#i have cleaned everything and made a fresh pot and am happy to report it no longer tastes/smells odd

[pixeldotgamer]

My life is a sitcom

#random rambles #i have cleaned everything and made a fresh pot and am happy to report it no longer tastes/smells odd

[singeramg]

Ruin Me

Quick little reader insert imagine based off this post. Based off a non-ask...

*Update: Now a full length story! Check out Masterlist for my chapters?*

Pairing:  CEO! Henry Cavill x Female! Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Power imbalance, dom! Henry, sub! reader, fingering, dirty talk...

Song choice: Funny How Time Flies- Meshell Ndegeocello

PART 2 HERE

  “ Y/N can you bring me a cup of coffee...please.”

His voice wasn’t raised but his tone told you all you needed to know. 

He was not happy. Not happy at all. 

He had called you from the phone in his office, not even bothering to call through the door or better yet come to the door himself which he usually did when he needed something from you and was in a good mood. You don’t dwell on it much and you get to your feet, and hustle over to break room to make a fresh pot of coffee. 

It doesn’t take long; you wait the ten minutes to brew, taking note that your coworkers are packing up for the night. You look at the clock and realize you better do the same.

Although you have nowhere special to be the last thing you wanted to do on a Friday night was spend more time at the office. You didn’t complain much, the job wasn’t had for you. You hadn’t been with the company long but you were sure you liked it thus far.

You were Executive Assistant to the CEO of Cavill Industries. a company he started with his brothers years ago and had grown to be a world wide force. Henry Cavill may not have been the eldest brother but he certainly was the most determined and invested of the 5 and more so than any man you had met. This was why they made him the CEO. 

You also thought that had something to do with the fact that he honestly was the best looking brother out of all of them.

The face of the company.

He had to stand out in a crowd, oh and Henry Cavill certainly did.

You could admit to no one but yourself that you had found him extremely attractive during your third and final interview where you finally got to meet him. If he wasn’t your boss, he would be exactly the type of guy you went for in terms of looks. Tall, dark curly hair, a jawline that could cut glass, dazzling smile and  sharp blue eyes that seemed to pinpoint everything 

Including any mistakes you made.

He had made adjusting to this new job hard for you.

Pointing out every mistake, forcing you to redo whole reports that people who got paid a lot more than you should have been doing

But nooooo

He ‘trusted ‘ a.k.a could hover over you while you fixed it.’ causing more late nights and overtime than you cared to think about.

Forget a social life, everything had to be about him.

You had to be everything. 

In your job interview nobody had mentioned you would be basically in charge of his life. 

Dry Cleaning, arranging his groceries to be delivered, you were even his dog walker on the days he brought his cute Akita Kal-El to the office. 

Yea that was totally fun in the heels he forced you into everyday.

You had tried wearing respectable flats after your first week with sore feet and he vetoed that almost immediately. 

Saying it wasn’t “seemly“ and that you were the assistant to the CEO and you should dress like it. Needless to say half of the time you wanted to slap him. The other time you were ridiculously turned on. I mean despite being an ass sometimes he played right into your masochistic streak. The way he spoke to you, wasn’t nasty but it had a very direct way that left no room for arguing or confusion. Just like with the heels. You normally would have argued your point, maybe even seen if he would come to some sort of compromise but you didn’t with him. You just kept the flats in your car and a pair under your desk for when you were sitting at your desk and for the days he was out of office. 

That sort of sneaky was not like you at all. You just preferred to pull off the band-aid so to speak, but Mr. Cavill was not for any of that.

All you said to him when the response he wanted was obvious was a yes sir or no sir. 

You made his coffee just as he liked two cubes of sugar, and a splash of cream. He always would like three extra cubes of sugar on the side, adding the extras depending on how his day had been going. The more sugar added the better his day. You walk as smooth as you can to his office, the large dark door. You don’t bother to knock, sliding open the door to his office, begging your heels not to catch on the floor. You sit his coffee on the desk, to his right, and far enough from his hand that he doesn’t accidentally knock it over. 

You smooth out your black mid length dress, and try not to fidget with your red belt that gives a retro theme to the look, and you even had a red purse and red blazer to wear with it (which you had ditched mid-morning). You slip back out the door when he doesn’t look at you. You pick up the tablet you use to keep track of everything on a mobile basis. You pull up his calendar and head back into the large office. 

The office itself had never intimidated you despite the large solid oak desk in the middle of the room. It felt open because of the floor to ceiling windows that had automatic curtains that came down on command. You actually loved his office despite the fact that you didn't spend a lot of time in it. You re-enter his office, and stand in front of the desk looking down at the calendar.

   “Okay before the day ends I would like to go over your schedule for the weekend.”

He finally looked up at you, his blue eyes giving direct contact, that you couldn’t hold and went back to the glowing tablet, where the sun was starting to set outside. 

  “You have a dinner meeting tonight which starts at 6:30pm; a 30 minute commute time which means you need to be out of here in the next 45 minutes,  if you would like to arrive with your 15 minute grace period as normal.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, then takes off the reading glasses off his face and tosses them on the desk.

  “Continue.”

  “ Not too many things on the agenda for this weekend except for family brunch on Sunday. Your mother requests you arrive on time this time.”

You regulate a smirk to the side of your mouth.

  “I’ve arranged for a bouquet of flowers to be delivered to your house by 9am for you to take over there to her.”

  “I don’t suppose I have any missed messages from today?”

You look at him confused.

  “Ummm....no. Were you expecting a call?”

He sighs and rubs the temples of his head, clearly upset something.

  “No...yes...don’t worry about it. You’ve already arranged for a car for me?”

Yep, he was upset and he was not about to share it with you. You didn’t press him, only prayed it didn’t result in a hell of a clean-up for you later. You had been the bad guy with no less than 4 woman, all of them glaring and spiting nasty vitriol at you when you wouldn’t give them access to Henry. You had seen them all come and go.

  “Yes.”

He looks you over, getting to his feet, walking over to the door you knew to be an en-suite bathroom and keeping his extra changes of clothes.

  “ Do you have any plans for tonight?”

He asks you suddenly and puts you on the spot. You don’t even have a lie to cover up how pitiful your life was, but you had to try. He didn’t need to know you don’t have anything planned tonight but a glass of wine and catching up on your TV shows you missed for all the overtime you’ve been working. 

  “Yes.”

  “Like what?”

He asks almost immediately as if knowing you were lying. You had to try and get out of some crazy overtime he was known for. You didn’t want another late night in the office.

 “Ummm...”

As noted earlier you didn’t think well on the spot. He raises an eyebrow at you.

 “You know I don’t appreciate liars Y/N. Anyhow if you are done lying to me, the meeting for tonight requires a...feminine touch.”

 “Feminine touch?”

You echo. He goes into the closet and you can hear him changing. You try not to think about him behind the wall.

 “Yes. The people I am meeting with require a bit of finesse. The negotiations always go better when we bring our women to the meetings.”

“Soo... would you like me to call someone for you. I can have a dress sent over in their size to smooth the deal over.”

He laughs at you.

  “No. Grab your things and call the car service to get here in 10 minutes.”

  “ What stop the press? Are you putting me out of the office before you for once?”

You quip at him. He comes from around the corner his attire changed into a black button down shirt, left with the top few unbuttoned. He adjusts the sleeves and looks up with you.

  “No you are going with me Y/N and we must hurry, you are going to require another dress.”

  “But...”

  “No buts. I need you and you are wasting time.”

He picks up a black suit jacket, his cologne hitting you with an umpf he walks by you to get to the car...

*********

The dinner had gone great from what you could tell. You saw a whole other side of Henry. One that was only observed under the rarest of occasions. 

At least for you.

Overall you weren’t asked for much, Henry had bought you another black dress only this one was a bit more leggy than you were used to around such important people. Its spaghetti strapped and sweetheart neckline, offering way more cleavage than you would ever consider wearing around him, but Henry had literally come in with you, pulling it from the rack along with a few other choices and this was the tamest all the options he left you. You damn near had a panic attack in the dressing room. The women in the boutique had fixed your hair and makeup in the little amount of time you had, once again at Henry’s behest. You hadn’t be so pulled together since... well you couldn’t remember....

Henry had even been nice to you all evening, but you knew it was all an act, even if your body did respond to the compliments and lingering looks, the smile he would shoot you, he had even let his hands skim across your lower back. 

You did your best not to read into anything. Had even gone along with the little game he was playing, being over sweet, playing with the curls on the nape of his neck, your hands lingering on his arms. Enough to suggest without being outwardly desperate and trashy. You were ever the smiling damsel to his associates, laughing at the jokes, ignoring the sexist comments about your dress or the ‘arm candy’ they referred to you as, despite it pissing you off.

You stayed to yourself most for the ride back to the office, and he stays quiet as well. Only then once the car parks do you realize in your haste earlier you left your keys upstairs. He insists he needs to come up as well to grab some files from his desk. You offer to bring them back down but he insists. You scurry to your desk, not finding them in the drawer where you usually kept your purse. 

You don’t see them. You panic and look for them intensely.

Oh you hoped you didn’t leave them at the boutique where you changed dresses. 

  “Y/N. Could you come in here please? I would like to discuss something with you before you leave.”

He calls to you, the voice losing the soft tone he had with you all night, this only serves to make your blood run cold. Have you done something wrong? Said the wrong thing to the wrong person and cost him millions of dollars? You needed your job, and hoped pretty badly that this wasn’t the end of it.

You honestly couldn’t tell if you missed it or not. You disregard the thoughts you are having and push them back in your mind, offering to sort them out later. Preferably with alcohol nearby. You look into his office and see that he is standing behind his desk. Once you come in, thinking he needed something from you.

  “Close the door.”

You close the door behind you, the lights on a dim shade, enough for you to see but not enough to over power your eyes. 

  “Did you need anything from me, because it’s late and I should be heading home...”

He surprises you by cutting you off in a tone that was even softer than any other time he had used with you before. 

   “I just wanted to say thank you for accompanying me tonight y/n.”

  “You are Welcome. I’m just going to go...”

You smile and turn to leave but his voice stops you with a sharp tone that makes you freeze.

   “Did I say you could leave?”

You feel your face get hot and you turn back around to face him. The lighting only showcasing the angles of his face, making you ever more nervous. 

   “No but Sir it's 12am...”

    “I know what time it is. You are so stubborn all the time. Can’t even take a simple compliment.”

  “I thought you were done.”

You shrug, and immediately regret being so nonchalant with him., his gaze intense.

   “I wasn’t. Now before you interrupted me, I was saying thank you not only because you came with me but for playing your role so effortlessly. I didn’t expect you to be so ...reciprocating to me.”

  “I figured that would be best. How would it appear if you showed up with a staff member we rather than a significant other like the other at the table.”

  “Well your quick and astute observation saved me tonight.”

  “All in a day's work. Now if I can just get out of these heels tonight and maybe into a pedicure tomorrow I will have made this all worth while.”

He surprises you by coming from behind the desk where he had been standing, coming to stand in front of you.

And you cursed yourself because it was back again.

The arousal you fought with every lingering look and touch he gave you tonight. How honeyed his words were with you, combined with the animalistic power you knew was just boiling under the surface. 

  “I have had many secretaries before and none of them take your position as seriously as you do. You put a lot of effort into your job and does not go unnoticed.”

Having him so close was unnerving. Especially when you had his direct attention. You can’t hold eye contact and look down at the floor. Henry touches your chin, his fingers tilt your chin up and you lock eyes. It wasn’t the first time you noticed the space of brown in his left eye, but the first time you were close enough to appreciate it. 

You feel your pulse quickening.

 “I don’t think I told you how beautiful you look tonight.”

He blinks slowly and you don’t breathe at all as his lips move toward your own. He is seconds away from kissing you, tension heavy in the room.

  “Wait....Henry...I just...I Can’t go there.”

You say it out loud and it’s like someone let the air out of your balloon. He lets your face go and looks at you confused, for the first time you see just Henry. Not your boss, not the CEO who always had to be ‘on’ and in charge, you just saw Henry. His face was open and unguarded.

  “It’s not that I don’t want you. It’s just you are my boss...”

Henry moves suddenly, and yet simultaneously time slows as he crashes his lips onto yours. The odd duality of soft, yet firm, calming yet passionate overtakes your mind and short circuits you. His hands are holding the side of your face on one side and behind your neck. His kiss steals what little breath you had away. You almost forget why this would have been such a bad idea but he pulls away.

  “Darling, Didn’t anyone tell you? The boss makes the rules...”

He resumes kissing you and you offer little in the way of resistance as he picks you up, in fact you lock your legs around his waist and he deposits you on top of his desk. Everything you had been feeling for him was bubbling up in that moment. You were caught in being wanted to be treated like silk and wanting to toss him down and take exactly what you wanted in no uncertain terms of hatefucking him for all the jackass behavior he had exhibited since you started 6 months ago. 

You slide his jacket off his broad shoulders, tossing it to the room, igniting the soft thud it makes when the expensive thing lands in a heap on the floor. He pulls your hips toward the edge of the desk and his large hands are hot as they slide up your skirt over trembling thighs and his lips move to your neck. He finds the sensitive spots there quicker than anyone ever had while also moving his fingers to play with your clit through the lining of the black lace panties you were wearing. 

Your breath hitches in your throat and Henry grins against your lips, letting you take a second before he kisses you again. His fingers dance around before latching to the hemline and yanking them with enough force that they are torn from your body. Your hips sting from the pull, but you are more than turned on. You fumble with the buttons on his shirt, and don’t look at the skin revealed, but he doesn’t let you take it off him and instead pushes one of his fingers inside of you, you lewdly moan, and grasp his biceps quickly, having been taken off guard. It wasn’t that you weren’t wet, because you were plenty wet, your now ruined panties had been testament to that, but you had expected more of a playful teasing, but as one of your last coherent thoughts, you knew this man never wasted time. 

He was a do-er... 

And right now he was doing you. The amount of focus and precision he took in his work, pouring over contracts, logs, inventory and the like, he was putting in on you. As his finger moves in and out he is staring at you with such intensity you think you might explode.

  “You are dripping baby girl. Melting right into the palm of my hand to be exact.”

He removes the finger that had been inside of you, raising it to his lips, tasting you from it, and you shudder. He kisses you again, you closing your eyes, then you hear in his deep tone like melted chocolate, luxurious to your ears,

  “Open your eyes and suck them.”

He held two of his fingers and you opened your mouth. He wanted to hold your gaze.

 “Get them nice and wet for me.”

You suck on them, imaging the girth that had been teasing you for months in his sacks, was what was actually in your mouth. You had wanted so badly to taste him and feel him you reach down, palming his obvious erection and you hear him growl. It was your turn to smirk, and as soon as he felt that smirk, he pulled his two fingers from your mouth and thrusts them into you. 

You whimper and the one hand you left on his bicep clenched in, digging into his skin. His fingers glide in and out almost painfully slow. You need faster.You try to move your hips to make him move but he chuckles.

  “That won’t work y/n. We do this at my pace. Be still or I will stop.”

He didn’t go any faster, his movements deliberately slow. You could tell he was getting a kick out this, and you whine again. 

    “Beg kitten.”

He whispers in your ear, his thumb teasing your clit again. 

   “Please.”

He moves a little faster.

  “Come on love. You can do better than that.” Teasing.

  “Please Henry...”

He slaps your thigh with a sharp tap and it sends the zing of arousal.

“That's not what you call me. Try again.”

While your brain is shorting out, you fumble on what he wants from you.

 “I..i don’t know sir...”

He rewards you by speeding up more. Your torso drops backwards, your head follows as you rest back on your elbows, and legs move wider, making your dress bunch up around your hips. 

 “There you go. There’s what I was looking for. Now beg me to make you come.”

You worry your bottom lip, ignoring how your chest heaves, pulling against the black fabric of the dress. 

  “Fuck! Please sir please let me cum.”

  “That’s more like it. Begging me like the dirty little slut you are.”

He speeds up, his fingers curling inside, tapping that spongy space that made your eyes cross and your vision blur. You didn’t think you would like being called a ‘little slut’ but it was more of a turn on than you had ever thought it would be. 

  “Sir let me cum please let me cum.”

His dexterous fingers speed up, his thumb rubbing your clit and you were glad no one else was in the office as your moans echo throughout the room.

  “You want to be my good girl hmmm?”

You nod furiously, the edge of your orgasm coming up rapidly, as your walls begin their tell-tell sign of fluttering.

  “Good girls wait until they have permission. You hold it.”

It was damn near impossible, but you try to focus on anything but how good his fingers feel. He pulls your body back up from the desk with his hand gripping behind your neck. His lips crash on your again, he lingers around your lips you breathe heavily against his lips.

  “I’ll be your good girl!”

You yell.

  “Good. Cum then come for me.”

It’s like the world goes silent and all you can focus on is his fingers as your orgasm pulls you under. It’s an out of body experience where you could hear your moans and groans of Henry’s name, where you were literally shaking, but you could bring yourself down. Destroyed, Henry is whispering praises in your ear. Calling you his and how good you were for him. It doesn’t take long to come back down, but when you do you feel wrung out, and as Henry pulls away, you notice the sheen of fine layered sweat on his forehead. You feel self conscious as he stares down  at you, and without the haze of lust in your eyes it settles in you that your boss just gave you one of the best orgasms of your life and hadn’t even taken off his pants. 

Pants that were currently begging you to be taken off. He begins to chuckle and you realize you’ve been staring at his cock outline, and he was laughing at you. He unbuttons his pants, and finally takes off his shirt the rest of the way, finally revealing the god sculpted body that he clearly worked for.

The look on his face says he is going to ruin you and you are going to like it.

Only then, as he begins to work on the zipper to your dress,  do you look to your left on the desk and see your keys sitting there...

***************

A/n: Hope that was what you were looking for @thiccgeralt​  Hope this met your expectations and thank you! 

I am thinking of coming back to this, but honestly I am waiting until @laketaj24​ finishes her CEO! fic The Rules, because its so freaking wonderful and I don’t want to ruin anything by stealing any thunder with a CEO fic OR Ficlet I would plan on doing. BTW if you haven’t read The Rules then please do yourself a favor a go over to her page and check out all of her work. You will not regret a second of it....

However I am tossing this out to see if there would be any interest in a continuation of this fic. Let me know and as always thank you for reading, re-blogging, and liking!

Henry Cavill Taglist: (OPEN! Let me know if this is something you want on!

@msblkfire84  @magdelen69​ 

#Henry Cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader

[inmyownlittlecorner5]

libera nos a malo chapter 7: rien ne m’est plus, plus ne m’est rien

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 7/20

Trigger warning for discussion of miscarriage in this chapter

libera nos a malo masterpost+

unstoppable force/immovable object masterpost+

<< chapter 6

chapter 8 >>

In the beginning, Lucius had been defiant. His audience may have been small, limited as it was to two-knut Hit Wizards and self-important prison controllers. He’d seen the director once upon his admittance to Azkaban (a skeletal man who’d smelled of onions) but not since. Lucius had sneered at all these little men (mudblood upstarts, half-breed drones, and blood traitors, every last one) and given them to understand in no uncertain terms that he was a Malfoy.

They had been…unimpressed.

His righteous anger had gotten him two weeks on bread and water alone, delivered twice a day through a slot in the wall of his cell by a disembodied and grimy hand. Ten paces by ten paces and lit by one guttering light in the center of the ceiling, the cell was designed to break the strongest of spirits, even without the Dementors soul-devouring help. Lucius didn’t stand a chance. When the first two weeks were up, and he’d been brought a bowl of luke-warm gruel, and he’d been horrified at how good it had tasted.

The great Lucius Malfoy—salivating over gruel.

By the end of the first month, he’d learned to dance to the controllers’ piping. If he was well-behaved, he was allowed a bucket to relieve himself in, and the cell block’s Hit Wizard (a puss-faced buffoon who couldn’t have passed the test to do actual field work if his life depended on it) would vanish the mess twice a day when he brought the food. If he was disobedient or rude in any way, he was denied bucket, sanitation, and gruel. At first he’d been able perform the vanishing and cleaning spells himself, even without his wand. But as the millstone of time had pressed down on him, he’d lost both the ability—and then the will—to do so.

The question of how he’d managed to spectacularly snatch defeat from the jaws of victory tormented him during most of his waking moments. That is, when he wasn’t being tormented by the question of what had happened to his wife and son. For all he knew, they were dead. Perhaps even now they lay in the Malfoy tomb, decaying slowly into dust and slime. Or perhaps they’d been hastily buried in a pauper’s grave, that the name of Malfoy might be blotted out forever.

No, Lucius Malfoy did not require a Dementor guard to drive himself to despair—he dug that trench all on his own.

One day the skeletal director came in to see him (he knew because the man still smelled of onions and it turned his stomach).

“Malfoy, Lucius,” the director said. They were always addressed in this fashion, and Lucius had learned to snap to attention when his name was barked, or he’d be on the receiving end of some sort of lightening charm that was surely the Crucio’s sadistic elder brother.

“Sir.” Stand up. Avoid pain. Keep your gruel.

“Your wife is here to see you.” How strange to hear such momentous news announced with the indifference of a weather report.

“My…wife?”

“Yes. Your wife.” The director’s lips were thin and cruel, and the smile they twisted into made Lucius shiver. “And so appropriate too, it being Valentine’s Day. You may have ten minutes with her once she’s been searched.”

“Searched?” His mind was struggling to process the new stimuli. It had been toiling too long in the well worn paths of misery.

“Yes, searched. We can’t have her trying to slip you a wand, now can we? But chin up, ten minutes might even be long enough for a shag. Not that she’d want to do so on that nasty lump of a bed. Have you been using it for a chamber pot?”

“No sir.”

“I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see you in spite of the smell.”

The thought of Narcissa seeing him as he was now—for he was every bit as vile as the director’s mocking smile implied—was unendurable.

“Sir, please tell her to go home,” he said, his eyes on the floor.

“What did you say?”

“I…don’t want her to see me this way.”

The director was silent for so long that Lucius was sure the man was torturing him on purpose; dragging out the moment before he forced the broken atheling to accept the humiliation of receiving his wife. But when the prisoner dared to glance up at his captor, he saw an understanding in the director’s eyes that made the fiend seem almost human.

“Good man,” the director said; and he left the cell before Lucius had the chance to change his mind.

Afterwards Lucius beat his fists against the wall until they bled freely. When he was too exhausted to continue thus, he fell onto the bed and buried his face in the putrid sheets to weep. When his fury at last was completely spent, he stared up at the ceiling, willing himself to die. But it seemed to him the more he tried to stop his heart, the harder the mutinous organ would beat.

What on earth it would take to convince the stupid thing that nothing had any meaning anymore?

*****

The birds were singing merrily as they leapt from branch to branch. Although the trees were barren yet, the sun was shining with enough vigor to remind the world that spring would soon be coming to uproot winter and return life to the earth. Snowdrops peeked their shy faces through the puddles of melting snow, and here and there an early crocus exploded through the slush, proudly decked in royal purple. People were out and about everywhere with their hats clutched in their hands and their faces turned up to the sky, wishfully believing that it was warmer than the mercury claimed.

All in all, it was a terrible day for a funeral.

Isahak Lal dug his hands deep into the pocket of his robes as he stared at the ground on their way home from the cemetery. It seemed to him that everyone in the world was wandering through Diagon Alley today, and he stubbornly ignored the friendly greetings that the fine day drew from the lips of the unknowing shoppers. He also ignored the condolences that the shopkeepers stepped out of their doors to offer, even when Ammama tried to make him say thank you. Ammama started to scold him, but Appachan gave her a warning look, and maneuvered the boy to walk between them, that he might be spared from the stares of curious eyes.

Dosas was cold and silent today, and there were no sweet smells of onions and spices to greet them as they trudged up to their flat over the restaurant. Isahak dug his hands deeper into his pockets when Father Peter offered him a candle for the purification blessings. He’d already done his duty that day by covering his father’s face with the cloth before burial, and he refused to do anything else. Father Peter didn’t press him.

He did take the jeera when it was offered to him (he knew that Ammama could only be pushed so far) and the seed was as hard and bitter as his heart. He rolled it around on his tongue until the taste was gone, listening to Father Peter stumble over the words to the prayers. Father Skariah was not here to say them the right way, but then, everything was wrong today.

When the prayers were over, they passed a cup of fresh coconut water between them. It was musky and Isahak did not want to drink it—but it was a day for doing things he did not want to do. Appachan sat stiffly in his chair by the fire, his brown eyes as cold and empty as the restaurant downstairs. Isahak wondered if Appachan’s eyes would ever shine again.

At Ammama’s insistence, Father Peter took the other chair and Isahak had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting. That was Achan’s chair, and even if he was never going to sit in it again, what right did this priest have to take it? Ammama tried to pull him down on the sofa with her, but he jerked his arm away and sat far away from her on the very edge. He did not want to be touched or cuddled now.

“Florian will be bringing us a little supper soon, Father,” said Ammama, her voice high and false. “You must stay and have some supper with us.”

“I will, thank you,” Father Peter replied.

Isahak glared at the priest, hating him and his owlish face. Who was he that he should be here on such a day?

“Yes, we’ll have a nice dinner,” Ammama said, brushing her gray hair out of her face. “Florian is a decent cook. He took care of us after Meera died, and he’ll take good care of us now.”

“Florian Fortescue is a fine man,” Father Peter agreed.

“Anita and Dexter must be happy to have a vacation today,” Ammama continued. “No tables to wait or floors to sweep.”

“Nobody is happy today, Ammama,” Isahak muttered.

“What?” Ammama’s lip trembled dangerously, until she gave a laugh as false as her cheerful tone. “Hush, child. You will feel better once you have eaten. And then Appachan will read to you from the little book that you and Achan were reading, and everything will be as good as it can be.”

Isahak could stand it no longer. He sprang from the couch, snatched the little book from the pile on the coffee table, and threw it across the room.

“I am not going to eat, and I am not going to read, and nothing will ever be good again!” he shouted.

“Isahak!” Ammama scolded, but he fled from the room.

“Let him be, Sara,” said Appachan.

Isahak ran to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. He knew that Ammama would leave him alone now, and he threw himself on the bed, punching the pillow and crying angry tears. He did not understand why Achan had died, and he was not sure that anyone else understood it either. It was something that the grown-ups talked about in whispers whenever he went out of the room. Amma had been ill for all of her life, and now he could not remember much more than her smile, and the way she’d smelled of cardamom and cinnamon. But Achan had been strong. It made no sense that he should be fine one day and dead the next.

Eventually he grew tired of punching the pillow, and he got up to close the curtains and block out the afternoon sun. It was the sort of day that Achan would have taken him to Mr Fortescue’s to watch the ice cream being made. It was the sort of day that Achan would have said was made for discovering all the wonders of the world.

But Achan was gone now, and without him, Isahak could not see any use for the world at all.

*****

“Severus, I wasn’t expecting you,” Miranda said cheerfully as she opened the cabin door to the winter night.

“My apologies for the disappointment,” he replied, careful to keep his voice as neutral as possible. It wouldn’t do to startle her yet.

“You’re not disappointing me at all. I’m happy to have an excuse to stop working on the tebo tunic. You wouldn’t believe how much of a pain it is to stitch together.”

She kept up a steady stream of chatter about something called “spring training” as she returned her project to a dress form in the corner by the potions closet. He doubted he would understand what she was yammering on about, even if he’d had the capacity to listen. A woman’s voice keened from the turntable, pleading with someone called Jolene, and he switched it off with an angry flick of one long finger. There was a roaring in his ears that made any extra noise unbearable, and he swatted away the music like a fly.

As she swept her needles and thread from coffee table to sewing box, she glanced up at him curiously.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Define alright,” he replied.

She tilted her head to one side. “Is this going to be a tea conversation, or a whiskey conversation?”

“Why not both?”

“That’s fine,” she agreed slowly. “We can do both.”

She skirted past him to the stove to start the tea, moving as though he were an animal she was trying not to startle. He was unsurprised. Her instincts were superior to those of most of the idiots he had the misfortune of knowing, and despite his efforts at controlling himself, even he could hear the raw edge to his voice. He paced over to the dress form while she gathered the things for whiskey and tea, glaring at the tebo hide draped over it. As soon as Healer A’isha gave Miranda leave, the foolish witch would be out among the werewolves, blithely risking her neck without a care in the world. He ran a hand over the rough hide, and his finger caught on a pin. First blood to Miranda.

“Are you going to join me?” she asked when the drinks were on the table.

They sat down together, and he stared wordlessly at the perfectly brewed mixture of tea and clotted cream in his cup. Earlier in their relationship, she would have peppered him with questions, but now she waited patiently for him to talk. He despised her for making him comfortable, and he despised himself for both desiring and refusing her efforts.

“I’ve had a meeting with Albus,” he said at last. His voice sounded oddly disembodied, even to his own ears.

“A bad one?�� she asked sympathetically.

“To put it mildly.”

“May I ask what happened?”

The chaotic fury whirling in his chest twisted its ugly head towards a single target, and he lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Miranda, what are your thoughts on the subject of trust?”

Her left shoulder tensed, and he knew her guard was up.

“Trust?” she repeated, pulling her cigarette case out of her pocket and fidgeting with it until he plucked it out of her hand. Her eyebrows went up in question, and he smoothly retrieved a pair of cigarettes and lit them with two sharp snaps of his fingers.

“Trust,” he prompted.

“In what context?” Parry.

“An academic one.” Thrust.

“Academically, trust is earned initially by reputation and ultimately by experience.”

“Brava. And, would you say that it is possible to regain trust once it has been lost? Academically speaking, of course.”

One of her stocking-clad feet was tapping on the floor beneath the table, and he poured out a measure of whiskey for them both, leaving the tea to go cold and spoiled. She took a deep drink of the amber liquor, her eyes never leaving his for an instant.

“I think so,” she replied at last.

“Interesting.”

“You disagree?”

“I must admit I have yet to decide. But I find it interesting that you hold such a belief, when you so clearly do not trust me.”

“I’m sorry? I’ve told you many times that I trust you.” Her brow furrowed as she studied him, and then her eyes widened with understanding. “But Albus doesn’t.”

“No. Amusing, is it not? He blathers on to anyone who will listen about my trustworthiness. That I am a changed man and not to be judged by my…youthful indiscretions. No one believes him, not even the Dark Lord. I should have known that this was because he did not believe it himself.”

“What did he do?”

Severus paused to drink deeply from his glass, savoring the way the alcohol burned down to his bilious stomach.

“He’s been closeted with Potter since term began, preparing the boy for some plan that he will not disclose to me. I, one of his greatest assets.I, who have risked my life on his orders time and time again. Instead he confides in a child with no Occlumency skills, and whose powers are mediocre at best.”

“That must be infuriating.”

“In fact it is. Particularly since among my many duties is the task of keeping the boy alive.” His voice began to shake and he fought to control it. “A task that Albus undermines at every turn.”

“I don’t blame you for being upset. I’d be angry too.”

She refilled their glasses, and her left shoulder relaxed. Excellent.

“Yes,” he said ironically, “it is always disappointing when one’s life becomes a lie. A shock no matter how many times it happens.”

“What do you mean?”

How marvelous. Her concern for him disarmed her completely—she was defenseless now.

“You must understand,” he said conspiratorially, “that what I am going to tell you must be kept under the strictest confidence. I would even go so far as to Obliviate you myself if I thought for an instant I could not trust you to keep quiet.”

“I understand.”

Her mind was so open now that, were it not for the wall guarding her, he might have dipped into it without any incantation at all. He could feel her sympathy vibrating out to him. Pity he had no use for it now.

“When the Dark Lord attempted to murder the Potter boy, the child was protected because Lily…” Severus’s voice broke, and it was a moment before he could continue. “Because his mother gave her life to save him. The spell rebounded off the living child to the caster, and it shouldhave killed him. But by some foul trick, the Dark Lord’s soul split—and a piece of it found a new home inside Potter.”

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

“I think it had very little to do with him.”

“But that’s why the Dark Lord was able to come back.”

“Precisely.”

“And that would mean…in order for him to be killed…”

“That the boy must die as well.”

Part of him softened at the sight of her horror, wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms and accept the comfort she would surely give to him, if only he were able to ask for it. But his rage was unstoppable now—a viper poised and ready to strike.

“Severus, I’m so sorry. He shouldn’t have kept that from you.”

She put her hand over his, and this tender touch wounded him more than the Cruciatus ever had. He closed his hand around hers, and sprung the trap he’d laid.

“Are you?” he asked. “I had rather thought your sympathies would lie with Albus.”

“Why would you think that? You know I hate the way that Albus plays with people.”

“How perfectly hypocritical of you. My compliments.”

She tried to pull her hand away, but he refused to let go.

“You’re obviously driving at something specific,” she said angrily. “Why don’t you just spit it out?”

“You do lack an appreciation for subtly. Let me make my meaning plain, then. I do not believe for an instant that you trust me. If you did, youwould have told me about your son Isaac, instead of allowing me to learn of his existence from Catalina Dragnea.”

She wrenched her hand out of his grasp and sprang up from the table.

“Get out,” she ordered.

“No, I don’t believe I shall. When were you planning to tell me about him?” A dark thrill of power joined the fury in his chest. He had her now.

“I wasn’t going to tell you about him ever.”

“As I suspected. You do see how laughable this makes your protestations of trust?”

“I said get out.”

He rose and stalked around the table towards her, a cruel smile playing on his lips. She’d apparently lost the capability of strategizing—retreating until her back was against the door—and he placed a palm on either side of her head, trapping her completely.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded softly.

“It’s not just you,” she said harshly. “I don’t talk about him with anybody. I only told Catalina because she brought up the subject, and even then I only told her enough to get her to shut up about it.”

“You don’t talk about your own son with anybody? What kind of a mother are you?”

A flash of white light exploded between them, throwing him across the room. He stumbled into a bookshelf, sending glassware to the floor where it shattered. Miranda’s magic whipped around her, sparking through her unbound hair as she stormed towards him. She grabbed the front of his frock coat, and pulled him down until they were nose to nose.

“My son is dead you sick fuck,” she spat.

Dear Merlin, what had he done?

“Why did you lie to Dragnea about him?” he demanded, scrambling for purchase as the ground crumbled beneath his feet.

“All I told her was his name, and when he was born.” She made a rasping sound, but no tears came to soften the blow. “And I’d beg your pardon for not wanting to talk—to anyone—about the part where my boy died without ever getting to live at all. Except you haven’t got a heart to give it with.”

“Miranda, I…”

“Shut up! And get out.”

She let go of his coat with a violence that tore free one of the buttons. It clattered to the floor where it lay amid the shards of glass, a testament to an evening’s work well done. For the second time in his life, Severus stood facing the woman he loved, knowing she was wounded, and that he’d been the one to do the wounding. Now, as then, he’d have sold his soul to have unsaid his venomous words. Unfortunately now, as then, the devil was not in a bargaining mood.

He did as he was bid, leaving her without another word, and he wandered for a time along the chalk cliffs by her cabin. The ocean crashed endlessly on the shore, mindless, dark, and vast. At some point during the small hours of the night he returned to his rooms, where the silence was so loud as to ring in his ears. A book of verse lay open on his desk, mocking him with remnants of the morning’s good intentions. He’d been debating copying out a poem for Miranda and tucking it into one of her books for her to discover and perhaps to be pleased by. Then Albus had begged his company on a walk, and by the end of the night, any meaning in his life had burned to ash before his eyes.

Je suis desja d’amour tanné, Ma tres doulce Valentinée,

He closed the book and put it away on the highest shelf, out of sight.

*****

The chapter title (nothing has meaning anymore) is the motto adopted by Valentine of Milan upon the death of her husband, Louis d’Orléans.

Ammama: Grandmother Appachan: Grandfather Achan: Father Amma: Mother jeera: cumin seed

Isahak Lal is the son of Meera and Yakov Lal. You can read their story in all i was doing was breathing.

The spring training Miranda is talking about is, of course, referring to baseball.

The poem on Severus’s desk is A Farewell to Love by Charles, duc D’Orléans, the son of Louis and Valentine. Here is the full poem in English:

I am already sick of love, My very gentle Valentine Since for me you were born too late, And I for you was born too soon. God forgives him who has estranged Me from you for the whole year.

I am already sick of love, My very gentle Valentine. Well might I have suspected That such a destiny, Thus would have happened this day, How much that Love would have commanded.

I am already sick of love, My very gentle Valentine.

*****

libera nos a malo masterpost+

unstoppable force/immovable object masterpost+

<< chapter 6

chapter 8 >>

#snape x oc #ocappreciation #pro snape #snape fanfic #snape fanfiction #severus snape fanfic #severus snape fanfiction #second wizarding war #romance #angst #humor #inmyownlittlecorner5

[the-recusants-sigil]

Hello, hello! Thank you for the warm welcome!! <3 

OK so I absolutely ADORE this idea and I love writing for these four so so much!!  I couldn’t write just a couple of sentences and these turned into novel chapters, so I’m splitting your request into 4 parts. That way, I’m not just dropping a 10K word document on you asfhsfshfhsf

Here is Part 1 of your request- going numerically, that’d be Xigbar!

Thanks again for stopping by, I hope you like this one and the others to come!!

Xigbar

Words: 2388

-The mission started out simply enough. It definitely wasn't anything outlandishly difficult: just track down an overgrown Heartless, eliminate it, and report back. Absolutely no big deal.

-Except it WAS a big fuckin deal. There he was, wandering the Land of Dragons in the dead of winter, on the edge of hypothermia and certainly not thinking straight. Perhaps he was no longer capable of feeling emotions, but frostbite was another story entirely. He knew better than to RTC without finishing  a mission, so here he was,in the dark,  trudging through waist-deep dnowdrifts on a fucking mountain to find this stupid thing.

-Xigbar had been walking since he arrived that morning. In fact, he'd started out in a slightly warmer climate miles away at this point, and he'd briefly pondered taking off his jacket to cool off a bit despite the risks. Now, his teeth chattered violently and he wished with every fiber of his being for a fire. Just a small one, to warm his toes and keep his fingers firmly attached.

-In the faint light of the half-moon, he caught sight of something that stopped him dead in his tracks: a single, enormous footprint.

-Squinting into the darkness, he peered ahead and made out another, and another, heading up the mountain towards a small cluster of coniferous trees up ahead. Ah, shit. More walking.

-Before he could take a single step, a low, rumbling growl came from behind him. The Freeshooter turned, slowly, to face the biggest fucking Heartless he'd ever seen in his life.

-Glistening fangs, beady yellow eyes, twisted horns and inky black scales covered the thing. If he had to guess, Xigbar figured the thing was at least twelve feet tall and built like a tank.

-As he discovered, it was fast, too- even its eyes, glowing bright in the darkness, were impossible to track as the thing closed the distance between the two. It swiped at him with claws like kitchen knives and put him on the defensive immediately. No doubt, the beast had his number; at every point he warped to, it was waiting with jaws wide open, ready to crunch down. It batted him around, tossing him in the air and catching him in its jaws once it had its fun.

-Between the cold and the brutal sneak-attack, Xigbar found his energy fading fast. He raised his only free hand and squeezed his eye shut, focusing the last of his energy on getting somewhere, anywhere, safe.

-......

-....................

-Look, all you were trying to do was keep your head down and out of trouble. There were a lot of vibrant characters in San Fransisco, but all you cared about was doing well at your job and enjoying your ground floor studio apartment. Affordable housing of any kind was a rare luxury in the city, and you'd struck gold with a landlady who just wanted a good, responsible, quiet tenant. For her, you checked all the boxes.

-You certainly weren't looking to get involved with anyone else. Not platonically, not romantically, not even as roommates.

-And yet, here was this man leaned against your trashcan in the alley, bleeding everywhere and groaning. Despite the summer heat, he was dressed way up in a long black trenchcoat (torn to tatters though it was), trousers, knee length boots, and gloves.

-What was his deal?

-You'd never seen a dying person before. OK, so maybe he wasn’t dying. But as it was, if anyone else were to witness him in the alley, in front of your place, bleeding out with only you around, they might assume it was you who did it. Your brain short-circuited and, unable to fully think through the situation, you dragged the man inside your apartment and slid the patio door closed.

-So there you were, panicking inside your studio with an unconscious dying dude bleeding out on the floor. What would your landlord say? Would you ever get your deposit back for damaging the green shag carpet?

-At the very least, you figured you could ask him some questions when he woke up and help him contact the cops, in case he'd lost his phone. In the meantime, you put on a pot of coffee and watched the man sleep, contemplating his features. He was handsome, with nicely tanned skin and long, dark hair shot through with streaks of brown. A deep scar ran the length of one cheek, and the opposite eye was covered with an eyepatch. He sort of looked like an anime convention escapee, you thought, but then again, folks in the city proper were often just like this.

-”Ugghhh....” the man stirred gently, and you jumped. The single remaining eye fluttered open, and you were struck by the color: bright yellow, like your little Volkswagen Beetle parked outside. He glanced around slowly at first before sitting bolt-upright and grimacing. Perhaps he forgot about his injuries.

-”Uh... are you okay?” you asked dumbly. His head whipped around to meet you, and the intensity of his glare instantly made you feel... small.

-”Yeah, definitely, just dandy,” he grunted and waved flippantly in your direction. Steadying himself against the wall, he tried and failed to rise to his feet. The man raised a mangled hand into the air in front of him, ever so briefly, then sighed and let it drop to his side. “Can you... can you maybe tell me where exactly I am?”

-”Uh, I mean- it's, uh. My apartment. San Fransisco? California? Planet Earth?”   You licked your lips and sighed. “I found you in the alley. Did you get hit by a car?”

-”Car? What are you talking about? I don’t know what any of that means. I need to get home. I need to get out of here and report back- OWWWW!” Xigbar yelped as his second failed attempt at standing brought him closer to the ground.

-”No. I don't think so, Mister. You might have a concussion.”At that point, you'd already folded the spare futon down from its hiding spot in the wall and tossed down some spare pillows and blankets.

-“That means lots of rest. I thought they were worse, but your cuts don't actually look horrible. Let's get you cleaned up and laying down, then maybe we can get you an urgent care appointment to look at your head.”

-”No. No doctors.”

-”You religious, or scared or something?”

-”Er- yeah. Somethin' like that.”

-.............

-Xigbar really knew he should have RTC'd as soon as he was able to stand. He should have reported back a week ago. Yet here he was, truly a stranger in a strange land, crashing on this good Samaritan's couch, eating good food, and- for the first time in a really long time- relaxing.

-For him, some peroxide, butterfly bandages and ibuprofen were the trifecta- his wounds cleaned up nicely and the pain was definitely more bearable.

-You called out of work for the week shortly after he woke up, feeding them a line about your brother-in-law dying or some shit; you didn't have one, of course, but nobody had to know that. He told you his name was Xigbar, and that's really all you knew. The dude was tight-lipped to say the least.

-Xigbar went with you on every trip you took. At first, he was pretty wary of your little yellow Bug, but he warmed up to it pretty quickly- at least, until you dumped the clutch and stalled on a hill for the first time. He jumped like he thought the thing was trying to kill him, and you couldn't help but laugh.

-He went with you on trips to the grocery store. You showed him your favorite restaurant (and taught him how to talk to the server like a person rather than a barmaid). He sat next to you on the sofa as you pointed angrily at the TV and complained about some goings-on in your world. He helped you uncork a cheap bottle of Trader Joe's wine, then another, and another, and you ended up talking shit about your coworkers. For you, it was the guy who followed you all over the office and wouldn't leave you alone for anything. Xigbar offered to punch him as a show of gratitude, but you assured him that no, it was really okay, the guy was just a little weird.

-On the other hand, Xigbar's work stories were different. You surmised that his office was comprised entirely of... er, vibrant characters. Like, for instance, the one that ditched work every single day by hanging out in the break room right next to his manager. There was also the “gambling addict in denial”- according to Xigbar-  who had, just a few weeks ago, literally swindled the pants off of a man in a bar. And there was the one who could, and would, electrocute and stab anyone and everyone for the slightest of infractions.

-”Uh, dude. Have you talked to HR?”

-”...What's an 'HR'?”

-”Human Resources, duh!” you sighed dramatically.

-The loud, barking laugh that followed told you that he had not, in fact, talked to HR.

-.........................

-Six days had passed since you'd found Xigbar bleeding all over everything in your alley. Since then he'd improved dramatically, and when you could tell he was feeling well enough to stand on his feet, you decided that his seventh day with you would be devoted to seeing as many tourist attractions as possible together. The guy didn't have any memories, he told you, so you wanted to help him “start fresh” with as many happy ones as possible.

-This was, of course, a total lie: Xigbar remembered everything in his life, he liked to think, with the exception of how he got here. He was totally content to live the lie and continue following you around.

-In just a few days, something about you had grown on him. He couldn't quite place it, but it was something about your smile, your ripostes after his witty comments, the way your hair fell over your face when you slept, your tendency to rant and rave and scream at the endless city traffic... he didn't know what to do. For the first time in a long time, he was at a loss.

-You took him absolutely everywhere you could think of: a boat tour of the bay, a cable car ride up Telegraph Hill, a brief stop for brunch at a local bistro, gift store browsing, and finally a walk across the Golden Gate Bridge to watch the sun set. The roads were more peaceful than they normally were, even for a Sunday evening. Perfect, you thought.

-If Xigbar had a heart it would have been racing: being near him made his mind do backflips and twist itself into knots. He enjoyed being there, but more than he liked the sight of the setting sun, he loved the wind in your hair and the glimmer of joy in your eyes. Those beautiful eyes.... God dammit.

-”Hey, let's take a picture!”

-”Huh??”

-Before he could stop you, you'd produced your phone from your pocket and turned on the camera.

-You held the phone in front of the two of you, snapping a seies of pictures, and drew it close to examine. In all of them, Xigbar smiled even wider than you had- genuinely, not his usual, wolfish grin.

-He has such a nice smile, you thought.

-He peeked over your shoulder at the picture, too, and felt his chest tighten in a way he'd nearly forgotten.

-.......

-After that, Xigbar knew it was time for him to head back. Xemnas would surely drill him about his whereabouts. Xigbar thought it odd that he hadn't seen so much as a single Shadow in his time here. Even if the world was really as bad as you said it was, he supposed that a world yet untouched by darkness must have some kind of hope.

-The minute you got home, you printed out two copies of the picture of the two of you on glossy photo paper, each picture small enough to fit inside a wallet. He took it gratefully from you and turned it over in his hands, the tightness in his chest creeping back.

-”This has been a really great time. Thanks for takin' such great care of me. You really got a knack for it,” he started. Suddenly your chest, too, felt heavy. “But I really oughta get back to my life. Boss Man's gotta be wonderin' about me by now, ya know? Same with yours.”

-”Yeah... I guess so,” you sighed. It had been nice having him around, despite the rocky beginning. Your eyes swept over his lithe figure and settled on his face- angular, ruggedly handsome, and watching you intently for a follow-up to your response.

-”I'm actually going to miss you,” you admitted.  “Who's gonna sass me for running stop signs and stalling on hills? Or talk shit about my coworkers with me? I hope I get to see you again. Please don't be a stranger.”

-He reached forward, fingertips brushing over your face, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You didn't brush him off when he laced his fingers through your hair, and when he pulled you in for a kiss, you grabbed his coat and pulled him in as close as you could.

-He drew away sooner than you would have liked. Than you would have both liked, really.

-”I'll make a point to stop back by, 'kay?” he assured you. With a sad smile, he lifted a hand and was surrounded by wisps of inky black and purple smoke. Just like that, he was gone.

-”W-what?” Wide-eyed, heart racing, you glanced around your apartment and resisted the urge to scream.

-”What the FUCK was that?!”

-.................

-As soon as Xigbar was back within the walls of the castle, he realized he'd fucked up.

-”Aww, shit!” There was no way she hadn’t seen the corridor of darkness, and there wasn’t really a good way to explain it, either.

-Mortified, and more than a little tired, he reached into his pocket and checked to make sure the picture was still there. Xemnas could wait until tomorrow; he'd sleep on his little snafu and figure out what to say the next time he visited you.

#considermeafriend #kh imagine #xigbar x reader #xigbar #organization xiii #kh x reader #i accidentally posted this on my main and had to reformat it all asfkasfhs

[trossy20]

1/24/2019 Millbrae, CA

So I’ve made it! Here we are in CA. West coast is truly the best coast (and yes my boo CO, that includes you too). Currently I’m in the backyard of the house (Airbnb hostel-like place) under their mini gazebo/patio thing. It was cold last night, so the chairs are all dewy, encouraging me to take a sit on the pavement. It’s not particularly warm, but the sun is out and doing it’s thing just right. It’s 0940ish; I woke up around 0900, having gone to bed close to 0100 watching Californication and Big Mouth which, no Matt, it’s not funnier while you’re stoned. I did a double last night at Marvelous Performance, but that would’ve been more impressive at Terra Nova because at this gym, I’m currently partaking in the Fundamentals level. It felt great yesterday though to have done their crossfit-level workout afterward. I’m excited for tonight, which will be another double: fundamentals strength first, HIIT class after. I’m especially excited though, for this thing they’re advertising (and I can’t seem to find any other info on it than what Matt ((one of the coaches)) told me) called something like 6-weeks to Best Self. I met a dude last night who was cool enough to just walk up to me randomly and introduce himself. I liked his energy and he was a similar height, but built! He’s been a member for a year and said he started with the 6 week thing too-- said it’s worth it especially for the nutritional/educational piece. :3 so i gotta get on registering. Imma ask more tonight. There’s an orange and lemon tree back here, with fruit but a bit too early to pick. According to the other residents, there’s also a cherry and apple tree. Our neighbors have persimmons (my like new fav fruit) and figs! Amazing. This place is a little house, longer in length than width, with about 6 bedrooms. Each bedroom has bunkbeds and from what I understand, there’s a single private room? It works though! Yknow, if you’re not OCD about things/not super bugged by messy people… A team comes to clean supposedly twice a week, but the residents report it’s been more so once a week, which isn’t cool because we’re past half capacity. Still, it works. 3 or 4 fridges in total, a kitchen, living room, tiny dining room, a basement with another tv and computers which I can’t figure out if they belong to anyone in particular or not. 3 guitars or more (mine included). A piano. Plenty of bikes (supposedly one is communal, but every one that brought their own bike is willing to share. A poor excuse for a workout bench but it can work. Communal/free laundry soap (feels weird to smell different). And a solid group of misfits. The coffee here is free (As even indicated by a little sign someone made) and there’s nearly always a fresh pot on. I shared a lot of my mush yesterday which is fine because I’m getting help paying for it anyway ty Katherine, and people are getting hooked but now it’s not even gonna last 24H x). Gotta make more today… So being here: It’s been a little disorienting to find my feelings. Today’s the first day that I’m taking a bit of time to create the space. My last day off was a bit of that, but I was so excited and distracted by my mini adventure to Sprouts that I didn’t make a lot of headway for what’s going on up there. I was starting to wonder if there’s much going on at all, just because everything is new and engaging and something’s always happening (even if it’s just netflix or someone playing video games). It’s all too easy to just let the days roll by. I checked in** on Jan 6th, was it? (**got to millbrae a day earlier and Ren gave me crap later for having us sleep in the car and not Elo/Peter’s place hehe). I wonder too, if it was too quick of a transition. I’m slowly allowing the format of my exploration to change. CO was all about meeting people via apps, but here I’ve already fallen into a group and met people way more easily in person ie Marvelous Performace, a friend of a friend, or even work/fellow travelers. As the experience pans out, I’m at least aware that allowing this format to be different is growth in itself. It makes me wonder how the next place might feel. I’ve also started to wonder about extending here… but that remains to be seen. (Been toying with the idea of WA next). There’s a crow that’s been vocal this morning, little finches chirping at a quicker pace, and another bird I don’t recognize all seemingly celebrating the quiet, warm morning. I’ve notifed just now my nose is a tiny bit stuffy, but I can still smell the sweet baked/fried goodies from whatever  bakery nearby. It carries in the wind to pretty impressive distances, but I think we’re close by. My laundry is going so I’m feeling extra productive/not worried about how I should be adventuring right now instead because I need to stick around to move it over/start the next load, and that made me wonder something new: I don’t feel … inquieto. I think that translates to anxious/restless. I always think it’s appropriate to say “be still, my heart,” if one is feeling inquieto, so I guess the translation fits. Still, i think those english words are a bit deceiving. Inquieto in ronnie world is yes, both of those, but fueled by a FOMA type of energy. I’m very aware of my emotional habit of needing to feel productive/busy all the time or else I’ll begin to feel depressed (something to examine later, though I don’t think it’s necessarily unhealthy of a thing. Bagh, but who knows what I’m hiding now), but (rounding back to the Something New) I think that energy is more at peace here, and that’s what’s mainly throwing me off. “Ronnie, what do you want..?” Uhh… Idk! We can always walk to Trader Joe’s or hop on the bus or train somewhere or read.. “Shouldn’t we be out meeting people? Meetups? Destinations? Missions?” Hm. I mean I guess but I rather just ride the bus or train :3 So maybe my social quota is filled already with these rascals. I expressed to Tracy that I was a little worried I’m not worried about it (am I asexual?), when she asked if there were any new love interests. She assured me that that’s totally normal-- we go through phases of course. She went through a 2 year stretch of not even giving that thought because life was just busy. She was doing her, and that was okay. That resonates with me. I guess I have this perception that around my age, everyone should be out socializing/meeting people/flirting/hooking up/getting trashed… but cmon ronnie, was that ever really you? I do find that fun occasionally, but it’s like I’m super happy to be settling more into my grandpa-like tendencies. I think the 8hr shifts have a lot to do with it too: the life I have within these contracts is probably hugely dictated by the shift I signed up for. These 8hr-ers encourage my grandpa trends, encourage a routine, encourage my days off to be restful and adventurous in MY way. In comparison, CO was 12hr-ers, nights, but took up about 4 days a week of my life. The rest of the days? I guess just chillin with Ren XD but it’s still different. Not in a bad way! Maybe I should look into more introspective prompts. Mainly I just try to gauge the degree of my inner FOMA, or trans-dom x) “*knocks on the mental door* Hey, Ronnie? You okay? You wanna do anything in particular?” -I’m good! “*narrow-eyed look* don’t be so quick to respond now, member?” -I know, but really! We could maybe paddleboard-- it’s supposed to be 60 deg today but if we don’t totally cool because that’s a lot of work opening the basement garage and all. Member, we gotta make more food at some point. *shrugs* meetup for ideas? But yeah, no FOMA :3 “Okay.. how you feeling bout dysphoria?” -Decent. I know we’ll have our class tonight. Should probs take a progress photo and that whole 6 week thing.. :) “Worm, cool. I’m thirsty.” It’s restaurant week! Maybe I’ll text that dude and his fiance to join us :3 1040 now, gonna check my laundry, skim meetups, and look into another pair of shoes because I destroyed the active ones……..

#jan2018 #CA2018 #millbrae

[mathiascdaley]

The Singers Chronicles Chapter Two

Chapter One

Ok here is chapter two, sorry for the delay, hope y’all enjoy it. As always feedback is more then welcome and much appreciated.

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Everyone stopped for gas shortly before they got to the bunker. Nichole hummed to herself while she waited with snacks at the register. She could see Jack and Cas sitting in the back of the Impala talking. She still had a hard time seeing past the fact that Jacks’ father was the one that had kidnapped and tortured her for a year. Nichole shook her head clear of the memories. She had forgiven Sam and Dean for her dad's death so she knew she needed to give Jack the benefit of trying.

“I think I found a case, zombies” is what snapped Nichole out of her own head. “A few days ago a pocket watch was sold at a pawn shop; only for it to be discovered that it was buried with the previous owner. They checked the grave and it was empty.” Jack finished.

 “It could just be a graverobber.” Sam added in.

 “Or the dead are rising in Dodge City Kansas.” Nichole’s head whipped to look at Dean and groaned seeing how excited he was.

 “Seriously Dean? Still in love with cowboys then?” She smirked and waited for Dean to fall into the trap.

 “So? Doesn’t matter, it’s still a cool city and we should check it out. All right then, two salty hunters, one half angel kid, and a dude who just came back from the dead. Again. Team Free Will 2.0. Let’s go.”

 “Wow Dean, thanks. So glad I’m included in that now.” Nichole rolled her eyes but started towards Dodge City behind the Impala. Cerberus pawed at her shoulder a few miles outside of Dodge. “What’s a matter boy, hungry?” She passed three pieces of jerky back to him. “We’ll get some better food once we get to the motel,” she promised. Nichole's phone rang startling her. Once she picked it up she heard Dean rattling on about every little thing in the motel. “Hey Sam, I’m almost at the motel.”

 “Great, we got you a room next to ours. I’ll meet you in the parking lot,” was the last thing she heard before Sam hung up and she was pulling into the parking lot. “So you were right. Dean won’t shut up about everything and every person who is somehow related to the ‘glory days’ as Dean calls them.” Sam scoffed while handing Nichole her room key.

 Nichole shook her head and giggled out, “you expect anything else from your brother?”

 “Nope, but there’s always hope. We’re planning on getting dinner and then starting fresh in the morning.” Nichole nodded her head and went into her room. As she shut the door, she sighed, it’s like any other hunt, pull yourself together. As she laid down in bed after dinner, Cerberus curled up next to her and watched the door. His tail thumping against the bed is what lulled her to sleep.

 Loud banging had Nichole jolting up in bed and leveling her pistol at the door. Cerberus’ growling finally got the banging to stop. “Nichole,” Cas’ gruff voice came from the other side of the door, “something’s come up with the case.” Nichole dragged herself out of bed and trudged her way next door through barely open eyes.

 She raised a hand to the boys as one of them mumbled a good morning, her nose already leading to the fresh pot of coffee Dean was pouring out. Nichole was half way to the coffee maker when Dean turned around with two cups in his hands and handed one to her. A slight head nod was all the thanks Dean would get until Nichole had finished her cup of liquid happiness.

 “I told you, they’re angry sleepers. Like bears.” Nichole shot a glare at Cas, but let it go. She knew she wasn’t a morning person and neither was Dean.

 “So there was a Code 3, which means officer down and apparently the officer was covered in bite marks. Alright, Jack and I will head to the graveyard, and you three can hit up the crime scene.” Sam said, sounding a little too awake for Nichole to bear.

 Since Nichole had downed most of her coffee by that point. She was able to get a coherent sentence out, “I’ll take the graveyard with you and Jack. Cas and Dean can go play cowboy,” she finished while walking out of the room. When she went through her clothes she realized she didn’t have a clean suit. And she wasn’t going to trust any of the stores in town to have something. Nichole looked at Cerberus and sighed, “Looks like this is one of the times you get to catch up on some sleep bud. Rest up and we’ll have something for you to track in a little while”. Nichole met the boys outside, “hope you two are ok with taking my car. I’ll wait outside while you go in and speak with the mortician, all my suits are dirty.”

 “Not a problem, do you mind if I drive?” Sam asked, “You can give Jack some pointers on interviewing. He hasn’t done very much of it.”

 “You got yourself a deal Winchester.” Nichole climbed into the back of the car with Jack and started to walk him through how to be able to better present himself as a federal agent. “It boils down to confidence, being able to believe that you have more than you might actually have. Most people are willing to believe you if you believe in yourself. And they'll answer the strange questions that we need to ask to figure out what is going on. So since you seem to learn best while watching let Sam take the lead for now and watch what he does. Sound good kid?”

 “Yes. But I am wondering, why are you being nice to me now? Before it seemed like you hated me.”

 Nichole sighed, “Yeah, and that was my bad. What Lucifer did to me was some messed up shit, and I wasn’t right for a long time afterwards. I stopped hunting responsibly and was more reckless then I care to admit. Because of the choices I made and by not keeping in touch with my family, I wasn’t there when they needed me the most and I wasn’t there for my dad when he died. That is something I still hate about myself. But you had no say in who your dad was and I can’t hold that against you. It’s not fair to you.” Nichole looked up as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She gasped as she saw Jack’s eyes flare with his grace. As his grace faded from his eyes, Nichole could already see the sympathy coming out. “Don’t kid, you don’t need to feel sorry for me. I’m pretty sure torturing me was Lucifer’s second favorite thing to do in his life. But make me a promise, don’t end up like him. Don’t end up enjoying inflicting pain on others.” Jack only nodded as Sam pulled up to the graveyard. “Alright, go get ‘em kid.” Nichole leaned against the car and enjoyed the sunshine on her face while she waited. She wanted nothing more than to push the memories of Lucifer out of her head again. Nichole pulled her phone out and called Dean hoping they would have some clues from the crime scene.

“Hello, Ranger Russell” was Dean's greeting.

 “You still around the locals at the crime scene, there Ranger Russell?”

 “Yes ma’am. Looks like the Deputy was looking into our possible graverobber.” Nichole heard Dean excuse himself from the local PD, “we need to move fast. The Sheriff is on vacation and the Sergeant that's in charge is the Deputy’s uncle. He’s on the warpath.”

 “Ok, I’ll update Sam and Jack once they’re done with the mortician. Be safe Ranger.” Nichole sighed, the last thing they needed was the Sergeant getting in over his head. She spotted Sam and Jack walking out of the building towards her. “So, looks like the local PD might be a small problem. The Deputy that was killed was the nephew of the Sergeant who’s currently in charge.”

 “Great,” Sam sighed, “well the grave is still roped off according to Athena the mortician, so let’s go check it out.” Sam led the way, while Jack was fiddling with an EMF meter.

 “There’s something here, no wait there.” Nichole and Sam both chuckled.

 “You can put that away Jack,” Sam instructed.

 “Yeah, we’re in a graveyard, there is going to be EMF all over this place. But that’s a good thing to practice, kid.” Nichole finished hoping to help wipe the kicked puppy look off of Jack’s face. “Report said that there was damage to the coffin from a rat,” she said as Sam opened the lid on the coffin. “Pretty big rat for that size hole,” Nichole finished with a shudder.

 “Still not a fan of rats Nic?” Sam asked with a smile, Nichole just leveled a glare at him. Sam chuckled and raised his hands in surrender as he turned to the grave. “Alright, here does nothing,” he said as he jumped in. Sam started to move the dirt around that would have been near the hole in the coffin. It took a minute before he started to pull something out of the dirt. Nichole groaned realizing that Sam was holding a human bone with bite marks in it.

 “What is that?” Jack asked.

 “A problem,” Nichole responded, “let’s get back to the motel and fill everyone in on the issues we have now.”

 As they pulled up to the motel, they saw the Impala in the parking lot. Nichole led the way towards the boys room with the bone in her duffle bag. She smiled seeing Cerberus waiting for her inside the boys room.

 “He kept growling through the wall until we went and got him.” Cas let Nichole know. She scratched his heads in greeting as Cas went on, “Did you find anything useful at the grave site?”

 “Yeah, but it’s going to cause a problem.” Sam said as Nichole opened her bag and tossed the bone to Dean.

 “Leftovers.” Dean paused while looking at the bone.

 “Yep, with bite marks. Looks like we’re dealing with another ghoul.” Dean shook his head and tossed the bone back to Nichole, but before she could catch it Cerberus caught it. And walked over to the corner of the room and started chewing on it. “You plan on stopping him, Nichole?” Sam asked with a slight look of disgust.

 Nichole looked at Sam like he had grown three heads of his own. “Aw hell no,” she said, “I plan on going back to my room and grabbing two more bones before a war starts.” When Nichole came back from her room with two more bones, the boys had already changed from their suits.

 “Can I just say I’m getting real sick and tired of fighting things that look like other things?” Dean said opening a beer.

 “You’re telling me, if it wasn’t for you guys showing up when you did a few days ago I’d be a goner. That being said, once we find this thing, I’m letting you guys take the lead. I’ve had enough ghouls for one month.” Nichole retorted back swiping a gulp of Deans beer. “But any ideas where to start looking for the ghoul?”

 “Maybe it’s this Athena from the mortuary.” Cas suggested.

 “It would be smart, she’d have unlimited access to the bodies,” before Sam could continue Dean interrupted him.

 “Yeah, but then why dig up the grave? She could get anything she wanted long before the bodies were buried.” Everyone nodded agreeing with Dean.

 “I found something,” Jack spoke up, “I was tracking the plates from the stolen truck. Here is the city’s traffic camera footage, take a look” he finished showing everyone else the screen. “This is the truck yesterday before the Deputy was killed.”

 “Nice going kid,” Nichole praised Jack, “can you see who’s driving Dean?” she asked him since he was closest to the screen.

 “One second,” Dean answered, as he zoomed in on the driver. “Holy crap,” he uttered, “that’s Dave Mather.” A chorus of who’s was everyone’s response. “Dave Mather. He was a cowboy, outlaw, one of the Dodge city gang,” Dean informed the rest of us while grabbing a picture off the wall. “He was one of the greatest gunslingers like ever. But considering he died back in 1886, he is either immortal, which would be awesome.”

 “Or that would be the ghoul. Now we just need to figure out where he might be before he changes his face, hopefully.” Nichole pointed out.

 “Wait, there was a picture of him from earlier in the mortuary. He’s Athena’s boyfriend.” Jack supplied.

 “Good enough for me, you guys go and see if you can find him. Cerberus and I will wait here while you look for him. I’ll grab some food for everyone to have once you guys get back.” Nichole let them know, taking her shoes off and sitting on the couch since Cerberus was still chewing on the bones. Nichole’s phone ringing an hour later had her looking up from her book. “You guys finish him off yet? I can go get the food now.” she asked Sam.

 “No, look Nic, there was an issue. Jack used his powers and accidentally killed a security guard at the bank the ghoul was robbing. Jack’s pretty upset about it.”

 “Okay,” Nichole responded somberly, “I’ll talk to him once he gets here. See you in a few.” As she hung up the phone she took a deep breath. She remembered the first time her actions led to someone getting hurt on a hunt she was part of, hopefully she could help in some way. Nicholes' attention was pulled to the door a few minutes later when the boys walked in. Jack came and sat by her on the couch, and she did the only thing she could think of by reaching out and grabbing one of his hands and squeezing. Silently letting him know that she was there for him and wasn’t afraid of him. After a few minutes of listening to Sam and Dean murmur to Cas, Cerberus came over and rested two of his heads on Jack’s lap and gave Nichole the last one causing her to chuckle and start petting Cerberus’ head.

 “Jack,” Cas’s voice startled the somber silence that had fallen over Jack and Nichole, “Sam and I are going to take you back to the bunker. Dean and Nichole will finish out the hunt.”

 Nichole nodded, “Here take my car,” she tossed the keys at Sam.

 “What about Cerberus?” Cas asked, looking at the hellhound who had moved all of his heads to Jack's lap since Nichole had stood up.

 “Cerberus,” Nichole said, and the hellhound turned one of his heads to look at her. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Seems like he has deemed Dean reasonable enough protection for tonight. I don’t think he wants to leave the kids side.” Cas nodded and grabbed the rest of their stuff.

 “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go kill a gunslinger.” Dean said with just a little too much enthusiasm for Nicholes' liking. A little while later they were pulling up to the mortuary, only to see the Sergeant waiting outside.

 “Y’all here looking for someone? The bank in town was robbed earlier, turned into a O.K. Corral type of deal. The clerk recognized the voice as the fella that’s been dating Athena.”

 “Sounds like a good lead Sarge.”

 “We got the prints back from the murder, they matched prints from the bank. Already checked his place, and he wasn’t there. Figured he wouldn’t go anywhere without his best girl. That’s why I’m here, why are y’all here?” The Sergeant finished glaring over to you.

 “I’m Ranger Blake, I was on another case when I got the call from Ranger Russell that my perp was possibly behind the grave robbery here.” Nichole introduced herself while Dean nodded along, “We’re here for the same reason, to get the bad guy. Badge in the truck Sarge?”

 “Don’t need one. This is family business,” was his curt reply.

 “We don’t plan on taking him alive, Sarge.” Dean said, trying to give him a way out.

 “Good, neither am I,” was the Sergeant’s only reply. Nichole smirked, liking the old cop already.

 Dean looked between the Sergeant and Nichole, “All right then. Let’s go, oh and Sarge, aim for the head,” was Dean's response before leading everyone through the graveyard. They were close to a few mausoleums before a rustling and something moving way too quickly caught the Sergeants eye. Nichole nodded to Dean and they both split up, going around the mausoleum, with the Sergeant following Nichole. Once they got the other side they went to start moving a little closer, “We’ll flush him out, you stay over there Sarge.” Dean’s voice cut through the silence in the graveyard. As they started walking away from the Sergeant there was a rumbling that kept getting louder, they whipped around just in time to hear the Sergeant scream and be pulled under ground.

 “Crap,” Nichole exclaimed.

 “Sarge!” Dean shouted. Walking over to the hole, Dean shined his flashlight down, “Aw hell,” he said peering in, and getting down to the ground to follow the tunnel. “Ok, yep. No, no I don’t wanna. Nope I can’t,” Dean finished and started to get back to his feet.

 Nichole sighed and shook her head, “Yep you can,” she stated as she decided for Dean and nudged him into the hole. “You follow the tunnel underground and I’ll go back to the mortuary and see if I can find Athena.”

 “Fine, ok. I would have gotten down here on my own. No need to push me in,” Dean fired back. Nichole was already walking away on high alert to anything out of place and hoping the ghoul wasn’t about to jump out from the shadows. She made it back to the building without running into the ghoul. As she crept into the mortuary she could hear voices coming from the basement. Please, let that be the ghoul she thought to herself. As she quietly came down the stairs, she stopped before she got to the landing. Hoping she could piece together what was going on before she stepped into it.

 “Or what?” Dean asked.

 “I put a bullet right between your eyes. What’d you think was gonna happen? You got no gun, not that it matters anyway.” Nichole took the final step down to the landing and nodded at Dean, “You ain’t fast enough.” the ghoul finished.

 Dean smirked, “No, but she is,” and quickly ducked while Nichole shot the ghoul from the landing.

 “Sorry for taking your shot away Sarge.” Nichole stated untying Athena from the chair. Dean helped the Sergeant up.

 “Not a problem, he’s dead. That was all that mattered to me.” Nichole nodded to him and walked upstairs with Athena.

 “Not bad for our first case together,” Dean said while driving them home to the bunker. “You aren’t as rusty as I thought you might be.”

 “Why would I be rusty Dean?” Nichole cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to dig himself out of the hole he had just dug.

 “You’ve been fighting with a three headed hellhound for a while. It’s different when you don’t have that heavy of a hitter on your team. You know that,” Dean tried to back peddle.

 “Yeah, ok. At least I remember basic first aid. Not everyone has a walking insta-heal on their team.” Nichole challenged back.

 “Point taken. Let’s go home.” Dean and Nichole sat in silence the rest of the way to the bunker. “I know it’s not much, but it’s cooler on the inside,” Dean stated as they pulled up to the bunker and were walking down the steps to the door.

 “How’d it go?” Sam asked as soon as the pair stepped through the door.

 “As it should have,” Nichole answered, greeting Cerberus who was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, “killed the bad guy, saved the girl.”

 “And the other thing?”

 Dean nodded, “Yeah, took care of that too.”

 “Good.” Sam responded.

 “Good? How is that good? Who was he? What was his name? Did he have a family?” Jack exploded from the table.

 “Jack, don’t do that to yourself.” Cas tried to stop him.

 “No, I don’t want anyone to say anything. You are all afraid of me. Maybe I’m just another monster.”

 Nichole stepped forward. “No Jack, you aren’t. Everyone here has done something we regret. Hell we also regret not having done something sometimes. But you are not a monster and no one is afraid of you.”

 “She's right kid,” Dean stepped closer to Jack, “At first, yeah. I was afraid of you, I thought you’d be another monster. But now no. Look we’ve all done bad, we all have blood on our hands, it’s a crappy side effect of the job sometimes. So if you’re a monster, so are we.”

 “I don’t know what I am. I can’t make the world a better place like this. And if I stay, I’m going to hurt one of you and I can’t do that. Your family, my family. The only family I have. I have to go. I’m sorry.” Before anyone could stop him, he raised his hand and knocked everyone but Nichole out. She looked around confused. “I saw what Lucifer did to you, I won’t use my grace on you like that. Please help them to understand that I’m only trying to protect everyone. I’ll come back once I think it’s safe. Good bye Nichole.” Jack waited until she nodded and then left. Nichole slowly sat down and waited for the boys to come to.

 “Jack!” Cas yelled as he woke up with Sam and Dean waking up right after.

 “He’s gone. Vanished maybe 10 minutes ago.” Nichole informed them and walked away in search of a bed so she could rest with Cerberus following close behind.

#supernatural #fanfic #thesingerchronicles #part two #sam winchester #dean winchester #original character

[adenil-umano]

spones with Spock's vulcan lyre?

[Also on AO3.

Prompts // Patreon // Ko-Fi]

The night the end of the world rained down upon his ears Leonard was sleeping fitfully on a cot in the break room.

It began first with sirens. Long accustomed to hearing the comings and goings of emergency vehicles Leonard paid no mind until the first detonation struck. It shook the building and he tumbled from bed, half-asleep. Dust collected in his hair at the second detonation.

He went to his patients because he had nowhere else to go. He stood over them, comforted them, protected them, and then finally when the hospital began to shake and fill with smoke he wheeled them out one after another after another. People who were more than just their broken bones, stitched bellies, bandaged heads. Who were more than the crying of panic and the screams of terror. He went back in. He came out with an old woman who fell to the ground beside a young man with a broken leg. They could not have met previously, yet they clung to one another with a fervent need. The building burned and his lungs filled with black smoke. He went back in. He came out. He went back in.

He did not come out.

Later, much later, when running made his lungs scream in agony he would blame this smoke.

He awoke the morning after the end of his world to cool hands on his forehead. A damp cloth. A pool of water at the corner of his eye. The hands brushed hesitantly over the soft skin lidding his eye, wiping away the smoke residue that still clung there.

Leonard was too weak to move and so he lay there, listening. He could hear the figure moving. The cloth plunged in water. The torrential downpour as it was wrung clean. Then the shuffling movement and the hesitant breathing of his savior.

He opened his eyes.

The other man was not human. He was Romulan, as far as Leonard could tell. He’d only ever seen pictures of them–grainy and blurry at bad angles. But the ears. The ears told the story. The man merely looked at him and said nothing.

He closed his eyes again and thought, I’m going to die.

His second breach of consciousness on the disturbingly sunny afternoon of that first day of the new broken world was quite different.

The Romulan made him sit up and drink a cup of water. “Did you nurse me back to health just so you could poison me?”

The Romulan arched an eyebrow. “It is no poison. If I wished for you to die there would be more logical ways to accomplish such a goal.”

Leonard had to agree and so he sipped from the tin camping cup. Now that he was semi-vertical he could look around at where he’d found himself and he didn’t like what he saw.

They were in a hollowed-out shell of a burnt building. At first Leonard assumed it was the hospital, but the look of it was all wrong. This was a house, he realized, a house which must have burned far longer ago than last night. The roof was cave in and at certain points Leonard could see plants and grass poking through the soot layering the ground. A stream of sunlight fell through the slotted beams of the roof and Leonard had the sudden thought that somewhere in the galaxy people were happy. Somewhere someone was getting married, or singing, or dancing. But not here.

“What is this place?”

The Romulan looked about as if he had never noticed the building before. “My home.”

“Uh-huh. What are you, Romulan? Some kind of leftover from the attack? We must have gotten a few shots back at your armada.”

“I am certain Earth’s defenses did indeed return fire, but it is unlikely they were successful in destroying even a fraction of the armada. Regardless, I am not a Romulan.”

“Those things you call ears beg to differ.”

He reached up and touched one. “I understand your error. I am a Vulcan.”

“Never heard of ‘em.”

“We are an insular species. We do not have your warp capability. Now, rest.” He pushed Leonard back to lying down. “I will explain everything later.”

Leonard wanted to argue but he was already exhausted and winded from just their brief conversation. He told himself he wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t let his guard down, and he was still telling himself that when he woke later up that evening.

Spock was his name. He gave Leonard that much, but his promise to explain everything never materialized.

“We must leave this place,” Spock said. “Romulan foot soldiers are sweeping the area.”

“Now wait a minute! I’m not going anywhere until you get to explaining what’s going on.”

“I do not know why the Romulans chose this moment to break the treaty.” Spock was packing a backpack with his supplies: a first aid kit, camping pots and pans, a stove, some food packs, a sleeping bag. “If you are referring to how I brought you here, I went to the hospital to seek medical aid. When the strike hit I was there.”

“Medical aid? Are you hurt?” In spite of himself, Leonard scanned Spock for any sign of injury. He couldn’t see anything, but who could tell with a Romulan–or a Vulcan, if that’s what he wanted to call himself.

“I am not. The need for a doctor has passed. Now please, we must leave.”

Leonard could tell Spock was about to leave without him and so he scrambled to his feet. Spock shouldered the backpack and then picked up another large black plastic case and swung it over his shoulder. Leonard wasn’t sure what was inside it, but it must have been important judging by the way Spock protectively curled one arm around it.

They ducked through the broken door frame and Leonard squinted in the half-light of the moon. They were in the woods. He didn’t really know the surrounding landscape of the city, but he knew that the woods were pretty far off. There was a dilapidated car in the driveway and Spock began to fill it with gasoline from a red container. And to the left of that was—

Leonard blinked. Fresh dirt, recently overturned. Perhaps five feet of soil. Someone was buried there.

The person formerly needing a doctor? Or something more insidious? And how had they died, anyway?

He was starting to grow more uncomfortable with the situation but he didn’t know what else to do but follow Spock into the car. There was a war on and he didn’t know where he was. He had no food and just his grimey, stinky scrubs between him and the elements. He basically had to follow Spock if he wanted to stay alive. He would keep an eye out for escape, but for now he couldn’t risk just running.

Car gassed, they loaded up, and it took Spock three tries to get the engine to turn over. The world had moved on to shuttlecars decades ago but the streets were still passable if you drove slow. At least, Leonard thought, the Romulans probably wouldn’t be looking for cars.

Spock took them into the night. He rolled down the windows so the air fluttered in, drying out Leonard’s eyes and leaving him cranky. But he could tell Spock was listening with those long ears of his; listening for foot soldiers or passing airships. Maybe Spock was a defector, Leonard thought. Or maybe it was a trap.

He trailed his fingers through the passing air outside the car, letting the wind catch the palm of his hand. Leonard thought of the fins of a shuttlecar and wondered when Earth’s counterattack would begin. He hadn’t seen anything yet.

They drove until the sun peeked above the horizon and then Spock drove the car into the ditch. The two of them piled tree branches over it. It wouldn’t fool a foot soldier, but from the air they were camouflaged. Then Spock started a fire in his camping stove and rehydrated some eggs.

Leonard watched Spock eat first and wondered if Romulans could be poisoned as easily as humans. But he was hungry, and so far Spock hadn’t tried to harm him. He decided to eat, tucking away with haste once he had his first taste. He hadn’t eaten in almost two days, he realized. He was starving.

“Tell me why you were at the hospital.”

Spock looked at him, and then away. “As I told you, I was seeking medical assistance.”

“Someone died.”

“Yes.”

Spock wouldn’t say anything more. When Leonard pressed him he merely got up and crawled into the back of the car. He lay down on the seat and held the black plastic case against his chest. Leonard left him alone.

He tried to walk away but there was no where to go. They were deep in the middle of nowhere. Once he saw a vehicle pass overhead and he thought about waving to it, but instead he hid. Better the devil he knew, he thought. He walked back to the car and napped fitfully in the front seat. He wondered if the old woman had gotten away. He thought about Jocelyn and Joanna, three states away. He wondered if Spock would take him there if he asked.

When Spock woke up he did ask. Spock didn’t answer, but Leonard was pretty sure they started heading a different direction once night fell.

When they crossed state lines they got their first radio signal.

Leonard hadn’t even realized the radio was on. It must have been dialed too low for him to hear. But suddenly Spock pulled over to the side of the road and turned up the knob and a grainy voice filtered in.

“–vivors recommended to take to the countryside. There are better chances of survival there. If you’re caught in a city and someone says they have heard of an evacuation plan do not listen. Repeat: do not follow anyone who claims there is an official evacuation. There has been no official word from the Federation or Starfleet regarding evacuation. Rumors of evacuation may be a Romulan plot intended to—”

Spock pulled back onto the road and they listened to the dire report on constant repeat until the voice faded out again, some three hundred miles later.

“Maybe he was lying,” Leonard said, mostly to himself.

“It is possible.”

Leonard turned to look at Spock’s profile, sharp and distinct in the darkness. Spock drove without lights and claimed his vision was superior. Leonard hoped to hell he didn’t drive them right into an ambush. “You’d know, wouldn’t you?”

“As I have said I am not Romulan.”

“Then why do you look exactly like them?”

Spock was quiet for so long that Leonard thought he’d gone mute again. But then, “I do not know.”

They left it at that.

They crossed into Georgia just as the sun rose and had to quickly find a spot to make camp. They parked the car behind a burnt-out farmhouse and hoped no Romulans came to check that the job was done.

Leonard was afraid to look inside the house but he couldn’t stop staring at it. “What do they want with us?”

“Slaves, most likely. Romulans are not known for colonizing even conquered planets.”

Leonard spun around. “You shut your mouth!”

Spock blinked. “You asked, Doctor.”

“We aren’t conquered, you son of a bitch!”

Spock winced bodily. “Your people are dead.”

Leonard swung at him. Spock barely dodged, but the second swing didn’t come as much of a surprise to him. He caught Leonard’s arm and twisted it, and Leonard screamed in his face, cursed at him, tried to bite him. He tried to kick Spock and Spock knocked his legs out from under him and they went down in a tangle of limbs. They scuffled in the dirt until Spock had him pinned to the ground and Leonard realized he was sobbing.

Spock held him tightly, but they were no longer fighting. “I know,” he said. “Nam'uh hayal. Ni'droi'ik nar-tor, tushah nash-veh k'odu, ni'droi'ik nar-tor.”

Leonard didn’t understand what was happening. He sobbed into Spock’s shirt as Spock rocked him, muttering into his hair those alien words again and again.

Tushah nash-veh k'odu. Ni'droi'ik nar-tor.

He awoke later in the backseat of the car. He cracked open his eyes and saw Spock sitting in the passenger’s seat, the black plastic case on his lap. Spock ran his hands over the cracked plastic, long fingers catching on the indentations. Leonard closed his eyes again, exhausted. He slept.

They had not seen an air vehicle since the one Leonard had spotted their first night on the run. Leonard thought this was a good sign. Spock told him that the Romulans had likely taken all the slaves they could and would leave the rest of Earth to pick up the pieces so that they might return later, perhaps in one hundred years or so.

Leonard was too tired to argue.

When they arrived in Atlanta Leonard refused to let himself hope. The road here was less passable, and it took Spock several hours to pick his way around the city to the suburban sprawl just on the other side. There Leonard realized he was a fool. He had let himself hope.

There was nothing for them there. Not a person in sight. No signs of human life. Each identical house stood empty, hollowed out. They parked beside Jocelyn’s house and Leonard stepped out of the car. His feet carried him automatically up the walk. The door was ajar.

He stepped inside. “Jocelyn? Joanna?”

Silence.

He searched the house with Spock trailing behind him like a damned shadow. Joanna’s room was like a snapshot in time. As though she’d just stepped out to see her friends. The bed was unmade. There was an open textbook on her desk. On the wall was a poster of that ustart Commander Kirk that was always making the news. Leonard had hoped that meant she’d pursue a career in Starfleet someday; more likely, it was because fourteen-year-olds thought space travel was romantic.

He tore the poster off the wall. His heart thudded against his chest as he shredded it, fingernails digging against plaster, and then he stared in horror at what he’d done. He’d destroyed Joanna’s poster. She loved that poster.

Leonard was suddenly outside, heaving into the bushes. He felt a hand on the back of his neck, soft fingers gently rubbing. Soothing him. He gasped for breath and sobbed as Spock curled around him, holding him and rocking him. Weak, Leonard turned into him and held back as hard as he could. The touch was violent; he would have hurt Spock if he could. But Spock was impervious to his anger.

Spock lead him to one of the deck chairs and helped him sit down. Softly, Spock brushed his hair from his face. His touch lingered as though he were crudely checking Leonard’s temperature.

“I’m a mess,” Leonard said.

Spock tilted his head to one side, quizzical. “I am sorry they are not here.”

Leonard gasped. He sucked in a deep breath. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

“I will get you some water. I will be back in less than a minute.”

Leonard watched him go, counting the seconds until he’d need to start panicking. The counting distracted him just enough that the gaping darkness inside him close for a brief moment.

Spock returned in fifty seconds.

He had his backpack and his plastic case. He set both down and rooted through the backpack, coming up with a bottle of water and a tin cup. He offered it to Leonard and Leonard guzzled it in one long swallow.

Leonard swiped at his face with his sleeve. “Spock, I need you to tell me something.”

Spock tipped his head to the side again as though he needed to focus all his energy into listening. “Yes?”

“What’s in that case?”

Slowly, Spock turned and looked at it. He was always carrying that damn thing around like he was terrified of losing it, but now he seemed terrified that it existed. His eyes were wide with concern. He didn’t say anything.

“Don’t close up on me,” Leonard begged. “Please, Spock. Not now.”

A moment of deafening silence, then another, and then Spock shook himself. He pulled the case over and opened it.

It was an instrument.

Spock didn’t take it out of the case. Leonard reached out and touched the strings, his pinky catching against one and drawing out one haunting vibration. The note hung in the air for longer than seemed possible. An echo.

“Do you play?”

“Not anymore.” Spock closed the case decisively. “It was my mother who always encouraged me.”

“Is she…” Leonard trailed off, unable to complete his sentence. He didn’t need to. The look on Spock’s face told him enough. He reached out and took Spock’s hand. Spock was hot to the touch. “I’m sorry.”

“As am I.”

Leonard swallowed heavily. “We should… Can we get out of here?”

Spock nodded. They gathered up their things and packed up the car. Spock disappeared into the house and came out again carrying several bottles of water and a bag filled with canned food. Leonard didn’t have the energy to protest that Jocelyn and Joanna might need that. He just watched Spock place them in the trunk and slam the door shut.

The pulled back onto the road and Leonard let his arm trail out of the car, fingers dancing through the air. He looked up at the starry night sky and wondered if there was anyone up there having a good day.

He hoped so. He closed his eyes, and slept.

#spones #spock #leonard mccoy #adenil writes #post-apocalypse #romulans #au where Vulcans never came to Earth during the warp tests

[zarbakht-bilal]

Hello beautiful souls,

I hope you all are as charming as always and cherishing your life to bits 🙂 I am here with a new article that I’ve been wondering to write on for the past two days. This is about how you can surround yourself with positive vibes all the time without being bored, lazy and depressed. So without any further delay, let’s dive into the blog ❤

1. Keep your space clean:

Be it your room, personal study, working space, or research cubicle, make sure you keep your space neat, clean, and organized.

A study led by associate professor Nicole R. Keith, Ph.D., research scientist and professor at Indiana University, found that people with clean houses are healthier than people with messy houses. Keith and her colleagues tracked the physical health of 998 African Americans between the ages of 49 and 65, a demographic known to be at an increased risk for heart disease. Participants who kept their homes clean were healthier and more active than those who didn’t. In fact, house cleanliness was even more of a predictor for physical health than neighborhood walkability.

A 2010 study published in the scientific journal Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin used linguistic analysis software to measure the way 60 individuals discussed their homes. Women who described their living spaces as “cluttered” or full of “unfinished projects” were more likely to be depressed and fatigued than women who described their homes as “restful” and “restorative.” The researchers also found that women with cluttered homes expressed higher levels of the stress hormone cortisol.

In 2011, researchers at Princeton University found that clutter can actually make it more difficult to focus on a particular task. Specifically, they found that the visual cortex can be overwhelmed by task-irrelevant objects, making it harder to allocate attention and complete tasks efficiently.

A survey conducted by the National Sleep Foundation found that people who make their beds every morning are 19 percent more likely to report regularly getting a good night’s sleep. People who were surveyed also reported benefits from having clean sheets — specifically, 75 percent of people said they get a better night’s rest when their sheets are freshly cleaned because they feel more comfortable. (Psychology Today, 2016)

 2. Organize Yourself:

Organizing yourself is the easiest thing in this world to do right now. In this modern era of technology where people are becoming quite organized and sensible day by day, it is very easy to get planners, and organizers from different websites and online stores. Planners give you a next-level sense of responsibility and future planning.

From to-dos to the grocery list, from tasks to homework, from house chores to paying bills, from class schedules to birthday reminders, everything can be penned-down in a single notebook that you can proudly call as your planner. I decorated a beautiful planner in last winter vacations and am using it successfully since then. I also implemented several creative ideas like my yearly transformation to track down my fashion sense and photography skills enhancement. I will stick a fresh picture ate the end of every month below the respective month name. Also, I created a birthday tracker of my friends and family that helped me in reminding the birthdays of my friends which I always forget otherwise, thus earning much disappointment.

3. Time for a Change:

I don’t know about others, but a lot of Asians seems to have this particular habit of keeping the old things for years while purchasing new things simultaneously. It is totally understandable that some things are very dear to us and we cherish them forever, but we shall keep this in mind that:

A change is always beautiful!

Have an old rose-flower pot on your study for two years? Time to replace it with new crystal crockery with fresh lilies instead. Have a vintage wallpaper in your room for too long? Why not try a summer color this time? Have a cute cactus by your bedside? Let’s bring a sunflower pot in its place this season. Been sipping on this bright red mug all winters? The whole supermarket is filled with beautiful new mugs in pastel colors that you are absolutely going to love. Replacing old things with new ones always help to rejuvenate your mind and keeping your soul alive. Whereas, decluttering the old stuff is important to avoid mess and useless cluttering. It is true that old is gold, but a fresh change always motivates us to do something beautiful and unique. A change always helps us in making miracles happen. 

4. Green heals the soul:

Color psychology suggests that different colors can evoke psychological reactions. For example, color is often thought to have an impact on moods and emotions. Sometimes these reactions are related to the intensity of a color, while in other cases they are the product of experience and cultural influences.

How does the color green make you feel? For many people, it has strong associations with nature and immediately brings to mind the lush green of grass, trees, and forests. Perhaps because green is so heavily associated with nature, it is often described as a refreshing and tranquil color.

“Green, which is Nature’s colour, is restful, soothing, cheerful, and health-giving.”          – Paul Brunton

According to color psychology, green is a color of balance and harmony which is very important to keep your mind and thoughts intact while living. The green color is reported to give you a sense of fresh start and a punch of positive thoughts and ideas every morning. To inculcate green in your environment, you can go from minimal to grandeur. From keeping a cactus on your bedside to raising a palm tree in your garden, from hanging a spider plant in your window to growing a dragon tree in your living room, you can surround yourself with the greens, and ultimately attracting the positive aura.

  Green is a color that can evoke powerful emotions. It is a dominant color in nature that makes you think of growth. Think of nature and see the incredible variety of shades of green expressing renewal and life. Green evokes a feeling of abundance and is associated with refreshment and peace, rest and security.  Green helps people feel rested and secure. People are invited to wait in the “green room” before going on camera to relax. Many doctors even use green in their offices to put patients at ease. Green encourages a balance in your brain that leads to decisiveness. However, green may also be perceived negatively when associated with materialism, envy, and possessiveness (Christi Wharton, 2019). 

5. Do not argue about un-knowledgeable things:

It is the most common behavior of us humans that we have to participate in almost everything even if we are unacquainted by the context and background knowledge. I have learned this thing from my personal experience actually!

A lot of the times, if some controversy breaks out, we all become the scholars and start judging or defending a certain party without knowing the whole story, and without analyzing both sides. This behavior is spreading 99% of the negativity in this world today. What actually happens is that when we start a social media fight without complete knowledge, and somebody else (who is acknowledged and learned) confronts us, we, unable to defend our claim start being intolerant by bad-mouthing, hating and criticizing the character of the other person. Such a situation creates a very destructive atmosphere where we learn nothing but extremism, intolerance and destructive criticism. Also, as a piece of advice, stay away from politics if you want your mind to work without any bounds and bias. Live as an individual and give your stance likewise without being under any impact and influence.

6. Witness Maximum Positivity:

  What if you decorate your bedroom’s wall with all the bloodshed and warfare images from the time of Hitler? How would you feel whenever you’d look at those pictures throughout the day and the night? On the other hand, if you put up vibrant frames displaying positive quotations, rainbow and sunshine depiction, plants and unicorn portrayals, you would feel completely different than the earlier scenario.

Being a student, I own four notebooks, a bag, planner, laptop, phone, USB, wallet, makeup bag, pencil pouch and a collection of different pens and markers. To witness the maximum positivity, I decorate my notebooks myself in the vacations or the semester break with all of my favorite morale-boosting quotations.

Moreover, I have made a bunch of photo frames and wall-hangings displaying my own happy-drawings and positive-paintings. You can also implement this witness-maximum-positivity phenomenon in your life and trust me you will feel an emergence of positive aura inside yourself. I made multiple bookmarks to help myself in not-giving-up on a book and to carry on with a punch of colorful motivation. My planner also has this new-year-resolution front page that reminds me of what I have achieved so far and what is already left, what do I need to improve and how better can I get? Being a free-lancer, I have selected a minimal laptop wallpaper that says “Create” and trust me the wallpaper alone helps me with writing new things and creating new ideas when I am feeling bland. I also decorated one of my notebooks with my favorite J.K. Rowling’s quote that says:

“It is important to remember that we all have magic inside us!”

This quote helps me in my mood swings throughout the lectures, it boosts my morale when I score lesser than expected in any exam, and cheers me up when I achieve something great! Below is a collection of my personal contribution to make my life witness more positivity throughout the day. 🙂

I hope this article would help most of you guys. Happy Blogging! 🙂

Adios,

xoxo.

  Tips to surround yourself with positivity. Hello beautiful souls, I hope you all are as charming as always and cherishing your life to bits 🙂 I am here with a new article that I've been wondering to write on for the past two days.

[lotsofdogs]

Top Recipes of 2018

Hello and HAPPY NEW YEAR! I am so happy to be back to blogging! I missed chatting with you guys in this space and I am ready to dive back into my usual routine after a little more than a week away.

I absolutely loved my time in Florida for Christmas but there’s something to be said for the comfort of everyday life and schedules when you have two kids in the mix. Blogging while traveling ended up feeling next to impossible for me, so I hope that the return to everyday life (and preschool for Chase next week!) will help free up some time to catch up because I have so much I’m dying to write about and share with you guys in 2019.

At the beginning of every year, I like to kick things off on the blog with a look back at the previous year. I am notoriously horrible at checking my blog’s analytics (they stress me out and I typically only check them to update my media kit for brand partnerships and post-campaign reports) but the end of every year is the time I force myself to sit down and look at what recipes, workouts, personal posts, random musings and topical posts seemed to be the biggest hits with all of you. It’s helpful for me to know what you guys like to read when it comes to brainstorming blog posts for the coming year.

In today’s post, I’m highlighting my most popular recipes from 2018. As always, some past favorites claimed the top spots but some new recipes I shared in 2018 gained traction and cracked the top 10.

I’d LOVE to know what kind of recipes you’d like to see more of on PBF in 2019, so please leave a comment to let me know of any recipe requests! Would you like to see more healthy breakfast recipes? Quick and easy dinner recipes? Kid-approved meals? Plant-based dishes? I always take your requests to heart and use them to create a list of ideas for future blog posts so thank you in advance for your suggestions!

Most Popular Recipes of 2018

Simple Shrimp Dip

I owe the popularity of this post to Pinterest! It always seems to get some extra traffic around the holidays and the Super Bowl! Add this dip to your must-make list for your next gathering with family and friends.

Three-Minute Egg White Oatmeal

If you have three minutes in the morning, you have enough time to make yourself a bowl of fluffy, filling and oh-so-tasty banana egg white oatmeal. It’s a recipe that continues to be popular on the blog 4+ years after I initially shared it on PBF.

Oatless Oatmeal

I make this recipe all the time and love it because it’s both voluminous (great if you simply enjoy eating large portions) and satisfying. It’s a Paleo take on oatmeal with a texture that resembled Cream of Wheat.

Paleo Lemon Cupcakes

Thanks to a clean ingredient list, these sweet and tangy lemon cupcakes can also double as Paleo lemon muffins! They’re made with fresh lemon juice and sweetened with honey and also happen to be a kid-approved treat!

Chocolate Peanut Butter Protein Fudge

If you love chocolate but struggle to get enough protein in your diet (ahem, ME!), these fudgey protein bites are a great easy-to-make option to keep on hand when your sweet tooth hits.

Triple Chocolate Protein Oatmeal

This was one of my breakfast obsessions this year so I was excited to see it crack my top 10 most popular recipes from 2018. I love chocolate any time of day and waking up to a big bowl of protein-packed chocolate oatmeal helps begin my day on the best note!

Chicken Sausage Sweet Potato Bake

Forever and always a weeknight staple in our house! I love that so many of you seem to love this simple dish, too!

Egg White and Oatmeal Protein Pancake

Gosh, I need to update the photos for this recipe but bad photos aside, it’s a delicious protein pancake recipe I love because it doesn’t require any protein powder or the use of a blender. It’s the easiest protein pancake recipe I’ve found and one I continue to make regularly for breakfast or an afternoon snack.

Whole Wheat Pumpkin Muffins

I owe YOU guys a billion thank yous for sharing this recipe! It seemed to take over Instagram this fall and seeing you share photos of you making and enjoying these muffins made me smile over and over again. They’re Chase’s all-time favorite muffins and we make them year-round in our house so definitely keep them on your radar even though pumpkin season is behind us!

Crockpot Chicken Corn Chili

I made this chili for the billionth time last night to bring to a NYE party! We cannot seem to stop eating this crock pot chili in our house and I cannot seem to stop making it because it’s SO darn easy. No chopping or difficult food prep required. Just dump everything in the crock pot and enjoy a yummy dinner at the end of the day!

Toddler Muffin Recipes

I shared a roundup of Chase’s favorite muffins on the blog earlier this year after a blog reader requested it and apparently you guys have little ones who are muffin-obsessed, too, because it became one of my most popular food-related blog posts from 2018!

A Few of My Favorite Recipes from 2018

And here are a few of my favorite recipes that I shared in 2018 that didn’t crack the top 10 but I still think are worth trying! I hope you find something below that pops out at you to make in the new year!

Blueberry Banana Protein Pancakes

A simple twist on my beloved Banana Bread Protein Pancakes, these pancakes are a breakfast go-to in our house that every single person in our family loves. Bonus: They’re also freezer-friendly!

Mason Jar Chia Seed Pudding

My go-to healthy snack and an easy grab-and-go breakfast option! Great for those who love to food prep or make a simple breakfast/snack the night before.

Copycat Zoe’s Kitchen Cauliflower Rice

The perfect base for your favorite bowl recipes! I love topping this cauliflower rice with shredded chicken, avocado and sliced tomatoes.

Paleo Coconut Crisps

Delicious by the handful, in trail mix or on top of oatmeal, yogurt and even ice cream!

Healthy Banana Berry Ice Cream

Kid-approved, creamy and a great healthy post-dinner dessert that tastes indulgent!

Crock Pot Coconut Chicken and Cauliflower Rice Stew

Healthy comfort food in a bowl and the perfect weeknight dinner to serve when the temperatures outside dip below freezing.

[Read More ...] https://www.pbfingers.com/top-recipes-of-2018/

#health #fitness

[jprologic]

Target PJs

Pants from ThredUp Consignment

  Yesterday wasn’t that great of a day. Everything politics and anger took over my Facebook feed.  I came across this one post from the Humanist Report where they were dogging Bill Maher for saying that there is a general “slopification of America”.  I didn’t watch the video, nor did I watch the Humanist Report that started the discussion, but I caught the comment thread.

I couldn’t miss it if I tried as it was a holy ball of fire.

In a nutshell, Bill and his panel were being called “elitists” who were “telling the commoners how to dress”.  I happen to make the comment that the slopification in general is sort of true. I relayed my experience of being in the courthouse and often seeing many people dressed in pajamas.

Fucking pajamas.

Fuzzy ones with cartoon characters or sports teams.  Wearing this while talking to a Judge is beyond my understanding.  The next thing I know, I was being lit up.

“Smug women telling the peasants how to dress”

“Poor shaming.  Are you happy now?”

Here’s the thing, I never said sloppy = poverty.

I’ve seen people holding $700 iPhones who were sloppy.  Sloppy is a mentality.  You can be sloppy with how you act, your finances, your emotions, your personal life, your weight, your health, your diet, your house, your car, your belongings, your relationships, your communication. You can be sloppy at your work product, and you can be sloppy with your mind.

Sloppy has nothing to do with socio economic status.

54.6% of Americans earn $40,000 per year, but the average car note is $36,000.  That’s sloppy.  Wearing designer clothing when there is no food to feed your child…that’s sloppy.  Fist fighting in the middle of the street…that’s sloppy.  Being so drunk that you need an ambulance….that’s sloppy.  Not using the internet for anything other than to watch world-star or follow the Kardashians…that’s sloppy.  Not attempting to gain or sharpen skills to make you more marketable…that’s sloppy.

Sloppy is despite having the capability of instant knowledge, as well as the capability adapt or do something different in the face of adversity, someone choosing to keep their habits the same and therefore de-evolve as innovation continues.

God forbid anyone calls that out.

Let’s go back to the original argument – that sloppy only means that you’re a poor dresser and no one should blame you for that because you’re poor.  (That is what the commenters on this particular thread were basically saying.)  When I said that a pair of khakis is $3.00 at the Goodwill, I was crucified by one women who said that that $3 was for food, rent, or medication.  That’s a keep-them-as-a-victim argument, and is actually in and of it’s self oppressive.  That comment takes away a poor person’s free will to change their circumstances for the better…which they will be unable to do if they show up to a job interview in fuzzy pajamas.

Let’s be honest…people are going to buy clothing no matter what their income.  I’ve already shown how to get quality clothing for very cheap.  I’ve also shown free ways to polish your image.  In this information age, if you don’t want to take care of yourself or present best self so to bring in new opportunities…it’s a choice you’ve made to stay small.  End of story.

Never the less, you can’t say those sorts of things on Facebook because you’ll just keep going around and around so I decided prove my theory outright.

How not to be sloppy…for cheap.

I have with me a pair of jeans that I bought at the Goodwill for $5.00.  (I can wear jeans to work when I have no clients coming in. But if I couldn’t and a better investment would have been a pair of black or tan pants for my $5, then I would have bought them instead.)

I bought the shirt for $3.00 on the same trip.

I’m pairing them with a pair of shoes and a belt that I already own.  They don’t need to be ironed, but they are fresh from the wash.  If they did need to be ironed, then I would do so.

Now before that oppressive illogical women pops out of nowhere claiming that no one can afford an iron…I bought one for $6.00 at Target before.  I’ve since upgraded to a $20 iron, but that’s only because looking like a responsible adult is important to me.

Alas, for those who wish to remain iron-less, I once saw a video of a poor man living in a hut with no electricity, who was ironing his nice button down shirt with the bottom of a pot full of hot water because he had an interview later…

…I’m sorry…what was the excuse again ravenous Facebook commenter?

Now, because my shirt is a little “cleavage-y”, I’m wearing a grey top that I already own underneath it.  I’m also tucking it in so that when I bend over there is zero chance of anyone seeing my underwear because showing  underwear to the public without a pole being involved…is sloppy.

$8.00 outfit

In terms of my face and hair – I went into the Dollar Tree specifically for this post and purchased make up.  To prove my point, I am going to do my make up with a $1 eye shadow palette, a $1 mascara, and some BB cream that I already owned that cost about $9 but has lasted a year.  I am also using a .99 wet and wild eyebrow pencil.  The lip gloss I’ve had for years but I saw some for $1 there too.

My face and hair are clean, but I was too tired to straighten my hair or put in curlers last night. So it will get brushed – with a $1 brush from said Dollar Tree, and I will pull it up and out of my face with a hair band that cost $1 for a pack of 10.

Dollar Store Make-up & hair.

Am I ready for the runway? No. But I am presentable. If I had to go to the courthouse to drop off a filing, I would be acceptably dressed.  If I had to go into my child’s school, take him to the doctor, or need to stop by the mayor’s constituent’s office, I would be taken seriously.

  In conclusion,

There is no more excuses to dress or act “sloppy”.  Sloppy shows the world that person is apathetic and doesn’t care about anything least of all themselves.  That’s just the way things are. It is ok to smile and present your best self to the world…and to strive everyday to make yourself better and smarter than you were the day before.

I’ve heard many people say that when they get money they will get their life together.  Unfortunately for them, it’s the other way around. You get your life together and then you’ll get money.  So the next time a person who considers themselves poor has $20.00 to spend on clothing, I would have them consider the following…

Target Pjs vs. pants from ThredUp consignment site;

  Target PJs

Pants from ThredUp Consignment

  Just sayin’,

  {Special Facebook Edition} “The Slopification of America” ? Yesterday wasn't that great of a day. Everything politics and anger took over my Facebook feed.  I came across this one post from the Humanist Report where they were dogging Bill Maher for saying that there is a general "slopification of America".