#it convinced me to put the years of rice and salt on my to read list

[freelanceexorcist]

You wondered how to convince the dev team to give Sephiroth a better outcome.

I have been trying to help get him a better outcome. I wrote a letter for him. I made many beautiful gifts for him. I made a petition. And I will continue to make things. If you want to help me, you can go here: https://chng.it/2swfrH6dfp

Or if you'd rather just give me suggestions, then please tell me any ideas you have. I owe my life to this character; my childhood was horror for a variety of complicated reasons, and his existence meant I wasn't alone, and knowing that I wasn't alone helped keep me breathing, so... now that I have an opportunity and the means, I would do almost anything to try to keep him safe.

I'm so sorry I went so long without seeing this! I've read many of your letters to him. You are very fond of the character and it seems like he has gotten you through some very difficult times in your life. I've been there, so I get it. These characters were created to entertain us, and entertainment brings pleasure, which distracts us from the hard times we're facing and that ultimately helps us heal.

If you're so inclined, here's a recipe I love and that my family loves. It was sent to my mom (RIP) by my cousin, who turns 92 this year. If you're vegetarian or vegan, you can find a substitute for the meat. Maybe he can learn to make it. It's okay if he burns it if he lines the bottom of a nonstick stock pot with the leftover cabbage leaves:

 STUFFED CABBAGE CASSEROLE

Source: Ann Sullivan with modifications by Cassie Jackson

All of the flavor of traditional stuffed cabbage, but a quarter of the work!

1 lb ground 80/20 ground beef

1/2 lb ground pork

1 medium onion, diced

1 small to medium head of cabbage with outer leaves removed and set aside and core removed, chopped into strips

1 can of tomato soup

Water or beef broth

3 large garlic cloves, minced

1 cup of uncooked rice, rinsed thoroughly

1 egg

1 large can of diced tomatoes, undrained

1 large can of sauerkraut, drained

1-2 packages of kielbasa

Salt, pepper, onion powder, garlic powder and smoked paprika to taste

In a large mixing bowl, combine beef, pork, onion, egg, uncooked rice and about ¼ of the can of tomatoes. Season with salt, pepper, onion powder, garlic powder and paprika. Mix with hands until all ingredients are thoroughly combined.

Form the meat mixture into balls about the size of golf balls.

Line the bottom of a large soup pot with the reserved outer cabbage leaves. Add layers of cabbage, then sauerkraut, then diced tomatoes (juice included), then some garlic. Add the meat mixture by pinching off golf ball sized amounts and either rolling them into balls or just dropping them into the pot. Repeat the layers until all of these ingredients are in the pot.

Put the tomato soup in a small bowl or measuring cup, then add the same amount of water. Whisk together. Add the mixture to the pot along with the remaining diced tomatoes and mix together.

Cook on medium low to medium heat for at least an hour, stirring occasionally. Cut the kielbasa into about 2 to 2-1/2” long pieces and add these to the pot, cooking for about another 30 minutes. It’s done when the meat balls are no longer pink in the middle and the rice is cooked. If desired, turn the heat down to its lowest setting and let the pot sit on the stove warming until ready to serve.

Leftovers can be frozen, but wait a day or two, because the longer it sits in the fridge, the more the flavors blend together, making it even better the next day and the day after.

Please be well. I'm rooting for you.

[drivingsideways]

Seunwoo + Seunghyo sick

Hi anon! Thank you for this ask, and sorry it's taken me a while to write!

This one is, in my head, set in my Where Your Treasure Is 'verse, but you don't need to read that to make sense of this. The premise here is that Seon-woo and Seung-hyo are in a romantic relationship and have been living together for a while, and they also run a company together.

"You better take something for that," says Seon-woo at breakfast.

"For what?" Seung-hyo croaks at The Korean Herald, which has decided, on this fine spring morning to lead with an editorial on wealth redistribution that looks like it's been written by a twenty-year old who gets her news on Instagram. Pulling their advertising for the next six months seems overkill, but surely something should be--

"For the flu you've been having for the last two days," says Seon-woo, wheeling his chair around the table toward the kitchen counter. As he passes Seung-hyo, he reaches out to place an inquiring palm against his forehead. Seung-hyo jerks away.

--ah, he has it, yes, wasn't there an interview scheduled today with the Seoul Business News--

"Hmm," says Seon-woo, "Nothing some paracetamol and rest won't cure. Take it."

He moves away, and the coffee-maker whirs loudly.

"Is there something wrong with it?" he asks, "I'll call the company. Didn't they promise noiseless?"

"They did not."

He turns in his chair to look at his partner.

"I'm the one who ordered it."

"I'm the one who read the manual and set it up. This is the noise it makes every day. You're just extra sensitive today because-"

He turns back to his eggs and toast, and the horrifying state of the world.

The problem with living with a medical professional was that they always thought they knew everything about everything. Alright, maybe that wasn't a problem with medical professionals in general. Seung-hyo is willing to acknowledge that the problem, in this case, might be more localized, viz, the man across the table who's judgmentally sipping his coffee , while a bowl of oats congeals into goop in front of him. Why he doesn't wait to finish his coffee before pouring out the cereal, Seung-hyo has never understood. And he's tried, oh, he's tried, to get him to view this logically, but Seon-woo will insist on eating the cold slop every day.

"Did you get a chance to review the Australian distributorship deal?" he asks, swallowing a bite of toast. The bread feels scratchy going down his throat. Had Madam Ji switched to a different bakery?

"Yes, I've made some notes and sent out an email," Seon-woo replies. "I'm quite sure we can do better. I've asked Kim bujang to look into it."

"Oh," he says, picking up his phone, "I didn't see it…when did you send it out?"

He'd been working late last night, how had he missed—

"After you fell asleep at the desk," Seon-woo says, coolly.

He has a vague memory of Seon-woo waking him up, and shutting his laptop for him last night. This was why he hated medication, which he had taken, he wasn't entirely irrational, despite what Seon-woo liked to imply.

It just interfered.

"Well," he says, taking two large gulps of his own coffee, "I better get going, I have a day."

"I bet," Seon-woo mutters, and then gives him a sweet smile when he gives him a look. "Have a good one, hyung."

His expression says that he thinks the probability of that is negative. Seung-hyo's never met anyone as petty as the love of his life, and that's a fact. Well, maybe Ye Jin-woo, which just went to show you—

"I will, thank you," he says, "Shall we have lunch together?"

Seon-woo nods, and this time the smile is genuine, and alright, he didn't care that the love of his life was a petty fuck, he especially didn't care that his head felt a bit like a block of wood, life was good, and he was going to have a good day.

"Bad cold?" asks the make-up professional at the TV studio, her voice sympathetic. "I'll get you some warm water with salt to gargle with, it'll clear up your throat before you go on air."

"Thank you," he says, "That's very kind, but unnecessary."

She pauses.

"It's really no trouble Gu daepyo-nim."

"No," he says, "Thank you. Again. But no."

At lunch, Seon-woo says, calmly, "I'm sure the ten people watching KBN at 11.22 am this morning would have been convinced by your argument, if they'd been able to hear it. Why did they cut you off so quick?"

"A glitch in the sound system," he says, "The sound engineer was profoundly apologetic. I didn't think it was worth making a fuss about."

"Uh-huh," says Seon-woo. "You mean the fact that he forgot to mute your mike properly, so we could hear you hacking up a lung off screen? I think he should be fired."

"Where's your sense of proportion?" Seung-hyo asks. The hot chicken broth feels good going down his throat, warming his chest.

"Left it in our McMansion this morning," Seon-woo says, and sets his chopsticks down.

"Hyung," he says, "Take the rest of the day off."

"I can't," he replies, "There's too much to do."

"Rescheduling a few meetings is not the end of the world."

"It's discourteous to the people who are giving me their time," Seung-hyo replies, "Besides, I'm fine. The soup was delicious. Thank you for ordering it."

Seon-woo waves a hand, "You can thank Kyung-ah-ssi on your way out."

"I'll buy her flowers," Seung-hyo says, because there's no way he's going to face her without even that much of a defense.

Seon-woo says, evenly, "You'll be sure to pick them up yourself, won't you? I mean, there's absolutely no reason why you shouldn't be in a pollen factory- excuse me- a flower shop today."

"You're not as funny as you think you are," Seung-hyo says, rising from the table. "Dinner at 7?"

"Sure," says Seon-woo, "You'll be making crab soup, I hope?"

"Don't push your luck," Seung-hyo says, with dignity and calm, and runs away.

He comes to groggily, in his bed, with no memory of how he got there. The lights are dimmed, and he's sweaty under the quilt. There's movement beside the bed, and when he opens his eyes, bleary, Seon-woo is placing a food tray on the bedside table.

"What time is it?" he asks.

"Past 9," Seon-woo says, quietly. "Ready for some food?"

He sighs, turning on his side to face him.

Seon-woo's expression is fond, even though there's a trace of exasperation beneath.

"I'm feeling better," he announces.

"Astounding," Seon-woo murmurs, taking the lid off a steaming bowl. "Considering you weren't, at any point, sick."

Petty, petty.

"I bet that's rice porridge," he says craning his neck. "Ugh."

"Special from eomeonim," Seon-woo confirms. "She's put me on a deadline to feed you this tonight. So chop-chop."

He pushes himself up, resting against the pillows, as Seon-woo arranges the tray for him.

It does taste good- like childhood, and home, he acknowledges, as he swallows the first mouthful.

Seon-woo is taking off his prosthetics, heaving a sigh of relief. Despite all the advances they've made in the material technology, wearing it for several hours at a stretch and the kind of life Seon-woo led, did make it a bother. At home, Seon-woo often preferred to get around in the wheelchair like he'd done for most of his life. Sometimes, when Seung-hyo thinks of how much pain Seon-woo has borne, he can barely comprehend it. Compared to that—

But that's a thought he'll keep to himself, he's not a fool.

"You're such an idiot about these things," Seon-woo says, as he maneuvers himself across the bed. He raises a hand to brush away the sweaty hair sticking to Seung-hyo's forehead. "You realize being ill isn't a character flaw, right?"

Seung-hyo puts his spoon down.

"So you're a psych now too?" he cribs, picking up his spoon again.

"Don't need to be," Seon-woo says, yawning, and turning away. "You're not that complicated, hyung."

God, the man was so annoying.

It really was a disaster that Seung-hyo was crazy about him.

"Sleep well," he says aloud, as Seon-woo settles down, "See you in the morning."

#jtbc life #gu seung hyo x ye seon woo #thank you for this ask anon #i love writing about them!

[thelefthandersdilemma]

Dining with Hands with Muslims

I didn’t always think about my handedness. Being left-handed means being subjected to a series of minor inconveniences that affects the fabric of everyday life. But it’s mostly invisible. There are times, though, when situations force me to confront my handedness. Like when someone sees me writing and they feel compelled to point out that I’m left-handed. Or when my handedness clashes with another’s culture and deep-seated beliefs. Like in this story I’m about to tell you. Bear with me here, this will be long—mostly because I want the world to meet the man behind the most absurd(?) extraordinary(?) experiences of my life.

Two of my friends and I were flying to India via Kuala Lumpur International Airport. Because it was a cheap flight, there was a 6-hour gap between our arrival in Malaysia and our flight to India. BUT instead of checking in early like responsible young adults, we hung back and waited at the last minute to check in. Like the idiots that we were.

At this point, I must note that Filipinos need a visa to travel to India. You could either get a visa beforehand or get one upon arrival. It’s a long story, but my friends got a visa beforehand while I opted to get a visa-on-arrival. In hindsight, I was the one idiot here.

We took our sweet time and arrived at the check-in counter with only 15 minutes before the flight took off. The girl at the counter looked at my visa-on-arrival papers and paused. She called to her supervisor, shuffled my papers around, and talked between themselves. Then the supervisor looked at me and said, ‘You can’t take this flight’.

What.

‘You don’t have a hotel booking. You need a hotel booking for your visa.’ He went on to explain that if I get denied a visa, the airline would have to shoulder the costs of my flight back to Malaysia. And then I’d have to book a flight back to India. It was too much trouble for everyone involved. He kept looking at his watch.

“But... But...”

‘Look, there’s a computer shop there.’ He points at a shop directly behind us. Does this happen often enough that it actually made sense to put a computer shop right by the check-in counter? ‘Run to that shop, book a hotel, and print it. The flight is in 10 minutes. Go go go!’

So we ran. I rushed to book a hotel, any hotel. But the supervisor burst into the shop and called out desperately, ‘they can’t wait anymore the plane is about to leave!’ Just as I received my booking confirmation.

‘I’m printing it out!’ I shouted just as desperately, watching him herding my two friends to an attendant.

‘We’re not leaving without her!’ My other friend cried out as the escort took them.

‘If you stay here, you’ll all have to buy new flights!’ We were backpacking. I guess we looked the part.

Running, my friend looked back at him and hollered, ‘Take care of her!!!’

‘I will!’, he hollered back.

Jesus Christ. Was I in a movie? It wouldn’t have been more absurd to me if my friend turned into a pillar of salt. But my disbelief waned quickly. I went back to the shop and had my booking printed. It was about 10pm. At least I was in Kuala Lumpur, right? There was bound to be a hotel just a stone’s throw away from here. I walked out of the shop to find the supe standing there, waiting for me. There was no one else to turn to. He took me back to the counter to buy the earliest flight to India. It wasn’t until mid-afternoon the next day.

‘Are there any buses or cabs that could take me to the nearest hotel?’, I asked. Apparently, buses only ran until 10pm. And we were not in Kuala Lumpur. Kuala Lumpur was 45km away. And no taxi would take me there at this hour. And he himself would take me to the nearest hotel. The movie in my head was turning into a thriller real quick.

To prove he was trustworthy, he gave me his business card. Mr. X Nizam. 100% certified employee of Air Asia. Nothing in there about whether or not he liked to kidnap stranded backpackers on the side.

We passed by the bus station and there were people lined up to board it. I don’t remember now if I asked him where those buses were going and why I couldn’t ride those. I just blindly followed this guy to a dark parking lot, gave him my bag, which he dumped into his trunk, and then sat on the passenger seat. I didn’t even realize he had a ‘talking car’.

‘Door unlocked. Door open. Door closed. Door locked.’ It announced ominously, in what I could now only describe as a Hello Kitty voice.

All the blood was draining out of my head as we drove farther and farther from the airport. I had no Internet, my cellphone battery was dying, and I didn’t have the appropriate plug adapter for Malaysia. The road was dark and the ride was long. I had one hand on the door latch and the other on the seatbelt latch. Where was he taking me? To his house? To a dingy motel room?

Then a building with blue neon signage came into view. A hotel! An actual, not-shady-looking hotel! But why was he going in with me? He insisted on carrying my bag and talking to the clerk. He then escorted me to an upper floor. Oh god, what if this was a secret human trafficking ring? He opened the door to a room, dropped my bag inside, and gave me the key. Did I have everything I needed, he asked. I told him about my charger situation. (WHY!)

But he did not cross the threshold. He stayed right outside the door as he bid good night and promised to come by the next morning.

He arrived at exactly 8am the next morning with a plug adapter in hand. We had plenty of time ‘til the flight—he thought he’d take me to a traditional Muslim breakfast and a tour of KL while we waited. By this time, I was 90% convinced that he was not a human trafficking crime lord.

LEFT-HANDER CONTENT STARTS HERE

He took me to a Muslim family eatery. The food choices were all burning red with spice—I couldn’t tell them apart! When I sat on a table with my plate, I immediately got confused.

‘Why aren’t you starting?’ He asked.

‘Where can I get utensils?’

He let out a chuckle and called to a staff, who chuckled along with him. The staff excused herself and went to the kitchen and prepared some utensils for me. ‘We don’t eat with utensils here’, he explained.

‘Oh, are we eating with our hands? I’m sorry, it’s fine! I can do it. I’m a Filipino. I know how to eat with my hands!’ I quickly dipped my left hand in the washing bowl and proceeded to grab some food from my plate.

‘Nooooo!’ He exclaimed, an unmistakable expression of disgust on his face.

‘What?’

‘You don’t eat with your left hand!’

‘Why?’

He lowered his voice in a whisper, ‘that’s what you use to clean your butt when you poo...’

Should I have told him that I was left-handed? That I actually use my right hand to clean my butt? I didn’t. If I did, he’d probably be even more disgusted. Probably lose his appetite too. So I took a deep breath and used my right hand instead. Having breached a major law of hand-eating conduct, he decided to observe as I flailed about with my right hand.

‘You eat like a 5-year old’, he concluded. ‘That’s how I ate when I was 5, before my mom taught me how to eat properly.’

‘You mean there are rules?’ The tide has certainly changed now but during these times and as I was growing up, eating with your hands was looked down upon, especially among the upper-middle class. You definitely won’t see people doing it in restaurants. Even in small family eateries like the one we were in, it would be pretty rare to see someone using their hands to eat. Some people wouldn’t even admit to knowing how to do it. This is of course rooted in our colonial past. In our history class, we were taught that one of the “good things” our colonizers “gave us” were the spoon and fork (and occasionally the knife).

To discover that hand-eating actually has a dignified, deeply-rooted tradition was a revelation to me. It definitely gave me a sense of pride in my cultural identity—an identity that centuries of colonial oppression tried to erase.

’You have to teach me!’ It was one of the most educational dining experiences of my life. One that I will now teach anyone bored enough to read this long-ass post.

Mr X Nizam’s Lessons on Dining with your Hands

Use only one hand*. Your right hand. Because your left hand is “dirty”. X_X

Rest your left arm at the edge of the table across your chest. Place your right elbow on the table and keep it there. Don’t lift it. Only your forearm should move at an angle to reach the food.

If you’re eating meat, pull a small, bite-sized chunk of meat with your fingers. Then pinch some rice and push them in to a small, bite-sized clump at your fingertips.

Use your thumb to push the food into your mouth.

Keep your hands clean. Keep your food on your fingers—absolutely no food should reach your palms. Anything you put on your fingers should go to your mouth.

Remember I mentioned the food being full of spices? Well, it did a number on both of us and we had to run back to the hotel to, erm, relieve ourselves. Don’t you just hate it when you meet someone through strange circumstances and then suddenly you need to drop big noisy ones just hours into knowing each other? I just sat there, enduring the noise he was obviously hearing from the other side of the room. And when I was done, I had to stop, pause, and reflect. Not because I just dropped a deuce noisy enough to wake the entire hotel, but because I now faced a dilemma. A LEFT HANDER’S DILEMMA. *dun-dun*

After what I’ve learned about dining with your hands and the left hand’s place in its etiquette, was I really going to wash myself with my right hand? What if we eat with our hands again for lunch? How would that make me feel then? But I couldn’t use my left hand. I had no idea how to do it. As far as I know, it was always bidet on the left and cleaning on the right. So I had to what was “right” for me. Heh. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and washed with my right hand.

---

*There are some types of food where you’re allowed to use both hands, but there are rules about it. Sadly I can’t remember them anymore. :(

#leftie #lefties #left handed #kamayan #left handed problems #left handers #left handedness

[river--glass]

Reylo Fic Recs Long Ass Fics pt 2: Alternate Universe

Someone asked for fic recs 100K or over, so here they are. See Pt. 1 for Canon Verse or Alternate Canon Verse fics. (I haven’t read all of these- my personal comments are in bold)

Equilibrium by AttackoftheDarkCurses & thebuildingsnotonfire. (modern, E, 479K)

When Rey works up the nerve to ask Grand Master Luke Skywalker to train her, she makes friends and finds something deep and wonderful in the martial art known as Taekwondo.

She never thought the choice would change her life.

Alternatively, a (long) story of love, family, and Martial Arts.

The Heartbreak Prince by diasterisms. (Harry Potter, E, WIP) 

I swore I would never read Harry Potter AU’s or Works In Progress, but for this fic I broke both rules. This is, pun not intended, so magical in every way. It has me SHOOK and if somehow you haven’t heard of it yet, do yourself a favor and check it out!

In Living Memory by SpaceWaffleHouseTM. (multiple times, E, 221K)

Ben and Rey are rendered immortal after being struck by lightning at the precise same moment, and keep running into one another as the centuries drag on. Waffle’s stories are all amaaaaazing and you need to read ALL of them.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot by SageMcMae. (modern, E, 214k)

MMA fighter, Kylo Ren is suspended from the league and sentenced to community service at his uncle’s martial arts academy. There he meets Rey Niima, a recent graduate with a natural ability and incredible potential.

Soul Searching by OptimisticBeth. (AU, Modern, E, 205K)

A Soulmates AU in which Ben is horrified to find out he’s soulmates with his 16 year old student, ten years his junior. (no underage shenanigans) This fic fucked me up. The world building is so stunning. The story is rich with love and fluff, but oh the angst. Soooo much angst and emotional anguish and two people who are trying their best but just can't communicate for shit. The overall story is so beautiful and worth every heartbreaking moment. A happy ending WILL come!

Satan Wears a Rolex by AquaWolfGirl. (Modern, E, 205K)A Devil Wears Prada AU. Unfinished, but it’s fascinating and it ends well where it is.

Hiraeth by Ferasha. (1990′s, E, 204K)

An absolute angst and pain train of a historical war fic. This is not a comfort fic. It will fuck you up. But if you’re into that, the way they’ve woven canon plot in with the Yugoslav Wars is a masterpiece. It’s dark and gritty and will make you feel things.

Le Fin Du Fin by QueenOfCarrotFlowers @leofgyth. (Victorian, E, 196K) A Crimson Peak AU!!! This writer has never let me down.

A Proposal by Any Other Name by Lucidlucy. (Modern, E, 188) A Leap Year AU.

Salt in the Blood by Hagen. (9th century, E, 169K) Featuring pre-Norman invasion Ireland, selkies, love of the sea, and mythical creatures.

The Great Big No by dietplainlite. (1990′s, E, 165K)

Kylo Ren is third generation rock royalty, a reigning brat prince starting to feel the burn of the fame he reached for with both hands. Rey is an aspiring singer on the verge of a big break, provided her A&R guy still has a job by the time she reaches LA. Their paths have crossed briefly, disappointingly, before. What happens when they collide?

The Trail Bride by SecretReyloTrash. (AU, Wild West, E, 160K)

Rey Niima finds herself in a perilous situation when her husband dies at the start of their journey West. From the few bachelors on the trail in her party; she attaches herself to the best of her options- mysterious Banker Ben Solo. A really interesting, amazing piece. Lots of introspection, and a heart wrenchingly real look into abuse and recovery. I emotionally digested for days.

The Sacred Texts by Eskayrobot & Poaxath. (Modern, E, 159K)

Doing the Unstuck by slipgoingunder. (Modern, E, 158K) A When Harry Met Sally AU.

The Mating Service by AlbaStarGazer. (Modern A/B/O, E, 146K)

If Rey had known how quickly she would find her biological mate and alpha through the world wide mating service, 'Match,' she might have considered signing up years ago.

Unravel Me by UnderTheCancerMoon. (Modern, E, 145K)

Rey and Ben push and pull their way through their 20's, experiencing the love, success, loss, and challenges that make life rich.

Fire Away by Daisyflo. (Modern, E, 141K)

The Witch in the Wood by HarpiaHarpyja @thisgarbagepicker & Inmyownidiom. (Fantasy, E, 138K)

I cannot say enough good things about this fic. It’s serving you knight Kylo and witch Rey and so so many good feelings. Sure there’s some angst and dark magic and some struggles but mostly this is a lovely Ghibli-esque story about two people living in a treehouse and talking to animals and having a really good life! Everything HarpiaHarpyja writes is magic.

Snow Without Winter by neonheartbeat. (Renaissance, E, 138K) 

If you’re into serious historical fics (this once features catholicism and Rome in 1492) this is for you.

Lemon-hot Summer by IshaRen & pr3tty_g1rl5. (Modern, E, 130K).

In which Ben is the horniest virgin alive and Rey is bored and looking for something (or someone) to do.

Stranger Than Fiction by daxcat79. (Modern, E, 127K). Grumpy writer Ben and sunshine muse Rey.

Like Red But Not Quite by @kylotrashforever. (Modern, E, 126K) KTF is a god-tier reylo writer and you need to do yourself a favor and go read everything they have ever written.

Dark Water by LinearA. (1950′s, E, 125K)

The North Shore by @strawberrycupcakehuckleberrypie. (Modern, E, 125K)

Notting Hill vibes. Actor Ben meets shop owner Rey, and both their lives are changed instantly. It’s mostly about them both being smitten and starting a really good life together!! Lovely!

Stars In My Pockets (Wear Daisies In My Hair) by LostInQueue. (Modern, E, 125K). A Reylogan fic.

we could plant a house, we could build a tree by like_a_dove. (Modern, E, 124K).

An absolute classic. It’s about growing pains and growing feelings - the transition from childhood into adulthood and all the messy bits in between. God, it will hurt you. Badly. But it’ll be so, so worth it.

go i know not whither and fetch i know not what by voicedimplosives. (1990′s, E, 118K)

Russian Mafia AU!! A truly beautiful piece of work. Great plot,great smut, great Bendemption arc. It’s an emotional rollercoaster that’s fully worth the ride.

Souviens-toi de moi by Maniable. (Modern/historical, E, 117K)

Disconnect by Weatherbug02. (Modern, E, 115K) 

Candyleg by 5cents. (1950′s, E, 115K)

The girl was too young, but old enough to have a hustler’s-eye view of her own bleak future. The boys were paying her to do a snow job on a candyleg, but she was beginning to love her work and love Solo, and she decided to stick with him till death did them part...

Baby, It’s Just Biology by polkadotdotdot. (Modern A/B/O, E, 112K)

Only If You Want To by Violetwilson. (Modern, M, 111K)

Personal security expert (and occasional under-the-table hitman) Kylo Ren has a strong feeling about the cute dive bar waitress with the strange bruises and the vicious wit. She's either a victim or the weirdest criminal he's ever met. Possibly both.

Ileenium Manor by WaterlilyRose. (AU, victorian, E, 109K)

Leia’s maid Rey instantly hates Lord Ben when he comes to take over the household. She can’t hate him for too long as he starts to pursue her. If you’re in the mood for a sweet but angsty Lord/Maid fic, this is for you.

Kohelet 3:16 (Call Me A Cab) by LinearA. (Modern, E, 108K)

Ruby Woo Red by HeartSabers. (Modern, E, 107K) Featuring makeup artist Rey and TV star Kylo.

Sixth Year by witheyesclosed. (Harry Potter, M, 107K)

The one where Ravenclaw Rey gets paired with Slytherin Ben in Potions and ohmygod he’s hot now

Lockjaw by bitterbones. (zombie apocalypse, M, 106K)

A Song of Trash and Fire: Ben and Rey Make a Porno by HarpiaHarpyja & sunshineflying. (Modern, E, 106K) 

With the help of rich Unca Wanwo, flagrant misuse of Ben's creative writing degree, and copious amounts of coffee, Ben and Rey put together the porno of the century, starring themselves and their friends . . . with interesting results.

The Hypnotist by Pandora_Spocks. (Modern, E, 104K)

From a galaxy far, far away, soulmates Ben and Rey have been reincarnated on Earth to resolve their karma. Dr. Ben Solo is a charismatic hypnotist to whom present day Reychelle Lumen has been referred to for help with her nightmares.

Score by SpaceWaffleHouseTM. (Modern, E, 104K)

Ben's friends convince him to take the Rice Purity Test, but when he and Rey are revealed to have the highest scores of their friends, they quickly form a pact to beat Poe's out by the end of the semester. I loved this! Its so so sweet and funny and all from Ben’s POV. Sweet, sweet pining Ben.

The World Shifts (And I Am Better Here) by lachesisgrimm. (Fantasy, E, 102K)

Once upon a time there was a beggar girl whose parents sold her to a thief, and she was very unhappy.--In which prophecy is used with malicious intent, and the universe exerts itself to correct the problem.

for @scarletvizhlovers

#reylo fic recs #reylo fic rec #reylo fanfiction #rey/ben solo fanfics #reylo

[shaydeoffical]

Bright as a Diamond Chapter One. Hitoshi Shinsou x Fem Reader

Summary:

When (Y/N)'s co-worker decided to send a picture of her making a diamond to the paper, her life was over. Gemstone based quirks weren't all that rare, but being able to make a diamond put a target on her back. After years of hiding in the city, it's time to hide in the countryside with her Uncle Shota Aizawa and his more than 'roommate' Hizashi Yamada. With the promise of training her to be self-sufficient, she's ready to learn.

But that's not her real problem; her problem is Shouta's protege, who never seems to go back home. Hitoshi Shinsou is a smug power-hungry ass-hat who doesn't know when to stop. Or that's what she's convinced herself. Of course, Hitoshi isn't making it any better by calling her Kitten. She wasn't helpless. She didn't need him running around behind her, ‘fixing’ things.

Chapter Two: 

https://ambershaydeoffical.tumblr.com/post/190831750029/bright-as-a-diamond-chapter-one-hitoshi-shinsou-x

Chapter One: 

Weird Roommates

   There have always been rumors in the family that Uncle Shota batted for the other team, but it never really bothered me…not till now. It wasn’t because he could be gay, but his ‘roommate’ was butt-ass naked, donning only an apron and a whip covered whisk. If this was his partner, I had to question what else Uncle Shota really kept under wraps.

   My cheeks were a thousand shades of red, and a scarf was tightening over my glasses. “Hizashi, get dressed.” Shota sternly commanded the thin blonde.

   “Oh snap, I forgot you were picking (y/n) up today,” Hizashi yelped, I could hear his feet scamper down the hall before the fast click of a door.

   “What an idiot.” Shota untangled me, handing my suitcase over. “Your room is at the end of the hall, center door. It did belong to Eri, but she’s in the dorms this year.” He went to the stove where Hizashi had been baking a pudding pie. I noticed a few pictures of pouting Eri in loli fashion when she was younger, on the wall. We got to play together during family reunions, and she really warmed up to me. “I assume you’ll want to relax after such a long train ride.”

   “Um, yes, I just-“I saw the newspaper on the kitchen island. The front page was an editorial on the ‘perfect’ diamond. There was a picture of me in greyscale, hands producing a small diamond to replace the one I had lost. The photo was clearly taken by my co-worker, his large hand in the frame. The man was always idolizing my custom pieces, but I never thought he would like straight up-sell me out…let alone watch me so closely.

   The paper was ripped from my hands. Shota grabbed my shoulders and gave me a firm shake. “You’re safe here.” My throat tightened, and I nodded slowly.

   “I didn’t think it’d make the front page.” I had already changed my phone number at Shota’s suggestion and wore a hoodie on the train.

   He mumbled about the press, then guided me down the hall. At the same time, Hizashi popped out of his room, dressed in red flannel and black jeans.

   “Stellar to meet you!” He wiggled his fingers and posed for me. “You may know me as Present Mic, pro hero, and radio personality. But I also go by Hizashi Yamada.” He pulled me into a side hug. “You look so much like your mother; it’s crazy.” He twirled my hair around his finger and fluffed it out.

   “Mic,” Shota warned him to simmer down, but I didn’t mind all that much. Hizashi smirked but took a few steps back in the narrow hall.

   “Alright, she needs rest, yadda ydd.”

   With that, I was led to the back room. When Shota opened the door, I could see a huge window looking straight into the garden. My heart raced. The house sat on a private lot in the countryside, so the view was beautiful. It was still close to UA high where they both worked as adjuncts, Shota told me he had taken a step back from teaching this year to focus on an independent project for the underground. So he was no longer crashing at the student dorms. Which meant I got to have a fantastic view overlooking the forest, mountains, and empty koi pond that was bound to be one of my projects.

   “Do what you want with the space. We’ll get you some better furniture tomorrow, but for now, we have a futon. Our home is yours, no exceptions.” Shota yawned, and I saw a blur behind him.

   “Was that a cat?” I asked, seeing a mouser running around outside.

   “Yea, that’s Hisoka. I can’t make him come in the house, but he’s ours.” Shota sat my suitcase down, then went to open a window. “If it’s too cold in here, let me know. I have an electric heater we can use.”

   “Yes. Thank you.” I bowed deeply. “I know this is an inconvenient setup, but the mother wants to focus on healing, and this is the only way. Thank you for taking me.”

   “Just wait till training starts,” he mumbled. “You’ll more than earn your keep.”

   “What does that mean?” I asked, but he shut the door and was gone. I could have opened it and pressed him further, but instead, I settled into the bare room.

   Unpacking my clothes didn’t take long after I got my hangers in. Then I organized them by type and then by use. It wouldn’t last long, but starting off tidy was the thing to do. Mom was going to send a few more of my outfits through the mail, and the room would be a tornado for sure.

   I gathered my restroom kit and found the bathtub. After hours on a crowded train, my ankles were swollen, and my body was starting to ripen. Taking out my own bath salts, I mixed the water, soaked, and then cleaned up for bed. It was late enough in the evening that I could get away with my nightclothes, but I still kept my bra on. It didn’t feel right walking around like that. I should have known I was safe, but at the back of my mind, I still didn’t know Hizashi that well.

   “My comfort matters,” I affirmed to myself in the mirror, then slinked out of the bathroom.

   “You done?” Hizashi yelled. Skipping down the long hallway, I peered around till I saw the dining table. It was loaded down with a home-cooked meal and sweet peanut butter pie. “Rock on, dinner is ready.”

   “Oh thank you,” I quickly took a seat and made myself a plate of rice with fresh curry. “This looks amazing.” I took a bite, “this is amazing.”

   “Oh, thank you. I might not be the best chef, but I’m better then Shota.” Hizashi rubbed his head and smiled. “So, how was your trip?”

   It was a mundane question, and the answer should have been simple. Other than I cried the entire time that I wasn’t facing someone. Putting on a brave face was hero training one o one, but I never was very good at hero work. “Fine. I got a little bit of light reading done before I got too queasy.”

   “You always had a sensitive stomach,” Shota added, shoveling food into his tired gullet.

   “Some things don’t change,” I forced a laugh, then sipped on my water. “So um, you mentioned training? Do I have –“

   “It was at your mother’s request.” Shota grinned, “aren’t you excited for some bonding time?”

   “Don’t believe him,” Hizashi dropped his chopsticks. “He’s unrelenting, trust me.”

   “Uh, I just want to learn a little self-defense then. I’m not opposed to getting stronger. I just hate to waste your time when I know you are mentoring others who really want to be hero’s.” I argued my point and remembered how mom had convinced him over the phone. If he didn’t want to train me, I wouldn’t make him.

   “You’re not taking away time for others. Trust me, this is going to be mutually beneficial.” He sipped his water and cleared his throat. “I was trying to convince your mother to let you come years ago.”

   “Really?” I cocked my head to the side, mom had never mentioned that.

   “She didn’t want you to move away from home yet. Now she was begging that I let you stay in the dorms. You’re much safer here with us.”

   “The dorms are great and all, but we’re able to keep you from the public eye here,” Hizashi added, serving himself a large helping of pie. “Plus, you’re not a student.”

   “That’s a good point. This is like witness protection, but with my family.” I hummed, a yawn overtaking me. “I think I need to hit the hay.” I took my water with me as I stood. “Good night.”

   “Night,” they both replied.

   Once in my room, I took my medicine, undid my bra, and crawled into the futon. The melatonin was essential for my brain to relax. It took some time, but after such a long day, my eyelids grew heavy, and everything faded away.

   I fought it for just a few more seconds. My door opened and closed and then opened again. I peered to the side, and saw Shota, he whispered for me to go to sleep, but sat down extra pillows by my futon. I hugged one to my chest. It smelled like lemongrass and lavender. Such soothing scents…  

   “Help help!” Screams erupted the house, shaking the foundation and knocking pictures off the wall. I had the best night’s sleep of my life, and this was my wake-up call. Still, I jumped to my feet and ran towards the epicenter, pillow over my ears.    

   “What is it!” I yelled over Hizashi, he was on top of his bed, pointing to the floor. There, I saw something the size of a baseball run towards me, and I jumped to the bed. “Up up up,” I yelped. Hizahi grabbed my hand and hauled me to stand with him. I shoved the pillow over his face before he could scream again.

   “It’s a spider!” He yelped shivering.

   “It’s a deaf spider,” I cried, holding to the older man. “I’m terrified… SHOTA!” I yelled, realizing that Mic was useless too.

   “He’s gone to town,” Hizashi moaned, squealing as the black mass went under the bed.

   I shrieked too and caught him as he jumped into my arms. Being a bigger girl was a plus when it came to holding people. I could balance his form easier. “When will he be back?”

   “I don’t know.” Hizashi cried.

   “The cat, maybe we can let Hisoka in.” I decided.

   “Hisoka won’t come in, period.” The plan was shot down.

   “Then, we need to get outside. If the spider follows us, then we have more room to run and scream.” I reasoned, sitting him down.

   “I’m not moving.” He groaned, biting his nails.

   “If we leap, we can make it to the door and at least block it in here. Or we go for the window and jump out. I’m not going to share oxygen with that rat demon for a second longer.”

   Rats waking me. Bites along my ankles. Lifeless cracked crystals under my body. Musk filling the air. Hell.

   I jumped from the bed and made it to the door. Hizashi hesitated but jumped farther with his long legs. We shut the door and used the pillow to make a barricade for the beast under the bed. Both of us caught our breath and backed away from the door.

   “That was a show.” Shota scared me so bad, I leaped into the air and landed on my knees.

   “You’re going to kill it, right?” I moaned, springing up too fast and falling on my ass this time.

   “I’ll handle it after breakfast,” Shota smirked, walking towards the kitchen.

   “He’s not serious, right?” I looked at Hizashi, offering his outstretched hand.

   “Unfortunately.” He tugged me up and dusted off my shoulders. “It was heroic of you to come to my rescue, thanks.” He sheepishly combed his fingers through his blonde hair.  

   “Common sense, follow the scream.” I played it off, “let’s get something to eat.”

   “Good deal,” he leads the way, glancing back at the pillow in front of the door.

   Once in at the dining room table, I settled at the head of the table opposite of Shota. He had prepared tamago kake gohan, passing around the eggs to be cracked on top of the fresh rice. It was a quick but delicious meal.

   “Thank you,” I said, clapping my hands and digging into the bowl. Hizashi was mixing the egg into his bowel, and Shota was waiting for his egg to cook a bit with the piping hot rice.

   “Your welcome.” Shota picked up the paper and began to glance at the news. It was rare to see a physical newspaper anymore, but in the countryside, it was more common. On the back, I could see an advert with Pro Hero Deku. He was holding up a tube of toothpaste and giving off a dazzling smile.  

   “So, you went to town?” I brought up, reaching the middle of my bowl, stopping to take a breath. It was rare that mom or I ever cooked breakfast, so it was a real treat.

   “Yes, that reminds me,” he dug through his baggy pants and produced a catalog. “I picked this up from the furniture store in town. Your mother sent some money for you to pick a few things out. Also, some of your boxes arrived this morning. I brought them into your room.”

   “I didn’t notice, I woke up to Hizashi screaming.” I laughed, then remembered the spider just chilling in the other room. “Maybe staying in bed would have been less stressful.”

   “You saved me, don’t be like that,” he whined, and I winked. It would be easy to get along with him, I could sense it.

   “Okay, I don’t regret it. I just wish neither of us had to wait for our justice.” I shot Shota a glance, sulking.

   “Hizashi is a pro hero, he should be able to handle a bug,” Shota argued, taking a careful bite.

   “But he can’t, and I won’t if there is someone braver.” I licked my bowl clean, swigging down my water.

   “You will be when we get done.” My eyes bugged out of my head.

   “I’m going to have to deal with bugs?” I frowned, placing my palms on the table.

   “Bugs, Villains, Press, and so much more.” Shota grabbed me another serving before sitting back down. “First thing first, though, I need to teach you how to run.”

#mha #bnha #my hero acadamy #shinsou #shinsou x reader #eraserhead #erasermic #ambershayde #slow burn #enemy to friends to lovers #hitoshi x reader #shinsō hitoshi #fanfic #anime #reader insert #self induglent #bright as a diamond #brightasadiamond #reader #femreader #bnha x reader

[rxbodybuilding]

posted by Intimador at WCBB Protein: How it initiates muscle growth I was privy to information spoken at a bodybuilding seminar by a guest poser from a contest I had entered. This person was enormous, alleged to have 27" biceps and admitted that he was "not exactly" a natural bodybuilder. When asked how he achieved such gargantuan proportions, he answered "protein, plenty of protein." It was obvious this individual needed more protein than the average bodybuilder; however, I am convinced that some very top grade pharmaceuticals were responsible for his physique. His arms would hang to their sides and his biceps would not elongate, but instead, they had the appearance of softballs stuck under their skins. Mike Mentzer had stated in his writings not to take his word for something just because he won a few physique contests. He wanted bodybuilders to think and understand the concepts of exercise science and nutrition. Unfortunately, a lot of the competitors were seeking the guest poser's advice about which supplement or exercise is best to increase their size, strength, and definition. After he gave them some friendly information, they would each walk away as though they had found the Holy Grail to a championship physique. I found this analogous to asking a Gorilla as to what makes him so strong or quizzing the Cheetah on how he became the fastest land animal. The former would give me a few grunts, and the latter would have me for a snack. It is obvious that these two noble beasts (and many athletes) could not articulate in any fashion as to how they became either strong or fast; their DNA determined that for them. Many bodybuilders with little or no knowledge of biology, anatomy or nutrition, put themselves out there as experts on both nutrition and training, when the truth behind their results is good genetics (good metabolisms and adaptability to exercise stress). I have engaged many bodybuilders who endorse certain training and nutrition methods but receive no "scientific explanation," and when I pressed further, they would simply say "they have been around the sport for "x" number of years" - end of story. Many of the muscle magazines would have you believe you need to consume a "horn of plenty" filled with protein supplements every day to build muscle. Mike Mentzer has spoken about the fact that bodybuilders require about 25% of their calories from protein, and some nutrition scientists are now purporting we may need between 10% to 35%, depending on our activity and lifestyle. Both of these recommendations are higher than the Food Guide Pyramid's 10-15%. I had the privilege to speak with Donald Layman, Professor of Nutrition Division of Nutritional Sciences, Department of Medicine at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign per telephone interview. He stated that protein foods high in the amino acid leucine (dairy and meats) help maintain muscle mass while promoting fat loss. Protein has a satiating affect and leucine regulates insulin, which helps better control blood glucose (sugar) leading to a more successful weight management program. According to Dr. Layman, eating protein rich foods consumed soon after exercise may speedup muscle recovery. Leucine appears to have an impact on skeletal muscle and is a direct regulator of protein synthesis. Examples of complete protein foods that contain leucine are beef, chicken, fish, dairy, and eggs. These foods are balanced with the other amino acids; therefore, it would be unwise at this point to take a leucine amino acid supplement. Layman recommends a protein range of 1.4 to 2.0 grams per kilogram of bodyweight. This range happens to fall within the safe and adequate guidelines of the Dietary Reference Intakes (DRIs). So a liberal intake for a 200 pound (90 kilogram) bodybuilder of 2.0 grams per kilo would come to about 182 grams of protein. Dr. Layman explains other points worth noting about protein. First, Marathon runners actually may need more protein secondary to depletion of glycogen. During a long race, they burn triglycerides as fuel, but when they turn up the intensity, thus increasing their pace, they begin to use glycogen (stored glucose) in the muscles for fuel. Higher protein intake helps the body develop and stabilize blood glucose by increasing the ability of the liver to make glucose from the amino acids, and also allowing the muscles to re-cycle the glucose carbons from the muscle to the liver to be re-made into blood glucose." Secondly, Dr. Layman asserts that protein certainly does not cause kidney failure in normal functioning kidneys. However, in cases of pre-existing renal failure (i.e. diabetes) individuals may get benefit from lower solute loads, such as salts or urea. It is also questionable at what point a "low protein" diet is beneficial, because low protein intake causes kidney atrophy. So the trade off is lower solutes and lower rates of protein turnover (normal repair processes). Finally, Dr. Layman claims that gout is never caused by high protein intakes. Gout is a metabolic disorder, an issue of purines (orotic acid) and is only related to protein in the potential that some red meats are high in purines, but so are some plants. If one has gout, they may gain relief by a diet lower in these types of foods. As a registered dietitian, working with hospital patients, athletes and people wanting to get back in shape, I am typically asked the following questions about protein: Q. How many grams of protein do I require daily? A. In my liberal example, a person engaging in high intensity training or Dr. Layman's long distance running example may need between 1.6 to 2.0 grams per kilogram (2.2 pounds) of body weight, while a couch potato may only require 1.4 grams per kilogram of body weight. Q. Shouldn't protein intake vary per person depending on body size? A. The more you weigh, as a result of training, the more protein you will require. For example, using 2.0 grams per kilogram of bodyweight for an individual weighing 175 pounds (80 kilograms) would require they consume about 160 grams of protein daily. However, after gaining ten pounds of muscle, resulting in a weight of 185 pounds (84 kilograms), that same person would need 168 grams of protein daily. Q. Should I be eating every 2 hours (6 meals a day) with each meal having protein? A. Let me answer the last part of this question first. Each meal should have some protein, because protein helps regulate blood glucose and provides satiety (fullness or satisfaction). I would recommend 3 meals and a snack daily and not to let more than 4-5 hours go by without eating. This will help you have control over your Calorie intake and meet requirements from other food groups. Q. How do I measure protein in grams? A. 1. One ounce of meat, fish, poultry, or lean pork contains 7 grams of Protein. 2. One egg, two tablespoons of natural peanut butter, or ½ cup of dried beans, peas, or lentils each provide 7 grams of protein. 3. ½ cup of cooked vegetables or 1 cup of leafy greens provides 5 grams of protein. 4. 1 cup of milk or yogurt, or 1 ounce of natural cheese typically provides 8 grams of protein. 5. Typically, one serving of grains (either 1 slice of bread, or ½ cup of rice, or ½ cup of pasta, or ½ cup of cereal provides 3 grams of protein-amount of protein varies on brand of cereal). 6. Always read the Nutrition Facts panel on food packaging that tells you the serving size and how many macronutrients are in each serving. If you do not have a calorie booklet that breaks down the food into Carbs, Protein, and Fats, I recommend you purchase one. Make sure that about 70% of your protein comes from meat, fish, eggs (or egg whites), or poultry. The complete protein provided by these foods works with the incomplete protein that comes from other food sources. Thus, your body makes the best of all the protein you consume. If you consume too much protein, and therefore too many Calories beyond your growth and maintenance needs, you will simply get fat. If you follow a restricted carbohydrate diet and replace the majority of carbohydrate foods with protein, the body will convert the protein to glucose for energy. The excess protein will not cause any further muscle growth beyond what has been stimulated from the previous workout. In regards to HIT training, I personally have a moderate amount of protein with some complex carbohydrates before a workout and make sure that I am well hydrated before and after. This way my workouts are productive, and I have gained 8 pounds of muscle in the past two months. My intensity during the workout is related to the fact that my protein intake in combination with carbohydrate and fat stabilizes my blood glucose for a steady supply of energy and allows for intense contractions. I want to point out that going out of one's way to consume large amounts of protein daily is a laborious task because, as described above, they satisfy your appetite for an extended period of time and aid in reducing the intake of too many Calories. Also, it becomes an exercise in futility to consume protein supplements, especially when they are unnecessary. It is simple and less expensive to meet your protein requirements with food. If a lot of the elite bodybuilders were intellectually honest, they would tell you that steroid intake was the impetus behind their muscle gains. As for you "natural" bodybuilders," stimulate growth with Mike Mentzer's HEAVY DUTY high-intensity training first, and then gobble down that chicken breast. by Paul Skinner, MS RD LD

#growxxl #forum

[shipper-trash-bag]

Sabriel week; Day One - Hurt/Comfort

(I know it’s technically day two but I forgot it was this week)

Sam winced at the stinging of the alcohol as his wound was washed out, trying hard to put on a brave face as the doctor and nurse cleaned out the shards of glass and gravel from the wound.

“You’ve had an awful day, huh, son?” The nurse asked, passing the doctor more saline as she picked each piece of glass out with the extra long tweezers. He held the tray out for her, each tiny rock, each jagged shard, and every little miscellaneous piece of garbage making a very audible thunk against the stainless steel. He sighed when the tray got too full, leaving to get another.

The doctor turned her greying head up at Sam, looking through her glasses at him in sympathy. “You’re sure you don’t want to talk to the officers? Catch the guy who did this to you and your brother?” Her eyes were soft, warm like his mother’s, but they couldn’t convince of this.

How do you tell a civilian that the “guy” who did this was a pack of demons? “No, I’m still... I think I’m in shock. I-“ he grasped the edge of the bed as a spasm of pain ripped through him, the swelling of the ankle doing little to go down. “My ankle is killing me, any chance we can X-ray it?”

She rolled the stool down by his foot, carefully taking his shoe off, followed by his sock. “Yeah, I don’t think you need an X-ray, Sam,” she clicked her tongue as they both looked down to see the bone in his foot peeking out through the skin. “But you’ll need surgery. I’m going to book an OR right now and our top ortho surgeron will work on your foot as I finish your side, okay?” He nodded, watching her stand to rip off her gloves. “I’m going to find nurse Elliot to let him know, and I’ll see about an update on your brother, okay?”

Sam nodded, trying to focus on the pattern of the privacy curtains instead of the pain ripping him in half.

He didn’t notice the demons at first, neither did Dean, but he was the first to be thrown through the window. It should have been just a simply salt and burn, shouldn’t have taken more than a day, but they weren’t lucky. It turned into a shit show really quickly, and Sam had carried Dean to the ER on sheer adrenaline alone after a demon crashed the impala into his older brother, totalling the car and fracturing so many bones in Dean, Sam was surprised he didn’t lodge one of them into an organ on their twenty minute hobble.

Dean had gone into surgery twenty six and a half minutes ago. And now that the adrenaline had worn off and Sam realized he’d also broken his own foot, he was going in too. And he was scared. It wasn’t normal for dean to need surgery, not been something he’d had to wait through for a long, long time, and now he needed it too? At the same time, no less. No, Sam Winchester wasn’t scared - he was terrified.

But he nodded along to everything the nurses said, signed the waiver, and let the anesthesiologist hook him up to an IV, dread sitting low in his stomach as he was wheeled to the OR. He only hoped he would wake up as soon as his mom got there, as soon as Dean would.

——————————-

“How is he?”

“Stable. Nurse said he should wake up in the next few minutes.”

Sam knew those voices, even as muffled as they were, but he couldn’t... place them. Still, they chattered on.

“How’s Dean?”

Dean....

“Good. Doctor said he’s lucky to be alive, but he’s awake and demanding I wheel him over here. But he’s still really groggy and high from the pain meds, so let’s wait.” A soft hand ran through his hair, the smell of the soap he’d grown fond of for the past year and a half.

His eyes opened slowly, a breath filling his lungs with the soft floral spice. “Mom?”

“Sam!” Her face swam into focus as he blinked up at her. Bags hung below her eyes, crinkled around the edges in a tight smile. “You scared the shit outta me! You two went in there, no backup, no nothing? It’s not like you. I knew something was wrong when you didn’t call me back last night.”

She looked exhausted, and Sam felt guilty about it. But he simply smiled softly back at her, thankful she was by his side. “Sorry, Mom. Won’t happen again. Dean-“

“He’s fine. Doctor’s patched him up and he’s going to go stir crazy because he’ll be bed bound for a few weeks, but he’ll live.”

Before she could finish her thought, nurse Elliot popped his head into their room. “Sorry to break up the reunion here, but Mrs. Baker? There’s some insurance forms I still need you to fill out.”

Mary nodded, turning to kiss Sam on the forehead before leaving. “I’ll be back, okay?”

Sam nodded, letting her go. The door barely closed before he felt the bed dip on his other side. Startled, he turned his head just in time to see Gabriel curl up against him, face just inches from his own. “I’m so angry with you.”

“Yeah?” He cocked an eyebrow, waiting to feel the full brunt of the ex-archangel’s fury.

Gabriel nodded. His face didn’t show anger, though, in fact, it was twisted more in pain than any other emotion Sam could have anticipated it’d be. “We were supposed to have a date night, and instead you go on a hunt with Dean without backup. How am I supposed to handle that, hmm? You didn’t even tell me ahead of time. You just.... you text me from a gas station a state away, saying ‘sorry. Change of plans.’ Like-“ he scoffs, frustrated and ready to cry. “The next call I get is from a nurse saying they’re wheeling you into surgery. Do you know how messed up that is? You can’t even call me yourself to cancel date night, you have to have a nurse do it for you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Sam reaches up with both hands, cupping Gabriel’s face and forcing him to look at the man. “It was messed up how I handled it. I let Dean rope me into the hunt because I knew if I didn’t he’d go alone, and I didn’t call you because I knew you’d try to either tag along or convince me to stay behind. I’m struggling trying to please both of you, and I’m coming up short, here. Our relationship is suffering because of my choices, and I’m so unbelievably sorry, Gabe. I’m going to try harder. I’m also going to try to find someone to be Dea: backup when I can’t be.” He rubbed his thumb under Gabe’s left eye, a secretly favourite spot of Gabe’s he likes Sam touching he doesn’t think Sam knows about. “I have to compromise here for us, and I don’t know why I haven’t been willing to when it comes to Dean.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Cuz you’re both too codependent.”

Sam sighed, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know.” He knew Gabriel was right, they all did, but the man still had some pride to keep. “Truce? I’ll make it up to you. We can have date night tomorrow.”

Gabriel laughed, a wet chuckle bubbling up from his throat. “Oh, no, babe. The doctor wants you in bed rest too. We’re going to have to put date night on hold for a while.”

Sam pouted, but nodded anyways. Far be it from him to keep Gabriel from doting on him for a change. And dote Gabriel did every single time Sam got injured or sick. Three months ago it was from a twisted ankle, and a week after that it had been the flu. Both time’s Gabriel went all out in the best human ways he could in order to make Sam feel pampered beyond words.

Gabriel nodded, curling alongside Sam and kissing him softly. “But only if I get to choose what documentary we watch. I’m not watching that coin one anymore. It’s coins. I know how they work. I have common cents.”

“Stop.”

“Why? I’m being the change I want to see in this world.”

“Gabriel.”

“Come on, you know you love me.”

Sam let out a soft smile at the worlds, having only admitted them to his boyfriend just a few weeks ago. Three years. Three years and he’d finally admitted it. “Yeah, I guess I do, Huh?”

Gabriel smiled widely, kissing him softly again. “When we get home, I’m getting you a maternity pillow. Your mom said it’ll help you sit upright so you don’t put strain on your stitches. We already have Jack and Cas out buying other stuff for you guys. Got a thick foam pillow to elevate your broken foot. And I also got us an HBO Go account so you can binge watch your shows. And soup. You like tomato and rice, right?”

Sam hummed in agreement, already enjoying the prospect at all of that. “Can we just lay here for a bit, first? We can get into the rest later. Just.... hold me? And maybe-“

“Run my fingers through your hair? You got it.”

By the time that Mary had finished the last form, Sam had fallen asleep again, but this time, it was from his boyfriend’s warmth.

(Someone teach me how to put read more on mobile)

#spn #sabriel #sam winchester #gabriel #dean winchester #mary winchester #fanfic #sabriel fanfiction #sabriel fanfic #my fanfic #sabriel week #hurt/comfort

[kieraembers]

Valyrian Steel

Chapter 36

Gendry

Allow me to preface this by saying that I have not updated this fic in a long time. I had two deaths in my family and have been plenty depressed. But the leaks have me spitting mad so I'll probably finally update. Also, not watching the show, living in fanfic world, where Missandei is ALIVE.

Gendry woke up when Nymeria let out a growl in her sleep and Arya fidgeted besides him. He looked towards the messy head of brown hair to his right and the grey direwolf to his left, then he noticed his feet were up against a warm black mass. Shaggy opened one bright green eye and fixed Gendry with a sleepy stare before, he blinked once then rolled over to his side with a tired yawn and settled back to sleep.

This was how he would die, it didn't matter that he told Arya to stop sneaking into his tent, it didn't matter how many times he told her that he was fine, that he was never improper with her, that the wolves were always present, or that Jon actually liked him. No, as soon as any of the Northern lords popped their heads into his tent, or spotted Arya leaving they would string him up by his toes and feed his cock to the wolves who never said no to a meal. He knew the consequences for a base-born bastard to try and reach above his station, and Arya was most definitely above his station.

It started innocently enough, Arya continuously popped into his room before and after her nightly hunt to poke him awake and make sure he had not died in his sleep. It became an annoyance and no matter how tightly he locked his room or where he hid his tent she found him. He'd spend the days exhausted from lack of sleep because it was difficult to go back to sleep when Arya would rest her head on his chest to check his pulse, touch his neck when he bundled himself up in furs, or slip her hands under furs and shirt to check that he was warm. Every night since leaving the Twins it was the same and every night no matter how much he insisted he was fine, she had to check and frustrate him to no end.

Till one night he was driven to near insanity from lack of sleep and he dragged her under the covers with him and held her tight. "Sleep" he had muttered, and held firm even when she wriggled in his arms. If she wanted to leave she had her knives and her teeth, and all Gendry wanted was sleep, even if she rubbed maddeningly against him. From then on she would slip in and sleep under the furs with him no matter how much he objected. But when had any one ever been able to control or deny Arya?

Gendry tried to shift closer to Nymeria and farther from Arya, but she stubbornly stuck close to him muttering in her sleep and burying her face into his side. She was still so small and thin, but she didn't look half starved so Gendry didn't worry if she had enough to eat in the years she was away. He looked down at her, the frown that he so often saw in her face melted away when she slept and the sharpness softened. Gendry brushed some of her hair back from her face then tucked her into his arm.

They would kill him as soon as they noticed Arya leaving his tent, so he might as well get some happiness from the situation. She opened an eye and smiled before resting her head on his chest. Gendry was sure she wasn't fully awake but that smile was all he needed. Her legs tucked into his and he stroked her shoulder with his thumb until he finally fell asleep again.

)O(

In the morning Arya was gone, she always slipped out before daylight and considering his cock was still attached to his body he was sure no one had seen her make her way back to her tent. Gendry sat up and began packing up his tent and bed roll, he could hear the camp being moved around him .

The fires were being put out and the horses saddled while the men scarfed down what they could.  The Crannogmen helped them set up camp in the swampy Neck the night before. They laid out logs and rugs made of reeds and twigs so the men would keep dry. Summer, Meera Reed, Howland Reed and a group of Crannogmen had met them at the Neck and helped the army's barges find their way through the treacherous swamp lands. Greywater Watch was a floating wonder, but the Crannogmen could not sustain such a vast force for long, Jon made sure to only impose on them for two nights before continuing through the Neck.

They were camped a day's march away from the Bite where a ship would wait off the coast to take them to White Harbor, then up the White Knife river towards Winterfell. Arya wanted to attack from the Wolf Woods so that Stannis' men had less time to respond while Jon insisted that he could speak to the man. Tyrion, Daenerys and Aegon were not convinced that Stannis would ever bend the knee.

Gendry spotted Willas Tyrell drawing a dead lizard lion that Shaggy-dog had dragged in early in the morning. He had stopped mid stroke and stared off into the distance, the man was given to bouts of deep thought, so Gendry thought little of it and made his way across the camp where he knew Jon and Arya would be training with Viserion.

Viserion was eating some of the meat Jon was tossing at her and drawing closer to him. She came nose to nose with Ghost, then with Jon before shooting off into the trees.

"She's almost ready, a few more days." Arya said watching the pale dragon weave through the tree's till she found a clearing in the tree's canopy.

"We may not have the time." Jon grumbled while scratching Ghost behind the ears, he noticed Gendry approaching and smiled.

"Sleep well?" Jon asked innocently enough.

Gendry cleared his throat and avoided looking at Arya, "Well enough."

"The ground is softer here." Jon said off handedly and made his way towards Gendry while Arya scampered off towards Meera who had appeared from deep within the swamp. The Crannogmen had fed the men frogs, lizard lion and rice, while some of the men grumbled at eating frogs Jon and Arya focused on making sure they did not insult their hosts. The men could not complain about the frogs when their lady bragged about eating bugs in the past. Gendry didn't mind after his third frog, as long as there was some salt. It reminded him a bit of chicken, a few of the men had even asked for seconds.

Howland Reed appeared besides Meera and motioned for Jon to join him. The man took a special interest in Jon and Arya, mainly because of their father. Meera was impatient to leave with them, she wanted to make her way back to Bran Stark. Arya and Jon had welcomed Meera with open arms for the loyalty and love she showed for Bran even when he was not present. Arya became attached to Meera, since the girl cared for Bran beyond the wall and seemed to deeply love him. Then again Arya could make friends with anyone, it was a skill he had not mastered.

Gendry remembered how big of an ass he was towards Edric Dayne and Arya simply for the fact that they got along. Edric was a likeable boy and Arya had a knack for befriending anyone. All he could focus on was his own shortcomings, imagined and real. Even before leaving King's Landing he had a hard time getting along with others. He either scowled and scared others away or avoided people all together. Arya was never scared away, she stuck to Gendry and the rest even when it wasn’t convenient.

Arya let out a large laugh at something Meera said and Gendry smiled. Hopefully she was letting go of some of her anger. He helped some men load the tents and camping equipment onto the barges.  A few of the older Crannogmen had volunteered their services to fight the undead. Tyrion and Jon mentioned that their first group of recruits would be older men trying to ease the strain on their families.

Gendry admired the northmen, they ran headlong into battle knowing that if they died there would be more food for the rest of the North. It was selfless in the extreme.

Gendry noticed Aegon approached Arya holding a colorful frog in a glass jar. They talked excitedly over the frog and Arya dipped an arrow in and run it along the frogs back. Gendry could not read lips but he was certain that they were speaking of poison. Arya continued to poison the tips of her arrows, a lock of her hair slipped and Aegon tucked it behind her ear. She smiled thankfully at him and Gendry felt something burning in his gut as he watched Aegon continue to loom over Arya.

He stormed away towards where he knew Daenerys was. He found her talking to Jon and Tyrion and bowed as well as he could.

"If the offer still stand I would be honored to become the new lord of the Stormlands."

Daenerys seemed a bit taken aback but she recovered quickly enough and bowed her head with respect.

"Then let me be the first to greet you, Gendry Baratheon, Lord paramount of the Stormlands and Storm's end."

Jon and Tyrion went to greet him as an equal and Gendry tried to mimic them as well as he could. He was a lord, he could barely read, yet he was a lord. No one could say a damn word if they ever caught Arya leaving his tent.

Gendrya

young griff

#asoiaf #fanfic #fan art #gendrya #gendry #arya stark #got #myart #my art #myfic #my fic

[serjacobdezoet]

A Web of Stories Part 0.5: A Word on Epigraphs

First of all, I apologize for my long absence. School does not leave me much time to write or to read, outside of what I do in class. Now that summer has started I will hopefully have some time to do some reading of Ghostwritten. It’s a hell of a lot better than the drivel that is Maria Doria Russell’s The Sparrow which I am currently halfway through. However, I haven’t dedicated the time quite yet to give that sonufabitch Neil Brose the attention he deserves. So I’m going to talk a little bit about epigraphs, more specifically about Ghostwritten’s epigraph and how it is a dead giveaway of the theme/Central Narrative Thread(CNT)/etc….

I’ve only personally seen epigraphs in books that are attempting to be literary. Maybe that’s literary snobbery, after all some books that claim to be “literary” are little more than the author preaching through flimsily constructed mouthpieces (I’m looking at you Atlas Shrugged). However, despite their various flaws I think literary books do all attempt to engage with a larger set of ideas. Which is, to quote GRRM out of context “is their great glory and their great tragedy.” All literary books, without strong enough characters or plot, run the risk of turning out like Atlas Shrugged.

Epigraphs are a way to begin this discourse by citing and suggesting an expansion or a response to the ideas put forth in previous work. Citing your sources, as you will. Epigraphs suggest that the author has done their due diligence and read widely. Usually the book is better for it (guess which book does not have an epigraph :) ). Oftentimes however, the epigraph kind of gives away the chase: it can make the point of the book VERY apparent, although perhaps I am speaking with reread bias. Let’s take a look at a couple examples and then I’ll dive in to what I think Ghostwritten’s epigraph is all about.

The celestial spheres endlessly resound.

But an instant is invincible in memory.

It comes back in the middle of the night. Who are those holding torches

So that what is long past occurs in full light

-Czesław Miłosz

This is an epigraph from Guy Gavriel Kay’s newest book A Brightness Long Ago. The text of the epigraph itself is from a Czesław Miłosz  poem called “The Master”. The poem is about an old musician/composer remembering some sinful event from his past, and remarking on how clear it seems and how he is glad he remembers in it. In A Brightness Long Ago, the main character Danino is also stuck in the mists of the past. He is old, serving on the council in Seressa (analog of Venice) as an important noble, but it is this event from his youth, the meeting of two mercenary leaders who engage in a struggle that ends up being pointless, is the thing he remembers. This epigraph tells us that it is this act of memory that we should be focusing on: the how he remembers and the why, not the what.

TRIPITAKA: Monkey, how far is it to the Western Heaven, the abode of Buddha?

WU-KONG: You can walk from the time of your youth till the time you grow old, and after that, till you become young again; and even after going through such a cycle a thousand times, you may still find it difficult to reach the place where you want to go. But when you perceive, by the resoluteness of your will, the Buddha-nature in all things, and when every one of your thoughts goes back to that fountain in your memory, that will be the time you arrive at Spirit Mountain.

-The Journey to the West

This is an epigraph from Kim Stanley Robinson’s The Years of Rice and Salt. The Epigraph is from the 16th century Ming Chinese novel The Journey to the West. The former tells the tale of an alternate history in which the black plague wiped out the entire population of Europe. The latter is a Chinese folktale chronicling the seeking of enlightenment by pilgrims traveling the Western regions of China (i.e. India and Central Asia). Robinson’s novel focuses on two things: a world and a group of reincarnating individuals, both of which seek to come to some kind of balance. In the Bardo, a limbo-like state between incarnations, the characters find themselves and the world in a state of anarchy. China is first too powerful and then the Arab states and so on and so forth. The reincarnated characters, each delineated by the starting letter of their name, also swing back and forth on the pendulum. From coward to scientist, from hero to murderer. It is only in the chapter entitled “Window Kang”, in which the title character reflects on the best years of her life being those of “rice and salt”, i.e. the ordinary, hectic child-filled years of her life, in which enlightenment begins to be achieved.

...And I, who claim to know so much more, isn’t it possible that even I have missed the very spring within the spring?

“Some say that we shall never know, and that to the gods we are like the flies that the boys kill on a summer's day, and some say, to the contrary, that the very sparrows do not lose a feather that has not been brushed away by the finger of God.”

-Thorton Wilder, The Bridge of San Luis Rey

And now finally Ghostwritten. I have not read The Bridge of San Luis Rey (it’s on my reading list I swear), but the central event of the novel is a bridge collapsing in Lima, Peru which kills seven people. Brother Juniper, a local monk, takes it upon himself to find out these people are and perhaps see the workings of the hand of God in their deaths. I have not read the book, so I do not know the intricacies of the ending, but the Abbess of the monastery: "There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning."

Ghostwritten also focuses on the question of the existence of the hand of God. In some ways Mitchell comes to the same conclusion as Wilder. So many of the characters make the decisions they make because they love. Yet like all effective authors, Mitchell goes beyond merely affirming the ideas espoused by the epigraph. First of all there are the non-corporeals, an invisible force that influences our decisions in inexplicable ways. Then, more importantly, the CNT is a train hurtling towards the creation of the super intelligent AI Zookeeper and the destruction of the human race by a comet. In Ghostwritten we are shown many gods: some that view human beings as mere distractions to their larger purpose (chance, the noncorporia), others that make it their work to know all the workings of the human soul (Zookeeper and the author). Perhaps it is not one or the other, as brother Juniper suggests, but both.

Why is this helpful? Hopefully you’ve already picked up on some reasons. This epigraph gives a better idea of theme (looking for the hand of god) and gives the seemingly unrelated narrative threads a clear direction (we are hurtling towards the creation of a force that can we can tangibly prove will affect our lives). This realization, combined with the long fiction writing class I took during the spring semester, has convinced me that I need to switch directions slightly on this blog. I need to move away from the discussion of complex vague thematics and towards something more tangible like story structure. I will be replacing my three thematic sections with two core pillars of discussion: 

“Spring Within a Spring” which will focus on the central narrative thread, the narrative arc of each chapter and other storytelling techniques. 

“Hand of God”, which I will focus more on thematics, specifically on love, chance, authorial choice, noncorporia. 

The other sections will remain the same.

See you soon (hopefully) in Hong Kong.

Ser Jacob De Zoet

#epigraph #ghostwritten #reread #david mitchell #god #handofgod #Thorton Wilder #kim stanley robinson #love #chance #writing #webofstories

[fourcupschai]

I feel both heartbroken and excited to end my vegan, plant based journey. To find out what drove me to change my eating habits, click the link in my bio. 🥺 ~•~ For me, I was choosing veganism for all the wrong reasons. Allowing myself to cheat “every now and then” and still referring to myself as vegan was the first red flag. I was never “vegan” and I couldn’t have even dared to call myself vegan. I was merely a girl enjoying plant based foods. I should have never put a label on myself. For all the details on my 2 years of “veganism”, read my most recent blog post. While there’s so much more I need to discuss, I figured maybe it will help get my point across. By no means is this an open invitation for criticism and I am no means trying to convince others to stop eating plant based. If it feels right to you, I am so unbelievably ecstatic for you and I thank you for your dedication. For me, something never really felt right. It never really felt like my own. I can easily say now that I am allowing myself to have to freedom to eat whatever I please. I feel myself again. I feel lighter and happier and WAY more energetic. But understand that my morals are still very much in place and I want nothing more than to stop animal cruelty. For me, it means eating more pasture raised, cage free, and organic meats. Knowing they lived happy and healthy lives gives me a more at peace conscious. ❤️ ~•~ Last night I marinaded free-range organic chicken tenders in lime juice, chili, evoo, maple syrup, garlic and salt. Grilled until charred, tossed in some fresh salt, pepper and parsley + made some bomb ass rice and bean burritos. Not to mention I was able to bond with @rashaadraymond and our roomate @b_lyness over some delicious food.🌯 ~•~ I apologize in advance to all the people who dedicate their lives to veganism. You’re doing an amazing service to this world and you are appreciated EVERY SINGLE DAY. 👏🏻 ~•~ #notvegan #notvegetarian #notpescatarian #notfruitarian #notlabelled #free #healthy #happy #strong #ethicalmeat #dowhatsbestforyou #nolongervegan #farmraised #chililime #noonesperfect #iamme https://www.instagram.com/p/B17HOEIJoOb/?igshid=1gl9g23j4waqz

#notvegan #notvegetarian #notpescatarian #notfruitarian #notlabelled #free #healthy #happy #strong #ethicalmeat #dowhatsbestforyou #nolongervegan #farmraised #chililime #noonesperfect #iamme

[singledarkshade]

Waverider Detective Agency

Part Five

Gideon let out a soft sigh as the therapist smoothed something that smelled like peaches onto her face as she lay in the treatment rooms just off the relaxation area near the back of spa. When she’d arrived, after changing into the robe and slippers, she’d set loose Ray’s little drone before heading to meet her therapist.

Now she couldn’t do anything else so was just lying back and enjoying her treatment.

The only concern she had at the moment was her new partner. Gideon knew she could have done this without any help, she’d done things like this plenty of time over the past year, but he had insisted.

She had considered that it might be best if they just worked separately splitting cases between them but Gideon also knew that Mary didn’t want that. The reason she’d put Rip in the agency was to help him and leaving him alone would not do that.

Gideon hoped he was able to pull off what she’d told him to do. She had no idea if he could lie or not.

 Rip walked into the spa and looked around. It was decorated in soothing muted colours, there was a faint hint of incense and calming music was played as all the employees wandered around wearing what looked like pyjamas and a pair of flip flops.

“Welcome to the Paradise Spa,” the young woman at the reception desk said gently, “Do you have an appointment?”

Rip shook his head, “I’m actually looking for some gifts. Next week is my sister and girlfriend’s birthday.”

“Two in the one week,” the woman smiled.

“On the same day,” Rip replied, hoping it would garner him sympathy, “At least it means I don’t forget one of them.”

The woman chuckled, moving back slightly Rip saw her name-tag which read ‘Fiona’, she said “So, what kind of gift are you looking for? We have gift-cards for treatments either a specific one or just an amount to put towards them. We also have a range of gift-boxes with our own skin care products that we use here in the spa.”

“I don’t think a gift card would be well received,” Rip said, knowing this to be true from experience, “So what gift sets would you recommend.”

Fiona smiled at him, “Well that depends on what the ladies in question like, as well as what skin types they are,” she laughed at his blank look, “Okay, let’s go with their personalities.”

This he was prepared for, Gideon would take the place of his sister and Kendra the place of a girlfriend if he needed to describe them. Gideon has passed him a picture of them from the previous Christmas and assured he knew them well enough to describe their personalities.

Rip smiled, “Well…”

  Gideon left the spa feeling quite relaxed after her treatment, smiling amused when she spotted Rip sitting on a bench nearby, a bag from the spa at his side.

“You bought the giftsets?” she asked amused.

Rip stood picking up the bag and shrugging, “I felt guilty considering how much work she put into finding them for me. You and Kendra can decide which one you want.”

“Why not send them to Mary?” Gideon asked as they started along the streets heading back to car so they could return to the office.

He shrugged, “Think of it as a thank you for putting up with me when you’re so used to working by yourself.”

Gideon smiled at him, “Thank you.”

Reaching the car Gideon slid in waiting for Rip to throw the bag in the back before getting in the passenger seat.

“Kendra has sent us all the information she found,” Gideon said as she drove, “I’ll download the drone once we get back to the office so we can see if it found anything.”

“You can go home,” Rip told her, “I can go through everything.”

Gideon glanced over at him and gave him a smile, “I actually like this part. Looking at clues and putting the pieces together. All we need is some food and we can get to work.”

“Okay,” Rip nodded softly, “What do you want to eat?”

She mused on this before shrugging, “Let’s see what John has to offer tonight before making any choices.”

“Is the food that good?” Rip asked.

Driving into the empty parking space near the office, Gideon nodded, “You’ll see.”

They climbed out the car and started towards John’s place, as they moved closer Rip frowned to see a long queue coming out the door and along the street.

“Oh, it’s Chinese food,” Gideon noted happily moving closer.

“You do know there is a Chinese takeout place less than a block from here with probably less of a queue,” Rip noted.

She smiled, “True but it won’t be as good. The chef John gets for these nights is amazing and worth the wait,” she stopped him saying anything else, “Plus John won’t let us wait in the queue.”

As predicted the moment they reached the queue, Hazel, one of the waitresses appeared and waved to Gideon, “John asked to see you in his office.”

Gideon turned and gave Rip a smug smile before following Hazel inside with him following on behind her.

Every table in the room was full, there were people waiting beside the bar with the line spilling out the door. Hazel disappeared the moment they were inside to get back to work while Gideon lead Rip to John’s office.

“I really don’t get this,” Rip noted, “He changes his menu every day, is it on a weekly cycle so everyone knows what’s being served tonight.”

Gideon shook her head, “No. I do know he uses social medial well and has managed to build a reputation for himself.”

The door opened and John slid in, leaning against the door with a small sigh, “It’s chaos out there tonight.”

Gideon chuckled, “You brought it on yourself, John. You know how popular this night is with your followers.”

“I know,” he sighed, “And this was the only night Max can make for the next few months. Anyway, what can I get you two to eat?”

“You’re letting us skip the queue?” Rip asked amused.

John shrugged, “Gideon is family so will always be first in line.”

“Can we just get the special taster meal for two to go?” Gideon asked, “That should be enough for both of us and you can get to try a bit of everything, Rip.”

John grinned, “No problem love.”

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

  Gideon sat cross-legged on the couch in the reception area finishing off her rice as Rip sat on the floor against the couch his long legs stretched out in front of him eating the last of the salt and chilli chicken.

“Okay,” Rip moaned, “You were right. That was incredible food.”

Gideon smiled at him, “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“It depends on what you’re asking,” Rip noted darkly.

Setting the empty container down Gideon turned to look at him properly, “Why don’t you like being called Michael?”

Rip shrugged, “Because it was my father’s name and I want nothing to do with the man.”

“Then why not change your surname too?” Gideon asked.

“Because Hunter is my mother’s surname,” Rip replied, laughing at the bemused look Gideon was giving him, “Mary adopted me when I was ten.”

Gideon nodded, a small spike of jealousy going through her for a second, “I didn’t know.”

He shrugged, “I tend not to wear a sign around my neck.”

“I shouldn’t have pried,” Gideon said, frowning when he chuckled, “What?”

“Then you wouldn’t be you,” he replied, giving a sigh Rip shrugged, “Alright, I have invaded your life so you are owed something and my story is a small price to pay.”

Gideon sat quietly waiting for him to continue speaking not wanting to say anything and make him change his mind because she’d wanted to know this since the day they met.

“My mother, biological mother is someone I know only a little about but I know she was chased by my father,” Rip sneered slightly, “Wooed until she fell for him and I was the result. But the man didn’t want a kid, even though she was convinced until I was about three months old that he did. She named me Michael after him.”

“What happened to your mother?”

Rip took a drink of the beer he had sitting on the table, “She died when I was six months in an accident. I lived with my aunt until I was four when she died too.”

He took another quick drink before continuing, “I was put in care after that. Mother…Mary had lost her own family so would come and help out at the home every so often,” he stopped lost in his memories for the moment, “I was eight and angry because every time I thought I might get a family someone else was chosen.”

“I remember that feeling,” Gideon said softly.

Rip nodded, storing that small piece of information, “Anyway on one of her visits she found me sitting alone so sat to talk to me. I didn’t say much but I remember how sad I was when she left. I was stunned when she came back the next day with a book she’d been telling me about. Then she came back the next day and the next and the next,” a small smile touched his lips, “Two weeks later she asked me if I wanted to come live with her. I was ecstatic.”

Gideon sighed softly, “I can only imagine.”

“Anyway, two years later she was going through the paperwork to finalise my adoption but discovered my father hadn’t given up his parental rights,” Rip sneered slightly, “It is the only time I remember meeting him and I never wanted to ever again. He walked into the house like he owned it, looked at me like I was a piece of dirt before turned to the amazing woman who had taken me in and told her they should get this over with. He had dinner plans.”

Gideon frowned, “He sounds hideous.”

“He was,” Rip agreed, “But his wife came with him and she sat with me. We talked briefly about school before she handed me a piece of paper saying it was a present for me but I was to give it to mother once they were finished. Then they were gone and I knew that the moment I could I was changing my name.”

Silence fell between them when Rip finished his story.

Gideon frowned in thought, “What was on the paper?”

A small smile touched Rip’s lips, “It was a bank account that she had put together. I used the money for University.”

“I have one more question,” Gideon said.

Rip rolled his eyes, “Of course you do.”

“Where did the name Rip come from?”

“My wife,” he said softly, “We met in school and when I told her about my plan to change my name as soon as I could, Miranda made a list. She liked the sound of Rip Hunter. Said it sounded like someone who had adventures so started calling me Rip and it stuck.”

  After tidying up the remains of their meal, then putting away all their work Rip and Gideon headed back to their apartment building. They didn’t talk, both caught up in their own thought barely noticing the man in the dark hoodie who pushed past them into the street when they opened the main door. They walked up the stairs in silence, neither even thought to take the elevator and reached Gideon’s floor.

“You did well today,” Gideon said softly, “Although our budget won’t run to buying something every time we need to survey a shop.”

Rip shrugged, “I’ll do my best. Although thinking about it you got a facial out of the budget.”

“Get some sleep and we’ll pick up on our leads tomorrow morning,” Gideon told him, “Goodnight.”

Rip started up the stairs, “Goodnight.”

Heading along the corridor to her apartment Gideon slowed, her door appeared to be sitting slightly open, but she knew that she had locked it when she left. Deliberately she began to move closer, pulling out the taser she carried for protection. Reaching the door she scanned it but it didn’t look like anyone had forced it open or picked the lock. Swallowing worriedly she armed the taser before gently pushing the door open. On the wall directly across from the door was a photograph of her, it was attached to the wall by a knife through her chest with a message below in red – ‘Mine’

Horrified Gideon let out a scream.

Part Six

#fic #legends of tomorrow #rip hunter #gideon #timeship #alternate universe

[nanashi1869]

🌼Flowers for my wounds🌸

(@kondo-hijikata @liuet in case you feel like reading it? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

~Yes, woo what a surprise, a long rant about the Shinsengumi again, how original Nashi. ~

Why thank you, dear reader ;) In all seriousness though, all the previous rants I made were spoiler free and it made me ridiculously furious that I held back all the salt and awe I have in me just for the sake of not spoiling any potential newcomers. I’ve covered some of this in vague posts hundreds of times, but today I will break that habit, I will spoil this to hell and back and enjoy it just as much.  

You've been warned.

PS: I’m doing this entirely based on my memory and some snippets I’ve seen one time too many for my own good. Inaccuracies are bound to happen. 

As always, what better way to begin than with the infamous episode 33...

I'm kidding, today I'm starting by digging into the post office. As with the usual routine the theme to talk about with this wreck is - guilt. Guilt over losing money in a gamble like a complete fool, guilt over buying a book and being too big of a shit (with rather solid arguments) to admit it, guilt over making rules you can't break even though going through the consequences once was enough to make you regret it for the next few miserable years... (Yes I lied, inadvertently everything comes back to the foolish daffodils). But let's talk about our pure accountant who is one 'i' short of being nothing but cute. Let's talk about the edge they put us on a bit before the main event took place, when the (drama version) of the idiot trio tore that scroll. Never forget that could have been the reason for all our tears, yet in the end it still had to be some more complex scheme. An act with the convict being an innocent man and the true criminal roaming free, while Toshi had all the time in the world to steep in deep, raging self-denial over the legitimacy of his past actions and life choices, all the while ending up the scapegoat to whom all the anger can be directed towards. The subtlety with which we were deceived to think the "actual events" of episode 38 were to play out earlier is truly commendable. But with this drama nothing is ever easy. You get to know a new character, someone moves a chess piece and then instead of moving forward everything takes a step back and lets you seethe with nervousness because, without realizing, you've been tricked and have to wait for all the heartbreak a while longer. Takeda's resolve to keep to his decision, regardless of consequences, was in his eyes, completely justified. It did make sense to try and prevent Kano from buying the book for Ito in order to protect the group from his growing power, the action simply failed due to Toshi's own greed after it. Kawai innocently, perhaps naively, thought lending money more than once would not be punished in hopes his friends would be saved from harm. It is his kindnesses that is ultimately his doom and it is the unexpected, usually harmless twists in life that turn it into a spiral with no point of return. Takeda's following quest for redemption ends up being just as pointless as Kawai’s death - he is killed in an instant of hate directed at him, where the assailants are unaware of his reasoning for the justification of his friend's demise. The book too, loses value as Ito gets his own copy later on.

Most, if not all, tragedies in this drama happen because someone is trying to protect or shield - and idea, a person. Toshi's friends die because he must protect the order of the group for Kat-chan, Yamanami and Akesato have a rift in their final moments because they cannot be honest (likewise Souji and Hide), Kat-chan's relationship with Tsune suffers because he lies about Miyuki, Nagakura and the others write the petition to shield the group from Toshi and Kat-chan's (propensity) ego. The pattern is pretty clear.

I'm going to loop back to the script for just a second - watching this drama knowing what will happens adds a thrill, it makes you question when an event will take place even though you know the chronological sequence, because the “mini-arc” leading up to it has to be completed first and the tension must be just right. How long that is depends on the episode and event of course. But each arc is a stepping stone to a new point of no return.

I think, since I've mentioned him, I'll take a bit to talk about Ito as well. I love, love, love the confrontation Kondo and Ito have right before his death. It's absolutely stunning despite being simplistic in nature, because what Kondo states is in fact the very obvious truth and in no way some overly wise notion of the situation. However, it's that simplicity (to me) that adds to the charm of the scene. If you expected some courageous battle of wits, you might have been sourly disappointment, but otherwise - see the pattern? - what brings people to their knees is once again the basic things in life. Kondo’s sincerity, the fact that life is and always will be (mostly) separated into black and white for them. Farmers and samurai, poor and rich - they fit in a narrow grey zone, yet even there they are bullied, pushed away to leave. It's everything complex they're trying to achieve being haunted by little things. It's the desire and determination to be something big and more buried into the ground by the small things they were raised with, holding them back.

Ah, it’s about time this goo got to the good part.

No, it’s still not episode 33. Firstly because I’m sure everyone is tired of my whining about it and secondly because I like to leave best (in my opinion) for last.

This is for our Gargoyle and Tofu. Just imagine, for a second imagine that final hug again and bathe in it, then come back to me, okay? The wedding rings champagne caps and Toshi’s little grimace when he tries to convince himself ‘it’s not over yet’. (At this point I would just like to praise Mitani again for giving us closure with that hug, unlike some other shows I watch *side eyes knife pile*). I’m really glad the two of them got to hug it out before the whole deal blew up. Everytime a ‘Kat-channn’ or ‘Tossshii’ came around my heart melted a bit. THE DYNAMIC IS SO GOOD. (I get so, so jealous each time I see well written relationships between two guys. Doesn’t matter if it’s boyfriends/best friends/would-die-for-you combined or only one of these included. (*cough* NIF & Bleach for one *cough*) I don’t even know what to say! We all know Toshi would sacrifice the world for Kat-chan. We all know Kat-chan trusts him above all else. The guilt one feels and the content of the other having come so far together and being such a power combo…*noises*

I don’t even know how to put this.... (@kondo-hijikata help this is your expertise)

I’m going to move on to some more feathery stuff because I’m really at a loss about these two (analysing NIF’s LC/MCS has engraved so deep into me it’s ruined my perception for everyone else, I apologize).

Right, feathers…

I wrote about Serizawa and his issue of not being able to get over his “I’m a bad guy, therefore I must act like it” complex...somewhere before. I can’t find it, but I’m very sure that was once a thing. I know most people hate the man with a burning passion and part of me probably does too, yet the way he is presented also makes him fascinating, like he is very self-aware but cannot change anything about that (this is similar to Toshi’s “indifference” (we all know he actually cares) of his path to become the villain - he knows that what he is doing is morally wrong and has no intention of stopping). I feel like in the end both of them continued with “bad guy” roles simply because they were too far down that road to stop.

I would analyse Serizawa’s character more, but I honestly don’t remember much anymore. I did want to mention this though.  Toshi on the other hand…feels like someone who desperately wishes to rage quit everything, but keeps on going out of pure spite.

And since I’m speaking of our beloved vice-commander - one thing that opisses me off is that Kotetsu got mentioned, but the whole wow deal with Kanesada got dropped out, even in the movie. *cue bawling over that Katsugeki finale* I was hoping for that when Tetsu showed up dammit!

Am I tiring you yet? Come, sit down, have some tea Gen-san made because he is totally ok and alive an happy and you cannot convince me otherwise because the hugging thing did not happen. Period.

…

Lastly, because my mind is going blank this is quite long - the bane of my existence and the one thing (to me) more cursed than Ryoma himself. (I’m lying PMK upped this x100000 and I am not over that either. I’ll confess immediately I did not read the whole thing yet but this, this haunts me).

This stupid episode with it’s stupid ending and it’s stupid decisions. *insert me yelling about rice balls on the Mibugishiden review post* I mean what is it with this drama and ending brutally sad episodes with (unintentionally?) funny moments? *cue Toshi’s squeaky crying* I have covered my thoughts about Akesato here and here though and since that essentially recaps everything I want to say, I won’t repeat myself. (Thought you’d have to read through 5 more pages of me screaming? I did too before I forgot what I wanted to say.)

I might make a part 2 someday, if I think of more to say, but for now, I’m done, leaving you with this stressful mess. Feel free to add your own opinions, I’m really curious about what the rest of you think.

~Nashi out~

#taigaqueue #personal #long ass rant just because #this has been a while in the making #I HAVE FEELINGS OKAY

[chestshot]

A Cautionary Tale of India Pale

Prepare for Trouble, B-Side: A Cautionary Tale of India Pale,

Dark Holes and Transformations, or My Love Affair with xoxo<3Ms. Hopps <3xoxo

 Little children were playing behind me. I was in space. Time was forgiving. Never get caught in a blackout. Some never find their way home. As the streetlights illuminate the path of the righteous, the guardians watch over as we sleep. The beetles and moths have gathered in a procession, to welcome the night. “So, where were you?”  “I was playing in the dark, and I got lost. I had some breadcrumbs, thankfully.”

“This is going to hurt me more than you.” I never understood that logic. “So why can’t I do it to you, like you did it to me?”  “I’m doing this because I love you. Your soul is in danger.” We used to kneel on the bare floor covered in rice.

What is obedience, and what happens when it is forced? Believe in unity. Value brotherhood. Seize any opportunity to join hands. Even as the big hands crush the small hands, like a fist full of lavender flowers. Don’t think so hard. The guardians have done all the thinking for us. Some things do not need an explanation. Guardians discourage the children from scrutinizing every detail. All we need is to believe. Can’t we all just come together as one? If I wanted to find everlasting life, why did I have to lay it down to begin with?

           The Knights of Columbus hosted Sunday breakfast every month. My mother would always hand me a folded dollar bill when the collection basket came by. It was a little secret between our Father and I (Mathew 6:1-4). I was planting a seed for his kingdom, and if we did not fork over the dough, let us just say there was hell to pay.

           The instructor told us that Jesus loved us, so he died on the cross for us. If we loved Jesus, too, we had to love each other. We colored the nativity scene and learned a few prayers. We were taught a theology approved by the Roman Catholic Church, and classes were $25 per child. Those must have been some expensive ass crayons. I was a good boy. Never an altar boy.

           I had refused to help in the family garden in the front yard one time. The bathroom floor was cold on my cheek. The sweat and tears running down my neck fell on the yellow linoleum. My arm, bent around my back. Wrists too tight. Cheeks got so hot that the salt water started to dry up and irritate my skin. Was it worth it? I know it was fucking hot outside. The neighbors can hear. I’ve been getting ass beatings since I was alive. From the guardians, then from bad decisions, and possibly society. Sometimes the floor can become comfortable, waiting for the blackouts to cast a final spell.

           “God helps those that help themselves”®…Is not in the bible!

           The Sunday breakfast consisted of yellow “just add water” scrambled eggs. I was too young for coffee. Pass me the milk. I ate next to a church girl with an intellectual disability. Did God make her like that? I did not know. All I knew was that we were all equally hungry. I felt like all the dark holes in the floor were so much smaller back then. If I stepped on a crack, I could always find my balance, or the guardian would help me till I recuperated.

“Hey guys. Where’s Jesus’s cloths? Yeah… haven’t been able to hit up hot topic since COVID-19.”

           Societies fascination for making atonement. Drink and drive? Dui. Tax evasion? Prison time (unless its some shit like a white-collar crime). $50 dollar fines for parking in front of a fire hydrant, that one time I moved out of my parents’ house and rented a room from some asshole named Evander. Not a child anymore. Learning from experience. If I only learned to come home on time. Nothing good happens after 2 a.m. The dark holes were still manageable. No claws yet. No transformation.  The delinquencies were not ripe. There was not enough blood.

           I helped myself to a glass of orange juice. High pulp. Tart. Almost as refreshing as the forgiveness of sins. Dixie paper cups. An old couple. They must have both been in their eighties. With not much time to live, they both enjoyed the pancakes with light butter. No syrup though. Diabetes. He pulled the chair out for her. He took off her sweater and placed it behind the chair. He wiped his head with a towel, then his mouth. He regained his balance. and shuffled to his own seat. Where had the time gone? Playing with little toy cars and dirt, in the streets of his home country, and now using dentures. There was such an age of trusting that the streetlights were guiding him all along. When he could hear his mother’s voice and know in his heart that the night was near, but only to visit. He led the prayer and they both sat down to share maybe their last breakfast. Listened to your guardians. You might live as long as them.

           One time, Father Manuel unofficially sponsored Mission Tortillas. “Como Dios Manda” literally means “How God Orders” or more precisely “What God Demands of us”. He was calling out the young women who decided club wear for a Sunday mass was appropriate. Father Manuel roasted them. “Esta bien que sea Qinceniera. Pero esta es la casa de Dios.” We were all sinners, but some of us did a better job at hiding it. We were all trying to avoid the transformation. We all needed to love. We just needed time to patch things up.

           Mother Theresa believed that suffering was how you got closer to God. She refused to let some children receive treatment, so naturally, they would die. Bandage them up and throw them in the dirt. Suffering is the polished rock for sharp claws and feasting vultures. This psychic in San Francisco told me that I would be responsible for what I touch and what I know. I did not let him read my palm. I was swimming in ignorance, and the spirit would guide me.

Their little Calcutta souls belonged with the Lord. For a while, I started to believe that I was suffering, and therefore, there was no God. Those little Calcutta souls were all fucked. I think we suffer because we think we must. We like to convince ourselves that it’s all part of some divine plan. We suffer because we all have things we conveniently forget about. We should know better.

It’s not normal to stay up all night. It’s not normal to operate a vehicle under the influence of anything. It’s not normal to lie to the person you are with. It’s not normal to wake up at 3 pm every fucking day. It’s not normal to put things up your nose. It’s not normal to get in the car with a complete stranger. It’s not normal to think that you can live with people for free. It’s not normal to pass out at the bar. It’s not normal to constantly burn bridges. It’s not normal to forget what you did the night before. The blackouts swallowed me alive, over and over and over. I couldn’t see the streetlights. There was no one left to pay for my sins.

Last week, and then the week before, and before that. I lost a part of me. I’ve lost a few parts of me. Like a lot. Who was I? I had checked into the catacomb of wasted ambitions. The creatures of the dark had left. I looked in the mirror and could not accept what I had become. What big claws and teeth. The beer was gone. It was a scared man. No. A big bad wolf. My tail was between my legs. I was pitiful. My drinking career choked on it’s vomit. My guardian told me there was going to be hell to pay.

           I had a dream I was filling up one cup with another cup, like an endless water mill. I’m not sure why I always felt this way. An endless repetition that never ends, like new ideas filling old ones, but never quite arriving at a solution, or like fish eating fish eating fish… Like a two gallon hourglass, constantly being flipped on it’s other end, ass up, face down, full of itself. The air bubbles, trying to escape. The lump in the throat of my life, always sinking into my stomach. The transformation was complete. I was living in a blackout.

           The beta, or Siamese fighting fish, is native to Thailand and Cambodia. You can pick them up at your local swap meet. I used to love going to the Broadacre swap meet after Sunday mass. I got my hands on everything an eight-year-old should never get their hands on: laser pointers, chained wallets, pocket knifes, fart bombs, shock pens, pet’s I wasn’t able to take care of. I’m not sure what the fish were so angry about. Probably from being confined to a tiny ass sandwich bag.

I got my ass kicked in a bar fight once, in 2018. Three against one. I do not remember. I was asking for something that was not on the menu. I was being annoying. Swings broke out like a Florida coastline and faster than you can say Tallahassee’s televised turnout tremendously terrified pterodactyls. Too small. Smack. Too slow. Smack. I fell to the floor, head between my knees. My jeans ripped. All I see is stars. I raised a barstool over my head and threw it against the bar, not sure if it landed on anyone. Always bust out the bar stool when you know you are going to get rocked. I ran out through the front entrance and I called 911. I left my bicycle behind. The cops were nice enough to drive it down to me. They told me that the security guard told them I was trying to buy drugs. I told them it was a hate crime. They told me to go home. I told them I would never go back to that bar again.

           Pigs in a blanket. I think there was bacon. Bacon or sausage. No. I think there were both. I woke up at 6am to eat this at 10am. 10:15 if there was a line. Couldn’t everyone break bread the way we did? Always have to start a fight during a meal. If you’re a man of culture who would prefer to drink their meals, our fists made toasts to live long and pasta. The indigestion was the worst. I could not eat breakfast too early because my stomach lining was sensitive from the binge before. This did not stop me from killing a whole order of carne asada fries at night. I felt the weight of a bowling ball in my diaphragm when I woke up the next morning. Drinking water felt like swallowing marbles. This wasn’t normal. Nap. Bagel. Throw up.

SpaghettiOs. That’s not pasta. That’s an impasta.

           My older sister became an usher at church. She showed everyone to their seats. She wore a sash that said “Orden” or literally “Order”. She asked people if they could scoot over. She made room where people were resting their purses or when someone decided that they needed to sit with their legs wide open. Me and my younger sister always got pinches during service if we were joking around or being distracting. How did the people really bring their kids to church like that? We were so rambunctious!

The dark holes just seem like the better option sometimes.  If the blackout won’t take me now, then maybe tomorrow.

I had never wanted to grow up. I was so afraid that I would grow up to be a man with a wife and a house. I sounded like one of those kids who shits all over “the nuclear family” and the “white picket fence”. I had even said “I don’t want to have kids. I don’t want to bring more suffering into the world.” Then I would roll my eyes, take a puff of my cigarette and be proud of how postmodern I was.

The truth is, I was 26 years old, holding a fucking sign on the corner of Flamingo and Pecos at some Piano Lounge. Nobody wanted to marry me. I was living at my mothers house. I didn’t have a car or a drivers license. I hated everything I didn’t have. I still had my Lagunitas though. 7.1% a bottle meant I got nice and toasty after a six pack.

The Jack and Coke was just a nice butter and marmalade on top. Can’t have a nice toast without some warm butter and tangerine marmalade, raspberry jam. Ex-Pentecostal Holly Roller. I was so mad about that God Shit. I broke bread with my damaged complexion. I was a messy eater, leaving crumbs everywhere. Licking my claws like that racoon from Pocahontas. Like that, but still a big bad wolf…

           I was on my way to the "party bridge" on the Las Vegas strip. I had just got off the bus, after a 6-8 hour shift holding a sign on the corner of Flamingo and Pecos. The job was shit, but it didn’t require much interaction with people. God, I used to hate people.

When I got there, the police were harassing a group of street performers. I like to get faded, and I like to do it on the street. I buy some street performers some beers, ask if I can play a couple of songs on their acoustic guitar, and we get smashed. The police were pissing on my parade and I was not going to let that happen.

I went to the CVS and bought a case of PBR. When I got back to the bridge, I started handing out some cans to the street kids being interrogated. The police told me to stop, and I did not listen. I got arrested for obstructing an officer and resisting arrest. This was probably one of the most punk rock things I ever did in my life. Resisting authority was my raspberry jam. I liked that it made me feel bad to the bone. I felt like even more of a bad ass when I offered the holy spirit into my life, on the rocks with a pickle back shot.

           The police officer put me in handcuffs and took me to the cop car, outside of the Aria. I thought that I was standing up for the street performers. Really, I was just sticking my nose where it did not belong. When I got to the detention center downtown, the nurse asked me some questions. “Do you have a history of cocaine use in your family?” “Tu Madre!” I said. What the fuck did that have to do with anything? Faster than you can say “Pharmaceutical petty punks pretentiously pandered pedestrians” Five correction officers pin me to the wall. One of them had my arm bent behind my back and they were waiting for any reason to snap off my ring finger.

           I stretched out my ear lobes. The holes were wide enough to stick a sharpy permanent marker through. One of the guards whispered in my ear “I like to rip out gauges.” My body went limp. I was going to get ripped apart like a fucking lasagna. “Please don’t do that.” One of the other guards brought in a retainment seat, on wheels. Think of an elementary school chair with straps. The blue ones, or orange, sometimes. Class was in session.

I was wheeled to a retaining room with another inmate who had acted out. He had asked to use the restroom, so he was granted the privilege to defecate. They wheeled him away. I pissed myself. One of the guards came in to get me and realized what I had done. “Son of a bitch.” He said under his breath, realizing that he still had to maintain professionalism. The female officer following him said “Mark.” With disapproval. Fuck authority. I’m still a big bad wolf. Its society that has to change. Do you know who I think I am? I’m no impasta.

           The secret to having a good time is to show up to the bar with a few ounces of hard liquor already in your system. You save money and time. The bartender can never cut you off because they don’t even know what you act like when you’re sober. They’re not aware of the transformation. Pretty soon, I’m the big bad wolf with a bad haircut and jeans my mother bought for me at Ross. I say “LAGUNITAS” and the bartender takes my five. A cautionary tale of India pale: this shit will turn your brain to shit. Shit toast. From a shithole tavern, or Albertsons if I was emo and wanted to drink alone at the park.

           I always went to the bar by myself. I would try and make conversations if I was feeling sociable. The best way to do this was to smoke a cigarette, and let the acquaintances come rolling in. “I’ll tell you a joke for a cigarette” was always a good conversation starter. I would have also accepted “hey man, can I give you a dollar for a cigarette? I left mine at home.” I didn’t always have spare cash, but when I did, I liked to drink around strangers and not feel the isolation covering me, like stars just beyond my reach. Like aircrafts. Black night sky. The tar in community college lungs. Little Red Riding Hood didn’t show up. Probably cause her sisters were talking shit about me. It’s ok. I’m still big and bad.

Drink some water. Jesus fishes. Say a prayer. Missing pieces. Dying wish. Deep dish pizza.

Cheap not-the-real-Bel-Air hotel. Right on the corner of Ellis and Jones. Junkies were chasing dragons in high definition on the sidewalk. God checked out. No housekeeping. Ash tray on the nightstand, some beer cans, and $6.14 in cash. What a splash. Making out with Hopps. She gives my stomach purple ulcer butterflies. Sedates my lungs a car crash plum. Mind calming lavender razorblades cut gently. Her love is a condor. She picks at my liver like silver bullets diving into passion fruit scum.

#publish #recovery #non fiction #pulp #fight club

[rococodeco]

I woke up with a scratchy throat this morning. Now I’m thinking through all the things I do and used to do to stay healthy in the winter so I can start it all up again and hopefully stave off the cold that’s coming on.

Every day:

SLEEP - get enough sleep, at least 8 hours every night, I cannot stress how important sleep is.

Hydration - drink plenty of water every day.

Wash my hands regularly - I used to wash my hands first thing when I got home. I fell out of that habit. Time to start it up again. And start washing them when I get to the office too.

Hand sanitizer when washing isn’t possible - I use it every time I pump gas and I’m convinced that makes a huge difference.

Humidifier - I run one in my bedroom at night all winter and one at my desk all year since the HVAC makes it so dry in the office.

Yoga - I used to get sick monthly, then I found yoga and didn’t get sick for years. Time to get back to a more regular and gentler yoga practice. I think a short pre-bed routine will be something I can stick to.

When I feel something coming on:

Sleep - really, go to bed.

Green tea - I drink this every day already, but if I have sniffles or a scratchy throat I make it a point to drink even more.

Ginger tea - spicy tea with honey really soothes my throat and sinuses and works to stop coughs. I make a ginger syrup by grating a root, steeping it in hot water for 10-15 minutes, straining out the ginger, then boiling it with honey until it’s syrup. I put a couple spoonfuls in a mug with hot water to make tea or I’ll just take it by the spoonful as a cough syrup.

Bundle up - dress for the weather, hat, gloves, coat, stay warm in the office (I’ve been spraying the temperature monitors with hand sanitizer when it gets too cold.

Neti pot - my doctor once recommended saline nasal spray so I went full neti pot, I figure it’s the same thing, just you can use it multiple times. I have definitely flushed out the beginning of a cold before.

Gargle salt water - it is the cure for everything.

Zinc - I get these little zinc and elderberry or zinc and echinacea tablets and they really do seem to stop a cold in its tracks.

Cut out dairy and sugar - these make me feel worse and more congested.

When sick:

Sleep - as much as I can. I’m not much of a napper and never have been, so if I fall asleep during the day, I know I really really need it.

Kleenex with lotion - the lotion really does minimize the chapping from all the nose blowing. When even that doesn’t help, I put chapstick on my nose to protect it.

Delsym Cough Syrup - I’m not a total hippie, I use medicine too, when it works and doesn’t make me feel worse (looking at you sudafed). This is the best working cough suppressant I’ve tried after hot lemon water.

Mucinex - honestly, I don’t feel a difference, but my doc insists I use it when sick.

Lucerin cough drops - not actual medicine but the cherry flavor cheers me up.

Ricola cough drops - very good for a sore throat.

Umcka - I started taking this after I read a study that shows it does help heal bronchitis and I have a tendency to get bronchitis. But the way it’s sold, it’s almost impossible to get the same dose the study used and I don’t know if it’s ever really helped. 

Traditional Medicinals teas - I have had so much Breathe Easy over the years, I can’t really stand it anymore. But Throat Coat and Cold Care are still teas I turn to to get through a cold.

Hot water with lemon (and sometimes honey (and sometimes whiskey)) - lemon water works better than any cough syrup when I have bronchitis, the honey is soothing and the whiskey makes it all seem not terrible.

Chicken soup - the OG cold treatment, I like to add matzo balls, dumplings or rice in lieu of noodles to my favorite recipe.

Green chile (Colorado style, pork stewed with green chilies and tomatoes) - my ultimate comfort food, plus the chilies and tomatoes are loaded with vitamin C.

Vicks Vaporub, or the Badger balm alternative I find at the natural grocery store - opens up those sinuses so I can breathe.

Get outside to take a walk - I usually just want to stay bundled up, but the movement + fresh air + sunshine do a world of good.

New stuff I’m trying:

Fermented honey garlic- I made it last year then got too scared to eat it so I threw it in the compost for the ants and squirrels to stay healthy. I made it again this year and it’s weird, but I’m willing to give it a try.

Fire cider - My first batch is ready to strain and try today. It’s a bunch of spicy foods (horseradish, ginger, onion, jalapeno) infused in apple cider vinegar. It supposedly supports the immune system.

Elderberry syrup - tried some last night when I started coughing. It’s supposed to be incredible. We’ll see what it does for me.

Mullein - I just read that this herb is an expectorant, like Mucinex. If I can find a tea, I’ll give it a try.

[of-another-broken-heart]

I crapped out early and slept well! 

I woke myself up sometime between 8 and 9, convinced it was mid-afternoon and that I’d missed my shot at making curry, and that I’d left Mana hanging for game time x.x 

I shot off to the grocery store pretty much immediately - I needed an onion and carrots. 

Of course, I wandered the store because it’s been... weeks? months? since I’ve been in there. And... I found cheddar instant cup noodles. And I bought them all. There were also some 75% off Salted Caramel things - either leftover from last year and dragged out now that “fall” is starting (there’s still a few weeks of summer but shhhhh I DON’T CARE GIVE ME THAT GOOD GOOD AUTUMN SHIT). And... I bought a salted caramel maple syrup that I’m hoping will dissolve in hot coffee pretty well. That was less than two dollars. I almost bought a bag of salted caramel granola for a dollar, but we have a serious surplus of cereals so I put that one back. Then, a few aisles away, I found a juice display. Ffity-cent salted caramel apple juice. Not single-serve bottles - full, like, half-gallons. I delegated four dollars to dessert apple juice. 

Impulse clearance buys and miracle cup noodle appearances aside, I also picked up a few yogurts, a one-dollar 2-liter of cream soda, and finally made my way to the produce section to pick out an onion and carrots. A buy-one-get-one-free sale on Bolthouse drinks got my attention, too, and I picked two out. One was gonna be breakfast, since I hadn’t eaten yet. And the other could be for tomorrow!

When I got back home, I put a few things away, then got right to curry prep. Washed and chopped up some potatoes and carrots. Set them to soak, then boil as I chopped up the onion. Splashed some EVOO in a fry pan with some curry powder and salt and tossed the onion in after. The kids’ father brought home a big red pepper and a smaller green pepper from the pantry, so I cut those up next. The red pepper had a tiny pepper growing inside it! One of the seeds had sprouted, and I was scared it was a big juicy caterpillar when I saw it at first. Really wild. I added that to the onions, then set about dicing the final ingredient - the chicken. Then that got added to the veggie fry pan. 

Monitored the chicken. The veggies ended up a little overcooked, but not in a bad way. I like soft veggies. When the chicken finally looked done, I drained the potatoes and carrots and gave the pot a quick wash so I could reuse it to combine everything together. Curry roux and water went in. Heated it up, got it to melt and dissolve, then returned the potatoes and carrots to the pot. Then added in the fry pan veggies and chicken. Then, slow stirring to get all the roux melted into curry sauce and mix up all the bits really well. 

We are surprisingly low on rice. I didn’t want to make a ton, so it worked out okay. There was a bit of white rice left - just under a cup. I actually rinsed the rice with cool water before cooking it today. I recently read that you’re not supposed to just dump it in straight from the bag/box - a detail I never knew about, because the packaging never mentioned soaking or rinsing the rice prior to cooking it. It made a big difference, I think! I added in some salt and curry powder to the water, also, and the end result was good fluffy, sticky rice! 

I divvied it up into containers, and a bowl to have a big ol’ helping for lunch :3 

My feet hurt like hell now, but I’ve got curry and that makes me happy.

#personal #food mention

[scarletjedi]

My wife, gentlepersons

Brig was already aboard the boat when Gimli and Legolas arrived, attending the rigging for the simple sail and making ready to depart.@brydylcai​: All of the writing asks because I worry you don't have enough to do

so. 

all the ones I haven’t answered yet. Behind the cut because long

1. Tell us about your WIP!

Heh, which one? I’ve started writing chapter three of We Are Made Wise because I’m finally getting over my block (I think there was a little burnout). I’ve just updated Old Man Luke, and Pineapple 2 is next. I’m almost finished with my next original short, I’ve figured out where to go next in my novel, and...yeah. :)

2. Where is your favorite place to write?

Where it’s quiet and I can focus. Sometimes that’s the living room. Sometimes it’s my office. Sometimes it’s the Starbucks on the corner. 

4. Do you have any writing habits/rituals?

Depends on where I am. I have to have some sort of ritual to get focused. In my office, I light candles. In the living room, I put on music. At the coffee shop, I have a snack. 

6. Favorite character you’ve written?

My original character, Jamie, from my book is a HOOT. He’s a gay Jewish teen whose convinced that *he* will be the one to capture definitive proof of the Jersey Devil. He’s the non-magical pov in the fic, and his voice is fun. 

7. Favorite/most inspirational book?

Well, on the one hand, I re-wrote the Hobbit, so that’ book is clearly an inspiration. 

8. Do you have any writing buddies or critique partners?

@brydylcai is my in-house sounding board, the same way I am for her. I don’t have a regular beta, but I’ve worked with several depending on the project/story, and they’re all lovely people. 

9. Favorite/least favorite tropes?

I love revelations/coming out stories. I hate deliberate misunderstandings. 

10. Pick an author (or writing friend) to co-write a book with

@brydylcai and I have discussed writing a book together already, so Imma go with her :)

11. What are you planning to work on next?

I have the doc with We Are Made Wise open, so either that or my next short, depending on if I write more tonight or wait until tomorrow. 

12. Which story of yours do you like best? why?

Comes Around Again is the one that earned me what little notoriety I have, and Old Man Luke is doing the same in Star Wars, but I’m most proud of Drowned in Moonlight. That fic was written to excise some grief over Carrie Fisher, and I think I did her proud. 

13. Describe your writing process

I’m tempted to say “Incoherent screaming into the void” but that’s a joke that’s been made before. My process. Hmm. 

I tend to write by the seat of my pants. I like to see what develops and grows naturally. Once I get to a certain point, I’ll stop and make a plot sheet/note page, but I usually have the rough shape figured out before I start to write. 

Once I have a draft, I’ll edit. Sometimes I’ll print and edit on paper. Sometimes I edit online. My original works tend to get more editing than my fanworks. 

14. What does it take for you to be ready to write a book? (i.e. do you research? outline? make a playlist or pinterest board? wing it?)

ha ha ha ha - My original novel has been 15 years in the works, and has gone through many drafts. It’s working now, but I need familiarity. So, I think what I need is research for context and an outline for plot, and a good enough knowledge to feel like I’m winging it. 

15. How do you deal with self-doubt when writing?

I put it down. If I’m not confident on one project, I’ll put it down and turn to another. (This usually means putting down my original work in favor of fanfic, because I’m more confident with that overall, but...). I know what sounds right to my ear, and if I’m not hearing it, there’s usually a reason. Distance/time often lets me see it. 

17. What things (scenes/topics/character types) are you most comfortable writing?

I’m a Jersey Girl, so I tend to set things in Jersey. I love dramatic conversations, so I’m comfortable there. Queer characters. 

18. Tell us about that one book you’ll never let anyone read

That I wrote? Or that I read? Twilight/50 Shades. 

19. How do you cope with writer’s block?

I beat it with a hammer unitl it’s writer’s pebbles. 

20. Any advice for young writers/advice you wish someone would have given you early on?

Write what you love. Write the truths that you know, and research to write the things you don’t know. Don’t be afraid to break your characters; you can put them back together in new and interesting ways. You’ll be given a lot of advice over the years--read enough to recognize what you like. Develop your taste. Take the advice that helps taylor your work to your taste. Reject the advice that changes it away. 

21. What aspect of your writing are you most proud of?

Subtle meanings and implications. 

22. Tell us about the books on your “to write” list

Here are 3:

a) The Lesbian Werewolf Romance Novel. 

b) The Teenage Zombie Novel. 

c) The American-Teenager-Falls-Into-Fantasy-Realm-and-there-are-also-dragons novel

23. Most anticipated upcoming books?

Jer Keene’s next book. I read the first as fic, and then read the novelization, and now I REALLY want to know what comes next. 

The Kingkiller Chronicles book 3

25. What’s your worldbuilding process like?

Seat. Of. My. Pants and flailing. Seriously, I write something because it sounds right, and then figure out how it works after. 

26. What’s the most research you’ve ever put into a book?

I wrote parts of CAA with the hobbit, the lotr, the unfinished tales, and the moves on and open in front of me. 

I became a pagan, and my research for that has influenced my writing of my book. 

27. Every writer's least favorite question - where does your inspiration come from? Do you do certain things to make yourself more inspired? Is it easy for you to come up with story ideas?

I mentioned I was pagan? My patron, Brigid, is among other things, a muse. She pokes, and I start thinking (or I think, and she eggs me on. I’m not sure of the order. could be either or both). But, most of my ideas come from things I read. When I want inspiration, I read. 

Ideas don’t come as easily as I would like, but the fact that I have several projects at once means that it comes easily enough. 

28. How do you stay focused on your own work and how do you deal with comparison?

I have a hard time focusing period, so that’s a challenge. I have put effort into being less jealous because it’s ultimately a useless exercise. 

29. Is writing more of a hobby or do you write with the intention of getting published?

I want to be published like JK Rowling or Stephen King - one thing that gives my financial security, or with enough frequency to do the same. 

30. Do you like to read books similar to your project while you’re drafting or do you stick to non-fiction/un-similar works?

tbh, i read mostly fanfic these days. Most Genre fic makes me angry because there’s something missing from the text. it’s usually women/gay people. 

31. Top five favorite books in your genre?

scifi/fantasy

a) American Gods - Gaiman

b) Foundation/Elijah Bailey mysteries - Assimov

c) The Hobbit

d) Guards!Guards!

e) Years of Rice and Salt

32. On average how much do you write in a day? do you have trouble staying focused/getting the word count in?

Depends. There are days i can’t get a word out. There are days I’ve written about 10k. It depends on if I’m having a good focus day. 

33. What’s your revision/rewriting process like?

long. 

34. Unpopular writing thoughts/opinions?

....like what?

35. Post the last sentence you wrote

““The things I do for the greater good,” Gimli grumbled, his frown softening as Legolas’s laugh rang out to echo through the cavern. “

36. Post a snippet

from Old Man Luke, chapter 11 (probably):

Obi-Wan stood just to the left of the closed door, hand stroking his beard ad the sight of those assembled. It took all of his focus to keep his eyes from growing wide, or let his hands tremble the way they wished to.

Before him, sitting at a conference table, was Asajj Ventress (scowling at the table like a chastised Padawan, though she had submitted to the indignity of the locking cuffs easily enough), and the adult twinned children of Anakin Skywalker.

Luke sat much as he had before, calmly and with no outward signs of concern, reminding Obi-Wan uncomfortably of his own master. Leia sat back from the table, her arms crossed and her expression sardonic. She, too, was apparently unconcerned, if outwardly exasperated, and Obi-Wan knew that if hadn’t already been told, he would be able to see the resemblance between father and daughter in a heartbeat.

Still, Obi-Wan had the distinct and uncomfortable sensation of not quite living up to her expectations.

The bulk of her resentment, however, was aimed directly at the only other occupant of the room—Anakin.

Their father.

Obi-Wan needed a drink.

37. Do you ever write long handed or do you prefer to type everything?

I write long-handed when I’m having focus issues. It’s slow enough to make me focus. 

38. How do you nail voice in your books?

I talk to myself. Out loud. Constantly. 

39. Do you spend a lot of time analyzing and studying the work of authors you admire?

When I read, I’m known to stop and think “that was a perfectly crafted sentence!” or “How did they do that?” 

40. Do you look up to any of your writer buddies?

all of them. They’re all awesome, though in different ways. 

41. Are there any books you feel have shaped you as a writer?

Harry Potter. I’m not sure how, but I’m sure it has. 

42. How many drafts do you usually write before you feel satisfied?

Depends on how fully formed the story was in my head before I started. Fanfic gets 2 - rough and beta. Original fic gets rough, first, second, etc

43. How do you deal with rejection?

Badly at first. Then it evolved into a desire to prove them wrong. 

45. First or third person?

Third. 

46. Past or present tense?

Past. 

47. Single or dual/multi POV?

Depends on the needs of the plot. 

48. Do you prefer to write skimpy drafts and flesh them out later, or write too much and cut it back?

the first is what I do. The second is what I’d like to do. 

49. Favorite fictional world?

A Galaxy Far, Far away. (Then Middle Earth). 

50. Do you share your rough drafts or do you wait until everything is all polished?

depends on the fic. I like to show things to @brydylcai, but only in the fandom’s she’s in. I have been known to invite friends into docs as I’m writing, so...

51. Are you a secretive writer or do you talk with your friends about your books?

I’m more open than I used to be about fanfic. I’m less talkative about my original works. 

52. Who do you write for?

She knows who. 

53. What is the first line of your WIP?

Of this chapter: “Brig was already aboard the boat when Gimli and Legolas arrived, attending the rigging for the simple sail and making ready to depart.”

54. Favorite first line/opening you’ve written?

my book begins with a ghost hunt. that’s fun?

55. How do you manage your time/make time for writing? (do you set aside time to write every day or do you only write when you have a lot of free time?)

I try to set aside time while not working, but i also tend to write in whatever little moments I have. Between classes, standing in line, etc. 

#brydylcai #ask meme