A Recipe for Grief
With shaky hands he crushes the chunks of still-too-cold butter into the sugar, impatient for the taste of it. It’s a gift, his mom’s chocolate chip cookie recipe that has no recipe. He can’t write it down, it’s made of handfuls and feelings. It tastes just right. Tastes just like the memories of tall kitchen counters and the smell of cheap vanilla extract. Of the excitement of creation, and the sweet reward of the work.
His mom is still here, in the other room. But today he’s letting the grief creep in as he mashes a fork through the slowly melting butter. He knows he doesn’t have the memory like her, to keep this recipe alive. He knows he has no one to pass it down to, no one to teach by showing the handfuls and speaking the feelings. He knows there isn’t a lot of time before she can’t correct his mistakes with it anymore.
The words “pregame grief” pop into his head, and he laughs a little as he cracks the eggs. His whole life has been pregame grief, one batch of cookies at a time. He knew what the threat of death was when he was five, knew there was an inevitable end to the familiar. To the safe and comfort of old, green sweaters and chocolate chip cookies. Predictable as the sliver of eggshell that always makes its way into the dough.
Maybe it’s a gift. Learning early on that that one and only person could be gone at any moment. Maybe it steadies the hands when you get the news that the end is predictable, written down like everyone else’s recipes. Maybe it keeps you up at night, trying to find ways to re-write the measurements. Ways to avoid burning when you have to bake them. Trying to find ways to let it go, and let the science and time do their work.
But letting it go is hard. Measuring with your heart when your brain tells you that’s too many chocolate chips. Letting go says the whole bag, why not? Life is short. Life is short, but it’s coming together now and forming something cohesive. The wet and the dry. The whole bag of chips, she says from the other room. It’s a gift.
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When I pick up my pay stubs, my deadname is always covered by a piece of blue sticky note and written over with my name. I thought it was a nice gesture, but I’m not that uncomfortable by seeing my deadname in legal paperwork and I didn’t see the point in the extra hassle. But after I overheard my manager saying he was trans I realized there might be more to it than saving me some discomfort. The idea that someone would take the extra bit of effort to tell me they supported me every single week feels really good.
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lowkey it kinda bothers me a little bit that we've literally never seen the inside of a Dunlanding house. The only interiors we got in Dunland were craft areas and meeting-halls, never seen inside of one home. I mean presumably it looks similar to the interiors we've already seen (round, built a little ways into the ground, probably has a firepit in the center, furnished with a lot of fur rugs, most likely a bit smaller), but like, what do their beds look like? do they have bedframes or are they just on the ground? what does the rest of their furniture look like? are there windows or all they all as dark as the other buildings we've seen in Dunland? is it sectioned off into rooms or is it one large circular chamber? what different kinds of decorations would be in there??? I need to know these things!
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Stayed up all night reading Skip To Loafer... literally ran into the last update at 7am and did a silent wail of despair when the button didn't say 'next chapter'
And it's a monthly.
I'm gonna die.
Y'all it's sooo good. So thoughtful and refreshing. Probably top three shoujo I've ever read. And I've read like... *way* more than my tumblr moots might believe.
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okay sydney spending every dollar she had to try food in NYC is so on brand. it's wonderful but like dang girl
the best meal she's ever had!! i wonder if it was risotto or something and that's why she's so keen on it?
the difference between syd waiting with bated breath when carmy tries her stuff and her just eating while marcus does though
carmy's back in his white tshirt -- does this boy own anything other than 12 identical white tshirts and one (1) navy sweater?
"yo jeff" "yo what's up, t" "...chef" oh tina's trying carmy's thing!! and it worked!!
he looks really touched at tina momming him a bit
oh. nope not touched at tina momming him. he's staring because she's dressed like syd
went back and rewatched that, he turns to her, his eyes drop to the apron, and they get all big and round and then he has this tiny, tired smile, and says "you're dressed like syd" with his voice choked and almost breaking
this
this is when the subtext has become text.
it's not that it's explicitly romantic at that point, and carmy probably won't get it for at least another season, (and he won't get out of denial for at least a half season after that,) but the "you're dressed like syd" with so much emotion? that's for the audience, that's for us to know that even though The Beef survived the Day from Hell, survived without Cicero breaking Carmy's legs, survived Richie getting knifed -- Tina's just dressed like any other person who works there, she's wearing the uniform, but in Carmy's mind, the person who represents the Beef to him? that's sydney
also tina's little "hm : 3" when he says that? i love you tina
this scene with Carmy and Tina is beautiful. he's gotten one-on-one time with pretty much every Important character, and each time it's been one of my favorite scenes. carmy shines in absolute kitchen chaos and in one-on-one conversation, so i'm always happy when we get these
what on earth was KBL and why was Mikey paying them...richie might know?
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good luck to all of you doing NaNoWriMo 2022!!! may the words come easily and your plot/characters/prose shine
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