#today I managed to eat some bread as well but still. not a lot and I don’t feel great physically

[adarkrainbow]

Given I have made two posts already about "Hansel and Gretel", or variations of the story, I'll make this fairytale the Grimm fairytale of this season. And since everybody knows Hansel and Gretel, and I already spoke somehow about it, I'll just leave below several notes, trivia and facts.

I have spoken before about the "original" version of the Brothers Grimm fairytale - aka the first edition of the text, and how it changed and evolved up to the story we know today. Many of these changes are well-known by the public - for example how the wicked stepmother was originally a wicked MOTHER (but the Grimm changed it because they had a mother-worship thing going on) ; or how the whole "duck scene" where the kids are helped crossing the river by birds was added later and not present in the original text. Some are less known, such as the fact that the "heavenly wind" rhyme was not part of the original text, or how Hansel's prison was originally not some sort of stable like in the final text but a tiny hicken coop.

In terms of "sibling stories" when we look at the great patches of historical fairytales and older literary works, you will find a lot of people pointing out to the Italian fairytale "Ninnillo and Nennella" by Basile - but I have to strongly disagree with this claim, because while Basile's fairytale does contain the motif of "boy/girl sblings abandoned several times in the woods, using various objects to find their way back, until it fails and they are lost forever", beyond that the fairytale has little to no relationship with Hansel and Gretel. A more direct ancestry and relationship has to be found in the French fairytale. More precisely in Perrault's Little Thumbling, Le Petit Poucet, which is also a story about children abandoned in the woods due to a lack of food, that found their way back several times before the birds eat the bread, and that end up in the house of a man-eater, an ogre trying to kill them. But we are still quite away from the German tale - and it is another French literary fairytale that forms the "missing link" in this chain. Madame d'Aulnoy's "Cunning Cinders" (Finette Cendron). This story doesn't involve children, but four young women - however it still follows the Hansel and Gretel formula very closely. Abandoned by their parents in the wilderness, manage to get back several times before it fails, end up trapped in the house of man-eaters, and the titular character defeats the ogre by pushing hm into a fiery oven... Of course, beyond that d'Aulnoy has a ton of additional content - such as the ogre having a wife that must be beheaded ; the lost girls being helped by a fairy godmother ; and the second part of the story being an alternate Cinderella.

But all in all it shows a point I made previously, and talked about in my ogre posts: the structure and type of the "Hansel and Gretel" story is originally an ogre tale. All older versions of the story involve ogres, not witches - but since the German do not have "ogres" in their folklore, the ogress was replaced by a witch. And despite this replacement, the witch of the story keeps several ogre traits - such as a motif of "the elderly devours youth", the idea of the witch having a poor eyesight but a keen sense of smell, or the entire "maternal perversion" motif. Which is my next point.

"Hansel and Gretel" is a familial tragedy, like many other fairytales. But the family of Hansel and Gretel is an actually extremely bizarre one. You can see, once you know your folklore and fairytale lore, that despite it being considered a "classic" and a "foundation", this tale is actually a fragmented and pieced-together story that leaves numerous gaps and is much more muddled and confused than its equivalents and predecessors. What I mean by that is that, when you look at the familial relationships in this story, you will discover several remnants of an older and more commonspread familial structure that was erased, and only leaves bizarre analogies in the new set of characters the tale offers.

To be clearer. We know that Hansel and Gretel are siblings, and that they have two parents - the father and the stepmother, formerly mother. The witch is an unrelated character acting as an outside element - or so it seems. The fairytale actually establishes a parallel and a connection between the wicked stepmother and the witch. They are parallel characters, two wicked women that want the death of children, but whereas one wants to throw the kids out of the house to leave them to starve or be devoured by beats, so she can have more food herself, the other imprisons the children in her house and overfeeds them to devour them later. A more direct link is established whenn the children return home, at the end of the tale, and discover that their step-mother is dead.

Some dark and edgy adaptations will have things such as the stepmother being killed by her husband, or killing herself, stuff like that - but by the tale alone, on just reading the words, and the first impression it leaves on a child, is that the stepmother mysteriously dies in unexplained ways right after the children burned the witch in her oven. The fact that the two wicked women end up deceased for the tale to end happily, the fact the stepmother's death is left unexplained while the witch's death is graphic and fully presented, the fact the stepmother's death is announced after the witch was killed... It all leaves the impression that the two were connected, and that by some sort of "parallel magic", killing the witch triggered the stepmother's death.

This is something many adaptations picked up upon, and you find versons where the witch and the mother look a lot alike, or are played by the same person, or are the same being. (One can compare it to Russian variations of the stories of Baba-Yaga, where wicked stepmothers sometimes send their nice stepdaughters a la Vasilisa the Fair, to the Yaga's house claiming the Yaga is their "sister"). All in all this continues the idea that the witch is a perverse take on the mother figure - nourishing and protecting children only to gulp them down into her stomach. Which, by the way, is the very symbolism and essence of ogres: fathers that kill, mothers that eat.

But while this is the most famous of the "perverse family connections" in the tale, there is another people tend to forget: the connection between Gretel and the witch. I talked heavily of the difference of treatment the witch has between Hansel and Gretel in a previous post ("Why was Hansel the meal of the witch?"). People have noted the strange discrepancy of Hansel being the one locked up and fattened up to be eaten, while Gretel became an abused slave. Many modern adaptations played on this element by having the witch planning on not eating Gretel, but making her an apprentice in witchcraft, an heir to her house, and treating her like a daughter/witch in training. After all, she does malnourish her, so she seems not keen on the idea of eating her at first...

But these modern adaptations actually picked up on something deeper and more fascinating. You see, the witch not locking up Gretel and treating her as her slave seems to be a leftover from older variants of the tale, because there is a widespread archetype in fairytales known as "the witch's daughter" or "the ogress' daughter". In many ogress or man-eating witches tales, the antagonist has a daughter that assists her in her chores. Sometimes the daughter will secretely help the protagonist escape and be an ally - but these are quite rare, and most of the time the daughter is the one the witch/ogress charges of killing-cooking the protagonist. Then the protagonist tricks the daughter, kills and cooks her instead of themselves, and serve her to their monstrous mother, who believes she is eating the protagonist, when in fact she devours her own daughter. It is a very typical structure in those tales, found from the Baba Yaga legends to the Kabyle tales of the teryel.

The witch's daughter archetype also exists in fairytales where the witch is not a man-eater, but rather an antagonist that imprisons people, or that imposes impossible tasks - and here, the daughter will be a more benevolent figure that will secretly help the protagonist escape the witch and/or overcome the trials and tasks the mother imposes. In fact, in several of those stories, the protagonist fights for the right to love and marry the witch's daughter.

All in all, the fact that Gretel is treated as a slave and assistant to the witch, that she is to help feeding and fattening her brother, etc, etc, implies that her character in the story of the Grimm is a leftover of the "ogress' daughter" or "witch's daughter" of older stories. As a result it makes even more sense for adaptations to have the witch treat Gretel as some sort of surrogate daughter, and it makes the whole family picture of the German story very messed up. The witch who tries to eat the children might be their mother/step-mother, and Gretel might be the witch's daughter.

Another motif that has been picked up by various adaptatons is the motif of birds. I remember long ago I stumbled upon a fascinating art series depicting the witch as a half-bird half-human creature - unfortunately the pictures are now lost in the vast pit of the Internet. More recently, another artist posted an image of Hansel in his cage, with the witch appearing a large, black bird above the cage, wearing a witch's hat.

All those art pieces reflected a true fact: "Hansel and Gretel" is a bird story. You have the birds that devour the bread crumbs, but also the pretty bird that leads the children to the witch's house, and the ducks that helps them cross the stream in the added ending of the Grimm. Some variations also have Hansel claim, when he keeps looking back at the house, that he is seeing a "pretty bird" instead of a "pretty cat" like in the Grimm's final text. As a result, some people did identify the birds that eat the breadcrumbs and/or the bird that leads the children to the house with the witch. The anime "Grimm's Fairy Tale Classics" notably depicted the pretty bird luring the children to the house as the witch's familiar.

A last note: The idea that the witch's house is made of tons of various candies and sweets was popularized by various modern adaptations and retellings of the story. In the Grimm tale, the house isn't made of candy. It isn't even made of gingerbread as so many people believe! While it is common for people to think of this tale as "the one with the gingerbread house", I don't know where that comes from. In the text of the Grimm, the house is merely made of bread, plain old bread, with sugar for the windows. There are however cakes that are said to cover the house, as ornaments. Maybe people in retellings decided to mix together the "cake"and the "bread" and decided to make it "gingerbread"? I don't know.

[satcskinny]

I want to start a little article archive analysis on some dieting trends I have seen. Today we look at:

Secrets of french girls - article archive 2006

There are a few differences between French women and North American women, but it's nothing you can't adapt to your own life. By taking a few tips from the French, you will slim down, and it will seem more like heaven in the process than hell.

If you want to eat (and look) like a French woman, you can forget about low carb and low fat. French women basically eat anything they want, but they steer clear from one truly bad food group - anything deep fried or processed. They also drink a lot of water with and between meals, which helps you feel full longer, and flushes toxins out of your body which will reduce a bloated look.

A basic diet of a French woman focuses around three main meals each day. French women don't snack much, but when they do eat, they always eat well. Breakfast will consist of fruit with either full fat yogurt or a croissant and a latte. Lunch will be some meat with a vegetable or salad (don't forget the cheese and croutons!) along with a small cup of strong coffee and a glass of wine to compliment what you are eating. Dinner will be something like cheese, bread, meat and a vegetable, often followed by dessert and of course, wine.

It may seem strange that someone could eat all these foods and still manage to stay slim, but the real secret is that French women listen to their bodies when they feel full. A croissant or muffin in America is about twice the size of one in France. The three course meals they love to cook and dine on might seem more like a bunch of little side dishes to an American.

They also never drink to an excess, they think of alcohol as a compliment for food. They always eat slowly and never eat in front of the T.V. or while reading, because they insist that this will make you overeat.

French women like to walk everywhere they go. They prefer to walk from store to store picking up nice food for dinner. They also don't tend to watch a lot of television. They might go for a walk or swim after dinner instead.

Another great slimming tip from French women is they love to make love. So after having a nice dinner of bread (a tiny bit), filet mignon (about the size of your palm) and red wine (only a glass or two!), have a roll in the hay with your lover instead of watching the next episode of Sex and the City. You'll burn calories, rekindle the romance and resist the temptation of snacking while sitting around being bored.

This way of eating is not the traditional way an American thinks of a diet.

[storiesofsvu]

Solace in Solitude Ch 3

Emily Prentiss x reader enemies to lovers. warnings: language, hospital/injury/medical talk (again, that is not 100% accurate. just go with it). our girlies fighting and lowkey hating each other. I wouldn't really call it angst, but there is hurt.

Halfway through the night Emily could no longer ignore the ache in the pit of her stomach, the noises alone were nearly enough to keep her from sleeping. She groaned quietly, pushing herself up to sitting so she could flick on the bedside lamp, light blooming through the room as she blinked a couple of times to adjust to it. The nurse had left half of the untouched dinner on rolling table in hopes that she might eat and begrudgingly, Emily pulled the table towards her, letting out a sigh of defeat as she picked up the bread roll. As she began to pick at it she reminded herself that she wasn’t doing this because you had told her to, that you had said she needed food, she was doing it so hopefully she’d actually get some sleep. She was eating because she wanted to, she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions, she didn’t need someone telling her how to live her life, not again. Even if it was a life she barely knew herself.

**

If you’d had the choice you would’ve done anything but show up to work today. Working weekends already sucked, never mind the fact that you were halfway across the world without your usual weekend team that helped each other through the overtime hours. The weather was terrible, rain streaming down from the gloomy sky as you dodged puddle after puddle on your way into the hospital, cursing yourself for making today the day you were lugging twice the amount of baggage with you. You took more time than normal changing into your scrubs, finally pocketing your phone, scooping up the small duffle and locking your locker before making your way to the nurses station. You’d been there less than a minute, barely having time to pull out the stack of charts to go through when someone stepped into your view, an extra large coffee being placed down directly in front of you.

“Good morning.” She greeted with a smile, your brain switching back into French mode before you replied.

“Morning.” You cocked a brow at her, glancing between her and the coffee, “is this an ‘I want in on a surgery’ coffee, or a ‘something fucked up overnight’ coffee?”

“It’s a ‘you’re going to need this’ coffee.” She let out a deep sigh, “I’ve been keeping an eye on your VIP and she really is a lot to handle.”

“Sounds like I should be bringing you coffee.” You muttered, rolling your eyes, “sorry she’s such a piece of work.”

“That car crash really fucked her up.” She chewed on her lip, “was there someone else in the car with her?”

“Dunno.” You ducked your gaze, flipping through the first couple of charts, “I just treated her and she doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“Mm.” She nodded, “well, good luck today.”

“Thanks.” You glanced up to flash her a small smile before she disappeared around the corner and you were able to let out a small groan. If Emily had been that much of a pain overnight who knew what you were in for now. You flipped through her chart as you sipped at your coffee, figuring the sight of it might set off her complaints about not being able to have any you reluctantly left it on the desk before you wandered down the hallway.

You expected attitude, the cold shoulder, maybe even more insults thrown your way when you stepped through the door. What you didn’t expect was for Emily to be up and slowly digging into an applesauce container with a plastic spoon. She nearly froze when she noticed you, as if she was wishing she hadn’t been caught with the food, her face morphing into a frown but she still took another bite.

“Morning.” You greeted, managing to pull your lips into a tired smile.

“What? You run away from home?” She asked, nodding toward the duffle over your shoulder and you let out a huff of a laugh.

“No.” You placed it down on the bed beside her, “brought it for you. There’s some clothes in there, comfy ones so you don’t have to constantly live in a hospital gown, a couple of books, in English, a tablet loaded up with games and streaming services and a phone. They are… all yours now.”

“I don’t need your hand me downs.” She replied, tossing the spoon back into the applesauce before it ended up back on the tray and she leant back against the pillows, arms crossed over her chest.

“They’re not mine. They gave me the bag when I got on the plane.”

Emily glanced up at you, a curious expression written across her features before she cautiously reached for the bag, pulling the zipper back and you finally moved to the other side of the bed to check up on her vitals. The phone, tablet and charging cables were on top, neither one something she had owned back in DC, background photos and apps entirely different. Underneath she fingered through the clothes, they were relatively generic, nothing she particularly recognized until she hit a blue sweater she had no doubt was JJ’s and the all too familiar wave of sorrow swept through her again though this time it was laced with something different. The sweater was one of JJ’s favourites, one that she wore often and Emily couldn’t help but compliment her on every time. It meant something more than just a piece of clothing, it was a piece of home, one that JJ had purposely made sure would get to Emily when she needed it the most. It was a reminder to Emily, that she wasn’t being completely forgotten, that not everyone in her life thought she was buried in a grave somewhere. JJ knew she was alive and she loved her and wasn’t about to stop thinking about her friend just because she was halfway across the world.

“Chart says you ate some of your dinner?” Your voice suddenly broke through Emily’s distraction and she quickly wiped at the corner of her eye.

“Couldn’t sleep. Thought it might help.”

“Good.” You scribbled down a couple of things, “I hope you find the motivation to finish the applesauce. Once your body’s used to some easy foods we can get you some better stuff, promise.”

“What about coffee?” She asked and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I can maybe snag some decaf in a couple of days. I don’t want you having it on a relatively empty stomach.”

“Decaf? Come on!” She groaned, “there’s literally no point to decaf.”

“There’s technically still caffeine in decaf.” You replied, flipping her chart closed, “besides, why do you need it anyways? Most people on extended hospital stays prefer to sleep their days away.”

“I just… do.” She snatched up the applesauce again, avoiding your gaze while she ate it.

“Okay.” You sighed, “well, finish the rest of that breakfast and then let’s get you up and moving. Even just to the end of the hall to start, you’re probably pretty stiff, wouldn’t want to overdo it on the first go, no matter what you were used to before the accident.”

Emily knew that you were just following procedure, the fake story put in place to protect her, the only one that you really knew. Still, she couldn’t help the anger that surged through her, that what happened was the furthest thing from an accident. The only accidental thing that happened that night was Ian getting the upper hand on her, a mistake that she would be kicking herself forever about.

“You don’t know shit about me.” She snapped, “how the hell would you know anything about how my body’s feeling right now?”

You took a breath, letting her words roll off your back as she glared daggers at you, your tone calm when you replied, “I’m your doctor. I have a pretty good idea what four inactive weeks in a hospital bed does to a person, I’ve actually got multiple degrees in it, but believe whatever you’d like.”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Other patients to nag?”

“You’re right. I do.” You scooped up the chart, tucking it under your arm, “I’ll leave the nurses to deal with you for today.”

With that you were gone from her room, the door falling shut with a sharp click and she let out a loud groan of frustration, hurling the second, still sealed applesauce across the room and into the garbage. She found you completely insufferable and absolutely could not wait until she was discharged and would finally be free from you.

On the other side of the door you let out an elongated annoyed grumble as you beelined back to your coffee, dropping your elbows onto the counter so your fingers could rub at your temples.

“That bad?” The nurse from earlier asked, a sympathetic look on her face.

“I seriously don’t know what I did to deserve the karma of being stuck with her.” Picking up the coffee you took a very large, much needed sip.

“There’s a three car pile up on its way into the ER?” She offered with a shrug, “probably a lot of trauma, multiple surgeries to keep you occupied.”

“Thank god.”

**

It seemed that every interaction between the two of you would go on like that as time went on. You started to leave checking on Emily to be a task later in the day, after rounding on other patients, maybe even swinging by the ER to give a hand there for a few hours. You seemed to catch her in a slightly better mood if it was closer to lunch time than breakfast, it gave her more time to wake up, to feel human.

Though that didn’t stop any of the animosity, that was only getting worse with each visit.

You were just trying to do your job, to make sure that your hard work back in the OR in Boston wasn’t going to go to waste, that she would heal properly. Most days you could get your updates from her chart or vitals, leaving some of your visits relatively silent, you no longer cared to try and push small talk, you knew she wasn’t going to give you any answers anyways.

Emily spent each day dreading the moment you would pop through the door, knowing that you would likely have something to say about how much she’d eaten, how she should be able to do a loop of the recovery wing by now, or ramble on about anything else. At least by this point she’d scared most of the nurses into silence, they’d come in, leave food, update a couple of things and leave, there was no pushing from them. She would never tell you, but she was so incredibly thankful for the things you’d brought the other day. Daytime television was terribly boring no matter where in the world you were, she was now able to distract herself with a book or lose track of time playing games on the tablet.

She found her appetite continued to pick up as time went on, less medicine and pain killers flowing through her body meant she was beginning to feel a little bit more like herself. The waves of nausea now were only because she’d been without food for a little too long between meals and there was no one to blame but herself for that. Despite now eating on a more regular schedule she had absolutely no motivation to get out of bed, she felt stuck, like there was no reason for her to bother with it. She had everything she needed within arms reach, except for bathroom trips and even those were close enough. The only thing she thought she would consider leaving her room for was to see if she could sneak down to the cafeteria to get a coffee but she knew the likelihood of that happening were slim to none. She may have had the nurses intimidated but even they knew she was on a strict limit for caffeine.

As she watched the sun set on another day through her window she let out a soft sigh, feeling the now all too familiar melancholy wave over here once again. If her math was correct, the team would just be wrapping up their day at the BAU, likely making plans to hit up Rossi’s for dinner, O’Keefe’s for drinks, maybe Penelope dragging people out on a movie night in an attempt to forget the events in Boston. JJ could be heading home to Will and Henry, a love and laughter filled family dinner.

Everyone had a place where they belonged, where they fit perfectly and felt entirely at home and at peace.

Emily did her best to hold back the shuddering breath, knowing that if she cried too hard it would hurt the healing wound in her torso, that it would bring back the ache in her ribs that had finally left her. Instead she let the tears slip over her cheeks silently. She’d been alone her whole life but she’d never felt more isolated than over the course of these weeks, not even when she was undercover. As she began to fight spiraling down she found herself wondering about her mother, what she thought about Emily’s death, how she was grieving or if it had simply slipped past her, added to the list of things ‘we don’t talk about’.

The last thing on her mind as she managed to finally succumb to sleep in the darkness of her hospital room was that she really had no reason whatsoever to get out of here. There was nothing waiting for her outside the hospital walls, no purpose for her to get better faster, she may have gotten out of there alive but she’d completely lost her life and everything that had come along with it, especially the joy.

*

Emily let herself sink into a hole of wallowing and self pity, she didn’t have a lot of fight left in her anymore, wondering each day if it was worth it to fight for herself. She answered the required questions, ate her meals, tried to bargain for coffee, and lost herself in the fictional world of books or mind numbing movies, shows or games. At least once a day you asked her to get up, to even walk just to the nurses station and back and each day she refused, leaving you more annoyed with each interaction. She was, without a doubt, the most frustrating patient you’d ever had. You thought that maybe it was that she didn’t want to be seen out of her room in the gown, part of the reason you’d brought the other clothes to her, but while she’d changed into them, it hadn’t changed her opinion on the matter at hand.

Which brought you to today, you’d been off part of the morning after working overnight on an emergency surgery. Though you hadn’t bothered on going all the way home, knowing you were the one who needed to check in on her later. You were supposed to have been off by five the day earlier, having started the shift halfway through the night but emergency trumps sleep. And sleeping in the on call room through the morning meant staff coming and going and far more noise than you were happy with. To say you’d slept well would be the biggest lie in the world.

You’d caught Emily just after lunch, happy to see the food tray empty as you greeted her with a fake and tired smile, one that she didn’t bother to return. You checked over a couple of things and then mentioned you had to check her stitches and skin grafts.

“These ones are looking pretty good.” You commented about the ones on her front before you nudged at her shoulder, “lean forward for me.” She did as you asked, “hmm…”

“What?” She grumbled out, wincing at the feeling of your fingers gently prodding at the mark.

“Your stitches look a little inflamed, possibly infected.”

“So you’re saying you did a shitty job?” She asked and you returned the statement with a glare.

“We knew thanks to your spleen that this was a likely side effect. I’ll order some intravenous antibiotics and if that doesn’t calm them down, I’ll redo a couple of them.”

“Great. Try not to leave me looking like leather face.”

You were too tired for this; you hadn’t even had your daily coffee and you were at your wits end when it came to her and her constant snipping. “Okay, don’t blame me for your injuries not healing properly when you’re the one not doing the bare minimum of taking care of yourself. I’m not the one who went out and got you stabbed.”

“Wasn’t like it was my idea of a good Friday night either.” She grumbled and this time you did roll your eyes, shifting her shirt back down, indicating that she could lean back against the bed again.

“Valerie, this is why you need to get up and moving. I’ll bet a hundred bucks you’re sleeping on your back?” You raised a brow and she gave you a very tense nod, “I don’t need you running marathons or spending all day wandering the hospital halls but all this time in bed is what’s irritating the stitches, why do you think the one on your front is fine? The constant shifting around in the bed is causing friction on your clothes and the sheets, you need to start getting up, even if it’s just moving between the couch, bed and chairs.”

“Anyone ever told you you’re incredibly bossy?”

“All the time.”

“I’m not doing it.” She crossed her arms over her chest, “there’s no point.”

“Anyone ever told you you’re incredibly stubborn?” You asked, mirroring her posture and she absolutely refused to look at you, “okay well next time I’ll just leave the stake in then.” Your voice raised and Emily nearly jumped, not expecting you to push back as intensely, “you just don’t get it do you? You had a hole through your entire abdomen, it took a large team of elite surgeons to operate. The best in their fields, the ones who were able to repair numerous things that other doctors would have no idea where to even begin. I made sure the plastics guy stitched up your face, you’re welcome!” You shook your head in disbelief, “you know… working in the medical field you see a lot of really wild shit and sometimes peoples will to live, or their acceptance to leave this planet compared to their injuries don’t make the slightest bit of sense. And that applies here. You coded in the ambulance; you’d lost so much blood, multiple other surgeons would have said it was a waste of time, resources and money, that your wounds were too extensive and to this day; I do not know how the fuck you survived it. You should be dead.”

You paused to let that last little bit sink in, wondering if any of this was going to even get through to her or if by now this was a complete lost cause. Emily felt something creeping through her, unable to distinguish what kind of feeling it was and she didn’t trust saying anything yet.

“But you’re not. You’re here, and you’re alive. Because there was something, or someone out there in the world that made you keep fighting and live through whatever happened to you that night and the physical trauma that came afterwards. Sure, you woke up halfway across the world with no one but a pain in the ass doctor to look after you, but you survived. I get it okay, I know what it’s like to feel completely alone and have no one by your side, to lose all motivation to do anything because no one even knows where you are. If you don’t want to keep going for yourself, don’t. But do it for whoever or whatever gave you the strength to get through that night.” Reaching forward you yanked the blankets off her to the foot of the bed, tugging on her uninjured side until her legs were swung over the edge.

“Hey!”

“Get your ass out of bed.” You said through gritted teeth, “because you may absolutely suck but there is something out there that apparently makes it all worth it for you. So just fucking do it.”

“I—” She protested as you turned, picking up her chart to leave the room.

“I don’t want to hear it!” You turned back, “you have been nothing but incompliant since you woke up. All I’m trying to do is help you and you think everything coming out of my mouth is poison and I’m sick of it, I’m sick of playing good doctor. You wanna rot away in a hospital bed, get out of here with even more scars cause I had to do a third skin graft on your back and you’re confined to a wheel chair because you let your muscles atrophy, be my guest.”

This time the door swung shut with much more force than before and she knew she’d thoroughly pissed you off. She gulped, wondering if the feeling floating through her was guilt or if it was something else.

*

It was hours later, after dinner had been served and empty dishes recollected, the hospital winding down for the evening, your coffee fairy nurse finishing up some paperwork at the main station. People were still occasionally coming and going, dropping off charts, saying their good nights and the like she didn’t think anything of the noises around her until a voice she didn’t recognize spoke.

“Euh… est-ce que le docteur Carter est la?”

“She went home.” She mumbled in reply, her gaze still on the last chart, “something about a personal day?”

“Oh…” Emily stalled.

“Something I can help with?” She finally glanced up, her eyes widening “oh! Ms. Stewart! I’m so glad to see you up. You just missed Doctor Carter; did you need something?”

“Uh… maybe another applesauce? Or pudding if I’m allowed, just something a little different?”

“Yeah, of course.” She flipped the chart closed, sliding it onto the shelf, “I’ll bring a couple to your room, feel free to keep stretching your legs though.”

“Thanks.”

________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @scorpsik @prentiss-theorem @strongsassysexysloane @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @kalixxh @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @tommyriddleobsessed @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989

[itstokkii]

for @hwsasiaweek day 2: uzbekistan + food + "a smooth sea never made a skillful sailor"

in which uzbekistan can't let go of her qazon and explains why

‎‧₊˚✧[🇰🇿🇺🇿🇰🇬]✧˚₊‧

It was a Thursday afternoon, and all of Uzbekistan's siblings were staying at her house for a week in preparation for a regional conference.

While they were all in separate rooms of the house working on writing up important documents and presentations, Uzbekistan was cooking food for the evening, and as per tradition she was cooking osh. It was also her siblings' favorite food, and they insisted she cook it for them almost every time they got together.

As she was stirring the beef and onions, Kazakhstan came out of her study, sniffing around.

"Apa, are you making osh for tonight?"

"Yes. it is a Thursday, after all! Also if you guys eat enough of my food, perhaps you won't all be so grumpy at the conference."

"Speak for yourself," he chuckled. There was always some argument that would arise at one of these conferences, and many times Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan would be part of it.

Before she could respond with some lackluster excuse of those conflicts being in the moment and that it wasn't truly her and that she was definitely a mature lady and how he could say that to his dear older sister who is cooking food just for him, he points at the qazon she was cooking the osh in. the bottom was completely black after years of use.

"Hey, how long has it been since you've used this qazon?"

"Oh, um...I bought it at a market sometime around the 60s?"

"Apa, that's like 50 years!"

"Well, it's durable! Like the spatula I'm using to cook it with."

"But if you bought new ones...wouldn't it enhance the quality of your meals? New cooking technology and all..."

She gently added the chopped carrots to the qazon. "You know, a smooth sea never made a skillful sailor. You could buy all the latest utensils and completely revamp your kitchen, but!" She gestured at her hands. "It's all about your experience. Your skill. That's why you all love my food the most!"

"I don't know..." Kyrgyzstan stood on his tiptoes and looked over Kazakhstan's shoulder." Tajikistan was gushing about my dymdama last time. Her side of the plate was so clean, I think she used bread to wipe the leftover broth up."

"Why must you always make this about you? She was extremely hungry that time! Besides, that was then, and this is now." She closed her eyes briefly and tossed the carrots over.

The two spent the rest of the time bickering about the "deliciousness scores" that they had apparently been tallying up so far based on their other siblings' opinions of their food, while Kazakhstan tried his best to mediate.

Good practice for the actual conference I guess, he thought, though they've done this enough times I don't think I really need practice...

"If we're gonna talk about revamping your cooking, why don't you use a frypan next time? Your boyfriend already does that when he cooks osh-"

"HE DARE COMMIT SUCH BLASPHEMY?"

"Hey chill! You better keep that a secret cuz he told me to keep it a secret from you!"

Kazakhstan had to admit, she was pretty skilled at cooking. He could see it in the way she both argued passionately with their older brother and added the chickpeas and rice to the osh, never missing a step. Heck, she even managed to make some salad on the side as well.

And when the sky became a light purple and the crickets began to chirp, the evening wind brushing through their hair as they ate outside on the tapchan, Uzbekistan brought the hot, aromatic osh to the table to eat. Everyone cleared the plate within half an hour. She smiled smugly at Kyrgyzstan.

"That's 25 points for me since today, and you're still at 22~"

"I'M CATCHING UP, OKAY?!"

‎‧₊˚✧[🇰🇿🇺🇿🇰🇬]✧˚₊‧

notes: ALHAMDULILAH I MADE IT IN TIME ITS STILL 11:57 PM 💪💪💪

there's a lot of uzbek/central asian terminology here, and they're italicized:

osh: otherwise known as plov, it's uzbekistan's national food. it's a sort of fried? rice with carrots, meat, chickpeas, and raisins. each region in uzbekistan cooks it differently, but I tried my best to describe whatever I can remember from my mom's way. it's served to guests at home, weddings, and also eaten on the regular weekly, with osh being eaten on thursdays as a traditional custom.

qazon: the best way I can describe this in english is a cast iron cauldron. it's quite big and a lot of things can be cooked in it, like osh, qazon kabob, and dymdama.

apa: kazakh for "older sister."

dymdama: eaten in many central asian countries, it's a stew of beef, potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, and other vegetables. in uzbekistan, it's called dimlama, and I only recently found out it's called dymdama in kyrgyzstan by a kyrgyz classmate!

tapchan: in a lot of uzbek houses with backyards, there's a small resting area with cushions and a table outside. in the spring and summer, families usually eat their breakfast, lunch, and dinner outside.

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today, on 28th January, 2011

Q Magazine published with Queen 16-page exclusive - May & Taylor Speak! / 'The Unseen Freddie'

Roger Taylor interview (extract)

Who did you have most in common with when the band first got together?

Brian, really. We haven’t always got on but we’ve come to realise that we need one another. Brian is my enduring mate, but I was very close to Fred. I think we were the naughty ones.

You and Freddie were flatmates for a while in the very early days of Queen. Did you cook for each other?

Oh God! [Laughs]. One Christmas I was there with Fred and all we had was a packet of bread sauce that you make with water. We used to dream of a can of beans! We were very broke but we still managed to ponce about and appear rather grand.

You’d been a dentistry student. Did Freddie ever ask you for advice about his teeth?

Well, not really. His teeth were in strange places. I think he was very fearful, quite squeamish about having anything done because it would have involved fairly major surgery.

Queen released their first seven albums between 1973 and ’78. Not bad going…

No, I suppose it wasn’t. We were very painstaking making the albums, too. It was almost like a privilege to get in these studios which, at the time, cost what seemed like a fortune. Thirty quid for every hour! So we respected that and just grafted.

Did Bohemian Rhapsody seem like a peculiar song at all when Freddie first suggested it?

No, I loved it. The first bit that he played to me, was the verse. “Mama, just killed a man, dah-dah-la-dah-daah, gun against his…” All that. I thought, “That’s great, that’s a hit!” It was in my head, a simpler entity then; I didn’t know it was going to have a wall of mock Gilbert and Sullivan stuff, you know, some of which was written on the fly. Freddie would write these huge blocks of mass harmonies on the backs of phone books.

When Freddie would say thinks like “What’s a mortgage, darling?” in interviews, Brian and John didn’t seem to like it too much…

No, I don’t think they did.

What did you make of it?

I thought it was hilarious because it was always a complete wind-up. He knew that what would annoy people more than anything was assuming this sort of Marie Antoinette… “Let them eat cake!” That was him. You know, “F*** ‘em. If they don’t like me I’ll be even worse than they expect.

Did you ever accompany him on his legendary shopping sprees?

Oh yeah. We used to buy each other rugs occasionally. Freddie used to say, “Always buy the best, dear”, which is a great piece of advice. There’s no point in getting the Jag when you can have the Aston Martin.

Was that your philosophy?

In a way, although I didn’t take it anyway near as far as he did. We’ve been incredibly lucky, we’ve had a great career and I’ve never been one to hide it. We are what we are. At the same time we’ve done lot of quite good things. Maybe [laughs].

Queen’s parties were infamously wild…

It really was a very small part of what was going on. We just thought it was a laugh. If we could screw that much money out of the record company to have an almighty blowout then why not? It’s just become… the myth of the dwarf with the coke on his head [at the New Orleans launch party for their 1978 album Jazz] and all that. It never happened.

Really?

No. Well, I never saw it [laughs]. I’d tell you if I did. There were weird things going on but… [mildly weary] the parties and everything, people like to hear about all that but it’s sort of in the past now.

But you must appreciate why people love those stories.

Yeah, but I wouldn’t recommend a party with a hundred strippers as a great marketing tool.

In an interview back then you said, “I like strip clubs and strippers and wild parties with naked women.” Was that an accurate summary of your interests?

Ha! All true, of course.

Was cocaine ever your thing at all?

Well, everything was around then. We did a bit of this and that but I don’t think it ever really ruled us.

Everything in moderation.

[Laughs]. We were never for moderation.

As Queen became more successful, why did you travel around in separate limos?

That was the easiest way to do it. Limos are the stupidest cars. There’s really only room for two passengers and you’d usually have your girlfriend or wife or whatever, companion, or your assistant with you. We could afford four you know? It was nothing to do with not wanting to speak to one another.

What did you think when Freddie turned up one day with his new moustache?

I always said that he could have ridden naked down Oxford Street and got less publicity than he did by growing a f****ing moustache. One man grows moustache. Not a big deal. But it was, obviously, in his case. It represented this sort of gay clone scene at the time, so there was some sort of vibe off that. I mean, it didn’t bother us at all.

What misconceptions do you think people might hold about Freddie?

Well, he had a very shy side and a very forceful side as well. That was it, really. In the studio he was such a worker. That’s where he was completely at home, not shy at all. I never had a cross word with Freddie. He was the glue that kept us together, in a way. It’s difficult to describe. A complex man. In a social situation he might be quite shy, but then he could also enter the room with all the charisma turned up to 10 and take it over, but he’d have to psyche himself up for that.

As he would if he was going onstage?

Absolutely. The same thing, really.

Apparently on tour you and Freddie played a lot of Scrabble. Who was the best?

Fred and I used to love Scrabble. We all played, but it got a bit too serious so the other two would drop out. Freddie was brilliant because he could score more with fewer tiles. I was pretty much his match, I think. Brian got the most points I’ve ever seen with one word, which was 168. Can I remember what the word was? Yes, “Lacquers”. “Q” on the triple, all seven letters, triple word. Work it out. [Q Ed’s note: we’ve tried and failed – over to you, Scrabble nuts.]

When you knew that Freddie was dying was there any question of stopping?

No. He only asked two things. The first was let’s keep working. The other thing was when he was really sick, just come and visit me.

Towards the end Freddie’s home was besieged by the press. That seems normal now but it was quite unusual at the time.

Yeah, his house was surrounded by vultures. They’d even be photographing his groceries as they were brought out of the car. It was horrific, actually.

Did you make your feelings known when you would go and visit him?

I did hit a photographer one night and I think I ran over another one’s foot. All those people, what are you going to say, you know? Just horrible dickheads.

Did you get to say goodbye to him?

Well, one time he was very, very sick. I was about 300 yards up the street on my way to see him when Peter [Freestone], his assistant, rang me and said, “Don’t come, he’s just gone.” That was a real blow, but… yeah, literally 300 yards away on Kensington High Street. [Pause, little smile] Next question.

Sorry.

No, that’s alright.

After the Freddie Mercury tribute concert in 1992 did you think, “Well, what do we now?”

Oh, definitely. There was a very empty period. It was, “What do we do now? Well, let’s give up. Yeah, let’s give up. That was good. That’s done.” Then, of course, after a while you’d feel, “Well, shall we finish that material?” Eventually we summoned up the strength to finish it and I think we made a good job of it [the resulting album was 1995’s Made In Heaven].

Can you understand why some fans think that the whole idea of the Queen musical We Will Rock You, is almost offensive?

Yeah, I do, and they’re welcome to think what they like because I hate musicals. The fact is we did our best to make it an enjoyable experience for those who might like that kind of thing. I make no excuses for it. If you get all purist about things… everybody wants everything to be kept in a jar like it always was and that’s not the way the world works.

Queen’s album sales are often given as being approximately 300 million. Do you have any idea what the actual figure is?

Honestly, I don’t know. Somewhere between two and three hundred, maybe. It’s a lot. [Pause] Great, isn’t it? [Laughs]

(➡️ source: brianmay.com website)

📸 Pic: 1986 - Freddie Mercury posing

[honeyhatake]

Indulgence- Sweet as Honey 🍯

This story was written quite a while ago, and it is definitely a self insert lol. I originally wanted to call is Sweet as Honey, then added Indulgence to it. This is kinda where I got my name from. The story is from Kakashi’s perspective, and quite long. There’s room for it to even be longer if I’m being honest. Anyways, let me know what you guys think! Thank you for reading 💕

———————————💕———————————

Warnings- Implied suggestive thoughts, afab reader, fluff

Word Count- 6k

Summary- Kakashi is a man that doesn’t like sweets. Yet he finds himself eating a lot of them lately. The sweets are not the only things he wants to Indulge in, he just hopes that she’ll let him.

———————————💕———————————

I have found myself indulging a lot lately. Taking longer walks, more frequent breaks, naps in the middle of the day. Finding the time to treat myself to things I don’t normally have. Sweets being one of them. Even though they weren’t something I enjoyed frequently, I found myself eating them anyway. All because I needed some excuse to make my way to the bakery every day. No matter how badly it hurt my stomach at days end.

It started when I got back from a lengthy mission, wanting to make myself a nice breakfast on my day off. The indulgence was small, just a simple loaf of bread, but it needed to be fresh. I knew the bakery by the flower shop had just opened up with new management- the old owner of the store finally retiring after over 50 years of running the place. Their bread was good, and so were their cakes (not that I ate cake often, but nonetheless.) I just hoped the new owners were as nice as she was, and had treats just as good.

On my walk there it was overcast, so I brought an umbrella. There was a slight chill to the air, cold enough to make my ears red. My nose would have been too if it wasn’t wearing a face covering. I warmed my hands with my breath through my mask as best as I could approaching the shop. The smell of bread and sweets already flooding my sinuses. Breathing it in I smiled and walked into the shop. It was early morning, but the bakery had been open for a few hours now. Hopefully they still have warm bread.

The bakery was small and very cozy. There was one spot for seating, shelves with recipe books, and the decor made it look lived in. It wasn’t too different from how it looked before, but a lot of things were updated and the walls definitely had a fresh coat of paint.

When I walked in no one was at the counter, so I browsed the cook books. I didn’t really need one, but it gave me something to do while I waited. Not long after I hear the voice of a woman behind the counter.

“Oh! Sorry ‘bout that, had to step away to show someone how to prep some pastries. What can I help you with today?”

Turning, my eyes locked with hers, the recipe book that I unsuccessfully tried to put back fell to the ground. This made her giggle, and I felt my cheeks getting warm. Thank god for this mask! Trying my best to brush it off, I laugh lightly and pick up the book, putting it in its proper spot. “Sorry about that, let’s see…” Stepping carefully towards the counter, I pray I don’t trip over my own feet next. “I uh, I’m not really sure what I want yet.” My eyes moved down to the glass display next to the counter and looked over all my options. There was a lot more than I had anticipated. Several breads, rolls and pastries. They all looked well made, like she put her whole heart and soul into them, yet I knew I was only here for a simple loaf of bread. My eyebrows knit together as I tried to think over which one would be best, slowly getting embarrassed by how long I was taking.

“Well… do you know what kind of baked good you’d like?” She asked in a very sweet voice. I looked up at her and her cheeks were as pink as I’m sure mine were. Her eyes almost had a sparkle to them as well. I wanted to keep looking, but I blinked and shifted my view back on the bread. Not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

“I need a loaf of bread, but I’m not sure which would be good.” When my vision shifted back to her, her eyes fluttered and a sweet smile appeared on her lips.

“My favorite is the Sourdough, but our Brioche is good too! It’s a pretty sweet and light bread. But if you want something without too much flavor, I’d go with the wheat.” As she spoke she took a step over to the display case and gently placed her hands on top of it. The new closeness made my heart beat out of my chest.

“Maybe I’ll go with the Sourdough then, since it’s your favorite.” I smiled at her with my eye in an attempt at flirting. Perhaps it was inappropriate, but I couldn’t help but admire her. The way her hair was done so perfectly, her makeup simple but well done. How soft her skin and entire being looked. Made me want to indulge in more than just bread.

Gracefully, the women behind the counter collected a loaf of bread for me and packaged it up. Setting it on the counter, she put what looked like a berry muffin right next to it. “Alrighty, since this is your first time coming in today I’m gonna give you this muffin for free. It’s a new recipe anyways, so I’m trying to get the word out about it.” Her smile was contagious. There was no doubt her actions were just very good customer service skills, but the idea of her doing something like this for only me made my stomach flip.

“Well that’s very sweet of you, I’ll make sure to let you know what I thought of it!” My eye focused on her as I spoke, proceeding to pull out my wallet. “I think I’ll have to try some other things you have here as well. What time do you guys open?” Her giggle did nothing but fuel the fire inside me as she took the money from me. I just needed more reason to keep the conversation going.

“Oh it’s nothing really! You’ve been very nice, so take it as my way of saying thanks- but we open at 6am. Gotta be open for the early risers.” I took my treats from the counter smiling, already planning on coming back tomorrow.

“Alright, then I will see you bright and early tomorrow morning!” Giving her an awkward peace sign, I casually slipped out of the shop. Popping open my umbrella as it was now raining. My thoughts filled with nothing but her the whole way home.

———————————💕———————————

The next day I got up just before the shop opened. I hadn’t finished the loaf of bread I had bought, but the muffin was long gone. Mindlessly I ate on it while I read, which was a big mistake. It was rather sweet, plus eating the whole thing made my stomach hurt the rest of the night. Yet I was ready to go in again and buy another sweet thing, just to talk to a girl I had only just met. It was almost infuriating how she ruled over my thoughts. Wanting to know every little thing about her. Today however, I made it my mission to find out her name.

The bell to the bakery rang as I opened the front door. The women from yesterday was stocking the display case this time. Looking up and smiling at me immediately. “Wow! You weren’t kidding when you said bright and early.” She came to the counter whipping her hands on her pink apron. She looked just as beautiful as she did yesterday, maybe even more so- if that was possible. “What can I get for you today?”

Walking right up to the counter myself, I placed my right palm on it and looked at her as I spoke. “Well I was hoping to get another recommendation from you! The bread and muffin were quite delicious. The berrys in the muffin were perfectly sweet, along with the cakey part.” I laughed as I gave her my review and looked over at the display case, then back to her. “So what do you think I should get today?” I cocked my head, smiling at her, hoping my body language wasn’t making her too uncomfortable. With how pink her cheeks were again, I could tell it definitely had some sort of effect on her- unless it was just coincidence.

Clearing her throat she hummed, and moved over to the display case. “Hmm… alright, how about. Yes!” Returning to the counter, she placed a bun in a bag, along with a couple bars that were individually wrapped. “Sweet buns are a guilty pleasure of mine, I eat them most mornings.” The same giggle as yesterday, made me laugh with her. “And these are homemade granola bars. One is almond and lavender, the other is honey and hazelnut!” The ingredients intrigued me, though I knew my stomach was not going to be happy with me. Despite that I bought them anyway, not wanting to say no to her.

“So… could I get your name? I know this place is under new management now, and I haven’t seen you around before.” Finishing my sentence, a couple came in behind me. I almost outwardly groaned, knowing our conversation was going to be cut short.

“Good morning! I’ll be right with you guys!” She greeted her new customers with a smile then turned back to me. “I’m Y/n, I’m actually the new owner of this place! My grandmother was the one who passed it down to me. I just moved back here from the Hidden Mist, that’s where my dads from.”

“Ah, I see! That explains why I haven’t seen you before. It’s lovely to meet you then, Y/n. I’ll be sure to stop by again sometime and tell you how these are.” With thanks I hung my head, and tried my best to leave quickly, not wanting to interfere with her work. There was still so much about her that I wanted to know. Why did she blush every time I spoke to her? Did she think of me as much as I thought of her?

Arriving at my apartment I shook my head at my thoughts. There was no way she thought of me that much. I was just plain, boring Kakashi. That’s when it dawned on me that I never told her my name.

———————————💕———————————

Today I was called away on a mission. It was not like me to be upset with having to work, but with my new found infatuation it was hard for me to want to do anything. Especially anything that didn’t involve me seeing or thinking of Y/n. That’s why I made up the excuse of needing snacks for the road. I doubted baked goods would hold up well, but one little thing wouldn’t hurt. Even though I knew I still had half eaten treats at home.

Arriving at the bakery I walked in through the propped open door. My sweet Y/N was stocking the recipe books today. She hadn’t noticed me yet, and with her not standing behind the counter I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander. My thoughts getting darker than they should. Stop that! Inappropriate! No! No! No! Shaking them off, I took a deep breath and took a step towards her. Trying my best to greet her without startling her.

“… good morning Y/n!” I said softly in her ear. Immediately making her jump, a book she had in hand going flying in the air. Quickly I grab it with ease, handing it to her with a chuckle. “Sorry, I was trying not to scare you!“

Y/n looked at me with her cheeks bright pink, clutching her chest. Awkwardly laughing she set the book on the shelf. “It’s alright, I needed a wake up call anyways. What can I get you today, Kakashi?” The mention of my name made my heart sink. She already knew my name?

“Eh- you knew my name?” I looked at her in slight disbelief, following her with my eyes as she moved to behind the counter.

“I mean, yeah… you are Kakashi the Copy Ninja right? You’re kinda famous.” She giggled, pointing it out as if it was something that should be obvious. I mean I was well known, but I didn’t think it spread that far. I blushed, feeling embarrassed in front of her yet again. “It’s okay!” Y/n laughed this time. “What can I get for you today hun?”

Hun? HUN!? She was throwing me so off guard today, I knew she’d be the death of me. My hands press to the counter trying to find something to ground myself. I knew the pet name meant nothing, I knew she was being nice, but I would have been more prepared if she attempted to throw a kunai at my chest. Taking far too long to answer, I eventually stammered out a response. “Dah- um… Oh, well, I was called on a mission.” As soon as those words left my lips my brain blanked. Y/n looked at me expectantly with kind eyes. She could tell I was flustered and gave me a smile.

“So… you need snacks for the road?” She guessed, pulling out a couple bags, never breaking eye contact with me. I nodded, knowing I was sweating at this point. What happened to my resolve? Yesterday I spoke so smoothly, now look at me! A sweaty nervous wreck who can’t even speak up. I found myself chewing on the inside of my lip as Y/n started filling the bags. “Don’t worry, I got you covered. I’ll even throw in some extra stuff for your team!”

Y/n proceeded to fill up a bag full of bagels, as well as a bag full of muffins. My stomach hurt just looking at all of it. Thankfully, I knew Naruto would be able to help me eat all of this. “Thank you… I'm sure my team will be happy.” My voice came out small as I paid her what I owed, giving her a tip as well to show my gratitude.

“Of course! You have a safe trip then! Oh!” She blinked rapidly remembering something. So cute! “I know you probably need to get going, but how did you like the things you got yesterday? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” I definitely didn’t mind her asking. In fact I wanted her to ask me a million questions just so I could keep talking to her, even if that meant me being late to the rendezvous.

“They were very good! I see why your guilty pleasure is the sweet bun. I’ll have to get another next time!” I looked over at the glass display case to see if any were baked today, then locked my eye back on hers. “The honey granola bar was my favorite out of those I think. The lavender one I wasn’t too big on if I’m being honest.” She smiled at me, then looked back as another worker came out from the back with the buns I was looking for. My eyes widened and Y/n giggled.

“Here!” Quickly she grabbed one with a parchment paper and handed it to me. “Go ahead and take it, it’s on me. I appreciate your honesty! I’m glad you liked at least most of the things I gave you.” I took the warm bun in my free hand and felt my heart swell. This was the second treat she’s given me for free, and this time it wasn’t for the benefit of the shop. I tried my best to give her a sweet smile and bowed my head.

“Thank you, Y/n! I’ll be sure to repay the favor. I’ll come see you as soon as I’m back!”

“Oh please do! Have a safe trip! Hopefully the mission isn’t too strenuous! See you later Kakashi!” She waved goodbye as I stepped out of her shop. My breathing was heavy, and I could feel myself getting emotional from just her words alone. Clearly it had been a long time since someone had treated me this kindly. Did she care for me that much, or was she just a caring person. Either way I knew how felt about her. I adored her, and I wanted nothing more than to spend every waking second with her. Unfortunately I had work to do, so that thought will have to be saved for later.

———————————💕———————————

With the sweet bun consumed, I arrived at the Rendezvous spot fashionably late. A slight pain in my stomach that I tried to ignore. Lazily greeting my comrade’s of my team and Guy’s who would all be working together on a mission this week. A simple search and rescue mission.

“If my calculations are right, this mission should take less than a week to complete. We have plenty of leads, and with the help of my Ninken we should be able to pull this off without a hitch.”

“Kaka-Sensei! This mission is boring! We should ask for a different one, let Bushy Brow and Bushier Brow-Sensei take care of it!”

“It would be our honor to take full control of this mission Kakashi-Sensei! Let’s do it!” Lee from Guy's team posed with his palms up in a taijutsu stance, fully ready to take up Naruto’s request.

“That’s it Lee! Way to show your fighting spirit!” Guy encouraged, giving me a thumbs up.

With a groan from the rest of the group, I shoved the bag of bagels and muffins towards Naruto. “Absolutely not! It will go by a lot faster if we work together. Now take these and keep your mouth shut.” It didn’t take long for Naruto to get excited and immediately start pulling out bagels- Lee and Tenten joining him shortly after.

“Kaka-Sensei, I think we should all split up and have our own Ninken with us. That would be our best plan of action.”

“Thank you Sakura, I was going to do exactly that.” Forming the hand signs, I place my palm on the ground creating the summoning circle. “Summoning Jutsu!” With a puff of smoke four dogs appear, Pakkun, Urushi, Shiba and Bisuke.

“What is it now, Kakashi?” Pakkun asked in a gruff voice.

“Well good morning to you too!” I smiled down at the small pug. Wondering if Y/n liked dogs or not. “Today we’re on a search and rescue mission, so we’re gonna be splitting up. I’ll have you go with Sakura and Sai. Urushi you’ll be with Naruto and I. Shiba’s with Guy and Tenten, and finally, Bisuke. You’ll be Neji and Lee.” Crouching down I put an article of clothing in front of their snouts and lets them gather the sent. I cleared my throat trying my best to keep my head clear. My aching stomach is only making things worse. Really should have saved that sweet bun for later. “Alright, now that that’s settled, let’s all fan out from here. We’ll meet at the next spot about mid day. Use the coms if you find anything or need some assistance. Okay, let’s go!”

———————————💕———————————

By the end of the day we had made some progress, but still no signs of the missing individuals. We camped out for the night in a small wooded area agreeing to pick back up in the morning. We caught some fish and cooked them up, not wanting to head into potential enemy territory. At this point we were pretty close to the village hidden in the grass, hoping we wouldn’t run into any issues.

Around 9pm, most of the group was asleep besides Guy and I. He quietly worked out, while I sat against a tree reading Icha Icha. We kept to ourselves, until ultimately Guy decided to disturb my peace. The one time in the past two days I wasn’t tormented with thoughts of Y/n. “So, who’s the girl?” Guy asked, without stopping his set of push-ups.

I scoffed, playing dumb. “Tch- what girl? Who said there was a girl?”

“Really? Mr. “I don’t like sweets” Kakashi, just shows up with a bag of sweets out of random? Come on! There’s definitely a girl! Is it the cute one from the bakery?” He gets up looking down at me, hands on hips. “I heard she just moved here. You like her don’t you?” Guy pressed me further on the topic as he started to stretch. I rolled my eyes at him and looked back at my book. Though I couldn’t ignore the fact that my heart was beating so loud I’d be surprised if one of the kids didn’t wake up from it.

“I just met her, and they have decent baked goods. There’s nothing wrong with indulging a little here and there.” I tried to keep my voice calm and collected, hoping he wouldn’t call my bluff. There was nothing I hated more than talking about my own personal feelings. Especially when it involved my feelings towards other people.

“Oh come on Kakashi! You went to that bakery every morning for the past three days! You don’t eat sweets, so it has to be for a girl. Maybe you want to indulge in all that that sweet little lady has to offer you!” Guy raised an eyebrow suggestively, plopping down on the ground beside me. The suggestiveness of his comments made my cheeks heat up, I quickly moved my hand to pull my mask further up my face. Clearing my throat before I spoke.

“No… not at all. Drop it Guy, she’s practically a stranger.” At this point I was done listening. I put my book away and started to get myself ready for bed.

“Don’t lie to yourself Kakashi! This is the springtime of our youth! Learn to take advantage of it a little. Don’t let her slip through your fingers before she’s even in them!” I groaned knowing that he was right. This was all so new to me though. Having crushes, having relationships that lasted longer than a night, thinking about a singular person day in and day out. It just wasn’t like me, frankly it scared the hell out of me.

Laying on the cool ground I clutched my chest looking away from Guy. My throat got tight as I felt myself getting emotional yet again. “I- I just don’t know what to do. I can’t s- stop thinking about her…”

Guy chuckles and I hear him lay down. “Tell her what’s in your heart, Kakashi. I’m sure she’s thinking about you just as much!”

———————————💕———————————

The remainder of the week Guy’s advice never left my thoughts, along with the thought of what I was going to do next. Our mission was a success, with minor injuries. Me being the only one injured the whole time, which was a little demoralizing, but it was my own fault. My arm nearly got blasted off by one of Naruto’s rasengans because I was lost in my own thoughts. That’s why I decided that I needed to tell her. It was time I indulged in more than just the baked goods she sold to me. I just hoped she’d let me.

Arriving in Konoha, I turned in the report for the mission and went straight home to shower. If I was going to see Y/n I needed to at least smell nice. Maybe I’ll use the cologne I bought a while back and never ended up using. Hopefully she likes bergamot and firewood. God, why did I even buy this?

It was a little after mid-day when I finally made my way to the bakery. The walk there was spent rehearsing what I was going to say, and trying to shake the nerves. Just be straight forward. Offer to buy her dinner, make sure it doesn’t sound too forceful either. There’s a good possibility she’ll say no. The idea of being rejected made my chest feel heavy. I knew she was allowed to not like me back, to turn me down, or ask to just be friends. Though every fiber of my being just wanted her to say yes. Give me one of her sweet smiles and let me just whisk her away into eternity.

My feet stopped in their tracks as I almost walked right past the shop. Looking in the window I expect to see Y/n cleaning up, stocking shelves, or anything else. Right in front of me I saw Genma leaning against the counter, toothpick in mouth with a cheeky smile as he looked up at her. Her cheeks were bright pink, and she was looking at him intently. It almost looked like she was trembling. Was I too late? Did he beat me to it? Did something happen while I was gone?

My hand hovered over the handle on the door. I needed to see for myself what was going on. Maybe I could change her mind? Make her want me and not him. My self doubt and insecurity got the best of me yet again. I pulled away and walked off. Maybe this was for the best. She’d probably be very happy with him, and I wouldn’t want her to be unhappy. I’d most likely end up hurting her anyway… or even worse. Getting her killed.

———————————💕———————————

I had been gone for a week and within that time my infatuation was stolen from me. My guilty pleasure, my indulgence, my sweet Y/n. I watched the clouds roll by as I laid on my back in the grass. Arms fanned out, feeling utterly hopeless. This was just no good.

Perhaps my time of self indulgence had run its course. Maybe it was time to focus on missions again whole heartedly. Go back to training and teaching my students. It was silly of me to think that I could get something just because I wanted it. Silly of me to think I could indulge in something as rich and decadent as that. God she’s so pretty! The most riveting and alluring woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at. What was I to her? What was Genma to her? Did he get free sweet buns too?

As my body began to relax, I felt myself starting to drift off as I lied there. Still only seeing her behind my eyelids. The cool breeze calmed my nerves and I took a deep breath. “Now then, sleeping won’t solve anything.” My hands run over my face and my fingers pinch the bridge of my nose firmly. Pushing myself to sit up, I had made up my mind. I will tell her regardless. She deserved to know, and I deserved to at least have a chance with her. Even if she ended up with Genma, at least I’ll know I tried.

———————————💕———————————

The bells to the bakery door rang as I opened them. It was almost closing time now and Y/n was finishing packing up some bread for an old woman. As soon as she saw me her eyes lit up, and she smiled real big. Holding up a finger so I know to give her a second.

“Alrighty ma’am, is there anything else I can help you with?” She asked sweetly, handing the bread off to her.

“Nope, that’ll be all.”

“Okay, then you have a great day! Thanks for coming in!” Y/n waved goodbye to the old lady, and immediately locked eyes with me as soon as she had left the store. As I approached the counter, I could see her pivot and then stop herself. A blush slowly reappeared on her cheeks again. “Hi!” She finally said, sounding nervous. “Ah- how was your mission?”

Seeing her nervous like this made me swoon. Though it paled in comparison to how she looked while talking with Genma. What did he say that made her so flustered? I racked my brain on what to say next, not wanting to ask her out right off the bat. She was at work after all.

“The mission went well! Found the missing people in little to no time at all, and with little injuries as well. Probably would have be none if I… well. If I hadn’t been thinking of you the whole time.” That did it. With those words her face was bright red. She must not be used to being flirted with, hopefully I didn’t make her uncomfortable. “I want to know how you’ve been. I have a lot of questions in fact. Would you mind chatting with me for a while once you finish up here?” Steadying my breathing I watched as the wheels turned in her cute little head. God the things I could do to her…

“Oh, uh, sure! I’d like that!” Y/n finally smiled, fluttering her eyelashes just right. It took every ounce of me to not grab her by the back of the head and kiss her right now. I just focused on my breathing yet again, making sure my words sound calm and collected.

“Okay, then I’ll be waiting at the Dango shop. Meet me there when you’re done!” Giving her a warm smile, I walked off. Heart thumping, my stomach doing somersaults, and I swear I was about to pass out. Maybe she won’t even show up.

———————————💕———————————

After an hour of waiting, sneaking sips of my tea, and twiddling my thumbs she appeared. Spotting me immediately she smiled and made her way to my table and sat down. She was wearing a new outfit and her hair was down, framing her face perfectly. Her beauty almost made me forget how to breathe. Not to mention the dress she was wearing sooted her so well. Loosed fitted, a light shade of green and a matching ribbon tied around the waist. My eye must have been heart shaped at this point with how precisely I was looking at her, not caring if she noticed either. Which she definitely did, because her cheeks were pink again.

Chuckling lightly, I poured her some tea. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. It really took everything I had to ask you here in the first place.”

Taking the cup from me she sipped it, and waved her hand lightly. “Awe well that’s sweet! It’s no trouble at all really, I actually wanted to talk to you anyways.” Her voice timid as I watched her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Please stop being so cute so I can think straight!

I cleared my throat, readjusting myself in my seat. “Alright, then let’s get straight to it then.” My hands fiddled with my cup as I thought of where I should start first. Genma. Start with Genma. I knew I had no right to be jealous, or feel as though she owes me anything. I just needed to know. “Earlier, when I got back in town, I stopped by the bakery. I uh- well obviously I didn’t go in, but I saw you talking with Genma. Um… it’s just. You looked very flustered. Your face was red, and.” Get to the point, Kakashi! “I was just wondering if you two were seeing each other. I don’t mean to corner you or anything, I was just curious.” I swallowed hard, hoping she wouldn't take my questioning the wrong way.

Her eyes widened, looking shocked. She didn’t look mad, though she was definitely not prepared for that question. My foot tapped restlessly as I waited for her response. Y/n shrugged and gave me a smirk. “No, we’re not. He did ask me out today though…” So he did beat me to it.

“And… how did that make you feel?” I looked at her, watching as her eyes looked at the tea inside her cup. She smirked then looked back up to me.

“Well, it caught me off guard. I had only talked to him once before. He seemed nice, but today he was…” She trailed off holding back.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just thought maybe you liked him or something.” To that her eyes got big again and she looked like she was about to panic.

“What? No! I mean… there’s nothing wrong with him. I just… I don’t know. There’s uh, somebody else.” Her words were fast and ran together, the last part practically a mumble. Yet I could still understand her.

“I see. So if not Genma, then who? What did Genma do that made you say no?” I knew I was being bold by asking her questions back to back, but my chest was aching. Genma was an attractive man, very popular with the ladies. Why would a beautiful woman such as her say no to a guy like him? Who could be better than him?

Taking another sip of her tea her eyes shifted around the room. “He didn’t want to actually date me. He just wanted to take me home with him. I told him no, especially because he asked me while I was working. He… he just made me uncomfortable. Though, I don’t think I would have said yes even if I wasn’t working.”

“Because of the other guy?” She nodded and messing with her cup the same way I had. I guess Genma wasn’t as great as I thought he was. Guess that makes sense why he isn’t ever with anyone for very long. “May I ask who has your heart then, Y/n?” Trying to word my question just right, so she doesn’t feel too pressured. I watched as she averted eye contact with me and swallowed hard. Taking a deep breath she tried to speak.

“Well… I don’t know if he has my heart just yet. He does, however, take up space in my head 24/7.” She bit the skin on her lip slightly, her hands moving done to her lap as she looked away from me. Alright, no more playing around. It’s now or never. Tell her, but don’t get your hopes up.

“Can I tell you something? It’s something that’s been on my mind for the past week now, and I just can’t hold it in anymore.” As I spoke, I kept my eyes locked with hers. Her cheeks still pink as she nodded. Here goes nothing.

“Lately, I’ve decided to be more self indulgent. Be kinder to myself, treat myself more. Relish in the things I don’t get to enjoy as often. One of those things being baked goods. Ever since that day, the day I walked into your bakery. The moment I saw you. I knew you were what I desired most. I want to know you, I want you to know me. Maybe I’m wrong for saying that, especially if you have eyes for someone else. I just, I just can’t stop thinking about you Y/n. I like you, way too much for my own good, and it’s okay if you don’t like me back.” A weight was lifted off my chest once the words left my mouth. Y/n stared at me, mouth a gap, but she wasn’t red in the face. In fact all color had gone from it entirely. My eyes widened in fear that I had scared her, or she was sick.

“Oh god! A- are you okay? I didn’t mean to make you un- uncomfortable if I did.” My hands instinctively reached out across the table. With her eyes fluttering, the pink returned to her cheeks and she giggled. Carefully moving her hands up and lacing her fingers with mine. I looked at our hands, then back to her, my eye fluttering now in confusion.

“You, Kakashi. You’re the guy I have eyes for. To be honest, I’ve liked you since the moment I saw you walk past my shop on the day it was handed off to me. You’ve been on my mind since then, and it only got worse the moment you stepped foot in the bakery. I would love nothing more than to help you indulge with what your heart desires. Because I desire it too.”

With my face red, and hands sweaty I laughed. In total disbelief she reciprocated those same feelings back to me. I felt complete and utter joy. More content than I ever have, just holding her hands. My thumbs rubbing over them, loving how soft they are compared to mine. This was only a small indulgence from her, but I couldn’t wait to indulge even further. Grateful that I could now indulge in Y/n whenever I wanted.

[twotitsjohndecaon]

You And I

Surprise bitches, more shit. I believe I meant to post this on August the 19th (holy day) but here we are now. Happy late birthday to John Richard Deacon and thank you for all of the feedback on my other shit so far :) <3

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: nothing for once just cutesy shit :)

It was the first warm day all year. Truly warm, and a bit strange to have so early in the year. Daylight savings hadn’t even happened yet so the sun still set early in the day, though not as early as it had been recently. Even a few extra minutes of light was nice. And it was still cold, but no longer freezing cold most days, and a select few tufts of grass and clumps of flowers suggested a bloom was oncoming. But today was a bit of an anomaly. It was extremely warm, warm enough to dress however you wanted, and as luck had it you had the day all to yourself, which was fantastic, as you had no idea how you’d spend it inside. Not when the sun was warm and the air was thick with promise like it hadn’t been since summer.

John, your boyfriend, did not have the day off, however, but he didn’t seem to care. He took the day off anyways, disregarding the angry and incessant calls from Freddie he’d probably receive, but they’d manage. He could just do his parts later. John wasn’t going to miss out on this day with you.

You both arose that morning later than usual, tangled in your clean sheets and each other, and slightly less bundled up than usual because you didn’t have to be for once. For a while you kissed each other with closed eyes, softly wherever you could reach until they could be opened, blinking the sleep away slowly into just as dreamy of a sight. John took longer to wake up, nuzzling into your neck to hide into your sweet scent and to attempt to keep his eyes closed for a little longer, but even he couldn’t resist the excitement of the day to come eventually. Lots of smiles, giggles, soft kisses, and cuddles consisted of most of your morning, and then a nice shower. As you finished getting ready for the morning, digging a summer dress out, you headed to the kitchen to grab something to eat, where you found John, now dressed, already making something. He was smearing some sort of spread onto a piece of bread, assembling sandwiches, and just as you reached to try to take one, you were stopped.

“Ah ah ah,” he scolded.

“Why not?” You pouted a bit. John booped your nose with his free hand and smiled, raising his brow.

“These aren’t for right now. They’re for later. But you’re more than welcome to help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

“Wow, John, thanks, for reminding me I’m aloud to eat my own food in my own home,” you commented sarcastically, but with a light tone to show him there weren’t actually any hurt feelings. You headed over to the fridge to grab a nectarine and sat to eat it on the counter nearby. Your feet dangled off of the edge as you reached over quickly to brush John’s hair over his shoulders to not get in the way of his food assembling. “So what are the sandwiches for later for?” you asked, taking a crisp bite of the fruit. You had just seen them in the shop for the first time in a while, the first of the season. 

“Well,” John began, his focus still on the sandwiches. “I thought since I have the day off, and you have the day off, and it’s so nice outside, we should spend some time out this afternoon,” he explained.

“A picnic?” you asked excitedly. John hummed in confirmation and you gasped excitedly. John looked up from his sandwiches at this point. Your excitement was so adorable to him he had to take you in. Before he could look for long, you set your nectarine down and drew him into a big hug, holding your hands out straight a bit awkwardly to not get the sticky juice on your hands in his hair. John chuckled a bit, moving the knife into his other hand farther from you and grabbing your side to complete the hug, filling you both with warmth. It was a bit of an awkward jumble, but it didn’t matter, and you two could do a proper one soon enough. John pulled away.

“Thought it’d be a nice idea,” he smiled. 

“It is a nice idea!” you said, continuing your breakfast. You finished and washed your hands, standing in front of John. “Ok. What else do we need?”

“You don’t have to do anything, love, just relax, I’ll take care of it,” he said softly.

“Nice try, Deaky,” you teased. You started helping him on your own accord, adding more fruits and grabbing some wine, cheeses, and crackers to add to the picnic. John had finished the sandwiches and grabbed the basket kept in the back of your closet, and the two of you started assembling the basket, you admonishing him for throwing everything in instead of making it look as nice as possible.

“But love, it looks very pretty this way, but the cheese and crackers will fall out if you put it this way,” he said, beginning to undo what you’d done. You whined. John stopped and gave you a kiss.

“How about we arrange it for practicality, and once we’re there we can pick some flowers and you can make it look even more pretty on the blanket?” You were satisfied with this, giving and “ok,” and kissing him back. 

“I’m just saying though, if you’re going through the effort of a picnic, why not put the effort into the picturesque quality of it?” You reasoned. 

“I completely agree, love,” John smiled. The two of you put on your shoes and grabbed a blanket. He held out his hand. “Shall we?” he asked, and you grabbed his hand, smiling as you walked firmly together. The two of you walked to the park nearby, a nicely sized one with flowers peaking out and a pond. The two of you found a sunny spot and set everything up, John picking you flowers as you arranged everything to your liking. You gasped in joy as you saw the gorgeous flowers he’d gotten you, and were flattered he chose such nice ones for your date. Finally, the two of you sat down with satisfied sighs, and John didn’t hesitate to pull you to sit between his legs, to which you squealed for a moment but adjusted happily. The two of you got to work eating, talking, basking in the sun and each others company. There wasn’t a worry in the world, and there were laughing children playing nearby, dogs running around happily, and ducks slowly marching by before taking a cooling dip in the sun. The weather remained perfect, not too hot and you never got chilly either. It was nice getting time to catch up with John too. He wasn’t on tour, so you had been seeing him, but still not as much as you would have liked with the next album starting up. Neither of you had any big things to update each other on, but it was still just as satisfying to talk about the hum-drum ordinary things in your life from recently. John fed you some chocolate adorably and you tucked a flower behind his ear, loving the sound of his voice and his presence touching you. Both of you were finally relaxed too, not that you stressed each other out normally, but from other aspects in your lives. You could really see the difference with John. His shoulders weren’t hunched, his jaw not tensed, his hair silky smooth and not mussed from running his hands through it out of nerves. His smile too, he wasn’t afraid today to bear his toothy smile which loved, the small gap between his two front teeth and the way the sides of his eyes would crinkle so adorably. Eventually, the sun set and moon rose, still early, but neither of you wanted to move. It wasn’t any less colder, but a transition still felt needed. The two of you packed everything up quickly, but decided to stay out a bit longer.

The two of you strolled down the streets, weaving in and out of parks and along the river when you found it, down past shops and row houses and lights along the city, talking or enjoying the ambiance, never a dull moment. The two of you did stop when you hit the river again at one point, you stopping and grabbing the edge of the rail to look out onto the city, the moon glinting brightly moreso than the city lights across the water, glittering and sparkling, even beyond the sun. John saw you, looked at you in the moonlight, saw how your hair moved softly in the light breeze, and took you all in. He came up behind you, holding you close and breathing you in. You smiled, leaning into him, giving him a kiss.

“I love you so very much,” he said quietly. The two of you were nearly forehead to forehead, smiles all around.

“I love you more than anything,” you told him. John hummed happily and the two of you looked out onto the river together. 

“You’re it for me, Y/N,” he started. You looked to him a bit confused, but he just smiled more and explained. “There’s never going to be anyone else I’ll love more than you. I know it. Because it’s impossible.”

“John,” you whispered, turning around in his arms, touched. He kissed you and grabbed your hands. He seemed thoughtful, almost concerned for a moment, but decided to go for it.

“Would you marry me one day?”

“Are you… proposing?” you said, now wide eyed, but unsure what he was saying. 

“No. Not right now. I just mean, is that where you see us going? Is that what you want with me? Because that’s what I want with you. Only you. And I know that for certain now,” he explained. Warmth filled your heart.

“Of course I would marry you, John. I’d marry you right here right now,” you said, the biggest smile on your face.

“Well… good,” John chuckled, unsure of how to continue, but both of you were completely pleased and even more secure in your relationship. You chuckled, and then noticed he still had the flower behind his ear which you’d put earlier. You pulled it out, fixing his hair, and sniffed it, taking in its lovely fragrance before looking deep into John’s gorgeous eyes.

“To us?” you said, raising the flower like you were making a toast. John chuckled. You were so adorable and perfect to him, for him. He grabbed your hand, fitting it over yours to also hold the flower.

“To us, for always,” he said, sealing your promises and dedication to each other with a kiss. You continued to hold the flower as you walked home together hand in hand, happy beyond belief. The two of you stayed up a bit and went to bed. But just as John fell asleep, you were still awake. You took the flower which you had set down once you got home, grabbed a book, and pressed it so you could keep it forever, because today, this time and this feeling with John wasn’t something you’d ever want to forget. You set the book back in place, and it looked almost like it didn’t contain something so important, and hopped into bed with John, who immediately grabbed you close, pulling you into him and whispered a sleepy “goodnight,” as the two of you drifted off to sleep once more, always together.

[tea-earl-grey]

Get to Know Me!

tagged by @lostyesterday (thanks for the tag <333)

Last song: based on my phone – Everything's Here And Nothing's Lost by Snow Patrol but technically my last song is about two lines from Intros & Narrators by Bastille which i've been listening to on repeat for a few days while editing my Janeway fanvid.

Favorite color: purple!

Currently watching: just finished watching Only Murders in the Building which i enjoyed more than i thought i would since i'm not a huge fan of murder mysteries but it's fun! also the musical numbers in s3 slapped and i'm looking forward to the rest of s4.

Last movie: i genuinely have no idea, i haven't been watching a lot of movies lately so it might be Star Trek 2009??? which i rewatched over a month ago i think.

Sweet/spicy/savory: currently sweet because i'm currently eating some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies :)

Relationship status: single and happy.

Current obsessions: (glances around) i mean you're on this blog so i think you can put two and two together here. aside from Star Trek & Doctor Who, i've been getting back into cross stitching which hopefully won't absolutely fuck up my hands this time (i mean... they will, i'm just trying to be better about only doing it for an hour a day and wearing my elbow brace & compression gloves)

Last thing I googled: "best toasters" ok. so earlier today i fucked up my toaster beyond belief and i do need to tell the story now because it's still absolutely baffling to me. (under the cut because uh. it got long.)

tagging: any of my mutuals! sorry i'm so bad at tag games.

toaster story:

i was having a late lunch (toast with some leftovers) and sliced my bread a bit too thin (not a big deal, happens all the time, right? right?) i popped the toast up a little early because i didn't want it to get burnt but it got stuck. not a problem. i'll get some (non metal) tongs. whoops! it fell out of the little toast cage because of how thin it is and now it's more stuck. okay well i'll unplug the toaster and just turn it upside down. nope. it somehow falls to the bottom where the crumb tray is. ok well i'll just flip it back around, take out the crumb tray and it's fine, right? i flip it around and the toast is simply not visible anymore. "well that's weird," i say, "surely if i shake it some more, it'll come out, right?" it did not. i start to question whether the bread is even in there anymore because where could it go???? before spotting it with my flashlight and seeing that it somehow migrated to the wall between the food/toaster part of the toaster and the circuitry part of the toaster. i have no idea how it happened but it should be easy to free it if i just undo the screws that attach the bottom panel of the toaster and i can do a good deep clean of everything. i take five screws out, no problem and it's starting to pry off. i get to the last screw and... it's completely stripped. i have a pretty comprehensive toolbox with one of those multi-piece screwdrivers that has like 50 different heads. usually with stripped screws, you can find something that sorta works well enough to get it out but nope. nothing even close to fitting. at this point i decide to text my mom the situation because surely i was missing something obvious. my mom comes over laughing a bit at me because i'm known for overlooking easy solutions and surely it's not possible to fuck up making toast this much. it was. another hour passes and we definitely can't get out the screw without destroying the toaster and we haven't been able to shake the toast out. any sane person would probably just think that maybe the $30 toaster had served its purpose and is a lost cause. but a new strategy emerged! we managed to shake the bread to the unscrewed side of the toaster and could pry it open about three quarters of an inch. the bread somehow managed to get behind a circuit board so we just needed to be able to navigate it around and theoretically pull it out. after a few attempts, i finally managed to grab hold of the bread (that was somehow still entirely intact?) with my weirdly skinny fingers and i pulled it out victorious! however we did completely bend the plastic base that we were prying up and during a brief test to see if the toaster still worked it definitely started to smell like burning electronics so. rip. but we got the bread out just to prove we could!! and frankly i think i would have had too much of a grudge against that toaster to keep using it even if it did work.

so yeah. therefore googling "best toasters".

[copperbadge]

This morning’s cleaning project was part two of a multi-part process, not much of which is very interesting visually, so here’s a picture of Dearborn the tortie, inspecting a storage box with my Lego advent calendars in it, and also the oat bread I baked while I worked. I’ve now nearly used up all the oats, so I’ll have oatmeal for breakfast some day this week to polish them off. 

Podcasts I listen to while working today were “Twisted Loyalty” by A Date With Dateline (it’s an older episode, I’m listening to their back catalogue), “The Execution of the Roman Virgin” by Noble Blood, and the first half of “We Interrupt This Program” by Criminal. It’s very compelling, I’m listening to the rest eventually, I just needed to stop and sit down, and also the bread had to come out of the oven. Total time was about 2 1/2 hours all told, though that includes prepping the oat bread and a batch of pizza dough for later. 

More about the actual work I did after the cut since it got long...

I don’t have a ton of storage in this condo, and I did away with some by turning my front hall closet into a mud nook, so I’ve been storing a lot of my clothing in large plastic tubs shoved into corners and in awkward under-bed boxes, rotating between summer and winter wardrobes. It has, however, reached a point of intolerability due to a couple of factors -- having to buy new clothes when I started my new job, having to store them six months later because of the pandemic, and having not really ever fully rotated between winter and summer since, because I so rarely had to leave the condo. So three of my six big plastic bins were full of clothes, plus four under-bed storage bins and two fabric storage bags, plus stuff hanging in the side hall closet and the bedroom closet. 

I felt really overwhelmed about trying to organize it all, because it just seemed like so many moving parts at once, so up until now I’ve kind of left it alone. But after thinking about it for a while I realized that I didn’t have to do it all at once, and I could apply my skills as a project manager, where I used to supervise a lot of moving parts regularly, to getting this done. My grandfather didn’t invent the phrase “Do it like eating an elephant -- one bite at a time” but he did teach it to me, so I kept muttering it under my breath and picturing him sitting in the orange chair I inherited from him and my grandmother, keeping an eye on me while I worked.

Yesterday all that I had to do was get all the storage into one place so I could get everything unpacked together. I pulled the bins out from behind my workdesk and under the bed, pulled more out from under the dining room table and behind the book nook, got the fabric bags from the hall closet, and bought one new giant fabric bag to put random stuff in so that I’d have extra storage space. 

Today was about getting everything further into a series of “one places” -- all the winter gear (sweaters, coats, accessories) into a bag to be sorted later, for example. The clothing that had been in storage got sorted into four piles: Shorts, Trousers, Shirts, and Long Term Storage. Long Term Storage was stuff immediately identifiable as anything I like but don’t wear very often: costumes, souvenir shirts from events I’ve worked, et cetera. That all went into one of the bins that had just been emptied. 

Then, as I sorted my tops further into t-shirts, work shirts, and tank tops, I started pulling clothing out of my closet as well -- anything I haven’t actively worn in the last month or two went into one of those piles. Same with trousers -- anything that I hadn’t worn recently got pulled off the shelving rack I use as a dresser and added to the “try these on, make sure you still like them” piles of shorts, trousers, and jeans. I told myself I didn’t have to try anything on today, but I did have to try on ALL the clothing, discard anything that I no longer liked or that didn’t fit, and store the rest in a more organized fashion. And I found I did have the energy for some, so I got through the shorts and tank tops. The trousers, jeans, work shirts, and t-shirts are still in a pile on the sofa, but it’s been covered with a blanket so the cats can’t romp around in it between today and tomorrow. 

There’s still a ways to go -- I haven’t touched any coats, sweaters, flannels, or workout clothing -- but I now have a full storage bag of summer clothing stashed back where it belongs, one of the under-bed storage boxes mostly full of clothing that doesn’t quite fit but could if I get back to running, and a half-full bin of souvenir shirts and costume pieces waiting to have more added. Plus I’ve gotten completely rid of two of the under-bed storage boxes (they were looking rough) and stuffed a whole-ass suitcase (which was already going to charity) full of clothes to donate. 

Tomorrow I’ll try on my t-shirts and work shirts to see which ones still fit and which ones I still like, and maybe get to the trousers as well. But I feel like now I’ve got a system in place and I’ve split the work up into more manageable pieces than “I have so many clothes in so many places, most of them not very accessible.” And once I’m done with this process, I’ll have a much better idea of what I might need to buy for when we do go back to in-person work more regularly, given we haven’t relaxed the dress code so much I can wear loud floral shirts to work and get away with it. 

Eventually I’m going to need to buy a few more vacuum bags for the winter stuff, and I may have to get rid of a few coats, which I don’t really want to do because messenger bags and cool coats are the two things I really buy and own too many of. But coats are bulky and in Chicago there’s really just not that much call for anything between “Light jacket you wear for five weeks a year in the inbetween seasons” and “FUCKING PARKA” and I own three Fucking Parkas. In my defense I only bought one, the other two were gifts. 

Anyway I’m down about three bins’ worth of clothing and found some awesome t-shirts I forgot I owned, so in all a successful morning, and now I’m off to brunch at a friend’s place. 

[bracketsoffear]

The Lady (Little Nightmares) propaganda: the entire game is Flesh-coded, because it centers around her restaurant--The Maw, a decadent hell where rich Guests eat endless feasts of delicacies like human flesh. The source of the human meat is kids kept in cages until the Janitor wraps them in butcher paper and sends them on hooks to the Chefs--monstrously large humanoids who make pig-like or elephant like squeals and wear skin-like masks, who cook and serve the children imprisoned on the Maw to the Guests, and implicitly serve unlucky Guests to their own kind as well. They will also cook Six if they manage to seize her—they either throw her into an oven, drop her in a pot of soup, stuff her into a fish or drop her into a meat grinder. Some children have tried to escape, such as the Runaway Kid, only to be transformed by the Lady's magic into Nomes. The Lady, like her staff and customers, is actually disgustingly deformed under her mask--her true face is akin to melted butter, and she's so horrified by it that she is hurt by looking at mirrors. In short, while not the most Fleshy-looking entity on The Maw, she perpetuates a LOT of Flesh through industrial farming of humans for meat, cannibalism, and mutilation.

There's also the possibility that Six is related to or somehow becomes The Lady b/c Weird Time Shit, so it's worth discussing her too. Six is periodically beset with sudden attacks of debilitating hunger which prevent her from continuing until she eats something. She devours a piece of bread large enough to be an entire meal by itself, then later does the same with a piece of meat. She later consumes a live rat, which in comparison to her is about the size of a large dog. Much later, she devours a Nome, who is slightly smaller than Six herself, and also a former human (The Runaway Kid) who had been nothing but friendly to her; ironically, she'd still have been doing cannibalism if she'd accepted the sausage the Nome offered because the sausages on the Maw are made of human. At the end, she takes a big chunk out of the Lady's neck, which gives her The Lady's powers. Even if The Lady isn't Six or Six's mother, Six's story ties into the Flesh themes of Little Nightmares, and Six getting The Lady's magic by eating her flesh basically indicates that Six has taken her place as an Avatar of the Flesh. Also, because I have this post (https://equalseleventhirds.tumblr.com/post/655973299559563264/v-busy-at-work-today-but-that-post-abt-how-tmas) on the brain: the Orientalist aesthetic of The Lady (also seen in the main areas of the Maw) could also be considered Flesh in the commodification of the body sense--she is dressed as a geisha (who were not prostitutes by profession, but did historically engage in sex work) and, assuming she is Japanese, could either be seen as selling herself and her culture as a commodity to the white-coded Guests.

.

[imzsuzsis-blog]

I was lying on my back on the bed and staring at the ceiling, Loki isn't here with his class somewhere abroad and inside I'm worried to death that he might be cheating on me with another boy who is even better and younger than me.

"No, no, and I wouldn't want to, I'm not in the mood."

I yawned a lot, but these wave-like things that didn't let me sleep at night are now frozen below, I don't know what they were, but they disturbed my sleep, I thought I was shipwrecked somewhere on an uninhabited island, it was terrifying.

,,Are you okay?"

"No, not Martin, I had a terrible night's sleep, there was some rippling shit in my stomach and I couldn't poop properly."

"If you give it to me like you did at the party in Amsterdam..."

"Well, I'm really pregnant, if we count correctly, Amada is 18 weeks old."

"This, this is nonsense, you are a boy!!! You know what I'd rather go and think again about what you say."

"It's true, just look at me, these are my favorite pajama pants and I can hardly pull them up over my stomach!!! You can take a look.”

He reached out with his palm and smiled, I bit my lip because that's why I gave up everything I love, alcohol, drugs or cigarettes... But instead I eat yogurt with goose fat or something on its own, or bread. Yes, how did I get out with a ruse, they didn't know I had my cell phone, so when they weren't paying attention, I first called Loki asking him to call my parents, that they, the police, so I was only there for two days without food and thirst, but unfortunately the mafia doesn't work like that, so I'm still in danger and I'm exhausted there is nothing I can do about them.

"Lando? It doesn't matter if you're expecting a boy, these are strong."

"You're stupid, I wanted a girl, but the gender will be revealed today or anytime in the next few weeks, well, hi... Someday."

"Hi, mate, if Ibiza isn't then we'll meet at the race."

I took a deep breath, went back, sat down in the armchair and burst into tears, many things played out in me, now suddenly the partying was pushed back somewhere in the many place, rather the fear which made me cry, I saw that Loki was calling and I picked up crying, his voice was also good for me.

"You're here, you'll be fine in front of the clinic, hi, I love you."

My phone rang again, but now there was no call ID, I think it's a bank, should I buy something or go to an event that doesn't really excite me, but I still picked up something. It was Neil about yesterday's game, he said that I successfully left my formula one ticket and some data and that I managed to leave him with ultrasound recordings and gynecological things, he said that if my girlfriend is pregnant, don't screw me up, but I shouldn't leave her stuff all over the world because it's going on.

"I don't have a girlfriend, I'm gay... He left one of my friends, and his girlfriend is pregnant."

"I think it's bound to have something with your name on it, sorry, but I'm not a motorsport expert, but a certain Lando Norris is written on it."

"It's fine, I'm fine, but few people there know that I'm a trans male, I'm also intersex, I'm even pregnant and I'm going to see my gynecologist today, those papers are important."

I realized it was all a lot of bullshit without saying thank you, but I was also hungry, so I went out to the mini kitchen of my rented flat in London. And I opened the fridge, there was nothing I'm eating right now, so based on the smell I took out a cucumber, egg and Nutella, I quickly fried the egg together with the cucumber and put the Nutella on top and there were also some hotdog buns, I ate that with it, it was also very tasty . When they dropped noneme, as usual, letters and such like, my daily savior was also among them, I looked through everything, nothing is missing, that's all that was written there, he also has something like this, only he won't leave it because his wife would kill him. I laughed at the fix and a lot of newspapers, because I was there at the final, it wasn't exciting, but they also let me onto the field as a guest, which was a great pleasure.

Suddenly, my cell phone rang again, but now I got a message.

"You bastard took a selfie with a football player with my cell phone???"

It was Zhou who was very angry, I didn't even know whose cell phone was in my hand, I just picked it up and left when my name was said on the loudspeaker.

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't notice who it was."

"That's not enough. You can't beat me in the next race."

I watched the big ones, I hope he was just stupid with this.

"I hope you're joking?"

,,No."

"Shh, I have to go!!!!"

I looked up at the clock on the wall while eating the sixth biscuit, I started running after my unpacked clothes, although I didn't even remember where I put the fix, in the bedroom, but I don't know where.

"Fuck, where did I put it? Wow!!!”

I squealed when it turned out that I hadn't even unpacked anything from my suitcase. Everything in it was so messed up that I couldn't pull out a dirty top unless I made an even bigger mess, so I spread everything out on the bed and kept looking for what I had. It doesn't matter, a t-shirt with a print on it, a plain pullover with a hood, one and that's the point, my first pregnant jeans after a long time, socks and the only shoes I brought with me, but now they're small, I can buy new ones, a jacket will be good inside out, a baseball cap, to be safe, an umbrella is three or more years old, but it will do for my car plus jewelry.

"Pride month..."

I took the package from the trunk of my car that I received, I don't know who it was, but it was a cute little gift of cookies, flags, stickers, t-shirts, make-up, everything that stimulates the eyes and mouth. I tried the lip gloss right away, it was a lovely color and it looked good on my lips, the mini flags on the mirror I know I have to take it off when I get home, but until then, who the hell cares, it's just a flag, I threw the rest away and started laughing when I put on the music cheered up.

I just heard someone blaring very bad music from his car, I guessed who it was and slapped my forehead with my palm. Because I knew June pride and parade is very much not me... I went there and he got out of the carriage like a lady and the pregnant guy almost fell on his stomach right in front of us.

"Lando, I've always known that your taste in music is crap, but how so?"

He looked at me seriously and continued standing girlishly.

"I don't believe we're going to fight over this?"

,,No! I love this music and I was almost late because everyone was calling me!!!"

He turned angrily and walked into the door. I ran after him and caught him and slapped him.

"I was reading the fucking newspaper and I read that two fucking teachers got together on a damn road in Oslo!!!! Fuck Loki, it was written that you are one of them!!!!! Fuck you!!! Tell me!!!!”

"It was just a performance for the class on a stage, it wasn't a real kiss, I didn't get along with him, especially since he is the singing teacher and he has a girlfriend, and the two of them put together the whole performance for the class, that the teachers are people like them, or you. Come on, my pregnant good man, let me give you an apologetic kiss."

"I won't accept the sorry kiss now!!! This is not about the fucking show, but about what's on the internet about you and about another one who is even more correct and younger than me. It's spreading on the internet that you smeared in a gay nightclub, fuck it, this is cheating, I wouldn't have thought of that, fuck it !!!!!”

I looked at you when you showed me the video and shook my head and gave it back to you with tears in my eyes and hugged you.

"Yes, it's me on it, but it's a recording from last year and I'm on it with my previous boyfriend, I don't know who uploaded it, but it's an illegal recording."

He started beating my chest and had a panic attack, I kissed his hair to calm him down and stroked his back around and around, he was shaking silently again and was on the verge of fainting.

"Nana, calm down, my little one, last year was really a rough breakup, even during the relationship, the boy verbally abused me and even beat me. They are happy that it's over."

"Lando… Loki again?"

I looked back and nodded sadly.

"Fuck me Lando, it's okay, it's just a stupid girl asking you to be jealous and break up, but you are a strong couple."

"No, we are not, leave us alone, that's what this year's recording says!!!!"

"Baby, it's not."

I bent down to him because he was already sitting but he was still shaking but he was vomiting, I started to wipe the tears from his face but he couldn't take it anymore and he passed out in front of our eyes.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Batch Cooking

Dear @abirdepisode - you were right. The chicken jelly was perfect. I added some water and heated it up and there was just enough really gorgeous chicken stock for my chicken, mushroom, and asparagus risotto. Might add a few more herbs next time, mind you - fresh rather than pre-roasted in the bird.

Batch cooking is basically my jam these days. There are a lot of reasons for this, and ... honestly, they're all a little depressing when looked at from the roots, but hey, at least I have ways to cope.

The first reason is money. Okay, so here's the thing. Things in this country have got mega expensive. I know it's bad everywhere, but we've got multiple layers of bad here in the UK. We've got inflation. We've got price-gouging supermarket chain CEOs. We've got poor weather that has really fucked with the crops. And on top of all that, we've got Brexit, which has fucked with every single one of our trade agreements and the few we've managed to replace them with suck ass. So the price on everything just keeps increasing to insane levels. Shit is expensive. So expensive. And it's only going to get worse. Therefore, now is the time to figure out the best ways to make the most you can out of as little as possible.

The chicken, for example. The chicken I bought was a medium one, which cost just under £5. That gave me two whole meals right off the bat - one leg at each meal. I ate one chicken leg fresh for that night's dinner, carved off the second for the next night's dinner. Then I carved up the breast, and boiled the carcass for stock (or Chicken Jelly). I had a couple of chicken sandwiches for lunch a couple of days ago, using the leftover chicken and some gluten-free bread (too depressing to think about price-wise, honestly). Today, I used the stock and some of the meat, along with about half a bag of risotto rice (whole bag cost about £2), one onion (entire bag cost about 60p), a half-pack of chestnut mushrooms (whole packet £1.20 or so), half a packet of bacon lardons (£2.25 for the whole packet), and a small bag of asparagus tips (£1.50). Now, if I'd wanted to do a real budget job on this, I would have used cooking bacon instead of the lardons (£1 for just over a pound), left out the asparagus, and used a cup of frozen peas instead (a little over £1 for a big bag). I just wanted something a little fancier and I could afford it. But that risotto made four helpings - one of which will go in the fridge, two of which will go in the freezer. And I still have chicken left. Which will probably also go in the freezer so it doesn't go bad. But I could use it for chicken tacos, maybe, or more sandwich, or chicken fried rice ... I could get another four meals out of it, easy, if I went mainly for the chicken fried rice. So with the miracles of batch cooking, I can manage nearly two weeks' worth of dinner out of one £5 chicken.

It also means I have stuff in the fridge and freezer for bad days. I'm having to rebuild my stock of easy reheat meals right now, because of the three days I spent with my left shoulder in particular screaming agony at me. But since I'm more or less okay right now, I can build that up. So I have plans for a lot of batch cooking while I'm still coping. I have a bit of pork shoulder to roast either tonight or tomorrow (because I will go mental if I eat chicken for every sodding meal), and that will make sandwiches and fried rice for days. I have plans towards chilli, and spaghetti bolognaise, and probably some sausage hot pot. That'll give me some more variety, which is important if you don't want to get really depressed about your diet, while still allowing me to just grab something and reheat it instead of having to cook if I'm doing badly in terms of the whole fibromyalgia thing.

So basically it's money and spoons, why I batch cook. Well, and also the fact that most of the best recipes aren't for one person, and getting individual portions of anything is really expensive. I swear, the world is not geared for people who live alone. And it's not like I can buy inexpensive ready-meals, because I have gluten issues, and "gluten-free" and "inexpensive ready-meal" are mutually exclusive terms.

Plus ... I guess I think back to what a friend of mine said about me on Facebook awhile ago. He said that I am a Creator, and that I'm not happy unless I'm Creating Something. I guess he's right. Even when it hurts, even when I'm frustrated, coming out of all my efforts with something good always cheers me up. It doesn't even have to be anything tangible - a story is just as satisfying to create as a batch of soap or a batch of risotto or a batch of cookies ... or a garden. I'm not sure why that should be, but I guess I shouldn't question it too hard. I have a sort of antidepressant that leaves me not only with a better state of mind but, sometimes (hell, often), several days' worth of dinner. If I have to be disabled, neurospicy, and living in a country that economically shot itself in the foot a few years back, at least I have something to ease the pain sometimes.

[pbandjesse]

I am so happy we got the day off. I really needed it. I actually felt good today and got some stuff done. It was great.

I slept until 930. I woke up briefly when James left for work. Got a kiss before they left. And went back to sleep.

When I woke up I felt good. But I also didn't feel like I needed to get up. I would just lay in bed on my phone. But after 10 I finally got up.

I was kind of cold. And my hair didn't look as nice as I hoped. Frustrating but whatever.

I got dressed and went to have cereal. It was a nice day. I didn't feel like I needed to rush to do anything. I could just have a good day.

I really wanted to make ice cream bread today. So I would have to go get self rising flour.

I got myself together and drove to the grocery store. I would find the flour pretty quick and also went to find a new wrist brace. They didn't have the same brand but I actually think I like this one better. The material is softer and it ha three points of connection rather then two. And it has gel on the palm area which is nice.The only real downside is that it's only for my one wrist, while the other one could be either hand. My right arm doesn't hurt as much though so I think it's okay for now. But hopefully it helps the pain.

I would pay and go drive around the block to Park closer to the hard ware store. I really want to support this Ace but man. They only every have half the stuff I need. Ans they don't seem to carry basically any wood except for trim.

But I got more screen material and some hinges. And for enjoyed walking around and chatting with the employees.

I left there and drove to the restore a road from the Home Depot. First time I have gone and it was a really clean one! And the staff was so nice! It was great.

I was mostly looking for a screen door. And I found one but sadly it would end up being a bit to small. But that's okay. I will probably still use it in some way. It was behind a chain and I wasn't sure if I was allowed to move the chain myself so I went and asked am employee. And when I decided to buy it the person at the front desk was so nice. She was the store manager and we talked about our cats and because she was excited about it she gave me $2 off. Amazing. We showed each other pictures of our cats and it was super cute.

I did still go to Home Depot to get more 2x2s. And they actually had the saw working! So I did not have to chop them by hand. And the worker was very nice to me. I had a lot of places to carry but I muscled it to the register and then to the car. Excellent.

I went home after that. I thought about getting lunch but I shouldn't eat out every day even though I want to. I got home and got eveything inside. Sweetp was scared of the wood again? He's always afraid of wood for some reason.

I started working on attaching hinges to the door I bought but it became clear I will have to frame it out differently. So that's a later problem. Ah well.

I switched gears to work on the door for the catio. And this went sideways because I apparently can't measure. So I had to cut the wood three times. But after like two hours I was able to make it work. I also discovered that the screws I was using worked way better with a square bit and I was so thrilled.

The lock I bought did not work so I ended up using eye screws and a carabineer to close the door but it worked!! And Sweetp was able to start exploring! I will have to make some things for him to climb on and perch in but I am really excited about how it came together.

I would finally eat some lunch. I warmed up my leftover Indian and filled a pita again and that was really good. And I started working on baking ice cream bread.

I wanted to try and make the Neapolitan with the three flavors. And I for sure should have melted the ice cream better because I struggled to mix it with the flour. But it smelled great. That would bake for 45 minutes while I got Sweetp used to going in and out of the windows. And I would do the dishes. Some had to be done by hand but that was fine.

I would also vacuum the frog tank and finally put away my printmaking workshop supplies form the weekend. Was nice to put things away.

I had some of my ice cream bread when it was done and I was feeling really good about it. Was even better with a little frosting.

I have been hanging out since then. With sweetp. Texting Celia. Waiting for James to come home. Today was opening day and they went to watch the game. Which I think went well.

Tomorrow we are back to work. And I am looking forward to it even if I would prefer to be home. It will be a good day. And then tomorrow night me and James are going to see an interactive showing of "Death Becomes Her" which I loved when I was a kid but I haven't seen in 20 years. I'm excited. I hope you all have a great night. I love you all!! Good night!!

[empty-masks]

Book Four, Chapter Five

CW: Strong Language, Sexual References, Graphic Violence, Fantasy Bigotry, Smoking, Alcohol Use, Light Body Horror

There’s no small amount of dedication needed to maintain a backyard the way that Samson Parrish does. Firstly, the yard has not been cleared of its trees. Normally, this would only be a seasonal problem, as the deciduous trees native to the Eternal Autumn usually only drop their leaves during certain periods of the year, but as the name might suggest, the Eternal Autumn has a unique environmental effect on the local forests that makes them drop leaves year-round, slowly but surely. Some say it’s the soil, some say it’s magic, but regardless of what it is— it’s a labour of love to keep a yard clear of leaf cover year-long. Sam’s yard is, as noted by Azariah as soon as they show up, almost completely clear of leaves and creeping underbrush in favour of some natural species of clover and moss that would normally make their home on the sides of rocks and trees. And while there is no lack of small boulders in the yard, there’s a sense that they’ve been moved to the edges of his property by the efforts of a couple large folks and a case of beer, rather than a backhoe.

    Nearest to his freshly painted split-level, Sam also keeps a rather impressive row of neatly trimmed perennial bushes and a well-loved vegetable garden, both marked off with simple iron fences. Heads of painted pumpkin and crimson cabbage poke their way through their thick foliage and vines, and the pink leaves of pigmentine carrots sprout feet above the soil they originate from, though the carrots haven’t been as good this season since he switched off his usual fertilizer, according to Sam.

This, with the well-washed grey brick, hickory wood porch, and the ambiance of a cool afternoon, sets quite an impression for the group as they gather around a picnic table to eat their first proper home cooked dinner in a good, long while. Charred painted pumpkin soup filled with veggies and a sprinkle of cured bacon— excepting in Azariah's serving—  alongside a fresh, local loaf of brown bread. Evening peeper toads have begun to sing in the distance, and during the course of the dinner, things almost feel normal between the six of them. It certainly feels normal for Sam.

“Now, I’m glad y’all are appreciative of the hospitality, but I believe it’s due time that you learn what Pickman’s Hope really all about,” he starts, raising his glass. “I’m gonna give y’all a little history lesson, so long as Azariah’s willin’ to let me venture forth uncensored.” He winks at the Hare, who gives him a brief nod. Then, he begins to weave his tale for everyone to hear. Everyone who’s willing to listen, anyways.

    In the beginning, when this place was still called Gutter’s Glade, it was about as peaceful as the town you see today. The bakery I got your bread from was there. The bar you showed up at was there too, just under a different name and management. Most importantly though, there were a lot more craftsmen around, see. Lots of jewelers, mystics, the kinds that’re attracted to shiny stuff that comes out of the ground. People like that would find Gutter’s Glade on their radar thanks to it being a mining town, but not a mining town as y’all know it— we were independent, and we cared for one another.

Everything was connected, and we all understood that so we looked out for one another’s backs. The artisans would teach the miners what to look for, how to crack geodes to damage the least amount of product. The miners would teach the artisans their methods of dowsing the ground for product, and would keep them updated on finds and prospects. Medical folk would work with the both of them to keep’em happy and healthy, and everyone else in town provided what they could to keep the gems flowin’. I remember days when guys would come up from the mine coughin’ up their lungs and full of soot and dust and completely empty-handed, no product to speak of. And even on those days when you could see how pathetic they felt, they were still taken care of by everyone around ‘em. In fact, one of my old friends who, well, passed away, had developed some kinda apothecarial gas that’d get into your lungs, clean ‘em out, and ‘bout thirty seconds later, it’d come right back out as black gunk. We’re still tryin’ to find out how she did it, but the point is, the town was dedicated to itself and we were dedicated to each other.

Now, while I spawned back in Kiln with Azariah and a few of our old buddies, I found myself makin’ a home in Gutter’s Glade soon after. I was never cut out to be anythin’ but a miner— I didn’t have any particularly useful technical skills, and my hands were too big for those tiny jeweler’s tools anyways. I took to it naturally, in a way. I swung picks around for a couple years, made myself known to the locals, and soon enough I was bein’ treated like family. It made me the man I am today to have had such dedicated people lookin’ out for me, and I don’t dare to think who I’d be without them.

Though, I didn’t stay with ‘em forever. Miners around this region know that there’s an untold number of caves sittin’ just below a certain footage in the stone, and that if you dig too deep, there’s a good chance you’ll wake up some beasties you didn’t know existed. Now, I’m gonna be frank here, this is somethin’ that happened pretty often. Guys would have to take their weapons down into the mines if they knew that they’d hit a deep vein. I was no exception to that rule! Back in the day I had a cheap sword that looked like it’d been a fence post in a former life, and I always took it with me on dives. 

And I did my fair share of Monster killin’. Skitterbears, a heap’a those mushroom things, a few of those boulder serpents, and near the end of my career, I had the displeasure of runnin’ into a Cave Shadow. If you’ve never heard of one, the first thing you should know is that they’re beasties basically made’a magic. They hide in the darkest spots of caves, and ambush ya’ when you’ve got yer’ hands busy. They barely even make sense’ta look at, all eyes and teeth and claws— and one decided to jump me while I was with an exploration party. Gave me a big nasty scar on my belly, but I killed the damn thing, and lemme tell ya’, the adrenaline kept me alive for days while the medics patched me together. I was ridin’ high on that and while I was bedridden, I decided that it was time to put down the pick and take up the sword for a living.

So, after I made a full recovery, I left to adventure on my own. I went beyond these mountains, headed west for fame and fortune. And though I found some of both, lookin’ back on it? I would say I had let my success go to my head. I was self-absorbed to a point where I’d given up on the people who’d saved my damn life, and all because I was obsessed with the idea of seein’ how far I could take my heroism. Maybe it’s the guilt talkin’ there, I dunno. I’ve yet to talk ‘bout that era of my life with my counselor.

But while I was gone, Gutter’s Glade was havin’ the life choked out of her. Somewhere along the line, one of the miners found themselves a plot of land near the foot of the mountains, called it the “big one”. Now, since we were a minin’ town, we attracted the attention of many mining conglomerates who wanted to move in and run shop in our stead. Most of them, we told to beat it. Emphasis on “most,” ‘cause this miner received a massive lump sum of cold, hard cash for the plot of land from, you guessed it, Shepherd Gemstone. And from there, things went downhill.

While I can’t give ya’ specifics since I wasn’t there while this was happening, I trust in my friends enough to give ya’ a summary. The company established itself by hiring off a bunch of our miners at a pretty penny, since they knew that the vein was going to pay back tenfold. From there, they installed foremen and company stores, which respectively completely alienated the rest of the miners from their pals, and began keepin’ the local businesses from their cash with their prices. It hardly took a year before the entire town was workin’ for Shepherd Gemstone, breakin’ their backs strippin’ those mountains of everything they were worth. Everyone, even those artisans who’d never been the blue collar types to begin with, had to grab a pick to survive. That company was fast, efficient, and real goddamn thorough in the way that it destroyed our lives and our land. It got to a point where even if we wanted to, tryin’ to go down into those mines again would cause cave-ins like we’d never seen the likes of prior. 

It was three years of adventuring before I came back to Gutter’s Glade. I had seen enough of my life flashin’ before my eyes, but as fate would have it, it wouldn’t be the last time it’d happen. I saw the life I once knew shattered into a thousand pieces, the people I loved stripped of their health, dignity, and freedom. And my old adventurin’ buddies, the people I’d suffered and strived for greatness with, saw it too.

It awoke somethin’ in me, somethin’ that I hadn’t even had while I was out there chasin’ the Dragon’s tail. I vowed that day to free that town from the company, even if it were to cost me my own life. And from then forth, I dedicated myself entirely to the organization and proliferation of the union that you saw runnin’ the town today.

Now, if you think I make it sound like a piece of cake, I don’t know what kinda cake you’ve been eatin’, cause I don’t think I’ve seen more misery in my entire life than that point there. I put my heart and soul into these people, and there were times where I was afraid that they didn’t have any left to give back. There were times where I had to put my body on the line just to relieve some of the fear that they had toward the foremen.

God, the first fight I got into with a foreman was a guy who they’d hired specifically ‘cause he was the unhinged type. A real sadist, the kind that you’d see and think that they picked up outta banditry work. He was beatin’ down one one of the miners real hard, and in response I knocked the everlovin’ shit outta him. I made that motherfucker eat his own goddamn teeth for breakfast, but I was lucky, since there weren’t any other foremen watching and I knew nobody present would speak a word about it. Not even him, since his pride was too hurt. Not long after the vindictive bastard tried to sneak a knife under my ribs while I was sleepin’, which didn’t work, and I ended up puttin’ him six feet under with the little number I carry on my hip.

Point is, whether by conversation, union pressure, or by force alone, we worked our way up the corporate ladder, dismantling each pawn on the way up. It took years, but by the time I was just startin’ to turn grey ‘round the chops we had forced the company to pull back entirely from the town. Their profit margins were in the red, and so they abandoned everything where it stood, movin’ on to wherever the fuck snakes like them move on to.

Buildings upon buildings of corporate supplies and spoils, ours for the takin’. Though they left a little product around, it wasn’t enough to sustain ourselves off— and so, we had to get creative with our reconstruction. We also abandoned those mountains, as we learned quickly that there was nothin’ left for us either. At first we tried to invest in breweries, since the valley tends toward cool, dark weather. But, brewin’ takes time, so we did everythin’ else we could to bring the town back on its feet.

Odd jobs for nearby towns, sellin’ and movin’ stuff made by the artisans who still knew how, doin’ a little protection work for passing-by caravans; we were the handymen of the ridges, and our plan B turned into our plan A by accident. After a certain point we were on-call anytime a neighboring town needed somethin’ built, somethin’ torn down, somethin’ reconstructed, designed, you name it. Money flowed in the direction of our blue-collar labor force, so we leaned into it and let it carry us wherever it led.

It led to us renaming the town; “Pickman’s Hope”, the name you know today, was what we agreed upon. We’ve helped Fusillade rebuild itself a dozen or so times since our independence, we’ve helped carve out the hills of Kiln for their expansion project, we’ve helped build the road from here to Honeysett and further. And while our brewin’ work’s only now startin’ to pick up some traction, we’ve got a nice, healthy community goin’ now, and that’s what matters the most.

And that’s how Pickman’s Hope came to be, folks. Don’t listen to the folks ‘round here who refer to me with these nice titles, they did this, all this, themselves. All it took was me showin’ them they could do it. The only reason I’m the head of anythin’ at the moment is ‘cause I’m old, and ‘cause I’m good at diplomacy, even though there’s plenty’a fresher spawns here who’re lookin’ like they’ll surpass me someday.

    “I’m surprised you didn’t tell ‘em more about your shotgun, Sam,” Azariah chuckles, having finished his soup. “Practically gnawed the rest of my ear off with that earlier.”

“It ain’t all THAT important to the story. But if you insist,” he says.

In one swift motion, the sawed-off shotgun is pulled out from its holster, and set gently on the picnic table. “She used to be a little longer in both directions, but I found that she was harder to carry ‘round. I’ve turned quite a few of those nasty foremen inside out with ‘er, and I’ve never found somethin’ I couldn’t handle with her in my hands.”

“She?” Judith asks, frowning.

“Don’t be disrespectful, now, Judith.”

“I was just making a comment.”

“You just ain’t human if you don’t attach a pet name to somethin’ you love. Ain’t that right, Charlene?”

“I guess I’m not human, then. I’ve never gendered my gear before.”

Sam lets out a hearty laugh. “Oh, I’m just pullin’ your chain, don’t you worry. ‘Sides I knew you weren’t human from the moment I saw you.” He points at his nose, sending a pang of realization toward Judith. “You got the werewolf smell whether you like it or not. Was worried too, since most of our werewolves don’t smell the same as anyone from Shepherd Gemstone.”

“Anyway,” he says, sliding his gun back into its holster. “I’m glad to have given y’all a little bit of history. I hope it means somethin’, considerin’ y’all are on the run from the same company we beat.” He stands up from his seat, bowl in hand. “If we did it, y’all can do it too. Remember that.”

==============================================================

“You’re a buzzkill, L. I think it would’ve been funny.”

“And I think the fact that I’m still awake is bad enough, Piper. Jules needs his rest, don’t aim for potholes.” Hypocritical, she knows, but Jules is really in a bad way even if he’s faster to recover than just about anyone when he’s had his fill. Lucille’s not in the mood to have to climb into the back of the car— again— to help fix the Vampire’s bandages after a particularly nasty bump or dip in the road just because Piper might get a kick out of jostling him.

Piper’s eyes roll, then settle back onto the road ahead, lit only by the now faint lamps at the head of her car. Her car, her car. It feels delightful to roll that around in her mind, settle on it for a while longer, and enjoy the smooth finish of the thought. She leans back a bit in her seat, easing on the gas. It’s long past being late and has breached into that strange territory where it’s beginning to become early, though the sunrise has some hours left before it claws its way over the horizon. It’s a long ride between Fusillade and Pickman’s Hope, but one somebody can make if they’re willing to take about most of their waking day to drive it, and Piper is nothing if not deeply and entirely dedicated to her work.

Lucille’s eyes, dark as the night itself, linger on Piper’s shoulders, drifting to her throat and then to the snake’s features. Her gaze narrows. Since the ride started, there’s been something eating at her, something about Piper she can’t place, and after a lengthy, engine-noise filled silence, she feels obligated to attempt to place it while she has the time.

This isn’t her Piper. Not the one she had spoken to uncomfortably often over the matter of stolen product back on site for some years during her tenure as head of security; no, this Piper is someone vastly different. It’s hard to notice, but this line of work leans heavy on information, and unless you’ve got someone to handle it, you either do it yourself or you die. She learned that lesson well enough on her way out of the frostbitten shithole she calls home, she learned it well during her traveling freelancer nights, her job as security head, and it seems she’s learning it all over again right now, in the passenger seat of this disgustingly lavish fuckmobile. Survival in a world of snap decisions and split second deaths depends upon power and honed senses, and if you don’t have one, pray you have the other.

Jules on his good nights is a powerhouse. Jules on his bad nights is a piece of cardboard recently soaked in rainwater. Lucille is always attentive, or at least believes herself to be. She’s attentive enough that, after a certain point, she begins to reach conclusions passively, without thinking, as the thoughts coalesce somewhere in the back of her skull, pooling close to where the base meets her spine, before they spring as fully formed ideas into the forefront. It’s a highly developed and effective collecting process that utilizes every scent; it’s that sixth sense that screams in the back of her mind when there’s enough external stimuli to tell her that, despite not seeing any direct signs of it, she is being followed by some monumentally skilled sneak. It’s what tells you you’re being watched. Her gut instinct, in time, has been honed to a razor’s edge. It’s what saved Jules when they first hauled up that corpse. It saved her on her way out of the frozen wastes. She thinks it might save her again, soon, but only if she’s right.

It’s rare she wants to be wrong. Much as she might complain about Piper, she’s not one to want to see her develop like this. The gloves would be a sign on anyone else, but she knows Piper to have been a mining foreman and a Weresnake, gloves with thick material leave little trace compared to bare hands but when one has claws and doesn’t wish to knick anybody, they’re practically a necessity unless you file often, a problem those with simple fingernails don’t run into. Largely it’s the coat, because she knows it.

She’d never really gotten all that chummy with the guy during his brief passes through, but she knows well enough that the coat belonged to Blondie at some point. Hard not to when she once had to endure the constant complaining Gilroy had in store when it comes to Blondie’s ideas regarding the structure of the whole operation top to bottom, especially when near the tail end of her time there many such ideas involved liquidating her own part of it. It’s not an easy coat to miss, it’s a custom job and it’s made to be wrapped around already large lycanthropes and hopefully survive a shift in the heat of battle. Aside from that, there’s an identifiable shape against the snake’s ribs— a weapon.

Piper’s tail shifts and runs against Lucille’s side before curling back behind the seat again. The driver smiles, offering a brief glance at her fangs alongside a sidelong look, the gold in her irises unsettlingly vivid amid the reflecting moonlight. Piper has some height on her, even sitting; she has to look up for her own dark eyes to drink in another change.

Posture, attitude, expression. Surprisingly, you learn to read people pretty well when you fight them for a living, just another set of information for her gut to digest. A person’s face can tell you when they’re about to punch you if you can really get it down pat, or it can tell a lot more. Piper reminds her, in this moment, of those idiots back north who wear their enthuse on their sleeve, or more aptly, on their faces.

The sun burned high in the sky behind cloud cover as Lucille wrapped her arms with rough leather straps, sitting in the back of a ramshackle pickup truck-sled monstrosity as it screamed across the ice. Half of her face was painted with vivid red, some crushed plant, as was what bits of her torso could be seen beneath patchwork leather and metal. Her feet were bare, but they were not cold.

Too recently had she stepped through the smoldering embers of burned tents, rendered to ash by the torches of crazed warriors, raiders and fiends. Those tents which were not crushed by the stampede of motor vehicle abominations were put to the flame by the wilder fighters on foot, those who’d leapt from their rides in pursuit of battle and plunder, taken by the throes of absolute and total war. Many of them wore less than her, painted from head to toe in a myriad of flaming colors, claiming that their flames would warm them so long as they were worn. She found no warmth in the paint, not like the fanatics did.

Across from her sat three other women and a couple men, all of whom also bore the paint and symbols of the gang, though unlike Lucille they were clawing at one another, screaming, laughing as they tossed around trophies from the latest excursion against a small sect of a larger rival gang. The trophies, when not stained by blood, were marked with blue smatterings and swirling symbols in contrast to her group’s sharper, geometric flame-based design ethic.

Between her feet sat a set of knives. Simple knives meant for tossing, they weren’t large or ornate, nor were they particularly expensive, but what drew her to them was the simple fact that they were still in a package marked with an actual brand. Like a cutlery set for throwing knives, though Lucille would not come to know what a cutlery set is until she headed down south.

Her hands balled into fists as she noticed the stares of her companions lingering dangerously on her prize, her lone and simple treasure. She had taken no trophies from her fights, taken no trinkets from the burnt tents, save for this single knife set. It was a set of six, marked with a title: “Crescent House — Daggerist Starter Kit.” A brand name. It did not confuse her, as some might think. It fascinated her. In this place if something had a name it was that of its creator, often in memoriam, so it was strange to see something named as such. After all, she’d never heard of anyone called “Crescent House.”

A man of chalky white skin and of wild hair, half-dyed with the red paint, grabbed the set from between Lucille’s legs. All the while he smiled, casting her only a passing glance, offering little but the derision one shows to someone unfortunate enough to be forced to give tithe. Though he was merely the single largest person on a single truck among a sea of such vehicles bearing the banner of their gang, a no-name like the rest of them, he held himself as the king of this tiny, metal realm, standing amidst his subjects as treads beneath them hauled it all alongside tens of similar machines, with many such similar men claiming many such familiar fantasies.

Lucille crushed his nose beneath the heel of her palm with a shout, pouncing upon him as she swung her leather-wrapped arms. The tall man went down, and she was on top, and the others were screaming with her, beating their sides, stomping their feet, the wind whipping around them as she continued to bring her hands down on him. They’re screaming words, but she heard none of them over those of her own, those of her normal mouth and the ungodly noises of that maw below her ribs as with every raising of her fists into the air it opened wide to let loose a battle yawp the likes of which none of her companions could have dared to match.

Her arms didn’t stop moving until she heard the whimpering admittance of submission, and the smug expression she so detested was ripped from his features by way of might, as all things were, as all things are.

Lucille blinks. Piper’s got that look, that “you owe this to me” look, the sort of entitled expression only backed up or put down by quick and decisive force. Her gut instinct is to strike her now, car crash be damned, but she’s been wrong about plenty lately. She had no clue Jules was working for the Carnevale, and even at this moment holds some reservations that he might start working for them again almost immediately after he recovers. Not to mention she hadn’t been able to predict any of what happened in Kiln, and Fusillade in near totality was an absolute shitshow. She’s been wrong a lot lately. She’s probably wrong right now.

“You’re staring, L.” Piper’s forked tongue slips between her fangs to extend the soft c in the shortening, a play to lighten the mood. It’s flagrant, as though taunting Lucille to question, to urge, to press and poke where she shouldn’t. It’s the rattle of a snake ready to bite, her guts scream. Kill her now, before she can take initiative.

Lucille settles with her head against the window, her arms wrapped around herself as though to shield her body from a chill far, far away. “The new coat looks good.”

“Thanks. It’s a Quilting Club custom piece, you know,” Piper replies.

Lucille’s head turns only slightly toward the dark, faintly moonlit dashboard. “Quilting Club? You can afford Quilting Club with this new job? Even Jules and I haven’t gotten a catalogue…”

“Hey, when you’re on the rise the major players take notice. Get on the ground level, invest in your big spenders. I didn’t buy it, instead just got it from the last guy, but that’s just being cost effective.” A laugh escapes the driver, but she calms herself quickly enough as her eyes drift along the road ahead. “Maybe sometime later on I can forward a letter of recommendation, but I don’t see you guys doing too many jobs that need this tier of gear in the near future.”

“I suppose you’re right, bounty hunting doesn’t need heavy ordnance. Usually just prep time and a decent execution.”

“Yeah.” Piper nods. “In my line of work we don’t only handle random miners, even if that’s my job right now.”

“Of course.” Lucille’s jaw refuses to settle. She needs to keep talking, but the words are awkward. Forcing her gut instinct down alone is enough to give her trouble, but the fact that it’s Piper doesn’t help. “Haircut?”

“Nope.” A grin is offered again. The smooth scales of Piper’s tail rub against Lucille’s hip once more, only to settle right back into position behind the driver’s seat as Jules turns over in the back, as if caught.

“This really isn’t the time to talk about this,” Lucille says, largely to herself.

“Just messing with you, L. Teasing.” Piper’s shoulders roll as she speaks, voice low. “I’m spoken for now anyway.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Who?”

“Seen the beautiful brunette on the big makeup signs down south?” Piper asks with raised brows, expectant.

“Yes,” Lucille admits. It’s hard not to considering they’ve been up for years. Makeup’s apparently big in cities as far as she can tell, but there are some things a bit of foundation really can’t make look nice. Aside from that, any man or woman interested in her, ignoring the snaggle of fangs she calls a mouth and the maw in her torso, probably isn’t the type to be enticed by the prettier, more human looking sorts. “Hard to miss, considering anytime you enter a big city around here they’re up everywhere. Really? What’s her name?”

“Janet Campbell, and she’s even better looking in person.” Piper nods in faux humility, her smile widening. “Nice place. Wonderful kids. Her boy’s really taken a shine to me, L. I might take him hunting one day, if she lets me, like my daddy used to take me out hunting. The driveway is great, and the backyard—”

Lucille clears her throat. “I didn’t ask about her kids or what she has, I asked about her. What’s she like?” There’s no hint of jealousy, really, it’s just curiosity. “Let’s talk, Piper. We haven’t talked in a long time.”

“What’s there to talk about?” The tail wraps a little more firmly around her seat. “She’s beautiful and caring, that’s fine enough. There’s nothing to talk about, L, that ship’s sailed, the offer’s off the table. I’m seeing somebody. A model.”

“I wasn’t trying my luck,” Lucille mumbles. “You don’t have to repeat yourself.”

“Look, Lucille, I’m sure there are plenty of folks out there looking to get into all of… That. Plenty. Lots of people who’d adore to sort out your icicle hellhole baggage. Just not me, of course, because I’m a bit busy getting all up in—”

“I said I get the point, Piper, I get it.” Lucille sits up, away from the window. “Don’t be an ass.”

“If I find any nice guys, any decent fighter types without the fear that they’re going to wake up bitten in half, I’ll send ‘em your way, promise. Well, if they’re pretty enough then Jules might get to them first. Women too, if I meet any good matches, I’ll send ‘em on over. If anything that might be the safer bet, what with how Jules—”

Lucille lightly but sharply punches Piper’s tail with a rumbling growl not from her mouth but from the maw beneath her clothes before saying, in no uncertain terms, “Do not finish that fucking sentence.”

The pain’s enough to cause Piper’s grip to jerk as she hisses, said jerk subsequently translating into a much larger, more dangerous jerk of the car’s trajectory, sending them dangerously close to the right edge of the road before she compensates and brings them back to the center of the right half as the soon to be conscious Jules tumbles into the floor of the car. “Alright, I won’t. Bitch,” she spits.

Jules raises himself with a groan, using only his left arm, as the two women lock eyes. He blinks, then points out ahead between the both of them. “Sign.”

It’s a big, well carved and well tended wooden sign off the side of the road, with large text lifted out of the carving and painted white for reflection’s sake: “PICKMAN’S HOPE.” Beneath it is the sweet and simple statement, “Welcome home.” On either side of these statements are carvings of wild roses, painted yellow, and plentiful local vegetables painted onto the flat space beside.

Piper and Lucille both collect themselves as Jules settles back into his spot behind them.

“They’re not gonna like us in there,” Jules mumbles from beneath his drooping mustache.

“Of course they aren’t, we’re pretty obviously not your run of the mill migrant workers. You’re too prissy, she looks like she’s ready to kill anybody in the room, and I like to dress for the job I want— which means I’m not going to bother with a disguise. It’s why we’re riding in now rather than later.” Piper straightens herself out, narrowing her eyes at the town far, far ahead. “There’s a Shepherd connection in here that’s been feeding information to us for years, apparently. I’ve got an address, that’s our new base for the time being. Don’t screw it up by starting any random fights in bars over that stupid hat of yours, Jules. Keep civvie casualties to a minimum, ‘kay?”

“You think we’re idiots.” Lucille scoffs.

“No, I know you’re idiots, but you’re my idiots. World of difference. Both of you get ready to get your shit out of the car when we get there, we have to get in fast.”

==============================================================

    AH, ONYX. I EXPECTED YOU TO REQUEST A VISIT EARLIER IN YOUR JOURNEY, BUT IT APPEARS AS THOUGH YOU HAVE BEEN DOING WELL FOR YOURSELF. HOW IS YOUR EGO?

Azariah, opening his eyes to the wall of fog before him, rubs his head and laughs. “Well, if I’m bein’ honest, on top of the world. What kinda question is that?”

ONE OF IMPORTANCE TO CITRINE, AS WE BOTH KNOW.

“You’re right.”

I KNOW. WHAT IS IT YOU NEED? the voice booms. The Hare can see something massive rotating into place from beyond the fog wall.

I’d like to know when I can expect this all to end, he thinks to himself. Things have been going a little too well for them recently, and while he’s enjoying himself, he can’t shake the feeling that it won’t last. They discovered both Judith and Leons’ powers, they got in and out of Fusillade without a hitch. Sam’s still alive and kicking, which is a great bonus, and the only person he’s worried about right now is Roxanne (even if she is one of the hardest people to kill he knows). As far as he can tell, he’s sleeping with the guy right now— things are sweet as candy, and as everyone knows, too much sugar causes problems.

I MUST APOLOGIZE, BUT I AM NOT A SEER, ONYX. I CANNOT TELL YOU YOUR FUTURE. the voice booms again, much to Azariah’s confusion. I UNDERSTAND YOUR SENSE OF DREAD, AS IT IS WHY I CHOSE YOU TO BEGIN WITH. BUT MAY I PROPOSE A QUESTION IN RETURN?

“Of course,” Azariah responds. “Ain’t like I’m gonna refuse you in your own… home?”

OFFICE. REGARDLESS. The shape shifts in the dark again. WHEN DO YOU WANT THIS HAPPINESS TO END, ONYX?

“Well, that’s easy. If I could, I’d want it to keep goin’ ‘til I drop.”

ARE YOU PREPARED TO FIGHT FOR THAT FUTURE?

“Depends.”

I MEAN WHAT I SAY. SO, I SHALL SAY IT AGAIN, IN THE CASE THAT YOU DID NOT UNDERSTAND— ARE YOU PREPARED TO FIGHT FOR YOUR HAPPINESS, ONYX? THERE IS ONE WAY FOR YOU TO SECURE IT, AND THAT IS FOR YOU TO ACT WHEN THE TIME COMES.

Azariah wants to answer right away, yes, of course yes, I’d do anything for it. But something stops him before his mouth can carry him away. It’s a feeling, an old, gripping feeling that had recently slipped away from his conscience. That fearful trap that he had built for himself, the idea that while he can’t stop things from getting worse, the best he can do is enjoy himself while he can in the now. It wants to pull his tongue back down his throat, wants to keep him close in its overwhelming feeling of resignation.

He knows it’s there, he knows it’s a demon of his own design. And for the first time in his life, he realizes just how pitiful it is. The fire inside him had been replaced with a skittering, cowering little beast of burden, willing to carry the weight of his sins so long as he didn’t dare light the flame again. And now that there’s fire once more in his belly, it begs with him, pleads him to just let the future go, as it’s out of his grasp anyways. Something he knows to not be true in the slightest.

The Hare looks back up at the fog wall. He can feel It staring at him, knowingly. It did this on purpose, didn’t It. It put these rocks in his bones for the sake of helping him kill this imp in his gut. All those cryptic messages, all that painful adventuring. It was out to test him, to see if he could make it through this. By god, he certainly did.

So, he folds his arms and looks back at It through the fog. “Yeah. I’m prepared to do anythin’.”

THAT IS GOOD TO HEAR, ONYX. I QUESTIONED WHETHER YOU’D BE ABLE TO OVERCOME YOUR CRACKS, IF I AM TO BE HONEST. BUT, YOU HAVE PROVEN YOURSELF ABLE TO FIX THEM YOURSELF, GIVEN THE OPPORTUNITY.

“Opportunity is a pretty light term, considerin’ you single-handedly changed my life,” Azariah chuckles. “I’d say you handed me a one-way ticket to something new.”

THINK WHAT YOU PLEASE. KNOW THAT MY GIFT WAS SIMPLY THE NUDGE, AND NOT WHATEVER FOLLOWED.

“Landslides gotta start somewhere.”

It is silent for a moment. PERHAPS I SHOULD INVEST IN A BETTER ANALOGY. REALLY, IT WAS YOU WHO CRAFTED YOUR FUTURE, NOT I.

“I suppose so. Thank you, by the way. Is this somethin’ you do often?”

YOU ARE VERY WELCOME, ONYX. YES, THIS IS MY JOB. YOU WOULD BE SURPRISED AT HOW FEW BEINGS ON THIS PLANET GIVE EVEN A SIMPLE THANK-YOU FOR MY SERVICES. OF COURSE, DESPITE MY SERVICES NOT TECHNICALLY BEING FOR THEIR GAIN.

Is this thing like, an HR employee? he thinks to himself, without remembering who might be listening.

I AM NOT ENTIRELY CERTAIN WHAT “HR” MEANS, BUT I BELIEVE I HAVE ALREADY OVERSTEPPED MY BOUNDS IN THIS CONVERSATION. IT HAS BEEN GOOD TALKING WITH YOU, ONYX. I WISH YOU THE BEST IN YOUR CONTINUED JOURNEY.

“It’s been good talkin’ with you too, uh. What should I call you? I don’t think I ever got your name.”

THAT IS INFORMATION I SADLY CANNOT SHARE— BUT IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL ANY BETTER, KNOW THAT YOU WOULD NOT BE CAPABLE OF HEARING IT WITHOUT SUFFERING A PARTICULARLY PAINFUL HEADACHE. OR, SO I HAVE HEARD.

Chapter End.

==============================================================

[ Table of Contents ]

Blondie & The Smokestone March is © 2020-2022 Empty Mask. All Rights Reserved.

[dailyaudiobiblechronological]

12/20/2022 DAB Chronological Transcription

1 Peter 1-5

Welcome to Daily Audio Bible Chronological, I'm Jill. Today is the 20th day of December. Man, it seems like we just got here, literally feels like we just got here a few days ago. Thinking back to everything and all that's happened so far this year but also remaining present in this moment as we take it in as we open our ears to hear, our eyes to see, and our hearts to receive all that God wants to say to us, speak to us and do in us through his word. As we just pause for a second, let go of all of the distractions of life, of the day, of the season. And I know there are many, I know there's so many at this time of year, especially us, mamas. We carry a lot at this time of year, trying to meet everyone's expectations, managing the list, buying the food, preparing the food, all of the things. I just want you to know that I see you, even though I don't see you, I know all that you are managing and handling and although it is more meaningful to hear it from the people that you're doing it all for, sometimes we just don't get to hear it. But I see you. I appreciate you and I know that it's happening because of you. You're the reason why all of it is getting done and it is a task of super woman proportions. So well done to you. Don't forget to breathe and don't forget to rest. Exhale afterwards, let your hair down and feel whatever it is that you need to feel. And just a word of encouragement, he will get through it and it will pass. But I pray that you don't lose your heart in the mix. Hold on to your heart, hold on to what is true and leave room for error and leave room for lots of grace. We're going to need it. We're jumping over to First Peter today brand new book of the Bible, First Peter, chapters one through five. And this week, we're reading the Common English Bible, First Peter chapter 1.

Commentary

So we started First Peter today and got pretty deep into it. Peter has some really important poignant things to say, but let's just remind ourselves who Peter is in the story of the Bible. We've been reading a lot of the words of Paul where Paul wrote a lot, if not most of the New Testament. But what we know about Paul is he never met Jesus face to face. Paul had a Damascus road experience that changed him dramatically through the power of God. We are now reading from Peter. Peter, one of Jesus twelve disciples that walked with Jesus, that literally knew him intimately, that watched miracle after miracle be performed and still questioned, still doubted, still had very human, I like to call human issues with Jesus. We're on the AD side of history after death and many years, many years down the road where we like to think we know exactly what we would do if we were there, if we were walking with Jesus. But what I find relatable through the disciples is their humanity, is their questions, their thoughts, their doubts, their needing of rebuke. But then let's take it a step further of who Peter is. Peter is the disciple that denied Jesus three times before his death. And here's, here's where I'm going with that piece. It is so easy for us to try to disqualify or diminish people by using the thing in their past. That is the thing that would take you out, that would absolutely take you out of the game, turn in your uniform and sorry, thanks for playing, but you just went too far. You just crossed the line. If we remember in the Gospels, Jesus very much knew which disciple. And they were all so curious, they're asking him at the Last Supper, Lord, is it me? Surely not me? I would never do that to you. And the beautiful thing about that story, about that table is Jesus knows exactly who is capable and going to do what they did that led to the events of his death. And Jesus still chose them. He still chose to eat with them. He still sat with them and asked them to do this. Eat at this table. Eat this bread that is my body. Drink this cup that is my blood. And remember, remember who I am. Remember who I am in your life. Remember what I did for you. Knowing that choice that Jesus made gives us the biggest clue to this story of his relationship with Peter. If Jesus chose what he chose, to do what he did, by partaking, inviting, accepting, he was setting Peter up for redemption. He wasn't setting him up for failure. He was setting him up to do what only Jesus can do. Redeem us, renew us, make us new again, to make us new again and then even again. And so when I remember the details of that story, when I realized that major piece of the story, peter was not disqualified. He was not thrown aside. Peter was set up for redemption. His denial of Jesus would not be the final word of his story. Even though many would discount him, many would dismiss him, many would chastise him, condemn him and throw him aside. But when you don't throw people away, look. Look at what God can do. This is true of us. And so we hear these words today from a man who walked with Jesus. We might hear them differently. We might consider them differently, and we might apply them differently.

Prayer

So Father, we thank you for the details of our stories. We thank you that you waste nothing. You throw nobody aside. You don't set us up for failure. You don't taunt us with things for failure. You use everything for your redemption. Thank you, God that you don't just also do that with us. You do that with us because of who you are. It's nothing about how great we are, but it is everything that you can do with somebody like us, despite our past, despite our mistakes, despite our failures and the things that people would throw in our face to diminish us, to take us out. And you say, Give me that very thing. And watch me work. Watch me make something new. Watch me redeem what you thought was dead. I thank you, God. I thank you for doing it in my life. I thank you that you're not done. You're not done with any of us. Let us remember that today in this reading today, that we would hear these words and they would change us deep within. Resurrect what is dead in us. Bring it to life as only you can do and make something beautiful. From the absolute disaster of what we think we have messed up in our lives. And we thank you, and we praise you. And we pray this now all in the name of the only one who was able to resurrect what was dead to live again. The name of Jesus, amen.

[meditating-dog-lover]

Health update

Today was a productive day.

I booked an appointment for a mineral scan, requested my dental xrays and gum charting copies, and am in the process of scheduling an appointment for a psychiatric evaluation. I can't wait to have that booked because I know it will help me.

I broke my fast at 9:30 with a coffee, banana, some dark chocolate and walnuts.

They had Panera catering at work today. So lots of sandwiches, salad, bread cookies, and juice. I had some Caesar salad with some dressing and bread. I am pretty hungry today so I'm happy they brought that. And even though I am trying to eat "anti-inflammatory" some bread and Caesar dressing is not going to do anything, especially when the bulk of my diet is anti-inflammatory. But I did not feel like a sandwich (I didn't like any of the options they had and I'm tired of white bread) or a cookie. I've been craving less sweet stuff. So I'm also tired of baked goods and milk chocolates.

I do like to treat myself here and there, but want to do it where I don't feel not well or like I ate too much junk and sweets after that. I had one of those small milk caramel blocks from Whole Foods the other day and it was too sweet. Same with the brownies my mom and I had last week. It just doesn't hit the same. It's too "sugary".

I've also been eating less white bread. I had some today and I liked it, but I don't want to have way too much. But at the end of the day, I'll let myself have some junk here and there, as long as the bulk of my diet is healthy and diverse and anti-inflammatory.

I'm sick and tired of taking supplements. The only real need I think supplements have are to fill nutrient gaps. Most of us do not get enough D3/K2 or omega-3 and magnesium from diet alone. So I do supplement with these. However, for more gut health-focused supplements, I really do think diet is the better solution. For probiotics - Greek yogurt (the yogurt I have has the bacteria species names written on the container, and they're similar to the ones in probiotic supplements). For gut lining and anti-microbial effects - aloe juice. And for digestion - ginger (I am doing more research on this and I'm not a huge fan of ginger. Tropical fruit are also a good source of enzymes, but I also don't like those and prefer berries).

Even for hormone balance, correctly cycling my food and fasting, as well as managing my stress, will work better than any supplement. As I said I am tempted to return those 2 hormone balancing supplements I purchased).

I am drinking aloe juice because I would rather have the actual natural aloe vera food source rather than a gut support powder that tastes like old black licorice or fake orange (these contain aloe combined with other gut support ingredients). But I am on the lookout for a food/drink that is a good source of natural enzymes that support digestion.

I'm doing blood work and an h pylori breath test in a few days. I hope my blood sugar and thyroid hormones are within good range. I've been taking a multivitamin that contains plenty of absorbable iodine and chromium. Although I don't think gut issues is the source of my skin inflammation, I hope the h pylori has been killed off because that does cause a lot of issues, including inflammation, stomach cancer, and reducing stomach acid levels which can negatively impact digestion. I know something like lemon juice and apple cider vinegar help with that, but I'm not a fan of either and they're bad for teeth.

I'm looking forward to my blood work, h pylori breath test, my mineral scan and psychiatric evaluation. I hope my breath test is negative and my mineral scan looks good, because this will show that I'm finally able to properly digest and absorb nutrients.

My skin is much better. My hands are still a bit inflamed, so I applied a hint of steroid cream to them last night and this morning. I applied some petroleum jelly too. But they're looking better.

I'm trying to add in more healthy foods to my diet. I'm a picky eater. I added broccoli as a calciferous vegetable source. I'm looking into ginger. I switched to an anti-inflammatory spicy may condiment that has avocado oil rather than canola oil. Next I'm looking into an anti-inflammatory crunchy snack I can have when I go to therapy (those are long days and I get hungry). It doesn't have to be perfectly anti-inflammatory and healthy since it's not something I have everyday. But I can look around.