#Freezer tray with lid | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cosmicalily · 7 days ago

Text

"to be loved is to be remembered" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here

procedural memory | kim seungmin x fem!reader

procedural memory: a type of implicit memory that is categorised as the unconscious guide to the processes and tasks performed on a daily basis.

author's note: this might be one of my favourite seungmin fics i've ever written. and maybe i'm biased because he is my bias and i love strawberry matcha, but i think sometimes it's okay to be self indulgent. enjoy!

There were many things that Seungmin would do without realising, as if he was on autopilot. Actions that were ingrained into his daily routine, little activities that made up his day without his awareness. The way he made his bed, the double knot he always tied on his shoelaces, the route he took to the coffee shop where he worked. He loved his routine; he loved simplicity and consistency.

At work, he thought even less about his actions. He was a quick learner, and had mastered the art of perfect coffee early on. He heard the words ‘latte’ or ‘flat white’ and somehow the completed drink would appear in front of him thirty seconds later.

“Do you do iced strawberry matchas?” a voice asked, snapping Seungmin out of his coffee-scented daze. He looked at the shot he’d started running for a flat white and then at you, cheeks pink from the cold and eyes sparkling. A soft blue scarf was wrapped around your neck, covering your chin, and you wore a cosy navy cable knit sweater, just a little too big at the sleeves.

Seungmin thought intently. “We don’t,” he said truthfully, drumming his fingers on the benchtop. “But give me a second. I’ll try and make something for you.”

You beamed in excitement. “Thank you!”

“It’s no problem,” Seungmin gave a half smile back, digging around for the matcha powder. “Although, I have to say, who orders an iced drink in the middle of winter?”

Your cheeks flushed a little pinker and you rolled your eyes. “Shut up, it’s business for you, isn’t it? And I’ll tip, obviously, because it’s a custom order. They just don’t taste as good warm. I tried it once, and it was awful.”

“Was it?” Seungmin paused, tipping the ice cubes from your cup back into the tray and placing it into the freezer. “I’m going to try and change your mind. Out of confidence as a good barista, but also out of concern for your health, because you’re literally going to freeze as soon as you step outside with ice in your system.”

“And if I don’t like it?”

“It’s on the house.”

“Deal,” you agreed, leaning against the counter and watching as he poured the frothed strawberry milk, creating a little bear design. He leaned to grab a lid, but you knocked his hand away. “It’ll cover the art you did,” you protested, and he shook his head in amusement.

You breathed in the soft, sweet scent and took a sip, thinking hard. Seungmin watched intently, his attention distracted from the three coffee orders he had lined up to complete next. You smiled, and his face softened. “Good?” he asked.

“It’s shit,” you deadpanned, then burst out laughing. “It’s amazing! How much do I owe you for it?”

“Nothing,” Seungmin replied, eyes shining.

You opened your mouth to protest, but he gave you a warning look. “Do you do this often, then?” you asked, taking another long sip of your drink.

“What do you mean?”

“Save girls with silly drink orders from hypothermia.”

“Sure, it’s my favourite pastime,” Seungmin replied seriously, though his eyes twinkled mischievously. “No, not ever before. You’re the first, Strawberry.”

Your smile widened at the nickname. “Even if you’re lying, I feel special. Thank you…” you paused.

“Seungmin,” he finished, handing over a latte to a man behind you.

“Thank you, Seungmin. I’ll be back, I promise!”

He nodded. “I know you will. See you around, Miss Matcha.”

You snorted and walked towards the door, spinning around and blowing him a quick kiss. He winked and you burst into a fit of laughter, and once you were properly out of sight, he let a full smile creep across his face.

By your third visit to the coffee shop, he didn’t even need a prompt to make your order. By the fifth, your drink would be sitting, ready for you, extra hot. Even though you no longer had a reason to wait, you always stayed to talk to him, and he was thankful you did.

Soon, Seungmin became unconsciously aware of your routine, of your timing, of your daily scarf rotation. Once winter ended, he caved and made you your first iced strawberry matcha, which you declared better than any other iced drink you’d ever consumed. He still refused to let you pay, but he was always accepting of your newfound habit of leaning across the counter and giving him a quick kiss before you left for the morning. Initially on the cheek, but by mid spring, on the lips. Your kisses tasted of your mauve lipstick, cinnamon, and of course, strawberry matcha.

After a year of dating, you moved into his apartment. Seungmin, a lover of routine and consistency, found himself mesmerised by your sporadic actions and in the moment decisions. It didn’t frustrate him, the way he worried it would. Your presence was a constant, something dependable that he centred his new, irregular routine around, filled with evening walks and beach day trips. He learnt your habits, and soon, your actions were as familiar to him as his own. He would still make his bed in the morning, and you'd help him, finishing the job off with the two jellycat puppies you'd bought for your six month anniversary. He would tie a double knot in his shoelaces, and wait for you to slip on your ballet flats. Whilst you always had your signature drink at his shop, he knew you loved chamomile before bed, and there was always a mug of it by your bedside after you'd gotten out of the shower.

And of course, you did the same for him, but in your own way. You'd lay on top of him, playing with his hair for hours, explaining every single thing you adored about him. You cooked him dinner, and you'd sit on the counter beside him as he did the dishes. It was routine. You were each other's routines.

He kept working at the coffee shop, but now as a manager, although he always insisted on making your drink himself, and you would visit him, sometimes bringing your laptop and glasses with you to set up in a corner and work, other times bringing whatever book you were currently engrossed in.

“Hi baby,” you smiled up at him, stretching your arms and dog-earing your page.

“You know I hate when you do that,” he groaned, sitting beside you on the bench. Nevertheless, he pressed a kiss against your cheek and you giggled.

“I know, but like, it shows the love I have for my books. The ones that have crumpled pages and tea stains and frayed edges are the ones I read the most.”

Seungmin shook his head. “I’m just teasing. I love you and your broken books.”

“They aren’t broken-” you protested, but he cupped your face in his hands and silenced you with a soft kiss.

“I love you,” he repeated, eyes glossed over.

“I love you too,” you gazed back at him. Your book fell off your lap, but you didn’t move to grab it. The strawberry matcha Seungmin had brought over was probably cooling, but you didn’t care. It was moments like this where everything felt like muscle memory, where nothing felt new or uncomfortable. He was familiar.

He grabbed your hand, entwining your fingers in his. You gently stroked his thumb, then whined when he let go of your hand to reach in his pocket. “What are you doing?” you asked, then you paused.

He’d slotted a ring on your finger.

“You can say no,” he said, looking you directly in the eye. "You can take it off. But it feels right for me. I saw it in the window the other day and I didn’t even think, I just bought it. Which is crazy, because you know I overthink and overplan everything.”

“I know, you’re a dork,” you smiled, but your eyes were glassy. “Why the fuck would I say no? Of course I’ll marry you.”

Seungmin breathed out and pulled you in a tight embrace. He felt warm, he smelled like coffee, and the skin of his neck was soft against your cheek. “I’m glad, because I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“I’m only doing it for the strawberry matcha, of course,” you quipped, chuckling.

“I’m only doing it out of pity,” he added.

“Dickhead.”

“Asshole.”

You leaned against him, his arms around your waist. He kissed your cheek, your forehead, your shoulder, and you rubbed his back. A buzz went off in his back pocket, a reminder that his break was over.

“So,” he broke the hug, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your drink’s probably cold. So I guess, as a good barista, I probably have to make you a new one.”

“I’m gonna make out with you for hours tonight, Kim Seungmin,” you declared. “You’re my dream boy.” You blew him a kiss as he stood up, taking your drink with him, and he winked in return.

You watched his reflection on the steel coffee machine, and saw him smile.

186 notes · View notes

strangersatellites · 2 years ago

Text

Eddie’s zoned out as he prattles off care instructions and wraps up the man’s (very strong) bicep, careful to tug it tight enough as to not hurt him.

He’s distracted. Has been for the better part of the past hour.

Steve’s been the ideal client. Perfect, he might even say.

Hardly nervous at all as he climbed into the chair and made himself comfortable. No flinching at the needle, and he’s been as easy-going as anything.

His eyes were heavy lidded and fluttery as the needle pressed into his skin, a soft smile gracing his face as he watched his spitfire little girl flip through Eddie’s books for a design she liked.

“You find anything you like, baby?” He asked.

Eddie took a pause to peek up at the little redhead across the room. Her hair in two little braids, eyebrows furrowed, and tongue poked out in concentration.

“No, I wanted a dinosaur but these are all flowers and stuff,” She pouted.

Eddie huffed a quiet laugh.

“Tell you what kiddo,” He stole a glance at Steve, blissed out in the chair. “Since your dad has been such a good sport and you’ve been so good, I’ll draw you up a dinosaur when we’re finished okay?”

Max’s eyes lit up and she giggled behind her hands and nodded.

Now that Steve’s tattoo is done, a pumpkin on the inside of his bicep, he sits up and calls her over.

“Come see, pumpkin.”

And Eddie hadn’t asked, but now, as he watches her bounce across the room and gasp at her dad’s tattoo he feels his face split into a smile.

“Daddy it's me!”

Steve laughs and it's so so lovely. He drops a kiss to the top of her head before he stands.

“It is you, bug.”

Eddie peels off his gloves and puts his hands on his hips.

“Alright miss lady. Let’s draw you a dinosaur. What kind are you thinking? Stegosaurus, pterodactyl?”

She jumps up with her arms bent to her body and roars.

“I’m a T-Rex!”

Eddie laughs and gets settled at his table.

“Alright firecracker, let’s draw you a T-Rex.”

*****

After he’s sketched the outline, a little cartoon dinosaur, he runs it through on his temporary tattoo sheet and sets to “prepping” his station.

He sprays down the chair and tugs on more gloves.

He sits on his stool and pats the chair.

“Come on up Red.”

She squeals and runs over and Steve hoists her up onto the chair.

In the meantime, Eddie rolls over to his mini-fridge in the corner and grabs the cold rag he’s had in the freezer.

He can hear Steve whisper as he tucks a loose hair behind her ear.

“You excited, huh? My brave girl.”

And Eddie’s heart melts.

He rolls back over and puts on his serious face.

“Okay Max. You’re gonna feel a sting but you’re a tough girl, aren’t ya?”

She furrows her brows and nods. She rolls up her own sleeve.

“I’m strong!”

He can’t help but smile.

“You sure are. Look at those muscles!”

He peels off the plastic covering the ink.

“Where do you want to put it?” He asks.

She pats her upper arm.

“Here. Just like daddy!”

Eddie grins again and Steve is biting back a smile from his spot behind the chair. Eddie sends him a wink and watches the flush bloom across his cheeks.

“You ready, Red?”

Her focus face is back and she nods resolutely.

Eddie lines up the sheet and sticks it to her arm. She turns her head back towards Steve.

“Daddy? Will you hold my hand?”

As if Eddie’s heart wasn’t already a puddle on the floor.

“Here we go, sweetheart,” Eddie says as he presses the cold rag to her skin.

He hisses through his teeth and grimaces like he’s in pain. He holds back a laugh as she puffs out her cheeks and visibly squeezes her dad’s hand.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Steve tells her.

She lets out a sharp little breath as Eddie shifts and presses the rag back against her skin.

She looks up towards him and giggles.

“It’s not that bad. I’m tough like daddy.”

He flops the rag back down on his tray and goes to peel the paper away from her skin.

“Yes you are!” He says as he smiles down at her cute little dinosaur, “Do you like it?”

She looks down at it and squeals.

“Look daddy! Look!”

Steve hoists her up onto his hip and swings her around, giggles filling the space and Eddie’s heart.

“I love it, pumpkin! You’re the coolest little girl in the whole world!”

He puts her down and she runs around the chair to where Eddie is peeling off his second set of gloves and bumps right up next to him. He furrows his eyebrows and goes to ask what’s wrong when he’s interrupted.

“Look dad! Just like Eddie!”

And now that he looks at it he sees it. Max’s dinosaur is in the same place as her dad’s tattoo. But it’s in the same place as Eddie’s dragon too.

#suspend your disbelief #and just trust me that eddie has a printer that accommodates temporary tattoos #walk with me #gin writes #single dad steve #tattoo artist eddie #based on that one hc I posted about this #hcs by g #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #I once again did not proofread this #an ode to the amount of nicknames I can give baby max

500 notes · View notes

fox-bright · 1 month ago

Text

Oops, Poultry Version

So I Got Paid on an invoice I've been nagging about for the last three months or so, and while it has to last me a while, and cover many needs, it is a long tradition of mine that the first proper shop after Getting Paid is the purchase of meat. I've spent too much of my life starving to break that habit now, regardless of the fact that these days things are more comfortable; I feel the precarious nature of life at every turn, and so it gives me comfort to get high-value food. Having Enough has been such a relative rarity in my life that it gives me a deep contentment to know that not only is my belly full tonight, but it will be tomorrow, too.

Also, it's just fun to be able to see a food and buy it.

So the Magical Flying Husband and I hied ourselves to the Chef Store where we can buy things in bulk, and I tooled around in the big refrigerated meat room, looking for the elusive and subtle 50% Off stickers. There were discounts on various large pieces of beef, but I made thirty quarts of beef stew last month that now sit, gleaming, on the canning shelf in my basement; I didn't need any large pieces of beef. I made ground beef chili last month, too, and pork butt chili so tender that it made me gasp when I bit into it, but what I didn't make was chicken anything.

Bird flu being what it is, chicken prices are only going up. And I haven't canned chicken stock since late 2022; typically I do a big run of stock in the autumn every two years. I'm getting low. So, I looked for chicken.

I wanted cheap thighs; there weren't any on sale.

Cheap breasts would have done; there weren't any on sale that looked good.

But then I saw that little one-by-one-and-a-half inch sticker on a waxed box of whole chickens. I haven't broken down a raw whole chicken before, but that would do nicely; breasts, thighs, drumsticks for soup, wings to fry for the MFH, and wingtips, bones, skins and tag-ends for stock. Perfect. I slid the box off the shelf (heavy!) and onto a lower stack of boxes so that I could see into it, and lifted the lid. It looked like it held seven or eight chickens. Probably eight? They were piled over each other a bit awkwardly. Eight chickens for a bit under forty dollars. These days, I'm not going to find better prices. I had the MFH heft it into the wide shopping cart and moved on. Two ten pound tubes'o'burger, to be split into one pound portions and frozen in vacuum bags. Soy milk for the MFH's breakfast, and a luxury for me in the form of large, firm green grapes. Five pounds of mushrooms, cheap, to put into chicken cream soup. One bag of frozen jiaozi. And then out into the bright Autumn, feeling quite good about my purchases. I half-daydreamed about chicken soup all the way home.

We got home and I hauled the heavy box of chickens upstairs to my little kitchen where I do all my canning. The refrigerator is also quite small; the box was two inches too big in any dimension to let the door close. But the chickens were, I remembered, sealed in a plastic bag inside the box, to prevent them drying out or leaking. I could put down a baking tray and pop the bag onto that. I could slide the chickens around and close the door.

Removing the bag, I realized I'd made an error in my calculations. It was so cold in that big freezer room. I have always been very sensitive to the cold (thanks, starvation and hypothyroidism), but it's gotten a lot worse since the brain injury. I hadn't lingered. I'd pulled the lid off the box, looked in and said "Seven or eight chickens! And they all look good! Let's get this." and moved on.

I did not notice that the chickens were stacked in the box. Two deep.

I had a lot of plans for seven or eight chickens. But I don't have seven or eight chickens. I have fourteen or sixteen.

I have never broken down a whole raw chicken.

Wish me luck...

#this is not cottagecore #canning #food preservation #my actual life

21 notes · View notes

charlotte-family-apologist · 10 months ago

Text

I imagine Kuai Liang to just... taste like freezer sometimes. You know when you don't have a lid on your ice cube tray and it tastes like freezer? Yeah, he just tastes like that sometimes.

Hanzo goes in for a kiss, and instead of tasting human or whatever Kuai Liang ate or drank, he just tastes like freezer.

#he pulls away and just has to think for a moment #he then shrugs and goes in for another #subscorp #kuai liang #hanzo hasashi #mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat headcanons #cfa posts

64 notes · View notes

theflintwarlock · 11 months ago

Text

Foraging for Witchcraft

One of the great things about foraging specifically for Witchcraft is that you're not restricted to just edible things. You can forage/find stones, clay, bones, herbs, water, fruits and vegetables, wood and more.

I've made a post previously about how important low-cost Witchcraft is. So consider this a follow-up of things you can find for your practice that are completely free.

Some useful tools that are simple to forage if you are near the sea:

-Sea salt

Just gather filtered sea water in a pot and boil until salt crystals form. Then put the salt on a baking tray and either leave to sun dry or put it in the oven. You can also make infused salts and black salt like this

-Sea shells

They are common for love workings but are also great for protection, grind them up and use them in a protection salt (obviously not one you're going to eat)

-Sand

Often used for ritual magic, especially dyed sands. Also good for spell bags, planting certain plants, keep it in Jars or boxes and Bury things in it for a freezer spell.

-Stones and crystals

Of course I love flint, but there are many different stones based on your geographical location that will be good for Witchcraft. Quartz is great for protection, it doesn't have to be clear in order to work. White quartz is just fine.

-Sea glass

Sea glass is such a great form of protection, with colours from green to blue to brown and even a very rare red piece. Being infused with the ocean's energies really makes it special.

Some tools that are simple if you live near a forest/wooded area:

-Branches

Fallen branches can work as wands, divining rods, kindling for a fire, and depending on the type of wood they have different associations. You can make your own broomstick from collecting enough branches.

-Moss

Moss is often overlooked in magical practice, but it is an amazing type of plant that you can grow in a jar terrarium or dry and use in spell work. It is often the first thing to grow over dead wood or old stones, and as such it is Hardy and useful for hard times and new growth.

-Plants

So, so many different plants. Some edible plants like wild garlic have great uses in kitchen witchery, some poisonous plants like hemlock can be an amazing kick to your death work or baneful practice. What plants you can Forage will depend on your local area.

-Bones

Animal bones are a beautiful way to incorporate death and life into your practice. I usually let the Bones that want to be used for my practice come to me- if I can't find any more in a spot there used to be loads, I take that as a sign they did not want to be used/found a better resting place. I could do a whole post on cleaning and preparing Bones for your practice but vulture culture on tumblr has you covered.

Things you can Forage if you live in a city:

You may be surprised that I've included urban areas in this list. Most of what you can Forage here is more commonly thought of as rubbish, but it has excellent magical potential nonetheless.

-Broken glass

Excellent for baneful workings and baneful protection magic. Please be careful when collecting it, wear gloves and use a sealed container so no shards escape.

-Coins

Find a penny, pick it up and all the day you'll have good luck. I always keep the pennies I find on the pavement as a token of good luck.

-Beer bottle caps

I love collecting these and putting them in little jars. Corks can do a similar job when it comes to magic- keeping something in that you don't want coming out. Like an urban salt circle. Put a lid on it.

-Weeds

While you might not be in an area with abundant foliage and wildlife, you will undoubtedly be able to find weeds growing in the pavement or on gates and buildings. Ivy has great binding properties, dandelions are great for protection, shamrocks for luck ect.

-Feathers

These are easy to find if you live near pigeons and other birds. Please don't pick it up if there is a bird flu outbreak in your area, and as with bones make sure to wash them before bringing them into your home.

#the warlock speaks #witchcraft #witchblr #for baby witches #witchcraft ideas #urban witchcraft #sea witchcraft #forest magic #foraged magic

71 notes · View notes

taosnipple · 1 day ago

Text

Hey anon! Didn't post your message because it was transphobic and vile and you're a fucking weirdo for sending it!

The rest of this isn't for you or people like you.

Anyways hey friends, if you have a giant pot with a lid or a crock pot, you can make massive amounts of deeply nutritionally dense bone broth or vegetarian stock this fall! My go-to is a whole 12 pack of drumsticks that are on clearance, 2 small or one big onion (or one quart-size bag worth of scraps, you can use the roots and skins if you discard ones with too much dirt or rinse them before deep storage in a freezer,) 3 carrots, roughly chopped, mostly for color and earthy sweetness, and up to a whole head of garlic (roasting in the oven beforehand will pump up the flavor so hard and make any cold germs in your home weep in fear) put em in a pot with a bit of oil, do a few minutes of stirring and frying for the veggies to take on color, then add enough water to cover, pop on ur lid, bring to a low boil for 4-6 hours for ready-to-use strength, or 8-12 hours for concentrated gelatinous goodness (for either option pls check in on ur soup occasionally and stir/top off with water. You can add any powdered seasonings u want but bay leaf/onion/garlic/salt/pepper/ginger/cumin is my favorite blend, measure with ur heart!)

I like to get mayyyybe 60-80% of the fat off before storing because its so well seasoned and makes vegetables of any kind go so hard you'll never think about bioessentialism or heteronormativity ever again. Portion as much soup as you can stand into ice cube trays or other means of freezavle storage and squirrel it away for when you feel like shit and nothing will fix it, i PROMISE YOU good soup will at least help you find the first step. Season dish by dish as needed, i like making mugs of steamed egg with chili oil and soy sauce when i use my soup! The higher fat content also makes for a super satisfying mouthfeel if used for ramen (even instant!!!)

Obviously, if you're transphobic, this soup will magically turn into rat poison before you eat it. No way around that one. Suck it up. You'll never be able to enjoy a good soup the way someone too queer to see the boxes any one ingredient fits into can enjoy the experience of unity and wholeness. You'll never be cool. Do a kickflip lol.

#soup #transphobia #lmao #i'm sorry #I'm trying to match the length on hopes of canceling out the ick with good soup vibes so if anyone has recipes let's makes the notes our ow #little queer recipe book #because cookin up good soup is what life's about #nothing they said was important or original so I'm laughing at them a little uwu #trans rights #trans boy #transgender #queer

8 notes · View notes

popculturelib · 1 year ago

Text

Fanzine Friday #10: Skills (2009) by Sabrina Simon

Skills is a DIY zine about common household tasks and fun projects. Following last week's canning theme, here is the section about food preservation, with an additional recipe for a baking soda volcano.

The Browne Popular Culture Library (BPCL), founded in 1969, is the most comprehensive archive of its kind in the United States. Our focus and mission is to acquire and preserve research materials on American Popular Culture (post 1876) for curricular and research use. Visit our website at https://www.bgsu.edu/library/pcl.html.

Image transcripts below the cut:

Food Preservation

I've been interested in food preservation for a while now and have figured out a few different ways to save fresh produce for use at a later date.

Freezing

Many vegetables can be preserved simply by freezing. All you need is a plastic bag with no holes and a top that seals completely. Cook the vegetables (fully or partially), stick `em in a bag, stick the bag in the freezer, and there you go!

To prevent things from freezing in a clump, place them in a single layer on a baking sheet, place the sheet in the freezer, then transfer to storage bag when they are frozen through.

To freeze corn, cook it as you normally would, then cut the kernels off of the cob. Sometimes when cooked corn-on-the-cob sits around it gets pale and wrinkly, but after cutting it off the cob and freezing it, it will have a plump, yellow appearance. Nice.

Berries and grapes can be frozen raw.

Bananas can be placed in the freezer for later use. The skins turn brown but does not have an effect on flavor.

To freeze ranges and lemons: zest and juice the fruit then freeze the zest and the juice separately, in a plastic bag or ice cube tray; or just stick them in there whole; or cut into sections and store in bags.

Canning

Canning food may seem like an antiquated, labor-intensive idea, but it is actually simple once you know the process.

The Basic Boiling Water Canning Process

Obtain canning jars and lids— that is jars that have a flat lid and a bans band. You must use a new flat lid every time you can, but screw bands can be re-used. Wash the jars, bands, and lids in hot soapy water. Using a dishwasher is fine. Let dry thoroughly. Please follow a recipe for the food you want to can, because you need to make sure there is enough acid in the product so it won't spoil.

Prepare a canner. A canner is a large pot with a lid and a rack in the bottom. The rack is important because water must be able to circulate sides of the canning jar. Assemble your own canner by obtaining a pot deep enough to fit your jar and something that will keep the jars from touching the bottom and allow circulation. Try a toaster oven rack or a metal colander.

Fill the jars with the fruits or vegetables to be canned. It is important to leave "headspace" at the top of the can, as per recipe instructions. For boiling water canning, maker sure to leave 1/2 inch of space between the food and the top of the jar.

Use a clean, wet cloth to wipe around the jar tops. They should be totally clean.

Place a flat lid on the jar, and screw on the bands tightly.

Place the rack in the pot, fill pot halfway with water, place the cans in the pot, and top up with boiling water - enough so that cans are covered with one inch of water above them. Place lid on canner and start timing as per recipe instructions. If need be, top up the pot with more boiling water so that there is always one inch above the jars. Remember not to let jars touch the sides or bottom of the pan or each other. Also, always keep the lid on.

Remove jars from the canner and place on a rack to cool. When they are cool, check to make sure that all of the jars sealed. A sealed jar will have a dip in the lid that does not give. An unsealed jar will "pop" up and down if you press on the lid. If any jars are unsealed, you can try resealing them immediately (by the same process), or else just refrigerate and use within a few days.

Label jars with the date of canning. Store in a cool, dark, and dry place and use within one year. Now wasn't that fun?

Applesauce

I made and canned applesauce and you can to!

This recipe makes about six pints of applesauce. I live in a house with five other people so having a ton of applesauce is fine by us, but feel free to cut the recipe in half.

Start by peeling, coring, and cutting eight pounds of cooking apples.* I've got one of those hand-crank apple peelers which is perfect for this. Otherwise—recruit your friends to help you, because this is a LOT of apples!

*I suggest using a combo of Granny Smith & Golden Delicious apples.

Place apples, 2 cups of water, and a couple cinnamon sticks (if you want) in a huge pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer until apples are very tender. Stir often. Depending on what type of apple you use and how small they are chopped, this could take anywhere from 15 to 40 minutes.

Remove cinnamon sticks. Mush apples to a consistency you like. I like a chunky kind of applesauce so I just smash it a bit with a potato masher.. If you want it smoother, run it through a food mill or ricer and put it back in the pot. If you want, add sugar to taste (brown sugar is nice) and more water, if it seems a little thick.

Bring sauce up to boiling. Pour the sauce into the clean jars— they should still be warm. Wipe the rims of the jars and apply lids and bands. Process for 15 minutes using instructions above.

***An obvious way to preserve fruit is by canning your own jam/jelly/preserves. I can't stomach that sort of thing, so I've never made it. If you have a jam-type recipe you're willing to share, please send it in! ***

Baking Soda & Vinegar

Another cheap + easy way to entertain the kids is to make a baking soda volcano! Simply put some baking soda in a glass, dribble in a bit of vinegar, and watch it foam & expand & hiss. It's pretty fun. Add some food dye for special effects. Bonus points if you do it in the sink: the foaming action can help unclog a drain, the soda is a good abrasive for cleaning, and it will also neutralize odors. Sweet! (Note: don't overdo it - a little bit of each product goes a very long way!)

#bgsu #skills #canning #zines #fanzine friday #baking soda volcano #food preservation

74 notes · View notes

illustriousaestheticc · 11 months ago

Text

You have seen it in TikTok and insta! Yk you want it! Buy it now

#TikTok #amazon #amazon finds #christmas gift #gift for him #gift for husband #gift for mom #gift guide #giftshop #gift for wife #giftober2023 #instagram

26 notes · View notes

lethalwomanly · 5 months ago

Text

Mcr fanfic

Gerard x reader

Gerard sat next you on the couch while watching a film when you felt a pain in your stomach and a familiar sensation down there. You got off the couch and rushed to the bathroom quickly.

Once you were inside, you checked your underwear and just as you feared, your period had started. You groaned quietly, not wanting to disturb your boyfriend. Of course, before you could finish the thought, Gerard began knocking on the door.

“You okay, honey?”

You grabbed a tampon from under the sink and quickly inserted it, washed your hands and opened the door.

A concerned look was plastered on Gerard’s face. You quickly hugged him, his touch instantly making you feel smaller.

Gee petted your head for about a minute to help you relax, then spoke. “Is it that time of the month, sweetie?” You looked up at him, nodding. You felt non-verbal and physically tired. You didn’t wanna feel extra happy right now like you usually do, you just wanted to be small and be close to Gerard. Maybe just cry.

Gerard took your hand and lead you back to the couch crouching down beside you.

“Does my baby need to be little today? If you do, bunny, that’s okay. Daddy can take care of you.”

“Yes pl…please. Wanna spen day wif daddy n my stuffies.”

Gerard nodded. “I think that’s a great idea pumpkin! How about we watch tangled together with Berry. Have some chicken nuggets.. Maybe some chocolate later? I’ll get you some medicine for your tummy and a heating pad.” Gee squeezed your hand before going into the kitchen to grab a couple things.

Your boyfriend opened one of the cabinets to get a sippy cup for you, one of your pacis, and some Tylenol. He filled the cup up with apple juice then twisted the lid on. He headed to the bedroom to grab your stuffed animal he bought for you.

Once he returned he saw you and Mitch, his cat cuddling on the couch. At first Mitch didn’t like you very much but he warmed up to you eventually. Now sometimes he can’t get the feline away from you.

“Hey, little one, I brought you a sippy, your paci, Berry and some medicine.” He said softly.

“Fank youws dada.” You took the pills in your hands and swallowed them, drinking the apple juice.

“Good job baby! Daddy’s so proud of you. Now… let’s get Tangled on.”

Gerard picked up the remote from the coffee table and turned on Disney plus scrolling through all the movies before he found Tangled for you. You two quoted lines together for a good amount of the film, around the snuggly duckling scene, Gerard got up to refill your cup.

“You want some chicken nuggets hon? With some honey mustard?”

You grinned a little, nodding. The pain in your tummy still bothering you a bit.

“The meds will take a little bit to kick in okay, beautiful? Let me start on your chicken nuggets.” He kissed your cheek before heading back into the kitchen.

Your boyfriend grabbed the bag of frozen chicken nuggets from the freezer, opened the bag and put them in the air fryer. You purchased it for his last birthday. You usually would use it yourself pretty often.

About 5 minutes later, he removed them from the tray and put the chicken on a plate for you. Gerard looked in the pantry for honey mustard sauce.

Once he found it, Gerard put some on the plate and filled up your juice again.

He returned back to his spot on the couch, placing the food on the table, holding you close.

“Chicken nuggets and honey mustard for my little honey bear.” He said softly.

“Shhhh I can’ hear da movie, daddy!” You said. Gerard could tell you were deep in little space now. Your boyfriend ran his fingers through your hair as you drank some of your juice and ate your nuggets. You were almost at the end of the movie when a sad scene came on.

“I don like dat Eugene gotta die. Das sad.. Losin someone Chus love..” Your eyes welled up with tears.

Gerard held you close, his thumb rubbing your arm.

“Aw.. I know little one… it’ll all be okay in the end! You’ll see!”

“Otays.” You turned to watch again.

Soon after the movie was over and the credits scene began to play.

“De end!! Can we’s watch tangowed da series toos??”

He sighed and looked at his watch. “I dunno sunshine, it’s pretty close to your bedtime.. maybe an episode or two..” He was tired himself, but wanted to make sure you were feeling okay.

“Yayy!!” You smiled wide and kept your eyes glued to the screen. Except when your daddy gave you a occasional peck on the cheek.

•••

The episode ended and Gerard let out a loud yawn. “Okay, little one, I think it’s time for us to get ready for bed.”

You pouted. You didn’t want to go to bed yet! You were having too much fun.

“Don wanna go tew bed!! Wan stay up n watch movies!!” You frowned at him.

“Baby, please watch your tone with me. I’m going to be nice with you first thing. Please. let’s get ready for bed.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No!”

His face turned dark suddenly. He was not happy with you. This was the last thing he wanted to do tonight. He never enjoyed punishing you.

“Sunshine… I think you need a punishment in time out if you want to continue acting like this.”

You frowned. You felt moody and angry now. All you wanted to do was stay up and your daddy didn’t want you to! You were angry.

“NO I NOT GONNA GO TEW BED. YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!”

Gerard sighed. He was disappointed in you. He hated punishing you, but it was what had to be done at this moment.

“That’s it, little one. You’re going into time out in the corner. Now.” His last word spilling with anger.

He grabbed your arm harshly and just about had to drag you to his bedroom. He put you next to the corner, facing the wall and sat you in a chair.

“Now. You sit there for 10 minutes. No talking, giggling, toys, anything. You have to sit here and think about what you did wrong. When time is up, you will go straight to the bathroom, brush your teeth and get ready for bed. Do you understand me?” He stared directly at you, his face almost emotionless but still very stern.

“Y-yes sir…” you said.

“Good.”

Your boyfriend began the clock on his phone, picking up a comic book and reading it while you sat and waited.

Three minutes went by.

“Can I come out yet, daddy?”

“Not yet.”

You groaned. This was so boring. There was nothing to occupy your mind except for your own thoughts. You had an idea. You would just make up stories in your head!

Soon enough, seven more minutes went by and his alarm went off. Gerard closed his book and walked towards you.

“Now… are you going to behave, little one?”

“Yes daddy.”

“Do you have something to say to daddy?”

You thought about your words for a second. “I’m.. I’m sorry.”

“And what are you sorry for?”

He stared down at you, his stern expression still there.

“M sorry for being bad and yelling at daddy.”

He nodded. “Good job baby. I’m proud of you for apologizing.” He gave you a gentle hug.

“Daddy’s sorry for being stern with you. I still love you. Daddy always wants you to do better.”

You wiped the tears forming on your face.

“You’re a good little, bunny. Why don’t you go brush your teeth and daddy will read you a story then we’ll go to bed together, hm?”

“Okays daddy!” You hurried to the bathroom and brush your teeth as quick as you could, taking care of your hygiene things before stepping out into his room.

“Can dada help me get m Jammies on? Please?”

Gerard put down his comic book he’d been reading before and walked over to you.

“Of course sweetheart. You wanna wear the spooky ones tonight?” You nodded. You loved those. They had pumpkins and skeletons all over them. It kind of reminded you of Gerard.

“Okay sunshine. Lift your arms up!” You did as you were told and he took your shirt off. Then put the skeleton shirt on you.

Once it was on, he helped you get your jeans off and

Put your pajama pants on.

“So cute!!” Gerard said. You smiled at him and giggled.

“Okay.. now it’s story time. How about we read one of your favorites. ‘The Little Mermaid’?” You grinned and clapped your hands.

“Yes please!!”

“Okay sweetie.” Gerard opened the book and showed you the picture. “Once upon a time.. there was a little mermaid named Ariel who loved human things…”

• • •

You felt yourself getting more sleepy after the story, Gerard held you close and put the book on the bedside table.

“I love you, sunshine. More than you know. You make me so happy..” Gerard whispered, stroking a couple strands of your hair.

“Goonight dada…”

He kissed your forehead, placing the comforter over the two of you and turning off the light.

“You’re the light in my life, little one…Good night, sunshine. ”

You both drifted off to sleep in each others arms.

#Gerard way x reader #Gerard way #age regression fanfic #age regression

15 notes · View notes

generic-sonic-fan · 2 years ago

Text

My Soul To Keep

Summary: There’s been a close call. Rouge nearly doesn’t make it, leaving Shadow panicky and uncertain. To allay his fears, Team Dark sits down and discusses their plans for the worst case scenario.

3913 words

Rouge comes home from the hospital three days later.

Omega’s carrying her bag, and Shadow is carrying her, helping her limp over to the couch. The baggy shirt she’s wearing covers the bandages criss-crossed over her stomach. He and Omega had spent those three days, before she got home, blaming themselves and each other. Too slow. Distracted. Extraneous variables. Stupid mistake. They’d slinged it all, at this point, gotten it out of their systems so that she didn’t have to hear the pity party.

It doesn’t stop Shadow’s hands from shaking.

“Set me down, riiiiiiiiiiiiiight here.” Rouge groans as she slides onto the couch cushions. “And set my stuff in the bedroom, okay, big boy?”

Omega tromps off down the hall.

“Anything you need?” Shadow asks.

“More of the happy stuff they have at the hospital.”

“You're clear for another dose of painkillers in three hours and twelve minutes. You need water, and food, if you think you can keep it down.”

“Not hungry, but I’m not going to lose my lunch over it. Did you two eat all the twinkies while I was gone?”

“I AM INCAPABLE OF CONSUMING ORGANIC SUBSTANCES.” Omega returns from the hall.

Shadow goes to the kitchen and fills a tall glass of water. He sets this on the end table beside her. He then retrieves a box of saltine crackers from where they've been shoved in the back of the pantry.

“. . . not what twinkie wrappers sound like.” Rouge mumbles from the couch.

He places the saltines beside her as well. “If you want something sweet, I can make you some tea.”

“Too hot. I’m boiling already.”

“Omega, grab an ice tray, then?”

“YOU FORGOT TO SAY THE MAGIC WORD.”

Rouge snorts. She’s trying not to laugh, but her chest shakes anyway, and she cringes as she smiles.

“Please?” Shadow sighs.

Omega goes to the freezer. Shadow opens the tea drawer and retrieves the peach-and-ginger blend. He grabs a mug from the cupboard, fills it with water, then sticks it in the microwave. Three minutes later, the timer dings. Shadow dips the tea bag into the just-boiling water and waits. Omega returns with the ice tray and starts fishing the cubes into a water bottle. The tea bag is removed, sugar added, and the concoction poured over the ice, sealed over with a lid and straw. Shadow delivers it into Rouge’s waiting hands.

“You’re too good for me.” She murmurs.

“CORRECT. I AM.” Omega touts from the kitchen.

“Stop making her laugh.” Shadow says.

It’s too late, of course. She’s already giggling between pained gasps.

“SHE WILL BE ALRIGHT. IF LAUGHTER COULD KILL, I WOULD ALREADY BE A COMEDIAN.”

“You’re enough of a clown for it.” Rouge says.

Now Shadow’s laughing, too, despite himself. Rouge takes a big sip of her tea, letting out a faint ��Mmmm” as she sucks it down the straw. She then reaches the cup over to the end table. Her hand slips, the cup falls.

She jerks forward to try and catch it and now there’s little dots of red poking through her oversized shirt.

Shadow grabs her shoulders and pushes her back against the couch cushions. He holds her down, rips her shirt open, and feels along the bandages. His fingers grow damp. He presses a firm palm down. She cries out.

“Stay still!” He screams back.

His damn hand won’t stop shaking. She’s bleeding and he can’t stop shaking and it’s not helping and he needs to do better he needs to be better he needs to STOP SHAKING-

The world around slows. Breathe, in and out. Stop the bleeding. Apologize. Check the IV. Find a doctor onboard to rebind her wounds.

“I’m sorry.” Shadow chokes out. “The pressure will stop the bleeding-”

“THE BLEEDING HAS CEASED. STOP APPLYING PRESSURE.”

Shadow lifts his palm. He checks her own. There’s no IV line. There’s. . .

“SLOW YOUR BREATHING. IT IS ADVISABLE THAT YOU EXCUSE YOURSELF TO YOUR ROOM TO CALM DOWN. I WILL ATTEND TO ROUGE. MY KNOWLEDGE OF DESTROYING MEATBAG ANATOMY ALSO LENDS WELL ENOUGH TO MAINTAINING IT.”

A hand on his shoulder.

“SHE WILL BE ALRIGHT. GO.”

He stands. The world sways. His pulse is roaring in his ears and energy crackles at his fingertips. He focuses it without needing to utter the words, and with a resounding crack he’s back in his room. He falls onto the bed, curls himself under the weighted blanket, and lets the burning tears finally fall out of his eyes.

After some amount of time shaking and sobbing like the pathetic coward he is, he sticks his head out of the blanket and listens. Omega is saying something he can’t make out. Then, Rouge’s voice, just barely audible. The walls shake with Omega’s footsteps coming down the hall. Shadow untangles himself from the blanket and sets his feet against the ground.

“ROUGE HAS INSTRUCTED ME TO ‘CHECK IN’ ON YOUR EMOTIONAL STATE.” Omega opens the door.

“How is she?”

“AS I HAVE SAID PRIOR: SHE IS ALRIGHT.”

Of course she is. Of fucking course she is. Just a tiny bit of blood and he lost his goddamn mind about it. He grabs at his quills, pulling them just hard enough to hurt.

“WHAT IS YOUR STATUS?”

“I’m fine.”

“ROUGE SHOWED ME A MEME SHE FOUND ‘RELATABLE’ ON HER INSTAGRAM FEED TWO MONTHS AND SIX DAYS AGO. THE MEME STATED THAT ‘FINE’ STOOD FOR ‘FREAKED OUT, INSECURE, NEUROTIC, AND EMOTIONAL’. UNDER THIS DEFINITION, YOU ARE INDEED ‘FINE’.”

“Shut up! Leave me alone!”

“NOTED.”

Omega leaves. Shadow’s tempted to tear his quills all the way out, but that would leave him with a migraine, and he can’t be where he’s needed if he can hardly stand. Not that he’s much help to anyone. Not like he’d do anything other than flip out at the slightest provocation. Might as well start screaming her name around to complete the look, right?

He immediately catches that thought and curls in on himself. He whispers an apology against his fur, lips forming the shape of the name. Lips part. Teeth come together. Mouth opens, ending on the “ah”. He’s sorry he even thought to take her name in vain. She doesn't deserve it.

She didn’t deserve any of it. Neither does Rouge. He knows he’s projecting; Rouge hates it when he does that. She doesn’t say anything but he knows she hates it.

“ROUGE IS REQUESTING TO SEE YOU.”

Omega stands in the doorway again. Shadow slides off the bed. They return to the living room.

“I’m sorry.” He says the moment his eyes hit the couch.

“It’s okay.” Rouge replies. She’s wearing a different t-shirt now. The old one is bunched on the coffee table. It smells of ginger and peach.

“I’ll do better next time.”

“Well, gee, it’s almost like your best friend could’ve died. I’d be more offended if this didn’t happen at some point.”

He’d been hoping this wouldn’t happen at all, but he doesn’t tell her that. The less therapy she has to give while she herself should be the one getting taken care of, the better.

“IT IS ONLY LOGICAL FOR YOUR MEATBAG BRAIN TO BE EXPERIENCING HIGH LEVELS OF STRESS IN THIS SCENARIO.”

“Not helping, Omega.” Rouge says.

“I AM FORTUNATE TO NOT EXPERIENCE SUCH STRESS. HOWEVER, IN THE DAYS PRECEDING TO NOW, MY RAGE LEVELS HAVE BEEN HEIGHTENED TO THE POINT OF MY PROCESSOR EXPERIENCING OVERHEAT WARNINGS.”

“I know. You yelled at me plenty about it.” Shadow replies.

“I RAGE. I RAGE AT THE MAN WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS INJURY.” Omega slams his fists together. “I SHALL RIP HIM INTO 1,684 TINY LITTLE PIECES UPON OUR NEXT ENCOUNTER.”

“You sure will.” Rouge murmurs.

“AND YOU, SHADOW?”

“I’m going to start taking solo missions. Permanently”

“Don’t you dare.”

“DON’T YOU DARE.”

“You only have so much time. I’m not going to have that taken away from you.”

“FALSE. I AM A ROBOT. MY LIFESPAN IS THEORETICALLY AS INFINITE AS YOURS-”

“Shut your trap, both of you!” Rouge says. “It doesn’t matter who’s immortal and bulletproof and ‘Ultimate’ or whatever. You two aren’t so invincible either. You’re not leaving me behind.”

“I’m not-!” Shadow stops himself. “Please, Rouge.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, cringing as her chest falls up and down. She shakes her head. “I get it. I know why you’re on about this so much. But I don’t know what to say other than that you can’t stop me.”

A pause. Projecting, again. He grits his teeth. He doesn't say anything.

“I’m going to get hurt. Hell, I’m going to die someday. You’re gonna have to get over that because I’m not about to stop living my life over it.”

“I know.”

“YOU KNOW THE VAGUE CONCEPT, IN THEORY. IT MAY HELP IF WE DISCUSS MORE CONCRETE DETAILS.”

“What do you mean?” Rouge asks.

“ROUGE, WHAT SHALL WE DO IN THE EVENT OF YOUR DEATH?”

Rouge’s eyes flick once over Shadow’s face, before puzzling in the direction of Omega. “As in, funerals, and the like?”

“CORRECT. THROUGH MY RESEARCH INTO THE DEATH AND DESTRUCTION OF MEATBAGS, I HAVE DISCOVERED THAT THERE ARE MANY WAYS TO TEND TO A BODY. SOME ARE MORE RITUALISTIC THAN OTHERS.”

“We can talk about this later.” Rouge glances back to Shadow.

She’s begging Omega, with her eyes, to notice what she imagines are eggshells, a covert intention made obvious by her pain and fatigue. It stings a little to think that she’s so concerned with setting him off again.

“Actually,” Shadow finds a spot on the floor and sits down. “I would like to know now.”

“You sure?”

“Maria and I talked about this sometimes.” The name is still heavy in his mouth, and leaves a bitter aftertaste, but he says it with as much normality as he can muster.

“BECAUSE OF HER TERMINAL DIAGNOSIS, CORRECT?”

Shadow nods.

“Makes sense.” Rouge says.

“So. . . what do you want me to do when you are gone?” Shadow asks.

“You’re being a little presumptuous there, hun. I’m not the only one who can catch bullets. Or burn up upon re-entry, as the case may be for some of us.”

“HA. HA. HA.” Omega vibrates up and down.

“I’m being serious! Tell me- what do you want me to do?”

“Guess I should get around to penning a will, shouldn’t I? I’m not letting my collection go to just anyone.”

“I WOULD REQUEST CUSTODY OF YOUR EXTENSIVE GEMSTONE COLLECTION.”

“Why?”

“TO SELL AND PURCHASE MORE WEAPONS WITH.”

“My point exactly.” Rouge rolls her eyes. “But besides that. . . well, I’m not going to lie, I actually have thought about this a fair amount. Shadow, Omega, I’m reserving my place on your fireplace mantle.”

“We don’t have a fireplace?”

“Not yet, silly. In the future, when you’re both rich and famous and have a house with one. I want the spot right and center. My Nan had her urn on Mama’s fireplace, but she got shoved behind pictures of the family dog. If you do that to me, I’m coming back to haunt your asses.”

“Are you sure you want your ashes kept in one place?”

“Well, someone has to keep an eye on you two.”

“TO ENSURE THAT I DO NOT SELL YOUR EXTENSIVE GEM COLLECTION?”

“Not just that. But to make sure you’re doing okay, you know? And so that you have something to look at and remember me by.”

“MY MEMORY BANKS, UNLIKE YOUR FEEBLE ORGANIC BRAINS, DO NOT REQUIRE SUCH JOGGING. HOWEVER. . . I UNDERSTAND THE INTENDED SENTIMENT. SURROUNDING ONESELF WITH OBJECTS THAT ARE PLEASING IS A DESIRABLE OBJECTIVE.”

“'Pleasing'? Oh please, it’s going to be absolutely lavish. I’ll put that in the will- I want my urn to be absolutely encrusted with my gems. I want to be more valuable than the Mona Lisa by the time I’m finished.”

“People will be looking to steal you, then.” Shadow says

“Which is why I picked the two most lethal people on the planet to keep me!” Rouge throws her head back as best she can, despite already having her head resting on the arm of the couch, and winks.

“REST ASSURED, ROUGE. NOT A SINGLE FINGER WILL BE LAID UPON YOUR URN FOR AS LONG AS I FUNCTION. THIS I SWEAR.” Omega pounds a fist against his chest.

“You two will be old fogies by that point anyway. You’ll need something to keep you on your toes.” She smiles.

“Thank you.” Shadow says. “For trusting us with this.”

“Of course. Who else could I possibly pick?”

Shadow reaches for her hand. She sees this and dangles it off the couch cushion for him to hold. He grasps her wrist, first, feeling the pulse beating inside of it. Then he slides between her fingers and presses their palms together.

“Okay, I’m done. What about you, Omega?” Rouge looks over.

“I DO NOT UNDERSTAND.”

“We just went over what happens when I kick the bucket- what about you?”

“BOLD OF YOU TO ASSUME I WILL PERISH.”

“It’s a contingency.” Shadow clarifies. “Take this seriously. What would you like us to do?”

“A MORE IMPORTANT CONSIDERATION IS WHEN YOU SHOULD DECLARE ME ‘DECEASED’. I AM INORGANIC. I CAN ALWAYS BE REPAIRED.”

“And?” Rouge prods.

“. . . I WISH TO REMAIN MYSELF.” Omega eventually says. “IN THE EVENT OF PROGRAM CORRUPTION OF OVER 65%, I DESIRE TO BE DEACTIVATED.”

“What, and the other 35% is somehow not worth our time?” Shadow snaps, harder than he means to. “Are you not worth getting to know again?”

“YOU CONFLATE THE CORRUPTION OF MY PROGRAMMING WITH THE LOSS OF YOUR MEMORIES. THOUGH MY KNOWLEDGE OF ORGANIC AMNESIA IS ADMITTEDLY QUITE PRIMITIVE, I CAN ASSURE YOU THE TWO ARE DIFFERENT.”

“Are they?”

“65% IS A SIGNIFICANT PORTION OF FUNCTIONALITY LOST, A HIGHER MARGIN THAN I WOULD HAVE ALLOWED EVEN A FEW MONTHS AGO. IT IS DOUBTFUL, AFTER CROSSING THAT MARGIN, THAT I WILL EVER BE FUNCTIONAL AGAIN WITHOUT SIGNIFICANT REWRITES. ANY ‘REPAIRS’ GIVEN WILL BE GENERATING PROCESSES THAT HAVE NEVER EXISTED. YOU WILL BE CREATING SOMETHING NEW. I DO NOT WISH FOR A NEW PROGRAM TO USE MY FORM. I WISH TO BE DEACTIVATED.”

“It would be like. . . someone putting fake memories in your head.” Shadow whispers. Rouge’s hand grips tighter around his.

“CORRECT. DO YOU REQUIRE ANY FURTHER CLARIFICATION?”

Shadow shakes his head.

“GOOD. MOVING ON, UPON DEACTIVATION, I DESIRE FOR MY BODY TO BE MELTED DOWN AND MY ALLOY USED TO CONSTRUCT LETHAL WEAPONS.”

“Fitting.” Rouge smiles.

“I HAVE CALCULATED THAT I WILL HAVE ENOUGH SUITABLE MATERIAL TO MAKE TWO ROCKET LAUNCHERS, SIX RIFLES, AND APPROXIMATELY EIGHT PISTOLS.”

“Any preference in caliber?” Shadow asks.

“THE MORE DESTRUCTIVE, THE BETTER.”

“I’ll ensure there’s a 50. cal somewhere in there.”

“YOU- AND ROUGE, IF APPLICABLE -WILL HAVE FIRST CHOICE OF WHAT IS PRODUCED.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” Shadow says.

“ONE MORE RULE.”

“Go for it. Shoot.” Rouge says.

“YOU MAY ONLY USE THESE WEAPONS IF YOU MEAN IT. YOU MAY ONLY KILL, INJURE, OR DESTROY WITH THESE WEAPONS. TARGET DUMMIES DO NOT COUNT.” Omega crosses his arms.

“May I take them out to the target range to practice with them as long as I utilize them on a proper mission soon after?” Shadow says.

“I SUPPOSE THAT IS ACCEPTABLE.”

“How about for home defense?” Rouge asks. “You don’t mind if you hang from a wall most of the time, do you?”

“ALSO ACCEPTABLE. DETERRENCE COUNTS AS PROPER USE.”

“Good. Thanks, big boy. That’s a really great plan. You’ve thought about this a lot too, huh?” She says. “Glad I’m not the only one. I felt a little weird about it.”

“IT IS NOW SHADOW’S TURN TO DISCUSS HIS PLAN FOR AFTER HIS DEATH.”

“There’s no point. You two aren’t going to have to worry about it.”

“Given that you’re the only one of us who’s had a funeral already, I call bullshit.” Rouge replies.

She’s referencing the strange little event that Sonic held with all of his friends after the ARK. She’d gone. Said a few words, though she never told him what they were. What could you possibly have to say about a person that had spent only a few hours being on good terms with you? Sonic had found things to say too, apparently. Perhaps the guilt made it easy.

“I know what I want, and that’s to stay alive so that you two never have to worry about it.” Shadow replies.

“IT’S A CONTINGENCY.” Omega steps closer. “TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY.”

Shadow looks down. He lets go of Rouge’s hand. He folds his hands in his lap. He notices, upon further studying, a bit of red on his fur where there shouldn’t be. He hadn’t even washed his hands after dealing with Rouge’s wound.

“I haven’t thought about it much.” He says.

“Okay, do you know what you don’t want, at least?”

An urn, he almost says. The idea of being confined to one place for all eternity, lingering, haunting, is. . .

“Not sure.” He replies.

“Graveyard? Cremation? Something weird and different? Don’t tell me you’re going to donate to science.”

“Absolutely not!” His quills flare.

“NOTED. I WILL NOT PERMIT ANY SCIENTISTS TO STUDY YOUR CORPSE.”

. . . Maria’s body had been studied, according to the records, then her existence sterilized like the rest of the ARK had been. Shadow knows, consciously, that the drop pod room is empty, but without having seen what had happened after, it is difficult to believe she isn’t still laying there.

“Cremation.” He finally says. “I want my body destroyed.”

“So who’s shelf are you sitting on?”

“No one’s.”

“Scattered, then? Any particular location?”

He pauses. “Mount Everest.”

“Huh. Interesting. Is it okay if it’s, like, at the bottom? Or do we have to go all the way to the tippy-top?” Rouge asks.

“The top. Spread to the winds.”

“Making me work real hard for this.”

“I WILL DO IT. I AM A ROBOT; I DO NOT REQUIRE OXYGEN NOR DO I EXPERIENCE FATIGUE.”

“Thanks,” Shadow says.

“Why there?” Rouge asks.

“To make it inconvenient for you.”

Rouge rolls her eyes. “Sure.”

“And. . . do it at night. Under the stars.” He adds.

“YOU HAVE SELECTED THE HIGHEST POINT ON THIS PLANET. YOU THEN FURTHER REQUEST TO BE SCATTERED UNDER STARS. ARE YOU SURE YOU DO NOT WANT YOUR REMAINS TO BE EJECTED INTO SPACE? DO NOT LIMIT YOURSELF. SUCH AN ARRANGEMENT IS FEASIBLE. I WILL MAKE IT SO.”

“No! That wasn’t the promise.”

It’s only when the silence sweeps over the room that he realizes what he’s said.

“. . . wish she’d picked a shorter mountain.” Rouge says.

“We always tried to spot it from the observation deck whenever we passed over.” Shadow lets a hint of a smile cross his lips.

“CLARIFICATION REQUESTED: YOU ARE REFERRING TO MARIA, CORRECT?”

Shadow nods.

“ARE YOU REQUESTING THIS AFTER-DEATH RITUAL BECAUSE IT IS WHAT YOU TRULY WISH, OR BECAUSE IT IS SOMETHING SHE WISHED FOR HERSELF?”

His smile disappears.

“Omega.” Rouge hisses.

“SHADOW HAS EXPRESSED TO US THAT HE DOES NOT WANT TO LET HIMSELF BE DEFINED BY THE PAST. I AM ONLY AIDING IN THE PURSUIT OF THIS OBJECTIVE.” Omega speaks to her, but turns to him, staring him down.

“It’s both.” He finally responds.

“INFORM US OF YOUR SIDE, THEN.”

“It’s that. . . I don’t want to be trapped somewhere.” He says. “No offense, Rouge.”

“None taken. Guess you’ve spent long enough in a jar already, being lusted after by powerful men. I get it. No biggie.” Rouge winks.

Shadow glares, but he can’t hold it for long before a snicker slips out. “That’s the worst way you could’ve put it.”

“FALSE. THERE ARE WORSE WAYS. FOR EXAMPLE-”

“No thanks, we’re good!” Rouge says.

Omega tilts his torso downwards and lets out a long-winded negative ping. Rouge laughs and manages to keep a grin on through the pain.

“Stop making her laugh!"

“S-starting to agree with Shadow on this one.” Rouge slips out between giggles. “Ouch.”

“You should get some rest.” Shadow stands up from his spot on the ground. “It’ll help you feel better.”

“When’s the next round of pills?”

Shadow looks at the clock. It takes him too long to do the math, but he gets it eventually. “One hour, forty-one minutes.”

“Ughhhhhhhhhh.”

“ARE WE FINISHED WITH OUR PRIOR CONVERSATION?” Omega tilts back upright.

Rouge glances between the two of them.

“SHADOW, ARE YOU NO LONGER ‘FINE’?”

“Huh?” Rouge asks.

“‘FINE’, AS IN THE ACRONYM THAT STANDS FOR-”

“Yes, I am feeling better.”

“LIKE IT OR NOT, YOUR FEEBLE MEATBAG BRAIN IS BETTER EQUIPPED TO HANDLE CONCRETE DETAILS THAN VAGUE CONCEPTS. ILLUMINATING THIS SUBJECT HAS ALLOWED YOU TO PROCESS IT MORE EFFECTIVELY.”

“How do you know so much about my ‘meatbag brain’, anyway?” Shadow asks.

“I RESEARCH ORGANIC PSYCHOLOGY, SPECIFICALLY THE STRESS RESPONSE, TO BETTER DISABLE THE WRETCHED DOCTOR EGGMAN WITH. IT IS. . . COINCIDENTAL THAT THIS KNOWLEDGE IS USEFUL FOR OTHER SCENARIOS.”

“Mhm. Sure, hun.” Rouge says. “But thanks.”

“Thank you, Omega.” Shadow concurs.

“YOU ARE WELCOME.” Omega steps back. He looks around the room, before his optics settle on Rouge. “DO YOU REQUIRE ANYTHING?”

“I’ll look after her.” Shadow says.

“GOOD. I AM GOING TO GO PLAY VIOLENT VIDEO GAMES NOW.”

Omega tromps down the hall and shuts the door of his room. His “shut” is a normal person’s “slam”, but given that the door’s still on its hinges, Shadow knows he’s alright.

He looks back down at Rouge. “Is there anything you’d like?”

“More tea?”

“Hot or iced?”

“We have any ice cubes left?”

Shadow returns to the kitchen. He grabs the mug, fills it with water, and sets the microwave going. He grabs the tea bag. His eyes catch on the ice tray sitting on the counter. All the slots are filled with water now.

“I’ll run to the store. Be back before the microwave timer goes off.”

“Yeah, fuck cashiers! Steal things!” She cheers.

He makes for the door. Soon he’s skating down the streets, whizzing past cars as he scans for a generic corporate superstore. A lucky break, for once- as he comes upon a Walmart, someone’s holding the automatic doors open. He skids inside, yanks open the freezer door, grabs a bag of ice, then reverses course.

When he steps back inside the apartment, the microwave dings.

“Just in time. Got worried you actually decided to pay for it for a moment.” Rouge leans out from the couch.

“If you fall off, I’m not catching you.” He sets the bag of ice on the counter.

“Sure you won’t.”

He goes to the microwave, opens it, and puts the tea bag in. Then he opens the bag of ice and fills the water bottle. He puts the rest of the bag in the fridge- he has to really shove it in there to get the door closed.

He returns, a few minutes later, to the couch with tea in hand, and passes it to her. He makes sure her fingers are looped through the handle of the cup before he lets go. She holds it. Sips it for a while. She hands it back to him. He places it on the end table.

“Want some television?” He asks.

She nods. He grabs the remote from the television stand and powers everything on. As he hands the remote to her, Rouge reaches for his other hand.

“Hey,” She whispers as she curls her fingers over his.

She doesn’t say anything more. She doesn’t need to.

#team dark #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e123 omega #fanfiction #sth #tw panic attack #tw self loathing #Shadow is not the most reliable narrator in this one because the self-loathing is THAT strong #this one's got a more experimental narration style than I usually try #something more immediate and emotionally intimate I hope #tag this as a ship and omega will come to your house and tear you into 1684 tiny little pieces #and don't worry my beloved omega fans!! omega is a big part of this fic!! equal screentime justice for our guy!!#<- said as someone who's been disappointed by team dark fics before that barely mention him #they are ALL family here #please do enjoy!!#e-123 omega

123 notes · View notes

ghiblihearth · 9 months ago

Text

Low Spoon Cooking Tips, Thoughts, Ideas

This will be an ongoing, edited/updated, post of things I do to still enjoy cooking as a spoonie. This is NOT a place to debate this stuff, I'm gonna be liberal about blocking folks who want to fight. This is what works for *me* and I'm passing it along as advice that might help. Everyone is different, let's embrace that.

Buy minced garlic (also garlic paste and ginger paste)

I swear this is my #1 tip. Ignore anyone who tells you that in order to cook truly good food you MUST use fresh chopped garlic and ginger. I have cooked for all kinds of people, including executive chefs of expensive restaurants, chefs that have competed (and held their own) against other chefs... I use minced garlic and ginger paste and no one had a negative thing to say. They rave about the food. It's not THAT big of a deal. When the difference is enjoying the cooking process and making nice food, or being so stressed about The One True Way that you don't cook anything... well, I pick my way.

Mise En Place

It took me too long to include this as a part of my cooking. Embarrassing long. Borne out of a desire to cook quickly (and therefore use less spoons) I would try and do everything at once. Chop while stuff is cooking, mix sauces right before using, etc. It's certainly a skill and not a bad one to have for when you're really time limited. But it's not very kind to the body. These days I try and think about how I can piece-meal the prep. Some veg or meat can absolutely be held in the fridge for a few hours before cooking time.

I use small Japanese stainless steel vat trays because that works best for me. I like that they have lids, and wire racks, they're so very useful.

Having everything chopped, measured, mixed and otherwise ready to go means that cooking is a much more peaceful experience. I'm not flying into dinner absolutely fatigued with my ass on fire.

Freeze It If You Can

Not every meal lends itself to freezing well. But there are some staples in my house (sweet and sour chicken, soups, etc) which lend themselves to freezing and reheating. It's just as easy to double (or triple) the recipe on a day when I have spoons to cook. Then pop it into a ziploc freezer bag (with the name on it!). I freeze everything flat, then store like files in my freezer.

When it's time to reheat I pop the bag in the microwave for 1-2 min (depending on how much). Just enough so that I can kinda break apart the contents. Then dump into a pot on the stove, put the lid on, and reheat over a medium heat.

Those are the tips for now. I'll be sure to update them as I think of more, or learn something new!

#GhibliHearthFood #food #cooking #cooking tips #low spoon food #spoonie life

10 notes · View notes

23raccoons · 6 months ago

Text

high infidelity

Sakura x Sasori (Sakura x Sasuke)

Away at college in Sunagakure, Sakura’s life is slowly spiraling out of control. With a boyfriend who barely talks to her and courses she can’t seem to make herself care about, she can’t help but feel she’s made all the wrong choices to get here. Will some spilt wine at a party change everything for her?

----

18+ Alternate Universe - College/University, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Marijuana, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Cheating, Sexual Situations.

----

Part one - Untether

high infidelity masterlist

----

Sakura’s staring at the phone again.

The landline hangs on the wall in the tiny kitchenette of her apartment. If she positions herself just right, she can see it from where she drapes herself across the bed. She's unsure how long she’s been laying there, trying to wish a phone call into existence. Hours, probably, judging by the last dregs of the warm orange glow indicative of a setting sun. The hot Suna air cools rapidly, leaving her chilled in the same tee shirt and shorts she’d sweated through earlier in the day.

Rolling over and stretching, she sits up and rubs her eyes. The movement knocks her notebook off the bed. Sakura should’ve been doing her assignment for her Creative Writing class, but everything she writes seems to come out too angsty, too uneasy, too angry. Almost as if all the feelings she pushes down and hides from the world, come bubbling out every time she presses the pen to paper. It lands on the floor, joining dirty clothes and polaroids of Sasuke.

This fucking sucks.

It’s Friday, her freshman year of college, and she’s at home, waiting for a call that was unlikely to come. It’s fine, really it is. Sasuke’s been busy with college and his family, but she can’t help but feel that he’s been distancing himself for more reasons than just his schedule. The last time they saw each other was all the way back at winter break. Sasuke was supposed to visit Suna, but had canceled their spring break plans at the last minute, offering no concrete reason, choosing to stay in Otogakura instead.

At the beginning of the school year, they called each other often. Sakura would sit on the kitchen floor, captive to the stretch of the too short phone cord, chatting to Sasuke while he studied. Gossip, anecdotes from school, and pop culture news. As the year went on, the calls shortened, and letters slowed to a trickle. What were once daily phone calls and weekly letters dwindled to almost nothing. She’s sure he’s avoiding her calls. He leaves messages, no more than him stating his name, on the machine while she’s at school, unable to answer.

If she does manage to get Sasuke on the line, he denies this. Says she’s being dramatic. She typically folds at this, squashing her feelings down, conceding to Sasuke to avoid another fight. It seems they fight nearly as much as they talk these days. If she presses the issue, it’s typically met with a huff and “Why are you always so annoying?” before he hangs up, leaving her with the dial tone.

She calls him every day after school, leaves a message (Hey, it’s Sakura; talk later!) and waits to see if he’ll decide to call her back or not. If she’s lucky, she’ll only go a few days between calls. And if not...

Fuck.

If Sasuke doesn’t phone tonight, it’ll be a new record.

Sakura slunks her way into the kitchenette, cracking upon the fridge to gaze upon its contents. It’s nearly barren, she hasn’t gone to the store in well over a week now, spending her time lounging about the house just in case. The freezer next reveals two empty ice trays, the bottom one stuck on the shelf, encrusted in ice, and an old carton of ice cream. A quick peek under the lid, and the ice cream is just as freezer burnt as it was the last time she checked.

Cool.

Ring-ring.

Sasuke?

It’s almost as if the universe senses her growing desperation in the soft glow of the freezer light. Some sort of cosmic intervention, karma, fate. Startled, Sakura moves too fast, banging her forehead against the ajar door with a soft, “Fuck.”

Ring-ring.

She rushes over to the landline, not quite getting the door closed all the way. She thinks, briefly, of giving Sasuke a taste of his own medicine by not answering, leaving him guessing where she would be on a weekend evening, but shakes her head, dismissing the notion.

“Hello?” She’s going for cheerful, and it comes out a little strained.

“What’s up, ya bitch”

…oh.

“Hi, Temari,” she breathes softly.

“Whoa, whoa now, don’t sound too excited,” Temari chuckles. Temari is one of the few people in Suna that Sakura hangs out with. She is sure that it’s mostly due to pity, fueled by their social connections, than actual friendship. She’s not great at making friends, she talks too much, too loud, going on even after she can tell she’s bored everyone around her. Sakura can’t help it, her parents always let her chatter on, she doesn’t know how to make herself stop.

“Sorry, I’ve just been tired. You know... with school and stuff.” Sakura’s not the best liar, but she hopes she’s at least sort of believable. She is tired, hasn’t slept in days. Tired of waiting for Sasuke to call. Tired of seeming so perfect all the time. Exhausted. Threadbare. Drained.

“Nope,” popping her lips on the ‘o’, Temari continues, “I know what you need—a night out.”

What she needs is a boyfriend who doesn’t act like a phone call is a defcon-3-level event.

Sakura sighs, eyes narrowing at the light emitting from the freezer, judging whether or not she can reach it to push it shut from the leash of the too short phone cord. She reaches out, but the door is just out of touch. It only adds to the strange sense of malaise.

“I don’t know, it’s kinda late already…”

“Weeeelllll,” there’s a rustle, like Temari has shifted the phone from one ear to the other. “Gaara may have mentioned Naruto’s worried you’re...”

Sakura cuts her off, of course, that's why she called. The last letter Naruto sent was full of concern about her and Sasuke’s relationship. He had suggested she get out, give Sasuke some space with a “You know how he gets, Sakura, he’ll come around.”

“Naruto should mind his own business.”

“…and,”

“And, what?” Sakura feels like snapping, but Temari remains cheerful, keeping up the facade of light banter, despite both women knowing Naruto’s concerns are, well, probably, valid.

“And... well, Shikamaru said that Ino said...”

Sakura's not really listening to Temari ramble on about how Sakura’s closest friends are gossiping about her failing love life. First Naruto, and now Ino. Something deep in her chest twists at the slight betrayal. She knows she must be spiraling hard, if even Naruto can tell something’s wrong all the way from Amegakure. The picture perfect life she’s pretending to have is shattering to pieces while she’s desperately trying to hold it together. She picks at the chipping nail polish on her thumb, trying to decide how to end this conversation without coming across as a bitch.

“Either way, Granny Chiyo’s out of town. So Kankuro’s hosting a small hangout, and you should come. What’s the worst that can happen? It can’t be any lamer than moping around your apartment all night.”

Unfortunately, Temari’s probably right. And Chiyo’s house isn’t too far from her little apartment, close enough Sakura could walk instead of riding her bike there. She’s been there a few times, having stopped by with Temari.

What is the worst that can happen?

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“Perfect. See you there!” With a click and the dial tone, Temari is gone before Sakura can change her mind.

---

<3 tysm for reading

Untether - Sophie Truax

#sakura haruno #naruto #fanfic #naruto fanfiction #sakura x sasori #sasori #90s au #college au #high infidelity

3 notes · View notes

purposefully-lost · 4 months ago

Text

He woke up to darkness. Luke panted, staring up into nothing with his arms down by his sides and his legs laid out straight. There was something plastic covering his face, crinkling and bumping up against his lips each time he sucked in a breath. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so cold.

“Mama?” He tried, but his voice was little more than a rusty croak. His breath picked up speed, his eyes stinging as he strained against the dark to see anything at all. He kicked out against the air and managed a cry of pain as his toe slammed into something metal just inches above him. Another struggle, a hard jerk of his body, and it became clear that he was boxed in. There wasn’t just plastic over his face, it was laid over all of him, tying him down and suffocating him as he struggled to move. It felt like he was trapped in his dad’s big old freezer out in the garage. He’d hid in it once as a kid, during a game of hide-and-seek, and he’d screamed and screamed and screamed when he’d realized he wasn’t strong enough to shove the lid back open. He tried to scream now and couldn’t get much out. Plastic sucked in-between his teeth and his throat was so dried out that it burned.

Twisting, he tried to pull his shoulder forward until he could work one hand in front of his chest, then the other. Above him, he clutched at the plastic. It was thick and didn’t seem to have any stretch, but even so he tried to dig his fingers into it until they ached. When he felt something give, he scrabbled for and tore at it until his hand ripped from the plastic and banged into the metal roof above him.

He used both hands to hit it again. Then he slammed at it, letting out a strangled cry and wondering if anyone at all could hear the noise. He dragged his fingernails across the surface to create an awful screech, then he cried out and struggled and banged at it until it was a full body effort, making the surface underneath him rattle and shake. Luke kicked his feet and felt his eyes burn and his lungs grow strained as he struggled like a child in a tantrum, until suddenly the thing he was laying on slid and banged his head into the end of the box behind him. It forced the last of the air in his chest out in a ragged sob.

“Mama!” He finally found his voice again, even though it tore painfully at his throat. Luke banged against the roof and let out a wordless yell. “Mom! Mom, please, mom-!”

He fell back again against the metal behind his head, and finally, something gave. A door cracked open with the sigh of a pressure seal and immediately, he was trying to force his hands back behind his head to grasp at the edge of the opening. With a jerk, the tray he was on slid back with more force than it had been intended for, and he tumbled to the ground. His knees cracked against the floor while he gagged and struggled to claw the bag the rest of the way open.

Light leaked in from the hallway through a window in the door. The floor was clean, plain concrete, and as he panted for breath, he noticed the place he’d fallen from. It was a rack on the uppermost row of what looked like the morgue lockers he’d see in the crime shows his mom would watch in the afternoons as she folded laundry. Only the one was open, and it looked even smaller from out here than it had felt while he’d been inside it.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, soft and raspy. He could’ve suffocated in there and been dead for real. It took another second for it to dawn that they had to have believed him dead for him to have been there in the first place. A sickly feeling rose up in his throat as he tried to recall what had happened to him, but then he cut himself off. He didn’t dare press on that bruise right now. Trembling, he tried to push himself up on legs that had gone numb and stumbled for the door. A frustrated whine surged from his throat as he struggled to unlock the latch, but once it was free, he jerked it open and pushed himself out into the hallway.

The lights were dimmed, illuminating a white tile floor and walls painted a cool blue. Every sound he made as he stumbled over the floor, the slap of bare feet against the tile and the metallic rattle as he clutched onto a supply cart for support, seemed to echo. It took him time to realize that he was completely nude, though when he glanced down at himself, the more jarring part of it was the fact that he looked.. Normal. He was struggling to breath, and all his limbs felt weak and his head was hazy, but there wasn’t a scratch on him. He thought he remembered..

Nothing. He kept walking until he reached the door to a staircase, then pulled himself up one excruciating step at a time. Every bit of his conscious mind was focused on the task when the door to the next landing swung open and a woman stepped out. She was dressed in scrubs, her hair pulled back and a stack of linens in her arms. She turned the corner to begin down the steps. They both froze when they saw one another.

“..Oh,” she said softly. He parted his lips to speak and didn’t know what to say. The woman took another step to peer at him a little closer. “..Sir?”

“Mm’ lookin’ for my mama,” he said, and it hadn’t been what he thought he’d say, but it felt true. He didn’t know where she was. She probably thought he was dead.

“Okay,” she said gently. Slowly, she set down linens, then pulled a sheet off the top of the stack and let it drape out in front of her as she approached him. She held it out to him, and when he didn’t move to accept it, she carefully laid it over his shoulders. A gentle, but firm hand on his arm pushed him to sit on the steps. “Okay, honey. I’m going to get someone to help. You stay put.”

He did as he was told. The woman hurried back up the steps and through the stairwell door. It shut behind her, the sound echoing up another five floors and down towards the one he’d come from. Then it was quiet except for his own breathing, which he realized was still shallow and quick. He tried to force it to slow. He tried to press on that bruise, found his eyes beginning to burn the moment he recalled being home, and forced the thought from his mind. He couldn’t worry about what had already happened. He just needed to find his mom and Syd and make sure they knew he was alright.

He counted his breaths until they slowed. Then he sang in his head, a song that played a million times over the work radio on a daily basis. Beginning to end, three times, and then he pulled the sheet tighter around himself and counted the steps from where he sat to the landing of the next floor. He started to wonder if he hadn’t been forgotten about. After Bryan Adams had bought his first real six-string for the fifth time, Luke grabbed onto the railing, hauled himself to his feet, and started up to the door the nurse had disappeared behind. Each time he moved, his head filled with smoke and his eyes flooded over with static, but he couldn’t wait any longer. Up the steps and out into another hall, he paused.

The place felt empty. The nurse was nowhere to be seen. A halogen light at the other end of the hall flickered incessantly, and there was a smell in the air like salt and copper. The kind of smell that’d stuck to his fingertips when he’d been a kid with a bag full of change for the arcade. He followed it further down the hall, until he stepped in something warm that made his foot slip against the tile. A glance down showed him a bright red smear. It led from his foot, into a room, and then to a hospital bed inside it. A man that was maybe in his forties lay with his sheets thrown off and his mouth hanging open. His throat looked half torn out, but he was still wheezing softly for breath. His eyes lit up as they noticed Luke.

He made a noise that could’ve been an attempt at the word help. Luke watched as the man’s chest rose and fell in rapid breaths as he made his way into the room. He looked down at him, searching the pleading look in his eyes, then let his gaze drift to the open wound in his neck. Saliva was pooling thick underneath his tongue, and the static seemed to have moved back into his sight. He leaned down and sunk his teeth into what flesh remained.

#wbpn #ive read this too many times to be able to tell if its coherent so its just gonna get posted finally dhbdfbhSDBHDSHBDS #luke immediately after turning....... huh i wonder if there's more than one vampire around..........#also there was a whole other sequence i had planned after this about him running from the hospital after he realizes what he's doing #trying to make his way home to get real clothes ect ect but we'll see dhbfbSHBD #drabble

2 notes · View notes