falling in the emotionless and dead-stare you displayed down at the dish rack.

The kitchen has began to pack down. Each element was extinguished, and stock was taken alongside a final tally. The chefs had removed their aprons, cravats and hats and began making their way towards the bar for their knockoffs. Your own drink would have to wait, the pile never reducing no matter how hard you had worked.

For each plate you cleared and cleaned, four more would somehow find their way to your hands. Each pot would have a lid to match, each pan would have an array of spatula, tongs, and forks to pair with. The chefs used the tools of their artistry with reckless abandon, and it was now you who was paying the price for their carelessness.

“A'ight, beers? That what we're drinkin'?” Patty clapped his hands and rubbed them enthusiastically together. Carne barked out a long string of laughter, allowing himself to succumb to the relief that came from a grueling shift while he clapped his hand over Patty’s bicep.

“I'm keen on one of them steins we just got in,” he admitted, squeezing lightly before looking to Zeff, “Is that on the menu for knock offs, chef?”

“Only is if you save two for me, you prick,” Zeff stated affectionately, “Give us a pale or an amber, I'll be in my office takin’ a damn breath. What about you, little eggplant? What are you drinkin’ tonight?”

Sanji hadn't spoken a word since he hung up his apron. He had been keeping an eye on you throughout your shift, feeling the tension waft in your aura the longer you silently chipped away at your monotonous task.

“I'm gonna have a cigarette,” he nodded to the head chef without moving his eyes away from you. “Then I think I'll sample that new amaretto rum you got in.” Sanji moved to Zeff’s side, casually glancing back at you while lowering his tone to the head chef, “But first, I'm gonna stay here a while. Leave inventory to me, and I'll take care of it, old man.”

Zeff noticed the drop in Sanji’s usual cadence and finally took notice to the quiver in your shoulders. With a curt nod, Zeff turned to both Patty and Carne and spoke to them with a simple scowl that meant: ‘Get out of the kitchen, now’. The two chefs quickly looked between Zeff and Sanji, then to the source of the noise continuing to fall from the underappreciated corner of the kitchen. With a nod of their own, they silently excused themselves from the kitchen with Zeff trailing behind them.

Where Sanji would've placed an unlit cigarette between his teeth and stalked out behind them, he would never do that without you. Both of you were similar in ages, and the rapport and camaraderie had always been a highlight to his kitchen shifts. The two of you were more than coworkers, more than simple friends, and you both lived and breathed Baratie in your own ways. You both loved that place, thrived on the chaotic energy working the line, and adored spending time in the dark before the next shift would begin.

The only difference between you is Sanji had been working his usual shifts, and you had been overworked far beyond your natural capacity lately. You were running low on mental energy, and you were taking it out on the dishes you were cleaning.

Wiping, scrubbing, clawing, patting, drying, prying, stacking, and placing away in their delegated areas: you had not spoken a word for the whole shift. Nothing more than a soft, shaky breath expelling from an otherwise vacant expression, nobody would know if anything was occurring within the battle of your mind.

But Sanji did.

Unhooking his apron and rolling up the sleeves of his uniform jacket, he placed it over his neck and slowly moved over to work silently in an unoccupied station. Several containers of various raw ingredients were hastily removed from their spots. Pots, water, flours, sugars, utensils and plates were all set up by his skilled hands: making something of your youth that he knew would bring you comfort.

Rolling glutinous rice flour into small balls with regular flour and water, he stuffed them full of purple adzuki mix, hazelnut white chocolate, and yuzu-honey dew custard. Placing the small balls in a steamer, he set a mental timer to check on them after a few minutes. Not his usual method to make dango, but he wanted to experiment for you.

He knew better than to disturb you when you were like this, and he allowed you to work out whatever was brewing in your mind on the dishes you were cleaning. He looked to the bowls and dishes he had just made in crafting you something delectable and grimaced.

‘All of those dishes just to make a simple dessert,’ he mentally scolded himself, ‘And that's just one piece of the kitchen. You're taking care of everyone’s dishes here, not just the kitchen’s.’ He gently lifted the lid of the bamboo steamer to gauge the consistency of the circular treats, nodding to himself once he viewed the squishy exterior.

Plating up the dish by patting them dry and rolling them in rice flour, he softly approached you with the bowl of rainbow-colored treats.

You were in your own head, your thoughts swirling in a tight coil threatening to snap. This shift had been enough to break a seasoned kitchen hand, and you had endured it all with a silent professionalism. Just when you were about to begin the next wave of remaining dishes, you turned and met your eyes with a plate of rainbow and sunshine.

“Hands, chef. You need to eat something,” Sanji softly spoke, his usual smirk and cocky attitude fleeing his face. The replacement of his usual demeanor was something you hadn't experienced with him. His eyes were rounded, his lips softly pouring, his head was lowered and seeking out your gaze with his own, and his empathy was worn with each subtlety.

All in one fluid motion, your head hung low and your glove-covered hands shrouded your eyes from his gaze. At the same motion, Sanji placed the bowl down beside you and hastily drew you into an encumbering embrace. It had finally been too much for you, and this was the first breakdown you had ever had regarding a shift. Heavy sobs were muffled by your rubber-covered palms while Sanji cradled you in his arms.

“Hold onto me, love,” Sanji softly whispered into your ear. You immediately unburied your face within your palms and nuzzled into the blonde man’s neck, arms wrapping beneath his shoulders and clinging to him like a rope offered from a cliff’s edge. “There you go. Good job. Just hold on, okay?”

“S-Sanji?” you attempted to whimper out, only being met with a soft shush and a tighter hold on your form. He rose one arm up to remove your dark chef’s cap from your head and carded his hands over your scalp in a soft brush.

“You've been pushing too many doubles, and saying ‘yes’ a whole lot lately,” he gently soothed you, “And while I love this place as much as you and the old man, I know my limits.” He gently lifted his head to gaze down to where your head was nestled in his collar, “You just hit yours, didn't you?”

“First time since I started,” you whispered into his shirt, “I didn't think I had one ‘til now, Ji.” Your admission alongside his arms holding you firmly dried up your tears after the heavy release.

“Course you do. We all do,” his soft baritone gently coaxed you. You slowly raised your eyes to meet his. His smile was like sunshine after a storm, warmth following a heavy winter, hope where hopelessness was found mere minutes prior, and a sanctuary found after a season of war.

When he looked at you, you felt like the most important person in the world. Time stood still in that moment, eyes darting between one another's and gently focussing briefly on the other’s lips. The close proximity you found yourself in was not unfamiliar to you, but this emotion swelling was far greater than you had anticipated. Sanji made to lean towards you, halting mid-way and second guessing himself from giving you the kiss he truly wanted. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours in a gentle seal of friendship.

Noses flush with one another’s, you both closed your eyes and dwelled in the silence for a moment. Nothing else was heard: no yells in the kitchen, no music from the dining room, no yells from your coworkers, and no demands from the patrons in the hall. All that was heard was the small thump of your heartbeat in your ears, and your shared breaths gently soothing one another in unison.

“I made you dango,” Sanji uttered softly, making no move to part from you.

“Thank you, Ji,” you expressed your gratitude just as softly.

“And while you eat, I'll finish up on the dishes,” he scrunched his nose playfully, moving away from your head and slowly releasing you from his embrace, “Then we can go and have a knock off. I'll have one of the bar staff take your shift tomorrow- And before you interrupt-!”

Sanji knew you all too well, halting your interjection before you had an opportunity to speak it out with a harsh expression.

“-I know it's a 'double split'. That's a four person job, and I know exactly the four people to do it,” he finally withdrew his arms from your shoulders and soothed your upper arms with a firm caress. “Now, hand over those gloves. I made a right mess cooking you your sweets, and I'm going to see to it that it's spotless while you eat.”

You slowly removed your arms from his body, halting them briefly on his hips while you bowed your head in gratitude.

“Oui, chef,” you huffed out in a bid to add humor to the scenario. Releasing him from your grasp, you began to remove your rubber gloves and hang them over the steel railing beside the sink.

Sanji slid his hands from your shoulders, his right hand moving to gently tap your chin up with his index finger. Following his motions, you met your eyes with his once more, offering him a small smile after the exhaustion of emotional release.

“‘Oui Chef’?” he gently teased you, his eyes playfully narrowing in his jest, “Hush, you. Now go eat your dango and tell me what you like about it. We got sweet red bean, white chocolate hazelnut, and citrus-melon mouse in the centers.”

Your eyes bloomed with a wave of gratitude, Sanji’s understanding washing from his aura and consuming you within his single glance. The only thing to break your joint hypnosis with the scent of the sweetness atop the bench, you bobbed your head a final time to your coworker and dearest friend.

You moved to sit by the sink on a wooden stool, plonking down and resting your worn feet with the plate sat in your lap. Head slumping on the steel bench, you close your eyes and raise one of the squishy spheres to your lips.

Placing the entire blob into your mouth, the center burst on impact of the clamp of your teeth. The flavors erupted over your palate, your emotions once again being forced to the surface at his thoughtfulness. Each tartness was compensated by the sweetness it needed, the sours holding a balance of soft umami to prolong the dance over your tongue.

Watching from the corner of his eye while elbows deep in the sink, Sanji smiled at the encounter, truly pleased that he could offer you that sense of comfort after a grueling few weeks. Each bite you took of his mastery had his heart swell. Knowing he could do this for you, take a piece of that burden away from you and give you some joy to focus on: that was all he ever craved in return from you.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[raoulgoldenlake]

This one is for the No Dishwasher crowd only.

Brought to you by looking at my sink which is full of one of these types of dishes and absolutely dreading the task ahead of me

[hugsandchaos]

Seeing Double

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Summary: A ghost who looks a lot like Phantom comes to him in search of protection, and their newest member instantly agrees. He calls her his little sister, and sooner or later, Phantom also might end up with a new brother.

*bangs pots and pans together* @vixen-uchiha, @starlightcat04, @blueliac, @lenacraft, @admiralwidow, @fuckingfaraway, @little-apricot-orchard, @sithlordchimchnga, @buymeanewlaptopty, @deeterzz, @jaylaxyart99, @phant0mc1d3, @idiosolcrasy, @dehydrated-bread, @randomenglishmajor, @mushroomymoss, @skylernightmare, @rubber-ducky-your-the-one, @confusedshades, @that-random-fangirl, @impulsiveasshole, FINAL ROUND OF JUICE, GRAB YOUR CUPS!!!

“And that’s why I have... complicated feelings about Danielle being here.” Conner finished. Black Canary sat across from him and was leaned forward a little to listen. It felt good to finally get something like this off his chest.”It’s not anything against Danielle specifically. If it’s the safest place for her like Phantom says, then she can stay as long as she needs. It’s...” He trailed off, not knowing how to put the reason into words.

Luckily, Black Canary knew what he was implying by what he had already told her.”You also want Superman to be there for you like Phantom is for Danielle.” She said. Conner clenched his hand into a fist, but only for a second. She was right. He silently nodded.

“It’s not just that, either. Sometimes I want to be included in their sibling activities. I want to hang out with them. Not Superman. Not as often as before, at least.” He added. He thought himself pretty rude for thinking that. He wasn’t nearly as close to Phantom as Danielle. He wasn’t related to him in hardly any way, and they only recently started hanging out the way friends did.

And yet here he was, wanting to be part of their little group.

Black Canary seemed only a little bit surprised by this.”You want to be their brother?” She asked.

Conner shouldn’t have been taken aback by the suggestion when he began thinking about it. Yes, he wanted to be close with both of them the way they are with each other. Yes, he wanted to protect them both. And yes, there was a small part of Conner that wanted to be able to look to Phantom for help.”I... I think so. If that’s what it would mean.” He said. He’s heard of people calling others they’ve fought many battles with “brothers in arms” and those who are simply close to one another their brothers as well, regardless of wether or not they’ve survived fights together.

Canary smiled a little bit and nodded for him to continue.

“But what am I supposed to do about this? I’ve been mostly ignoring it because they have a bond with each other that I don’t have. I can’t just butt in on it.” Conner said. He wasn’t wrong, and Canary knew that. Then again, she also knew something that would make that feeling disappear.

However, she knew that it wasn’t her place to say it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Around thirty minutes later, Black Canary now sat across the from Phantom, who was floating above the recliner instead of sitting in it. She had only very recently been able to make a small breakthrough with the ghostly teenager. Since his arrival, he’s been trying to avoid opening up with almost anything she’s tried to talk with him about, but soon after Danielle came, he finally opened up a little. Maybe it was the fact that someone he was more familiar with was there with him. Or perhaps it was because of the very thing he’d mentioned during their last session.

Phantom was alternating between eye contact and staring at the floor.”You mentioned something last time. About Conner.” She said.

“I’m worried about him. The others have their families, but...” He trailed off. He opened and closed his mouth a few times while he struggled to find the right words. This was pretty common during these sessions, and Canary knew to be patient.”Can I be mean for a second? Say something I probably shouldn’t?” He asked.

Canary nodded.”Nothing leaves this room.” She assured him.

Phantom looked her in the eyes.”Superman is a coward.” He said bluntly.

Canary was taken aback by his choice of words, but didn’t let it show and remained silent for him to explain.”He has a clone, practically a literal son, but he refuses to see him almost as anything but non-sentient. Why? Is it because he’s too much of a coward to step up? Why won’t he at least apologize for what he said last visit and admit he was wrong!” He said.

Phantom’s tone and volume had raised up, which sounded like the start of a rant. He rolled his eyes as if disgusted.”He’s acting like a deadbeat with the way he does his best to ignore Conner’s existence! Seriously, the way he treats him almost makes me want to...”

Canary raised an eyebrow slightly. The ghostly teen let out a sigh.”This is gonna sound weird, but it makes me want to have Conner as my little brother so he doesn’t have to feel the way he does. But I can’t treat him like a child and just make him leave the room whenever he comes.” He said.

Canary nodded in agreement.”That’s may be true, but your motive is in the right place. It’s incredibly kind of you to be so worried about your friend that you’d be willing to become something of a new role model or guardian for him. Especially since he’s older than you.” She said.

Phantom lifted a hand and shook it side to side.”Eh, only biologically. Definitely not chronologically.” He said.

~~~~~~~~~~

Conner and Phantom were talking about their day when Wally had come in to tell them, specifically Conner, that Superman was coming in a few hours. Phantom’s reaction was immediate; zipping out of the room through the wall and vanishing. He came back a second later with an important to ask Conner.

It was a task that’d keep him busy from having to interact with Superman, which he really wanted at the time. All he had to do was watch Danielle and prevent his original from even seeing her.

And so here he was, doing a simple dog puzzle with Danielle in his bedroom.

Conner finished sorting the edge pieces from the rest and picked up a corner piece.”So you’ve never been to the ghost zone before?” He asked.

Danielle shook her head and held an edge piece near the corner piece to see if it would match.”No, Phantom says my core’s too weak to survive going through the portal. He says he’s working on a solution to fix that, though. “Even if it’s just for one trip,” he said.” She explained. The piece was incompatible, so she moved it to the size. She picked up another one. That one fit. The young ghost picked up another edge piece. Conner let out a small hum and helped her search for other pieces.

He had found it infuriating to discover that he was practically half of what Superman was in terms of superpowers, but Danielle didn’t seem too angry about being not as strong as her brother. Maybe it was because he was so nice and encouraging to her.”You’re lucky to have a brother like Phantom.” Conner said. Danielle nodded in agreement and looked up at him.

She knew by now that he was also a clone like her and had so many questions, but stopped when he started to get upset a few weeks ago. He didn’t know if anyone explained the situation to her yet.”Don’t you have a family?” She asked. Conner remained quiet.

Rejection from the very person that’s practically the reason you’re alive hurt a lot. He kept his anger under control, though. At least, he tried. If she had asked this months ago, he might’ve yelled at her or something. Now he was better at controlling himself until he could hit something, but he still wanted so badly to just explode. To hit something and shatter it to a point beyond repair. But he couldn’t. Not here. Conner shook his head.

Danielle frowned a little, but then she suddenly sat up. A big smile appeared on her face.”What if you were my second brother?” She asked.

Conner paused. He’d been pushing the developing want to become her and Phantom’s brother. He strongly believed that it wasn’t right to intrude on their relationship as siblings, especially when he wouldn’t exactly be the best brother with the anger issues he’s working on. He glanced over at Danielle with a very shocked look.

She was smiling at him so hopefully. Conner almost didn’t want to say no. Scratch that, he didn’t want to say no at all. And even if he did, would he be able to resist that pleading look?“That would be nice.” He finally said. Danielle took in what was probably the most dramatic gasp he’d ever heard and practically lunged at him for a hug.

She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a bunch of static and pings. Conner soon smiled and hugged back.”You know I can’t understand you, right?” He asked.

“Oh, right! Sorry. But this is the best!! Now I have two brothers, and one of them is a clone like me!!” She cheered, switching back to English.

Suddenly, Phantom’s head poked up through the floor, startling the both of them.”He’s gone. What’s this I hear about a new brother?” He asked. Danielle let go of Conner as Phantom floated up and smiled.

“Can Conner be our new brother?” She asked. Phantom’s eyes widened a bit. He glanced over at Conner, who shrugged.

Why did he shrug? That was stupid.

Phantom glanced between him and Danielle, then smiled.”Sure, why not?” He said. Danielle threw her arms into the air and cheered. Phantom floated over to Conner and gave him a hug.”Guess you’re stuck with us now.” He said, then laughed.

Conner didn’t really get it. He said that like it was a bad thing.

[trashpandacraft]

hi! ok so i'm going to talk about one of my top-five favourite things, which is: dyeing stuff! this is going to be specifically about dyeing protein fibres (animal fibres—wool, alpaca, silk, etc) in a pretty low-key way in your kitchen.

to be clear up front: this is not the most scientific, most perfectly reproducible, or most Objectively Correct way to dye things. i get a lot of fibre that i like this way, though, and i think that other people can, too.

fibre i've dyed that i think is neat:

you can also dye yarn like this:

yes, i like blue a lot. i also really like variegation and heathering, which is why most of the fibre here has patches of white—it's an intentional choice that i've made. you can make different choices.

here is what you need to dye things:

fibre, vinegar, dye, a pot, heat, and some water.

that was so you don't get overwhelmed by the impending wall of text. here is what you need to dye things (it's the same stuff!), but with way more detail:

fibre or yarn. this is the big one, obviously. i tend to dye in 100-200 gram batches, because that's approximately what fits on my stovetop easily. if you're very nervous about felting or harming your fibre, you can use stuff that's been treated to be superwash, start with yarn (which is harder to felt than fibre is), or use a felt-resistant breed like dorset or suffolk. honestly, though, i learned with merino because that's what i had, and it was fine. again, though, this guide is only for protein fibres. it will not work for things like cotton. the only exception to this is nylon, which will take on some colour, but less than a protein fibre will.

a mordant. this is a fancy way of saying a thing that makes dye stick, and for what we're doing here, it's citric acid or vinegar. your grocery store definitely has at least one of them, though if you can choose, i prefer citric acid, because i love wet wool smell but i do not always love wet wool vinegar smell.

dye. i use acid dyes, and am personally deeply loyal to dharma acid dyes, but ashford and jacquard acid dyes work the same way. if you don't want to buy dye or don't have access to it, food colouring will often work, as well, though i haven't tried this with natural food colourings and have no idea how well they'll work.

a dedicated dye pot. ok, if you're doing food dyes, you don't need this. if you're not, it's definitely best practice, though i don't know how dangerous it is not to. any large metal pot will do, but my favourite option is hotel pans, which are those huge metal pan/tray things that hold food at buffets and the like. i have a full-size one that's 15cm deep, and a half-size one that's 4cm deep. they're great because they let you lay out the fibre you're working with so you can see most of it in a single layer.

dedicated dye utensils. as before, i don't know how much of a huge deal this is. i'll be honest and admit that for several years i had a single pair of tongs that got used for all tong-requiring events, including dyeing, and i'm still alive. i suggest that you have at least a big spoon, and a big spoon and tongs are even better.

something to mix the dye in. yeah, i use empty plastic sports drink or soda bottles for this. you can be fancy and get mason jars or little squirt bottles or whatever, and if you get super into dyeing you'll want to mix up dye stocks, but that's way outside the scope of what we're doing here. i like the powerade bottles that have a little squirty mouthpiece, because it's fun to squirt dye onto things.

personal protective equipment. i think this is the part of things that freaks people out. ideally, you wear plastic gloves and a mask (yeah, like your covid masks) when you're working with dye. realistically, i almost never remember to put on gloves and just accept that my hands are going to be blue sometimes. you should wear a mask, because dye is an irritant, but the world is an imperfect place and i have wicked bad adhd and sometimes i forget. this isn't advice. i'm just being honest. you should use some kind of safety stuff. you probably won't die if you don't.

you might also want some little random bits: an old toothbrush or paintbrush, a pipe cleaner, some toothpicks, etc. this is mostly if you like speckles, or if you want very small patches of colour.

so first: there are a million ways to dye things, and i'm not convinced that any of them are objectively correct. i do what i do and it works for me. some of the things i do are the opposite of what most guides suggest, but i do them because i like the effects they create.

ok, that's all the background stuff you need. let's dye some stuff!

the number one most important thing to remember when you're dyeing is this:

you can always add more colour. you cannot take it away.

that's in fancy writing and bold because every once in a while i forget this, and every single time i end up regretting it.

here is how to dye things:

put water, citric acid (or vinegar), and fibre into a pot. add dye and heat. let cool completely. rinse the fibre in cool water, then hang to dry.

like, sure, we're going to go into way more detail, but push come to shove, if you do that, you're going to end up with dyed fibre. there are a lot of tutorials telling you that you must soak your fibre first, or you must add your citric acid this way, or hold the water at exactly this temperature, and i'm here to tell you that while any of these things can give you different results, those results aren't necessarily better.

the only way that you can totally screw this up is by accidentally felting your fibre, so before i get into the way more detail part of things, i'm going to talk about that.

how not to felt your fibre

i feel like if you've read this far, you know how things felt: wool, heat, and agitation. you may also notice that at least two of these things are required for dyeing. this can be stressful! but you don't have to be afraid of it. there's only been one time that i felted something to the point that it was unusable, and that happened because i literally fell asleep for several hours while the pot was on the stove. you can avoid doing this by simply setting an alarm—this is a good idea anyhow, because you'll want to check on your dye pot!

when you're dyeing, use the lowest heat that you can while still keeping the water at a simmer. if your stove, like mine, has one burner that's wildly unpredictable and sort of out of control, you may want to look for some sort of flame diffuser, also called a flame tamer or a simmer ring. i bought one on amazon for about fourteen dollars, and it's literally just a thick metal circle. it works fine.

you can also keep the heat low by using a pot with a thick bottom, though in my experience those are expensive, and if i had one i would be using it for soup, not wool.

avoid shocking your wool—never put room temperature wool into hot water, and never put hot wool into cold water. leave your wool in the dye bath until it's cooled completely, which for me usually means overnight.

finally, obviously you have to move the fibre around some. you'll need to peek under it in the pan, and when you're done, you have to rinse it and squish out the water. try to minimise handling, though. don't run water directly onto the fibre, don't get a wooden spoon and stir your dye pot around, don't wring the fibre dry when it's done.

you're probably never going to be perfect. i often find that i lose a gram or two of wool where fibres have grabbed onto each other, or where parts of the ends clumped up. it's not really felted, just sort of compacted, but it's not great to work with, and i'd rather lose a gram of fibre than fuss with the clumpy bits.

back to how to dye things

let's take it step by step, assuming a hundred grams of fibre.

put your pan on the stove and fill it halfway with water. add either a teaspoon of citric acid or a tablespoon of vinegar. this is going to help the dye strike, or stick to the fibre. the teaspoon/tablespoon is a guideline, but one that it's fine to exceed. adding more will help the dye strike faster, which can be useful if you're trying to create blocks of colour on your fibre. i usually err on the side of a little more than the guidelines, and just eyeball this—if you feel like the dye isn't taking well, you can add more later.

add your fibre to the pan. this is the first place you have to think about what you want the finished fibre to look like! you can put it into the pan any way you want, but i suggest trying to keep it in a relatively even layer, regardless of what that layer looks like. here are some ways to get specific effects:

if you want a gradient from one end of the fibre to the other, use a rectangular pan and lay your fibre out so that the line of it is parallel to the short sides of the pan

if you want a short, repeating gradient, use a rectangular pan and lay your fibre out so that the line of it is parallel to the long sides of the pan

if you want something that starts with very close repeats that get further apart as you go down the fibre, make an approximate spiral

if you don't want A Pattern (i usually don't) just lay things out in a single layer, more or less

here comes the next exciting part! decide if you want to let your fibre soak or not. again, doing or not doing this gives you some different effects!

soaking your fibre will mean that dye takes more evenly. if you want consistent colours, you'll want to soak.

not soaking your fibre means that the dye takes less evenly. the fibre on top will have less acid available to it, spends less time in the dye bath, and also has to actually get wet before it will start to dye. i actually love doing this, and think it affords a lot of cool opportunities to play with and layer colours.

if you're soaking, leave the fibre there until it's submerged. if not, don't.

now you're going to add dye! decision time, again.

you can add dye when the water is cold, which will give you more even dye coverage, and in my experience gives the colours more time to mix together

you can add dye when when the water is hot, which will give you less even coverage, and tends to encourage the colours to stay more delineated

probably surprising no one, i tend to heat the water first unless i'm starting with a base colour or i'm doing a two-colour gradient.

time to mix up some dye

as i mentioned earlier, i'm assuming that you're using powered acid dyes for this. if you're not, this mixing up part is technically optional—but doing it gives you way more control about how and where you place your colours, so i'm going to assume that you'll do it.

i usually mix dye in some sort of empty drink bottle. regardless of what you're using, before you add dye to anything, put some water in the bottle, wipe off the lip, put the lid on tightly, and shake the bottle vigorously. if there is any leakage at all, do not use that bottle. find a better bottle. if your bottle cap doesn't seal well or if you have an empty condiment bottle that's just a little wonky or whatever, you will get dye all over the kitchen, and your landlord will be really really mad about it, and you will regret your life choices. (if you own your kitchen, you can do whatever you want, but this isn't about you and you know it.)

so you have a bottle that seals tightly! great job. dump out the water and carefully put some dye powder into the bottle. remember earlier how i said you should be wearing a mask? this is the part where you should be wearing a mask.

i know that people are reading this and going, ok, but how much dye do i put in?

my answer is put in the amount that feels right in your heart, and don't forget the number one rule of dyeing things, which is that you can always add more colour, but you cannot take it away.

this isn't a very scientific answer. most dyes have a guideline about how much to use, expressed as a percentage of the dry weight of the fibre, which is what you use to get the whole quantity of fibre dyed evenly. for dharma dyes, it's like 1.5-2%, i think ashford is 1%, and jacquard is more like 2-4%, depending on the colour.

here is the problems with doing that in your kitchen: first, using that much dye will get you an evenly dyed piece of fibre, which—for me, at least—is basically the opposite of what i want. second, and more importantly, unless you have one of those teeny tiny scales used by jewelers and drug dealers, your kitchen scale will not weigh out such tiny quantities with any accuracy. third, if you do it like this, you really have to plan what you're doing ahead of time, because there's a point after which no more dye will bind! the fibre will be like enough thank u that's it i'm good and that'll be it, so you lose some of your ability to decide that actually, you want more green.

you can probably guess, at this point, that i don't weigh the dye. once you've done a couple batches of fibre with a given brand of dye, you'll start to get the vibes for how much you should use. if you really want a guideline, for a hundred grams of fibre, start with a quarter teaspoon of a given colour. you can add more—either more of this colour or a different one—later, as desired.

put your dye in the empty bottle, and then fill the bottle partway with hot water. the amount of water doesn't really matter here, nor does the specific temperature of the water. i usually fill about 3/4 of the way, because that way there's plenty of room for this next step, which is: wipe the lip of the bottle, recap it tightly, and then shake it up real good. the dye powder is going to dissolve into the water, and you now have a bottle of dye!

if you're going for a gradient, you might want to mix up your second colour so you can add them at (basically) the same time for more even mixing. if you're not, or if you only have one mixing bottle, you can do them one at a time.

oh my god we're finally putting dye on the fibre

are you ready? it's time!!

you have basically infinite options for how to do this, and many of them will give you different effects. here are some ideas:

pour the dye all at one side of the pan. and if you don't add anything else, your fibre will fade from the colour of the dye to the natural colour of the fibre

pour two colours, one at either side of the pan. depending on how much dye you use (and remember, you can always add more), this will give you either chunks of colour surrounded by white, or a two-colour gradient

add all the dye to unheated water and mix it gently, then let the fibre soak for a few minutes longer before turning on the heat. this will give you a fairly even colour

pour randomly all over, and you'll either end up with a tonal yarn or a heathered one, depending on how much dye you're using

add the dye to the water under the dry fibre, which will sink in and take up more dye on the bottom of the fibre than the top

if your heat wasn't on before, it should be now, and you're going to let the dye hang out in the hot but not boiling water for a while. how long? well, one of the cool things about dyeing with these dyes is that they exhaust, which means that when the dye has been sucked up by the fibre, the surrounding water will be clear. how long this takes will depend on the specific dye, how much of it you used, how much mordant you used, etc. i try to check every fifteen minutes.

reminder: if you started with room temperature water, the dye's not going to start taking until the water heats up, so don't check it after fifteen minutes and freak out that nothing has happened. it is fully normal for it to take up to an hour for the dye to exhaust. don't turn up the temperature, just give it time.

yay it worked!

at this point, you have a pot of hot water with some beautifully coloured fibre in it! but maybe it's not beautiful enough. maybe you want...more colours.

that's cool as hell and you should go for it. we mentioned two-colour gradients up there, but what if you want something else?

the answer, probably obviously, is adding more dye.

first, a caveat: while you can successfully make multicoloured gradients like this, it's more difficult than you think, and if it gets messed up—all the colours bleed into each other, say—it turns into a muddy mess. my suggestion is to stick to two (or three at most!) colour gradients until you have a much better feel for what you're doing.

let's talk about ways you can add more colour. you have two options: big colour and little colour.

big colour is going to add a lot of colour—you're going to mix up the dye and pour it just like you did before, but paying more attention to places that don't have dye yet. sometimes it's the middle of a gradient, or the white splotches from random pouring, or the half of the fibre that wasn't submerged when you started. or maybe you dyed the whole thing yellow, and now you want to add a blue gradient over top. whatever!

if you don't want to freehand pour, consider buying a couple large syringes, or a bottle with a squeezy top. these are also fun because you can easily get more colour between the laid-out fibre, or even under it.

in the pictures at the start of this post, the red-and-gold top and both yarns were dyed by adding big colour.

little colour isn't going to add big patches, but is going to add speckling, tonal depth, or smaller patches of colour. all of the blue-base fibres and the yellow-and-blue yarn were dyed like this.

if you're still reading this closely, you might have caught that i just said both yarns were dyed with big colour, and that the yellow-and-blue yarn was also dyed with little colour. these are both true! the base colours of the yarn were done to make big colour, but if you look at the full-size image, there are also a bunch of speckles. you can do whatever you want! no one can stop you!

here are some ways to add little colour:

mix up some dye, but use less water. add drops of the dye, either directly onto the fibre (more dramatic!) or in the water (tonal!)

use a toothpick to grab a little bit of dye powder and drop it into the dye bath (similar to the previous one, but a little less predictable)

put on a damn facemask. take a clean toothbrush, paintbrush, or pipecleaner, and just barely touch it to the dye powder. gently flick or tap the brush to add speckles of that colour

find a salt shaker that you're never going to use for anything but this. put citric acid, salt (to make it distribute better), and dye powder into it, and shake it up (with the holes covered, please cover the holes) to make sure they're evenly distributed. gently shake this over the fibre to add speckles, but more of them, and clustered together

put a little dye in a spray bottle and gently mist the exposed fibre, kinda glazing it with colour

another thing is that if you like a natural coloured yarn with dyed speckles, you can do any of these techniques without doing big colour first. the only thing to note when doing this is that you'll want to be very sure to spread out the fibre well, and maybe to consider dyeing one side, then very very carefully flipping it over and getting the other side.

ok, now what?

let's say that you've added all the colours that you want, and you've let your bath simmer long enough that the water is clear, or nearly clear. (if it's not, check troubleshooting, below.)

put the lid on your pan and walk away. if you don't have a lid, just walk away, but it's less dramatic.

the super frustrating part here is that the safest thing to do is wait until the water and fibre is fully cooled before you do anything else.

have i ignored this? yes

has it ever gone horribly wrong? not horribly wrong, but it's definitely caused me to lose an inch or two of roving on occasion

is it way more stressful if you don't wait? absolutely yes

honestly maybe just go to bed and deal with your fibre in the morning

so now let's say that it's morning and you slept long enough that your water and fibre are both room temperature, which often actually feels quite cool on your hands.

you have to drain your fibre. there are two ways to do this:

lift the fibre out of the water. this has the upside of not risking dumping your beautiful fibre into your sink, and not needing to maneuver a full pot of water, both of which are admirable. the downside is that wet fibre is fragile, and you'll want to be careful to support it.

dump the water out of the pan. this has the upside of minimising how much handling you're doing of the fibre, as well as (in my opinion) making rinsing easier. the downside is attempting to keep the fibre into the pot while you dump the water into the sink, and also needing to carry around a full pot of water.

secret third option: dump the fibre (and the water) into a strainer. upside: very easy, and you can keep the fibre in the strainer while you rinse, minimising both how much it needs to be handled and the weight on the fibre. downside: i never remember that this is an option until i'm already elbows-deep in acidulated water, discovering every tiny cuticle tear.

you're going to fill your dyepot with water again so that you can rinse the fibre. you want to minimise thermal shock, so keep the water temperature as close to the temperature of the fibre as you can, and don't run the water directly onto the fibre. i like to pull all the fibre to one side of the pan, and fill the pan on the other side.

side note: if you, smart person, remembered that you can use a colander, simply fill a pot with water, put the colander in the pot, and gently agitate the colander.

if you, person who is deeply relatable, did not remember you can use a colander and now have a pot with clean water and fibre, gently move your fibre in the water to encourage any excess dye and also citric acid to get out of there.

drain your fibre again, and this time, you're going to squeeze it dry. you're still trying to minimise agitation, so this isn't a 'wring it out' situation, it's a 'gently squish it between your hands and/or a hand and the side of the pot' situation.

hang your fibre to dry. remember what i was saying earlier about it being fragile? let me suggest, here, that you do not simply drape the entire length over a single hanger or something and hope for the best. if you literally have a single hanger, at least drape it back and forth a bit, but better if you can use more than one hanger, or a clothes drying rack, or that weird metal wine rack thing that came with your fridge that you've never used, or whatever.

important reminder: drip-drying things will make your floor wet! if you live somewhere very clear with no major roads or pollen nearby, you can probably dry things outside, but if you don't, you'll probably want to position the drying rack in a bath, shower, laundry area, or otherwise over something that will catch and/or absorb the water.

how long it takes for the fibre to dry is another unknowable variable. if it's warm and dry where you are, it might literally be overnight. if it's damp and cool, it can take days. the batch i posted a couple days ago literally took almost a full week to dry. spread it out as best you can, gently squeeze out the water you can, and otherwise you just have to wait.

you're done!

when it's dry, that's it, you're done! you might find that you need to pick off some little lint balls or a bit of compacted or slightly felted fibre from the tips, but other than that, you should be good to go.

like most fibre stuff, this is best maintained by handwashing in cool water. you may see a little bit of dye or colour loss the first time you wash it, which is pretty normal and nothing to worry about.

congratulations! you made it to the end of this incredibly long post, and if you followed along, you've just dyed some fibre!

troubleshooting

this isn't dyed enough! i want more colours!

add more dye! i'm not the boss of you.

this is true even after the fibre is all done and dryed. there's nothing that says you can't dye it again—you can, and i have.

some fibre seems to require more dye than others. silk, for example, dyes beautifully with acid dyes, but also needs way more dye than i expect it to.

remember that if you're dyeing something that's a wool/cotton blend, for example, the cotton isn't going to dye. the only exception is nylon, which will kinda dye, but not as dramatically. this guide will not work for plant fibres.

this is too dyed! i want fewer colours!

please refer back to the number one most important thing about dyeing, which—as you know—is: you can always add more colour, but you cannot take it away.

pull out some more fibre and try again. this has a learning curve, just like any other fibre craft.

these colours don't look like i expected!

this can be about a lot of things.

colour guides, especially if you're looking at them online, aren't always very accurate.

colour guides tend to assume that you're dyeing a single colour at the suggested dye percentage of weight, and using less than that will give paler colours.

dyes, especially if you're mixing brands, can interact with each other and behave in ways you didn't expect.

dyes can also break, which is when they split into their component colour molecules. this happens commonly with blacks and browns, food colouring, and anything that dharma trading has marked as 'advanced'. some people find this very desirable and seek it out; some people are very frustrated by it.

the ph of your water can sometimes affect your dye. i've been lucky enough that i've only lived places with lead problems, not weird ph stuff, so i haven't investigated this closely, but if you're consistently not getting the results you expect, even going for a single, solid-colour dye, look at the ph.

my dye water's not clear!

if you used a quarter teaspoon of dye and a hundred grams of fibre, and it's been, say, 45 minutes of actually hot water and your water still isn't clear, you probably didn't use enough mordant, and you should add some more citric acid or vinegar to encourage the dye to get in there and do its thing.

if you used you used more like a teaspoon of dye, or if the citric acid doesn't change anything, you used too much dye for your fibre. you can either shrug and pour it down the drain, or you can add some more fibre and dye that, too.

my rinse water's not clear!

you probably used too much dye. it's ok—just keep rinsing it, gently, until it's more or less clear.

some colours just like to run—you know how every once in a while you get a yarn and it just bleeds a little bit every time you wash it? sometimes it's just like that. i wouldn't worry about it too much.

my fibre has felty/clumpy bits!

a little bit of this is normal, especially at the ends of a fibre that felts easily (this means you, merino!)

pick off the bits that you don't like—this is generally fairly easy, and involves very minimal fibre loss. i don't bother doing it until i sit down to spin, and then just pull off bits as i come to them.

if there's a lot of felty/clumpy bits, more than you can reasonably pick out, you agitated the fibre too much. there's not much for this other than trying to card it out, which may or may not work.

sometimes this happens because your stove got weirdly aggressive and boiled your fibre. especially for wool that's prone to felting, the bubbling and jostling can be enough to encourage more clinginess than you'd like.

i want my dyeing to be reproducible!

this is kinda doable. it's a handmade thing, so it's always going to have some natural variance, but you can do it.

buy a jeweler's scale that measures in fractions of a gram.

start measuring your dye and acid, and take detailed notes about what you do.

follow those notes in the future, and you'll be probably 90% of the way there.

i want to dye with natural dyes!

i fully support this and have played around with it a little bit myself, but absolutely do not know enough about it to advise you.

the internet is very large and full of many people who are much smarter than i am, and i feel confident that at least one of them is desperate to tell you all about how to do natural dyeing.

i am, at this point, not that person.

i want to dye plant fibres!

i am begging you to find another guide, because this one will not work.

you didn't answer my question!

that's what my inbox is for

i have to reiterate that i'm just a person with real specific interests who started dyeing things because i couldn't find or afford the kinds of colourways that i wanted.

i am not a professional

i will do my best to answer questions, but sometimes the answer is 'just fuck around until you find out'

plant fi—

shhhhh

the end

thank you for reading this incredibly long post! i might make another one in the near future, either so i can show pictures or because i took out an entire section about how to choose colours and pick a colour scheme and work with colours, and i kinda want to talk more about that, but this is no joke almost six thousand words long, so i thought, you know. maybe not tonight.

anyhow, i hope that this was useful to someone! thank you for letting me talk about one of my very favourite things.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for hiding the kitchen pot I hate from my partner, who keeps using it even though I’ve asked him not to?

I (28NB) live with my partner (29M) and we love cooking together. We have a ton of various things for cooking, including a great number of pots and pans. Specifically, we have this massive pot—think the size of that one pot used for that chili in that gif of the office where the guy drops the chili everywhere. It’s huge!! And I hate it. It is technically my pot…actually, a majority of our kitchen things are originally mine, because I’ve lived on my own a lot longer than my partner has, and I have always had more cooking experience than he has too. The problem is, when he is the one to do the cooking for us, he is constantly using the giant pot that I hate, even when we have PLENTY of other pots that are much more suitable for whatever it is he’s cooking. In fact, it’s incredibly rare for us to ever have a meal that would actually warrant using the giant one, and when we do, it’s almost exclusively made in the crock pot.

Another problem with it is that it always takes up way too much space wherever it is—it takes up the majority of the sink, so often it will sit on the stove while it’s dirty since it barely fits in the sink, and naturally it takes up way too much space in the dishwasher too, when it’s actually in there. It’s also really fucking awful to wash by hand, especially if there’s ANY other dishes in the sink too. And of course, even though he and I take turns doing the dishes, I am almost always the one that ends up having to deal with it when it gets used. I don’t think he necessarily times it on purpose that way, but it has happened enough that I’ve had to ask him repeatedly to stop using it because I was sick of having to wash it, or at the very least, immediately washing it himself after using it…ESPECIALLY since there has always been a suitable alternative pot that would still fit whatever he’s cooking, and be a lot smaller and easier to deal with.

I got to the point where I couldn’t take it anymore, because he continued to use it whenever he cooks and needs a pot for…just about anything. I didn’t want to throw it away, because it’s technically my pot to begin with, and there’s nothing *wrong* with it, other than being too big and inconvenient. So, there was one day when I was doing the dishes while he was at work, and sure enough, that stupid fucking pot was dirty from him making something that did NOT need that big of a pot. I decided enough was enough, and I washed it by hand and looked for a place to hide it. It currently lives in our coat closet, behind several spare towels, bedding, etc. and I highly doubt he would run into it, since we barely use everything in there. I had completely forgotten I’d hidden it (I think I hid it a few weeks ago now), because thankfully, I’ve not seen it around, obviously.

That is, until this evening when my partner was making some pasta for us. I had just put a load of dirty dishes in the dishwasher, which was in the middle of a cycle while he was cooking. So, as he’s getting ready to cook the noodles while the meat sauce was cooking still, he asks me if “the pot” was in the dishwasher. I asked him what pot he was talking about, and he specified he meant the unnecessarily big fucking pot that I hate, and have hidden in the coat closet. I quickly covered myself by saying “I think so…” in response to his question about it being in the dishwasher, and immediately started talking about the multiple other pots that would be perfectly fine to cook some spaghetti in. I went to grab one that was dirty and hand washed it for him, but by the time I went to hand it to him, he’d dug out another one that was clean—even smaller than the 1 I was offering him, and smaller still than a couple other pots in the cabinet, further proving that he absolutely did NOT need to use such a massive pot, since the one he chose was about a third of the size of the one I hate.

Well, all that worked out, dinner was made very easily and tasted great. And I was right that even if his instinct was always to use that stupid fucking massive pot for…literally anything that needed to be cooked in a pot, no matter how small the food is, we have plenty of more reasonably sized alternatives that I won’t want to scream when it’s time to do dishes (or use the kitchen sink when it’s sitting there dirty, or use the goddamn stove when the stupid thing is sitting there because there’s nowhere else it will fit). However, I have started feeling kinda guilty about lying to him about it. I also know eventually he will probably find out I hid it from him and lied about it. So, AITA here??

Tl;dr my partner loves to cook using a giant pot that takes up too much space, despite never needing a pot that big for literally anything we are cooking, and always having plenty of alternative cooking pots that are more reasonable…I asked him several times not to use it or at least wash it immediately himself so I don’t have to deal with it myself, but he keeps completely ignoring me about that…so I hid it from him, only now I feel guilty when he asked where it was and I lied.

What are these acronyms?

[carolmunson]

perfect penmanship (steddie x reader)

Fill for this prompt: ‘What if reader accidentally found eddies book and saw all of the things he wants to do to her and planned for her when steve was gone for that weekend. She would be on edge every time he was near her and she would get a funny feeling in her tummy anytime he so much looked at her. Eddie probably takes notice and does little things to get her reaction.’ This is an Eddie focused fic with some Steve cause I’m in my Harrington era and takes place the summer before Good Cop x Bad Cop (why am I creating lore???). I took some liberties on this. And also gave our reader a little bit of back story on how she met Steve. Sorry for the wait here, things are kind of all over the place while I get ready to leave for a job. This incredibly long one shot is also a little all over the place, but WHO CARES. I’m tired! Anyway, hope you love it. You can tell I started this fic while I was watching 'The Bear’. warnings: f!reader, MEAN!EDDIE, jealous!eddie, angst, sweet angel steve harrington who is always nice, mentions of a lot of different kinks including kn*feplay and p*ss (but not written out), smacking with a ruler, D/s dyanmics, use of 'daddy’ in sexual context, use of 'master’ in sexual context, p in v sex, degredation, humiliation, smoking, all that jazz oh yeah and if you’re under 18 don’t read my content.

Summer, Hawkins, 1990 

Eddie kept himself busy in the kitchen, if there was something he was good at outside of music, it was cooking. Now that Steve was on vacation he could put in a little more effort now that he was just cooking for two.

It was 90 degrees, hot and steamy in the kitchen with pans and pots going on the stove and the oven cranked. Eddie shook a sauté pan, sizzling aromatics, his back muscles outlined by a heather grey t-shirt drenched in sweat. He had his hair tied up on itself in a bun at the nape of his neck. His bangs still fluffing in his eyes, other stray hairs sticking to his face. His cheeks blushed red from the heat outside and the flames on burners. 

You walked into the kitchen, looking much less frazzled since you’d spent all day in the air-conditioning upstairs. You wore an old Camp Hawkins t-shirt from when you were a kid. The kind of camp shirt that would be too big for your whole life, that got softer with every wash. You pulled open the fridge and grabbed a can of Coke, letting the chill flow over you, shutting your eyes.

“Hey, hey, close that. I have dough in there,” he called over his shoulder, “Can you grab me the red wine on the counter, sweet thing? It should be open already.”

You look over at him lazily and offer a bored reply, “Yes, chef.” 

You put your can on the table, shutting the fridge door lightly (even though you wanted to slam it). The bottle clinked as you pulled it by the neck off the counter, he reached back for it without turning around – pouring the contents into the pan that flared with a quick flame. 

“Careful,” you chided, he looked over his shoulder and winked. 

“Will you go put this in the recycling?” he asked, now quickly stirring with one hand, the bottle outstretched to you in the other. You plucked it from him by the base. 

“Yes, chef,” you said with a smile, washing the bottle out in the sink that was already starting to over flow with mixing bowls and other kitchen ware. This morning it was cakes, tonight it was duck, tomorrow you were sure he’d want to smoke a whole pig. You gently dropped the bottle into the glass recycling (Eddie was very serious about separating cans and bottles) with a little ‘clang!’, going back into the kitchen to grab your abandoned Coke can on the table. 

“Can you also go grab one of the big box fans out of me and Steve’s room and bring it down here? I’m sweating buckets, baby,” he said, turning half way at his waist. You blushed as his shirt lifted – the tattoos on his hips peeking out from the tops of his jeans, the bottom ridge of his defined oblique being brushed by the gray fabric – it drove you wild. 

“Yes, chef,” you said, walking out of the kitchen. 

“Hey,” he said, you turned your head, your brows raising to silently ask ‘hm?’

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he gushed, his boyish grin breaking across his face. 

“Thank you, chef,” you grinned back, hurrying up the stairs to grab the fan. You sighed as you got in the room, the fan resting on a splay of books and comics on top of the low makeshift book case Eddie made from an upright shelving unit. The other one was clamped down in the window to let fresh air in. From the looks of it, Eddie had left both of them on last night, letting it them all day – Steve was gonna throw a fit when they got the electric bill this month. 

As you go to turn the nob on the fan, it falls on the floor, splaying the books everywhere – papers fanning themselves out across the room.  “Shit, shit!” you say to yourself, turning it off and putting it up right, unplugging it from the wall behind the bookcase. You turned around, hurrying to pick up and re-organize the books on the ground. Even if Eddie wouldn’t totally care, you didn’t want to get anything reported back to Steve that wasn’t absolutely glowing. In your efforts, you came across a composition notebook – clearly getting plenty of use, tucked neatly part way under the couch. 

The cover was crudely scrawled on in penmanship that could only be Eddie’s:  'Crime :)  &  Punishment >:(’

You huffed a laugh, and opened the cover, but instead of finding Eddie’s diary, you found the beginnings of a list of things Eddie wanted – from and to do to you:

Tie her up and keep her in the bedroom for free use whenever we want for a few nights, maybe after she’s too handsy on a date or something. (Steve loves this.)

Tie her up the next time I make us dinner and put her on the center of the table and eat her. eat her out. (Update: this went great and she came six times like a fucking whore, fell asleep before she could even try the eclairs I made which was kind of annoying)

She asked for the 'Dungeon Master’ when she came to drop off my dice at Hellfire and I would kill a kid just for her to call me Master in the house on her knees

Slave Leia costume????? (Steve said he won’t be Jabba, I think he’d be great)

Get leather cuffs, the steel ones hurt her even though she won’t say they do.

Bathroom denial? Am I into piss???? Or do I just like to watch her cry and get embarrassed? Might be into piss or watching her piss herself. Steve said no :(

Start ashing my cigs in her mouth when she talks back to me or cusses. Put my cigs out on her thighs. note ^^ Steve said be careful not to trigger her asthma :( but otherwise okay

fake kidnap her when she’s getting out of work and put her in the trunk and fuck her in the woods like a worthless whore. measured steve’s trunk and she wont fit and she’ll know its my van if we use my van :( ^^ update: Steve said no. :(

Make her hold a quarter or a nickel (ridge side) to the wall with the tip of her nose and use the leather strap every time she drops it. (Steve wants to do this ASAP!!!!!)

More rice kneeling, MORE RICE KNEELING

fuck her in those little skirt suits she wear to work fuck her in her skirt suits BEFORE work and mess up her hair and makeup and make her go to work like a used fucking slut after she gets out of line

need more soap for when she runs that stupid pretty mouth

kind of wanna piss in her mouth??? maybe in the shower or something

wanna dress her up as arwen

anal training (update: steve said he doesn’t think she’s ready but what the fuck does he know)

ren faire date, she’d be such a cute bar wench (not inviting steve)

saw her play with my switchblade the other day, why did it make me hard?

do you think she’s start letting me bring knife play into punishments? steve said that’s an accident waiting to happen

“Babe, I need that fan!” you heard him call from the kitchen. Your heart raced, some of these were scary. “Coming!” you called back, quickly tossing the notebook into your desk drawer in the man-cave they commandeered. You grabbed the fan and hurried down stairs, a little out of breath.

“Sorry, chef,” you smiled, “I knocked over some books and I wanted to put them back nicely.”

“That’s thoughtful,” he said, not turning around yet.

“Did I hear something come out of your mouth upstairs that I shouldn’t have?” he asked, stepping away from the oven and leaning against the counter. He tapped a cigarette out of his American Spirit box and held it in his lips, looking at you.

Your heart raced, he was gonna ash in your mouth. Holy fuck he was gonna do this cause Steve wasn’t home. He was gonna– “Baby, answer me,” he said, a huff of impatience slid on his words while he took a drag of his cigarette, “Too hot to wait for you to figure it out.”

“Yeah, but I was just startled,” you said, rounding your eyes into his favorite look, “It won’t happen again.” His heart melted when he looked at you like that, all flushed and nervous. He went to the sink, reaching under the cabinet first and your breath hitched as he pulled out some liquid hand soap.

“As long as it doesn’t happen again,” he hummed, rinsing and then washing his hands in the sink. You tried to make your heart rate slow down. “Everything’s just simmering down here sweet thing, so I’m gonna take a shower,” he said, peeling his t-shirt off to reveal his tattooed chest. His jeans hung low on his hips, the band of his boxers slipping with the slick of his sweat – your mouth filled with spit. You wished he’d bend you over the counter and fuck you right there. “You wanna come with me?” he asked.

’kind of wanna piss in her mouth??? maybe in the shower or something’

“Um! No thank you,” you said, “Plus, Steve said he’d call and I wanted to make sure that–” Ring, ring. Ring, ring. “I’ll take it in your room,” you said, bounding up the stairs past him and closing the door behind you. You eagerly picked up the phone.

“Hi, Harrington residence,” you said with a perfect, clean voice. “Well if it isn’t the prettiest girl I know,” Steve said on the other end of the line. You swooned at the sound of his voice.

“Hi Stevie,” he could hear your smile through the phone, “How’s it going over there?”

“Well my dad got a sunburn so we’ll get to listen to him complain about it for the next three days,” he grumbled, “How are things at home, where’s Ed?”

“He’s in the shower, he’s making us dinner tonight,” you answered.

“Well, that’s sweet.”

“Yeah…I guess. I miss you, though,” you mumbled, fumbling open your desk drawer and taking out Eddie’s notebook.

“I miss you too, babe,” he said, his voice soft and needy, “Spent my whole time here so far thinkin’ about our date night. The boat’s not the same without you. -ugh- Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell her. My dad says hi, by the way, if you can’t hear him from over my shoulder.“

Your heart swelled at the memory of his little ‘last day’ stunt before he left for vacation. He made a big show of taking you out shopping the night before, making sure you had a new dress for where he was taking you the before he left. He loved when you got all dolled up for him, but you weren’t his plaything those couple of days. You were you, like you used to be — like old times.

He brought you into town for a nice dinner, like a nice one. The kind of restaurant Eddie wouldn’t be allowed into at a glance. You shared a bottle of wine, you got dessert, he kissed you on the street while you waited for a cab to take you home. And home?

Home was heavenly. The first time in ages he didn’t just bend you over and take you. The first time in a while he said your name while he pushed into you. He held you close and desperately on his lap while you rocked on top of him – it was slow and sensual. He never wanted you to forget it. "Hi, Mr. Harrington,” you called through the phone, “I don’t know if he asked, but could you let your dad know I got all the filing done yesterday. So I just have to go through his messages tomorrow and make some calls.”

“Don’t talk business with me, honey, I’m on vacation,” he whined. It was the only time Steve got grumbly in a boyish way, when you talked about work. It’s how he met you, at a holiday party at his dad’s firm, Mr. Harrington’s fresh new secretary. He didn’t know whether to love you for looking so professional and precious at your desk, or hate you for his dad trusting you more than he ever trusted Steve.

A few months into dating Steve wanted to impress you by bring you to the lake house. He got it together for that weekend and took you out on his daddy’s boat every day because you liked being out on the water. He’d melt every time you’d call him 'Sailor Stevie’ and giggle. But things were different now, and that was okay. You’d make it back to the lake house eventually.

“I’m sorry,” you giggled, “Do you have anything fun planned for later? Are they doing fireworks or anything?” “I don’t know, I have to man the grill – wish Ed would fit in with my parents so he could cook instead. We have some family friends coming over so, you know, same old as every summer. Rich people talking about how rich they are,” he said.

“Steve you’re one of the rich people at the party talking about how rich they are,” you teased.

“Baby, I work at Family Video,” he grumbled. “You’re a manager at Family Video,” you corrected, “And you know your dad is proud of you for that. He said that after another year of this you could apply to the fi–” “I’m not working for my fucking dad,” he said shortly.

“Okay, okay,” you soothed, “I’m sorry.” “S'fine, I’m sorry for snapping,” he said, his voice getting a little husky. You couldn’t hear anymore shuffling behind him in the background, everyone must’ve gone outside, “You bein’ a good girl for me at home?”

Your body tingled, your chest feeling heavy, slickness immediately forming between your legs at the question. He could hear you get breathless, a little chuckle comes out of him, “Honey, I asked you a question, are you being good for me?”

The dominance creeping into his voice made you shiver. The shower was still going in the bathroom, it couldn’t hurt if you just…

“Yes, I’m being such a good girl,” you confessed, your hand sneaking past the waist band of your cotton shorts and slipping between your legs. Offering yourself slow and lazy circles over your panties – you didn’t want him to find out you were doing anything you’re not supposed to. “That’s what I like to hear,” he said, “I’ll be home sooner than you think, pretty girl. I’ll take you out again, just us.”

“Just us?” you smiled, a blush forming on your cheeks. You pulled your underwear to the side, the cool air from the fan in the window shocking your body against the slickness. You let a finger glide over your opening up to your clit, stifling a huff of pleasure so Steve wouldn’t catch on. “Yeah, I wanted to take you to the new place dow–” Dial tone. You frowned, your hand snaking out of your panties, “Steve? You there?” “Steve?” you said again, turning around towards the door only to see Eddie standing over your desk. His fingers pressing down hard on the receiver. “You havin’ fun in here?” he asked. Your body went to ice. Even with a towel around his waist, dripping form the shower, he looked menacing.

“No,” you quickly responded, straightening up in the chair. “You know I don’t take kindly to being lied to, sweet thing,” he said, taking the phone from you and hanging it up, “If you were feeling a little pent up, you could’ve just asked. But now that you had to go break the rules…” Guilt swirled in your chest, knowing how this looked to him. Not only were you breaking a pretty hard rule, but it was for Steve. Ed had been seething the whole time Stevie had you out on his arm, while he took you to dinner, while he made love to you in the bed you shared. “C'mon, get up,” he said.

“But I was on the phone,” you said, “Steve was telling me something and he’s gonna think I hung up on him.” “I don’t give a fuck that Steve is gonna think you hung up on him,” he hissed, “Get. Up.”

You did what you were told, following him to the bedroom, asked to kneel at his feet while he got changed. He shook out his hair, showering you in little water droplets that smelled like the shampoo you bought him. “Stay,” he commanded, going back into the other room. You hear something rustle and then, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He stomped back in with the notebook in his hand, “Does this belong to you?” “No, sir,” you said in a soft low voice. “So what is it doing on your desk?” he asked, “I know I didn’t put it there. Did you read it?” Tears welled in your eyes, you nodded, “Y-yes. Just one page, I promise.” Eddie sighed, tapping the corner of the book on the top of the dresser, “You’re really outdoing yourself, here.” “I’m s-s-sorry,” you choked out.

“Don’t cry,” he glowered. A phrase he usually said when he was wrapping you up in his arms after a spanking from Steve, but this was harsh and bitter – biting. “Since this whole thing is about self control, try it out,” he said, “Don’t fucking cry.” You sniffed, your eyes wide at the demand. You took a deep shuddering breath to try to self regulate. “That’s better,” he chided. He pulled you up for your kneeling position and brought you downstairs back into the hot kitchen. “Not in herrrreee,” you whined, “It’s too hot.” He roughly sat you down at the kitchen table, “I still have to finish making dinner for you, in case for you forgot what I’ve been doing all day.” Your heart sunk, you were ruining his whole big gesture – which was honestly Eddie’s favorite thing to do. Always one for theatrics. He slapped the notebook down in front of you and swiped through a few pages, leaning over you like your dad did when he was helping you with homework. “Let’s see…” he mumbled to himself, “Since I’m busy, it needs to keep you busy.” “There we go,” he said, pointing to a bullet on the list, “Read it out loud to me.” “You don’t have to keep admitting you don’t know how to read, Ed,” you smirked.

He wrapped your hair around his hand and yanked it back, “Don’t get cute with me. Do you want me to call Steve and have him come back here?”

You shook your head no and he let go of your hair, pointing back down to the bullet point on the list. “Have her write 40 lines with her right hand, supervised, use a ruler on her hands the moment her composition isn’t perfect. Make her start over every time. Put all the bad composition on the fridge to remind her how worthless she is,” you read out loud, your voice getting smaller and smaller with each word. “But I’m left handed,” you said to him. “Are you stupid? We know that,” he asked, his face annoyed and quizzical, “That’s why you have to use your right hand. It’s like Catholic school.”

You whined and huffed, the heat starting to get to you. The fan on the counter just blowing more hot air around. He pulled a wide wooden ruler out of the junk drawer and a pen, slamming them down on the table in front of you. He turned closer to the end of the notebook to a clean page and smoothed it out. “Since I have more shit to do, you only have to do ten, go,” he said, back in his position over you. They always had you write 'I will learn self control,’ when it came to touching yourself without asking, so you didn’t need the clarification. The pen felt wrong and uncomfortable in your right hand, you fumbled when you saw Eddie pick up the ruler. “Maybe it’s the heat, or because you’re ruining dinner, or because I don’t really like sharing my toys very often,” he said through gritted teeth, “But I can’t wait for you to fuck up.”

A tear spilled out of your eye at the fear of knowing it was gonna hurt when he got use out of that ruler. You put the pen to the paper, trying to smoothly write 'I’, but it came out more diagonal than anything. CRACK! The sound of the ruler on your knuckles made you jumped before the stinging pain bloomed. “OUCH!” you yelped, “That hurts, Ed.” “It’s. Supposed. To hurt,” he said, another crack of the ruler after every pause in his sentence, “Or else you don’t learn anything.” You looked up at him again, your eyes round and swimming with tears, “What if I was just really sorry? I’m so sorry Ed, you don’t have to be mad at me.”

“I am mad at you,” he said, “And I told you not to fuckin’ cry.” Your knuckles were already welting, “And what do you say after we punish you?” he asked. “Th-thank you,” you whispered. He ripped the paper out so a fresh one was in front of you.

“Start over,” he hissed. His jaw was tight while he watched you, eyes dark and brooding. He wasn’t just mad, you could tell he was hurt about something. You did start over, again, and again, and again. He barely spoke, just whacked that ruler down with vigor every time your hand merely slid wrong. Your knuckles were starting to break at the skin, little droplets of blood started peeking through the creases. “I said, perfect penmanship,” he growled after the seventh attempt, “What about that do you not understand?” “It’s h-hard after you hit my h-hands,” you responded, still doing your best to keep your tears in. “We’re gonna be here all night, aren’t we? Can’t even do this simple thing,” he grumbled, sighing and turning the heat down on the oven. He grabbed the oven mitts on the counter and took out the duck, letting it rest on a trivet over by the sink. You felt your nose burn at how stupid he made you feel. “You know I put in all this effort for you and you just like, you don’t even care,” he muttered, not really expecting you to hear him. “Hm?” you started, “Whad'you mean? Of course I care.”

The dominance in his stance was faltering, he leaned against the counter and looked at you, “I’ve been trying to keep you happy this whole week, and you’re still so hung up on Steve. It’s like I’m not even here unless you need to be put in your place.” “Ed–” you started. “And I get it, you were his girl first and you’re Daddy’s precious princess but, you’re my girl, too y'know?” he said, “I wanna take you out, I wanna get you a new dress…” “You can still do those things, we can do those things,” you said, finishing up your fourth line on the new page.

“Just forget it, stay focused,” he said while he came back to lean over you and watch, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his bandana. “You’re making me nervous,” you said, “It’s easier when you don’t watch me…” “Do you talk this much when you do lines for Daddy?” he asked, “Shut up, and write.” You flinched at his harshness, scared and sad about him, “Yes, Master.” “Hm?” you caught the blush burn his cheeks, a bashful grin peeking out from his hardened look, “What was that?” “Yes, Master,” you repeated, focusing your eyes on your lines but smirking at your own cleverness. “Baby, you can’t go around saying that to me when I’m supposed to be mad at you,” he mumbled, standing upright and pushing his hair out of his face. The heat of the kitchen had mostly dried it and he tied it back up in a bun at the base of his neck. His bangs were still puffy and wild against his face. You surveyed him, seeing the bulge growing in his jeans. “Can’t we do something else, sir?” you grinned, “I know how to make you not mad at me. I promise I learned my lesson.” You got on your knees in front of him, reaching for his belt. “I just wanna make you happy,” you really laid it on thick, undoing his belt with a clink and unzipping his jeans. He didn’t stop you from taking his cock out, still a little overwhelmed from his new nickname. “Fuck, kitten, you’re supposed to be in trouble,” he said, leaning back on his hands on the bar cart behind him. You let your hand glide with his skin, soft and silky, still smelling like his body wash and clean laundry. He peered down at you, catching your beaten knuckles as you stroked him, and pouted. He stopped your hand, taking it in his gently and pulled you up for your knees. “Did I do something wrong?” you asked, he was never one to pass up on a blowjob.

“No, no,” he said, he leaned in to kiss you, wet and aggressive. “Juss really needa fuck you right now,” he mumbled, kissing and biting at your neck. He pulled your shorts and underwear off with one fell swoop, hoisting you onto the kitchen table. You let out a squeal that turned into a deep moan while he pushed into you. His ringed hand hoisted up your leg to give him more access while he gripped your hip hard with the other, driving into you at a steady pace. Your breaths hitched at every thrust, he was hitting every spot just right. Your mouth hung open at his rhythm, sweat building on both of you. “It’s gotta be quick baby,” he said, panting, “I have to strain the au jus.” You whined into his quickened pace, feeling yourself get close. “M’ gonna…oh fuck, Ed,” you groaned, digging your nails into his shoulder, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” “Cum for me princess, come on,” he muttered in your ear, tilting you back a little, letting his thumb slip over your clit. That soft sensation did it for you, sending you yowling in the center of the kitchen with the curtains open. Eddie pulled out, sending hot wet seed all over your Camp Hawkins shirt – luckily missing the table as a whole. You both caught your breath, and you slid off the table. “That was, wow,” you said, “Wow.” “Yeah,” he breathed, “Yeah.” Eddie shook his head, getting himself back together. “Are you okay?” he asked, while you put your short back on. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you said. He came over and laid a gentle kiss on your forehead, lifting your hand and kissed right above your aching knuckles. “We’ll put some ice on it, okay?” he said, “You did so good for me.” You blushed, “I’m gonna change first.” “Can you do two more things for me?” he asked. “Yes.” “Can you clean this table, and then clean yourself up nice and pretty for dinner? It should be all ready when you’re done.” “Yes, chef,” you smiled, walking into the pantry to get your supplies. The phone started to ring and you paused, looking at the phone on the wall and then at Eddie. “You gonna get that? It’s probably Steve,” he said, turning his back to you and reaching for the sauce pans. “No,” you said, at the pantry door, “I’ll just call him tomorrow.” While you didn’t see it, Eddie flushed, his heart racing. His girl, at least for the week, just his girl.

[arlechinav-blog]

Trancework Percussion Dive, Part I

This is really long so I will split it into 2 parts.

Different instruments and combinations of instruments are used for different things in the wonderful world of Mediterranean (and well beyond) trancework. Instruments that fall into the frame drum category are generally the ones used for ecstatic rituals but that is not always the case. So, let's take a look at some instruments to go over what they are used to do and at least some of the reasons why. Apologies in advance to the lyre people (or should I say Apollo-gies?), no stringed instruments in this line up.

First up we have just a basic frame drum. These are usually round, unless you are going for a Spanish or ancient Egyptian model--in which case the drum will sometimes be a square. Like so:

Some modern versions of the frame drum use a synthetic head, which is very good for learning. You get a good sound and an opportunity to build up some strength and toughness in your hands without obliterating your hands on goat hide. A rough goat hide drum will take the skin right off your hand if you are playing for hours and hours. So, either make sure you have a very smooth head or start with a synthetic head drum. I am very partial to the Remo Renaissance frame drum, 16" up to 18" for learning to make trance music. It has a lovely resonance that improves as the drum ages.

If you want to make ecstatic trance music, that's where things start getting more interesting. Most ecstatic traditions of the Med (perhaps all but I am saving room for anything I may have forgotten) involve making music using metal ringing against metal. This is because metal ringing against metal has been used to compel spirits in the Med since at least the Iron Age, if not before. Those associations run really deep to this day. So, any cult that has a focus on that sort of thing will have instruments built for it. Like these!

This is basically a cake pan. Like the kind you would have in your kitchen if you were inclined to bake. Percussion instruments have a very deep association with accessibility to the common person, the peasant classes, the public, the impoverished. Drums are meant to be smacked and you can do it to just about anything that makes a sound. They are not meant to be expensive or hard to play. So there are quite a few types of percussion instruments that have a whole other life in the kitchen apart from making music.

I am a firm supporter of the cake pan/cooking pot drum revival, especially in ritual context with the Mountain Mothers (like Kybele, Ida, Rhea, Magna Mater, & the Black Madonnas). Other instruments that are devoted specifically to the Mountain Mothers, apart from basic frame drums, include tambourines, tammorras, tribballacce, metal cymbals, sistrum, and pretty much any drum made with some kind of metal that rings against itself.

(Pictured: Tribballacce, Tambourine with a hennaed head, metal finger cymbals, a sistrum, Azeri Dayereh, Maghrebi Bendir, Persian Daf, & Egyptian Riqq)

These are all specifically used for compelling spirits, which is something the Cult(s) of the Mountain Mothers are devoted to. And this is something that the Dionysian cults adopted directly from the Cults of the Mountain Mothers. The Mediterranean style of play is what I call single handed frame drum--for lack of a better description. This is a style that is still prevalent among many of the Mediterranean islands and in what is now Southern Italy but it used to be a method used by pretty much everybody in the region.

Okay, I lied. There is one lyre in this post. lol ^

How do you play with one hand? So glad that I imagined you asking! There are a few ways. I started out by studying Southern Italian tammorra and tarantella rhythms but you can start anywhere you find single handed frame drum.

Now Dionysian trancework does everything and goes everywhere. Some variation of the Cult of Dionysos utilizes every possible avenue of trance. And sometimes so do the Mountain Mothers. I would say Dionysian trancework is an even split between metal and wood/hide percussion while the Mountain Mothers are more strongly associated with ringing metal--especially iron or bronze.

And that is where instruments like this come into play. These are classical Hellenic krotala. There are also even older Egyptian versions made of bone or ivory but the Hellenic version is largely made of wood. More modern options may include large nutshells as well. I did a whole two part deep dive on the Krotala. These instruments are found heavily in the Cults of Artemis & Dionysos but the Mountain Mothers do also occasionally get in on the action with these.

The Egyptian version, dated to about 1900BCE. ^

Classical Krotala in context. ^

You can still find the dances that go with these traditions out in the world today. The Turkish and Hellenic/Turkish variations use wooden spoons (Kaşık or Kesik). And here's how you get down with these things.

There is also a Southern Italian version in the same family tree. This is Tammurriata.

And honestly more variations all over the place that I will have to get into in the 3rd Krotala dive installment. Tammurriata uses naccere, which are basically another name for castanets.

Now you might be wondering why we use different types of percussion for different things. The reason for that is compartmentalization and the inherent spiritual authority of the instrument. Wooden instruments are associated with wilderness deities and are valued at least in some part for their potential to burn. This makes them suitable for gods that double as both wilderness and death deities. Death because of the association with burning on a funeral pyre and special folkloric relationship between the dead and fire. Metals are not used in the same way.

Metals are associated foremost with the mountains where ore was pulled from. This gives them associations with darkness, caves & caverns, as well as monsters that go bump in the night. Secondarily, later in the timeline, metals took on an association with weather-based sorcery--which translates as Wind Spirits and Storm Gods as well as gods and spirits associated with Blacksmithing. So the cult of any deity who rules over caves, the sky, or weather spirits will use metal instruments in their rituals. This encompasses both the Cults of the Mountain Mothers as well as the Cults of the Storm Lords--and all their attending deities. This is where the practices of the Kouretes & Koryvantes come from.

And I will have to pick this up again in part II because I have reached my maximum allotted number of images for this post. Whee!

[cheemscakecat]

Missing in Action 5 1/2

Chapter 5 1/2 Team Meat-ing Part 2

Young Spy prepares a meal for the whole team with Scout’s help. But despite the good food, he doesn’t seem super happy.

No cover art, but I’ve included pictures of each dish IRL

The first thing Scout noticed the next morning was the smell of Spy’s stupid cigarettes. He followed the smell into the kitchen, which was where he was going anyways. The new guy was there cleaning and gathering pots and pans, while smoking one of Spy’s cigs. Jeremy decided that someone might as well use them.

”What’s up?” He asked, sneaking over to the fridge to get the milk. Most days he just ate cereal, if it was there and nobody cooked breakfast. They hadn’t had much left after the admin mess, but there was ham and bacon unopened in the bottom drawer, and nobody got sick from it. He didn’t know if it was good that his thoughts drifted to miss Pauling. He wanted to believe that it was just concern over her new job, but he worried that he hadn’t moved on.

”I am going to cook ze food today. But there are many hens, so I need both kitchens.” Jeremy nodded and mindlessly took a bowl and his sugary chocolate cereal. It look him a second after pouring to notice new Spy staring. “What is that?”

”It’s cereal. Mostly just kids eat it for breakfast but I uh… get in a hurry.” Normally, Scout wouldn’t be embarrassed about not cooking most days, but this new guy was right here gatherin stuff for a big meal. He felt pretty lazy.

”I need to get food from ze other kitchen started. Come there after cereal.” And with that, Spy wandered off with an armful of clean pots.

When Scout opened the passageway door 10 minutes later, he found the Spy chopping vegetables. That was weird, there weren’t really any in the other fridge, even after a restock. “You go to town last night?” Spy turned around and shook his head. He opened another hidden door.

“Ze delivery people put ze new produces in this bread pocket so it would not rot.” Spy set down the knife and brought over a white paper box from the island. It was full of fancy looking bread that Jeremy wasn’t familiar with. “Have this pain au chocolat.” He said, plopping the dessert into his hand.

It was a real flaky bread with chocolate filling! Scout was surprised that it was still fresh, but quickly remembered that newbie woulda thrown out any moldy bread.

Things seemed to be going pretty well for a while. Jeremy offered to help Spy if he wanted it, and was tasked with putting the vegetables in each pot. He noticed a lot of butter. But he noticed that everything had grinded to a halt when they got to cutting the chickens.

New Spy was staring blankly at the fancy bird with a knife half raised in his hand. At first, Jeremy assumed he was just making up his mind on somethin, but he stayed like that for 10 minutes before he decided to speak up.

“You uh, alright man?” He asked. Spy blinked once and sighed. “Sorry, it’s… I wasn’t planning to do meals so soon after… after relocation.” He didn’t explain any further than that. But Scout got a very sudden feeling that there was much more going on.

“Well uh, I could try to help you. Cut the time in half, right?” Spy flinched for some reason before putting on a forced, close-lipped grin. “I think that would be best, thank you. I’m not feeling… fast right now.”

Spy got to work browning stuff in one of the pans. “Cut ze drumsticks and ze thighs off 2 hens.” Scout remembered watching Ma cut the turkey at thanksgiving and did his best. As far as he could tell it was decent, but he figured Spy might not agree. He glanced over from the bacon and veggies in the pan. “Did I… do it right?” He asked. “It does not have to be perfection. The bulk of ze meat is where we want.” Good.

“So, uh… what are we making right now?” Jeremy got the feelin he should keep things light. Something was botherin the new guy. “Coq au vin.” He snorted and spy blinked at him. He was almost convinced that it was because it sounded like his old man’s weird *** snort laugh. Oh wait, no. New guy wouldn’t know about that. “What is funny?”

”Oh, just sounded like an American word for… something.” Spy stirred for a while and made Scout believe he’d moved on. “Oh, is word for *****.” He wheezed like Ma and for some reason newbie looked even more surprised.

They prepped something called “chicken fricassee” which two more hens worth’a drums and thighs, then two pots of… um…

”Wait, what was it called?” “Poulet a la Moutarde Francaise.” “Uh….” “Mustard chicken.” Maybe there was a good reason for fancy names after all.

With the remainin four chickens, they prepped two to be roasted whole. Cut the thighs and drums off the others for “chicken chasseur” n that left the breasts for “chicken Provençal”. Scout watched new Spy take the bones and put them in a big metal thing.

“What are you gonna do with the bones?” “Chicken stock.” He answered, shoving them in the big freezer. Apparently some of the other freezer mystery tubs were stock or sauces.

—————————

Good lord, the base smelled magnificent. It took half the team just to make sure Solly didn’t go in the kitchen and mess up that cookin food. Thankfully Engineer didn’t have to keep Pyro out on account of his mask.

They knew Spy was French, they knew that but.. it was easy to forget the whole “food hub” thing when the smoking room wasn't for meals. Spy musta been cookin and eating in his secret kitchen, or the base woulda smelled like this sooner.

Demoman wasn’t much affected by the smell. It was nice to be sure, but he had gone on with his pure alcohol diet so long that food didn’t tempt him. But he noticed Sniper of all people pacing around all impatient like. He liked to live on the land, but even he weren’t immune to good cookin.

Heavy was glad that Spy had not gone to his house in Siberia. Not just because of Scout being ill, but because he wouldn’t have been happy with the food. There were many less spices in a place so far, and mother had to make them last. Normally he was content with his sandviches, but he could tell this meal would be a treat.

Medic locked Archimedes and the other doves in the medbay. They, like him, had no qualms about eating cooked bird. Archimedes might have possibly eaten a cooked dove if it were offered to him, but he was cute and the doctor was content with that.

Antoine wasn’t looking forward to dinner. It wasn’t doubt in his own abilities or the healthfulness of the food. He just.. he didn’t want to cook for a new team! On that Helicopter he told himself he’d be wise this time, not overly friendly and naive. But here he was cooking for a strange team without a proper mask to hide his face.

And he missed them. It was the same good food, but it wasn’t for them. They weren’t… here. Was he really about to do this so soon? During his failed relocation, with total strangers?

He pictured the desert Scout assisting him earlier that day. If he’d been alone, that good hen would have gone rancid from him standing useless at the counter. And it shouldn’t be like that. He shouldn’t be like that. Desert Scout seemed like a nice enough guy. Someone he would befriend if he got to stay, but that probably would not happen. But for now, it was nice knowing someone near his age who was kind.

This Scout reminded him of Merriam, actually. He missed her, even if she hated him forever. Of course she didn’t know the secret. She and Jeremy were safer that way. He debated calling her on the desert Spy’s phone but felt afraid it was tapped.

It had surprised him that the missing Spy was French actually. France was in Europe, and while it’s people were not as pasty and weak to heat as the British, it was not a sweltering country. He took the nightmares over staying awake long in the weeks he spent in that cave. Better to conserve energy that way. The missing Spy had expensive tastes and probably did not much like heat himself. What possessed him to move to a desert team?

He may have been one of the bad spies. The ones who sell their teammates secrets. He knew they were out there, his old team warned him to speak with carefulness around other RED spies, not just BLU. He wouldn’t let that advice go to waste, especially if his family could be tracked.

—————————

New Spy laid out a really epic spread of food! Jeremy had to admit, he’d been skeptical of the meal gettin boring using the same veggies in so many fancy French dishes. But he was wrong. It all looked so good, and he wanted to taste everything!

There were really smooth yellow mashed potatoes and some kinda greens, and lots and lots of chicken! Spy wrapped some melon in fancy deli meat and put it on a cutting board with cheese, olives and more deli meat. There was a tray of colorful desserts and fancy breads like the one he ate at breakfast, too.

Engineer made sure to grab some extra dessert and watered down wine with Pyro’s plate, and loaded up his own with just about everything he and Spy could fit. Heavy had already told him they didn’t eat at the table, but at least Engie knew he hadn’t offended baby Spy.

Heavy was interested in the cheese platter, but skipped it because he knew his big hands would touch everyone else’s share by mistake. But he was pleased with the red sauced chicken meals and the roasted whole breast. He took a spiral bread from the edge of the dessert tray and it was very sweet and pleasantly delicate.

Medic enjoyed the mushroom based sauce on the mashed potatoes, it reminded him of Germany’s different gravies. The meat wrapped cantaloupe was surprisingly good, and even if the spinach was soft and unlike sauerkraut, the flavor was still very good. He made sure to grab an extra plain pastry to share with his birds later.

Spy hooked Demoman up wit scotch and some stronger wine instead of insisting that he eat. He appreciated it, even if the drink was too mild for him to get a buzz.

Soldier had never been a fancy civilized person. He preferred to sleep outside surrounded by raccoons, not in buildings that were too neat and riddled with rules. He was enjoying the food though. He hoped that Spy might make more for him and Zhanna sometime, because the only other place to get fancy people food was fancy people restaurants. And he could tell that she would feel just as itchy to leave as him in a place like that.

Sniper didn’t usually go for smaller white meat birds, preferring emu and other big Aussie bird meat, but the red sauces appealed to him. He liked the fancy desserts well enough, even if he didn’t know what the squishy stuff was… not pudding.. not frosting. It was good though. The mustardy chicken was good broken up and eaten with the green stuff, which he took to be polite.

Scout was having a blast! He never knew there were so many ways to cook chicken and make it taste different. And new Spy probably knew like seven more ways. French food had always seemed like a distant idea behind his stinking deadbeat father and his stuck up attitude. It always sounded snobby by proxy.

But maybe his dumb*** dad was used to good food like this, and that’s why he hated the fried chicken Scout bought. He had to admit, if he ate it after a bite of one of these dishes it would taste like cardboard. But that didn’t make it right to waste food like he did during the bread monster accident. Letting it fall on the floor and get gross… whatever, this wasn’t about him.

There was mustardy chicken that was really good with the green stuff and a plain “croissant”. The roasted chicken was lemony and had a bunch of green spices on it. The white sauce with mushrooms went super well with the good mashed potatoes. He ate pieces of cheese from the cutting board in between the heavier red sauced chicken. And even the melon thing he tried was good!

He got full faster than he usually did eating chicken. But then again, he usually just ate a bucket of fried drumsticks with no mashed potatoes or other stuff. It was kind of boring food, now that he thought about it. He smelled something like peanut butter on the dessert tray and decided it was worth trying. New Spy told him it was hazelnut flavored; he knew because he ate one too.

————————

The leftover food was put in the shared kitchen, except for the cheese board and some of the pastries, which Antoine took back to the other Spy’s kitchen. Then everyone went to bed. He was glad that everyone liked the food, especially since it meant they didn’t watch him too closely. The sound of Scout innocently cutting the raw chicken bones apart almost made him vomit earlier.

It was not so bad at dinner, but his stomach still churned looking at the food he wished he was serving to his old team. He ate the potatoes, roasted chicken and creamed spinach instead of having the same fun as the others. It all went down well enough, and when the desert Scout was unsure of what dessert he had eaten, he worked up the guts to taste one and tell him the flavor. He missed them. And he missed Merriam. It took him longer to fall asleep in the chair by the fire, even though he was just as full as the desert team who were dreaming in peace. For once, he did not have a nightmare.

Here’s what the meal would have looked like, more or less

Coq au Vin

Chicken Fricassee

Poulet a la Moutarde Francaise

Chicken Chasseur

Chicken Provençal

Roasted whole chicken

Charcuterie board

Mashed potatoes

Creamed Spinach because health [same]

The desserts

The hazelnut thing Scout ate.

[moefongo]

Since I’m not gonna ask for haru again (i still want more but I’ll stop-), do you have any more headcanons for Logan? :3

Of course I do! And you can always ask for Haru! Also this has been in my drafts for ages im so sorry aaa

Logan attempting to cook for the builder

Its the thought that matters, am I right? His food makes Grace's look like it's gourmet.

Logan had planned this for so long, he even begged Owen to teach him how to cook better (though Owen knows Logan is a lost cause when it comes to cooking, but he's so desperate that he didn't have the heart to say no).

Logan waited for the builder to leave to gather materials and began to work. He cooked a three course "meal" for them. And as his cooking, the kitchen was a disaster as well; there were piles upon piles of dishes, pots, pans and even a cast iron skillet; which definitely isn't Owen's favorite cast iron skillet, and he totally did not steal when he was with him the other day.

The best part was when the builder arrived home. Usually Logan was out in the yard helping them out while waiting for them to come back which was a bit strange but they assumed Logan was busy with else and with that they step inside their home to get started on diner and what do they see? Well they find Logan nervously setting up the dinner table and when he saw them he rushed over to drag them to sit down and relax.

He then disappeared to the kitchen and came back with the food. When the builder saw it they felt true fear for the first time, heck not even Pen made them fear for their life as much as this. But seeing how proud Logan felt was more than enough for them to power through the entire thing.

Despite the food poisoning, it was heart warming to see how much Logan loves them, even if they have to drink Fang's equivalent of pepto bismol for a whole week.

They also never got to see the mess of dishes, including the cast iron skillet which was washed thoroughly and returned to Owen. In the other hand, Owen almost had a heart attack on the spot since that cast iron skillet was his dad's and it had been seasoned for over 20 years.

[addierose444]

My Kitchen Essentials 

One of my favorite things about having my own apartment has been having my own kitchen. Furnishing the rest of my apartment was an expensive and sort of stressful process. The kitchen however has been a lot more fun because I inherently find kitchen gear more interesting and had enough of the basics to get started without breaking the bank. Because I keep my meals simple and only work with ingredients that I enjoy, I genuinely love cooking for myself. I shared my peanut butter overnight oats and tofu rice bowl recipes in a post about Sunday meal prep a few months ago, but am hoping to share more of my go-to meals in a proper recipe format. 

The core essentials that I brought from home include a 10-inch cast iron pan, a 1.5-quart stainless steel pot, a small wooden cutting board, a pairing knife, a chef's knife, and a pair of scissors. I also brought a basic set of dry measuring cups (¼ cup, ⅓ cup, and ½ cup) and measuring spoons. While I haven’t done any baking here and don’t follow recipes when cooking for myself, the measuring cups have been really useful for cooking various grains. A few items that I brought but haven’t used include a lemon juicer, a garlic press, and a silicone pastry brush. As for non-cooking kitchen basics, I was fortunate enough to be handed down a set of both dishes and silverware and to be gifted a nice wooden salad bowl. I also brought a utensil crock, a mini teapot, two mugs, two glasses, and a few food storage containers from home. 

To further round out my setup, I picked up a sieve (which I use for rinsing rice), half and quarter-rimmed sheet pans (which I currently primarily use for baking tofu and green beans for my rice bowls), a wooden spatula, and a potholder. I love cheese, so a personal essential of mine is a grater. I use it to grate cheddar for my cheesy polenta (which I serve with chicken apple sausage and peppers), pecorino romano for carbonara, and parmesan for Caesar salads among other things. I may eventually add a box grater to my setup, but have thus far been happy with this paddle-style grater that I picked up on my first full day in Washington State. Another item that I bought immediately, but have not personally used is a pair of kitchen tongs. (They did come in handy though for a work picnic). While I don’t regret the purchase per se, this just goes to show the true value of starting with the bare minimum and slowly building out your setup as you discover the limitations through experience. Other kitchen essentials that I picked up but that aren’t directly used for cooking include an airtight container for my rice, a glass food storage container for my lunch, a dish drying mat, sponges, and dish soap. 

It’s not essential, but one fun recent addition to my kitchen is the rice cooker I got for Christmas. The resulting rice is notably better than my stovetop rice, but I will note that it doesn’t exactly save time as the rice is supposed to soak for 30 minutes, cook for 15, and steam for another 15. Another important note is that the measuring cup that comes with the cooker is only about ¾ cup. Thus, when I made my first batch of rice I was a bit thrown off and only had enough rice for three rice bowls instead of my usual four. I made a double batch the second time around which allowed me to create five rice bowls instead. 

While I’m not set up for baking or cooking for a crowd, I truly do have all that I need to cook for myself. Nonetheless, I’m excited to continue building out my kitchen! A few items that I’m considering adding at some point in the future include a kitchen scale, a larger pot, a mixing bowl, a meat thermometer, an immersion blender, and an ice cream maker. We’ll see though because I’m not yet convinced that these items would get regular enough use to justify the cost and space they’d take up in my small kitchen. 

[bteezxyewriter12]

Love Motel/ 21

Pairing- Changkyun x Named Reader

Word count- 2k

Includes- angst, love making, missionary, multiple orgasms

Tag List- @90s-belladonna @mingtina

@direitobulando @honey-zip @chansbabydoll

@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @jaxxmine @yeosayang

@delightfulmoonbanana @itsshaydeekaydee @seokwoosmole

@rpkth @tannie13 @wisejudgedragonhairdo @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

Series Masterlist

2 weeks later

Changkyun POV

"We're finally moving in Kyunnie!", she squeals as I open the door to our new apartment

"I know baby", I smile, excited too

We've been living in a hotel since we landed in Virginia

We weren't sure if we were staying here

It depended on if she got into Virgin Tech

She's a genius so of course she got in

She wanted to wait until she got the email of her acceptance to start looking for apartments

I wanted to look as soon as we got here because I knew she'd get in but I went at her pace

There really isn't a rush for anything

Once she got the email, we went looking and found a nice two bedroom apartment close to the school

It's spacious, with a big kitchen, living room and bathroom

I made sure the apartment was nice for her

She lived in a small apartment in Korea so I want her to have space

After signing the lease, we went shopping and bought all the furniture

The last of it was just delivered yesterday and we decided to move in today

Opening the door, she excitedly pushes me in, running into the living room

"Kyunnie! The couches are here!"

I laugh, "Yeah jagi. I told you they came"

She comes out of the living room, taking my hand and pulling me to our bedroom

Opening the door she runs to the bed, flopping down on it

"Jagi, you're being so silly", I chuckle, sitting next to her

"Aren't you excited?", she asks, lifting her head

"Of course jagi. I get to be with you so I'm excited"

"Yay", she cheers, sitting up and hugging me tightly, "And I get to be with you too baby and that's the best part"

I nod

I agree that is the best part

"Let's unpack", she says, bouncing up and running out of the room, to our suitcases I assume

I laugh, getting up and following her

I guess we're unpacking

I don't care what we do as long as I'm with her

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

Laying in bed, I stare at the ceiling

I can't sleep

Because I'm worrying

As we unpacked our clothes it's hitting me that I have to now live like a normal person

We were doing normal things like unpacking all the new pots, pans, plates, cups, cutlery that we brought

I put bookshelves, chairs and TV stands together

Something I've never done before

Then we went on Amazon and ordered all the other things we need for the apartment that we didn't think of before

After that, she was telling me that tomorrow we have to go food shopping

Which means we have to cook our own food

I realize that I have to get a normal job and I have no skills besides leading a jokop

I don't know anyone, I don't know where anything is here

How am I supposed to take care of her if I don't have a job?

I have money that Jooheon wired to me but that's not going to last forever

I don't regret leaving Korea but I do regret not thinking about all this more once we landed here

I regret not planning ahead

I also realize I don't know how to be a boyfriend

I've never had to be one before

I never had free time to be a boyfriend and now I do

What if I mess up?

What if I'm not good enough?

What if I do the wrong things and piss her off?

What if she regrets being with me now that I'm not in my element and I'm awkward?

I love her so much and I can't lose her

I can't

She rolls over to her side in her sleep

I take the chance to sit up, worrying about what I'm going to do

"Kyunnie?", I hear her call in a groggy voice

I don't say anything, hoping she'll go back to sleep

I've been sitting here for a long while, thinking and trying to plan but I just get overwhelmed and the whole thought process starts again

I feel her hand on my shoulder, the bed moving as she sits next to me

"Kyunnie, what's the matter? Are you ok?"

"I uh....I don't know"

"Tell me baby", she says, concern in her voice

"I just...I don't know"

I don't know how to tell her all this

I'm supposed to make her happy not make her worry

We sit in silence for a few minutes as I try to figure out what to say

"Do you regret it?"

My head snaps to hers instantly, "What?"

"Do you regret leaving Korea? Leaving the jokop? Coming here?"

"Jo-"

"I'm not saying you regret loving me. I know you love me. But maybe you regret everything else that came with loving me"

"No Joanne. Absolutely not", I say immediately

There is no way in hell I'm letting her think that

No way

"I do not regret leaving with you or being here with you. I don't"

"Then what's wrong? You were ok today and now you're telling me you don't know if you're ok"

"I know jagi. It's just I realize that I didn't think ahead before we got the apartment"

"What do you mean?"

I tell her all my fears, all the things keeping me awake from having to cook and do our own laundry to me finding a job

She listens without interrupting me, just letting me talk and get everything out

"Kyunnie, I'm not asking you to do anything alone ok? We're supposed to do everything together. I can teach you to cook and do laundry and anything else for the apartment", she says, "And baby I know you're like old school with the whole take care of the woman monetarily thing but we should be doing this together. You shouldn't have to pay for everything. I have money and when I graduate I'm going to get a job too. That's how people do things now. Both people in a relationship work and pay for everything together"

I know but I wasn't raise that way

I was raised to take care of my girl

This is a completely new concept for me

"You don't have to rush to find a job baby. You can be anything now and you should take your time to figure out what you really want to do"

"I know that should be a good thing jagi. I know most people would love to have that chance like I do. And maybe I'll be grateful for this chance one day but right now I'm scared. I just don't know what to do and I always knew what to do"

"Kyunnie that's fine. You can be scared. It's normal", she replies, "I need you to remember that I'm here to help you. You don't have to do everything by yourself. You don't have to sit in the dark, worrying on your own baby. I'm here. Just like you're here for me and want to help me, I want to do the same for you. Don't forget that"

I nod, so grateful for her

I'm used to doing everything by myself, solve my own problems

I forget that she wants to be there for me, help me too

I have to remember what she's telling me

I'm not alone, she can take care of me too

"Please be patient with me jagi", I tell her, "I....I don't know how to be a normal person. I don't know how to be a boyfriend"

She takes my hand, holding on tightly, running her fingers in my hair

"You don't need to know how to be a boyfriend Kyun. Or normal. You just need to be you", she says softly, "I fell in love with you, the way you are. Normal or not, I'm going to love you no matter what"

The emotions I feel right now are so strong

Utter happiness

Relief

So loved, accepted

Immense love for her

So grateful for her and her love

"I love you Joanne. More than words can every express. You're my everything jagi. My absolute everything"

"And you're mine Kyunnie. Always. I love you"

"I love you", I say, leaning to her, pressing my lips against hers

Her arms move around me, her tongue sliding in my mouth, playing with mine

Moving my arms around her, I lay her down on the bed, her legs opening for me as her arms lock around my back pressing her body as close to mine as she can

We're already naked, having been together before she fell asleep

Honestly we've slept naked every night and I don't see that stopping

Her legs wrap around me as I slide inside her, pushing all the way in, stretching her around me, her juice all over me

"Changkyun", she moans, her pussy sucking me in, pulsing around me

"Baby. Jo, fuck", I whimper

"Kiss me Kyunnie"

"Always jagi. Always", I say then kiss her softly

I move slowly, basking in the pleasure of her pussy opening slowly around me, listening to her pretty moans

I make sure my head rubs her spot every thrust, wanting to give her as much pleasure as I can

Sex for me is all about her

It's been that way for months with her, I just didn't realize it

I want her to feel the ultimate pleasure every time and I will do anything to give her that

Hiking her legs higher on my body, I have more room, plunging in deeper

She whimpers, her body shaking, her hands gripping my back hard

Wrapping my hand around her breast, I squeeze, running my thumb across her nipple, pressing kisses to her neck

Rolling my hips into her, I feel her right there, her throbbing so fast

As I slide in and out, I lift my head, whispering in her ear, "I love you"

"Oh god Kyunnie", she moans, coming around me, clinging onto me as she shakes under me

"I love you baby", I whisper, pressing kisses to her cheeks, "I love you so much"

I know she loves hearing that when we're making love

The first time I told her that while we were together she came right away

I know how she feels, I remember how it was when she told me she loves me during sex

It's fucking amazing and it just makes everything more intense

I make sure I tell her that everytime we make love

"I love you jagi", I say again, peppering kisses on her collarbone

When she finishes, she moves her hips, meeting my thrusts and squeezing my length so hard

"Ffff...", I trail off, the pleasure increasing

Her hand moves into my hair, pulling my head up, her lips crashing into mine

I open my mouth immediately, my tongue playing with hers as we both move together

"Kyunnie", she moans in between kisses

"Yes baby. My baby", I whimper, sliding my hand down to her ass, clenching it hard, keeping her against me

"Changkyun", she moans

"Yes baby. Fall apart on my cock baby girl. Please jagi. I need to feel it", I beg

"Baby", she moans, releasing on me, feeling so fucking good

She hugs me to her, telling me, "I love you Changkyun"

"Oh god", I cry, the words setting off my orgasm, complete bliss hitting me hard

"I love you Kyunnie. I love you", she moans as we both cum

"I love you", I tell her through the pleasure, "I love you Jo"

Goddamn the pleasure is out of this world

After, she doesn't let go of me and I settle on top of her, laying on her chest

Her hand goes in my hair, playing and sending chills down my back

"Sleep with me Kyunnie?", she asks

I nod, "Yes jagi"

I'm actually tired and the feeling of her fingers in my hair lulling me to sleep

Wrapping my arms around her, I feel her press a kiss to my forehead, making me smile

"Sleep Kyun. I love you"

"I love you jagi", I tell her, snuggling into her, her soft smooth skin feeling so good

I close my eyes so happy she made me talk about what I was feeling

She's right, me and her can figure everything out together

Always together

[katfishwrites]

Inside Eddie Munson & Steve Harrington's Quirky Indiana Home!

Leaning on the open dark red door is the lead singer of Corroded Coffin - Eddie Munson. Eddie’s hair is tied back in a half up half down messy bun. He’s dressed casually in a band t-shirt that is so faded it’s practically black and ripped black jeans. 

Eddie greets the camera crew with a gigantic smile. 

“AD! Come on In!” Eddie gestures excitedly while stepping backwards into the house. 

Some overall key features of the house include: A large bookcase filled to the brim with books and trinkets, framed photos and art cover the walls, and a fish tank with a couple of different colored fish swim calmly. 

“Let’s start in the kitchen. Do you guys want coffee? Stevie’s making a pot.” 

The camera pans from left to right as if to signal that they don’t want any - as they follow Eddie into the kitchen. The main colors of the kitchen are powder blue and slate grey. There’s a large island with a marble countertop. Four light grey bar stools surround the far end of the island. The seats are permanently set - the four plates accompanying the stools do not match, but yet somehow they do - the plates are white, blue, orange, and purple. 

“Look who came to visit.” Eddie gives Steve a kiss on the cheek as he sets his coffee mug on the nearest counter. Steve wraps one of his arms around Eddie, leaning on him. 

“Welcome to our kitchen.” Steve gives the camera a soft but somewhat shy smile, he’s not uncomfortable by the presence of the cameras but he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little awkward. 

“Since all these videos start in the kitchen for some reason.” Eddie continues.

“I can’t take any credit for anything in here other than the magnets on the fridge, that was all Steve.” Eddie mirrors Steve’s gesture and gives him a squeeze, comforting him. 

Closeup on fridge doors: an old Corroded Coffin magnet, Steve’s old Scoops Ahoy and Family Video nametags, location magnets from different stops Eddie has stopped on tour, a photobooth photo strip is held up with a heart magnet, and scraps of paper with various doodles from each other as well as other guests are hung up with a rainbow assortment of smiley face magnets. 

“That’s because I am the one who cooks.” Steve steps away from Eddie and pokes him in the side. 

Eddie gasps and puts a hand over his heart “What do you mean? I cook” 

“Reheating things in the microwave and making toast does not count as cooking.” 

Eddie laughs and Steve tries to explain his favorite things about the kitchen, but he can’t help but laugh alongside his husband. It takes Steve a moment to collect himself from chuckling before he starts to explain about the kitchen. 

“When we designed our house, we worked with the incredibly talented Robin Buckley, who just happens to be one of my best friends.” Steve can’t help the big smile on his face - he loves talking about his friends, especially when it comes to their successes. 

“We really just both had a field day when it came to doing the kitchen. One of my favorite parts is the coffee station.” 

Closeup on the espresso machine sitting on a slate grey countertop, under the countertop is a minifridge with different milks and creamers. Beside the countertop is a silver bar cart. The cart is filled with different flavored syrups and sauces, straws, and hot chocolate mix. 

“Even though I spend my whole day at work making coffee for other people, I still love making coffee for me and Eds in the morning and sitting outside.” 

“We’re a big coffee family, if you couldn’t tell by all the mugs.” Eddie joins in as he takes a mug off the wall. 

Medium wide shot of the wall covered in coffee mugs. A collection that at the minimum has at least twenty mugs, the mugs range from holiday themed to old mugs from cafes that Steve used to work at. 

“We might have a bit of a mug buying problem.” Steve looks like he is about to say something, but Eddie continues before he has the chance to interrupt.

“But look at this one! I use this one pretty much everyday.” Eddie places the mug on the kitchen island, near the sink. 

Close up of Eddie’s favorite mug: it’s a black mug, nothing special about it. 

“Hold on, don't move that camera away yet. You haven’t even seen how cool this one is!” Eddie says quickly as he moves the faucet arm towards the mug. 

Continued close up: as the water goes into the mug, different sized bats in a rainbow of colors start to appear on the sides of the mug. 

“Isn’t this amazing!” Eddie’s practically squealing with excitement. 

The camera tilts up and down to mirror a nod. 

Eddie and Steve both take a seat in the barstools at the end of the island. 

“And this is where we eat all of our meals.” Steve gestures to the surrounding plates.

“We used to have a dining room table but we never used it at all.” 

“We also have real plates, but these are so much more fun!” Eddie says, picking up the purple plate in front of him to show the camera. 

“We painted these ourselves at one of those clay painting places. All the bad ones were made by Steve.” 

“Hey!” Steve jabs Eddie’s side. 

“I decided to go for a more minimalistic look for mine.” Steve rebuttals.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Harrington.” Eddie winks. 

Closeup on the colorful plates. The purple plate is bare except for a frog in a wizard hat who is holding a small wand. The pastel green of the frog contrasts the purple and his hat is the same color as the plate with yellow stars - made by Eddie of course. The next two plates are made by Steve. The blue plate is made up of different shades of blue resembling the sea, in the top corner of the plate there’s a sun wearing sunglasses The green plate is simpler, it resembles a field and is covered in flowers of different sizes and colors. The white plate is last, the majority of the plate is covered in a rainbow tie-dye, which is done quite precisely. No doubt made by Eddie’s steady hand. 

The next stop is the living room, which is pretty big. The main color of the living room is emerald green. 

Some key pieces of decor in the living room are: the giant velvet emerald green couch, the cream area rug that’s covered in illustrated tigers, the same shot of the bookcase from the start of the video, an assortment of different plants are scattered throughout the living room, and finally on the wall above a large TV are three large portraits from their wedding day. The two photos on the left and right are slightly smaller and in black and white while the largest one in the middle is in color. All three photos appear to have been shot on film.

The photo on the left is a close up of Steve and Eddie’s hands wearing their rings. You can easily tell whose hands are whose by the amount of rings on Eddie’s hands compared to Steve’s. 

The photo on the right is a more intimate moment between Eddie and Steve, they’re on a dock with Lover’s Lake behind them. It’s a candid photo of them laughing. 

The last photo is a group photo of the wedding party. Steve and Eddie are in the middle, Steve’s in a classic tux but with a black velvet jacket. Eddie on the other hand, is wearing a black shimmery open vest, his necklaces and tattoos clearly visible, and he’s wearing wide legged pants made out of the same shimmery material. Their wedding party is pretty large on the side next to Steve is Robin, Nancy, Lucas, Max, and El. One Eddie’s side is Will, Dustin, Mike, Jonathan, and Argyle. 

Under the three photos is a small framed note that reads:  

“The most beautiful and happiest wedding photos I’ve ever taken!

Who would’ve thought that that camera you got me in ‘83 would still take great photos!

Enjoy the honeymoon!

Jonathan Byers” 

“Here is one of my favorite rooms in the house, the living room.” Eddie smiles brightly before continuing

“My favorite thing is how cozy it is here. Especially the couch!” Eddie throws himself over the back of the couch, earning a chuckle from Steve. 

“I literally dream about this couch when I’m touring.” 

Eddie springs back up from off the couch and keeps showing various elements of the room. He leads the cameraman to the large dark brown bookshelf that takes up the majority of the rightmost wall. 

“Ever since I was in school, I have always loved to read. Some of my favorites are Tolkien, King, and of course Byers.” 

While Eddie is showing off his well loved books to the cameras, Steve is standing almost out of frame; the second Eddie mentioned the name Byers he had the biggest smile on his face. Steve was never able to pick favorites out of all the Hawkins gang, but after knowing everything the Byers family went through growing up, Steve gets a little extra excited when Will or Jonathan’s achievements are mentioned - not that he’d ever let the kids know that. 

Inside the bookshelf there is an entire row dedicated to a complete collection of Will Byers’ graphic novel series “Adventures inside the Upside Down”. Eddie makes sure to show the page long handwritten note Will wrote to Eddie and Steve in the first book of the series. 

“So funny story, both Steve and I grew up in this small town in Indiana. We actually went to high school together but didn’t actually hang out until after graduation. Since Stevie was the dreamboat of Hawkins High” Eddie bats his eyelashes before continuing, 

“and I was but a freak.” He says clutching his shirt over where his heart is. 

“But Steve somehow managed to befriend and essentially babysit everyone in Hawkins who would go on to become something.” 

The camera turns to Steve and he is blushing and running his hand through the back of his hair. 

Medium wide shot of the bookshelf nearly overflowing with books. The middle of the shelf is dedicated to “The Adventures inside the Upside Down” while the other shelves are filled with Eddie’s other favorite authors. Mixed in throughout the shelves is a collection of trinkets including: hand painted D&D figures, decorative shot glasses, and small knick-knacks that Eddie and Steve have picked up on their travels. 

“Oh and one more thing about the bookshelf is this!” Steve takes over as he points to a framed newspaper article above the bookshelf. The newspaper inside the frame is slightly yellowed due to its age. The headline of the paper reads “Inside Hawkins’ Mysterious Pumpkin Problem” written by Nancy Wheeler.

“This is the first front page story that one of my best friends, Nancy Wheeler ever had published in our town’s local newspaper.” Steve says excitedly. 

“See that’s what I’m saying, everyone who turned out to be someone is somehow entwined with Steve.” Eddie says sort of as a joke but there is a hint of seriousness in his voice.  

The last aspect of the living room that Steve and Eddie show off is the large fish tank opposite the bookcase. 

Closeup on the fishtank with a few multicolored fish swimming around the tank happily. The tank is also filled with lots of plants and a couple small pieces of decor. 

“We both wanted a pet but with my touring schedule and Steve’s long hours at work we wanted something that was a little easier to take care of. So we got a fishtank, and I’ll be honest I love these lil guys more than I thought I would.” Eddie says pointing at the fish in the tank.

The large grey bottom feeder slowly swimming by himself is named Wayne after Eddie’s uncle. The bright purple fish is named Dart and there is a yellow fish named Nougat.

“Before we head upstairs I wanna show you guys the mini bathroom.” Eddie says as he leads the camera crew to a small door just across from the staircase. 

Eddie opens the door revealing an almost entirely black bathroom. 

“Our compromise was I could make the bathroom black, if Steve got full reign of the master bathroom.” Eddie says, rubbing his hands together manically. 

“The tub is one of my favorite things about this room.” Eddie smiles. 

“I’ve found Eddie hiding away in there, nose deep in a book more times than I can count.” Steve chuckles, giving Eddie a small nudge. 

“I also love how much people get freaked out when they use it for the first time.” Eddie quickly closes the door behind the cameraman encasing them in a brief darkness before Eddie flicks the light switch on.

When the lights come on, Eddie is making one of his signature devil faces right into the camera. The cameraman jumps slightly, showing that Eddie succeeded in his mission. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help it. I just wanted to show you these little guys.” Eddie’s laugh can be heard while the cameraman is focusing on the light fixtures in the bathroom. 

Closeup on the artificial candles in the bathroom. At first glance they appear to be floating. But looking closer, the candles are being held up by little black gargoyles. 

With the lights turned on, there is a painting on the door behind Eddie, which matches the vibe of the room perfectly. 

The painting on the back of the door is “Saturn Devouring His Son” by Francisco José de Goya. 

Eddie opens the door, freeing them both from the small bathroom, which really isn’t meant for two. 

“I think that’s all downstairs, how about we head upstairs?” Steve claps his hands together, already on the second step. 

Lining the wall beside the staircase is a mixture of framed photos of Steve and Eddie with their friends and framed movie and musician posters. A few of Steve and Eddie’s favorites include all of the original Star Wars trilogy, the most recent tour poster for Wallows, the lineup for Lollapalooza 2019 - the first festival that Corroded Coffin was a headliner for. 

“Instead of doing two bathrooms in a row, let’s head into the master bedroom.” Steve opens the door to reveal the room. 

“And this is where the magic happens!” Eddie says winking directly into the camera, already in the room.

“So unfortunately, Eddie Munson can no longer join the remainder of the tour.” Steve shuts the door to the bedroom, pretending to lock Eddie in. 

“I cannot believe I have been betrayed by my own husband like this!” Eddie can be heard shouting from the other side of the door.

“Alright, Alright we’re coming in.” On camera Steve can be seen rolling his eyes, but he’s laughing as he opens the door. 

Some key features of the room include the large bay window, the small coffee table with one of Eddie’s notebooks on it, an acoustic guitar leaning on the window next to the table, and the queen sized bed with a polka dotted bedspread.” 

The walls are a light yellow and Eddie is sitting on the bay window seat, holding a stuffed animal. 

Medium wide shot of Eddie on the bay window seat: the sun is shining through the window as Eddie cradling a funny looking yellow fish. The sunlight highlights the stray curls that have fallen out of his messy bun and gives him an angelic look. Beside Eddie are a few more plushies, including a cute venus flytrap - reminiscent of Audrey II, a red octopus, and a purple bat. 

“Ya know when I said this is where the magic happens, I meant writing songs…” Eddie shoots Steve a look. 

“Once we got the master bedroom all set up, I wrote the entirety of my newest album “Echoes of a Heartbeat” right here, and spoiler alert it’s pretty much all love songs.” Eddie blows a kiss to Steve, who might have been caught blushing by the camera. 

“Since it’s our bedroom, we pretty much had an even say in what we wanted the room to look like. Except Eddie was very specific on the walls being this exact shade of yellow, and I’m still really not sure why.” Steve looks to Eddie hoping he’d answer his question.

“Oh Stevie, come on, you have got to be kidding me!” Eddie gets up to wrap an arm around Steve. 

“You really don’t know?” 

Steve shrugs his shoulders. 

“Let me set the scene: Hawkins, Indiana circa 1985 a young Eddie Munson somehow manages to get a date with the cute guy working at Family Video. Eddie Munson pulls up to a secluded side of Lover’s Lake where the one and only Steve Harrington, sets up a picnic where he is wearing a light yellow sweater.” 

When Eddie finishes his story they are both blushing and Steve pulls him into a big kiss, not caring that they are currently on camera. 

The two pull away from the kiss and Steve whispers to Eddie “Hey Eds, I think we have something to finish first.” 

Eddie shoots the camera another wink before continuing to talk about the room, with his cheeks flushed pink. 

“Besides writing songs here, Stevie and I get into some pretty competitive video game tournaments.” Eddie looks at Steve and looks back into the camera, he cups his hands around his mouth as if he’s telling the camera a secret. 

“And I usually win.” 

“Hey! I heard that.” Steve comes into frame to push Eddie.

“Anything else you wanna show off in the room? Before we head outta here.” 

“Oh actually! There is.” Steve grabs a small frame off his nightstand to show to the camera.

Inside the frame is a signed drawing of Eddie and Steve dressed in some sort of battle gear. Steve is wearing a denim vest and holding a wooden baseball bat with nails stuck through it. Eddie is dressed in a green shawl, which makes him look like he’s covered in grass. Eddie is also holding the lid of a trash can as a shield, it also has some nails stuck into it. Under the drawing it reads “Hellfire Club: Steve’s first and only campaign.” 

“Eddie commissioned Will Byers to draw this for me after we finished this campaign. I think he did it so I had a constant reminder of how much fun I had as Harrington the Brave.”  Steve shoots a look at Eddie, but Eddie keeps his mouth shut.

“I did have fun, it was just so long.” Steve chuckles as he puts the frame back in its place on the nightstand. 

The camera catches Eddie rolling his eyes with a smile on his face.

“Shall we head into the master bathroom?” Eddie says one foot already out the door.

“I’ll let Steve take the wheel on this part of the tour, since this room was Steve’s magnum opus besides the kitchen.” Eddie bows as Steve walks into the room.

Some key features of the bathroom include the black and white tile floor with pink grout running through it, the sunlight coming through the sheer curtains, and the ceiling is painted with a gorgeous sunset - the oranges, yellows, and pinks compliment the room perfectly. 

“I just really wanted the bathroom to feel as luxurious as possible.” Steve says while waving his hands in a small circle trying to showcase the room. 

“Like the White Lotus, but no one dies!” Eddie can’t help but chime in.

“So Robin and I started designing the bathroom while Eddie was on tour in Venice; every photo he sent had these beautiful painted ceilings and I kept showing Robin and she surprised me with the sunset.” 

Throughout the bathroom there are little flourishes of gold - all the hardware from the drawer pulls to the shower head are made out of white gold. 

“I got a little carried away with all the gold, but what can I say - I like shiny things.” Steve says as his hand starts to creep up the back of his neck. 

“But I couldn’t let Stevie have all the fun, so I had to add some things to make it a little more my speed.” 

Eddie proceeds to grab something from a shelf next to the sink. When he comes back in Eddie’s hands are three different figures of Gonzo from The Muppets. 

“So fun fact, I love The Muppets - especially Gonzo. Also when Steve worked at Family Video and was trying to flirt through movies, he tried to slip a more romantic movie in the bag of movies I was renting but instead he accidently put Muppets Take Manhattan in the bag. 

As the camera slowly zooms out from Eddie, Steve can be seen visibly turning red as Eddie continues to tell the story.

“Little did he know, The Muppets are the way to my heart.” Eddie gives Steve a quick kiss on the cheek before going to put the figures back. 

“And the blues do match the rest of the color story of the room if I do say so myself.” Eddie says in a fake snobby somewhat british accent with his hands on his hips. 

Steve waves him off with a laugh as they head out into the hallway.

“I feel like we really don’t have a lot of rooms left but the master closet should definitely be next.” Steve says before they head into the next room. 

The master closet is directly across from their bedroom. Following Steve into the walk-in closet, the walls are painted the same pale yellow color as their bedroom. 

Some key features of the master closet include some of Eddie’s tour outfits on full display, two matching full length squiggle mirrors, a pink velvet circular ottoman, and framed concert posters of some of Steve and Eddie’s favorite artists: Wallows, the 1975, and ABBA. 

“Eds, I feel you should take charge on this one just because you have so many more clothes than I do.” Steve says as he sprawls out on the ottoman. 

“What can I say, I love a costume change.” Eddie spins around making sure to flick up some of the fabric of the long sleeves. 

“I love having the outfits from my tours on the faceouts. It brings back all the memories of the city that I wore that outfit in.” Eddie says with a big smile on his face as the camera picks up a slight twinge of blush on Eddie’s cheeks. 

“The majority of this half of the closet is used for my more extravagant outfits. But this is my favorite section, the costumes of Halloweens’ past!” Eddie excitedly ruffles through the racks to find a specific costume. 

Steve turns around on the ottoman, genuinely curious to see which costume Eddie’s looking for. Steve would never toot their own horn, but they do kill their Halloween costumes year after year. 

“Found it!” Eddie pulls out a floor length long sleeved black gown and a black pinstripe suit. 

“This was our first Halloween as a married couple and our first of many Halloween bashes. Remember that Stevie?” He of course knew the answer, but they were on camera after all. 

Steve got up off the ottoman and walked towards Eddie, grabbing the suit out of his hands. He gave Eddie a quick peck on the lips before speaking.

“How could I forget my first time seeing you in full drag as Morticia?!” Steve burst out into laughter. “I will also never forget how long it took to get all the gel out of my hair.” 

Eddie’s laughing too, but for a moment Steve looks pale at the memory. 

“Even though I could spend all day talking about my Halloween costumes, there are some other things I think the people at home will want to see.” 

Eddie goes to a clear display case full of jewelry. He pulls out a drawer full of different rings. 

“Some may say I have a hoarding problem, but what can I say I love shiny things.” Eddie flashes his own rings to the camera before showing off the drawer.

Closeup on Eddie's hands: He flexes his fingers causing the silver and different gemstones to shine. Despite the simplicity of the ring’s designs they’re still stunning. The most notable of the rings is Eddie’s wedding band. The matte black is such a contrast from the sterling silver that accompanies his rest of his hand. In the center of the ring is a strip of diamonds. 

Some standout rings in the drawer include: One shaped like a boars head, a sterling silver chain, and a mood ring. 

“I have my everyday rings, but I like to spice it up from time to time.” Eddie closes the current drawer and pulls out the drawer underneath it. 

“These are my tour rings - aka rings that I’m okay with losing.” Eddie laughs for a moment before finishing.

“I promise they do all fit me, but between the guitar, dancing, and just working up a sweat sometimes they just fly off.” 

The last half of the closet is relatively uneventful, with just Steve and Eddie’s regular clothes - which includes a surprising amount of denim. 

On the wall next to Steve and Eddie’s everyday clothes is a vanity with one of those giant old Hollywood inspired mirrors with a lightbulb surrounding the mirror. Strewn across the vanity are makeup brushes, eyeshadow palettes, and a photo from Steve and Eddie’s Addams Family themed Halloween party. 

Closeup on the photo: Alongside Steve and Eddie as Gomez and Morticia is Jonathan as Lurch, Max and El as Wednesday, Mike as Fester, Nancy as Grandmama, Will and Lucas as Pugsley, Robin as Debbie, and Dustin as Cousin It. 

“Well I think that sums up the last room.” Steve says with an arm slung over Eddie’s shoulder. “It was a lot of fun having you guys here!” He smiles as they start to walk out of the room. 

“You guys are welcome back anytime! Especially at Halloween!” Eddie says as they are standing in the front doorway and the cameraman is outside. 

Steve and Eddie give the camera one final kiss before the video cuts to black.

[glitteryfiremiracle]

How did this book deal all come about?    

“Open! Open mouth, lady. Sake. Open lady. Sake sake.” I know it sounds corny, but I love this Hibachi restaurant. I am currently sitting with my family, plus my main spirit guide, Kariss and secondary guide Rodger Liberman.  Yep. You’ve read that correctly. I officially channel acclaimed actor, screenwriter, animal rights activist, humanitarian, he’s looking at me that way again, Rodger Liberman. Although no one really knows its him. I like to keep things under wraps because if the world found out, they’d never believe me. And I also keep it to myself out of respect for his wife and family. You wouldn’t believe the things his stands write about on Bmbler these days. And dudes old enough to be their dad! Anyway, I am listening in on a conversation between Kariss and Rodger and I’ll admit its pretty difficult to focus, what, with all of the merriment going on in the background. The next table over is celebrating two birthdays! Cousins and their entire family. That investment banker looks bored. 

“Sake! Sake, sake lady!!!” 

“No more, thanks” I say while motioning to the chef, with my hands around my throat. “But I would love more tea please. Thank you”

 I hold my cup up and our waitress pours piping hot liquid. She’s leaning through Rodger who stops speaking momentarily, long enough to wait for my tea refill. That's how it is for me. In fact many of the people here tonight aren’t really visible to most at all! Investment banker included. I find myself staring at the large tree in the middle of the room yet again when Rodger leans in and says, 

“You should really consider writing a book.”

“ About what?” I wonder. 

“About your ghost adventures.” he says. “You see them all around, all of the time.”

 I don’t reply because I don’t want to look like I am just talking to myself in public, so I solemnly put on my jacket and get ready to leave. 

“Everyone got everything?” I ask my husband and daughter. 

“Yep.” she chirps in affirmative. 

“Great” I respond and we make our way to the door. 

“Sake sake, lady. Man. Sake sake, ooooh! Good. Man!”

I really do love this place, I think to myself once again. Their kitsch never gets old. 

*******************************************************************************************

“Now before you deglaze your skillet, add you some chopped onion and cook em til they get all soft like…”

“Do you ever shut that phone off?” Rodger wonders half to me and half in disgust. I am lying in bed watching one of my favorite influencers Pepperfire Tex, fix his old grand daddy’s pot roast. I press the side phone button and shut the video off. 

“What did you want to talk about?” I ask. 

He looks at me before responding, “I really think you should give it some serious thought and finish that book we started writing a couple of years ago. Listen, you've tried the ViewYou thing and it didn’t pan out. I am just saying, maybe chronicling your adventures is a better way to reach your target audience?” 

“Since when are you a marketing mastermind?” I quip. 

“I’m not.” He says. “I am just saying that if you write a book, maybe it will gain more traction. Maybe Flickflax will pick it up and make it into a series. And, besides you have the connections. All of the people you connect with….from the great beyond. Look, alls I’m saying is with me on your side, divinely guiding you, how can you go wrong?” 

Actually Rodger does have connections. And a lot of them. Most don’t like to discuss it, they have their reasons and others, well, the others just don’t believe in it, the afterlife and all. I know that his closest confidants would absolutely laugh me out of any attempt I’d make.

“..And just how do you know that?” He asks, interrupting my train of thought. Rodger is always doing things like that. Interpreting. “Suggesting”, he calls it. “I’m just suggesting.”

“I am all ears, dear.” I say, hoping he’ll point me to where I should start. 

So, how does one begin to tell the story of how I became a medium? Do I start at the beginning? Like that one time when I was four? 

“...No. Just tell them about your dream.” He says interrupting my train of thought again.

 “My dream?”

“Yes.  Tell them about that one dream you were having, during lock down. Or safer at home, or whatever it was called….” He’s looking at me that way again.

Before I begin, I think its fair to say that this will involve many flashbacks to how this all came about. And the trick is to outline everything so it flows and there is little confusion but still retains interest. I don’t know if I should just keep recounting my adventures or just focus on how we met and came to be in contact with one another? Or? 

“The dream, honey.”

Oh yes. The Italy dream.

https://youtu.be/RYr96YYEaZY

[jumexju]

KAGEROU

Pairing !! : Senju Tobirama / Wife Reader

Fic Type !! : HCs / Slice of life

CW !! : none ^^

Summary !! : What being his wife would be like.

Notes !! : Naruto brainrot is so reall -_-

★ MASTERLIST

Being married to Tobirama would include.. 

Soft mornings in which he usually wakes up earlier than you and watches your eyelashes flutter while you sleep. He likes to relish in the calm and domesticity of it all. Just hearing you breathe steadily in the mornings brings him peace of mind. 

Not too much PDA. He wouldn’t full on make out with you in public- but he will hold your hand and give you a peck on the cheek every once in a while !! 

Hearing his soft sighs of relief when you give his shoulders a massage after a long day of sitting in the Hokage’s office all day. (He’s old, give him a break) He’ll pretend that your massages weren’t that beneficial but when you threaten that you won’t give him any more massages, he’s a pouty mess of a man.

Having to deal with his stubbornness whenever you try to tell him that there are different ways to do things (he won’t listen) (he’s senile). On that note, the man probably gets into a lot of arguments with you over small things due to his stubbornness. 

“Doing it that way takes more time, if you just use hot water then the grease just melts right off.” You told him as you demonstrated how the leftover oil on the pan easily washed off due to the hot water. Tobirama looked down at you, unamused. “Just let me do it the way I want to do it, It gets the same end result anyway.” You sighed and shook your head, “Fine, do it your way then.” 

On that note, whenever you two have those lover’s spats, he’ll be the first to recognize he was wrong and apologize to you because he hates getting the silent treatment. 

You stirred the soup in the pot, getting dinner ready for night as you pretended not to see your husband walking up to you. “Do you know where my kunai went? It was on the table a second ago.” your husband stood next to you, his arms crossed as he waited for your answer. Unfortunately — it never came. “Hey.” he tried to get your attention, unable to bear the listless expression on your face. Tobirama stood there, hoping you’d at least turn to look at him, but you moved around the kitchen and didn’t acknowledge his presence once. “Fine then, be childish.” He felt a small pang of guilt but decided to just leave the kitchen. 

Later that night, he saw you taking your pillows over to the couch. ‘Are you serious?” He asked you in disbelief that you would go as far as to make him sleep alone. Again, you didn’t say a word and closed the door once you’d grabbed a spare blanket from the closet. The white-haired male got up and followed you to the couch, determined to get you to talk to him. “Okay, I yield. I’m sorry.” You raised a brow at him. “Sorry for what?” 

“I’m sorry for saying that you were too weak to go on that mission by yourself.” He avoided your piercing look, reluctant to even admit that he was wrong. Nonetheless, he was happy he have done it when you brought your pillow back and were sleeping by his side again that night. 

Despite his stubborn nature, he is willing to see things from other perspectives. Conversations with him usually end up with you learning about the way he thinks. Your deepest conversations with him usually happen when the both of you are in bed about to go to sleep for the night. 

Mans will also not let you vent in peace, if you have a problem then he’s giving you advice for it. You have to shush him multiple times just to complain to him about your day in peace. He doesn’t get the whole concept of telling him about a problem you have if you didn’t want a solution to it. 

“Why didn’t you just tell her you felt that way?” He lifted a brow at you. “That’s not the point.” you shot him an unamused look. “Well if you told her then maybe she wouldn’t have done what she did, am I wrong?” Tobirama just stood there as you stared at him with a bored look on your face. “Forget I said anything.” 

He’s secretly very clingy behind closed doors because he doesn’t want anyone else to see how vulnerable and soft you make him. I’m tellin’ you koala type grip whenever you two wake up, he will make you stay in bed with him all morning if he doesn’t wanna get up — Unless you have a job. He respects your schedule since he himself is someone who likes to stick to routines. 

Overall, he’s a very caring husband and does his best to both protect and be there for you. 

[countessofravenclaw]

The 2023 writing Advent calendar: Day 13

13. Hot Chocolate

So, this is going to be direct continuation of the Day 21 of the last years calendar.

“Matteo is going to freak out when he sees what we have cooked!” Luna squealed excitedly as she picked up the recipe, “So, how do we start?” 

“First we need to boil water,” Ambar pointed to the step one. “Can you pur the water while I chop the chilis?”

“Yep!” Luna said enthusiastically and grabbed the biggest pot she coil possibly find.

“Okay, is it now done?” Luna asked after she and Ambra had finished putting all the different components into the pot. Luna’s apron was almost completely covered with different sauce spotches. 

“No, now you need to leave it to cook,” Monicaa said whole looking at thier concoction. “But I congratulate you. This is actually quite impressive for beginners. You can just add the salt later.”

“We forgot the salt?” Ambar looked at the counters. 

“But, didn’t we cookit it already? Luna asked confused, “I mean we put the meat on the pan.”

“Yes, but that was just the precooking,” Monica explained, “This is a stew that needs to be slow cooked so the meat is tender. It will take about two hours

“Two hours?” Luna  exclaimed, “That long?”

“Well, it is only just 8 am,” Ambar pointed out, “And the everyone’s coming at 12, so there is plenty of time.”

“Oh, okay,” Luna nodded while Monica put the pot on the stove on a low heat, “But what do we do next?” 

“What do you mean?”

“I said I’d be cooking Christmas dinner.”

“It’s boxing day.”

“I know, but it doesn’t matter.” Luna continued, “I can’t leave it to one dish. Mom, what else can we do?”

“Well, everything else is pretty much prepped,” Monica looked around, “They won’t need anything done for another hour…”

“There has to be something! I don’t want just sit around for an hour.” Luna kept insisting. “I need to surprise Matteo. I can even peel potatoes.”

“Actually,” Monica kept pondering, “there is something. I haven’t had the time to start the hot chocolate yet, and we’re going to need a lot of it, meaning multiple batches.”

“We can do that!!” Luna jumped up on her feet, “Where’s the recipe?!” 

“I don’t use one more often than not so wait a moment so I write some ingredients down for you.” Monica grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. “Here. I have made some modifications since the few weddings we catered during the winter.”

“Is it going to be hard?” Ambar took the paper from Monica and Luna was craning her neck to see it. 

“Not hard, just precise,” Monica answered, “Measurement need to be right and you need to be careful about burning the milk. It also can get messy, but I have faith in you.” She leaned toward Ambar briefly and whispered, “You’re in charge.” 

“We got this,” She nodded and handed the paper to Luna so she could take her weddings and engagement rings off and put them on a chain on her neck. She really didn’t want lose them in a vat of boiling chocolate. “Luna, you might want to take your rings off too.”

“Why?” Luna raised her nose off the paper. 

“Do you want Matteo’s mother’s ruby get incased in chocolate?” Ambar looked at her, “Have fun explaining that to him before the wedding next year.” 

“Oh, you are right,” Luna finally seemed to understand, “But could you imagine how cute rings made of chocolate would be?”

“I can but lets focus on this,” Ambar took the paper back, “Okay, first we need milk.”

“On the fridge!” Luna jumped up ready for action. “How much?”

“Two litres,” Ambar answered and grabbed a pot and put it on the stove. Monica’s recipe wasn’t that complicated, but it included all sorts of things that you didn’t put in your everyday store-bought cocoa

“Here’s the milk!” Luna came back with two cartons of milk. “Do I just pour them in there.”

“Yes,” Ambar nodded and started turning up the heat. She though better that she would keep the eye on the milk, while Luna prepared other things. Not that Ambar was some sort of a michelin chef, after she and Simon and had moved into together, she had burned her fair share of different food she had tried to cook without his help… “Next we need to melt a bag of marhsmellows into this and then two bars of chocolate. She chocolate will probably need to be grinded coarsely.”

“I can do that!” Luna said, after dumping the bag of marshmellows into the milk. “I love all the Christmas cooking. I already came up with three different ideas for a gingerbread house for the next year.” 

“Maybe that one won’t topple down,” Ambar laughed slightly. At this point everyone had seen the disastrous contructiona attempt that Luna, Jim and Yam had made. Luna had started chopping chocolate bars down with such a force, you’d think that she was trying to cut down a tree.

“Here, what’s next?” Luna gave Ambar the chopping board and started scanning the paper again. “Peppermint extract, and then sugar… Who knew this many things went into hot chocolate.”

“I think we need to boil this now until the chocolate is melting,” Ambat stirred the pot. 

“This is so much fun!!” Luna did few twirls, “Maybe I should go wake up Matteo and show him what we have been doing.”

“He’ll so grumpy if you do that,” Ambar noted, “Wasn’t this supposed to be a surprise. If I’d try to wake up Simon right now, he’ll fall right back to sleep, even if I put vat of caramel on front of his nose.” 

“Yeah, i’ll let him sleep,” Luna nodded, “Only because I want to party till next morning. Is it done soon?”

“I think so…” Ambar looked at the pot. 

“Uuu, let me taste!” Luna jumped up again. 

“Go ahead,” Ambar nodded and handed Luna the ladle.

“What giant shovel have you been stirring this with?” Luna examined ladle. “You could serve porridge to all the elves at the North Pole with this. I think—”

“Wacth out!” Ambar exlaimed a nanosecond too late. Luna flingled the ladle around in a way that cocoa splattered to almost everywhere. Ambar was able to dock just in time. Luna on the other hand got almost completely douched. “Are you okay? Did you get burns?” 

“I don’t think so…” Luna licked her lips. Maybe the licquid had cooled down enough, thankfully. “...this is delicious.” 

“Yeah, I’ll put this to cool,” Ambar took the ladle from Luna, “You should probably go change.”

“Okay, see you in a bit.” Luna shrugged and dashed to upstairs. Since she and Matteo would be staying the night, she had plenty of clothes. 

“What happened to you?” Matto raised his head off the pillow and Luna crashed inside her room where he had been sleeping, “I though you were decorating, not playing in the mud…? You know what … Do I want to know?”

“It’s a surprise,” Luna said simply as she pulled some clean clothes out of the bag.

Well, well, well... This is what you get when you let Luna lose in the kitchen

[theadventuresofgarlandodra]

The Adventures of Garl and Odra Manyboots- Nail Polish

Prev.

“Sahsi? What are you doing?”

The goblin rogue had been so quiet Sahsi hadn’t even heard her enter. The shock of suddenly seeing Odra poke her head up over the foot of the bed almost caused her to drop her nail brush, but she managed to recover and just put it back in the polish cup. “Oh! Odra! I thought you and Garl were handling the bandits near-”

“Already done,” Odra pulled herself up on the bed. “Easiest eighty gold we’ve ever made.”

“They’re… very dead, aren’t they?”

“Dullahan cast sleep on most of them. It was over before Sylvia could summon a single thing.”

Odra pointed towards the nail kit. “Answer my question- what are doing, and what is that?” she asked.

“Um,” Sahsi waved off her claws to dry them. “It’s a nail kit. Because of my heritage, I have claws. I like to take care of them, make sure they’re clean.”

“And why are they pink?” Odra wrinkled her nose.

“… I like pink. I have other colors though!” Sahsi took out the nail colors and set them in front of Odra, Odra’s eyes growing wider and wider as the array of colors spanned the entire rainbow. “I usually go for pink if I know I’m not going out adventuring. If I am, I tend to go for white or black. I like doing it because it’s pretty, but there’s lots of reasons people paint their nails.”

Odra cocked her head to the side. “That’s weird.” The goblin looked down at her hands. Unsurprisingly her hands were as dirty as they usually were, her fingernails chipped and broken. Sahsi wasn’t sure if the goblin had even bathed since she’d run into them that night in the forest, save for the occasional running around in the rain without clothes on.

“… Can you paint my nails too?”

Odra had muttered so quietly Sahsi wasn’t even sure if she’d heard her correctly. Odra couldn’t even look Sahsi in the face, the little goblin was so flustered.

But Sahsi smiled and picked up the water pan. “Well, if you really want a manicure, I’ll give you the whole experience. I’ll get some clean water, you pick a color!”

“I have to wash my hands?!” Odra yelped as Sahsi ducked out of the room.

Sahsi was half expecting to see her bedroom empty by the time she got back, but Odra was still sitting on the bed, one of the pots of nail polish resting in her lap. She’d picked a bright sunshine yellow and was cradling it like it was a valuable treasure.

“Okay, put your hands out. I’m gonna clean out your nails, buff them smooth.” Sahsi sat down on the bed across from Odra and gently guided the goblin’s hands into the bowl of water. Immediately it discolored, but Sahsi had handled grosser things out in the woods. That and she’d planned ahead- she had brought a jug of warm water up with her so she could refresh it as needed.

Once the dirt had been scrubbed off, Sahsi picked up a file and started rubbing away at Odra’s fingernails. They were much more like a human’s than she expected. “So goblin girls don’t paint their nails?” she asked.

“Goblins don’t paint their nails, no,” Odra shook her head. “I like the colors though. They’re pretty. Even the pink. They don’t taste good though.”

“Did you-” Sahsi sighed. “Nevermind. No, you can’t eat the nail polish.” Sahsi blew away the dust made from smoothing out Odra’s pointer finger. “It’s probably bad for you, but you’ve eaten worse.”

Odra grinned from ear to ear. “Oh, definitely. Garl said I’d live off garbage if he let me,” she giggled. The goblin then paused. “Do only girls paint their nails?” she asked.

“Ummm…” Sahsi pursed her lips as she put the file down. “For the most part, yes? I think I’ve seen some men do it, but it’s mostly women.”

“Why?”

All the questions. Sahsi grabbed a lotion bottle. “Okay, hold your hands out and once I put a little on your palms, rub it all over your hands, including in between your fingers. Don’t eat it. And as for why, um… well, I don’t have a good answer for that.”

“Humans are so stupid,” Odra scoffed as she rubbed the lotion in between her hands. “Goblins like pretty things. All goblins do. What you people call ‘boy goblins’ like pretty things too. Things that shine in the light, or have a nice feeling in your hands because they’re really smooth. I once met a human who kept calling one of my pen mates a ‘girl’, although by your standards, he’d be my brother.”

“… Do goblins not have genders?” Sahsi asked as she looked through her nail brushes to find a clean one.

“A gender is a boy or a girl, right?”

“Eh, there’s a few more options depending on where you’re from, but those are the ones people usually think of.”

“Then no, we don’t have gender. I only figured I was a girl because Garl told me I was when I was running through the rain.”

Sahsi hummed slowly nodded her head. Some things were starting to make sense. “So, your language, there’s no brother or sister? Husband or wife?”

“There’s mother and father, but that’s more about who’s handling the pen than who popped out the babies. And we don’t marry. Monogamy is stupid and you’ll probably all die out because of it.” Odra stuck her tongue out.

“Don’t be rude. Want me to paint your nails or not?”

Odra stuck her hands out eagerly. “Yes please.”

Sahsi laughed as she wet the brush with the yellow paint. “Well, it sounds like goblins are much more interesting than other races give them credit for. Chores then, they aren’t divided by gender?”

“Again, we don’t have what you keep calling ‘gender’, so why would it matter who fishes or who guards the village?”

“Fair enough.” Sahsi carefully brushed the color onto Odra’s fingernails. The yellow actually contrasted rather nicely with Odra’s green skin. “Do you mind though? Being called a girl?”

“Is it a bad thing to be a girl?” Odra asked.

“Well, I’m a girl, so I don’t think so,” Sahsi laughed.

“Then no, I don’t really care. Besides, if you’re right, that only girls paint their nails. I want to keep doing that. I don’t want dresses though, they just seem to get in the way.”

“Well, you don’t have to wear dresses then.” Sahsi paused painting Odra’s nails to pat the goblin on the head. “You can do whatever you like. Even if you did think you were a boy, you could still paint your nails.”

Odra smiled again. “Thanks… are you gonna paint the other nine nails or…”

“Cheeky.”

Sahsi had never seen Odra remain so perfectly still for so long, save for a few missions where stealth was key. The goblin was a chronic fidgeter. But she was still as Sahsi finished applying paint to each of her nails, and the awe on her face when Sahsi was finished made it all worth it.

“Okay, be still for a bit to let the paint dry.” Sahsi waggled her finger at Odra. “Otherwise you’ll mess up my hard work.”

“Mmhmm,” Odra nodded as she continued to stare at her hands, “I… I don’t know how I feel about this. The lotion has a weird smell, but the color… it’s so… pretty…”

Sahsi giggled as she put away her nail kit. “You can come to my room whenever you want for another manicure. I give them to Sylvia all the time. Your hands look wonderful though, Odra.”

“Thanks,” Odra looked up, and for once the rogue didn’t look like she was being sarcastic or mischief. “Really… thanks.”

Sahsi patted Odra’s head. “No problem. It was great to just hang out and talk with you. Now go show your nails off!”

Odra hopped off the bed and skipped out of the room, humming a strange tune that Sahsi had never heard before.

People really should give more credit to goblins, she figured as she attached the cap to the nail polish pot. They weren’t as beastly as everyone said. She might even argue they had a bit more civility to them.

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