#or is it like those areas were its salt on one side and fresh on the other? Look it up if you don’t know

[badlydrawnbabydirk]

get that baby some breakfast! maybe a spotted trout?

-ajohnymous

[ Apex predator. ]

[1-800-local-slut]

House of Memories (Spencer's Version)

Spencer Reid x Black! Fem! FBI! Reader

A look at your life with Spencer through the eyes of his team mates

Warnings: none really, just fluff, the team being observant, adult objects (condoms, alcohol, etc.,), not a warning but a note: reader isn't in the BAU but she works in the FBI, through Emily's POV

“I wasn’t expecting an invite from you, Reid. Thanks for having me over.” The front door to the apartment opened. Emily was holding a bottle of cheap wine that she grabbed from the liquor store down the street when she realized she forgot to bring a house gift. It was a close call too, she was literally driving past it when she realized and had to make a very hasty u-turn. 

“It’s no problem, thank you for coming! Derek, Garcia and Hotch are in the living room, Rossi’s in the bathroom and JJ’s coming late. Her loss though, I think she’d really enjoy Interstellar and if she comes late I know she’s going to complain. Come in, just take your shoes off if you don’t mind.” Emily nodded, after Spencer gave her a light side hug and accepted the bottle from her. 

He wore a white tee-shirt, pajama bottoms, and smelt fresh. His hair was damp as well, like he’d showered a few hours ago but his hair is so thick that it takes a minute for it to dry. She noticed his light shrug, as if it wasn’t his preference but he would take it anyways. 

Ghosting through the threshold, she bent down and slipped off her boots. She heard light chatter, music, smelt a vanilla and sea salt (it was a rough guess) candle burning, and heard the clatter of pots in the kitchen. 

She couldn’t help it, her analytical mind working before she could stop it. Sometimes she would find herself profiling strangers even when it was rude. And profiling your coworker who invited you into his home was very rude. 

Spencer’s shoes were thrown on the floor, one knocked on its side but still close together. As if it was an attempt on his end to be some sort of neat. Pairs of heels, pumps, boots were lined on the shoe rack but after doing a quick count, she noticed something. There were far more womens shoes than there were mens shoes. About six pairs of men's shoes to a 10 women’s shoe ratio.

Aaron, David, Derek make three, and the other three were clearly Spencer’s. Pen’s shoes obviously were one of those female shoes. The bright purple heels sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the browns, blacks, and deep reds of the female shoes. 

‘Enough Emily, stop being rude.’ 

“Your house is beautiful Spencer.” She couldn’t help but look around in slight awe. She wasn’t expecting Spencer’s house to be so…neat? No, that sounds mean. Neat in a way that didn’t seem like it was all Spencer. Sure Spencer’s little unique touches were sprinkled about the apartment and she was still standing at the doorway.

There were pictures of nature hanging on the wall, of a young black woman standing in front of a large pond far from the camera. She wore a pink baseball cap and had her hands flung out as if to emphasize how big the pond was. Who was that? A secret lover? She looked familiar, like a face Emily had seen in passing.

“Oh thanks. I just moved in a few months ago so not everything is fully set up.” Spencer called from the kitchen, and there were three clicks from the stove. Then he slid out, wiping his hands on a towel. As she walked through the house, she noticed more.

Potted plants with lush green leaves, knitted plant holders hanging from the ceiling, a red and dark blue patterned rug on the floor in the hall. From where she stood, she could see there was a small dining area. A nice wooden table, with papers and files scattered all over. 

She found her way to the living room and saw her coworkers engaged in whispers on the couch. More papers and files were on the small tables on either side of the couch, a contrast to the neatness of the rest of the house.

“Hey everybody, what’s up?” Emily asked. Heads snapped towards her, and she noticed Penelope’s eyes curved up in a mischievous grin. 

“Hi! Come sit, come sit.” Penelope motioned next to her, Derek and Rossi sliding over to make room for her. 

“Did you make it in okay?” Hotch asked and Emily nodded while she slipped onto the brown leather sofa. A dark purple hand knitted black was thrown over the back of it. Did Spencer take up knitting or was this just a nice purchase? 

Spencer plopped down into the brown leather armchair and rested his feet on the pouf in front of him. Emily noticed how spotless the glass coffee table in front of them was. 

The whole house was ridiculously clean. The wooden floors sparkled, the carpets meticulously vacuumed, the TV sparkled and the speakers next to the TV were flawlessly dusted. The large oak bookshelf that was up against the wall that was closest to the kitchen was also dusted and the books neatly organized. 

When would Spencer have time to clean his house so thoroughly? They were on a mission all of last week, got back two nights ago and have been at work since then. Sure, it’s Spencer he could just be very clean but the way things sparkled, it was clear they were cleaned merely a few hours ago. 

When they did go home it was late at night and they were back at work early the next day. Did he spend his whole Saturday afternoon scrubbing his floors, and preparing to cook for them? Spencer wasn’t the type to have a housekeeper, especially when he does his work all over and you can’t exactly leave FBI documents in the eye of the eye of a random house keeper.

“Sorry about the paperwork, I still have to set up my study. I have to put up my desk and everything.” Everyone voiced a consolation, some variation of ‘I don’t mind’ or ‘you should see my place’.

“Not the handyman?” Derek teased, wiggling his eyebrows. Spencer chuckled and shook his head. Spencer’s been smiling a lot more lately.

“I like keeping myself out of the hospital. Did you know every 45 minutes a piece of furniture falls on someone, and 25,000 people a year are treated at the hospital for a furniture related incident?” Spencer rattled off, emphasizing the numbers with his fingers.

Before anyone else could say anything, the doorbell rang. Spencer glanced back at the door, before he sprung to his feet with enthusiasm like he was expecting  Emily and Penelope exchanged looks, giggling while Rossi lightly rolled his eyes.

“Of course he knows that. Also, did any of you know that Spencer moved to a new place?” Derek asked.

“Well I knew. I know where all of you live. But it was very considerate of him to invite us over.” Hotch nodded, taking a sip of a bottle of water. Not Spencer’s usual brand but she did notice a switch some time ago. From Purelife to Poland Spring.

“Did you see the coat? Hanging by the door rack?” Penelope whispered, motioning for everyone to come in closer. There was a devilish twinkle in her eyes, her brain working overtime.

“What, you think he has some… extra company? A secret lover?” Rossi chuckled. Of course she noticed, but she just thought it was Penelope’s. 

“Maybe! Do you think?” Penelope asked excitedly, her hands flapping around with enthusiasm. Oh Penelope, ever the romantic. Derek giggled next to Penelope. He was lightly smacked by Penelope as a rebuttal and he giggled as if the slaps tickled him and they heard Spencer’s reapproaching foot steps along with an extra pair of heels. 

They all turned, eager to see who it was. Would it be the woman in the photo? His mom? Someone else?

“JJ!” Emily exclaimed when the final member of their team came in. She twisted around in her seat, happy to see her friend. JJ wasn’t able to make it on their last assignment so it had been a minute since they’d seen her. For people who practically live together, spending almost every moment together while at work was normal. They’d all fallen into a natural balance of being around each other. Of course they’d missed JJ while she was out sick.

“Hi!” She held her arms open for hugs, while the entire team voiced their hellos.

“Sorry I’m late, the grocery store was ridiculous. You wouldn’t believe what I saw, some lady's ex boyfriend came there and she called the cops on him like right there in the store. Apparently, he gave her something on purpose. She got on the speaker and called him ‘Dirty Dick David’. And then they fired her for playing with the mic that way!” She told her story while passing out hugs and then plopped down in the opposite arm chair across from the one Spencer was sitting in before.

“What?” Spencer laughed while he sat back down. 

“Right there it happened.” The whole team was laughing and Emily remembered that this was why she got along with her team so well. The easy laughter was so simple and refreshing.

“Woah, right there is insane! I guess she was sick of him.” Emily leaned slightly into Penny, allowing herself more comfort

“Imagine being at work and your ex who purposely infected you with something shows up to both you? I’d be pissed too.” Derek chuckled.

“I’ve been through three wives and never got a reaction like that, Dirty Dick David certainly had it coming.” Rossi added before they all laughed even harder.

Then there was a loud ringing noise. Spencer’s phone was going off and he patted himself down, lifting himself up checking to see if he was sitting on it. Then he got up, his face making a tiny expression like he could finally recall.

“I’ll be right back guys.” He ran into the kitchen and Penelope pulled everyone into a huddle.

“Okay, here’s what you missed JJ, you ready?”

“I’m ready?” She asked with an arch eyebrow and a nervous smile.

“There’s a bunch of lady stuff around here, like a coat and I don’t know if you saw the shoes but there are a lot of lady shoes. Rossi was in the bathroom and saw a bunch of lady stuff too, like a special face cleanser but he didn’t wanna snoop. I think he should’ve gone for it but whatever. Also I don’t know if you know but I know that Spencer doesn’t cook. 

His house is also really clean like really really clean like it was just clean but when would he have gotten the time to clean it? I mean we got off work like three hours ago. Running theories? Spencer has a housekeeper, a secret girlfriend, or his moms visiting. Got it? Okay, got it.” 

JJ blinked after Garcia’s rapid rundown, Derek nodding like he was able to keep up with that and Hotch all around looked displeased.

“We are guests in Spencer’s home, don’t go looking through his stuff. Maybe Spencer likes that stuff, that’s not any of our concern.” He frowned with a crease in his eyebrows. 

“Yeah Garcia, besides if Spence did get a girlfriend then I think that’s great for him.” JJ chuckled and Derek rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

“I’m back! I picked up the shrimp and some wine. I also got some beers if you want any. The coolers are for me, you can have one but don’t take any of the pink ones. I like those ones.”  A familiar voice sounded through the house.

The sound of socks hitting the floor padded through the house and a young woman walked in. The woman from the photo more specifically. Her hair was in long braids that curled around her waist. She was gorgeous, a red scarf was wrapped around her neck to protect her from the chilly winter air. More specifically she was familiar. 

More specifically she was from a different team. More specifically a member of the HRT. The Hostage Rescue Unit. They’ve seen Spencer speaking with her a lot. They’ve teased him for their closeness multiple times, and knew they were a bit closer. But Emily didn’t know they were such close friends. For her to just walk into his home this way.

No offense to Spencer but when Emily said she was hot, she meant she was hot. Like she just stepped out of a magazine. And she never thought Spencer would have it in him to pull. Spencer was certainly nothing to sneeze at but my god was this woman attractive.

She was making her way through the house, to the kitchen lightly waddling. She held a bag of groceries and as if she could feel all the eyes on her she turned. 

“Oh hi! I’m sorry, I ran out to the grocery store. I didn’t realize we ran out of shrimp but the food will be done soon.” She beamed at them and put one of her hands on her hips. And Emily did as profilers do. She profiled even if she didn’t truly mean too. She was wearing pajama pants, and a puffy coat that was zipped open to reveal a white tank top. Above all she radiated joy, confidence and comfort.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Hotch cleared his throat, and she nodded at the members of the BAU.

“You got the shrimp?” Spencer called, coming out of the kitchen, slipping his phone into the pocket of his pants. He came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She instinctively angled her head to his and pushed herself up onto her tippy toes to plant a kiss on his lips.

Penelope was on the verge of exploding, her mouth open in a wide grin. She let out an excited squeal. The two agents jumped upon hearing the high pitched noise and everyone on the couch turned to face her.

“What?! Oh my god, when were you gonna tell us?!” Penelope asked, bounding up from the couch. Spencer looked confused above all as Penelope raced towards him and his apparent girlfriend.

“I didn’t think I had to, we weren’t exactly shy about it.” Spencer laughed as he looked at Penelope basically bouncing up and down in front of him. She giggled and Penelope paused.

“Dude we thought you were just friends?” Derek questioned from the couch. Spencer shook his head, looking more and more shocked by the second.

“So how long has this been going on?” Emily asked with a laugh. She had to laugh! How could she not be happy for Spencer? He looked so happy, he literally hadn’t stopped smiling since she came into the door and they kissed.

“Like a year? I mean, I know we jumped the gun with moving, but my lease was up and I decided that this would work and I couldn’t find anywhere close enough to work. We decided to go for it.” Spencer added, scratching the back of his neck.

“You guys really had no idea? I mean I tell you guys that we go out every weekend, I have a picture of her on my desk. We literally come to work together everyday.” Spencer exclaimed, motioning around with his hands.

“I don't see you that often at work, they probably don’t really notice those things.” She rationalized to him and rubbed a hand over his chest. He never moved his hand from around her waist. 

It all made sense. The candles littered around the house, the small basket of yarn and needles on the floor next to one of the arm chairs. The food even smelt too seasoned to be like anything Spencer could cook, the photos that Emily was just now realizing were taken of Spencer. The romance novel that Emily saw sitting on the glass coffee table. How spotless the entire house was. The shoes, the coat, Emily was just mad at herself for not recognizing the photo.

“Well. Way to go Reid, I didn’t know you had it in you.” She smirked at Derek’s remark and stood on her toes again. She whispered something in Spencer’s ear and he cackled with his mouth open in shock. 

He was turning a bashful shade of red and his voice squeaked as he sent her away. 

“I’ll be finished with your food soon, you guys.” Trailing into the kitchen, Spencer glanced over as if to check if she needed anything.

“Oh gosh, you didn’t have to cook for us! Thank you so much!” Emily exclaimed, realizing that she was just sitting there like a fish with her mouth wide open. 

“Let her cook, why not enjoy dinner and a movie?” Rossi joked. It seemed like the shock had dissipated and JJ giggled, her blonde hair shining like the Sun and Emily noted how her entire face lit up like a star.

“Honey, can you come help me with these groceries?” Spencer nodded, following her into the kitchen. They watched, waiting to watch them fully go into the kitchen. Then like little girls at a sleepover, they leaned back into their huddle. 

“Wow!”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.” Hotch tried to keep the peace before his team of impatient agents ran rampant. Emily herself felt like she needed answers and she needed them now. 

“Did you see the way he looked at her? They’re so cute, I had a feeling when he came to work that one time smelling like perfume and wearing the same clothes but they were like all up on each other.” Penelope whispered excitedly. 

“I always knew opposites attract. You know they make a handsome couple too.” The excitement died down for a second and everyone had to look at Rossi. Who even used that phrasing anymore?

“You’re so old, Rossi.” JJ giggled and Hotch shook his head. Rossi smiled playfully, the way he always did when they made fun of him for being ancient.

“What do they even talk about? I mean sure they have stuff in common but for a whole year? I wasn’t expecting that!” Emily exclaimed.

“Reid’s never short on things to talk about.” Derek teased and Penelope swatted him again.

“I mean I noticed he’d been a bit happier but I wasn’t expecting this! I guess you just never know.” JJ added in, glancing over to the kitchen to make sure the two weren’t standing right there. 

“We can find out what they talk about.” No one wanted to admit it but they wanted to snoop so bad. So bad that when Penelope suggested it the best thing to do was to stop talking and be extra quiet so they could hear. Even Hotch, slowly reclined.

Over the clatter of pans, the soft clinking of bottles and things being put away, and dishes being taken out they heard her voice. 

“Emily brought us some wine. Pink.” Spencer’s voice broke through and Emily tensed up. Oh god, what if they hated the wine? 

“Oh my favorite. I’ve always liked that Emily. If it wasn’t for you, I’d go for her.” She laughed and plopped something into what sounded like a liquid. 

Derek made some funny eyebrows at Emily and Emily felt her cheeks heat up. JJ and Penelope both grabbed each other to stifle a laugh. As bad as it was to listen to your teammate and his girlfriend's conversation, they couldn’t stop.

“Aw babe don’t pout.” Then a kissing noise.

“There’s that smile. Also I picked up some condoms, we were down to six and you know we go through those like crazy. Speaking of which, I was thinking, do we really need those? I mean I’m on the pill and at the rate we go we’d save more money just not having sex. To be honest we spend a bit too much money on that stuff anyways and I don’t want to replace another bed frame. I like this one and we literally just got it. That or we just need to stop having sex so often. The call is totally yours but that bitch who works at the front cashier keeps looking at me funny everytime she sees me walk up.” It took a moment for everyone to process what she was talking about. It really took a moment. An identical frown spread over both Rossi and Hotch, and Derek had to put his fist in his mouth to avoid cackling. 

Oh god, this was an awful idea. Now there was just awkward silence. None of them could say anything even if they wanted to.

“So my options are death, death or going raw?” Spencer whined immediately.  Emily focused her eyes on something else instantly, the patterned carpet on the floor, the TV that was showing different scenery as it was in rest mode.

“Oh my god, you are so dramatic! You’re not going to die if we don’t have sexy every day.” The sound of a spoon clattering down and then she broke out into a fit of giggles.

“But how do you know!” He whined again.

“Like I said, it's your choice. It doesn’t really matter to me, I’m just sick of always having to go to the store. And you’re squeezing my ribs.”

“I like your idea. Besides, we have abortion money.” She gasped softly and then broke into light laughter. JJ’s jaw dropped open and Derek snorted before he covered his nose. Of everything that was expected it wasn’t that.

“That’s awful, baby.” She scolded and Emily got a mental image of the two. Was she standing in front of the stove, the smell of food wafting through the house, Spencer standing behind her with arms wrapped firmly around her? If Emily wasn’t so uncomfortable right now her mouth would be watering. It would also warm her heart to hear how happy her friend was.

“I’m sorry.” He joined in on the laughter.

“Oh my god we’re being awful host! Plate up the soup and I’ll pour the wine.”

Once the two came back out, it was hard to even look at Spencer knowing that he had apparently helped break a bed frame. Even if he was holding trays of the most mouth watering gumbo.

“Who wants to watch Interstellar?”

[cantstoptheimagines]

Seafoam Hue (Prince Eric | The Little Mermaid)

Summary — Eric realizes he’s fallen in love with a local historian.

Warnings and Other Tags ➳ Fluff; literally just Eric admiring the Reader in every sense of the word; a reference or two to Tangled (not a crossover though).

Notes ➳ Word Count is 761. ➳ Reader is gender neutral (they/them).

FAQ | Masterlist | Fandoms | Requests | Coming Soon | Schedule 

Eric’s eyes stared across the marketplace. The flurry of colorful fabrics and the sound of music, both of which he would usually pause to admire, had no power against his pounding heart.

In his hands, he held a rolled up piece of parchment. He, along with his crew, had just returned home from yet another adventure on the open seas. With them, they had brought back a host of treasures and discoveries from other kingdoms.

His boots dug into the sand with every step he took towards a small beach house. His sun-kissed skin glowed in the warm summer air. Having not even gone to visit his mother since his return, much to Grimsby’s chagrin, he still smelled heavily of sea salt and driftwood.

He admired the fresh flowers that grew around the beach house. Bursts of pinks and oranges, along with other shades of a setting sun, brought a smile to his face.

Pushing open the door, he gazed around the main room of the house. It was empty of people, but still filled with life by objects from distant shoes. Fine silks and other fabrics, gemstones, paintings, and other wonders of the world decorated the house’s interior.

To anyone else, it may have appeared like the place needed a decent cleaning. To Eric, however, it was a treasure trove of items waiting to be studied and admired.

Instead of venturing further into the collection, Eric turned and quietly entered another door that led into a much cozier atmosphere. The new room was slightly smaller than the last.

His eyes first came upon an unmade bed, blankets thrown about haphazardly. There was also a desk that was littered in writing materials as well as a few gemstones.

On the other side was a small kitchen and dining area. In a pot, stew was being prepared. Steam was billowing out an open window, mingling and disappearing into the soft breeze of summer.

But what really caught Eric’s eye was you.

Another door within the room, which led outside into a beautiful garden of flowers, vines, and trees, was left open. You sat just outside the threshold, unaware you had a visitor.

A book rested in your palms. Eric could tell you were enthralled by whatever its contents were. Hopefully you would feel the same about the rolled parchment within his grasp.

You looked up, startled by a sudden call of your name. Once your eyes met those of Eric, however, your expression burst into a wide grin. The book was quickly placed aside and you rose to greet him.

“You’re back!”

“With a gift,” he smiled, holding out the parchment. “I had it created for you when we visited one of the coastal kingdoms.”

Eric watched with anticipation as you quickly unraveled the parchment. The quiet gasp that escaped you and the way your eyes brightened made his heart race.

His smile widened, “I assume you like it then?”

“Like it?” you asked, finally meeting his gaze. “Eric, I love it! Thank you!”

On the parchment was a painting, filled with hues of violet, pink, and blue to create a midnight sky. Specks of yellow and orange lit up the night in a stream of glowing lanterns over a shimmering ocean. In the background was a kingdom with a large castle at its center. The work was completed with both the artist’s signature and the kingdom’s name in the corner.

“We made some trades at another kingdom’s ports,” said Eric. “They were holding an annual lantern festival for their princess, who had recently returned home. I thought you might appreciate the beauty of their customs, even if you weren’t there to see the festival for yourself, so I had this commissioned for you before we left. I suspected you’d enjoy adding it to your archives.”

Eric’s eyes softened at the smile on your face. The way your eyes lit up as your fingertips gently traced over the painting’s edges sent butterflies fluttering through his stomach.

With nothing but the sounds of distant gulls calling and waves softly crashing onto the shore, Eric lost himself in his thoughts. Unable to contain himself, he placed a hand on your shoulder to bring your attention to him.

Eyes meeting, you could sense the new tension in the air. You allowed Eric to shift closer, his hands softly caressing the skin of your cheeks. You admired the seafoam hue of his eyes, which now emitted the flurry of emotions he had been feeling since the day he met you.

“I missed you so very much.”

[bonefall]

Bone what herbs should be used for a funeral

(CONTENT WARNING: DEATH AND DEAD BODIES. DECAY. BLOAT. STINK. MAGGOTS, EVEN. MORTUARY THINGS.)

Quick answer: Fennel, valerian, catmint, so the mourners can still safely 'share tongues.' Mint/Lavender if the body isn't looking so fresh. Vinegar, salt, herb oil, a very creative flower arrangement if it's yikesy.

Mortuary student answer:

Depends really, what state did they find the body in?

If they died in-camp, then they can just use any nice-smelling herb. The remains won't be stinking unless they were already smelling bad when they were alive.

At this stage I would avoid the canonical lavender and mint, since it's shown that they like to "share tongues" with them one last time. Those two herbs are poisonous! Instead, go with fennel, valerian, and catmint if there's enough to spare. Fragrant flowers that can still be consumed without harming the mourners.

Now if they died away from camp? They might have been laying there a while.

Generally after about 2-ish hours, the corpse will be in rigor mortis (depends on the temperature tho, heat speeds up decay). At this point there's no smell, and they can be brought home and mourned just like a cat who died in the camp.

You can expect the body to stay fresh about 1 - 3 days, depending again on the season, but you're gonna start noticing the belly begin to bloat.

And THIS is where you're going to have bigger problems to patch up, and you're gonna smell it before you see it.

The biggest one is going to be the maggots. There is no getting around this; a forest is full of flies. A single day after a fly lays its eggs, you will see the little noodles doing their little noodly things.

They're doing their job breaking down organic matter is all!

No need to be afraid of them. If the body needs to be stored because you're pending a funeral, just bust out those mint and lavender herbs I told you to put aside earlier. Those are insect repellents-- but it will mean they can't do the customary 'sharing of tongues.' Chives and other onion-relatives could also be helpful here

If the maggots are already having a party, clean them off. I mention that ShadowClan can ferment vinegar-- that would be super helpful. Just take a mossball of it and wipe lmao. They want to set up shop near orifices and exposed wounds so pay attention to those areas.

The vinegar will also help with the smell, if there is one (if you found the maggots after they JUST hatched, about 1 day post-mortem, there might not be a stink yet.)

But you might be past just dealing with a couple maggots. You might be looking at decay. In a cat with all that fur, you're going to notice the rotten smell before any visible symptoms... but when moved, the side towards the ground's going to be wet and gross. Probably ant-y.

First visible symptoms are fur starting to fall off, bloated belly, the eyes might be gone.

Now if you're dealing with that, you're pushing it. It's probably going to be better to get them in the ground quick instead of horrifying the mourners. But okay, let's say it's not SO bad yet that you can't carry them by the scruff anymore...

But let me tell you buddy, if you go to drag them by the scruff and the skin comes off. Give Up! Just Give Up! They are LATE for dirt duty!

But you may be able to bring some of that bloat down with salt to dehydrate them, but you'd need a lot of it. I also hope you have vinegar because you're really going to want to neutralize that smell, especially if you can't spare like half a pound of salt.

Lastly, I wouldn't even JUST gather flowers for this one, crush your herbs up and get a REAL smelly oil. Bathe them in that.

I'd get creative here too, get some fresh plants to cover up anything that's poking out you don't want being seen, like bones or muscle. Bring attention to the parts that you WERE able to restore, or aren't so bad yet. If something important is missing, like a leg or a head, gather up some dirt and cover it in flowers to give the appearance of them still having it.

[hookaroo]

Laden of the Torn (16 of 25)

AO3 link Catch up on tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Tagging @priscilla9993 @cocohook38 @killian-whump <3

The Less Clan healer’s alcove was not nearly as cozy as that of the First. Killian did not see any beds, or even seating, for that matter. Patch’s limited supplies were gathered at the base of a dead tree. Killian found a flat spot by the wall and dropped heavily to the ground. Patch tossed a ball of fluffy plant fibers, dripping with disinfectant, in Killian's direction, then pointed at the stiff stain of blood on his upper leg. Wincing, he reached forward and scooped it into the bloodstained claw his hand had become. Minerals dissolved in solution began a chemical reaction within his open wounds, its bubbles like boiling water poured all over his palm. Growling, Killian dropped the fibers into position covering the tooth punctures in his thigh, and the vigorous fizz soon had that area similarly aflame.

Killian sat back, closing his eyes and grinding his teeth. It would be easier to bear if it had any meaning, but as it was, he had gained nothing but more injuries to add to his extensive collection… some serious, potentially even life-altering. He was no closer to rescuing Puzzle and thus could take no solace in possibly getting one step closer to Alice. Frustration offered no balm, only salt rubbed into throbbing wounds. 

Killian bit back a yelp as Patch began scrubbing roughly at his mutilated palm, which was no more than he had expected from an enemy caretaker, but still felt like Hellfire seeping its way down to the bone. Those long hours spent under Mandible’s paws seemed like pure bliss compared to this. 

“I am sorry,” murmured Patch with surprising sympathy. “You will thank me later.” 

“Maybe,” Killian grunted, trying not to squirm. “I am a bit partial to this hand. Would prefer not to lose it.” 

Patch dipped her cloth into fresh disinfectant and resumed her task. “I cannot promise anything.”

Some excruciating length of time later, the scrubbing gave way to that unique red-hot shock that could only belong to one thing: the helpless insect he was growing too familiar with. Through the squeezing heat of its venom, Killian heard the quiet crunch as its body disappeared between Patch’s jaws. 

“You may have the next one,” offered Patch. 

With gritted teeth, Killian shook his head. “No thank you.” 

Eating insects always stirred up unpleasant memories of desperate times. And he was too woozy to be hungry at the moment anyway. Still, considering how much of a delicacy Patch’s species considered them to be, it was kind of her to offer. Killian risked a quick glance at the next struggling ant, just to confirm its identity. 

“I was under the impression that your rivals were the only clan to use Warrior Ants in their healing arts.” 

It wasn't a particularly important question, but it gave him something to take his mind off of the ruins of his hand he’d just glimpsed. Patch carefully applied the next set of jaws.

“Mandible told you that?” 

“Yes…” He thought for a moment, then amended, “Actually, it may have been along the lines of his being the one to perfect the technique.”

“That is closer to what he told me as well.” 

“You've spoken to him?” 

Killian had thought that the animosity between the two clans would prevent any casual contact between their members. To his surprise, Patch said, 

“I learned most of my healing skills from him.” 

Figuring that any additional intelligence about clan dynamics could be used to his advantage, Killian asked, 

“How did that come about?” 

The Less healer glanced up at his face in brief hesitation before responding. “I was born to the First Clan and discovered my purpose there. Mandible is a good instructor, and it was only after he taught me all he knew that I became the chief healer of the Prime Clan.” 

“And what made you decide to switch sides?” 

Patch set aside her container of ants and opened a pouch containing bandaging material. “Our Chieftains arranged a trade. The Prime had just lost their only healer, and the First needed a skilled metal forger.”

Killian had been watching the monkey's face but lacked the ability to read complex emotions. Thus, he could not tell how Patch felt about the situation. 

“Were you given any sort of say in this trade?” 

Patch waited until her bandaging job was underway before answering slowly. “Favor willed it so.” 

Killian managed to turn a derisive scoff into an only slightly exaggerated grunt of pain. “Just because someone is in authority over you, it doesn't mean they have your best interests in mind. Quite often, the opposite is true.” 

Patch said nothing and Killian did not press the issue. A moment of silence elapsed, then he sighed. 

“I suppose you’re completely loyal to your new clan now. Considering the infallible wisdom of the two chieftains. You couldn't possibly have retained any sense of belonging to the family who raised you. Not a dutiful servant such as yourself.��� 

Patch would not meet his gaze. Killian allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope and tried a gentler tone. “You couldn't be blamed for not feeling the same animosity. Especially if you still have friends on the other side. Look, surely you don't condone this whole kidnapping business, after having been through something like it yourself.” 

With nimble paws, Patch secured the bandage and sat back on her haunches. She glanced over her shoulder, then said, 

“My opinion does not matter.” 

Killian lowered his voice, even though there was no other being in sight.

“You're the only one who might be able to help! You know I don't stand a chance against Quake; not like this.” He indicated his freshly bandaged hand and winced. Patch remained motionless, and Killian dared to believe he saw indecision in her eyes. 

“Think back to when you were first brought here,” he urged. “You must have felt so frightened and alone; I know I would have. It couldn't have been easy, knowing you may never see your friends or family again. Do you really want to leave Princess Puzzle to that same fate? Or arguably worse, considering her intended role?” 

Patch's coppery fur puffed out in a sudden shiver, and she busied herself once again among the tools of her trade.

“Of course not,” she hissed, eyes averted. “But what can I do? Lack would never listen to me. If I spoke up, it would only anger him, and that would make life very difficult for me.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you,” Killian assured her, trying and failing to find a comfortable position in which to rest his hand. “Perhaps just some information; something I could have found out on my own if I’d had enough time. Doesn’t have to be anything that could be traced back to you. I would be grateful for anything at this point.” He raised an eyebrow and flashed what he hoped was an encouraging smile at her. “So… what do you say?”

Patch had turned her attention to the bites on his leg, tending them through a rip in his trousers, and she did not answer immediately. When she did begin speaking, she kept her volume to a level just barely audible.

“The princess is under guard at the edge of the marshland to the south of here. Chief Lack is fiercely possessive and does not trust the rest of the clan to be in easy contact with her, so she will be kept out of the way until she is mature enough that he can claim her. If you could manage to defeat her guards, it’s likely you would not meet much resistance all the way to the edge of Prime territory. Hardly anyone ventures into the marshes. Predatory and venomous reptiles call that place home.”

Killian did not relish the thought of another confrontation, but with all the references to “escorts” and “guards,” he knew it was all but inevitable. “Do you know how many are guarding her?”

“My best guess, only two at a time. They will be formidable warriors, but female. No cause for a jealous chieftain to worry.”

Killian nodded slowly, calculating. He would learn the way there whenever he was granted his request to visit Puzzle. They would be more alert to trouble at that time, but perhaps he could steal away later in the evening… that, of course, would mean navigating unfamiliar and hostile territory in the dark, without a map… what were the chances the princess would know the way home?

“There is a secret trail through the marshlands,” Patch said hesitantly. “As a young First scout, I would accompany a group of warriors to spy on the Prime, using the marshes as our route in and out. You only need to travel in a straight line between the stripe-barked trees, and there will be solid ground beneath the mud.” 

She began winding a bandage around his thigh, adding, 

“I do not believe the Prime are aware of this path. The final tree, the one up on solid ground… it points the way to a Stone Forest entrance within First territory. Head northwest a short distance and you will come to the border where you first encountered the Prime sentries earlier today. From there, you can simply retrace your steps to return Princess Puzzle to her family.”

“Easy enough,” replied Killian, already so exhausted from merely thinking about the journey. Travel through the treacherous bog would require at least some daylight, so a night-time rescue was out of the question. “Are there no sentries at the other end of the marsh?”

“There is always a risk, wherever you are along the border.” She tied a secure knot on the bandage, then reached up to pull his shirt away from the scratches adorning his ribs. He did his best to assist, using his stump to hold his shirt out of the way while she applied the abrasive antiseptic to the scratches. 

Now that he knew where the princess was being held, perhaps he would not need to stage the rescue while in his current state. He could bring his findings to the First, wait to regain the use of his hand, then return using the back way through the marsh for a more capable rescue. Even if the First clung to their stubborn beliefs about interference and refused to accompany him, at least he would stand more of a chance against the pair of Less guards. It would mean a longer imprisonment for Puzzle, which would be unfortunate, but probably worth it if it meant a greater chance of success. However… all of this depended on the Less keeping their word and letting him go the next morning. And he had already learned not to take their promises at face value. 

“Tell me, Patch... what do you think the chances are that I'm truly set free in the morning?”

She ducked her head slightly, ears flattening in an almost cringing motion. “They will keep their word. You will be escorted from here and released into First territory. Then…”

She trailed off, and it didn’t really need to be said. Killian closed his eyes and allowed his head to rest back against the wall. “Fair game?” 

“I am sorry,” she confirmed. “The Torn are not worthy of the gods’ attention. Chief Lack’s misleading of you will not provoke their wrath.” 

Killian sighed. “I was a bloody fool, thinking I could come in here and do some good for once. So, in summary: in the morning, I could choose to release the princess only for me to remain behind to be eaten, ensuring that she would be recaptured swiftly. I could leave her behind, take my chances with the entire Prime Clan, and if by some miracle, I managed to escape, sneak back through the lizard-infested swamp to attempt to break her out when I'm stronger. Or, I could make my move today when I'm escorted to visit her, while everyone is on high alert for just such a thing and I have no usable hands and a similar measure of reserve strength. Would you say that's an accurate assessment of my three equally terrible options?” 

Patch put the finishing touches on her dressing, stopped to scratch her back with a hind paw, then paused, deep in thought. Killian watched her with one eye slitted open. 

“Wait here,” she finally said, then dashed off. Alone with scattered thoughts and pains old and new, Killian heaved a quiet groan as he attempted to rest. His hand throbbed unbearably, feeling three sizes too big, and the pressure from the bandage offered little relief. He tried wiggling each finger in turn, and the only partial victory came with a feeble twitch of his pinky. He winced and gave up.

“Oh Alice,” he sighed. “Your papa is not nearly as clever, brave, or strong as either of us believed. You deserve so much better.”

Some white knight he was. Bloody white elephant, more like. How many times had he counseled her to never give up, to believe in herself and her dreams of freedom? Too many to number, surely. If she could see him now, this bloodied, defeated mockery of the example he’d always endeavored to be for her, she would be met with the reality he had so naively sought to deny: he was not father material, and never had been. His upbringing and a long life of depravity had corrupted his soul, and the love he felt for her was not enough to compensate. It would have always come to this, sooner or later. Captain Hook deserved only suffering, and he’d been a fool to hope for a happy ending.

But… even if he didn’t deserve happiness, certainly Alice did? As much as it felt like the universe was conspiring to make him fail, he had to believe that Alice’s innocence would add weight to the opposite end of the scale. He tried to envision her adoring smile in an effort to wipe away the imagined disappointment that had festered a little bit more deeply inside with each additional failure. He needed to take his own encouragement to heart. 

Mindset is everything, he recited at the vision of his daughter. 

Everything starts with belief, the memory of her voice chimed in. And he swallowed his pain, drowned the discouragement, and met the eyes of a returning Patch with weary resolve.

“I have informed Chief Lack that you require one hour’s rest before you visit the princess,” Patch told him. “I can mix a draught that will boost your energy for a short period, but it will work better if you have a chance to relax first.”

She stopped nearby, clutching a small pouch and looking Killian over once again. Silent, he nodded his assent. Patch scoured their surroundings for any sign of eavesdroppers, then she lowered her voice.

“Now. This is the course of action I would advise you to take…”

[1000fiction]

Mid-year

Mid-year. TES Summerfest Free Day. Ft. Paarthurnax.

Mid-Year.

One of the finest months - the temperature finally rising, the most frozen of areas a touch more bearable than the rest of the year. That delightful time of year when most of the wildlife were too preoccupied with their partners than with wanderers – and those with cubs or pups could be heard a mile off thanks to the rambunctious nature of the young.

It was when the roads were dry and the dragonborn’s boots weren’t caked in mud, when they could travel from Whiterun to Riverwood to Rorikstead without a sudden torrent drenching them down to their skin. It made travelling Skyrim easier – easier, not easy, for it never was easy to travel in this land – so the hardest to reach places were suddenly a little less daunting to access.

Errands were enjoyable, so long as they steered clear of the caves and dead things, but otherwise it was a convenient excuse to see as many friends as possible.

They’d started off in Whiterun, and slowly made way around the province; Falkreath, Markarth, Solitude, Morthal. They’d bought out every Alchemists stock of ice wraith teeth and fire salts along the way. Then up to Dawnstar, Winterhold, Windhelm – they’d purchased salt and acquired a new warming enchantment upon their clothes.

Finally, Riften, fire salts for a new pair of boots from Balimund, meat and veg from Marise for the teeth.

Bolli had sold them fish, which they coated in copious amounts of salt so it kept for the journey – it added extra flavour also, which they knew he liked, said it reminded him of the sea.

The ride through the Rift was everything they’d expected - quiet, calm, decorated with golden leaves that would fall in the following months, but not yet – till finally they crossed the threshold to Ivarstead.

Gwilin smiled their way as usual, with Klimmek at their side offering his company up the steps.

They’d declined – company was waiting for them at the top.

Even the trolls seemed tempered by the season, too lazy to interrupt the dragonborn’s journey when they could be burying themselves in the snow.

High Hrothgar held its chill as usual, though the Greybeards seemed ignorant to changing seasons, locked away in their own little world – even more isolated since the destruction of Alduin but less so at the same time.

They’d appreciated the vegetables, meat also. Arngeir gave his thanks on behalf or the group, though their thanks was evident in its own subtle way, a glint in an eye, a twitch of lip, an eagerness in biting into a fresh cool apple.

They were happy to guard the dragonborns belongings, watching them leave with nothing but casual clothes, new boots, and a sack of overly salted fish.

It was rude to keep company waiting, and so they headed up.

The word wall was unoccupied when they reached the clearing, instead, a great shadow loomed over, the beast perched atop the very highest peak of the Throat of the World.

His face turned up towards the sky, throat vibrating with his pleasant grumbles, long mouth pinching back into a smile – at least that’s what it looked like.

Basking. They’d seen a lizard do it once.

If the dragonborn thought hard enough about it – they were technically seeing a lizard do it again, just a very big one.

Either way, he seemed content, content to absorb the warm rays usually obstructed by thick cloud or heavy snow. It was now they realised they hadn’t had to shout – no weather had blocked their path – he’d already cleared the way and was taking full advantage of the clear skies.

They were loath to break his focus, so they laid in the snow, spread starfish to feel the sun on their exposed skin, the enchantment warding off the nip from the ground beneath their back.

It was two hours later they came too – assuming the purrs had rumbled through the mountain and coerced them into sleep in the complete safety of their friend – the sun now making its way toward the horizon line. The dragon clambered down the cliff face to sit in the snow beside them, his tail tapping them awake.

“Drem yol lok, Dovahkiin”

“Good afternoon to you too, Paarthurnax. Have you enjoyed your day?”

He grumbled in contemplation, as if words wove together within his throat before rolling off his tongue.

“Geh… yes. To feel the sun again, it is, aan kogaan… a blessing. One I feared I would never experience again.”

The dragonborn smiled, corners of their eyes crinkling.

“You know what else is a blessing?”

The great beast cocked his head to the side, pupils pinched closed together as he stared curiously down his snout.

It made them laugh, his expression akin to a young pup.

They opened the sack, scent of fish and saltwater making him rear his head, throat pulsing in anticipation as they took a slimy creature and flung it into the air.

He darted out like a snake, catching the fish in his mouth to savour the flavour on his tongue before swallowing it whole. He rumbled happily, scales and spikes rattling in glee, as he awaited the next toss.

It was long until they’d emptied the bag, The great dragon succeeding in catching every fish thrown his way – including the purposefully tricky ones, under leg, without looking, he’d even turned to demonstrate he could catch one over his shoulder.

“Good?” They asked breathlessly, shoulder aching from tossing so many sea creatures – it was harder than it looked.

“Indeed Dovahkiin! I am grateful.”

Was it a smile? Perhaps not in the traditional sense but his eyes certainly gleamed with gratitude.

“I’m glad. Parthurnaxx, I hope we continue to do this every year.”

“Ahrk zu'u hi, mal dovah”

His snout pressed into their stomach, their body laying against his nasal ridge, arms wrapped as far as they could go.

“Perhaps next mid-year I shall travel to a warmer mountain, may we spend all day in the sun.”

[silyabeeodess]

FusionFall Headcanons: Terrorpins

Never smile at a crocodile--and that goes doubly so for this double-mawed monstrosity! Lurking primarily in murky areas, Terropins will patiently wait to scope up any prey within range of their jaws. If you can help it, this is one beast you do not want to wrestle with.

Fuse and his army of spawns appear to be just as confused about the difference between alligators and crocodiles as we often get, because the Terrorpin shows traits of both. Seen in concept art, while it has a gator's more rounded snout(s), its fangs can jut both up and downward on the outside of its twin mouths (granted, we don't see as many in the upward position). Like alligators, these things exist around bodies of freshwater; however, like crocodiles, they are extremely aggressive and, due to their fusion matter makeup, they're actually fine in both salt and fresh bodies of water. They can exhibit both solitary and social habits. As such, this distinction is less important than the one between the monster's variants.

SIDE NOTE: Based on the name for the concept art file itself as well as their shells, these monsters are also heavily based on snapping turtles. However, as they lack a lure-like tongue to catch prey and have so many more similarities to gators/crocs, the snapping turtle influence seems to be more minimal outside of defenses and ambush habits already present in all three animals.

Terrorpins can be found anywhere from the Wilds to the sewers in the City. However, as the latter case only occurs during the time of the Academy and there's not really anywhere for them to naturally come from nearby, it's likely that they were brought to the City rather than spawned there initially--following the myth of alligators in the sewers based on how pets from the southern USA were brought to places like NYC. By the time of the Academy, fusion fighters in the City pretty much dominated fusion monsters in urban warfare. As such, to try to get a stronger hold of those areas, more spawns were created/migrated to them. The Terrorpins would be one of these species, attaching them to the myths as a means of catering to human fears. Attacking the City underground also succeeded in giving Fuse a base of operations in the City that wasn't as easily disrupted as any would be on the surface.

From their description, Terrorpins are noted to have only one weak spot: The head. This is due to the rest of their bodies being covered in that heavy, shell-like armor. Still, we never see them draw within their shells as turtles do.

Because of their shell and the double set of jaws, they can't kill their victims in the same way a normal alligator or crocodile would--by rolling their bodies violently to shake and beat their prey. If they attempted this, especially when fighting on land or in shallow waters, they're more than likely to get stuck on their sides or backs and risk exposing their somewhat softer underbellies. Instead, they crush and tear at their targets. Like crocodiles, their jaws are strong enough to shatter bone. Having two jaws means that they can attack two vitals areas of the body at once for large targets, and their jaws are capable of stretching apart from one another somewhat in order to rip at their prey further.

If you get caught in their teeth, chances of escape are slim, so it's best to fight at long-range when you can. If not, you might be able to jump on their backs and attack from the top of the head. While this can be an effective strategy at times, just keep in mind that they do have spikes meant to prevent this from happening, as well as fusion matter oozing between their armored plates.

Like real crocs and gators, the Terrorpins have pretty good eyesight--especially since they have an additional, forward-facing third eye. However, due to the massive shells on their backs, they can severely lack visibility from behind. Chances are though, you might not be able to see faster, as they have excellent camouflage from being made largely of twisted, gnarled wood.

Interestingly enough, while fusion monsters rarely show a need to eat, Great Terrorpins are one of the few that actively do. Their description notes that they constantly catch fish that drop from the Forgotten Falls--and warn the reader that they'll hunt down fusion fighters as well. Regular Terrorpins may also "eat" their victims, but this would indicate that the Great Terropins have a truer/much larger appetite and are more violent as a result. It may also indicate a sneakier nature more like the real animal/s they are based on, as they are willing to lie along familiar paths in-wait for prey. We see them do this out of the water as well, near the main path at the top of the Falls that fusion fighters often travel by.

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

9th November >> Mass Readings (USA)

Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica  

(Liturgical Colour: White: A (1))

(When a Feast of the Lord is celebrated on a weekday there is only one reading before the Gospel, which may be chosen from either the first or second reading) (This rule is not followed in the United States, so two separate readings are shown here)

First Reading Ezekiel 47:1-2, 8-9, 12 I saw water flowing from the temple, and all who were touched by it were saved.

The angel brought me back to the entrance of the temple, and I saw water flowing out from beneath the threshold of the temple toward the east, for the façade of the temple was toward the east; the water flowed down from the southern side of the temple, south of the altar. He led me outside by the north gate, and around to the outer gate facing the east, where I saw water trickling from the southern side. He said to me, “This water flows into the eastern district down upon the Arabah, and empties into the sea, the salt waters, which it makes fresh. Wherever the river flows, every sort of living creature that can multiply shall live, and there shall be abundant fish, for wherever this water comes the sea shall be made fresh. Along both banks of the river, fruit trees of every kind shall grow; their leaves shall not fade, nor their fruit fail. Every month they shall bear fresh fruit, for they shall be watered by the flow from the sanctuary. Their fruit shall serve for food, and their leaves for medicine.”

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 46:2-3, 5-6, 8-9

R/ The waters of the river gladden the city of God, the holy dwelling of the Most High!

God is our refuge and our strength, an ever-present help in distress. Therefore, we fear not, though the earth be shaken and mountains plunge into the depths of the sea.

R/ The waters of the river gladden the city of God, the holy dwelling of the Most High!

There is a stream whose runlets gladden the city of God, the holy dwelling of the Most High. God is in its midst; it shall not be disturbed; God will help it at the break of dawn.

R/ The waters of the river gladden the city of God, the holy dwelling of the Most High!

The LORD of hosts is with us; our stronghold is the God of Jacob. Come! behold the deeds of the LORD, the astounding things he has wrought on earth.

R/ The waters of the river gladden the city of God, the holy dwelling of the Most High!

Second Reading 1 Corinthians 3:9c-11, 16-17 You are God’s temple.

Brothers and sisters: You are God’s building. According to the grace of God given to me, like a wise master builder I laid a foundation, and another is building upon it. But each one must be careful how he builds upon it, for no one can lay a foundation other than the one that is there, namely, Jesus Christ.

Do you not know that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you? If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy that person; for the temple of God, which you are, is holy.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Gospel Acclamation 2 Chronicles 7:16

Alleluia, alleluia. I have chosen and consecrated this house, says the Lord, that my name may be there forever. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel John 2:13-22 Jesus was speaking about the temple of his Body.

Since the Passover of the Jews was near, Jesus went up to Jerusalem. He found in the temple area those who sold oxen, sheep, and doves, as well as the money-changers seated there. He made a whip out of cords and drove them all out of the temple area, with the sheep and oxen, and spilled the coins of the money-changers and overturned their tables, and to those who sold doves he said, “Take these out of here, and stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.” His disciples recalled the words of Scripture, Zeal for your house will consume me. At this the Jews answered and said to him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” Jesus answered and said to them, “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and you will raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking about the temple of his Body. Therefore, when he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this, and they came to believe the Scripture and the word Jesus had spoken.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[bloggingexpert]

A Day in Cold Spring Harbor, Long Island

An easterly drive on Long Island’s Route 25A reveals an opening in the foliage just over the Nassau-Suffolk County line on the left side and a splotch of water known as “Cold Spring Harbor.” That water, of both the fresh and salt types, defined it, sustained it, and became its raison d’etre. “Water is the defining characteristic of the place now called Cold Spring Harbor,” according to Robert G. Hughes in his Images of America: Cold Spring Harbor book (Acadia Publishing, 2014, p. 7). “To the indigenous inhabitants, it was known as Wawapex, or ‘at the good little water place.’ The European settlers of the 17th century named the area after its abundance of freshwater springs.” Like a mirror, that water reflects its changing color and character as it does—slate gray on cloudy days, cobalt blue on clear ones, and orange and reds near its shores on autumn ones. It also reflects its history. It served as a draw and became the means to sustain the lives of those who settled there. Only a few hundred yards beyond this view, the road arcs to the left and threads its way through the hamlet, which is very small. But so, too, are gens. This one sparkles through its harbor and exudes its history through its nature, museums, and restored buildings. It is a living example of how its purpose has evolved as a result of time, transportation, and technology. And a day spent here will demonstrate that. Cold Spring Harbor History: Located on Long Island’s North Shore-specifically on the western edge of what was once Huntington’s 1653 First Purchase-Cold Spring Harbor arose because of its water artery, providing the many means by which it developed over the next three centuries. Power, the initial one, turned the mills that cut the locally grown trees, supplied the wood to construct farms, and ground the grain they grew, all made possible by the dam across from the Cold Spring River that John Adams erected in 1682. Aside from these saw and grist mills, there were also those that wove and created paper. “Dams at the edge of large ponds and lakes generated power to run grist, saw, paper, and woolen mills where local grain, trees, and wool were transformed into food, logs, paper, barrels, and woven materials, such as broadcloths, blankets, and coverlets,” according to the CSHFHM News: The Newsletter of the Cold Spring Harbor Fire House Museum (Winter 2015). Water also positioned Cold Spring Harbor as a delivery port, its next significant role, when an Act of Congress appointed a surveyor of customs on March 2, 1799. He was entrusted with the “power to enroll and license vessels to be employed in the coasting trade and fisheries and to enter and clear, and grant registers and other usual papers, to vessels employed in the whale fisheries.” Devoid of any appreciable land-based infrastructure, the country relied on rivers and seas for passenger and cargo transport during this time. In the case of Cold Spring Harbor, water served as its channel for schooners to deliver rice, coffee, sugar, wood, coal, sand, and gravel to New York City and destinations beyond, specifically those along the East Coast and as far as the West Indies in the Caribbean. The integral role Cold Spring Harbor played in coastal trading is reflected by the 99 ships registered there in 1883. And its waters became the threshold to the whaling ships that sailed even further afield.

[gibsongeisler45]

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[teawaffles]

Albert’s Drinking Contest: Chapter 2

“——This is, the twentieth!”

Announcing the number of glasses he’d drained, Moran set his empty wine glass on the table with a thud.

He was still clear-headed, and able to hold a conversation. But those wild features of his were now flushed, as red as the copious amounts of wine that had entered his stomach.

“Ready to give up now, Albert?”

In his tipsy, trembly vision, Moran beheld his opponent before him.

But far from giving up, Albert was completely sober. There was no discernible change in his complexion; as if he’d started drinking right there and then, he tipped back his glass, and downed his wine with ease.

With that, they were now tied at 20 glasses each. Ignoring the man staring at him with twitching eyes, Albert called out to Louis, who was still serving as their waiter.

“No matter how many glasses I drink, this profound flavour never ceases to delight. To have procured such an excellent vintage — your selections are exquisite as always, Louis.”

“Thank you very much. As I recall, this is an import from America.”

“Ah: I’ve heard that the French vineyards are still afflicted with blight. [1] It’s a pity we won’t be able to enjoy their splendid red wines for some time to come; but it’s also our good fortune to have learned about the quality of wines from the New World.” [2]

“…………”

Albert was being much too relaxed, and had even started to digress into areas completely unrelated to the match; hearing that, Moran shot him a look of displeasure.

Incidentally, the challenge had been much too great for Fred: he’d been the first to pass out, flopping onto the table with his glass in hand. Immediately after, they’d covered him with a blanket so he wouldn’t catch a cold, and the man was presently fast asleep.

“Well then, both sides have managed to consume twenty glasses. It seems both of you still have room for more, but…… if I were to speak from an impartial standpoint, you appear to be at a slight disadvantage, Moran.”

Having observed their match, William leisurely shared his views.

Moran knew his analysis was unbiased, and that was precisely why he let out a groan of frustration. His face flushed, he grabbed the bottle of wine, intending to pour his next drink; but when he realised that not a single drop had trickled out, he waved the bottle in the air.

“Sorry, Louis. It’s empty, so could you bring a new one?”

“Understood.”

Louis promptly retrieved a fresh bottle, and with brisk efficiency, filled both their glasses.

“This’ll be, the twenty-first.”

As soon as his glass was full, without any intention of savouring the wine, Moran chugged it all in one breath.

But the next moment, he was swamped by an intense wave of vertigo: somehow, it seemed he was much nearer his limit than he’d thought.

In contrast, Albert merely tilted his glass, observing the colours and clarity of the freshly-poured wine. Then he swirled it once, bringing it near his nose to savour its aroma, and took a sip to taste.

“Is this a Madeira?” [3]

Standing beside them, Louis revealed the bottle label with a smile.

“Indeed — your wine tasting is accurate as always, nii-sama. Would you like some salted cheese to complement it?”

“I’d prefer to pair such cheeses with a sweet port. [4] Or perhaps we could have a chicken with that, like Sir John Falstaff.” [5]

“In exchange for one’s soul, indeed.” [6]

Watching the two brothers quote Shakespeare as they chatted, Moran was incredulous.

“……Y’know, this is a drinking match on which I’ve staked my dignity as a man — not some wine-guessing quiz at a party,” he protested.

However, in a long-suffering gesture, Albert merely shrugged.

“Although this is an earnest match, Colonel, it’ll become a dreary affair if you leave no room for entertainment. Moreover, this wine was used to toast the American Declaration of Independence, making it perfect for tonight’s celebration.” [7]

At that bit of trivia from Albert, Moran looked positively fed up.

“Oooh, if you have so much time to share your vast knowledge, then why don’t you hurry up and drink already?”

But far from being put out, an elegant smile rose to Albert’s lips.

“Oh dear; you’re in an awful rush, Colonel. Could it be a sign that you’re nearing your limit?”

“Wha……! N-No way. I can still continue.”

Albert had hit right where it hurt, and Moran uttered a groan that was rather different from before. It seemed his opponent had observed his giddy spell from earlier.

Although the match was far from over, Moran was now consumed by a crushing sense of defeat. Seeing that, Albert made a show of draining his glass at a leisurely pace.

Even after downing a substantial amount of wine, the eldest son of the Moriarty family was unruffled, and Moran shot him a complaint.

“You’re not actually drinking some deep red tea instead of wine, are ya?”

Perhaps it was because the liquor had addled his brain, for Moran put forth a suspicion that he wouldn’t normally have entertained.

To that, both William and Louis burst into laughter.

“That’s a very unique deduction, Moran,” said William, as he struggled to rein in his mirth. “But even I can’t devise a magic trick like that.”

Louis was also trying very hard to suppress his amusement. “I filled both your glasses from the same bottle: how could it be that alcohol came out one time, and tea the next? It’s so unlike you to even consider such a ridiculous idea, Mr Moran. Wouldn’t you agree that it’s time to cut back on the liquor?”

“S-Shut it. I was just saying. And I’m not giving up now.”

Their teasing had completely soured his mood. Glancing to the side, he saw Fred, who was sound asleep.

“Somehow, I think he might’ve just laughed at that too……”

Moran gazed at the man he thought of as a younger brother, dead to the world with a peaceful look on his face. Then he fixed his blanket, which had slipped a little out of place.

When his two brothers had finally managed to regain their composure, Albert spoke up.

“In fact, Colonel: it would better protect your good name if we were to pretend that outlandish trick was true. Or perhaps we could give you a handicap, and allow you to alternate between wine and tea.”

“You don’t say. Then I’ll have two drinks the next round.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea, coming from you. If you’re the one to set up the cause of your own defeat, then it’ll make a convincing excuse to others, I see.”

“Urgh……”

No matter what he said, Albert had a ready riposte. As such, Moran swallowed his frustration, and returned his focus to the match.

“Anyway: Louis, keep it comin’, please.”

Seeing Moran try his utmost to put on a brave front, Louis was even beginning to find that a little cute; muttering his acknowledgement, he proceeded to fill Moran’s glass once more. Then, with great force, the man poured its entire contents down his throat.

“…………”

The alcohol burned like fire as it flowed into his stomach — all of a sudden, Moran came to his senses. Placing his glass on the table, he pondered.

His vexation at the Moriarty brothers’ teasing. His alcohol-induced befuddlement. And above all, Albert’s ability to hold his liquor, which had far outstripped his expectations.

His irritation at those three things had wound up completely flustering him. But once Moran calmed down and took stock of his situation, he realised William was right: he was clearly on the back foot.

Until now, he’d been unconsciously averting his eyes from his predicament by being oddly stubborn. But this pickle wouldn’t resolve itself if he just kept running away. If he continued to drink without a scheme in mind, then in his mind’s eye, he could see the outcome plain as day: he’d be out like a light in no time.

However, if he lost, then he’d have to listen to anything the victor said. Moran had originally set that rule as a way to spur himself on, thinking that there’d be no way he would lose. But now, it had lost virtually all effect in rousing his will to fight — all that remained, was the dread of what Albert would make him do upon his defeat.

He absolutely had to win. But the way things were going, it was all but certain that he’d lose.

In that case, the only option left would be——.

Within him, that conflict crystallised into a single decision.

“William,” he said. “Won’t you join in the match? Or rather: please, join.”

“Me? But why?”

Up to this point, William had been serving as an impartial judge, and he asked that with curiosity. But Moran did not answer; instead, his expression twisted into a bitter one as he continued.

“That’s not all. On top of you joining in…… If you’re agreeable, Albert, let’s ignore the count thus far and start afresh……. This is, truly a personal…… request from me.”

That faltering reply was very much unlike him, and William broke into a meaningful smile.

Moran’s decision — was to request that they increase the number of participants, and restart the game.

Despite his frustrations, Moran was well aware that he wouldn’t be able to beat Albert alone. Hence, he thought he’d bring in more opponents to counter him: even if it was just one more person.

The other part of his plan was to reset the match. If Albert agreed to that, then compared to the two existing players, someone joining in halfway would naturally have the advantage. But from Moran’s point of view, even if he was defeated, it would still be better than having Albert directly exercise his “winner’s privilege” on him — such were his complicated emotions. It was an absurd request, to be sure; but at least he hadn’t proposed having Albert compete against the combined total of both his and the other participant’s tally: perhaps that was a reflection of whatever faint scraps of self-respect Moran still had within him.

Perceiving Moran’s complex tangle of emotions, William placed a hand under his chin and pondered.

It’d also be fun to take on his suggestion. Although he did have his role as the judge, it wasn’t as if the match had any strict rules to begin with — they could easily do without one.

However, if he were to join in, and the match were to be restarted, then both Moran and Albert would be at a disadvantage. When it came to wine, he knew his elder brother’s stomach for it was bottomless; but still, it was clearly unfair to have a new and virtually-sober participant waltz into an honest drinking match. And yet, then again, he didn’t want to dismiss Moran’s “request” out of hand.

In this situation, the best option would be——.

But the instant William made his decision, and tried to voice his answer, Louis quietly raised a hand.

“Hold on a minute. Could it be that you were thinking of taking up his suggestion, nii-san?”

“……Yes, I was just about to say that. Seeing as Albert nii-san doesn’t appear to have any issue with that.”

William looked at his older brother, seated across from Moran. Then, Albert flashed them both a slight smile. Although it would mean that he would gain a new opponent, and the contest would start again from the top, it seemed he didn’t mind one bit.

Registering Albert’s generosity, Louis pointed at himself.

“In that case, may I participate?”

“……You, Louis?” Moran asked.

Louis proceeded to explain himself briefly. “I cannot countenance the possibility — however slight — that after joining the match, my brother will end up drinking too much and impacting his health. Hence, I believe that issue will be negated if I were to join the match in his stead.”

“But in that case, I would end up worrying for your health, Louis,” said William, furrowing his brows slightly.

At his brother’s kindness, Louis unwittingly cracked a smile.

“It makes me very happy to hear that. But it’s rare to hear Mr Moran make such a serious request, and so I can understand how you’d want to help him out. Of course, as Mr Moran said: this is only if you’re agreeable, Albert nii-sama.”

“Alright. Having heard that much, I shan’t object,” replied William. “What about you, nii-san?”

His elegant smile unfaltering as ever, the eldest son of the Moriarty family nodded.

“I don’t mind. If you’re certain, Louis, then I shall respect your decision.” Then, Albert’s expression turned solemn. “However, as you mentioned yourself, you absolutely must not reach the point of destroying your own health. Even though the colonel can’t help it, Louis, my condition is that you cannot drink recklessly. Is that alright?”

“Understood, nii-sama. ——Well then, it’s settled.”

Nodding in assent, Louis quietly took a seat beside Moran. Absorbing how his ridiculous request had been granted, more than gratitude, Moran’s expression was one of astonishment.

“Is this really alright, Louis? I know I was the one who asked, but Albert’s no pushover. If we lose, then you’ll have to suffer the forfeit too……”

However, Louis smiled wryly as he replied.

“I already knew that when I asked to join, didn’t I? To be honest, I don’t want to stand opposed to either you or Albert nii-sama. But now that I’ve made my decision, I have no intention of going down without a fight.”

“……Louis.”

That resolve had shaken Moran, so much so that he began to tremble. Watching him out the corner of his eye, Louis filled both their glasses; then Albert too filled his glass by himself, and raised it toward the two of them.

“Well then, once again, let’s give it our all.”

“I won’t be holding back either, you two.”

“Oh, both of you will be sorry real soon.”

Having gained a dependable ally, Moran’s enthusiasm was now back in full force.

Looking at the three of them, William spoke.

“So with Louis’s entry, the contest shall start again from scratch. But for both Moran and Albert nii-san, the next glass will be your twenty-third: please take care not to injure your health.”

With that word of caution from William, the drinking contest had resumed.

Footnotes:

[1] French vineyards had been devastated by aphids in the mid-19th century, and then fungal diseases after that. (Wikipedia)

[2] The “New World” refers to the Americas, in contrast to the Old World, or Eastern Hemisphere of the Earth. (Wikipedia)

[3] Madeira is a fortified wine made on the Madeira Islands, off the African coast. (Wikipedia)

[4] Port is a fortified wine produced in the Douro Valley in Portugal. (Wikipedia)

[5] Sir John Falstaff is a character featured in several of Shakespeare’s plays. (Wikipedia) He is renowned as a drunkard and glutton, whose favourite food is capons — roosters reared specially for their meat. (BBC article)

[6] A reference to Faust, who traded his soul with the Devil in exchange for worldly pleasures. (Wikipedia)

Aside: As far as I can tell, this line doesn’t actually appear in Shakespeare’s works. But in the legend of Faust, Faust makes his pact with the Devil via the demon Mephistopheles — who is mentioned in Shakespeare’s play The Merry Wives of Windsor (Wikipedia), which stars Sir John Falstaff as its main character.

[7] This is apparently true: Wikipedia

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Pickett

*bangs spoon on pot* NEW OC NEW OC i can't be tamed

CW: Magical whumpee, branding/scarification, burning, scalding metal, Whumper as caretaker, ... nice? whumper, implied nudity for a second, restraints.

(Pickett can transform into a marten but will never be whumped as an animal.)

The magician smiled as he walked through the market, taking in the sights of the bustling coastside Town. There were stands and carts, open shops and peddlers selling their wares. He could see the docks from the stone streets, could smell the foul salt in the air.

This was the last stop before the wild, before the world opened to those brave - or stupid - enough to explore it. It was a place of last chances, of hastily made decisions and half-thought through plans. Just like all the others, he was there to make his name.

One such salesman waved him over, encouraging him to spend his coins for the compasses and maps that could guide him to riches and fame. He waved him off, continuing on his walk. A girl offered him a handheld loaf of fresh bread, but he waved that off as well. The little creature sitting on his shoulder lifted it’s head to see, slowly following the girl with it’s blue eyes as the Magician kept walking. He smiled and scratched under its chin, more than happy to stop at another stand and buy the little furry thing some fruit as a treat.

~~

The moment the door was closed and bolted behind them, the creature jumped down from its perch around the man’s shoulders to the floor. He turned to busy himself with his organization, putting away his hat and bag with a dim blue light glowing behind him. When Errold turned, he threw the boy that had appeared in a wam brown robe.

Pickett wrapped it around himself quickly, hissing in a breath. His wrists - his wrists ached fiercely. Everything hurt, a dull pain that settled along his spine and across his hips. He had spent too long in his animal form, too long with bones and muscle and sinew out of alignment. He leaned side to side, trying to stretch out as quietly as he could. Something popped and his breathing hitched.

“Pickett? Are you okay?”

“Oh! No, I’m-I’m-I’m okay,” he said quickly, smiling up at Errold. He didn’t want him to know, didn’t want him to catch on. If he did, he might try and fix it and he, he couldn’t handle that right now.

Errold looked down at him, brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”

Pickett nodded a little too quickly, and winced. Errold raised a brow.

“I’m, it’s- I’m a little sore,” he finally admitted, pulling the robe closed tighter. He looked up apologetically to see the magician’s concerned face. “But I’m okay! It was just a long time.”

Errold hummed, walking over to the dreaded bookcase. “Not all that long, Pic. Let me see what I can do.”

“No!” Pickett tried to stand, to reach out a hand to stop the man, but his legs couldn’t hold him up and he fell forward. He hit his nose on the way down, and even though it didn’t hurt much, there was still blood on his hand when he drew it away. The Magician tutted and went down to his knees.

“Look at you, making a mess of yourself,” he muttered, examining the boy’s face. For some reason, Pickett shivered under his gaze.

“What, what, what if I, what if I just walked-” the man sighed loudly, interrupting him. Pickett cowered further into himself, avoiding eye contact. He knew he wasn’t supposed to ask, but what danger could they really be in here?

“Pic, you know better than to ask that. Again,” Errold muttered, picking up the boy and depositing him onto the low table. “You know why, you must still remember how dangerous it is out there for people like us. They’d lock me up, take you away from me.” He paused, lifting his chin gently until they finally met eyes.

“You don’t want that, now do you?”

Pickett blinked up at him and took a deep breath before he shook his head. No, no he didn’t want that. Errold laid a hand on his chest and pushed him back flat against the wood. As the man walked around, back to his book and supplies, Pickett’s heart was slowly starting to race. While he was distracted by his own fear, a hand slipped under the boy’s shirt near his stomach.

Errold cried out, jerking his hand back and shaking it to get rid of the spark of pain. Pickett sat up on his elbows, eyes wide. The older man glared at him, hand smoking faintly.

“Wait, wait wait wait, I can explain! I can!” Pickett tried, crawling backwards off the table. Errold didn’t bother to respond, striding forward and pinning him down. The boy squirmed and wiggled, but was no match in his exhausted state. Soon enough there were long strips of linen securing his wrists and ankles to the table legs, two more going over his collar bone and hips.

Gruffly and annoyed, Errold wrenched up his shirt to examine the intricate lines of gold that covered his body. Pickett tried to interrupt, to distract him, but was shushed harshly. With a sigh, the man ran his fingers along one line that had been scratched and inched and the gold picked out of the scar. He gave Pickett a disappointed side-eye.

“Pickett-”

“I’m sorry!” Pickett cried out, eyes glossy but no tears spilling out yet. “I’m sorry! I am! But, but it itched and, and Errold please it felt better when I took the rune out. I can control it this time, I really can. I know I can!”

Errold leaned down and cupped the boy’s face in both hands. Poor thing was shaking, scared of what was going to happen. He hated to see him this way, hated that this was really the best way to apply the runes.

“I know, I know Pic - and I’m sorry, Sweetheart. But you can’t just claw them out. They’re there for a reason, and you need to respect that. I know you don’t want to, but I have to put them back. Shh, don’t cry, Shh I know, I know it hurts. But you need them, Pickett.”

He brushed his hand down the boy’s dark hair, looking into light eyes as the tears spilled over and down his cheeks. Poor thing. Pickett shut his eyes and laid back against the wood, trying hard to stifle his crying. Errold was right, he was always right. But it would be okay, he could do it. He had survived the other hours upon hours it took to bind the rest of his body, he could make it through re-placing a few lines on his side.

And whatever other ones Errold would add.

When the muzzle was placed against his mouth, he didn’t buck or try to fight it. Honestly, it was almost welcome. The process hurt, and others would be disturbed by his cries of pain. Errold pet his hair back one last time with an affectionate look before he lifted the boy’s shirt all the way and went to light the small fire.

The rods of gold were long and thin, small as a delicate sprig from a rosebush. They were expensive and shined even in the leather pouch Errold kept them in. It had to be a good quality gold, one that was pure enough to handle the weight of the magic. As harmless as they were in this form, Pickett still shivered when he heard them clink together.

Errold used a bit of dusty chalk to paint the correct lines across his skin as he waited for the fire to build. This part never hurt, but the sensation of it still made his heart race. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to wait.

The magician could see how hard the boy was trying for him, and he smiled sadly. Poor thing, but it really did try and be good for him. He would of course care for it afterwards, making sure he was as comfortable as possible. Donning thick gloves, Errold picked up a rod of gold and placed it in a specially crafted pipe. He’d had to make all these tools himself, designing them to work for what he needed. This pipe would not only help him melt the gold, but also apply it in even lines.

When it was ready, he returned to the boy bound to the table. He laid a hand on Pickett’s stomach in sympathy, then began his work.

Pickett cried out the first moment the molten liquid touched his skin, back arching and struggling in his restraints. It was beyond painful, beyond words he knew to describe it. It was burning through him, searing away paths and lines to cool in his skin. He sobbed into the muzzle, tears streaming down both sides of his temple. Every line, every dash burrowed farther into his skin. The pain built and built, with no regard to how much he could withstand. It didn’t care. It had no stake in how hard his heart pounding in his chest or how his lungs heaved for air. He just had to get through it, had to survive it.

He curled his hands into fists until he could feel the bite of his nails.

Errold hushed him softly, focused on following his chalk outline. His heart ached lightly, but only lightly. Pickett knew better than to dig the runes out. Any pain from the re-working of that was his own fault. Errold was doing this for his own good, he understood that. Pickett needed these, and Errold needed them.

It was mutually beneficial, he told himself.

Right as he was on the cusp of passing out, Errold pulled the pipe away to show he was finished. The new lines of gold over the boy’s dark skin were practically still glowing red, not yet having cooled down enough to shine their signature color. The magician didn’t dare touch them, just laid a damp cloth over the area.

Pickett whined loudly at the feeling, still heaving for breath. He could barely tell if his eyes were open at this point, just feeling like the world was distant from him. A hand touched his face to remove the muzzle but he couldn’t muster the strength to respond.

“Shh, shh Pic, you’re alright. Here,” Errold started, lifting him bodily from the table. Pickett whimpered, totally unaware that he had been untied. He was gently placed in his hammock, gratefully on his unhurt side, and left there as the magician tidied the rest of the room. The boy got his eyes open a few times, but the world was still blurry. He huffed through his nose and rubbed his face against the fabric, itching at the tear tracks across his face.

“Alright then,” Errold’s voice came and Pickett raised his head up. The man gathered him back out of the hammock and laid him on the bed. With just the back of his hand to the boy’s forehead he could tell he was already getting the fever, so he laid a damp cloth across it. The other wounds were still too tender to apply anything too strong, so he just used a general salve.

Pickett remained mostly quiet through the rest of the bandaging, simply letting it happen. He was a little more aware, however, when the magician wrapped his unharmed hands in bandages as well.

“To keep you from messing with them, Pickett,” Errold chided at the boy’s confused sound. Picket hadn’t done it much, but it would have to be something he would have to keep an eye on now. Perhaps he would pick up some mitts somewhere.

By the time he was done, Pickett’s fever was raging and he had to replace the cloth. He then returned him to the hammock to rest while he turned to his real work.

A request for a spirit guide had just come in, and it was an offer Errold had no desire to resist.

~

Tagging @yet-another-heathen cause this idea actually came from a convo with them!

[jinxhallows]

A Chaotic Freewrite pt. 1

Absolutely no minors.  This shit has sex, drug and alcohol use, abuse, profanity, and murder.  This is some wild ass shit I was making up in my brain before I went to bed and wanted to write it out to see where this insane plot goes.  This is chaotic and not cannon. Take everything with a grain of salt and enjoy the insanity.

‘I’ll wait,  So show me why you’re strong. Ignore everybody else, We’re alone now’

Mars. 

The planet that represents passion, anger, war, assertion and separation.   When a planet goes into retrograde, all that it represents falls into a disarray.  It only occurs once every two years, and when it comes, it leaves destruction within its very wake.  I was young, I was dumb, and full of pride and foolish conceit.

I felt my throat tighten as I knelt to the ground.

“I’m sorry.”

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

I had travelled the world in my curious exploits, and met many people that unknowingly connected me to many another. I built lasting partnerships and relationships with good, honest people. Communication was my high point and loyalty was my steadfast trait.  I enjoyed adventures and considered myself pretty brave.  I had stories upon stories to tell to anyone who would listen.  I decided to become an English teacher, for the sake of being able to visit places and help the community and experience the world.

It gets a little complex from this point on, so try to pay attention to the threads that connect my world together before it decided to fall apart.

Keigo Takami, also well known by his pro hero name “Hawks”. I am the only one who calls him simply, “Kami” I pegged him with that early in our acquaintanceship, an American like me who couldn’t pronounce his name correctly; and a petty female, who didn’t want to call him by his hero name all the time.

Keigo and I met when we were 20 and 19, respectively. He had just become a pro-hero and started his own agency, and I was teaching English in Kyoto, Japan. It was an excuse for me to travel. I would spend late nights at the school, coming up with lesson plans that involved fun interesting ways to learn the English language.  Things had been quite…stressful to say the least.  I was young, fresh off an Associate’s Degree in America and here I was, alone, in Japan, a homogenous country with faces that look nothing akin to my own.

During this time, I got into the nasty habit of smoking for some form of stress relief.  I was especially fond of clove and herbal cigarettes.  Nicotine and regular smokes made my stomach quite upset.  Due to this habit, I had to find somewhere I could smoke on those late nights that I spent pondering my future.  I decided to spend them on the roof, so I had access to all the stars in the night sky.  Something about the moon was always so peaceful to me.

What I failed to know was that this lookout also played as an important overview for pro heroes with wings.  Specifically Keigo Takami, Hawks himself frequented this area, since it was in the more urban side of the city where small crimes were a dime a dozen.  One particularly heavy night, I found myself smoking through my tears as I had experienced a rough day in school with children who had no intention of learning whatsoever it seemed in the past few weeks.

To this day, I say Kami was spying on me for a while, but he insists the first time he caught wind of me was that fateful night when he heard my soft sobs and thought something was wrong, that I was being hurt or was in some kind of trouble.  I’ve gotten to know Kami better than that - he’s highly intelligent.  He could become manipulative at times, and therefore spent a fraction of his pro hero time infiltrating villain societies and crumbling them from the inside out - kind of like an American FBI Undercover Agent, if you will.

Kami was distracted for an entire hour with me that night, and found himself visiting every night thenceforth to keep me company and help me brainstorm creative ideas.  He even volunteered himself to come into the classroom for an informative presentation.  The kids were wowed by his beautiful crimson wingspan, and he even plucked a few out and let the children hold them and learn about the things they could do.

Now I met Kami first, before any of my current affairs had transpired.  We fell for each other fairly quickly, and thus our whirlwind romance began. He was soft, gentle, and although he is cocky at times in the public eye, he treats the ones he loves, which are very, very few, with the whole world.  Unfortunately for us both, we just could not fall into a steady groove because of how demanding his job was becoming as the youngest pro hero to open his own agency.  My visa was ending and I would be due back in America soon.  We parted ways after having a situationship of sorts for about 3 years, hoped to catch one another again in the next lifetime, and kept in touch here and there via email and text, with a few FaceTimes scattered in between.  Keigo was a flirt, this much was always clear; but he often asked questions and made remarks that conveyed that he still held a soft spot for me, and I for him, that much was proven constantly.

A few years later, I obtained my Bachelor’s and decided to try South Korea on for a little bit.

This is where I met whom I believe to be my twin flame, Zu.

A twin flame is very different from a soulmate or a romantic partner.  A twin flame can become romantic, or it can remain platonic; but it's defined as a metaphysical other worldly connection your soul has to another person.  You can have multiple soulmates, but only one twin flame exists in the world for each person.

Some people say, the reason for the billions of people on the planet was the Creator’s form of the only protection it could provide from us meeting our twin flame.  We are supposed to live and die with a yearning to constantly discover the world until we find it.  But the irony is, it’s really never meant to be found. It’s what motivates us to wake up every morning, a purpose of sorts, amongst the many other life goals we as humans, strive to achieve.

Legend has it that when you find one, your twin flame, it’s an addictive chaotic wave that forces you to grow and understand who you truly are and what you stand for by learning incredibly painful lessons.  That could turn beautiful or ugly, very fast.  My grandmother, a medicine woman, taught me that nothing can rupture the vein of connection between twin flames; nothing, but death itself.

I was 23, Zu was 22.

His full name is Izuku Midoriya, and many know him by his former hero nickname “Deku”.  I affectionately called him Zu, and he made it very clear that I was the only one permitted to do so.  Apparently, Zu had a tough upbringing.  He told me stories of being quirkless, which was a huge deal back in those days in Japan, where he was born.  He was gifted a quirk from the retired hero All Might and became, literally, the number one hero in Japan.

Zu was in Seoul visiting his father’s side of the family, and when we met, I thought he was just the sweetest guy.  He was pretty confident, but never cocky, all curly haired and freckled.  He wore his hair back in a curly pouf ponytail, and his muscular arms were littered with scars from near death battles in his youth.  We met at a Noraebang (karaoke) in downtown Seoul late at night, had to be maybe 2am.  We were both drunk and bumped into each other in the hallway. 

Feeling his liquid confidence boost, he immediately asked if I was with the group nextdoor to his room.  I nodded and he commented on how awesome the girl singing NSync was.  Laughing, I admitted it was me, embarrassingly.  We went on about 90s pop music for a few minutes before we realized we were drunk in the hallway and needed to get back to our respective social circles before they grew worrisome about our absence.

The waiter brought me a glass of wine that I didn’t recognize but before I could speak up, he said, “From the gentleman next door” and handed me a small piece of paper that read “Deku (the Britney Spears fan)” with a sketched laughing face and a phone number.  Of course, I hadn’t gotten his name, but I surely remember his drunken short rendition of “Baby One More Time” that I cackled to in the hallway earlier.

After casually dating for some time, we merged into a serious relationship that became long distance when I moved back to America.  He would visit America and we would hotel hop to different states to gain new experiences together, and I spent many a drunken night in Japan with him.  We tousled on the beach in Miami, went hiking through the waterfalls of Oregon, and went skydiving in Las Vegas.  Those were my wild days.  Looking back, Zu was always a wild boy at heart, but he just wanted to die on this hill of being the next All Might.  At this particular stage in our lives, there was no convincing him otherwise.

We split after two and a half years, but managed to maintain a close friendship.  I cared for him like a brother, perhaps even more so than that, although he was only a year younger than I.  I couldn’t imagine my life without his presence, even just as my friend.  I didn’t understand why then, but it was what I wanted and he wanted it too.  So friends we remained.

When I finally turned 27, I went to Japan again to teach.  I was in the groove of travelling and wanted to break free of my mundane normalcy and get back into freelancing and seeing the world yet again.  There was a lapse in this time, where Kami and I did not speak for a year.  It wasn’t due to an issue, but we just - got busy in our personal lives.  I’m sure Kami was likely messing with many females, or perhaps even dating just one or two, but it wasn’t my concern at the time.  I linked back up with Zu and he promised me a good time at a bar I had never been to, if I was down now that I was back in Japan.  He wanted to invite me out and celebrate.

And God knows, I loved getting drunk with Izuku in the streets of Japan.

So off we went, about forty five minutes outside of Tokyo to a new province I hadn’t heard of.  The bar was smoky, with scents of marijuana amongst the tobacco in the air.  It was dark, with red accent lighting making it look like something out of futuristic video game.  Zu led me to the back, a large security guard stepped aside, and he led me upstairs to the loft area where there was a pool table.

Now mind you, I was aware that he had intentions on trying to press rewind, but at that moment in time, I had none.  I didn’t feel like settling down, and I was finally back in Japan and I wanted to see what everything had to offer, and I never made that a confusion with Zu.  I was always very honest and transparent.  He made it easy to be honest with him, he always did and I loved this about him.  Izuku had a mature appreciation for our friendship, and allowed me to do me for a while.

“Well look what the cat dragged in, if it ain’t Deku.” A husky voice called out from under the pool table lamp as he hit his shot.  The voice belonged to Katsuki Bakugou. He was 30 years old, stood a solid 6’2 with an obviously muscular frame under his black tee and denim jeans.  His hair was about shoulder length, wispy and blonde, and he had it back in a lazy low ponytail with pieces drifting in the wind.

Zu smirked as he approached the table, “You haven’t shown your face here in five years.” Katsuki continued.

“Gave you guys a chance to get back to some normalcy around here.  Besides, I can’t breathe without something happening in the city.”

I stood with my hands in my coat pockets as I politely let them speak, waiting for my introduction.  However, I did catch Zu say “you guys” as if there was someone else-

“Come on, just ‘cause you’re not assigned to this district doesn’t mean you can’t show up and say hey sometimes man.” Another voice emerged from the dark corner, “Hold my drink for me, baby?” I saw an arm in the shadows pass a drink to a nearby woman that sat on a couch.

The owner of the voice emerged, he stood VERY tall to me, probably 6’4 or so, and had a full, weight lifting build.  His hair also cascaded down and was a bloody crimson colour, some of it falling in his face.  He was casually dressed in a black tank and dark wash jeans.

“Aren’t you being kinda rude Deku? I mean, who’s your friend? You didn’t even introduce her.” He asked as he looked at me with a grin, and I noticed, when he smiled, his teeth were sharp, almost shark-like in nature.  He literally looked like a cat that had caught the canary!

‘He must have a quirk, these must be heroes’ I rationalized to myself.  Still, it shocked me.  I was very much human and not used to running into heroes this casually.

“I’m India.” I offered.

“I brought her here so we could let off some steam.  She’s a teacher at YAP elementary and we’re celebrating her return.” Zu turned to me, “India, I went to high school with these guys.  They are responsible for keeping people safe in this city. Kacchan owns the local hero agency.” He pointed to Katsuki, “This is Katsuki, but I call him Kacchan, we go way back.” He gestured to the red haired gentleman, who I caught eyeing my legs and when he got introduced his eyes flew back up to my face real quick.

“And this is Eijirou.”

I’m not sure how he got around Katsuki and Zu but somehow, by the end of that night, I had his phone number.  I wasn’t sure what the purpose of the woman on the couch was, if he was just going to blatantly cheat on her; I later found out that was someone he had met at a club and taken out for the night, but hadn’t become anything serious yet.

Eij and I went together like peanut butter and jelly.  He was funny, spontaneous, mannerable, and extremely romantic. Very protective and extremely affectionate.  We delved into a serious relationship relatively quickly.  I finished my year teaching and Eij even took a year off from pro hero work to spend it in America with me.  We began to consider where we would be living together permanently.  We started planning our future.  Something I had never done much with anyone else except the few conversations I had years ago with Kami.

I thought “wow, I finally found the one“ and felt consistently relaxed and at ease.  I felt validated and reassured every day.  We worked out together, went to the movies often, he made me dinner sometimes, and he was always spoiling me with things to make me smile.  Eij could make me laugh until my stomach hurt.  And our sex life was quite wild.  I did things I never tried before with his hardening quirk.  My inner thighs quickly became littered over time with light bruises and scratches from his teeth, since he spent so much time down there so often.

We spent the next three years in bliss before we found out together at a fertility clinic that due to a genetic mutation in his quirk, we would be unable to have children.

That was the agonizing deal-breaker between us, and we knew at that point we were simply incompatible.  We both took it hard, and as masculine as Eij would like the world to believe he is, I believed he took it a lot harder than I.  He wanted a son of his own so bad, he talked about it constantly.  His world was shaken by the news.  Of course, we had no idea before we decided to try to conceive that this would happen.  He moved back to Japan and I decided to stay in America and grieve losing what I believed to be my only true love.

At 30 years of age was when I finally crossed paths with my husband, Levi Ackerman.  Back in my younger days in Japan, I befriended a quiet girl my age named Mikasa Ackerman.  She was another teacher at the school, but she was from a rural Japanese town instead of an American transplant like me.  Mikasa invited me to a tiny Japanese island where most of her family stayed, for a traditional bazaar they hold annually.  Her father’s side of the family, who hailed from Hawaii, would be present and she just insisted I meet her cousin, Levi.

She thought because I had pretty much given up hope after Eij, that even if Levi didn’t spark an interest in me, I would at least have gotten my toes wet in the dating pool yet again.  I hadn’t dated in quite some time.  I wasn’t particularly interested.

Yet I agreed because - food.

“Oi, Levi!” Mikasa spotted him sitting on a large rock by the ocean.  He was staring off into the horizon and seemed - pensive.  I suddenly felt a little bit nervous.  He was very handsome, with an undercut and jet black hair framing his face, and fierce, cutting eyes.  He almost appeared to be scowling.

“Levi!” Mikasa called again, and he glanced over his shoulder and she waved with a smile as she walked me over.

He looked back out at the ocean again.

‘Whew. This is not gonna be fun.’ I thought to myself, my heart panging in my chest as I remembered Eij and how easily that first meeting between us went.  I suddenly wanted to text him.

No.

I’d be fishing for something more than our current friendship and I can’t do that to myself, or to him.  That would waste our time.

“This is another teacher at YAP Elementary, her name is India.” Mikasa gestured to her cousin, “This is my pain in the ass cousin Levi.”

Levi Ackerman, at that time, was 33.  He was a captain of the Scouts, a military faction that resided over this tiny Japanese island.  I would later discover his tragic, traumatic upbringing, which led to his avoidant attachment style of romance and communication.  Levi barely spoke, but after we became married, sometimes, in private, he would engage in what felt like relaxed conversation with me.  He would stroke my face and give a small smile every now and again, the side of his lip tugging up just a bit.

Once Mikasa left us to our own devices, Levi spoke first, something I didn’t expect.

“You know the world’s a shitty place, right?”

‘Wow so that’s the first thing we’re going with? Alright…’

“I had a fair idea, glad I’m talkin’ to someone who can confirm.”

Just like that, a small, amused tug at the corner of his lips and he looked back at the ocean.

“Yeah.” He sighed his voice relaxing a titch, “Definitely can confirm.  The world is a shitty place to inhabit.”

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

From that moment on, we kind of just…clicked.  The more we spoke, the more serious we got.  It began to get deeper when the war was brewing on that island.  I found myself in bars and backs of restaurants, overhearing vital pieces of information and I would immediately report back to Levi.  I had no interest in joining the military, or working for them in any capacity.  I was an American citizen, after all, and had no loyalty owed to Japan.  However, I had fallen deeply for Levi, we were cultivating a partnership, and I could see that the more I fished for information, the more I earned his trust and respect, and that was the fast track way to his heart.

I remember being in the basement of a home in the rural area of the island, a man and woman tied up in chairs, bloodied and beaten and whimpering for their lives.  I wore a black paper mask to protect myself from inhaling dust, my hands in my pockets clenched in fists as I watched my then-fiancé beat these people into pulp, surrounded by quiet soldiers.  His eyes narrow, his nostrils slightly flared.  He would demand information from them.  The woman would look to me with a swollen eye, pleading for help from another female.  Begging for me to empathize with her plight.

Little did she know, I was the one that reported them as traitors and led them to their demise to begin with.  I wasn’t as confident as I appeared, however, and I found myself micro flinching with every physical blow.

Finally, when the woman passed out, the man plead that if he spoke, could we release his wife.

I watched my fiancé look down the bridge of his nose at the man, he lifted an eyebrow and said flatly, “Ok”.

The man in the chair spoke rapidly and descriptively.  He told Levi everything about what they were planning, who had infiltrated thus far, and dates of terroristic events to come.

“Now please, let my wife go.” The man begged.

In a blink, my fiancé shot the man and his wife in the head, one after the other.

I nearly passed out.

From that moment forth, I began to develop an understanding on a deeper level the complexities to the man I was about to marry.  I understood that what I saw was tame compared to what he encountered on a daily basis.  A year later, the war had officially begun.  My visa was going to expire soon.  A decision had to be made.  We were both in our mid to late thirties with no time to waste.  We married in Japan and I moved onto the tiny island with my husband.

I wasn’t aware of it then, but this was the beginning to what we believed to be the end of Levi Ackerman.

[2021fuckitup]

“ WE GET HIGH WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM OUR FRIENDS”

Helpful hints for newborn to old fuckers...

Why A Torch Lighter Is Ideal:-Your product liquifies, then smokes, almost instantly

-It is MUCH easier to control the direction the meth flows, as well as what is receiving heat

-You can get MUCH bigger hits

-You can avoid burning it so much easier than with other flames

-No flickering flame

-Butane refills are cheap as fucking shit (I got a hairspray-sized bottle of Zippo butane for the price of 2 disposable lighters)

-Don’t burn your thumb as much

-Sessions can be initiated and/or finished faster

Downsides-If you don’t pay attention, you can burn the shit out of your product, or yourself. BE CAREFUL, PAY ATTENTION, AND BE PATIENT

-Smoke through your stash quicker

-Possibly worse burns because its hotter than a bic

How to smoke meth with torch lighter for beginners:

1)First ensure that your pipe is clean.

Why?

For the ice to smoke properly. DO NOT load fresh product in a pipe with product that has been smoked, burned, or otherwise heated. If you load fresh on top of a still smokable bowl, the new and old will melt/smoke at different speeds/temperatures (can’t remember which is which right now, but I think old smokes faster), ensuing that it is very difficult to evenly heat the product. Then you get spots where part of the crystalized mass liquifies and will move with the flame, but some of it needs more heat, and for me at least, some always gets burned or darkened, and has a bad taste. If you load fresh product in a pipe with burnt shit in there, IT WILL TASTE LIKE SHIT. It will often also not melt/smoke right, AND your new stuff will taste like burnt stuff, which is THE WORST taste in the world (IM0). (FYI-I’ve heard that blowing cigarette smoke through a oil pipe (like you were going to hit it, but exhaling smoke through it instead) removes the taste. I have tried with pot smoke and it didn’t work, but have read many people say that cigarettes work.

How to Clean the Inside of A Pipe-If it is not clean, a very easy method is to fill a microwavable container (like a coffee mug) with 50% water, 50% bleach, and put the pipe (bowl facing downwards) in the water.

-Put it in the microwave for 4 minutes (yes, seriously that long-I tried after 1, 2, and 3 minutes and it didn’t work. May even take 5.)

-Let cool. Once cooled, remove from mug and drain all water.

-Using Q-tips, insert through carb hole and “mop up” the stuff left in the bowl. This may take several qtips depending on the bowl. If there is still black/brown stuff in the bowl, apply more pressure

(be careful not to break the bowl by pressing the q tip too hard on the sphere, OR accidentally pressing on the side of the carb when trying to reach around inside with q tip.) If there is still stuff in there, I have read that small bits of Magic Eraser stuffed in, and manipulated with a pole (like a q tip) work wonders, but also have not tried.

How to Clean the Outside of a PiPE

-Using a wet rag, or balled-up wet paper towels/toilet paper/napkins/etc, rub the outside of the bowl. This should cause the stuff on the outside to transfer onto the paper.

-If this doesn’t work, steel wool may work.

Handling/Prepping Product

-Dont handle meth by hand. It’s bad for your skin, and little amounts will dissolve. Instead, use:

Ideally: a 7/11 straw (this is a straw whose last inch or so is a scoop, sometimes used for slurpees or w/e those frozen drinks are; these straws I have found to be ideal for handling all sorts of drugs).

Realistically: Normal Straw: Straw been sealed on one end (tape, seal it with flame), and on the other has a 45 degree angle (45 degree is diagonal; if you cut a square in half diagonally, the diagonal line is 45). This allows you to scoop small fragments out of a bag, tin, or other carrying device easily, as the angled mouth scoops up crumbs, especially in corners of bags; while the sealed back prevents any from accidentally spilling.

Size/Shape

-Make sure your product is all of the same consistency. I find it best to use one crystal, preferably large (but not to large). I find the size of a tic tac, or slightly larger, to be ideal. Also, cubic or rectangular is best possible shape IME. I will often break long, skinny crystals because they dont burn as well as more square ones, and broken into small squares, they will smoke more evenly.

-While you can load bigger crystals with smaller bits/shake, I generally find it is best to load similar sized rocks. That is, load all shake, load two or three crystals of equal size, or put one crystal in there (usually a big one).

-If you need to break a crystal into smaller bits to make equal sized crystals (or to make odd shaped crystal more square), place a sanitary, nonabsorbent material on top of/around the crystal (no dollars bills here, printer paper works great.) and either snap it in two, or push against a surface. If pressing, you can use a finger, debit card, whatever, just slowly apply more pressure so you can crush to consistency of your liking. If you crush it all the way, you have shake(aka powder).

Differences Between Methods

Single Crystal (often large): Crystal will slowly lose mass as it melts, evenly becoming a pool (as long as you thoroughly spread it around the bowl).

Multiple Little Ones: If you evenly heat them: Will slowly melt into each other. Will be left with a very spread-out puddle, possibly multiple spread out ones.

If unevenly heated: There will be areas meth of varying thickness, accompanied by uneven melting and probable darkening/burning,.

Shake: Will liquify very quickly; little bits that haven’t yet been heated may go to weird parts of the bowl when you begin twisting, so you end up with tiny blotches and a single large or a few smaller puddles.

Loading Product

-Using straw, scoop your product into the chamber. Keeping upright, grab oil pipe and tilt at an angle so that the carb is pointing sideways, or angled down slightly. This will allow you to insert straw opening into carb before tipping the straw, ensuring you don’t miss the hole and lose any.

-Once inserted, twist pipe (while holding onto straw of course) until carb is once again pointing up. Tap straw to get all the little bits into the pipe (if meth is still sticking, use a scraper of some kind).

-Remove straw, and put pipe on level surface, BETWEEN TWO OBJECTS. THE PIPE WILL ROLL PEOPLE, AND WILL SPILL ALL YOUR GODDAMN PRODUCT AND/OR FALL ON THE FLOOR AND BREAK. UGH!

Now that you have a loaded pipe, ensure that you are ready to begin. Suggestions include

-Water

(lots of it!!) Both meth and smoking dehydrate you, and the more dehydrated you are, the more you will suffer from dental damage and brain damage (neurotoxicity). A large amount of methamphetamine neurotoxicity (and most dopamine toxicity) is temperature-dependent, as it often induces hyperthermia (This is similar to MDMA, aka XTC, Molly, rolls, etc). Water cools your body.

You should be urinating with irritating frequency, and should be voiding clear urine, otherwise you are already dehydrated (unless taking assloads of vitamins or something).

-Music

I can’t even describe how much music enhances the experience of smoking meth. It synergizes well-the meth makes the music sound insane, and in turn the music intensifies the high, making me feel even more intelligent/strong/attractive/cool/special. This is the part of the high I crave, and it rarely occurs (at least with the intensity I like) without music.

-Spare lighter/butane refill

When smoking meth, you are always running out of fuel. The spare lighter is also useful because lighters get really hot when ignited for long periods of time (like when smoking meth) and you can swap them out.

-Wet (but not sopping) rag or bundled tissues/paper towels/toilet paper/etc

This is to set the pipe on when not using it (a hot pipe will burn fabrics, fucking up whatever its on as well as the pipe), and to cool down the pipe after a hit. The pipe stays hot for a while, and if you don’t hit it, drugs are being lost/wasted. If you cool the pipe, it will stop heating the drugs faster (duh). Do not do this immediately after getting the pipe really hot-heat and cold on glass can break it. Wait for it to cool slightly, then use it.

When you use the rag to cool underneath liquified dope, it will emit a lot of smoke while crystalizing I read somewhere that the meth actually vaporizes/produces smoke when it hits cooler surface, but I don’t know the validity of that. I do know that cold makes it smoke more though.

-Salt Water

Swishing and gargling salt water while smoking meth (ie after a hit, and definitely after a session) will help prevent canker sores, help kill bacteria (which will inhibit meth mouth) clear mucus in back of throat (which will build up from smoking ice, and may possibly absorb some of it), and prevent sore throat. Its really easy-just add table salt to water (not too much). Some people say to use hot water, but there is more bacteria in hot water pipes, so I use cold.

-Biotene Products

These are oral healthcare products designed to combat dry mouth. There is an oral gel that you kind of spread in your mouth and coats it to act like a artificial saliva. It tastes kinda bad (not awful) and feels weird, but it beats dry/cracking skin, and is good for oral health. They also make alcohol-free (alcohol makes dry mouth worse) mouthwash that I find makes me produce a bnch of saliva for like 10-30 minutes, which can be helpful. They have toothpaste, but that is only to not irritate dry mouth. Finally, they have oral mouthspray, which is apparently the best, but I have not tried yet.

-Weed

Weed makes meth smoking more fun I find. Its hard to describe. Go slow as you may have negative anxiety reaction

Positioning:

The pipe will need to be twisted back and forth, so for me, I hold it in the middle of the stem between my middle finger and thumb. This allows me to easily roll the pipe back and forth. The carb is facing the sky/ceiling, and I have the pipe slanted, so the bowl is slightly closer to the floor than the mouthpiece. This allows me to put my index finger over the mouthpiece. so that when I first heat up the bowl all the initial smoke (that you will not yet inhale because it is not super thick and you want to build up a good hit) goes up the stem and is trapped by my finger rather than out through the little carb hole (which it will do when the stem is filled with smoke). Finally, it also allows me to use my pinky to cover the carb (I rarely do this because often the carb is hot).

Lighter

[Torch] Lighter is held in the other hand, underneath the dope in the bowl. Adjust your flame to lowest setting (if you can). While initially hitting the bowl, since your mouth is not on the mouthpiece, you can hold the pipe in front of you while you heat to gaug distance between flame and bowl, and make sure the flame is under the drugs. However, once you begin inhaling, you have a much worse view (through the bowl), and it is easy to hold the lighter too close (or far, but usually close), or to have it not even under the bowl. Due to poor depth perception (which I assume is from the drugs), or some visual warping from the curvature of the glass, its really easy to do this, and happens a lot. A mirror is helpful so you can see yourself. Another option is attaching flexible tubing (like aquarium tubing) to the mouthpiece so you can inhale through that while holding the pipe in front of you. This will also enable you to make meth bongs (search it).

Philosophy of Smoking Meth

Meth becomes a clear liquid when heated, then vaporizes into a white smoke. The idea is to heat whatever you placei n the pipe evenly so that it all melts down to liquid, then, by twisting the pipe, spread the liquid all around the bowl, so that it doesn’t stay in a hot place for too long and burn. Once liquified, the pipe can be twisted. This allows you to put your flame ahead of the liquid (think of the liquid chasing the flame), so that once the glass is heated, it will fall/roll down the curve towards your lighter and smoke. As you get close carb, you begin to twist the other way, keeping the liquid following your flame. However, with a torch lighter, you can soon twist the pipe without the flame and the liquid will still run for a while, and when it doesn’t is when you reapply the flame.

Quick Info On Torch Lighters

Torch lighters are very hot, much hotter than bics. Their flame is much more intense, and the heat above is much hotter than a bic. Therefore, you must keep much more distance between your lighter and pipe than with a bic. It will vary according to lighter type, pipe thickness, and especially flame size; but my flame is maybe between 1/3 and ½ of an inch, and my lighter stays 1-3 inches away from the pipe; with me increasing distance the longer its lit.

-Also, you do not heat the bowl with a torch lighter for long periods of time like you do a bic. Once it begins to smoke, quit using the lighter, and only reapply once the liquid quits moving when you twist the pipe. Also, be sure to twist pipe while lighting the whole time with a torch lighter, even if it is slowly. You cannot really get away with heating in one spot for a short period of time like you can with a bic.

Smoking

Premelt:

-Keeping your flame 1-2 inches below the bowl, roll flame in a circle around the perimeter of your product, so the outermost portion begins to liquify. Remember to continue moving the flame.

-As it begins to liquify, begin twisting the pipe back and forth. You want to heat the edges of the product and then the glass adjacent to the edges to make it flow there. However, when reversing the direction of the twist, make sure to heat the inside/middle for a moment as well so that it will melt once the dope bordering it has melted.

-Eventually you will have a puddle of liquid that is mobile-stop heating! COntinue to twist the pipe to spread the stuff around and wait for it to recrystalize (turn back into a liquid). You can speed this up by touching pipe with damp rag/paper towels/etc, but I like to let it cool by itself the first time. Wait for the pipe to cool down-its worth it.

Smoking

(this is assuming you are covering the mouthpiece and have the pipe angled like I mentioned in positioning)

-Now you should have a thin puddle of clear crystals stuff. Once again, heat with flame around the perimeter (much bigger this time, but it will also melt faster now because its thinner). Once melted, it should soon begin to smoke. Cease lighting once it begins smoking a fair bit and continue to twist.

-Because you have your finger over the mouthpiece and the pipe angled, the hot vapor will travel up the stem, and be trapped. Once vapor begins to emerge out of the carb hole, quickly take your finger off the stem and begin inhaling (do this quick because the stem is filled with vapor).

To Inhale:

You do not need to actually suck most of the time. With the pipe angled, simply forming a seal on the mouthpiece is usually enough, and if you have to inhale, do not suck like smoking. Instead, inhale like you are breathing but VERY slowly/softly. It takes very little pressure and the bigger hit you get, the better IMO.

Reheating

Use the torch for very brief periods of time. Once the liquid is moving and smoking agian, stop. You can also use more, but never use less once its burned.

Finishing your hit:

If your lungs are full and it is still smoking, cover the carb and mouthpiece and continue twisting. I like to hold my hits for 4-8 seconds, some say blow out right away, but I dont like that. You can also use a damp rag or damp paper towels/toilet paper/napkins/etc and wipe the bowl, to cool it down and make the liquid recrystalize faster (dont do this when the bowl is still super hot because it can break it). This will make it smoke a lot for a second so I like to do it while inhaling.

For Experienced Users:I have found the torch lighter to be far superior to the bic. With the bic, I would experience uneven and slow heating/melting. Now, I have almost instantaneous liquification, followed by thick smoke, and as long as I use the torch sparingly, no darkening of product. The trick is to be patient and methodical:

-Use the torch 1-3 inches away from the bowl

-Move it quickly

-“Encourage” the liquid to trael all over the bowl by leading it with the flame

-Use inward swirling movements, especially during the melting phase

-I recommend using single, squareish crystals for this.

[kiirokero]

Seashell (KNJ)

Pairing: Merman!Namjoon x MarineBiologist!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Merman!Au, Strangers to friends to lovers

Word Count: 4,393 

Summary: Working as a marine biologist was a dream. You loved the ocean and its creatures, and one of those creatures loves you back. What happens when things go sideways and you have nowhere else to go besides to the one person who felt like home?

Warnings: Slight allusion to animal mistreatment.

Note: This took way too long...

   You breathed in the fresh salty air of the beach; it stung your nostrils pleasantly as you sighed, content laced in the action. The sunset on the horizon was beautiful, decorating the soft sand and calm waters delicately. Every day after work, you would walk down from your house that was up the hill, towards the soothing beach you saw every day. You could clearly see your small beachside house from the shore, making the rarely visited beach that much more intimate.

     Just like always, you played along the shore like a little kid. Drawing things in the sand, splashing around in the shallow waters, collecting seashells. It was just the thing you needed after a long shift at work. The sand between your toes and the salty air in your hair calmed the tension you had from the hours before. Being a marine biologist wasn't easy, especially when you were constantly getting into arguments with your boss over the health and safety of the local coral reef. He always said it wasn't a huge priority, but in imminent danger or not, you felt it needed to be protected more.

    "Why can't he understand that it's better to protect it now rather than later?" You grumbled, taking a seat on a rock that breached the barrier between shore and ocean. A cliff stretching overtop half-way, giving the area a cave-like feeling. You walked to the edge and put your feet in the cool water, smiling as the familiar tide of the salty water caressed your skin. You splashed the water around, watching the deep blue swirl in a smooth dance, the deep orange light of the lowering sunset blushing the surface with blinding sparkles. It mesmerized you. So much so, that when you felt something brush up against your feet, it gave you a heart attack.

     You shot your feet out of the water and slid away from the edge of the rock. Breathing unevenly as you looked down at your feet for any abnormalities. After you calmed down, you chuckled at yourself for overreacting, "Gosh, it was probably just seaweed... Scardy cat." You moved back towards the edge, peering into the deep blue, tumbling backward when a sudden splash caught you off guard. You shrieked, falling on your back, groaning at the sudden, sharp pain it caused.

    "Oh no! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to startle you!" You heard a deep voice say, you sat up and looked at the source of the mysterious speaking. Eyes landing on a muscular man with honey tan skin. Deep, sparkling brown eyes. Wet dark blue hair saturated with water. But what caught you off guard the most was the fin-like appendages protruding from the man's forearms, resembling those of a fish, the shape familiar to you as you saw the same appendages on the little creatures you interacted with on a day-to-day basis.

     You didn't even realize you weren't moving or speaking until he spoke up again. "Um... Hello? Are you okay?" You blinked before nodding a 'yes', not trusting your words flow out of your mouth. He gave you a smile, and you didn't miss the beautiful dimples that adorned his equally beautiful face. He placed his hands on the edge of the rock and pushed himself out of the water, landing on the edge with a thud. You gawked at his toned body and strength. If only you knew what to expect when you looked down.

     Your eyes almost fell out of your head when you saw that instead of legs, the man had a beautiful blue tail. Scales shining in the light as they effortlessly flowed down the limb. Scales also dotted around his abdomen, creating a satisfying transition from human to sea creature. The man noticed you staring and chuckled, the sound deep as it vibrated against your ears.

"Never seen a merman before?" He teased.

"M-merman?" You echoed.

"Yeah, you know, half fish half man."

"You guys are real?!" You shrieked.

"Ouch, yes, of course we're real."

    You realized your harsh words and quickly apologized, "I was just surprised is all... This isn't a prank... right?" You cautioned. He shook his head and motioned you to come closer, which you did. Something was telling you the man should unsettle you, that you should scamper back to your house, locking the door, far away from the mystery man. But another part of you trusted him. Maybe it was the fact he resembled a human, or maybe it was the curiosity of the marine biologist in you, you weren't sure.

    The man gently took your hand and placed it on his tail. You let out a quiet gasp as the familiar feeling of fish scales met your fingertips. No doubt it was entirely fishlike, the way it felt semi slimy but smooth. He took your hand again and put it on the fin that was attached to his forearm, and yet again, it felt just like a fish, down to the T.

"Believe me now?" He asked.

"Y-yeah," You nodded, "I'm Y/N by the way..."

"Namjoon."

"Nice to meet you, Namjoon."

      You didn’t go back to the beach for a couple days, scared to face the reality that you thought was just a dream. But it wasn’t, the pain in your back told you otherwise. Merman. The word ran through your head over and over. Merman. The creature that originally made you curious about the ocean was real. It breathed, swam, talked. 

      How was this even biologically possible? You always thought that if Merfolk were real, they’d be bald for less traction in the water, have more scales than skin, no nose even. But Namjoon was handsome. Like a siren. His skin had this beautiful honey glow and he seemed to be sculpted by Poseidon. He had the looks of a god, yet when he smiled he turned into a cutie. 

      You sat on your back porch thinking about him, the setting sun a familiar memory. Why are you thinking about him? You wanted to say it’s because you're a scientist and he interests you biologically, but deep down, you know that’s not the truth. He interests you as a person. How could someone so good looking be so shy and clumsy?

      You sighed, opting to go see if he was there at the rock. It wasn’t a long walk; you got there in no time, but the place seemed to be vacant. Nothing but you and the waves brushing up against the rocks. It was quite calm today, calmer than normal, which made you want to stay here for a bit. The sight was familiar, the setting sun, orange rays, sparkling ocean. You took a deep breath, humming at the distinct smell of sand and salt. It was always so lovely.

“You’re back.” 

     Surprisingly, you didn’t jump six feet in the air when you heard his voice, you just calmly turned your head to the side. There he was in all his tan glory, the setting sun making him look ethereal. “Yeah... I am.” You sighed. “I thought I scared you away...” Namjoon said gloomily, swimming over to where you dipped your legs in the water. You didn’t say anything back, what could you say? ‘Hey, you’re literally defying everything I learned in college and I don’t know what’s true anymore’? That was one reason, but the most damning one was, ‘You interest me as a person, and nobody interests me. It’s scary how we seem to click.’ How do you say that?

      “I... don’t scare you, do I?” Namjoon asked, making sure to keep some distance between the two of you. “You don’t have to be scared, I’m not dangerous.” You giggled at his words. No, you didn’t think he was dangerous, if he wanted to kill you he would’ve done it earlier. What was dangerous is the way you want to be around him. You wanted to make him smile, you wanted to get to know him. You never felt that with anyone else. It was dangerous how much you wanted to have him as a friend. “I know that, but finding out that Mermen exist was a shock.” You partially admitted. “I guess it would be for anybody.” He chuckled. “But you came back.” He pointed out. 

      “Yeah, I did.” He swam closer, testing if you were going to push him away. “Why?” He whispered. You bit the inside of your cheek, you were never good at lying, and he’s asking the question you desperately wanted to answer with a lie. But you couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you like you weren’t a selfish human. “I’d like to say it’s because the scientist in me is curious about mermen.. But the truth is, you just interest me as a person.” Namjoon was silent for a bit, contemplation clear on his face. 

      “You’re a scientist?” He finally said. “Marine Biologist.” You clarified. His eyes lit up, and in his excitement, jumped up on the rock and cupped your face in his soft hands. “So you like the ocean?” He gasped and you swore you could see stars in his eyes. “Yes, I love the ocean and everything about it.” You chuckled. “Then we’d be great friends!” His smile was huge and you couldn’t help the urge to poke one of his dimples. 

Friends... Could you be friends?

   "Not fair, fish boy!" You yelled. "Oh, it's totally fair!" Namjoon retorted, splashing you with water once again, using his massive tail to his advantage. It felt like getting hit by a tidal wave. "You play so dirty!" You complained, sending a splash towards him, weak compared to his tsunami. It had been two years since your first encounter with Namjoon. The day you went back to the beach again, the two of you talked and got to know each other. At first, you planned to go home and finally forget about him, but after a lot of begging, Namjoon convinced you to come back, and then it became a habit.

     Namjoon swam up to you and pulled you close into his arms. He usually did this when he saw you were tiring from keeping yourself afloat. "You're not fair." You huffed as you rested your head on his chest. You heard him laugh, deep and smooth, causing you to smile. Namjoon became your only friend since you could never connect with the people you interacted with daily. He would bring you shells, pearls, flora, and much more. Your house looked like a beach itself.

     "I'm so lucky I found you, Y/N." Namjoon sighed, you looked up at him and smiled, "What makes you say that?" You tilted your head to the side, awaiting a response. "You're just so.. awesome. You teach me things about humans and you've always been there for me. My brothers have heard so much about you that your name is a regular topic in our house." He admitted. He had mentioned his brothers before, all 6 of them. You always laughed at the funny stories that Namjoon would tell you about the energetic Jungkook or the grumpy Yoongi. Confining in you whenever he had a fight with his older brothers, mostly Seokjin, and you sat there as he complained about his younger brother's shenanigans.

     "Your sure they're fine with you hanging around with a human?" You questioned jokingly. Namjoon threw his head back and groaned, knowing the question all too well. You used to ask seriously, honestly worried about him, but after the eighth time, it just became a joke to annoy the merman. "I'm not answering that." He grumbled. You couldn't hold back your laugher and Namjoon begrudgingly joined you, laughing along.

     You couldn't help but admire Namjoon. His pretty eyes, cute dimples, plump lips, everything about him screamed perfection. His muscular arms and toned body always seemed to make your legs weak, his smile made your heart thud, and his personality mirrored a charming prince. You always admired him, and it scared you. 

     "Y/N, you're staring~" Namjoon's sultry voice caught you off guard, you quickly looked away, hiding your red face in embarrassment. "You're adorable!" He mused as he poked your cheeks, causing you to whine and swat his hands away, "Stoopp," You complained. He chuckled and pulled you close, stroking your hair, making you look up at him.

      The look in his eye was comforting, homely. It made your heart soft, wanting to melt into the warmth of his tan chest, to fall asleep to the melody of his breathing. You missed feeling warm. You missed hugs. You were touch starved and this god of a merman was giving you what you needed. Even if the two of you said nothing, the only noise filling your ears that of the ocean's wave, it wasn’t awkward. It was never awkward with Namjoon. 

"Can I kiss you?" He asked.

Until now.

"W-what?"

"Can I kiss you? Do humans not kiss?" He tilted his head like a lost puppy.

"Y-yes humans kiss, but why do you want to kiss me?" You blushed.

"I like you. I really like you." He admitted.

"Don't play jokes, Joon..."

     "But it's not a joke, I really do! I love your hair, your voice, your eyes, the way you scrunch your nose at the mention of sea kelp ramen." You scrunched your nose, and he giggled, "Yeah, like that, so, can I seal my confession with a kiss?" He asked, a silent plead hiding in his eyes. 

      Your brain was frying, thrown for a loop. Yes, you found Namjoon majorly attractive, not just in looks, but in personality. How he could go on and on about the botanical world of the ocean. How sometimes he was clumsy with the huge blue appendage that he’s dealt with for years, yet still fumbling over it from time to time. How he spoke so lovingly of his brothers. 

     However, you were a human; he was a merman. You had two legs; he had a tail. How was it supposed to work? How could you give him everything he needs? You couldn’t hold him at night, you couldn’t go on dates, you couldn’t even see each other unless it was here. 

      But you were selfish. You were selfish and wanted to be with him, despite all the reasons why you shouldn’t. Why you should back up and tell Namjoon that it could never work, that you couldn’t be the one for him. But you were selfish, and you nodded your head, pushing down the bubbling guilt you felt in your chest when you saw him smile. It was blinding.

       He leaned in and you felt his plump lips meet yours, fitting together like a puzzle piece. It was soft at first, gentle as if your lips were glass, easily broken. He wrapped his other arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He tilted his head to kiss you deeper, pressing his warm lips against yours eagerly, desperately wanting to imprint the shape of your lips in his mind, remember the curve of your cupids bow and the warmth that made his heart beat faster.

      If you were standing, your sure your knees would’ve wobbled with the way his soft touch sent your heart soaring. You couldn’t focus on anything but him, the merman in front of you. His slightly calloused fingers rubbing circles on the small of your back, his tail wrapping its way around your legs, his wet hair dripping salt water down your face. 

      His arms flexed as he gripped your waist tighter, waiting to keep you there, flush against his body forever. Nothing but the two of you and the ocean, lovingly caressing you with its calm waves. The thoughts of the long-term nothing but ghostly whispers, lingering in the back of your mind. You wanted to stay here forever, in his muscular arms, wrapped up in his beautiful tail.

     Unfortunately, you had to breathe, so you pulled away, huffing to make up for the lost oxygen. You looked up at Namjoon, eyes half lidded. "Wow," Namjoon sighed, "I want to kiss you forever," You giggled and buried your head in his chest. "Can we... be a thing?" He asked, hesitance laced in his voice. It was a question you secretly dreaded, because you knew you couldn’t refuse him."As long as your brothers are fine with you dating a human." You teased. Attempting to swallow your guilt.

"Y/N I swear to god."

      Today was a rough day, and that’s putting it lightly. You woke up feeling amazing, the memories of your fun with Namjoon still fresh, even if it was yesterday. However, when you stepped into work, things turned sour. 

      You never had a terrible relationship with your co-workers per se... But you weren’t a people person either. You found it hard to have a conversation with someone who you just didn’t click with, unlike Namjoon. Though, you weren’t expecting this. 

      It was no secret the company you were working for was going under. They just never seemed to make the right decisions, always favoring money over their actual job. Protecting and researching sea life. It ended up being there downfall after a lawsuit ended up on their way too shiny desks. You don’t know exactly what happened, but pieces of information made its way through the grapevine.

      Apparently, they made another greedy decision. The local sea otter population was dwindling slowly. Sadly, you’d see less and less of the little guys. It was the company's job to humanely capture and help the otters, eventually releasing them when scientists, like you, found out why they were dying. Humanely was the key word. A key word they didn’t pay attention to when a cheaper, crueler way of capturing the otters arose. 

      You already felt shitty. If only you’d known, you could’ve done something about it sooner. However, you were at the bottom of the food chain. Your job was to utilize those years of college to research these animals. Everyone knew you were always extra caring towards these creatures. How could you not be? They had no idea what was happening, you at least wanted to ease their anxiety in the form of positive reenforcement. 

     Little bits of fish here and there, pets for the animals that you could touch, giving the water bound creature the extra large tanks. It was the least you could do. You always wanted the animals to feel okay, because they shouldn’t be away from home in the first place. But your ways of comfort caused time, and money.

      Which was the perfect reason for your boss to lay you off. Of course it was a coverup, they needed to let employees go, to keep their money, you understood that. But they couldn't do it without a sound reason, So, when you found out all of your co-workers threw you under the bus to save their own asses from getting fired, it infuriated you. 

      How could they? What did you do to them? Nothing. It was a dog eats dog world here, and you knew it from the beginning. It was obvious most of the people here were in it for the hearty amount of money being a marine biologist could get them, not for the animals. 

      You didn’t know what to do, the closest place that would hire you was 30 miles away, meaning you’d have to move. You’d have to leave without Namjoon, and that broke your heart. The thought of not seeing his dorky face every day after work tore your heart apart. This is what you get for being selfish. The universe was turning on you, making you feel the pain of heartbreak and the hopelessness of your world crumbling before you. 

      Soon, you find yourself sitting on the rock that is full of memories. Some good, some bad. Like the time the two of you had your first argument, idiotically about who knows more on sea life. Or the memory where Namjoon gifted you a seashell necklace that you still wear till this day, you never take it off. The sudden sound of splashing water tore you out of your thoughts. 

      “Darling!” Namjoon’s warm voice flowed through the air, blessing your ears with some sort of comfort. He smiled at you, his cute dimples showing, giving you the urge to poke them. However, his smile faltered when he saw the tear stains tainting your cheeks.

      “Seashell, what’s wrong?” He called, heaving himself up on the rock. Seashell, the nickname made you smile. You never thought it could be a pet name, but Namjoon seemed to make it work, insisting he’d use it since they were your favorite thing to collect and the ones he gave you sat proudly on a designated shelf.

      “It’s been... A bad day.” Your voice came out rough and shaky. Namjoon reached out to you, pulling you into his arms. He was wet, and the water saturated through your nice work clothes, but you didn’t care. You wanted to be selfish again and have Namjoon hold you before you told him the news. News that would not only shatter you, but Namjoon too. 

      Tears flowed out of your eyes as sobs wracked through your body. You wrapped your arms around Namjoon’s semi-scaly waist and held him closer, desperately wanting to burn the feeling of his warmth into your mind. Namjoon let you cry before trying to calm down your frantic breaths. “Hey... Y/n. Breath darling. Calm down.” Namjoon whispered to you, resting his forehead against yours.

      “Breathe with me.” He ran you through a basic breathing exercise. In through your nose, out through your mouth. After you calmed down, you felt the pressure building up behind your eyes and you dreaded the headache that was to come tomorrow. 

      “There you go.” Namjoon smiled, pulling you into a chaste kiss. “Now, talk to me, seashell.” You weakly smiled, gathering the remnants of your courage that laid in pieces around you. “I...” You took a deep breath, “I got fired today...” You choked out, almost breaking down again. Namjoon cupped your face and rubbed his thumb over your cheekbone. “Oh, darling...” He pulled you closer to him once again, holding you tight. “But... That’s not all...” You murmured into his chest.

      Namjoon pulled you away, giving you a look that said ‘Carry on.’ “T-The closest place that can hire me is 30 miles away...” The tears started coming back. “And... And that means I would have t-to leave but... Joonie, I don’t want to leave...” You choked down a sob and buried your face back into Namjoon's chest. He said nothing as he held you closer, silently comforting you the best he can. 

      You can tell by his slumped body language that he was feeling hurt, lost, heart broken. Your selfish actions have led to somebody’s despair and it made you sob harder. Guilt wracked its way through your body, and you collapsed in his hold. “Come with me...” Namjoon whispered, petting your hair. 

      You shot your head up, looking Namjoon right in the eye. “W-What? I can’t Joonie. I’m not like you...” He held your hands and started scooting towards the edge of the rock. “Yoongi hyung! He can help!” He exclaimed with a newfound hope. “How?” You chuckled somberly at the excitement in Namjoon’s eyes. “He’s what we call a sea witch. Remember when we talked about them one day?” You nodded, remembering how you glowed like a child when you found out about Merfolk magic. “Yoongi hyung might know a spell... To help us.” He lowered himself into the water, placing his hands on your knees. 

      “What are you saying Joon?” You pressed. “I-I don’t want to lose you... So... I want to be selfish and take you with me.” He sighed, eyes a mix of intangible emotions. You froze, Namjoon? Selfish? Never. He was the most selfless person you’ve met. Always willing to help you, hold you, gift you things, make time for you. If you’d ask him to pull a scale and give it to you, he’d do it in a heartbeat to make you happy.

      You were the selfish one, knowing that one day you’d have to part ways. Falling in love with someone who felt like the home you lost long ago. You were the selfish one for giving in, for desperately wanting happiness, even if you knew it would hurt everyone in the end, Life throws wrenches in your road all the time, but you still let him fall in love with you. You let him kiss you, hug you, hold you, all for your selfish desire to be loved. “Your not selfish, Joon...” You sighed, and he gave you a soft smile.

      “Yoongi knows this transformation spell. He showed it to me a month ago... I thought maybe it could help us... Be together.” Namjoon was desperately dancing around the subject, but the hints he gave you were enough. “He can turn me into a mermaid?” You gasped, Namjoon nodded, taking both of your hands in his, kissing each one. 

      “I-If you want to...” He stuttered, nervous. If you wanted to... Did you want to? What did you have to lose? You don’t have a job, or friends... What about family? You're a single child to deceased parents, the only connection you had with your family was the New Year's postcards you got from your second cousin who seemed adamant about keeping it peachy with everyone who has your family's blood. 

      So what did you truly have to lose? If you went off the grid, who would look for you? Would they care enough to look for you? Your cousins are all married with their own lives, and your aunts and uncles only seemed to acknowledge you when they disagreed on your political opinions. The only person who ever made you feel loved in a way you lost when your parents passed was the merman, who looked on the brink of tears, floating in front of you. 

If you went with him, you had nothing to lose, so why refuse?

“Go get the grumpy old man. I’ll be here.” 

“Really? You’ll come with me?” Namjoon gasped.

“Yes.” You smiled.

“I love you so much, Seashell.”

“I love you too, Joonie.” 

[deewithani]

A clone’s first day at Coruscant prison

Clone Trooper Toast Series Volume 1

Pairing: Clone Trooper Toast x GN!Reader

Word count: 2,336

T/W: Hazing

Rating: G

A/N: I couldn’t help but go serious with this. It was started out as a drabble, but quickly gained its own life and I couldn’t stop. Toast clone is love. Toast clone is life. Toast clone deserves happiness too. I might write another couple of fics to give him some. This is my first fic ever, no beta. If we die, we die.

Tags: @royalhandmaidens as requested.

If you sat Toast down and asked him what his favorite food in the galaxy was, he would tell you it was toast. It was true, and his love for toast begat the name that he was given. He didn’t know exactly what it was about toast that made it his favorite food. It tasted good, sure, much better than the rations that were more commonly served to clones no longer in training (or so he had heard, he was fresh out of training himself), and definitely better than what they served to cadets to ensure their nutritional needs were met, but not exceeded, at the bare minimum of cost. You could put different toppings and spreads on it, giving you a new breakfast every day if you wanted. And it was cheap, so the Republic had no issue serving it to Clones as an “option”, sitting in the breakfast lineup on a tray, next to a small basket filled with small packets of butter and jogan fruit jam. He came to the mess at the same time every day, just so he could have some toast, because breakfast was his favorite part of every day. No, he wasn’t sure what it was about toast itself that made him like it best, but he knew it was his favorite food the first time he had breakfast at the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center.

You thought back to the first time you ever met Toast, the very first day he came to the prison, and the first time you ever saw “First Breakfast”. He arrived early that morning directly from Kamino with many of his other brothers, fresh faced and ready to make a difference in the war. To do a good job. To be a good soldier. To be a good brother. He had high hopes for this posting, and high expectations for himself, and he was prepared to do his duty to serve the Republic and its people. You thought back to that day with happiness. It was the day you met the most wonderful person in the galaxy.

On that very first day on duty he was cornered by a small group of more experienced troopers who were tasked with showing him around and getting him acquainted with his job and the brothers he would be working with. One of the most well known first day rituals the the boys participated in was known as the “First Breakfast”. It was a time where the more experienced clones would welcome their new brothers, in their own special way. The First Breakfast was a tradition, and every clone that worked at the prison had participated in it. Toast’s participation in the First Breakfast was required before he set foot on the floor, whether he knew it or not.

“C’mon vod” the leader of the group, Ether, had said. “Let’s head to the mess to grab some grub before shift change.” Toast spent the short walk answering questions, “How are the cadets on Kamino doing?”, “What do you think of Coruscant?”, “Do you know any girls?”, “Did you chose a name yet?”. He didn’t really know how to answer those questions, he never really thought about his own feelings about his life, but he answered them as best he could. The cadets were doing as well as any other clone had done on Kamino. Coruscant was different than Kamino, but he had never been any other place to make a fair comparison. Of course he didn’t know any girls, there were none aside from the Kaminoans and the Jedi Shaak Ti at the training center. And no, he didn’t have a name, he just didn’t stand out from his brothers enough to warrant a name, either from his vod or from his own heart.

When they finally reached the mess, Ether put an arm around Toast and gave him a rough side hug. “Alright vod. This is the staff mess. There’s mostly clones here, but there is some natborn staff, so don’t be surprised if you see a face that doesn’t look like your own in the mess every now and then. Now, the menu changes, and you know as well as the rest of us that some food just isn’t edible, so let me guide you through what’s good, and what’s not.” As he walked down the line he pointed out exotic dishes, to Toast’s palette anyway.

You sat alone in the corner of the mess, reading the day’s news on your holopad, unaware of the shiny new trooper that Ether’s crew just brought through the door. Ether lifted his voice, pulling your attention to the group, where he had his arm around the shoulders of the timid looking clone. You had heard that Ether liked to put new troopers under his wing, at least long enough to play a mean spirited prank on them, but the clones had always been tight lipped, and you had never seen or heard any solid proof it. Until today. Today, it looked like you might get a glimpse inside the world of a new clone at the Coruscant prison.

You watched as Ether pointed out various foods to the new trooper, shaking his head yes and no at various times, presumably to indicate which choices were better than others. It should seem obvious which were best; some dishes were barely touched, while others were attacked as if they were set out for a pack of loth-wolves. It didn’t take a scientist to know that clones had a liking for the spicy pepper hash that was a staple in the mess, and tended to stay away from the blue hued yogurt. You suspected that Ether was telling him the same.

First Breakfast always –always – included the spicy pepper hash. Every new trooper had to try it, even though all the others knew it was spicier than the lava of Mustafar. Ether knew First Breakfast was a mean prank. New clone trooper, fresh from Kamino? He’s never had anything spicier than some salt and pepper added to the “grey fluff” they called food on Kamino. The long necks probably didn’t even know what a pepper was, if he was being honest with himself. But he had seen more than one new shiny come through those prison doors and fall in love with the spicy pepper hash. They just needed to jump in feet first. Try it, burn up your taste buds, have a good laugh with your brothers, and tada, you’re part of the group! Every single clone here went through it, and it was obvious that almost all of them had a taste for the peppers. Besides, even if he didn’t like it, it was a bonding experience, and there were other things he could eat after today. He wouldn’t be the only clone that would pass on the hash after the First Breakfast, and no one held it against any of the others.

You watched as Ether filled the young clone’s plate with spicy pepper hash, telling him it was the most popular dish at the prison. He didn’t lie, exactly. It was. Loved by both clone troopers and prisoners, the hash was easily mass produced, cheap, and came frozen, allowing it to be safely stored for long periods. It was perfect for the prison, and the workers and inhabitants it contained.  He just left out the ‘it’s so spicy it will make you cry’ part. The new trooper didn’t even know what spicy was, let alone that it caused physical pain, but Ether and the other clones did, and you did too. Unfortunately for the young shiny, you didn’t know that he never eaten anything spicy before. The clone troopers seemed to love it, so why would you think the new guy would be any different.

Ether and his buddies led Toast to a table, in his hands his full plate and a small glass of water. The others had also chosen the spicy pepper hash, but had chosen to drink blue milk instead. “Kriff”, you thought to yourself, “that hash is really spicy. The other troopers are drinking blue milk, but he’s only got a glass of water. He doesn’t know what he’s in for”. You made the decision right then, if this is what Ether has in mind for his “prank”, you’ll have a glass of blue milk ready for what you felt was inevitable. If you were wrong, well, you would just have a glass of blue milk to drink for yourself. No harm, no foul, you could play it off as being thirsty and not bother the clones as they went about their business, but you wanted to be ready in any case. You didn’t like a bully, in any case, and if you had to take the new trooper the milk you could just play it off as just getting to know your new coworker, even if you didn’t work in the same area as he did.

You watched as the troopers started chowing down on their breakfasts, some eating slowly and savoring their meal, others shoveling it in as fast as they could. The new trooper dug in as well, but you noticed his face started turning red almost as soon as the hash hit is tongue. Most of the others with him had already started sipping on their milk, but the new clone was guzzling down his water before he ha d finished his first bite, coughing and trying to catch his breath as the strange food burned his mouth. You decided then that the prank had gone too far, and you got up to take the milk to the beleaguered clone.

“Here”, you told him. “Drink this. It will help take the spiciness away.” Toast, brow covered in sweat, eagerly took the milk from your hand and downed it in record time. “I’ll get you some more if you’d like.”, you said, and he vigorously nodded affirmingly. While you headed back to refill his milk, his brothers all gathered around him, patting him on the back jovially and welcoming him to the crew. On your way back to the table you noticed the small smile on his face, presumably for sufficiently passing the “test” and becoming one of the group. You still didn’t like Ether’s prank, but it did warm your heart to see the new trooper take it in stride, and his brothers gathering around to celebrate his official first day guarding the worst of the worst the galaxy had to offer.

While you were getting him a refill of milk you had an idea. Just because he had a bad experience with the spicy pepper hash didn’t mean that he couldn’t still have some breakfast. The problem was knowing what he liked. You had absolutely no idea. So you decided on the safe bet: toast. You grabbed a plate, a butter knife, and a fork, a couple of pieces of toast, and one pack each of butter and jogan fruit jam. Returning to the table you sat down at the seat opposite of Toast, placing the glass of milk and the plate in front of him, silently smacking yourself in the head when you noticed you added an unnecessary fork to the mix. Thoughts of how he would think you were an absolute idiot ran through your mind, but he looked up at you and smiled, graciously accepting the milk and toast.

He looked at the plate quizzically, before asking “What is this?” You were sure that he wouldn’t trust anything anyone else brought him after the fiery start to his first day, but he listened intently as you explained the different items you had placed on the plate. You told him the toast was an easy to eat food, not spicy and well tolerated by most people, and the butter and jam were used as spreads for the top. You thought he may like it more than the hash, so you brought it to him to try.

He seemed to accept your explanation, and after showing him how to add the butter and jam to toast you watched him take a bite. He chewed for a moment before his eyes went wide and a big smile split his face. Swallowing, he took a sip of milk, then looked back to you and exclaimed that it was the best thing that he had ever eaten in his life. At least, it was the best thing he had eaten up to that point.

“Well then, toast-boy, I’m glad there’s food here that you can enjoy. It’s my favorite food in the mess, I don’t really trust anything else, honestly.” You sat together at the table for a few minutes, asking each other questions and learning about your new friend. As the clock moved closer to the official start of your own day, you moved to wrap up your conversation, and you steered in the direction of your names. After you had officially introduced yourself, he looked at you sadly. He had never had a problem with not having a name before, but now he had to give you his designation, which felt inadequate, but he gave you what he had and explained that he hadn’t chosen a name for himself, and no one had given him a name either.

He didn’t have a name? How odd. Although you rarely worked with the clones directly every one you met had a name of some sort. Was it normal not to have a name? You didn’t know, but kind eyed clone gave you as much as he had. He was nice, and was good conversation, so you hoped that you would see him again.

“Listen, next time I see you, how about I call you Toast instead of those numbers? It would be easier for me to remember”.

“Yeah, I’d like that. ‘Toast’. Thanks for the name!”

You saw him in the mess every morning for breakfast from that day on.