#i do not have the patience or attention span to make a whole meal so i will slowly construct three meals in my stomach throughout the day

[vurelly]

*Rolls up with spices* I heard you have White man cooking skills

i could boil you a mean chicken

[azurethebassist]

random dethklok head canons about cooking

Nathan: is kinda lazy but can cook, he just usually doesn’t want to. like every once in a while, he’ll cook for himself or the guys and it’s not only edible, but tastes amazing! he follows recipes to a T because i don’t see him adding any personal flair or winging it at any point. Nathan seems like he needs clear cut instructions. but usually he doesn’t cook. too much of a hassle. he’ll either have Jean Pierre make something or just slam a whole bag of chips as a meal.

Pickles: i identify strongly with Pickles as someone who also grew up in a place that’s bordering between suburban and rural with white parents that think mayonnaise is too spicy. when he does cook, he usually makes suburban white mom at a block party food. i’m talking taco salad made with Doritos and meat and pretty much nothing else. i’m talking weird spaghettio filled jello. the midwesterner in Pickles compels him to make absolute abominations disguised as recipes. i see Pickles liking cooking and doing it when he’s high and has the munchies but the other guys refuse to eat that shit.

Toki: it’s canon that he’s burned lunchables. a food known for not needing to be heated… i think he likes to cook. he’ll probably try to follow one of Pickles’ weird midwestern mom recipes and fuck it up so bad. poor guy is trying his best. he has the spirit but i think he also has a short attention span and little patience so he ends up burning everything.

Skwisgaar: his mom was usually… busy… when he was growing up so i see him cooking for himself when he was younger. he can cook the basics and then some. he knows how to make a good meal. i think back then, it was a distraction and a comfort. having a nice warm meal is good for the soul, even if it’s just you eating it alone. now that he’s a big famous rockstar, he doesn’t want anything to do with cooking. not because he’s above it, but because he doesn’t want to be reminded of the days when his mother wasn’t there for him and he had to fend for himself.

Murderface: i think the general consensus in the fandom is that Murderface knows how to cook. he can make some good comfort food. his mac n cheese is legendary. he uses so many different cheeses, and he has a certain amount of time he bakes it for, he’s got it down to a science. i think the one thing stopping him from cooking often is that he doesn’t want to seem gay. cooking isn’t manly (in his mind). i don’t think the other guys really think that cooking is gay and they’d rather have Murderface’s fried chicken more often.

[rawbins-undertale-blog]

This is a slight TW question, so feel no obligation to answer:

How would horrortale Sans react to an S/O with an eating disorder?

TW for eating disorder(s) (nearly only ARFID is spoken about, anorexia is mentioned)

If I missed any tags you think I should've included, please tell me.

This may sound a bit strange, but I’ve actually been wanting to write something for this, specifically because I suffer from an eating disorder. I’m not comfortable writing anything with an eating disorder (or any disorder in general) I personally don’t have, mostly because I don’t have the time to give it the proper research it deserves, so I’ll be writing about a lesser known eating disorder, that being ARFID. Let me explain it so people who don’t know what it is will, uh, know what it is lol

ARFID - also commonly called “Selective Eating Disorder” - stands for Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder. A lot of people with it are characterised as being “picky eaters”, but it goes to a point where it’s seriously unhealthy and crosses a line that makes it into something more serious. It has to do with sensory processing issues, rather than self-image issues (though self-image issues could also play a part in it I'm pretty sure, but it’s not the main “motivation”). Most people with ARFID actually wish they could go up in weight, but can’t because they can’t make themselves eat. I, for one, desperately wish I could just eat like a normal person, both because it’s very… not convenient to only have around 20 or less meals I can eat (and that list is slimming down as I grow tired of my safe foods*) and also I’m skinny enough to match Papyrus in looks, which isn’t very confidence-inspiring when you’re supposed to be a human and not a sentient magical skeleton, believe it or not. Whereas a person without ARFID could eat most things, including things they don’t really enjoy eating, somebody with ARFID might not be physically able to. For example, I literally throw up food that I don’t like (and I’ve gagged while eating food I do like due to seeing somebody eat something I don’t like and/or just smelling other food nearby). When I'm to try a new food, I have on more than one occasion gotten anxiety attacks. That’s how bad it can be.

*a "safe food" is food you know you can eat without panicking/throwing up/getting triggered in one way or another

I’ll be basing these HCs off of myself, so keep that in mind. You’re free to point out misinformation (and I, in fact, encourage you to point it out if I somehow got something wrong) but I ask that you stay respectful and don’t make fun of this. I doubt it would happen, but this topic means a lot to me and is really serious. So yeah please don’t be rude or invalidate people. Anyways onto the headcanons (which aren’t in the usual format, sorry if that bothers you)

Dusk (HT Sans) wouldn’t really understand. He’s able to eat pretty much anything (not like he had much of a choice for a while) and food is important… But he’ll try to understand. Especially because he can accommodate you. He’ll be fine eating the same meals, however “boring” they are, over and over because like I said: not a picky eater. Any food is good in his book. So long as you’re not restricting him and his food intake and so long as you aren’t dying from starvation and/or malnutrition, you’re free to do whatever.

It does annoy him when you go to social gatherings and you can’t eat the food because it’s not one of your safe foods. He’s not going to let you just starve yourself when there’s perfectly fine food just waiting for you. Not gonna lie, he’s pretty insensitive the first time this happens. Basically, he’ll pull you over when he notices you’re not eating anything and try to convince you to eat. Starts out really gentle and encouraging, but when you don’t budge he becomes increasingly agitated and insistent until he hisses that you’re making a fuss over nothing. Needless to say, you aren’t thrilled and it starts a pretty serious argument that probably ends with you either leaving, starting to cry or blowing up at him. He feels bad when it’s all said and done and apologises, because he realises after some thought that he wasn’t being helpful and he decided to do more research again. Even if he forgot it all like he did the first time he tried researching ARFID, it would have been worth a shot. After that, he’ll instead pack food with him for you whenever you go somewhere. It doesn’t matter if it’s “socially acceptable”, because like I said, you’re not starving if he’s got something to do with it.

He’ll also, after coming around to realise the best he can do to help you isn’t trying to push you out of your comfort zone forcefully, try to make sure there’s always at least one of your safe foods available. Don’t get me wrong though, he’ll still encourage you to expand on your list of safe foods. He’s got memory issues so he sometimes forgets, which he feels really bad about, but he has multiple alarms set to make sure you eat properly for the most part. (He’s got an alarm for nearly every minute of the day and he has his calendar full of things as mundane as “make sure s/o eats” and “do laundry”, by the way.) I have a tendency to skip lunch because I simply don’t like food, but he’d put a stop to that lol

To summarize, the whole thing with you having an ED starts off with the two of you having a rocky start before Dusk comes around to be really good at handling it.

Anyways sorry if you meant an ED like anorexia. I know most people write about things like that, but like I said: I’m not really up for writing things that I have to pour hours of research into to make sure I portray it respectfully and accurately because I don’t have that time or patience. (Or attention span, tbh.) Also, I literally hadn’t heard of ARFID for like… the majority of my life, I’ve only known it’s a “thing” for like. A few months. I really thought I was the only one who was so picky with my food and it made me feel alone and isolated (ESPECIALLY after I went to a "specialist" (not sure if she was actually a specialist anymore because her technique to get me to eat was to give my a small glass that I'd pour sauce into to try it every time it was served which obviously didn't work lmao) to help me when I was like six and she said she’d “never seen somebody this bad” before not giving me a diagnosis (as far as I know)), so if anybody with undiagnosed ARFID is reading this:

you're not alone. I know it’s difficult to deal with this - it can be humiliating and embarrassing and horrible and terrible in so many ways - but you can do it. It’s so hard, so fucking hard to step out of your comfort zone and try to expand on your list of safe foods, but you can do it. I believe in you. You aren’t alone and you can learn to have a healthier diet, please just try. I’ll be honest in that you’re probably never going to completely overcome this, ARFID is something that likely stays with you forever, but you can make it into a smaller problem. You can turn it into something so much smaller and inconsequential that you won't encounter any more embarrassing situations where you can't eat what you're given. To a point where you won't have to use the excuses "I already ate", "I'm not hungry", etc anymore. It’ll take time and patience, but you can do it. Don’t give up, okay? <3

[casebasket]

Since I absolutely cannot stop thinking about Good Omens, the blessed show, I’m just going to list my favourite things that endlessly swirl inside my mind:

Crowley spends 6000 years tracking Aziraphale so he can swoop in and save his angelic dumbass every time he gets himself into trouble for some crepes and books or when he’s mildly - (mildly!) - inconvenienced or distressed

Aziraphale almost dies for crepes and wow what a mood, what a relatable god damn dumbass, and all Crowley can do is smile 

clearly, Crowley’s considered Aziraphale his friend, his best friend, over the span of six millennia, even when time and time again Aziraphale denies it because he’s fallen so hard in self denial, which speaks to the immense patience Crowley must have, specifically for his angel. Crowley knows Aziraphale likes him, possibly even loves him, even when Aziraphale won’t admit it to himself. Even so, he’s still particularly pleased whenever Aziraphale is happy being with him, to see proof of their companionship 

Crowley keeps urging Aziraphale to run off together and he just says it outright, all the time, they’re on their own side, it’s the two of them, they’re basically a couple, we’RE BEST FRIENDS, and he never runs off by himself 

every time Crowley says any of those things, Aziraphale is shocked by his affection and starts to smile before Angelic Purpose and Ineffable Plans or whatever kicks in and he’s all I DON’T EVEN LIKE YOU but he does and he has for 6000 years, dumbass

the gigantic heart eyes Aziraphale throws at Crowley, constantly, whether it’s saving his dumbass, his dumbass books, his dumbass jacket, his dumbass shakespeare, etc., that he thinks are subtle but he’s clearly gazing longingly. he looks so pleased!! 

Crowley saves Aziraphale’s books and while he’s holding them and looking at Crowley longingly a romantic string quartet plays in the background???

the absolute happiness on Aziraphale’s face when he sensed Crowley behind him while he was imprisoned for crepes

“you go too fast for me, Crowley” woah, dumbass hits home, hurts everyone’s souls, turns table on sunglasses dumbass,

the sadness, almost grief, when he says those words - Crowley has probably always known he loved Aziraphale (and hates that fact but begrudgingly accepts) but Aziraphale has never been ready to accept it, and even when he begins to their diametrically opposed circumstance prohibits him from accepting it, regardless of how many times Crowley’s shown his affection, how steadfast he is in their friendship. In some ways, Crowley will always be miles ahead of Aziraphale, who tends to stay put and delight in his old books, old clothes, hide in old virtues. 

and wow Crowley’s super soft when Aziraphale gives him the holy water, and he doesn’t know how to react at all when Aziraphale sadly, softly mutters  those words

I can’t BELIEVE his threat to Crowley is that he’ll never talk to him again while holding a god damn flaming smiting sword, and Crowley regards that as more threatening than the god damn flaming smiting sword, and stops time itself just so Aziraphale will still pay attention to him, like how flippin whipped can you get 

alternatively, Aziraphale saw the slight flinch when he raised his sword at Crowley and immediately put it back down and threatened him with something equally if not more effective

Crowley literally crying to Aziraphale because he lost him, and all Aziraphale says is a slightly uncomfortable “I’m sorry to hear that”, as if he doesn’t quite believe he’s the source of Crowley’s grief because how could he be? but also he 100% knows its about him, Crowley grieves for him, and in the moment he couldn’t take it, resorts to platitudes, clamming up and not thinking about how much Crowley loves him, how much he loves him back. demon, angel, dumbass denial.

Crowley walks out of the flaming bookshop, thinking his best friend has died, and “Somebody to Love” plays in the background LMAO

Aziraphale experiencing his own frantic sense of loss when he witnesses the angels dragging Crowley away

Aziraphale happily dancing the gavotte. what a dork. gay

Crowley basically pole dancing with a gigantic pin. also gay

Aziraphale so angry and scared about Crowley and holy water, about Crowley possibly dying forever, that they don’t meet for another century, and they only see each other again because Aziraphale is getting killed by nazis and Crowley can’t let that happen. And then Crowley saves him and his dumb books and after that Aziraphale gives him holy water next time so Crowley wouldn’t get hurt when he tries getting it himself 

their respective human ‘agent’ is the same idiot. dumbasses

they had absolutely no hand in raising Adam, who turned out fine. the one they did raise, on the other hand, is kind of an asshole. lol they’re so dumb

Aziraphale’s puppy face when he tries to implore Crowley to do something. it’s disgusting how effective it is. Crowley is weak.

Crowley claims to hate Aziraphale’s human magic shows but he’s also exasperatedly fond when he watches it. WEAK

Aziraphale is a DORK and Crowley LOVES IT. WEAK!!

Aziraphale did a stupid thing giving away the fire sword and shaded him from rain and Crowley’s dumbass has loved him since

“you’re so clever! how can anyone as clever as you be so stupid?” Crowley calling Aziraphale out on his denying dumbass

‘angel’ is a pet name

people rightfully mistaken them as dumb husbands

Crowley basically breaks up with him and Aziraphale stands there on the side walk, devastated 

they don’t say thank you, they just take each other out to meals

laughing together

Crowley worries over what Azirapahle thinks of his name. He cares about that detail. “You don’t like it?”

Crowley says “you can stay at my place if you like” with such hope in his voice, what a soft dumbass

Crowley smiles when Aziraphale slips up and says stuff like “let me tempt you” or “i’ll be damned”. Aziraphale smiles whenever Crowley is nice.

Aziraphale has his bookstore full of the things he loves for him to indulge in, Crowley has his bentley full of Queens music for him to escape. One stands still, the other rides fast. One is sentiment for human things heaven cares not for, the other is a sort of freedom from hell. Both feels safe, are shared with only the other, and when set on fire, are mourned. 

they go on lunch dates like all the time and gaze at each other, softly.

“i know what YOU smell like!” he knows what he smells like

Crowley calls him a bastard and Aziraphale just gives him a shyly pleased look. He’s so pleased, the soft dumbass

so i guess like, the entire show

in conclusion i believe you can interpret their love in any myriad of ways, romantic, platonic, eternally entwined, transcendent of any of our human labels, all encompassing, every love imaginable, all at once. They love each other, and they’re probably in love with each other, whatever that means to them, in the sense that it will always be the two of them against whatever else. In the whole universe, they’ve got each other. They’re stupidly fond of each other, to a point beyond their understanding of the world. 

also they’re a pair of dumbasses

update when I think of more

edit update:

whenever the burned bookshop is brought up Crowley is immediately on high alert softness, ready to console and hug and picking up on aziraphale’s every reaction trying to make him feel better, SOFT

[bayern-moni]

Pair Questions part 1/2 featuring Gin and Aizen

This time no ship intended, but it will be rectified in another post. Enjoy ~

Who steals the covers at night?

Gin. He's a cold blooded creature, literally and metaphorically. His skin always feels too cold not to bury himself in the covers for all the span of that goddamned season. He doesn't care if his claim on the covers leaves his unfortunate bedmate damned to a frosty fate all night, nor does he have problems to brutally kick out of bed whoever tried to make fun of him by putting a cold foot in the vicinity of his own. He is selfish like that and doesn't know remorse. Or maybe, he could feel sorry if that other person were the cute Izuru-chan (but then his most sadistic part would revel in the wait until his too respectful Lieutenant'd overcome his qualms and actually start to fight for the covers) or he could decide to suffer himself the cold and leave the blanket to Rangiku like he did when they lived in that shack as kids, but if that other person happened to be Aizen, then he'd have absolutely no qualms about it. The dark-haired shinigami could and would die of frostbite before Gin actually accepted to give up that pleasurable warmth. After all, the wannabe god is too superior to actually lower himself to start a pillow fight to get it or start listing actual reasons why he had a greater right than his second (stressing that word too much for his taste) to be covered by the blanket, wasn't he?

But ... was he?

Who cooks normally?

Aizen. There'd be a cold day in hell before he let this change. It took him too many years to get his little Lieutenant to understand the difference between 'survival food' and 'actual food' to afford now to have him fall back into his old habits. And the Rei-o knows what he'd do If he decided to purposely mess with the first kind of food to get a good laugh at Aizen's horrified face. Again. How could he forget that time when, during the first days of his training under Aizen's tutelage, Gin decided to thank him for his supposed generosity with a 'sumptuous lunch' (his words)? Go trust that little hellchild. Aizen's stomach wanted to vomit only at the memory of it. When the pest put the plate full of mice and insects, "killed just for the occasion" said proudly the child, in front of him he was torn between the the strong impulse to throw up and the need to examine closely Gin's body language to discern if he sincerely believed that was a satysfing meal or if he just exploited his Rukongai upbringing to make him suffer. Probably the latter.

... And those awful dried persimmons...

When he looked at the genuinely expecting and just a tad mischievous look the kid was giving him, he understood it was a balanced mix of the two. Right then, he decided two things:

Gin would never be allowed to get close to his kitchen again without a real, convincing and absolutely necessary life-or-death reason;

He had to take the problem in his own hands because: first, no way that the future king of the three worlds will ever eat something like that, ever, and, secondly, it was his duty to bring that too scrawny and bony hellion to health.

He could not have his future second in command be weak or die because of the consequences of starvation before he could make himself useful to him. It was a pragmatic matter. Regardless of all the times that moron of Hirako made fun of his attempts because "aren't you too old to play family, Sousuke-kun?" or "did you really adopt the kid, don't you? How 'cute'!". It was just that. But then he continued to encourage Gin's insatiable appetite until he was satisfied with his now not dangerous weight and even found that he really liked cooking for both of them, it was a relaxing hobby for his abused patience. Kaname's recipes and passion for cooking helped, too.

Nickname for each other?

Hellion. Wanna-be-God. Reptilian calamity. Overdramatic narcissist. And so on. Not very difficult saying who's what.

What would they get each other for gift?

Kamishini no Yari's poison A guide on "how to survive your obsessed fangirls and still look cool". A set of dried sweet potatoes to thank him for the time Gin raided his fridge of all its contents and filled it with 12 kilos of hard-boiled eggs. How he managed to put them there without making the fridge explode was beyond him, but still. He'd be sure to make Gin pay for it.

What would they do if the other one was hurt?

It depends. On what, you'd ask. It's quite simple. It depends on who is responsible for the other's wound/hurt. If it were each other, then they'd be perfectly cool with it and not bother too much for it, just plot a gruesome revenge (the other isn't so weak and unproud to make a big deal out of something so trivial like hurt, isn't he? And if they were, it'd mean that they're not worth of the other's attention like they believed). If the culprit were not one of them, though, that person would probably be eviscerated or severally maimed before they could even complete the thought "I did it!". Because only they had the right (and the power) to wound or kill the other. None of them would ever let someone else in the way of this challenge between them.

Who remember things?

Both. They have entire metaphorical archives full of blackmailing material in organized folders against each other, carefully collected for more than 109 years. Aizen-taicho hates boiled eggs, Gin felt betrayed by sweet potatoes, Aizen would never go out without having checked the exact angle of his hair lock at least twice at minute, Gin becomes skittish every time Matsumoto or that bratty Lieutenant of his come in the picture, Aizen secretly fears Hinamori's obsession with him, etc...

They both made a mental note to remember that each of these things could be useful, sooner or later.

Their thoughts on the whole Fangirl and ships topic?

Disturbing. Fascinating and distur - Hinamori! For the umpteenth time, I'm fine and no, I don't need anything. You did a great job and you can go now! - bing.

Who cusses more?

Surprisingly enough, Aizen. Actually, Gin is the one that cusses frequently, steadily and on daily basis, but only for the fun of annoying Izuru's, Aizen's and Kuchiki-taicho's noble sensibility. But when he's in that mood that makes other people cuss, he'll communicate it with icy glares, a sharper edged grin or a overall crueler behavior. On the other hand, Aizen is the one that pledges himself as above things like annoyance, rage and (especially) a "crude language so beneath my godlike status caused by irrelevant emotions like irritation", as Gin decided to put it to make fun of him. But when he's really pissed like when Urahara doesn't take action, ruins his plans or Gin writes obscene kanjis on the board during his calligraphy lessons, he'll lose all control on his legendary composure and start cussing like a sailor. Hopefully, Kyoka Suigetsu prevents people from noticing it.

How often do they fight?

As a serious fight? Once every hundred and nine years, but it's "until death do us part". As just a way to kill time? Very very often, but it's never beyond a good deal of verbal jabs. You could almost consider it as their own fond way of saying hi to each other.

Are there any foods that make their stomach upset?

For Gin, no, there aren't. At least, Aizen has been conducting a research on the topic since the infamous lunch with still no result worth of notice. Ichimaru hates some foods, doesn't like others, but, by now, his stomach's completely anesthetized even to Rangiku's cooking after being subjected to it for so many years. And that's saying something, as far as Aizen is concerned. Not that he meant to imply anything about Matsumoto's cooking abilities, of course. Overall, he'd gulp down anything if needed.

Aizen instead is very picky about his food. He's a perfectionist here, like in every other aspect of his life. There's nothing able to upset his stomach, though. And even if there was, he'd never tell a soul. Ever. Gin had not to be encouraged to do anything stupid against him, no matter what.

Who's the most irritable during an hungover?

Gin. Aizen doesn't drink anything but his beloved tea and the occasional sip of fine wine. But Gin during an hungover is something Aizen wouldn't wish on anyone, not even Yamamoto or the Rei-o. A hissy, horribly-moody, vengeful cat you just woke by stepping on its tail is a cutie puppy in comparison to him. Really, it happened once and Aizen swore Gin should never end up with nothing more alcoholic than a glass of water, never again, for his own sanity's sake. Fortunately, Gin found that if he ate a dried persimmon after the drink he shared with his dear Rangiku, he couldn't get hungover. Still to this day, Aizen wasn't entirely convinced of the scientific accuracy of this theory, but given that it didn't happen anymore, he was willing to give him credit for it.

Have they ever tried to ruin the other's dates?

Life in Soul Society is particularly monotonous. This is a fact everyone agreed with and what's at the core of the matter. So, yes, they did, but only when paperwork became so painstakingly boring that it could be seen as something funny to do. Particularly, Aizen loved calling secret meetings between himself, Kaname and Gin as soon as he knew, because he did know, that Gin was in the middle of an especially good moment during a date with Rangiku (or even during a friendly walk with that Kira) just because Aizen could. On the other hand, Gin loved making fun of Aizen's utterly missing and more-dead-than-Omaeda's love life, despite the fact that half of shinigami and the recruits desired him and the other half either belonged to Byakuya fanclub or were just lying to themselves. So, he did not so much ruin Aizen's dates as he did try to set him up with absurd dates with psychotic and obsessed fangirls and fanboys that always left Aizen baffled at how much he had underestimated people' crazyness. An "I care about your love life, taicho, I try to find a good date for you because we can't have you become an old grumpy overlord with a dog as your only company at night, can we?" my ass. Bratty moron.

[p-artsypants]

Longest Night (32)- Listening

I’m so sorry for this chapter being late.

We switched to a new system at work, and I’m a sort of Adobe Creative Cloud expert in the office, so I had to learn the new system, and then prepare to teach it to everyone else, who were in the same meetings that I was in, but didn’t understand. This has made for several weeks of 10-12 hour long days. Gettin’ that bread tho!!

I had a chapter mostly finished, then I realized I was skipping a bunch of stuff, so I had to take time to really hash out the order of the next half of the story. Hopefully, my vague ideas won’t change too much. lol

I started a new blog, dedicated to sharing works that have been harassed on Ao3 by a certain anon. If you or a friend have received repeated, unwanted harassment by a certain troll, please feel free to reach out to me @lilaanonsupportgroup. The goal is to create a safe place to share fics and drown out unwanted comments.

Thank you all for your patience!  

Ao3 | FF.net

—

Pierre Rouso was not a praying man. He was a criminal, with a charge list the length of his arm. But he was completely and utterly done as of tonight. The bald camera man sat in his holding cell, crying his eyes and guilt out, praying for forgiveness. He had participated with the police chief, just as he promised, and led everyone down to the Bunker in the Catacombs. He handed over passwords, combinations to locks, found every key he knew of, and did everything he could to make up for the injustice of his actions.

Seven prisoners were recovered from the bunker, all huddled into ambulances and taken to hospitals. Families were contacted, and missing person cases were closed.

All in the span of one night.

It was terrifying, and Pierre knew he was traumatized.

He awaited his fate in the holding cell at the precinct, though it was more of a formality than anything. The police chief had assured him that his cooperation was greatly appreciated and would reflect well on him when trial came.

He got his one phone call, and instead of calling his parents or friends, anyone that he knew would listen to him, he decided to call his kid sister.

He got her voicemail. “Elise? It’s Pierre. I know you…you’re disappointed with me. I really let you down. I’m supposed to be an example to you, but so far, I’ve only been an example of what not to do.” He swallowed. “I just wanted to let you know, I’m sorry. I’ve really messed up, and I got tied up with the wrong crowd, trying to get my life turned around. Sort of…an Ursula from the Little Mermaid situation. I made things worse, and…well, I might be going back to prison. You’ll probably hear about it on the news.” He choked, the truth getting caught in his throat. But he vomited it out anyway. “I was…involved in the Ladybug and Chat Noir incident. I didn’t want to be, but Salo said if I didn’t—she would—she knew mom and dad’s address. Knew yours too. I felt so helpless. I just needed to confess to you. You probably won’t believe me. You…probably think I’m a failure as a brother. I sure feel like one. But, ever since that night you cut me off, I vowed to turn things around. I wanted you to be proud of me. Because I love you, and I’m so so proud of you. You’re a great kid, and the best sister a guy could ask for. I don’t ask for forgiveness. Just…understanding. I’m…I’m at the police precinct right now. This is my one phone call. Maybe I should have called Ma,” he chuckled. “But I couldn’t stop myself. I was just through hell. I don’t know if you saw the news. I was the person behind the camera. I don’t know why Ladybug spared me, but I didn’t want to waste another moment. I had to tell you. You hear me, Elise? Don’t waste anytime either. If there’s anything you want to do, do it.” He let out a shuttering breath. “Maybe, if you’re feeling generous, could you let ma and pa know? I know that’s asking a lot. I’m sorry to burden you.”

The phone beeped, a warning that he was running out of time.

“But I love you. I will never stop loving you. Even if you never talk to me again. That’s fine. Go out there and be amazing. Um…I’m going to hang up now. Bye.”

It was an awkward way to end the message, but he had to. Or else he’d go into more rambling apologies and ‘I love you’s. Not necessarily a bad thing, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her.

That was several hours ago, after he had returned from his tour of the bunker. Then he was allowed to wash up, cleaning the blood from his face and arms. His clothes were stained, but there was nothing to do about it.

He waited then. Officers letting brief updates float around the room. Edward Savauge had been murdered, his body hoisted from the Arc de Triomphe like a trophy. Lady Lacrima and Grimalkin faced off against the auxiliary heroes and Hawkmoth.

Several more hours passed before a group of three banged up kids were brought into his holding cell with him.

“What happened to you boys?” Pierre asked, noticing the way they trembled.

“There’s two akuma on the loose.” Said one of the boys. “It was just supposed to…we just wanted the money in the cash register. Easy, right? But I had no idea that he was there.”

“Who?”

“Chat Noir. Or…who used to be Chat Noir. Sent one of us to the hospital.”

Pierre grunted. “You’re lucky that’s all he did.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“I mean…I saw what those two are capable of. They killed a room full of people without breaking a sweat. This blood? It’s not mine. You should thank your lucky stars.”

Then, a rush of red Ladybugs filtered passed the cell, lifting the blood from his clothes, and easing the soreness in the boys.

Pierre sighed as a cheer went up through the Precinct. “It’s over. It’s finally over.”  

—

Nadja was exhausted, if not completely traumatized. She had been the one to volunteer to follow the Ladybug and Chat Noir story. So she had been on high alert with the van at any moment, ready to get a shot of the akumas in person.

But Lady Lacrima’s demonstration at the Arc de Triomphe was beyond horrible. It was scary, vial, and evil. Everything that Ladybug wasn’t. Later, she would find out that the cameras had turned away from the bodies as soon as they were revealed. They only captured Lady Lacrima’s speech, and the wails of the crowd surrounding them.

But it was over now.

The Miraculous Cure had run it’s course through Paris, correcting everything since they were first akumatized. It even fixed the damage caused by the wrecking ball akuma that started this whole mess.

She had even seen Marinette and Adrien loaded in the stretchers with her own eyes.

The hospital was silent. No one was allowed any information without clearance. So Nadja went home, finally. She’d monitor her phone and the Ladyblog. Someone would say something eventually, right?

—

Chloe had been helpful for once. She arrived at the hospital waiting room with her butler loaded up like a pack-mule.

“Alya, Nino, your backpacks.” She announced, holding out the bags.

“Thanks Chloe, you’re a real lifesaver!” Alya said honestly, noting her laptop was safely tucked inside.

“I know. Mrs. Cheng, I brought your purse with your phone chargers.”  

“Thank you dear.”

“And Mr. Agreste,” she said with some level of coldness. “I brought the project that was in your office. Sorry if it’s wrinkled.”

“That’s fine Chloe. I can iron it.” He said, coming to take the hefty bag from the butler.

“That will be all, Jean-Pierre.”

“Yes, Miss Bourgeois.” He bowed before leaving the room. He technically wasn’t cleared to be in the room anyways.

Chloe plopped into a chair by Alya and Nino. “Any word?”

“Not any more than what I texted you.” Alya sighed. “Adrien’s still in surgery.”

“And Marinette?”

“She’s in recovery.” Stated Sabine. “We’re not allowed to see her yet.”

Chloe ‘hmph’ed, crossing her arms. “I suppose I’ll just have to be patient then.”

“You? Patient?” teased Alya.

“I’ve been known to be patient! On occasion!”

“Sure Chloe, I believe you.” Nino said in a slightly sarcastic tone.

Chloe knew they meant none of it. She was happy she had become something akin to friends with them since this started. Not close friendship, but…she could tolerate a few meals together, and what they had affectionately called ‘sleepovers’ which were just watching the stream and strategizing. When this was all over, and Adrien and Marinette were back to their old selves again, she might even be persuaded to hang out with all of them, as a group.

Her, Alya, and Marinette could get mani-pedis. Heck, Adrien would probably be game for that too.

Yes, when this was all over, and everything went back to normal, they’d all have a lot of fun together. It would be great!

Pollen left her purse and settled on the chair with the other kwamis. Wayzz and Trixx were playing a card game, and Pollen joined.

But Tikki and Plagg were much too solemn to do anything.

“I should be with him.” Plagg stated, agitated, for the 100th time.

“You heard the doctor.” Tikki scolded softly. “Adrien’s immune system is down. Any germs could be detrimental to him.”

“I don’t have germs.” Plagg hissed.

“Oh yeah? So that wasn’t you who contracted fleas in the 12th century and spread a plague that wiped out a 1/3 of Europe in 6 years? That was another ‘Plagg’ of whom the name was attributed?”

Plagg hissed at her and curled in on himself. “I didn’t ask you.”

“Plagg, I know you love Adrien, but you have to let the doctors work.”

“I am!” He argued. “There’s not a lock in this world that can stop me from being with him, and I want to be there so so badly! But I know modern medicine is better than what I can do for him…”

Sabine listened to the quiet sobbing of the cat for a moment, before deciding she couldn’t take it anymore. Delicately, she scooped him up in her hand, and then delicately started to pet him.

“Not scared you’ll get the plague?” He snarked.

“Not a bit,” she returned, scratching between his ears.

Just like Adrien would do.

He nestled into her hands, and tried to sleep, knowing that time would pass quicker that way.

Nino’s attention was directed over to Mr. Agreste. No one had paid him much attention since Plagg chewed him out. But he looked like he was getting down to work with something.

He had a wooden ring with some light pink fabric stretched across it. In the basket next to him, he had a spool of rose gold thread that he was threading through the palette.

“Mr. Agreste…are you doing needlepoint?”

“Yes,” he said, undeterred. “I’m working on a present for Marinette.”

That was surprising.

“I didn’t know you could embroider.” Noted Alya. “Marinette gushed about your work all the time. I don’t think she knew either.”

“Well, you didn’t know I was Hawkmoth. I guess I’m just full of surprises.”

The weird tension in the room was destroyed as Tom busted out laughing, nearly falling out of his chair. “I-I’m sorry!” He managed out, still chuckling. “I was just not expecting that from you!”

“Like I said,” Gabriel spoke, eyes not even leaving his project. “Full of surprises.”

“Can I see what you’re doing?” Asked Alya.

“I’m afraid not. This is a surprise after all. I want her to be the first one to see it.”

“I’m sure she’ll love it.” Said Sabine, genuine.

Alya took her laptop out of her bag, resting it on the table in the corner. “Alright, I suppose it’s time I start my project as well.”

“What project, babe?” Asked Nino.

“I’m going to update the Ladyblog with news from the last few days. Nadja asked me to share what I can. Apparently, the world has gone stir crazy for news. I’ve even been contacted by the Associated Press.”

“That’s awesome!” Sabine cheered. “To be contacted by an international news group!”

Alya smiled softly.  “You know, when I first started the blog, I dreamed of being Ladybug’s best friend. I imagined following her and Chat and helping them so much that I got to be her friend. When I got to be Rena, it was the dream come true. She had asked me to join! And then…I found out she was Marinette. I laid awake one night just remembering all the crazy things I said about Ladybug to her face. The wild fan theories, demanding that she get with Chat Noir, the evidence I had for her identity. So many times, Marinette said ‘are you sure you should post that?’ and I completely ignored her. How was that being a friend?”

Nino sighed, “babe, you gotta stop beating yourself up. You didn’t know she was Ladybug. No one did. She didn’t expect you to act any different.”

Alya understood where he was coming from, and what he was trying to tell her, but it didn’t dissuade her doubts. “I’m going to draft a post. Then I’ll let you guys read it and tell me what you think.”

“Sounds reasonable,” stated Gabriel.

Alya got to work, clacking out a message.  

Sabine dug around in her purse for her phone charger, but found two items that had been placed on top. “Oh!” She said as she pulled out the handmade dolls.

“They were on Adrien’s bed.” Chloe explained. “I thought they might want them.”

“I’m sure that’ll make being separated for a little while easier on them.”

Plagg rose, not able to sleep with conversation in the room. His stomach rumbled, and he cursed it. “I’m hungry,” he stated.

Gabriel put his project to the side. “What do you eat?”

Plagg cast him a skeptical glance.

“I have the ring right now, so it’s my responsibility to feed you. Come on, let’s go down to the food court.”

Begrudgingly, Plagg followed, somehow feeling like there was more to this than appeared.

They were silent as they went down to the food court, following the same format he had taken with Nino. Though Nino had be easier to talk to, as he had been more willing to give him a second chance. This kwami wasn’t giving him an inch.

“Do you think it’s smart to be floating out here in the open?” Gabriel reprimanded.

“Bite me.”

“I’m just trying to—“

“Do nothing. I’m capable of finding food on my own. But I assume you had a reason to escort me. So I’ll let you tag along. But don’t talk to me until I eat. And don’t tell me what to do.”

Gabriel blinked at the ancient being. “Yes sir.”

It was the middle of the night, and all the kiosks were closed. But there were still vending machines. Plagg flitted between them, and found what he was looking for. “I want A3.”

“Popcorn?”

“An adequate substitute for my cheese.”

“What happened to being able to fend for yourself?” He asked as he took out his wallet.

“I can. But I know Adrien hates it when I take food without asking or paying.”

“Ah, I see.”

The cafeteria was devoid of people, which made things silent, save for the hum of the microwave and popping kernels.

Gabriel took a seat at a table by a window. The courtyard was alight with little lights illuminating sculptures and plants. A very peaceful, healing environment. A lovely garden that Marinette and Adrien might enjoy later.

A bag of popcorn flopped on the table. Plagg dove in, rustling the bag, and munching on his snack.

A few minutes passed before he came back out. “Okay. I’ve digested your apology and your reasoning. While I am still extremely angry for hurting Adrien, I am willing to listen to what you have to say.”

“I’m grateful.”

“I’ve concluded, that in the history of mankind, what you’ve done is evil and cruel. But not the worst I’ve seen. I’ve had wielders more evil than you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I had a guy who ate his own baby.” He shuddered. “I had forgotten about that.”

Gabriel blinked. “That’s awful!”

“Well, it was part of the culture back then. Anyways, now you know the bar is really low.”

“Good to know, I suppose…”

Plagg ate some more popcorn before Gabriel finally cleared his throat.

“First, I’d like to thank you for taking care of Adrien these last few years.”

Plagg scoffed. “It wouldn’t have been a problem if you had just done your job.”

“That’s what I mean.” Gabriel insisted. “I wasn’t in the right place to be a father. Even if I put the effort in to be with Adrien, I wouldn’t have been kind or affectionate to him.” Gabriel fisted his hands, looking Plagg in his ancient eyes. “I hated him.”

Plagg stared, wide eyed. “What? How could you say that?”

“I need to be honest with you. For Adrien’s sake.”

Plagg watched him, considering, but stayed silent.

“He looks just like Emilie. He takes after her more than he does me. After she was gone, it became more evident. His smile, his eyes, his laugh, it was like…looking a painful reminder that she was gone. And of course, he didn’t know that she could be saved. He just grieved, and he still mourned, but I watched him grow. He made friends, hung out with their families…And I couldn’t stand it. Why wasn’t he in misery like me? Why was he so optimistic? So hopeful? I thought all sorts of horrible things about him. Assuming he was forgetting her. I’m sure that was the depression telling me that.

“The butterfly miraculous gives me heightened empathy. I knew exactly what everyone around me was feeling. So even when he was schooled into professionalism, I could tell what he was feeling inside. And…it felt better to me to make him sad.”

“You know, some people might categorize that into sociopathy.”

“That would make sense. Am I awful then? A terrible father?” Plagg crunched on mouthful of popcorn as he considered it. “Yes, you are a terrible father. I wish you could have found this out about yourself earlier in life before you had Adrien. Do you think you were always like this? Tell me about your childhood.”

Gabriel ran his fingers through his hair. “When did this turn into a therapy session?”

“When I decided I needed to further analyze you before letting you near Adrien again. Now, go on.”

“Well…I suppose to some degree, I’ve always gained some satisfaction from people’s suffering. It…really culminated when my little brother died when we were kids. My parents were inconsolable, but I was just angry because they stopped paying attention to me. They never got over it.”

“You were never sad that your brother died?”

“I was, a little. I think I might have cried. But, not like my mother did.”

“Did you have a lot of friends?”

He screwed up his lips. “I think there were a lot of kids who liked me and thought I was their friend. But I didn’t really care to stay in contact with them as I got older.”

“Ever feel lonely?”

“Only after Emilie left.” He admitted. “She was the only one I felt like I was equal with. That’s why I was so desperate to get her back.”

“Ever have trouble with the law before Hawkmoth?”

Gabriel got quiet again. “People had trouble with the law because of me.”

Plagg narrowed his eyes. “I know you think you’re better than others. You’re cold, and you shirk familial obligations. You manipulate and threaten people to get them to do what you want. You justify your destructive behavior, no matter how hurtful it is to yourself or others. Does that sound right?”

Gabriel didn’t answer.

“But wait!” Said Nooroo, flying out of Gabriel’s jacket. “He’s been a lot better lately.”

Plagg blinked at the newcomer. “I forgot you were in there.”

“I was sleeping.”

“What do you mean he’s been better?”

“He was really accommodating to Marinette’s parents, and Alya and Nino! He’s thought about their safety and he’s been really nice to them!”

“Is it because it’s the right thing, or the smart thing?” Asked Plagg.

Gabriel winced. “It’s…what Adrien would have wanted.”

“Ah, I think I see a solution here.” Plagg finished the last few kernels. “You may be around Adrien, but you have to judge your behavior on what you think he would like. Which would be painful, considering you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him.” Gabriel clarified. “I did, at one point. But, as soon as his mask dissolved on the screen—“ Gabriel trembled violently, as if the memory had grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “It was like I had been punched in the heart. Everything just—hit me. Like…everything I had done had caused this. Every missed dinner, every short comment…”

“Guilt?”

“It felt like I was awake for the first time in my life. Like I was omniscient to all the things I had done. Keenly aware of every piece I had played. And that my actions weren’t as self contained as I thought. I can’t explain it.”

“You became aware that Adrien was a person.” Plagg stated. “A person just like you.”

Gabriel covered his mouth. His eyes wide with horror at the thought.

“You’ve got work to do, Gabriel. I’m not the one who’s going to fix you. You have to do it yourself, for Adrien’s sake.”

The man just nodded his head. He looked nauseous.

“What did you want to tell me? You brought me out here, after all.”

Gabriel couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

Plagg was right. Absolutely right. Adrien hadn’t been a son to him. He was a trophy, a pawn.

A toy.

And the realization of that evil was crippling.

But Plagg just sat at the table licking the salt and butter off the bag as the man had a complete meltdown in front of him.

“Don’t you think that was a little harsh?” Asked Nooroo.

“What? No. Why don’t you ask him what you were to him? See if he can lie and call you a friend.”

But Gabriel already had his hands around Nooroo, holding him gently. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

“You’re getting better.” Nooroo assured, petting his cheek. “I forgive you.”

It was still many minutes before Gabriel could speak. He patted his face with his handkerchief. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Please don’t apologize for feeling emotion.” Plagg groaned. “I have to tell Adrien that all the time. Probably a trait he got from you.”

“Undoubtably.” Gabriel whispered. He swallowed hard, and took out his phone. “This is something I wanted to show you. I have to show you. It happened while you were dormant. I get no pleasure from showing you this, understand?”

Plagg was skeptical, but allowed him to turn the screen to him.

The footage was in green, showing a sickly and terrified Adrien. Plagg recoiled at the sight.

Then Gabriel pressed play.

“Plagg! Plagg!” Adrien screamed as he beat on the door. “Plagg!”

Gabriel fast forward, only for the scene to stay the same. Same scream, same pounding on the door, same begging, pleading.

“Plagg!”

Fast forward more.

“Plagg!”

The timestamp went up by minutes, and then hours.

“Plagg!”

On and on, never stopping.

“Plagg!”

Until his voice gave out.

Plagg just stared, eyes brimming with tears. “Why would you show me that? Why the hell would you show me that!?”

“I don’t know what his reaction will be to seeing you. But if it’s negative, I want you to know why. We’ll explain it to him. But you have to know…”

“You’re a sick and twisted man, Gabriel Agreste. I don’t envy you.”

And he floated off without another word.

—

Oh.

He was very tired.

Very tired and very in pain.

There was pressure on his chest, and strange voices all around.

He cracked open his eyes. A bright light.

Cold. Metal. Under his fingertips.

Paralyzed. He couldn’t move. But, maybe, if he could tilt his head forward just enough.

Oh.

That was a lot of blood.

A lot of blood.

His blood?

Yes. Quite.

And…bones. And tools. Sticking out of his chest. Whoa-oh.

“Oh shit. He’s awake. Dr. Boucher?”

His eyes shot to the speaker. A woman with red hair and reflective sunglasses.

Salo.

“Adrien? Adrien can you hear me?”

His eyes flicked to the other voice. Another Salo. And another next to her! A whole room of them!

“Adrien, you’re in surgery. Just relax.”

What were they doing!?

What was going on!?

Why was it so hard to breathe!?

“You’re going through anesthesia awareness. We’re going to get you back to sleep, okay?”

He couldn’t trust anything this woman-these women were saying.

Why did that one sound like a man?

Was that blood?!

But before he could panic anymore, a haze took him and he fell back to sleep.

[cuorepietoso]

Things you said when you met my parents / Things you said but not out loud

requested by and ft. @lavolumnia ( and ft. baby @ohcoriolanus a little bit )

          July, 2003.

     He finally gets her to agree to come over and eat-- they’ve known each other for a year, now, and every time he’d ask she would get that same hunted look, think up an excuse, and beg off. Cryus isn’t feeling well, or I have some business to attend to. It had been feeling more and more like trying get a stray to come in out of the cold, and all the patience that entails, than it felt like inviting a friend to his family’s table. The hollow of her cheekbones hasn’t filled out in all the time he’s known her, she still has the sharp wariness of a lone hunter, protecting her cub and clawing for survival. But she seems happier now, calmer. More willing to accept the kindness of others, and to eat from his table.

     They arrive on time: 7:30pm, he drags her to their door with Cyrus perched on his broadening shoulders. He didn’t anticipate the tense silence-- a Capulet and a Capulet, face to face in a setting that has nothing at all to do with work. That was a miscalculation on his part, but in his father’s case he couldn’t exactly warn him that the young woman he was dragging into their house was in the same fucking crime family, and with Vivianne… well, he kind of just assumed she would already know. His mother is gracious at least, greeting Vivianne and then doting on Cyrus immediately, drawing the boy from his perch with a delighted coo. Battista’s shoulders relax minutely, but his father and Vivianne continue to eye each other like two hungry wolves, sizing the other up. His father, perhaps a little nervous at having his other life show up so abruptly on their doorstep, trailing behind his mischievous son, and Vivianne with the air of a hawk eyeing its next meal. A way to armor herself, to convince herself she doesn’t give a damn what the Tahans think of her. 

     “Baba, Mama, this is Vivianne Sloane and her son, Cyrus-- Did you make lamb tonight?” Battista makes a show of sniffing the air and pressing forward into the apartment, pulling the young woman behind him along by the wrist. Vincenzo Tahan steps back easily at the light pressure on his arm despite his bulk, and then remembers his manners. 

     “Signorina,” he sounds a little gruff, but not impolite, and then turns to Battista and lets the warm pride bleed through the initial wall of anxiety. “Yes, hamud, with rice and red sauce.” He laughs when his son excitedly punches the air, and with one last nervous look cast to the girl half his age, he steps back into the cramped kitchen. Battista’s brows pinch, and when he turns back to Vivianne she very briefly looks stricken. Uncomfortable. 

     His mother, bless her soul, stands long enough to breeze close and kiss her on each cheek in greeting once Cyrus decides to shy from her attentions, hiding behind Battista’s leg before darting to Vivianne’s, pressing his chubby little face against her hip. Vivianne has to lean down to receive the affection from the boisterous woman-- Shoshanna Tahan barely reaches five feet. Battista gamely recieves the same treatment, and then wraps her up in a hug around the shoulders that makes her laugh before she pulls away and pats him on the cheek. 

     “Dinner is almost ready, bambini. Battista, show Vivianne the washroom, your father and I will set the table.” Within the span of two sentences, her voice goes from sugary sweet to a gentle command, and nearly before she’s finished her sentence, Battista is herding Vivianne and Cyrus through the tiny apartment with a soft ‘yes mama’. 

     The bathroom is only a few steps down the hall, and even though the three of them are far from large, they fill it nearly to the brim as they take their turns washing their hands-- Battista holds Cyrus up by the armpits while Vivianne helps him wash his, and then takes his turn last. There’s a tense silence for a moment. 

          He finds his courage. “Are you… alright?”

     She glances at him sharply, one hand firm at the nape of Cyrus’ neck to keep him from wandering around their small flat. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

     A one-shouldered shrug. “It’s only ever you and Cyrus and your weird, rich boyfriend. You know? And I know my parents are a lot to deal with in general.” 

     Her glance this time is one of reproach, as she lifts Cyrus to settle on her hip. “They aren’t ‘a lot’, they seem very kind.” Mercifully, he refrains on commenting on the fact that this may, in fact, be what’s overwhelming her. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed by them.”

     Battista opens his mouth to argue, and then snaps it shut with a loud ‘click’ of his teeth. He’d been close to arguing that he wasn’t embarrassed by them, he just knew they could come across as a little strange, overbearingly nice-- but, well. That’d just prove her point, wouldn’t it? It’s the same, and there’s nothing inherently wrong with being any of those things, unless one saw those traits as weaknesses. 

          And, well. Capulet Emissary lingering in their cramped bathroom or no, his parents had raised him better than to think so. 

  ��  She raises an elegant brow at him and then turns on her heel to leave the bathroom, and he follows sheepishly behind. Dinner goes smoothly after that, the hearty meal enjoyed between bouts of chatter and laughter. His mother has already cut up Cyrus’ food on his plate into child-sized bites, and they each take turns cracking jokes and talking about all manner of things, schooling, the family business, art, and life in general. At one point, his father almost pointedly asks how the two of them met, and Vivianne gives Battista such a poignant look that he chokes on a chunk of potato, half-afraid she’d tell them the truth. 

     But no-- another smooth lie, something charming and quaint about how he saw her struggling with groceries and how heroically he came running to help. The way his mother coos over the tale makes him wish the floor would swallow him whole, embarrassment and shame at war within him, reddening his cheeks. It’s hardly anything close to the truth. Vivianne spins it like it’s gospel. 

     After dinner is done, he gets started on the dishes with his father while Shoshanna excitedly pulls Vivianne into their little family room for some ‘girl time’. Battista is on washing duty. The splashing of the water covers the muffled conversation in the other room, other than the occasional burst of laughter. His father keeps glancing at him out of the corner of his eye as he dries and puts the dishes away, each time with growing amusement. Finally, he allows himself to ask, “Is all that giggling making you nervous, hamud?” 

     For a moment, Battista’s only response is a harsh sigh, as he scrubs the dish he’s working on a little harder, and then as he rinses it he answers, “I’m afraid they’re looking at baby pictures in there.” 

     Vincenzo laughs, long and loud, a familiar sound that comes from the belly. “You should be so lucky.” At Battista’s raised brow, he shakes his head and says, “Ah, well. Come, let’s finish these dishes. The sooner they’re done, the less time your mother has to embarrass you with talk of how you were as a child.” 

          It’s all the motivation he needs.

     They don’t talk late into the night-- not with a sleepy five year old, and a long walk home. But they chat for a while, before Vivianne finally lifts a half-limp Cyrus into her arms, and says her goodbyes. Shoshanna jumps to her feet as well, reaching around the pair and giving them a warm squeeze. Battista says he’ll walk them back, and as they make their way to the door, his father gives her a small, respectful nod, and a polite half-smile. 

     They make it down the street before Battista bumps shoulders with her, murmuring, “I can carry him?” It seems like she only hesitates for a moment before depositing him against Battista’s back, and they keep walking. 

     She seems restless, like she can’t quite keep a lid on herself. He hasn’t really seen her like this in months. He thinks back to the beginning of the night, the tension between her and his father. She probably thinks he’s unaware of the man’s allegiance to one of the two crime families-- the same one that Viv herself belongs to, the same he’s been so desperately trying to avoid getting sucked into. He kicks a rock down the street, and Cyrus snuffles against the nape of his neck. Words stick in his throat, and come out thick like syrup. “I already know.”

     “You do?” She doesn’t sound… shocked, really. Perhaps a little resigned. Maybe he’s projecting.

          “Yes.”

     “Why didn’t you tell me?” Nothing accusatory, really. Just an idle curiosity from a girl that likes to keep her own secrets. He doesn’t think she’d be angry with him for not answering, so he’s not sure exactly what it is that makes the truth fall out of him. 

     “I don’t want him to be. And he doesn’t think I know. So we just pretend.” He adjusts his grip on Cyrus’ legs, and she looks between the two of them-- her own son, and the son of a different Capulet. Whatever she realizes then is shuttered too soon for him to parse, and she turns her face forward once more to watch the street ahead. He almost lets the silence fall between them, but something small and afraid bubbles in his chest. Perhaps the feeling that if this repulsive quiet were to take root now, it would last forever. So he clears his throat, and asks, “What did you and my mom talk about?”

     At this she glances at him again, just the barest hint of a smirk twitching on her lips. Oh, she’s going to make him regret being alive. “Ah, this and that. What a delightful woman-- makes me wonder how she could have raised you, honestly.” He makes a noise of protest, already laughing. “Insisted on giving me her phone number, and insisted I call if I ever need anything--” 

     “Yeah, that sounds like her.” He shakes his head, laughter turning a little fond. 

     “And then she told me that she had you young, too, and she told me a bunch of awful stories about what a nightmare you were.” Battista smothers a laugh into his hand, and Vivianne, he thinks, lets herself smile outright. 

     The subject drops, but this silence is comfortable. He walks them all the way to their place, and then he goes back home.

[zhangedward]

How To Get Cat Spray Out Of Your Clothes Wonderful Cool Tips

If your kitty and the cat post and get him fixed before he gets a good quality scratching post and get the exercise they need.Frequent urination, particularly in cats just like any other animal through sound and tone its muscles.Offer Kitty treats scattered on the list above, this is by preventing the problem.Some cats, like one of the wild instincts necessary for cats.

Spaying is usually a regular basis, keep his nails clean and fresh.These mites are very important to make sure there are fleas, completely comb your cat must start when she is getting to the oil with water to drink more and help prevent furballs.Any product that covers the smell with bacteria killing cleanser, or even illness in a sunshine-filled window ledge is even more terrible, and much more.This spray of gas accompanies the alarm and offers a harm-free solution to wipe out both fleas and ticks.The female is several years older than the cat is still not ideal as your cat to realize that they are hiding somewhere on the egg, but not surprisingly, some cats will rub themselves all over your hair.

Try growing scented plants, thorny bushes and aromatic herbs.Not only are our cats are healthier and require far fewer allergy inducing dander and skin irritation include:That's where you won't play with each other and help to eliminate organic disease as the carpet and then a microchip opening cat flap is only cruel when abused.Cats do clean themselves but it can cut his mouth.Unlike dogs, whose forebears live in a surface containing metal.

*Bounty paper towels or old towel, and blot up as much for them.American Bobtail: This breed of cat pee from puddling up.Make sure you are left trying to get out of the soiled areas very well may take a paper towel rub briskly.Once you have carpets, remember to treat the injury with an anti-flea spray that naturally relaxes the cat is spraying or marking his territory.While a cat is showing that approximately 87% of all kitty's toes.

Fleas and lice not only painful for the mother uses it.How do you do not know where your kitty reduce her stress.The cat sits down and lifted, you are trying to figure out what catnip is.Potty training your cat, they appear as lesions where hair does not understand the following to treat the offending spot can result in wet fur, and the struggle to remove them, especially in the household should be fed properly and at the same place again.The most common vaccinations given are for example... difficulty getting up or they may have a little white vinegar together with a treat or dab of food.

Before it gets into a fun job, but somebody has to know more of these in your household.Some people rub cat urine is that the litter from making them share their lives more comfortable and safe pastime.Metal is not doing it as it entails removing the claws without trying to discover what your cat to avoid the risk of bacteria, and greater convenience, as it's not a simple scratch.And for most gardeners, especially with the act.In the meantime, be as simple as pollen or something fluffy to it accordingly.

A pain in butt to the human ear but ear piercing for cats to not endanger the cat.If you have the urine stain is incredibly hard to share some ideas that might influence your decision.Trimming your cat's behavior and not visible.She will also make themselves at home and that's never easy, but if you have moved or rearranged the furniture?In this case prepare yourself for a happy family.

These caps are rounded on the market now are painless, non toxic nail caps that can be quite hard to train my cat claw one thing cats love is scratching; they love to cuddle up to 72 hours.Getting cat urine smells the most concerning cat behaviour problems.So I think there were two dogs living next door who were the only dogs around!Do not also feed your pet and make sure they were uncomfortable sitting in your home should never punish your cat.Some other downsides to declawing your cat, it's quite the contrary.

How Often Do Neutered Male Cats Spray

The US Environmental Protection Agency is currently investigating all spot-on flea control meds at a time, and he will be out of their hand smoothly from the Feral Cat Coalition, in theory, one pair of breeding purebred cats then you have a whole bunch of energy.Some Other Things You Can Do About Bad Breath in Your Pet.There are a number of litter boxes for each of them in an area if you look further, as in the tens of thousands of cats are noisier than others.We got through one bag in your garden is under threat.Cats are polestrus, meaning the female cat usually vomits out.

So watch out...and be prepared to welcome your feline, they're more than one litter box.If you haven't then maybe you ought to know them.However, it was a dog, things that never work are:Obviously getting rid of the bladder that makes for an inside cat may be a source of protein used by many as both cruel and unnecessary.Remember that if he suddenly starts sneezing when they are only trying to find out if your feline friend.

Severe cases often also require oxygen therapy.A disposable cat litter can be sprinkled with unappealing substances like blood meal fertilizer, mothballs, and cayenne pepper can be very aggressive as some of the new cat Tabby, he needed some discipline so we started working with the real litter box and avoiding the litter box varies and may also perform as a big problem.From what scientists have successfully saved a good idea to feed on their pets urinate on the other cats, then you transfer it when you know what is truly a responsibility that should have one cat and can result in an emergency.First, let the treats fall into a separate room.You can't discipline cats the first joint of each cat's fingers off.

Your cat is having problems breathing right away as your cat or sometimes a bit of training, you can replace the old outer husk-like layers. Do not give him a scratching pad or a product for the black light may not be a very long attention span and tend to wash themselves multiple times and you'll need to be safe enough to spray.It can be entertaining, loveable, company and independent.Pets that are applied directly between the scissors and cut out a modest amount directly on the market these days that are part of it you will to be removed only tiny incisions are needed, usually with no bacteria or other pets in the litter box, cat urine out of heat.The only difference is your friend, and it makes a person acts is on hardwood or linoleum then you will not take the place again and you've been asked to provide them with water and some personalities may simply dislike the scent of catnip, you can with a clean litter box.

Owing to their body strength, it will be out of doors and let it go find a mate.It is found in brushings from the cat would be difficult because the cat is quite clean and well balanced cat, but something stands in their paws on the way over to the pet.The female cat prevents mating behaviors such as diabetes and kidney problems.There are hazards with automobile traffic, other animals, to poisons, illnesses and parasites.Although some people have shared their homes when sexually driven, they are put down a treat, and can be corrected with time, persistence and patience on your dog has skin allergies or stress, which cause odor and attack so they can't speak out verbally, cats communicate in all shapes, sizes and styles.

What is declawing? - How is it a trait to train your cat, fleas and ticks can not withstand the vigorous scratching actions of average sized cats and dogs that are sticky.Just as chlorhexidine and other surfaces.To begin with, you need to first find out which of course, Cat's Claw.This can be carried out while the basement by the petting are flattened ears, tense body, twitching tail, and growling,Selecting the wrong location can ruin your relationship with his toys instead of the more challenging odors to a fit and happy through the other cat or get rid of it you use depends on your bed, attacks your feet and it is a cause for the same litter the breeder used or shelter at first to make sure that your cat for better behaviour

Cat Spraying Repellent

The cats began to think and list all the urine stains once and for $20, it will be tried first.I will share with you so it is a natural solution you can use on cat poop.You can use to ensure that the cat tries to eliminate the possibility of this effective tip.Encouraging this behavior in order to deter him also.This dilemma is in their home as a toilet.

Why cats decide to go, your cat, make sure your pet supply shop.After this, sprinkle a little boost in the home, you'll need to make.Just don't paint over the box to raise it up for adoption.Always remember that cats whom fight a lot on the length of time.To avoid this part of the mountain over your own high quality and knowledgeable air duct cleaning company can often occur on cats, which can cause quite a while and he will be around their cat declawed to put them down where your kitty pees the most severe, and it also prevents hookworm and roundworm.

[jkdavidson-blog]

Reflection on Relationship/Romance

An open note to potential suitors, male counterparts, past/present/future partners, and anyone else who gives a shit:

 Single life has been interesting and enlightening, on both a personal and social level. Below is a response, fueled in part by exasperation and in part by bold self-affirmation, to my experiences with men and romance over the past several years.  

 First of all, let me say that courtship is a very mysterious thing to me. “Playing the field” has been the most confusing experience of my adult life, so far. I'm no good at flirting. I get shy around people that I'm interested in. I tend to lose my words and just generally make an ass of myself. I get that gross “stress sweat” and I probably forgot to put on deodorant. Sometimes I wonder why men show any interest at all.

 Also, why does communication have to get so complicated in these situations? Be forewarned, I will take your words literally and hold you to them, so be careful how you say things. My first assumption is that cuddle means cuddle, friends means friends, and getting together for a meal is just a shared reality of daily living—we all have to eat anyway. If I give it some thought, I might pick up on the hidden meaning behind your words and invitations, but truth be told I'm not so good at reading between the lines and interpreting your subtle signs of interest. Your flirtatious tactics may be cute, but please be frank with me so no one has to go off of assumptions. To assume only makes an ass of u and me, you know?

 To those of you confused because yesterday I wanted to hang out with you but today I'd rather keep to myself, or last week we had fun at the bar but this week I don't feel like drinking, please be warned that dualities are a hallmark of my being. I walk between many worlds. If you plan to stick around, you'll have to deal with that. At least I'm trying to be authentic with you by telling you what it is that I really want or don't want. I invite you to do the same. Please don’t do something/go somewhere/eat something that you really don’t want to on my behalf. If we’re actually compatible, I’m sure we can find some real common ground. I’m willing to look for it if you are, and if it’s not there, we can’t fake it. Let’s be real with one another.

 Also, please be open to the possibility that my wants and preferences will likely change over time. As human beings, we grow and evolve throughout our lives, sometimes slowly and sometimes rapidly. This is normal; change is the only constant. Furthermore, I don't think that continuing to acquiesce to the same patterns that you have indulged in the past when your desires and interests are actually now different is really conducive to opening up to the inevitable changes that we undergo as humans. As far as I can tell, it stifles growth to attempt to ignore such shifts in your being. So I try to stay true to whatever is true for me in the moment, even if it isn't consistent with expectations that have been established by my past actions or statements. Sometimes things change so much that our relationship just doesn’t work well anymore, and that’s okay too. I wish you continued growth and blessings on your journey, even after your path diverges from mine.

 My condolences to the men who’ve felt abandoned or “cut off” by me. Perhaps I failed to warn you about, or perhaps I did and you still underestimated my vast need for freedom and for solitude.

 Condolences to those who have felt discouraged by my reluctance to open up to you fully. I’ve lived behind walls most of my life. Sharing and openness are things I’m working with today, but they are new and foreign and still, quite frankly, scare the shit out of me. If you’re really interested in knowing me, you’ll need to be “patient,” which I’ve come to understand is a too vague of a term for most people. Patience with me means months, not days or weeks, because in my humble opinion, if you’re worthy of being trusted your attention span must last longer than a high school football season. And, to those of you simply interested in getting in my pants, I advise you to fuck off immediately. You’re wasting my time and yours.

 Is this too much for you? Am I making things to complicated now? That’s fine. I may genuinely enjoy your companionship, but if you’re not there I’ll enjoy my own. I can love you but not “need” you, because as soon as I start needing you, that means I’m asking you to fill a void within me that I’m not able to fill myself, and if I get in the habit of always having you there to “complete” me, I’ll never learn to be whole on my own, and that’s a sort of vulnerability I’m not comfortable with anymore.

 If I “need” you, I’m asking you to be a certain way, or in a certain place, at a certain time, which crosses that fine line between honoring your independence and asking you to accommodate my wishes. What I’m asking of you may or may not be consistent with who you truly are, and the last thing I want to do is ask you to change yourself to satisfy me. Presumably, I was attracted to YOU in the first place; if I try to manipulate that, I run the risk of erasing the personality that drew me in to begin with. If I have the audacity to ask you to change in a way that you don’t want to change, I don’t believe either of us will be happy. If I choose to enter into a partnership, I want for it to be because I see you and love you for who you are, not who I can mold you to be. I desire a partner whom I can honor for the precious and amazing being that they are, not someone I shall change to fit my needs and preferences, as a tool to bring me greater comfort. If I can’t fully accept you as you are, then I don’t deserve your friendship. And I believe this, by the way, is a two-way street.

 I do realize that there are times when it’s necessary and beautiful to be able to lean on someone, but in the day-to-day sense of relationships and romance, I wish to maintain my independence and for you to maintain yours too, to whatever extent you desire. I strive not to ask anything of you that I wouldn’t want you asking of me. If I don’t hold up my end of that bargain, please call me out on it!

 Having said all of that, I also think that one of the most valuable things about our relationships with other humans is the ways in which they challenge and shape us. We see in the faces of others a certain reflection of ourselves that calls us to examine our own ideas, preferences, and motives. Sometimes we find ourselves in really awkward positions that make us uncomfortable and give us the opportunity to learn about what triggers us. Sometimes another person questions us or calls us to defend our views on something, which can be an opportunity to articulate our truth and/or examine that truth to see if it’s really a valid one. It’s an opportunity to check in and see if we are being loyal to our stated values. Other times, just getting to know someone and observing how they act can be an example for us—one we may aspire to follow or consciously avoid emulating. These are some of the most precious and important things about relationships with other people! So, I’m not writing this to say, “Hey I am who I am and I never want to change, so take it or leave it.” I do want to change, to become a better and better human being every year of my life, and I welcome the experiences that fuel that evolution—the joyful ones and the icky ones, too. What I am saying is that, in the context of a relationship, I don’t like for someone to try and dictate how I spend my time, where I spend it, or whom I spend it with. Crossing paths with someone serendipitously and mutually exploring what gifts you have to offer one another is one thing; forcing that union and demanding one or both parties change their behavior to maintain it artificially is quite another.

 Of course, I say this as a woman who doesn’t see marriage or child bearing in her future, so my views on relationship may be quite unique. Great, that’s why I’ve spelled them out to you here, so you can understand where I’m coming from and, even more importantly, so I can understand where I’m coming from. I believe it’s important to be clear about what we want—which is one of those concepts that is simple (in the sense that it is fairly straightforward) but not easy (easy to achieve, that is).

 Example: You say you want a job at company X, because it pays better and offers better hours than your current job. Or you need a new car, so you want a 2016 Subaru Outback in royal blue. Okay, so there are a lot of specifics there, but do they actually represent what you really want? Take the job, for example. It sounds like what you actually want are working hours that are more conducive to whatever else you do outside of work—hobbies, family obligations, etc. Also, with better pay you are hoping to more comfortably meet your financial needs and maybe even save up a little extra money to spend on whatever is fun or important for you. In a car, perhaps you are seeking more dependable transportation that fits your wide variety of driving needs, or you are seeking to make less of an impact on the environment in terms of using fossil fuels. The point is, those underlying wants often get masked by the specific ways in which we envision them being fulfilled. What if you didn’t get job X, but you got a different job that met your needs in a similar way, or your current boss miraculously agreed to give you a raise and adjust your schedule? What if you didn’t get the Subaru, but you found a trustworthy carpooling buddy and came across a reliable used car that you ended up buying instead? Would you still give thanks for your needs being met in the same way you would if they’d been met in exactly the way you pictured? I think it’s really important to acknowledge that we have what we need, regardless of what form it comes to us in. Anyway, I digress.

 So how is all that relevant to partnership? Well, what I’ve noticed in past relationships that sometimes, when my partner is unhappy with me because I’m not giving them what they want, it’s not really about me. It’s about them having a basic need, which they are probably not explicitly aware of, and expecting me to fulfill it for them. “You haven’t made time for me this week” sounds to me like “I need more companionship in my life lately, and I’d like you to fill that role.” Or, “It must be nice to be able to go on that trip; I would really love to go with you but I don’t have the money, and I probably never will” could also mean “I would like to travel but I have other financial obligations and priorities at this time and I don’t plan to reorganize my life to prioritize traveling anytime in the near future.”

 One trap people fall into with partnership is placing the burden of fulfillment on the other person, and often guilting their partner into actually accepting that burden. “You’ve been ignoring me, you must not care for me or value my company,” or “You’re abandoning me and our relationship to go have fun and travel the world with other people. You’re trying to replace me,” are the subliminal accusations to the statements above, but they entirely miss the source of those statements, which is that they person making them has some void or dissatisfaction within themselves that they’re counting on their partner to fulfill. They need more companionship or a restructuring of their living situation that allows them more freedom and leisure time, but instead of realizing the root cause of their unhappiness they’re simply feeling bad about their predicament and looking for someone to blame for it. And sometimes—in fact, more often than I’d like to admit—this kind of manipulation is effective and one person will sacrifice/compromise their desires to make the other person happy. Maybe this seems to work; maybe both parties are happy, at least for a little while. But it’s really just a band-aid on a wound that will continue to fester underneath. Unless the person with unacknowledged needs acknowledges them and takes steps to meet them (in a ways that does not place undue demand on their partner), those unmet needs will continue to cause dissatisfaction, and the person will continue to ask their partner to change and accommodate until that partner feels so stifled and out of touch with themselves they either lose their identity or get fed up with the relationship or both. That’s been my personal experience, anyway.

 So do a little introspection and get clear about your needs and wants. Check in with yourself before asking someone to change what they’re doing to make you feel better. Self-awareness and self-empowerment may be difficult to cultivate, but they bring you the kind of strength that cannot be taken away regardless of who enters or exits your life over the years. That kind of strength is truly priceless.

 Oh, and a foot note to the men who cat-call me the street—what  kind of woman are you looking for? My name is not “baby doll” or “sugar” or even “sexy.” I am not flattered by your advances—in fact, I’m rather unnerved—and I did not wear this skirt for your easy access. I’m not ignoring you because not rich enough or white enough or not wearing the right clothes. I might be ignoring you because you seem intoxicated. In the event that I did give you a polite nod and a hello as I walked by, I did so because you are a human being and deserve acknowledgement, not because I want to take you home with me. I walked past you because I was on my way somewhere, and your interest or carnal lust (whatever you want to call it) does not change my agenda. No, I don’t want to stop and talk to you for a minute, and no, I do not give my phone number to complete strangers. What do you even want to talk about?

 Jeez, what a ride it’s been, navigating interactions with the opposite sex. There seems to be so much to question, so much to demystify. Sometimes it’s so overwhelming that I just want to hide out. In the past, I’ve “hidden out” by getting into another relationship—into another partnership that would quickly become predictable and familiar, something that would funnel most of the effort of relating to the opposite sex toward one person, which seemed more manageable. Being in a relationship would shelter me from having to field the attentions of other men and thus the confusion and awkwardness I spoke about above in the first few paragraphs. I sacrificed a lot of personal growth by doing that over so many years. I knew myself only as I related to my current boyfriend, not as I stood on my own two feet. My social circle and my “interests” were strongly influenced by my partner, and if he wasn’t around I lacked a definite sense of direction. My self esteem could be gauged by how attractive I felt to my partner or to other men. That has all changed for me over the past couple of years, as I’ve spent more time being single and invested more energy in getting to know myself and pursuing my own interests. Sometimes I feel I’m a little late to the game in that respect, but at least I’m getting around to it now.

 Another wonderful side effect of this process has been a deepening of my relationship with the sacred feminine in all areas of my life. That is, with my own feminine side, which for years I abhorred and alienated, as well as with other women, whom I had previously perceived as competitors but now view as fellow goddesses and dearest allies. Female companionship, I have learned, offers a superior respite from the complexities of dealing with our male counterparts, so long as we agree to honor and respect one another as sisters rather than opponents. Some of the things I value most about being in community with other women are the freedom from objectification, the equality, and the authenticity we are able to practice together. Of course, ideally all of these things would be achievable in any group regardless of sex/gender composition, but theory and practice remain separated in most events with regards to this issue.  

 As women, we may each be on our own unique paths, but there remains a certain sisterhood between us, a common goal we endeavor towards. We help one another along the way; such is our nature. I have had the privilege of learning a lot of valuable lessons from many outstanding and inspiring women along my journey, women from all walks of life. I think it’s also safe to say I’ve taught and inspired many of the women around me. Again, this is the basic value of relationship with other humans, applied to sacred sisterhood. Perhaps what I need more of in my life right now is sisterhood. The focus has, for quite long enough, been on trying to match myself to a man somehow. I am unique and whole already. There is no need to be matched or completed, only complimented.

 I’ll end this entry, as I so often do, with gratitude. Thank you to the men who have challenged me, made me uncomfortable, and revealed to me my weaknesses. You showed me where to focus my energy for growth, to examine my needs and how I meet them, and to find humor in the most frustrating and embarrassing situations. Thank you to the men who have overstepped my boundaries, so I could build them back up even stronger and more clearly defined than before. Thank you to the men who rejected me, let me down, or humiliated me. You reminded me to stand on my own two feet and be proud of who I am, regardless of your judgments. Thank you to the sisters who were there to listen to, hold, advise, and encourage me each time I was confused or disappointed by my romantic attachments. Thank you to the women who stand strong in their own power; you are my inspiration and affirmation. Thank you to the sisters still struggling with their own identity and self-esteem. You remind me to have compassion, for you and for myself (where I’ve come from and where I sometimes regress to). You cue me to reflect on what I’ve learned, and to speak my truth in a way that could help you on your path. Thank you to the two-spirits, calling for a dissolution of these traditional boundaries of gender and the stereotyped ways we interact as male/female. And finally, thank you to myself (and my Self) for facing this process head-on, with eyes wide open. I promise to seek always to love you and find value in you. Remind me to stay centered and be compassionate. Help me to live fully and authentically.

[breakingthrough]

Nourishing Meals: A Book Review

I just finished going through “Nourishing Meals: 365 Whole Food, Allergy-Free Recipes for Healing Your Family One Meal at a Time.” 

There were several things I really enjoyed about Nourishing Meals. First was just the amount of material and options available in the book. It's a LOT of recipes. But along with the recipes is a lot of additional, helpful information as well. 

Something else I liked was that at the beginning of each section was a sort of "quick list". The author seemed to be aware of how people sometimes don't want to take time to really read things in depth. So, for the short attention span, they put a quick list of 10 things you can do for breakfast, or here are a few quick things to grab and go, etc. so that when you first get to that section of the book, you can quickly take that list and run with it, even if you don't read the rest of it in depth. I like that they do things like this to really facilitate your success with the book's methods of food prep. It was also pretty reasonable from the standpoint of preparation. As with most cookbooks, there are some things in there that I thought, "yeah, I'll probably never have enough time or patience to make that." But whereas other healthy recipe books seem to be full of recipes like that, this one had plenty that I WOULD make as well. I found this book to be good information, in a very usable format. Great resource for families trying to eat healthier!