#I do not apologize for the apple chip addiction

[trollzqueen]

Oof

I have been awakened by skunk and now that I am awake I am resisting the desire to buy 10 bags of apple chips. Because I just discovered that costco will deliver groceries and my apple chips do be online. The great tragedy is that in the local costco’s (re all three that I’ve checked) there are no more apple chips in stock. A truer tragedy I have never faced.  I am ready to call the parents in the ... later morn... to use their costco cards to fuel my apple chip addiction... This seems like a good idea.

#I am 100000% ready to spend $80 on dried apple chips #why did the skunk have to go off at 2:30am #I swear I am a good person and dont deserve this #But honestly the Martin's Crispy Apple Chips could nearly kill me and I will still eat them #I shouldn't ramble at almost 3am #I apologize for this rant #I do not apologize for the apple chip addiction

[whump-town]

The Bridges Between You and Me

Emily whump (even though I'm supposed to be doing other things)

no real warnings, i don't think.

On her lunch break she takes her sandwich to the roof. It’s a great escape with only one access door, one Dave showed her and warned no one could ever know about. That had been after she and Reid only barely made it out of Benjamin Cyrus’ cult of horrors and pedophilia. A peace offering, she realized, to settle the fear he hadn’t known he had of losing her. After that, she started being invited to have a drink in his office and was welcomed into the boy’s club. Something Reid had only ever told her was a thing and something Morgan turned his nose to but also secretly wanted in on. A general snobby (sensitive) shrug of dismissal - couldn’t be that cool if Hotch gets invited and they don’t.

For the last few weeks, she’s been taking her lunch up here, away from Reid’s glances and the worry lines being formed along Morgan’s brow. It’s only a matter of time, she knows, before she has to give up the spot. Only one or two more lunches before Morgan takes his concern to Garcia and they figure out the little hideout. Won’t be as much fun then, not with Morgan’s betrayed hurt and his probing questions. For now, she’s got a safe-haven.

“You’re smoking again.”

Well, she thought she did.

Leaning against the brick, one of his long legs stretched out in front of him Hotch looks up from his coffee to quirk an eyebrow at her. It’s by no means a question, he sat in silence and watched her light her cigarette and pull off it before commenting. Before drawing attention to himself and crushing their individual peace. He knows she’s smoking again, has for a while, but thought she’d kick the habit again with time. She’s only just come back from the dead, hell he’d smoke too. That or drink himself to death but the idea alone makes him shiver with distaste - the parallels between himself and his father are already too pronounced for that notion.

Where he’s expecting her to maybe smirk and dismiss him with sharp sarcasm, he’s shot down with a clenched jaw. Her eyes darken, “shut up.” As he looks away, eyes going to the cool coffee in his hand he can hear her sigh. How much has changed since she came back? She’d been angry, walked away from him without a word and that had stung more than if she’d slapped him when she found out what he spent her departure doing. Knew that he could have fought to stay and instead went like a coward. They haven’t talked since. Haven’t even looked at each other. He used to know her better than he knew himself. Now he’s not sure what he knows.

Maybe he really did kill Emily Prentiss.

She rubs her palms into her eyes, fighting back tears. She will not cry in front of Hotch but all this shit is starting to be too much. Her emotions are beyond her control. Anger and fear and anxiety and panic - each one a speeding bullet wedged in her ribcage ricocheting until she’s chipped away. Is this what he’d felt after Foyet? He had a warpath too. Morgan had pretended not to see it, dismissed it as Hotch only coming down on him but he yelled and Garcia and Reid. Two people who always get away whatever hell they’ve dug up. He’d felt bad about it, an admission that only came out after a few drinks. One he’d made to the floor.

“Got another apple crate?” She can’t say sorry. He had to her for just raising his voice a little, for getting angry when he shouldn’t have been. He always apologizes and fixes his mistakes. That’s always been one of her faults, too content to watch her burning bridge spread and takedown cities and forests. Her mother had such conflicting points of view on an apology. Sticking her nose up at the sound of the lives she took at the cost of destroying her bridges and at the same time twisting her fingers up in Emily’s hair to wrangle one from her stubborn lips. Emily had gotten so caught up in doing the very same thing that she never learned. Doesn’t know how to say those words even if she wanted to.

But Hotch… She imagines him as a boy, just as he’d described to her once. Hardly 100 pounds soaking wet at thirteen but always so much taller than the other kids. An optimist despite everything he’d been through. Coming home with the hope to find a mother who wipes his tears with the edges of her summer dress and a father who throws his hat up into the air with a praising shout when he finally manages to get somewhere on his bike without training wheels. And still opening that front door every day with so much hope and love for two people who felt him better dead.

She knows she could hit him, she could yell and scream. Burn the bridge and kill the city and he’d still hike around the mountain, he’d swim across the river and she’d find him smiling on her doorstep. Loyal as a dog. It’s why he never told anyone about his father - he just kept coming back. Reminds her painfully of that stupid quote from Einstein.

He looks up at her, surprised as he nods that he does have another apple crate and pulls it around for her. Right beside his. “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results”. When is he going to understand that she’s never going to stop hurting him? That he can give her that stupid look - a smirk trying to work its way up but already shining brightly in his eyes - and she’s still going to end up doing it again. Dragging him below the water’s surface. Drowning him to save herself. All she does is take and take and he won’t stop giving.

She finds herself envious of Hotch’s inability to control his vulnerabilities. That little finger count he does as he pulls in a breath through his nose, a conscious movement that is both impossible to hide and incredibly telling. Though, they all pretend he’s got them fooled. He’s sort of an anxious wreck and JJ had once concluded it’d physically kill him if he was aware of just how little he actually manages to hide from them. It hurts to see him stand just outside the comfort they show one another, afraid that he’s unwelcomed or that his being there complicates their dynamics. She wants to be known the way that they know him.

To be human so uniquely.

“Are you going to tell Jack?” she asks softly. She leans her head back against the brick, rocking it to the side to look over at him. Guilty, she looks down at the cigarette in her hand. Somehow the constant thought this stupid thing could kill her does nothing but her stomach twists, her throat tight at realization that Jack would be so upset with her. He’d be crushed to see her smoking again.

It’s a habit she picks up every now and then.

She’d picked it back up, after ten years, after joining the team. For a month she was burning through over half a pack and stopped when she walked into Strauss’ office with her recognition, one-upping Hotch’s transfer. Started again after New York… Well, when she got news of the bomb she went out and bought a pack. Chain smoked until they informed her it was Kate and Hotch. Then she went and puked in an alley. There are plenty of things that had her at least reaching for the relief of one: getting taken hostage by Benjamin Cyrus, Matthew dying and dragging up her past, Reid getting Anthrax, that bastard George Foyet. If she’s perfectly honest she never really stopped after everything with Foyet.

She needed the peace, the ease of routine, and familiarity. Someone had to keep their shit together and it certainly wasn’t Hotch…

Teenage rebellions are such a pain in the ass once you turn twenty.

Jack had seen her one afternoon, she’d been finishing the one she pulled into Hotch’s driveway with. Her attention on not being found out by the man she’d assumed was inside. A safe assumption because Jack told her as much but only after he’d cried, only after he had her promise she’d be done. No more (even if she did finish the pack - but she’d felt awful with everyone after… even if she did pick up another pack).

And the guilt burns through the addiction, making her nearly sick at the thought of finishing the one in her hand.

He smiles. Sisyphus at the bottom of his hill, boulder weighing him down.

She hopes wherever his father is, it's miserable. Even with the fear of what lay ahead for her, the conviction she was headed for the same place as men like his father. So she convinced herself she didn’t even believe in that. But here she is again, watching herself become his father. Drawing her fist back, aimed for his forgiving smile. Taking advantage of Hotch’s loyalty, his stupid misplaced love.

“I won’t tell him.”

He’s smiling at her, pinching his eyes to flash her the black-eye she put there. Smiling with blood dripping down his chin.

She looks away. She mumbles “thanks” and takes to rubbing her fingers between her knuckles to soothe the sting of the bruising she imagines there. “How is he?” she deflects. She might as well have him laid out on his back, taking cheap shots at his ribs. “When did he get so big?” She’s got him where she wants him, kicking all the sensitive areas she knows will lay him out. Distracting him under the lure of Jack and it doesn’t matter that he’ll figure that out later just so long as it makes him smile that bloody smile and ramble about his son for a few minutes.

And after a few minutes of exposure to the sun, feeling the warmth of Hotch’s love for Jack settling around her, she almost feels like smiling too.

But that only lasts for so long. With a sigh and a silent look of disdain when his knees protest like rusted hinges when he stands and their joy shattered. But that does make her smile, even when he frowns at her humor at his expense. For a moment they’re the moon and sun, opposites circling their way around the world. Caught in a gravitational pull of nearly colliding and too far away.

He doesn’t bother her about that day on the roof or ask the question he already knows the answer to - if she’s smoking or not. She feels just enough satisfaction being fulfilled when Dave explains how Hotch found out about the roof that she doesn’t try to bring it up either. It’s fine, she tells herself. He looks at her again and she feels her frustration with him (with the world) dissipate to it’s normal simmer. Until she feels less fooled by Atlas, like she hasn’t had the world rolled over her shoulders to settle onto her bag. Her knees sink and she watches Atlas’ mighty back. Her body is aching - come back, she begs, come back.

It rushes back.

The wrong word piercing the veil and shattering the manufactured calm surrounding her. She knows, in a split second, that it was the wrong thing to say but it was too late. And as it occurred, as she flinched in the preparation for the pain to come, she thought about them. Derek standing only a foot away - the sound of his quickened breaths keeping pace for her. Giving her timing, finding her rhythm. He always keeps her steady.

Behind Derek, no doubt just a step behind Hotch, Reid’s looking over her shoulder.

And she’s sure Hotch knows, just as soon if not before she does, that this has gone tits up.

There’s no coming back. Her head hits the floor, lays her out for a moment where she can’t think past the pain blossomed out across the back of her head. All she knows is the fingers of pain wrapping around the back of her head and the chill in the air. Softly, as if submerged in mud, she can hear Hotch shouting. That tone he takes on when he’s scared, when he’s really scared. She wonders if this time he can save her or if history really does repeat itself.

“Hey, hey--” Morgan crouches down by her side. His hands covering the wound, that look in his eyes. He’s scared. She’s scaring them. “Stay with me, Princess. Come on, eyes open.”

And maybe history doesn’t repeat itself but she’ll be damned if it doesn’t at least rhyme.

Derek doesn’t seem to reciprocate the same humor on the matter.

“Emily.”

Mmm, she turns her head away. Morgan has this tendency to sound like a broken alarm clock. She finds herself looking up at JJ - caught in the tears in the corner of her eyes as she throws demands around at LEOs like she’s Hotch. Watching them listen like she is.

“Hang on Emily,” he begs. “Please. Just a little bit longer.”

God, she rocks her head back. Whines when Morgan shifts his weight but a hand grabs her wrists, stops her from pushing him away. “Get off me,” she grunts. She wants to kick out, to push away but Hotch moves too and under the weight of both of them she can’t move. But it hurts. It hurts so bad and she hates them. She hates Morgan pushing her away. The way that she ruined JJ and Reid’s friendship. How scared Garcia is and Dave keeps looking at her like he’s expecting her to have just disappeared. And fucking Hotch and his silent treatment.

And Jack.

Oh… Jack.

Morgan goes with her in the ambulance, the last time he’d been stopped. Hotch stands outside, his hands at his hips as she moves on and he stops there. Reid’s just behind him, always just behind him. She sees them, hazed by blood loss and everything going on but she sees them. Hotch his mountain made of man and Reid seeking his shelter from her storm.

When do they stop looking at her like that?

When do they finally realize she’s never going to stop hurting them?

She dreams about her mother.

The rain stings as it lands on her bare shoulder blades, pouring so hard it’s beating the gravel down their driveway. “Come inside, Emily!” Her mother has stepped out onto the balcony, the one that overlooks the garden they have to pay someone to maintain. “You’ll catch your death out here, darling!” Her mother steps closer, into the rain. “Emily, please. Let me make you some tea.”

And that’s how she knows it’s a dream.

Her mother would never do any of those things. Never follow her out into the rain. Would have never even realized she’d gone out. She wouldn’t call her “darling”, not when one is around to hear her do it. Her mother never once made her tea.

Garcia figured out Emily’s devotion to tea after a month of having known her. Then it wasn’t just a small bonding it was an entire affair as Emily was guided through the office to the little kitchenette and shown she wasn’t the only one. Where Garcia would show her the teas Gideon liked best and where he kept them in a little metal box. Fitting, she thought, as Garcia showed her all the usual suspects and Ginger Tulsi tea which she hadn’t expected at all. Garcia is more into the fruits, anything with the picture of a fruit on it.

There was a single, mangled box of Earl Grey sitting alone on a shelf. She didn’t even have to ask to know that it had to be Hotch’s. It was.

Reid doesn’t drink tea. He would pick up the habit a year later after Gideon leaves but only to soothe his nerves. The smell would remind him of being younger, of having Gideon.

Morgan doesn’t drink tea. Couldn’t even look at it after her death. The smell made him sick, physically ill to just pass Garcia in the hall with a mug of Chai. That stupid ratio Emily invited unique to how Garcia likes tea. She’d done it for Jason too and Hotch too. Dashes of cinnamon and the additions of almond milk to curate something unique… something to leave behind. A reason for Reid to cry in the bathroom and Hotch lose himself for a moment, cursing blindly when his shaking hands drop his mug.

She left them grief.

She left them with a gaping hole in their sides and blood gushing down over their fingers.

And they still came back.

She wakes slowly, groaning at the immediate pull she feels on the stitches down her right side. Sluggishly, she realizes that no matter what she does this is going to hurt. Breathing is agonizing. Thoughts are like axe picks trying to split her skull open.

“Emily?”

She opens her eyes and finds all of them.

Reid is curled into a cot, blanket drawn up over his shoulder and face pressed down.

Garcia is sleeping with her head on Morgan’s shoulder, the two of them nearly curled into each other. Content, peaceful. How could you be anything but? Nothing can go wrong with Penelope Garcia on your side, Morgan’s calm face reflects just that.

JJ has managed to curl herself into a chair, Hotch’s suit jacket pulled up over her like a blanket. Hotch makes his chair look tiny. His legs splayed in front of him and his head tipped back, in a way that’s going to hurt him once he wakes. They look too much like they did that night, the night she died. JJ’s hair is a mess, pulled back away from her eyes but still somehow beautiful. Light and kind in a way Emily could never imitate. Hotch has these awful rings under his eyes, sharpened by his cheek bones. He’s exhausted.

He always is.

“Rather sweet, aren’t they?”

She turns her head to the sound, smiling despite herself.

Rossi has his feet kicked up on the edge of her bed, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m surprised the snoring didn’t wake you up.” He pulls his legs down slowly, bending each with care before placing it down on the ground. With a groan he rises, one hand on each side of his chair as he forces himself to motion. “Then again,” he mumbles, stepping around to a little tray. “It’s probably best you weren’t around for the trouble those two conjured up.” He motions to Morgan and Hotch with the cup in his hands, she doesn’t have to look to know that’s who he’s talking about.

She opens her mouth but her question is cut short, killed by her sore throat and impossibly dry mouth. “What’d--” she winces, coughing that turns into more of a gag. It hurts but she sees Hotch’s leg jerk, his head moves and she pushes it down. Holds her breath.

“Don’t go hurting yourself on account of him,” Rossi fusses. “He’ll take it very personally if you die… again.” He eases the sting with a smirk and it has to be the drugs because she mirrors it back. Stepping to the edge of the bed he presses a straw to her lips, encouraging her to take a sip.

A year before Foyet started killing again they went to Georgia. The strange thing was that you could actually see the heat baking in the air, the way it came up in waves up off the road. Somewhere, the memory so hazy now with the drugs in her system and the fog of that day, JJ had managed to wander off. She was out standing by a fence, a little flower pinched between her fingers. “A honeysuckle,” she said, showing them. Like the sun herself with her flower outstretched in the palm of her hand.

Hotch had smiled, genuinely, brightly. See? Even he knows when the sun is that close.

They both took a flower in their hands, showing them how to draw out a single drop of nectar.

As Rossi encourages her to have another sip she’s drawn back to that memory. The warmth of the air and Reid’s triumphant laughter when he finally got it, turning to Morgan, to Hotch to show them he did it. Something good.

“Where’d you go?”

She blinks and he’s managed to move. The whole room shifted. Darker. She sees Reid, turned over onto his back. JJ over on the couch, resting against Garcia. Her fingers trailing up and down over JJ’s arm. In her lap a book, keeping her distracted. A bag of yarns and fabrics at her feet, she’s camped out. Not going to move.

She clears her throat, “honeysuckles.” Turning her head she looks over at the others, for where Morgan and Hotch should be. She points over to the empty chair but even that hurts.

Rossi hums, he understands what she means. He’s got coffee in his hands and nods down towards it. “Morgan is taking a walk,” he says. “Too nervous to sit still. Coffee didn’t help.”

Emily nods, swallowing despite the pain grating up her throat.

“Jack,” is his answer for Hotch. “Gone to call Jessica.” He leaves out the state in which Hotch had managed to get himself worked up into. Standing here over her bed pale as a ghost and whispering something too softly for Dave to hear. A nightmare but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Get some sleep,” he advises as he settles himself down. “You’ll need all the strength you can manage when they get up.”

She nods, that makes sense. That way she’ll be alert to keep Morgan and Reid out of her jello. The drugs… They throw her off and she stumbles, chokes. “Dave?” He’ll stay, won’t he? He won’t leave.

Dave reaches over with hands warmed from his coffee and holds her hand. “Sleep,” he whispers.

No more warmth drawn from the fires she sets. She has teas that taste like berries to look forward to. Garcia with her hair full of butterfly clips. The hours of channel flicking Morgan falls into when he’s bored. The sweet smile that will light up Reid’s face when finally gets her to agree to a round of chess. The pseudo-girls night out they'll have right here. With shirley temples and virgin pina coladas. Hotch will be there too, when thinks she doesn’t need him, but the lights have gone out and he knows what it’s like to still be scared of the dark.

She doesn’t have to set fire to another bridge to feel the warmth of something real, of something loving.

They’re right here.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss #david rossi #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau

[anauthore]

A Cigarette for Your Thoughts? (Kenny McCormick x Reader) {SERIES | One}

Summary: You run away from home. You hide from rumours. And most importantly, you give second chances.

Pairing: Kenny McCormick x Reader - South Park

NOTE: Every part of this series can be read as stand-alone, or as part of the series itself! If you don’t want to read each part on Tumblr, feel free to check out links to the work on the below websites:

Wattpad | Quotev | AO3

Fic Below the Cut | Next Part

The night was dark, not even the reflection of the thousands of stars making the slightest bit of difference. You sat on the cold ground with your back against a tree, your face tilted toward the blackened sky as you breathed out, calming yourself and trying your hardest not to make much noise while the hot tears rolled down your cheek.

You squeezed your arms, digging what was left of your nails into your windbreaker that did nothing to shield you from the cold. It happened again, as it always does, but even expecting it didn't help you really cope with it; your mom was arguing with whoever she was dating this month, their drunken stupor unfortunately interrupted by your presence as you walked through the front door.

That was all it took- one slap across the face later and you were gone, cold and alone at a train crossing on the far side of town. You'd been there through sunset, and you were sure you would fall asleep under the canopy to the sound of crickets.

You stretched your legs out in front of you and sighed, eyes closed, before the sound of approaching footsteps put you on alert. You quickly formed an excuse in your head- 'sorry officer, I'm just waiting for my mom to pick me up'- but once the figure got closer you recognized him.

Kenneth McCormick. Kenny, the school's plug for nearly any drug you wanted. Kenny, the kid so poor that South Park had canned food drives for his family. Kenny, the most perverted playboy troublemaker in grade 11.

Had you really ended up that far away from your side of town? You began to scramble to your feet, but the startled gasp emanating from next to you stopped you in your tracks.

"Jesus fuck- Sorry, I didn't see you there."

You apologized quickly, albeit quietly, and mumbled something before starting to stand again.

"No, it's alright," Kenny shook his head, an unlit cigarette appearing in between his right index and middle fingers seemingly out of nowhere. He paused for an uncomfortable amount of time, tilting his head before he speaks once more. "Hey, aren't you- don't you live on the other side of town?"

You nod, confused. "Uh, yeah, how'd you know?" 

He shrugs. "I see you get on the bus from Mr. Mackey's window."

You stare blankly at him. Although it was somewhat creepy... you couldn't help but feel a little flattered. You were average at best; you hung out with a few other people, each equally as unnoticed by everyone else as you. You weren't in any notable clubs, sports, or teams  and you got decent enough grades: nothing to warrant being noticed by anyone, let alone someone that was easily recognizable by the entirety of the school.

He ignores your expression and rummages through his hoodie pocket for something. "So, why did you end up at this end of town?" He pulled out a lighter that looked to be on it's last ends, the paint chipped so much that you couldn't tell what colour it had been.

"What makes you think I 'ended up' here?"

"Sweetheart," the hints of a smile wiggled their way onto his expression before he placed the cigarette between his lips, lighting it and taking a puff in one go; "no one decides they want to come here unless they're looking for drugs, and you don't strike me as the type to throw your life away like that."

He plopped next to you, smoke calmly floating upward as you mulled over his words. What if you did want to throw your life away? It wasn't as if you really had anything left here: South Park was where you had lived your whole life, and although everyone else had mountains of stories to tell, you had nothing but the tales of your mom's iron fist and her many, many boyfriends.

After a moment, you spoke again, softer now that he was right next to you. "What if I wanted to? Buy something, I mean."

He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Then I doubt I would've found you just sitting here."

You looked away, a little embarrassed at your retort. He was right: if you were here to buy, you wouldn't be curled up against a tree, shivering in the cold of the night.

He puffed again on his cigarette, glancing at you only when he was sure you had been eyeing him for a little bit. He flicked ash off onto the ground and offered the smoke your way.

"Do you smoke?"

You hesitated, but decided that you really had nothing else to lose. 

"Now I do."

Kenny puffed air through his nose in a quiet laugh, watching you with a smug smile as you took it and breathed in- and then immediately had a coughing fit.

He chuckled, scooting closer and patting your back to help you catch your breath. You grimaced, repressing a shudder.

"I take it that this isn't your thing."

You shook your head, breathing again to clear the smoke from your lungs while you watched the lit end of the cigarette glow dimly. Once you were satisfied with the air to smoke ratio, you raised the stick up to your mouth again.

"Pull it into your mouth this time, then inhale. You won't cough as much."

You took a mental note and followed what he said, and he was right; you held it in and exhaled when you thought it had been in your system long enough, the back of your skull beginning to tingle as the nicotine worked it's magic.

He must've noticed you relax, because he gave you a thumbs up and fished another Pall Mall from his hood.

It was silent again, neither of you speaking and instead getting lost in the world of tar and probable lung cancer.

When one of you did speak, it was again on the topic you thought you'd managed to avoid, but you guess not. 

"Why all of a sudden?"

"Why what all of a sudden?" You puffed on your cigarette some more, getting a hang of not choking every time you did so.

"Did you choose to," he gestured to your smoke clouds, "start that." 

You shrugged. "Why did you?"

    “One word: Stress. Lots and lots of it.”

You nodded in agreement. “Me too, then.”

He nodded back, and again you both were left to each other’s company and the patterned inhaling and exhaling. Once your cigarette had turned into a nub, you threw the butt under your foot and rubbed it into the asphalt with the toe of your shoe. Kenny hadn’t finished his, yet, you’d noticed, so all you had left to do was to make small talk or lean against the tree again.

The quiet was too much for you, you quickly realized, and so, even though you weren’t much of a talker, you started to talk.

“So, what’s it like? Being popular, I mean.”

He laughed, flicking ash away again. “You think I’m popular?”

“Everyone does.”

He shook his head again, denying it. “Nah, that’s just ‘cause I’ve been lifelong friends with Cartman and his little posse. I’m nothing special- just another McCormick working his ass off to get the bare minimum only to end up addicted to something or other.”

You gave him a look, somewhat concerned. Sure, you knew he wasn’t the best apple in the bunch, but to hear him talk about himself so self-deprecatingly surprised you. He was always somewhat douchey around everyone else, constantly flirting with girls and making fun of anyone else around him- including teachers and parents. He must’ve noticed your sympathy, because he quickly apologized.

“Sorry. That got a little deep.” He stomped on the butt of his cigarette just as you had before. “Nah, it’s okay. Everyone knows my name, everyone knows my game. Nothing else to say about that, really.”

You accepted that he wasn’t going to elaborate any more than that.

“What about you, huh? What’s it like, being invisible? No offense.”

You cracked a smile for a split second. “None taken.” You pulled your legs in to sit indian-style. “It’s alright. No one notices when I slip away- not even my parents. My friends are good, but like- I dunno. They’re like anyone else. More like ‘acquaintances’, I guess.” You shivered, what little heat you’d been keeping trapped under your legs dissipating since you’d changed your sitting position. Kenny noticed, raising an eyebrow.

“So, you came all the way here without a decent coat?” You could sense judgement in his tone.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have time to grab one between my mom’s boyfriend and my mom ganging up on me.”

His eyes widened a little bit and he glanced to the side. “O-kay. Noted.” Then, he began to shed his jacket, offering it to you by the hood. “Here. I’m plenty warm, plus I have a house over there I could go to if I got too cold. You need it more than I do.”

You didn’t accept it at first; you tried to say no, but he insisted, and you weren’t going to refuse twice. You were freezing, and the night was only going to get colder.

You pulled it on, and you could tell he’d worn it constantly- and not just because it was the only thing you’d ever seen him in. The fur it was lined with was short and stiff, and the pockets were ripped on the inside, not to mention the stains that spotted it. It smelled like cigarette smoke and alcohol, and of course, like a high school boy. You zipped it up and pulled on the hood, not as cold as you’d just been.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

And it was left like that for a long time. At least, long enough for you to doze off and get woken by Kenny standing over you, gently shaking your shoulder.

“Hey, you shouldn’t sleep out here.” 

You rubbed your eyes, looking up at his silhouette. “I can’t exactly go home, Kenny.” Your voice was groggy and you sounded annoyed. Still, he didn’t seem to be disturbed by your sudden change of face. Instead, he almost seemed to have empathy towards you. You weren’t sure if you liked that or not.

“I know.” He repeated himself again, trying to word his question so it didn’t seem so out of place on the dark street you sat on. “I know. Do you want to come over? It- I can find a place for you tonight.” He stared at your unwavering expression for a moment before he spoke again. “You really shouldn’t sleep out here.”

And he was right. You shouldn’t- 

So, you stood and followed him back to his house. The one that was falling apart- that smelled like cigarettes and other pungent drugs that made you wrinkle your nose in disgust- that put up a decent fight against the cold beginnings of Winter in South Park.

#anauthore #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #quotev #wattpad #southpark #kenny mccormick #kenneth mccormick #kenny x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #series #part one #a cigarette for your thoughts #writers on tumblr #fanfiction on tumblr

[jadekitty777]

Brewing the Storm

Here we go folks! Those of you familiar with me know I tend to have a “favorite” whenever I do a ship week... and this small piece is it! I hope you’ll all enjoy it too.

Day 5: Last Kiss @taiqrowweek

Rating: K

Words: 3,000

Summary: With Beacon in ruins and the fallout creeping over the horizon, Taiyang's only goal is to keep his family safe. Even if it means lying to them. [Takes place Post-Volume 3]

Ao3 Link: Brewing the Storm

~

He’d read once in an article found in one of the many throwaway magazines doctors and dentists always set out to preoccupy their patients with, that it was considered ‘healthy’ for there to be conflict in a relationship. The column had laid out bullet points on how fighting could communicate feelings, build trust and even increase intimacy. At the time, young and recently divorced, he’d scoffed at it, certain he’d never read something more ridiculous.

Now, two marriages and two decades later, Tai still scoffed at it as he angrily whisked the egg whites. His scowl only grew more pronounced as he heard the telltale footsteps of his husband entering the kitchen. He had to resist the urge to just turn around and snap at him to get out of his ‘room’, childish as it was. The kitchen door was pulled shut, offering a pretense of privacy before they got started.

“You can’t protect her forever you know.”

And there it was.

“Really? That’s how you’re going to start?” Tai snapped, setting the bowl down with enough force it nearly cracked.

Qrow gauged him as he rounded the dining table, resting himself back against the open end of it. Enough distance to not encroach onto either of their personal spaces, but not so much it felt like they had to shout at one another. Neither had ever been shy about getting into each other’s faces during an argument – but time and experience had taught them that level of aggression tended to drive them into poor directions afterwards. It was never pleasant to have to attend a bar at 2 AM to drag an absolutely smashed Qrow home; just as he knew it wasn’t any more a joy to deal with him locked in their bedroom and unable to come out.

So, they’d long ago made a pact to keep a divide between one another whenever they were angry with each other. It usually made Tai feel a little better, whenever Qrow remembered.

“I’m not going to apologize, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Today, he was too furious to even notice. “No, of course you wouldn’t. Because then you’d have to admit you were wrong.”

Qrow scowled, crossing his arms. “Wrong about what Tai? That Ruby should know the eyes that she just accidentally happened to use is going to catch the attention of an enemy she isn’t even aware exists?”

“She’s not ready!”

“Well shit, you’re right.” His tone was mockingly affronted. “Why don’t we get a little care package together for Salem with a little note attached.” He raised a hand, punctuating the air in front of him as if he were pressing the words onto paper, “‘Please don’t attack until Ruby is a full-fledged Huntress. Thanks.’”

He breathed out through his nose. “Quit being an asshole.”

“Once you stop being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable?!” He bellowed. “Hundreds are dead Qrow! Students older than Ruby! Some of them were students of ours!”

“And their experience didn’t save them either!” He shouted right over him. “Face it Tai, this isn’t about doing the best thing for her, it’s about you trying to rule over something you can’t control!”

“I don’t want to put another grave next to Summer’s!”

In the wake of his scream, there was emptiness. Nothing in the air left except their harsh breathes and regret.

The first one to move was Qrow – but his destination was disheartening as he yanked open one of the cabinets, pulling out a bottle of rum. He didn’t bother with a glass. “I know, but you don’t get to make that choice. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you’ll let those kids live their fucking lives.”

With those parting words, he left the room.

Tai never felt so alone.

~

A week later, the first snow of the season hit. The storm had blown in overnight, bringing down fat, drifting flakes that coated the ground within the hour and continued on throughout the evening. By morning, mounds of it covered every inch of the yard. The leafless trees bent with the weight and the pine trees in the surrounding forest looked festive with their speckles of green bursting through the ice.

In years past, the first sign of winter had always been met with a level of unrestrained energy. Yang and Ruby would race down the stairs, cheering over the lack of school as Signal would close for the day to allow the students one chance to play. When the girls were young, they’d take them out, where there would be snowball fights and built up forts and, if the storm was really good like this one, they’d go up into the surrounding hills to do some sledding.

As they grew older, neither of the girls wanted to ‘hang out’ with their dorky dads and met up with friends instead. It left the house to Tai and Qrow. Typically, they’d make some homemade hot chocolate, get a nice fire going in the hearth, and bundle up together on the couch and watch old movies until it was dark. It was a relaxing, comfortable way of spending it together. That tradition eventually faded away, as Qrow’s missions took more and more of his time away, until he was almost never back in time for the Snow Day.

It was clear that, despite having everyone there, from the gloomy atmosphere that permeated every nook and cranny of their home, it would be the quietest year yet.

Tai wandered down the eerily silent halls, feeling like a stranger in his own house. Both the girls’ doors were open. With them still gaining back their strength, he wanted them to have a way to call for him if they needed anything. A quick glance into Yang’s room proved she was still asleep – but Ruby was already up. Her back was to the window, eyes intent on something on her phone.

He paused in the threshold, catching her attention. “Good morning. How ‘bout some breakfast?”

“Sure dad.” She smiled feebly. Her eyes looked red around the edges, making him think she’d been up for awhile.

His chest hurt, seeing it, so he smiled twice as big right back, “Alright, it’ll be up soon.” And continued on his way, thinking the world was more unfair then it ought to be.

Getting downstairs only amplified the feeling, realizing Qrow was neither in the living room or the kitchen. He had been spending less and less time home since their argument and they’d barely spoken to one another even when he was around. Not that a conversation was often possible, since when he did bother to return, he was smelling worse than a brewery and acting like his motor functions had been inversed like a bad video game mechanic.

Tai tried not to feel guilty, knowing it would eat at his resolve faster than acid. The rampant increase to Qrow’s addiction had little to do with him and more to do with the sudden chaotic state of the world and the loss of a friend. He was probably feeling confused and uncertain of his way forward without Oz to guide him and-

Focus, Tai. Take one day at a time. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Ruby first, then he’d check in on Yang and then finally text his wayward husband after he was mostly certain he’d awoken from whatever stupor he’d drunken himself into. With that battle plan in mind, he started up his playlist on his scroll, pulled out the dough that had been chilling overnight, and got to work.

~

It was nearly an hour later he was sprinkling the last of the powdered sugar atop the freshly made chocolate chip scones. He set a few of them onto a plate, then decorated it further with some strawberries before placing it on the serving tray. He poured a cup of Jasmine tea from the still warm kettle before adding it and an apple and finally surveyed his work. Light, flavorful, and full of his youngest’s favorites that might just be enough to put a real smile back on her face.

With a satisfied nod, he picked up the whole thing and started his way upstairs. As he passed by, he took note Yang was finally up. She was staring intently at a red-eyed blackbird outside her window that caused him to pause. After studying it and making sure it didn’t have a little feather crown, he moved on, knowing it wasn’t Qrow.

He didn’t want to think of who else it might be.

Instead, he stepped into the adjacent room, his daughter’s name already on his tongue.

The tray crashed loudly on the ground as he stared into the empty room, some drawers still open to indicate hastily put together gear and a single note resting on the rumpled bedsheets. He didn’t bother to read it, the horrible, sudden realization hitting him harder than an Ursa’s palm strike. Ears suddenly rushing as panic overwhelmed him, he sprinted back down the hall, leaping over the railing without a second thought.

He hardly felt the way the landing jarred his bones nor the way the cold of the frigid morning clung to his skin as he made his way outside, yelling at the top of his lungs, “RUBY!!”

The silence that replied felt like it might crush him.

Tai clutched at his shirt, certain his sternum was about to snap. No. Nononono. This wasn’t, she hadn’t…

Yet as his gaze fell upon the ground, spotting four sets of footprints heading down the front yard path, rapidly disappearing under the blanket of snow, he knew there was nothing left to doubt.

“God damn it Sums, why is she so much like you?” He cursed lowly, racing after the trail.

The docks weren’t far, just a few miles east. There would be delays, surely. Ruby was certainly still there, waiting for the next ferry. What a rude awakening she would get, when she finds out all she’d been waiting for was him grounding her into next century!

But just in case…

He pulled out his scroll, dialing a number by heart. “Pick up… come on, pick up!”

A click as the line finally opened. “This is Qrow.”

“Qrow-!”

“Unless this is important, buzz off.” Then the voicemail ended with a long-toned beep.

Tai could have screamed. “Qrow, it’s Tai. Call me when you get this. Ruby’s run off.”

He ended the call, only to immediately call again. Each ring seemed to drill at his eardrums until the message picked up again. He cut the call, frustration nearly making him fumble the device out of his hand. Just as he was about to try again, a sharp alert had him pulling it back.

Following after her.

He almost ran himself into a tree staring at that message, the three words saying almost nothing and way too much at the same time. He slammed his thumb into the call button – but predictably, Qrow didn’t bother to pick up this time either. That, or he had already shifted, leaving him unable to answer.

He tried texting anyways. Where are you? I’ll meet you there.

The lack of response stretched on. He tried not to focus on it, pocketing it so he could double his pace, the snow doing little to slow him.

He made it to the moor in record time, but even as he crossed the pier, he knew he was too late. There weren’t many people out and the few that were certainly weren’t wearing a prominent red hood. The Olympia wasn’t in its port either, and as he peered out across the water, couldn’t even spot a speck of it on the horizon.

What did catch his eyes was a little higher, a small form coasting underneath the cloud-line. His heart jumped, and he ran to the very edge of the pier. “QROW! COME BACK!”

His yell was as futile as the last, for the bird did not wheel around nor even seemed to hear him at all. As he watched him get further until he too became too hard to see, a terrifying thought hit him. What… What if that was the last time he ever saw him?

The guilt he’d been pushing down finally clawed its way free. Ravaged up his throat. Stung at his eyes. What a damn fool he was.

He took a breath, but his second attempt was nothing more than a weak, cracking, “Qrow…”

He didn’t expect an answer.

“Yeah?”

He spun almost immediately, his cascading emotions catching onto the ledge and holding tight as he caught sight of the worn and weary huntsman who stood only a few feet away.

He must have looked like quite the sight himself, because Qrow regarded him cautiously, saying quickly, “She’s only got a bit of a lead. I should be able to – Tai? What are you-?”

He crossed the distance between them with a crazed fervor, not letting him duck away as he grabbed onto an arm. Before the other man could even think to fight it, Tai was pulling him into a tight embrace. He buried his face into the side of his neck, breathing in the distinct scent of pine and whiskey that was Qrow.

It was several long moments before the tension trickled away, and long fingers found their way into his hair. Soothing. Familiar. “Hey, what’s all this about?”

“I just,” He tried to say. Like he had tried to keep things together. Like he had tried to lift his daughters’ wounded spirits. Like he had tried to hold onto hope. Everything within him shook. “I didn’t want to last thing between us to be a fight.”

The fingers in his hair froze. Qrow dropped his forehead to his hair, breathing out a frail, “Oh.”

Under the days that had been long and horrible, his emotions finally let go and Tai broke.

He was never one to cry, at least not the way most people did. There was no heaving sobs or hiccups, no wailing in pain. Rather, it tended to come forth with as little preamble as an early spring drizzle, light and almost soundless, but still there wetting the ground. He knew Qrow felt the slide of tears along his neck when another arm wound around his shoulders, his lean body melding against his. He spoke to him in soft, dulcet notes, but Tai didn’t so much pay attention to the words as much as the tone, letting it eventually calm the shivers and the tears.

Until he could find the strength to pull away, just enough to look up at him. “Do you know how terrifying it was, seeing the broadcast get hijacked? Having to go out to protect anyone I could when the panic set in, the entire time not knowing if you guys were alright? I’ve never felt more helpless.”

“I know.” Qrow murmured, the stony mask he’d been trying to keep up since everything went down finally crumbling, revealing the uncertainty and fear underneath. “I’m scared too, Tai. But trying to shelter Ruby and Yang like those four walls are enough to protect them from… whatever’s coming is foolish. And I know you know that, ‘cause you’re the same guy who did everything he could to give them the tools to survive this world.” His hand cupped his jaw, a thumb brushing over his cheek. “So what’s really going on, huh?”

He lowered his head, shame creeping up on him. “It’s just me. You two leaving, putting yourselves in danger – I can’t handle that. I’m not strong enough anymore. Or maybe I never was.”

“Bullshit.”

He blinked. Looked up. “What?”

“Bullshit.” Qrow repeated. “Tai, I’ve seen you get kicked down over and over again, and every time you get back up and ask for more. You take chances, put yourself on the line to hurt, in ways I wish I could. You may be a lot of things, but weak is not one of them.”

“Oh yeah?” Tai sniffled, wiped the rest of his tears away on the sleeve of his shirt. “Then what would you call me?”

“Mm… Handsome. Gentle. Kind.” A smirk quirked the edge of his lips. “A little stupid.”

He made an affronted sound, pushing his face away. “You jerk!”

“Heh, not an adjective, but I’ll take it.”

Tai rolled his eyes, but his gaze softened as Qrow nuzzled against his hand. He shifted so he could cup his face, tracing his features, ran a thumb through his scruff. “You’ll watch over her?”

“Always.” Qrow vowed.

“And… you’ll try and take care of yourself too?”

He dropped his chin, kissing his fingers. “Yeah.”

There were a thousand more things he wanted to make him promise – but he knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Trying to stall him, so he didn’t have to say goodbye. Never had to feel or wonder if this might be the last time.

He swallowed down another rush of emotion. “And you know I love you?”

Qrow replies, just as he had a thousand times before, “As sure as the sun rises.” before dipping his head, catching his mouth in a kiss.

Tai held him there as long as he could, until he had no choice but to let him go.

Watching the bird take to the wind only hurt a little less this time around. He stayed there on the pier, even long after Qrow had disappeared on the horizon, frozen like the ice around him. Whispered prayers to the Gods above that he’d see his daughter and husband again. Prayed that that kiss would not be their last. By the time he found the strength to move, a scatter of snow fell off him. A miniature storm he could finally let go of.

#taiyang xiao long #qrow branwen #Taiqrow #taiqrowweek #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

[mianmimi]

LONG-ASS POST AHEAD! (Also, spoilers for a novelization no one read lol)

About the DS novelizations... How many are there? lmao I just read one published by Little, Brown and Company, adapted by Alex Irvine and based on the script by Spaihts, Derrickson, and Cargill. And it is nothing like the one you read. I feel ripped off, yours sounds way better!

The novelization I read does cover the entire film, as opposed to the one you read, though it doesn’t do much with it. Yeah, a book for kids, I know, I wasn’t expecting ten pages of Stephen, Mordo, and Wong in the greatest threesome that actually ended racism and homophobia. But it’s still really uninspired, is what I mean.

It’s almost exactly like the film, except in some places that seem devoted to fix certain plotholes (for example: Why did Kaecilius take just the pages he needed and not the whole book? Because he enjoyed the idea of people seeing the book incomplete, as evidence of what he’d done) or add inconsequential details (the weapons the zealots use are called Space Shards). There are parts that I can see why they weren’t on the film itself, likely because they went over the budget (Kaecilius and the zealots fight against several sorcerers + the librarian, they don’t just walk inside and decapitate the poor guy).

Curiously enough, most differences between the final film and the novelization are due to lines that were add-libbed by the actors on set, lines that must have the cusses removed, or lines that must have names of songs and artists removed because I guess they don’t have the rights to Beyoncé’s name lol

  Random vaguely interesting stuff that I remember:

  Kaecilius spent years away from KY. It doesn’t say how many years, just “years.”

  Stephen really fucking hates Nic West. It’s not even that kind of hate filled with sexual tension. It’s sitcom-nemesis levels of “fuck this pathetic waste of sperm, seriously.” It’s hilarious.

  Stephen is genuinely hurt when Christine comments she no longer dates colleagues because of him.

  Christine comes across as someone who has moved on 110% from her relationship with Stephen. She reads as exasperated and extremely disappointed around him.

  Stephen loves to drive, and he drives like he’s on a racetrack... and we all know how that ends.

  Before he passes out, he sees his hands covered in blood.

  He proves the old saying of doctors being the worst patients true. He really dislikes being a patient.

  What Christine’s bringing to Stephen the night of their big fight is a care package. Awww.

  Stephen’s physical therapist sounds like a sweetheart, tbh? Stephen describes him as being a huge optimist that always wants to make his patients see the brighter side of their unfortunate situations.

  Stephen considers apologizing to the physical therapist after the man actually gets him Pangborn’s file. But he doesn’t because, as he says, he’s not the apologizing kind.

  Stephen finds Pangborn by himself. How? Who the fuck knows. And Pangborn doesn’t tell him where Kamar-Taj is, he just gives Stephen the name. Stephen finds mentions of KT on books on mysticism, and these books mention it is located somewhere in Kathmandu.

Stephen spends days wandering in Kathmandu, probably sleeping on the streets, since there’s no mention of a hotel.

  This novelization doesn’t have the scene you mentioned in that other novelization, the one with the boy asking for Stephen’s last dollar, the one that gives him directions to KT and then replies to Stephen that Stephen is the one doing badly and not him. I wanted to read that part :(

  In this novelization, four men attack Stephen, not three like in the film.

  Stephen thought he could talk his way out of the mugging, and when he realized he couldn’t he was willing to give them the watch, then he snapped and thought fuck no I’m no stupid tourist and punched that motherfucker in the face. The watch is not really as important as in the film, or at least it doesn’t feel that way, it’s almost an afterthought.

  Stephen thinks Mordo’s epic smackdown to the muggers is “like something out of a movie.”

  Stephen describes Mordo as a “young man” which is cute, and probably means that Mordo is younger than Chiwetel (Mordo the grown up twink and Stephen the chickenhawk theory confirmed? lmao). He notices Mordo’s forehead scars. Also, he doesn’t recognize Mordo’s accent, which means that it isn’t British, because Stephen would definitely recognize a British accent. Come to think of it, Chiwetel’s accent in the film is not entirely his own, and at times feels like he’s trying to give Mordo’s accent an Eastern European feel. Mordo is a Romanian/Bavarian aristocrat confirmed?

  Mordo is very serious business here, unlike the film. This confirms Chiwetel saw the script and said nah fam how about if he’s sweet and gay

  Stephen thinks of Mordo as “his rescuer” until he finds out his name when TAO says “Thank you, Master Mordo.”

  Stephen actually hears Mordo’s voice in his head when he says that Stephen’s heart-rate is dangerously high.

  In this novelization, Mordo is the one that grabs Stephen and throws him out after TAO says she won’t teach him. But in the film it’s Master Hamir. Seriously, I screencapped the scene, you can briefly see Master Hamir as the only person at the door when Stephen’s thrown out. TAO told Master Hamir to handle the white trash and he fucking handled the white trash. I love that dude lol

  TAO was debating with the sanctum masters about whether she should let Stephen stay, but she remained unconvinced. Mordo convinces her.

  TAO is the one that tells him to go to the library. The library is Stephen’s very first stop after his first real talk with TAO. It’s on his second trip when he meets Wong, which would mean he read all those books in one fucking sitting???

  “Mordo stopped next to him. Strange concentrated harder.”

  He really wants to make a good impression :’)

  Stephen doesn’t know Wong knows he’s been conjuring portals on the library to take the books Wong forbade him to read. He’s genuinely surprised when TAO tells him she knows.

  Mordo is angry during The Sparring Scene™ like, this dude is always angry, no wonder Chiwetel thought nah fam he ain’t angry he just very gay and can’t find a good white top

  ““What’s that?” Strange asked.

  “That’s a question,” Mordo said with the smallest of smiles. A joke, Strange thought. He was starting to like Mordo.”

  Film: Mordo gives Stephen a soft punch to the shoulder. This novelization: Mordo straight up kicks Stephen in the chest like he’s auditioning for a Hong Kong martial arts film.

  Stephen e-mailed Christine twice. He missed her and wanted to apologize to her face-to-face.

  Stephen stops writing that third e-mail to Christine and jogs to the library to learn spells specifically from the Book of Cagliostro because he wanted to see if it was possible to go back in time and fix his mistakes. Stephen, you motherfucker, didn’t you pay attention in Natural Law 101?

  Stephen’s stomach gets the rumblies when he studies :’)

  Magic is shown to be kind of addictive and seductive. Stephen is pretty much seduced by the Eye and the book to continue fucking up after he does the thing with the apple.

  He doesn’t believe (more accurately, doesn’t want to believe) TAO could lie and use the Dark Dimension to live indefinitely. At least not at first.

  Wong is fucking pissed off when he sees Stephen with the Eye. In fact, some of Mordo’s lines in the film are Wong’s in this novelization.

  “Mordo was looking at Strange in a new way. There was anger still, but also some respect… and maybe even a little fear.”

  Wong and Mordo stare at Stephen with pity and disgust when he says he doesn’t want to fight in their mystical war and is gonna bounce thank you ‘cause he just wants to go back to his previous life.

  Stephen learned the Shield of Seraphim spell from Mordo. Mordo was his spellcasting tutor, apparently.

  Stephen actually notices that his fight with Lucien in the astral dimension gave Nic West extra chips and he comments oh what a lucky day for Nic with the bitterness of a man who still thinks Nic West is banging Christine. He isn’t, Stephen, leave the poor man alone lmao

  In the film, Christine is more mildly exasperated/relieved when she’s stitching Stephen up. In this novelization she’s got no time for his shit.

  Stephen thinks she’s a “phenomenal doctor” :’)

  Stephen thinks it feels good to apologize now and feels like a changed man :’)

  Mordo has a sword-like relic that is strapped to his back. A concept that never made it to the film itself, it seems.

  Stephen thinks he isn’t ready to become a master, feels like he’s just begun studying magic. Masters he respects and thinks are better than him? Wong and Mordo and literally no others.

  In the film, Tilda does a wonderful job at portraying TAO just simmering with rage on the inside at Stephen’s fuckery but keeping a cool outside, because that’s exactly what happened. She’s so pissed Stephen actually thinks she will hit him before she changes the subject and leaves to get reinforcements.

  During their you lack imagination/a spine thing, Stephen is ready to take a swing at Mordo (lmao good luck with that) but the zealots interrupt what would have been the world’s shortest fight.

  Mordo cries in shock when Kaecilius stabs TAO ;__;

  Stephen briefly acknowledges that Nic is a good doctor (but only because Christine said so) because fuck Nic West lmao

  ““Mordo won’t see it that way.”

  “Mordo’s soul is rigid and unmovable, forged by the fires of his youth. He needs your flexibility, just as you need his strength. Only together do you stand a chance of stopping Dormammu.”

  She was right. Strange knew it.”

  Stephen knows he needs Mordo. He knows y’all.

  This novelization only mentions that Christine kisses Stephen, but it doesn’t mention where? She still leaves to “her responsibilities” but without saying where is she kissing him it makes more ambiguous. Did they mean for her and Stephen to go back together at first and then said nah fam Christine deserves better in the actual film?

  Stephen calls the Cloak a “good cloak” and that is very important ok

  Wong’s relic is explicitly referred to as the Wand of the Watoomb.

  Mordo is waiting for Stephen in the ruined library of KT, it’s not the NY sanctum. This was sort of clear in the film but still kind of ambiguous. But nope, it’s KT, where the doors to the sanctums are.

  “His last conversation with her rang in his head again. The Ancient One was right. Strange needed Mordo’s strength and single-minded belief in right and wrong; Mordo needed Strange’s flexibility and ability to see different solutions to a problem.” :’)

  ““The bill comes due,” Mordo said. He sounded almost like a preacher, warning of the wages of sin. Strange wondered what had happened in Mordo’s past to harden him this way.

  […]

  “You told me once to fight as if my life depended on it, because one day it might,” Strange reminded him. He could still see Mordo dancing through the air with the Vaulting Boots of Valtorr. “Well, today is that day. I cannot defeat them alone.”

  Mordo looked at him quietly… and nodded. As Strange had known he would. He was a soldier who believed in his cause even when he no longer believed in his leaders.”

  This is all sweet and all but the fact that Stephen refers to Mordo’s fighting as “dancing” just takes my brain to Mordo poledancing for Stephen and I am not ashamed.

  In HK, the spell of the time stone/eye doesn’t work on Kaecilius and zealots for long because the dark dimension is too close and is interrupting the spell’s effectiveness. Nice plothole fix, there.

  It’s unclear whether Wong is dead or not. Is he dead or just under the rubble, not dead but dying and agonizing? Up to you to cry about :(

  Mordo calls after Stephen, and Stephen wishes he could explain what he’s about to do but there’s no time :(

  Kaecilius’s eyes are actually sinking into his skull and more and more of his face is gray and peeling, btw. Would’ve been cool to see that in the film.

  Stephen gets the idea of the Dormammu loop by remembering what Mordo told him about dimensional openings, spatial paradoxes, and time loops. Technically, Mordo can't get mad, Stephen got the idea from him lol

  In this novelization, Kaecilius doesn’t say “He’s gone. Even Strange has left YOU and surrendered to his power.” He says, “He’s gone. Strange has left to surrender to his power.” So... what’s up with that? Is this a confirmation that Mordo is meant to be gay in the film? ‘cause I’ma take it as such.

  Stephen thinks he saw something moving on the edge of the dark dimension, he thinks its living forms, citizens of the dark dimension. Shame we didn't get that in the film, it would've been a perfect way to tease Clea. It'd be sort of like in the comics, with Clea being impressed by the fact that Stephen dared to oppose Dormammu.

  Stephen knows Mordo is hurting badly, because TAO was all he believed in and now he has nothing, but he doesn’t know how to make it hurt less :( (Stephen, you could have used your dick)

  Stephen looks at Wong after Mordo leaves, but neither of them know what to do/say, so they just return to KT. And then they never regretted not talking Mordo out of his misery. Oh wait. Whoops!

  Stephen is seduced by the Eye (or the time stone) again, it’s Cloaky who convinces him to put that shit down on its pedestal before you doom us all you fool.

  “Mordo always had been a bomb waiting to go off, Pangborn thought. He was a black-and-white kind of guy. Either your best friend or your worst enemy.”

  Mordo removes Pangborn’s “essence of power” whatever the fuck that means.

  ““Too many sorcerers.”

  It was an argument he planned to have with Stephen Strange.…

  Soon.”

  Except it’s been like 5 years by now, so Mordo’s definition of “soon” is not really like ours.

  And that’s it. That’s that novelization. Like I said, uninspired as fuck. I wish I could find the one you read :(

__________________________________

Whoa Nonny! Thank you for this! I haven’t gotten my hands on the novelization you read yet, but I’m hoping to get it on kindle. That’s where I got my version. It has the same publisher as yours, but with a different author. It looks like this.

Thanks for writing the post describing the novelization you read Nonny! I appreciate you taking the time and effort for sharing that with us :) Especially when not everyone can get their hands on that info. It’s pretty fascinating to me how much changes during the production of a movie, and honestly I’m pretty happy we got what we did. Especially in terms of Mordo. They significantly softened and warmed him up from the initial plan it seems. And I love that so much *swoons*

#ask and answer #strordo #stephen strange/karl mordo #novelizations #thank you nonny #doctor strange #stephen strange #karl mordo #submission

[the-bear-neccesities]

Customers prejokerx x oc one shot

She knew he would come just like all of the rest, the ginger blond woman stood behind the counter with her tired smile, he would come, the one with the bandana, he'd buy a black coffee and the pack of the cheapest cigarettes, every two weeks, he'd bring his own container and buy gasoline, Hanna was curious what he did with it, since he didn't have a car, but never asked.

Hanna knew he would come, just as the housewife would run in a three in the morning looking ashamed as she bought two bottles of vodka, or  just as the short mexican in the wife beater, working the dead shift, would buy a snickers bar and a five hour energy would come in at two. Sometimes there were people traveling buying gas, or the homeless person every now or then she would let wash up in the bathroom and dump out the donation into their bare wallets, tins, or pockets

Hanna counted her customers like sheep, though she only did it so she wouldn't fall asleep, he was her favorite, though the way he blew on his hands which were covered in gloves with out fingertips or the bandana he used to cover his lower face to protect it from the cold, he felt alive with bright eyes and a odd walk, he never spoke though.

Not to her anyhow, to himself though, sometimes, just small things, muttering about the prices or the air conditioning. When he did get gas he muttered it once, and even if Hanna had heard him she'd ask him to repeat it and then he would hold up the money and then two fingers, then the grey eyed girl would wait for him to get to the pump before she'd turn it on.

And tonight was no different, a few travel people came in and bought snacks, she was sorting the register when the bell rang and she popped up to see him walk in. His dirty blond almost brown hair crashed around him and the customer didn't look at her as he began to make his cup of coffee.

Hanna immediately tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and turned around to get out the cheap cigs with the green and purple coupon that her boss had started. She jumped slightly seeing that he had been standing at the counter already waiting for her. "Hi." she whispered setting the smokes and the coupon on top of the counter, his intense brown eyes popped up as she typed up his order.

The man held up the coupon with his fingers eyeing the odd color. Hanna noticed the tips of his fingers were calloused and underneath the strangers nails there was a bit of white paint. maybe he was an artist, yeah, part of her felt like a teenager with a crush borderline stalking this man she barely knew by wondering about his job

"it's a coupon, you're supposed to get them yourself, but...i figured i save you the trouble, after you buy a certain amount of smokes you'll get one free, just bring it here so i can hole punch it, if you  want to, i didn't know if you wanted to or not, that is why i didn't put  a hole in it before..." her cheeks heated at her awkward babbling.

the man's gaze went over her before he held it out, as always, he did this in silence and she clipped a hole in it the multicolored paper , the money was paid and the bell rang once more

she blushed and Hannah waited out the rest of her night before handing the keys to jerry, bundling up and heading back out to gotham, the cold air hit her face and she walked hurriedly, what would the alcoholic housewife be doing right now, that dead shift worker, the bundled up man with his coffee and smokes? what would they be doing.

would he be awake? did he live around here? Hanna shook her head continuing to her house so she could curl up and rest. Once in the shabby home, the girl fed her fish and laid down on her faded green sheets that she had, just so that she could pretend that she was laying on a bed of mint. Hannah's nights as you could call it, was filled with nightmares. always nightmares

when she awoke in a drench of sweat, her eyes were wide seemingly stuck in a state of shock and the girl shook her head before releasing her throat from her hand, Hannah stood and than showered. Hot water poured over Hanna's body steaming as it hit her warm flesh. it soon turned cold and the blond haired girl dried herself off before enjoying the leftover take away from the fridge. 

The woman smiled  at the news, the Wayne company had finally declared bruce after four years of disappearing, which was sad, though on the other side of the news world, a couple of people had been found wandering the streets of gotham seeming to have lost their mind, homeless mainly but it was only the weird part that they all died by self mutilation.

That had dropped Hanna's smile and she swallowed shakily as her phone rang. "hello, hanna speaking." the voice on the other end was familiar and made the woman sigh. "it's jerry, samantha's called in, i was wondering how'd you feel about a double shift." the woman already stood nodding her head.

"yeah, a double shift would be great. " the blond woman whispered softly into the phone as she slipped off her night clothes and put on the work shirt her heart was tired and the woman yawned softly feeling her tired state already sinking in. "Okay get here in an hour won't you?" the man stated before hanging up the line with a harsh clank on the other end

"of course, did you hear that nemo, i have to work again." the fish swam in a circle as a response, he was good company. It took her less than five minutes to get ready, though in all honesty, it took her more time to find her shoes then it did to do anything else.The woman dryed her straw golden red hair and made tea, after discovering that she had ran out of coffee.

When Hanna left it was mid afternoon and the woman was exhausted and happy that tomorrow was her day off. she then headed off bobbing her head and hating the cold weather, listening to her morning playlist filled with feel good music that she didn't truly feel for.  The girl closed her eyes at the front entrance of her dead end job making sure to take in a deep breath as she pushed open the door and felt the eyes of her boss on her.

"You're early." he stated eyeing her with a somewhat wanting gaze which made Hanna's skin crawl, he was one of those men who would leave extra drawer money if you put out, which explained why this particular woman was broke. "i didn't want to be late." he shrugged and handed her the key before heading out.

"Keep the goods safe." Hanna rolled her eyes at the idea of people stealing the quarter lollipops or bags of chips, these were his goods. "Yes sir." By then he had walked off and the woman had stepped to her pose behind the counter. for awhile she stared at the brown spot on the glass above the lottery tickets before someone clearing their throat made he look up.

Blue eyes. that was all she could think these icy cubes stare at her causing her to sit up and blushed slightly. "Sorry...what is it that you need?" He smiled at her heated cheeks, the shade of her light eyes and blonde hair. she was oddly beautiful"Gas pump two...and one of these...which do you suggest?" the tall dark haired man stated gesturing to the pops.

Hannah felt weak at the knees finding out the gas station stranger had an addicting tone of voice and that the pattern of his words were wonderful paused and put together almost like a melody. as though each meaningful or even meaningless things he could say was a sonnet. It really wasn't fair was it.

"Cherry or green apple, are they for you or do you have a child that you are giving these to?" the woman asked biting her lip as she typed into the machine, feeling the tall man's gaze bore into her, as she glanced over to him, he shook his head. "Just me, i'll take them both and tell you which i prefer.." his voice faded and Hanna looked up to meet his eyes.

as the gas station attendant did this, she noticed that he had been looking at her, not as though he found attraction in her features, but found a puzzle in  her, one that he desperately seemed to want to figure out"Well, if you pick either one you will still be agreeing with me on taste, how much do you want on the pump?" he chuckled slightly at her steady composure and steel like eye contact.

"twenty and here is fifty cents for the candy...hope to see you again, hanna." Their hands touched and the girl kept her gaze on him  as he left and unlocked the pump when he got to it, before pressing in the number and putting in the money for somewhat safe keeping. He was handsome, taking the double shift might have not been the worst idea.

The day, like a mother pulling her tantrum throwing child out of the toy store, dragged on slowly. She had stolen two cups of coffee, and still felt like dying, as cute as lollipops had been, and as much as she had needed this money, there was no way that she was not going to regret this tomorrow.

The night came and then the counting began, housewife, dead shift worker, the girl was beginning to wonder if he was going to show, the woman twirled the pen about her fingertips. It was a quarter to three, she didn't think he was going to show and the girl was about to step about the counter when he entered, greasy locks and bright eyes.

Hanna moved about the counter into her playing position and sighed she was going to get her desperately needed refill. Hanna eyed his hands seeing more paint this time black and she watched how, he way his fingers moved, nearly mimicking her when she continued to flip the pen.

His eyes met hers and he had quickly looked down, the fair haired girl imagined that he had blushed. It was when she had smiled at that thought that the pen had suddenly decided to slip and nearly hit the man as it made its way by. Hanah blushed and opened her mouth to make an apology.

"I'm so.." She let out a breathy laugh before covering her lips, the poor half asleep woman couldn't help but break her professional stature to enjoy this moment."Sorry." The man set down the cup and scoffed slightly, before kneeling down to picked up the pen.

 His face covering, when he had the object in his hand,  went up slightly as though he was smirking and once he was standing straight up, the stranger started up another cup coffee.

Slowly the woman thought better of just standing there and staring at him and went about the counter looking down at her feet, feeling slightly ashamed at her fit of flightful giggles. "Sorry, for laughing and trying to murder you with a pen you stopped me from get-" She was cut off as she was reaching for the pen and instead found herself holding a steaming cup of coffee instead.

"Coffee.." Hanna muttered watching the man place a plastic seal onto his own drink. "Thanks...But what about my pen?" The man simply shook his head before opening his mouth and speaking to her for the first time "It's a trophy doll, an escape from death." He held it up teasingly before his eyes widened with an idea. Her own mimicked his at the clear sounding voice that escaped him.

"You want to see a magic trick?" She tilted her head at him and pouted her lips nodding slowly. Her mind had went to his voice and its hoarseness, he must have not spoken much in order to get his voice so roughed up, it kind of made Hannah feel special, but then again it made her feel sad for the coffee wielding stranger

"Who doesn't love a little illusion in there life?" Jack looked over the short petite blonde woman, in her worn out workers clothes and faded jeans on her feet, she wore green tennis shoes. No, he couldn't kill her just yet, not wearing his favorite color, not with the coupon she gave to him so kindly, not yet.

So he did a trick pulling it out of the air, she smiled slightly eyes alight as she bit her lip. Hannah looked oh so entranced by this trick, he could easily make her eyes dim by using this pen to poke a hole into her pale neck. but instead he took a bow and the woman gave him a small round of applause.

"That's a good trick, do you do parties?" Under the itchy face covering he licked his scars and chuckled. Once again the man purchased the cigarettes and the coffee though she gave him the employee discount. Then Jack headed home, he still had things to take care of and he got the itch to play, in his pocket he felt the familiar knife and the man knew he wouldn't be able to go home until he had found another victim.

Hanna had enjoyed the almost bitter coffee softly taking it in until her next shift arrived. The covered man had been kind and funny, she almost regretted the fact that she wouldn't see him tonight. in fact over those next few weeks she only saw the blue eyes man, though it was only during her morning double shift and Hanna found herself getting an odd feel from him. he had given her his number attached to a cherry lollipop.

His name was Jonathan crane, but even though she had no love life to speak of, and Hannah couldn't help,but want to hear him talk. she didn't know if she should call or not. Immediate attraction or a man of his level of education or pretense of gaining interest in a girl like her, it was almost never good news and it almost always ended badly

It was the night shift now and the regulars came in, all of them. Hanna put on a bright smile at the sight of the covered man though he seemed thinner than he last looked and was in the middle of looking at their chip selection, perhaps trying to make up for the lost weight when the bell rang.

She glanced over and Hannah's breath caught in her throat, before sinking into her stomach, immediately she pressed the button at the sight of the masked men with guns. Coffee man was hidden, so the woman tried not to worry too much about him. they gazed over her. "anyone else here little lady?" The woman shook her head, hoping the man had found cover and wouldn't be noticed by the robbers

"No it's just me..i don't suppose you're here for the twenty four hour service?" Hannah muttered half heartedly trying to swallow down her fear, and keep their eyes on her so her customer would stay safe.

 One of them let out an exhausted scoff before shaking his head "fill up the bag and don't make any more jokes you got that bitch.."

The woman nodded, opened up the register and emptied out its contents inside the burlap sack, she was about to hand it back when the man grabbed her roughly. "Aye boys, remember that bonus i promised you, this is it." The blond girl fought against him as he pulled her roughly over the counter by her arm and a fist of her hair.

As she was being torn away from the safety of the desk,  her eyes caught her customers brown gems, with a tear blurred gaze Hanna shook her head as if to tell him not to try and help. Roughly the muscled masked man slammed Hannah's back against the counter so her legs were out towards them and her arms were flailing outward towards the register

the woman nearly laughed as her fingertips brushed the emergency bat, the swinging one, not the flying creature that would later on this month appear to restore gotham.

The leader had been busy at that moment working at her belt, so his grip was loose and Hanna used that to rip free from him, grab the bat, and swing with a small animalistic screech. There was a crack as wood met his thick skull. Suddenly there was a barrel at her head as the body fell.

Her heart raced and mind slowed, she was going to die, any moment now the man would pull the trig- Jack moved quickly and raced at the attacker from her right who held the gun, pushing him into the other one. The three stumbled and he was on the one with the gun as Hanna struck the other's knee cap.

In a reflex the gun wielding attacker pulled off Jack's mask and screamed at the sight just before his head met the concrete.The blond worker was shaking and Jack kicked the chubby man she had not knocked out in the face and now wailed in polite silence as he looked over at Hannah.

The bat had fell from her grip and her eyes met his, the man expected a number of things from the ginger blond gas station attendant. For her to attack him, scream, wince in disgust but instead the small woman raced over to him and wrapped her arms about him. "Thank you...thank you thank you..."

He stiffened at her touch and nodded oddly as he patted her back, though he found himself somewhat enjoying Hannah's arms about him. It was a small moment before she pulled back, wiped her eyes and looked over him with a small smile on her face, as though he was her hero.

The police are coming, you don't have to be here, you can go if you want.." The girl stated shakily her eyes moving over him with a small smile before she went to the back of the store and handing him a family size bag of funions. "You want some cigarettes to-" Hannah was cut off by the handsomely scarred man placing his covering, which had fell, onto a bleeding part of her head.

"cigarettes would be good, and a knife." Hannah nodded blushing as sirens in the distance met her ears. The stranger looked down eyeing her oddly as she pressed her hand on his and stepped back to grab the things he needed. It had been so long since a person looked at him in a normal way, but here she was, even before this night, watching and seeing  Jack like he was normal and not a freak, and even though he knew she was wrong, it felt very nice.

"Thanks...if you weren't here, i don't even want to think about it....thank you seriously..um, I'm hannah by the way." The grey eyed woman stated oddly as she shook her head and gave him the small bag. Jack glanced down at her name tag and smiled. he had known her name since the first night he had came here,  but since it was her first robbery, The man would blame shock instead of putting the fault to her.

"I'm jack...don't mention it, seriously i think it's a crime that i'm leaving the scene right now." Hannah let out a breath of a laugh before giving his hand a squeeze, trying not to cry as she handed him the bag. "Don't worry i won't, thanks jack..see you tomorrow maybe?" the man nodded his head and turned about quickly fleeing the scene and leaving the shaky woman to herself.

his hands tingle at the spot where she had touched. Hanna sighed and waited outside the store, keeping bat in hand in case the men woke up, they didn't and were dragged off to the back of the police vehicle by a slightly overweight officer."Mam are you okay?" she blinked and looked up at two men, one with familiar blue eyes and the one addressing her, Hanah nodded and sighed.

"Yeah i'm fine, i didn't kill any of them did i?" The officer shook his head smiling down at her somewhat proudly and with interest. "No, no, they'll be fine, did any of them-""No, they didn't, i'm fine, and no i didn't see any vehicle that they could have came in, can one of your men lock up the store, i've had a double shift and i have to work in the morning and clean that up, unless one of your officers would like to do that, i'd like to go now."

She was tired, so though the woman gave them an apologetic look in place for her attitude, the girl's voice was cold. "No worries mam, we've called your boss, he's on his way and will close up. You've been through a lot, Doctor crane was on his way from arkham, he'll look over you and than you can go home." Hanna smiled at that news and hoped her boss wouldn't be p.o over the mess

"Hello Doctor." The man left and there she was looking up at blue eyes. He smiled softly causing dimples to appear on either side of his lips as he gazed professionally down at her. "Hello Hannah, follow the light for me please." The girl did and sighed as the light blocked her vision.

"So, you took down three men, by yourself?" The light went away and she blinked taking in a sigh as she nodded. "The bat helped." She shrugged smiling slightly. "I am sure it did, now could you tell me what happened?" Jonathan asked his semi-deep voice rumbling through the silence in the air that laid thickly between them.

"They came in, it was a little past three i think. I was alone, its the graveyard shift, so besides a few regulars, I didn't really have to many customers, they pointed the gun. I had pushed the button at seeing them and began to empty the register, after i handed the bag back, the leader grabbed me, and he pulled me over the counter..." The woman paused taking in a breath before continuing with her account of the story.

"As he went for my belt i managed to grab the bat, i hit him over the head and then quickly swung at the other two, one of them i hit in the kneecaps and kicked, the other i slammed into the concrete. "The girl bit her lip. "I know I shouldn't have, but I was scared and they had tried to rape me..I  don't want that to happen, I didn't want that to happen.." again the man tilted his head and nodded almost as though he had heard that unsaid last word.

"No one is blaming you for this, you did the right thing those men would have gone on to hurt a lot more people if you hadn't stopped them. though, you have a minor concussion and you need rest, you'll be alright.. but i'll drive you home okay? I want to make sure you get home safe" hanna nodded thinking of jack, he had made her safe.

"thank you doctor." She murmured half felt as her mind wandered to how he had looked. His  handsome face with the horrible scars, they had jutted out like a horrid smirk, marring his clear tan features, they had hurt her just to look at and her heart ached for him. Jack had a strong jaw and wonderfully dark eyes that came with a serious gaze.

Hannah thought of what she would say the next time she saw him, or  if they would be friends after this. The small lonesome woman could imagine them being friends, or more, hanging out, playing video games, and visiting coffee shops. Hanna could imagine them kissing, how Jack's scars felt on her cheek, against her tongue, or thigh.

She could imagine him showing her his works of art, perhaps painting her himself and wrapping his warm arm about her while they walked home together whispering sweet things to each other as though nothing else mattered. Hannah was a silly woman though,  and Jack probably saw her as weak and useless, so Hannah could also imagine herself never seeing the scarred man again.

The woman would be alright with that though, she would have been almost alright with  anything. Except for what was going to happen to her, there was no way that she would have wanted this or been alright as fate unfolded the following moments that came to be her reality. Hanna's mind was everywhere but on the man before her, she shivered as the doctor touched her shoulder kindly.

"Come on let's go." the man let her settle down in his passenger seat before shutting the door. The blond woman hadn't noticed that she had been walking, Jonathan smiling down at her like she was a prize, or the scarred man looking at her from the shadows making sure she was alright.

"I'm sorry that I didn't call, i was going to, I just...don't trust people that well." The girl stated suddenly as he started the car. "Don't worry about it, but know that you can trust me okay.." his addicting tone rang in her ears once more and she squeezed his hand smiling strangely as the first tear came out, in her other hand she had a bloodied up bandana that smelled of motor oil.

"Okay, I trust you...but only because you're a Doctor, thanks." The dark haired smiled pulling out a small needle from his pocket as she went to release his soft hand. "Now, Hannah can you tell me what are you afraid of?" The real police arrived minutes later to an empty crime scene with no footage or witnesses of what had happened.

Jack had left by then having not seen the grey eyed girl be injected and thinking she would have got home without harm, the scarred man didn't notice until the next time he went to her graveyard shift, that she was gone. Hannah was found four days later, wondering the streets with a bloodied bandana, looking like hell, and muttering about cigarettes and lollipops.

She had no one to miss her, but a fish that would starve to death before they cleared out her apartment and a scarred man who had enjoyed her smiles and would lose his mind sometime later due to not having a single tether to this world

For hannah, it had just been one bad day.

#joker #batman #the joker #heath ledger #joker x oc #joker x reader #joker one shot #the dark knight #tdkr #one shot #jonathan crane #crane #fear toxin #gotham #i did a thing #i hope you like it #i hope you like this #one bad day

[deansleather]

Homeless

Pairing: Destiel

AU: Homeless!Castiel, Rich!Dean (think Dean Smith but less pretentious and more of a business jerk)

Summary: Dean Winchester, lost and wanting, lets little consume his life other than his career. That is, until he stumbles upon a lonely homeless man outside his New York apartment. Suddenly, Dean can feel his priorities shifting, but how much he is willing to bet on the mysterious man he just met?

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Word Count: 2699

Warnings: Again, another flangsty fic. starvation/hunger for our little homeless!Cas

A/N: Ahh, I missed writing about my boys. In my head, Castiel is human here, just with a problematic family, but interpret however you wish! I hope you enjoy, and as always, FEEDBACK IS SO WONDERFULLY APPRECIATED!! MAKES MY DAY AND HELPS MONUMENTALLY, EVEN JUST A LIKE!

“Home's where you go when you run out of homes.” ― John le Carré, The Honourable Schoolboy

h             Dean’s finger strummed impatiently against the Italian leather of his briefcase as he waited for the final jolt of the subway. He could hardly bear the proximity to strangers that the subway forced him around, especially the quality of those in New York. As much as he loved his studio apartment in the Big Apple, he hated New York; the dirty streets, the constant noise, the obnoxious accent, the insufferable winters. He prayed for the day that his career transferred him to sunny L.A., where he might actually be able to find a successful business to run. Something about New York made Dean feel like a trapped rat, just another mindless robot going through the motions, running on the hamster wheel to nowhere. He was beginning to feel like he had no purpose at all. 

           Finally, the doors opened and he could escape the hell of the subway and of his thoughts. His pace was quick and confident, his gaze never going anywhere but straight ahead. Every once in a while, he would collide into another stranger, seeing as the city setting rarely allowed for any personal space, but his sheer strength always gave him the upper hand. Even so, he’d spout out a gruff “Watch it!” or “Look where you’re walking!” intermittently, just for the principle. 

            Finally, he mounted the stairs to some fresh air, or at least as fresh as it could be in a large city. The wind was bitter cold, and almost hurt as he inhaled it, yet he still took deep breaths in and out for a moment, just pausing to take in his surroundings. He could get so in his own head sometimes, and he always felt like his head was just barely above water. He tried to cut himself some slack, it had been a long day dealing with a lot of assholes at his office, he deserved a little leeway. Feeling just slightly more grounded, he began his short walk back to his apartment building.

             Of course, it had to begin snowing. Dean cussed under his breath, wrapping his coat tighter around his body. He could really use some vodka right about now. His walk became brisker, and the buzz of people around him started to dissipate as the sun quickly dipped lower and he began entering into his neighborhood. He had somehow managed to find a semi-peaceful neighborhood among the madness of New York, another reason his apartment was his only haven in his current hell life. Today though, there was one disconcerting nuance on his usually pristine streets; a single, pitiful homeless man.

             Dean sighed, wondering if he should try and cross the street to avoid the guy. No, that was ridiculous, his apartment was just a few buildings down from him. He should be used to this by now, he had lived in New York for a full year, and homeless people weren’t unusual. Still, his stomach turned every time he had to walk by one. When he was within earshot of the man, he heard the faintest “Please” whispered by him, even though there was no one walking near him. Dean’s steps must have frightened him, as he jumped about a foot high as they approached.

             “O-oh, excuse me,” he murmured, somehow managing to slink into an even smaller state. Dean just stood for a moment, his tall stature shadowing the man. Dean couldn’t understand his current emotion; was there a word for it? All he knew in that moment was that he couldn’t leave that man there, in the frigid cold weather, not in the state he was in. He ran a hand through his hair; compassion for the homeless was so unlike him. 

                 “You know, there’s about a million jobs in New York, ever think about finding one?” Dean scolded halfheartedly, his voice feeling too sharp against the fragility of the man. Finally, he looked up to Dean, his face in the perfect spot for the streetlight to cover him. Dean couldn’t help it; he gasped. 

            The man was so…beautiful. His eyes seemed like neon signs, the light glittering off them like the snow around them. Bright, bright blue, with long black lashes, they instantly formed into the purest puppy-dog expression Dean had ever witnessed. Despite his pallor complexion, his lips were pink and plump, almost pouty. His emaciation highlighted what must naturally have been high cheekbones, and the scruff on his chin somehow managed to make him look more like a model than some poor guy begging for money. 

            “I…I know,” he managed, his teeth chattering. “I’m more of a failure than I can ever make up for. I know.”

            Dean was taken aback at this. He expected anger or belligerence or just pure ignorance, but not…repentance. Even with his attempt at disinterest, Dean still couldn’t let it go; no matter how it went, that man just couldn’t stay out in the cold. With an annoyed huff, Dean knelt down to be eye level with the beautiful stranger.

            “What’s your name?”  he sighed.

             “Castiel,” the man replied, his voice hoarse. Dean looked at him strangely. 

              “Castiel? What kind of name is that?”

             Castiel just shrugged, pulling his thin jacket tighter around himself. With a shake of his head, Dean began to put Castiel’s arm around his shoulder, heaving him up. “What’re you doing?” Castiel panicked. “I’ll go, I’m sorry, I don’t need to rest here.”He began to try and retract his arm, but Dean wouldn’t allow it.

         “Calm down, Cas. Can I call you Cas? You’re not in trouble, at least not with me. By the feel of your weight, though, you should be more worried about some Grim Reaper coming for you. When’s the last time you ate?”

      Cas just shrugged, looking at Dean with awe. “You don’t have to do this, really,” Cas assured as Dean began practically carrying him forward. “I deserve all that I have coming to me.”“Too late to go back now,” Dean mumbled, more to himself than anything. At this, Cas was quiet, and he remained that way until they reached the stairs of Dean’s sky scraping apartment. There weren’t many, but enough that Castiel looked intimidated.

          Without much thought, Dean gathered the starved man entirely in his arms, almost dropping his precious briefcase in the process. He swiftly carried him up the steps, barely breaking a sweat with the lack of weight Castiel consisted of. The more Dean felt him, the more he worried. They made it inside, and even when they entered the elevator Dean still kept Cas in his arms. It wasn’t until they entered the house that Dean set Cas down, but not until he kicked out one of his bar stools to sit him on. 

        “Alright,” Dean clapped his hands together. “Let’s get you something to eat.”  

         Cas remained silent as Dean searched around in his sparse kitchen. Most of his nights consisted of take out or business dinners. With some difficulty, Dean finally managed to throw together some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with a side of chips. Dean apologized for the quality of the meal as he sat it in front of Cas, but he reacted as if it was a five-star meal. His fingers quickly stuffed a few chips into his mouth, eating all of them without breath. He began into the sandwich without pause, and Dean gently added more chips to his plate.

          “So,” Dean cleared his throat, setting the chips back in his cupboard. “What brings you to New York?” Dean wasn’t much used to trying to be nice, he normally just went with his general disposition of gruffness. 

          “Passing through,” Cas grumbled between bites. “Was hoping to get one of those millions of jobs. Harder than it seems.”

        Dean blushed. Cas noticed, and while he felt bad, there was something thrilling about making Dean rosy.

          “I’m sorry,” Cas relented. “I really should be kissing your feet for this. It’s been a while since…since I’ve had any help at all. I guess I forget what it feels like.”

       “Don’t worry about it,” Dean assured, with the sincerest smile he could muster. “It was my words in the first place, wasn’t it?”

      They were silent after that, and Dean shuffled on his feet for a few moments before busying himself with running Cas a bath. He looked through his soaps. Should he use vanilla bubble bath? That was sweet and homey. But lavender was supposed to be calming, maybe that would be better? Why did he even care? He eventually decided on vanilla, but added just a bit of the lavender for good measure. Dean noticed his hands shaking, and wondered to what cause until he felt the butterflies when he saw Cas once more. What the hell had gotten into him? What effect was this stranger having on him?

             Playing nonchalant, Dean set some clothes down beside Cas on the counter and walked to his room, grunting a quick “Bath’s ready” on his way. Dean firmly shut his door, leaning against it for a moment for support. He felt dizzy; his mind running circles around the fact that that beautiful man would be mere feet away, completely unclothed and soapy. Dean could hardly believe his own reaction, and yet he didn’t hate it; something about it felt like being alive again. Like road trips with his brother, like when his mom would make him pie, when he somehow managed to earn one of his dad’s proud looks. There was something so thrilling about Castiel’s mere presence, and Dean had a feeling he might get addicted to it. 

          Finally, Dean heard Cas emerge from the bathroom, a pleasant sigh coming from him as he paced over Dean’s wood floor. Quickly, Dean threw on some pajamas of his own. He usually just wore some briefs and maybe some socks, but he decided that may be a bit much with a…guest over. Dean had to keep reminding himself that he was helping Cas, not the other way around. He decided on the dark blue, silk pajamas he had gotten as a gift from a now-ex-girlfriend. They were a little on the tight side, but they would do.Dean finally gathered the courage to show his guest to his room, but not without a few deep breaths first. Dean halted as he came face to face with Cas, who was readying himself to knock on Dean’s door. Dean smirked at Cas’ new appearance; Dean’s t-shirt was much too big for him, and the sweatpants had to be tied to the point that the fabric bunched. Dean let out a small laugh. 

          “What is it?” Cas asked self-consciously, tugging the shirt lower in acknowledgment. “I know, I look ridiculous.” He shrugged. “But the clothes are very comfortable, thank you.”

          Dean shook his head, still smiling. “No, no you look grea-…you look fine, Cas. Let’s get you to bed, huh?”

          He brushed past Cas, quick to escape lest his blush be witnessed. He lead him to one of the many spare bedrooms, usually used after parties or as pretty reminders of how alone Dean really was. He picked the one just a few doors down from his own, just in case Cas may need him. The room was simple; black bed spread, striped curtains, a simple wooden dresser with a gold-framed mirror propped on top of it. It wasn’t much, but it was a castle to Cas, who exhaled thankfully.

          “This is wonderful, thank you so much-“Cas stopped, looking to Dean in thought.

          “What? Is something wrong? I have other rooms…” Dean began to walk towards the next room, but was quickly stopped by Cas’ increasingly strong voice.

         “No, no this is perfect for me. It just… I just realized I don’t even know your name, and yet you’ve done all this for me.” Cas extended his arms around him, gesturing towards the simple decorations.Dean hesitated. In that moment, in front of Cas in all his mangy yet beautiful glory, his name felt so insignificant. He cleared his throat, the lump that formed there starting to ache.

      “Dean,” he finally managed, his voice a lot rougher than it was moments before. 

       “Dean,” Cas repeated, the noise rolling off his tongue like music. Somehow, he made even something as inconsequential as Dean’s name better than it was. There was a moment of silence as Cas was lost in thought, before finally returning to reality, his eyes instantly reconnecting right on Dean’s. “I… That’s a nice name, Dean. It fits you.”

       Dean let out an embarrassed laugh, feeling the heat in his cheeks.

      “Yeah, that one syllable is really profound,” Dean half-heartedly retorted, backing out of the room. “Night, Cas.”

      “Goodnight, Dean.” Cas began pulling back his blankets as Dean closed the door behind him, quickly returning back to his own room. With a deep breath, Dean finally settled into his own bed. Dean couldn’t deny it anymore, not even to himself. He may not fully understand it, or why, but it was the truth. He really, really, really liked Cas.

__

       Dean was awoken by a loud shout. Groggily, he looked over at his clock. 3:47 AM. Dean had fallen asleep outside the covers, sitting up, trying to figure himself out. It wasn’t often that things weren’t just cut and dry for Dean, and the whole deal with Castiel was definitely throwing him through some loops. One leg at a time, Dean managed to stand up out of his dead sleep. Before he could investigate the cause of the noise, it came knocking. With teary eyes and fussed hair, Cas peeked into Dean’s room sheepishly.

      “I’m so sorry,” Castiel murmured, immediately guilty looking at the exhausted appearance of Dean. 

      “What happened?” Dean grumbled, rubbing his eyes. 

       “I just…” Cas trailed off. “Maybe I should just go. I was stupid for thinking that I deserved the comfort.” 

       “Woah, woah,” Dean called, grabbing onto Cas’ arm before he could walk out. “What’re you talking about? What’s going on Cas? Is someone here?”

       Cas shook his head. “No, the noise was me. Nightmare.”

       Dean nodded, the terrified gleam in Cas’ eye making his claim easily believable. 

        “Alright, well, it’s all okay now, right?” Dean asked, patting Cas’ arm reassuringly.

        “Yes, but I really should leave.” 

        Reluctantly, Dean let go of his arm. “Okay,” he finally mustered. “But…why? I mean, I don’t know if it changes anything but… I don’t want you to leave.”

        Cas rubbed his eyes harshly. “My entire family,” he sobbed. “I have entirely abandoned them. The rebellious son, the new black sheep. I have no one, no place to go, and all I’ve ever done since my departure is hurt people. All I wanted was to do good, but-“

      “Castiel,” Dean interrupted, grabbing onto his shoulders to break him out of his ramblings. “You… you have me.”

       Cas looked at him strangely, the words finally sinking in after a moment. 

     “What?” 

     “Look,” Dean muttered, clamping his eyes closed. “I don’t know how to say this but I want you here. I don’t understand it enough myself to explain it to you but…I can’t let you leave.” 

     Dean kept his eyes closed as Cas took this in, the silence weighing heavy on him. Ever so gently, Cas reached his hands up to Dean’s face, stroking his eyelids, beckoning them to open. Dean complied, and was faced instantly with the blues of Cas’ eyes. Cas’ hands slid down, cupping Dean’s jaw tenderly. With a dreamy expression, his eyes still teary, Cas pulled Dean in for a soft kiss. So soft, that it was barely a kiss at all, but it was enough. Dean, finally doing what felt right instead of always what he was told, took Cas’ hands in his. New York or Los Angeles, city or country, successful career or not, Dean knew wherever his life took him he wanted Cas to be there with him. They might not have known each other for more than a few hours, but Dean couldn’t bother to care. Cas was what he wanted, no matter the terms and conditions.

With a new-found sense of direction, Dean tugged on Cas’ hands. 

“C’mon,” he murmured gently. “Let’s get some sleep.” 

~~~~~~~~

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Destiel Only Tags:  @sapphirebluecas @destielonfire 

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[scorpiondragon]

99 questions and a bitch ain’t one

1) What images do you have set for your desktop/cell phone wallpapers? Phone: Winnipeg Jets logo Work computer: closeup of husband & my hands from our wedding in India (bc henna + colors + love) Laptop: space

2) Have you ever had a crush on a teacher? in college yes - couple of TAs and a prof or two. never in grade school, ew. 3) What was your last text message? my brother sending some 2nd hand hysteria my mother told him to bother me with 4) What do you see yourself doing in 10 years? raising a kid maybe? 5) If you could be anywhere else right now, where would you be? a tropical beach 6) What was your coolest Halloween costume?I was pumpkin like 3 years in a row when I was wee 7) What was your favorite 90s show? Sabrina the Teenage Witch 8) Who was your last kiss? Mike Skelton 9) Have you ever been stood up? probably? dunno, i didn’t schedule dates where that would really be an issue. like, meet me at my favorite bar, i’ll be hanging with the bartenders when/if you get there. meet me at such-and-such on campus event, i’ll be around. etc.  10) Favorite ice cream flavor? peppermint oreo 11) Have you been to Las Vegas? nope 12) Your favorite pair of shoes? if they aren’t a favorite, i don’t own em anymore 13) Honestly, have you ever cheated on your significant other? never 14) What is your favorite fruit? peaches. also apples. and raspberries. i love fruit 15) Have you talked to anyone on tumblr that you could see yourself dating/having sex with? If possible? yes, my husband is on tumblr so QED 16) Are you into hookups? Short or long term relationships? used to be; yes, well, see i’m married so..yes 17) Do you smoke? If so, what? used to. lotsa stuff. 18) What do you do to get over your anger? vent 19) Do you believe in God? in a manner of speaking 20) Does the person you're in love with know it? yup. See Answer to Interrogatories 15 and 16. 21) Favorite position? COO/Firm Administrator 22) What's your horoscope sign? Scorpio 23) Your fears? bees 24) How many pets do you have? What kind? 1 dog. for now....*shops for snakes*  25) What never fails to turn you on? assholish behavior + heavy metal music 26) Your idea of a perfect first date? food 27) What is something most people don't know about you? my heritage isn’t half “Hungarian”, it’s half Hungarian Rroma. (or “Romani”) 28) What makes you feel the happiest? success/praise 29) What store do you shop at most often? the grocery store....? 30) How do you feel about oral? Giving and/or receiving? good on all fronts 31) Do you believe in karma? ehhh sortof 32) Are you single? nope 33) Do you think flowers or candy are a better way to apologize? candy. preferably after an entire dinner of apology 34) Are you a good swimmer? used to be reasonably good. probably not anymore #fat 35) Coffee or Tea? yes. 36) Online shopping or shopping in person? yes. 37) Would you rather be older or younger than your current age? i feel like late-20s is the worst time to ask that. i could go back to being a kid and be happy/carefree; i could go back just a little and re-do college. or i could go forward and have increased credibility/respect in the workforce and a more stable life.  38) Cats or Dogs? dogs. but also cats. 39) Are you a competitive person? depends on the thing, but yes. 40) Do you believe in aliens? yep. #math 41) Do you like dancing? yessss 42) What kind of music to you listen to? all the kinds. seriously: techno, rap, country, indie, classic rock, metal, classical, jazz, you name it I have it 43) What is your favorite cartoon character? Lisa Simpson 44) Where are you from? central Pennsylvania 45) Eat at home or eat out? yep. 46) How much more social are you when you're drunk? quite 47) What was the last thing you bought for yourself? Heritage Classic Sweater 48) Why do you think your followers follow you? i dare not speculate, given how many bs porno blogs follow me 49) How many hours do you sleep at night? seven? 50) What worries you most about the future? Trump 51) If you had a friend that spoke to you the same way you speak to yourself, how long would you be friends? uhhhhh this question makes me uncomfortable. not very long. 52) Are you happy with yourself? sometimes 53) What do you wish you didn't know? the state of the world today 54) What big lesson could people learn from your life? “smash the patriarchy”. or maybe “don’t be afraid to be fuckin weird” 55) If you could live in any home on a television series, what would it be? Fraiser’s 56) What's your favorite Website? why is that Capitalized? 57) What's the habit you're proudest of breaking? smoking cigarettes, i suppose 58) What was your most recent trip of more than 50 miles? home 59) What's the best bargain you've ever found at a garage sale or thrift store? who quantifies that shit 60) What do you order when you eat Chinese food? chicken fried rice 61) If you had to be named after one of the 50 states, which would it be? Arizona 62) If you had to teach a subject to a class, what would it be? religion 63) Favorite kind of chips? salt & vinegar 64) Favorite kind of sandwich? tuna melt 65) Which do you use more often, the dictionary or the thesaurus? thesaurus 66) Have you ever been stung by a bee? yes 67) What's your favorite form of exercise? n/a 68) Are you afraid of heights? nope 69) What's the most memorable class you've ever taken? philosophy of mind 70) What's your favorite breakfast? all the breakfasts. seriously my favorite meal 71) Do you like guacamole? yes quite 72) Have you ever been in a physical fight? yep 73) What/who are you thinking about right now? Claire, who I beat the shit out of for disrespecting my dad 74) Do you like cuddling? yep 75) Are you holding onto something you need to let go of? lots 76) Have you ever experienced one of your biggest fears? yes 77) Favorite city you've been to? Vancouver 78) Would you break the law to save a family member? yes 79) Talk about an embarrassing moment? what? 80) Are there any causes you strongly believe in? women’s rights comes immediately to mind 81) What's the worst injury you've ever had? none have been truly serious 82) Favorite day of the week? if i say Friday am I lame? 83) Do you consider yourself sexually open minded? yep 84) How do you feel about porn? prefer to read than watch, but i’m down 85) Which living celebrity would you like to know? Bernie Sanders 86) Who was your hottest ex? no idea. what? 87) Do you want/have kids? someday 88) Has anyone ever told you that they wanted to marry you? yup 89) Do you get easily distracted? depends on what i’m doing. if i’m focused, no. otherwise probably. 90) Ass or titties? ass 91) What is your favorite word? pulchritudinous #irony 92) How do you feel about tattoos? very good #addicted 93) Do you have any pets? yes. See Answer to Interrogatory No. 24.  94) How tall are you? 5′9 95) How old are you? 28 96) 3 physical features you get complimented on a lot? smile, butt, “figure” #hourglass 97) Is there anything you're really passionate about? many things.  98) Do you have trust issues? not so much 99) Do you believe in love at first sight? lust, sure

#survey #about me

[birdshirt1-blog]

Jöro, Sheffield

Before it comes to the stage of trying the food at Jöro, you'd be forgiven for assuming that a certain Place In Copenhagen features as a significant influence on the way they go about things here in Sheffield. There's the name, of course - Old Norse for 'earth' and pronounced 'yoro' which as a nice ring to it and looks suitably Nordic written down with its umlaut. And then there's the building itself - is there anything more thrustingly modern than a converted shipping container? It's beautifully done, too, without a bad table in the house, each well-spaced and sensitively lit, bringing to mind the industrial aesthetic of another Copenhagen institution Amass. So far, so familiar.

And yet to dismiss Jöro as a Yorkshire Noma is to do it a great disservice. And not only because I thought Noma was far too pleased with its mastery of odd techniques to remember to actually give people a good time (I had a far more enjoyable lunch at Jöro), but because really, superficialities aside, Jöro is very much its own animal, taking just as many cues from Asian, and even traditional Yorkshire, cuisine than anything Scandi.

There's also the question of cost. Our evening began with an apology from front of house - one of the courses out of the tasting menu wasn't available, so instead of the usual 8 for £45, they could offer us 7 for £40. By anyone's standards, a 7-course tasting menu for £40, with a matching wine/cocktail option for an extra £35, is still an utter bargain, and would have been worth the trip up to Sheffield even if the kitchen had been less than competent and the advertised 7 courses been the sum total of the food offered.

Of course, this being Yorkshire where the compulsion to overfeed runs deep in genetic makeup of its people (I should know, my grandmother's family owned a fish and chip shop in Wombwell), Jöro aren't about to let you get away with just eating seven courses. Fully three sets of nibbles preceded the "first" course, a lovely linseed cracker dotted with blobs of cream cheese and beetroot...

...a mouthful of warm black pudding topped with apple sauce, rich and comforting...

...and a completely stunning duck croquette, managing to pack more flavour into this tiny cube of breaded, fried meat than almost any similar nibble I've had the good fortune to try for as long as I can remember. With a deep, almost sour game flavour and perhaps a touch of something alcoholic, it was a seriously impressive bit of work.

First course proper was a pretty 'tomato tartare' showcasing powerful San Marzano tomatoes and fresh summer herbs to great effect. Matched with this was Jöro's take on a Bloody Mary, a tomato consommé and vodka mixture that had an even more overwhelmingly "tomatoey" hit than the food. I don't care how jaded or cynical you try to be, there is no way a glass of clear liquid tasting like the world's finest Bloody Mary isn't going to make you gasp. It certainly did me.

Given that everything else from the kitchens at Jöro was so accomplished, it was very odd - not to mention a bit of a surprise - that the bread was so disappointing. Pappy and dry, it wasn't stale as such - at least I don't think that was the issue - it was just nowhere near as good as it should have been. There must be better bakeries out there - I've heard good things about Forge on Abbeydale Rd - so let's hope the house bread offering gets a makeover some time soon.

Anyway we were soon back on track with the scallops. With neat discs of seafood dressed speckled with vibrant parsley oil, and sprinkled with horseradish and samphire, it was as pretty as it was deceptively complex, all the various summer herbs and dressings combining in such a way as to not have any one stand out but allowing the scallop - cured in elderflower vinegar, which just removed the 'flabbiness' of raw scallop without destroying the freshness - to still be the main flavour.

Similarly barbecued pork neck glazed in some kind of sweet/sour, umami-rich Japanese dressing, its intense flavours cooled by pressed cucumber and texture added with toasted cashews. Japanese flavours featured in several of the courses at Jöro, and although jumping around global cuisines runs the risk of being confusing or disjointed, the sensitive and only occasional use of things like yuzu or dashi at Jöro makes perfect sense. It's also worth pointing out that the wine that this course came matched with, a Riesling I think, very cleverly matched the sugar levels in the pork with just the right amount of sweetness, producing a clean, crisp effect that was quite something.

In this broccoli dish, the vegetable blackened and smokey from the grill, paired with a blob of irresistibly addictive black garlic paste and topped with a generous dusting of very good Vacche Rosse Parmesan. By this point, you'll probably guess, we were having a blast. Inventive, exciting cooking like this, presented with flair and skill by an extremely competent front of house team, doesn't along very often, but the knowledge we were going to be sent home stuffed, drunk and happy for around £70 a head made the whole atmosphere even more giddy. As I scooped up the last of the black garlic I began making plans to rent a flat in Kelham Island and spend long, lazy days in the Fat Cat pub drinking pints of £3.40 local ales.

Next a huge, plump duck breast glazed with local heather honey, with a brilliantly sharp and complex wild blackcurrant sauce, beetroot and al-dente hispi cabbage. If I'm going to be brutal, perhaps not the most flavoursome bird I've ever been asked to eat, but cooked absolutely beautifully and so made up for a little depth of flavour with an utterly charming texture. After the dish was finished, the sauces and oils left on the plate - deep vermilion reds of fruits and meat juices, and emerald green cabbage oils, made the plate resemble a work of modern art.

Pre-dessert (yes, that's the fourth additional 'course' so far for our £40) was a smooth sour cream ice cream topped with summer berries, like a kind of fancy Müller fruit corner. Lovely tableware it came in too, a kind of rough stone bowl softened with frost.

First dessert proper was a brown butter and muscovado parfait on top of what they coyly referred to as 'parkin', a Yorkshire cake that's a kind of soft flapjack. The parfait itself, and the neat spheres of sake-soaked apple on top, were hugely enjoyable and worth the price of admission, but unfortunately the 'parkin' beneath, perhaps because they'd decided to tone down the strong ginger element usually present in parkin, was a bit bland, and the soft texture didn't really sit well. Still, full marks for invention and local colour.

"Yorkshire strawberries and raspberries" turned out to be an incredibly light yoghurt mousse of some kind, studded with dried and frozen fruit and spiked with yuzu. Light, refreshing and summery, it dissolved in the mouth like dairy candy floss, and was another great example of Jöro's mastery of technique. Also, being so insubstantial it was, despite our almost completely sated appetites, incredibly easy to eat, a very welcome thing indeed at this point in the meal.

Incredibly, Jöro decided to gift us with yet one more final flourish - petits fours of summer fruit marshmallows, and very lovely things they were too.

But that, eventually, sadly, was it. The bill, as I keep banging on about, came to £143 total, which included more than enough booze - but the Yorkshire generosity didn't even end at the glasses of Picpoul which our sommellier filled up to about the level of a half pint with a cheeky grin. No, Jöro had one final flourish of northern hospitality up its sleeve - no service charge. So we worked out the usual London % and left it in cash, because they'd earned every last bloody penny.

I don't want to focus too much on the bill though, because I don't want to give the impression that my enjoyment of lunch at Jöro was largely due to the fact I knew I was getting a bargain in contrast to what similar meals would have cost down in Shoreditch or Marylebone. Yes, Jöro is insanely good value - a good 30% less than what they could still charge with a straight face and far less you'd spend at far lesser restaurants, even in Sheffield. But the most important thing about Jöro, in fact the only important thing all said and done, is that they serve some of the finest food in the country, in one of the finest cities in the country, and there's absolutely no way you could eat here and not have the time of your life. So let's just leave it at that.

9/10

Source: http://cheesenbiscuits.blogspot.com/2018/07/joro-sheffield.html

[tammys85]

Survey.

I’ll just apologize to your dashboards now lol. I’m only doing this one, and then I’m gonna get started on my work. ***** .:::A:::.. What’s your current Age? 33. What’s your favorite type of Animal? Dogs, cats, hedgehogs, farm animals, etc. Would you ever join the Army? Nah. Are you Available? I’m single, but that doesn’t mean I’m just available. What’s your favorite kind of Apple? Red. Are you any good at Art? Nahhh. ..:::B:::.. Did you ever watch Barney as a kid? Yes. Do you know anyone named Bob? Nope. Can you blow a Bubble? Yes. Which fast food restaurant has the best Burgers? I don’t eat burgers. What’s your favorite Band? New Kids On The Block. ..:::C:::.. What’s your favorite kind of Cookie? Chocolate chip, Oreos and iced oatmeal. Oh and Christmas sugar cookies. Do you have a Cat? Yes. Do you like Country music? It’s fine. Are you a Caffeine addict? Hmmm, maybe lol. Do you think Clowns are at all scary? Not really. ..:::D:::.. What’s your favorite breed of Dog? Dog. Dog is my favorite breed of dog. Lol. What do you usually get at Dunkin Donuts? I don’t have a “usual” because I don’t go there often. What was your last Dream about? Stuff. Have you ever been on a Diet? Not really, but I’ve cut back on things like soda. What’s your favorite Dessert? I don’t know if I have a favorite. ..:::E:::.. Have you ever ridden an Elephant? No. Eeyore, Piglet or Pooh? Pooh Bear. :) Do you always give Exact change at a restaurant? No. ..:::F:::.. Have you ever been on a Ferry? No. Do you like Ferris wheels? I rode the one in Toys ‘R’ Us (in Times Square) with friends back in 2015, and it was fun, but I doubt I’d do it again because I don’t like heights lol. But I’m glad we did it because it’s not there anymore. Who’s your best Friend? They know who they are. ..:::G:::.. Do you care about your Grades? I’m not in school anymore, but yes, I did. Do you prefer Green or red grapes? Red/purple. Do you wear Glasses? Yes. ..:::H:::.. Who, in your opinion, is the Hottest celebrity? Shawn Michaels, NKOTB and a few more wrestlers lol. Are you Hungry right now? So-so. Why were you last at the Hospital? I was visiting my late Aunt. :( Are you a Health freak? No. ..:::I:::.. What’s your favorite flavor of Ice cream? I don’t have a favorite, or I have too many to name. Could you survive without the Internet? Nahhhh I work from home using the Internet. What three things would you want to have while stranded on an Island? A friend, music and a boat haha. ..:::J:::.. Did you ever own a Jack-in-the-box? No. Do you like Jell-O? Yeah. Do you have a Job? Yeah. ..:::K:::.. Have you ever been Kayaking? Nope. Would you ever Kill someone? If it were in self-defense and I literally had no choice. Otherwise, hell to the no. Do you like Kentucky Fried Chicken? Yeah. ..:::L:::.. Do you prefer Lemons or Limes? I’ve never had a lime so I guess lemons. Is your computer a Laptop or desktop? Laptop, but I used the family desktop sometimes. Do you do your own Laundry? My Momma and I kind of rotate (like we put ours together). Do you think Losing someone’s the worst feeling in the world? Yes. :( I lost my Daddy to Lung Cancer in 2013, and I wouldn’t wish that pain on my worst enemy. ..:::M:::.. What’s your favorite store in the Mall? It depends on the mall. What Month were you born in? January. How much Money do you have in the bank? None of your business. :) ..:::N:::.. Have you ever had Nilla Wafers? Yeah. Do you like Nectarines? I don’t know. Do you bite your Nails? Yeah. ..:::O:::.. Do you like Onions? Depends. What Occupations are you interested in? Mine is fine. Do you know where Ontario is located? Yeah. ..:::P:::.. Do you like the Peanuts? Yes! It’s my favorite cartoon/comic strip. :) Would you ever Parachute off of a plane? No thanks lol. How old are your Parents? Mom is 67 and Daddy would be 68. ..:::Q:::.. Do you know what a Quail is? Yeah. If you could ask any celebrity any Question, what would it be? “When are you coming to the Philly Wahlburgers?!” Lol. Actually, I DID ask him on Twitter, but he never answered and I don’t wanna bug him about it anymore. ..:::R:::.. Do you like the Rain? When it’s warm out, yes. Do you know anyone named Rachel? Yeah. Do you like to Read? Yeah, but sometimes I have to be in the mood for it. ..:::S:::.. What’s the best thing about Summertime? Summer events. What School do or did you go to? Who wants to know? ..:::T:::.. Do you like Tennis? I don’t care either way. Have you ever had surgery on your Teeth? Yes, I had my two bottom wisdom teeth surgically removed a few years ago (the top two were just pulled). ..:::U:::.. What color are your Underwear? Orange. When was the last time you were really Upset? This week; probably Wednesday. ..:::V:::.. Who was your Valentine this year? Family. Do you own a Vest? Somewhere in storage. ..:::W:::.. If you could have one Wish, what would it be? I can’t tell, or it won’t come true. Do you like the Water? Yes and no, but only because I can’t swim lol. ..:::X:::.. Have you ever seen a Xylophone? I’ve seen it in pictures. Have you ever had an X-ray? Yes. ..:::Y:::.. Do you like the color Yellow? It’s fine. What did you do Yesterday? Worked on my writing orders and watched Big Brother. Can you Yo-yo? Nope lol. ..:::Z:::.. Do a Zebra’s stripes go vertical or horizontal? Ummmm..... What’s your Zodiac sign? Capricorn.