#for multiple days in a row i have had some of them grow mold on the surface of their dirt and stuff.

[mrs-hollandstan]

Make Me Love You || Frat Boy!Tom [thirteen]

Warnings: drinking, sexual mentions, language, more parental issues, and without giving too much away: hurt, tread lightly for angst throughout

Word Count: 5,430

Author's Note: WELCOME TO ANGSTVILLE! I don't do well with angst but I cried writing it so it'll probably hurt no matter what. Please, I beg of you, the next THREE chapters will be the three weeks of Spring Break and I feel like they'll be the hardest to read, but please stay with me because afterwards I've got a boatload more to get to. Lemme know what you think :)

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School seemed to pick up after Valentine's Day. So much so that there seemed to be a growing gap between you and Tom despite the escapades and sworn love. But you both were in love, there was no denying that and you truly believed that no matter how crazy life got, you seriously couldn't grow too distant. Spring Break was approaching quickly, three weeks of pure bliss to be spent down in Oregon amongst your friends in a warmer part of the country. You often dreamed what you were going to do with Tom who only half listened and agreed to anything and everything, completely missing the frown that covered your face each time. He always had his nose in a book trying to study and he'd only acknowledge your presence when you reached up to run your fingers through his hair.

There was less time to be lovey dovey with midterms around and Tom found himself actually denying you to come around the frat house while he figured out his studying schedules. But once midterms were through, it'd be easy sailing. A frat party to celebrate and Oregon starting Sunday. You couldn't be more excited and Tom couldn't shut up about seeing you in a bikini. The final day of Midterms, you brush open the door of the classroom, allowing Phoebe, Ivey, and Scarlett to walk out before you follow. You clutch the class's textbook to your chest, groaning at the few missed questions on the multiple choice portion before a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and lift you off your feet. You squeal as Tom grunts in your ear, setting you down after a moment. You turn to him, watching him scrunch his nose,

"Hiya. How was your Midterm?" He poses. You shrug, walking backwards and leaning in to kiss him,

"Sounds like I coulda done better but what's done is done, no going back." He purses his lips and nods,

"I like that response." He mutters. You giggle and nod, turning your back to him and letting him drape his arm over your shoulders, looking to Scarlett when she speaks again,

"Okay but forty four was all of the above right." There's a row of nods and mutters as you all collectively agree. Tom blinks down at the pavement when you lean in to kiss his cheek,

"So the party-"

"Yeah. We... we don't have to go. I mean, we could just stay in and like... watch a movie or something." He says. You click your tongue,

"What? You've been excited for it, why would you not wanna go?" You ask him, lacing your fingers with his over your shoulder. He shrugs, glancing down. You clear your throat,

"Something you wanna talk to me about?" He doesn't make any moves and you slow down, Ivey nodding at you when she glances back and sees the look in your eye. You take Tom's arm from around your shoulders, lacing your fingers with his and walking hand in hand,

"Talk to me. What's going on?" He shakes his head,

"Nothing, it's just my dad again. My mum, I guess is trying to get him to fund me again and it isn't going so well." He says. You sigh,

"Your grades have gotten better. That's good. Like... ya know, before your grades sucked and you needed a lot of my help but now that you're doing your own thing, you're doing good. And whether he sees it or not, that's how it is and I'm proud of you if he isn't." You lecture. He nods, squeezing your hand. You reach up to squeeze his bicep,

"And besides, fuck him. Next week we'll be in Oregon, living it up and I'll wear the hell out of that bathing suit for you."

"It'll only be good if I can peel it off of you every night." He jokes, smiling as you giggle,

"I'll give you all the opportunities in the world to take it off me." You reassure, laying your head against his arm. He leans in to kiss the top of your head. He sighs,

"Think I just need a nap in your bed." He says. You smile and nod,

"I'll let you take a nap babe." He hums, continuing to walk you at your slow pace just for your alone time.

                                 ---

Tom lays in your bed, watching you sort through your outfits for the night, humming as you turn to show him your favorites. His eyes are hooded and he looks sleepy, but his hour and a half nap seemed to do him good. He stands once the clock strikes three thirty,

"Should get the hell out of here. Let you do your thing. I'll see you later." He says, leaning in to kiss you. Your hand lingers around his wrist, pulling him back to you. He smiles, wrapping his arms around you as he leans in to press a more firm kiss to your lips,

"I mean... I don't have to go. I could easily stay and... give you a little preview of Oregon." He mutters, hands sliding down to mold your bottom in his hands. You hum, wrapping your arms around his neck as he leans in to nip and suck at your throat,

"God I can't wait. I'm ready to just chill with you and our little group." You tell him. He hums,

"You're in for it young lady." He mutters. You giggle, pressing your hands to his shoulders,

"Okay... lets not. Maybe it's good to stop here, now." You tell him. He stands straight and huffs,

"You're a cock block. Now I've gotta go home and rub one out." You snort, shoving his shoulders,

"Whatever. Think of Oregon." You tell him. He hums and nods,

"I'm already dreaming of you and Oregon darling." He mutters as he starts from the room,

"Love you!" You call.

"Love you too!" He yells back before the front door closes and Ivey appears,

"You two are adorable. I think that soon enough we'll be attending a beautiful wedding for the two of you." She remarks. You click your tongue,

"Don't get ahead of yourself Ivey. You're first." You tell her, hanging some of your options for the night back up. She leans against the doorframe,

"Really? You'd save that for me?" You nod, glancing up,

"Of course. Heaven forbid I marry a guy after like less than a year and it not work out." You tell her. She nods, looking you over,

"You really do love him too huh?" Sitting at the edge of the bed, you sigh and nod,

"I've never felt this way about anyone but him. I don't know what it is but he and I are just... he's everything right now." You tell her. She smiles,

"Well you two are perfect. I love it and I can't wait to see where the two of you end up in the future." You smile,

"You know what the best part is? We talk about our future family a lot. Like... getting married and having kids. It's something that we dream about when we're alone." You tell her. Her face softens,

"Awwwww, that's so cute! I love that. So have you guys established how many kids you want?" You shrug,

"We've said three or four but you can't always be sure. It'll depend. But yeah... we talk about it a lot." She smiles,

"Adorable. Sometimes Harrison and I do the same. Two little ones. Boys. But anyways, just make sure you at least keep me around forever so I can see those sweet little babies." She remarks. You giggle,

"Deal. Can I borrow those black strappy heels you have?" You ask. She nods, disappearing for a moment before she returns and tosses them at your feet,

"Have fun." She sing-songs as she exits the room again, leaving you to get ready in silence.

When you meet your three roommates in the living room later, Phoebe lets out a wolf whistle as she looks you over,

"Look at you showin off all that leg. I could see you being pinned up against a door later tonight with how sexy you look." You giggle, looking down,

"I think I might upset Tom. I think I'm a few inches taller than he is."

"Ehh, he'll get over it." Scarlett mutters as she grabs a jacket,

"Lets get going." Ivey says, checking her phone as she looks up. Soon enough you're filing out into Ivey's car and headed to the frat house. Your excitement bubbles over as you walk up the stairs to the house, brushing inside with the girls in tow. Music already thumps around you and there's a small crowd forming but not the true turnout of the night. Walking further into the living room, Gil greets you with a smile,

"Hey hey hey. You girls look pretty" He chimes. You smile as he leans in for a light hug,

"Hi Gil, thanks." He hums, jutting his chin over his shoulder,

"Lover boy is in the den playing beer pong. There was yelling coming from his room earlier. I think it's his dad again." He tells you in a hushed tone. You give him a tight lipped smile, walking towards the den, leaning against the doorway to watch your dark features boy concentrate on the game in front of him with a furrowed brow. When his opponent makes a direct hit into his cup, he gives a long sigh, picking the ball out and raising the solo cup to his lips. His eyes finally meet yours as he tips the cup back, lingering as he downs the beer in it, setting it back on the table. He picks up the ping pong ball, seemingly ignoring you as he shoots his own shot,

"Hey Y/N." Harrison chimes as he breaks you from your thoughts. You smile down at him,

"Hi Harrison. How's it goin?" He shrugs, glancing back at Tom,

"I'm alright. I've been tryin to calm down Tom. His dad called and they got into an argument and he... he doesn't really talk about it, doesn't want to, but he's tense." He tells you. You give him a sympathetic smile,

"Got it. I need vodka before I throw myself to that wolf." You reply. He smiles, following you into the kitchen and he beelines straight for Ivey. There's a pang of jealousy towards the way he curls himself around her with ease, not a worry in the world about their personal lives, no parental issues. You down a shot of vodka, eyes locked on the two of them as he kisses her cheek, whispering something to her that makes her laugh. You grit your teeth at the burn, downing another before a hand is placed on your hip, making you jump,

"I won at least." Tom says in a raspy voice, sliding the hand around to your lower back. You glance up at him, looking all over his perfect face as he glances around the room at the group of people. You place your hand over his on the counter, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. It seems to deflate the tension, but not nearly enough. He glances down at you and you smile,

"You okay baby? The boys are worried about yo-" You stop when he holds up a hand, eyes closing,

"Just... I don't wanna talk about it. I'm trying to fucking drink it away." He hisses. You nod, pursing your lips as he pours himself a shot and downs it.  He turns to you, sighing. His eyes follow your face from your own eyes to your lips, leaning in to kiss you softly. You reach up to run your fingers over his cheek, kissing him back. He hums, placating himself behind you when you break apart. He places both hands over your hips and his chest against your back,

"I like your dress though. I'll tell you that much." He admits. You smile and turn your cheek into his,

"Thank you. I wore it for you." You remark. He curls his arms around your waist, your hands coming to rest on the soft skin, rubbing across as he lays his chin over your shoulder,

"Don't quite care for the heels but... I can't be picky." He remarks. You giggle, leaning against the counter. Taking a deep breath, you continue to rub across his arms,

"Maybe later we can sneak away." You tell him. He nods,

"Hopefully." He mutters, squeezing your body. You hum, swaying him softly before he huffs and unwraps himself from around you. He finds a bottle of hard liquor, pouring it into a shot glass and hovering over a second. You glance up, shrugging and watching him pour your shot. You pick it up and down it, cringing softly as he sets the glass down. You reach up, pressing your palm to his cheek and rubbing your thumb across his cheekbone,

"I know you hate talking about it but I wish you would. I don't like seeing you so upset." You admit to him. He scoffs, shaking his head,

"Yeah, you can thank my dad for that one." He mutters downing another shot.

All you want to do is help him but his unwant for comfort if he has to speak about it draws him away. Draws him away from you. He's fading and it scares you. It makes your heart hurt because you love him so much you don't want the heartbreak to take over. All you can do is stare at him, hoping that like every other time he'll snap back to you, he'll talk to you about it and you'll go back to normal. But something inside you, deep down tells you you won't be so lucky. No matter how good things were earlier.

He glances up again, eyes wandering your body. His eyes linger on your face, wander the worry etched into your features and even if you aren't looking at him, he knows it's about him. He reaches out to give a gentle tug at the dress bunched at your ribcage,

"I gotta go take a piss. Come with?" After a moment of staring up into those mysterious, dark eyes, you nod, holding his hand when he takes it and following him up the stairs to the bathroom across from his room. He closes the door behind you, letting you hop up onto the counter as he tends to himself. You play with the hem of your skirt, glancing up when he flushes the toilet and steps in front of you. He washes his hands quickly before he comes to stand between your legs. He rests his hands on your thighs, sliding them up until his fingers rest under the material, a sigh leaving his lips,

"I hate when you look so upset because of me."

"Its not like that Tom. I just... wish you were more apt to talk to me the minute something bothers you. I'm only here to help." You tell him as he nods, letting you finish, but clearly irritated with the idea. He closes his eyes,

"I know, I know. I just... I really just don't want to. Not this close to Spring Break and with this party. I just want to enjoy myself and be done with it." He defends. You nod, rubbing his shoulders,

"I know. I just want you to be completely open with me. I just want..."

"You want what Y/N?" He suddenly asks, venom laced in his words as he straightens himself out his hands leaving your legs. He scoffs,

"What do you want? You want me to lay everything out? Want me to... tell you everything I haven't yet?"

"Tom-"

"What do you want Y/N?"

"Tom!"

"What do you want?!"

"I want something like Harrison and Ivey have!" You yell suddenly. He stares at you, your heart pounding as tears come to your eyes. Your skin burns,

"I want... for us to lean all over each other like we're the only people in the world. I want for you to not have these little depressive bouts hanging over you every time your dad comes around again. I want," tears roll down your cheeks, "I want to be able to have some sort of stability in my life because god knows that I have my own parental issues and I just... I want... stability." You lose your train of thought, staring at the boy across from you who looks angry. He doesn't look sympathetic or affected, just mad. He scoffs again, running his tongue along the point of his teeth, glancing away from you,

"You want what Ivey and Harrison have huh?" He clicks the lock on the door open, cracking the door just a small bit. He grits his teeth, "So why don't you go find a guy that can give you that then eh?" He spits. More tears run down your cheeks,

"Tom-" He yanks the door open, walking a few steps to place himself in the hallway before something seems to strike him and he turns, pointing at you,

"I was wrong about you. You are like every other girl. And I expect that by tomorrow my name'll be drug through the mud so why don't you go do what you girls do best." He adds, further breaking your heart before he walks away, leaving you to stew.

You know that it's the alcohol. Everything happened so fast and arguing with someone under the influence doesn't help anything. If you give him room maybe it'll get better.

By the time you've figured your way back downstairs, your makeup is a mess and your eyes are red but you stand your ground. Your roommates each have a wide eyed look to them as you enter the kitchen, pulling you into a circle and comforting you the best way they can and reassuring you that space will be needed. You silently agree, letting Phoebe make you a screwdriver to calm the churning of your stomach and the nerves that course through you when it comes to what's next in your relationship. Your seemingly perfect relationship that was uprooted with a little parental guidance and some alcohol.

You watch him over the bar connecting the kitchen to the living room, playing pool with some of the boys. Each time he glances up, you look away just in time and he sips his beer. You've lost count of how many he's had and the number from before you arrived is still a mystery which seems to settle your nerves about a full breakup just a little weirdly. The girls distract you with stories and jokes and Phoebe always has her one liners which keep you in a cloud of laughter as you sip from drinks, ignoring the way Harrison has his arm wrapped around Ivey and they make it look so effortless. So perfect.

Another hour and a half ticks by before you steal a peek up, your heart stops with your laughter as your eyes lock on Tom's figure which most definitely isn't alone. His arms are bound tight around a brunette's waist, shoulders bowed to be her height. It would be fine if they weren't smiling at each other like they were the ones together for almost seven months. You can hear Ivey and Phoebe mumble curses to themselves just as he leans in and kisses her so softly it shatters your heart. Tears come to your eyes but you aren't sure if you're heartbroken or angry.

Ivey calls out your name as you storm forward, drink forgotten as you pace towards your... boyfriend? and his new concubine. You shove his shoulders, careening him away from her in his half drunk state, his eyebrows furrowing as he stumbles,

"What the fuck?"

"I could ask you the same thing asshole, what the fuck are you doing?" You holler over the music. He blinks at you,

"What the hell are you on about? I'm just having some fun."

"Yeah, with someone that's most definitely not your girlfriend." You spit back. He scoffs,

"YOU hardly are either. After that shit you pulled in the bathroom our relationship seems like it's on the rocks no? Oh but don't worry darling, if I'm serious I'll make it back to you at some point." He chides, trying to brush past you to get back to her. Your heart literally snaps in your chest at his brush it all off attitude. You smack his shoulder, setting him off his feet again,

"Do you really wanna do this Tom?"

"Y/N, babe, come on, let's go cool off." Phoebe says nonchalantly in an attempt to get you to calm down. You brush her off,

"Do you wanna do this?" You ask again. There's a crowd forming around you now, some friendly faces you recognize but your body is on fire. He jabs a finger in your face, eyes wild and you know in part that it's the alcohol,

"Oy, get the fuck off my back or we're done. I've got a lot going on right now and you know that and right now you're making it worse. So step the fuck off." He growls. You stare up at him, dumbfounded as tears run down your cheeks. You grit your teeth,

"Fine. Fucking fine, we're done." You tell him, tugging on the chain around your neck hard enough to break and tossing it in his face. It falls to the floor at his feet as you storm away from him, the three girls hot on his heels. Harrison turns to look at Tom once he stands straight from picking up your necklace, disappointment etched across every feature as he shakes his head at his best friend and follows you and the girls outside. The air outside is less stuffy but it freezes your cheeks, freezes the tears still clinging to them. Ivey rubs up your arms,

"He's such an ass. How the fuck did I know something like this was going to happen? We should have kept you away from him." She rambles. You lean your head against Phoebe's as she wraps her arms as best she can around you and Ivey. You sniffle as Scarlett steps up before you, arms crossing and Harrison steps up just beside her, hands on his hips,

"He's a div Y/N. I'll kill him when he's sober." Harrison tells you. Just then, that signature blonde hair with those soft green eyes of Gil appears,

"Hey babe, you okay?" You shake your head, tears starting to fall. How could you be so stupid? People had warned that the second he was between your legs it was game over but he seemed so in love with you just hours before. He clicks his tongue, tossing his arm over your shoulder and pulling your head into his chest,

"I'm sorry." He mutters. You heave as he holds you, grimacing at the sound of your cries,

"It's not like we didn't warn you." Scarlett suddenly says. Five pairs of eyes land on hers and you frown,

"Are you... are you defending him?" You ask. She shrugs,

"We told you about Delilah. You knew he wasn't exactly boyfriend material Y/N." She remarks,

"Scarlett," Phoebe mumbled, waiting until she looks up, "seriously not the time."

"What?! I'm just saying that you shouldn't have expected anything more of him! You knew he wasn't all that Y/N. Besides, it's not like kissing is-"

"Do not finish that sentence! If Cole fucking kissed another girl it is most definitely cheating and we'd most definitely kill him." Ivey squawks, eyes wild as Harrison stares at Scarlett with a furrowed brow, looking to you when you let out a whine and practically collapse into Gil's arms,

"I'm not doing this, I wanna go home."

"Yeah, lets go." Ivey says. You shake your head,

"No, I wanna go home." You say. She locks eyes with you before nodding, glancing up what Gil when he speaks,

"I'll take her, just to get her the fuck out of this fucked up situation." He says, digging in his pocket for his keys. He presses a hand to your lower back, walking you towards his car and leaving your normally lively group to talk amongst themselves,

"I'm gonna fucking kill him now." Phoebe finally mutters, starting back into the house, Ivey, Harrison, and Scarlett (no matter how slow) following close behind until she's shoving the small brunette in front of Tom to get the right angle and smack the taste from his mouth. His mouth hangs open as his eyes find hers,

"What the fuck-"

"You just lost the best thing that's ever happened to you asshole." She yells over the music. He looks her over,

"What? She's calming down outside. She'll get over it and we'll be fine." He remarks matter of factly,

"No, she's going back home." She tells him. He purses his lips,

"So... let her." He mutters with a shrug. Phoebe scoffs,

"You just don't get it. With Delilah it was different. She went back home and you were fine because you were her first but you and Y/N are different. She's been there for you. The two of you fucking visited your parents and you love her.  You actually say that to her and mean it. Your family fucking loves her. You're gonna let that go for what? A girl that you can toss aside? A girl that won't make you fucking happy the same way Y/N does? Are you fucking crazy?"

"Apparently." Tom remarks over the music. Phoebe crosses her arms again,

"I don't want to have to apply for another fucking roommate because of you Tom, I really like Y/N and I'll make sure you never fucking see the light of day if you fuck this up." She tells him, her dark brown eyes seemingly darker as she stares at him. He swallows. It never occurred to him what he'd go through if you left. His parents, his family, his friends, they all loved you. They had lives that revolved around you, that involved you. He sighs as he glances down at his feet, guilt coursing through his body immediately. He was extremely rude and he jumped too far, too fast,

"You said she went home?" He asks, pulling  his phone from his pocket. Phoebe places her hands on her hips, nodding,

"Gil took her back to Cole's." She says lowly. He types up a quick message, only to press send and receive the regular "this number is no longer available" message. He quickly looks up, eyes wide in realization and it's as if he's instantly sobered up,

"She blocked my number." He informs. Harrison scoffs,

"Well when you mack on whores I dunno what you expect her to do Thomas."

"She's done Tom. You fucked up. So now you get the necklace, and your quasi happy existence being a douchebag bachelor. Congrats." Phoebe spits, starting to turn. He captures her wrist, turning her back to him,

"I- I... I dunno what I was thinking. You're right and I can't- I can't lose her. Like seriously. With Delilah it was different but this... Phoebe, you aren't the only one that can't lose her. You're fucking right and I'm an idiot." He tells her. She stares up at him,

"Sounds personal. You shoulda thought about that."

"Phoebe I'm serious. Take me to her."

"Uh uh, you are not gonna fuck this up even more." He grits his teeth,

"Please. One night without her will be like torture, I just need to... I just need to try and fix this before she hates me." He practically begs. Phoebe doesn't shut him down instantly, turning to look at the group behind her, more so Ivey and Harrison who both shrug and then Ivey speaks up,

"Who knows what it could do. Maybe... maybe she needs it." She says. Phoebe points at Scarlett when she opens her mouth,

"You don't get a vote for the shit you just pulled." She tells her. Tom frowns,

"What? What happened?"

"Dumbass tried to defend you for cheating. Tried to tell Y/N that we warned her about you." Phoebe tells Tom who looks at Scarlett, staring her down for a moment, but he can't say anything. Phoebe nods,

"Fine. But I'll push you down a flight of stairs if it gets even more fucked." She tells Tom, waving a finger in his face. He nods, following the group of four out to Ivey's car, watching Ivey turn to look between Phoebe and Harrison. Tom stares down at the text he'd sent, remembering everything he'd said to you. All of the things you'd done for him. And with the snap of a finger, he'd gone and fucked it up.

The drive is silent, lonely for Tom. He seriously doesn't think he's been without you for longer than twenty minutes between being together, texting, or on a call. He runs his thumb over the plate with his name inscribed, broken chain still clinging to it and it holds so much love but now it just reminds him of you pulling it off and throwing it at him with that look in your eye. He sighs loudly as he climbs from the car and stares up at Cole's building. The building that now holds a different feeling if he can't get you back. He tucks his hands in his pockets, following the group up into the elevator. Ivey knocks on the door once they're down the hall, Cole opening the door in a few short beats. The look on his face is replaced with such unreadable ones it scares Tom as he looks through the group, those same eyes that you have boring into him,

"Oh... hey guys." He says coolly but it holds a mysterious undertone that sends a chill down Tom's spine,

"Is Y/N here?" Ivey asks. Cole leans against the door, arms crossed as he looks down and Tom's heart stops,

"No she uhh... she packed some of her stuff while I bought her a ticket for New York. She said... she didn't wanna be here." He tells them. Shock courses through the group as he moves to tuck his hands in his pockets and glance down at his feet,

"So... yeah, there's that." He adds. He glances back up as Ivey speaks,

"So what does that mean? I mean... is she like-"

"Well she said she'll be out there for spring break at least but... if she likes it she'll probably stay and just have me send all of her stuff up there." He elaborates, eyes glancing between Harrison, Phoebe and Ivey to keep his cool. There's a collective heartbreak at the thought of you staying in New York. But then Cole's eyes suddenly land on Tom,

"So thanks for that Tom, really appreciate it. I get my sister here finally and it's like I can breathe and after seven months you're chasing her off again." He spits. Tom swallows, glancing up as Scarlett opens her mouth to speak,

"Cole-"

"Oh and you, yeah... we're done."

"What?" She squeaks. Cole nods as Scarlett stares at him wide eyed,

"You defended him and I don't put up with defending blatant cheaters. If that's how you're gonna be then I don't have any time for you anymore." He concludes. He nods as Tom steps forward,

"Where in New York is she going?"

"No, you're not following her out there to fuck it up more. Do you not understand she wants away from you?" Cole bellows, eyes crazier than usual. Tom stares up at him, Cole standing straight,

"If she comes back and she wants to talk, she'll find you, but until then, leave her the fuck alone Tom. You've done enough." He remarks, turning and closing the door in the group's faces. There's silence before Phoebe scoffs and turns to start down the hall, Ivey and Harrison following in the same distraught and slightly angry state leaving Tom and Scarlett to trail after like dogs with their tails between their legs. And all Tom can think about as his heart breaks and he stares down at the necklace in his hand again is how he fucked up royally. And would do anything to get you back. No matter how far and no matter what you force him to do. He'll do it all if it means getting you back. And he'll never let you go again.

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[paisley-print]

CHAPTER SEVEN: The Infected

 CHAPTER ONE: THE HUNTER / CHAPTER TWO: THE HUNTED / CHAPTER THREE: THE STARVED / CHAPTER FOUR: THE JAILBIRD / CHAPTER FIVE: THE POISONED / CHAPTER SIX: THE DESCENDANT 

-

Synopsis: Din and Ino must fight to stay alive after then enter into the creatures den. These creatures prove to be a much more cunning then anybody originally thought. 

Note: Last of us inspired!

TW: Violence, Gore, Blood, Poisoning.

- 

Stone bridges carried them across the water surrounding the city. Magma chambers just beneath the surface heated the water to boiling temperatures. The two of them charged on until they reached the mouth of the city. Scratching, scuttering and tapping could be heard all around them as they threaded carefully between the labyrinth of buildings.

The next few moments happened so fast neither one of them had time to react. One second Din was above ground and the next he was plummeting below it. Massive chunks of solid granite rained down on him. Din managed a roll at the very last second and dodged the worst of the debris. He let out a deep groan and wiped soot off of his armor as he stood.

"Are you okay?" Ino asked, trying to peer through the cloud of dust from above.

"Never better," he grunted, dull pain shooting up his back. Beskar was unpleasant to land on, granite would have been softer. He looked at his surroundings. Directly in front of him was a mold ridden tapestry and a rotten straw bed. He must have been in some underground dwelling. To the left was a hallway lit by more flowers…. the city was overrun by them."I'll find a way back up- just stay there."

Ino wanted to argue, but remembered the promise she made him. "Alright, please be careful" she said then watched as he unholstered his gun and disappeared into the dark cavern below. She deployed her own weapon. The metallic hiss echoing through the city as she pulled it from its sheath.

Her feet stayed planted, her sweaty palm held tight around the hilt of her weapon while she waited for him. She was never quite aware just how long a minute really was until she was forced to endure them like this. Each second dragged for an eternity, while the noises high above her seemed to grow even louder in his absence.

"Ino."

Finally, she thought.

She lowered her sword and followed his voice into a crumbling building. She sighed in relief as she saw a flash of beskar climb the stares and disappear. Her legs felt heavy and the sword in her hand sagged as she reached the second level. He was standing with his back to her, looking out the window while she approached. Upon hearing her, he pivoted and closed the gap between them, taking her by the waist and pulling her into a tight hug. "Are you alright?"

Ino thought it weird, but wasn't complaining. "Yes. Are you?"

He pulled back slightly and placed a hand on her cheek like before. "Close your eyes" there was an urgency to his voice. Before she had time to speak, he had already taken the sword from her and placed it on the ground.

Ino was extremely confused "why? Are you hurt?"

"No" he said, stepping to the side and boxing her in between the stone table and the wall. He took hold of her shoulders and spun her so she was facing away from him. His voice was soothing "Just trust me."

She placed two hands on the table, steadying herself. Alarm bells were going off in her mind. Something wasn't quite right. She was going to protest when she felt his hand push her golden curls away and lean so close his hot breath tickled her neck. "Mando I think we should wait until

"Breathe Ino-" he shoved her hard against the table.

Her hip bones dug in painfully into the side. She whimpered and attempted to push herself up. He reacted to this pushback by taking a hand to her throat and squeezing much too hard. She gasped and struggled beneath the weight of him. Thinking quickly, she grabbed the dagger hidden within her boot and jabbed backwards.

It hit its mark, connecting deeply with something soft and fleshy in texture. The moment she felt his grip on her loosen, she kicked back and lunged for her sword. The thing standing before her was not The Mandalorian, at least not fully. She watched in horror as it morphed into a humanoid creature, with dark slits for eyes and a large jaw. Multiple rows of razor-sharp teeth jutted from it. It pounced at her, nearly reaching her….only stopping when it connected with the hilt of her sword. It had impaled itself fully through the chest. She stayed frozen like that, two hands held out in front of her, watching as this creature fought against death until the very end.

When it finally stopped moving, she threw its limp body to the side. Her legs quivered and failed her multiple times until she forced herself to a standing position. The creature's black blood dripped disgustingly down the front of her tunic. This wasn't in her studies. None of this was. Had she known they harbored this ability, she would have never suggested this trip. She knew she needed to find Mando, but there was one thing to do first, lest this entire trip had been in vain.

Gagging, she pulled the sword from the creature's body, then took its wrist in her hand. She pushed a boot into its shoulder and made a cut just below the armpit. The arm came loose with a solid yank- emitting a wet crunch as tendons snapped and the joint popped from its socket.

She tied the arm to her belt and took off running down the stairs. Her mind still racing with how those autopsy books could have gotten these creatures so wrong. It hit her in an instant, the flowers. "Mando!" she called, darting into the street. "The spores from the flowers! They cause hallucinations! The Sastriths use them to mimic! Don't trust them! Mando! "

Shit Shit Shit- where was he!?

She reached the crater where he had fallen, got down on her stomach and threw her legs over the edge. One hand held onto the ledge before she dropped, wobbling slightly but landing on her feet. She took off sprinting down the hallway he disappeared in. "Mando! Mando!" a sharp blow to the side of her head caused her to fall and crash against the wall.

Another Sastrith had her pinned - it unhinged its jaw and screamed at her…. it was her own scream…. It threw her own scream back at her. This caused a flip to switch in her mind.

How dare this thing taunt her?

She let out a guttural yell, took her sword and forced it through the creature's skull. With a flick of her wrist, it cracked in two and tumbled into a pile of oozing flesh beneath her. "Doshin' fucking bitch" she growled. Her veins held pure fire as she continued on her mission to find The Mandalorian. Watching that creature's life drain from its eyes made her feel powerful. Today was not the day she died she decided.

Two more Sastriths lunged at her, but she killed them easily with a jab at their guts and an upward pullback. She continued on, careful not to slip on the contents that spilled out of their abdomen.

She found herself in a dining hall. Large wooden tables, covered with spores and dust, stood crumbling throughout the room. She heard him before she saw him.

"Ino." He was slumped against the wall on the far side of the room. Even from this distance, she could tell how heavily he was breathing. A strained voice came sounding through his modulator "H-help."

How would she know? She had never felt so incredibly helpless in her life. Having to watch him struggle like this… "I need to know it's you," she approached him with great caution. "You have to take off the helmet."

He shook his head weakly and coughed "c-can't"

Blind terror ripped through her as he dropped his blaster and let his helmet sink lifelessly to his chest.

This broke her. Against her better judgment, she rushed to him. "Please, please please" she begged, dropping to her knees, placing two hands on either side of his helmet and pulling. His arms jerked up, leather sliding smoothly over her skin. An ear-splitting scream left her lips at the feeling of her hand being ripped open. Hot liquid poured into her wound and started pumping upwards through her arm. She jerked away and crawled towards her swords she had let fall.

The Sastrith was right behind her; a clawed hand came up and wrapped itself against her ankle, pulling her away. It flipped her onto her back. She forced her arm as far as it would go, fingers just inches away from the metal.

The Sastrith just barely managed to draw blood when she brought the sword up and landed a powerful strike to the side of the creature's head. It fell back, stunned. In a blind rage, she threw herself on top of it, lifted both hands above her head, and brought the metal down on the creature's face. It screamed. Ino repeated this motion once, twice, eight times, fifteen… The pain in her arm fueled each devastating hit. In the back of her mind she knew the thing was dead, but she kept going. Blood spattered on her face, in her mouth, across the floor. Nothing stopped her attack on the now faceless husk that was the monster.

A hand landed on her shoulder. She whipped around, slashed at it. Metal scraped against metal in a high-pitched shriek. She did it again and again until the sword was wrestled from her grasp by The Mandalorian. He placed two hands on her shoulders to calm her "it's me - it's me. Ino."

She retreated, kicking back on her feet and falling. Her face was twisted with anger as she yelled, "get the fuck back!"

"No, here look" he took hold of the dark saber on his belt and deployed it. "See?"

It took her a moment to trust the information given to her. She eventually gave in, falling to a pathetic pile on the floor and shaking violently with sobs. Din's arms wrapped around her and immediately she knew it was him. He held her to his chest, her face buried in the brown fabric of his tunic. "I thought you died," she sputtered.

His hold on her grew tighter, fingers coming to brush against her rib cage. He lowered his helmet to nuzzle the side of her neck. "It's okay, you're okay. I got you. I'm right here."

She pushed him away, doubled over and vomited blood onto the floor. He moved to reach for her, but she put a hand up for him to stay back, only to retch again and choke out more. He caught her just as she slipped towards the floor, her eyes rolled beneath half-closed lids. The last thing she could hear was his terrified voice calling out to her before everything went black.

[vicunaburger]

Admittedly, I’m Hard to See

Fandom: Beetlejuice the Musical Chapters: 15/? Pairing: Beetlejuice x OC (Holidae) The Players: Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz, Holidae Bell Word Count: 1,784 Warnings: M for Mature Content, TW: Brief mention of previous injuries (not exactly self-harm, but similar in tone)

Notes: Naked house guests abound

Chapter 15 - In Which the Future Doesn’t Exist

It would be another few hours before Holidae gathered enough energy to pry herself away from the ghost’s hold on her; muscles and joints popping with effort as she sat up.

The discomfort had nothing to do with their activities, but everything to do with the fact he slept on a past its prime sofa bed. The rusty springs creaked loudly as she swung her legs over the side, causing her to wince at the sudden noise, and turn to check on her companion. He didn’t seem bothered; laid out flat on his stomach completely naked, but not moving around as though he had woken up. Admittedly, it wasn’t the most graceful pose he could have adopted, but it was entertaining to see him stark naked without a care in the world.

Did he even need to sleep, or was it just a habit to act that way around other people?

The sight of him so… vulnerable almost made her rethink her plans, wanting to just crawl back into bed and stay there for the rest of the weekend. However, the dried blood on her shoulder and other… fluids that had dried on her skin were not the most pleasant sensations for long periods of time. A shower was her goal for that morning, and then maybe she could treat herself to sleeping longer in her comfortable, soft bed.

Holidae gathered her clothes from the floor, tiptoeing across the room and down the stairs in the bright light of the late morning. Since no one else was home, she decided to have a little fun and commandeer the Deetz’s master bathroom, as it was the fanciest in the house. It had been recently refurbished, she had been told, with a double-length walk-in shower with multiple faucets. Not that she needed anything more than a basic bathtub on any given day, but it was nice to take advantage of the luxury while it was available.

Turning on the showerheads, she waited for the water to warm up a little, examining herself in the nearby vanity mirror. The bite on her shoulder looked nastier than it felt, but there were clear rows of teeth visible underneath the initial bruising. Luckily, it wouldn’t be difficult to hide it under sweaters and coats for the winter season. She gently ran her fingertips around each small puncture, her face growing red at the memory of them being so close in that moment.

Holidae stepped into the shower, carefully closing the clear glass door behind her, hissing as the warm water soaked into her aching body. It was such a delightful sensation; she closed her eyes and let the water run over her face and hair, eager to relax after such anxiety the night before. The more she thought about it, the more she felt silly for thinking the worst of him. Of course, the standard image of all demon creatures were ones of vile, nasty beasts hellbent on snatching the soul of the unsuspecting human. The thought always stayed in the back of her mind, but she never let it grow any larger than a passing notion.

She doubted he would go to do much trouble for her soul anyway. Probably wasn’t worth much.

Tap Tap Tap

The sound of a nail on glass caught her attention, and her head snapped around to the shower door, her hands grasping the safety bar to keep herself from slipping. There, pressed comically against the glass - still naked - was Beetlejuice, who smiled widely when he got her attention. Instinctively, Holidae tried to cover her more intimate parts, her whole body flushing red from the heat of the water and the embarrassment at being so startled.

“Hey babes~” He chuckled, squishing his face against the door. “Why didn’t you wake me up? I could’ve missed the floorshow! Awww, don’t cover up like that… it’s nothing I haven’t seen. Licked. Stuck my-”

She chucked a wet washcloth at his face, watching it slide down the glass a bit before hitting the ground, “What the hell are you scaring me like that for? I could have cracked my head open and died.”

“Well, then, it would have been lucky for you since I’m an expert at handling the newly-dead.” Beej stuck his lengthy tongue out, licking the glass in an obscene manner.

“Ew! Don’t… don’t lick that! You don’t know what’s on there!” Horrified, she tapped on the glass by his face, “Germs!”

Beetlejuice gave her a look before putting his whole mouth on the door, looking like one of those sucker fish on the walls of fish tanks. Holidae squealed in disgust, opening the door and pulling him inside the large shower space with her, pushing him under the spray of one of the water jets. Within moments, he looked like sopping, wet mess. His hair, normally tamed in a care-but-don’t-care fashion was plastered against his skull, the length covering the points of his ears and blocking out his eyesight. It was funny to see just how long his hair was without the signature fluffed appearance.

With a grumble, he jerked his head back, successfully moving his hair out of his face and splashing the whole of the shower space like an unhappy dog.

“…Holli-baby. Holly-Jolly. Babycakes. Babydoll. I’m dead.” Beetlejuice tilted his head to the side sharply, “I can’t get germs.”

She mirrored his expression, “The fine layer of dirt and mold you’re sporting on your birthday suit would suggest otherwise, Juice.”

He waved his hands dismissively, “It’s part of the package. Didn’t hear you complainin’ about germs when you were smothering me in the middle of the night. You were all arms and legs like a squid.”

Holidae grabbed the washcloth off the floor, lathering it up with a nearby bar of soap, “Me? I’m the squid?”

Beej made a show of sitting down on… nothing. There were no built-in benches or anything in the shower stall, but his body still conformed to the shape of sitting on a chair. Ignoring him, Holidae busied herself with gently cleaning around her shoulder, wincing at the sting of the soap, but managing to navigate the tricky path of irritated nerves. All the while, Beetlejuice remained silent, content in the fact she hadn’t gotten too angry at him for invading her private time. In truth, he would have been happy to be outside of the shower door, as was his original plan… but he didn’t mind the change of location.

Besides, he was not about to argue the amazing view he was getting of his breather soaping herself up. He knew for a fact that he hadn’t done anything to deserve such a treat.

Once she was finished, Holidae rinsed out the washcloth thoroughly, turning around and holding it out for him to use.

“…you can’t hang it up yourself?” He asked, confused by her gesture.

“Huh? No, you can use it. You know… for… washing up?” She sighed heavily, “Don’t. Don’t even say it. I know you claim not to be dirty and stuff but there’s nothing wrong with smelling like soap for a while.”

He hesitated, watching her with a raised eyebrow, “You gonna help me get the hard to reach places?”

“No.” Holidae’s tone was deadpanned to match her expression. “But I will let you sleep in my bed.”

Not wanting to push his luck, Beej reached out to take the washcloth, but stopped and wrapped his hand around her wrist instead. It was a quick, snappy action; like a snake darting out to catch a mouse. Startled, Holidae instinctively tried to pull her arm out of his iron grip, unsure of what he planned to do with the appendage. Keeping her in place, Beetlejuice tilted his head, inspecting the skin of her arm with a quizzical look. Thin, pale white stripes lined the surface area between her mid-arm and her elbow; some crisscrossing each other without a pattern.

“Lose a fight with a weed whacker?” The ghost let her arm go, taking the soap in hand, and attempting to make himself as clean as he could to her standards.

A muscle twitched in the corner of Holidae’s eye, “Used to have a cat.”

Slowly, he turned his full attention to her, the strange tone in her voice contradicting the perfectly reasonable answer she provided. It was… flat. Dull, but instantly falling out of her mouth like it was a programmed response.

Rehearsed.

“Tch, nasty cat.” He replied, giving his cleanliness the attention it needed.

The rest of their shower was spent in peace, Beej offering a slew of lewd jokes and breaking the tension between them almost immediately. He refused to let her dry herself off, stating it was his solemn duty to make sure she was dried enough to not slip on the tile flooring. Of course, he concentrated his efforts everywhere but her feet, causing Holidae to squirm away when the fibers hit the more ticklish parts of her.

By the time they managed to make their way into Holidae’s room, it was getting closer to sunset. She knew it was a bad idea in the long run, but Holidae couldn’t be bothered to make her way downstairs to find something to eat. The allure spending more comfortable hours in bed with her ghostly paramour was too tempting to ignore.

Beetlejuice was already settled in her bed, lounging in the “sexiest” way he could, fully nude with only part of a bedsheet draped across his thigh, “What’re you doing over there? Don’t get dressed! You’ve got all this sexiness waiting here just waiting for you to ravish it. I’m helpless, Holly-Jolly, powerless to stop you from devouring my body like a fine cut of meat.”

Holidae popped her head out of the neck-hole of her sweatshirt, rolling her eyes at the display, “I dunno, that side of beef might be past its prime.”

“Uhhhhhggggg, you’re killing me, babes.” He rolled over, stuffing his face into the pillow dramatically.

With a soft sigh, she climbed into the bed next to him, holding her arms open toward him, “You’re already dead, Juice. Now come here and stop complaining.”

With a pointed and loud huff, Beej wriggled his body over to her side of the bed, letting himself be enveloped by the warmth of her body and the softness of her sweatshirt. It wasn’t too long before he could hear her soft heartbeats within her chest, her breathing slowing to a crawl as she drifted off to sleep. He mind wasn’t about to let him relax along with her, far too preoccupied with their awkward exchange in the shower.

He made a mental note to ask Lydia about the cat.

Writing Tags: @hoodoo12 @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @a-subconscious-manifestation @asriells @missihart23 @heknowshisherbs

[barinacraft]

Hot Toddy Drink - Far East Of Scotland Long Before The Cocktail

The Toddy Was Hot Before The Cocktail Became Old Fashioned

Or cold maybe. Point is, the Toddy, hot or cold, was old-fashioned before the Old Fashioned was ever even fashioned.

Although many, including ourselves, associate the Toddy with whisk(e)y, honey, lemon juice, hot water and maybe some nutmeg, cloves or cinnamon, technically its just whisky, sugar and H2O. Add some bitters and you have an Old Fashioned which, ingredient-wise, is the very definition of a cocktail.*

History Of The Toddy

A British Chaplain Travels With The East India Trading Company

The earliest reference to the word Toddy may have been when it was included in the notes observed by Edward Terry, then Chaplain to the Right Honorable Sir Thomas Row, Knight, Lord Ambassador to the Great Mogul, in 1615-1619 during his Voyage To East India.†  These records later became published as a book of the same name in 1655.

Liquor From The Toddy Tree

“And here I cannot choose but take notice of a very pleasant and clear liquor, called Toddy, issuing from a spongy tree, that grows straight and tall without boughs to the top, and there spreads out in tender branches, very like unto those that grow from the roots of our rank and rich artichokes, but much bigger and longer. This toddy-tree is not so big, but that it may be very easily embraced, and the nimble people of that country will climb up as fast to the top thereof (the stem of the tree being rough and crusty) as if they had the advantage of ladders to help them up. In the top tender branches of those trees they make incisions which they open and stop again as they please, under which they bang pots made of large and light gourds, to preserve the influence which issues out of them in a large quantity in the night season, they stopping up those vents in the heat of the day.

“That which thus distills forth in the night, if it be taken very early in the morning, is as pleasing to the taste as any new white wine, and much clearer than it. It is a very piercing, medicinal, and inoffensive drink, if taken sooner in the day, only it is a little windy; but if it be kept later until the heat of the day, the sun alters it so as if it made it another kind of liquor, for it becomes then very heady, not so well relished, and unwholesome; and when it is so, not a few of our drunken seamen choose to drink it; and I think they so do, because it will then presently turn their brains; for there are too many of the common sort of those men who use the sea, who love those brutish distempers too much, which turn a man out of himself, and leave a beast in the skin of a man.

“But for that drink, if it be taken in its best, and most proper season, I conceive it to be of itself very wholesome, because it provokes urine exceedingly; the further benefit whereof some there have found by happy experience, being thereby eased from their torture inflicted by that shame of physicians, and tyrant of all maladies, the kidney stone. And so cheap too is this most pleasing wine, that a man may there have more than enough for a very little money.” ~ Reverend Edward Terry

Hot Tadi Turns To Hooch

So, if left to ferment in the heat of the day, this “Hot Toddy” becomes an intoxicating liquor and by all accounts also turns sour and bitter like vinegar. Combine this with the age old practice of adding sugars to wine, cider and other beverages to sweeten the taste along with a specific mention in the Accounts of India and China as far back as AD 890 which says of Ceylon (present day Sri Lanka); “Their drink is made of Palm honey boiled and prepared with the Tari (pronounced Tadi), the juice which runs from the tree” and all you need is a little water to complete the recipe.

One theory has Scotsman returning from the Far East embracing the term Toddy as a nickname for an alcoholic drink with those generic ingredients. Just substitute Scotch whisky for fermented tadi, sugar for palm honey and add water.

Scotch Springs Eternal From Tod's Well

A second, more widely accepted theory on the origins of the Hot Toddy (in western culture as opposed to the Far East where it is still alive and well in its historical version there) centers around one of Edinburgh, Scotland's city water sources, Tod's well, affectionately known as Toddy and some early poets' prose. First some history on the Todian spring and then a pair of Scots will wax poetic.

In 1681, Peter Brauss brought water into Edinburgh, Scotland from Tod spring in Comiston through a system engineered by George Sinclair where gravity fed the supply via a series of 3 inch diameter lead pipes built by Robert Mylne.‡, 1 - 2  Comiston springs at Tod's well was located on the Pentland Hills about 3 miles to the south of Edinburgh and the aqua duct originally channeled its flow into five stone wells along High Street, part of the Royal Mile in between the Edinburgh Castle in the heart of the city and Holyrood Palace near Arthur's Seat Volcano, home to a pair of another of the city's spring fed water sources, St. Margaret's and St. Anthony's wells.

The cisterns were located at multiple heights in the Old Town and women 'caddies' would gather to draw water from the wells for their homes. The system was a significant public works project benefiting everyone's health and was later improved in 1720 by increasing the main water pipe from Comiston into the city to a 4 1/2 inch diameter which more than doubled its capacity.

The Morning-Interview. An Heroi-Comical Poem by Allan Ramsay (MDCCXIX)

This 1719 mock heroic ode to courtship which parodies the struggles of a beau hoping to overcome his foe is often cited as a key piece of literature which some say proves the etymological history of the toddy is based in Scotland and not the Far East. In the lead up to the poem's ending shown below, the epic romantic passion is emphasized with great comedic effect.

The ninth stanza both highlights and summarizes the poem's main storyline when Celia awakens to answer the door to her apartment dressed only in the loose attire of her morning gown. Expecting that her cousin Frankalia had come to take her morning tea, her initial pale surprise to see Damon standing there instead turns into a blushing red exchange. Here's the last 3 of the 16 verse stanzas:

A sumptuous Treat does crown the ended War,

And all rich Requisites are brought from far.

The Table boasts its being from Japan,

The ingenious Work of some great Artisan.

China, where Potters coarsest Mold refine,

That Light through the transparent Jar does shine,

The costly Plates and Dishes are from thence,

And Amazonia must her Sweets dispense;

To her warm Banks, our Vessels cut the Main,

For the sweet Product of her luscious Cane;

Here Scotia does no costly Tribute bring,

Only some Kettles full of Todian Spring.3

Where Indus and the Double Ganges flow,

On odoriferous Plains the Leaves do grow;

Chief of the Treat, a Plant the Boast of Fame,

Sometimes called Green, BOHEA's its greater Name.

O happiest of Herbs! Who would not be

Pythagorized into the Form of Thee,

And with high Transports act the Part of TEA?

Kisses on thee the haughty Belles bestow,

While in thy Steams their coral Lips do glow;

The Virtues and thy Flavor they commend;

While Men, even Beaux, with parched Lips attend.

Teetotalling Tod

Much ado has been made about the inclusion of the Todian Spring and how the author specifically calls out in the footnotes that it is in reference to Tod's Well. This has been interpreted as meaning kettles full of Toddy which by association then translates to whisky since the word whisky is derived from water and it was a common custom of the day for whisky to be invoiced as aqua in Scotland.4

But, maybe it actually means just what it says and this is much ado about nothing.

After all, all the other objects mentioned directly relate to those items needed for a tea party. You have a table from Japan, the place setting from China as well as the tea (Bohea is a type of black oolong tea), and sugar from the Amazon river banks in South America. All you need is H2O, so why would the inclusion of actual water from the Todian spring be construed to mean Toddy, therefore meaning whisky?

In fact tea was becoming such a common drink in Scotland that in 1742 Duncan Forbes, Lord Culloden, the President of the Court of Session is quoted as saying, “the meanest families, even of laboring people, particularly in burroughs, make their morning's meal of it, and thereby wholly disuse the ale which heretofore was their accustomed drink; and the same drug supplies all the labouring women with their afternoons' entertainments, to the exclusion of the Twopenny.” 5  The last refers to a Scotch pint of pale ale, the equivalent of two quarts, which sold for two pence each a.k.a twopenny ale.

Another implication of tracing Toddy back to here is that it also suggests waking to whisky was wanton. Was it?

Holy Mother Of Toddy

And finally in 1785, from the garbled Gaelic of Robert Burns, a Scotty speaks of Toddy. In "The Holy Fair," the National Poet of Scotland satirically describes what had become a common phrase in the west of Scotland for the biennial gathering to celebrate the sacramental occasion of communion.6

This was no prim and proper formal ritual either. It was a party, and the often unruly crowds of strangers would sometimes toss decency out the window in exchange for questionable behavior. Wonder if you had to bring your own Toddy or was the bar stocked?

The Holy Fair by Robert Burns

Heres a partial passage from the poem pertaining to the potation:

Leeze me on drink! it gies us mair

Than either school or college;

It kindles wit, it waukens lear,

It pangs us fou o' knowledge:

Be't whisky-gill or penny wheep,

Or ony stronger potion,

It never fails, or drinkin deep,

To kittle up our notion,

By night or day.

The lads an' lasses, blythely bent

To mind baith saul an' body,

Sit round the table, weel content,

An' steer about the toddy:

The Toddy reference here is pretty clear. However, this opens up another question. In the Eucharist or Holy Communion, isn't the blood of Christ supposed to be wine and not whisky? Let's not go there.

Meanwhile, Back In The States

All this talk of Toddy's Scottish heritage is all the more confusing when you consider that the U.S. appears to have beaten them to the (publishing) punch some 35 years earlier. Toddy was the talk of the town in “the July 1750 issue of the Boston Weekly Post Boy, and the ‘fashionable’ Toddy, as the Newport, Rhode Island, Mercury dubbed it in 1764 was a fixture of American tippling for a century or more.” 7

It looks like, at least for now, America lays claim to the first known recipe for the Toddy as well. The American Herbal, or Materia Medica by Samuel Sterns was printed in Walpole, New Hampshire (1801).

Toddy (New Nation punch formula in the Age of Jefferson):

24 oz  water

8 oz  rum or brandy

a little sugar

a little nutmeg

Add the rum or brandy and the sugar to the water, and after stirring, the nutmeg. Author notes that “It is called a salutary liquor, and especially in the summer season, if it is drank with moderation.”

The Toddy Is Well Represented In The First Ever Cocktail Book

There's tons of Toddies in How To Mix Drinks, or The Bon-Vivant's Companion by Jerry Thomas (1862). The Brandy, Gin and Whiskey Toddy, no Rum is included, are all pretty much the same recipe.

[ Insert Name Of Preferred Spirit Here ] Toddy Drink:

2 oz  Brandy, Gin or Whiskey (chosen names the recipe i.e. Gin Toddy)

1 oz  water

1 tsp  sugar

1 small lump of ice

Use a small bar glass and stir with a spoon. The only Hot Toddy specifically called out among these three liquors is for Brandy where you omit the ice and use boiling water instead.

A side note elsewhere in this book under a description of punch has Jerry instructing Hot Toddy / Hot Punch makers that they must put in the spirits before the water. This was moved to the Hints and Rules For Bartenders section, like these home bar how-tos, and was changed to a rapid rinse of hot water first to aid in the prevention of heat cracking the glass in his 1886 Bartender's Guide.

By the time you add in the recipes for Sangarees, Slings & Skins (detailed more below), there are a slew of similar sips with a single standout, the Apple Toddy. Sort of a Hot Apple Pie Cocktail with real fruit filling.

Apple Toddy Drink Recipe:

2 oz  cider brandy or applejack

1 tbs  fine white sugar

½  baked apple

Roast the apples; cored, peeled and cut in half with some sugar and nutmeg; in the oven in a baking pan with boiling water until soft. About 30 minutes at 375 degrees Farenheit. Add the baked apple, sugar and brandy to a small bar glass. Fill ⅔ full of hot water and garnish by grating some nutmeg on top.

Mr. Thomas does give an honorable mention to the Indian intoxicate stating that Arrack, mainly used to flavor punch here in America, improves with age and is used in parts of that country where it is distilled from Toddy, the juice of their native coconut trees.

What's Your Opinion?

So, do you think the alcoholic drink Toddy from Western culture is derived from Tadi, Tod's Well or something Todally different?

A Cure For What Ails You - Depending On What Ails You

Regardless of its origins, a Hot Toddy (or totty) is a classic hot drink for cold days and nights which happens to coincide with the Christmas holidays up north. Its a basic cocktail that's popular in many variations. Perhaps none more so than when adding in the combination of honey and lemon to the drink.

Besides being tasty, the lemon-honey pairing is often recommended as a cure for what ails you, from sore throats to weight loss to colds & flu. Probably better make it a mocktail if you're actually sick though, as burning the bug out with alcohol may do more harm than good according to many in modern medicine. Sort of ironic that the initial Toddy recipe appears for now to have made its debut in a medical journal.

Behind The Bar - How To Mix A Hot Toddy At Home

If you're not sick though, Hot Toddies are a great way to warm up throughout the winter holidays and gives you another excuse to use your seasonal barware. Other than a few other Christmas cocktails and holiday themed drinks, what else are you going to use those fancy glasses decorated with boughs of holly for anyway?

Hot Toddy Recipe:

1 oz  bourbon, rye or scotch whisk(e)y

1 tbp  honey

2 tsp  lemon juice

1 cup  boiling hot water

Preparation - spoon or squeeze the honey into the bottom of your mug. Add the bourbon and juice from about a quarter of a lemon. Fill with hot water well short of rim for easier handling and safe sipping. Garnish with lemon wedge, optionally studded with cloves, cinnamon (sticks or ground), nutmeg, etc. An almost infinite combination of possibilities are available as almost any liquor works well and many substitute hot tea or cider for the boiling water along with different spices. See 5 tips for hot toddies for additional ideas.

BTW - January 11th is National Hot Toddy Day!

What better way to embody the spirit?

Drink Variations and Similar Cocktails

Toddy's Tipple Twins:

Bumbo - a brown sugar, rum Sling that sings Pirate's praises.

Grog - a nautically rooted drink where a sailor's portion of rum was watered down.

Highball - Scotch whisky & carbonated water along with other spirit and soda combos like the Cuba Libre, Gin & tonic, Moscow Mule and the Seven & Seven.

Sangarees - Toddies topped off with a little port wine.

Slings - liquor, water, sugar and nutmeg.

Skins - a Toddy with a twist or piece of lemon peel added.

More Hot Drinks For Home Bar Hosts:

Eggnog - a frothy holiday favorite.

Glogg - hot mulled Christmas wine.

Hot Buttered Rum - toddy's cocktail cousin?

Wassail - hot apple ale blesses the crop for the coming new year.

References

* - Minus the typical orange and cherry fruit salad many modern old-fashioned recipes [sic] like to muddle into the drink.

† - The original passage was written using the long 's' which looks like the letter f. Those old-fashioned ligatures along with some older word spellings were converted to reflect modern writing so they would be easier to read. As an example of both instances, choose was written as chufe in seventeenth century English.

‡ - The History of Edinburgh by William Maitland (1753) via The Statistical Account of Scotland Drawn Up From The Communications of the Ministers of the Different Parishes by Sir John Sinclair (1791).

1 - Castlehill Cistern. Civil Engineering Heritage: Scotland - Lowlands and Borders by Roland Paxton and Jim Shipway (2007) via the Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland.

2 - The Architect Robert Mylne. Electric Scotland. Saint Cecilia's Hall in the Niddry Wynd.

3 - Tods-Well which supplies the City with Water. (original footnote, verbatim from the poem).

4 - Origin Of The Word Toddy. The New York Times (1871).

5 - Chambers' Edinburgh Journal conducted by William and Robert Chambers, Number 285, Saturday, July 15, 1837.

6 - The Official Robert Burns Site. All verses to The Holy Fair poem complete.

7 – Imbibe! by David Wondrich (2007). From Absinthe Cocktail To Whiskey Smash. A Salute In Stories And Drinks To ‘Professor’ Jerry Thomas. Pioneer Of The American Bar.

[stillness-in-green]

Changeling: The League (2/3)

Being the next installment of my deeply nerdy spur-of-the-moment decision to do up a bunch of My Hero Academia villains as Changeling: The Lost characters.  For some introductory info and the League of Villains, check this post.  Or hit the jump for the Meta Liberation Army!  

THE METAHUMAN LIBERATION ARMY

Considerably reduced from what they are in canon (I don’t think there are 116,000 changelings in Japan, much less that many changeling dissidents!), the leaders of the MLA are instead a band of secret loyalists for the Keeper called Destro, who have spent a great many years preparing for a chance to bring him to the real world in full glory, unhindered by time limits or reduced powers.  The requirements are many and arcane, with a huge number of ways things could fall to disarray.  Thus they find to their great alarm that their prophecies are suddenly skewing when the truth of Shigaraki’s durance/Keeper comes out--there are two “heirs,” it seems, and fate is swirling, and it will only settle over one of them in the end.  

The group has its fingers in some of the more obscure fluff-book magic--fate-crafting, oracular dreams and the like--and collectively share a massively decked-out Hollow.

Re-Destro

Quote: “Everyone has a purpose to serve.”

Type: Gargantuan Ogre/Treasured Fairest dual kith.  The incarnation of Destro’s will.  Born in Faerie, he spent his early years being instructed (and molded) always--stand up straight, speak more clearly, be stronger, be better, you are the one who will herald me.  Re-Destro was delivered out of the Hedge at seven years old clutching a squall knife as long as his arm, his mind filled with the knowledge that he was the one who would see Destro ushered into the real world.  He was welcomed, open-armed, by those changelings who had been sent before.  He has spent over thirty years in the real world since then, scrupulously maintaining a startlingly high Clarity, but Destro whispers in his dreams more nights than not, and Rikiya (as he was named, though he has a true name his mother whispered against his head as an infant, now long forgotten) has always had the nagging feeling that the mundane Earth is not his true home.  

A tall, stiff-shouldered man in his Mask, Rikiya looks much as he does in canon, though without the stress spots on his forehead and with a nose that’s merely prominent, rather than a cartoonishly huge beak.  He’s quite tall and can go from mildly unassuming to toweringly imposing on a dime.  In mien, his hair goes more coppery and his skin becomes unblemished marble, the palest shade of jade in color, tinging ever so slightly darker around his joints.  His nose returns to its canonically proper glory, and the places where his hairline recedes in his mask are revealed to be making room for a pair of broad, curving horns, emerald green at the tips.  He’s unusually clean-hewn for an Ogre, not handsome, per se, but undeniably striking.  When he uses his kith blessing, he grows to profound sizes (shredding even the most cleverly crafted Hedgespun), easily as tall as a two storey building.  Naturally, he tries not to do that kind of thing around mortal witnesses.

Rikiya’s Wyrd is getting quite high (it was high even as a child, as might reasonably be predicted), so particularly sensitive or addled humans will sometimes see or experience fragments of his true form--his unyielding skin, a brief glimpse of the shadow of his horns, the echoing weight of his footsteps on stone floors.  His potent Wyrd and his affinity with the home of the Gentry means that his magic sometimes leaks into objects he keeps on his person for too long--it’s an issue he’s aware of, and practically speaking, it mostly means that he never wears anything more than a day in a row.  He has a staggering variety of suits and ties.  

Court/Mantle: Courtless.  With high-ranking friends in a sprawling freehold overseen by Directional Courts, Rikiya makes rounds in all of them.  He’s a deft hand with Hedgespun and his works are in high demand at even the most discerning changeling markets.  His home is in the center--close to the epicenter, in fact.

Contracts: Barbarically focused, though he uses both of his contracts sparingly.  His experience has gone more into his, shall we say, inherent magic.  

        Vainglory I-V.  Even when playing the role of a popular but unranked freehold member, or a canny designer of mundane accessories, Re-Destro has never forgotten who and what he is, and when he’s using these Contracts, that comes out with psyche-bruising force.  His higher-tier invocations tend to cause his colors to mottle somewhat, infusing to darker shades of green around his face--the hollows of his eyes particularly--and extremities.  

        Stone I-V.  Unbelievably strong whenever he needs to be.  He tries to avoid combat or let his underlings handle it when he can--he has very few problems maintaining his Clarity, but causing harm to others is a surefire way to disturb it--but when he does break these out, he’s as difficult to put down as a berserker.  Tends to take relaxing vacations after any occasion where he’s had to really work this. 

Curious 

Quote: ”You’ve got the look of someone with a story to tell.  I want to hear all about it.”

Type: Cleareyes Beast.  Once upon a time, she was a journalist with a nose for a story--well, she’s a journalist still, with a nose like you wouldn’t believe.  Talented and quick-witted, both traits won her attention from Destro’s “recruiters,” but it was her tenaciousness that finally saw her brought in from the snow and the hunts, a semblance of a human form returned to her, and the bright ambrosia of purpose poured down her throat.  Delivered to Re-Destro when he was in his 20s, Chitose is a hunter and a dream-spinner, a trickster with a deft and ruthless touch for talecrafting.  She remembers the headiness of blood on her tongue, and she can always smell a bleeding heart.  

A fox changeling, though given her bent of viciousness and her unusual coloring, you could be forgiven for thinking her a kumiho or a particularly wicked kitsune.  In mien, she has long, thick white hair and a pair of white tails (three in the dreamscape), tipped in black like stained ink brushes, that match her long, tufted ears.  Her whole body’s covered in a fine layer of silken fur; she’s got a lupine lengthiness to her features and sharp teeth in her smile.  In her mask, her hair’s rich and dark and she seems to have a perpetual healthy glow to her skin, tipping into a noticeably high, intemperate flush when her passions are aroused.  A beauty in either form, she has thin, seemingly delicate wrists and ankles, but moves with a quick, decisive grace.  Her eyes are blue with just a hint of the green they used to be, the color standing out sharply from the ring of her black eyelashes.  

Court/Mantle: The South, seat of ecstasy.  Chitose remembers the purity of her emotions in Faerie, remembers heights of euphoria and shocks of terror that stole her breath away, but out in the real world, she feels muted and muffled, never quite fulfilled, as if she’s always groping for an outstretched hand that’s just out of reach.  The Court of Song gets her closest to that reckless, all-pervading sensation, and so she throws herself headlong into its giddy pursuit of obsession.  Her mantle wraps her in a sensual warmth and, when she’s particularly worked up, wisps of thin white smoke scented like heady incense or burning sugar.  Every so often, when her eyes catch the light in a dark room, they reflect red instead of green.

Contracts: 

        Den I-III.  She considers herself to have every right to be wherever she finds herself and is not about to let a home security system stop her when she’s chasing any sort of rabbit.

        Dream I-IV.  Whether she’s digging for a story or pushing a narrative, dreams are fruitful ground with a multiplicity of uses, none of which she’s squeamish about implementing.  Curious is a terror, asleep or awake.  

        Omen I-III.  While she’s not much interested in fortune-telling as a method for long-term strategic planning (you want Skeptic for that), she does absolutely have a use for powers that give her visions of someone’s worst memory or upcoming major life events.  

Skeptic

Quote: “Do you have any idea what kind of shitstorm we have coming down on us?  What?  You can’t see the future?  I guess that means you should shut the hell up and stop distracting those of us who have something useful to contribute then, doesn’t it?!”

Type: Oracle Wizened.  Destro knew that his followers would need someone who could properly interpret signs and portents, so set his recruiters to finding someone with an eye for secret signs, a knack for the languages of symbolism and metaphor.  Most of them brought back psychics or sensitive children, but one particularly old recruiter, for whom “computers” were a new and strange novelty, brought back Tomoyasu.  An electronics whiz-kid from a young age, Tomoyasu was in high school at the time, but already doing college prep.  He was driven and competitive but, crucially, willing to explain things to people who didn’t understand them.  In Faerie, his eyes were opened (forcibly, sometimes with clamps) to a great many more languages and codes, and his competitive personality honed to a vicious edge because you did not want to be a failure, not at any cost.  

Now that he’s been sent back to the real world, Skeptic has a presence in many realms.  He’s still quite good with computers, of course, but there’s the much more important work of Destro that needs to be done, and that involves both tasks for now and plans laid for later.  As such, he maintains dream pledges with a number of psychics (mostly fresh ones, though there are a few shattered survivors from amongst his rivals for his current position).  Unlike Curious, he isn’t interested in digging in their dreams or using them as staging grounds for larger projects; he only needs them to help him fill in his understanding of the future.  He and Re-Destro do a great measure of the work in maintaining the group Hollow.  

Rail-thin and gangly, Skeptic stalks about his environment with a constant sense of bloody-minded productivity.  He’s rarely without a laptop or tablet tucked in one arm and wears exclusively black, which just adds to the impression of being The World’s Gothiest Scarecrow.  His eyes are always hidden, behind his long bangs, razor-thin sunglasses, or--on more formal Court occasions--a broad silk blindfold, but glimpses of them are always alarmingly bloodshot.  In mien, his hands and arms are dotted with tattoos and scarification, faerie glyphs and sigils, and his eyes are filmed with blood.  He may not actually have eyelids--certainly no one has ever seen him blink.  Usually has a sword or the emblem of one on his person somewhere--a custom of his Court, because the heavens know he’s no swordfighter.

Court/Mantle: The West, seat of honor.  Very much a means to an end.  Skeptic has little interest in martialtry, but the needs of Destro demand that someone do it, and his obsessive perfectionism and rigidly high standards for himself make him the best fit--and anyway, the Court of War does need strategists.  He’s learned how to handle weapons in a perfunctory sort of way, but he’s a much better shot with a rifle than one would expect from the state of his eyes, especially if he’s got some time to spend fidgeting with one for a little bit before he has to fire it.  His mantle is relatively low, compared to most of his motley-mates, and manifests as a penetrating chill to the air and a slightly sharper tang of blood-smell than just his red-rimmed eyes can explain.  

Contracts: 

        Animation I-V.  You don’t have to waste time learning how to operate anything if the object itself will tell you how to use it, and you don’t have to stand around waving a sword at people when you can have the sword wield itself.  “Inanimate” nothing; as a rule, he likes objects better than people.  

        Artifice I.  Object touchy because it’s busted?  Nothing a bit of magic can’t fix (at least for long enough to get the job done.

        Hours I-IV.  The result of Skeptic’s understanding of objects crashing together with his oracular abilities.  The time magic he can work on inanimate objects is very useful (and yes, the way Shigaraki warps the first clause of this drives him absolutely mad), but the real miracle is what the ability to control time dilation in the Hedge does for his and his motley’s productivity.

Trumpet

Quote:  “I’m sure we’ll succeed.  After all, we’re the ones he chose.” 

Type: Fairest Muse.  The only member of the MLA motley proper that has any ambivalent feelings about The Destro Revival Festival.  He’s about Re-Destro’s age, but was kidnapped at a much less tender age than the rest, well into his adulthood.  He was an up-and-coming civil servant at the time, then spent longer than he can remember in Faerie, rallying crowds and practicing speeches until his throat bled and cracked into silence, learning to channel some portion of Destro’s white-hot conviction and magnetic presence, for all that being vessel to those traits felt like it burned the soul out of him.  Hanabata was charismatic and persuasive while he went in and his time in Faerie amplified those traits beyond belief, but he isn’t so broken as to believe that Destro did him some kind of favor.  

He is, however, quite broken enough to believe that Destro is undefeatable and that he has no real choices in the matter.  He was returned barely a week after he was taken in real-Earth time, dropped on Re-Destro’s lap when the latter was just getting started in establishing himself.  He’s spent the twenty years since then doing whatever needs to be done in order to smooth Re-Destro’s path (he’s unusually prominent in human politics for a changeling; indeed, he’s amassed some fairly significant temporal authority) and watching the rest of his ordained motley grow up.  They’re really the only people keeping him going; Hanabata thinks they’re far more damaged than he, and in many ways he’s right--he has a much clearer grasp on what they’ve all lost, even if some of them never had it to begin with--but he’s also very badly hurt in his own way, lacking even the devoted fervor of the cause to fill up the empty spaces left in what used to be his optimism.  

His mask looks like the Trumpet of the canon, minus the ever-present sense of pomade and the facial hair that can’t decide if it wants to be a mustache or not; he’s just clean-shaven.  He has a wry, expressive mouth and a nearly hypnotic voice, a baritone by turns soothing or rolling.  There’s an indefinable sense of presence to him; just looking at him makes brave people want to strike up a conversation and timid people lurk about in vague hopes of leeching up some of his confident vibes. His mien just amplifies it; he’s impossibly magnetic, with strong features and eyes the kind of green you could get lost in.  His voice is even more of a marvel here, resonant and penetrating in ways humans couldn’t typically manage without augmentation.  When out in public, he wears a camera-ready smile as faithfully as a wedding band; in private, he’s markedly more subdued.   

Court/Mantle: The East, seat of envy.  Trumpet’s talents make him marvelously well-suited for this Court, but it isn’t just a matter of practicality, as the Court of the West is for Skeptic.  No, Trumpet is intimately familiar with the thumbscrew feeling of envy--no free changeling can even begin to grasp how bitterly he covets their ignorance.  His mantle can be difficult to pick apart from the gripping presence of his seeming, but when he’s working magic, it’s frequently accompanied by the bizarre sense to onlookers that he’s taller than he really is.  Even if someone is standing right next to him and knows perfectly well that they’re taller than him, sometimes they’ll blink and their eyes will lie, vision inverting such that Trumpet seems to be looking down at them.  Every so often, when he’s on a roll, his eyes will gleam the perfect yellow-white of the sun reflecting on newly-minted coins.   

Contracts: 

        Vainglory I-III.  Not as advanced in his understanding of this Contract as Re-Destro, but the effect is considerably more potent when he’s using it.  

        Hearth I-V.  As engrossing as it is to listen to him talk, Trumpet’s real talent is in inspiring others, and the Contracts of fair and foul fortune just amplify that.   

        Fleeting Spring I and Fleeting Autumn I.  First levels of the seasonal contracts don’t require Seasonal Court goodwill, but he’d probably get it from any Spring Court in the country anyway.  Envy is close cousins with Desire, after all.  Whichever the case, manipulating people is easier when you know both what they want and what they fear.

Geten

Quote: “Ice is never far away.  Prepare yourself.”  

Type: Snowskin Elemental.  Geten remembers little of their time before Faerie--in fact, they have very little recollection of the passage of any of the time that must have brought them to their current age.  Their memory is like one huge block of ice, solid from wall to wall with cold and scarcity.  If some of that scarcity, back at the very beginning, is colored in a different palette than Destro’s winter, well, it’s still of a piece with the rest, so what does it matter?  All of their life was the winter--until Re-Destro appeared and chose them.  Out in the real world, Geten knows, intellectually, about the whole “herald of Destro” thing and devotes themself to the cause with admirable fervor, but in truth, that fervor is far more dedicated to Re-Destro than it is their True Fae Keeper, of whom Geten recalls next to nothing.  Generally serious and driven, Geten enjoys feeling that their actions have meaning beyond just keeping them alive, so they’re never happier than when they’re fighting for Re-Destro in concrete, measurable ways.  Generally poorly socialized in ways that would make their life much more difficult if they didn’t have Rikiya looking out for them.  

In mask, Geten is a slight youth with shoulder-length, white-blonde hair and unusual pale gray eyes.  They have a delicate-looking face that’s incongruous with their rather feral personality.  In mein, their hair is fully white, as are the glowing pupils of their eyes.  Their already fair skin goes bloodlessly pale, and even on the hottest day, their features are kissed with a rime of frost.  They wear long sleeved, full-length clothes at all times of the year, though curiously, they dress more heavily in summer than in winter.  

Court/Mantle: The North, seat of suffering.  Something of an unusual case in their freehold, where the power of the Directional Courts holds sway, Geten emerged from the Hedge with a strong Winter mantle.  No matter that they’re sworn to the Armor Court, that raw affinity to the Court of Sorrow remains.  This odd duality, seen by some as untrustworthy, has largely kept them from advancing very far despite their apparent dedication to the Stupa’s focused, ascetic lifestyle.  They’re frequently mistaken for being courtless, particularly in a freehold that’s less familiar with the look of the Silent Arrow than those who move in Seasonal Court circles would be.  The lack of any obvious sign of a mantle is itself the tell--Winter always makes its changelings look more stark, as if somehow etched more clearly into the fabric of the world, unobscured by other connections.  Likewise, their magic is all ice-themed anyway, so many don’t realize that the brief gusts of snow around them are a sign of their mantle--but every so often, there will be a brush of pale ash on those winds, a sign that, for all that Winter lives in their bones, Geten has still embraced the North.  

Contracts: These speak for themselves.  Geten’s power set, more than anyone in these posts, hews closely to canon!Geten’s quirk meta-ability.  

        Elements (Ice) I-IV.  Exacts control over ice.  They’re protected from it, they’re protected by it, they control it, and it answers their call (though their range is not anywhere close to canon!Geten’s).   

        Communion (Ice) I-III.  Very unlike canon!Geten, the changeling version is ice-born enough that they speak with it like kin.  Ice isn’t much of a gossiper, as elements go, but it reflects things, sometimes, and knows the shape of everything it touches.  They can extend this awareness as far out as a mile in most weather, though the range is much shorter in e.g. a blizzard, when trying to take in that much information would be overwhelming.  

        Eternal Winter I-III.  Don’t have ice?  Make your own!  Again, not as wide-ranging as canon!Geten’s, but serves much the same purpose.  Geten can also, like Spinner, perform emergency thermostat duties, though Spinner’s control over heat allows him to turn it up or expel it, while Geten’s is only ever going to make things colder.

BONUS TIDBITS: 

Changeling!Re-Destro needs to be able to get around in the human world without being prone to fits of hallucination and delirium, and his magic isn't dependent on his stress levels, so unlike his canon self, he gets to have actual vacation time, do soothing yoga, etc.

Geten and Curious had some durance overlap, but neither of them remember it clearly.  Curious’s memories of that time are too patchy, while Geten’s are too hard to pare down into individual moments.  Geten does feel a sense of familiarity towards Curious, but they don’t talk about it much after the one time they described it as being, “Like she was...inside me, for a while,” and everyone looked really weirded out.  

Changeling!Geten is nonbinary because It’s My AU And I’ll Do What I Want.  They are made of ice and do not really understand what the deal is with gender.

Magne doesn’t die in this AU because It’s My AU And I’ll Do What I Want.  She and Curious have to team up to brainstorm a strategy for an epic oneiromachy duel with Destro that will decisively eject him from Rikiya’s dreams without reducing Rikiya to a drooling husk.    

Trumpet is the true wild card in this AU.  The other Destro-ites have never really even considered the prospect of breaking free from Destro; Trumpet has, but rather than that making him the person who’s the easiest to sway, it makes him the person most resolutely convinced that betraying Destro will lead only to suffering.  The lengths that conviction will drive him to make him a severe danger to his motley the moment they begin considering abandoning their mission.

[masqueradelydia]

Maladjustment

Summary: A continuation of Adjustment. Remus prepares for and delivers a new performance.

Characters: Remus Sanders, Roman Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, some characters I made up whose names aren’t important (The last names are different)

Warnings: None

Ships: N/A

Words: 5754

(Adjustment is here: https://masqueradelydia.tumblr.com/post/186685098818/adjustment-to-personhood if you want to read it first, but it isn’t necessary to read this piece.

           Remus swallowed. Something in his lower intestine begged to flip his organs inside out as he stood up from the little table in front of his fold-up bed and broken lampshade. Papers were strewn about, carefully kept away from the open cans of preservatives, baked beans, and littered Snickers wrappers, along with several tissues that had hardly been aimed anywhere near the trash can. He’d tried to keep them away from the part where the ceiling leakage would drip to the floor and where that ever-growing mold sliding along the edges of the wall, and away from any cracks where something could crawl through and nibble at them. These papers piled up in droves by his feet and around his ankles like mice waiting to scatter around his apartment, but Remus had meant to keep them on the table as he pored over the notes and sketches written on them, trying not to recite the lines on them loudly enough to receive a haranguing from the man next door, or receive another attempt at a hole being punched through his door. It wasn’t his neighbor’s fault after all that Remus couldn’t ever sit still long enough to be quiet.

           Remus should’ve thrown away all of these old papers, but they were still a part of the first project he’d done that would send him towards the life he’d stayed up all night for. His feet wouldn’t stop tapping as he wrote, as if the light from above some stage was getting ever so much closer to them, wanting them to step forward, despite his worn sneakers having so many holes he could feel the concrete through half of the right sole and his nicest jacket being frayed at the sleeves and the collar of it was almost completely detached from the rest of it. His hands wouldn’t stop moving either as he wrote out extra details to his stand-up routine for the night.

           He didn’t think about the sweat building up so much that he felt like it would drip into his eyes and ears, or the faces his friends made the first time he ran his routine by them, the way that Em’s eyes shifted as she cracked the faintest of smiles, or Cal’s drawn out sight and wide-eyed shake of his head as if he’d sat through a lecture. He wasn’t think about Silas’s hands circling his own beer bottle, his face thoroughly transfixed by its design during Remus’s quips and queries. He was going over his routine as it was right now, with its timing and phrasing, elaboration and cuts just enough to give him time to flash a certain kind of grin, the new stories he’d tell cut to their bare essentials and just enough punchlines where they needed to be. He nodded to himself as he looked up to the door, which was about to come off of its hinges from all of the knocking.

           “Remus! Come on out, our flight leaves in two hours,” Silas’s silvery voice sing-songed from the other side.

           “Finish up your makeup, bitch,” Em called out, a certain twang to her tone.

           She’d probably collapse laughing if she’d ever seen how he’d worn it back in the day, at least, when he still had access to it. She was always insistent on dressing her best, even if that just meant an old tank top and a nice haircut. Silas, on the other hand, preferred to show up exactly as he was with his hair up and the occasional wristband.

           Picking up his last draft covered in coffee stains, different colored pen marks, and a little bit of sweat, more than he’d like to admit, Remus went to open the door and was pulled out of it by his collar. One more tear wouldn’t hurt it. Silas slapped him on the back and started to lead him down the hall, the three of them ignoring the person twitching in her sleep a few feet away from them.

           “Look at you, you actually showered,” Silas chirped.

           “And early, too. If we were late, I would tear my eyes out and eat them, and throw them up with all of my guts!”

��          “Eugh, we get it. I guess this is understandable, being nervous or whatever, but your set better not make me regret missing my third beer tonight,” Em added with a grumble.

           “You’ll never want to drink again,” Remus assured her.

           This got him a light chuckle from her as they reached the front door and headed for Silas’s truck covered in key marks and fading paint, and some old food residue by the tires. Silas had hauled the other two home drunk on multiple occasions in it, and Remus would count today as the first in months that he wasn’t told that if he threw up in this thing that Silas would kick him out and he would have to walk seven miles back to his apartment.

           Then again, if he hadn’t been out in the snow on one of the many days Silas had followed through with this threat, he wouldn’t have found Gossamer Scruff, a small rat he had hoped would have been alive for longer than a week had Cal not dropped him down the sewer, but today, Remus did not want to remember mourning a three-day old rat he would have not cared for at all three years ago. Cal didn’t see anything worth bemoaning, and Remus supposed it was strange for him to consider it, especially considering that he’d eaten more than one rat on occasion of a few relentless dares.

           “Did you fix up that story about that actor breakin’ your rib,” Silas asked, poking his chest and bringing him back to the present.

           He winced, still not convinced the pain that came with it was normal.

           “Down to the millimeter,” Remus announced, sitting up straight and crossing his arms.

           “You look like a cat when you smile like that,” Em said.

           “Like the Cheshire Cat? Or those weird hairless ones with the wrinkles—”

           “Like one that couldn’t scratch me if it tried,” she finished.

           Silas didn’t let him reflect on that for more than a second.

           “Hey, what’d I tell you? Took you forever, but look what you’re doing! You’re finally scraping up something I haven’t been falling asleep to.”

           “Don’t tell me that my old stuff didn’t at least give you one nightmare, come on, now.”

           Silas put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in as if telling him a deep secret. The smile starting to creep towards the corner of Remus’s mouth halted itself as Silas declared,

           “It gave me visions of nothing but static. I’d rather have my ass run through with a shotgun. At least I’d have something to look at.”

           Remus sat back and avoided slumping as Silas turned the corner. That old stuff had turned into something that Silas still hadn’t fully heard, although he had a good lot of it run by him. It wasn’t a choice out of nowhere for Remus to follow all of Silas’s advice, and Silas would know from holding concerts that were so popular that it resulted in people lining up at the doors hours before it had started, and why Remus could never get past the middle rows, and why Silas couldn’t hear him cheering him on.

           Silas, of course, wasn’t the only influence. Every minute of each day, Remus repeated parts of his routine to himself, tweaking it according to every rule of comedy and performance he knew that he admitted could be of use to him. He repeated it and kept those rules in his head, even if Roman’s occasional criticisms fell in with it, not letting him forget that Thomas could do better if Remus didn’t try to step on Roman’s toes all the time whenever he so much as looked at a playbill.

           Perhaps in the Mindscape everything seemed so sugarcoated because of the way that they would all tiptoe around everything, but afterwards, the realization that everything was crafted in a curiously particular way for the reason of nuances that he did not quite hold became clear. It could have been much better if he had been more involved, perhaps even more nuanced, but neither he nor Roman were given the gift of subtlety. At least, not when they were still getting their bearings. Roman had learned to grow into it and embody the façade of subtlety over years of scrutinizing himself and participating in Thomas’s acting career. Pretty soon, it started to appear after Remus had been on his own that his insistence on shining light on the heavier aspects of life was just that. Insistence.

           Without the chance to mimic the things that both he and Roman could have used, even separately, if he were able to peer through the crack of the wall that kept him hidden, he found the echoes he could manage to make out of Roman scrutinizing himself in the voices of his own acting instructors, with sometimes a certain flick of their head sending something unpleasant down the center of Remus’s spine and a sickly sweet taste in his mouth. He was different, though, he told himself. He was not using it to create something that people will tell their children as lighthearted bedtime stories. He was using it to grow his artwork into something that would actually stick with people, that would bore itself into their minds in the middle of the night and give them visions in their sleep that would frighten and entertain them in a way that could not be explained away just with words. Remus did not want to create his work based upon cheap fairytales that people would forget about, even if it was easier for most other people, even if those things brought them joy instead of irritation, and even if everywhere he looked since he’d come into existence, he’d seen those who’d chosen that path walk the red carpet and bask in the light of everyone who loved them. Ingenuity didn’t matter to them, did it?

          Remus latched onto every change he made to his routine and diagnosed it for anything that Silas or an esteemed director would so much as blink disapprovingly at in order to polish it up. It required ignoring how much his chest hurt when he turned a certain way to sell a few little pauses, and reciting and experimenting on his inflections was a part of the process until his throat felt raw. Most of everyone he knew wouldn’t be pleased to fall off of the back of their trash truck at work and almost be thrown off of it in frustration minutes later because he was trying to craft nuance on a particular part of his piece, but that is a story for another day.

          Em leaned on the back of his seat, pulling on a piece of his hair as if inspecting it for fleas after looking down at his phone bumping every few feet. It had several cracks in it, but still managed to work. If they were lucky, Silas’s car charger would get it up to fifty percent once they had reached the airport.

           “If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you dyed your hair again, didn’t you? I guess I’m getting used to it more since you cut it above your ears.”

           “Grey doesn’t make a massive impression like this does,” Remus told her, gesturing to the two green streaks over his brown hair.

           There had been more grey to cover up since when he’d first moved here, and he’d found himself considering that fact more often than he’d have liked to once he’d started performing his first, for once, growing stand-up routine as the littering of grey over the front of his bangs had started to encroach further and further towards his roots, weaving itself through the sides of his head and down to the hair that grew towards the back of his neck, and was the first of it to reach his shoulders before he had finally decided to get a proper haircut instead of working with a pair of safety scissors over his sink, leaving them in the bowl of it to try again each day over the course of about a week and a half to get it right.

           “It’ll certainly turn a few heads. Keep your head straight and meet their eyes tonight.” Silas added.

           “I’ve timed it all out. I’ll stare at them until they want to run on stage and chop my head off to get me to stop it.”

           This received a “Mmm,” and a low “Hm,” from both of them.

           “Within reason,” Remus tacked on, trying to stare at both of them as he felt his voice drop off towards a bit of a growl.

           They took a short stop at the dry-cleaners to pick up Remus’s suit jacket, made with diagonal, fat green lines running up from the waist to the shoulder and arms. Putting it on, Remus had almost felt like he’d grown into it over the past two weeks. Why this was, he wasn’t sure. He’d come up with the basic idea himself, although Cal and Em had been the ones to help him pay for it. Perhaps it was the fact that he’d been getting a little more used to seeing bigger and bigger crowds at his own shows, and people cheering his name after he’d opened for a few comedians who had already made quite the name for themselves, at least, in the local area. He got used to seeing Silas crack a bright smile and let out a real laugh at more and more of his punch lines, and Cal had even dropped his bottle out of his hand from being a little more enraptured by Remus’s story about the time that he had manage to distract an angry group of hecklers at one of Silas’s concerts by demonstrating his ability to pop his shoulder out and pull a condom through his mouth after snorting it up his nose. Em’s head shakes had turned a bit more playful rather than disdainful as well. While Silas had decided to wait in the car for them, Remus’s tailor prattled to Em and himself.

           “You know, my son wanted to become a comedian when he was little. He thought he was going to be the next Conan or something. Do you two ever watch that show? I think it’s a little bit over-dramatic, but I wouldn’t know all that much about it.”

           “Thanks for the help, Donny,” Remus started. “But if we don’t leave now, my agent is going to have my ass on a stick.”

           “Oh, you don’t have to elaborate any further. I know from my son how important punctual-ness is, he would always get in a tizzy if he wasn’t the first to show up at his improv classes.”

           “We really can’t—”

           “Em, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you before your shift’s usually over, you look nice today. I know you usually do, but today you look like you’ve really put on your face, if you know what I mean.”

           “I do what I can, you know,” Em said with an eye roll as she ushered herself and Remus out the door and back to the car.

           Remus knew that Donny was a little bit chatty, but it felt like it was almost half an hour before he had let them leave. Despite this, he had almost forgotten to be surprised that Donny had not at least told him to break a leg that night, as he usually did whenever they saw him. Must have slipped his mind.

Em had her ears covered at the sound of the jet engines whirring in all of their ears while they climbed the railing, up to a small seating section. The pilot, keeping her eyes forward as she ran her fingers over the many buttons and switches on her control panel, cleared her throat and pointed to the seats behind them and the champagne in their cupholders.

           “We’ll be lifting off in precisely five minutes, so please take your seat, Mr. Morgan. Your stewardess will be with you shortly. Please refrain from using any electronic devices while you’re at it.”

           Remus nodded and followed Em and Silas towards the leather seats. Remus’s agent, Ellis, was already sitting in the front seat, looking over his sunglasses at all of them.

           “I see you’ve decided to bring your little friends along, eh? I guess a little moral support can’t be a bad thing,” he sneered, narrowing his eyes at Em and Silas.

           “Get the stick out of your ass, it’s so far up I can see it through your teeth,” Remus joked, sitting down next to him.

           “You’re the first person who’s made it this far without one up your own.”

           “I can find something more exciting than a stick to—”

           Ellis held up a hand, using the other to adjust one of his cufflinks keeping his impeccable black suit to a standard Remus didn’t even consider before he had met him.

           “Save it for the show, hot-shot.”

           “Fine.”

           “Where do you think they get this leather from,” Silas wondered out loud.

           “They skin cows for it, I think, and then they rip out their organs and bleed them out, and then they turn their skin into leather,” Remus told him.

           Em gagged next to him.

           “How the hell do you know that?”

           Remus shrugged, suddenly wanting to reach into the back of his mind to remember who had particularly taught that to Thomas, and how he had managed to remember it.

           “Some teacher in middle school told me,” he started, gesticulating as he began to elaborate. “I wanted to know all the details, it was—”

           “Remus, shut up for a second, I just remembered something!”

           Silas pointed to Remus’s phone, which had been thankfully charged enough to last him the rest of the night.

           “When you were in the dry cleaners, you got a bunch of voicemails. I think they’re from some people you know. They wanted to talk to you, but I told them you’d talk to them after your set.”

           Remus sat up straight, his face now perplexed as he twisted himself around.

           “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Who called? What do they want from me?”

           “I don’t know, I wasn’t paying much attention, I was taking a smoke when they called. You weren’t going to be able to talk to them anyway, I don’t think it was important. It was probably just some scammers.”

           That got Remus to sit back and lean his head on the seat.

           “Oh. You should ‘a told them to go fuck themselves for me.”

           “You can do that yourself when we land. Don’t hold your breath, it’ll be about six hours.”

           “Eh, I have bigger fish to gut anyway.”

           Em would have corrected him on his phrasing, but didn’t feel like speaking up as she prepared herself for a nice little nap.

           Ellis frowned at the sight of Remus’s routine in his hand, refusing to touch it with his own as Remus tried to hand it to him.

           “Don’t shove that at me, it’s covered in coffee rings.”

           A little scoff from him told Remus that no matter what he did, Ellis would not be convinced to pick it up.

           “Do you want me to read it to you, then?”

           “No, I want you to throw it out the window. Yes, read it! You told me you changed at least half of it last night, I want to hear how you’ve done that. This is your jumping point. If you nail this, I guarantee you will have your own television show and your own Netflix special by next August.”

           The next six hours were spent with Remus reciting his routine from perfect memory, trying to change his gyro graphical stability in the process of the jet’s movements in order to ensure that his own were held the exact place he wanted them, keeping Ellis’ every flick of the eyes in mind. While this caused him to stumble quite a few times and hit his head twice and distract his friends when he’d landed on his ass, this didn’t stop him from getting back up and picking it up again, even if it required repeating a few certain lines over and over again.

             Ellis nearly shoved him off of the jet once it had landed and the door had opened, covering his head with a black sheet. Remus was partially thankful for this as he felt nearly blinded by the camera flashes, and didn’t know which way to look. He was getting a little bit more used to hearing his name said so loudly, but this was the first time he’d heard it from so many paparazzi trying to clamor over them as they squeezed into the limousine waiting for them. He could hear Ellis shouting at Silas and Em as they veered off to grab a taxi. Soon enough, he would get used to this, and it would become some sort of routine for him, wouldn’t it? Maybe in a few weeks he would even take the time to scroll through his phone instead of keeping his eyes on Ellis rapidly repeating directions to the chauffeur.

           After repeating this process, he was led down a small red carpet towards what he assumed to be his dressing room. He almost stopped in his footsteps as he looked down at it and the ropes holding back the paparazzi again flashing cameras in his face. This was just the first step of what he had been looking for since he had come into existence. It was the start of everything he could only hope to hold himself back from really thinking of during his time sitting in a nearly light-less room in the Mindscape, listening to everyone talk over each other and hardly have the energy to pay attention to any of them. He had no time to dwell on this as Ellis pushed him forward and through a door that someone had pulled open for them.

           “Come on!”

           Inside, a small crowd of people all dressed in black carrying makeup brushes, clothing racks, speakers, wires, and set pieces. A gangly woman with a handful of makeup brushes ran towards him and pulled him into a rolling chair towards a mirror, turning him to face her and looking him up and down.

           “We’ve got about fifteen minutes before you go on. Tilt your chin up, you look much too pale.”

           He did as she instructed, finding her hand keeping his jaw shut as she held his face still, smearing his face with foundation, layering it over with bronzer and brushing his eyebrows with a small tool he’d only seen Em use.

           “Jake, come fix his hair,” the woman called.

           It only took about three seconds before a shorter man bustled over and ran a brush through his hair, followed by a fine comb and pushing it so that it stayed out of his face when the hairspray came. He pulled on it when Remus coughed.

           “Sorry, should’ve given you some warning, kid. Give me a second.”

           He gave Remus a few more tugs and another puff of hairspray before bidding him good luck and running off somewhere else. Remus didn’t want to say he didn’t recognize himself in the mirror, because he did, but he still felt a little bit dissonant from his reflection. He knew why he was here, and had been kept up on so many nights wondering what this would feel like, looking at himself backstage of a performance of this scale. He knew not everyone rose to be on The Late Late Show in such a short amount of time, but it wasn’t as if he had just woken up yesterday and thought it would be fun to do stand-up.

           He had fifteen minutes before he was on. He didn’t have time to overthink things, he thought, as he pulled out his phone. Huh. He had three new voicemails, but they weren’t from scammers. Nearly dropping his phone in his haste, he put the phone up to his ear and played the first one. An enunciated voice spoke through.

           “Hey, uh, I’d start with asking how you’re doing, but, eh, it seems I don’t have to! You’re doing pretty well for yourself after all, aren’t you? I heard about you all the way out here in Los Angeles! Well, I guess you’ll be here too by the time you get this, but, uh, I want you to know something. I won’t be there tonight, I’ve got an interview, but I know I never really listened to you back in the day. I don’t even know if this will mean all that much to you, after all of, whatever people call it, sibling bonding, we missed out on. I knew you could’ve done something like this, if you pushed yourself. And you did. You made us all look a bit foolish, didn’t you? I guess we had it coming to us. We had it coming.”

           A pause.

           “But that’s not the point. I’m… I’m proud of you. Break a leg.”

           Thirty seconds passed before Remus could register what he’d just heard. A voice he hadn’t heard since the last time he’d heard Roman screeching at him to pretend they’d never met, to scrape by on his own and taste what it feels like to deal with the consequences of being who he was. And now, this. Something pumped its way back into Remus’s lower intestine as the corners of his mouth reached up for his ears. The word, Proud, sounded almost different when someone said it to him, and he was not prepared for what it would sound like, with Roman’s voice cracking and breathing it into the microphone as if he had been waiting forever to say it. Remus swallowed again and let himself take another thirty seconds to collect himself as he played the next voice mail. It began with a long sigh.

           “So, you’re hot shit now. That’s fantastic, I guess. I got a call from someone telling me all about you being on The Late Late Show or something like that. You went from being a disease to whatever you call this. Congratulations. I’m… I’m rooting you on from Dark Owl Records. It sounds stupid, but I actually have a couple of my friends in here at the bar. We’re watching for you right now.” The voice softened. “You’ve got this.”

           He was surprised Virgil had bothered to call at all, but hung onto his long drawl. Virgil had never claimed to be a nice person, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be when he wanted to be. And one of those times was for Remus. Maybe a rare moment, but maybe it would be worth it if Virgil could see the look on Remus’s face that even he himself couldn’t see, turned away from the mirror.

           The last voice mail practically had music coming from behind it, a bouncy piano that had before sent Remus running to his room before he was told to stay away from the family.

           “Remus! I can’t wait to see your face on TV! I knew you could turn yourself around if you just put away all of those bad impulses like I told you to! Oh, it took you so long, but you listened! You listened, and look at yourself! Don’t you feel so much better? You should, you should feel over the moon! Give it a ‘moo’ for me! A-hah! You’re going to do great! Remember to take deep breaths before you go on, okay? I’ll talk to you later. Break a leg, K—”

           Patton must have ended the call before he could finish. It didn’t feel quite right hearing such encouraging things from Patton, as if he were just doing it because—he didn’t have time to think about that, Remus thought. He didn’t really know Remus very well despite their time in the Mindscape, not really, but he at least put in the effort. He was doing his best, after all, according to everyone else. The olive branch went out to everyone, Remus supposed. And that was enough for him right now.

           Remus had to focus. He ran over his lines in his head, turning back to the mirror. He didn’t feel distant from his reflection anymore. He was present, grounded, and just a few minutes later his face would be visible to people who he never thought would meet him. Strangers, people who philosophized at night about such things he couldn’t even wrap his mind around who watched this show to wind down. People his age who were studying hard to pursue their college education, high school students in so many clubs that Remus wouldn’t be able to count them all. People his age who would not look at him two months ago because of the bruises on his neck and the gash running down his arm. It didn’t seem like a big deal then, but suddenly now it was. His own ingenuity was coming to the curtain.

           “Remus, you’re on!”

           He stood up, not knowing where the voice was coming from, but was quickly pulled up to the curtain. He breathed deeply and felt it in his hands, the fabric much lighter than what he’d expected, but this was television. It was not a theater stage. He shut his eyes, counted to three, and listened for the host.

           “And now, everybody, you know him already, let’s give a warm welcome to Mr. Remus Morgan!”

           Remus opened his eyes and pushed open the curtain, walking out expecting a microphone and a large stage, and the host sitting at his usual desk against the cityscape backdrop.

           Confetti flew into his face as party favor noisemakers bombarded him, a few of them landing at his feet. He looked above and below himself, finding the floor and walls of a warehouse, and a ceiling stretching up to several fans. He looked in front of himself and saw Cal, Em, Silas, and several people who he’d seen coming to his shows all smiling back at him. They waited for a second to let their noise die down before shouting one single phrase in unison.

           “The joke’s on you!”

           Remus took a step back and looked here and there at all of these faces, looking down again to register that he was not standing on a platform, and there were no bright lights over his head. He wanted to pinch himself. He wanted to say he’d walked through the wrong door to some place he had just imagined, something he’d conjured up in one of his own dreams that he just hadn’t slept through yet. Above the heads of his onlookers was a large white banner, painted in shoddy writing to say, “Joke’s on Remus,” and two plastic wine glasses were attached to each side.

           “Wh—”

           “We did it! We had you eating out of the palm of our hands,” Em cut him off.

           He tried again, but couldn’t get anything out before—

           “All of this is fake! Everyone here is an actor! They’re all paid actors! We got you, Ree! All of your shows were a prank,” Silas shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear.

           Remus stepped back again, gripping the curtain in his hands to keep himself steady, only for it to rip. He’d stayed on his feet, thankfully, as he stared back at all of them with an open mouth and pulse beating upon his ears. That was it. He couldn’t take all of this in at once, and at the same time, his mind had forced him to. His mouth was dry, and he felt something bubbling up in his stomach, choking it back down his throat to keep it from spilling out all over the floor. He tried to say something, anything, but all that came out was air. Just air.

           “You’re wondering why we’re doing this, aren’t you,” Em asked.

           He just looked at her, his eyes starting to blur. He felt like he was going to pass out.

           “Your comedy career is going nowhere, pal. This is the best you’re ever going to get! Oh, and those phone calls? Your other friends, they were in on it! They knew the whole time!”

           He wouldn’t have believed them if he hadn’t checked his phone and found that all of them had still had him blocked. He couldn’t see their numbers, and it was as if they’d never existed in his phone at all as it dropped to the floor. If he didn’t know better, he’d guess his knees were about to buckle right about now, and it was all he could do to keep himself from hurling his guts out all over them. He couldn’t think about whether they deserved to be thrown up on now. One hand was on his face, keeping his head from pounding so hard that he really would pass out, and the other was forming a fist.

           The voice that came out of him didn’t sound like himself. Not really, but he knew it was. He never wanted them to hear it like this, but he couldn’t change it now.

           “What are you all expecting,” he asked, trying to keep his voice somewhat similar to how he’d presented it only last week. “Are you expecting me to fall apart? To cry? To crumble at your feet?”

           A few murmurs rumbled through the crowd.

           “Are you—”

           A sort of… hiccup kept him from continuing. Somewhere in another universe, he wasn’t watching every good vision he’d had of himself fizzling out, dissolving into a melted mess of wax, quickly wrenching itself from all attainability and taking his throat on the way out. Somewhere in another universe, he was not currently denying everything he didn’t want to admit while simultaneously doing just that. Somewhere he was finding his fist flying right into Silas’s face, taking one of the chairs in front of him and using it as a ballista. Somewhere else, he wasn’t currently trying to put his voice together as it fell out of his mouth and rushed to the ears of everyone in the room. Somewhere, someone was proud of him.

A/N: The plot of this is piece based off of the episode The Gang Breaks Dee of Always Sunny. I don’t take credit for the idea since it came from them first.

[monoguk]

jellybeans

She was talking about something like having a gingerbread treadmill if ever she felt too bloated with all the sweets she has eaten in her imaginary land.

FEATURING - kim taehyung CATEGORY - romance WORD COUNT - 15000+

Kang Eun Na had one dream: And that was to live it dessert paradise; A place where everything was made of sweets, sweets, and more sweets.

“That place doesn’t even exist,” Kim Taehyung scolded. The two had been best friends since they were babies (exaggerating here though). He was used to how nonsensical Eun Na could be, but that was what completed her bubbly personality.

“Then, someday I’m gonna be crowned as the queen of chocolate! Or maybe Ice Cream Queen? Whatever, either position sounds great…” Eun Na mumbled on as if she hadn’t heard what Taehyung stated, or maybe she wasn’t listening at all.

Taehyung chuckled as he ran his fingers through his best friend’s short hair. His fingertips glided over the strands in a short time with the minimal length, and somehow he was admittedly disappointed with the lack of contact, but Eun Na’s head lying down on his stomach was enough to satisfy his craving.

Kim Taehyung had one dream as his gaze focused on the fantasizing girl, (She was talking about something like having a gingerbread treadmill if ever she felt too bloated with all the sweets she has eaten in her imaginary land),: it was to be Eun Na’s Chocolate King but Ice Cream King was also alright just as long as he was beside Kang Eun Na forever.

Dear Secret Santa, please give me tons of assorted sweets. Anything but the mint ones, okay? Thanks. -Kang Eun Na

“You always ask for that, why can’t you ask for scarves, sweaters, cuddly bears, you know? The things girls ask in Christmas Parties?” Taehyung asked as they were walking under the afternoon rays, having gone from a tiring day at university.

Christmas Day was fast approaching and a few days before that was their section’s Christmas Party. As a tradition, an exchange of gifts were being done annually wherein a student picks a paper with a classmate’s name and he/she has to keep it confidential until the day to give the gifts came.

Taehyung and Eun Na’s feet crunched melodiously as they walked on the piling white snow. The two bundled up with scarves and thick coats, trying to warm themselves as much as possible. There was a foot-distance between their bodies, trying to be as close for the source of warmth yet distant enough to not be mistaken as a couple.

As much as Taehyung disliked (loathed, really), the minimal distance, he was glad to have been this close with Kang Eun Na because he knew that the both of them hated such a cold weather.

“It’s practice for when I rule my own Dessert Kingdom. When I’m queen, I can buy anything I want with my chocolate coins!” Eun Na exclaimed as her arms were flailing comically while her face glowed brightly against the snowy background, definitely taking Taehyung’s breath away for multiple of times now.

“You’re unbelievable… No such place exists, Nana…” Taehyung rolled his eyes, his nickname for her tasting so natural against his tongue, a smile completely evident across his face.

“I can make it exist, Tae… But, you can’t make aliens exist…” Eun Na shrugged her shoulders as she pranced away from Taehyung, her feet moving at the beat of an imaginary Christmas song in her head.

“Aliens can exist, people believe in it. Some scientists spend their whole lives trying to phantom the mystery of extraterrestrial species!” Taehyung argued as he tried to keep up with Eun Na’s skipping pace.

“Whatever, I’m still going to be Ice Cream queen…” Eun Na looked back and stuck a tongue out at Taehyung before she sprinted towards her house with Taehyung effortlessly trailing behind her.

The boy kept his hands inside his pockets, a smile never leaving his face. He liked how Eun Na was just so energetically happy. She was contagious as were her emotions. He liked how blunt Eun Na was, how she rarely covers things up with her fluent words (except when she really has to keep something a surprise from someone). He liked how Kang Eun Na was his only friend who really knew who Kim Taehyung was - the silent, over-looking, “gorgeously-adorable”, surprisingly-smart, protective friend.

They weren’t even half of the list of why Kim Taehyung liked Kang Eun Na. The list goes on and if it was enumerated one-by-one, it would take forever to finish. That was how much Taehyung liked Eun Na.

His feelings for his best friend started years ago, when they first encountered each other.

It was during the first day in preschool when toddler’s minds were full of cleverness and bluntness.

Kim Taehyung came to school late by 10 minutes (blame it on his older brother’s friend, Byun Baekhyun (of course Baekhyun’s here… how can I not include my ultimate bias? lol) for waking up late if it weren’t for Taehyung waking him up and reminding him about his school.) “Be good Taehyung, hyung will pick you up later… Oh shit, I’m so late!!!”

Baekhyun ran off, taking short glances just to see if Taehyung was already safe inside the vicinity of the preschool institution.

At an early age, Taehyung learned how to roll his eyes in disbelief (He learned from his beloved hyung, Kim Junmyeon, because apparently his group, EXO, was a big pain in the ass.)

The little boy took small steps as he entered the big oak doors of the school. His footsteps echoed along the empty hallways, making him wonder where everyone was. A few more minutes of wandering, Taehyung heard something from a distance. He followed where these booming voices were and soon his question answered when he saw people as small as him sit orderly in front of a podium where an elderly woman was by the microphone stand. Parents and guardians were by the wall, looking over their children.

“Hello, my dear children, welcome to Big Hit Academy Pre-School Department. We are grateful to have been chosen to mold you into responsible young adults. We hope that you’ll enjoy your stay here, okay children?”

A chorus of lively yes’s echoed across the room, Taehyung unconsciously mumbled a “yes” as well as he carefully made his way to any available empty chair, trying to be invisible as he was embarrassingly late on his first day. His glittering eyes darted along the towering people he passed by, wondering why women had colors on their faces or how the males made their hair stand up attractively.

At the very last row of the chairs assigned for the preschoolers, Taehyung found a seat, making him sigh in relief. As much as possible, he tried to sneak in as quietly as he could, but his seatmate recognized his presence immediately.

It was a little girl, her hair tied into high pigtails, her hair tie the color of pink - a great contrast from her shiny black hair. Her eyes were round and wide with curiosity, mirroring Taehyung’s sparkly orbs. She had chubby cheeks that probably felt soft and smooth to the touch if only Taehyung had enough courage to do such a daring move. She wore a denim jumper dress with a white shirt inside as she had on a pair of white doll shoes and knee-length white laced socks.

“Hi, I’m Kang Eun Na what’s yours, little boy?” Kim Taehyung raised his brows at the name, but then again this Kang Eun Na kid was a few centimeters taller than he was, and somehow it hurt his childish pride.

“I’m not that small…” Taehyung mumbled grumpily as he slouched further into his plastic chair. “Suho hyung told me that when I grow up, I’ll grow taller fast. I’ll probably be even taller than you!”

The little girl tilted at the boy’s outburst. What was he blabbering on about? She merely asked for his name, wanting to befriend this late comer.

Taehyung noticed the girl’s - Eun Na’s - silence making him turn his head to face him. Never had he ever encountered someone who was up to par with his irresistible cuteness. Now he felt as though he was a mere apprentice under this adorable human being. At such a young age, Taehyung experienced temptation… to pinch her bulky cheeks.

“Are you mad?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing in the middle. Little Eun Na watched as one of the boy’s eyebrow raised. He is mad…, she thought. Quickly, she racked her brain for anything that could help her not make him mad at her anymore.

What made me not angry? Her lips quirked to the side, her gaze still glued onto Kim Taehyung as if she was trying to decipher a difficult jigsaw puzzle.

Just then, she instantly brightened up, a smile so bright Kim Taehyung could not prevent the skipping of the beat of his little heart while his cheeks turned pink at the new sensation.

Kang Eun Na turned to her side just to sit upright back up with a small Pororo backpack by her lap. She opened it before digging her arms and head inside the too-large-for-her bag. Taehyung almost had this crazy idea that Pororo was swallowing her whole when the girl’s head popped out, her hands holding a pack of… chocolate?

“Here,” she offered, “I didn’t want to give away my chocolate but my Oreo Guards told me it was okay. Please don’t be mad at me anymore…”

“I’m not…” Taehyung hesitantly took the pack of chocolate, varying from milk chocolate to white chocolate and dark chocolate. His eyebrows furrowed in the middle this time. Had he heard right? Or were his ears playing tricks on him?

“Excuse me, but you said… Oreo Guards…?”

Kang Eun Na’s expression became even brighter, if that was even possible. “I did! I mean, I wish I had Oreo Guards but Doughnut Guards are fine by me too. You see, my dream is to one day become the queen in Dessert Land, where everyone is made of sweets! I love sweets so much! My mother used to scold me that I’ll have… what do you call it…? i think it was something like dia-Reeses? Yeah… something like that, but I’ve already had those Reeses cups by the refrigerator, so maybe sweets really aren’t that bad… But, as I was saying, I eat all kinds of desserts! My favorite is chocolates! Especially those cookies and cream flavored ones! But, recently I’ve been wanting to eat ice cream! Strawberry is my favorite flavor. Maybe when I become queen, I’m gonna order for a huge swimming pool filled with blueberry flavored ice cream because pink strawberry water just looks weird and…”

Eun Na hadn’t even noticed that she had been talking non-stop (or maybe she didn’t care if she talked all day because she was talking about her big dream) until she heard a laugh beside her. She looked at the boy whose name she still doesn’t know.

For the first time in her life, Kang Eun Na felt the air escape her lungs, her breath seeming as if it was sucked out because the sight of this late boy was so breathtaking. He had the cutest eye smile as the sides formed youthful crinkles. His nose scrunched cutely as well. Shallow dimples formed somewhere along his cheeks, almost making him look like a kitten, a cute one at that. Eun Na concluded that Kim Taehyung was the cutest person she has ever met for everything about him screamed aegyo.

But, more importantly, what caught Eun Na’s breath in a pause was his smile showcasing his small baby teeth while his lips formed the shape of jellybeans. She was fascinated by the fact that someone could smile and form such a shape effortlessly with their lips.

The little girl grinned as well, ecstatic with the jellybean smile and maybe because she was certain this boy wasn’t angry at her anymore (read: at all). She started laughing along with Taehyung, their quiet giggles drowned out by the noisy assembly room.

“You’re hilarious…” little Kim Taehyung wiped imaginary tears of joy from his eyes as he calmed down from his laugh. He was about to say that her dream was absolutely crazy and impossible but as he gazed at Eun Na grinning even brighter than before (how was that even possible, he thought) he kept his mouth closed, making a small reminder to himself to tell Eun Na some other time.

“I’m glad you’re not angry anymore…” Eun Na stated, her eyes glimmering in relief. Her feet hung by the edge of her plastic seat while she occasionally swung them forwards and backwards. Her gaze lingered at the boy who was looking at her as well, a soft smile painted across his face. It was a shame that his lips didn’t look like jellybeans anymore but Eun Na thinks that she’ll do her best to get more of that jellybean smile.

“I’m Kim Taehyung by the way…” the boy grinned wider, amused by how carefree and lively Kang Eun Na was.

Eun Na gasped a look of glad surprise pained across her face, “Ooh! Daebak! How can you make your smile look like a jellybean?”

“Wha-” before Taehyung could continue his question he felt nimble fingers reach up and touch the side of his lips, barely grazing over the pink flesh of his lips.

“I like sweets, and jellybeans are sweet.” Eun Na explained, her gaze up at Taehyung’s surprised orbs (he was trying to calm his small heart down - such an alien feeling - but Eun Na didn’t need to know that) “I like you already, Tae-ssi… From now on, we’re the best of friends…”

Kim Taehyung smiled right after Eun Na leaned back, her fingers leaving his red face. But he never minded if she noticed the change of color. He didn’t know if that was some sort of confession, as his Suho hyung’s friends say when they come home with an armful of pink letters and chocolates, but all that mattered were the three words, “I like you”.

Taehyung’s first day in preschool was better than he expected, especially when he found a friend by his first hour upon his entry. She was Kang Eun Na.

And by the end of the day, as his Baekhyun hyung and Suho hyung came by to pick him up, Taehyung had this goofy smile matched with pink cheeks and a racing heart, one thought running though his mind on repeat, ‘I like you too Kang Eun Na’

Never did he think that he’d still like her that much (or maybe even more) until adulthood.

“WAKE UP LAZY ASS!!!” Taehyung was harshly woken up by a loud shrilly voice while his body was being rocked side-to-side. “KIM TAEHYUNG!!! WAKE UP!!!”

“ALRIGHT ALRIGHT I’M AWAKE!” Taehyung groaned, his fist immediately rubbing his tired eyes. He glared at the culprit - Kang Eun Na, of course - before he spoke again, “Happy now…?”

“Ecstatic!” Eun Na excitedly commented as she turned around and shouted, “MOM! TAE’S AWAKE NOW!”

Taehyung heard a faint “Okay, breakfast will be ready soon, from downstairs which he assumed was from Eun Na’s mother. He lied down on his bed again, fatigue still coursing through his muscles.

It had been Taehyung’s and Eun Na’s tradition to have daily sleepovers. Yesterday was the boy’s turn to sleep by his room in the Kangs’ household. Eun Na also has her own room in the Kims’ humble dwelling because basically the both of them were somehow considered a second sibling by the other’s family.

It was a Saturday morning. The two of them were both lucky to have gotten a schedule without weekend classes in university. Eun Na majored in AB Communication while Taehyung majored in BS Civil Engineering however they both went to the same college campus and somehow fate decided to make the both of them have the same time schedule although with different subjects.

Taehyung relished on how far their friendship had gotten. Somehow, he wondered how come they were holding onto each other stronger than those cheesy couples who promised forever towards the other, that is, a forever with an expiration date. Sometimes, Taehyung wondered if he should take their relationship to the next level but he first had to muster up enough courage to bring out a love confession from him. In the end, he’d think that’s impossible because he’d forever (how ironic) find himself tongue-tied with a simple eye-contact with Kang Eun Na. Besides, such a long friendship was too much of a sacrifice for the satisfaction of his wildly beating heart.

The boy felt his bed shift upon the extra weight that he knew was Eun Na’s, "You better not be sleeping again, dummy…”

“I ain’t sleeping… just closing my eyes…” Taehyung lied still fully awake but eyes still peacefully closed.

Somehow, Eun Na couldn’t drift her gaze from the mesmerizing peaceful look on her best friend’s face as she remained seated by the bed. A soft smile lingered by her lips as she reached out and fixed Taehyung’s bed hair, not the he looked unattractive with it.

Honestly speaking, Kang Eun Na thinks that Taehyung was such a handsome being hence the “Kim Taehyung fan clubs” and “billions of love confessions from boys and girls alike” at the university campus and even during their childhood school Big Hit Academy. However, it perplexed her how Taehyung would turn down the attention and even the confession from the prettiest girls in school. It perplexed her more when she would feel relief whenever she heard Taehyung say, “I turned them down. They ain’t my type.”

The girl didn’t know why, but she somehow made a theory that she was just being an overprotective best friend. “Yeah, that’s it… Nothing more, nothing less…” she mumbled one day while she clutched her chest, her heart beating furiously beneath the bones and flesh.

Eun Na snapped out from her daze as she jumped out of bed and took hold of Taehyung’s arm, tugging him out of bed, “Liar. You’re sleeping already.”

“Guilty…” Taehyung chuckled while he defeated stood up from bed and followed Eun Na downstairs for breakfast.

Somehow, after the two said their morning greetings to their elders, Taehyung and Eun Na could not forget how their contact sent sparks all over their bodies. (Taehyung was used to this; Eun Na, however was trying shrug such sensation even though she’s felt it intensify recently despite the normality of the gesture.)

“Oh boohoo, it’s his fault they broke up,” Eun Na sarcastically commented. The two best friends were curled in the living room couch, watching the weekend reruns of some sappy Korean drama.

The girl had her back pressed against Taehyung’s folded knees as the boy was comfortably occupying the whole length of the small couch, his hands folded behind his head as some sort of cushion.

“But you watch it anyways,” Taehyung rolled his eyes and continued to watch the unveiling of more angst in the drama they were watching. It was almost lunchtime and the two were left alone in the house because Eun Na’s parents were unfortunate to have been scheduled work on weekends unlike her. Taehyung didn’t need permission from his parents that he was gonna stay over because they’ve already accepted the fact that the Kangs’ household was Taehyung’s second home.

Eun Na glared at Taehyung as soon ad her head turned towards the boy, “Shut up, Kim…”

The boy raised his hands in surrender, an amused smile decorating his smug face, “Hey, I thought you hated the show…”

“I hate the character, that’s all” Eun Na mumbled, her focus on the screen, anticipating the lead character’s stupid actions.

Meanwhile, Taehyung had the liberty of staring at the girl admirably for a few while before he sat up straight, with Eun Na’s back still supported by Taehyung’s knees.

It was until there was a shift in position that Eun Na had her head lying down on Taehyung’s crossed legs. As usual, his fingers found its way to Eun Na’s soft hair. He loved how the smell of her raspberry shampoo lingered along his fingertips, as obsessed as that made Taehyung seemed like.

The head massage had been a natural thing between the two of them, but somehow Eun Na felt different tingles shoot out from her body starting from Taehyung’s subtle touches until every part of her body had been electrocuted with an unknown current. It’s this feeling again, what is wrong with me? Maybe I am diagnosed with diabetes…, she thought.

The episode came to an end, but Eun Na stayed on that channel, wanting to listen to the OST of that drama. The awkward feeling she had when Taehyung combed her hair was long gone (although, her stomach did some subtle flips, she didn’t know why) and she was now enjoying how softly his fingers massaged her scalp.

She blankly stared at the television showing the names of the cast and the frozen pictures, all the while wondering why Taehyung’s warmth was warmer than anybody else’s. (Not that she had ever been so close for so long with another human being other than Taehyung and her family [but even so, her father and mother’s embrace weren’t cozy as her best friend’s]). It was until she heard a soft hum that she snapped out from her thoughts.

Eun Na instinctively looked up, recognized immediately where the familiar low pitch came from. To her surprise, Taehyung was looking down at her, his closed smile almost at the verge of forming her favorite jellybeans.

She watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, harmonizing with the drop and rise of the bass of the song. She was mesmerized for a while, relishing in the wonderful tune Taehyung hummed. One thing she liked about Kim Taehyung aside from his jellybean smile was his soothing deep singing voice.

Since his childhood days, Kim Taehyung has already possessed an incomparable voice. During his pre-school days, Eun Na was amazed at how a child (as old as her) beautifully sang their national anthem every morning. By the elementary stage, Kim Taehyung’s talent was showcased when Eun Na forced him to join a singing contest. He, of course, effortlessly slayed every singing competition since then. Because of that, a group of boys who named themselves Bangtan Sonyeondan approached Taehyung and asked him to join their group. Eun Na frequently hung out with Taehyung and his group (BTS for short) and she loved watching them practice their performances for school ceremonies. She was absolutely proud of her best friend when he learned how to dance because since then his passion to dance and sing strengthened.

“How come you stopped singing?” she asked, her hand instinctively reaching up to fix the bangs that covered his soft-gazing eyes. The boy felt butterflies erupt from his stomach (as always), but he didn’t have to let his best friend know that.

Taehyung sighed. He missed performing like when he was in high school. Those were probably his golden days, because he had everything he wanted then: a great band with great member-friends; a stronger passion for singing and dancing; and Kang Eun Na who seemed to have gotten even more beautiful and vibrant because of this thing called puberty (and somehow, the boy liked having the same puberty hit him because, let’s face it, it hit him good). “College happened, Nana…”

Yes, College. College was no joke, especially when he had a scholarship to uphold and parents to make proud. College was especially no joke because he was a civil engineer major. Of course he does not know what difficulties other colleges experience (although he heard from college student passersby that psychology was the hardest subject so far), but one thing’s for sure (and this is just for emphasis) COLLEGE IS NO JOKE.

“I guess you’re right,” Eun Na sighed as well. Ever since college started, she had so much trouble sleeping. Because in this level, you’re on your own. Nobody tells you what to do, and that’s the most difficult part alongside deciding what’s right and wrong. She pities people who actually chose to ditch university and live life freely. However, she made a realization: a big realization.

That without college, you wouldn’t have a decent job. Without a decent job, you won’t get a respectable salary. Without a respectable salary, you won’t have a great lifestyle. Without a great lifestyle, you won’t gain success. Without success, there’s no motivation. Without motivation, everything just falls apart. And when everything falls apart, there’s no more hope. (Although she’s read somewhere that all of these starts with having no pen).

“But, I miss your voice…” she whispered softly, her eyes mesmerizing Taehyung’s (or maybe it’s the other way around? OR, it’s both?). Eun Na instantly blushed when she realized that she’s said that aloud when she was supposed to say that inside the confines of her mind (and heart).

“I can sing for you anytime, Nana…” Taehyung ran his hands through her hair again, and this time it made an effect on Eun Na although she’d been very great on hiding it. “Just say anything, and I’ll do it…”

Maybe it was the softness of his voice or the fingers resting on top of her head (pausing for some reason she did not know) or the mesmerizing glimmer in his black orbs, but all Eun Na felt was the thrumming of her heart beat along her ears and ribs. Somewhere along that feeling was the realization that Kim Taehyung was the most beautiful human being she’s seen especially with that rebellious green tinged hair by the end of his long bangs and that forming-jellybean smile. Oh, that wonderful jellybean.

Kang Eun Na’s eyes widened at a wonderful thought, forgetting the fluffy sensation just a while a go as she spoke, “I know! I’m gonna appoint you as my royal singer! BTS oppas will become your royal band. And the EXO oppas will be my royal guards! What would be a great alternative name for your band in Dessert Kingdom? Oh! I’ll call you Seven Fudge Bars. Oh! Oh! What about Golden Cakes? But, I think that suits Jungkook more…”

Taehyung watched lovingly as Eun Na talked on, as he’s always done when the girl talked about her fantasy land. He did not care what ever she calls him and BTS, as ling as she’d always look for him. A smile was forming gradually at his lips as Kang Eun Na was now animatedly swinging her arms around.

He liked how Eun Na had her fingers by her chin while her mouth tilted to the side as she was in deep thought. He liked how her arm points up towards the air while her eyebrows raise up and her mouth forms a small 'o’. He’d love it even more when her voice says excitedly, “How about Jellybeans and Co.?”

At this, Taehyung laughed, his smile the same one as Eun Na had seen during their first day in preschool.

She was amused at Kim Taehyung’s expression when he laughs. BTS had always teased him for having split personalities for he’d be serious and quiet in a minute or so but by the next he’d be so goofy and stupid you’d question his sanity sometimes. At times he was cranky and snobbish (almost as if he’s the handsomest person and earth and that nobody is worthy of his attention. but it is true that he’s attractive af), rolling his eyes everywhere and sending glares at everyone else (but Kang Eun Na). Nevertheless, Eun Na has always liked how he was just the fun Kim Taehyung especially when he was doubling on the floor laughing but, “You look so pained when you laugh! Is it really alright for you to have this much fun?” to which Taehyung would reply at everyone else who says that to him “It’s not my fault my lips are naturally turned downwards. I’m still cute anyways.” Of course, Eun Na doesn’t argue with that one.

“Why Jellybean?” Taehyung asked.

“Because, your smile looks so much like a jellybean! I don’t get why your fan girls in high school even describe it as box-shaped. You ain’t Baekhyun oppa.” She sassily remarked.

“Why is it named after me then? Namjoon hyung’s the leader…” Taehyung watched as Eun Na froze while her cheeks started to become pink. He wanted to chuckle but he knew best than to go through Eun Na’s silent treatment. It had been already worse that his best friend ignored him for three days before, but he internally admits that he likes her so you can imagine the agony he had to go through those 72 hours (all because he laughed at her for getting a really bad haircut. he should have comforted her instead, and that was taken note of).

So, being the scared best friend he was Taehyung shifted the topic, “I guess you’re craving for some jellybeans right now? It’s in the pantry, right? I’ll go get it”

Taehyung got up from the sofa and ventured into the kit hen he knew by heart (read: since childhood) leaving Eun Na thinking, Dummy, I just like your jellybean smile so much…

A week after that day, Kang Eun Na and Kim Taehyung found them so busy with college because their finals weeks were coming up. Nights at each other’s house are spent with differently colored highlighters, notes, and subject books.

Unlike the girl who had to pull out all-nighters just to study, Taehyung was probably the most laid-back person. He studies, yes, but he never experienced ever staying up all night for such petty subjects (especially his chemistry minor subject that had the most heartless teacher who gave the hardest quizzes resulting to low grades of some students EXCEPT Kim Taehyung [huhu, I am so relating this portion based on my experiences. My chemistry professor is really so heartless. She practically ruined my life *cries harder*])

“When will this nightmare end? Taehyung heard a thud by his study table a few nights before the awaited final examinations week. He had finished scanning through his notes hours ago but his best friend was having trouble with her minor biology subject. He looked up to see Eun Na slouching towards the table, her hair creating a canopy that covered her face.

Kang Eun Na had decided to study in Taehyung’s room because he was better with explaining stuff than her lousy professors. It was already eleven in the evening but she was trying her best to memorize confusing names. She had wanted to ask Taehyung for help, but she felt ashamed to do so especially when she looked over at Taehyung by his bed reading a book intently.

She knew when Taehyung was interested in something. It was the way his eyebrows were furrowed in the middle as his mouth soundlessly said the contents of the novel. It was the way he had his fingers by the edge of the next page so that he could easily move on with just a flick of his fingers. It was the way his eyes scanned the contents rapidly. It was the way he had to lick his lips that had become dry with just air exhaled as he spoke silently. It was the way he’d hold the book closer even when he had better eyesight than she did. It was the way he’d reach out at the bedside table for his spectacles that obtained no grade of sort (those round-rimmed glasses that was made for the purpose of fashion).

Eun Na heard a chair being dragged to the space beside her followed by the familiar low octave, "Why aren’t you asking for my help, huh?”

Eun Na looked up momentarily just to see Taehyung facing her way with his head propped up by the arm by the table, his pale skin squishing her already crumpled reviewer papers (because she’d been holding onto them out of frustration while she’s been remembering the terms). Somehow, she wanted to stare longer into his calm eyes, but she chose the opposite as she looked away and resumed her gaze at the reviewer her head was resting on.

“Because you were reading…” she simply explained while she tried really hard to imprint the scientific names in her mind, but nothing was really going in her head especially when she felt a warm hand ruffle the top of her head.

“You know I’d always choose you over a mere book, Nana…” Taehyung commented. As he replayed his statement, his heart hammered against his cheat realization dawning on him that what he said seemed to have given away such a huge hint of his feelings so he swiftly saved his slip-up by adding, “I’m your best friend anyway.”

Taehyung stood up, his hand leaving a warm spot by the top of Eun Na’s hand making her want more of the comfort. However, he was already by the door muttering, “You’re just in need of your constant dose of sweets. My mother baked fudge brownies, I’ll bring up milk too. I’ll be right back.”

As Taehyung’s door clicked close, two hearts breaking into a million pieces suddenly seemed so deafening all because of that painful 'best friends’ card.

“Why’d you want a graphic shirt that says 'Aliens Exist’?” Eun Na burst out in laughter as they were by the Kim’s living room, doing absolutely nothing because school was over for the holidays.

They watched the lights of the nicely decorated Christmas tree beside the huge television flicker in different tempos as Taehyung devoured his own bucket of buttered popcorn while Eun Na ate her big reseal able pack of gummy bears.

The day after the last day of their exams was the annual Christmas party of their university. And, as usual, the students had set the norms that secret santa’s were supposed to give their gifts that day. Taehyung asked for that exact same shirt he is wearing while Eun Na’s was obviously a pack of sweets.

“It’s better than a plastic full of diabetes,” Taehyung commented while he rolled his eyes, a gesture Eun Na was always amused of because his orbs never really actually roll instead they shift from left to right (idk if that’s true but Ill just add that up bc I can’t think of anything else to put in that statement).

“I ain’t ever getting diabetes. Remember the doctor saying that to me during my monthly check-ups?” Yes, Kang Eun Na goes to the clinic monthly to check if somehow she’d posses the said disease over a month of overdosing with lots of sweets.

“You’re really something,” Taehyung chuckled while he faced Eun Na, “You eat tons of sugar, but you ain’t even getting sick! You ain’t even gaining any-”

“Don’t dare say it, Kim Taehyung,” Eun Na warned, her gummy-bear-sticky finger pointing accusingly at her best friend.

But before he could stop himself, he’d finished his statement, “weight…”

Kang Eun Na groaned. It was true, and it bothered her every time. For a skinny girl, she wanted to gain so much weight because she felt ugly with her flesh almost touching her bones if it weren’t for the minimal muscles she had in between.

However, Taehyung never once saw her as an ugly person (probably because when someone likes someone they’d always see the perfection in the person they admire the most). Kang Eun Na wasn’t as pretty as the models he’d seen in television and magazines nor those popular girls in the school he’d attended to. But, Eun Na was enough of a beauty that caused men to turn their heads towards her.

There was just something about Eun Na that was so alluring, physically and emotionally. It was like she’s this sticky caramel sauce people dip apples in during Halloween - you’d be stuck to it without further resistance. But then again, who doesn’t love the unique sweetness of caramel sticking through every part of your mouth? No one.

“What? You’re not that ugly, Nana…” Taehyung commented. This time he was panicking because he slipped once again. This time, he did not want to give the friendship excuse ever again because even though he’d long accepted the truth that there was no 'next level’, it still hurt. So, this time, Kim Taehyung stayed quiet for a while.

Two hearts were beating so loudly against two pair of ears. It was fortunate that the other couldn’t hear them.

Kang Eun Na was used to compliments coming from Kim Taehyung and her busted suitors (she wasn’t that un-pretty. Like Taehyung said, men had to turn their heads when Eun Na pass by. And believe me when I say that Taehyung had to keep in so much self control not to punch the owner of those traveling eyes.), but she couldn’t understand why she’d be feeling this flustered now of all times.

“No one’s ugly for you,” Eun Na coughed awkwardly, “Because you strongly believe that everybody’s beautiful no matter what.”

Bile was unconsciously running up along Eun Na’s throat as she continued, “Especially that block mate of yours who picked you and gave you that shirt.”

Eun Na gasped, her eyes widening, “Oh my Gosh! You totally like that girl! That’s why you’re wearing her gift!” Eun Na had to try so hard in preventing her voice from cracking up, and thankfully, she was successful. She even pinched his cheeks for no reason at all, her force harder than usual.

Taehyung lightly slapped her fingers from his cheek while his hand flew up to massage the swollen area, “First of all, that hurt (he didn’t know whether it was his cheek or the fact that his best friend was dense enough to not know that he likes her instead).”

“Secondly,” Taehyung composed himself, sitting up straight - a tell-tale that Kim Taehyung was telling the truth (and nothing but the truth). “I don’t like Bomi-ssi… I’ve rejected her a few times already, isn’t that enough of a sign that I’m not interested?”

Eun Na had the urge to sigh (in relief) for some reason, but she kept it in as she said, “Whatever. But if someday I do see you having googly eyes over this Bomi girl, you’re going to treat me out to lunch and repeatedly say that I was right all along.”

“And I promise you it ain’t happening,” Taehyung subtly shifted closer to Eun their shoulders grazing closer than it already was, as he continued, “ever.”

Kang Eun Na wanted to let the triumphant grin spread across her face hut she kept it in. She didn’t know why she felt ecstatic at the reassurance or why her heart seemed as if it was experiencing a warm ray of sunshine and a dose of fluffy things.

Kim Taehyung had never been so disappointed in his life. Specifically, he’d never been so disappointed at Kang Eun Na. The way he kept on glaring at his watch and the visible pout showed how disappointed he was.

It was already ten in the evening in his household and his phone kept on flashing tons of messages from people he wasn’t expecting at all. He laid in his bed, wearing the new grey graphic sweatshirt his Suho hyung gave him, waiting rather impatiently for the message coming from the person he was so disappointed with.

Just then, a knock was heard from outside his door. Taehyung immediately rushed to open it, hoping to find a petite girl looking breathless and apologetic as she says, “I’m sorry Tae, Hap-”

But he was disappointed for the millionth time that day as Kim Junmyeon came into view. Although, Taehyung was glad that at least someone smaller than him was by his door.

Suho invited himself inside, not even bothering to wait for his younger brother to let him in. “You seem so disappointed seeing me. Were you not expecting me, dear brother?”

Taehyung flushed at how obvious his expressions were as he silently closed the door He was going to defend himself but his brother spoke up again, “I’m glad you liked my gift.”

“It’s just my style, thanks.” Taehyung plopped himself beside Suho who was sitting by the edge of his bed, his gaze at the ground on the colorful wrappers by one corner.

“You really have to clean your room.” Suho chuckled but laid down beside his younger brother as well, “It’s bad enough that I have to deal with eight messy men, now I have to scold my younger brother.

Kim Junmyeon was in university as well, but Taehyung and him went to different schools. The eldest of them took up a major in acting in some arts school so far away from their hometown. Hence, Kim Junmyeon with his EXO members pursued an apartment for themselves as they all attended the same college. Some took up music while some took up dancing.

Kim Taehyung envied his older brother because Suho got to still perform on a daily basis probably it was a requirement at their school. But, requirement or not, Taehyung knew that his Suho hyung never felt forced to perform on stage.

It’s not like he hated his course. Being an engineer was his dream! But, he also had this strong passion to perform. His BTS friends were as busy as he was because of college despite having coincidentally gone to the same university (But Jeon Jungkook, the youngest, was a graduating senior high school student at Big Hit Academy that meant the golden maknae was so far from where his hyungs studies at). They rarely met as a complete group because projects and quizzes would come up in between. But all of them were understanding members and let each other off eventually.

Bangtan still talked, through group chats, that is. Taehyung was particularly excited for New Year’s Day to end because everyone in their group decided to meet up and perform on a gig at a bar downtown. He was, of course, inviting Kang Eun Na over if only she showed up earlier today.

Taehyung sulked remembering how there was no sight of his best friend anywhere since morning. Not even a message was sent. She doesn’t even pick up her calls. He tried visiting Eun Na’s house but for some reason his parents were preventing him from doing so saying that they’d want to spend the whole day with him for once because they rarely see him with university and stuff. But Taehyung knew that wasn’t true because the Kim family had a daily bonding moment now that their eldest son (Kim Junmyeon) was somewhere far away and that Taehyung was the only child they could spoil at the moment.

"Come on,” Junmyeon patted his shoulder, snapping him out of his miserable thoughts, “We’re eating out tonight. Mom and Dad told me to pick you up.”

Taehyung instinctively followed his brother’s order as he slipped on a pair of faded denim jeans. He took a thick fluffy polyester coat from his chair and slipped it on while he surrounded a red flannel-styled scarf around his neck. “Why’d they think of going out tonight? I’m fine with a simple family dinner.”

“Because,” Suho dragged Taehyung out the house by his shoulders from behind. “Today’s special.”

What had Taehyung grumbling all day about just because Eun Na was nowhere to be found? If it were any other day, the boy wouldn’t be so sulky. But, as Junmyeon had said, today was a special day because the date was December 30.

“I don’t want special treatments during my birthday.” Taehyung whined but he was already fastening his seatbelt on by the passenger’s seat of his hyung’s car. This was one of the things he envied from Kim Junmyeon because apparently performing on part-time gigs made Taehyung’s hyung richer than their parents.

Suho never said anything else as he drove to the destination all the while thinking, right… you’d rather spend the day cuddling with Eun Na. How obvious can you get, dear brother?

Meanwhile, inside the dimly lit household of the Kim’s the lights magically opened up as Mama Kim and Papa Kim sighed in relief. “That was a nice idea hiding inside the coat storage room.”

“Aigoo…” Mrs. Kim had tears in her eyes by now, a satisfied smile decorating her beautifully aging face. “My Taehyungie has grown up.”

“They’ve both grown up” Mr. Kim stated, talking about Taehyung, but not their other son.

“Dinner at an arcade..?” Taehyung asked as he exited the car, Junmyeon following shortly.

“I thought you weren’t for extravagance? Pizza sounds nice, right?” Junmyeon snickered, leaving his younger sibling behind as he hurriedly entered inside.

“Pizza,” Taehyung mumbled sadly not because he hated the greasy taste of such Italian delicacy, but because he recalled Kang Eun Na promising him a few days ago that they’d eat pizza during his birthday. He looked at his phone, still void of a certain girl’s greeting.

It was dark inside the establishment with only the neon glows of word signs and arcade screens illuminating everything else. Taehyung passed along people varied with triumphant or lost expressions.

As a normal teenage boy, Taehyung was fairly fond of video games but the classics were always his favorite. He made a mental note to ask his parents if he could stay back to play some games alone (and maybe sulk even more with Eun Na’s absence).

However, as soon as he went to the table Junmyeon stopped by, he was surprised. His parents weren’t there. Instead, he saw by the table was a huge sculpture in a shape of an alien head. It looked so surreal and detailed that if Taehyung had not looked closer he would have not noticed that it was all made up of pizza crusts and pizza toppings. The huge eyes of the creature were made up of black olives while most of the face was made up of ham, his favorite topping. The sculpture had everything he liked: ham, pizza, and aliens.

And if Taehyung hadn’t looked closer he wouldn’t have seen that signature style from a certain special person.

If Taehyung could describe Kang Eun Na in a few words, (besides Ice Cream Queen, and “My Ultimate Crush”), it was artistic. If he was the king of performance, she was the Goddess of art.

She had this ability to turn anything dull into something extravagant. Her hands had this natural ability to make things so pretty everyone’s jaw would loosen up even before her pieces were done. She had this awesome technique wherein her strokes were so thin and delicate it was as if every detail had another meaningful detail in it.

For some reason, Taehyung had always though his best friend would take up an Arts course or a bachelor’s degree in Architecture, but he also knew that Kang Eun Na’s passion was with the media-press.

She loved telling the truth, spreading respectable and accurate news to everyone who needed to know. She had this way with words that was neither charm speaking nor lies-in-disguise. She was a natural when it came to speeches and debates while her soft voice was the thing Taehyung admired about her the most. It was as if her passion for reporting and art was at par but if Taehyung had to choose, he’d assure Eun Na that drawing was absolutely her thing.

“Happy Birthday, Tae…” the said boy turned around to seen his best friend appear before his eyes, clad in a simple graphic tee and a pair of denim jogger pants while a floral snapback decorated her short-haired crown. She had her arms extended towards his while she held a box wrapped in a simple plain orange wrapper. He knew what it was the instant he recognized it’s dimensions.

He wanted to scream his lung off no matter how girly that sounded. Kang Eun Na bought him the latest release of a ps4 game about aliens and stuff. Yes, he was addicted with the thought of the universe having other inhabitants aside from Earth’s humans. However, he kept it in because he was still a teensy bit mad at his best friend. “Apology not accepted.”

“I wasn’t apologizing, dummy…” Of course, she wouldn’t apologize for being gone the whole day, Taehyung thought sarcastically. But all he needed to hear was a giggle and all disappointment washed put from him.

Somewhere between their exchange, Kim Junmyeon escaped the scene but neither of the two best friends would really give a damn.

“Well, you should,” Taehyung sighed while Eun Na came closer; shoving her present into Taehyung’s chest whole the latter wholeheartedly accepted it. “You were m-i-a the whole day. Where were you?”

As much as Taehyung tried to not sound like a clingy boyfriend (clingy, yes; but boyfriend? sadly, no.), he couldn’t hold it in. Kang Eun Na had always showed up during his birthday the moment the sun rises up on December 30, and this year he would only be with her for most likely less than two hours.

“The place had trouble baking the pizza I ordered and I had to help them to make the job easier. But, it actually took a lot of time especially the sculpting part. You know how much of a perfectionist I am. I almost didn’t get in time to buy that game before it was sold out but Chanyeol oppa did such a huge favor for me.” Eun Na explained as she took her position beside Taehyung, her gaze at the tons of people before her, enjoying the sound of classical video games music and sound effects.

Taehyung waited a bit more for a small sorry, but who was he kidding? Eun Na hadn’t done such a huge sin. She can’t say sorry for such a petty thing. No, Taehyung wouldn’t let her say sorry over something so trivial. “Thank you…”

It was all Taehyung could say, but the gratefulness wanting to burst out from his heart resulted to him giving Eun Na a very tight hug. Taehyung liked how she fit perfectly in his arms, as greasy as that sounded. He especially likes it when Eun Na hugs back, causing his heart to thump so loudly that Eun Na would have heard it if it weren’t for the fact that her heart beat deafened her ears because of the natural physical contact. You are so going to be the death of me, Taehyung, she thought a small smile acknowledging such a foreign fuzzy feeling.

They broke away from each other and spent the rest of the day (They stayed there until 4 in the morning) chatting randomly and finishing the pizza sculpture Eun Na made. Of course, they played some rounds and Taehyung was so disappointed that he’d lose against a woman.

So far, this wasn’t the best birthday, but it wasn’t that bad as well. As long as he’d get to spend time with the Ice Cream Queen, Kang Eun Na, he’d be alright.

Maybe fate was playing with Kim Taehyung’s and Kang Eun Na’s string in the beginning, because it was such a weird coincidence that after a week was Eun Na’s birthday. Basically, Taehyung was older by a week but he was still older. “You should call me oppa,” he’d request every time but he’d earn a punch on the arm in the end.

Taehyung was genuinely not into extravagance and Eun Na’s birthday surprise was no exception. He had simply planned out a day out at an amusement park with Kang Eun Na and surprisingly her parents agree with the permission almost immediately with hidden glints and mischievous smirks behind warm understanding eyes and grins.

However, fate must have been so angry with Kim Taehyung because things weren’t going exactly as planned, not when Byun Baekhyun and Min Yoongi decided to butt in the Only-Taehyung-and-Eun-Na bonding day.

“I don’t get why you’re bundled up in scarves when Amusement Park fashion is off the charts now a days.” Baekhyun commented from Eun Na’s right side. “I mean, why not wear those long sleeved dresses? Or maybe a fashionable sweatshirt and a pair of denim jumper pants? I heard boys dig girls in those attires”

“Baekhyun oppa, I don’t care if I’m behind trend. Moreover, I certainly don’t care about what boys like now-a-days. I’d just like to enjoy this day with my favorite oppas.” Eun Na sighed. Why would she even bother dressing up nicely when she was freezing to the bones despite the warm packs underneath her thick jackets and cashmere scarves?

“I thought Taehyung was your only favorite oppa,” Yoongi snickered sneaking a glance at the mentioned boy from behind.

Kim Taehyung had no other choice but to lag behind (sulking, at that matter) for Baekhyun had taken up Eun Na’s right arm while Yoongi was at the other side.

It was mean how his hyungs teased him so much when they knew of Taehyung’s feelings for the girl in between them. The moment Yoongi and Baekhyun heard of the news about Taehyung and Eun Na going out together at an amusement park as a form of celebration, a mischievous plan formed in their brains: Make Kim Taehyung Jealous “as fuck” (Yoongi’s words) while We Subtly Flirt and Cling On To Kang Run Na. Unlike Taehyung, their plan was a huge success and they weren’t even through half of the plan.

“He ain’t my oppa,” Eun Na snickered and turned back too, making Taehyung’s scowl deepen as he had his arms stiffly crossed against his chest. “And all EXO oppas and BTS oppas are my favorite. I won’t be biased when it comes to my oppas.”

“Awww,” Baekhyun clung closer to Eun Na, encircling his hands at Eun Na’s arms as he slightly bent down so that he could place his head on top of the girl’s shoulder. Of course, being the one at the back, Taehyung witnessed a lot of physical contact making his blood boil even more. “And here I thought we were your top oppas.”

Before anymore contact was executed, Taehyung butted in from behind, forcefully separating Baekhyun and Eun Na with his arms. He stood in front and removed Yoongi’s grip from Eun Na’s arm, “Give Eun Na some space. It looks like you’re squishing her too much.” he explained.

When he saw Eun Na look at him in confusion, he cleared his throat and contained his blush before continuing, “Besides, shouldn’t we start going on rides now? I mean, its not like our ticket is available forever.”

Baekhyun and Yoongi snickered to themselves but kept a distance from Eun Na. Meanwhile, the little girl skipped until she was beside Taehyung. "Let’s go on that ride then!”

The whole morning was spent on extreme rides and it was fortunate that none of them had this phobia with scary rides that made riding all the more fun. Of course, Baekhyun and Yoongi stayed by Eun Na’s side the whole day but there were times when Taehyung would have Eun Na to himself, even if it was just a while.

After their lunch break (where in to two older men fed Eun Na with their chopsticks, ignoring Taehyung’s glare that bore holes in their mischievous heads), they all lay-low and decided to go through haunted houses and un-strenuous rides. They even went to those small booths that gave away a prize for every win. The three boys all had won huge stuffed toys for Eun Na, but in the end they had to carry it for her until the end of the day. Yoongi held onto a kitten doll, Baekhyun hugged a huge puppy doll while Taehyung had a monkey doll wrapped around his neck as it’s body dangled on his back.

It was six in the evening when they caught sight of a theater, and they were lucky enough that it was filming the latest movie: Star Wars.

The three boys exclaimed in glee, being the hard-core fan boys they were, “Oh My God! I’ve been waiting so long for episode seven to be released!”

Kang Eun Na was not a fan of Star Wars. She tried to by watching the first Star Wars, but not even halfway through the movie she fell asleep. She suggested staying outside and waiting for them until the movie finishes, but seeing the excitement in Taehyung’s eyes made her come in the theater as well.

It was nine in the evening when the movie finished. The three boys and Eun Na came out the former looking so hyped up and the latter rolling her eyes.

“How could you even sleep in most of the scenes?” Baekhyun asked Eun Na frantically.

“You didn’t even get to see the awesome alien creatures! They were so awesome!” Taehyung fan-boyed next.

“You’re being too biased when you actually wake even before a romantic scene.” Yoongi muttered, amused at Eun Na weird trait.

Eun Na had a knack for romance almost as if she had radar out for sending romance even before it happened. Sadly, it didn’t apply to Taehyung and her and it forever made her clueless.

“I can’t even relate to the story. I mean, I can’t even remember their names! And don’t ever force me to watch episode one. Although, I did enjoy watching that first scene when that black guy and the awesome pilot flew that ship, it was ultimate bromance.” Eun Na giggled. It was a shame nobody would even think of shipping the couple she made up.

The bright lights of the park rides illuminated the whole place and somehow it seemed more packed than it was that morning.

“I overheard people talking about some fireworks show tonight,” Baekhyun muttered while he munched on a hot bread, the crumbs cutely settling at the side of his lips.

They passed by the Ferris wheel, instantly agreeing not to ride on it because the end of the line was nowhere to be seen (exaggerating of course). “That explains the booming population. I swear if I see another couple I’m gonna throw up.” Yoongi complained, but they were all used to it because Min Yoongi was that irritable. But, upon the next couple they passed by, he just grumpily took a bite out of his burrito.

“I’d like to watch some fireworks,” Eun Na stated, her fingers pinching from the huge blue cotton candy she and Taehyung shared. The two best friends were walking ahead beside each other, somehow walking closer because the evening air was harsh and because they were eating the same food

Baekhyun and Yoongi knowingly looked at each other and that was when they concluded that their work here was done.

The group of four walked until they settled by the green grass of the amusement park where the fireworks display was going to happen. This time, the two older men let Taehyung sit beside Eun Na as they stood up and excused themselves for they were going to buy some more snacks. But, obviously the two weren’t going to return.

The green grass was soon filled with tons of people, but Taehyung and Eun Na didn’t mind. Luckily, they picked a great spot that over looked the slope of the park filled with people while they had a clear view of the dark night sky.

Eun Na and Taehyung liked the winter season (but not the coldness that comes with it) for they were always fascinated with how the nights were longer and how the sky seems so darker than it usually was.

As the two waited for the show to happen, completely forgetting Baekhyun and Yoongi’s presence, they chatted normally. At times, Taehyung would have his head by Eun Na’s lap as her fingers treaded with his tinted hair, while sometimes Eun Na would have her back lying down on Taehyung’s thighs. The physical contact brought forth so much butterflies, but it wasn’t taken into notice as the two just simply enjoyed each other’s company.

In a few minutes or so, the first streak of red sparks flew into the sky until it exploded into tinier red sparks. A whole lot more colorful streaks followed after and a series and of 'ooh’ and 'aah’s resonated through the park.

Taehyung and Eun Na had their attention now at the night display, but after a few while, the boy turned to face his best friend. Isn’t it already so redundant if I said that Eun Na took Taehyung’s breath away? Is it too greasy to tell in detail that the sparkle in the girl’s eyes was what drew Taehyung closer to her? Would it be too cruel to say that as much as Taehyung wanted to lean, he held himself back?

“Happy Birthday,” despite the loud booms and gasps and sighs, Eun Na heard Taehyung’s soft whisper. Another firework, a gold hue this time, blasted across the sky and the light reflected at Eun Na’s cheeks made her all the more mesmerizing.

“Thanks Tae…” Eun Na smiled softly before she turned her attention to the colors painting the dark background, the noise around her thankfully drowning the sound of her heart beating so loudly. I know what this is… she thought.

Taehyung looked up as well, feeling so content to just have his best friend by his side; their clothed arms brushing along each other. He wasn’t sad at the fact that he could never have Eun Na the way he wanted to have her, but when he felt the said girl leaning on his shoulder he wanted to cry right then, because the cruel truth was too much to handle. But of course, he kept his heart broken tears in.

“Sing me a song, Tae…” Eun Na whispered, her warm breath causing puff of smoke to become visible through the air. Somehow, the warmth traveled all the way to Taehyung’s exposed neck bringing so much shivers because of the temperature contrast.

Taehyung was quick to respond as he quietly sings Eun Na a 'Happy Birthday’. But, even through the festive noise, Eun Na still heard the voice she loves so much.

When the song was done, Taehyung and Eun Na were both silent. It was too quiet that the two of them were afraid that the other could hear how loud their hearts were beating because of their very close proximity.

“I’m gonna have gummy worms fireworks when I’m Ice Cream Queen.” Eun Na mumbled but Taehyung caught that whispered words and chuckled at how forever adorable his best friend is.

The holidays were almost over and a new semester was around the corner. Taehyung and Eun Na decided to spend the rest of their vacation bundled up in thick blankets and binge watching their old-time favorite movie.

That night was Taehyung’s turn to sleep by Eun Na’s house. And so, by seven in the evening, the two were by the living room, having a bowl of freshly-popped popcorn and two big bottles of sodas separately for the both of them. Taehyung was by the DVD player, putting in the CD with the movie entitled “Get A Clue”

Kang Eun Na found it cute that such young teenagers were this open-minded about things. It amused her even more when they knew so much than when she was their age. But then again, it was all in the script so they may not have been that clever at all in real life. However, this movie still proved to be Taehyung and Eun Na’s classic favorite over time.

The movie finished so late in the night that Eun Na could already hear her parents snoring loudly from their room. The bowls and bottle were long finished halfway through the movie as the black screen projected the cast rolling upwards. Taehyung and Eun Na were drowsily trying to stay awake, their eyes drooping so low that they weren’t aware how the cast section was almost done.

It was when the intro music played and Eun Na’s head leaning sleepily on his shoulders did Taehyung wake up. He looked to his side and realized that his best friend was practically leaning against his whole right arm, her legs curled and placed on top of his right thigh.

The boy carefully leaned and reached for the remote control with his free arm and turned off everything else. He carefully peeled his best friend away from him, amused at how sleepy she was despite 10 o'clock being too early for her to go to bed.

Taehyung fixed up their mess and went into the kitchen where he placed everything neatly on their proper places. He went back for Eun Na and carried her to her bed. All the while, Eun Na’s warm exhales ghosted over Taehyung’s neck. He prayed so hard that the girl in his arms would not wake up to the loud beating of his heart.

Lately, Kim Taehyung’s heart was abnormally and more frantically beating than usual when it came to matters about Kang Eun Na. At first, he thought the acceleration would hurt because of the harsh reality that they were never going over that 'best friends forever’ line. But, he was surprised to feel so fuzzy all over that it was as if his insides were made up of sunshine and lollipops.

When they reached Eun Na’s door, Taehyung lightly pushed it open with his foot, knowing exactly how his best friend hated leaving her door completely closed whenever she was out from it. (But, she hated it even more when she is actually inside and some intruder - Kim Taehyung, mostly - would leave it open). Weird was an understatement but Taehyung was used to it because nothing could compare to how weird it was to rule an imaginary sugary land.

Kim Taehyung laid Eun Na in her bed gently, his body weight following after wards as a quiet 'oof’ escaped his lips. They lied on top of her thick blanket with Taehyung just staring at Eun Na’s sleeping face. How many times had he seen this that he’d even anticipate her sleeping habits even before they happened? A lot of times, obviously.

And for those times, Taehyung had always been so cautious although it was thrilling to think that he’d get to let his hands ghost over the curve of her waist, not really making physical contact. There were times when he got to carefully hugging her closer with his arm making contact with her back that it was almost scandalous if it weren’t for the fact that his feelings and thoughts were pure.

This time, however, Kim Taehyung dared to be a little bit more adventurous as he was unhesitant in pulling Eun Na closer, his head leaning closer as well until the tip of their noses were a millimeter apart. With his free hand, he tugged the blanket over the lower part of their body, his gaze never leaving Eun Na’s closed lids. The normal frantic beating of his heart seemed so natural that he didn’t bother taking notice of it. His eyes were tempted to linger at Eun Na’s pink lips but he knew it would be a far more dangerous temptation if he gave into the first one.

Her lips were a sin he was willing to fall into, but Taehyung held in because reality harshly slapped him in that face that he was her most respected best friend (well, he was the only best friend), and he would never do anything that might break her trust.

So, in the end, Taehyung continued staring at her close features his eyes drooping into a close. At the back of his mind he knew that he should go to his room, but the darkness of the room and the overflowing contentment soon lulled him to sleep so closely beside Kang Eun Na.

He knew he should have fought the drowsiness of his eyes because the next morning he earned a hard smack in his left arm from his lovely best friend. It was normal, the friendly violence, but what was weird was her hand clutching her chest as if something was gonna burst out from it.

Of course, Kang Eun Na did not immediately slap her best friend when she opened her eyes and saw Taehyung sleeping closely beside her. She took her time admiring how attractive her best friend was all this time. She reminisced moments she had with Kim Taehyung and relished in the warmth the morning sunrays bore on her back and the sunshine rising in her heart. It was when she was aware of her rapidly beating heart and the pink creeping along her cheeks did she slap Kim Taehyung in the arms. But she swears, she didn’t mind waking up to such an adorable sight of Taehyung by her side.

It was the first time a dark aura surrounded Kang Eun Na and Kim Taehyung when they were going home from their first day of the second semester. The boy’s bag was filled with pink letters threatening to spill out from its zipper while the girl had so much struggle holding onto numerous paper bags containing heart-shaped chocolates.

It seems as though a lot of people missed Eun Na and Taehyung over the holidays for as soon as it was their break time, they were bombarded by gifts and live confessions. And, of course, from different sides of the campus, Eun Na and Taehyung sympathetically rejected their admirers.

It was some kind of luck that the two best friends still had the same time frame in their new schedules. And so, they’ve decided to go home together again. They took note of the pink letters and boxed chocolates before shrugging them off and walking to the gates. It had been fairly normal that they’d receive confessions daily (Taehyung especially).

However, it was unfortunate that both at a same time two last minute admirers approached them.

It wasn’t Taehyung’s intention to eavesdrop on the confession, but he couldn’t help it. By the end of the speech, Taehyung was surprised to have found Eun Na speechless. It made his blood boil making him try so hard to shift his attention to the girl confessing to him.

This girl was pretty, with ling shiny brown hair and round squishy cheeks. Her eyes were so round it was hard not to get lost in them. But, no matter how hard he stared at this girl, he just didn’t like her because she wasn’t Kang Eun Na. He heard his best friend mutter a soft, 'I’m sorry’ after a while. He should be relived (okay, maybe he was a little relieved), but his irritation was prominent because the momentary silence before her response proved that she was contemplating this instantly labeled “dickhead” (Taehyung swore he should spend less time with his Yoongi hyung, his vocabulary was going to be messed up) confession. What angered him the most was that he didn’t have to right to act like a jealous boyfriend because he wasn’t even her boyfriend in the first place.

“Oppa?” It made a bile rise up at Eun Na’s throat as she listened to this girl confess to Taehyung, she barely even listened to her confessor. She almost didn’t respond, almost resulting to given her hopeless admirer false hopes, because the girl’s guts of actually boasting about how she had known Taehyung the moment he went through the doors at their pre-school orientation day surprised Eun Na so much she almost ripped the hair out of her small scalp. But she held it in, calmly rejecting the boy in front of her.

Eun Na repeatedly chanted that she had no right jealous, and somehow she hoped that Taehyung would reject this unknown girl like every other girl who confessed to him. But what came out of Taehyung’s mouth almost made Eun Na lose it, “Yeah, sure, I’m free this weekend.”

Taehyung heard himself sounding too calm he patted himself on his back for not showing how jealous he was. If Eun Na somehow liked this boy even though his best friend rejected him, he could also like someone else, right? Maybe it was time he moved on. Because this one-sided love story was useless. He saw the girl’s eyes twinkle, but as much as he wanted to forget about it, Taehyung couldn’t help but compare to how Kang Eun Na’s were a hundred times brighter than his confessor, whose name was somewhere along Cha Yoon Ji.

After numbers were exchanged, Taehyung and Eun Na carried on to walking home. It was Eun Na’s turn o sleep in the Kim’s house, but all the way there, nobody spoke a word. The Kim parents were surprised at the heavy atmosphere but kept quiet at that because they knew that sooner or later Taehyung and Eun Na would make up in a few days time.

Oh how wrong were they all when a month had already passed. Kim Taehyung and Kang Eun Na stayed silent in each other’s presence although they stuck by each other and even continuing on with their sleepover tradition.

The girl named Cha Yoon Ji constantly clung onto Taehyung’s side and eventually hung out with the silent best friends. It irritated Eun Na to the core but she kept in mind that she had no business in Taehyung’s love affairs. Then, she somehow could not ignore anymore how her heart was breaking into pieces at the sight of Yoon Ji and Taehyung being so close like how he and Eun Na used to be.

Taehyung felt the same as Kang Eun Na’s admirers skyrocketed now that the men assumed that Kim Taehyung was no longer a potential boyfriend for his best friend because he was “in a relationship, if you even call trying-so-hard-to-get-away-from-Cha-Yoon-Ji-subtly as dating. He swore that his arm was gonna fall off with his admirer constantly draping her hands around it. Although, he knew that if it was Kang Eun Na doing that, he wouldn’t mind.

He knew it was childish of him to even stick on with a girl he doesn’t like just to make things even with the girl he does like. He wanted this whole misunderstanding with Cha Yoon Ji to stop, but the latter would not even listen to his gentle rejection. "Look, Yoon Ji, you’ve been nice and all, but I’m really not into a relationship at the moment.”

“I’ll wait, oppa” Yoon Ji would reply as if his statement wasn’t even serious at all, like she had a different understanding of what he meant.

Of course, Eun Na heard what Taehyung’s “girlfriend” said. And if she wasn’t telling herself not to mess with Taehyung’s personal problems anymore, she would have screamed in the girl’s face: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU WOMAN?! CAN’T YOU GET THE HINT THAT KIM TAEHYUNG DOESN’T WANT TO DATE YOU?!

But then again, Eun Na might have been the one to misunderstand the situation. What if Taehyung was really just waiting for the right time to ask Cha Yoon Ji to be his girlfriend? Its been a month since they’ve spoken normally and somehow it made Eun Na wonder if she still knew who the real Taehyung is.

Did he still take such an obsession over aliens? Was his favorite color still black and white (i’m not sure with this one lol)? Was he still passionate with singing and dancing? Was he doing fine in school? Did he still consider her as his best friend? Was he missing her like how much she misses him? Did he even like her like how she recently admitted that she likes Kim Taehyung, her best friend?

It was childish of Kang Eun Na to even keep on such a silent grudge when it just happened all of a sudden without a reason at all. Or, maybe she was just shy to admit that she was jealous of how Kim Taehyung has taken interest on another girl who wasn’t her.

But, it wasn’t like Kim Taehyung belonged to her. In his eyes, she was probably just a very close friend and he might even think that she thinks of him as just her best friend. Oh, how badly did Eun Na want to clear up the misunderstandings with a simple confession, but a lifetime worth of their wonderful friendship was too much of a sacrifice. (As Taehyung had once said. Arent they really just so meant-to-be having thought of the same thing?)

Maybe it was in between the time Eun Na and Taehyung were avoiding each other did the former realize her true feelings towards the latter, but she was positively sure it all started way back even before her mind-blowing realization.

One night, Eun Na lied on her bed, reaching down below for her secret stash of sweets. There used to be an assortment of wrapped sweetness, but recently Eun Na craved for jellybeans. It was the closest she had of Kim Taehyung for she was missing his toothy jellybean smile the most. And it made her heart flutter that mostly she was the reason behind those smiles.

Her head softly thudded on the wall as she munched on a red jellybean, frustrated at the clenching of her heart. Kim Taehyung was just a wall away but somehow it seemed as though he’s too far out of her reach in just one month.

It was beyond her knowledge that Kim Taehyung was sulking at the other side of the wall because he is missing Kang Eun Na even more than she was missing him. His long arms stretched out and pulled put a pack of jellybeans, munching on them even though he wasn’t a fan of sugar. He’d recently been seeing Eun Na sneakily popping jellybeans in her mouth although he was confused as to why she had to keep it in secret when everybody knew her recent obsession with the chewy jellybeans.

As his mouth was full of chewy sugar, a sudden thought popped out from Taehyungs mind. A plan suddenly came up as if the idea came with it like a full-package. But, as he repeatedly run over through the arrangement, he never had felt so nervous in his life like at that moment. Because, all he thought of the entire night was, I guess its now or never

That night, Eun Na couldn’t sleep as well, the same thought running over her mind in a cycle, her heart feeling so nervous and anxious that she wished she could just get it done and over with. Although at the back of her mind she hoped she would be successful and that everyone would live happily ever after (except Cha Yoon Ji and Kang Eun Na’s admirers).

As soon as the first scent of morning pancakes wafted through the Kang’s household, the daughter woke up instantly for she barely had any sleep last night. As she trudged downstairs to help her mother fix their breakfast table, her thoughts were clouded with how she was going to end this unexpected war between her and Taehyung.

Meanwhile, Taehyung had woken up even before Eun Na’s mother ordered her to wake the boy up as what he had been doing during their one-month silence. And, like Kang Eun Na, he was deep in thought with Kang Eun Na’s name constantly engulfing his mind. He might appear calm and newly awakened physically, but he really was a nervous wreck inside.

As during the past 5 weeks of the month, Eun Na and Taehyung ate in silence although they sat next to each other, their shoulders barely brushing but not so. And during the past few days, it had been a new routine that one of them would excuse themselves after their meal and walk away, not even having the usual chat with their best friend.

“Wanna go somewhere?” Taehyung casually asked, making Mr. and Mrs. Kang look up from their meal with surprised faces. As if on cue, their eyes shifted to their daughter who somehow stopped her fork movements, but her gaze was still trained on the half-eaten pancake

It was when Eun Na felt a nudge on her side did she look up, her eyes round and wide like saucers. When she looked at her side, Taehyung couldn’t help but chuckle softly, a chuckle Eun Na hasn’t heard in a while and misses so much. “What…?”

“I was asking if you wanna go somewhere today.” Taehyung leaned back on his chair, his eyes trained on Eun Na as if her nosy parents weren’t in the room. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “The weather’s fine outside, so, why not?”

Eun Na knew Taehyung was lying, because it was so gloomy outside despite the late hour in the morning. But she was amazed at how calmly her best friend was hiding his obvious lie. “Don’t you want to ask Yoon Ji out? I’m sure she’d be glad to hang out with you…”

Taehyung raised his brow. What has this got to do with Cha Yoon Ji? Nonetheless, he came backed, “Oh, so you won’t be glad hanging out with me, Kim Taehyung, your best friend?”

“Now, you call yourself my best friend as if the last few days didn’t even happen…” Eun Na sarcastically said and at this her parents excused herself, sensing how the atmosphere was turning heavier. But neither the two teenagers minded, they were busy glaring into each other’s eyes.

Taehyung wanted to shout and ask what Eun Na meant about her statement, but he kept it in and just diverted the topic, “Just… Can we please go somewhere out today?”

Maybe it was the way his eyes were shaking dejectedly; or the way he hung his head down - the tinge of dark green hair dye still looking great on Kim Taehyung; or maybe it was the glee that the boy finally spoke to her normally; but Kang Eun Na eventually sighed and gave in. “Give me 5 minutes and I’ll be down. We can go to the park.”

Taehyung almost let out a sigh of relief, but he kept it in. Although, the grin he tried to suppress still showed anyways.

Eun Na peeked at Taehyung’s reaction and she couldn’t control her heart pounding against her chest when she saw Kim Taehyung’s sweet jellybean smile. Maybe I should bring my pack o’ beans with me today…

Kim Taehyung knew that Eun Na’s 5 minutes wasn’t enough of a preparation. And so, 30 minutes later, the duo were outside the house, their felt crunching on the snowy pavement. The park Eun Na suggested to visit wasn’t that far so they decided to walk all the way towards their destination.

Unlike their maddening silence before, this time Eun Na and Taehyung talked about subtle jokes all the way. Their voice grew louder and merrier as if their month-long indifference never happened. It wasn’t until they reached the playground did they realize that they missed each other more than they thought they did.

The park was empty, void of hyperactive toddlers and so the swing were theirs to occupy. Eun Na sat on one seat while Taehyung sat on the swing beside her. They moved their feet subtly, swinging simultaneously.

The two stared up at the gloomy sky, such a contrasting atmosphere over such gleeful hearts, the harsh wind of February hitting their warm cheeks and the quiet surrounding about to broadcast the loudness of the thump in Taehyung and Eun Na’s chest. Somehow, despite the internal chaos, they both seemed at peace.

Taehyung sincerely missed Eun Na. He missed spending Valentines Day with his best friend where in they’d pull a prank on couples out on dates, ruining as much but not going as far as making them break up. Somehow, the both of them were blending in with the trend, that there was no such thing as forever. But both strongly believe that there is eternity with soul mates or 'the one’s. It made the boy sad that his Valentines night was spent with a sappy romantic drama and a big bowl of ice cream, his agony poured onto big scoops of fattening calories. Eun Na did something similar, but she did not want Taehyung to know.

The boy took a closer look at his best friend beside him who was swinging higher from the ground. Her long swings brought forth a stronger gust of wind but all he could sense was her sweet candy smell mixed along the air. His eyes lingered on her flowing hair and that was when he realized that her short hair had grown longer by an inch. As if everything was in slow motion, Taehyung noticed how Eun Na’s facial features turned a bit more mature and edged, but her childish squishiness was still more dominant. Her figure was no different for he noticed that the sleeves of her not-so-new sweatshirt seemed baggy on her arms. Her toned legs were even more prominent with a pair of skinny jeans he noticed was new and a size smaller. He noticed too that her fingers were polished even more beautifully as a clean hue of dark velvet blue he had never once seen before on her colored her nails. He also took note of how her eyes stuck out from her face because of the thin eyeliner surrounding it - a new feature Taehyung just recently noticed.

Kim Taehyung noticed a lot more difference in Kang Eun Na now with the Kang Eun Na then, but all he could conclude was that he missed her so much both as a loyal best friend and a secret admirer. And that was when everything stopped as realization took place, his hearting beating faster in nervousness. He remembered why he had asked Eun Na out of the house on such a gloomy day. “Hey, Nana…?”

Eun Na had to stop swinging so high, letting her feet serve as the brakes from her momentum. She faced Taehyung, instantly noticing his distressed expression. Despite the drastic (and by drastic, it meant that Kim Taehyung looked a bit manlier than before. Just a bit, but Kang Eun Na still noticed it) change, she was glad his expression never changed. “Is something the matter, Tae…?”

The boy took a huge sigh before he spoke, his heart threatening to jump out of his ribcage any moment now, “First of all, I want to say sorry. You know, for suddenly ignoring you the past few days and then just suddenly talking to you out of the blue…”

“You see,” Taehyung scratched the back of his neck, something Eun Na found so adorable and that the feeling intensified now that she was aware of her feelings for him, “I miss you, Kang Eun Na, my best friend so much and…”

Eun Na didn’t bother listening anymore because Taehyung brought up the 'best friend’ card again. She bitterly thought how he’d always see her as his close friend. And, it may sound so selfish of her, but Kang Eun Na needs to voice out what she really feels.

“Tae, you have to listen to me first.” Eun Na held a hand up, but Taehyung kept blabbering, “I mean, you barely knew that boy. Or maybe you do know him, but I don’t…”

“I’m sorry too, Tae. But… Listen to what I have to say…”

“It’s not like I don’t like the fella. Wait, no, I don’t like him that way. I am so into women. No! I meant to say that I am a straight guy. And by straight, I mean a guy who wants a female as a lifelong partner-”

“I get what you mean. But really, I don’t like that guy, whoever you are talking about… Taehyung, listen to me…”

“-But, I am also so not interested in Cha Yoon Ji… I mean, I don’t like her like how she likes me… Do you get what I mean…?-”

“Yeah, I do, and I’m glad that’s how you feel about her… But… ugh, that’s not what I’m going to say-!”

“-Wait, let me finish, Nana… As I’ve said, I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you ever since that guy confessed to you…-”

“Which guy-?”

“-And I know I shouldn’t be feeling such things, but… Idon'tknowIwasjustsojealous-”

“What? Hey slow down Taehyung-!”

“-andthereasonbehindthatisbecause-”

“I don’t under- Kim Taehyung, calm down-!”

“Kang Eun Na, you better not ignore me after I say it-”

“But, Taehyung, I don’t understand-!”

“-And we better be STILL best friends if this doesn’t go as planned-”

“Am I just a best friend in your eyes? Is that what you’re saying-?!”

It would have been so much romantic if the clouds started to get darker as the sky emitted low growls of thunder. But, the surrounding just stayed gloomy, rendered of the much awaited rain.

Nonetheless, Eun Na was almost bubbling up in anger. Kim Taehyung should be the first to know that his best friend hated being interjected even though she is the one interjecting the flow of Taehyung’s statement. And his constant blabbering was throwing Eun Na off the edge, especially when he said those two words again.

In the spur of the moment, with Eun Na’s hands gripping the string of the swing so tight that her knuckles turned white and Taehyung’s mouth emitting strings of continuous nonsensical words, it was almost a coincidence that at the very exact time they said,

“I like you! Wait, what?”

“You, what…?” Taehyung asked, his finger cleaning his ears as if he heard wrongly.

“No… You said… You…?” Eun Na refused to answer. Were her ears playing tricks on her now?

“No, you say it first. Ladies first.” Taehyung teased but his heart was feeling more nervous than before.

“That’s so sexist. Ladies don’t always have to go first.” Eun Na rolled her eyes, ignoring the unending thump in her chest.

“I thought you wanted the guys in your Dessert Kingdom to be chivalrous towards ladies. That is very sexist of you, Ice Cream Queen.”

“Don’t you dare bring my dream into this, Kim Taehyung. I’m asking you what you said to me.” Eun Na glared.

“I asked you first.” Taehyung retorted, not even shaken by the fact that he was pissing his best friend (a girl) off. He used up all his courage in saying those three words; he cannot confess the second time!

“We asked at the same time, stupid.” Eun Na stood up, frustrated with how things were being made even more difficult by her stupid best friend whom she likes so much.

“Well then,” Taehyung stands up as well, towering over Kang Eun Na’s (cute) smaller height, hoping to come off as even more intimidating that the midget female. “Why don’t we say it together?”

“And not understand each other again? No way!” Eun Na huffed. It was a spur of the moment confession and the girl didn’t know if she could ever say those words again. She spun around, anxiety taking the best of her as her cheeks turned a darker shade of red by the seconds that passed by.

She was about to take grudging stomps away from Taehyung and back home, but a warm and firm grip on her wrist prevented her from doing so. Even more so when she felt a force tug her backward, almost losing her balance with the slippery ground if it weren’t for the reassuring hold around her waist. “I told you to say it together with me, Nana…”

If she wasn’t trying to act calm, she would have just fainted because… HOLY MOTHER OF LOVE, KIM TAEHYUNG’S FACE WAS THIS CLOSE WITH HERS! But of course, she kept it in.

“Just like old times…? Together…?”

Eun Na saw through Taehyung’s eyes the child she befriended that day a few years back. And when Taehyung’s eyes turned into crescents, she remembered his beautiful jellybean smile, the smile she loves so much. She suddenly forgot about chocolates, and ice cream, and gummy worms, and marshmallows, and lollipops, and Oreos, and sweet cakes, and pancakes, and cupcakes, and all the other sweet in the world. All, except one. Jellybeans

“I like you, Kim Taehyung.” - “I like you Kang Eun Na”

Kang Eun Na had one dream, and that was to rule over Dessert Kingdom where everything was made of sweets, sweets, and more sweets! Her only request was that her royal subjects would call her Queen Jellybeans and that she would live happily ever after with her beloved King Jellybeans, Kim Taehyung the best friend.

“They’re being so cheesy, hyung!” Baekhyun whined, signaling to Kim Junmyeon who was bent over a bush, spying on his younger sibling from afar as the latter fed Kang Eun Na spoonful of chocolate cake

“You’re just jealous, Taehyung has a better love life than you,” Yoongi nonchalantly commented even though he was cringing so much at the greasy public display of affection.

“You are supposed to call me 'hyung’. I thought we were partners-in-crime.”

“That was until I knew that you have such a pitiful love life, it’s so embarrassing.”

“Yah! Brat! As if you have a greater love life than me!” Baekhyun pouted but the glare in his eyes meant that he was definitely not acting cute. (Definitely!)

Yoongi glared back, his tongue tied because he had no proof. He was as love-life-less as Byun Baekhyun and it made him want to take back his rude words. But then, Baekhyun deserved them because he left Min Yoongi alone in the amusement park during Kang Eun Na’s birthday. Yoongi was about to open his mouth and let scandalous profanities naturally roll out from his tongue, but Kim Junmyeon stopped them.

“They’re on the move.”

“Are they still following us?” Eun Na asked, but she knew she shouldn’t ask the obvious especially when Baekhyung and Yoongi were shouting at each other (“Be quiet, they’ll hear us!” Junmyeon scolded)

Taehyung and Eun Na sighed, but they continued walking along the clear pavement. When the girl leaned her head over Taehyung’s shoulder, he instinctively shuffled from his bag and popped a jellybean in his girlfriend’s mouth.

“I didn’t ask for a jellybean, but thanks anyway,”

“You don’t have to; I know how much you like them. And, I like you, too.”

“You were talking about jellybeans, not yourself,”

“Ugh hyung! They’re being cheesy again!” Who else would it haven been if it weren’t the partners-in-crime?

“Keep Quiet!” and of course, that was Suho.

“We can hear you!”

COPYRIGHT 151225 (AFF) & 170102. DO NOT RE-POST.

[ecotone99]

[SF] The campus of rebirth

When he came towards me, I could see his face was old and his body even older. The brown army style fatigues hanging saggy off his crooked back. It seems being a janitor is a risk for your wellbeing. His glasses looked like bricks, making his eyes seem unnatural, turning them into more then there should be. His crooked fingers looked like boney spider legs. His deep voice came from lips pressed together so tightly; you’d have to have a magnifying glass to make them out. He told me to turn around, campus was closed for the day. But I insisted I had to get to my locker and be up and away right after. Not heeding any more of his words, I pressed by and rounded a corner to the science faculty. It was as if lightning hit my brain right in the center. I closed my eyes to embrace the pain and when I opened them, I was dumbfounded to find the faculty laying rotten. The walls around me stained by water damage, crawling into the gaps between tiles. The ground cracked by plant roots that originated from the different rooms around. Lights broken, having strewn their glass onto the floor below. Dimly lit only by the dust heavy light that oozed from open or unhinged doors. The janitor was nowhere to be seen.

Faintly I could hear crunching footsteps and sharp breathing as the falling dust from decaying ceiling panels slowly engulfed me. I coughed as a mixture of rot, dust and asbestos filled every inch of my lung. The footsteps came closer, sounded multiple to the one’s humans used to make. In my panicked state of mind my feet declined working like they did a million times before. Breathing heavily in the thick air around me I found myself trapped in my own body. Looking for a way to escape this surreal piece of art I looked around. If I had just hopped through the closest door, I would have escaped the footsteps that loomed to round the next corner. The hallway around me creaked as if it was about to come crashing down on me every second now. The decay seemed to have gotten the better of the structural integrity. It was realistic to assess the mold and plant spores must have made the walls brittle and holey. I felt my mind wander off the situation at hand, analyzing the damage that had been done to the science faculty over the course of a day. Instead I should have continued to listen for more footsteps and signs of whatever it was that came crunching towards me. I snapped out of that diversion of thought when I heard a sharp crunch two junctions over. I could make out a brownish leg feeling around the corner of the wall. Although only dimly with the subtle light coming from a door opposite of the junction. When the creature emerged, sniffing around like a guard dog, my breathing stopped. I felt my heart sink to the bottom of my stomach and then some. The multitude of legs came to a crunching halt when it finally noticed me. An arrangement of black eyes twitching about nervously until fixating me completely. The brownish carapace trembled as the legs started to move into position.

A deep growl emerged from the creatures’ head where no mouth or snout could be made out. My mind urged to run, to escape this hellish place and avoid the creature. And nearly I had acted upon that urge. Yet when I saw it spread its wings, my body felt like gelatin. I couldn’t quite believe my own eyes and was locked into pure amazement and fear alike. If you’d assessed the situation right then and there, this creature must have been a roach. It moved from side to side, crunching on the broken glass below. Angrily picking away at the wall, trying to chase me away. My mind tried to reason with it, forming soothing words. But none would escape my mouth as I was unable to speak nor make any other sound. The creature came stomping towards me, it’s wings almost spanned to the width of the hallway. Dust followed in its way and waved past it when it came to a halt at the next junction. Still eyeing me up and down, growling, clicking.

My mouth opened but could not scream. My arms flailed about wildly as I tried to move. My legs still would decline working. Upon looking down to have a word with them, I finally noticed what had been holding me back. An assortment of insects crawled about my toes in a heap of life. The scientist in me noticed species usually attacking each other, working together to entangle my feet with roots and flooring. The more I pulled, the faster the insects pulsed. It was a truly fascinating sight to behold. The diversity, the teamwork of a hundred little creatures in restraining the big and mighty human. The same human that had willingly stomped or carelessly stepped on so many of them in his lifetime. I had watched them do so until they reached my knees, seemingly cocooning me. When I managed to look back up, I was face to face with the mass of eyes that had been staring at me from the hallway far away. Tears dropped from my eyes as I stood there in terror, unable to scream for help or at least scream at the creature. Unable to move even an inch as I felt the insects working their way up my thighs. The creature’s antennas caressed my face, its front legs feeling about on my torso, its eyes analyzing my features. In my mind I got ready to get eaten right there and then. Dragged into some lair to turn into a feast for its offspring. Or worshippers. Or companions. No such thing happened. I was guarded by the creature as the insects kept cocooning my very being until everything was covered except my face.

And then, with a thorn on one of its legs, the creature stabbed me right where my heart was. Sharp pain filled my limbs and torso instantly, the very first feeling I regained when the insects retreated to the ground and vanished through the many gaps and holes they came from. The creature went on distance and watched on, nervously flapping its wings about. I felt my body bursting under immense pressure and the spell that had closed my throat broke. I screamed as much as my lungs would allow. I felt my insides turn to liquid and a burning sensation in my head. I felt like I had gone to hell and was burned alive for all the sins in my life. The many insects I had probably killed. The lies I had told. The ant farm I had forgotten over summer break. It all came back to me.

Limbs sprouted from my body; in places no human would ever even think about growing limbs. My back opened and spit out thick oozing masses to cover what was left of me. The mass grew and grew as I helplessly watched on and screamed like a madman. It was growing into a carapace. The oozing mass stopped growing where my face began, only to make room for an arrangement of antennas that sprouted from my head. My screaming stopped as my face grew into a featureless piece of skin, opening holes where eyes began to form. I could still feel my mouth but there was no opening, my screaming turned to growling. Roots and ground cracked and fell off my body, sending me crashing to the ground, helplessly flailing my multitude of legs about. Although free of my shackles, having a new set of limbs required every drop of my mind to even move them in an orderly fashion. Slippery they failed to get a foothold as I twitched on the floor below. My many eyes seemed to look in every direction at once. The rot around me engulfed me further as I lay there in a mixture of plants, crawling insects and other such atrocities.

All that time the creature had watched me and came towards me as I was finally able to stop my panic attack. Its front legs grabbed me by the shoulders, or what was left of them and put me on my feet. Again, it looked me up and down, growling deeply. In a fit of rage about my situation, confused as to what had happened in its entirety, I started swinging every limb I had. I swung them at the creature, which in return kicked me with its front leg and shook me violently. I wanted the creature to finally end it. To put me out of my misery. Put me out of the fight I had taken up. But it did no such thing. It grabbed me and dragged me towards a wall, propping me up against it, eyeing me with its unnatural eyes. More creatures came crunching towards us. One bigger than the other. A spider, hairy yet boney tried to squeeze past the roach. An insect I had never seen before clicked its fangs while rubbing its legs. A moth flapped about and flew in and out of vision behind the others. I tried looking down, see what I had turned into and saw my greenish body lay folded in the middle. The cocoon had turned me into what I recognized to be a grasshopper. All the creatures began growling and making all sorts of noise. Clicking their fangs, pushing each other aside as if they fought for a meal. I again couldn’t move an inch, not even if I wanted to. So, I accepted my fate and closed my eyes. Hoping to breath my last breath soon. Everything went silent.

When I opened my eyes, boney spider legs felt around my face and thick bricks of glass were almost sitting on my nose. The old man with the saggy brown fatigues kept shaking me. I felt a slap hit my cheek. Next to him I recognized faculty staff. The lights were too bright for my eyes and the sound of their voices angered me. In a flash I tried to get up with my head hurting like I had kissed a wall head on. Looking over the janitors shoulder I saw that that had been the very case. In my hurry I had hit a row of lockers head on. Blood was still running down my face as I tried to drown out the many voices and wriggle free of the grip of many hands that tried to hold me down. I struggled but soon was at the end of my strength. I fell into a welcomed slumber.

I woke up some time after, to my new self. People in white lab coats surrounded me, prodding my body. Taking liquids from it and murmuring behind facemasks. Against my restraints I looked down to see six green legs tied to a bed. I tried snapping my fangs at them and reaching another with my antennas. Growling loudly when I tried to speak. I struggled against the bindings on my body, trying to wind out of the situation I had found myself in.

This went on for days and days as I lost count. Sometime later I was reborn, back to my former self. Able to talk, walk, write, study and live a normal human life. Doctors told me to take the medicine and rest for some time. My head hurts since. As I write this, I think about the concept of my dorm room being on the fifth floor and having a window so wide I’d fit through. Outside the dirty glass I can see insects going about their day freely. We are all insects to someone bigger than us. Who would stop them from stomping us dead? I locked my door and found shelter on my bed. Insects are not welcome here, so maybe neither am I.

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[peacefulheartfarm]

The Taste of Cheese

I want to take a minute and say welcome to all the new listeners and welcome back to the veteran homestead-loving regulars who stop by the FarmCast every week. I appreciate you all so much. I’m so excited to share with you what’s going on at the farm this week.

There’s a lot going on. It’s spring. Lambs are coming. Calves are coming. Plants are sprouting. There is not enough time in the day to get everything done. This will go on for a while. I love it. It’s so good to be alive.

Today’s Show

Homestead Life Updates

The Taste of Cheese

Best Lasagna Ever

Homestead Life Updates

We have lambs. This morning we found a set of triplets who are doing well and a single. There are still 4 more ewes yet to lamb.

We still only have two calves. They are drinking all of the available milk from one cow. So no cheese, butter or yogurt yet.

In the garden Scott planted 50+ strawberry sets and I planted over 100 strawberry seedlings that I started indoors a few weeks ago. I am overwhelmed with celery. I started way too many seedlings. Likely I will offer some of this from the homestead store later this summer. Home-grown celery is nothing like the bland, tasteless stuff in the grocery store. My tomatoes and eggplant seedlings are doing great. It will still be a few weeks before they can be planted out in the garden.

Today, we placed row covers on our cabbage. Hopefully, this year we will actually have a crop that the cabbage moths don’t destroy. Pray for us in that regard. We’ve never been successful because of those pesky cabbage moths. Integrity and love for the land keeps us from using any poisons. This could just be the year for cabbage for us.

In the orchard the kiwis are going crazy. We had a few very small fruit starts last year but I got too busy and did not keep them watered enough. The fruit dried up and fell off before it got to any size. I’ll be keeping a better eye out this year. The grapes and blackberries are putting on leaves. No blooms yet but soon. The blueberries have bloomed. June is the month for those lovely jewels to reign supreme. If we can keep the raccoons out, we just might have a blueberry crop this year. We got an electric fence up last year, but most of the blueberries had already been eaten.

We’ve had rain and more rain. Our homestead is doing okay with all of this wetness, but lots of flooding just south of us in North Carolina. We will be getting even more rain this evening. Our location keeps us safe, though there is mud everywhere. Especially where 1,000 pound cows are tromping over and over up and down the travel lanes to the milking shed.

The creamery walls are steadily rising. I have to give it to Scott, he is consistent. Every moment he has available, he is out there making that happen. He did give me a half hour or so this morning to help with those row covers for the cabbage and it was much appreciated.

Hey, I have quail eggs in the incubator. Yes, quail eggs. In just 18 days, we will have quail chicks. I think I mentioned that I don’t like to interrupt Scott in his faithful mission to get that creamery built. So, building housing for chickens and pigs is out of the question at this time. However, he has said he will give me a half-day to build a couple of simple quail breeding cages. The quail will be providing much-needed eggs for us. We eat a lot of eggs and are constantly facing the decision to buy cheap less-than-optimally nutritious eggs from the grocery or paying lots of money for those great farm fresh eggs offered by our fellow Farmer’s Market sellers. The Farmer’s Market eggs are definitely worth it but our budget will be less stressed with us growing our own eggs.

Lastly, let me talk about the Herd Share program we are working on. We want to offer you the opportunity to have your own cow and reap the benefits that we are blessed with by virtue of operating our homestead. I know all of you cannot possibly do what we are doing, but you’d like to have the benefit of fresh dairy products from pasture raised cows. Soon you will be able to purchase part of the herd and simply pay a monthly boarding and maintenance fee. We will take care of everything else for you. On a weekly basis, you can come to the farm and pick up your fresh milk products. We are still working out the details of what we will offer as far as value added services and how much we will charge for that service. Butter and yogurt for sure and perhaps some fresh cheeses such as mozzarella, cream cheese, or lemon cheese. Let us know what you want. After all, we are doing this for you. How can we serve?

For those of you out there listening to the sound of my voice, if you are in the southern/southwestern Virginia area or northern North Carolina area, we are here for you. It is about an hour trip from Winston-Salem, North Carolina and perhaps an hour and a half from Greensboro. In Virginia, Martinsville, Hillsville, and Galax are all less than an hour away. Wytheville is slightly over an hour. It takes us an hour and 10 minutes to get to the downtown Farmer’s Market. Roanoke is 2 hours from us. Floyd, Christiansburg and Blacksburg are somewhere in between.

We are open for on-farm sales and herd share pickups: Saturdays 3 – 5pm and Tuesdays 10am – 12pm. Come on out and get yourself some homestead sunshine. Take a look at how our animals are raised. We’ll answer all of your questions and make sure you get the best grass fed and finished beef, lamb and goat on the market today. Tuesdays 10am – 12 pm and Saturdays 3 – 5 pm.

The Taste of Cheese

A few episodes ago I talked about the sensory experience of taste. Next, I talked about the basics of cheesemaking. Today, I’m putting those two together. This episode is going to be all about the taste of cheese. What is it? Where does it come from?

As I said, in a previous episode (link above) I talked about the basics of cheesemaking. We learned about how complex organic compounds in milk are transformed during the cheesemaking and aging processes. Many of these compounds are broken down into other water or fat-soluble compounds. Some of them are volatile, which means they can be detected as flavors or aromas by our taste buds and the smell receptors in our noses, respectively. Let’s explore where these flavors and aromas come from, and delve into how we perceive, describe, and compare them.

Whether professional or amateur, the way all cheese people approach the subject of flavor is framed by Prof. Frank Kosikowski’s theory of component balance. According to Kosikowski’s model, very specific compounds in very specific amounts and combinations are responsible for the often-mind-boggling array of flavors detected in cheeses, yogurts, and other dairy products. When we talk about a cheeses flavor profile, were referring to its overall taste as comprised by multiple individual components.

Any fine artisanal cheese has many distinct aroma and flavor components, which, when well put together, form a whole greater than the sum of its parts. While each fine cheese is unique—with individual pedigree and identifiable terroir—it is also similar to others of its type; in fact, it distinguishes itself precisely because of the way it’s many volatile compounds combine, interact, and balance each other to present a signature flavor profile. The more components a cheese has in its flavor profile, the more complexity it is said to possess. If one or more of those components dominates and drowns out the others, we say the cheese lacks balance. If it only has a few of them, we say it lacks complexity.

Where Do Cheese Flavors Come From?

The three principle nutritive substances found in cheese—casein (milk protein), butterfat, and lactose (milk sugar)—are the building blocks of its flavor. Those volatile compounds we perceive as cheese aroma and flavor, often referred to as “aromatics,” come from two principal sources: first, the plants the animals eat and the breakdown of chemical compounds in those plants during the animals’ digestion process; and second, during the cheesemaking and ripening process the action of key enzymes, secreted by microorganisms, is used in breaking down those three “building blocks”.

Dairy and flavor scientists who study cheese generally estimate 20 to 30% of aromatics come from the feed the animals eat (and the water they drink). The remaining 70 to 80% is determined by cheesemaking and ripening parameters. As we learned in the basics of cheesemaking, making cheese is mostly a process of dehydration, that is of increasing the percentage of milks solids; in terms of taste, the flavors of these aromatics become more focused and concentrated.

Starter cultures release their enzymes, which continue working after the bacteria cease to function, and remnants contribute their animal or plant enzymes. These agents start the breakdown and flavor making processes. Molds, yeasts, and bacteria introduced during cheesemaking and/or ripening secrete their own enzymes, which in turn act on the fats and proteins to create volatile compounds. Each different substance contributes it specific flavors. Brie style cheeses, for example, obtain their delicious mushroomy flavors from the white candidum species of Penicillium mold growing on their rinds. Thistle rennets used in certain traditional Portuguese and Spanish cheeses lend a typical hint of bittersweet flavor.

Terroir: From Cow Pasture to Cheese Plate

Common sense tells us what the animals eat will affect their milk and thus have a tremendous impact on the cheese. The greater the amount of natural, local food our animals consume, the more of our lands’ character (terroir) will eventually end up in our cheese.

A study co-authored by Drs. Carpino, Licitra, and Barbano and published in 2004 in theJournal of Dairy Science, examined the difference between cheeses made from the milk of pasture fed cows versus ones made from the milk of those consuming a TMR or dry formula feed (TMR is total mixed ration).

The study provided conclusive scientific evidence for two key concepts of flavor origin: first, pasture feed yields more flavors and aromas; second, native plants and grasses offer unique aromas and flavors, that is, terroir makes a big difference. The study showed that a significant portion of the aromatics came from specific plants known to have been eaten by specific animals. As the cows chewed up grasses and flowers, crushing them and oxidizing the chemicals within, aromatics got released into the animals’ digestive tracts. Those aromatics eventually made their way into the milk. Even later they emerge as aroma and flavor-giving substances in cheeses.

How to Describe Flavor and Aroma

Aromatic compounds are described by way of references to other substances with the same flavor or aroma. Many flavors and aromas are very, very specific; others are significantly more vague or complex. An example: to most people—even serious foodies—the chemical name diacetyl means absolutely nothing; however, the reference “movie popcorn butter” has immediate resonance. Its aroma is unique and has no other clear reference; in fact, the chemical diacetyl was used for many years to create artificially flavored buttered popcorn.

To know cheese, you’ve got to taste it—and lots of it. By far your most crucial skill as a cheese connoisseur is your ability to taste, first recognizing what’s in a cheese and, second, articulating what it is you like and don’t like about it.

Tasting cheese in a vacuum is difficult: there is nothing to compare it to. Once you have two or more cheeses, you can develop references and begin to see the range of possibilities, and eventually accumulate a vocabulary based on your personal library of cheese experiences. Again, taste lots of cheese.

Another way of tasting cheeses is alongside wine or other beverages which provide further contrasts and/or complements. Sometimes a wine or beer pairing with cheese will evaluate both partners and in almost every case it will reveal something interesting about each of them.

How Do We Taste Cheese?

What we perceive as cheese flavor is made up of a few fundamental components: first, the four flavors detected by the taste buds on our tongues—sweet, sour, bitter, and salty; and second, the thousands of odors we can pick up with our noses. The pleasures of cheese tasting are made possible by two things. First, the incredible sensitivity of our olfactory system—we can pick up something on the order of 10,000 aromas—and second, its physiology, namely, the retronasal passage connecting the nose to the mouth at the top of the back of the throat. These oral and nasal perceptions, added together, comprise an overall taste impression, or “flavor by mouth.” When you include the additional factor of texture, you have another compound sensation called mouth feel. Remember I spoke of these in the previous podcast on Why Food Tastes So Good. Link is in the show notes.

About 90% of what you taste in a cheese’s “flavor by mouth” is aroma. Our sense of smell comes into play twice: first, when we put a cheese under our noses and, second, when we put it in our mouths. One reason for the difference between the smells and tastes of cheeses is due to our ability to smell only surface volatiles, in what flavor scientists called the “headspace” of a cheese (the immediate vicinity of its surface). When we put cheeses in our mouths and begin to chew, however, all the different aromatics inside them become available. Four tastes and thousands of aromas.

Many of the compounds on a cheese’s surface, including that which makes an ammonia smell and quite a number of potentially stinky, barnyardy (even somewhat noxious) odiferous substances, have actually had a mellowing effect on the interior of the cheese. If you can get past the initial smell, you will find they are among the ripening agents responsible for balanced flavor development and are one reason why a really smelly cheese can taste quite mellow and mild.

Once we put a cheese in our mouth, another breakdown process has begun: Our body’s own digestive enzymes, starting with those contained in the saliva, go to work at releasing flavor compounds. Multiple component taste factors immediately come into play, starting with those four primary flavors of the tongue and including the tingle, rasp, or caress of the cheese’s textures stimulating all those nerve endings on our palates and creating an overall impression of flavor by mouth, plus mouth feel.

Cheese and the Four Primary Flavors

Of those four flavors of the tongue, fine cheeses do exhibit quite a bit of underlying sweetness and also sourness. After all, milk sugar (lactose) is one of the three building blocks of flavor, and fermentation, producing lactic acid. It is the first step of cheesemaking.

What about bitterness? A little bit of basic bitterness goes a long way. And if at all, we only want a little and it must be balanced.

Next comes “salty.” This is the most common flavor in all cheeses. Like any other flavor component, salt should be in balance and it should complement the other flavors. Of all cheese defects, over-salting is the most frequent. Salt should emphasize or bring out a cheese’s other flavor components—not call attention to itself.

The tactile sensation of a cheese—how its texture is perceived in your mouth—is an important part of its overall profile. Whether it’s satiny smooth and near liquid or crunchy and more crystalline or anywhere in between, a fine cheese’s texture and consistency will settle over the tongue in a particular way to deliver a distinct impression. As with flavors and aromas, personal preferences come into play: some of you will prefer softer types, others will salivate over harder ones. In any case, contrasting tactile sensations can enrich your cheese experience.

How to Practice Tasting Cheese

The main steps in tasting a cheese are look, touch, smell, taste—wait, think about it and reflect, and don’t miss the finish. Clear your palate; do it all over again with the same cheese again, take your time and move on to the next one only when you’re good and ready.

What to Look For:

Examine the rind and, if it’s a cut piece, the interior or paste. Make a note of all the textures and colors there and also if there are any interesting, different, curious or potentially meaningful markings. Think aesthetics: what is it about this cheese that looks good or bad and/or bodes well for how it might taste? Bear in mind that some very scary looking cheeses can be very delicious.

How to Assess Cheese by Touch:

Poke it, tap it, run your finger over the service, roll or press a small portion of the paste between a thumb and forefinger. How hard is it? Does it have any resistance, any kind of springy, bouncy consistency or texture? How does it break or crumble? A tactile assessment does not make or break a cheese’s reputation, but it’s an interesting piece of the bigger picture. By the way, if a cheese feels too cold, give it more time to warm up to room temperature before going any further.

How to Smell Cheese:

Take a good sniff. A very common question we ask is, “Why do some cheeses smell a lot stronger than they taste?” This question leads quickly to the realization that the character and intensity of the cheese’s aromas do not necessarily coincide with its flavors. A strong cheese may have a deceptively mild aroma; a real stinker may taste mellow and mild. Also, make sure your hands are clean and free from any kind of perfume or other potentially conflicting odors.

Tasting Cheese:

Take your time throughout the tasting but particularly with the all-important moments after you put it in your mouth. Keep a clean, clear neutral palate and an open mind. This is where a little bit of good white bread (classic baguette or its equivalent) and a sip of water or some other fairly neutral beverage can help clear your palate of any potentially clashing or conflicting flavors. Just a tiny piece of bread works like a swab to take acid and fats off the tongue so you can taste a cheese more clearly.

Take a small bite of the cheese at first and make sure it comes into contact with every part of your tongue and as much of the inside of your mouth as possible. This is important because your taste buds are spread around the tongue and other parts of the back of the mouth and also because different receptors may focus on different flavors. Chew slowly and gently. Note all the flavors on the tongue and try to determine whether they are in balance. Be sure to note the initial sense attack and also to what extent there is an evolution of flavors: some fine cheeses make a strong immediate impression; others build from a quiet start to an impressive crescendo. As the cheese settles over your tongue and then migrates to the back of your mouth, begin to taste its full flavor profile. Note its texture and mouth feel.

Wait for the finish and see how long it lingers; great cheeses don’t disappear quietly or slink away meekly, but they frequently offer distinct final impressions.

Finally, Describing Cheese

Descriptions can be quantitative or objective as well as qualitative or subjective. Outlining a cheese’s appearance is more objective than trying to capture all of its aromas and flavors. Observers can generally agree whether its rind is reddish orange or orangish red. Once taste and preference enter the equation, however, all bets are off. A cheese that tastes sour to you may seem only slightly tangy to me. One I feel is lush and luxurious may strike you as boring tub of butterfat, but hopefully we can objectively identify and acknowledge the traits upon which we base these opinions. It can be a valuable exercise to compare tasting notes with your cheese-lover friends.

In the beginning you may find it difficult to move past such seemingly mundane adjectives as salty or buttery or creamy. That’s fine. People attach all kinds of different tags to an item in order to keep track of it in their memory banks. After years of tasting, there may be still many cheeses that you file under simple terms like buttery or crumbly, but with experience, your vocabulary will broaden. The more cheeses you taste compare, the more sophisticated your descriptions and references will become.

To assist you in developing your vocabulary I’m going to offer a couple of free downloads one will be sample vocabulary terms that describe color, color modifiers, firmness or density, texture, mouth feel, flavor and aroma, flavor modifiers, and subjective, qualitative, or interpretive terms. The second download will be an outline of the basic cheeses by types and categories.

How Are Cheeses Classified?

Categorizing cheeses can be a useful extension of describing them. It helps you find substitutes or alternatives when your preferred cheese isn’t available, and it can help you create an interesting, varied selection when putting together a cheese plate for your friends.

Any categorization system that accurately describes cheese traits can be useful not only in sorting them out but also in understanding and appreciating their various qualities and attributes.

The basic international categories include: Fresh, chevre, bloomy rind or soft ripened, washed rind, natural rind, uncooked and pressed, cooked and pressed, and blue.

Other types include: stretched curd (pasta filata) and whey cheeses.

Due to the melting pot that is America, the American Cheese Society Awards have a huge number of categories. These categories include: Fresh unripened, soft ripened, American originals, American made/international style, cheddars, blue molds, Hispanic and Portuguese style, Italian type, butter, low fat and low salt, flavored, smoked, farmstead, fresh goat, fresh sheep, marinated, aged sheep, aged goat, and washed rind.

In the end, they are still all based on the international categories.

What Makes a Cheese Great?

In assessing greatness complexity of aromas and flavors, stimulating textures, balance, distinct or unique character, and impact—in the sense of making a memorable impression are central. You might taste a cheese once, and not even remember its name, but you can’t get it out of your mind. Maybe it doesn’t even have strong aromas or flavors—after all, great cheeses can be very subtle—but it begs you to try it again.

If a cheese is unique, it may qualify as great. But, to be an exceptional cheese, it doesn’t absolutely have to be one-of-a-kind. Cheeses that are variations, or even imitations, of great types should not be automatically ruled out. They may be very similar in character but at the same time could possess enough individual personality to stand out. My favorite cheese, cheddar, comes to mind. A great cheddar will stand out.

Another key question: does it truly express its terroir? Great cheeses, like great wines, have an uncanny ability to transport you. Merely good cheeses taste like a type or are recognizable as a category; great ones taste like the place they are from. An outstanding Chianti beams you right to a sundrenched hillside vineyard beside a dusty road in Tuscany. Likewise, a taste of a perfectly ripened Appenzeller take you to a flowered mountain meadow with a backdrop of majestic glaciered Alps.

Great cheeses live and breathe; they evolve and grow—not just from cheesemaking through ripening but on your palate when you taste them. Cheeses with profound, complex flavor profiles inhabit your mouth and offer a broad evolution. They start with an attack, subtle or not-so-subtle, hitting the taste buds of the tongue with fundamental flavor highlights. Those flavors develop and expand, melding and competing with myriad aromas, working their way back to the retronasal passage and up into the intellectual and memory centers of your brain. You are excited, stimulated, challenged. Tasting a great cheese makes you say, “wow.” Strong or mild, hard or soft, you’re bowled over by its brilliance.

At this point I’m going to remind you that we now have store hours where you can come to the homestead and see our terroir. We currently have various grassfed meats available and I would love to talk with you about what you are looking for in your dairy products. Before the end of summer, we will have cheese, yogurt, and butter available for our herd share members. Let’s talk about you owning part of a cow herd.

Best Lasagna Ever

Good Lasagna takes a little work, but it is so worth it.

What You Need

1 pound sweet Italian sausage

1 pound lean ground beef

½ cup minced onion

2 cloves garlic, crushed

1 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes

2 6-ounce cans tomato paste

2 6.5-ounce cans canned tomato sauce

½ cup water

2 tablespoons sugar

1 ½ teaspoons dried basil

½ teaspoon fennel seeds

1 teaspoon Italian seasoning

1 tablespoon salt

¼ teaspoon ground black pepper

4 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley

12 lasagna noodles

16 ounces ricotta cheese

1 egg

½ teaspoon salt

¾ pound mozzarella cheese, sliced

¾ cup grated Parmesan cheese

What To Do

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C).

In a Dutch oven, cook sausage, ground beef, onion, and garlic over medium heat until well browned. Stir in crushed tomatoes, tomato paste, tomato sauce, and water. Season with sugar, basil, fennel seeds, Italian seasoning, 1 tablespoon salt, pepper, and 2 tablespoons parsley. Simmer, covered, for about 1 ½ hours, stirring occasionally.

Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Cook lasagna noodles in boiling water for 8 to 10 minutes. Drain noodles, and rinse with cold water.

While noodles are boiling, combine ricotta cheese with egg, remaining parsley, and ½ teaspoon salt in a mixing bowl.

To assemble, spread 1 ½ cups of meat sauce in the bottom of a 9 x 13” baking dish. In layers, arrange 6 noodles lengthwise over meat sauce. Spread with ½ of the ricotta cheese mixture. Top with one third of mozzarella cheese slices. Spoon 1 ½ cups meat sauce over mozzarella, and sprinkle with ¼ cup Parmesan cheese. Repeat layers and top with remaining mozzarella and Parmesan cheese.

Cover with foil: to prevent sticking, either spray foil with cooking spray, or make sure the foil does not touch the cheese. Bake in preheated oven for 25 minutes. Remove foil, and bake an additional 25 minutes. Cool for 15 minutes before serving.

Final Thoughts

Whew, that was a long one. There is a lot going on here. Between the plants and the animals, things are growing, growing, growing. We are still looking for 3 calves and who knows how many more lambs—Scott just stepped in and said we have another set of twins. Three more ewes still need to give birth. I’d say no more than five more—that is unless someone else has triplets. Thanks for stopping by and keeping up with our homestead life.

Go out there and taste some cheeses. Then come visit us and taste our cheese. We think you will be delighted. Our traditional food practices make great food choices for you. We are dedicated to providing you with the most nutritionally dense foods money can buy. Remember to visit our website, zip down to the bottom of the page and get those 2 downloads for expanding your vocabulary in your quest toward cheese connoisseur status. You’ll also receive a notification for a free download of my herbal bone broth recipe.

Try out that exceptional recipe for lasagna and then ask us about the possibility of fresh mozzarella from your own cow via our herd share program. Yum, yum.

If you enjoyed this podcast, don’t forget to subscribe via iTunes or your favorite podcast listening app. Also, please share this podcast with any of your friends or family who might be interested in this type of content.

As always, I’m here to help you “taste the traditional touch.”

Thank you so much for listening and until next time, may God fill your life with grace and peace.

References

Expand Your Cheese Vocabulary

Classifying Cheese by Type and Category

Recipe Link

Best Lasagna Ever

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[thegloober]

Smart and Waterproof: Reviewing the Inrigo Camera Backpack

There’s a number of camera bags on the market, and some meet the demands of their photographers and many don’t. Inrigo has created a camera system that puts the value of your kit at the center of its design while giving you the tools to keep your gear working through the most humid and wet places on the planet. 

The Inrigo Camera Backpack was funded on Kickstarter late last year, and bags have begun shipping to backers. I had the chance to work with the bag, and here’s a breakdown of what the Inrigo Camera Backpack has to offer. First, the bag is essentially a cross between a competent camera bag system and a marine dry bag. This high visibility camera bag system is for photographers doing work in environments where humidity, moisture, or direct contact with water are a cause for concern. In these environments, the bag shines and is a system that would benefit any photographer that is working on a beach, in on-and-off-again rain, or areas with very high humidity, while being able to monitor their gear for an abundance of moisture within the bag. You’re able to monitor the humidity without ever having to open the bag itself, thereby preserving the kit from accidental contact with additional moisture and avoiding issues like mold growth.

Lets get the obvious out of the way. Does the bag only come in bright yellow? The answer currently is yes, which may not appeal to everyone, but when using the bag as it’s intended to be used, the bright yellow makes sense. This is a camera bag made to be used by the water, and as we’ve seen many times, photographers, as well as their subjects, don’t always respect the power of the ocean and the possibility of a rogue wave interrupting a shoot. If your bag goes in the ocean, you’ll most likely be able to see it and hopefully rescue your kit before it’s gone for good. Inrigo has started looking at adding additional color options, but nothing has been cemented for release as of yet.

The bag itself is well made, and after comparing the stitching to several Osprey packs (a proven and top-end bag company) that I primarily use for hiking and comparing to my Think Tank and Tamrac bags, I believe the Inrigo will hold up for years to come. The components of the bag have been stitched to thermoplastic polyurethane (TPU) patches, which then have been bonded to the bag itself, thereby allowing for a fully sealed bag that doesn’t have weak spots due to silicon sealant or patching to re-waterproof the bag. The concept works well here, but does add some additional weight.

The parts of any bag that wear out the quickest tend to be the contact points, where shoulder and hip harnesses attach to the bag itself. Inrigo has decided on a quick pin system that allows for these areas to receive much less wear and tear, all while adding an adjustment for varying sternum lengths. Most hiking bags are constructed for different sizes as they only have so much customization that can be done before a bag simply is not tall enough from hip to sternum and shoulder. I really appreciate that Inrigo went into this much detail to add that functionality to a bag. If you’ve ever hiked with a bag that didn’t fit correctly and had a decent amount of weight, you know the feeling of your shoulders in agony. I know my Think Tank and Tamrac bags do not have any customization options, and for kits that can be more than 20 pounds hiked with for several miles to some landscape shoots, it’s a pain. For a bag with even a modicum of torso length adjustment, this can mean the difference between shooting several days in a row in comfort or wanting to give up and not shoot anything at all. 

The bag is additionally outfitted with reflective TPU patches that double as load points for a drone on the back and the shoulder straps themselves, which will allow for seeing or locating the bag much easier, especially if you’re shooting towards evening time or at night. The bag will also accommodate two water bottles on either side, straps for holding a tripod on either the left or right hand side of the bag, and a dual strap for a tent or other cylindrical piece of kit up to 18 inches around on the back side of the bag. The padding for the shoulder straps and hip belt accommodates a loaded pack well, but I would have preferred a thicker and stiffer foam material that could add some rigidity to these areas, which would allow the pack to rely more on the hip belt for carrying weight much more evenly and allow the overall comfort level to be greater. The back padding on the pack is approximately a half inch thick and is vented to keep some of the heat and sweat off you back. This padding reaches below the hip area padding and adds a pressure point to the bag on the center of the spine. If you’re wearing the bag at an appropriate height, then this area fits perfectly in your lumbar area, and you will not feel pressure at all. If you’re keeping your straps longer than needed or are not using the hip belt, this pressure can be aggravating. Correctly fitting the Inrigo Camera Bag is invaluable in this regard. 

The closure of the bag is smart and differs from a dry bag, with interlacing rubber piping similar to a zip-lock bag. This makes accessing the contents of the bag quick and easy by just bringing the tabs together and the closure opening. Inrigo also supplies a silicone oil to apply to the closure so the rubber gasket closure works for years to come. I’ve used the same silicone oil on my Arai helmets where the gasket meets the visor, and the oil keeps the rubber from drying out in extreme heat or repeated drenching of water and drying. Be aware to keep debris out of this area, as with my initial outing with the bag, I used it in some gritty sand and did not take care to keep this area as clean as I should have. In subsequent testing, the bag maintained a leak in the corner of the lid opening when I intentionally submerged it for several minutes, though with simply soaking or floating the bag, it never leaked. After applying some silicone oil and redoing the testing several times, I finally found the rock that was stuck in the corner of the closure and removed it. Once the debris was removed, the bag did not leak any water at all. Don’t turn the bag upside-down in the sand and get dirt in the closure, especially in the corners.

The bag also has an external screw vent that allows for equalizing pressure and humidity slowly within the enclosure. The number one reason for airtight seals to leak and fail is due to not being able to equalize pressure inside and outside of an enclosure. This goes to show that Inrigo have thought through not only the likely environments the bag will be used in, but have engineered a solution for the most probable failure point for an airtight bag.

Before we dive inside the bag itself, let’s talk about the smart part of this kit. Within the bag and viewable through a transparent TPU plastic is the brains of the bag. The sensor is a small white box that has an LCD display that gives you the humidity, temperature, battery level, an alarm, and Bluetooth connection, all viewable through the transparent window on the rear of the bag. Inrigo has additionally created an app for iOS to interact with the sensor and to adjust settings for alarms to your phone in case the environment in the bag is becoming too humid, too hot, too cold, or if the bag is too far away.

Inrigo Camera Backpack iOS app screen capture illustrating the humidity warning when set to 55 percent.

If using the iOS app, you can also see the history of the humidity and temperature in the bag in 10-minute increments. This is great to know if you’re working in a wet environment or opening and closing the bag and want to know if the environment in the bag has gone beyond your maximum levels, and if so, for how long. The longer a lens is in very humid environments, the more susceptible it can be to mold eventually growing within the lens itself. This is only exacerbated if your equipment is consistently being used in very humid or wet environments where the Inrigo Camera Bag has been created to be used. The sensor and the corresponding iOS app seemed to work well and were accurate when referenced to my home thermostat that displays current temperature and humidity levels. The only issue I had with the app is the proximity alarm not responding. I would travel 20-30 feet away from the bag until the Bluetooth would disconnect, and there was never any alarm that went off. It’s possible that I didn’t set the alarm correctly, but there’re only three options for the proximity alarm in the settings. 

Finally diving inside the bag, lining the front and rear of the interior of the bag are two organizer pockets with multiple storage options. I was surprised by this additional interior storage and definitely appreciated having a quick place to store memory cards and chargers in an easy-to-reach place. The front (towards the padded back of the bag) is a plastic frame sheet mounted with two metal stays to create an internal frame for the bag. This aids the bag in maintaining its shape while allowing the hip belt to be used to hold the entire weight of the bag without shifting, which allows for the bag to hold more weight comfortably. Most camera bags today do not have any frame built in, which makes them less comfortable with heavier loads.

There are two compartments within the Inrigo Camera Backpack to carry your gear. While both compartments are removable, the top one is the only one I would regularly take out of the bag. Both top and bottom compartments are similar in size to a small camera bag that can easily hold a 24-70mm f/2.8 lens and a 70-200mm f/2.8 lens with a gripped full-frame camera body with enough room to throw in a speed light. Remember there are two of these compartments, so that’s four f/2.8 zooms, two gripped bodies, and two speed lights comfortably fitting within the padded compartments in the bag. The top compartment bag has a buckle top closure and a shoulder sling so you can grab and go with a smaller kit to take with you if you need to move away from the complete bag. There are also zipper compartments on three sides of the sling top bag for batteries and additional items. Within the bottom bag is a desiccant holder to lower humidity in the bag when the lid is closed. The desiccant and holder help to regulate the humidity in the bag and are the cornerstone of how the bag will maintain an environment that isn’t agreeable with mold growth and lower the moisture level in the bag, keeping your gear safe. 

What I Liked

The backpack is airtight and was able to remain submerged at a depth of 1 foot for 10 minutes without leaking.

Monitoring the inner environment of the bag via the iOS app allows you to confirm moisture levels without opening the pack.

A proper internal frame on a camera backpack! This should be on every camera backpack that is expected to hold even a modicum of gear.

Stitching on the seams and the TPU bonding on the pack look to be well made and should hold up to aggressive use. 

A vent to equalize pressure and humidity levels slowly, which reduces the most likely failure of an airtight pack. 

Reflectors on the outside of the backpack to locate it in early evening or at night. 

Space for gear inside is large and robust with an easy-to-remove mini sling bag.

Multiple points to attach additional gear to outside of the pack.

Easy to open and close top closure.

A large container of desiccant is included with the bag.

What I Didn’t Like

The yellow color makes sense, but I would prefer a darker color scheme.

Most people don’t hike and are not used to a top closure bag and will find undoing the lid to get to their gear a time-consuming process.

I’m used to roll-top dry bags and prefer them for watertight closures.

The shoulder straps and hip belt could be made with a more rigid foam material and would be even better for weight and/or long hikes.

There’s no reason to use TPU for the hip belt and shoulder areas, and this decreases breathability of the places where you’ll sweat the most when using the bag.

I would prefer the interior mini sling bag to zip close rather than buckle.

I couldn’t get the proximity alert/alarm to signal via the iOS app.

The Inrigo Camera Backpack overall is a fantastic contribution to the large assortment of camera bags available on the market today. With the list of real-world features that relate well with keeping your gear in top shape by maintaining a dry environment in the bag, the Inrigo Camera Bag would be valuable to anyone working near water or in wet environments consistently. The internal frame and padded hip belt will help in keeping your back and shoulders from baring the brunt of the weight of your gear and moving that weight to the area of the body that absorbs and balances it easiest: your hips via that padded hip belt. If you’re looking for a dedicated camera bag that’s also a dry bag and a bit of a hiking pack, I recommend taking a look at the Inrigo Camera Backpack. 

Source: https://bloghyped.com/smart-and-waterproof-reviewing-the-inrigo-camera-backpack/

[technato]

Morse Code’s Vanquished Competitor: The Dial Telegraph

In 1842, French watchmaker Louis-François Breguet invented a simpler to use but less efficient alternative

Photo: Technical University of Madrid

Over the years, I’ve played with interactive telegraph exhibits in science centers and museums. I can tap out the common ••• – – – ••• of the emergency distress signal, and I know the letters H (••••) and E (•), but beyond that, Morse code’s patterns of dots and dashes run together in my brain. Stories of telegraph operators who could decipher hundreds of characters a minute still amaze me.

Recently, though, I learned about the needle telegraph. On both the sending and receiving end, the needle or needles would simply point to the desired letter. Finally, a user-friendly telegraph system, provided the user knew how to read.

The first needle telegraph was patented by William Cooke and Charles Wheatstone in Britain in 1837. The design used a set of magnetic needles arranged in a row, with letters of the alphabet arranged above and below them in a diamond grid pattern. Each needle could point left, right, or neutral; to indicate a letter, two needles would point so as to outline a path to that letter. The sending operator controlled the direction of the needles by pressing buttons that closed the circuits for the desired letter combination.

  Image: Universal Images Group/Getty Images

No Code Needed: William Cooke and Charles Wheatstone’s needle telegraph required no special training, but its use of multiple telegraph lines made it expensive to operate.

Although any number of needles could be used, Cooke and Wheatstone recommended five. This combination allowed for 20 possible characters. They omitted the letters C, J, Q, U, X, and Z. Early telegraphs were mainly used for transmitting simple signals, rather than discussion-style communication. For example, to indicate whether a one-way tunnel was clear, an operator might send the short message “wait” or “go ahead.” So the absence of a few letters wasn’t a huge shortcoming.

Operators needed minimal training to use the system, which their employers appreciated. But the system was otherwise costly to operate because it required a wire for each needle plus an additional return wire that completed the circuit. Maintaining multiple wires proved expensive, and many British railroads adopted a version that used just one needle and two wires. A single-needle system, however, required that operators learn a code to send and receive signals. Gone was the ease of simply reading letters.

Cooke and Wheatstone must have realized there was room for improvement, because in 1840 they came out with a dial (or ABC) telegraph, whose face displayed all the letters of the alphabet. The operator selected the desired letter by pressing the appropriate button and turning the handle; the needle on the receiver’s dial would swing around to point to that letter. However, a dispute between the two inventors kept this version of the telegraph from being commercialized. Only after the 1840 patent had expired did Wheatstone return to the dial telegraph, eventually patenting several improvements.

Meanwhile, the French had been using an optical telegraph system that Claude Chappe developed during the French Revolution. It relied on semaphore signals transmitted along a line of towers. By 1839, Alphonse Foy was in charge of over 1,000 optical-telegraph operators, but he saw the need to investigate the growing development of electric telegraphs. He sent Louis-François Breguet to England to study Cooke and Wheatstone’s needle telegraph. The first result was the Foy-Breguet telegraph, which used two needles that mimicked semaphore signals.

Image: Class Image/Alamy

Watch and Learn: French watchmaker Louis-François Breguet studied designs for the needle telegraph before devising his own dial telegraph.

Breguet was manager of his family’s watchmaking company, Breguet & Fils, and not long after, he developed a dial telegraph that had both the appearance and the working mechanism of a clock [receiver shown at top]. When activated by an electric current from the sender, a spring connected by gears rotated the needle around the dial; an escapement—the toothed-wheel mechanism that in a clock moves the hands forward—kept the needle in place in the absence of a signal.

Breguet divided the face into 26 slots, with an inner ring of numbers and an outer ring of letters. The starting position was at the top, noted by a cross, leaving room for 25 letters. At the end of each word, the needle would return to the starting position. Some versions omitted the letter W; others omitted the letter J.

After French railroads adopted the Breguet telegraph and made it standard equipment, it became known as the French railway telegraph; it remained in use until the end of the century. Breguet’s system was also exported to Japan, connecting Tokyo and Yokohama as well as Osaka and Kobe. A new face for the telegraph incorporated Japanese katakana characters.

Photo: Postal Museum Japan

Big in Japan: This print depicts a Breguet system in use at the Yokohama telegraph office. The man in Western-style clothing is Scottish engineer George Miles Gilbert, who was hired by the Japanese government to oversee the introduction of telegraphy.

Of course, even Breguet’s dial telegraph was limited in the range of characters it could transmit. Operators of the needle and dial telegraphs had to somehow deal with missing letters—perhaps they just made their best guess based on context, or perhaps companies devised their own codes for specific letters or symbols. Louis-François Breguet couldn’t properly transmit the cedilla in his own name, but maybe he accepted it as a limitation of the technology.

As it happens, as early as the 1840s, Friedrich Clemens Gerke, the telegraph inspector for the Hamburg-Cuxhaven line in Germany, was noting similar shortcomings with Morse code. The code, developed by Samuel Morse and Alfred Vail in the United States, was fine for the unaccented English alphabet. To accommodate European languages, Gerke added accented letters; he also significantly revised the patterns of dots and dashes for letters and numbers, making the entire code more efficient to transmit. His version, which became known as Continental Morse Code, spread throughout Europe.

Despite the expanded code’s popularity, the International Telegraphic Union took many years to embrace it. In his 2017 book The Chinese Typewriter: A History, Thomas Mullaney describes the slow, conservative evolution of Morse code. In 1865, the ITU settled on a set of standardized symbols that were decidedly Anglocentric. Three years later, it confirmed the standard codes for the 26 letters of the English alphabet, the numerals 0 to 9, plus 16 special characters—mostly punctuation, plus the e-acute, É. In 1875, the ITU elevated É to a standard character and added six more accented letters as special characters: Á, Å, Ä, Ñ, Ö, Ü. It wasn’t until 1903 that the ITU accepted these supplemental characters as standard. Languages based on nonalphabetic characters, such as Chinese, were never incorporated, although some countries adopted their own telegraphic codes. Thus did the technology of telegraphy connect and also divide the world in new and unexpected ways.

The Breguet telegraph receiver that touched off my inquiries is on display at the Museum of the School of Telecommunication Systems Engineering at the Technical University of Madrid. The museum was started in the 1970s by a small group of professors, who scoured antique shops and flea markets to collect artifacts representing the history of communications. Rather than confining its objects to a dedicated space, the museum maintains exhibit cases in hallways throughout the school, where students, visitors, and others can stumble upon them every day.

I wonder if those who see the Breguet dial telegraph draw connections to modern technology. The set of characters on computer keyboards, for example, vary from place to place and language to language. I remember attending a student conference in Istanbul in 1998 and being unable to access my email. I didn’t realize that Turkish keyboards have both a dotless and a dotted i key, and so I kept hitting the wrong one. A few months later I met students in Hamburg who were using American keyboards to do their computer programming. They’d discovered that German keyboards of the era required three keystrokes to make a semicolon, which slowed down their coding.

Such tales are good reminders of the persistence and the fluidity of language, which adapts to new technologies just as new technologies are molded by their users.

An abridged version of this article appears in the September 2018 print issue as “The ABCs of Telegraphy.”

Part of a continuing series looking at photographs of historical artifacts that embrace the boundless potential of technology.

About the Author

Allison Marsh is an associate professor of history at the University of South Carolina and codirector of the university’s Ann Johnson Institute for Science, Technology & Society.

Morse Code’s Vanquished Competitor: The Dial Telegraph syndicated from https://jiohowweb.blogspot.com

[hottytoddynews]

Dr. Chandrashekhar Joshi is leading the fight against a disease that has revaged Native Americans across the country.

Juantina Johnson was speeding southbound toward Meridian for her daughter’s dance performance when she noticed a mother and daughter retreating from a car stranded alongside the bustling highway.

“As a single parent I know how tough it is, so I pulled over,” Johnson said.

The family, members of the Mississippi Band of Choctaw Indians, were commuting more than 50 miles to Anderson Regional Medical Center when their car suddenly slowed, then came to a sickening stop. They had been making the hour-long trip for an appointment with a specialist the reservation’s outdated health center couldn’t offer.

Johnson lent a hand, a ride, and a can of gas to the family to help get them back on their way. She never made it to her daughter’s performance.

“I didn’t feel that bad about it because I helped a family that really needed it rather than my 4-year-old daughter who wouldn’t really remember me being there any way,” Johnson said.

Many other Choctaw families, on limited income and facing health issues, have had to make the agonizing decision of whether to spend money on gas to travel almost an hour away for an appointment or to skip it altogether.

“Truthfully, that is so many of their stories,” said Johnson, the Choctaw Health Center’s chief medical officer.

“Those are the kinds of stories that really broke my heart and showed the need to bring specialists to the Choctaw Health Center.”

The new health center has a larger diabetes unit to tackle the tribe’s most serious health concern.

Years later, a new, bigger, better-equipped Choctaw Health Center, which opened in March 2015, is doing just that. Mississippi’s Choctaw, almost wiped out by European diseases centuries ago, further thinned out by federal removal to Indian Country, then ravaged again by the worldwide flu pandemic in the early 1900s, now boast state-of-the-art medical technology, consistent staffing, and a slew of specialists.

Today the tribe can offer a badly needed, much larger dental clinic with an oral surgeon, a bigger diabetes unit to battle the tribe’s single most serious health concern, and an impressive array of other services — cardiologists, optometrists, mental health counselors, WIC, pediatric dental and primary care units, 20 inpatient rooms, a vast pharmacy, a women’s wellness center, an audiology unit, pain management clinic, pulmonology clinic and more.

“In the old facility we were busting out at the seams,” CHC Deputy Director Mary Harrison said. “Here we have room for the patients and their families to be comfortable.”

The old and cramped one-story facility with baby blue walls and orange carpets, built in 1976, was built to serve 4,000 patients, less than half today’s tribal population. Its waiting rooms were so packed that sometimes people had to stand shoulder to shoulder. Some offices were the size of broom closets.

Now patients flock to a modern, three-story building with sleek, timeless colors and wide-open areas that offer more and better care, a monument to just how effective Choctaw-run health care for the Choctaw can be.

The project, on an old stickball practice eld, was a joint venture between the tribe, U.S. Department of Agriculture and the Indian Health Service (IHS). Chief Phylliss Anderson negotiated with IHS, which normally runs medical facilities on reservations, to agree to pay the tribe to operate the facility.

“The chief said we know best how to run it for our own people,” said tribal spokesperson Misty Brescia Dreifuss.

“We knew what it felt like to run out of room and so we planned this building so we would have room to grow,” Acting Health Director Tina Scott said.

Transitioning into the new center was like buying a new home. It doesn’t happen within a day, but after stepping over the threshold for the first time, it’s hard to think of anything other than the endless possibilities of what can happen within these walls.

Even the wallpaper speaks of Choctaw culture. Basket-weaving textures and diamond-shaped details frame large windows. Here, patients and staff alike have room. There are large lobbies on every floor and each patient has his or her own individual room— a bed, a couch where family members are encouraged to stay the night, and a bathroom large enough to do a cartwheel in.

“Patients have choices of where they want to go and we want to make it easy for them to choose here,” Johnson explained. “Now we are able to have patients see multiple specialists here rather than have to drive all the way to Meridian or Jackson.”

Once specialists see the facility, they’re much more eager to set up shop there.

“Build it,” Scott said. “And they will come.”

Physical expansion has also led to an expansion of opportunities. The health center is now able to control its own funding, create contracts with providers to bring in specialists, and “catch up with the norms.”

For example, “we’ve been able to have consistent staffing so they know the patients and their needs better,” Scott says.

One of those staff members is Gail Wilson, who works on the second floor in the dental unit.

Wilson, the dental assistant supervisor and long-time employee, is proud of her 16-chair clinic. She shows it off with a beaming smile.

“At the old hospital we had a four-chair clinic that could fit into our new lobby,” Wilson said.

Dr. Timothy Adams, a podiatry specialist, conducts an examination.

The place is busy, busy, busy. Most chairs are full and dentists scurry from patient to patient. People pour in for routine exams and cleanings, an oral surgeon visits every week, seeing about eight to 10 patients each time, and stickball mouth guards are molded in large quantities.

In the old laboratory, employees were crammed in like sardines, always bumping into each other. Now, the lab is four or five times larger and tasks are cranked out with ease, like making 75 mouth guards in a single morning.

The clinic is manned by 23 staff members, including five dentists and 14 dental assistants.

Wilson said if the center could secure more dentists, they’d be ready to expand immediately.

The tribe’s population is about 10,800. But as an IHS facility, the health center also serves those who are members of federally recognized tribes and their dependents.

The center also offers a spacious diabetes clinic, where the staff finds itself on the front lines of a long-term war against an epidemic that has plagued tribes across the United States. Diabetes has become such a problem that President Barack Obama extended a special diabetes program offered under the Indian Health Care Improvement Act. It provides $150 million a year for support programs.

Darlene Willis and Dr. Chandrashekhar Joshi are two of many workers striving to help the Choctaw battle the reservation’s leading health concern.

About 1,900 Choctaw have been diagnosed with the disease, especially type 2 diabetes primarily caused by lifestyle habits—poor diet and lack of exercise. About 1,600 of those are classified as active, meaning they receive services at the center at least once a year.

U.S. health care officials report a 16.1 percent diabetes prevalence rate among Native Americans, as opposed to a 12 percent Mississippi rate and 9 percent national rate. The statistics don’t adequately describe the human carnage – amputations, kidney failure, blindness, heart disease, death.

For a long time, diabetes statistics among the Choctaws were murky, but the extent of the disease has become more obvious because on the reservation the tribe is like a captive audience, making screening highly effective. At least the tribe knows what it faces.

Willis, who has been the diabetes prevention coordinator for 18 years, said when she started, only about 55 people on the reservation had been diagnosed. With more efficient screening, more people are being diagnosed and advised on ways to better their health.

The number of diabetics has remained high for decades. Things have improved in recent years but it’s a slow, long-term siege.

“Change is going to be hard. Change is hard for these people,” Willis admitted. “They’re going to do what they do. They’re going to eat what they eat.”

Traditional Choctaw foods such as fry bread and fried chicken are major perpetrators in the poor diets that trigger the disease. The diabetes unit works to teach patients the benefits of a healthier low-fat diet, nutrition, exercise, and complete lifestyle change. But Joshi says all the preaching and cajoling in the world can’t solve the problem unless patients decide to change their ways. The toughest part of his job, he says, is fixing general attitudes toward diabetes.

“People do not change because somebody tells them to change,” Joshi said. “The only solution that is left is you have to make them want to do it. Change is going to happen very slowly.”

Joshi, who has been practicing medicine for 41 years with almost 30 dedicated to the reservation, has been lovingly dubbed an “honorary Choctaw” by the staff and has big dreams for the tribe and its future.

With a growing grin, Joshi admits his dreams are not practical but he still dreams them. He describes an ideal reservation that is virtually car-free to promote walking and exercise, healthy foods on sale at the grocery store, junk food sold at inflated prices, and more.

He has genuine hope for what is to come.

“I have never really had negative thoughts in the respect that nothing will change, that things would remain the same,” Joshi said. “Sooner or later. It will take time. It will happen.”

By Lana Ferguson. Photos by Chi Kalu. 

LEFT TO RIGHT: Ariel Cobbert, Mrudvi Bakshi, Taylor Bennett, Lana Ferguson, SECOND ROW: Tori Olker, Josie Slaughter, Kate Harris, Zoe McDonald, Anna McCollum, THIRD ROW: Bill Rose, Chi Kalu, Slade Rand, Mitchell Dowden, Will Crockett. Not pictured: Tori Hosey PHOTO BY THOMAS GRANING

The Meek School faculty and students published “Unconquered and Unconquerable” online on August 19, 2016, to tell stories of the people and culture of the Chickasaw and Choctaw. The publication is the result of Bill Rose’s depth reporting class taught in the spring. Emily Bowen-Moore, Instructor of Media Design, designed the magazine.

“The reason we did this was because we discovered that many of them had no clue about the rich Indian history of Mississippi,” said Rose. “It was an eye-opening experience for the students. They found out a lot of stuff that Mississippians will be surprised about.”

Print copies are available October 2016.

For questions or comments, email us at hottytoddynews@gmail.com.

The post The Choctaw: Taking Care of Their Own appeared first on HottyToddy.com.

[fallenmoonspov]

Rose Vines

                                                                        ~The 7th of S. Earth in Alhena~

“Mother, I’ve already made my choice and there’s nothing you can do about it. I’m leaving and that’s that.” Huffing in annoyance I watched as the servant gently slid the black lace gloves on my hand. “Aurel-“ “No mother, I’m not changing my mind! Uncle Cronos has graciously invited me to stay at the Dimeria Estate and I’ve accepted. I’ve been enrolled in the Trinity Institute of Witchcraft and Sorcery which is a prestigious school of magic as you are most aware given the fact you attended there as a student yourself. Frankly mother it’s about time I integrate with other people of my kind, of our kind! After all, you are being a hypocrite. You did the same thing at my age when you decided to run off with daddy and leave your family, your home and the castor society you were born and raised in. It’s now my time to make my own destiny or at the very least try and find it.” Fixing my red cloche hat, I checked my reflection one last time in the ornate mirror. “Aurelia, my leaving wasn’t one that was a simple matter. The circumstances wasn’t, well to say the least… foreseen. There is many things you do not know and I haven’t told you because you are a baby! You have lived a sheltered life with your father and I and you are not ready to be on your own darling.” My mother was hugely against me leaving but my stubbornness I most definitely inherited from her. “I don’t know what you’re babbling about mother but I’m not a baby, I’m 16! I’m practically an adult in castor society. I have all I need and besides you make it sound like I’m going to the unknown. I’m going to be with Uncle Cronos, granmama, granaunty Esme, and the rest of the family.  Nothing you say will make me change my mind. You did live there from birth till you were my age, its not like anything bad will happen to me.” I grabbed my black purse and turned around to look at my mother. Her dark red eyes riddled with hopelessness and slight twinge of pain. Even though I had been quite angry with my mother these past few days seeing her like this overwhelmed me with guilt. I walked over to her and wrapped my arms around her tall and slender form. “Mama it’s not the end of the world, nothing bad will happen.” Kissing her ivory skin, I brushed a lock of her dark auburn hair behind her ear. She gave me a small nod of acceptance even though she was not pleased with my decision at all. “I love you, Aurelia” She whispered as she caressed my cheek. “I love you too mama.” I turned around and headed to the front doors, the carriage awaiting me at the bottom of the stairs. “I won’t be gone forever okay? I will return to you, I promise.” I swore to her my last goodbye before I entered the carriage. Her silhouette fading in the distance as the carriage took flight and left the only place I’ve called and where I’ve lived all my life.                                             ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Jolting awake from the sleep I was in, I looked around thinking we had arrived to the Dimeria’s estate but the carriage was still moving except this time it wasn’t in the air flying but on the ground. “Emily, why are we on the ground?” I asked my maid sitting across from me. “The magical barricades around the town won’t allow carriages to fly in they must ride into the town.” She answered distracted by whatever was outside the window.   “Hmm, how strange…”I mumbled to myself as I too decided to peer out the window. We had just come to a small waterfall that dropped into the forest ground creating a river below that made a path that went farther down into the forest below dividing the rocky mountains into two. A long warned out looking bridge that seemed too have been there forever was the only thing connecting the two hills together. The way the sun danced with the trees, it illuminated the shadows casted by the light of the sun as day slowly faded into night. The trees seemed to awaken with a certain magic that rustled in whisper as the slight wind passed along the secrets of the forest in an ancient dance. Moving through the woods was the announcement that I had arrived to the awaiting town of Rosewood.   “Past that bridge is where Rosewood lies, Miss.” the distant voice of Emily, reaffirmed what I concluded on my own as the magic in my veins tasted the buzz of magical energy that came from this town. What made Rosewood a very peculiar town was that it was it was a hidden magical city from the humans, or referred to as Moriens by castors. Moriens lived amongst the town but only the members of the original families that helped the founding castors families establish Rosewood as a town were told of the secret that castors lived amongst them.  Though the morien folk know us not by castors but refer to our kind as witches. My mother had told me that there were several other magical cities unknown to the morien race and each magical city was settled and established around lay lines, large sources of magical currents under the earth’s surface that feeds castors mana. Rosewood was founded many centuries ago and has the strongest lay line in Northern America. It also was the place my mother called home for 18 years before completely running off with my father and never looking back.                                            ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ An Iron gate black as onyx with an emblem of a letter D molded in all golden carats imprinted on the front stood in front of me with railings that intertwined like veins going up a tree.   We had finally arrived at the Dimeria Estate. The gates slowly opened up letting us pass on to a long winding path with large willow trees lining up both sides of the aisle. A gush of the heavy aroma of ancient magic hit me like a weight of a ton of bricks. The magic of this place was so thick like a dense layer of fog, you could slice it with a knife. Blanketing everything it touched, every inhale of air I breathed in, I could smell the scent of magic that oozed out from every pore of this ancient place. The buzz of magic in my blood increased immensely as it merged in harmony with the magic of the place like a dance of reunited lovers.   The grounds were massive and seemingly endless. Driving past the dark forest greens surrounding us, an orange glow of the setting sun illuminated the trees giving the place a very ominous look. The willows swayed softly with the evening breeze as the carriage sped down the gravel road and just up ahead was a glimpse of the Dimeria Mansion that started to peek out. We came to the circular driveway with a large fountain of gold crusted sirens circling the vase the queen siren perched on top holding a shell bowl that water came out of it. Black roses growing around the base and up along the vase of the fountain cascaded down the sirens. Taking Emily’s hand, I slowly stepped out of the carriage my eyes were in awe of how beautiful the siren perched at the top was, I was a little startled when it had turned her head at me with quick swiftness I wasn’t prepared for. A small smile creeping on the siren’s marble face told me every ounce of this place was lathered in magic, my drake senses tingling to turn and explore it. At the sound of my name being called I turned to see our driver, Felix with my bags chatting with my head maid Andria, who was sitting with him on our flight, on the other side of the carriage. I look back at the fountain to see the two sirens around the vase now had changed position and were staring at me as well but the queen siren had returned to her original pose only this time the smile hadn’t left. Finding the peculiar siren fountain simply curious, I turn to Emily and ask her to pass me my purse as I grab my golden red phoenix from the carriage. Walking over to the house with Anastasia cooing in my arms and Emily behind me, I look up to see the towering mansion for the first time.   The height of the mansion was beyond grand to say the least. The gothic Victorian architecture and intense energy of magic was captivating and flooded me with excitement. It was a blend of grand European cathedrals and old world castles all decked in black. Multiple high towers, large glass windows, the guardians of the mansion, gargoyles and statues, were standing high in the air. With red rose veins climbing up the walls and nestling along the windows and balconies it looked like a beautiful nightmare, one that I would be now calling my home. How my mother could leave this place was utterly baffling to me. “In the name of Hectta! This looks like it’s out of a dream.” Emily whispered, utterly enchanted by the grandness of the estate and also terrified of the dark magic that pulsated through the entire property. It was true, the estate was something like no other and we haven’t even stepped inside. Walking towards the grand double engraved oak doors, I was just about to knock on one of the large lion shaped knockers but the massive ornate doors creaked open.  The doors opened up to a large open space that echoed every movement you made. It was mostly dark just the orange flickers of fire coming from the fireplaces on both sides of the wall that faced each other and the light from the outside behind us illuminating our shadow. “Why is it so dark?” Emily whispered very on edge by the mysteries of the place. Just as I was about to switch my eyes into my drake form to see in the dark, the light from the ceiling appeared seemingly at our wish. Chandlers hanging in midair that popped into existence one after another in a row blazed the room in light and the darkness started fading away. Taking a step forward I was in awe of the magnificent grandeur of the room that was now that revealed by the light. The room if by any scale was not a foyer but a ballroom; the very canvas of Michelangelo’s imagination was brushed onto the solid walls of the room. Murals of the divine heavens was painted on the high ceiling resembling that of the Sistine Chapel. Laced with some sort of magic, the painting itself moved like dancers entranced by the rhythm of their partner. At the very end of the large foyer was a Y shaped grand staircase that split into two directions and was entirely made of gold. The space where the two dividing staircases met had a floor to ceiling silver crested mirror hanging on the wall. Where the fireplace stood on the wall, an antique mirror was placed on top of the fireplace reaching the very ceiling. Three plush French sofa’s surrounded the fire giving an inviting welcome. Just across from it the exact replica was mirrored by the other fireplace lounge. The floor beneath our feet was the darkest shade of black I’ve ever seen. Gazing at the black floor too long made you feel as if it was going to drag you into to its ocean of darkness. My head tilted back all the way and my mouth slighting ajar as my eyes tried to take in the bold beauty of the room and my magic tingled in a loud buzzing to the pulsating aura of the house. Glancing about the room, my focus stopped at the center table only a few feet away from the entrance door where we were standing. A large antique golden vase sat on top of a smooth wooden round table holding about two dozen roses that were red as blood. The rose petals though would darken and fall onto the table before cascading down to the floor like a waterfall creating a pile of rose petals everywhere. But after a few moments they petals on the floor would fade into the blackness of the floor. “Lady Aurelia Dimeria?” A man standing on the left side of the room just about appeared out of nowhere, started to walk towards us. The man about a head taller than me, old with age, hair greyed with time, wearing a sharp tailored black Victorian suit stood in front of us. The elderly man bowing down to me and tipping his black top hat in respects as he introduced himself. “My lady it is an honor to be meeting you. I am Xander Le Maric head caretaker of the Dimeria family. It is my pleasure to welcome you home. If ever you may need anything please feel free to come to me.” He paused and looked at me with an odd expression on his face as if his mind was seeing something of the past.   “My it’s like a vision of the past. You look just like your mother, my dear, even more beautiful than she was and she surely was quite the beauty in her youth, if I may say so myself.” A small grandfatherly smile appeared on his face that brought a smile upon mine. I recognized his name from the stories my mother told me about him. “Thank you, Mr. Le Maric, that’s quite kind of you. My mother has told me stories of her childhood here and she only ever had fond memories of you. She asked me to send her love as she couldn’t come with me to Rosewood.” His eyes instantly lit up in happiness.   “Lady Ravenna was my favorite and will always have a special piece of my heart. It was an honor to see her grow up into the beautiful sorceress she has become now and it’s my very own privilege to receive her only daughter and welcome her home.” He grabbed my hand and placed a soft kiss. “Aurelia! Oh my darling” My head turned to see who called me and the moment I registered the person I nearly leaped into their arms. I quickly handed over sleeping Anastasia for Emily to hold before rushing over to the beloved woman that had just come down from the golden staircase.   “Esme!” I shouted out in absolute delight. Her long frilly emerald night robe was swooshing around her feet as she came towards me and engulfed me in a tight embrace. She was my mother’s aunt my great aunt and I absolutely adored her. It had been several months since I had last seen her and it felt incredible to be with her again. “It’s been to long my darling but I’m so thankful to finally have you here. Oh what fun we’ll have” She released me from her embrace to cup my face in her hands and plant a motherly kiss on my forehead. Her golden emerald eyes was filled with love and warmth that instantly put me in complete ease. Though she was much older in years she looked nearly ageless and her youthful cheer was infectious. Her beauty came through the warmth of her eyes and her bubbly aura was just radiating throughout the room wrapping me in a cocoon of love and happiness. She was unlike other castors and possessed a special ability of being an empath. She feels the emotions of others and can manipulate their emotions to feel whatever she wants. “It’s about time! Merlin’s I was just about to bubble your mother and ask why you haven’t arrived yet. It’s completely inappropriate for a young lady such as yourself to be travelling at night and to arrive at such a late hour is absolutely absurd. Clearly that driver of yours cannot do the simple task of delivering my granddaughter in an efficient and timely manner.” The angry red headed woman now stomping down the golden stairs was my sweet grandmother. “Granmama I’ve missed you!” Smiling at her annoyance I headed towards her and wrapped her in a hug. “You must forgive Felix it wasn’t entirely his fault. Mother tried and failed a last minute attempt in trying to persuade me to stay and forgo my plans to come here. It obviously didn’t work but it did delay our departure.” Placing a kiss on her check I nearly forgot how irritated and angry my dearest grandmother would become when things didn’t go as according to plan, specifically her plans. A trait my mother inherited from her and I from my mother. “Meme please it’s too late to start a fuss now. Aurelia has finally arrived and that’s what we should be happy about. Everyone must be tried from their travel and it’s quite rude of you to start some drama now.” Esme exasperated at her older sister’s inextinguishable habit of always being able to find fault in others and consistently complain about it.  An older woman with greyed hair and brown eyes wearing a black dress that buttoned up to her neck and covered her arms and legs headed towards us. “Lady Esme, shall we bring in some tea and refreshments?” The grey haired woman with brown eyes stood next to Esme. “Ah yes that would be lovely, thank you Imelda. Would you also please send a maid to make sure a guest bedroom is ready for the gentleman standing there and two rooms are ready in the maid’s hall for the ladies?” The woman by the name of Imelda I presume nodded in response to Esme before swiftly leaving.   “Essie don’t start, all I’m saying is that she should’ve been here several moons ago and it is very disrespectful to keep others waiting. I raised all my children to be proper, respectable, and dignified sorcerers and sorceresses of Dimeria blood and name but I truly do not know where I went wrong with Ravenna. For her to attempt to keep my granddaughter away from me her own mother! It breaks my heart.” My red haired grandmother pressed her hand to her heart, sadness glazing over her face, her long blue robe swayed in motion as she slowly walked over to the loveseat by the fireplace and slumped into the chair. “May the heavens bestow me with patience! Will you stop being so dramatic Andromeda. Come now child, ignore the ramblings of your old grandmother.” Esme grabbed my arm and led me over to the loveseat opposite of my grandmother’s and sat me down. She tucked a loose strand that fell from her blonde hair that she had tied in a braided bun before looking at where my driver Felix, my maids Andria and Emily were standing with Mr. Le Maric. “Xander bring forth our newly arrived guests.” Esme waved them over before smoothing out her robe and sitting beside me. As Mr. Le Maric and the crew came over the woman Imelda also arrived with two maids in tow and a silver tray of tea and delicious platter a variety of foods. The maids dressed in jade uniforms with black aprons arranged the food and tea on the coffee table before bowing their heads and returning to stand by Imelda. “Excellent timing Imelda. I was just about to do introductions.” Esme smiled while pouring tea into all three of our china cups and adding two spoons of sugar for herself. I helped myself and started to place different fruits, sandwiches, and pastries on my plate dig in happily as Esme greeted my maids Andria and Emily. “Andria, Emily please follow Charlotte she will lead you to your rooms in the maid’s hall and don’t worry about your bags they have already been sent to your chambers. Imelda will come talk with you in the morning tomorrow but for now have a goodnights rest. Felix please follow Suzanna she will direct you to your room. ” Emily walked over to me and handed me back Anastasia before leaving with Andria and the maid Charlotte. Felix also shortly left following the other maid Suzanna.   “Aurelia I would like to introduce you to our beloved head caretakers. Mr. Xander Le Maric is our wonderful ever loyal and irreplaceable upstanding head and elder of our caregivers for our family. We have been blessed to have had him in our family for generations. He is the personal caregiver of our beloved head of the Dimeria family, Cronos, which you shall be seeing tomorrow, he had been called for business early this morning otherwise he would have been here to welcome you with us.” Esme addressed, warmly glancing towards Mr. Le Maric. “Xander is the head master to all duties of maintaining our household, a feat of great difficulty in this household but does with absolute dedication.” Andromeda pipped in before sipping her tea. “Thank you for your warm words of introduction Lady Esme, Lady Andromeda, though Lady Aurelia and I have already been acquainted. Nothing is more worthwhile and truly an honor to be serving the great name and family of Dimeria. My work is maintaining the order of the Dimeria businesses and grounds of the estate, my wife, on the other hand has the most responsibilities of maintaining the caregivers and servants and making sure all daily functions are going smoothly.” Mr. Le Maric bowed his head to the ladies in gratitude before looking at his wife dotingly and placing a soft kiss on her cheek. The woman beside Xander, poked his side playfully, before turning to look at me. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you child, I am Mrs. Imelda Le Marvic and as my husband stated I am in charge of the entire running of the house. If ever you may need my assistance please don’t hesitate to ask. I am here to be of service.” She curtly bowed her head to me, her light brown eyes twinkling in friendly welcoming. I smiled in her return before taking a sip of my steaming tea and taking a few bites of my food. “Thank you very much, we wouldn’t want to keep you from resting, you may take your leave. Goodnight.” Esme waved them goodbye. “I think it’s time to get down to business.” Granmama puts her cup of tea down on the table and turns her attention on me. “Andromeda, we can tell her the events of tomorrow tomorrow, there is no need to overwhelm her. It’s late and the poor child is tired. We can do this tomorrow. Matter of fact Cronos said he would speak with her.” Esme sighed. “There is no time to wait Esme. This is very crucial and she needs to know what’s happening. There is no time to wait. We’ve already wasted time she would’ve already been up to speed if she had arrived earlier.” Andromeda snapped back, glaring at her younger sister. “Wait whats going on?” I asked inquisitively. “Aurelia tomorrow is a very important day and we apologize if everything seems to overwhelming but Cronos had no choice but to rush it.” Confused on what exactly my grandmother was talking about but before my grandmother could continue a small owl popped out of the grand witch’s moon clock that stood above the fireplace mantle and started flapping its wings and hoots a chant.                                  I the night owl have come to thee                                  To signal the end of the suns play                                    But the start of the moon’s hunt.                            The twining light fades upon all castors                               I chant thee now to fall into slumber                               The ending moon has now arrived                                     Heed the night owls signal                                          The late night is gone                                           Into the 30th moon                                       Time now to fall into slumber “Aurelia darling don’t you fret, it’s quite late now tomorrow is another day and all will be announced in its time till then its best to heed the night owls signal and get some rest. Come hither I shall show you your room.” Esme quickly grabbed my hand and ushered me up the golden staircase and led me to my chambers for the night.

[technato]

Morse Code’s Vanquished Competitor: The Dial Telegraph

In 1842, French watchmaker Louis-François Breguet invented a simpler to use but less efficient alternative

Photo: Technical University of Madrid

Over the years, I’ve played with interactive telegraph exhibits in science centers and museums. I can tap out the common ••• – – – ••• of the emergency distress signal, and I know the letters H (••••) and E (•), but beyond that, Morse code’s patterns of dots and dashes run together in my brain. Stories of telegraph operators who could decipher hundreds of characters a minute still amaze me.

Recently, though, I learned about the needle telegraph. On both the sending and receiving end, the needle or needles would simply point to the desired letter. Finally, a user-friendly telegraph system, provided the user knew how to read.

The first needle telegraph was patented by William Cooke and Charles Wheatstone in Britain in 1837. The design used a set of magnetic needles arranged in a row, with letters of the alphabet arranged above and below them in a diamond grid pattern. Each needle could point left, right, or neutral; to indicate a letter, two needles would point so as to outline a path to that letter. The sending operator controlled the direction of the needles by pressing buttons that closed the circuits for the desired letter combination.

  Image: Universal Images Group/Getty Images

No Code Needed: William Cooke and Charles Wheatstone’s needle telegraph required no special training, but its use of multiple telegraph lines made it expensive to operate.

Although any number of needles could be used, Cooke and Wheatstone recommended five. This combination allowed for 20 possible characters. They omitted the letters C, J, Q, U, X, and Z. Early telegraphs were mainly used for transmitting simple signals, rather than discussion-style communication. For example, to indicate whether a one-way tunnel was clear, an operator might send the short message “wait” or “go ahead.” So the absence of a few letters wasn’t a huge shortcoming.

Operators needed minimal training to use the system, which their employers appreciated. But the system was otherwise costly to operate because it required a wire for each needle plus an additional return wire that completed the circuit. Maintaining multiple wires proved expensive, and many British railroads adopted a version that used just one needle and two wires. A single-needle system, however, required that operators learn a code to send and receive signals. Gone was the ease of simply reading letters.

Cooke and Wheatstone must have realized there was room for improvement, because in 1840 they came out with a dial (or ABC) telegraph, whose face displayed all the letters of the alphabet. The operator selected the desired letter by pressing the appropriate button and turning the handle; the needle on the receiver’s dial would swing around to point to that letter. However, a dispute between the two inventors kept this version of the telegraph from being commercialized. Only after the 1840 patent had expired did Wheatstone return to the dial telegraph, eventually patenting several improvements.

Meanwhile, the French had been using an optical telegraph system that Claude Chappe developed during the French Revolution. It relied on semaphore signals transmitted along a line of towers. By 1839, Alphonse Foy was in charge of over 1,000 optical-telegraph operators, but he saw the need to investigate the growing development of electric telegraphs. He sent Louis-François Breguet to England to study Cooke and Wheatstone’s needle telegraph. The first result was the Foy-Breguet telegraph, which used two needles that mimicked semaphore signals.

Image: Class Image/Alamy

Watch and Learn: French watchmaker Louis-François Breguet studied designs for the needle telegraph before devising his own dial telegraph.

Breguet was manager of his family’s watchmaking company, Breguet & Fils, and not long after, he developed a dial telegraph that had both the appearance and the working mechanism of a clock [receiver shown at top]. When activated by an electric current from the sender, a spring connected by gears rotated the needle around the dial; an escapement—the toothed-wheel mechanism that in a clock moves the hands forward—kept the needle in place in the absence of a signal.

Breguet divided the face into 26 slots, with an inner ring of numbers and an outer ring of letters. The starting position was at the top, noted by a cross, leaving room for 25 letters. At the end of each word, the needle would return to the starting position. Some versions omitted the letter W; others omitted the letter J.

After French railroads adopted the Breguet telegraph and made it standard equipment, it became known as the French railway telegraph; it remained in use until the end of the century. Breguet’s system was also exported to Japan, connecting Tokyo and Yokohama as well as Osaka and Kobe. A new face for the telegraph incorporated Japanese katakana characters.

Photo: Postal Museum Japan

Big in Japan: This print depicts a Breguet system in use at the Yokohama telegraph office. The man in Western-style clothing is Scottish engineer George Miles Gilbert, who was hired by the Japanese government to oversee the introduction of telegraphy.

Of course, even Breguet’s dial telegraph was limited in the range of characters it could transmit. Operators of the needle and dial telegraphs had to somehow deal with missing letters—perhaps they just made their best guess based on context, or perhaps companies devised their own codes for specific letters or symbols. Louis-François Breguet couldn’t properly transmit the cedilla in his own name, but maybe he accepted it as a limitation of the technology.

As it happens, as early as the 1840s, Friedrich Clemens Gerke, the telegraph inspector for the Hamburg-Cuxhaven line in Germany, was noting similar shortcomings with Morse code. The code, developed by Samuel Morse and Alfred Vail in the United States, was fine for the unaccented English alphabet. To accommodate European languages, Gerke added accented letters; he also significantly revised the patterns of dots and dashes for letters and numbers, making the entire code more efficient to transmit. His version, which became known as Continental Morse Code, spread throughout Europe.

Despite the expanded code’s popularity, the International Telegraphic Union took many years to embrace it. In his 2017 book The Chinese Typewriter: A History, Thomas Mullaney describes the slow, conservative evolution of Morse code. In 1865, the ITU settled on a set of standardized symbols that were decidedly Anglocentric. Three years later, it confirmed the standard codes for the 26 letters of the English alphabet, the numerals 0 to 9, plus 16 special characters—mostly punctuation, plus the e-acute, É. In 1875, the ITU elevated É to a standard character and added six more accented letters as special characters: Á, Å, Ä, Ñ, Ö, Ü. It wasn’t until 1903 that the ITU accepted these supplemental characters as standard. Languages based on nonalphabetic characters, such as Chinese, were never incorporated, although some countries adopted their own telegraphic codes. Thus did the technology of telegraphy connect and also divide the world in new and unexpected ways.

The Breguet telegraph receiver that touched off my inquiries is on display at the Museum of the School of Telecommunication Systems Engineering at the Technical University of Madrid. The museum was started in the 1970s by a small group of professors, who scoured antique shops and flea markets to collect artifacts representing the history of communications. Rather than confining its objects to a dedicated space, the museum maintains exhibit cases in hallways throughout the school, where students, visitors, and others can stumble upon them every day.

I wonder if those who see the Breguet dial telegraph draw connections to modern technology. The set of characters on computer keyboards, for example, vary from place to place and language to language. I remember attending a student conference in Istanbul in 1998 and being unable to access my email. I didn’t realize that Turkish keyboards have both a dotless and a dotted i key, and so I kept hitting the wrong one. A few months later I met students in Hamburg who were using American keyboards to do their computer programming. They’d discovered that German keyboards of the era required three keystrokes to make a semicolon, which slowed down their coding.

Such tales are good reminders of the persistence and the fluidity of language, which adapts to new technologies just as new technologies are molded by their users.

An abridged version of this article appears in the September 2018 print issue as “The ABCs of Telegraphy.”

Part of a continuing series looking at photographs of historical artifacts that embrace the boundless potential of technology.

About the Author

Allison Marsh is an associate professor of history at the University of South Carolina and codirector of the university’s Ann Johnson Institute for Science, Technology & Society.

Morse Code’s Vanquished Competitor: The Dial Telegraph syndicated from https://jiohowweb.blogspot.com