#(now that i can eat more food i am going to get so delightfully stuffed again. i miss chlebíčky. im gonna eat like 20.)

[frostbite-the-bat]

its december! this means its DONT STARVE TOGETHER TIME!!!

[butterfly-buck]

Parent Guidance Recommended

word count: 3,281

focus characters: Pacifica Northwest, Fiddleford H. McGucket

warnings: child neglect, implications of alcoholism, implications of infidelity, mugging, knives, threatening, generally awful people

summary: On the worst birthday she’s ever had, Pacifica finds herself seeking support from a source she’d least expect; the new owner of the once-Northwest Manor, her own former home.

Pacifica was turning fourteen on the Fourth of July. A perfect birthday. Perfect girl. Perfect family.

Her parents would throw a party. Like any Northwest party, with gorgeous, itchy lace ball gowns and impeccable etiquette, each word in every conversation spoken with flawless flow, with purposeful posture and respect-demanding mannerisms. A perfect party for perfect people, with perfect food prepared.

After claiming her designated ruby-studded chair at the dinner table, she would be shocked when her plate was revealed to her. Deep-fried Roareos. Stacked in a small sweet-powdered delicious heap in front of her, chocolately, cream-filled cookies, dipped in batter and deep-fried to perfection. Sugary. Messy. Pacifica had never had it before. How did her parents know she wanted to try it?

She turned her head to cast a quizzical look to her parents, who’d been watching her, holding each other with loving smiles directed at her. A warm feeling spread inside her like warm butter. She reached for a fork.. but hesitated, and hovered her hand over the plate instead. She casted another glance at her parents to see their reaction. No cold response was elicited so far. In fact, she could have sworn her father nodded in approval.

She delicately picked one of the cookies up with her thumb and forefinger, and raised it to her lips to nibble at it. Her senses were flooded with warm, sweet goodness. Just as amazing as she imagined. She stuffed the rest in her mouth, going so far as to lick her fingers. Her lips were coated with melted cream. She neglected the napkins beside her plate to instead lick the sugar mixture from her lips. Barbaric. But her parents didn’t seem to mind either of the actions. She thought she even heard an amused giggle from her mother.

“Sweetie, would you like your presents now or after you’re finished?” Priscilla— no, this was Mom— asked. Pacifica paused. She had a say? Were they not on a schedule? She supposed if she was given the option, she would love to open gifts while she snacked on the rest of the Roareos.

“Now, please,” the young blond girl responded. On cue, one of the butlers was beside her, placing a neatly-packaged gift box on her lap. A beautiful purple silk ribbon sat on top, holding it together. She couldn’t recall the last time she felt so eager to reveal its contents.

What was inside? Some comfy clothes? Paint, perhaps? A cute animal plush that would contrast the creepy porcelain dolls in her room? The possibilities were endless.

Delightfully, she tugged at it. The box opened. As she peered inside, her excitement dissolved. The warm feeling turned to ice.

The bell. The one her father carried on his person at all times. The one that willed his command in the mansion. The one Pacifica hated. Suddenly Preston was standing over her, slowly picking the bronze item up.

Loving smile gone, replaced with a disapproving, even disgusted scowl. She shrank in her seat.

“Pacifica Elise Northwest,” he boomed. “So it’s true. You’re mingling with the common, ignoble crowds these days.”

“No!” she found herself crying out. “It’s not like that! I have to!”

“Have to what? Work a lowly job as a waitress in that slobbish cesspit? At that- that disgusting, sorry excuse for a dining destination? THAT’S NOT ACCEPTABLE EVER. How can you call yourself a Northwest? How can you call yourself our daughter?”

The very first thought she woke up to was that it was too good to be real.

Tangled in her sheets, warm tears trickling down her cheeks. She sniffled and quickly wiped them away before slipping out of bed.

The house was dark. Silent. The clock on the wall read 7:52. Her parents’ bedroom was empty as she passed. It smelled of wine. They would not be back for a while. Pacifica found herself releasing a sigh, her tension easing a little, even if that meant she’d be spending her birthday alone for the very first time. She leaned against the doorframe and closed her eyes, trying to recall the good part of the dream, trying to revive the taste of the sugary treat, but it was gone. Soured by the unreality of it. All it was doing was making her hungry belly ache.

When checking the refrigerator, cabinets and pantry and coming to the realization that all that was left was a loaf of bread, a half-empty tube of Bringles and a couple dinner kits. No breakfast food. Not even a single egg. Not even leftovers. Something like despair and disappointment blossomed inside her. She would have to eat at the diner again…

She snagged her wallet from the counter only to find her twenty had disappeared, leaving only a couple measly ones and fives and whatever coins were loose inside. She felt the tears building a little again and slapped the wallet shut to try to stifle them. There was a time she had nearly everything, but now after Weirdmaggedon, she couldn’t even trust that her own hard-earned cash wouldn’t be snagged if left around her own greedy birthgivers. Her strength was being sapped by the will not to burst into a sobbing fit. There was enough in there to cover breakfast at work when she got to Greasy’s, at least.

With her belly still growling, she changed out of her nightwear, threw on her apron and a pair of aviators and began the walk to work.

The day was a bright one, sunny and a little breezy. A pleasant temperature. It did not reflect how Pacifica felt. Despite the summer weather, she pulled her scarf over her head, casting shade over her face. The neighborhood streets were mostly void of people, every house gated off. Just because they lost the mansion did not mean the Northwests were living in squalor, but her spending money was strictly monitored. Her parents now enforced that any money she spent, she’d have to earn. A fourteen year old. A child. Just so her birthgivers could ensure a few extra dollars in their account.

Pacifica couldn’t help but feel the fanciness of the neighborhood was almost deceitful. Her own household was a prime example. Her own rumbling tummy was a prime example. She wondered if there were others who lived in these houses that had similar problems as hers. Unlikely here.. however there were definitely others, people who’d been pushed to extremes just to get by.

Whether that was the reason behind why Pacifica soon found herself being followed halfway through the trip, she didn’t know. The feeling of being watched intensified by the minute, and glances into the reflections of shop windows told her there was a person. They refused to let up for at least a couple of blocks, the likelihood that they were just going the same direction by chance was steadily decreasing. They probably saw her leaving the wealthier neighborhood. The young girl picked up her pace. It did her no good.

The next moments were a blur. Her arm was snatched. When she struggled, a slice put a stop to it. Her arm began to bleed. Something sharp pressed to her throat, stiffening every muscle in her body. Vulgar language was hurled at her, demanding cooperation before her purse was yanked from her shoulder, and she was thrown to the curb. She was left winded, bruised, panicked and hyperventilating. She struggled for her breath back.

Mugged. She’d been mugged for the few measly dollars she had on her. And the fact that her first thought after all that was concern for what her parents would think that she let those precious dollars be nicked in the first place.. it only increased her distraught. Her breaths hastened more and more, and she didn’t realize her tears had finally started to flow until she was already sprinting down the street, her vision muddled. Every step felt like thunder to her ears. Home. She just wanted to go home. Maybe she couldn’t be herself as much, and maybe she was always busy, under constant supervision. But at least there was stability. At least there was certainty of the future. At least it was comfortable, at least there was always food on the table, breakfast, lunch and dinner. At least her father never stumbled around reeking of alcohol while only Lord knew where her mother was. Maybe her parents weren’t the best to other people but at least she could be certain they were true to each other. At least she could pretend everything was fine.

Pacifica wasn’t sure how far she’d gone. She was sweaty, she felt gross and sticky. Her legs were sore, threatening to give out if she went any further. She was still bleeding. She ached everywhere. But she’d reached her destination. She stood at the bottom of a familiar, long driveway, and at the top, sitting on a large hill, towering over the town stood the proud family mansion. Waves of nostalgia and sorrow crashed over her. Everything felt so gross. Every memory tainted by the knowledge of her parents’ true nature. She couldn’t even speak to anyone, not even her parents. Who would listen to a rich brat whine about how she used to be richer? Certainly not any of the townsfolk.

She found herself staring at the manor for a while, not entirely sure what to do.

“...What am I doing here…?” Pacifica whispered, sniffling and reaching for the tissues she kept in her purse, only to be hit with the whirlwind of events that had just happened again. Her arm stung. She could barely hold herself upright. She felt so… so tired. She meekly wiped her nose on her sleeve, and started to turn around when suddenly she bumped into someone.

“Wo-ah there, kiddo, careful, better watch where ya—” a cheerful voice piped, before cutting itself off when the sight of Pacifica in her disheveled state registered. “Huh? Hey.. Ah’ know you.”

Color drained from Pacifica’s cheeks. This guy again.. Why was he here? She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks as she tried a witty remark, but — “Y-y-ea-h, well-, wh-o w-ou-uldn’-t-” — ultimately failing when her quivering body wouldn’t stop heaving sobs. Again she sniffled. Disgusting. In front of the hillbilly too.

McGucket’s face morphed into something like sympathy. He kneeled down to her height. “Ah- hey, what’s goin’ on kiddo? Are ya alright?”

Pacifica parted her lips. She wanted to say yes. Her instincts screamed at her to say yes. She could practically hear her birthgivers demanding her to say yes. She had to be perfect. She had to be flawless. She had to be stoic, proud, happy, for her family.

But that’s not what came out.

“n-NO!” she cried, her knees finally buckling as if the years of abuse weighing down on her shoulders finally came crashing down on top of her. Her face buried in her hands, sobbing violently into them. She wasn’t okay, she wasn’t okay, she wasn’t okay. Wails and cries escaped. She couldn’t stop the tears anymore. She was in so much pain, she was so alone. The sobs wouldn’t stop. The raging storm of emotion only continued to demolish her walls, clawing at her pride and self esteem. Everything she pretended to be crashed and burned at that moment.

Fiddleford had been a little stunned by the sudden breakdown, but he started to piece the situation together from the bits and pieces the poor girl was babbling. He didn’t get up and walk away like Pacifica was expecting him to. He stayed put, even placed his hand on her shoulder to try to console her. When she didn’t flinch away from him, the old man started rubbing circles on her back as she cried and cried. Fiddleford never was the best at comfort.. though he could only imagine how long this outburst had been bottled up, and he thought it best that Pacifica let it all out before trying to say anything.

It was a while before Pacifica’s sobs began to calm enough to allow her to speak in more coherent sentences. The story became clearer. She spoke about how her parents had mistreated her, like she was an accessory rather than a human being, a literal child. How things had been getting worse this past year since they were forced to move due to her father’s irresponsible stock market decisions during Weirdmaggedon, to preserve what fortune they had left. How she felt more at home at the diner than she ever did at her own residence. How she hardly saw her parents anymore. How everything had changed for the worst. The way her parents had become about money, even how they scolded her for ‘nagging’ about her birthday the previous day, when it had been the first time she brought it up in half a year. It all hurt terribly to speak of but Pacifica couldn’t help but notice the sudden weightless feeling after getting everything out. She was surprised to find Old Man McGucket was still listening.

“Y’know,” he spoke finally, “Ah knew a fella once who thought ‘e had everythin’ before ‘e lost it all too. ‘Should’a been there for ‘im like he needed.”

Pacifica was quiet for a moment. “..W..ho was he?”

Fiddleford only waved his hand. “Ol’ college buddy. Doin’ mighty fine these days. Now whaddya say we get off’a the street an’ patch up that lil’ ol’ scratch a’ yours inside?”

It tooka moment to register the question through his southern accent, but when she did, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “..I- inside..?”

Inside the mansion. Pacifica almost couldn’t believe it. Old Man McGucket was the one that bought the Northwest Manor. She wondered how on earth a former homeless man was possibly able to afford such a grand purchase, until peeks into a couple rooms along the hallway that had been filled with computers and strange machinery told her she didn’t know nearly as much about McGucket as she previously thought.

It was so strange walking through the hallways again. Everything was the same, but different. Was the grand rustic architecture and furniture always so beautiful? And… were those.. raccoons she was spotting out of the corner of her eyes?

McGucket led her to a room with a couch- a familiar silver-themed room with a certain carpet pattern. It looked nearly the same, except for the banjo leaning against the couch’s armrest, and maybe a few more stains than its previous flawless condition “for guests- that is, for guests to look at”. Despite her emotional state, she found herself smiling at the memory of her adventures with Dipper Pines, trying to bust that ghost… until she recalled the punishment her parents had made for her after that was all over. She began to feel a little sick. Her gaze dropped to the floor as McGucket trudged into the room, plopped onto the couch and patted the cushions beside him. Hesitantly, she followed him and did as gestured. It was.. weird to be back. She wiped her eyes again.

“How’d that’a happen?”

“..What?” the question hit her like a slap.

“The cut.” He gestured to the bleeding injury with a bandaged hand.

“...Oh.” Again, her gaze dropped. Her eyes began to mist again before she shut them. “..I-I.. I was.. um.. mugged on the way here… They stole my favorite purse…” Shame burned at her belly. She didn’t see any sign of judgement in McGucket’s reaction, though. He didn’t ask why she let that happen, or why she wasn’t responsible enough to bring someone with her. There was only concern for her.

“Oh.. ‘Ahm sorry that’a happened. Gravity Falls’s usually safe.. er- ah..” The old man scratched the back of his head. “‘least, it’s not the people ya gotta usually worry ‘bout.”

“Heh.. yeah..” Shrugging, the old man pulled out a full-blown first aid kid, temporarily baffling Pacifica for a moment. “Wai- were you just carrying that—?”

The question went without a response as McGucket went straight to disinfecting the cut. “‘Doesn’t look terri-bubly deep,” he piped. “Should’a stopped bleeding by now but we’ll patch it up ta’ keep it safe while it’s a-healin’.”

“Wait.. how do you know how to do this..?” Pacifica asked, furrowing her eyebrows a little. The old man gave her a cheery grin.

“Well, ‘gotta pick up somethin’ ‘bout it after livin’ in the dump buildin’ evil whatsits and thingamajigs outta rusty metal for a couple’a decades.”

..Oh. Well, that would make sense, she supposed.. Briefly, the question as to why he was being so nice to her after the way she and her family treated him crossed her mind. She wondered if that friend he mentioned had something to do with it… Suddenly she found herself wishing she’d paid closer attention to the details of the relationships between the other people involved in the zodiac. She guessed it could be that hotter Mr. Pines (or.. Dr. Pines?), she recalled seeing some kind of emotional exchange between him and McGucket during Weirdmaggedon.

Occupied with her thoughts, she hardly realized McGucket had completely finished with the bandage until he announced it.

“Done!” he cheered, stuffing the first aid kit back into the oblivion from which it came. Weird. More Gravity Falls weirdness. “...Thanks.”

“Anytime, sweetie. Y’always got’a listenin’ ear right here if ya’ need it.”

Pacifica gave him a small, grateful smile. The old man would never know what that meant to her.

“I.. I don’t know..” she sighed softly. “Today was just… awful… It’s the first birthday I’ll be spending alone, and I guess it’s… getting to me…”

“Yer birthday’s today?? Ah, Ah’m sorry, sugerbun,” McGucket spoke. “Awful break, goin’ through somethin’ like a’this on’a birthday mornin’. Say, ya always got a place right ‘ere if ya need. Plenty a’ empty bedrooms.”

Pacifica raised her head. “...R...Really..?”

McGucket beamed. “Why sure! Ya remind me a’ my lil’ Tator Tot, Ah’ miss ‘em somethin’ terrible. It gets a lil’ lonely in this ‘ere big ol’ mansion sometimes and ah wouldn’t mind a visit from some young folk from a’time ta’ time.”

She could… she could visit. Whenever she wanted? Her old home, without her parents around. McGucket was that okay with her? Even going so far as to compare her to (presumably) his own kid? That was… incredible. Before thinking it through, she threw her arms around the old man, chorusing her ‘thank you’s with a bubble of laughter. Though startled, Fiddleford slowly returned the hug with a warm smile.

He stank quite a bit. Pacifica recoiled a little at the realization of what she was doing. Ew. What would people think of her if they caught her doing something so unthinkable? Willingly embracing this stinky old man who…. gave incredible hugs.. Her concern suddenly dissolved. In its stead, a certain safety appeared, and she melted into it a little more. It was the same feeling she craved in her dreams. Dirt didn’t matter at all anymore. The feeling of a parental embrace shielding her from the unpleasantness of the world was all she could bring herself to care about at that moment. It felt so warm… Before she knew it, she was tearing up again.

“...Thank you, McGucket..”

“Heheh, anytime, sugarbun. Say, since it is yer birthday, whaddya say we hit th’ town an’ find somethin’ ta’ cheer ya up?”

Pacifica wiped her eyes with her palm. What an offer... To think a year ago she would never had even considered walking around with the old kook as a possible option, but.. She found herself looking forward to it. “I… I would love that.”

[Part 1 of ??? possibly 2??]

[creative-poptart]

It had only been a short time since you started dating Fell, but during that time had been some of the most intense moments you’d had in any relationship. Not just in that he was a very passionate and surprisingly emotional monster, but that the methods with which he carried the bond were unusual as well. Fell was... blunt. That was putting it nicely, actually, as he was more brutally honest with almost everything that he did.

The tall skeleton had explained to you that he was from a world were niceties were seen as weaknesses. You also pointed out that it kind of made him an asshole at times, but he didn’t even contest that fact. Fell did mention, however, that he was trying to get better at that, making sure he took your feelings into account, especially since he had asked you out on a date.

After those first few weeks of figuring out what exactly your relationship was, finally settling on a dating/romantic one, you were able to relax. While the skeleton’s manner of approach to most things wasn’t too delicate, Fell was undoubtedly more romantic in approaching you. It was a bunch of little things, including holding doors open for you, making sure you had something to eat or drink any time you visited, and leaving little notes for you at your work in your lunchbox.

The first note he’d ever given had simply said, “I TOLERATE YOU MORE THAN OTHER PEOPLE” on it. That note is now pinned to a wall just to embarrass him.

However, since then, you’d noticed an odd reversal back to what seemed to be old habits. Whereas Fell, in the later stages of your relationship, was rather affectionate to you, he was now cold and detached. Any time you asked him about it, he would brush you aside and say he was busy with work, too stressed to talk. It certainly seemed like he was pushing you away until he sat you down and handed you an envelope.

The front of the paper sleeve read in bright red ink, “DO NOT OPEN UNTIL EXACTLY 4PM ON FEBRUARY 14TH”, and nothing more. While it was confusing, Fell didn’t explain to you anything about the envelope, or what it could contain.

“YOU’LL KNOW WHAT’S INSIDE WHEN IT REACHES FOUR PM, AND NOT A MOMENT SOONER!” he told you, folding his arms. “AND DON’T THINK I HAVEN’T ACCOUNTED FOR YOU TRYING TO PEEK. THE ENVELOPE IS NOT SEE-THROUGH AND ANY ATTEMPT TO OPEN IT WILL ALERT ME AT ONCE!”

At the time, you took a closer look at the paper and, sure enough, there was a faint red glow around the flap of the envelope. Darn, no way to check if there was something in it.

“Can you please just give me a hint?” you pleaded, batting your eyelashes at him. “Something to let me know what’s in there until I can open it?” Fell seemed only slightly flustered by your charms but held his ground firmly.

“THERE IS PAPER IN IT, A NOTE IF YOU WANT SPECIFICS,” he responded, and marched off, effectively ending the conversation. It wasn’t much to go off of at all, but you decided it would be best to wait until the day of to find out. Incurring his wrath was never a pretty sight, even if you were labeled as his datemate. 

On the day of, you were anxious to try and learn what was in the envelope. It was sitting on your desk at home the whole day, and you managed to be at least semi-productive in your workplace. The only reason that you were able to work was because the skeleton boyfriend forced you to leave it at home. As soon as you got back to your house, you rushed to your desk and tore open the envelope. 

Inside, you found the note that Fell told you about. Your hands were shaking a little with the motion of opening the letter. Inside was a straightforward sentence, “GO TO THE BEDROOM,” but nothing else on the back or anything. You checked a few times, but there wasn’t anything else that you could see. 

You hurried up the stairs to figure out what’s going on, but there was nothing but another note. As you pushed the door open, the room was empty, save for the paper on the bed. Underneath was an outfit that looked like it was tailor-made just for you. The note sitting on it simply read, “PUT THIS ON AND HEAD TO THE KITCHEN.” A smile curled on your face, then you turned to look at yourself in the mirror. The outfit was perfect, no doubt because Fell had it made specifically for this occasion. 

As you went down the stairs, there was a small trail of rose petals leading into the kitchen. As corny as the gesture was, you were touched that he was did something like that for you. In the kitchen, though, Fell wasn’t there. You took a look around, and you found that the rose trail ended there, but another note was laid out on the table, this one reading “COME MEET ME OUTSIDE.”

As you walked outside, soft, romantic music was playing through a small radio on the porch. Fell was sitting out there with a candlelit dinner awaiting you on the table, dressed in his best suit. A slight smirk was playing on his teeth as he pulled out the chair for you, gesturing to the meal that he so carefully prepared for you. You sat in the chair and smiled at him.

“You made this all for me?” you asked him softly, watching him sit opposite you and picking up his fork and knife to eat as well. Fell smirked at you from over the table.

“BUT OF COURSE, I HAVE, SWEETLING,” he purred at you, making a shiver crawl up your spine. “AFTER ALL, IT IS VALENTINE’S DAY AFTER ALL. I WANTED TO MAKE SURE THAT EVERYTHING THAT IS A PART OF THE HOLIDAY TRADITIONS IS FOLLOWED APPROPRIATELY. YOU ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT PART OF THIS WHOLE PROCESS, SO, ARE YOU ENJOYING THE EVENING SO FAR?”

“I am,” you assured him softly, smiling wide at him. “You put this all together for me? I’m touched.”

He grinned sharply at you and dug into the meal, making you mirror his actions to eat. The evening was punctuated by lots of laughing and enjoying the meal that was so delightfully prepared. Once you were stuffed full with dinner and a dessert, you leaned back in your chair and sighed happily.

“You never fail to surprise me with how well you can make food,” you told him. “I never want to leave the house without something made by your hands.”

“WELL,” Fell replied, cleaning his hands of any remaining food. “I CANNOT PROMISE THAT YOU WILL HAVE SOMETHING MADE BY MY HANDS FOR THIS, BUT I DO HAVE ANOTHER THING FOR YOU BEFORE THE EVENING IS OVER.” 

He got up from the side of the table and walked over to you, kneeling down and taking your hands in his. You blinked at him, watching his face twist into a softer emotion and stroking the backs of your hands with his thumbs. Fell took a deep breath in, then released it slowly, looking at you with what you could only describe as adoration.

“SWEETLING, I MUST HAVE SAID IT A THOUSAND TIMES, BUT YOU ARE THE MOST AMAZING HUMAN I HAVE EVER HAD MET. I HAVE NEVER BEEN HAPPIER WHEN I AM WITH YOU, AND I WANT TO MAKE SURE THAT I SEE YOU SMILE. YOU ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT THING TO ME, AND I WANT TO MAKE SURE I PROTECT YOU AND CHERISH YOU FOR THE REST OF OUR DAYS.”

As he finished speaking, he pulled out a small box from his pocket and opened it, revealing a golden ring set with rubies. It was lavish and decorative, but not so much that you would be opposed to wearing it on your hand. For a few seconds, you didn’t understand what the ring meant, but it quickly clicked in your head.

“Oh!!” you cried out, pulling your hand that he let go of to your mouth. Fell grinned up at you pretty nervously, and you found yourself speechless for a few minutes. He cleared his metaphorical throat, then continued with a straightforward question.

“WILL YOU MARRY ME?”

“Yes!!!” you practically shrieked, starting to tear up and pulling him into a kiss. Fell quickly reciprocated the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and smirking against your lips. After you had to pull away so you could breathe properly, he slipped the ring onto your finger, watching it glint in the candlelight. You found your own face stretching into a smile and staring at the ring. 

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, SWEETLING.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day Fell.”

~~~~~~~~~~

This was my 400 Follower Raffle prize for the wonderful @ask-ausansandpap!! Thank you so much for asking for my UF Papyrus, I have been dying to make something for him!!

And THANK YOU TO ALL MY FOLLOWERS!!!!! I have been absolutely blown away by all the support and all the new followers!! Here’s to having a great Valentine’s Day (or discount chocolate day for the day after that day for all the single people).

[oh-theatre]

Sycamore High: Shatter (Chapter 11)

A/N: I am so sorry about what you are about to read, please forgive me AND PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!! Also, I love Henry he's my precious

summary: Henry has an unexpected morning, and Ted falls victim to an awful scene cause in the cafeteria

words: 2,648

warnings: FORCED COMING OUT, crying, negative thoughts, sickness, homophobia, suicidal thought 

Ao3 link

In Henry's defense, he wasn't a Musical Theatre teacher. Yes, ok, he doubled majored in Theatre and Science but that does not mean he had any intention of teaching it. He enjoyed the steady pace of biology, the thrill of surgery or even just talking about. He can't remember a single day where he doesn't boast to his students about his surgeon years, going over and studying with the class his multiple operations. The thrill he got knowing that every student that walked into class that day would leave utterly in love with him. He liked the attention, what can he say? But something he liked, even more, was his husband. And god, would that be the death of him.

“Henry..” A soft voice pleaded from the main bedroom, Henry sighed and turned away from the vanity where he was getting ready for the day. He peeked his head out of the connecting bathroom. He was met with loving eyes the sweet face of his husband. He bit the inside of his mouth, damnit here come the puppy eyes, He thought. The figure rolled in bed bothered, Henry studied him for a moment, His usually pristine face was red and puffy, his eyes were a never-ending source of watery tears. His voice was higher and stuffier than usual. The figure was weak, this set off alarm bells. Henry's husband was many things but he wasn't weak. He took years of dance, and gymnastics, his body was...well strong. Henry felt his cheeks flush a lovely shade of crimson thinking about this. He cleared his throat and finished examining his sad husband.

“You're sick, aren't you?” He questioned.

“Always the doctor aren't you Henry?” His husband teased, Henry remained unimpressed. He knew exactly where this illness came from and he had previously warned against.

“There is one basic rule all theatre people know” Henry explained, his husband sat up weakly. He faced Henry, eyes growing wide with fake interest. “You don't share water bottles Chad” Henry said simply, Chad groaned happily. “You of all people should know this, now look at you”

“I know” Chad whined “But I was parched and had already used up my own hydration-” He paused giving his husband an adoring look “You would share your water with me wouldn't you?” Chad cooed. Henry let out a boisterous laugh before staring his husband dead in the eye.

“Over my dead body” He retorted returning to his vanity, continuing his routine. He heard Chad let out a small amused moan before plopping back against the pillow. Henry finished and made his way into the main bedroom. He carefully slipped his brown blazer over his turtleneck and went over to his husband's side of the bed. He kneeled next to the bed and began stroking Chads forehead lovingly. Chad lets out a small noise of pleasure and Henry can't help but smile. I love this idiot, don't I?

“I presume in this condition you won't be able to make it to work?” He said finally still caressing his husbands face. Chad thought for a moment, no doubt examining his condition.

“I'll be fine” Chad says weakly, he sits up immediately becoming paler. Henry adjusts himself and sits next to him on the bed. “I have one class today, I'll go to the morning one and return after” Chad compromised, as much as he knew he would regret this Henry simply couldn't let Chad leave home today.

“I will take your morning class-” Before his husband could argue he continued “I don't have a morning class, I will take your lesson plans and you will stay here, watch a lot of bad tv and get better, understood?” Chad furrowed his brows, Henry sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, I can't believe you're making me pull this card “Doctors orders” Henry added, he wasn't asking anymore. Chad let out a loud groan before falling back against the comfortable mattress.

“I hate you, you know that right?” He said Henry smiled un-convinced. He planted a soft kiss upon Chad's warm forehead before getting up again.

“You love me, and you know it” He said slipping out of the room, not allowing Chad a chance at a response. Henry gathered his things for class, and Chads before preparing some breakfast and Tea for his sick husband. Once delivered, with the thank you of many sick kisses, Henry grabbed a nutrition bar and made his way to school. He hadn't expected the nervous feeling in his stomach to arise as he pulled into his parking space at school. He fumbled for his things watching children laugh and sulk in the early morning. He took a deep breath, you're a teacher, this is what you do every day. After reassuring himself he made his way into the teacher's lounge, setting his things into his designated locker. And went over Chad's lesson plan, what could go wrong?

~~~

“Everything! Everything could go wrong!” Ted hollered once the children had been dismissed into their theatre groups. Bill quickly shushed him as other students eyed him cautiously. Murmuring quietly before deciding it wasn't worth their time. Ted mumbled a quiet apology and continued “Literally everything could go wrong” He said in a more hushed tone towards his two friends. Paul, still in a very drowsy state, simply rolled his eyes.

“You think too much” He said, suddenly erupting into a fit of giggles “Or maybe you don't think enough, or maybe no one can think-” His eyes grew wide with excitement “What if, this entire thing is a simulation and all of our thoughts are pre-determined and nothing we think or do is of our own control” he finished flashing an insane smile towards Ted. Bill let out an annoyed groan, with a hint of panic.

“Wh...what the hell is wrong with you?” Ted asked looking at his friend, who sounded like they just escaped Gotham Asylum. “What did he drink” Ted quietly whispered to Bill who waved him off.

“He got a very little amount of sleep last night, and the previous night” Bill explained turning his attention to his script. Ted nodded with sudden realization.

“Looks like Stage 3 Paul is joining us today huh?” Ted teased, Paul did nothing but smile and nod eagerly. Stage 3 Paul was Ted's favorite. Stage 1 was annoyingly grumpy and mean, Stage 2 was overly emotional and much too worrisome, Stage 4 was weirdly smart, and did nothing but correct people but Stage 3? Oh, Stage 3 was an amazing blissfully unaware gift sent from the heavens. Stage 3 Paul was the best Paul. Ted let his worries about Tommy and his father slip away, as he dutifully ignored his current assignment and turned all his focus on having fun with Stage 3 Paul. Today couldn't get any better, Ted thought.

But it could get worse, so much worse

~~~~

“It was not that bad!” Charlotte exclaimed delightfully as she unwrapped a pastry from her mother's bakery and took a mouth-watering bite out of it. The group murmured sounds of agreement and disagreement. “He was sweet! So he was a little nervous, can you blame him? A biology teacher teaching Musical Theatre-”

“Talk about out of your element” Emma chimed in, Charlotte nodded giggling. Emma smiled at her friend before unwrapping her own lunch, 2 pieces of bread, a bag of chips, homebrewed coffee, and honey and as always a handwritten note from her mother.

Have a wonderful day Honey! I hope your bread and honey will bee satisfactory. Also, enjoy the coffee, hopefully, it gives you the buzz you need to get going.

Love you forever and always

Mama

Emma groaned at the forced honey puns but couldn't help but smile at the sweet note. It has always been like this, ever since she was little. Her mom insisted on making her kids lunch, and every day since her first day of kindergarten there was a hand-written note filled with love, puns and more. Emma never dared complain about it, she feared it would stop if she did and honestly? She loved it, she always had. Her sister… She shook her head stuffing the note back into the lunch box and removing her lunch and setting it up. She smiled gratefully knowing no matter what, she would always have her mom… and lunch.

Ted, on the other hand, sat next to Bill empty-handed. This isn't unusual, he rarely had time to make lunch, not that there was any food at home. He was also flat broke so buying wasn't an option, all he could do was sit watching the others eat and trying not to drool over their food. He tried to distract himself by joining the conversation but… other things occupied his mind. He rolled his eyes as the girls playfully teased Paul for all he was worth. Ted had grown bored of Stage 3 Paul, having milked him for everything he could think of. Bill was sitting reading and pleasantly enjoying his food, so not an option. He huffed annoyed and examined the cafeteria, he found himself looking for a certain wide-eyed, glasses-wearing boy. He felt his heart flutter at the sight of Tommy sitting at a table not far from his own. He was sitting alone which sent a pang of guilt down Ted's chest. He was hunched over, reading a book much like Bill. Ted couldn't help but grin at the pleasant comparisons.

One more reason to love him

Like him!

Help me…

He shook his head and looked further, Tommy sat sipping his trademark hot chocolate and munching on a tasty treat. Ted gave his table one more look and decided to make his way over to Tommy finding his company much more exciting. He danced through the crowded room and slid himself into the bench across from Tommy, he cleared his throat to which Tommy’s head shot straight up. At the sight of Ted, Tommy had plastered a giant smile across his face. He bookmarked his page and turned his full attention to the taller boy.

“Heya Ted!” He looked around “What brings you to my corner of the cafeteria” Tommy inquired, Ted marveled at his voice. The sound of constant excitement rushing through him, the eagerness to listen, never faltering loving look he showed. Oh, I have got it bad, Ted thought. He quickly realized he had been gazing and adjusted his position.

“Nothing much just wanted to…” Ted paused, why was he here? He mentally cursed himself for approaching with no plan. Luckily something caught the pair's attention and god how Ted had wished it had not.

“Attention everyone!” A loud voice boomed across the cafeteria. Ted spun around on the bench quickly, he found himself staring at Billy. Billy was standing on the middle cafeteria table and held a speaker in his hand. He was surrounded by his goons who were murmuring excitedly and snickering.”I have a very important announcement to make-” He declared pausing, right cause anything you say is important, Ted thought. “About Ted Porker”

Ted felt his face fall and his stomach knot. Me? Oh god… why me? What could he- Ted felt his entire face go red. The hallways this morning, the conversation, Tommy. He turned to his bespeckled friend who shared the same face of fear that Ted did, except his was riddled with concern. Tommy quickly placed a comforting hand on Ted's arm, who gasped and pulled away. He wanted to stay, he wanted Tommy to comfort him.

HELP

PLEASE

His eyes pleaded but his actions were closed off, he turned back to Billy who shot him a disgusting smirk. Ted felt ill, he couldn't look at him. Frantically, he looked around the cafeteria, eyes were moving between him and Billy. He couldn't hear the confused murmurs of the groups around him. Finally, his eyes landed on his table, his four friends staring back at him. Charlotte's face was riddled with concern and fear, Ted tried to make out what she was mouthing to him but his eyesight dulled. Emma's face was scrunched with anger, not at Ted, at Billy. She shot him apologetic eyes before glaring at Billy. Next to her was Paul, oh Paul. Paul had clearly gained enough consciousness to understand the situation. He was standing now, balled fists slammed on the table sharing the same angry look that Emma had. Ted might have been across the room but he could feel the fury directed at Billy. And then there was Bill, Bill’s eyes were filled with concern but his face stayed calm. After a moment of silent communication between Ted and Bill, his small friend stood and made his way over to Ted. Ignoring all the looks and conversations, he sat next to his taller friend.

“Are you ok?” He whispered softly into Ted's ear, Ted pulled himself away from his gaze of the table and turned to Bill. He ignored the fact that Billy was still talking, and people were still paying attention.

“Whats… what's he saying?” Was all Ted could manage, his mind was silent. But so was everything else, he hated it.

“Ted…” Bill said softly, Ted pleaded once more “He’s… he's describing an encounter with you this morning” That was it, that was all Ted needed to hear. He shut his eyes tight to stop the hot tears from flooding. He balled his fists, he could feel Bill wrap him in a supportive hug. And then… it happened.

“Ted Porker likes boys” The room went silent, not just Teds mind everyone. Everyone froze in shock, Ted felt Bill hug him harder.

Pressure

Breathe

What would your father think?

Pressure

Failure, that's what you are

Breathe

But he couldn't, he couldn't breathe. He heard the room erupt into confusion and excited talking. Seriously? Ted thought Vultures, the lot of them. He pulled away from Bill, failing to stop the tears, he choked back a sob and stood embarrassed, mortified, ashamed. Bill stood next to him, soon joined by Tommy on his other side.

“NO!” He shouted Ted gasped, clasping a hand over his mouth. He frantically spits out apologies before backing away covered in tears and feeling hotter than ever he ran. He ran out of the cafeteria, ignoring Bill and Tommys concerned shouting after him, ignoring Paul who tried to grab him, ignoring the commanding voice of the principal telling everyone lunch was over and to get to their next class. He ran, he didn't know where he was going but it wasn't here. He wasn't staying here.

THUD

Ted shivered as he felt himself hit the floor. He swallowed so scared looking up to realize he had collided with another person. He quickly shot up, terror-filled him, what was he going to do? What was wrong with him? Why was he like this? Panic flooded his thoughts, everything he had tried to keep at bay EVERYTHING was now washing over him and he collapsed in front of the unknown person too scared to look them in the eyes. He collapsed feeling alone, useless, and feeling like he wanted to end it all. So he collapsed sobbing as two warm arms wrapped around him, rubbing comforting circles on his back.

~~~

Henry caught the boy just in time before he seriously hurt himself, immediately engulfed the terrified child into a warm embrace and rubbed his back ever so carefully. Everything about him was soft and caring but his eyes? Oh, Henry's eyes were burning with fiery rage, he knew he couldn't but he really wanted to punch that kid.

‘You can't punch a kid’ Chad would say

He shook his head, he would deal with that cretin later. Right now, he looked down at shivering boy, who had nestled his head into Henry's neck, right now this boy needs me.

[general-nion]

The General And Her Hostess

I wait a few moments after that woman, Geneva, left the room. A few cursory glances around the room I’m in give no signs of threat or ambush. If anything the entire place is sickeningly…home-y. The walls are painted an off white while similarly soft decor make up the majority of the room. The curtains to the window are lace and tied back with ribbons while one wall boasts a delicately designed golden filigree mounted to it.

Is this hell?

Throwing back the covers causes me to grimace at the stiffness in my right shoulder. Can’t be dead if I’m registering something so mundane.

Catching sight of a full length mirror helps me manage to force myself to my feet so I can finally get a better look at the full damage I’ve taken.

Three days. She said I had been unconscious for three days and It showed.

Stitches hold my skin together in a handful of places, but the most noticeable is a wound that stretches an honest 5 inches across my left hip- Wait a minute.

What in the hell am I wearing?

My reflection shows my clear disgust at the cotton shorts I’ve been dressed in that are patterned with, what? Are those cupcakes? Oh for the love of-! Even the tank top has a matching emblem across the chest.

All of this paired with my unruly hair being successfully brushed back into a ponytail causes me to appear almost adolescent. If it wasn’t for hard earned muscle definition and the multiple stitched and bandaged wounds I’m sure I could almost pass for some sort of civilian. Horrible.

Embarrassment fuels my speed so I can grab the door to open it. That woman had a lot of explaining to do! I led armies! Destroyed civilizations! I would not be dressed in such a manner-

My rage is silenced with a crack! As the door is ripped from its hinges and stands haphazardly from the grip I still have on its handle.

...gravity is also broken here. Terrific. I hate this planet.

“Sugar are you alright- What the hell have you done to my door?!”, the red head comes running around the corner but stops dead in her tracks to see the door in my grasp.

“What did I do?! What did you do?! Where is my armor? I demand you return it to me at once! I will not suffer another minute in this idiotic clothing!”, I toss the door to the side, not caring as it crashes halfway through the wall it collided with.

“Your armor, much like my door and now my wall, is a bunch of busted junk!”, she looks angry but then takes a deep breath and seems to visibly deflate, “Look, I couldn’t let ya lay around in that armor. Especially since most of what was missin’ from it was found IN ya when the Doc’s fixed ya up. If you don’t like the pajamas then I’m sure I can find you something else, but for now, Dinner is gonna get cold if you keep rippin’ doors off their hinges.”

“You should watch the way you speak to me, woman. For your own health.”, cupcakes be damned. I was not going to be talked to like a child!

“Did I miss somethin’? Cause I’m not the one who had to be dug outta crater or who cried in her sleep.”, her hands rest on her hips and she fixes me with an unimpressed look.

I just blink. She’s an idiot. She has to be. I don’t even need a scouter to tell she has next to no power level but even without any strength she should be able to tell that talking in such a way could warrant that I kill her.

“You should be a bit more grateful, Sugar. You could have died.”

“You should have let me.”, My tone causes a frown to fall on her face before she takes yet another very deep breath.

“Doubt that Frieza fellow would have appreciated that very much.”

“He- what?! What are you talking about?”, words fail me. Did I miss something? Is she actually a threat? Have I been lured into some kind of fake hospitality?

“Frieza? Odd name if ya ask me, but the way you kept sobbin’ like a baby and sayin’ his name I imagine whoever he is wouldn’t like it if I let you die.”

“You don’t know him. And you don’t know me.”

“Still helped ya, didn’t I?”

“...you mentioned dinner?”

Thankfully her whole face brightened and she turned to lead me toward where we would be eating. Last thing I wanted to do was rehash any of THAT with this odd woman.

And luckily she opted to remain quiet while we ate. Though I would grant her one impressive talent. She could cook. The last thing I expected was for such an extensive meal to be ready on the table.

Bowls filled with rice, varieties of meat stuffed dumplings, vegetables, and some kind of broth were all set across the table with an admirable eye to detail.

My mouth began to water and I was struck with how absolutely starved I was. I had forgotten to check the date when I was forced from Hypersleep so there was no telling how long the nutrients from the Cryopod had kept me sustained.

My face must have give away my eagerness because that woman just smiled and gestures toward the food, “Help yourself. If you’re still hungry after this I can always whip up some more!”

I barely spared her a glance before I dashed to a seat and started piling a plate high of food. Caution to the wind. She could be poisoning me right now, but my stomach and energy reserves couldn’t care less at the given moment.

It took no time on my part to clear the entire table, especially since halfway through it the woman brought out a plate of rolls that made it child’s play to eat every dripping.

My manners were probably absolute shit during this but it was mouth watering. All of it. Not a single thing was over done or underwhelming. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps that woman was some form of angel. Maybe I wasn’t sent to hell due to some ironic mix up that put me in Heaven.

I smacked my lips in satisfaction and leaned back in the seat, “Ah, my apologies. Did I eat everything?”

“Oh don’t you fret about it, doll! I had already eaten before you woke up.”, she smiles and my suspicions that she wasn’t an actual mortal were slowly being confirmed.

“Then what were you doing in the kitchen while I ate?”

A ding echoed from the kitchen the moment I finished that sentence and Geneva jumped to her feet in a graceful flourish, “You’ll see! Sit tight!”

Before I could even think to question her sudden rush she was to and back from the kitchen in the blink of an eye with something covered with a piece of cloth in both of her hands.

A delightfully sugary scent filled my nose and to my embarrassment I felt my nose actually twitching at the smell. On instinct and gluttonous instinct I began to rise my seat to get a better look at what she held.

“What in the world is that?”

“Figured you’d have room for dessert! So I went ahead and threw together a lil’ somethin’.”

The plate was set in front of me and I sat back down while she pulled the cloth off of whatever pastry she had made.

“Hope ya like cherry pie, doll!”

“...perhaps I won’t kill you in your sleep.”

That was the last she was able to get out of me before I ravenously dug into the Pie laid before me.

Heavenly. Delightful. Wonderful.

I’d always possessed a sweet tooth, but this? Oh this could easily spare the woman’s life.

Geneva seemed content to hum to herself while she worked around me to clear away the empty remains of dinner from the tabletop. I still questioned her full intent, but a lapse in suspicion could be allowed. Absolutely allowed.

My respite was short lived, however. The moment I finished that delectable pie she replaced it with some warm drink that smelled of cocoa and sat across from me.

“So I think we can both agree that ya owe me some sort of explanation. And, ya know, your name? I can’t keep subbing in pet names forever.”

I examined the way she sat for just a moment. She wasn’t tensed and she held no malice in her eyes. Just genuine concern mixed with curiosity.

“Nion. My name is Nion.”, I followed her lead and relaxed back against the chair, “I am a First Class Saiyan from the Planet Vegeta. I have been thrown from grace and had the misfortune to have the highest probability of survival to land on your property.”

Gold eyes blinked once. Twice. Three times.

“So...you’re like, an alien or somethin’? That’s what you’re tellin’ me?”

Ah, that’s right. This planet hasn’t had alien contact, has it?

“Exactly.”

“Saiyan...is that what your people are called?”

“Yes. We are a proud race of warriors that thrive in blood baths and domination. A glorious people that were granted the chance to expand amongst the stars.”, pride begins to swell in my chest as I become reminiscent. I’d had a handful of good friends amongst my people. Less than the enemies among them I had made though. Would I ever see them again, I wonder?

“Um...not to sound incredibly ignorant, but y’all ain’t comin’ to take over…here, are ya?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”, I scoff, “Your planet holds next to no value on the market. I am here because I had no other choice.”

Geneva sips from her drink and hums softly, “You ran away from something.”

“...you’re perceptive.”

“Oh don’t look so surprised! I’m not just a nice figure and a pretty face. I make a livin’ off of figuring’ out what makes people hurt on the inside.”, she tilts her head a bit and looks me over, “You’re heartbroken, alone, and scared. You did somethin’ you didn’t wanna, hurt someone you didn’t wanna, and now ya don’t have anyway to move on past it.”

I’m stunned to silence. And my mind is changed. Hell. I’m in hell and this Geneva who bakes pies and cares for others is an evil entity sent to personally torture me.

“Got it right on the head, didn’t I?”, her cup is set on the table with a soft clink, “I’m sorry you had to go through whatever you did, but I do want you to know you’re welcome to stay here if you’d like. Can’t imagine it’d be easy for a literal alien to be integrated into society without some kind of help.”

“I don’t need your help.”, I spit it out before I can think and my teeth bare in a snarl, “You’ve done all of this foolishness without anyone asking you too and you’ve stuck your nose into my business with absolutely no right to do so.”

“You didn’t have to ask me to help you, Nion.”, how dare she look so unaffected by my hostility, “If you don’t want my help you can dig through the clothes here till you find something you like and then you can up and leave. Stay the night if you feel the need.”

She shrugs so casually, “I can’t make ya do nothin’ ya don’t want to, Sugar. Someone else in your life can, and did, but I can’t and won’t. You make your own decisions and live your own life.”

Pushing her chair back she rises from the table and grabs her cup, “It’s late and I’ll be headin’ to bed. Stay, leave, destroy it all, it’s not my place to stop you. If ya need my help, though, all ya gotta do is ask.”

Geneva leaves me alone in the dining room with only the warm drink to sit with me. I would not be guilted into accepting her help. I wouldn’t.

Frustrated I kick my own chair back and pace over to the window that looks over the yard I crash landed in. The crater left from the impact was rather impressive, but it would seem I caused a lot of damage as well.

A roll of my right shoulder proved that it was nearly healed. My earlier discomfort must have been stiff muscles.

I had caused a lot of damage, hadn’t I?

It took no time to find some simple dark loose fitting pants and a jacket that would cover the atrocious top I was wearing and my bandaging. The back door makes no sound as I flick the lock and exit the house. Nothing stirs when I go soaring into the night air.

________________________________________

Geneva expected to woken up by her alarm clock. Not by whatever in God’s name that horrible noise was. It sounded like a lawnmower was directly outside her house. Which was impossible because she specifically paid her lawn maintenance workers to work when she WASN’T asleep.

She throws on a sheer house coat with fur trimmings before she leaves her room and follows the noise to her backyard.

“What the hell is goin’ on out...here…”, she falls silent in shock at the sight before her.

That crater that had been in her yard was now completely gone. As in, never happened gone. In its place was a lovely green lawn. Complete with a new flower bed that bordered around a walkway that led to a fully functioning three tiered fountain.

“I see you’ve finally chosen to wake up.”

Geneva jerks to the left to see me kneeling in front of the control panel to the fountain I had installed into the side of her home.

“What did- when did...what is this?”, her surprise is funny and I snicker before pushing myself to stand.

“It’s a thank you, and a sort of apology for destroying your yard.”, I notice her eyes dart back to the fountain and I huff, “The fountain was too much, wasn’t it? I thought it may be, but you have so much wasted space back here I figured it would be a nice place holder…”

Geneva gapes and doesn’t say anything and now I’m starting to feel ridiculous. “I should have left it at just filling the crater and laying the new sod. This is too much and you don’t like it. I can remove it if you don’t like it-“

“This is the bee’s knees!”, I’m nearly thrown off my feet when she throws her arms around me, but my surprise is short lived by the panicked Yelp she makes.

On reflex I must have wrenched her arms back behind her to subdue her attack...er…her gratitude.

I let go of her immediately and grimace as I try to right her housecoat, “That was stupid. I shouldn’t have...this is all stupid. I’ve made this worse haven’t I?”

To her credit she collects herself quickly and waved off my concern, “No no! Warrior race. I remember. Didn’t think it out too clearly.”

She smiles and turns back to the work I’ve done, “This is amazing, Nion! Absolutely amazing! You didn’t have to do any of this!”, her eyes twinkle in mirth, “Didn’t have to stay either.”

I clear my throat and reflexively square my posture, “I assure you it wasn’t any trouble. The least I could do for your help during my predicament. Though...you do like it?”

“Adore it. An amazing job!”, she giggles like a giddy child, “Now let’s go back inside! I’ll make some coffee an’ some breakfast! Then you can tell me where you got all of this stuff.”

“Ah, no need to wait that long. I took it.”, I grin cheekily at her shocked expression, “I did not steal anything. You humans seem unable to do many simple tasks. I was told that unloading approximately three tons of inventory takes hours for you people. Completing such a chore in half an hour is apparently rewarded with whatever I felt I needed for this endeavor.”

“Uh Huh…”, I follow behind her back into her home, “Welp! Then I guess you have my thanks, sugar! And I guess you’ll be stickin’ around a little longer?”

“I suppose. I’ve yet to find a better prospect.”

“Glad to hear it.”

[junker-town]

A Thanksgiving sides draft, because we are a sports website

Photo by: Anjelika Gretskaia/REDA&CO/Universal Images Group via Getty Images

2 sides, 1 dessert, 1 drink. Whose Thanksgiving reigns supreme?

Thanksgiving dinner has never been about turkey.

The focal point of the biggest meal of the holiday season can be brined, roasted, or fried, but it will never escape its fate as lean, bland bird meat. On its own, it’s more of a lowkey punishment than the centerpiece of a celebration.

That’s why we have side dishes. The heart of Thanksgiving is the supporting cast that soaks across your plate and imparts a little extra flavor to the day’s starring attraction. Good sides are a meal on their own, reduced to complementary status in the name of an hour-long gorging. They even get their own stewards thanks to the presence of desserts and beverages tasked with cleaning the whole mess up.

Put all that together, and you’ve got one hell of a meal. And, for the dads of the nation, a prelude to the greatest recliner nap they’ll take all year.

In the interest of celebrating the one celebration of America that doesn’t involve hot dogs, we turned the perfect Thanksgiving meal into a competition. Five SB Nation writers joined forced to draft their ideal meals. The ground rules:

everyone starts with turkey and gravy

everyone drafts two sides, one dessert, and one beverage (adult or otherwise)

sides must be fundamentally different from one another to be considered a viable alternative to an already-picked food (i.e. sausage and herb stuffing vs. Stove-Top is good to go, but pumpkin pie vs. pumpkin pie with whipped cream is not).

Our four-round draft was a randomly-assigned snake draft, and our managers could pick sides, dessert, or beverage in any round of their choice. These are the results:

1. Stuffing — Louis Bien

Easily the MVP of every Thanksgiving dinner. Stuffing stands up well on its own, but it pairs with everything else beautifully, too. Stuffing complements everything around it, and everything complements stuffing. It just tastes like Thanksgiving. And it saves amazingly well for next-day sandwiches. Some people like to add sausage to their stuffing, but that’s one job too many for what is essentially the do-it-all point guard of any feast. Let stuffing be the giver that it is.

Christian D’Andrea: Cool man. You took breadcrumbs cooked inside a bird anus No. 1 overall.

Alex McDaniel: If Stove Top is No. 1, let’s give up now.

2. Mashed potatoes — Christian D’Andrea

An easy choice. Mashed potatoes are the glue that you dip your turkey in so that other, better foods (stuffing, cranberry sauce, corn, etc) will stick to the bird and thus make it taste like something. It’s also instrumental in the post-meal leftover sandwich, which is easily the best part of Thanksgiving (old man naps while seating completely upright aside).

Fooch: I’d like to continue shit-talking Louis on this one. Forget stuffing — mashed potatoes is the go-to side. Mashed potatoes is the Orlando Pace of this draft. The offensive tackle prospect that you know will turn into a Hall of Famer. It’s not a sexy pick, but like Christian said (when he wasn’t trashing my old man choices), it’s the glue of the Thanksgiving meal.

Louis: Boxed fake mashed potatoes >>>>>>> real mashed potatoes. I will take no more questions at this time.

3. Cranberry sauce (Ocean Spray) — David Fucillo

I’ve learned to enjoy fancy cranberry sauce, but nothing tops the gelatin version! Some will mock me for my distaste of gravy, but this actually serves as my choice of gravy. I combine all my sides together with the turkey, and the cranberry sauce is what keeps it from turning into a lumpy mess.

Louis: This is high for cranberry sauce, but I get that people really love it, and I like the gelatin version over the Real Stuff, too. But I will NOT abide this gravy slander, sir.

4. Cornbread dressing — Alex McDaniel

Aside from being the Thanksgiving dish most likely to start a family fight over the right way to make it, cornbread dressing is the quintessential side-that-could-also-be-a-meal holiday food. (It’s also way better than stuffing in that we don’t shove dressing up a bird’s ass.)

Louis: Y’all know you don’t have to cook stuffing in the turkey’s butt, right?

5. Pumpkin pie — Eric Stephen

In theory I probably should have picked a side dish here, but since I had two picks back-to-back I wanted to give the Thanksgiving dessert its proper due as a first-round pick. Pumpkin pie is not something that should be eaten year round, but it is a Thanksgiving staple. There was no way this was lasting until the end of the third round, so I had to make sure to grab my dessert — the dessert — right away.

Fooch: Every draft requires someone forgetting that a selection already happened. I was psyched to take pumpkin pie in the third round, only to realize I missed Eric taking it with the fifth overall pick. Pumpkin pie with whipped cream is what Thanksgiving is all about. I probably should have taken it over cranberry sauce, but such is life.

6. Green bean casserole — Eric Stephen

I have to be honest here: for the overwhelming bulk of my Thanksgiving dinners, I’ve had fairly standard green beans, maybe spruced up with bacon here and there. But green bean casserole is the ultimate comfort food, and perhaps more importantly it’s one of the easiest sides to make — green beans, cream of mushroom soup, and fried onions — which is important for those of us who aren’t hosting but rather bringing something to the table.

Christian: Easily the worst kind of bean. I appreciate the casserole’s commitment to making a healthy food so capable of bringing on a stroke.

Louis: Is there any part of green bean casserole that actually tastes good other than the French’s fried onions sprinkled on top?

Fooch: The fact that Christian shit-talked my Brussels sprouts the way he did and doesn’t offer nearly enough hate for green bean casserole is just unacceptable.

7. Sweet potato casserole — Alex McDaniel

I’m not sure why I didn’t make this my first pick because it’s undeniably the most on-brand example of Thanksgiving indulgence in existence. How do you make sweet potatoes, a naturally tasty and good-for-you food, more appealing? Mix them with a shitload of butter and brown sugar and eggs and vanilla before topping them off with marshmallows and EVEN MORE butter and brown sugar. Plus, it’s the only dish other than boring-ass cranberry sauce that counts as a side AND a dessert.

Christian: A dessert as a side dish? You really are from the South.

8. Brussels sprouts (with balsamic glaze) — David Fucillo

A vegetable I would never eat as a kid I have grown to love as an adult. I’d be fine with just a basic sprout dish cooked with some salt, pepper and garlic. In reality, a balsamic glaze and potentially some bacon takes this side to a whole other level.

Christian: Of course the guy who picked candy corn and raisins at Halloween wants Brussels sprouts, the villain food from every Nicktoon from 1992-1998. Enjoy your tiny cabbages, old man.

9. Sausage and herb stuffing — Christian D’Andrea

How do you improve on stuffing? Add a bunch of pig fat to it. This is effectively a breakfast sandwich, blended down into spoonable form. I love every word in that sentence, so that’s an easy pick for me.

Louis: Talks shit about stuffing then takes the frozen Jimmy Dean’s version of it eight picks later. OK.

10. Spiced peaches — Louis Bien

It was slim pickings for sides at this point of the draft outside of [Insert vegetable] and [Insert starch]. But spiced peaches are a nice curveball on the plate — sweet and tart and delicious. Who cares that they don’t actually go with anything.

Alex McDaniel: It’s hard for me to talk shit about such a delightfully Southern dish, but I’m guessing spiced peaches in Wisconsin just means throwing some cinnamon on a Del Monte fruit cup and calling it a day.

11. Rye old fashioned — Louis Bien

A simple, noble, delicious cocktail that tastes like the embodiment of crackling fireplaces, cozy sweaters and fucking off from work.

Christian: You went to the University of Wisconsin and chose rye over brandy for your old fashioneds. The city of Madison will judge you for this. Harshly and drunkenly, as is tradition.

Louis: Do I get to rebut in the comment section? Listen, I hear you, but brandy hurts, man.

12. Cheesecake — Christian D’Andrea

A top five dessert after any meal. Can be topped with literally any fruit in order to make it healthy.

“Healthy.”

Louis: Yes, that’s exactly what I want after my 20-pound meal, a sugar bomb with the density of a red dwarf.

13. Roasted potatoes — David Fucillo

Gotta have a starch and I couldn’t justify scalloped potatoes. Mashed potatoes are the easy choice, but a quality toasted potato can bring a little something extra.

Christian: How difficult was it for you to pass up “rolls” or “water” here?

Louis: “Mmm, pass the filler please.”

Eric: This is a great side, but missing only one step: mashing the potatoes.

14. Hot bourbon cider — Alex McDaniel

Adding bourbon to apple cider is a) delicious and b) more socially acceptable than drinking straight whiskey from a Solo cup at the Thanksgiving table. Or so I’ve heard.

Christian: The only thing I don’t like about this pick is your Solo cup bias. Next you’re going to tell me everyone sits on chairs that don’t fold up at your house and the kids’ section isn’t just a three-legged card table.

15. Mac n’ cheese — Eric Stephen

The gamble in picking my dessert first meant that most of the good sides would be snatched up by this time of the draft. But what could be better to add to Thanksgiving than one of the best side dishes for any meal? Mac n’ cheese is delicious whether out of a box or made from scratch, and for an extra touch maybe through some bacon in there since I didn’t get to add them to my green beans above.

Louis: I am probably very, very alone in this, but I love mac n’ cheese in pretty much every context except Thanksgiving. Here’s a sumptuous banquet of Earth’s bounty, and also cheddar noodles.

16. Boring-ass regular cider — Eric Stephen

I suppose I could have just picked a beer, or even tequila here (man, that would hit the spot right now), I picked a beverage I have in my kitchen at this very moment. Yes it’s relatively plain, and non-alcoholic, but the spicy warm beverage is just perfect for the holidays, and hit the spot.

Christian: Warm Dr. Pepper was RIGHT THERE.

17. Salted caramel pie — Alex McDaniel

Listen. If you eat a bunch of rich and/or sweet stuff at dinner, maybe DON’T make this your dessert choice. Eat some Jell-O and go lie down. But if you kept things dry and boring, salted caramel pie is the dessert you DESERVE, not to mention a hell of a lot more creative than standard, boring, embarrassingly un-salted pies.

Christian: Is the recipe for this just “salt, sugar, butter, milk” and then a shrug emoji?

18. Hot buttered rum — David Fucillo

I’m not a big holiday drinker, but this just seems like a quality option during a cold, winter evening. Why get complicated?

Christian: OLD. MAN. PICK. Fooch drafted himself a Thanksgiving meal he read about once in a Dickens novel.

19. Porters/brown ales (like say, Tyranena’s Rocky’s Revenge?) — Christian D’Andrea

A good warming beer to ease in the oncoming winter. Nothing sets up the 4 p.m. hibernation break quite like a couple beers to wash down the week’s worth of carbohydrates you just ate.

(Tyranena, please send me stuff.)

Fooch: I love a good porter or brown ale, but I can’t even begin to imagine trying to drink this during or right after a huge Thanksgiving meal. I’m a glutton when it comes to this meal, but this would knock me on my ass before I even finished eating. I at least like to make it back to the television and pass out while watching football.

20. Ritz cracker pie — Louis Bien

I think this goes by mock apple pie in some circles, but we usually make this with pecans and/or walnuts in the mix, too. Ritz cracker pie is light and fluffy and sweet and perfect after over-gorging on everything else. I almost always end up having some for breakfast the next day.

Christian: I ... have no idea what this is?

(Ritz, please send Louis stuff.)

Our final results:

So who won our inaugural Thanksgiving sides draft? Throw your vote in below. The winner will earn a smidge of pride. The loser will be mocked relentlessly for having terrible taste.

If you can’t see the poll, click here.

[artificialqueens]

The Good, The Bad And The Dirty part 2/? - Opal

A/N: Hey! I finally finished it, and here it is! I said on my latest fic that this was gonna be up by the end of last week, and because i have absolutely no willpower, i never got it done (yay me)

And to the lovely anon asking: yes, the title is indeed inspired by P!atd! It’s one of my favorites on the album, (if you haven’t heard it i suggest you give it a listen, it’s great!)

we have a few tw’s, but they’re very minor in this specific chapter: Smoking, implied depression, very slight mention of suicide, alcohol mentions, mentions of homophobia

Anyway, no one likes long author’s notes, so i’m just gonna stop now.

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

When Alaska woke up the next morning her whole body was aching. Mostly from the events from the day before, but also from sleeping on such a thin bed. Alaska had never been a very athletic person, so her body wasn’t used to being pressured like that.

It had been cold that night, but Sharon and her had kept each other warm by being so close together.

Alaska stretched her body, and stuck her foot out from under the blanket, only to be met by freezing cold air. She quickly pulled it back into the warmth under the blanket, as chills traveled up her spine and through her bare arms. She closed her eyes for a second, and wondered what time it was. It certainly wasn’t more that 6am, since it was still pitch black outside.

Alaska took a deep breath and opened her eyes again, and turned to face Sharon who was still sound asleep.

Cerrone was snuggled closely to her, and he was softly purring in his sleep. Alaska reached out to stroke him, and the moment she touched him he jumped. Alaska squeaked, as he leaped across her, and disappeared into the darkness of the room. Alaska’s sudden noise woke up Sharon, and her eyes shot open.

“Alaska?” She said, sleepily.

“Mhm?”

“I just wanted to see if you were awake.”

Alaska could barely see Sharon’s face in the darkness, but she could see the outline of her shoulder, the curve of her hips under the blanket and her mane of black hair.

“Well, I am,” Alaska giggled, and a smile tugged at the corners of Sharon’s lips.

“Where’s Cerrone?” Sharon asked, propping herself up from the bed, resting on her elbows.

“He ran over there a second ago,” Alaska said, waving her hand towards where Cerrone had gone, fully aware Sharon couldn’t see a thing.

“Oh. How long have you been awake for?” Sharon asked, sounding a little confused.

“I don’t know, a while.”

Sharon lay down on her side, facing Alaska. Their bodies weren’t touching, but Alaska could feel the warmth radiating from the other woman.

Sharon shut her eyes and took a deep breath. She wanted to tell Alaska something, she had originally intended to say the day before, but the timing just wasn’t right. She moved her legs to get comfortable, and accidentally bumped her knees with Alaska’s. “Oh, sorry,” she said, and Alaska giggled. “It’s okay.” Sharon knew she apologized too much, and Alaska knew what that was like. She had grown up in a society where if you didn’t apologize, say thank you or show gratitude, you would get in trouble.

“Alaska?” Sharon said, and Alaska once again escaped from her thoughts and paid attention to Sharon.

“Mhm?”

“You know, what you said, about that you’re leaving when your knee is okay again?” Sharon said, voice low and raspy.

“Yeah?” Alaska said and furrowed her eyebrows.

“You don’t have to. You can stay here,” Sharon said, now sitting up completely.

“Your friends don’t seem to be very into that idea, and I really don’t want to bother you guys.”

It was true. Alaska really didn’t want to be an issue. And even though the thought of staying, under a roof, with a bed and food and water seemed intriguing, she was determined to find her family.

Sharon nodded.

“That’s true, but you can’t just go out there again. It’s too dangerous.”

Alaska hesitated. “I’m gonna have to think about that,” she said and shut her eyes for what felt like a few seconds, but when she opened them again, the sunlight had already started to seep through the cracks in the walls, and Sharon was sitting on the edge of the bed, tying her black leather boots.

When Alaska started stirring behind her, she turned around with a grin on her face.

“Thought you would never wake up,” she said and Alaska squinted. The room was almost completely lit up by the 6 large ceiling windows.

“What?” Alaska said, confused.

“You fell asleep in the middle of our conversation. You’ve been out for about an hour,” Sharon said and stood up from the bed and looked at Alaska.

She was wearing her usual high waisted black skinny jeans, and a sleeveless dark gray top.

It had ripped right by the left side of her ribcage, so she had tied it up, so it was fitted right below her breasts. Over that she was wearing her old black leather jacket

Her thick curls framed her face perfectly, and Alaska couldn’t help but stare a little.

“Oh,” Alaska said and sat up with the thin blanket wrapped around her.

She had slept in only the tank top she had worn under her black long sleeve, and her underwear, since it would have been too hot to sleep with all her clothes on, but she wasn’t really comfortable with sleeping in just her bra when she had only just met Sharon.

Her knee was still somewhat aching, but it was far from as bad as it had been the day before. She stretched out her leg in front of her, on top of the blanket and rubbed it gently.

“Is it better?” Asked Sharon, who had been watching her every move.

“Yeah, I think so,” Alaska replied and reached for her clothes, that were in a pile next to the bed.

“Good.”

Alaska pulled on her denim jeans and put on her black long sleeved shirt, and Sharon left to go feed Cerrone.

Alaska was sitting on the edge of the mattress, resting her head in her hands, thinking about everything, when someone spoke to her.

“Hello,” they said, and Alaska looked up. It was the short haired blonde girl from yesterday.

Alaska wanted to say hi back, but all that came out of her was a tiny squeak.

“I’m Katya, nice to meet you,” she said, with a foreign accent Alaska couldn’t really pinpoint

“Oh, I’m Alaska.”

Katya smiled, and reached out her hand to help Alaska up on her feet. “I know,” she said, and now Alaska was almost sure Katya’s accent was Russian. Alaska gave her a questioning look.

“Chad told me,” Katya explained and flashed a toothy smile. Her positive vibe had started to rub off on Alaska, who smiled back at her.

“How are you anyway?” Katya asked and put her hand on Alaska’s shoulder, putting them in an awkward position because of the height difference.

“I’m a lot better today, thanks,” Alaska said genuinely, as Sharon walked back over to them.

“Don’t freak her out, Katya,” Sharon said jokingly, and Katya burst out a loud wheezing laughter. Alaska couldn’t help but laugh with her, as she got eye contact with Sharon. She was holding Cerrone - who was purring delightfully – in her arms. Sharon had just fed him his usual cat dry food, and some canned stuff she wasn’t exactly sure what was. She had found everything at the gas station; food for the cat, food for herself and the group, water, one time she had even been lucky to find some blankets stuffed behind the store counter. You could pretty much find everything at gas stations, which the girls were extremely grateful for. A lot of food wouldn’t last long without being refrigerated, so their meals usually consisted of bread, cereal, canned foods or uncooked Ramen. It wasn’t exactly a culinary masterpiece, but at least they had something.

“I’m gonna have a smoke,” the Russian said, leaving Alaska and Sharon alone once again. Sharon signaled for Alaska to come over to her, and Alaska did.

“You have to eat something today. You can’t go that long without eating, that can’t be healthy,” Sharon said with a motherly tone to her voice. Alaska thought for a second before she nodded slowly, no expression on her face. Alaska guessed she was right. The last time she had eaten was the breakfast she had the morning before, at home in her kitchen.

Alaska’s bare feet hit the dark hardwood floor, as she stretched her arms above her head. She stood up and walked to the tall mirror seated on her white wooden desk. She quickly brushed her long blonde hair, and put it in a high ponytail. She then put on her dark denim jeans and a long sleeved high neck black shirt.

The floor creaked underneath her feet, as she made her way downstairs. She could hear her brothers and her sister talking and laughing in the kitchen. Her mother was cooking something at the stove with her back turned, as Alaska entered to room.

“Good morning,” Alaska said, and forced a smile. She loved her family unconditionally, but being in this time, it was hard to stay positive.

“Good morning, love!” Her mother beamed and smiled over her shoulder.

Alaska sat down at the table next to her sister, Brooke, and rested her head in her hands with her elbows on the table. Her brothers, Cory and Ryan, were sitting across from them, talking about a subject Alaska probably wouldn’t understand.

“Here you go,” their mother said and placed a plate in front of Alaska.

“Thank you,” Alaska said and smiled.

Her siblings had already eaten, since Alaska had gotten up a lot later than usual. She had stayed up late the night prior, reading and thinking about all kinds of things. Mostly about the world, and when this madness would stop. Was no one gonna do anything? In the moment it seemed stupid to think that people were just letting this happen, but deep down, Alaska knew, it wasn’t gonna be that easy to fix at all. With no government people could pretty much get away with anything.

After Alaska finished eating, she went back into her room and sat in front of her mirror. She opened one of the drawers in her desk, and pulled out a black liquid eyeliner, a mascara and a red lipstick. She usually only wore mascara and eyeliner, but she had wanted to wear that lipstick forever.

She did her usual bold wing on each eye and coated her lashes, and then popped the lid off of the lipstick. In a few swipes, her lips were fully coated in the cherry red pigment.

Alaska leaned away from the mirror a bit, and admired her work. She was happy with it. She smiled weakly at her reflection in the mirror, almost as if she had forgotten how to do so.

She stood up from her chair and smoothed out her shirt.

That’s when the first gunshot sounded in the distance.

“Alaska?” Sharon said, and Alaska blinked herself out her thoughts.

“Sorry,” Alaska said, and Sharon tilted her head slightly and furrowed her brows.

“Here,” she then said, and tossed a can of what appeared to be baked beans, to Alaska, who barely caught it.

“Thanks,” Alaska said smiled vaguely.

“Are the other girls not gonna have breakfast?” Alaska asked, seeing as the others weren’t there.

“They already did, but I wanted to wait for you to wake up,” Sharon explained, mushing her spoon around in her can.

“Oh,” Alaska said, and copied Sharon’s moves.

“You could’ve just woke me up you know,” Alaska said with a slightly mirthful tone to her voice.

“Yeah, I could, but you just looked so peaceful and pretty, so I didn’t.” Sharon said, and watched as a blush scattered across the blonde’s face. She chuckled as Alaska’s eyes immediately shot down.

“Sorry, that sounded creepy, like I was watching you sleep or something.” Sharon laughed, and Alaska joined it. The blonde shot Sharon a genuine smile, and they ate in silence.

“Shar?” Chad asked and placed a hand firmly on Sharon’s shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Come talk to me for a second?”

Sharon just nodded, no expression on her face, and put down her gun. Alaska was somewhere with Cerrone, and Sharon had just been sitting on the table, fiddling with the deadly steel object.

Sharon followed Chad, all the way outside through the large metal door. The younger woman crossed her arms across her chest, as her shoulders shot to her ears, trying to hide the fact that she was freezing. Chad looked her in the eye for a few seconds, before speaking up.

“Sharon,” she began, sounding almost disappointed. “What were you thinking?” She continued, as Sharon’s brows knitted together.

“She was just fucking lying there, Chad! What was I supposed to do!?” Sharon snapped, cringing at how weak she sounded.

“Sharon please calm down,” Chad said, remaining collected, and put her hand on Sharon’s upper arm. The younger woman quickly receded from her touch, and took a deep breath. She knew she was acting up, and she knew Chad was right.

“Sorry,” Sharon breathed, and Chad smiled at her reassuringly.

“I couldn’t just leave her, she looked so… so fragile, so, so” Sharon stumbled over her words, not making much sense whatsoever.

“She was shaking and crying, and she was so scared, Chad, and it all just felt too familiar,” the younger woman choked out, holding back the tears, that suddenly had decided to join the party.

“Oh, honey” Chad said and pulled Sharon into her safe embrace, inviting to let go. She sobbed quietly into Chad’s shoulder, and clutched her closely. Sharon wasn’t exactly sure why she was crying. She had only just met Alaska, and she was leaving soon anyway. Right?

Sharon cursed under her breath, and pulled herself together. She looked Chad in the eye and held her shoulders, as she said; “Thank you so much Chad. For everything you’ve done for me. It means more than you know.” She said, and pulled the older woman into one last hug.

“Shar, you know I love you more than anything, and you mean everything to me. If I had never bumped into you that night, I probably wouldn’t be alive right now. Taking care of you kept me sane and busy, and I can’t thank you enough for that.” Chad said, which made Sharon’s mind travel back to ‘that night’

It was a simple story; Sharon had been kicked out of her home by her parents, for being gay. She had gone out and gotten way too drunk, got in a fight, and had been left alone in an alley, blacked out and beat up. A couple of hours later, Chad had found her and brought her with her home, much like Sharon had done with Alaska.

Sharon chewed on her bottom lip, looking down at her feet. Chad’s eyes were trying to catch Sharon’s, without much success.

“Sharon,”

Sharon glanced up and caught Chad’s soft blue eyes.

“She can stay. Please tell her she’s more than welcome here. But please Sharon, please don’t make this end like with Phi Phi. I wouldn’t be able to see you broken like that again.” Chad pleaded, and Sharon nodded, and squeaked a tiny “thank you”

Chad was the best thing that had ever happened to Sharon, and Sharon wanted to be Alaska’s Chad.

“You want to come back inside?” Chad asked, and Sharon shook her head lightly.

“Uh, I think I’m just gonna stay out her for a bit. Just, you know, get my thoughts straight,” She said, and Chad accepted and went inside, closing the door carefully behind her.

Sharon’s back hit the cold brick wall, and she slit down to sit on the ground. Her fingers started tracing random patterns in the light coat of sand on the ground, as her other hand reached for the pack of cigarettes on the inner pocket of her leather jacket. Her hands were shaking from the cold, as she flicked on the half empty lighter, and lit the cigarette.

She stared off into the distance as she blew out a thick white cloud of smoke, and the door cracked open. Sharon turned her head, and looked up, to meet a familiar pair of hazel eyes.

“Hey,” the blonde spoke, and sat down next to Sharon. “Chad told me you were out here,” she continued, when the other woman didn’t reply.

“Stay. Please.” Sharon said and looked at Alaska.

“What?” Alaska said, completely knowing what Sharon meant.

“I want you to stay. Chad does too,” the older woman alleged, and Alaska’s eyes widened.

“Really?” Alaska asked, and Sharon nodded. “What about the others?”

“I think Katya is fine with it, she seems to like you. And Phi Phi? Don’t worry about her.” Sharon responded, and took another drag of her cigarette.

“I-I… Thank you,” Alaska stammered as she observed another cloud of smoke leaving Sharon’s lips.

She wondered what smoking was like. She had always kindly rejected when her friends would ask her if she wanted to try. She was simply afraid she would throw up, or that her parents would eventually find out, but now she was curious. The younger woman tilted her head slightly as she watched the orange-glowing embers fall to the ground, when Sharon tapped on the cigarette. As if she was reading her mind, Sharon asked her; “Want a drag?”

Alaska hesitated, but then nodded, and Sharon passed her the cig.

The blonde held the cigarette between her index finger and her thumb, her other fingers sticking out, as if she was scared of getting burned. She considered just giving Sharon back the cigarette, but resisted. Alaska wasn’t a wuss.

She put the cigarette between her lips, and breathed in. Soon the bitter taste of tobacco, that kind of reminded Alaska of a way too strongly brewed coffee, filled her mouth, and she couldn’t help but cough. She widened her eyes and put her free hand on her chest, as she leaned forward, coughing loudly. Without looking, she gave Sharon the cigarette back, and she took it, cackling.

“It’s not funny!” Alaska exclaimed with a mixture of laughs and coughs.

“Sorry, it kind of is,” Sharon cackled and stubbed her cigarette on the concrete. She then stood up, and brushed off her pants.

“Come on, I wanna show you something,” Sharon asked, and reached out her hand for Alaska to take.

The blonde took Sharon’s had, and she pulled her up. “Okay,” She blurted and they began walking.

The sound of the crunching gravel beneath their feet was addicting. Alaska had always had a thing for white noise. It calmed her down, and cleared her mind. She took a deep breath and enjoyed the sound, the wind and the last few chirping birds, sitting in the trees before flying south for the winter.

“Where are we going?” Alaska spoke. She had never been at their location before. They were on a graveled path, surrounded by forest, and there was a sound of running water somewhere in the distance.

“You’ll see in a second,” Sharon replied, and gestured for Alaska to follow her through a small opening in the outskirt of the woods. The forest floor was moist, and riddled with insects and fungi. Alaska unintentionally grabbed Sharon by the arm, as it was hurting her knee a bit to walk on the uneven surface. She was still really sore, and was limping.

“You okay?” Sharon questioned, concerned, and Alaska nodded and winced at the limp pain going through her body. “Yeah, it’s all good.”

“Good. We’re here,” Sharon said as they left the forest into a small grass covered area. A perfect half circle of trees decorated the view, and on the other half there was a big rock, going a bit over the edge, and below a growling river was licking at the shores.

“Oh my God Sharon, it’s so beautiful!” Alaska beamed, and Sharon chuckled.

“Not God, but it sure is,” Sharon said, which made Alaska laugh. The black-haired woman took Alaska’s hand, and led her to the large rock. For some reason, whenever Sharon touched her, it felt like electricity and fireworks shooting through her body.

“Come sit with me,” Sharon said, and Alaska did so. The rock felt cold and rough against Alaska’s hands. Both her legs were dangling over the edge, only a few feet away from the cold river below. The sound of the streaming water was calming, yet loud in a threatening way. Alaska loved it. Other than that, and the sound of Sharon’s breathing, it was quiet. Alaska felt safe in Sharon’s presence, the older girl sitting only a few inches away from her, their thighs almost touching.

Alaska stole a glance at the girl beside her, a smile dancing around the edges of her lips.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay with this beautiful stranger anyways?

[thetastytraveller]

  1:30 pm: Hit up the Steam Whistle Brewery for some real Canadian ale 

Truth? We tried to go to the Toronto aquarium and the line was insane so when we saw a brewery across the street we thought, it’s 5 o’clock somewhere and we headed straight for the Stream Whistle Brewery. Upon entering this magical establishment (beer is good, mmkay?) we were given a sample of the brewery’s flagship beer, which obvs made us decide to spend the next few hours sipping on Canadian ale and eating giant pickles.

4 pm: Bike off some of that food and beer and head to Chinatown 

Once our stomachs had consumed enough beer to make the rainy Toronto skies seem much brighter, we started strolling towards Chinatown. We soon realized this was a lot further away than we had thought. Never fear, Toronto bike sharing is here! We jumped on one of the city bikes and rode our way up a slight incline for about twenty minutes (harder than it sounds).

Once we got to Chinatown we were honestly so wiped out from the cycling that we decided to skip the food and just do a bit of shopping instead. My fave buy was a wooden back scratcher, cause who doesn’t need one of those?

6 pm: Chill out in Kensington Market and hang with the locals at Hotbox Coffee House 

Kensington Market was my favorite part of Toronto and I really, really enjoyed the laid back atmosphere and general chillness in this area. As soon as we arrived we wandered around taking tons of photos of all the shops that are run out of what reminded me of San Francisco Bay’s town houses, and obvs we noticed there were several dispensaries too. After a good hour of wandering, we made our way to Hotbox Coffee House, which is a cafe with a lush outdoor seating area in the back where you can smoke the pot you bought at the dispensary down the street (if you’re into that sort of thing). In addition to letting you smoke (weed, not cigarettes), Hotbox Coffee House also has board games, making it the perfect place to while away a few hours whilst waiting for your stomach to catch up with your brain and prepare to eat again.

10 pm: Head home and order some authentic Nepalese dumplings on UberEATS 

As the old saying goes, home is where UberEATS delivers. Now I’m not usually one to recommend you skip exploring a foreign city in order to eat takeout at home, but we were so blown away by the Nepalese food we ordered on UberEATS that I had to add it to my list. We ordered spicy crispy beef and Nepalese momos (lamb dumplings), and the food was delivered piping hot, in under 30 minutes. I’m not a Nepalese food expert but these were the best momos I’ve ever had, and the beef was spicy in a beautiful but not overpowering manner.

Day 2: Exploring Dundas West & eating all the food 

11 am: You’re on holiday, have a cocktail or try a local Canadian ale 

The bars around Toronto are plentiful and extremely welcoming, and we found ourselves chatting with the bartenders and getting city tips in a number of establishments. Do yourself a favor and take the time to have a drink, talk to the locals and just chill while watching the city go by.

Noon: Have a porchetta sandwich from Porchetta & Co.

This is another foodie destination that was recommended by the late Anthony Bourdain, and as opposed to the peameal bacon sandwich, this really did live up to our expectations. Pork crackling and roast stuffed in a hot bun with onions, hot sauce and mustard. Simple. Elegant. Divine.

  1 pm: Head for Toronto City Airport and take the ferry if you can 

We had booked a flight to Boston without realizing we weren’t flying from Pearson International Airport but rather from Billy Bishop Toronto City Airport (which turned out to be a blessing as it’s much easier to get to). Located in the middle of the city, not only was the Airport small and easy to navigate, but the views you get when flying out are unbeatable. When arriving at the airport give yourself enough time to take the ferry across from the mainland as this too is an adventure in itself.

Stay tuned for more updates from my travels around the world!

24 hours munching on delightfully scrumptious treats in Toronto, Canada 1:30 pm: Hit up the Steam Whistle Brewery for some real Canadian ale  Truth? We tried to go to the Toronto aquarium and the line was insane so when we saw a brewery across the street we thought, it's 5 o'clock somewhere and we headed straight for the Stream Whistle Brewery.

[sefirahtravels]

Welcome to Laos

12 July 2018. My last day in Vietnam I bought the lightest mountain bike I could find and got it fitted with a rear rack. My plan, predictably, is to ride it from village to village on the back roads and rarely visited places-between-places, touring Laos like I did India 14 years ago. I hopped on a cargo bus aimed for Laos and shoved the bicycle in the rear amidst the boxes and stacks of building materials. Ten slow, rickety, faith–infused hours later, I emerged in the small backwater city of Thakhek in central Laos, bike by my side. Before that, not even an hour past the Vietnam — Laos border checkpoint, the bus made a stop at a local village roadside market. A mysterious stop, because all the men got off the bus to walk around the market but no one bought anything. Was it simply to gape? That’s what I did. Under the tarps of the market where the weirdest food items I have ever seen. The one that sticks with me is the 5 kg lizard that was 4 feet long and as fat as a house cat, whose front and back legs had been bound behind its back with twine so it could not escape. The lady selling it was showing off: she wanted to show us how heavy it was so she stuffed it in a plastic sack like a piece of meat, and hefted it onto the scale. Clearly, there is a much different relationship towards death, killing, and eating here. They have no doubt whatsoever where their food comes from. The market also boasted pig ears and snouts, bags full of grasshoppers and crickets still kicking around, baskets of doomed frogs, entire cow legs with hide and hair and hoof still attached, bricks of congealed blood, plastic basins half full of muddy water with live crabs, catfish, and eels swishing around in them, bananas roasting over charcoal braziers, whole plucked ducks, and countless unidentifiable meat products, including, I’m told, water buffalo hide and bile. Welcome to rural Laos. After it’s been captured in the jungle or river, the only way to keep meat fresh is to keep it alive. One of the first things I notice about Laos is an abundance of Buddhist temples: gorgeous constructions embedded with mirror mosaics, embellished with dragons, and painted in gold. Vietnam was for the most part lacking in religious or cultural elements. Decades of dictatorship, communism, and war seems to have effectively washed Vietnam of most art, cultural heritage, and religious apparatus. Apparently Vietnam is 90% atheist, while Laos is 90% Buddhist with some animism thrown in. This is immediately apparent. Finally, there is some beauty in the architecture! I start to see, though still rarely, bits of traditional dress worn by the women. In villages some handwoven skirts start to appear. In Thakhek, I prepare for my bicycle trip: only four days and four nights- I want to see if my plan is realistic before attempting a longer stint. I study my map app, which if you zoom in far enough miraculously shows you if and where a guest house exists along the route. In this way I can confidently plan my stops along the way even in the remote villages I will be riding through. The next day, I set off at 7:30 AM on the mostly deserted road toward the unknown. I know Laos will not be like India, where I was able to traverse 500 km without encountering a single hill. Laos is mountainous and I have pared down my possessions to the barest minimum to reduce the weight I will have to haul up and down these winding roads. I am dressed like an gender-neutral desert alien. In order to survive the 6+ hours a day of tropical sun, I am covered head to toe in wide brimmed hat, gigantic sunglasses, dust mask, camouflage handkerchief, long thin gloves that go past my elbows, pants and sandals. Nothing matches, I am sweating out a gallon of water before noon, no one can tell what type of human I am, and I feel delightfully free of any lingering need to look any way for anyone. I am just a human being having an experience. I am ecstatic on the downhills, inventing songs I sing out loud to the wind. I pedal enduringly through the uphills, through surprise downpours, soaked with sweat and rain. I see rice fields, mountain vistas, and roadside forest waterfalls. I eat noodle soup for at least two meals a day. They seem to eat only two things in the public food places (really just the front of family homes where plastic chairs and tables have been placed): fried rice and noodle soup. And barbecued skewers of pork and chicken. That’s it. By the time I get back to the now seemingly bustling metropolis of Thakhek I am wanting a cappuccino and a bath and a meal that is more substantial than brothy noodles and a few morsels of overcooked day old meat. Needing a physical and psychological break from bicycling, I decide to travel by bus to Luang Prabang, Laos second biggest city and its religious and cultural center. The journey takes two buses and 24 hours. The second bus, a sleeper, had beds 5 feet long by 3 feet wide on both sides of the bus with upper and lower tiers. I thought this was totally awesome until I realized each bed was intended to fit two sleeping people, not one. My bedmate was a young Lao girl who spent the entire 12 hours throwing up into a plastic bag she hung by our feet. I was grateful that I am not much taller than 5 feet, and that at least my bedmate was female. When we finally reached Luang Prabang, city of 50 Buddhist monasteries where the Mekong and Nam Kham rivers meet, filled with intact French colonial architecture interspersed with glittering temples and golden Buddha effigies, palms shimmering in the breeze, and a selection of chic world class restaurants overlooking the river banks, I truly thought I’d reached paradise. I am sampling local “authentic” Laotian cuisine at these restaurants, and it is not very much like Thai or Vietnamese or Chinese food. It is really unique, and honestly I don’t prefer it. The flavor profile is very different: a lot of bitters, salty fish, dehydrated and fermented meats, sweet spicy thick chili sauces. It is heavy and pungent compared to the lightness of Vietnamese cuisine, and lacks the curries, the coconut milk, and the luxurious variety of Thai food. I am not having earth shattering personal revelations at this particular moment, but I am settling comfortably into my solitude, keeping myself excellent company, taking myself out to dinner at romantic dimly lit restaurants, admiring local textile weavings, stretching a lot, and reading a fat compilation of Anaïs Nin’s fiction. I have a bathtub in my room, a bicycle, and a little little travel speaker that will play any music in the world that I ask it to. It takes time to re-train yourself not to be busy all the time, to not feel the need to fill every waking moment with activity. I am allowing myself to slow down. I am removing the self-inflicted pressure to “do things”. I don’t need to conquer mountains, I don’t have to visit remote villages, I don’t even have to eat crickets if I don’t want to. I may want to do some of these things eventually, but I’m finding that the incredibly rare chance in life to let go of any and all agendas and forsake my otherwise ever-present sense of urgency is the most valuable of all experiences right now.

[tacovolution]

In South Africa, we’re fortunate to have fantastic fine-dinning restaurants – restaurants that are innovative and keep us enthralled. One such restaurant is the Restaurant Mosaic at The Orient, in Pretoria. From Pretoria it’s about a 30 minute drive and an hour drive from Joburg. But it’s well worth it, especially as you arrive at the gates of the Orient Hotel.

The Restaurant Mosaic is run by head chef Chantel Dartnall. And if you’re in the restaurant, eating lunch or dinner, you’re bound to bump into her.

My boyfriend and I decided it was best to stay over for the night, than to drive home on dark roads after a few glasses of wine. Better safe than sorry!

Upon entering a security guard escorts you to a parking bay. He already knows that you’re a guest of the hotel and not a day visitor.

As you walk through the massive front doors, Zele is waiting for you. And you’re immediately taken to your room, where you’re handed a refreshing drink of pomegranate .

As it was our anniversary, a bottle of Pol Roger Rose 2004 was waiting for us in the room. Bottle popped and we were well settled in to our gorgeous Udaipur themed room.

After a while we got a bit hungry and asked for a light snack. We thought we’d get sandwiches or something similar. But no, Chantel had made a delicious and beautiful salmon salad. It was light, refreshing, crunchy, sweet and has a bit of bitterness. An excellent prelude to the main event.

Salmon and cream cheese salad

When dinner finally arrived, we made our way to the restaurant and were seated at a cosy booth. It was difficult to notice the people around us, with the way the restaurant was designed. Immediately I noticed champagne glasses. I didn’t order any champagne for dinner as I knew we’d still be feeling the effects of the Pol Roger. But as we were celebrating an important event the Restaurant provided glasses to start off the evening.

With our glasses charged a bread cart followed, stocked with a variety of bread. And the waiter insisted that you try more than one.

Jasmine and Lemongrass butter

Cinnamon butter, salter butter, and a fish paste

Then Chef Chantel popped by to take you through the menu and different wine pairings and help you decide between the 5 course and 9 course meal. We went with the 9 course menu and the enthusiast wine pairing. How could you not?

Still part of a bread, we were presented with a amuse bouche. It was delicious.And an inviting start to the evening.

Dark chocolate, macaroons, and cheddar cheese

And then the “prelude” continued. First was frogs legs served on a bed of mushroom jelly. I must admit, in all my travels I never ate frogs legs before and I did not prepare myself for it. But as the true foodie I am, I was not going to let the opportunity pass me by. Frogs legs taste like chicken and in this case it was a tasty fried chicken legs. The mushroom jelly added an earthy taste. It was delicious. The frogs legs were served with a Graham Beck Brut (2012) and it paired well. Nothing felt out of place.

Once the appetizing prelude concluded, the first course was served: a foie gras mousse in a light muscadel jelly with finely sliced muscat grapes. It was served with truffle brioche. It was gorgeous. The foie gras was rich and creamy, the grapes added freshness and the brioche added an earthy flavor. It was, without a doubt, the best foie gras dish I’ve had in the country. And it was paired with my favourite South African Gewurztraminer: the Paul Cluver 2014. The pairing was perfect as the wine added a freshness to the earthy dish.

The second course was the Celebration on Spring. A well-thought out garden salad. It was fresh and light. Everything you would want from a vegetable salad and although it looked beautiful, the flavours complimented each other well. And so did the Alvi’s Drift Albertus Viljoen Chenin Blanc (2012), that was fruity and creamy.

I got excited and forgot to take a photo when the dish arrived.

The third course was Genesis. Genesis was rainbow trout with a miso mousse and Pomelo. This dish was also tasty and had a subtle fish flavour. The miso had flavour and spiciness. And the Pomelo really did pop. Genesis was a beautifully designed dish but the only problem was that it was paired with the Iona Chardonnay (2014). The wine was still young and clashed with the spiciness of the miso.

The fourth course was the course I’ve seen everyone love: Mousse de Mer. And understandable so. The langoustine was cooked perfectly and the tomato froth was light and fluffy and infused with rooibos. And hidden beneath was delicious risotto which added meatiness to the dish. The seashell mousse had an intense tomato flavour. The tomato salt (the sand) added more intense tomato flavoring, so it was best to have as little as possible of this. The dish also contained seaweed which added more salty flavour sauce. Overall, it was an amazingly well-thought out and prepared dish. The flavours complimented the langoustine well and is a dish that has plenty of depth. It paired well with Hartenberg Weisser Riesling (2008), which was slightly acidic and very fruity.

The fifth course was, honestly, the course that caught my attention: Millionaire Nest Egg. A quail egg with black truffle paste, on a bed of truffle infused mushrooms. It was a gorgeous, subtle dish that was earthy and the yolk pierced through adding some sunshine. The earthy dish was paired with the Lismore Viognier 2011 (another favourite) that provided an acidity and freshness to the dish was the hints of peaches and apricots.

Finally the starters were done and a palate cleanser was brought to the table: The Garden Pea. The palate cleanser consisted of a matcha and lime with a pea puree. It was a refreshing palate cleanser and fitted in well with the menu. And the peas were from the garden, adding to the ambiance of the hotel.

And with that we were halfway, although quite stuffed, and onto the main course. For mains, we had the option of 3 courses: Bouillabaisse (Kabeljou), Prints in the Paddock (Beef), and Birds of a feather (Quail).

I love quail, so there was no way that I was going to say no to the Birds of a feather. The dish consisted of King Quail that was glazed with raw honey and Balsamic vinegar. Top that off with saffron scented petite tortellini that is stuffed with slow braised Goose and Capon meat and you’ve got a mouth-watering dish. Add to this sweet onions in a red wine sauce. The dish was sweet, slight acidic, and rich. I loved every bite. The birdy (that’s now a word) was paired with the Mont Destin Pasionne (2009). With the heavy dish, the wine added creaminess and further richness.

Lee had the Prints in a Paddock for mains, which consisted of a 36 days matured Angus beef with sumac and a red ivory fruit preserve.The red ivory fruit is from the Red Ivory tree that can be found all over the Francolin Conservancy. Another element from the surrounding areas. The beef was perfectly cooked to medium rate, and the fruits added sweetness. The sumac spices added a hint of tartness to balance out the sweetness. This well-designed dish was paired with the Nederburg Petit Verdot (2001), which added richness and a spiciness to the dish.

With out stomach’s bursting, we moved onto dessert. First up was a cheese selection that was paired with Quinta de crosta port. There’s every variety of cheese available but the highlighted choices were the Epoises de Bourgogne, Belnori Phantom Forest, and Dolcelatte Gorgonzola. Most of the cheese paired well with the port, but as I’m not a fan of port of depth and flavours of the port were wasted on me.

Next for dessert was the Chocolate Cherry. This dessert had a large cherry filled with chocolate on the plate and was surrounded with cherry infused elements. Again, a fantastic mixture of sweetness, sourness and crunch. And it was delightfully light. The dessert was paired with Chateau Septy Monbazillac (2009), which with its fruity bouquet, complimented the cherry and chocolate.

Finally, we were on the Mamelon de Venus. A delicious, light and cruchy choux pastry that  was surrounded by Jasmine. It was definitely a Spring dessert: floral and light. And the bright colours of the strawberry and jasmine made it inviting. It was a scrumptious dessert and one that I would travel all the way back to the Restaurant Mosaic for.

AND after all that food there was more: Petits Fours. They were too gorgeous to ignore and we may have finished most of it.

After stuffing ourselves, we made our way up to our room. A steep affair if you’ve drunk all the wine pairings.

Come the Sunday morning and we were still stuffed, but I couldn’t miss an opportunity to see what breakfast would entail. And breakfast was superb. After being seated, a slightly warm herbal, ginger and lemongrass tea was placed in front of you. It was a delicious tea at the right temperature on the warm morning. A pastry tier was also placed on the table.

Herbal tea with ginger and lemongrass.

Fruit smoothie.

Green tee

Pastry tier

But that’s not all, a quartet of intriguing dishes were placed in front of us: tropical fruit salad, oats with vanilla and star anise, fig with goats cheese and a herb vinaigrette, and a coconut pannacotta with granadilla jelly. A flavourful start to the day.

After this, our warm breakfast of salmon with scrambles eggs and hollandaise sauce was served. Another well-executed dish.

It’s difficult to find fault with the Restaurant Mosaic or the The Orient. Every detail is thought of and as a guest, of the hotel or the restaurant, you are well taken care of.  The service is impeccable. I was a great weekend away. And when the menu changes, I’d love to be back again.

A goodbye gift from the restaurant.

I give Restaurant Mosaic 5 cupcakes. I can forgive the unfortunate pairing with the Iona.

    Review guide:

     No rating (read: why have you even bothered to open)

     Poor (read: shit)

     Average (read: meh)

     Good (read: above mediocrity)

     Very Good (read: fling your money at them. It’s worth it)

     Extraordinary (read: if you have to make a sacrifice to be here, do it)

Restaurant Mosiac at the Orient In South Africa, we're fortunate to have fantastic fine-dinning restaurants - restaurants that are innovative and keep us enthralled.

[readbookywooks]

Hansel and Gretel

Hard by a great forest dwelt a poor wood-cutter with his wife and his two children. The boy was called Hansel and the girl Gretel. He had little to bite and to break, and once when great dearth fell on the land, he could no longer procure even daily bread. Now when he thought over this by night in his bed, and tossed about in his anxiety, he groaned and said to his wife: ’What is to become of us? How are we to feed our poor children, when we no longer have anything even for ourselves?’ ’I’ll tell you what, husband,’ answered the woman, ’early tomorrow morning we will take the children out into the forest to where it is the thickest; there we will light a fire for them, and give each of them one more piece of bread, and then we will go to our work and leave them alone. They will not find the way home again, and we shall be rid of them.’ ’No, wife,’ said the man, ’I will not do that; how can I bear to leave my children alone in the forest?–the wild animals would soon come and tear them to pieces.’ ’O, you fool!’ said she, ’then we must all four die of hunger, you may as well plane the planks for our coffins,’ and she left him no peace until he consented. ’But I feel very sorry for the poor children, all the same,’ said the man.

The two children had also not been able to sleep for hunger, and had heard what their stepmother had said to their father. Gretel wept bitter tears, and said to Hansel: ’Now all is over with us.’ ’Be quiet, Gretel,’ said Hansel, ’do not distress yourself, I will soon find a way to help us.’ And when the old folks had fallen asleep, he got up, put on his little coat, opened the door below, and crept outside. The moon shone brightly, and the white pebbles which lay in front of the house glittered like real silver pennies. Hansel stooped and stuffed the little pocket of his coat with as many as he could get in. Then he went back and said to Gretel: ’Be comforted, dear little sister, and sleep in peace, God will not forsake us,’ and he lay down again in his bed. When day dawned, but before the sun had risen, the woman came and awoke the two children, saying: ’Get up, you sluggards! we are going into the forest to fetch wood.’ She gave each a little piece of bread, and said: ’There is something for your dinner, but do not eat it up before then, for you will get nothing else.’ Gretel took the bread under her apron, as Hansel had the pebbles in his pocket. Then they all set out together on the way to the forest. When they had walked a short time, Hansel stood still and peeped back at the house, and did so again and again. His father said: ’Hansel, what are you looking at there and staying behind for? Pay attention, and do not forget how to use your legs.’ ’Ah, father,’ said Hansel, ’I am looking at my little white cat, which is sitting up on the roof, and wants to say goodbye to me.’ The wife said: ’Fool, that is not your little cat, that is the morning sun which is shining on the chimneys.’ Hansel, however, had not been looking back at the cat, but had been constantly throwing one of the white pebble-stones out of his pocket on the road.

When they had reached the middle of the forest, the father said: ’Now, children, pile up some wood, and I will light a fire that you may not be cold.’ Hansel and Gretel gathered brushwood together, as high as a little hill. The brushwood was lighted, and when the flames were burning very high, the woman said: ’Now, children, lay yourselves down by the fire and rest, we will go into the forest and cut some wood. When we have done, we will come back and fetch you away.’

Hansel and Gretel sat by the fire, and when noon came, each ate a little piece of bread, and as they heard the strokes of the wood-axe they believed that their father was near. It was not the axe, however, but a branch which he had fastened to a withered tree which the wind was blowing backwards and forwards. And as they had been sitting such a long time, their eyes closed with fatigue, and they fell fast asleep. When at last they awoke, it was already dark night. Gretel began to cry and said: ’How are we to get out of the forest now?’ But Hansel comforted her and said: ’Just wait a little, until the moon has risen, and then we will soon find the way.’ And when the full moon had risen, Hansel took his little sister by the hand, and followed the pebbles which shone like newly-coined silver pieces, and showed them the way.

They walked the whole night long, and by break of day came once more to their father’s house. They knocked at the door, and when the woman opened it and saw that it was Hansel and Gretel, she said: ’You naughty children, why have you slept so long in the forest?–we thought you were never coming back at all!’ The father, however, rejoiced, for it had cut him to the heart to leave them behind alone.

Not long afterwards, there was once more great dearth throughout the land, and the children heard their mother saying at night to their father: ’Everything is eaten again, we have one half loaf left, and that is the end. The children must go, we will take them farther into the wood, so that they will not find their way out again; there is no other means of saving ourselves!’ The man’s heart was heavy, and he thought: ’It would be better for you to share the last mouthful with your children.’ The woman, however, would listen to nothing that he had to say, but scolded and reproached him. He who says A must say B, likewise, and as he had yielded the first time, he had to do so a second time also.

The children, however, were still awake and had heard the conversation. When the old folks were asleep, Hansel again got up, and wanted to go out and pick up pebbles as he had done before, but the woman had locked the door, and Hansel could not get out. Nevertheless he comforted his little sister, and said: ’Do not cry, Gretel, go to sleep quietly, the good God will help us.’

Early in the morning came the woman, and took the children out of their beds. Their piece of bread was given to them, but it was still smaller than the time before. On the way into the forest Hansel crumbled his in his pocket, and often stood still and threw a morsel on the ground. ’Hansel, why do you stop and look round?’ said the father, ’go on.’ ’I am looking back at my little pigeon which is sitting on the roof, and wants to say goodbye to me,’ answered Hansel. ’Fool!’ said the woman, ’that is not your little pigeon, that is the morning sun that is shining on the chimney.’ Hansel, however little by little, threw all the crumbs on the path.

The woman led the children still deeper into the forest, where they had never in their lives been before. Then a great fire was again made, and the mother said: ’Just sit there, you children, and when you are tired you may sleep a little; we are going into the forest to cut wood, and in the evening when we are done, we will come and fetch you away.’ When it was noon, Gretel shared her piece of bread with Hansel, who had scattered his by the way. Then they fell asleep and evening passed, but no one came to the poor children. They did not awake until it was dark night, and Hansel comforted his little sister and said: ’Just wait, Gretel, until the moon rises, and then we shall see the crumbs of bread which I have strewn about, they will show us our way home again.’ When the moon came they set out, but they found no crumbs, for the many thousands of birds which fly about in the woods and fields had picked them all up. Hansel said to Gretel: ’We shall soon find the way,’ but they did not find it. They walked the whole night and all the next day too from morning till evening, but they did not get out of the forest, and were very hungry, for they had nothing to eat but two or three berries, which grew on the ground. And as they were so weary that their legs would carry them no longer, they lay down beneath a tree and fell asleep.

It was now three mornings since they had left their father’s house. They began to walk again, but they always came deeper into the forest, and if help did not come soon, they must die of hunger and weariness. When it was mid-day, they saw a beautiful snow-white bird sitting on a bough, which sang so delightfully that they stood still and listened to it. And when its song was over, it spread its wings and flew away before them, and they followed it until they reached a little house, on the roof of which it alighted; and when they approached the little house they saw that it was built of bread and covered with cakes, but that the windows were of clear sugar. ’We will set to work on that,’ said Hansel, ’and have a good meal. I will eat a bit of the roof, and you Gretel, can eat some of the window, it will taste sweet.’ Hansel reached up above, and broke off a little of the roof to try how it tasted, and Gretel leant against the window and nibbled at the panes. Then a soft voice cried from the parlour:

’Nibble, nibble, gnaw,  Who is nibbling at my little house?’ The children answered:

’The wind, the wind,  The heaven-born wind,’ and went on eating without disturbing themselves. Hansel, who liked the taste of the roof, tore down a great piece of it, and Gretel pushed out the whole of one round window-pane, sat down, and enjoyed herself with it. Suddenly the door opened, and a woman as old as the hills, who supported herself on crutches, came creeping out. Hansel and Gretel were so terribly frightened that they let fall what they had in their hands. The old woman, however, nodded her head, and said: ’Oh, you dear children, who has brought you here? do come in, and stay with me. No harm shall happen to you.’ She took them both by the hand, and led them into her little house. Then good food was set before them, milk and pancakes, with sugar, apples, and nuts. Afterwards two pretty little beds were covered with clean white linen, and Hansel and Gretel lay down in them, and thought they were in heaven.

The old woman had only pretended to be so kind; she was in reality a wicked witch, who lay in wait for children, and had only built the little house of bread in order to entice them there. When a child fell into her power, she killed it, cooked and ate it, and that was a feast day with her. Witches have red eyes, and cannot see far, but they have a keen scent like the beasts, and are aware when human beings draw near. When Hansel and Gretel came into her neighbourhood, she laughed with malice, and said mockingly: ’I have them, they shall not escape me again!’ Early in the morning before the children were awake, she was already up, and when she saw both of them sleeping and looking so pretty, with their plump and rosy cheeks she muttered to herself: ’That will be a dainty mouthful!’ Then she seized Hansel with her shrivelled hand, carried him into a little stable, and locked him in behind a grated door. Scream as he might, it would not help him. Then she went to Gretel, shook her till she awoke, and cried: ’Get up, lazy thing, fetch some water, and cook something good for your brother, he is in the stable outside, and is to be made fat. When he is fat, I will eat him.’ Gretel began to weep bitterly, but it was all in vain, for she was forced to do what the wicked witch commanded.

And now the best food was cooked for poor Hansel, but Gretel got nothing but crab-shells. Every morning the woman crept to the little stable, and cried: ’Hansel, stretch out your finger that I may feel if you will soon be fat.’ Hansel, however, stretched out a little bone to her, and the old woman, who had dim eyes, could not see it, and thought it was Hansel’s finger, and was astonished that there was no way of fattening him. When four weeks had gone by, and Hansel still remained thin, she was seized with impatience and would not wait any longer. ’Now, then, Gretel,’ she cried to the girl, ’stir yourself, and bring some water. Let Hansel be fat or lean, tomorrow I will kill him, and cook him.’ Ah, how the poor little sister did lament when she had to fetch the water, and how her tears did flow down her cheeks! ’Dear God, do help us,’ she cried. ’If the wild beasts in the forest had but devoured us, we should at any rate have died together.’ ’Just keep your noise to yourself,’ said the old woman, ’it won’t help you at all.’

Early in the morning, Gretel had to go out and hang up the cauldron with the water, and light the fire. ’We will bake first,’ said the old woman, ’I have already heated the oven, and kneaded the dough.’ She pushed poor Gretel out to the oven, from which flames of fire were already darting. ’Creep in,’ said the witch, ’and see if it is properly heated, so that we can put the bread in.’ And once Gretel was inside, she intended to shut the oven and let her bake in it, and then she would eat her, too. But Gretel saw what she had in mind, and said: ’I do not know how I am to do it; how do I get in?’ ’Silly goose,’ said the old woman. ’The door is big enough; just look, I can get in myself!’ and she crept up and thrust her head into the oven. Then Gretel gave her a push that drove her far into it, and shut the iron door, and fastened the bolt. Oh! then she began to howl quite horribly, but Gretel ran away and the godless witch was miserably burnt to death.

Gretel, however, ran like lightning to Hansel, opened his little stable, and cried: ’Hansel, we are saved! The old witch is dead!’ Then Hansel sprang like a bird from its cage when the door is opened. How they did rejoice and embrace each other, and dance about and kiss each other! And as they had no longer any need to fear her, they went into the witch’s house, and in every corner there stood chests full of pearls and jewels. ’These are far better than pebbles!’ said Hansel, and thrust into his pockets whatever could be got in, and Gretel said: ’I, too, will take something home with me,’ and filled her pinafore full. ’But now we must be off,’ said Hansel, ’that we may get out of the witch’s forest.’

When they had walked for two hours, they came to a great stretch of water. ’We cannot cross,’ said Hansel, ’I see no foot-plank, and no bridge.’ ’And there is also no ferry,’ answered Gretel, ’but a white duck is swimming there: if I ask her, she will help us over.’ Then she cried:

’Little duck, little duck, dost thou see,  Hansel and Gretel are waiting for thee?  There’s never a plank, or bridge in sight,  Take us across on thy back so white.’ The duck came to them, and Hansel seated himself on its back, and told his sister to sit by him. ’No,’ replied Gretel, ’that will be too heavy for the little duck; she shall take us across, one after the other.’ The good little duck did so, and when they were once safely across and had walked for a short time, the forest seemed to be more and more familiar to them, and at length they saw from afar their father’s house. Then they began to run, rushed into the parlour, and threw themselves round their father’s neck. The man had not known one happy hour since he had left the children in the forest; the woman, however, was dead. Gretel emptied her pinafore until pearls and precious stones ran about the room, and Hansel threw one handful after another out of his pocket to add to them. Then all anxiety was at an end, and they lived together in perfect happiness. My tale is done, there runs a mouse; whosoever catches it, may make himself a big fur cap out of it.