#so i'd be washing the dishes at work thinking about how bad i felt for this fictional 12 year old boy

[crvstybowlofcereal]

rewatching moral orel im noticing the subtle changes even throughout season one at the end of episodes where clay is getting drunker and drunker, and orel is smiling less at his dad.

[enhafilthandfiction]

Enhypen Hyungline when you cockblock them :(

Jake panicking in photo (>_<) ------⤴

A/N : Hellooo I am writing this after most of you picked it from the poll :) Hope you enjoy! I'm accepting emoji Anons! (I'm making a list!)

Pairing : Bf!Hyungline X Fem!Reader

Warnings : Suggestive, boners, just hyungline tryna get their dick wet.

Word Count : 1,026 Words (about 250 words each)

Masterlist

» Lee Heeseung «

His eyes shot open, his breathing ragged as sweat beaded his forehead. Fuck. He just had a wet dream. A dream a little to realistic. "Heeseung! Ahh" he could still hear your sweet moans ringing in his ears as you fucked yourself on his cock in his dream.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, trying too ignore the aching between his legs. He already knew it; He was hard. He tried to ignore his erection, but the more he tried the more painful it felt.

He couldn't get off without you, even if he tried. He rolled around, gratefully finding you next to him, rolled on your side. His hands found your waist almost out of instinct, pushing you closer to his crotch.

The second your ass made contact with his clothed cock, he shamelessly started rocking his hips against you desperately for relief. "Y-Y/n" he whimpered out, hesitant but also wishing you just woke up and took care of him. "Y/n" he called out again, a little guilty for waking you up this late.

"Hee?" you asked softly, trying to turn around and face him.

"Yeah, baby it's me" he replies, biting his lips at your innocence.

"Everything oka-" you felt it.

"Y-yeah, I just need you" he admits, voice raspy with sleep.

"At 2:46 Am in the morning?" you asked, rubbing your eyes "No" you firmly added, unwrapping his hands from your hips and shutting down your eyes again.

He physically whines out and pouts "P-please baby, it hurts" he begs, though keeping his hands to himself.

"Nope, I don't feel like it tonight" you explain "stop being a horn dog and control your erections" you said, smiling to yourself and going back to sleep.

"You're so mean" he sighs to himself, accepting the fact that he got blue balled. :(

» Park Jay «

Jay knew he had a busy schedule. Lately he's been coming home late and very horny. But, being the thoughtful person he was, even if he had a raging boner, he wouldn't want to wake you up very late at night just to relieve himself.

But today, he came home fairly early. Well, even if it was half past ten at night, he found you in the kitchen, still washing the plates from dinner. This was his chance.

He makes his way over to the counter, wrapping his hands around your waist - just to back-hug you.

"Hi baby~" he greets happy to be with you after a long day of work. You greet him back, turning your head around to give him a short kiss.

"How was work?" you ask him, your hands still busy with the dishes.

"It was okay" he starts off sighing "I was thinking about you most of the time" he admitted.

"Is that why you're trying to get your dick wet?" you ask bluntly, referring to the not-so-subtle movements of his hips against you.

"I- uhh, maybe?" he feels his cheeks heat up.

"Too bad, I'm on my period" and with that you dry up your hands, lay a kiss on his flushed cheeks and go get ready for bed, leaving him staring blankly in disbelief.

Sigh, guess he's gonna have to rub one out in the shower.

» Sim Jake «

It was a lazy Friday and you and your sweet boyfriend Jake were one the couch, binge watching a random Netflix show. He was on one end of the couch, you were on another.

As the show went on, he felt himself getting more and more bored when he could be fucking you right then and there. You however, were very invested in the show, laughing at every little joke that Jake missed or paying close attention when he was just yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"Y/n, don't you think this is a little boring?" he asks all of a sudden, making you pout.

"You could've told me you weren't enjoying the show" you pouted.

"Yeah, I'd enjoy you much more" he smirked, flicking his eyebrows up and down.

"Oh" you simply say, shrugging your shoulders and resuming your show.

He stares at you in shock, expecting you to at least do something, but when you don't he makes his way to your end of the couch, burying his face in your tummy and holding your waist.

"Y/nnnn pleaseee" he begged, squeezing you harder, making you giggle "Need you"

"Nah uh, I'm not in the mood Jakey, sorry" you confirm, nevertheless stroking his hair.

He puffed out, getting up "I have to go to the bathroom" He announced, kissing your forehead and making his way to the bathroom.

At one point you turned off the television and decided to listen to his exaggerated moans as he jerked himself off, secretly laughing to yourself.

» Park Sunghoon «

You jumped in shock when Sunghoon slid the shower curtain open, sliding in behind you.

"Hoon! Jesus you scared me" you sigh, sucking a breath in.

"Jesus, am I that scary" He jokes, tickling your sides, "Booooo!"

"Shut up dummy" you laugh, turning around to face him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. His hands rubbed all over your back, before landing on your ass, giving it a squeeze. "Perv" you roll your eyes playfully.

"You have a nice ass babe" he admits, giving it another squeeze to emphasize his point.

"So do you" you say, reaching for his ass and giving it a light slap.

"Heyyyy" he whines, swatting your hands away. You giggle at his blushing cheeks, pinching them. It's only when you realise why he's blushing after feeling his tip nudge your belly.

"Extra perv" you giggle, watching as he tries to defend himself.

"It's not my fault your ass is so soft" he blames you ass of growing him an erection, making you shrug your shoulders.

"Unlucky for you, I'm not a fan of shower sex" you say, sliding the curtain open and getting out, leaving him hanging with a raging boner. "B-but" he sighed when you he realised you were already out of the room.

He better have a good mental image of your nice ass cause he's gonna need it to get himself off.

Hi, thanks for reading till the end! I hope you enjoyed this post! Have a good day/night and remember that ily <333

If you enjoyed this post, you could support this blog by tipping me here! Anything it greatly appreciated.

[slytherizz]

Sebastian Sallow with a Muggle Significant Other Headcanons

Co-authored by @diligentcranberry

Sheepish as he is to admit it, until he met them, Sebastian always felt rather bad for muggles and their lack of magic.

Being rather shocked initially when he realised that this captivating person who has caught his attention is, in fact, not a wizard/witch at all yet they're so bright and clever he is fascinated by them.

Scheming of ways to get around the statute of secrecy when they're first together because being limited from magic in front of them at first feels like torture.

And he wants to impress them and open them up to all these amazing things he knows.

But the more time he spends with them discussing mythology, history, art, and all manner of things challenging his mind in new ways, that need for magic lessens.

Seb, who realises it may not be the magic he craves but the intellectual stimulation from learning and debating.

Initially baffled by their muggle habits and how long everything takes.

Seb who realises how when his partner does something as simple as brewing a cup of tea for him it takes so much more effort, but he swears it makes it taste better.

Sebastian, whose love language is acts of service and wants to take care of the people he loves.

Starts doing things for them the muggle way and expressing that love in the labour of it a flick of a wand can't replicate.

Relishes how heavy their bags are when he insists on carrying them. How their skin puckers when they wash dishes together. How long the journey is when travelling by train and not by floo and all this time they get just to talk and be with eachother.

Experiencing life in a completely different rhythm, he always thought he'd find tedious, but doing it together makes even the mundane seem spectacular.

Sebastian who loves magic and continues to pour over spell books, but his partner opens his eyes to this whole vast world of topics he never knew anything about, and his mind is blown.

He's inhaling anything he can get his hands on science, technology, engineering, and muggles are achieving these incredible things without magic he's not even seen wizards accomplish.

21 year old Seb in 1896 reading a muggle newspaper his partner passes him one morning and finding out about X-rays and radium and he's nothing short of giddy.

Kissing his bemused partner spinning them around wildly because muggles are bloody brilliant and they are the most spectacular of the bunch.

Sebastian who starts using magic less and less at home because his partner makes it seem frivolous.

This has come from mine and Cran's very niche Henry Winters (the secret history) x Sebastian Sallow (Hogwarts Legacy) AU but I think a lot of the headcannons we've been gushing over work for Seb x Muggle!SO regardless.

I'd literally love to hear any other headcannons on this because we have been consumed and loving talking about these.

[jarofstyles]

Kissing and dancing in the kitchen plz

BDOAJDOA A TINY CONCEPT BUT MY BRAIN MELTED

check out our Patreon!

—-

“No, you aren’t escaping this time.” His playful growl rung through the kitchen after her squeals, pulling her back with his wet hands. Doing the dishes together was domestic… therapeutic, even. It felt home like and the pass and dry method worked wonders for them both, music from the ‘black and white film’ playlist crooned in the background as they settled in their beautiful, comfortable silence.

At least it had been, until Y/N whipped Harry in the ass with the drying towel.

A bad calculation on his part. Their running spanking war had been playful and fun, but somehow he always managed to grab her and her her back! Never getting much of a chance to run, Harry’s long legs always beat her. She hadn’t managed to get but 4 steps away before she was pinned against the counter, a strong hand coming down on her ass to spank her.

“Ouch!” Her whine was child like as she pouted up at him, allowing him to shuffle her in his arms so her back was against the counter. “You did not have t’do it so hard. I barely snapped it on your peachy ass.” She grumbled lowly, though there was that playful sparkle still in those eyes he loved so much.

“Won’t apologize for it. You’ve been a little menace all day, n’it was about time you got it handed back to you.” The amused look on his face only hammered in the fact that yes, she definitely had. Harry was very relaxed and lenient with her but he did always have the last laugh.

It was good that she loved him so much, or he would be even more infuriating.

“But… I think it’s time.” He grinned, the little dimple popping in his chin. She couldn’t help herself, finger coming up to poke it and feel the divet in his skin. It only made him smile wider. The habit and her affection for them made him feel loved. Appreciated.

“Time for?” the question was silly, because she knew damn well. Fishing the phone from his pocket, he clicked the side to raise the volume of the music. The last song was ending and he waited for a moment to hear the beginning notes of the next song.

I want a Sunday kind of love…

Etta James’ voice rang through their kitchen as he took her hand, pulling her into him with the other. Dropping his forehead against hers. “Time to dance, of course. It’s Sunday… and I’m in love with you.” His voice dropped to a whisper as it usually did in tender moments, her heart dropping to her belly as her cheeks heated up and the butterflies floated up.

It never failed to make her swoon. The romantic side of Harry that only she got to see. The kind that curated playlists just for their dishwashing and their days of the week. The one that craved her every touch and went out of his way for the tiniest brush of fingers and the knock of knees. He never failed to tell her that not only did he love her, but he was in love with her.

As if she could forget.

Lips brushed hers as he mumbled the lyrics, voice deep and soothing to her as one arm looped around his neck. “And I'd like to know it's more than love at first sight…” ending the soft lyric with a tender peck to her lips, swaying them lightly together as he enjoyed her presence. The moment. Domestic bliss.

She returned the pecks, tasting the wine he had paired with their dinner she had cooked with him. His body was warm against her and the cool summer breeze drifted through their open windows, making her press further against him. She didn’t mind the socked feet, his hands still damp from the washing. This was all she ever needed.

“I love you.” It was whispered against his mouth, feeling her smile grow as he slid his hand under her shirt and ran his fingers up her spine. It was like the universe sent them to one another knowing exactly what the other needed. The challenge and the compliment to each soul. “And I’m in love with you too.”

It was an unspoken rule to always say it back. No matter how angry or tired or upset. They always said it back.

The kiss was firmer than before as he answered her reply, squeezing her hand in thanks. Petal soft lips and warm breath, a slight wine haze and complete love blanket over them. All he could feel and taste was her and his overwhelming love that bubbled in his throat before pulling back from the sweet kiss.

With her face tucked against his neck, she could feel the vibrations as he sang her favorite part.

“And my arms need someone

Someone to enfold

To keep me warm when Mondays and Tuesdays grow cold

Love for all my life to have and to hold

Oh and I want a Sunday kind of love”

[trashpandacraft]

I have a question if you'd be willing to answer

I'm very much a beginner with spinning, but I recently decided to make my first project using my handspun yarn. I know it's wool, but I don't have any information on what type, as it was given all to me as gifts.

My issue is that it feels very sticky. Which I am assuming is because of the lanolin, and would be helped by washing it. I can't seem to find any resources on that though, so I was wondering if since you talk about it a lot if you could point me to any? Just normal washing in water (and soap?) seems like a recipe for felting.

I'm not sure how relevant this is to the washing process, but just in case it is I haven't plied any of this, mostly because it is already much more thick than I would like (definitely need to work on that!)

Thank you for everything! Your blog has been a huge help to me with figuring out what exactly I'm doing (or in many cases, what I'm doing wrong)

i'm gonna answer this, but i have to be honest that i've tried spinning without washing the fibre first, and i don't love it, so have very little experience with this specific thing. i'm going to give you my best guess, and then probably people who are more experienced with this than i am will tell us both why i'm wrong. (this is an invitation; i am comfortable being wrong.)

i'd wash it the first time the same way you do for washing fleece, which is going to sound scary, so before i go any further: felting needs heat, water, and agitation. you've gotta use water and heat to get the lanolin out, so all you can do here is control for agitation. don't manhandle the yarn in the water, don't run the water directly onto the yarn, don't go from hot to cold water, etc. it's honestly not that bad—once the yarn has been spun, it takes at least a little more effort to felt it. think about how heavily some people finish handspun yarns—shocking it, thwacking it, snapping it, etc. i (intentionally) fulled a singles skein a while back and went at it for several minutes with a (clean!!) toilet plunger in a bucket of hot water, and even after that, it's lightly fulled, not felted.

so to wash your yarn: soak it in water to get it fully wet, then toss it in a bath of hot (like 60c/140f) water and dish soap. dump the water after twenty minutes, and repeat until the water you're dumping is at least mostly clear, then do one more water change without soap for a rinse. i'd expect this will take several water changes—this blog post has great visuals of what it looks like as the lanolin washes away, and what kind of changes to look for in the water. you could follow their entire process, if you wanted, though it's more effort and maths than i find my situation necessitates.

which is to say that i'm sure that they're objectively correct, especially if you're working with very greasy fleece and/or hard water, but i have neither, and have chosen to go with the 'blurp some dish soap into hot water' method, which has worked fine for my admittedly very low-key uses.

so that's my best guess for how you'd wash it. i think the next question is probably when you'd wash it, and my vote for that one is going to be after you've plied it.

i have two big reasons for it. first, if there's enough twist in the yarn to ply, i think you're going to have a tangly mess of woolen spaghetti if you wash it without plying first. i'm sure that someone will suggest that you could wind the spun yarn onto some sort of Contraption that would keep it under tension and wash it like that, but: it sounds like such a monstrous pain in the ass that while you could pay me to do it, you would need to pay me an amount of money that has at least three digits in it.

the other reason is that washing will help set the twist, but my feeling is that you want the twist active for plying. i've plied yarn that i'd, uh, 'rested', we'll call it, for six-plus months between spinning and plying, and it plies...ok? not great, though, and i found it harder to get a balanced yarn. i'm guessing that washing will give similar results—yarn that's just a little more resistant to plying than it should be, and requires more management to get it to ply nicely. i don't think that it'll totally destroy your yarn or anything, but i do think that the finished yarn is likely to be less nice than it would otherwise be.

i feel like this is sort of a half-assed answer, for which i'm sorry—i'm not really my best or brightest self right now, but didn't want to let this sit.

i'm also sure that there are people here who've actually done this exact thing and can speak from experience rather than semi-educated guesses, so hopefully some of them will chime in.

[zealoushound]

Title: A Dose of Serotonin

Summary: Sy takes care of his girl after she tests positive for Covid. (Told from Sy’s POV)

Pairing: Sy x reader

Word Count: 675

Warnings: fluff, reader has Covid

A/N: This story was inspired by a little drabble I wrote for my beautiful bestie @cavillsthighs. I added a bit here and there and decided to post it.

Disclaimer: FEEL FREE TO REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THE STORY! Writers live off reblogs! Do not copy any portion of my material to claim as your own. Do not repost my work, or any portions of my work on any site and claim it as your own. Like all my other fics, this was written on my phone and not beta’d.

***

Covid.

Stupid fucking covid. Two years in and she catches stupid fucking covid.

She just wanted to go on one trip. Now she’s in the bed coughing her head off, and trying to keep her fever from spiking again. I feel like the best thing I can do is make soup for her, and get her medicine and tissues when she needs them.

She didn’t want me to stay here but I insisted. Unlike everything else, she couldn’t do this one on her own. I'd already been exposed anyway; there was no way I was leaving her alone during this.

Drying my hands on the dish towel I looked around to make sure everything was done. Trash taken out, dishes washed, dinner warming in the crockpot. Only need to dry the laundry and I’ll be done. I could hear her coughing from my place in the kitchen.

“Sy?” Her hoarse voice broke my heart.

“I’m comin, doll,” I grabbed another bottle of water and headed to the bedroom.

My beautiful love. Normally she was bigger than life. Independent, strong, happy go lucky, but right now she looked so small and helpless. She’s bundled up in her favorite blanket, watching that show she’s been obsessing over. Aika had set up camp at the foot of the bed.

“What’d you need sweetheart?” I can’t stop my brows furrowing in concern.

“You,” she asked softly.

This simple request melted my heart. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for this woman. It’s my honor to be the one she calls for; the one that she wants to hold her when she needs comfort. I should probably tell her that. Putting the cold bottle down on the nightstand, I kicked off my shoes, and pulled my shirt over my head. She watched me the entire time.

“Aika, come,” I called for her to get down. Being a good girl she hopped down immediately finding her bed by the dresser.

Climbing under the cool sheets I could feel her warmth. Her fever was breaking but still stubbornly hanging on. Seeing her smile despite all the bad shit going through her body right now let me know I was doing something right.

“C’mere darlin.” I said softly.

She immediately wrapped her arms around my torso. Her legs tangling with mine never failed to make my heart skip a beat. She laid her head over my heart.

For a moment everything was still, quiet. The soft hum from the fridge down the hall played in my ear. The tinkling sound of the decorations she had hung on the wall moving with the ac almost made me want to drift off. It was peaceful. For a moment. She coughed again, groaned and buried her face in the blanket over my stomach.

When she moved back I ran my fingers through her hair. I began to think how lucky I was to be here with her. I’d been worried about her since she came home. We thought it was the jet lag making her tired; maybe it was her allergies making her cough. As soon as she asked to take that Covid test I knew something was really wrong.

I pulled her closer to me without a second thought. I want to be as close as I can to her right now. I told her I didn’t care if I got it and I meant it. In fact if I could I’d take it from her, go through it for her I would in a heartbeat.

Her fingers skimmed over my chest, playing with my hair. She laid a soft kiss over my heart. I could stay in this moment, if only she felt better. Snuggling deeper into me she unknowingly made me feel on top of the world. Who do all these cuddles benefit here - me or her? I placed a kiss on top of her head.

“I love you,” I whispered against her warm scalp.

Either way, all I know is if serotonin could cure Covid she’d be over it by now.

[trashiewrites]

yo, just got some potentially bad news concerning my health... ghost rlly is my comfort character at the moment. do you think you could write something where hes super sweet and comforts reader. or just something rlly sweet and loving. it would really really help. thanks ♡

I was really touched that you reached out, anon, so I made this fic my first priority! I really hope everything turned out okay for you and I wish I could of tailored this more to you but I hope this will do! I really wanted to put all the aspects and it ended up being really long! enjoy!

It's Going To Be Alright

(Ghost X F! Reader)

Words: 2811 (Legit the longest thing I've written I think)

It's funny just how the world works sometimes. You left your house that day to go out for a night in the town with some buddies. The day itself started normally. You woke up wrapped in the warm embrace of your boyfriend's arms, you couldn't help but cuddle in closer especially with how cool it's been getting as of late.

You both get out of bed and make breakfast together. Cold days like these call for delicious pancakes with your favorite toppings, sided with some eggs and other sides you love. Taking that first bite, melted you to your core—nothing like the first bite, especially of something warm.

"Do you have any plans today?" Simon questioned you. Munching quickly so you could answer him back, "don't rush, you'll-" too late, you already were having a coughing fit of something going down the wrong pipe. Simon stood, "Are you okay!"

You nodded as the coughing calmed down, gulping water. "Yeah, yep I'm fine!" Exhaling in relief, you looked back at Simon with a smile, "Anyways, remember I'm heading out with some friends tonight?"

"Ahh right, I remember." He nodded, "By the way, eat slower before you answer! What if you choked?"

"I'd have you to save me?"

"And if I wasn't?" he crossed his arms, assuming victory over this conversation.

"Why would I be talking to myself?" You took another small bite, "plus even if you aren't there, there ought to be someone else to whom I am chatting to." Simon groaned as he placed his hand on his face. "Got you there, didn't I?"

"Yeah, yeah; whatever you say (y/n)." You chuckled at his denial. "Anything else you going to do before your party?" You hummed as you thought for a moment.

"Groceries, get some other necessities, and gas my car probably. Gotta prep for next week." You spoke in between bites, "besides that, just the party in the evening."

"First of all, eat first for Christ's sake." You almost spat your drink at his remark, "Secondly, can I come with?" He spoke a wee bit quieter in the second part, it amazed you that after all your years of dating him he is still so shy about some things.

"Of course, you can come!" You stood up took your empty plate and stood beside him, "how could I not take advantage of spending time with my favorite man in the entire world" you leaned down, giving his forehead a big ol' smooch. Then heading to the sink, you began to wash your dishes. "Simon, you are done with your food?"

"Huh what? My plates, right... yeah, I'm done" he hands them to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Resting his chin upon the top of your head. You wiggle in his grasp slightly, "are you Uncomfortable? I can stop..." You shook your head.

"No, I'm fine, I'm all good. Continue sir." You lied; your face said it all but he was behind you. Which you were glad about. For about a week now it's been on and off headaches. Yet you didn't want it to stop you or to worry Simon. He already has so much on his plate. After the dishes, you went to your shared room to get ready. Taking a dose of painkillers to help the headache, making sure Simon wasn't around; Then you took a shower.

Shopping went off without a hitch, to the usual stores with your masked lover was interesting though. Having to explain how he's not planning to steal stuff from one lady was fun. You rubbed his hand knowing he felt awkward about it. Having someone else do the picking up of everything was so nice! Lifting heavy cases of water with ease, man you should do this more often. You grab more of the stuff you know Simon likes cause he's going to be home for a while. Once in a while, he will come up to you with something. He doesn't say anything but you assume he wants it. He doesn't put it in till he gets approval from you, which you always say yes to.  Simon was staring at a package of avocados, intently... You pulled up with the cart and stared at the avocados with him. "Do you want avocados, Simon?" He looks at you, you look at him. He looked back at the avocados, went through them, and felt them out. He decides on one package and gently hands it over. "Avocados it is then." Heading home you couldn't help but feel Simon was in a very pleasant mood, which made you smile. Honestly, in moments like this, you remember why exactly you fell for this man.

You stood in the mirror, towel around your body as you did your make-up. It's been a long time since you've been to a party. You were a bit nervous, especially with the recurring headaches. You analyze your face, maybe you overdid it a bit but you looked amazing. "Can't wait till Simon sees this."

"I'm already seeing it~" You yelped as you turned to see him at the door.

"Simon! Don't fucking do that asshole!" You clenched your towel, making sure it didn't fall.

"Why? Was this supposed to be a surprise?" He chuckled, "Also no need to hold the towel that tight love. It's not like I haven't seen what's under it before." You stood there; heat rushed to your cheeks.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!"

You sighed as you put on your dress. Giving yourself one last look, you feel rather proud. It's been a while since you gussied up on anything; it was nice to know you still had some skills. You walked out of the bathroom to see Simon sitting on the bed. You wondered if he was waiting for you. "So, how do I look?" You smiled as Simon's head turned up. His eyes went wide seeing you, underneath his mask his mouth was agape. "Speechless?" You did a little twirl; Simon stood up and removed his mask. He walked to her, taking her hand, still not a single word from his lips. "Simon?" You stared into his eyes, pools of brown that had mesmerized you with how complex they are. Yet today, you felt only one thing from his gaze; adoration.

"You look... stunning." He pulled you into an embrace, "I'm quite jealous... Can't keep you all to myself. especially looking like this." his breath lingered on your neck, and his hands roamed your back and side. His fingers fiddled with the rim of your dress, which you quickly grasp and place away. You hummed with playful disapproval, "oh come on," he pouted.

"My rides going to be here any minute, I can't have you ruin my hard work." You pecked his nose then his lips. From your bag, the phone began to ring. "Speak of the devil!" You rushed over, picked up your phone, and took the purse in hand. "Hey, Kayla! You guys outside? Ahuh Okay, See you guys in a minute!" You rushed to slip your shoes on, and a shot of pain rushed to your head. You didn't make a noise but you placed your hand on your head.

"You okay?" You blinked a bit before looking back to Simon.

You laughed nervously, "Yeah, just a little headache!" You smiled, walking to Simon; you grasped his hands. "No need to worry, okay?"

He took a deep breath and placed his lips upon your knuckles. "Just, be careful love. If you need anything don't hesitate to call. I'll be wherever you are in 10 minutes tops." You couldn't help but laugh at the idea of him expertly speeding through the streets.

"Bless your heart Simon," you rested your forehead upon his and softly caressed his cheek. Next thing you hear a car horn outside your house, "must be them..." you whispered.

"Allow me to escort you out?" His tough raspy voice seemed so tender; His eyes never left yours.

"I'd be honored," Simon put on his mask before taking your hand in his large ones. Leading you down the way to the front door. You watched as he began to unlock the door, and couldn't help too long to stay home with him. Plus, probably would be better for those headaches; but canceling now while they wait outside, you'd feel incredibly guilty. You wrapped his waist in an embrace.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

You nodded and spoke just barely enough for him to hear, "Yeah..." he felt so warm in your arms, it was practically the only thing on your mind.

"Doors unlocked," he tapped your hands, "don't want to keep 'em waiting."

"A minute or two never hurt anyone," you released your grasp and walked in front; opening the door. "Don't miss me too much~"   You grasped his hand while heading out the door.

"Don't worry about me, love" both your arms fully extended, fingers begin to slip, " Just have your fun, don't go too crazy." Your hand fell to your side, turning around to see your friends making disgusted faces.

"Cut it with the mushy stuff and hurry (y/n)! The night isn't going to last forever!" Kayla yelled from the window; the other girls cheered.

"Alright, alright!!" You waved back once more, before hopping in.

"(Y/n) is that your boyfriend? He's such a hunk!" One stated, peeking over the seat in front trying to see him.

"Yep, he's mine~"

"Ahh you lucky S.O.B" Another one mentioned, "What does he do? To be that built and have a place like that!"

"Military~" a collective 'oooohhhh' went from throughout the car.

"I mean you struck gold girl! But what's with the mask? Kinda creepy if you ask me." Kayla asked, looking back at her rearview mirror curiously.

"I can't say..." you shrugged.

"Is that an 'I don't know' can't say, or 'that's private information' can't say?" You only shrug back. Throughout the car ride, it was a mix of karaoke and gossip. Also, they compare each other's boyfriends which you pridefully showed off your Simon.

Reaching the party, you felt extremely tired. Your head bursts with pain. As the girls rushed in you stood behind, leaning on the car and holding your head.  You looked back up as a hand took your shoulder, "Hey, you okay? You look like that hurt like a bitch..."

"Yeah... Yeah, I'm good, just a small headache." You faked a smile, yet she didn't look convinced.

"Take it easy, okay? If you need to go home just let me know, okay?" You nodded as you both walked on ahead. Ignoring the pain that rocked your head, trying to make the most of the night. You were cautious but more tired and tired as time went by. You motioned to your group you were going to sit down for a bit; Taking a seat at a table nearby.  Your eyes felt heavy, you didn't think much besides the fact you were tired. The idea of being snuggled up next to your beloved ghost, you longing for warmth. A wave of coldness came over your body and your vision went blank.

The next moment you opened your eyes, you were blinded by bright light. Ears overwhelmed by all sorts of sorts, people talking and beeping. Your heart raced in panic, and your eyes scattered scanning the room; A hospital? What happened and how did you get here? You felt something by your legs, "S-Simon" His head lifted slowly, turning to face you. 

"(y/n)! You're awake!" He jumped to his feet, rushing forward to rest his hand upon your cheeks. "Thank the lord you're awake! Gave me a good scare love..." He pulled you close, your chin rested upon his shoulder. Your mind is fuzzy, trying to figure out what happened before. 

"Simon, what happened?" 

"I wish I knew; I got a call from your phone." He stood back, taking a seat on the edge of your bed, "The damn girl was screaming but I heard hospital and unconscious. Then the paramedic took the phone and explained you were found unconscious." Simon grabbed your hand, "I told you to stay home..." 

"I-I know... I'm sorry; I didn't mean to make you so worried. I just didn't think it was that bad..." silence lingered in the room for a moment, "How long was I out?" 

"Almost 15 hours..." With that, a knock sounded on the door, and a woman in scrubs stood there with a smile. 

"Sorry, I'm not interrupting, am I?" you shook your head, "miss (L/n) I know this is sudden but I'd like to ask you about the situation. Do you remember much of last night?" you again shook your head, her look seemed disappointed. "Were you having any prior pain or anything notable before this?"

"Not-"

"(y/n)." Simon glared sternly at you, "Tell her, or I will." you sighed, looking away from the two. 

"I've had headaches but I wouldn't call it notable..." 

"Not notable? You flinched from the pain." He crossed his arms. The nurse raised her hand, stopping Simon in his words. 

"I get your frustration Mr. Riley but no need." She looked back at you, "How long were these headaches going?" You shuffled uncomfortably; didn't help you are a horrible liar. 

"A short while..." 

"How long (Y/n)?" Simon restated. You sighed knowing your hiding was up, If the nurse didn't see through the lie; Simon would, he always could see through you. 

"A-A week... On and off Ya know." You looked at the two, Simon's brows were raised and his eyes wide. The nurse was also shocked too, but not as apparent. 

"And you didn't think of going to see a doctor?" You shook your head, not sure how to justify your decision. 

"I didn't want to worry anyone, plus... I needed a night out." you scrunched your shoulder, "I just didn't see it as that big of a deal." 

"A week and not a big deal!" Simon raised his voice. 

"Mr. Riley!" The nurse looked back. Simon left the room; you can't imagine how he feels right now. Tears began to well in your eyes, if only you handled all this differently. If you had just told him, none of this would have happened. "Oh sweetheart, he's not mad at you!" The grasped your hand, "He wants to protect you, and I know for a fact he's taking it hard that you went through it for a week. You need to tell people these things, this could be very serious." She spoke calmly, grabbing a tissue box and placing it in front of you.

"I-I know... I-I'm sorry, I just didn't want him to worry." You spoke in broken segments, "He does so much for me and I don't want him to have to worry." The nurse rubbed your hand. You blew your nose with your other. "Is it that bad?"

"We don't know yet, we have to do some tests." she stood up, "For now, I'll give you two some privacy.  We will come to get you for the test in the next hour, okay?" You nodded, she walked out, and there at the door stood Simon. You two just stared in silence, so still, you could hear a pin drop.  

"Simon I-" Your train of thought was interrupted as he closed the door to the room. "Simon?" He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Simon I'm sorry!" You closed your eyes.

"I heard you before," he spoke softly, you flinched as he cupped your face. "Right now, we have to make sure you are okay now; That's what matters to me." You nodded, "Open your eyes for me, love~" You took a deep breath, in front of you was not the masked hard to perceive man you usually saw, but the sincere, caring sweet face with his worried brown eyes. "Promise me you'll tell me these things. I don't care about you worrying me, your safety and health are my first priority." you couldn't get the word out of your mouth, you could only nod. "Say it (y/n)" your lip quivered.

"I-I promise, I'll tell you everything." he smiled, slowly moving a hair from your face.

"Good girl," he leaned in, his kiss was gentle. As if you were fine China, fragile and delicate. He spared not an ounce of care while he held you close to him. 

"Simon," he hummed in response, "What if it's as bad as they said it could be? What if I'm stuck with this? What if-" He placed a finger over your lips.

"Don't think about that," He rested your head upon his chest, "We will worry about that as it comes. For now, relax, I'll be here the entire time." 

"What about work?" 

"They'll understand." He kissed your forehead, "It's going to be alright, okay?" You snuggled in closer, having his arm wrapped around you as if you were back in your own home.

"Okay..."

I'M SORRY IF IT LIKE TOO MUCH BUT I HOPE THE SWEET OVERLOAD WORKED!

ALSO THANK YOU GUYS FOR 400!! IM HONESTLY ASTONISHED

[itsawhumpsideblog]

The Safehouse, pt. 1

Had some ideas, thought I'd start writing. Here goes, I guess?

CW: for institutionalized slavery, mentions of abuse, treatment of people as things

The call came on their anachronistic landline while Angie was washing the dishes and it made her jump. She wanted to grab it right away, but she was in soap suds up to her elbows and had only gotten as far as toweling dry when Tim came skidding around the corner and grabbed the receiver off it's hook.

"Hello?" he asked, breathlessly, as though anyone else would call on that line. Parents and friends would have texted their individual phones; this phone could only ring for one purpose.

Angie finished drying her arms and walked over to lean against the wall, hoping to hear some of the conversation instead of waiting for Tim to hang up and relay the information. To her disappointment, he did a lot of listening and very little talking and there wasn't much she could glean until he thanked the person on the other end and turned to her.

"Well?" she asked anxiously.

Tim sucked in a deep breath as if steeling himself for something serious, which was more or less the case. "They're sending us three of them," he said. "Our contact says we should expect them to arrive tomorrow. They'll be delivered by WRU employees, so don't be surprised by the method of delivery, but he promised the abolitionists falsified records somewhere to get them sent here- no money changed hands. He was very clear about that."

It was no good asking who the contact was or how the delivery orders had been created. For the safety of the whole network, they would never know.

"We'd better get ready," Angie said needlessly. They had a checklist, but it made her feel better- more prepared- to say it out loud. "We'll have to make the beds, make sure we have food they can eat- did they say anything about allergies?"

"No, nothing." They knew better than to ask about preferences. The rescued box boys likely wouldn't be able to have preferences for some time, or at least not express them.

"So beds, food, soap and shampoo for their bathroom, fresh towels." Angie counted items on her fingers. "They'll need clothes- did they give you any information about sizes?"

Tim shook his head. "Just said they were coming tomorrow and that there were three of them- all men. They'll be with us permanently, until they're rehabbed well enough to live independently or in a halfway house. They're-" he winced slightly at the next phrase "-'second hand' so we should be prepared for them to be in... pretty bad shape. Maybe very bad. Our contact didn't know." Tim's voice had gone very quiet as he spoke and he was looking at his shoes.

Angie nodded. "We'll do everything we can," she said. "Do you want to split up and go shopping separately? Get it done faster?"

"Can I go with you?" Tim asked. He looked up at her through his bangs, smiling sheepishly. "I'm- I'm a little nervous. I didn't think I would be. But it would help to go together, maybe talk things over on the way."

"Of course," Angie said. "We can go together if you want. We should get started."

"I'll put my shoes on." Tim went to the front hall and returned a minute later wearing sneakers and a hoodie against the cold weather. He pulled keys out of the pocket and they let themselves out of the single-family home and got in the car parked out front.

The house was not really theirs and neither was the car; Angie and Tim had only known each other for a few weeks and both felt that it would be a while yet before they were comfortable living and working together. They had been paired up after training, a mostly-virtual affair offered in secret and only after volunteers had passed several levels of security and background checks and the like. The abolitionists could not afford to operate too overtly, but they managed to create and staff safehouses and Angie and Tim, along with others they would never meet, had been deemed to posses the qualities necessary to help rehabilitate rescued box boys.

And now, as of tomorrow morning, they would be the caretakers for three young men rescued from... whatever it was that WRU had done to them.

The pairing seemed to have been well made, or at least Angie and Tim thought it was. They had quickly become comfortable with each other and Angie's organized, energetic determination was a useful foil to Tim's quiet, gentle nature. She looked around and saw what needed to be done; his strength was in finding the right way to do it.

As they passed through stores, they talked and debated and made choices as if intentionally demonstrating these choices. It was Angie who steered them directly to the linens and quickly put her hand to the best financial choices, while Tim made sure the items were available in different colors and patterns, so that the new arrivals would each have something to call their own. Later, he ensured that the towels did not match the bedsheets, so the young men would not feel color-coded. Thanks to Angie, they kept the whole thing under-budget. "That leaves more," she said, "that we can spend on them later, when we know what they need."

That night, they ate pizza and stayed up until the early hours setting up the bedroom and bathroom. There was a bunkbed and another single bed to match it, mattresses to haul upstairs and put on the beds, a bathtub to wash out and curtains to hang. The house had come partially furnished, but they had expected more time to get it ready.

No matter, though. By the time they went to their own rooms to sleep, they felt confident that they were ready for the new arrivals.

Next time: a knock on the door and the population of the house grows.

Master Post

[crmsnmth-journal]

3/29/2024

11:02 PM

I decided I need to get out of my slump I've been in lately. I may feel angry and depressed and very apathetic right now, but that doesn't mean I should sit and wallow in my own self-pity. It's not a good place to go, and I know that. I know better than doing what I have been, which is absolutely nothing. So today, I woke up, and had one cup of coffee (I've decided I'm going to attempt and cut my caffeine intact way way down). Talked with mom for a while, which is odd but was nice. Usually, we don't talk more than five minutes at a time. It almost always turns into a fight between the two of us, but right now, out of the three of us (my two younger brothers), somehow the felon with a really bad attitude is being the most responsible. I mean, it only took me 35 years to get here, but I'm actually doing pretty good, and I need to remind myself of that. I have come so far from where I was, even four years ago. Hell, even last year. And it's not arrogant to remind yourself of that every so often.

Anyway, I showered and finally bleached half my head. I took extra care in washing and cleaning and just making myself look like a person again. I think I read somewhere that that's supposed to help. I don't know if it actually does, but it kept me occupied for a while.

I got to work at 2, which is usual for Friday's. It gives me about an hour of alone time where I can just belt along to my music and get the prep for the night down. Honestly, being alone back there is my favorite part of part of my job. The closest I've ever come to a religious experience was back there. It was right when I got work release during my time in jail. I had sat six months already, and for the last three months I was allowed to have work release. And the first night I came back, I was alone for three hours before open. I listened to music for the first time in six months, and I cried like a baby and screamed along to Amigo The Devil's Stronger Than Dead while dicing tomatoes. It's an experience I will never forget. That song holds such a deep importance in my life (it's part of my next round of tattoos, my only hand tattoo is going to be Amigo's 'pineapple' logo with the chorus of that song). Only two songs I've ever heard can I say truly saved my life. Stronger than Dead and Frank Turner's The Ballad of Me And My Friends. Different reasons, but the end result was the same for both and I didn't listen to the impulses and bury a bullet in my brain. And I still listen to both songs, religiously. At least once or twice a day.

Sorry. I keep getting off track. Sherry came in around 3 and started putting together the salad bar. That's her one thing she has to set up for Fridays and she never complains about it. I always tell her I do nothing with the salad bar, that it's all on her. It used to be just a trick I learned a long time ago on how to deal with less then stellar staff. Give them something that is all their own. It give them a feeling of control, and let's face it, I hate putting our salad bar together. I don't like salad bars in general. They are extremely gross on the kitchen's side of things.

It wasn't exactly busy tonight, but it wasn't exactly slow. Just kind of real steady, plodding forward pace. And Sherry did alright, by her standards. We shut down, and when I left after doing all my closing work, Sherry only had to finish up her dishes. Usually she just leaves the extra for tomorrow, when she opens.

I did start getting a pretty massive headache around 7 though. I'm pretty sure that's just the withdrawal from caffeine. At least that's what it felt like. I'd get them a lot in jail when we'd run out of coffee. It's all we drank all day, that instant add hot water crap, and when we'd run out before commissary made it's way, everyone was in hell. Ibuprofen costs 75 cents for two pills. The price mark up is insane, which I really don't think is all that fair. I get having some cost added, this is jail after all and it's not supposed to be fun. But when a package of Ramen ends up costing close to two dollars, that is a little passed a punishment. That's an outrageous kind of extortion.

Back to what I was saying, I got out of work around 9:30 and got my cab ride home. When I got home, I had yet another actual conversation with my mom, finally got some Advil in me and showered. The bathroom still smelled like the bleach I did my hair with. And finally, I took my handful of pills and turned on Malcolm In The Middle. I've only got a few episodes to go before I move on to whatever the next mindless background noise I put on. I'll write and work with phrases for a little bit and read. I restarted reading my favorite book, The Great And Secret Show by Clive Barker.

For being as bitchy and moody as I have been the last few days, I think I did okay today.

[dreamlandcreations]

Burnout recovery (?)

It took me a while to figure out why I was so down all the time. But I didn't take the "good news" that well tbh. Because:

"It takes an average time of three months to a year to recover from burnout. "

And I was like. NOPE. FUCK. THAT!

Well, the first few days after that were even worse because I kept pressuring myself to do something, anything other than lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. But even something as so no energy "task" as listening to music was making me... idk how else to say it other than itchy...

Anyway, eventually I just gave up, let it consume me and slept away like 2 days... AND GUESS WHAT? I felt a tiny bit better.

So I'd say the first step is just LET IT ALL FUCKING GO! Turn the nagging in your head off and stop caring about anything else than getting a good rest!

My work drove me insane for the last 3 years or so and tbh it took over my life far, far sooner than that. It wasn't healthy. Letting that go took like 2-3 weeks ( I had "help" from other tortured colleagues 🫶 talking helps!) and a lots of Youtube shorts about "this is business not personal". Yay to scrolling paralysis.

Yeah, and about that. I realised that with the burnout I really burned all the bridges that kept my autistic/adhd traits in check. I mean, I used to have a good balance, now I'm off the scale with both in the worst way.

I think the second step is just trying to stay in that kind of relaxed, "don't care" space while figuring out the reasons why I felt so terrible. Again, Youtube shorts about autism/adhd and work mentality really helped. It was like talking to someone without actually getting myself together enough to open up about this to a "real person" (it never would have happened, you know).

And this is the part from where this might not help anyone who doesn't have adhd (and autism?) but realising that I've become a shell of adhd behaviour was actually a big step. Especially with the adhd/autism traits comparison vids bc I just understood how I was functioning when I was doing all that stuff at once.

The next step(s) I took was trying to take care of myself. Eat, sleep, wash, clean up to feel better in my skin and in my environment. I made it a challenge (chasing dopamine seems to be the only way adhd brain can do stuff). Like I'll put on this song ( I wasn't really listening to it still) and do .... until it's done. It did not help at first. Just getting into a task without thought doesn't work for me. I needed to take a minute and visualise that I'm going to do this and this and this and I'll be done in 3 minutes. I prepared for the task mentally, I hyped myself up then I did it. And it worked. Then I got too much into it and overworked myself 😅

However cliché it sounds, the key is finding balance.

Now I can listen to music, I've read 14 books this year so far and reading 5 others now, and I'm planning my year and thinking about what I want to do in life.

I still have bad moments/days and that's okay. I am still not okay but I'm getting there.

I figured, I need to occupy (not overwhelm!!!) my senses to stop my mind from wandering (and torturing me) so now when I have to do something like dishes, I just put on an audiobook and try to let everything else go.

I still can't watch movies/shows. Which sucks bc I feel like I need visual stimulation too sometimes so idk what's up with that but it's a no for now.

Writing is still a NO! (that's a screaming no in my head). But I started to write down ideas again (something I didn't really do for months)

What I know would improve my health and most likely my mental state is regular exercise, but I'm not there yet. I still regularly skip/forget to eat more than once a day so that's a priority.

It's also difficult to leave the house tbh. The outside world is overwhelming and I don't go out if I don't have to (which is like once a week now).

What I do know is that if you want to do something DO NOT SIT DOWN! You'll never get it done. There's no "in a minute" or tomorrow. If you want it done, do it now.

I'm working on building a structure/routine in my daily schedule that gives me a guide so I wouldn't waste my days but doesn't limit or outright strangle me with too many limitations by being to crowded.

[genderlesspancakes]

His Name is Izuku.

Post is about: Bkdk go out to dinner with Deku's parents who are not supportive of Deku's transitions. When Bakugou finds out, he has a colorful conversation with Hisashi.

Bakugou is known for his loud outbursts, not for being quiet nor calm. It was one thing when him and that damn nerd started dating a few months ago after meeting on a dating app for the LGBTQ+ community. Izuku was trans, female to male, and Katsuki was gay. The two met after Katsuki's third night scrolling through all the damn extras that didn't catch his eye, or make him have any type of interest. Hey, he even found his best friend on that damn app, but he would tease Shitty Hair later.

"Hey, can we go meet my parents?" Izuku asked him one night after dinner at Katsuki's house, Izuku drying the dishes that Katsuki washed and handed him. The silence was comfortable, and Katsuki wasn't quite sure why the question sounded more forced than calm.

Katsuki handed Izuku a plate, watching him, setting the sponge down. "Already? D'you think they'd like me?" He teased, trying to keep the conversation level and calm, despite how tense Izuku looked. He went back to the dishes, awaiting an answer, and when he didn't get one, Katsuki stopped.

"Izuku? I'd love to meet them, I didn't mean to offend you if I did." Katsuki turned back to him, setting the soapy pan down, and setting the sponge ontop, turning to his boyfriend who had his lips parted and muttering quietly. He set his wet hands on Izuku's cheeks, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. It seemed to pull him back to reality and he laughed, pushing Katsuki's hands away. That caused Katsuki to grin.

"Fuckin' talk to me nerd. What's up?"

"I just… miss them." He sighed, his smile dropping and Katsuki snorted, wrapping an arm around his neck, and pulling him into a headlock. "Tch, sappy nerd! Yeah, we can go meet your damn parents for dinner tomorrow. Tomorrow works, right?"

"Right," Izuku told him with a nod. Katsuki wanted to say something else, it didn't sound convincing in the slightest, but he wouldn't push Izuku, because his boyfriend would just shut down if he was pushed about the topic. Katsuki settled for that.

Katsuki should have known exactly why Izuku seemed so stressed out. The two met up with Izuku's parents outside of a damn restaurant downtown in Musutafu. A lovely little diner that his boyfriend's parents picked out.

He met Inko and Hisashi, the woman short and plump with green hair like Izuku's and green eyes to match. Hisashi had red eyes and black, loopy curls. Inko was dark in color, her husband more on the tanned side than pale like Izuku had described him.

"There she is, my little Azuri!" Inko gasped, hugging her son with a giggle, Izuku stiffening, Bakugou shaking Hisashi's hand before he too went into a hug with his son.

"Izuku." Katsuki corrected, but while Izuku's parents flinched, they ignored him. Katsuki grit his teeth, but the tiny hand in his own only squeezed his, as if begging Katsuki not to make a scene. Katsuki pulled Izuku flush against him, fingers flexing around his boyfriend's shoulders.

"Let's get some dinner." Hisashi suggested and Katsuki curtly nodded, dragging his boyfriend inside behind his parents. He looked down at Izuku, a look that told him he was ready to leave when he was, but Izuku just pulled him inside. No wonder he hadn't heard any mention of Izuku's parents. Katsuki could bring his up freely, and now he also knew why Izuku got misty eyed when he heard how great Katsuki's parents were.

Dinner was relatively full of Izuku's parents chatting their ears off, Izuku just quietly poking his food, biting off a piece of his burger once in awhile, and playing with his fries the next. Katsuki felt bad, he really wanted to say something, but on the other hand, didn't want to embarrass Izuku in front of an entire restaurant of people. He knew what that felt like, after all, his mom had done that on plenty of occasions.

"So, Azuri, what do you do for a living?" Hisashi asked and Izuku just met him with an akward, thousand yard stare.

"Work." Inko laughed. "You're so funny, baby. What do you really do? We've always been curious about our daughter's success." She added, giving a look to Katsuki who scrunched his face up, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm a hero." He said quietly, and Katsuki could feel his hands heat up at how… dreaded Izuku sounded. His heart lurched in his chest. He had enough, and when he opened his mouth, apparently Izuku could tell just what he was about to say, cause a painful kick hit his leg.

"Ow!"

"Katsuki, dear, are you okay?" Inko asked while Hisashi went back to cutting up his steak.

"I'm /fine/. Just a damn charlie horse or somethin'." He muttered, stabbing his fork into his mashed potatoes, Izuku setting a hand on his thigh.

"So, how are you, Katsuki? What do you do for a living?" Hisashi asked before shoving a cubed piece of steak into his mouth, using a little whistle of fire to cook the cube before he put it in his mouth.

"I'm also a hero. Me and Izuku are working on starting our own agency, gonna call it the Wonder Duo agency or somethin', we haven't decided yet. But Deku is his hero name, mine is Dynamight."

"Oh." Inko said quietly, her smile fading, looking to her food. Hisashi set his fork down.

"Right, well, we're sure our /daughter/ will be a great hero." He insisted. "After all, Azuri has always been the top of her classes, she's always been an overachiever, our Azuri. Oh, Inko, we had that gift for her in the car, let me go get it."

"Oi, how silly of me, I forgot my wallet. I'll join ya." Katsuki wiped his mouth and got up, throwing his napkin on his plate. Izuku grabbed his hand, his eyes wide with fear, shaking his head subtly and Katsuki shook his head. "Nah, I really forgot my wallet, babe. I'll be back." He leaned down and gave Izuku a quick peck.

His hand was let go of, and there was that dreadful feeling again in his chest as Inko started drilling poor Izuku for answers to her many questions.

He would be back shortly to deal with that too. Katsuki followed Hisashi to his car, which only made sense because Katsuki had parked beside them when they saw their car waiting. However, the moment the two were between their cars, and out of the camera's sights, Katsuki had grabbed Hisashi's collar and slammed him into the car, hands hot. Luckily, not enough to burn through Hisashi's clothing, but enough to leave a warning.

"When I said his fuckin' name was Izuku and his pronouns are he/him, I fuckin' meant it. You oblige that or you'll be leaving this fuckin' diner in an ambulance. I am not fuckin' around. Respect him or get the living fuck beatin' out of ya. I fuckin' /dare/ you to say something out of line again because Izuku won't be able to stop me."

Hisashi looked at him with shocked, wide eyes, mouth opening and closing in shock before he nodded a shameful squeak. "Y-yeah, we're clear."

"Great. Nice fuckin' talk." Katsuki dropped him without care, turning to his car, opening the door, not caring when it slammed into Hisashi's car, leaving a dent. He grabbed his wallet, curled his lip at Hisashi and slammed his door shut. "I'll fuckin see your ass inside."

Katsuki stormed off, heading inside the restaurant, and sitting down beside Izuku who just looked happy to see him walking their way, looking relieved. Katsuki approached, bending over and grabbing Izuku's collar, kissing him hard enough that their teeth hit, Katsuki parting Izuku's with his tongue, a hand in his curls. Izuku immediately reciprocated. Shocked and dazed when Katsuki pulled away, Izuku swallowed thickly as Katsuki licked his lips.

Inko looked absolutely shocked at the display, Katsuki sitting beside Izuku. Hisashi came in and Inko looked over at him and then Katsuki again.

"U-uh, so, Izuku, bud, why don't you tell me more about those hero things you do. I'd love to know what my son is up to."

Izuku had never lit up so fast. "So, what did you say to my dad when you went out for your wallet?" Izuku asked, buckling in while Katsuki was already pulling out of the parking spot.

"Oh, just talked man to man." He said, ignoring how unconvinced Izuku looked. "Lets go get some ice cream nerd, ya deserve it."

[discyours]

Is it odd that I enjoy hearing how happy you are with your boyfriend? It's just really nice to see you post about being fulfilled and happy. Even if there's some anxieties now like "what is this or that happens", which I imagine are common worries that most people have.

No I think that's really sweet! I try to avoid posting about him tbh because I feel a bit uncomfortable about the idea of rubbing it in people's faces but that might be worth letting go of and I'll 100% use this anon as an excuse.

He's actively looking for jobs in my country and hopefully moving here within a few months. Financially it makes way more sense for us to live in the US, and he has a much bigger social network + a lot of family he actually has a good relationship with, but he's still willing to uproot his entire life and likely take a 50% paycut to come to Europe instead so I don't have to be as dependant on him (I'm on disability which I'd obviously lose if I left the country, and can't drive a car which is much more of a problem in the US).

I'm surrounded by people who are happy to tell me I look like shit whenever I lose weight, but he (as the only person I somewhat owe it to to be attractive) knows it isn't about him and never says anything other than wanting me to be healthy. He has, however, started donating blood because he knows I want to be able to too and he thought it would help motivate me to gain weight. He's skipped out on an event he really would've enjoyed to drive me to, and then wait in line half an hour for ice cream because I was vaguely hungry after we went out for dinner. He's left a party his family was throwing to hang out with me in a side room where I was taking a nap, as soon as he realised that there was even a single man at that party who he didn't know.

He forbids me from doing the dishes because he knows it fucks with my OCD. He sneaks extra food into the shopping cart when I'm not looking so I don't get stressed about him spending money on me. He's retied my shoes for me during hikes because he can get them tighter. He's a super energetic person but he's never once complained about how quickly I get tired, he just lets me nap on him until I feel better. He's never made me feel bad about being unable to work, wants to support me in everything that I can do, and regularly reminds me that having a college degree doesn't mean he's smarter than me. The first few days that we spent together IRL my stomach issues had gotten really bad. He bought me any food he could think of that might be able to help, held me up in the shower so I could wash the vomit out of my nose without passing out, and threw away vacation plans so he could sit and wait with me for a call from my doctor. By the end of the week my stomach felt 10x better just from how much being around him reduced my anxiety.

It feels weird to say because deep down I'm an incredibly bitter and distrusting person but I love this man so goddamn much and I can't wait to spend my life with him.

[100dayproductivity]

96/100 continued.

So, about my coffee paraphernalia.

I had a 4-cup drip coffee maker. Phillips brand. Nothing special. Got it about 20 years ago. Still worked fine. Coffee was mediocre and never hot but it did the job. Well, recently I cracked the spout of the decanter. So that had to be tossed.

I thought about getting a replacement decanter. But I couldn't find an exact match (did I mention the coffee maker was 20 years old?) I could order a different one and hope it would fit properly. But if it didn't, it would be a waste of time and money, and I'd have an orphaned decanter.

First, though, I asked in my local Buy Nothing group (do you have one of those in your neighbourhood?) if anyone had an orphaned 4-cup decanter. Got no response.

Then I got to thinking 🤔 The coffee maker is 20 years old. The coffee is ok, but not great. I'm the only one in my house that drinks coffee. When people come over, they bring their own coffee because mine is so bad, lol. Anyway, I rarely invite anyone over for coffee, I invite people to go out for a coffee. And then I splurge on a café au lait or a cappuccino.

I do have a large Turkish coffee pot. Do you know what Turkish coffee is? It's finely ground and brewed in a Turkish coffee pot. There is no filter. The top is foamy and you are left with grounds in your cup. My grandmother had a Turkish coffee pot and used to like making Turkish coffee for the two of us. I'm not sure if it was "authentic" Turkish coffee, but it was how she used to make it back home (Eastern Europe).

So I says to myself, I says, "Why don't you just use the Turkish coffee pot to make your morning coffee?" And I answered myself, "Because having unfiltered coffee every day is apparently bad for you." It's because of the oil in coffee. Don't take my word for it, do your own research, but I don't think it's a good idea for me to have unfiltered coffee every day.

So I went to the secondhand shop and found a French press for $3. I boil the water in the kettle first, pour it over the coffee grounds in the Turkish pot to brew, then pour the brewed coffee into the French press. I put a filter around the sieve and press it through like that.

I actually only use half a filter. I tear it in half. So the filters will now last me twice as long!

So then I no longer had a use for the drip coffee maker. I felt bad about just tossing it out, so I posted it in the Buy Nothing group. And someone took it! Their elderly relative needed a new coffee maker and the decanter he had fit! Win-win! I felt really good about that. ☺️

As a bonus, I regained some counter space. And the Turkish-French press coffee tastes much better than the drip coffee 👍

So anyway. Now I just need to throw out the coffee grounds and filter, and rinse out the pots. Also, just a couple of things that just need a rinse: bread knife; berry basket and container I used to rinse strawberries in this morning; an empty container that had cookies in it.

And done! The mug and the little square pan can go in the dishwasher when it's empty.

Also washed out the crockpot. It was easy to wash, because I had already wiped out all the grease with paper towel, then scrubbed down with baking soda, right after emptying the contents after dinner the other night. Here's a tip, scraping everything out and wiping up grease with paper towel BEFORE washing will make the actual washing very much easier. Water and oil don't mix; the greasier it is, the more dish soap you will need, and the more water you will need to wash and rinse. Also, baking soda is amazing for all kinds of cleaning jobs. Cleaning up cooking grease is one of them. It will scrub off most of the baked on bits as well. If there are still baked on bits left, your best bet is to just let it soak overnight.

Now... time for a healthy snack!

Not sure why the inside of the apple is pink but it tastes really good.

[dzpenumbra]

5/15/23

Today felt like a bit of a wash. It wasn't... but it felt like it. I figured I'd start with that sentiment since it's at the forefront of my mind, and try to... talk myself out of it as I go along.

I got 4 hours of sleep. It was the upstairs neighbor's boyfriend again. The dude is loud as fuck. I swear, it's like... maybe it's just when he's on the phone or something? I don't feel like I hear his voice otherwise, maybe he has his phone volume cranked or something. But he is fuckin loud.

I didn't get to sleep until about 7. I was woken up at 11. Again... a time that people consider a normal time to make noise, but not even halfway through my sleep cycle. And I had just fucking had it, because I've been dealing with this every week for over a month now. And I said really loud, "please have your loud-ass phone conversation literally anywhere else in your apartment." I strongly doubt he heard me. I was exhausted. I tried to fall back asleep and he kept. waking. me. up. For a fucking hour he kept. waking. me. up. Every time I would nod off, he would stompstompstomp pace back over to the corner where my bed is and blabblabblab at the top of his lungs.

The fighter jets don't wake me up. The vacuuming honestly isn't that bad. I don't wake up any other day, so I think my extensive scientific experiments have deduced that the problem here is... this female tenant has an obnoxiously loud boyfriend. And he is the one fucking with my sleep. And this guy seems to really upset my subconscious, enough to keep me awake and on-edge.

That shit threw off my entire day. I didn't nap. The timing was just all wrong. I ate food and watched streams and looked at the clock and it was like 2PM. I really didn't feel like napping at 2PM was a good idea, especially since my nap around that time would usually be about 3-4 hours. That just... didn't feel right.

So, I stayed up. I played a lot of Risk of Rain 2. I did not do any of my art projects, at any point today. And I guess that's why I felt like the day was a wash.

But here's what I did do...

I did research on bonsai trees. The whole concept fascinates me. And I have these trees out in front of my building that are flowering and they're really beautiful and smell nice. I did a lot of reading on the practice and care and all that. And it seems to range a lot in how deep into tradition or technology you want to go with shit. There are time-honored practices and traditions, there are hormones and chemicals and shit. It's really up to you how you want to do it. And I'm working with... what I'm working with... So, I decided to go on a gathering trip today.

I went for a walk over to the woods with my backpack and a few plastic ziplock bags around 8PM. I grabbed about half a gallon ziplock of gravel from the gravel path. I snagged some mulch from a public garden, I felt a little bad about that one and tried to be sneaky about it... And I grabbed some cuttings from a large bush with purple flowers, and one of the big flowering trees outside my building. I made a small pot out of one of my leftover wonton soup containers that I've been saving. Poked some holes, filled it with a mix of the gravel, mulch and potting soil, saturated it and planted the prepared bush cutting. No clue if it'll take, never even considered doing this... but I guess time will tell.

I also have a lot of gravel, mulch and potting soil left over and I've been considering setting up the moss in a big terracotta dish I have. It just has a pretty big drainage hole in the bottom and... the gravel I was going to put in the bottom is really small comparatively. And I was kinda hoping to use the moss in a... I don't know, more of an indoor Zen garden kinda situation. (Not like I can't find more... moss is super easy to come by...) Since I was on the fence about that, I just... kinda didn't do it. Because the day just disappeared, too.

I had RP streams on all day, and that really throws my sense of time off. It's a pretty big addiction. For someone who loves improvisation and storytelling... I mean... one really big 24/7 non-stop story that's entirely improvised by everyone involved? That's crack for a guy like me, when it's hitting right. And I'm a bit concerned my problem is getting to be... a bit much. I had a stream on in the morning, I switched to the developer's stream in the early afternoon, I watched the community meeting, I watched a PD event they had planned about a week out - a "football" game, which was really really fun to watch... then I popped in the earbuds at halftime and went for a walk and just... listened to it as I walked. I listened as I cooked dinner. I watched as I ate, I had it on when I was playing games, ffs I have it on now. I'm hooked pretty bad.

I think the problem is... it's simulating social interaction. Chat means I can participate in discussion, and it's all just being around social interactions. Watching a lecture or listening to a podcast doesn't really have the same effect... it's very one-way. This is more variable, I can have it on in the background as noise... or I can intently watch and discuss with other viewers. More dynamic options. But yeah, when you're incredibly tired and zoning out? And you just kinda lose track of time? Hours go by and I don't even notice. That's not so bad when you're working and watching... but when you're just sitting there and watching? That makes me feel like crap.

So... I enjoyed the story, got some great laughs, it helped bring light to an otherwise difficult day... but I feel like it's pulling my attention away from other things.

But honestly? It's just work and this. And Risk of Rain, which again... I have a love/hate relationship with. And the plants. And that's my life. And... I mean... as sad as it is? I guess watching this stuff makes me feel like I have friends. -_- But it's just an illusion.

Meanwhile... I really don't know what to do to make real friends. And the dating apps just keep striking out. So... as much as I feel like this is a bad thing? At least I know how to do it.

You know what? I have something I can talk about. Let's do this.

There is someone online right now who I used to raid my streams to. She is from Alabama, she's a pure extrovert, she's in her 40's, she has some kids, she's very warm and friendly. Kinda reminds me of The Oracle from the Matrix, the first one, but way more Southern and giggly and not... that smart... or profound. I would play Phasmophobia with her and a few others during the pandemic. But she kinda... existed in her own bubble, and had some pretty toxic regulars that she'd play with that she wouldn't keep on a leash, that kinda killed the fun of a lot of games. Like... she'd always make a space and make you feel welcome, but only at her house, and she would never really reciprocate that in my streams. She... right now... is having her 4 year streaming anniversary. Oh shit, forgot the best part. Raging alcoholic divorcee who would talk shit about her ex husband live on stream frequently. So... I could go and join them. And run into some annoying people that she hung out with for some reason, and maybe find some fun people mixed in? But I swear, I'd chop off my right arm if she wasn't sloppy drunk right now. And... I'm just gonna level... watching someone who's sloppy drunk kinda stare off into the distance or bitch or gossip or wander off and have a conversation just off camera with her daughter... while her character stares at a wall and her teammates play a game around her? It's... not very entertaining. And these were the closest things I had to friends a few years ago. So... I can go and socialize right now. And I might scope it out to at very least get a reminder of why I don't go back... It just... often doesn't feel worth it. I just need a better community, man.

Bleh.

Welp, let's get some good vibes going here before I go pass out. My jasmine seems to be adjusting well, which is great. It's standing up nice and tall on its own and its leaves are straightening out and everything. I think it's going to adjust very well. The tomato is leaning a lot, but I think it'll be okay, the roots should grow stronger to compensate. I got that cutting planted, I'll check on that in a few weeks to see if it actually rooted, if it survives that long. And... I actually remembered the beads. A bit too late, but I remembered without a reminder. So... I gave myself a less subtle reminder. I moved the beads and the ink pens over to my computer desk. Now they're right here, right in my face. That should help me get at least a basic necklace or bracelet done tomorrow.

I'm actually nodding off, I'm going to bed.

[hellsitesonlybookclub]

Little Women, Louisa May Alcott

Chapters 11-12

XI.

EXPERIMENTS.

"The first of June! The Kings are off to the seashore to-morrow, and I'm free. Three months' vacation,—how I shall enjoy it!" exclaimed Meg, coming home one warm day to find Jo laid upon the sofa in an unusual state of exhaustion, while Beth took off her dusty boots, and Amy made lemonade for the refreshment of the whole party.

"Aunt March went to-day, for which, oh, be joyful!" said Jo. "I was mortally afraid she'd ask me to go with her; if she had, I should have felt as if I ought to do it; but Plumfield is about as gay as a churchyard, you know, and I'd rather be excused. We had a flurry getting the old lady off, and I had a fright every time she spoke to me, for I was in such a hurry to be through that I was uncommonly helpful and sweet, and feared she'd find it impossible to part from me. I quaked till she was fairly in the carriage, and had a final fright, for, as it drove off, she popped out her head, saying, 'Josy-phine, 135 won't you—?' I didn't hear any more, for I basely turned and fled; I did actually run, and whisked round the corner, where I felt safe."

"Poor old Jo! she came in looking as if bears were after her," said Beth, as she cuddled her sister's feet with a motherly air.

"Aunt March is a regular samphire, is she not?" observed Amy, tasting her mixture critically.

"She means vampire, not sea-weed; but it doesn't matter; it's too warm to be particular about one's parts of speech," murmured Jo.

"What shall you do all your vacation?" asked Amy, changing the subject, with tact.

"I shall lie abed late, and do nothing," replied Meg, from the depths of the rocking-chair. "I've been routed up early all winter, and had to spend my days working for other people; so now I'm going to rest and revel to my heart's content."

"No," said Jo; "that dozy way wouldn't suit me. I've laid in a heap of books, and I'm going to improve my shining hours reading on my perch in the old apple-tree, when I'm not having l———"

"Don't say 'larks!'" implored Amy, as a return snub for the "samphire" correction.

"I'll say 'nightingales,' then, with Laurie; that's proper and appropriate, since he's a warbler."

"Don't let us do any lessons, Beth, for a while, but play all the time, and rest, as the girls mean to," proposed Amy.

"Well, I will, if mother doesn't mind. I want to learn some new songs, and my children need fitting up for the summer; they are dreadfully out of order, and really suffering for clothes."

"May we, mother?" asked Meg, turning to Mrs. March, who sat sewing, in what they called "Marmee's corner."

"You may try your experiment for a week, and see how you like it. I think by Saturday night you will find that all play and no work is as bad as all work and no play."

"Oh, dear, no! it will be delicious, I'm sure," said Meg complacently.

"I now propose a toast, as my 'friend and pardner, Sairy Gamp,' 136 says. Fun forever, and no grubbing!" cried Jo, rising, glass in hand, as the lemonade went round.

They all drank it merrily, and began the experiment by lounging for the rest of the day. Next morning, Meg did not appear till ten o'clock; her solitary breakfast did not taste nice, and the room seemed lonely and untidy; for Jo had not filled the vases, Beth had not dusted, and Amy's books lay scattered about. Nothing was neat and pleasant but "Marmee's corner," which looked as usual; and there Meg sat, to "rest and read," which meant yawn, and imagine what pretty summer dresses she would get with her salary. Jo spent the morning on the river, with Laurie, and the afternoon reading and crying over "The Wide, Wide World," up in the apple-tree. Beth began by rummaging everything out of the big closet, where her family resided; but, getting tired before half done, she left her establishment topsy-turvy, and went to her music, rejoicing that she had no dishes to wash. Amy arranged her bower, put on her best white frock, smoothed her curls, and sat down to draw, under the honeysuckles, hoping some one would see and inquire who the young artist was. As no one appeared but an inquisitive daddy-long-legs, who examined her work with interest, she went to walk, got caught in a shower, and came home dripping.

137 At tea-time they compared notes, and all agreed that it had been a delightful, though unusually long day. Meg, who went shopping in the afternoon, and got a "sweet blue muslin," had discovered, after she had cut the breadths off, that it wouldn't wash, which mishap made her slightly cross. Jo had burnt the skin off her nose boating, and got a raging headache by reading too long. Beth was worried by the confusion of her closet, and the difficulty of learning three or four songs at once; and Amy deeply regretted the damage done her frock, for Katy Brown's party was to be the next day; and now, like Flora McFlimsey, she had "nothing to wear." But these were mere trifles; and they assured their mother that the experiment was working finely. She smiled, said nothing, and, with Hannah's help, did their neglected work, keeping home pleasant, and the domestic machinery running smoothly. It was astonishing what a peculiar and uncomfortable state of things was produced by the "resting and revelling" process. The days kept getting longer and longer; the weather was unusually variable, and so were tempers; an unsettled feeling possessed every one, and Satan found plenty of mischief for the idle hands to do. As the height of luxury, Meg put out some of her sewing, and then found time hang so heavily that she fell to snipping and spoiling her clothes, in her attempts to furbish them up à la Moffat. Jo read till her eyes gave out, and she was sick of books; got so fidgety that even good-natured Laurie had a quarrel with her, and so reduced in spirits that she desperately wished she had gone with Aunt March. Beth got on pretty well, for she was constantly forgetting that it was to be all play, and no work, and fell back into her old ways now and then; but something in the air affected her, and, more than once, her tranquillity was much disturbed; so much so, that, on one occasion, she actually shook poor dear Joanna, and told her she was "a fright." Amy fared worst of all, for her resources were small; and when her sisters left her to amuse and care for herself, she soon found that accomplished and important little self a great burden. She didn't like dolls, fairy-tales were childish, and one couldn't draw all the time; tea-parties didn't amount to much, neither did picnics, unless very well conducted. "If one could have a fine house, full of nice girls, or go travelling, the summer would be 138 delightful; but to stay at home with three selfish sisters and a grown-up boy was enough to try the patience of a Boaz," complained Miss Malaprop, after several days devoted to pleasure, fretting, and ennui.

No one would own that they were tired of the experiment; but, by Friday night, each acknowledged to herself that she was glad the week was nearly done. Hoping to impress the lesson more deeply, Mrs. March, who had a good deal of humor, resolved to finish off the trial in an appropriate manner; so she gave Hannah a holiday, and let the girls enjoy the full effect of the play system.

When they got up on Saturday morning, there was no fire in the kitchen, no breakfast in the dining-room, and no mother anywhere to be seen.

"Mercy on us! what has happened?" cried Jo, staring about her in dismay.

Meg ran upstairs, and soon came back again, looking relieved, but rather bewildered, and a little ashamed.

"Mother isn't sick, only very tired, and she says she is going to stay quietly in her room all day, and let us do the best we can. It's a very queer thing for her to do, she doesn't act a bit like herself; but she says it has been a hard week for her, so we mustn't grumble, but take care of ourselves."

"That's easy enough, and I like the idea; I'm aching for something to do—that is, some new amusement, you know," added Jo quickly.

In fact it was an immense relief to them all to have a little work, and they took hold with a will, but soon realized the truth of Hannah's saying, "Housekeeping ain't no joke." There was plenty of food in the larder, and, while Beth and Amy set the table, Meg and Jo got breakfast, wondering, as they did so, why servants ever talked about hard work.

"I shall take some up to mother, though she said we were not to think of her, for she'd take care of herself," said Meg, who presided, and felt quite matronly behind the teapot.

So a tray was fitted out before any one began, and taken up, with the cook's compliments. The boiled tea was very bitter, the omelette scorched, and the biscuits speckled with saleratus; but Mrs. March 139 received her repast with thanks, and laughed heartily over it after Jo was gone.

"Poor little souls, they will have a hard time, I'm afraid; but they won't suffer, and it will do them good," she said, producing the more palatable viands with which she had provided herself, and disposing of the bad breakfast, so that their feelings might not be hurt,—a motherly little deception, for which they were grateful.

Many were the complaints below, and great the chagrin of the head cook at her failures. "Never mind, I'll get the dinner, and be servant; you be mistress, keep your hands nice, see company, and give orders," said Jo, who knew still less than Meg about culinary affairs.

This obliging offer was gladly accepted; and Margaret retired to the parlor, which she hastily put in order by whisking the litter under the sofa, and shutting the blinds, to save the trouble of dusting. Jo, with perfect faith in her own powers, and a friendly desire to make up the quarrel, immediately put a note in the office, inviting Laurie to dinner.

"You'd better see what you have got before you think of having company," said Meg, when informed of the hospitable but rash act.

"Oh, there's corned beef and plenty of potatoes; and I shall get some asparagus, and a lobster, 'for a relish,' as Hannah says. We'll have lettuce, and make a salad. I don't know how, but the book tells. I'll have blanc-mange and strawberries for dessert; and coffee, too, if you want to be elegant."

"Don't try too many messes, Jo, for you can't make anything but gingerbread and molasses candy, fit to eat. I wash my hands of the dinner-party; and, since you have asked Laurie on your own responsibility, you may just take care of him."

"I don't want you to do anything but be civil to him, and help to the pudding. You'll give me your advice if I get in a muddle, won't you?" asked Jo, rather hurt.

"Yes; but I don't know much, except about bread, and a few trifles. You had better ask mother's leave before you order anything," returned Meg prudently.

140 "Of course I shall; I'm not a fool," and Jo went off in a huff at the doubts expressed of her powers.

"Get what you like, and don't disturb me; I'm going out to dinner, and can't worry about things at home," said Mrs. March, when Jo spoke to her. "I never enjoyed housekeeping, and I'm going to take a vacation to-day, and read, write, go visiting, and amuse myself."

The unusual spectacle of her busy mother rocking comfortably, and reading, early in the morning, made Jo feel as if some natural phenomenon had occurred, for an eclipse, an earthquake, or a volcanic eruption would hardly have seemed stranger.

"Everything is out of sorts, somehow," she said to herself, going down stairs. "There's Beth crying; that's a sure sign that something is wrong with this family. If Amy is bothering, I'll shake her."

Feeling very much out of sorts herself, Jo hurried into the parlor to find Beth sobbing over Pip, the canary, who lay dead in the cage, with his little claws pathetically extended, as if imploring the food for want of which he had died.

141 "It's all my fault—I forgot him—there isn't a seed or a drop left. O Pip! O Pip! how could I be so cruel to you?" cried Beth, taking the poor thing in her hands, and trying to restore him.

Jo peeped into his half-open eye, felt his little heart, and finding him stiff and cold, shook her head, and offered her domino-box for a coffin.

"Put him in the oven, and maybe he will get warm and revive," said Amy hopefully.

"He's been starved, and he sha'n't be baked, now he's dead. I'll make him a shroud, and he shall be buried in the garden; and I'll never have another bird, never, my Pip! for I am too bad to own one," murmured Beth, sitting on the floor with her pet folded in her hands.

"The funeral shall be this afternoon, and we will all go. Now, don't cry, Bethy; it's a pity, but nothing goes right this week, and Pip has had the worst of the experiment. Make the shroud, and lay him in my box; and, after the dinner-party, we'll have a nice little funeral," said Jo, beginning to feel as if she had undertaken a good deal.

Leaving the others to console Beth, she departed to the kitchen, which was in a most discouraging state of confusion. Putting on a big apron, she fell to work, and got the dishes piled up ready for washing, when she discovered that the fire was out.

"Here's a sweet prospect!" muttered Jo, slamming the stove-door open, and poking vigorously among the cinders.

Having rekindled the fire, she thought she would go to market while the water heated. The walk revived her spirits; and, flattering herself that she had made good bargains, she trudged home again, after buying a very young lobster, some very old asparagus, and two boxes of acid strawberries. By the time she got cleared up, the dinner arrived, and the stove was red-hot. Hannah had left a pan of bread to rise, Meg had worked it up early, set it on the hearth for a second rising, and forgotten it. Meg was entertaining Sallie Gardiner in the parlor, when the door flew open, and a floury, crocky, flushed, and dishevelled figure appeared, demanding tartly,—

"I say, isn't bread 'riz' enough when it runs over the pans?"

Sallie began to laugh; but Meg nodded, and lifted her eyebrows 142 as high as they would go, which caused the apparition to vanish, and put the sour bread into the oven without further delay. Mrs. March went out, after peeping here and there to see how matters went, also saying a word of comfort to Beth, who sat making a winding-sheet, while the dear departed lay in state in the domino-box. A strange sense of helplessness fell upon the girls as the gray bonnet vanished round the corner; and despair seized them, when, a few minutes later, Miss Crocker appeared, and said she'd come to dinner. Now, this lady was a thin, yellow spinster, with a sharp nose and inquisitive eyes, who saw everything, and gossiped about all she saw. They disliked her, but had been taught to be kind to her, simply because she was old and poor, and had few friends. So Meg gave her the easy-chair, and tried to entertain her, while she asked questions, criticised everything, and told stories of the people whom she knew.

Language cannot describe the anxieties, experiences, and exertions which Jo underwent that morning; and the dinner she served up became a standing joke. Fearing to ask any more advice, she did her best alone, and discovered that something more than energy and good-will is necessary to make a cook. She boiled the asparagus for an hour, and was grieved to find the heads cooked off and the stalks harder than ever. The bread burnt black; for the salad-dressing so aggravated her, that she let everything else go till she had convinced herself that she could not make it fit to eat. The lobster was a scarlet mystery to her, but she hammered and poked, till it was unshelled, and its meagre proportions concealed in a grove of lettuce-leaves. The potatoes had to be hurried, not to keep the asparagus waiting, and were not done at last. The blanc-mange was lumpy, and the strawberries not as ripe as they looked, having been skilfully "deaconed."

"Well, they can eat beef, and bread and butter, if they are hungry; only it's mortifying to have to spend your whole morning for nothing," thought Jo, as she rang the bell half an hour later than usual, and stood, hot, tired, and dispirited, surveying the feast spread for Laurie, accustomed to all sorts of elegance, and Miss Crocker, whose curious eyes would mark all failures, and whose tattling tongue would report them far and wide.

143

Poor Jo would gladly have gone under the table, as one thing after another was tasted and left; while Amy giggled, Meg looked distressed, Miss Crocker pursed up her lips, and Laurie talked and laughed with all his might, to give a cheerful tone to the festive scene. Jo's one strong point was the fruit, for she had sugared it well, and had a pitcher of rich cream to eat with it. Her hot cheeks cooled a trifle, and she drew a long breath, as the pretty glass plates went round, and every one looked graciously at the little rosy islands floating in a sea of cream. Miss Crocker tasted first, made a wry face, and drank some water hastily. Jo, who had refused, thinking there might not be enough, for they dwindled sadly after the picking over, glanced at Laurie, but he was eating away manfully, though there was a slight pucker about his mouth, and he kept his eye fixed on his plate. Amy, who was fond of delicate fare, took a heaping spoonful, choked, hid her face in her napkin, and left the table precipitately.

"Oh, what is it?" exclaimed Jo trembling.

"Salt instead of sugar, and the cream is sour," replied Meg, with a tragic gesture.

Jo uttered a groan, and fell back in her chair; remembering that she had given a last hasty powdering to the berries out of one of the two boxes on the kitchen table, and had neglected to put the milk in the refrigerator. She turned scarlet, and was on the verge of crying, when she met Laurie's eyes, which would look merry in spite of his heroic efforts; the comical side of the affair suddenly struck her, and she laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. So did every one else, even "Croaker," as the girls called the old lady; and the unfortunate dinner ended gayly, with bread and butter, olives and fun.

144 "I haven't strength of mind enough to clear up now, so we will sober ourselves with a funeral," said Jo, as they rose; and Miss Crocker made ready to go, being eager to tell the new story at another friend's dinner-table.

They did sober themselves, for Beth's sake; Laurie dug a grave under the ferns in the grove, little Pip was laid in, with many tears, by his tender-hearted mistress, and covered with moss, while a wreath of violets and chickweed was hung on the stone which bore his epitaph, composed by Jo, while she struggled with the dinner:—

"Here lies Pip March,

Who died the 7th of June;

Loved and lamented sore,

And not forgotten soon."

At the conclusion of the ceremonies, Beth retired to her room, overcome with emotion and lobster; but there was no place of repose, for the beds were not made, and she found her grief much assuaged by beating up pillows and putting things in order. Meg helped Jo clear away the remains of the feast, which took half the afternoon, and left them so tired that they agreed to be contented with tea and toast for supper. Laurie took Amy to drive, which was a deed of charity, for the sour cream seemed to have had a bad effect upon her temper. Mrs. March came home to find the three older girls hard at work in the middle of the afternoon; and a glance at the closet gave her an idea of the success of one part of the experiment.

Before the housewives could rest, several people called, and there was a scramble to get ready to see them; then tea must be got, errands done; and one or two necessary bits of sewing neglected till the last minute. As twilight fell, dewy and still, one by one they gathered in the porch where the June roses were budding beautifully, and each groaned or sighed as she sat down, as if tired or troubled.

"What a dreadful day this has been!" begun Jo, usually the first to speak.

"It has seemed shorter than usual, but so uncomfortable," said Meg.

"Not a bit like home," added Amy.

145 "It can't seem so without Marmee and little Pip," sighed Beth, glancing, with full eyes, at the empty cage above her head.

"Here's mother, dear, and you shall have another bird to-morrow, if you want it."

As she spoke, Mrs. March came and took her place among them, looking as if her holiday had not been much pleasanter than theirs.

"Are you satisfied with your experiment, girls, or do you want another week of it?" she asked, as Beth nestled up to her, and the rest turned toward her with brightening faces, as flowers turn toward the sun.

"I don't!" cried Jo decidedly.

"Nor I," echoed the others.

"You think, then, that it is better to have a few duties, and live a little for others, do you?"

"Lounging and larking doesn't pay," observed Jo, shaking her head. "I'm tired of it, and mean to go to work at something right off."

"Suppose you learn plain cooking; that's a useful accomplishment, which no woman should be without," said Mrs. March, laughing inaudibly at the recollection of Jo's dinner-party; for she had met Miss Crocker, and heard her account of it.

"Mother, did you go away and let everything be, just to see how we'd get on?" cried Meg, who had had suspicions all day.

"Yes; I wanted you to see how the comfort of all depends on each doing her share faithfully. While Hannah and I did your work, you got on pretty well, though I don't think you were very happy or amiable; so I thought, as a little lesson, I would show you what happens when every one thinks only of herself. Don't you feel that it is pleasanter to help one another, to have daily duties which make leisure sweet when it comes, and to bear and forbear, that home may be comfortable and lovely to us all?"

"We do, mother, we do!" cried the girls.

"Then let me advise you to take up your little burdens again; for though they seem heavy sometimes, they are good for us, and lighten as we learn to carry them. Work is wholesome, and there is plenty for every one; it keeps us from ennui and mischief, is good for 146 health and spirits, and gives us a sense of power and independence better than money or fashion."

"We'll work like bees, and love it too; see if we don't!" said Jo. "I'll learn plain cooking for my holiday task; and the next dinner-party I have shall be a success."

"I'll make the set of shirts for father, instead of letting you do it, Marmee. I can and I will, though I'm not fond of sewing; that will be better than fussing over my own things, which are plenty nice enough as they are," said Meg.

"I'll do my lessons every day, and not spend so much time with my music and dolls. I am a stupid thing, and ought to be studying, not playing," was Beth's resolution; while Amy followed their example by heroically declaring, "I shall learn to make button-holes, and attend to my parts of speech."

"Very good! then I am quite satisfied with the experiment, and fancy that we shall not have to repeat it; only don't go to the other extreme, and delve like slaves. Have regular hours for work and play; make each day both useful and pleasant, and prove that you understand the worth of time by employing it well. Then youth will be delightful, old age will bring few regrets, and life become a beautiful success, in spite of poverty."

"We'll remember, mother!" and they did.

XII. Camp Laurence

147

XII.

CAMP LAURENCE.

Beth was post-mistress, for, being most at home, she could attend to it regularly, and dearly liked the daily task of unlocking the little door and distributing the mail. One July day she came in with her hands full, and went about the house leaving letters and parcels, like the penny post.

"Here's your posy, mother! Laurie never forgets that," she said, putting the fresh nosegay in the vase that stood in "Marmee's corner," and was kept supplied by the affectionate boy.

"Miss Meg March, one letter and a glove," continued Beth, delivering the articles to her sister, who sat near her mother, stitching wristbands.

"Why, I left a pair over there, and here is only one," said Meg, looking at the gray cotton glove.

"Didn't you drop the other in the garden?"

"No, I'm sure I didn't; for there was only one in the office."

148 "I hate to have odd gloves! Never mind, the other may be found. My letter is only a translation of the German song I wanted; I think Mr. Brooke did it, for this isn't Laurie's writing."

Mrs. March glanced at Meg, who was looking very pretty in her gingham morning-gown, with the little curls blowing about her forehead, and very womanly, as she sat sewing at her little work-table, full of tidy white rolls; so unconscious of the thought in her mother's mind as she sewed and sung, while her fingers flew, and her thoughts were busied with girlish fancies as innocent and fresh as the pansies in her belt, that Mrs. March smiled, and was satisfied.

"Two letters for Doctor Jo, a book, and a funny old hat, which covered the whole post-office, stuck outside," said Beth, laughing, as she went into the study, where Jo sat writing.

"What a sly fellow Laurie is! I said I wished bigger hats were the fashion, because I burn my face every hot day. He said, 'Why mind the fashion? Wear a big hat, and be comfortable!' I said I would if I had one, and he has sent me this, to try me. I'll wear it, for fun, and show him I don't care for the fashion;" and, hanging the antique broad-brim on a bust of Plato, Jo read her letters.

One from her mother made her cheeks glow and her eyes fill, for it said to her,—

"That does me good! that's worth millions of money and pecks of praise. O Marmee, I do try! I will keep on trying, and not get tired, since I have you to help me."

149 Laying her head on her arms, Jo wet her little romance with a few happy tears, for she had thought that no one saw and appreciated her efforts to be good; and this assurance was doubly precious, doubly encouraging, because unexpected, and from the person whose commendation she most valued. Feeling stronger than ever to meet and subdue her Apollyon, she pinned the note inside her frock, as a shield and a reminder, lest she be taken unaware, and proceeded to open her other letter, quite ready for either good or bad news. In a big, dashing hand, Laurie wrote,—

"Dear Jo, What ho!

Some English girls and boys are coming to see me to-morrow and I want to have a jolly time. If it's fine, I'm going to pitch my tent in Longmeadow, and row up the whole crew to lunch and croquet,—have a fire, make messes, gypsy fashion, and all sorts of larks. They are nice people, and like such things. Brooke will go, to keep us boys steady, and Kate Vaughn will play propriety for the girls. I want you all to come; can't let Beth off, at any price, and nobody shall worry her. Don't bother about rations,—I'll see to that, and everything else,—only do come, there's a good fellow!

"In a tearing hurry, Yours ever, Laurie."

"Here's richness!" cried Jo, flying in to tell the news to Meg.

"Of course we can go, mother? it will be such a help to Laurie, for I can row, and Meg see to the lunch, and the children be useful in some way."

"I hope the Vaughns are not fine, grown-up people. Do you know anything about them, Jo?" asked Meg.

"Only that there are four of them. Kate is older than you, Fred and Frank (twins) about my age, and a little girl (Grace), who is nine or ten. Laurie knew them abroad, and liked the boys; I fancied, from the way he primmed up his mouth in speaking of her, that he didn't admire Kate much."

"I'm so glad my French print is clean; it's just the thing, and so 150 becoming!" observed Meg complacently. "Have you anything decent, Jo?"

"Scarlet and gray boating suit, good enough for me. I shall row and tramp about, so I don't want any starch to think of. You'll come, Bethy?"

"If you won't let any of the boys talk to me."

"Not a boy!"

"I like to please Laurie; and I'm not afraid of Mr. Brooke, he is so kind; but I don't want to play, or sing, or say anything. I'll work hard, and not trouble any one; and you'll take care of me, Jo, so I'll go."

"That's my good girl; you do try to fight off your shyness, and I love you for it. Fighting faults isn't easy, as I know; and a cheery word kind of gives a lift. Thank you, mother," and Jo gave the thin cheek a grateful kiss, more precious to Mrs. March than if it had given back the rosy roundness of her youth.

"I had a box of chocolate drops, and the picture I wanted to copy," said Amy, showing her mail.

"And I got a note from Mr. Laurence, asking me to come over and play to him to-night, before the lamps are lighted, and I shall go," added Beth, whose friendship with the old gentleman prospered finely.

"Now let's fly round, and do double duty to-day, so that we can play to-morrow with free minds," said Jo, preparing to replace her pen with a broom.

When the sun peeped into the girls' room early next morning, to promise them a fine day, he saw a comical sight. Each had made such preparation for the fête as seemed necessary and proper. Meg had an extra row of little curl-papers across her forehead, Jo had copiously anointed her afflicted face with cold cream, Beth had taken Joanna to bed with her to atone for the approaching separation, and Amy had capped the climax by putting a clothes-pin on her nose, to uplift the offending feature. It was one of the kind artists use to hold the paper on their drawing-boards, therefore quite appropriate and effective for the purpose to which it was now put. This funny spectacle appeared to amuse the sun, for he burst out with such radiance 151 that Jo woke up, and roused all her sisters by a hearty laugh at Amy's ornament.

Sunshine and laughter were good omens for a pleasure party, and soon a lively bustle began in both houses. Beth, who was ready first, kept reporting what went on next door, and enlivened her sisters' toilets by frequent telegrams from the window.

"There goes the man with the tent! I see Mrs. Barker doing up the lunch in a hamper and a great basket. Now Mr. Laurence is looking up at the sky, and the weathercock; I wish he would go, too. There's Laurie, looking like a sailor,—nice boy! Oh, mercy me! here's a carriage full of people—a tall lady, a little girl, and two dreadful boys. One is lame; poor thing, he's got a crutch. Laurie didn't tell us that. Be quick, girls! it's getting late. Why, there is Ned Moffat, I do declare. Look, Meg, isn't that the man who bowed to you one day, when we were shopping?"

"So it is. How queer that he should come. I thought he was at the Mountains. There is Sallie; I'm glad she got back in time. Am I all right, Jo?" cried Meg, in a flutter.

"A regular daisy. Hold up your dress and put your hat straight; it looks sentimental tipped that way, and will fly off at the first puff. Now, then, come on!"

152 "O Jo, you are not going to wear that awful hat? It's too absurd! You shall not make a guy of yourself," remonstrated Meg, as Jo tied down, with a red ribbon, the broad-brimmed, old-fashioned Leghorn Laurie had sent for a joke.

"I just will, though, for it's capital,—so shady, light, and big. It will make fun; and I don't mind being a guy if I'm comfortable." With that Jo marched straight away, and the rest followed,—a bright little band of sisters, all looking their best, in summer suits, with happy faces under the jaunty hat-brims.

Laurie ran to meet, and present them to his friends, in the most cordial manner. The lawn was the reception-room, and for several minutes a lively scene was enacted there. Meg was grateful to see that Miss Kate, though twenty, was dressed with a simplicity which American girls would do well to imitate; and she was much flattered by Mr. Ned's assurances that he came especially to see her. Jo understood why Laurie "primmed up his mouth" when speaking of Kate, for that young lady had a stand-off-don't-touch-me air, which contrasted strongly with the free and easy demeanor of the other girls. Beth took an observation of the new boys, and decided that the lame one was not "dreadful," but gentle and feeble, and she would be kind to him on that account. Amy found Grace a well-mannered, merry little person; and after staring dumbly at one another for a few minutes, they suddenly became very good friends.

Tents, lunch, and croquet utensils having been sent on beforehand, the party was soon embarked, and the two boats pushed off together, leaving Mr. Laurence waving his hat on the shore. Laurie and Jo rowed one boat; Mr. Brooke and Ned the other; while Fred Vaughn, the riotous twin, did his best to upset both by paddling about in a wherry like a disturbed water-bug. Jo's funny hat deserved a vote of thanks, for it was of general utility; it broke the ice in the beginning, by producing a laugh; it created quite a refreshing breeze, flapping to and fro, as she rowed, and would make an excellent umbrella for the whole party, if a shower came up, she said. Kate looked rather amazed at Jo's proceedings, especially as she exclaimed "Christopher Columbus!" when she lost her oar; and Laurie said, "My dear fellow, did I hurt you?" when he tripped over her feet in 153 taking his place. But after putting up her glass to examine the queer girl several times, Miss Kate decided that she was "odd, but rather clever," and smiled upon her from afar.

Meg, in the other boat, was delightfully situated, face to face with the rowers, who both admired the prospect, and feathered their oars with uncommon "skill and dexterity." Mr. Brooke was a grave, silent young man, with handsome brown eyes and a pleasant voice. Meg liked his quiet manners, and considered him a walking encyclopædia of useful knowledge. He never talked to her much; but he looked at her a good deal, and she felt sure that he did not regard her with aversion. Ned, being in college, of course put on all the airs which Freshmen think it their bounden duty to assume; he was not very wise, but very good-natured, and altogether an excellent person to carry on a picnic. Sallie Gardiner was absorbed in keeping her white piqué dress clean, and chattering with the ubiquitous Fred, who kept Beth in constant terror by his pranks.

It was not far to Longmeadow; but the tent was pitched and the wickets down by the time they arrived. A pleasant green field, with three wide-spreading oaks in the middle, and a smooth strip of turf for croquet.

154 "Welcome to Camp Laurence!" said the young host, as they landed, with exclamations of delight.

"Brooke is commander-in-chief; I am commissary-general; the other fellows are staff-officers; and you, ladies, are company. The tent is for your especial benefit, and that oak is your drawing-room; this is the mess-room, and the third is the camp-kitchen. Now, let's have a game before it gets hot, and then we'll see about dinner."

Frank, Beth, Amy, and Grace sat down to watch the game played by the other eight. Mr. Brooke chose Meg, Kate, and Fred; Laurie took Sallie, Jo, and Ned. The Englishers played well; but the Americans played better, and contested every inch of the ground as strongly as if the spirit of '76 inspired them. Jo and Fred had several skirmishes, and once narrowly escaped high words. Jo was through the last wicket, and had missed the stroke, which failure ruffled her a good deal. Fred was close behind her, and his turn came before hers; he gave a stroke, his ball hit the wicket, and stopped an inch on the wrong side. No one was very near; and running up to examine, he gave it a sly nudge with his toe, which put it just an inch on the right side.

"I'm through! Now, Miss Jo, I'll settle you, and get in first," cried the young gentleman, swinging his mallet for another blow.

"You pushed it; I saw you; it's my turn now," said Jo sharply.

"Upon my word, I didn't move it; it rolled a bit, perhaps, but that is allowed; so stand off, please, and let me have a go at the stake."

"We don't cheat in America, but you can, if you choose," said Jo angrily.

"Yankees are a deal the most tricky, everybody knows. There you go!" returned Fred, croqueting her ball far away.

Jo opened her lips to say something rude, but checked herself in time, colored up to her forehead, and stood a minute, hammering down a wicket with all her might, while Fred hit the stake, and declared himself out with much exultation. She went off to get her ball, and was a long time finding it, among the bushes; but she came back, looking cool and quiet, and waited her turn patiently. It took 155 several strokes to regain the place she had lost; and, when she got there, the other side had nearly won, for Kate's ball was the last but one, and lay near the stake.

"By George, it's all up with us! Good-by, Kate. Miss Jo owes me one, so you are finished," cried Fred excitedly, as they all drew near to see the finish.

"Yankees have a trick of being generous to their enemies," said Jo, with a look that made the lad redden, "especially when they beat them," she added, as, leaving Kate's ball untouched, she won the game by a clever stroke.

Laurie threw up his hat; then remembered that it wouldn't do to exult over the defeat of his guests, and stopped in the middle of a cheer to whisper to his friend,—

"Good for you, Jo! He did cheat, I saw him; we can't tell him so, but he won't do it again, take my word for it."

Meg drew her aside, under pretence of pinning up a loose braid, and said approvingly,—

156 "It was dreadfully provoking; but you kept your temper, and I'm so glad, Jo."

"Don't praise me, Meg, for I could box his ears this minute. I should certainly have boiled over if I hadn't stayed among the nettles till I got my rage under enough to hold my tongue. It's simmering now, so I hope he'll keep out of my way," returned Jo, biting her lips, as she glowered at Fred from under her big hat.

"Time for lunch," said Mr. Brooke, looking at his watch. "Commissary-general, will you make the fire and get water, while Miss March, Miss Sallie, and I spread the table? Who can make good coffee?"

"Jo can," said Meg, glad to recommend her sister. So Jo, feeling that her late lessons in cookery were to do her honor, went to preside over the coffee-pot, while the children collected dry sticks, and the boys made a fire, and got water from a spring near by. Miss Kate sketched, and Frank talked to Beth, who was making little mats of braided rushes to serve as plates.

The commander-in-chief and his aids soon spread the table-cloth with an inviting array of eatables and drinkables, prettily decorated with green leaves. Jo announced that the coffee was ready, and every one settled themselves to a hearty meal; for youth is seldom dyspeptic, and exercise develops wholesome appetites. A very merry lunch it was; for everything seemed fresh and funny, and frequent peals of laughter startled a venerable horse who fed near by. There was a pleasing inequality in the table, which produced many mishaps to cups and plates; acorns dropped into the milk, little black ants partook of the refreshments without being invited, and fuzzy caterpillars swung down from the tree, to see what was going on. Three white-headed children peeped over the fence, and an objectionable dog barked at them from the other side of the river with all his might and main.

"There's salt here, if you prefer it," said Laurie, as he handed Jo a saucer of berries.

"Thank you, I prefer spiders," she replied, fishing up two unwary little ones who had gone to a creamy death. "How dare you remind me of that horrid dinner-party, when yours is so nice in every way?" 157 added Jo, as they both laughed, and ate out of one plate, the china having run short.

"I had an uncommonly good time that day, and haven't got over it yet. This is no credit to me, you know; I don't do anything; it's you and Meg and Brooke who make it go, and I'm no end obliged to you. What shall we do when we can't eat any more?" asked Laurie, feeling that his trump card had been played when lunch was over.

"Have games, till it's cooler. I brought 'Authors,' and I dare say Miss Kate knows something new and nice. Go and ask her; she's company, and you ought to stay with her more."

"Aren't you company too? I thought she'd suit Brooke; but he keeps talking to Meg, and Kate just stares at them through that ridiculous glass of hers. I'm going, so you needn't try to preach propriety, for you can't do it, Jo."

Miss Kate did know several new games; and as the girls would not, and the boys could not, eat any more, they all adjourned to the drawing-room to play "Rigmarole."

"One person begins a story, any nonsense you like, and tells as long as he pleases, only taking care to stop short at some exciting point, when the next takes it up and does the same. It's very funny when well done, and makes a perfect jumble of tragical comical stuff to laugh over. Please start it, Mr. Brooke," said Kate, with a commanding air, which surprised Meg, who treated the tutor with as much respect as any other gentleman.

Lying on the grass at the feet of the two young ladies, Mr. Brooke obediently began the story, with the handsome brown eyes steadily fixed upon the sunshiny river.

"Once on a time, a knight went out into the world to seek his fortune, for he had nothing but his sword and his shield. He travelled a long while, nearly eight-and-twenty years, and had a hard time of it, till he came to the palace of a good old king, who had offered a reward to any one who would tame and train a fine but unbroken colt, of which he was very fond. The knight agreed to try, and got on slowly but surely; for the colt was a gallant fellow, and soon learned to love his new master, though he was freakish and wild. Every day, when he gave his lessons to this pet of the king's, the 158 knight rode him through the city; and, as he rode, he looked everywhere for a certain beautiful face, which he had seen many times in his dreams, but never found. One day, as he went prancing down a quiet street, he saw at the window of a ruinous castle the lovely face. He was delighted, inquired who lived in this old castle, and was told that several captive princesses were kept there by a spell, and spun all day to lay up money to buy their liberty. The knight wished intensely that he could free them; but he was poor, and could only go by each day, watching for the sweet face, and longing to see it out in the sunshine. At last, he resolved to get into the castle and ask how he could help them. He went and knocked; the great door flew open, and he beheld—"

"A ravishingly lovely lady, who exclaimed, with a cry of rapture, 'At last! at last!'" continued Kate, who had read French novels, and admired the style. "''Tis she!' cried Count Gustave, and fell at her feet in an ecstasy of joy. 'Oh, rise!' she said, extending a hand of marble fairness. 'Never! till you tell me how I may rescue you,' swore the knight, still kneeling. 'Alas, my cruel fate condemns me to remain here till my tyrant is destroyed.' 'Where is the villain?' 'In the mauve salon. Go, brave heart, and save me from despair.' 'I obey, and return victorious or dead!' With these thrilling words he rushed away, and flinging open the door of the mauve salon, was about to enter, when he received—"

"A stunning blow from the big Greek lexicon, which an old fellow in a black gown fired at him," said Ned. "Instantly Sir What's-his-name recovered himself, pitched the tyrant out of the window, and turned to join the lady, victorious, but with a bump on his brow; 159 found the door locked, tore up the curtains, made a rope ladder, got half-way down when the ladder broke, and he went head first into the moat, sixty feet below. Could swim like a duck, paddled round the castle till he came to a little door guarded by two stout fellows; knocked their heads together till they cracked like a couple of nuts, then, by a trifling exertion of his prodigious strength, he smashed in the door, went up a pair of stone steps covered with dust a foot thick, toads as big as your fist, and spiders that would frighten 160 you into hysterics, Miss March. At the top of these steps he came plump upon a sight that took his breath away and chilled his blood—"

"A tall figure, all in white with a veil over its face and a lamp in its wasted hand," went on Meg. "It beckoned, gliding noiselessly before him down a corridor as dark and cold as any tomb. Shadowy effigies in armor stood on either side, a dead silence reigned, the lamp burned blue, and the ghostly figure ever and anon turned its face toward him, showing the glitter of awful eyes through its white veil. They reached a curtained door, behind which sounded lovely music; he sprang forward to enter, but the spectre plucked him back, and waved threateningly before him a—"

"Snuff-box," said Jo, in a sepulchral tone, which convulsed the audience. "'Thankee,' said the knight politely, as he took a pinch, and sneezed seven times so violently that his head fell off. 'Ha! ha!' laughed the ghost; and having peeped through the key-hole at the princesses spinning away for dear life, the evil spirit picked up her victim and put him in a large tin box, where there were eleven other knights packed together without their heads, like sardines, who all rose and began to—"

"Dance a hornpipe," cut in Fred, as Jo paused for breath; "and, as they danced, the rubbishy old castle turned to a man-of-war in full sail. 'Up with the jib, reef the tops'l halliards, helm hard a lee, and man the guns!' roared the captain, as a Portuguese pirate hove in sight, with a flag black as ink flying from her foremast. 'Go in and win, my hearties!' says the captain; and a tremendous fight begun. Of course the British beat; they always do."

"No, they don't!" cried Jo, aside.

161 "Having taken the pirate captain prisoner, sailed slap over the schooner, whose decks were piled with dead, and whose lee-scuppers ran blood, for the order had been 'Cutlasses, and die hard!' 'Bosen's mate, take a bight of the flying-jib sheet, and start this villain if he don't confess his sins double quick,' said the British captain. The Portuguese held his tongue like a brick, and walked the plank, while the jolly tars cheered like mad. But the sly dog dived, came up under the man-of-war, scuttled her, and down she went, with all sail set, 'To the bottom of the sea, sea, sea,' where—"

"Oh, gracious! what shall I say?" cried Sallie, as Fred ended his rigmarole, in which he had jumbled together, pell-mell, nautical phrases and facts, out of one of his favorite books. "Well they went to the bottom, and a nice mermaid welcomed them, but was much grieved on finding the box of headless knights, and kindly pickled them in brine, hoping to discover the mystery about them; for, being a woman, she was curious. By and by a diver came down, and the mermaid said, 'I'll give you this box of pearls if you can take it up;' for she wanted to restore the poor things to life, and couldn't raise the heavy load herself. So the diver hoisted it up, and was much disappointed, on opening it, to find no pearls. He left it in a great lonely field, where it was found by a—"

"Little goose-girl, who kept a hundred fat geese in the field," said Amy, when Sallie's invention gave out. "The little girl was sorry for them, and asked an old woman what she should do to help them. 'Your geese will tell you, they know everything,' said the old woman. So she asked what she should use for new heads, since the old ones were lost, and all the geese opened their hundred mouths and screamed—"

162 "'Cabbages!'" continued Laurie promptly. "'Just the thing,' said the girl, and ran to get twelve fine ones from her garden. She put them on, the knights revived at once, thanked her, and went on their way rejoicing, never knowing the difference, for there were so many other heads like them in the world that no one thought anything of it. The knight in whom I'm interested went back to find the pretty face, and learned that the princesses had spun themselves free, and all gone to be married, but one. He was in a great state of mind at that; and mounting the colt, who stood by him through thick and thin, rushed to the castle to see which was left. Peeping over the hedge, he saw the queen of his affections picking flowers in her garden. 'Will you give me a rose?' said he. 'You must come and get it. I can't come to you; it isn't proper,' said she, as sweet as honey. He tried to climb over the hedge, but it seemed to grow higher and higher; then he tried to push through, but it grew thicker and thicker, and he was in despair. So he patiently broke twig after twig, till he had made a little hole, through which he peeped, saying imploringly, 'Let me in! let me in!' But the pretty princess did not seem to understand, for she picked her roses quietly, and left him to fight his way in. Whether he did or not, Frank will tell you."

"I can't; I'm not playing, I never do," said Frank, dismayed at the sentimental predicament out of which he was to rescue the absurd couple. Beth had disappeared behind Jo, and Grace was asleep.

163 "So the poor knight is to be left sticking in the hedge, is he?" asked Mr. Brooke, still watching the river, and playing with the wild rose in his button-hole.

"I guess the princess gave him a posy, and opened the gate, after a while," said Laurie, smiling to himself, as he threw acorns at his tutor.

"What a piece of nonsense we have made! With practice we might do something quite clever. Do you know 'Truth'?" asked Sallie, after they had laughed over their story.

"I hope so," said Meg soberly.

"The game, I mean?"

"What is it?" said Fred.

"Why, you pile up your hands, choose a number, and draw out in turn, and the person who draws at the number has to answer truly any questions put by the rest. It's great fun."

"Let's try it," said Jo, who liked new experiments.

Miss Kate and Mr. Brooke, Meg, and Ned declined, but Fred, Sallie, Jo, and Laurie piled and drew; and the lot fell to Laurie.

"Who are your heroes?" asked Jo.

"Grandfather and Napoleon."

"Which lady here do you think prettiest?" said Sallie.

"Margaret."

"Which do you like best?" from Fred.

"Jo, of course."

"What silly questions you ask!" and Jo gave a disdainful shrug as the rest laughed at Laurie's matter-of-fact tone.

"Try again; Truth isn't a bad game," said Fred.

"It's a very good one for you," retorted Jo, in a low voice.

Her turn came next.

"What is your greatest fault?" asked Fred, by way of testing in her the virtue he lacked himself.

"A quick temper."

"What do you most wish for?" said Laurie.

"A pair of boot-lacings," returned Jo, guessing and defeating his purpose.

"Not a true answer; you must say what you really do want most."

164 "Genius; don't you wish you could give it to me, Laurie?" and she slyly smiled in his disappointed face.

"What virtues do you most admire in a man?" asked Sallie.

"Courage and honesty."

"Now my turn," said Fred, as his hand came last.

"Let's give it to him," whispered Laurie to Jo, who nodded, and asked at once,—

"Didn't you cheat at croquet?"

"Well, yes, a little bit."

"Good! Didn't you take your story out of 'The Sea-Lion?'" said Laurie.

"Rather."

"Don't you think the English nation perfect in every respect?" asked Sallie.

"I should be ashamed of myself if I didn't."

"He's a true John Bull. Now, Miss Sallie, you shall have a chance without waiting to draw. I'll harrow up your feelings first, by asking if you don't think you are something of a flirt," said Laurie, as Jo nodded to Fred, as a sign that peace was declared.

"You impertinent boy! of course I'm not," exclaimed Sallie, with an air that proved the contrary.

"What do you hate most?" asked Fred.

"Spiders and rice-pudding."

"What do you like best?" asked Jo.

"Dancing and French gloves."

"Well, I think Truth is a very silly play; let's have a sensible game of Authors, to refresh our minds," proposed Jo.

Ned, Frank, and the little girls joined in this, and, while it went on, the three elders sat apart, talking. Miss Kate took out her sketch again, and Margaret watched her, while Mr. Brooke lay on the grass, with a book, which he did not read.

"How beautifully you do it! I wish I could draw," said Meg, with mingled admiration and regret in her voice.

"Why don't you learn? I should think you had taste and talent for it," replied Miss Kate graciously.

"I haven't time."

165 "Your mamma prefers other accomplishments, I fancy. So did mine; but I proved to her that I had talent, by taking a few lessons privately, and then she was quite willing I should go on. Can't you do the same with your governess?"

"I have none."

"I forgot; young ladies in America go to school more than with us. Very fine schools they are, too, papa says. You go to a private one, I suppose?"

"I don't go at all; I am a governess myself."

"Oh, indeed!" said Miss Kate; but she might as well have said, "Dear me, how dreadful!" for her tone implied it, and something in her face made Meg color, and wish she had not been so frank.

Mr. Brooke looked up, and said quickly, "Young ladies in America love independence as much as their ancestors did, and are admired and respected for supporting themselves."

"Oh, yes; of course it's very nice and proper in them to do so. We have many most respectable and worthy young women, who do the same and are employed by the nobility, because, being the daughters of gentlemen, they are both well-bred and accomplished, you know," said Miss Kate, in a patronizing tone, that hurt Meg's pride, and made her work seem not only more distasteful, but degrading.

"Did the German song suit, Miss March?" inquired Mr. Brooke, breaking an awkward pause.

"Oh, yes! it was very sweet, and I'm much obliged to whoever translated it for me;" and Meg's downcast face brightened as she spoke.

"Don't you read German?" asked Miss Kate, with a look of surprise.

"Not very well. My father, who taught me, is away, and I don't get on very fast alone, for I've no one to correct my pronunciation."

"Try a little now; here is Schiller's 'Mary Stuart,' and a tutor who loves to teach," and Mr. Brooke laid his book on her lap, with an inviting smile.

"It's so hard I'm afraid to try," said Meg, grateful, but bashful in the presence of the accomplished young lady beside her.

"I'll read a bit to encourage you;" and Miss Kate read one of 166 the most beautiful passages, in a perfectly correct but perfectly expressionless manner.

Mr. Brooke made no comment, as she returned the book to Meg, who said innocently,—

"I thought it was poetry."

"Some of it is. Try this passage."

There was a queer smile about Mr. Brooke's mouth as he opened at poor Mary's lament.

Meg, obediently following the long grass-blade which her new tutor used to point with, read slowly and timidly, unconsciously making poetry of the hard words by the soft intonation of her musical voice. Down the page went the green guide, and presently, forgetting her listener in the beauty of the sad scene, Meg read as if alone, giving a little touch of tragedy to the words of the unhappy queen. If she had seen the brown eyes then, she would have stopped short; but she never looked up, and the lesson was not spoiled for her.

"Very well indeed!" said Mr. Brooke, as she paused, quite ignoring her many mistakes, and looking as if he did, indeed, "love to teach."

Miss Kate put up her glass, and, having taken a survey of the little tableau before her, shut her sketch-book, saying, with condescension,—

"You've a nice accent, and, in time, will be a clever reader. I advise you to learn, for German is a valuable accomplishment to teachers. I must look after Grace, she is romping;" and Miss Kate strolled away, adding to herself, with a shrug, "I didn't come to chaperone a governess, though she is young and pretty. What odd people these Yankees are; I'm afraid Laurie will be quite spoilt among them."

"I forgot that English people rather turn up their noses at governesses, and don't treat them as we do," said Meg, looking after the retreating figure with an annoyed expression.

"Tutors, also, have rather a hard time of it there, as I know to my sorrow. There's no place like America for us workers, Miss Margaret;" and Mr. Brooke looked so contented and cheerful, that Meg was ashamed to lament her hard lot.

167 "I'm glad I live in it then. I don't like my work, but I get a good deal of satisfaction out of it after all, so I won't complain; I only wish I liked teaching as you do."

"I think you would if you had Laurie for a pupil. I shall be very sorry to lose him next year," said Mr. Brooke, busily punching holes in the turf.

"Going to college, I suppose?" Meg's lips asked that question, but her eyes added, "And what becomes of you?"

"Yes; it's high time he went, for he is ready; and as soon as he is off, I shall turn soldier. I am needed."

"I am glad of that!" exclaimed Meg. "I should think every young man would want to go; though it is hard for the mothers and sisters who stay at home," she added sorrowfully.

"I have neither, and very few friends, to care whether I live or die," said Mr. Brooke, rather bitterly, as he absently put the dead rose in the hole he had made and covered it up, like a little grave.

168 "Laurie and his grandfather would care a great deal, and we should all be very sorry to have any harm happen to you," said Meg heartily.

"Thank you; that sounds pleasant," began Mr. Brooke, looking cheerful again; but before he could finish his speech, Ned, mounted on the old horse, came lumbering up to display his equestrian skill before the young ladies, and there was no more quiet that day.

"Don't you love to ride?" asked Grace of Amy, as they stood resting, after a race round the field with the others, led by Ned.

"I dote upon it; my sister Meg used to ride when papa was rich, but we don't keep any horses now, except Ellen Tree," added Amy, laughing.

"Tell me about Ellen Tree; is it a donkey?" asked Grace curiously.

"Why, you see, Jo is crazy about horses, and so am I, but we've only got an old side-saddle, and no horse. Out in our garden is an apple-tree, that has a nice low branch; so Jo put the saddle on it, fixed some reins on the part that turns up, and we bounce away on Ellen Tree whenever we like."

169 "How funny!" laughed Grace. "I have a pony at home, and ride nearly every day in the park, with Fred and Kate; it's very nice, for my friends go too, and the Row is full of ladies and gentlemen."

"Dear, how charming! I hope I shall go abroad some day; but I'd rather go to Rome than the Row," said Amy, who had not the remotest idea what the Row was, and wouldn't have asked for the world.

Frank, sitting just behind the little girls, heard what they were saying, and pushed his crutch away from him with an impatient gesture as he watched the active lads going through all sorts of comical gymnastics. Beth, who was collecting the scattered Author-cards, looked up, and said, in her shy yet friendly way,—

"I'm afraid you are tired; can I do anything for you?"

"Talk to me, please; it's dull, sitting by myself," answered Frank, who had evidently been used to being made much of at home.

If he had asked her to deliver a Latin oration, it would not have seemed a more impossible task to bashful Beth; but there was no place to run to, no Jo to hide behind now, and the poor boy looked so wistfully at her, that she bravely resolved to try.

"What do you like to talk about?" she asked, fumbling over the cards, and dropping half as she tried to tie them up.

"Well, I like to hear about cricket and boating and hunting," said Frank, who had not yet learned to suit his amusements to his strength.

"My heart! what shall I do? I don't know anything about them," thought Beth; and, forgetting the boy's misfortune in her flurry, she said, hoping to make him talk, "I never saw any hunting, but I suppose you know all about it."

"I did once; but I can never hunt again, for I got hurt leaping a confounded five-barred gate; so there are no more horses and hounds for me," said Frank, with a sigh that made Beth hate herself for her innocent blunder.

"Your deer are much prettier than our ugly buffaloes," she said, turning to the prairies for help, and feeling glad that she had read one of the boys' books in which Jo delighted.

Buffaloes proved soothing and satisfactory; and, in her eagerness to amuse another, Beth forgot herself, and was quite unconscious 170 of her sisters' surprise and delight at the unusual spectacle of Beth talking away to one of the dreadful boys, against whom she had begged protection.

"Bless her heart! She pities him, so she is good to him," said Jo, beaming at her from the croquet-ground.

"I always said she was a little saint," added Meg, as if there could be no further doubt of it.

"I haven't heard Frank laugh so much for ever so long," said Grace to Amy, as they sat discussing dolls, and making tea-sets out of the acorn-cups.

"My sister Beth is a very fastidious girl, when she likes to be," said Amy, well pleased at Beth's success. She meant "fascinating," but as Grace didn't know the exact meaning of either word, "fastidious" sounded well, and made a good impression.

An impromptu circus, fox and geese, and an amicable game of croquet, finished the afternoon. At sunset the tent was struck, hampers packed, wickets pulled up, boats loaded, and the whole party floated down the river, singing at the tops of their voices. Ned, getting sentimental, warbled a serenade with the pensive refrain,—

"Alone, alone, ah! woe, alone,"

and at the lines—

"We each are young, we each have a heart,

Oh, why should we stand thus coldly apart?"

he looked at Meg with such a lackadaisical expression that she laughed outright and spoilt his song.

"How can you be so cruel to me?" he whispered, under cover of a lively chorus. "You've kept close to that starched-up Englishwoman all day, and now you snub me."

"I didn't mean to; but you looked so funny I really couldn't help it," replied Meg, passing over the first part of his reproach; for it was quite true that she had shunned him, remembering the Moffat party and the talk after it.

Ned was offended, and turned to Sallie for consolation, saying to her rather pettishly, "There isn't a bit of flirt in that girl, is there?"

171 "Not a particle; but she's a dear," returned Sallie, defending her friend even while confessing her short-comings.

"She's not a stricken deer, any way," said Ned, trying to be witty, and succeeding as well as very young gentlemen usually do.

On the lawn, where it had gathered, the little party separated with cordial good-nights and good-byes, for the Vaughns were going to Canada. As the four sisters went home through the garden, Miss Kate looked after them, saying, without the patronizing tone in her voice, "In spite of their demonstrative manners, American girls are very nice when one knows them."

"I quite agree with you," said Mr. Brooke.

[musicandmoss]

I Lost My Favorite Spoon (a short story, a somewhat drunken ramble like the ones from days I miss)

I lost my favorite spoon some time in the last couple weeks. The one with the flowers pressed into the handle and the bowl that's just the right shape of round.I don't know when it disappeared. All I know is that when I make sweet potato chowder to celebrate what felt like the first days of fall despite it being concerningly late in October, I couldn't do it with my favorite spoon.

Today was a bad day. It was a bad day in part because yesterday was a bad day. They have a habit of perpetuating themselves. I came home to find someone camping in my back yard. When all I wanted to do today was wash my clothes so that I didn't have to wear the same pants for a fifth day in a row, a person sitting between me and the basement was an endlessly frustrating occurrence.

I came in, did a chore or two, laid down and scrolled through my phone for too long. Nothing felt right. I made a bet with myself to determine whether I'd make dinner or get takeout of the exact same thing, lost, drank some beer, then headed into the kitchen. Halfway through cooking, I saw a shadow at the backdoor. The person in my yard was there with a laptop. He wanted to know the wifi password, so I took his computer and typed it in. While I was working out why it wouldn't connect (caps lock), we talked a bit. At some point, he said, "It smells good. Whatcha making?" Tacos. "You got one for me?" Heh, you know what, sure. He went back to my yard, I went back to cooking. I spent the time thinking. Sometimes about food and what to do next, sometimes about the day. Stuff sucks. Stuff sucks right now. It's been that way for a while now. I'm not happy. It's been that way for a while now. In fact, I'm decidedly unhappy most of the time. I'm frustrated, I'm upset, I'm mad. I pulled the thread and followed that feeling. I wasn't mad at the person in the yard. I wasn't even mad at my end of that situation. It was just a general anger, something that ate away inwardly.

The food was browning, so I turned off the stove. I found the Tupperware Without A Lid and filled it with tortillas, and scooped some food into them. I got a bottle of tabasco, then brought them both outside. I told the man to keep the bottle and the Tupperware. We talked a little more. After a bit, I went back in, feeling a bit better. I felt good to have put aside how bad I felt for and about myself and do something kind. No matter how I feel, that's what I value most, and of all the things swimming in my head, nothing can be more affirming than acting on that one. It was time to eat, but before I could, I had to clean the dishes I cooked with. I went to the pile in the sink. Sitting on the top of the cookware used was the thing I had served the food with. My favorite spoon. I had been so caught up with being unhappy that I didn't even realize I was using it.

If there's a magic I believe in, this is it. The small rewards that come from showing kindness.