#+ tiny sliver of Patty in the first one

[katamari-of-luv]

He gets 5% more monkey every time I draw him

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 7: You Saw Me for How I Really Was

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader “Sugar”

Summary: It's everything you ever wanted but wouldn't wish for.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Explicit 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, breast play, grinding, oral sex (f and m receiving), rimming (f receiving), fingering, squirting, dirty talk, unprotected PiV sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool, even if you're an android and can't get people pregnant).

Notes: IT'S TIME. Jack and Sugar finally deserve to get exactly what they want. And with one chapter left plus an epilogue, they've got just enough time to enjoy themselves. I kept pushing out the smut because they had so much to talk about, but we know they were gonna fall back into bed eventually. Enjoy!

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

Returning to Jack’s ranch is comfortably quiet, the kiss still tingling on your lips as Jack and Jet keep pace with you and Daybreak. The sun is beginning to drift toward the horizon, and your stomach is growling even as you beg it to quiet down. Jack’s knowing smile heats your cheeks as you clop into the stables, beginning the ingrained process of stabling the horses. Each pass of the brushes and combs brings you closer to Jack’s hands, his embrace, his body close to yours again. The anticipation finally feels like excitement for the first time since you arrived, heart fluttering when he catches your eye or you glimpse a sliver of his profile. Strong arms massaging Jet’s shoulders, lifting the saddle and pulling the gate shut. The sway of his trim hips sauntering over to you. His worn fingers threading between yours as he leads you to the house hand in hand. 

“So I was thinking I’d make some dinner for us, if you’d like to stay,” Jack says cautiously, his touch delicate. You hadn’t even been considering going back to the bed and breakfast, but Jack’s deference to your comfort glows in your chest.

“Yeah, I’d like to stay,” you answer, and the crinkle of his eyes paired with him fighting back a smile urges you to walk closer. Shoulder to shoulder, you enter his home. Russell bounces at your heels as Jack leads you back to the kitchen where you bared your souls. “Can I help with the cooking?” 

Jack opens the fridge, taking out some ingredients. “I suppose if I say no I’ll catch you doing it anyway?” You give him a wink that makes you feel like a teenager, giddy at the faux sigh and head shake he returns. “Fine, I’m putting you in charge of vegetables and nothing else or Russ will give me hell for making the lady work.” Russell yips in agreement.

Jack fires up the grill outside the back door, leaving you to slice tomatoes and lettuce as Russell supervises. You toss him a bit of scrap, which he spits back out and looks forlorn over. Trading it for a piece of cheese gets you back in his good graces. The mouthwatering aroma of meat cooking pulls you to the open door, Russell joining his guardian in front of the grill.

Would you ever tire of ogling this man? He’s tied a blue apron over his button-up, a spatula in hand. The golden light accentuates his coffee eyes, the shine of his dark hair, the concentration in his brow as he flips burgers. When he shifts on his feet he pops one hip out, rounding his tiny bottom just a little more in his jeans. If hunger wasn’t so pressing you’d tear the apron off him and sink to your knees. Or wrap your arms around him while diving a hand into his pants. Maybe bend over to expose your aching…

You shake away the runaway train of your libido, awake and screaming after such a long hibernation. Everything is still so fragile, your steps mincing up to what that kiss lead to after the meal concludes.

The burgers are consumed messily and jubilantly at the kitchen table, juice dripping down your fingers and the delightful grease cut through with sharp pickle brine and cold iced tea. Russell gets his own smaller patty, clearly spoiled rotten by Jack with the way he prances for it. Jack’s eyes meet yours between the quips and banter that flows easily, his eyes still hungry in a way no meal will sate. When he slips his fingers into his mouth to lick up errant juices, you forcibly drag your gaze down. 

With dinner finished, Jack waves you off from dish duty. 

“Go take a look around, my hospitality will not allow you to also clean up.” 

Rolling your eyes you do as you’re told, touring his modest ranch with meandering steps. On closer inspection you find new delights amongst his possessions. A modern music player, a quick browse through revealing a lot of Hank Williams and George Strait. Repair manuals for what seem to be large harvesters, dog-eared and well read. A distinct lack of photos. 

Venturing further into the house, you find a neat guest bath and an open door leading to an office. A second door is shut, and your instinct tells you it’s the bedroom. While you could be bold and enter, you turn and head back to the kitchen. The water turns off, and as you round the corner back to the hallway you see it.

The third door.

It wouldn’t have stood out to you, tucked away past the bedrooms, except for the massive padlock keeping it shut. It shouldn’t bother you - Jack is allowed secrets, especially after all you know of him - but this piques your curiosity enough to step closer. From a distance you think it takes a key, but upon closer inspection you discover a subtle biometric scanner.

“Thought you might find that,” Jack says behind your shoulder, startling you about six feet out of your skin.

“I wasn’t…” you start to protest, but Jack just rubs your arm and reaches past. A press of his thumb and the lock opens, Jack making quick work of removing it and opening the door. 

“I don’t have any secrets with you, Sugar,” he says, taking your hand. His are softer now, warm from the dishwater. “If you want to know what’s in the basement, I’ll take you.”

“What is it?” you ask, clasping Jack’s hand tighter. It’s remarkable how perfectly it fits in yours. How long you’ve waited to hold it.

“Something that took a long time to put together.”

Jack leads you down into the basement, another door with another lock at the bottom. This one has a retinal scanner, hissing open when pushed. The light is cool blue, starkly different from the warm sunlight waiting for you upstairs. Your stomach twists with nerves, but you still follow. 

A few steps inside the basement reveals white tile walls and a smooth concrete floor. In the center of the room is a box, a large rectangle with a hinge on the side. You try not to compare it to a coffin. Against the wall are computer screens, silver canisters, what looks like a 3D printer encased in glass. The only noise is the constant quiet hiss of atmosphere controls and the shuffle of Jack’s feet. You tuck into your body as if your presence could jeopardize the room. He leans on one leg and chews his lower lip before speaking.

“When I left, I had a few things with me. Field repair kit, basically. But if I wanted to stay here on my own, I needed more. After I bought the place and got this room ready, I…well, you’d probably call it ‘hacking,’ but I used the mesh network to poke around in Delos’ shipping sector. Make a few crates go missing, delivered to a desert two states over. Some things didn’t make it, so I have to be careful, but all this…” He gestures to the room around you. “This is what I’m made of.”

You slowly pace the room, silently taking in the scene that’s more like the world you came from. Sterile, cool, emotionless technology. When you get close to the wall-mounted screens they hum to life, and one by one glowing cobalt text fills your vision. Progress meters, percentages ticking up and down. Lines of code that don’t make sense, but when the central screen displays a Vitruvian-esque man’s outline, it becomes clear.

“This is you,” whispers out from your slack lips, roaming over the subtly moving parts that make up the whole of Jack’s being. His heart monitor is thumping hard, vibrant red amongst the rest of his anatomy. 

“Yeah, this is all of it. All of me.” Jack stops, though you can feel the weight of the words he doesn’t say.

You can have it.

Turning back to face him, his eyes are pleading for you to understand, to not be terrified by the underground world that keeps him here with you. But instead of the manic need to run, peace finally winds through your chest like a lazy stream. You smile, and Jack’s relief brings him closer step by step.

“You did this all by yourself,” you say, both of Jack’s hands stroking up your arms as he steps into your orbit.

“It was worth it,” he murmurs, thumb worrying at your sleeve. It aches, knowing how alone you both were, knowing that he waited so long with all these feelings still burning in the heart you can so easily see on that screen.

“I’m sorry, I’ve spent the last two days interrogating you,” you laugh, smoothing your hand over his chest. Solid muscle warms your palm, his proximity tingling down your spine. “You said you had questions for me too, but I don’t think I’ve answered any of them. You deserve some answers too.”

Jack chuckles, pressing one hand to your lower back and surrounding you once again.

“Only what you’re willing to share with me, Sugar,” he says, and fuck, he means it. He’s given you every secret but he’d let you keep yours.

“Anything, Jack.”

He sucks in a breath, tongue swiftly wetting his lower lip.

“You never married him?”

“No.”

“Never found someone else?”

You’d never even considered finding someone during that year.

“No.”

“You were happy?”

Your breath hitches, Jack’s hands soothing up your back.

“I was happier, yeah. I told myself it would only get better, but…I was also lonely.”

Jack nods. “Me too.”

He struggles then, jaw working and false starting a couple times before he finally asks.

“Why did you show me the photograph?”

The maelstrom of emotions that hits you wells in your eyes. He’s holding you so close to how he did that day, albeit in a room that pales his skin and deepens his eye sockets. It’s your turn to struggle now, throat clenching.

“I thought you were going to tell me you loved me,” you half-sob, taking in a shaky breath as his eyebrows raise. “I thought it was part of the park, and it would have killed me to hear you say it when I felt…” 

Jack cups your cheek, letting you lean into the touch.

“I was gonna tell you it was real, Sugar. That I wasn’t sure what the hell was happening, but I was no longer a host and this place was no longer my home. I guess it’s good I didn’t, would’ve scared you right off.” You share a wet chuckle as your tears subside, letting Jack’s body soothe you. 

“But…” he interjects, eyes lifting back to his face. “If you had accepted that, somehow, crazy as it would have been, I would have also told you that I loved you.” 

Your mouth drops open, wonder spreading down your shoulders. 

“Because I loved you from my first breath as Jack. I’ve loved you every day since. Not because of Maeve, or Delos. I love you, and none of it is programming.”

For a long moment you just look at each other in awe before Jack’s face closes off sharply, tucking his chin down.

“I don’t expect anything, this has all been a lot…”

“I love you too.”

Jack’s eyes dart back to your face, his own stunned expression painting his gorgeous profile. 

“You don’t…”

But you wind your arms around his neck and let the peace melting through your body pass on to his. It’s as easy as breathing, as a kiss, as letting yourself stop running from the happiest you’ve ever been.

“I’ll say it. Every day. I love you, Jack.” 

Then you weave your fingers into his hair and ease his lips to yours. The kiss starts soft, Jack’s movements sluggish as he pulls you into his body. Then he takes in a sharp breath and devours you, teeth hard against your lips and tongue darting into your mouth to taste everything you’ll give him. His embrace is close to bruising, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t press every inch of your body into his. Your knees buckle briefly, which urges him to finally break the kiss and pant against your cheek.

“Sugar, I want to take you to bed and make love to you as many times as you’ll let me,” he growls in your ear, arousal nearly unbearable in your core.

“I hope you’ve got stamina enough for that, cowboy,” you shoot back, meaning it to be a sexy tease but more of it coming out as a breathless quip. He nips at your lower lip before untangling and leading you by the hand up and out of the basement. At the slam of the top door Russell bounds out of the living room, tail wagging and eyes bright. Jack curses quietly under his breath while kneeling to grab something out of a box under a sideboard. 

“Russell, man to man, do not come scratching for at least four hours,” he says sternly before presenting the pup with a handsomely large bone. He takes it and skips off to the living room. 

“Bribery, huh?” you tease as he lifts to his full height, but before you can say anything else his mouth is on yours and he’s backing you up against the closed bedroom door. 

“Darlin’, I would let the horses in the house to get you all to myself,” he says against your smile, fiddling with the knob to back you into his bedroom. The door shuts quickly behind to prevent an audience.

You barely get a chance to look at the room - two dressers, lamps, door to an ensuite bathroom - before Jack leads you backwards until your calves bump the bed. He’s dancing his lips over your neck, hands kneading at your hips.

“Tell me you want this, sweetheart,” he begs prettily, and your eyes roll up as he sucks a mark above your collarbone. Every part of you burns for him, clutching at his shirt, his shoulders, the soft strands of his hair. 

“Yes, Jack, please. I want you,” you husk, and he sighs into your skin. Thick fingers work under your top, sliding his hands up your sides and bringing the cloth with it. He tosses it on the floor somewhere behind him, wide palms supporting your back as he leans down to lick along the cup of your bra. The cool kiss of air on the wet trail pebbles your nipples.

“God, you taste good Sugar,” Jack moans while sucking another kiss into your shoulder. Your fingers find his buttons, sliding them out one by one to expose the smooth breadth of Jack’s chest. He blazes under your knuckles, muscles clenching as you ride the hills and valleys of his body to tug his shirttails out. 

“I recall you said I was the sweetest thing you ever tasted,” you tease, sliding your hand down to palm his cock through his straining jeans. He’s bigger than you remember, which was not insignificant. He’ll have to take his time, get you ready for him. Your cunt clenches at the thought.

“Damn right. I can’t wait to taste every part of you, sweetheart.” Jack tucks a knee between your thighs and wraps an arm around your waist. You’re suddenly off-balance as he leans you back, kneeling as he lays you out on the bed. His thick thigh remains between your legs, and you grind on it wantonly. “God, look at you, needy pussy on my thigh. Go ahead, baby, get yourself hot and ready.” He shucks off his shirt as you roll your hips up his thigh, denim catching on your clit and wedging your underwear between your slick folds. It’s tantalizing, Jack’s hands coming down to thumb open your pants button and slide down your zip. Gripping your hips, he guides you against him, lips parted and panting as his hair falls in his eyes.

“Beautiful, you’re so goddamn beautiful,” he praises before pulling back. You whine at the loss while lifting your hips to let him peel off your pants, underwear going with them to leave you in just your bra on the thick quilt below. Jack returns to lean over you, stealing another toe-curling kiss while he thumbs your nipples.

“Can I taste you, Sugar? Get you cumming around my tongue?” 

“Fuck, oh fuck, Jack, please.”

Hooking his arms under your knees, he slides you up the bed before dropping to his elbows, pressing a kiss to the top of your mound. Every anxiety has fled, leaving only a crackling need as he drags his nose up your inner thigh, a light lick up your slit barely parting your lips. Thighs trembling, you try rocking your hips against his tongue but he presses you back into the bed, following his own path as he meanders up and down your thighs. You hope he can see your pussy fluttering, how much arousal is gathering from his light touches. Finally he pulls your lips open with his thumbs and licks a wet stripe over your clit.

Your reaction is instant. Back bowing off the bed, thighs clenching over his shoulders, fingers twisting the quilt. Jack’s eyes rake up your body, a self-satisfied chuckle vibrating against your clit begging for more more more.

“You’ve waited so long for this, sweetheart. I’m going to make it worth it,” he promises before sliding his tongue back into your pussy. Undulating it against your needy clit tears a gasp from your throat, whines held behind your teeth. Jack’s hands splay over your thighs, digging in to keep you open and flush against his greedy mouth. Every lap of his tongue is wet, filthy, indulgent. You struggle for coherence, babbles of “so good” and “please, Jack” and “fuck fuck fuuuuuuck” all you can manage. Jack doesn’t seem to mind, mouth too busy to keep up a conversation. Instead he seals his lips around your clit and rhythmically sucks while teasing a finger at your entrance. The pressure, the pattern of his lips pulling you to the precipice of your orgasm, drives your fingers into his hair to pull him against your cunt. 

“Good fucking girl,” he growls, teeth grazing your clit before he flicks his tongue and buries one long finger inside you. The glint of hunger in his eyes explodes in your spine as you shatter on the rocks of your pleasure. Even as you buck against him he rides you to the end, draining every last drop of your orgasm onto his tongue. Spots dance in your vision, jellied bones leaving you helpless on your back as you try to catch your breath.

Just as you’re about to sit up and reach for him, another finger slides into your tight cunt and Jack blows a cool kiss of air against your sensitive clit. You shoot up with a strangled gasp, pulling Jack’s face back. His eyes are hazy pools, lips and mustache wet with you. A filthy smile dances on his lips, baring his long neck and scraping his teeth along your inner thigh.

“I’m not done here just yet,” he purrs, guiding your hand out of his hair and against his mouth. Pressing a kiss to your palm, he weaves your fingers between his and dips his face back to lap at your folds, curling into something devastating inside you.

“Fuck, Jack, I can’t…” you groan, but he shakes his head, bristly mustache scraping over your sex as he chuckles.

“Yes you can, Sugar, and you will,” he promises darkly, and before you can protest he’s rolling you onto your stomach and lifting your hips. Your cunt gapes at the loss, but he quickly slides his fingers back. His wandering lips graze along your ass before flitting his tongue against your other hole. You jerk, a sudden wave of shameful arousal both backing you up against him and jerking away. He bands his arm around your thighs and spits, the hot saliva sliding down to wet his knuckles. “I want to have you every way I can, sweetheart. Make you feel pleasure you’ve never felt before. I want to make you cum from things you never imagined.” With that he firmly licks over your asshole, long heavy strokes that match the pace of his fingers inside you. 

The oversensitivity passes until you’re aching, full of him and dripping over his hand. His appetite makes your face burn, but it feels too good to stop. Snaking a hand down, you swirl over your clit and stroke Jack’s strong fingers inside you.

“Oh fuck Sugar, is that you? You’re touching yourself? Don’t stop beautiful, I’m gonna have you wailing for me soon.” The intense stretch of his third finger sliding in stutters your hand, planting both on the bed so you can push back against his overwhelming devotions. He snarls, pounding his fingers into you and swatting at your jiggling ass.

“That’s it, baby, you get ready for my cock. I can’t wait to feel this perfect pussy around me. C���mon, that’s it, that’s my gorgeous girl.” Your eyes shut, body lost to Jack all around you as he curls and drags his fingertips against a spot inside that threatens to overtake you. With a yank your feet touch the floor, bent over the bed with Jack folded over you, pressing into that spot over and over again.

“Give it to me, Sugar, I want you all over me,” he whispers, and your mind barely grasps what he means before your orgasm grips you hard and unforgiving, gasping and wailing as wetness drips down your legs. Jack tucks you against his hot skin, cupping your mound and pressing his cock against your ass as he talks you through it, “Gorgeous girl covering me in your cum, you’re so fucking hot, so pretty cumming for me. Does that feel good? Breathe baby, you did so good, you came so good for me.”

“Jack, holy shit,” you finally manage to squeak out. He backs up from you, wiping fabric down your legs and briefly over your sensitive core before letting you sit on the bed.

What you turn to see almost knocks you out for a whole different reason. Jack stands with one hip cocked, his heather gray button-up damp with your release. It’s not the only thing soaked; his jeans, open and slung low on his hips, are dark with liquid, droplets clinging to the curls of his pubic hair. You can just barely peek the head of his cock breaching the vee of his zipper, face flushed a boyish pink as he cards his fingers through his mussed hair. 

“Oh my god, you’re…I did…” you stammer, heat blazing in your cheeks. Jack laughs, tossing his shirt to the side and running his fingers over his stomach. The shine of wetness comes away on his fingers, and he licks them delicately. You’re sure you’ll ignite any second, but he only hums in appreciation.

“Just like all of you, Sugar, oh so sweet,” he drawls. “Give me two minutes to brush my teeth and think about baseball and I’ll be back,” he adds, swaggering into the ensuite. You bury your hands in your face and take a few breaths, but they’re mostly to bring you back from your out of body experience. Realizing your bra is still on, you quickly unclasp and toss it with the other clothing, climbing up the bed and kneeling. From here you can see Jack’s back ripple as he leans down to rinse his mouth, the warmth in his eyes when he catches you in the mirror. Turning he leans in the doorframe, looking you up and down shamelessly.

“Never seen anything more gorgeous in my entire life,” he says, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops and tugging his jeans down. Stepping out of them, he comes to the side of the bed and strokes up your thigh to your lower back, tugging you close to kiss you. His mouth is cool and minty, a balm to your overheated skin, as he cups your head and lets your tongues touch in playful sweeps. Skin against skin makes you melt into Jack’s body, breasts pressed against his chest while he strokes over the span of your shoulders, the curve of your back, squeezing your perfect ass. 

Breaking the kiss, you brush your noses together.

“I’d like to ride you, cowboy,” you ask, his cheeks flushing as you nip at his chin. He chases your mouth for another kiss, letting you pull his tongue between your teeth with a stifled groan.

“I’d like that, Sugar, love to watch you on my lap,” he husks into your ear, climbing into the bed beside you. He arranges himself, propped up in the pillows and lightly stroking his cock from base to tip. Kneeling next to him, you place a kiss on his shoulder, the center of his peck, the soft rounding of his belly. His fingers still at the base as you lean over and lick the head of his cock, the musky taste making you salivate. With no warning you wrap your lips around the head, his moan spiking arousal in your cunt. You slide down his shaft, swiping your tongue along the underside and flicking around the ridge. Jack’s thighs clench, choked-back curses sizzling off your back. It isn’t until you slide to the base, relaxing your jaw and tracing the tip of your tongue along his fingers that Jack urges you off him. He replaces his cock with his lips, ravenous as your teeth clack and he pulls you onto his lap.

“Almost blew it before getting inside you, baby, you’re too good at that,” he gasps, slowing down to rest his forehead on your shoulder.

“Need me to slow down?” you ask, his head shaking in response. You stroke your fingers through his hair, pressing your cheek against his head as he wraps his arms around you. His cock slips through your folds as you rock against him, tilting your hips to catch him just at your entrance. You hold his head between your hands and pull him back enough to watch as you take just his head inside. His eyes roll back, threaten to close but he forces them open, mesmerized by the way your chest heaves, lips parted, eyes hooded as you work his cock inside you. When you throw your head back he fits his lips against your neck, leaving wet trails as he takes your nipple into his mouth. The zing of pleasure from his flicking tongue, the other nipple rolled between his fingers, urges you to sink down to the base. He releases your breast with a pop, foreheads coming together as you sit full of him. 

“Jack,” you finally say breathlessly. He hums, turning his head up to drag his lips along your jaw. “Probably a bad time to ask, but…you can’t get me pregnant, right?”

Jack snorts into the junction of your shoulder, nails scratching lightly down your back.

“Very insightful. No, I am proverbially shooting blanks.”

You let the amusement of the moment simmer down, his tongue tracing shapes below your ear, before speaking again.

“Then I want you to cum in me, Jack. I want to feel you inside me.”

Jack’s grip tightens, his thighs clenching underneath you. 

“Fuck, Sugar, I want that. Want to fill you with my seed, watch it drip out of you.” You lift up on your knees, his cock sliding through your tight pussy, before sinking back down firmly.

“Fill me up, Jack.”

Jack’s pained groan spurs you to ride him properly, your hands braced on the headboard behind him. He looks up at you like a deity, worshiping you with his work-worn hands. His thighs are slick with your arousal and sweat, making the glide even more sensual. You roll your hips to feel every ridge and vein of him inside, helpless whines slipping out when he circles your clit just right or scrapes his teeth along your nipples. 

“Darlin’, you tell me when you’re close and I’ll get you over the edge. I want to be the one making you cum, sweetheart, please let me make you cum,” he begs into your shoulder. You weren’t even sure if you had a third one in you, but every slip of his lips on your skin makes electricity crackle inside. 

“I’m close, Jack, I want you, I want you,” you babble. Jack tilts you forward, planting his feet and fucking up into you from below. He pulls you down against the force of his thrusts, the sticky slap pulling one long moan from your lips. It’s right there, just out of reach, when Jack flips you to your back, yanking your legs over his shoulders. Your eyes widen, fisting the blanket around your head, but then Jack presses your thighs to your stomach and mounts you, drilling down and…

“Oh fuck, Jack, fuck, right there, rightthererightthereright…” Your begging is lost to the scream you barely recognize as your own as Jack fucks an orgasm into your cunt, teeth gritted and lip snarled as he harshly pants above you. Your pussy clamps down and he follows with a bellow, watching where you’re connected. You swear you can feel his cum inside, marking you in a way no man has ever done before. A primal voice roars mine and his in one sound, and your eyes must be as wild as his are because when they meet he’s crushing his mouth to yours, roughly licking in and swallowing down your weak pants. By the end he’s whimpering into your mouth, softening inside but loathe to move from the tangle of limbs. His arms surround your head, stroking at your cheeks as he watches you closely. Yours are too weak to lift yet, but you let one drape over his back. Fingers trace delicate patterns on his sweat-slick skin. 

“Is it okay if I say it again?” Jack asks. You hum curiously, his body settling into yours. 

“I love you,” he murmurs, eyes darting away shyly as his thumb strokes the corner of your lips. You smile wider, a feedback loop of happiness.

“I love you too, Jack.”

And in that moment, that’s all either of you need.

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[nicholas-the-paleomancer]

@iamthepulta @harvestar Ahh. When roleplaying games turn into group therapy. That whole fucking was nuts on my end. Ok, so keep in mind that I had six players in that campaign and that it wasn’t even supposed to be a campaign. I had a left over idea from an old Fallen London story that never got off the ground but I really liked, so when Patty was all “I think my sister is weird” I thought ���Perfect! I know just how weird she’s going to be. Gonna be a sick-ass story about a human reincarnated as a verdant, life-giving eldritch horror. Dope. And that’ll help me introduce some of SSkies’ cosmology with the gods, the Judgements, and the Liberation…” I had NO IDEA that she had gone full brain-rot in the background.

So, we kick off the story arc and I’m immediately bombarded with 10K words and growing of backstory that eventually turned into the fanfic of a fanfic you all love. It was SO MUCH MORE than the short backstory I was first provided with. Fun fact: I got Arthur’s name wrong. It was supposed to be Alexander, but I mistakenly thought it was Arthur, so here we are. I remember at some point having to tell Patty that “Write as much as you want, but for the sake of all our sanity it is gonna be apocryphal from here on out.” After a few sessions, I realized That Can of Worms was being opened and it totally changed how I was going to play the characters. The campaign version of Arthur is way more complex and less irredeemable, for instance. Morgan was also a bit more megalomaniacal and conniving, too.

Oh, and Patty, you’re WAY underselling how metal Morgan was during the Battle of Port Prosper. She came to play with a whole Chorister Hive, several Scrive-Spinsters, and at least one actual Curator. She also screamed Correspondence at you all “with the sound of a cracked open nuclear reactor” and was bending space-time so that ya’ll would fall up. If I had been a bit more experienced of a game master, I would have let Elijah die. That PC got off lucky because I was too intimidated to kill off one of my players’ characters. Morgan also created a Logoi to chase you through the Transit Relay and would have finally killed Arthur if not for Westlie giving up her soul.

Like I said. Metal.

Honestly, I’m a really big fan of earning a happy ending to everyone’s story, so you can bet that Morgan and Westlie reuniting was always in the cards (as long as Westlie didn’t make some catastrophically bad choices). I loved that arc, because it served as a prologue for later events. If Morgan is what a tiny sliver of a Judgement’s soul-mass in a human being can do, what happens when the party gets tangled with the Halved, or the Saphir’d King, or the Clockwork Sun? Marion was transformed by that quest, Selmer and Sebastian died from that quest, and Mallory was redeemed by that quest. Westlie, Elijah, and Morgan found purpose, and Lizzie found family (but not in the way you’d think, reading Patty’s awesome story).

The Story of Morgan

@harvestar

So our Skyfarer campaign was supposed to be a oneshot put on by the extremely generous @nicholas-the-paleomancer, but we loved it so much we decided to keep playing (and it didn't seem like the pandemic was going to end anytime soon).

We broke it up into seasons. Midway through Season 1, the DM asked all the PCs a very innocuous question: "Did your character have anyone they were particularly attached to growing up?" and I was like- "Hm. I suppose... a friend? sister? Idk, kinda estranged because Arthur keeps her busy. Maybe kind of weird too?" and the DM went SURE THING. I KNOW WHAT'S UP WITH HER.

In the moment, I kinda nodded- yeah, cool beans; we're definitely going to have some sort of flashback next session. cool, cool cool- Wait. Westlie's definitely crushed about having a sister she left behind, isn't she? Oh she definitely is- Oh god, Arthur is such a dick, what happened? What does her sister even look like?

Which IMMEDIATELY AND VIOLENTLY kicked off a stream of not-yet-named Morgan and Westlie brainrot. We had the episode, which was a completely normal episode with a small flashback, instigated by the Storm-that-Speaks. Then we continued playing and finishing Season 1.

In the meantime, I slid rapidly downhill as I panicked about Westlie becoming captain, her new sister Morgan, (getting chased by the Glorious was, funny enough, not at all something Westlie or I worried about?). I wrote a whole bunch about Westlie's backstory, Morgan's backstory, them together, Arthur trying to pry them apart, and then Season 2 started.

Season 2 opened with Westlie getting a letter from Arthur that said, "Morgan ran away. You should probably find her. Also bring her back because I need someone to be my heir now, btw fuck you."

I dissolved.

In game, New Winchester was in the middle of a siege and we were hired by a Revolutionary party to carry information there. (We as a party had accidentally kicked off a second war with the Reach in Season 1), and we hoped that news about Morgan would be there too.

That was the longest fucking seven sessions in my entire goddamn life and the most deranged Westlie I have ever had the pleasure of being.

I had nightmares about them. Westlie and I were convinced that Morgan was all right (because she was always all right) but haunted by the thought she might not be. And even when we finally reached Leadbeater, IT TOOK TWO SESSIONS TO GO IN THE FUCKING JUNGLE. I SWEAR TO GOD @nicholas-the-paleomancer.

At one point I texted the DM past midnight sniffling, begging him not to plan to kill Morgan off, or at least make it feasible to rescue her because I couldn't stand the thought of them never reunited.

In the meantime, as I was dissociating watching my mental stability plummet from the pandemic and a bad living situation, I started wondering why the fuck I was so worried about it. And... that was a can of trauma worms I absolutely did not expect to uncover.

So we found Morgan. She was not okay, but I rolled like garbage on all the conversations that mattered, so Westlie was oblivious to the signs until Chorister bees with Morgan riding one, attacked the Pyrrhus. Then the rest of Season 2 was a deep depression and feral resolution to get things back to normal until we succeeded. xD

But the brain rot did not go away.

It's still here. 👍

(Please feel free to chime in if desired, @nicholas-the-paleomancer.)

[staticscreenwriting]

thinking only autumn thoughts - Billy Hargrove

Synopsis: Autumn is magic. Billy is soft. 

A/N: I don’t even know what this is I just liked writing it. Please let me know what you think. Thanks :)

“October Country . . . that country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and mid-nights stay [...]

That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain. . . . “

Hawkins Indiana isn’t a spectacular town by all means. It’s small and old and boring. It’s not particularly pretty to look at either with it’s peeling paint and rusty nails and dirty shop windows.

But there’s a certain time of year, just a few days almost over by the time you realize it, where things change. It’s a feeling in the air. A whisper in the wind. A scent that reminds you of childhood memories you thought long forgotten.

It’s when all is painted in the last hues of reds and orange but fall knows it’s time to go and let winter take over. The air is cold a crips and nips at your nose and blushes your cheeks but it’s still warm enough to take walks along the fields.

That’s when he met her. He was new in town and angry. Always angry. And sad. And she was — alive. Even now, years later, he’s not sure what he ever did right for things to fall into place the way they did that night.

He was hanging out at yet another party of yet another classmate he didn’t give a shit about. And he was miserable and bored and filled with teenage angst and repressed emotions. And there she was, in the middle of a crowd, ripped jeans and a madonna shirt and bright pink lipstick. Her hair was permed to the max and she wore the ugliest hoop earrings he’d ever seen. It wasn’t like he fell in love with her then, but there was something about her that intrigued him. She looked like a downright mess. Like she was the physical embodiment of how he felt inside. Hell, she was drinking one of those disgusting wine coolers. If that doesn’t scream misery to you, what does ?

He saw her again, a few days later. Sitting on the front porch of her house, just a few down from his. She looked sad again. Still beautiful. And when she caught his eye, she started to smile. Her hair was flowing in the wind and her cheeks were flushed and the tip of her nose was red from the cold and Billy, for the first time in his life, thought that maybe he was falling in love.

Things changed that day, when they started talking. About the weather and school and Hawkins and their shared hatred of the town and how all they wanted was to get out.

They spent that night together, at the playground behind their houses. Just talking. About the misery of a lost childhood and a fuck up youth. About their families and how messed up they were. About mother and the absence of those. About heartbreak and life. And love.

And since that night things were never the same again.

Every year for all the years he’s spent in Hawkins Indiana that was his favorite time. Because she seemed to come alive then. With her hair flowing in the wind and Halloween gone and forgotten and Christmas still a month away she was — almost weightless.

And every Thanksgiving, when the nuclear families stepped up a notch in pretending to be perfect, they’d suffer through a fake display of familiar love and comfort waiting for the right moment to slip away and meet up.

The diner was almost deserted that night, obviously. Families had better things to do than have their Thanksgiving meal at the local diner with the soggy fries and the burned burger patties. But to them it was good. It was everything.

He told her he loved her there. With the pink neon lights lighting up her face like she was a character in the Blade Runner movie.

And she told him she loved him back.

It was a good time in Hawkins, the bridge between fall and winter. Where things are cold but they felt so warm inside.

Only winter inevitably came. And it came with cold and fury and heartbreak.

It’s years later that he gets to witness another Thanksgiving in Hawkins. Another magical moment between fall and winter. Only it doesn’t seem to magical when he arrives.

The occasion isn’t a happy one to begin with. It’s not the long awaited bonding of his patchwork family. No. He’s not being welcomed with open arms.

He’s welcomed by a frail looking Neil in a hospital bed hooked to machines, connected by tubes.

His dad is dying. That’s the inevitable truth of it all and Billy has no idea how to feel about this. This situation is so strangely familiar but so very different.

When it was his mom, he was a kid and he didn’t know shit about life and death and mortality. He just knew that his mom was there one day and the next she was in the hospital and then she was dead and he was sad and angry.

This time he knows so much more but his head is still kind of empty. As is his heart. His mother’s passing hit him deeply. She was this wonderful woman who held nothing but kindness and love in her heart. Neil is an abusive asshole.

But he’s still his dad and no matter how much Billy tries to deny it, he’s still just a broken boy asking for a sign of approval, a hint of pride, a tiny sliver of love from his dad.

All he gets is a snarky remark about his new haircut and a snort when he tells Neil about his job at a center for troubled youth.

So he bids Max and Susann goodbye and goes to the one place that holds good memories for him.

Only when he enters the diner it’s not a good feeling that washes over him. There’s the nostalgia of what this place holds sure, but it all feels less magical and way more sad when he has to face it alone.

He asks for a piece of pumpkin pie, which he doesn’t even particularly like but (Y/N) always loved it and some stupid ass part of his brain thinks that maybe that can bring them closer even if she’s not here.

“ You look like you could use some company “ Clarice, the waitress says but Billy declines. Not because he doesn’t like her, in fact she’s always treated him nicely when im and (Y/N) came around, no he’s just really shit at small talk. And that’s what she’s gonna expect from him.

So she walks off and for a moment he’s left alone with his soggy fries and a U2 song playing over the stereo.

Then the clicking of heels catches his attention and it’s just ridiculous how fast his heart starts to beat when he looks up and is greeted by (Y/N) walking towards him. Like it hasn’t been years since they have last seen each other. Like they haven’t broken up a long time ago. Like their last meeting wasn’t yelling and tears and heartbreak and throwing clothes out of windows.

But it all feels like a lifetimes ago. Like it happened to two completely different people. And all that’s there right now is this immense warmth spreading through his body and consuming him.

“ Hi “ she says and smiles and suddenly the diner isn’t so sad anymore.

She looks so different. Her hair isn’t permed anymore and the lipstick is now red instead of hot pink and she’s wearing gold studs instead of pink hopps but there’s still that shimmer of wonder and passion in her eyes and she’s still smiling like the girl she used to be. She’s a different person now but she’s still everything good in the world. At least to Billy.

“ Hi “

“ Can I sit down ? “

What a question.

“ Of course “

They’re quiet for a moment but there’s a tension building. Like the air before a thunderstorm. Electric.

“ I like the haircut. It suits you, I always told you. “

She had. But the mullet was his thing. The physical rebellion against his dad’s stupid rules and restrictions. Also he looked fucking cool and anyone who says differently is clearly wrong.

“ Thanks. You look — “ Billy knows he’s biased.This girl is part of all his happy memories of the last few years. She could be wearing a paper bag and shave her head and dye her eyebrows green and he’d still think she is gorgeous.

“ — good “

That’s fucking lame, honestly. But his heart is beating way too fast to come up with a proper answer.

“ Clarice called me, thought you looked sad. Like you could use some company “

They just fall back into conversation, like nothing has happened. Like they’re old friends who don’t have a shit ton of baggage. Who don’t have a backstory. Who didn’t love too fast, too hard, too much.

“ … and he’s dying. We know it. He knows it. I just — I feel like I should be sad, you know ? Like I should feel something. But I don’t. I don’t even feel relieved I just feel indifferent “

By the time they get to his father’s condition they’ve shared 3 milkshakes and (Y/N) has finished his piece of pumpkin pie.

“ Does that make me a bad person ? A bad son ? “

When she places her hand on his in comfort, Billy thinks he might die of a heart attack. Also he thinks he’s being fucking ridiculous. What is this ? A stupid John Hughes movie ? Fuck no.

“ Absolutely not ! This man has been making your life a living hell, Billy. You don’t have to be sad about him dying. I mean I get why you’re not happy, he’s still your dad. But you don’t owe him sadness. You don’t “

He hasn’t realized until now but she’s right, he felt like he might be owing Neil a certain kind of reaction. Sadness or pity or a hint of gratitude for — well for what exactly ?

“ He might be your father but he never stepped up to actually do his job as a dad. You’re allowed to feel the way you feel about it. “

Life gets overwhelming for Billy a lot of times. It moves too fast and sometimes he feels like it’s all spinning out of control. Like the world is turning and he’s gonna fall off. And then his breathing gets fast and his heart starts beating and his palms get clammy.

A girl from the youth center, Emma, she feels like that too, she told him. She’s 7 and she’s smart and she’s dealing with a family so much like his own, it breaks his heart. “ But then I think of my sister and my friends and my favorite song and the feeling in my tummy when I ride the teacup ride at the carnival and things don’t seem so bad no more “.

Billy looks up at (Y/N) and thinks of what they’ve been through and kissing her for the first time and them dancing to time after time at the prom he didn’t even want to go to but did anyway and had a good time and about the feeling of holding her in his arms during those magical fall nights. And then things don’t seem so bad no more, indeed.

“ Why did we break up ? “

If he’s being quite honest with himself, he knows why. It’s not one specific reason but an amalgamation of so many things. They just seem so pointless and trivial in the grand scheme of things now that he looks at it all as an adult.

“ Because we sucked “

“ We didn’t “

“ Yeah we kinda did. Billy we were both so caught in our own teenage angst and felt so miserable all the time. We were toxic for each other “.

“ What are you talking about ? You were the only thing in my life that wasn’t toxic. You were the only good thing ! “

“ See ? That’s the problem. We were so dependent on each other. I was waiting for you to fix me and trying to fix you at the same time. That’s not healthy, Billy. “

It’s the truth now that he thinks about it. While they were together, Billy hasn’t really made a move on bettering himself, not really. Yeah he’d calmed down considerably but none of those positive changes he’d ever given himself credit for. It was her that changed him and her he changed for.

And maybe his love wasn’t what made her life better either. Maybe that was all her doing. Maybe it was just growing up.

“ Do you really think we were that bad ? “ he asks and he’s scared of the answer. He doesn’t for one minute think about her regretting their time together.

“ If you’re asking me if I would do it all again, knowing what I know now. Then yes. Because I loved you Billy and when we were good we were spectacular. “

A silence settles upon them again as Billy ponders about their relationship. He’s glad she doesn’t regret giving him a chance. He doesn’t think he could live another day knowing the one person that showed him love in the last decade regrets just that.

“ So I told you why I’m back, why are you back ? “

If there’s one person that hates Hawkins just as much as he doesn, it’s (Y/N). Seeing her back here all grown up and mature, really surprises him.

“ I felt homesick. I know my family isn’t perfect but ya know, distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that shit. “

He might’ve not seen her in years but Billy can still tell she’s lying. Some things never change.

“ That’s bullshit. You hated Hawkins, what changed ? “

(Y/N) cracks a grin because of course he could tell that she wasn’t honest. It’s Billy.

“ I don’t think I hated Hawkins as much as I hated myself in it. It was just easy to blame everything on the town and the people except of taking a look at myself, you know ? “

“ Sure, doesn’t answer the question though “

“ Well, remember after prom when we sat by the quarry and you asked me what I wanted to do after school and I told you I wanted to write a book and you told me you wanted to help kids who are going through what you went through ? “

“ I do “

It was the first night Billy ever told anyone about his plans for the future. He wasn’t really one to spill his guts to people, still isn’t. So this meant a great deal. Especially since he didn’t really believe his plan was ever going to come true anyway. But she had been so honest and vulnerable with him then, it only felt fair to give something back.

“ I have been trying to write this stupid book for years and I just feel blank whenever I start a new idea. So I really started thinking about what it is that I want to write about, what makes me feel. Sad, angry, happy — just anything, really. And it all came back to Hawkins. Hawkins and you “.

Billy doesn’t think he’s the kind of guy people write books about. He’s not special or intriguing or even particularly funny. But this is (Y/N) and she’s always seen him differently.

“ So I came back here, for Thanksgiving. For the red leaves and the cold wind and that short time a year where things seem — lighter”

So it isn’t just his nostalgia clouded imagination that makes that time of year look magical to him, if she feels it to it must mean something. Anything.

“ You were always happier that time of the year and I could never figure out what it was “

“ It’s when I met you “

It’s like a thunderstorm rolling through his body. Lighting strike to the heart. He’s played this scenario over in his head for so many times but never has he thought he was the reason for her happiness. That he made such a difference.

“ I still love you “

That’s the fundamental truth of it all, really. He loves her and he’s never stopped. Not saying it out loud seems like a disservice to both of them.

He’s not become a better man for her, he did that for himself. But the better man he is now, he’s deserving of her love. He’s someone that’s good enough for the woman she is now.

“ Do you think we still stand a chance ? “

She softly takes his hand in hers again, her hands still so much smaller than his and way softer, way warmer.

“ The kids we used to be ? Absolutely not. We can’t go back to that. But the people were are now ? I don’t see why not. I like who you are now. I like that you went out and did what you always wanted to do. That you’re so soft on the inside and loving and that you put so much effort into helping kids. I like that you still show up here when your dad is sick even if you have every reason not to. I could love you now. “

Really that’s enough for him.

“ Can I kiss you “

She nods and leans towards him. And she feels warm and tastes like pie and cigarettes and her.

And suddenly the magic was back, full force. And no winter and no cold and no frost would take it from him this time.

It’s another late fall a year or two later when they sit on a swing set much like the one behind their houses when they were younger and more bitter.

Her hair is still flowing in the wind the way it always did and he cheeks have not lost the subtle blush brought on by the cold.

One gloved hand holds on to the chain of the swing while the other grabs tightly to the book she’s reading from. Aloud and with so much passion and love in her voice, it makes Billy’s heart grow 3 sizes at least.

It’s a special time of the year for a different reason now. All of the year is magic now that they’re together again with no underlying anger no repressed sadness, no misery. Just them.

It’s special now for it’s when she holds the finished product of many sleepless night in her hands. Of tears and frustration and more love and passion and longing that she could ever properly describe.

And Billy, he holds the other special thing in his arms. The one that graced them just a few weeks earlier when the air was still warm. She’s tiny and perfect and she’s all Billy and (Y/N) ever wanted in life. It’s her first fall, her first time on a swing, softly rocking in her father’s arms. Her first spark of magic.

“ … and as they sit on the porch, coated in the golden glow of a setting october sun, all is well and warm in their hearts. For maybe obstacles had to be overcome and mountains had to be climbed in order to end up here. Sometimes people meet at the wrong time in life when things are cold and bitter and filled with a sadness that is too much for two people to contain. But sometimes, and they both know how rare these are, sometimes there’s a right time. A second chance. For people who are meant to be together. They were granted such a chance and so they took it, reaching out and grabbing it and never letting go, ever.

So that october evening, with the red sun setting upon the horizon they were both so very aware that with all odds against them, they still managed to come out just fine in the end. Like boats against the current they managed to reach the shore, not unharmed but alive. Maybe more alive than ever before.

And with the waves it washed away the hurt and the bitterness and all that was left was them and love and magic. “

When she finishes reading she looks up at him with a shy glance. She’s nervous. This is the most vulnerable she’s ever felt. This is years of work and dreams she’s been harboring for a lifetime.

“ Do you like it ? “

“ You wrote a book about us “ Billy says and smiles.

“ No “ (Y/N) replies “ I wrote a book about love, we just happen to have a lot of that in our lives. “

Hawkins Indiana isn’t a spectacular town by all means. It’s small and old and boring. It’s not particularly pretty to look at either with it’s peeling paint and rusty nails and dirty shop windows.

But there’s people here that can change things, that make it worth it. It’s a feeling in the air. A whisper in the wind. A scent that reminds you of childhood memories you thought long forgotten. It’s the smile on her face when she looks at Billy and the sound of his daughter’s heartbeat and the love that surrounds them. Always. He knows it sounds cheesy but there’s no denying that it’s all a little magical.

[batkatbrown]

Gt Merman AU C2

Jesse swam back to the large rock on the right side of his tank and dipped low to find his chosen hidey hole. It was just big enough for him to squeeze in and curl into a tight bundle. His belly was full and he allowed himself to relax against the stone. The water was warm and clean in his gills and for a moment, he almost felt like himself again.

He woke at midnight as if by the chime of a clock.

The witching hour grew around him and the magical symbols glowed around the tank. They shimmered and flickered as the witch’s power ran through the glass and iron bindings on the edge of the prison. He could hear her cackle still and he curled tight around himself with a whimper.

At least his new master was kinder than his last.

He held onto that sliver of hope through the dark of the night.

Sleep was strange in the weightlessness and he still struggled to get rest. He was awake before his master, rising to the sunny rock above the water under the light. It was brightening to simulate dawn and he rolled in the fine sand and warmth.

He took time to scrub himself down yet again. Dull scales fell out of his tail as he rubbed sand over it and he carefully gathered them. He washed each one in the water and set it carefully aside. It was hard to part with them and he wished he looked better.

Gently worked his hair with the sand, he scoured away the grease and rank of the old tank he couldn’t get out earlier. Untangling it took longer and he delved into the task to avoid the ravaging hunger coiled in his belly like a beast.

Hanzo appeared on soft feet, the vibrations only stirring the water around his fin the slightest amount. His hair was done and curling around his face. The mark of a ponytail worn too long put a strange kink in it and exhaustion colored the man’s face.

“Goodmorning sweetheart,” Jesse called, knowing that the sound came out as babbling chitter. Another cruel twist of the witch’s curse.

“Why hello there,” Hanzo purred the words and they rumbled around jesse. “Good to see you up and enjoying yourself.”

“I would enjoy myself more with some breakfast?” Jesse raised his hand up, and then to his mouth.

“Hungry? Me too.” Hanzo chuckled and dipped a fingertip into the warm water near him.

Jesse pushed off the sandy rock and nuzzled the digit happily. Hanzo smelled good and he sank his teeth into the tough callous on the pad of his index finger. Playfully gnawing at it, he soothed any sting with happy little pats. The salt on his master’s skin was delicious and something primal and insticual demanded he gather as much as he could. Kissing and licking, he gulped down the gritty resource with a coo of pleasure.

Hanzo hummed in response and wiggled the digit. Jesse wasn’t having it and hugged his arm around it. He put his cheek on the warm solid weight and pouted up.

“Okay, Okay, i’ll get breakfast going.”

Hanzo lifted his hand from the water and Jesse wrapped himself around the finger as hard as he could. “Don’t leave. Please.”

“Do you… wish to come over to the kitchen?” Hanzo looked puzzled, his head tilted to the side and blinking sleep from his eyes.

Jesse eagerly nodded and when that didn’t get the response he wanted, he switched to slapping his tail loudly against the water’s surface. “C’mon, Darlin, let me be close to you. Closer to the food? Please?”

Hanzo glanced around the room and Jesse started to wilt. He would be regulated to his tank and left to starve until Hanzo had eaten and completed his morning. Maybe not even fed until that afternoon or later if the man remembered. It was a familiar type of loneliness.

“One moment,” Hanzo’s voice was pitched low and thoughtful. He pulled away from the tank and walked into the kitchen. Jesse was left to drift in the warm water and pushed against the glass in the shelter of swaying plants. The shadows let him hide away, free to stare as Hanzo checked in different cabinets and dragged out a skillet and a rice cooker.

A large pot that he filled with water before pausing to scroll through his phone for a few minutes. The sunlight filtered through the large window over the gas stove and a light breeze stirred the dangling collection of warding charms, dried herbs and living vines that had overtaken the space.

“You’re a weird one,” Jesse sighed, absently gnawing on a leaf just to give his mouth something to do. He was so hungry. He would kill for a hunk of meat and the bright bitter tang of blood.

It always started the same way, the hunger, the need. He tried to stop it, biting his lip and pushing down the urges. He just needed to eat something. Shoving the leave into his mouth he ground it with a low, bubbling growl. It helped some and he spit out the paste to fill his fanged maw without the thick stem of the plant instead.

The fibrous strands burst apart under his powerful jaw, watching Hanzo shape sausage patties. Fire burned in Jesse’s chest at the bloody scent of pork and the hulking figure of pure muscle and meat handling it.

A long, wiggling tongue slide past his lips, licking at the water as if he could taste the man himself. His pupil grew slitted and narrowed as he tracked each movement. The gentle sway of his tail in the water promised a deadly burst of power and speed if the glass had not been in the way.

His claws scratched the smooth surface as Hanzo approached the tank. His blood was hot and loud in his veins, pounding against his brain. Watching Hanzo pick up a piece of barely cooked meat and lower it to the water’s surface.

The human said something, a cooing bubbling sound that barely registered. Jesse burst out of the water and swiped the glob of meat and diving down to death roll around it. He slashed it and ripped the meat in a frenzy. The water bubbled furiously around him and grew dingy. He destroyed his prey thoroughly before skimming chunks of meat from the water. It was harder to eat with just one hand but he stuffed himself quickly.

As soon as he cleaned the water of the bits of meat, more was placed carefully on the lamp warmed rock. He raced through the water after it, splashing to show his dominance before beaching himself.

The meat tasted better without the water and he shoved his face down into the pile. Too eager to waste with manners, he stuffed himself on the offering. When it was gone, another replaced it and he fell on it just a furiously.

It went on and on in that fashion, the expression on Hanzo’s face unreadable, until it was finally enough. Jesse gasped for breath in the sands, realizing he’d been eating so fast he had forgotten to get enough air.

It sickened him.

He was too full to move, face down on the sand with the lamp heating his back. He wished he could hide from his master’s gaze. The tank water was dirty with meat and shredded plants and he hated it.

“Feeling better, Jesse?”

The little merman could only nod and slap his tail against the water. He put his hands on his slightly swollen middle as the fires inside him cooled. It was almost chilly now, despite the lamp and warmed water.

Hanzo settled near him with his own plate of food and Jesse was left to warm himself under the light. He stayed there on dry land until Hanzo had eaten his breakfast, it gave him time to digest a little and the madness fall away.

He slipped below the water’s surface and swam to the bottom. He kicked up the sand and gravel at the base of the rock with his tail. Wiggling into the little hollow, he tucked himself up and looked up through the waving strands of flora. He remembered the taste of leaves and the hard crunch of the stems. It was for the best that he was locked up where the curse couldn’t turn him into a real monster.

“Jesse? Do you want to come out?” Hanzo’s voice rumbled above him and his pretty face appeared. A dark strand of hair cascaded down and wavered on the surface. It glimmered with the lamp light.

Jesse agreed with a slap of his tail on the bottom of the tank. He wanted to be held and soothed and made to feel normal but there was a fear in the back of his mind. He was dangerous.

“I need to clean your tank, Jesse,” Hanzo murmured, mouth curled into a gentle smile. “I have prepared a pot of clean water for you to relax in while i work.” Hanzo lowered his finger into the water and wiggled it like a tasty worm.

Jesse was lured out of his hidy place, slowly stretching up to bump his head against the fingertip. He didn’t push passed the surface, just nuzzling the rough skin. His powerful tail kept him in place easily in the water and he used his webbed hand to trace the swirl of Hanzo’s fingerprint.

It twitched agianst him before Hanzo was suddenly gently petting him. Jesse froze, a great gulp of water rushing into his gills. The touch was so careful, patting at the curve of his shoulder and down his back. A light stroke had him shivering and arching his back into it.

Ripples of pleasure spread out from the warm caress and he bunted his head and shoulders up against the touch. A second finger joined the first and he was delicately grasped between them. Fear zap through him and his ribs expanded in anticipation of a cruel squeeze. Water gushed off his scales and back as he was lifted out of the tank and settled into Hanzo’s other hand.

He wriggled in the man’s palm, fearfully clutching whatever he could grab. Heaving breathes shook his frame and he struggled to breathe air. The surface of the shelf was so far below and he was slippery and small. He wrapped his tail up and around till he covered himself with his flashy red fin.

Hanzo murmured to him in a foreign language, tone soothing. He couldn’t stop shaking, feeling each tiny shift in Hanzo’s hand beneath him. “Please, shit, please put me down or somethin’. Fuck,” he swore and slapped the smaller fins by his hips down against hanzo’s palm.

“Do not fear, Jesse.” Hanzo’s fingers curled over him in a comforting cave. “It is alright. I am not going to drop you.”

“I don’t know that.” Jesse grumbled but he did pull the edge of his fin back a little so he could peer up at his master.

Hanzo stroked Jesse’s chest tenderly with his index finger. It was warm and solid and he found himself melting. It brought a flush to his cheeks and something wild and rough thickened in his veins. He indulgently rolled his hips and tail to reposition himself. It felt safer with his back pressed to Hanzo’s curled fingers and his tail lazily wrapped around his thumb.

Hanzo brushed against his stomach and traced over one hip. He laughed and snorted as it tickled. Hanzo joined him, the sound deep and rumbling. It made Jesse’s heart leap and thunder in time. He flashed his tail, showing off the red and gold flecked scales.

“You’re a handsome merman,” Hanzo praised, sending shivers to the tip of Jesse’s fins. It was followed with tender caresses over his belly and down the curve of his side. Jesse rolled to grab it with his good arm and he bumped his nose and face against the first knuckle.

“You are mighty fine lookin’ too, Hanzo.” he flashed a roguish wink and smile, full of sharp teeth that could rip through flesh and bone.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

[recentanimenews]

Why AMVs Remain A Crucial Part Of Anime Fandom

  If you go to YouTube and search for "naruto amv what ive done linkin park," the results go on and on ... and on. YouTube doesn't really do the "Go to next page" thing anymore, instead opting for the modern, popular "infinite scroll" technique, but by the time I got done sifting through people's attempts to combine Sasuke with the main theme of the 2007 Transformers film, the little scroll bar was just a tiny sliver and my browser was steadily slowing down, begging me to end the pain. By the end the results had become a bit blurry, not just because I had found multiple Naruto AMVs set to Puddle of Mudd's "Blurry," but because the dam had burst, giving way to anime adaptations of Linkin Park's whole discography.

  It's this way for a lot of major songs and major anime series. Let's try out a few. Ummmm, how about "lmfao party rock anthem one piece amv"? Check. What if we searched for "somebody that i used to know gotye bleach amv"? Check. Next up, let's dial in "closer the chainsmokers my hero academia amv"? Check. OK, for the last one, let's see "bad guy billie eilish demon slayer amv"? CHECK. 

  So, obviously editing anime clips and setting them to popular songs is a long and proud tradition. If YouTube was around back in 1986, we'd probably be able to find "fist of the north star on my own patti labelle amv." (Please, someone, cut that one together.) But why is it so popular, aside from the euphoric knee jerk response of "Oh man. I LOVE this anime and I LOVE this song. It's like peanut butter and chocolate!"? To put it simply, I think it comes down to a mix of self-expression and analyzation.

    The first one is obvious. You're editing together various clips in a way that flows seamlessly when arranged to music. When the bass drops, Luffy punches some goon. When the slow guitar floats in, you fade into a picture of Naruto sitting sadly on his little swing. When the rap interlude drops and Pitbull begins shouting about Miami, you do a bunch of quick cuts that turn into a montage of Goku being generally awesome. And when the chorus bursts in, the two fighters' fists collide.

  It's creativity applied to someone's already creative work and shaping an effective one is harder than I'm making it sound. If a clip goes on too long, you may as well just turn it off and go rewatch the show. If it's just a flurry of iconic shots with no real structure or rhythm, the viewer will probably back out and find another AMV. Though you're doing different jobs for different results, your AMV has to be edited with the care that was taken to edit the anime itself. 

    AMVs also allow people to specifically evoke the themes of an anime that they feel the strongest about. A lot of Naruto Shippuden is about people coming to terms with their actions, good or bad, and then figuring out how to pursue a worthwhile life afterward. So, of course, a song about "what I've done" is going to feel like a natural extension. I searched for the general "one piece amv" and it immediately led me to a bunch of Water 7/Enies Lobby clips set to a cover of "Holding Out For A Hero" (Shrek 2 soundtrack REPRESENT). That's pretty apt, too: Nico Robin has decided that she is worthy of life and so the Straw Hat Crew is gonna rescue her to help her preserve said life. I also wondered what something like Berserk would give me, and I found one set to White Zombie's "Super Charger Heaven." Not too much of a leap to see how a song about a "devil man," souls, and demons could apply to Guts. 

  These are just a few examples, but no matter your taste in music and your taste in anime, you'll likely be able to mix and match them and find corresponding emotions and motifs. 

  It's an exploration of subject matter that proves that you don't need to pen a lecture-style essay in order to illuminate the importance of a story. And it's the reason why the best AMVs hype you up so much. Because when it comes to your personal feelings on a certain series, the song GETS IT and the creator of the AMV obviously GETS IT. It's fandom in its purest form - people sharing their enthusiasm with one another. And in an age where you can display your love of something on a place like Twitter only to get a thousand replies of "Um, no. You're actually wrong for enjoying something that way," AMVs are more necessary now than ever. 

      In short, AMVs are an important contribution to the worldwide anime community, providing an outlet for creativity, critical thinking, and joy. I hope they last just as long as anime does. So ... forever. I hope we get Naruto set to Linkin Park until the sun devours the earth.

  Have you ever made an AMV? Which anime series has the best AMVs? Let me know in the comments!

      Daniel Dockery is a Senior Staff Writer for Crunchyroll. Follow him on Twitter!

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[readingraebow]

Dark Places Section Three

Libby Day (Now) - Libby Day (Now) (approx pages 246-345)

1. What kind of place does Runner live in? What does he tell Libby happened the night of the murders? He lives in an industrial sized mixing vat on the edge of an abandoned government project. It's a toxic waste dump that's basically filled with aresenic. So, yeah, now he lives there. And he tells Libby that he thinks Trey helped Ben murder his family. He says that Trey was a bookie looking for his money and since Ben was with Trey that day, he thinks they went to the Day house looking for money and, when they couldn't get it, murdered the whole family. And Runner also tells Libby about Diondra's pregnancy and that he thinks they might've killed her as well.

2. When Patty goes in Ben’s room, what does she find under his bed? What does she do with it? She finds all the little girl underclothes that Ben bought for the baby. And since they are in such varying sizes, Patty just assumes these are the underwear from all of his "victims" that he kept. At this point, she just assumes everything she heard at the Cates house is true. And because she doesn't want the police to find everything, if it is true, she burns all of the underthings in the fireplace.

3. What did Trey and Diondra take Ben to do? Why was he afraid to take the first swing? They took him out to kill a cow. But first they did some prayer thing to the devil and then Diondra went first and started stabbing the cow. Then Trey started in with his axe. But Ben just stood there, watching. He didn't want to join in because he didn't know what it would feel like. Because, he figured, it would be like all the other things he'd tried: weed, alcohol. He knew if he got a taste for killing, he wouldn't be able to stop. So he didn't want to start. But he did. Eventually, he did join in and help.

4. What did Lyle tell Libby about his past that he hadn’t told anyone else? The fires in California in 1999 were started by him. He was a kid, out playing in the woods behind his house. And he was playing with a lighter, just trying to see how close he had to get to light the foxtails on fire. And then he looked back and everything behind him was burning. And it was so windy that it was blowing the fire to other parts of the forest until, suddenly everything was on fire. And he tells Libby because that's what drew him to her story. He thought she might've been like him. Just a kid who made a mistake but whose actions had big consequences.

5. Who is Polly Palm? Who is Crystal? Polly Palm is Diondra. Back when the murders occurred, she used to use her "stripper" name (the name of her childhood pet + the street she grew up on) whenever she ran away from her parents and needed a different name. Well, she was reported missing shortly after the murders and she's been using that name since, living in hiding. So that's the name she's using when Libby tracks her down. And Crystal is the baby she was pregnant with when the murders happened/when she disappeared. Crystal is Ben's daughter, Libby's niece.

6. Why did Ben and Diondra come back to Ben’s house to get money? Who was in the doorway of Ben’s room listening, and what did this person hear? There were a bunch of messages on Diondra's answering machine about Ben molesting little girls and when Diondra heard them, she assumed Ben was going to be arrested and didn't want him to wait around for that to happen. So she decided they were going to run away. She said she still has $200 but they'll need more if they're going to disappear. So Ben says he has some money he's been saving and he says his mom always has a couple hundred hidden somewhere around the house. So they go back to the house to look for money and while they're looking, Michelle is waiting outside the door. She overhears that Diondra is pregnant and says she's going to tell their mom. Diondra chases her down and strangles her. And Ben literally just stands there watching??? He halfheartedly tries to stop her but then he just ends up standing there, with his hand on her shoulder, while she murders his sister. WHAT????

7. What do we learn Patty did to help with finances for Ben? So to help save her family and her farm, Patty hired the Angel of Debt to murder her so he kids could collect the insurance money and, if Ben was arrested for the molestation, legal costs. But it all went horribly wrong. When Diondra was strangling Michelle, Debby went looking for her mom to get help but instead found her mom being murdered. And the Angel of Debt had made it clear that no one else could see his face so he picked up an axe and started hacking at Michelle. Then he found the already loaded shotgun because he thought that would be easier and came back and shot Patty. After he left, Diondra decided to "help" (or something? I still have no idea what she thought she was accomplishing) and she drew all the Satanic stuff on the walls and threw food around and it was her footprint they found (she had giant feet and wore men's shoes) and her blood on Michelle's sheets (finally the DNA evidence everyone wanted!). And she told Ben to go look for Libby (so it was Ben's voice she heard) and bring her inside so they coULD KILL HER TOO so then Ben would be a victim and everyone would forget the molestation thing and he could collect the insurance money all by himself and he could take care of his family. Instead he went out, saw Libby and yelled for her to stay where she was (great plan since it was FREEZING) and went back to help Diondra and also erase any evidence of her being there (he went around and wiped up footprints and her fingerprints). So, basically not what Patty had planned to help her family out AT ALL.

8. What did you think of the ending of this book? Did you see it coming? How do you like this book in comparison to one of our previous reads, Gone Girl? I honestly absolutely hated the ending of this book. I thought it was stupid. Hiring a hit man to kill you so your family can collect the insurance money and then leaving your sister to pay to raise your four children is a stupid, cowardly way out. And Ben standing by and watching his crazy girlfriend murder his sister, DOING NOTHING TO STOP HER, and then going to prison for her and protecting her for 25 years is equally stupid. So I hated the ending and it honestly made me hate the rest of the book as well (though I was getting there on my own with how poorly paced the middle was). And compared to Gone Girl, I liked this one a sliver more. I don't flat out hate it, the way I do with Gone Girl. This book had exactly one redeeming quality for me that puts it a notch above Gone Girl: I didn't guess the ending in exactly five minutes so that was, at least, better. But, honestly, Gillian Flynn mysteries are just not for me. I still kind of want to read Sharp Objects just to be absolutely sure (and because I really want to watch the show) but if that one also falls flat, then I'm done. I just can't do popular mysteries. I really can't. They're all so, so unbelievably bad. *curls up with an Agatha Christie to set the world right again*

  Section Three Reading Journal

*sigh* So as you can see, I hated this book. And I’m honestly really annoyed that that ended up being the case because I really was liking it at the beginning. But then the horrible pacing happened. And then, the worst ending OF ALL TIME. (That’s not true. Please see my review of Little Disasters on Goodreads for that gem.)

Anyway, I can’t begin to even tell you all the ways this book made me mad. Because there are so. many. A few of them I’ve already detailed but that might take more explanation.

So. The one thing I did actually like about this book is that I didn’t flat out guess the ending from the beginning. I thought it was weird that Michelle was strangled and the other two were more ~connected. But I didn’t immediately guess that there were multiple killers. I did catch the Angel of Debt at the beginning though and put that together with Patty when the foreclosure happened. And I guessed Diondra killed Michelle pretty early on. (Though for quite a while, I honestly thought she killed them all.) But Debby was the one I could never make fit. So, for that tiny little mystery, I do give this book some credit.

Not that I liked any of it. I honestly don’t know how a book could take characters that I didn’t really ~like but, at least, didn’t mind (though Patty I did actually like until the end) and make me flat out hate every single one of them in the span of about 30 pages. Because all of their motives were absolute crap and they were all so fantastically weak. And I literally wanted to just Silver Linings Playbook style chuck this book right out the window.

But let’s break this down. Patty is about to lost everything and instead of sticking around and figuring it out (she had a sister who loved her and would’ve helped her get back on her feet, I guarantee it), she decided to just die and leave her kids to be raised by someone else. As any good mother should. Ben hated his little sister but also seemed to hate his girlfriend (he said himself that if he would’ve run away with her, he probably would’ve killed her when she got on his nerves) and his future child, who he never even wanted, but stands by and allows his crazy girlfriend to kill his sister and then protects her in prison. Because that seems normal. (And even though he wasn’t a molester, he definitely was a pedophile and I hated how the book pretty much glossed over that???? Straight up making out with an 11 year old and getting off on it is not normal. That’s Cement Garden territory.)

Then that brings us to Libby. Because I could’ve almost forgiven all of her quirks and how she just allowed herself to be the victim for her entire life and never even try to move on or care about anything more than money. But then she forgave her niece. I’m sorry. SHE TRIED TO KILL YOU. And you knew her, what, ten minutes before that? And had a family bond with her already? Crystal was raised by an actual psychopath. That messes a kid up. But, instead, she’s just going to let her go. I’m not saying Crystal needs to be in jail (that’s more Diondra, not as much Crystal) but I’m saying she could probably use a lot of therapy to undo all the damage done by her mother and by letting her off the hook, Libby is basically saying that her behavior and her mother’s teachings are alright. And they’re not. So what’s going to stop Crystal from becoming her mother in the future? And possibly also becoming a murderer.

So. Short story about how I flat out hated every character when I finished this book all because of the ending. And toward the end of section two/the beginning of this section this book honestly got pretty hard to read. Because I was bored. The pacing in this book was absolutely terrible and so much of it was unnecessary. A good mystery is short and to the point with the mystery buried in the details, not under a pile of crap that you hope distracts the reader (or bores them) enough to not catch on. And Gillian Flynn has never really learned how to do that. But, then again, the people who have made popular mysteries bestsellers seem to not have noticed that. Probably because the best written mysteries are not popular. And that’s honestly sad to me.

Anyway, if this movie is still streaming somewhere I’ll probably watch it. Because I really do like the cast. (Hi, I watched the first season of Good Girls and I love Christina Hendricks and I watch to watch all the things she’s in now so THAT’S WHAT I’M HERE FOR.) And I’m kind of hoping the movie cleans up this mess of a story. Though, honestly, there’s no fixing that ending. *sigh* So, if I do end up watching it, I’ll be sure to write a review here.

But, now, I’m going to read something I actually like. And I’m so, so glad this book is finally over so I can be on to other things. It’s been a rough few days.

[jimdsmith34]

Vietnam street food: 10 essential dishes

(CNN)Not only did President Barack Obama sample some of Vietnam’s finest local eats in Hanoi in May, but his guide was none other than “Parts Unknown” host Anthony Bourdain.

“There is no better place to entertain the leader of the free world, in my opinion, than one of these classic, funky family-run noodle shops you find all over Hanoi,” says Bourdain. “Dinner and a beer costs about $6. I’m guessing the President doesn’t get a lot of state dinners like this.”

President or not, you don’t need a celebrity guide to make the most of this nation’s eats.

Bourdain teaches Obama the art of the noodle slurp

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The cheapest and one of the most delicious places to find Vietnamese cuisine is in a traditional open-air market.

Here, single-dish food stalls, run mostly by women, offer finely crafted dishes passed from mother to daughter for generations.

Ready to pull up a plastic stool?

Here are 10 foods that will give you a perfect introduction to Vietnam’s best street eats.

1. Pho

What list of Vietnamese cuisine would be complete without pho?

It’s almost impossible to walk a block in Vietnam’s major cities without bumping into a crowd of hungry patrons slurping noodles at a makeshift pho stand.

This simple staple, consisting of a salty broth, fresh rice noodles, a sprinkling of herbs and chicken or beef, features predominately in the local diet — and understandably so.

It’s cheap, tasty and widely available at all hours.

2. Bun cha

Pho might be Vietnam’s most famous dish, but bun cha is the top choice when it comes to lunchtime in the capital.

Just look for the clouds of meaty smoke after 11 a.m. when street-side restaurants in Hanoi start grilling up small patties of seasoned pork and slices of marinated pork belly over a charcoal fire.

Once they’re charred and crispy, the morsels are served with a bowl of a fish sauce-heavy broth, a basket of herbs and a helping of rice noodles.

Bun cha sets often come with the delicious nem cua be — fried crab spring rolls.

Still not convinced? It’s what Obama ate during his night out with Bourdain.

3. Xoi

Savory sticky rice is less of an accompaniment to meals in Vietnam; it is more a meal itself.

The glutinous staple comes with any number of mix-ins (from slivers of chicken or pork to fried or preserved eggs), but almost always with a scattering of dried shallots on top.

4. Banh xeo

A good banh xeo is a crispy crepe bulging with pork, shrimp and bean sprouts, plus the garnish of fresh herbs that are characteristic of most authentic Vietnamese dishes.

To enjoy one like a local, cut it into manageable slices, roll it up in rice paper or lettuce leaves and dunk it in whatever special sauce the chef has mixed up for you.

5. Goi cuon

These light and fresh spring rolls are a wholesome choice when you’ve been indulging in too much of the fried food in Vietnam.

The translucent parcels are first packed with salad greens, a sliver of meat or seafood and a layer of coriander, before being neatly rolled and dunked in Vietnam’s favorite condiment — fish sauce.

Not ready to give up on the fried ones?

In the north these fried parcels go by the name nem ran, while southerners call them cha gio.

The crispy shell surrounds a soft veggie and meat filling.

6. Bun bo nam bo

This bowl of vermicelli noodles — widely popular in Hanoi — comes sans broth, keeping the ingredients from becoming sodden and the various textures intact.

The tender slices of beef mingle with crunchy peanuts and bean sprouts and are flavored with fresh herbs, crisp dried shallots and a splash of fish sauce and fiery chili pepper.

7. Cao lau

This pork noodle dish from Hoi An is a bit like the various cultures that visited the trading port at its prime.

The thicker noodles are similar to Japanese udon, the crispy won-ton crackers and pork are a Chinese touch, while the broth and herbs are clearly Vietnamese.

Authentic cao lau is made only with water drawn from the local Ba Le well.

8. Banh mi

The French may have brought with them the baguette, but Vietnam takes it to a different level.

How, exactly, depends on what end of the country you’re in.

In the north, chefs stick to the basic elements of carbohydrate, fat and protein — bread, margarine and pat — but head south and your banh mi may contain a more colorful combination of cheese, cold cuts, pickled vegetables, sausage, fried egg, fresh cilantro and chili sauce.

9. Bot chien

Ho Chi Minh City’s favorite street snack, bot chien is popular with both the after-school and the after-midnight crowd.

Chunks of rice flour dough are fried in a large wok until crispy, and then an egg is broken into the mix.

Once cooked, it’s served with slices of papaya, shallots and green onions, before more flavor is added with pickled chili sauce and rice vinegar.

10. Ca phe trung

Vietnamese “egg coffee” is technically a drink, but we prefer to put it in the dessert category.

The creamy soft, meringue-like egg white foam perched on the dense Vietnamese coffee will have even those who don’t normally crave a cup of joe licking their spoons with delight.

In Hanoi, follow the tiny alley between the kitschy souvenir shops at 11 Hang Gai into the clearing and up several flights of increasingly dicey stairs to pair your ca phe trung with an unbeatable view of Hoan Kiem Lake.

source http://allofbeer.com/vietnam-street-food-10-essential-dishes/ from All of Beer http://allofbeer.blogspot.com/2018/01/vietnam-street-food-10-essential-dishes.html

[iamtaylar-blog1]

FINAL PROJECT!!! In the project I present my memories about culture food in my hometown. I did sketches different kind of food and some special ingredient in recipe. It looks like the old CD that present the documentary film about cultural food in western Vietnam. The documentary film has 3 parts. The first part I want to show where do Vietnamese get food. Second part is some famous food. Finally, it is the recipe from my grandmother.  In the first pages, it is sketches of traditional Vietnamese market. Vietnamese traditional markets come in different forms and sizes, from a tiny and basic hamlet market, to a more substantial village market, which takes place where roads meet, or a town market, which also has proper shop houses. Secondly, I did the sketches about Vietnam’s national dish a the country’s great staple is pho, a noodle soup eaten at any time of day but primarily at breakfast. The basic bowl of pho consists of a light beef or chicken broth flavoured with ginger and coriander, to which are added broad, flat rice noodles, spring onions and slivers of chicken, pork or beef. Furthermore, it is vermicelli with fired tofu and shrimp paste, is consists of noodles with tofu, pork belly and shrimp paste. It is one of the most popular street foods in Vietnam. The shrimp paste is fermented ground shrimp and sun dried. Additionally, the grill pork is one of popular food for every family in my hometown in the weekend. Essentially a small hamburger, the pork patties are barbecued on an open charcoal brazier and served on a bed of cold rice noodles with assorted foliage and a slightly sweetish sauce. The Vietnamese Baguette is really popular in Vietnam; it also has another name "Saigon baguette or Fried pork bread". People usually sell bread in small stalls on the street-side. Depending on customer’s needs, the seller will offer lots of types. Common varieties are chicken bread, omelette bread, shredded pork skin bread, grilled pork bread, juicy crushed pork meatballs bread. If you are vegetarian, you can enjoy it with vegetable and tofu. It is one of reasons why traditional Vietnamese food is really delicious. Another part is the recipe of sizzling pancake. It is one famous food from my hometown, These enormous, cheap and filling Vietnamese pancakes contain shrimp, pork, bean sprouts and egg, which is then fried, wrapped in rice paper with greens and dunked in a spicy sauce before eaten. Through the project, I had chance to share to everyone the culture food in my hometown. I got more experience in sketches. At first time, I wanted to use the Vietnamese traditional hat for sketches. However, it was hardtop find it in Melbourne. I changed my ideas that I would make the CD. I did not colour it because it is old documentary film. The hard part for me is handwriting. I am happy with my final project.