#a half loaf is so cheap

[crownstar]

a few weeks ago i discovered that the grocery store bakery sells half loaf sizes of bread. which is great because i cannot eat a whole loaf of bread before it goes bad.

today though i didn't see any and this time when the lady behind the counter asked if i needed any help i didn't just say i was fine. i asked about the half loaves of bread.

and she split up a full loaf for me! good things do happen when you ask for them !

[swordsandholly]

Across The Way

Ch. 2: And So It Begins

Retired!Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

MDNI

Ao3 | Previous - Next

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

A/N: I got this out a lot faster than I thought I would. Hopefully my work doesn’t get too insane and I can get the next out in a timely manner - it’s going to be a bigger one!

“You were right.” Simon carefully cuts through the loaf with a serrated knife. He’s never lost his skill with them, despite their uses becoming increasingly more domestic over the years. It’s charming, in a way - the juxtaposition of where they started and where they are now.

“Right about whit?” Johnny asks.

“She is a pretty little thing.”

“Donnae tell me I need tae be worried about ye sneakin’ off at work.” He jokes. Simon would never, of course, but it’s fun to see the way his cheeks heat up at the implication. Without his mask he wears every expression with reckless abandon.

Simon settles his large frame into the seat across from Johnny at the dining table. It’s small, they don’t need much. The chairs always creak under Simon’s weight in an almost threatening fashion. He pushes a plate with two pieces of the bread and some eggs over to Johnny. There’s an odd tug in his chest when he picks up the slice - an urge to be gentle as he spreads butter over it. Gentility is not a compulsion he feels often.

“S’good.” Simon mutters around his bite.

Johnny nods along after taking one himself. There’s love in it - he can tell. A piece carefully crafted with only absolute perfection in mind. How strange that food can carry such a feeling.

“Was a wee bit worried we’d be stuck across from the nicest, worst baker in the world.” He mutters.

Simon huffs out a half laugh.

~~~

Your first week goes by in a blur. For a small town they sure do manage to keep you busy. It’s good, you remind yourself. Better than none. If you keep it up at this rate you’ll be able to hire help by the end of the summer quarter.

By Monday, the first day of your “weekend”, you’re overdone. Head dizzy and body exhausted, you spend the day in bed. It’s a gratifying exhaustion, one you hope to build more of a tolerance for. As of now, though, you elect to remain deeply buried under the covers.

When you wake for a second time the sun is already near setting again. The entirety of Monday slunk by with you in bed. You grumble to yourself angrily like an old man. You wanted to unpack today - to at least get your clothes and kitchen items put away.

“Stupid.” You grouse. At least you still have time to shower, you suppose.

As you stand the world blacks out for a moment, your body swaying in place. You allow yourself to fall back on the bed, sitting while your vision slowly comes back into focus. Blinking away black dots and off squiggles that dance across your eyes. On attempt number two you manage it, making your way to the bathroom.

The work is worth it. The pain is worth it.

This is what you always wanted, after all.

You are happy. You can feel it in your bones. They’re lighter than they used to be - your whole body thrums with excited energy even as you have to lower yourself with the upmost care into the shower seat. Even as you have to scrape one of the cheap fold out chairs you managed to get over to the stove while you cook a late night dinner. Thank god for low counters.

When you were arranging your schedule it took a while to get it perfected. To compensate for your body you have to have time to rest and be able to do a lot of baking preparation before the work week starts. Monday and Tuesday are for rest. Wednesdays are for prep. The shop is closed but you’re in the back working your ass off mixing and kneading and shaping doughs. As well as practicing new recipes you want to add to the store’s line up eventually. Your goal is to sell American biscuits, preferably in batches of six, but those take a lot of work and don’t keep as long. They’ll have to wait until you have hired help.

It’s all chance and whatever you can manage to make happen. You learned to be okay with that, though.

You’ve got plenty of spoons, you tell yourself. Just need to use them wisely.

When you finally close the fridge, now fully stocked with dough ready to proof and bake, you check the clock. It’s still the early afternoon. You finished sooner than you assumed you might. The thought makes you giddy - makes you feel accomplished.

It makes you feel normal.

As you exit into the warm spring sun you take a moment. Ever since you arrived you haven’t been able to just stop. To just take everything in - let the foreign air fill your lungs and the aura of the town sink into your bones.

It’s a lovely little main street that you’re located on. The building to your left is a large family owned pharmacy (very convenient for you) and to your right is an empty brick building. It looks like a former post office, but from what you know the current post office is a few blocks down beside the grocers. It’s quaint, the lot of it.

Your eyes settle on the shop across from yours housed in a simple brick building painted white. The upstairs is an apartment much like yours, you think, but from what you know it currently remains empty. The sign above the door reads A Cut Above the Rest. You wonder if that was Simon or Johnny’s doing.

Would it be weird to go in? You suppose not, after all they came to yours. It’s only fair you give them some patronage as well. Plus you need to ask how the bread was. Hopefully they liked it - you realized halfway through the night that you didn’t even ask if they like sourdough before shoving it into their hands.

That thought kept you up later than you’d like to admit.

You look both ways down the street. This particular spot doesn’t have a crosswalk but the road is so dead even when the downtown is busy you figure it’s worth risking. The lack of danger doesn’t stop you from fast-walking across, though.

The shop’s old-fashioned door bell chimes prettily as you push it open. For a butcher it smells extremely clean - almost clinical. It’s small, with an L shaped display counter and a register at the end nearest the door. Packages of sausage links and the like hang on displays across the back wall. Beside the wooden saloon doors that lead behind the counter is a little dog bed with a very well crafted name plate reading Riley hanging right above it.

So cute.

“Afternoon.” Simon appears from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. You jump a little, so lost in taking in your surroundings you forgot what you came here for.

“H-hi!” You smile. You forgot how intimidating Simon is. His gaze levels you - pins you underneath him like a fly under a swatter. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic. “I thought I’d come check your shop out and ask how the bread was?”

“It was good.” He replies bluntly. Totally monotone. The corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. You decide that’s it’s a smile - whether that’s the reality of his expression or not.

“It’s really nice in here.” You look around. There isn’t much for decoration. The walls are too covered in menus and diagrams of cuts to leave room for anything extra. There’s a shelf of odds and ends opposite the main counter full of high end mustards and condiments. Little things to go with whatever you could think to make out of the varieties of meat they offer.

“Thanks.” Simon nods. “One moment.”

You watch with curiosity and a slight frown as he makes his way into the back. He almost has to duck under the doorway. Old buildings with low ceilings and all that. The place definitely wasn’t made with a six foot plus behemoth in mind. You continue to look around, rocking back and forth on your heels. They have a perfect score on their inspectors plaque. You might not know Simon well, but he seems the type to be absolutely precise about everything. The score doesn’t surprise you.

Yours is almost perfect - some rules are different here than in the US. Next time, you swear you’ll get it top notch! You look across the street at your shop. You wonder if you made the wrong choice with The Honey Bun. It’s bit much now that you see it from afar but it still makes you smile. That’s what matters, you guess.

Simon comes back out with a small, nicely wrapped package. “You don’t ‘ave any dietary restrictions d’you?”

You shake your head and he pushes the package toward you. Your eyes widen - it’s a great cut of high end beef. Like, really good beef as far as you know. Something you’d never be able to afford even if your business wasn’t brand new. You stare between Simon and the little pack in your hands. “Th-this is so nice but I-“

“It’s only fair.” He cuts you off. “Neighbors, yeah?”

You can’t help the grin that splits your face, eyes misting up despite yourself. Kindness has not been a constant in your life - more of a rarity. Something you had to claw and fight to earn. Being given it so freely but such a taciturn man has you reeling just a bit.

“Thank you… I’ve got to head back but, uh, thank you. Really.” You press the small package to your chest. “Tell Johnny I said hi?”

“Course.” He nods.

“Thanks again!” You grin, giving a little two finger salute before practically skipping all the way back into your dingy little apartment. Happily, you pack away the meat to use later. It’s too nice to just make any dish out of - best to save it for a special occasion. Your first gift in your new life. Best to savor it.

~~~

“Afternoon, bonnie.” Johnny appears in your doorway while you sweep up from the Saturday rush, bell chiming upon his entrance. “Hope I’m not a bother.”

“Not at all.” You smile, resting the broom on the counter. “Hello to you as well, Miss Riley.”

She huffs out a quiet bark in reply, sitting dutifully at Johnny’s feet. You don’t have much experience with service dogs - other than the well known rule not to pet them while they’re working. They were always too expensive for you to get and your condition wasn’t labeled serious enough to warrant financial aid. (Despite the fact that you can, and have, passed out and hit your head on something hard.)

“Can I get you something?” You ask.

“Och, I’m a’right. Just wanted tae stop by an’ say hello before headin’ home.” He gives you that dashing, bright grin. “Simon always kicks me out of the shop at close.”

“He doesn’t need help?” You ask. Surely cleaning up a butchers shop is a huge task. You have your work cut out for you with all the flower - you can’t imagine cleaning that amount of blood and mess.

Johnny shrugs. “The cleaning chemicals trigger my migraines.”

You hum. “Well, you’re always welcome to stop by. Actually,” you turn on your heel, “I’ve got somethin’ I’d like you to try, if you want.”

“Never one to say no to food. Especially from a pretty girl.” Johnny says as he follows. He tells Riley to stay in front and she listens - the perfect little lady that she is. You nearly trip at his comment, keeping your back turned so that he hopefully doesn’t see the heat spreading from your face and down your neck.

“I-it’s, uh, you ever had American biscuits?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the shake in your voice. You have to get on your tip toes to reach the small basket you made the day prior - carefully lowering it and pulling back the gingham cloth you wrapped them in.

An image of home.

“Aye, had them once on a layover at some chain diner.” He nods. “Donnae think they were fresh, though.”

“Well these are proper biscuits.” You carefully cut one in half with ease. “Sometime I’ll have to make you some gravy to go with.”

“Yer gonnae make us fat, hen.” Johnny chuckles.

“There are worse things to be.” The words come out more defensive than you would have liked. An automatic mechanism - a harshness you've honed over the years.

You hate how easily you wield it, sometimes.

Johnny leans forward over the table, a furrow in his brow. “I dinnae mean-“

“Here.” You cut him off and hold out the biscuit on a napkin, smothered with butter in the middle.

Johnny lets your interruption go. Probably happy for an out. He takes the fluffy baked good slowly, cupping it in his large hand with care. You wonder if he always does that, touches things with such gentle love. Is it learned? Is it just natural to him? Does he touch Simon like that? Gentle caresses?

What’s that like?

Johnny takes a massive, enthusiastic bite. Somehow his blue eyes manage to sparkle even more, grinning as he chews. “Sh’gew!”

You laugh at his attempt to talk around the food. “Glad you like it.”

He swallows roughly. A full body gulp. “Why’d ye start bakin’ anyway?”

“My grandparents raised me.” You fold the biscuits back up in their little basket. “My grandma taught me how. She was the best in town - won the pie contest almost every year.”

“Tha’s lovely.” The smile he gives you is so genuine it makes your chest constrict.

“Mean old bat but she could beat anyone in the kitchen.” You laugh. “We swore she had some kinda magic. Like a green thumb but for cooking.”

“My mum’s like tha’. Can make anythin’ out of nothin’.” He nods along.

You fall into an easy back and forth - never breaching anything deeper than the most surface level of content as he eats. It’s manageable. Johnny doesn’t push and neither do you.

Riley barks from the front of the shop.

“Och, tha’s my queue.” Johnny brushes off his hands and checks the front of his shirt for crumbs. “Take care, aye?”

You smile. “You too.”

~~~

Johnny’s words keep ringing in your ears. You don’t know why. It’s nothing special. There’s no reason to attach to them. You raise a hand to wipe off the fog and stare in the small mirror hung above your bathroom sink.

Pretty girl.

You scoff. You’re not a pretty girl. You’ve never been a pretty girl. Fat girl. Stupid girl. Sick girl. Tired girl. Sad girl.

That last one you’ve heard more than anything else. Out of all the descriptors of you it stands out as the most used. By everyone from teachers to your own family. Always just a sad, sad girl.

You got it from your mom, they’d say. It’s not like you would ever know.

You rip your eyes away from the mirror and try to let the thoughts melt away as you sink into the comfort of your blankets. Those thoughts live back on the other side of the Atlantic. They don’t get to follow you here.

[raps-hellion]

non-main-seven demigods who know how much an average loaf of bread from the store costs:

luke castellan — had to figure out some way to feed the demigods in kronos's army. probably looked at the cost, went "that's stupid, i have a sword", and robbed the store at sword point instead.

ethan nakamura — luke's bread-stealing accomplice.

clarisse la rue — now that she's in college, yes. she's not happy about it, and even less so when someone (sherman) tells her she sounds a lot like percy when she gripes about it.

sherman yang — clarisse keeps him updated and he likes to annoy her about it.

travis stoll — yeah, but price is an illusion to him. anything can be free if he tries hard enough.

connor stoll — only because travis sends him letters from college bragging about how he hasn't been caught yet.

non-main-seven demigods who do not know how much an average loaf of bread from the store costs:

thalia grace — she was a tree.

will solace — has too many responsibilities as head counselor to even consider bread prices.

reyna ramíez-arellano — new rome has a far more stable economy than the rest of america and their bread is unrealistically cheap and/or free depending whether or not it's magically sourced.

drew tanaka — absolutely not.

bianca di angelo — lotus casino for 70 years then straight into military academy. no time for bread.

silena beauregard — camp half-blood provides food magically.

charles beckendorf — too busy looking at silena.

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Pun-tastic!

Requested: No

Warnings: Excessive use of puns and tooth rotting fluff, some slight spice in Soap’s (little bit of a handjob)

Summary: The 141 Men dealing with your punning nonsense

Characters: Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Price, and Roach

Word Count: 1485

Simon “Ghost” Riley

“So little time, so matcha to do” You sigh while taking the kettle off of the stove, making Simon grunt from his place at the small kitchen table, a newspaper laid out in front of him as he ponders the answer to number 4 on the crossword puzzle, pen tapping incessantly against the cheap grey paper, jotting something down only to pause and proceed to scribble it out. Frowning, you huff as you pour water into two mugs, one containing a bag of your favorite leaf juice, and the other a classic earl grey for your lover.

“Isn’t that just Tea-riffic, Love?” You prod again as you set the porcelain down in front of him, just to the side of his paper, steam rising out of the white cup and wafting up to his nose. It draws his attention long enough for him to hum and reach for it, chugging it like it wasn’t magma hot and just lightly flavored water, no time for it to really steep. If you weren’t so accustomed to this behavior then you might have recoiled in disgust. Instead you only sighed, pouting about the fact that you’re normally indulgent husband seemed to be too tired to put up with you this morning.

“I’m gonna love you for oolong time.” Simon finally whispered after a long moment of silence, barely even twitching in his seat when your face immediately lit up with a bright smile at his words before you launched yourself at him like some sort of rabid animal, glomping on him lovingly as you pepper his cheeks with loud and wet kisses. He moved only his arm, wrapping it around your waist gently and squeezing your hip in his usual gentle and affectionate way, big fingers digging in while he moves his to kiss the top of your head.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

“Hate to pop your bubble.” You whisper to Soap, voice soft and thick with tiredness as you woke up, tickled by the feeling of his lips against the shell of your ear, his cock prodding against the back of your thigh incessantly, heart head dripping precum all over your skin like a leaky faucet. “But we don’t have time for a roll in the hay. Gotta get up and get to the meeting.” You say, eyes fluttering closed when his hand trailed against your front, pulling one of your nipples between his middle and ring fingers, tweaking and rubbing in a way that had you rubbing your thighs together.

“Slippery slope.” You say in response to his whispered ‘five more minutes’, reaching a hand behind you to grab at his cock, stroking it slowly in that way that has him jerking and growling in your grip. “First it’s five more minutes, then it’s an hour, then we’re both running laps around base while Cap is glaring us down.” You coo teasingly, giving him a last squeeze before rolling out of his grasp, giggling when he tries to grab at you again, glaring up at you pitifully, like an angry and indignant puppy.

“I love you soap very much.” You quip, grinning wide at his groan of annoyance at both your joke and your escape from his clutches, barely even bothering to throw on your shirt before you were darting out of the room and away from his leering eyes. God only knows that, if you stayed in there with him, then you’d inevitably be dragged back into bed with him. And you weren’t exactly lying about having a meeting with Price later in the day, and you certainly didn’t want your Captain to take out your husband’s overindulgence on your ass.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

“When does bread go bad? When you yeast expect it!” You exclaimed as you pulled out a loaf of bread from the bread box, sighing when you look at the mold spotted across the bottom. Not actually all that unexpected since you and Gaz had been suddenly deployed a few days ago, with no chance to finish off the already half gone loaf. Still, it was disappointing, and you tossed the bag into the nearby bin before crouching to pull a box of penne noodles out of the cabinet and presenting it to your husband.

“What do you call pasta with no money? Penne-less!” You quip, grinning widely at Gaz’s barely contained chuckles, biting his lip as he gives you the look of someone so utterly in love yet absolutely done with your sense of humor. Though mostly he was just thankful that you hadn’t sunken down to the level of Ghost’s (and many other soldiers’) humor. He’d trade a thousand of their jokes for just one of your horrible puns, if only for the amount of warmth that rose in his chest each time you said one, the pride on your face more than enough to make his day.

Unable to resist, Kyle stands up from his chair, setting his phone down on the table and making his way to the fridge, opening it as he watches your confused expression from his peripheral view, grabbing the tub of butter and tossing the lid to the side before scooping some out with his pinky finger and spreading it across your nose. “You’re my butter half.” He says, his heart melting a little bit at your delighted smile before you launched yourself at him to smear the butter across his own face when you kiss him.

John Price

“This may sound cheesy but I think you’re grate.” You tell Price one morning, the both of you hunched over a rather expensive looking charcuterie board that Mrs. Laswell had gifted you both after a mission gone very well. Kate had practically begged you both to take it with her eyes, not that either of you was going to refuse such a delicious offer. Apparently her wife had taken up the hobby of snack trays like this and her house was filled with them, leaving her desperate to get rid of a few before they took over her home and kicked her out of her side of the bed.

“Don’t get feta up of my gouda jokes.” Were the next words out of your mouth when your Captain gave you a ‘really?’ look before taking the next bite of what looked to be an oddly perfectly triangular slice of sourdough, topped with what you’re fairly certain is actually gouda. As much as you would have liked that to be intentional on your part, you instead simply choose to bask in the glory of the universe being on your side for once, aiding in the comedy of your glorious puns.

But of course you couldn’t leave it off there, so you turned to your husband when the dishes were washed and neatly tucked away, feeling excitement thrum through you at the way Price stiffens up and arches his brow at you, clearly bracing himself for the next words to leave your mouth. “Wanna curdle?” You ask, squealing loudly when he rushes you, wrapping his arms around your middle and heaving you up onto his shoulder, your laughter and his adoring sighs filling the halls of your home, showing how much you both truly cared for each other.

Gary “Roach” Sanderson

“Bee ready to laugh out loud.” You tell Roach, watching his head perk up from where he was just hunched over his desk, filling out the last few words of his report with some struggle. He blinks at you slowly, clearly working through the haze of his overly focused and exhausted mind to try and process what you had just said to him before he groaned in recognition, lifting his hands off the keyboard to speak back to you, your eyes immediately darting to his deft fingers as they form the words.

“Insect puns really bug me.” He signs with a playful roll of his dark coffee coloured eyes, making the both of you chuckle quietly. When the already soft noises died down, he fidgeted with his mandated gloves for a moment before speaking again. “Come here.” He signed and you didn’t bother verbally responding, just plopping yourself in his lap like you knew he wanted, beaming at him as he sighs peacefully and cranes his head to kiss your cheek, his lips warm and soft, his fingers gripping your thigh, digging into plush flesh.

“You mean the worm to me.” You whisper into his ear, your laughter loud and almost bark like when he groans deeply at the cheesy lines, playfully unwrapping his hands and pushing at you with no real force, shaking his head at your antics. But then, he raised his fingers, tracing what you thought were random shapes into your cheek, before you realized that he was spelling something. ‘Lovebug.’ You smiled at him, all soft and sweet, before gripped the collar of his shirt and yanking him closer to give him the sloppiest kiss of his life.

[tesalicious2]

More Kortac:

König gets along really well with Askel and Klaus for obvious reasons. If any of them heads home, they’ll bring back the good beer and treats that they all know

Everyone will eat whatever is in the fridge, nothing is safe. Maybe if it has a not from a family member will some of them leave it alone. But that is no guarantee.

Horangi, in an attempt to ‘chill Oni out’, slipped marijuana drops into his tea and got him high as hell.

Oni laid on the common room couch for 6 hours without moving and said the weirdest shit.

Horangi was there the whole time and loved every moment, unfortunately, some others didn’t agree

Declan, Stilletto, Askel, Klaus, and Horangi openly laughed while Calisto and Zero were the only ones who didn’t find it funny at all

Oni quickly got Horangi back by replacing some of his nice kimchi with weird cheap stuff he found for online. He mixed it together to blend the flavors

At dinner that night, Horangi got half way through before leaving to throw up. Oni laughed the whole time

Horangi quickly returned to dinner and tackled him over the table, attempting my to shove some of the bad kimchi down his throat.

The yelling foreign languages at each other was funny. Mostly since it was Oni mocking Horangi and Horangi yelling rather than vice versa.

Horangi has seen everyone’s face, mostly because he doesn’t knock and has weird hours

This includes Ghost, even if they only worked together for a week

Fender is the only one who’s seen almost everyone’s face because they showed it to him willingly, König will wear a medical mask but won’t show his face

The medics know a lot of secrets about everyone, not important ones though, very stupid ones

Know Roze stole a loaf of bread from her family’s kitchen when she was 8 and felt bad so she tossed it in a lake

Know Zero once a had a crush on a middle school girl when he was in elementary and tried hard to get her attention but failed miserably

They won’t tell anyone because of Patient-Client Confidentiality and consequently become the secret keepers of the group

König only one who has seen Fender’s face.

KorTac tries to have dinner together and push the tables into a square, it’s really fun and they have game night (without gambling)

König has the highest tolerance and is has never gotten past drunk before.

He doesn’t really get drunk, he just gets wobbly and that’s all. No one knew the first time til he tried to get up and immediately tripped over his own feet, stayed on the floor and groaned, saying ‘damn, drank to much’

No one could remember how much he drank that night.

Everyone once saw him have like 14 beers (he has his own stash from home that’s strong and no one else likes) and said he felt tipsy and didn’t know his limit

Declan and Oni come in close second and Declan will brag about this to anyone who listens

Stilletto and Horangi are third but they don’t really care. Calisto, Zero, and Gromsko are the same way but have a lower tolerance

Zeus is really bad at drinking games and refuses to play, so they don’t really know his limit

He has admitted to being in the third place group, much to Declan’s amusement

Hutch has hacked into devices with weird search history’s. He doesn’t talk about it but if drunk enough he will tell some of the weirder non sexual ones.

Though, there are a few he will never speak of because thinking about them makes him shiver.

[wyvernquill]

One more snippet of the Dreamling Anastasia AU

...in which we witness Hob and Murphy's very first conversation (spoiler: it doesn't go well). Please enjoy!

Link to the Masterpost!

(Tag list, let me know if you want to be added or taken off: @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans @sunshines-fabulous-legs @dreamsofapiratelife @malice-royaume @kcsandmanfan @acedragontype @okilokiwithpurpose @tharkuun @silver-dream89 @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch)

---

For a moment, the scene unfolding before Hob makes him think he’s stepped into a fairytale - or perhaps a sweet and strange dream, haunting you ever so gently even after waking.

Once upon a time, thinks Hob, there was a Dream King draped in a cloak of midnight, and he held court over the ravens in a silver-winter forest under heavy, snow-laden boughs…

But then he blinks, and the silly, fanciful vision fades. The cloak is but a dark coat three sizes too large and marked by at least ten years’ worth of dirt and wear, the forest only a small and pitiful park fenced in by roads, and the snow a dirty grey, barely more than half-melted sludge where countless feet have trodden it down.

And the Dream King is only some beggar called Murphy, of course, uncanny resemblance be damned.

But there are ravens. Birds of all kinds, really, the sounds of their wings and their various songs nearly managing to drown out the noise of the city around them. Yet Hob is a practical man, and knows that they gather around their ‘king’ only because they’re clever little buggers waiting to be fed, and not thanks to any strange magics.

(Magic died when humanity rose up and brought the Endless low; and what little survived has fled, concealed itself, and would know better than to enchant a hundred or so birds in broad-if-cloud-dimmed daylight.

Magic died with Dream of the Endless, and all that is left are shadows and cheap facsimiles.

Magic died, and nothing will bring it back.)

And yet… there’s potential there, Hob thinks, as he watches Murphy draw his giant coat more tightly around himself, shivering but still holding his head high and proud, surveying the assorted fowl around him as if they were his subjects. There’s a sharp, delicate arrogance in his bearing that will serve their deception well.

And. Christ alive. He does look like him, doesn’t he. Like the Sandman himself, made flesh and bone and sweat and dirt. Made human. If Hob didn’t know, with absolute certainty… he could swear...

Ridiculous thought. Dream of the Endless would never sink so low as to get himself thrown out of a pub swearing and spitting, human or not.

Murphy’s eyes suddenly snap up, and Hob flinches instinctively, contemplates ducking behind the next tree or the column advertising the latest local plays - but the man’s gaze passes over him carelessly, long neck craning out from the ratty scarf wound around his throat as he scans the sky.

It’s the raven. The large, coal-feathered beast Murphy had with him at the pub, with the clever glint in its eye - and in its claws, it holds a whole loaf of bread, clearly pilfered from some bakery or street stall.

The raven drops the bread into Murphy’s lap, and then lands on his shoulder, cawing and nudging its beak against a sharp cheekbone in a strange avian gesture of affection.

Murphy rasps some sort of acknowledgement in his dark, hoarse voice that Hob is too far away to parse, stroking a finger along the bird’s side, before turning his attention to the bread.

His spindly, dirty fingers tear into it with the hungry desperation of a man who remembers with precise clarity when his last meal was, and also that it’s been far too long since then, and Hob’s stomach gives a sympathetic pang. He’s been there. Not so much recently - but he knows the slow gnaw of starvation, and will never forget it.

(He hasn’t gone hungry since meeting Gilbert, who’d rather skip on his own technically unnecessary meals if it meant his young human companion could eat his fill. Sometimes, Gil even hands Hob fruits he’s seemingly conjured up out of thin air, which are never as filling as the real thing, but taste heavenly enough to stave off hunger for a few more hours at least.

There must be some dream-magic there, something to do with Gil being, in all technicality, a meadow - but Hob doesn’t think about it too much. It’s sweet, the actions of a friend who truly cares, and that’s enough for him.)

Murphy raises the first morsel of bread up to his mouth…

…and feeds it to the raven.

Hob blinks.

Watches, as the man takes his own bite, chewing ravenously, and then tears another bit off the loaf, throwing it to the ground, birds immediately flocking around it, picking for their share.

The process repeats. Murphy goes through the entire loaf that way. One bite for the raven who stole the bread, one bite for Murphy himself, and one for the flocks of birds around him. Halfway through, the raven refuses its bites, presumably full, and from then on it’s one bite for Murphy, two for the birds. It’s already not the largest loaf, and a third of it is hardly enough to sate a grown man’s hunger - strangely selfless, this Murphy character. No wonder he’s thin as a rake.

(Then again, Hob supposes there’s strategy in it, teaching the birds that they’ll be well-rewarded for any bounty they bring him.

Altruism, or shrewdness? Hob wonders.)

Soon, there’s nothing left of the bread. Murphy still looks hungry, but it’s an exhausted, resigned hunger that’s there to stay. Hob doubts the man can remember a time he wasn’t hungry. This city is not kind to the starving, to the poor - Murphy might get a place in a workhouse, if he tried, but Hob doubts that quiet pride still shining through the veil of hunger would let him. And besides, they’re dying institutions, these days, workhouses - the modern world is turning up their noses at anything that might help the destitute, even as it churns out more and more of them. It’s a dark and miserable time they’re living in, and none of the glamorous parties the rich so love to throw these days will convince Hob otherwise.

But, well. If their scheme goes off without a hitch, then at the very least the new ‘Dream of the Endless’ will never go hungry again. Hob’s doing a public service here, if you look at it from the right angle - though he’ll be the first to admit that his main motivation is anything but selfless. Immortality is too rich a prize to pretend he doesn’t want it with every fibre of his being.

And he’ll not get it standing idly by and watching, that’s for sure.

Hob straightens his coat lapels, takes off his hat to comb his fingers through his overlong hair, places it back at a jaunty angle - and walks over to finally officially make this Murphy character’s acquaintance.

“Afternoon,” Hob says, still a few steps away, smile widening into a grin when Murphy’s gaze immediately fixes itself onto him, cold and filled with the sharp suspicion of a man most people go out of their way to ignore, and who does not trust direct address.

(The eyes give him away. Dream of the Endless had eyes like midnight stars, the depths of space and the glitter of distant galaxies eternally reflected in them. Strange eyes, inhuman eyes, endless eyes.

Murphy’s eyes are a pale, washed-out blue-grey, slightly sunken in their sockets, and perfectly ordinary.

No matter - they will already have to sell some cock-and-bull story about Dream having been forced into human form, the eyes will be the least of it.)

“What do you want?” Murphy growls, and that is perfect. The voice. Easily his best asset, besides the overall look. It’s right, scratchy and roughened by disuse, but just as deep and sonorous as Dream of the Endless's was. The harsh tone and tendency to curse like a sailor Hob witnessed at the inn will need to go, to be sure, this man speaks too much like a London gutter rat and not enough like the Lord of Stories - but, well, nothing a few lessons can't fix. Nobody else ever got the voice even remotely right, and this’ll already give them a lot more to work with.

“A moment of your time, m’lord. Nothing more.” Hob affects a cheeky bow, and does not waver under the cold disdain he receives in return. Mr. Murphy’s not a fan of teasing and gentle mockery, evidently - unfortunately, that is about 50% of Hob’s personality. They’ll get on just splendidly, won’t they. “Hob, at your service. Are you aware your lady sister is looking for you?”

A quick blink, even as Murphy’s entire scrawny body and haggard face goes very, very still.

“...I do not have a sister.” He says, only the slightest edge of uncertainty and confusion wavering in his voice. And then, “piss off, Robert Gadling” he adds, uncouth and vulgar, a scowl scrunching up his face. Oh, they’ll need to train that out of him, most certainly.

(Hob has not introduced himself as Robert, and certainly not as Gadling. That Murphy has named him thus nonetheless goes over both their heads.)

“No?” Hob smiles. “You’re not Dream of the Endless, then?”

Another blink - and then Murphy laughs, a horrible dissonant sound that seems like it ought to hurt his throat, the raven on his shoulder letting out a single caw alongside him.

“Are you drunk?” He snorts. “Dream of the Endless is dead. Every child knows it.”

“Every child believes it to be so. There’s a distinction.” Hob tries to take a step closer, but the sea of birds at their feet steadfastly refuses to part for him, so he thinks better of it. “You look exactly like him, you know. You might well be.”

“And you would know that, would you?” Murphy raises an arch eyebrow. “I think I’d remember having once been the personification of dreams.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Memory can be a funny thing.” Hob shoots back. “We don’t remember being born, do we? And some lose track of even more than that. How’s your recollection of your childhood, hm?”

Ah. Jackpot. The moment he speaks of remembering and childhoods, Murphy looks away, uncomfortable. Hit a sore spot there, has he? Memory issues. How interesting. How perfectly convenient.

“...you’ve had your fun now,” Murphy rasps, shifting uneasily, no longer so willing to defiantly meet Hob’s eyes. “I want no part in whatever game you’re intending to play with the London Poor, Gadling. Fuck off, before I make you.”

“Now, now, I really do think we’re on to something, here.” Giving up, Hob knows, is for fools who don’t really want to become immortal. “I’m quite certain-”

“Fuck. Off.” Murphy repeats, and turns his pale, unfortunately-human eyes on Hob again.

So do nearly a hundred birds, feathers ruffling and beaks clacking. The raven on Murphy’s shoulder caws, low and threatening.

Hob swallows, and takes stock of his options. Wonders if tactical retreats might not be just the thing for intelligent men who don’t want to die by bird before ever getting to take their stab at immortality.

“I’m only saying-” Hob tries instead, because he’s a reckless idiot.

Murphy’s eyes narrow, and he spits out a throaty sound like a command, the flock of birds rising as one, led by his personal raven jumping into flight with a sharp battle cry.

Shit.

Gilbert glances up when Hob returns covered in feathers and bird droppings, skin smarting where sharp beaks have pecked at him until he fled.

“I take it young Mr. Murphy was not particularly amenable to your proposal…?” He asks, delicately, lip twitching around a politely-repressed smile.

“Can’t say he was.” Hob shrugs easily, only wincing slightly at the way the movement pulls on his skin. “But I think I can convince him, Gil. Given enough time.”

“If you say so, young friend.” Gil, for his part, does not look particularly convinced either. He rarely is, when Hob first pitches his ideas, but he always comes around.

And so will Murphy.

Hob knows it’s only a matter of time… and, perhaps, some clever bribery.

[stevishabitat]

Was on Pinterest (I know, I do sometimes cheat on Tumblr with the Pretty Plagiarism Hellsite, I'm not proud of it)

Anyway, I saw this and just about threw my phone...

(I didn't throw my phone because I have to use it to sign into the work VPN so I can keep my job)

But I literally saw red for a brief second.

My fridge, freezer, and pantry currently consist of about 20 eggs, half a loaf of bread (gift from my mother), several servings of cooked black beans, some cooked white rice, a bag of frozen peas, about five frozen chicken nuggets, a pound of dry white rice, a small jar of dried lentils, a small jar of split peas, a slightly larger jar of pinto beans, two packets of minute rice, two packets of ramen (another gift from my mother at kiddo's request), several cans of spaghettios, several cans of tomato paste, two tins of tuna, a few packets of instant oatmeal, a tin of hopefully not stale steel cut oats, and some bisquick for pancakes & waffles.

I do have a little less than a pound of flour, and things like sugar, baking soda, baking powder, some spices, some condiment packets, vinegar, and some boullion. Oh, and some coconut oil that's been in the freezer for awhile, meant for making hand cream, but isn't rancid so it's getting used for coating the electric skillet and waffle maker once we'd run out of olive oil and butter.

This is what we'll be cooking with until the next pay day/grocery day in two weeks.

So, I'm not quite at the level of food insecure, but I'm pretty damn broke.

And the pictures on that pin are just nothing like what we're able to eat. Ever. For at least the last 10 years. I don't even remember the last time I was able to buy meat on a regular basis.

Canned chili with meat instead of beans and chicken nuggets are like Special Occasion foods for kiddo and I rarely have any (because I can easily sub beans, kiddo has sensory issues with most beans).

I might get myself a single chicken pot pie from time to time, especially in the winter. But I can't afford to buy like cuts of chicken to make my own. It's too much money to spend at once on just one thing. My $35 grocery shops twice a month have to cover a LOT.

Plus when we moved in (2021), the stove/oven was broken, so we had a scrapper haul it away for the recycling value. So we've been using a toaster oven and small electric skillet since then.

I had a little remorse at my knee-jerk reaction to the cover photo, so I clicked into the blog to see what the actual list was like. Title of the blog is Boss Single Mama, so maybe she knows what she's talking about. Maybe she's been there for real.

Nope. Chicken, beef, ham, almost every dish has meat. Cheeses and other dairy, a variety of vegetables, all things that we get very sparingly and use in small amounts on many meals, not as a main ingredient.

And even thinking back to my childhood it wasn't much different. We shopped at Aldi before it was cool and their selection was far more limited. Most of our meals were rice or pasta based, with meat only appearing as ground beef, tuna, and sometimes bologna.

Hot dogs were a special treat and even those weren't used on a bun. They were cut up in a pasta salad or casserole. Sometimes if we had a few leftover we would eat them the next day fried in a pan and wrapped in bread or a tortilla and that was a good day! We bought the cheap cheese in blocks and had to grate it because Aldi didn't even carry shredded cheese back then.

This is the kind of thing that makes me feel like when most people talk about being broke, or living frugally, or thrifty, or struggle meals, or whatever the trendy phrase is... They're talking about something vastly different than my daily life.

And it just makes me feel crappier about how I'm raising my kiddo, and it seems like there's so few resources to help people who are actually struggling. Whose lives don't look like a Boss Single Mama blog.

Anyway, if you ever feel the same way, you aren't alone. I raise my bowl of bean & tomato sauce rice to you! We are survivors, in spite of it all.

[stromuprisahat]

And there, by the bars, Arachne had laid out a little picnic for her tribute. A fresh loaf of bread, a block of cheese, and were those grapes? How could she afford those? Maybe the travel industry was picking up. He watched as Arachne sliced the cheese with a mother-of-pearl-handled knife. Her tribute, the talkative girl from District 10, squatted right in front of her, eagerly leaning into the bars. Arachne made a thick sandwich but didn’t hand it right over. She seemed to be lecturing the girl about something. It was quite a speech. At one point, the girl reached through the bars, and Arachne withdrew the sandwich, drawing a laugh from the audience. She turned and flashed them a grin, shook her finger at her tribute, held out the sandwich again, and then pulled it away a second time, much to the crowd’s amusement. “She’s playing with fire there,” Lucy Gray observed. Arachne waved to the crowd and then took a bite of the sandwich herself. Coriolanus could see the tribute’s face darkening, the muscles tightening in her neck. He could see something else, too. Her fingers sliding down the bar, darting out, circling the handle of the knife. He started to rise, opening his mouth to shout out a warning, but it was too late. In one movement, the tribute yanked Arachne forward and slit her throat. … Coriolanus glanced over in time to see the District 10 girl retrieve the cheese sandwich and take a furious bite before the bullets pierced her body, slamming her into the bars. She slipped into a heap as her blood commingled with Arachne’s. Bits of half-chewed food fell from her mouth and floated in the red pool. ... So now that loudmouth Arachne was a defender of a righteous and just land. Yes, she laid down her life taunting her tribute with a sandwich, thought Coriolanus. Maybe her gravestone could read, “Casualty of cheap laughs.”

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (Suzanne Collins)

Quick Google search makes this less about karma, more about plain stupidity:

What is the District 10 in the Hunger Games about?

District 10: District 10 focused on the livestock industry. Their main job was to raise animals and supply the meat to the Capitol.

What kind of idiot lets a person with this background anywhere near sharp objects?

[leggeteconme]

Reasons you need this herby pea soup and pesto-ham grilled cheese in your life:

1. It’s delicious. The combination of flavors is unreal.

2. It’s cheap. No fancy produce or expensive ingredients required. Everything can be bought for very little cost.

3. It’s quick and easy. Unlike most soups I make, there’s no roasting or anything that takes a lot of time. Sauté and blend. That’s about it.

4. It’s packed with protein. I use bone broth to bulk out the protein from the peas, and the ham and cheese give you even more. And it’s balanced with fats, carbs, and produce, giving you the perfect hearty and well-balanced meal for the end of a long day.

Now the recipe ^^

Pea soup ingredients:

• Olive oil

• Chicken bone broth

• As much butter as you want

• Herbs of your choice (fresh or dried, pretty much everything goes with peas so pick what you like)

• Salt and black pepper

• Onion of your choice (I always go for yellow onion and shallot)

• Lots of garlic (I use a whole bulb because I have problems)

• A lot of peas (~6 cups)

Step 1: Chop your garlic and onion (save the scraps for vegetable stock!), and sauté in a generous drizzle of olive oil over medium high heat.

Step 2: Season garlic and onion with salt, pepper, and herbs to taste. Add peas and butter, and cook until heated through. Cover with broth and blend until smooth.

Grilled cheese ingredients:

• Good white bread (doesn’t have to be fancy, this loaf was $1.99, but fresh baked goes such a long way)

• More butter

• Mayonnaise

• Pesto (homemade is best, but my basil plants haven’t recovered enough from the last batch for me to make more, so store-bought is just fine!)

• Two types of shredded cheese: one for flavor and one for meltiness (I’m a diehard swiss and mozzarella girl)

• Smoked ham slices

Spread a little mayo and a generous bit of pesto on one side of each of two slices of bread. Add one type of cheese to each slice and a few slices of ham to one side. Cook in melted butter over medium heat until the cheese melts, flip the sandwich together, and cook until golden on both sides.

Cut that sandwich in half, ladle up the soup, and dive in :)

[clatterbane]

New plan that I'm intending to get going, with the excuse of a Christmas treat: finally getting a small, relatively easy to maintain planted tank set up here, for some shrimp and most likely a betta. Because my cheap ass evidently needs some excuse beyond "I just think they're neat." 🙄

Considering one of these setups:

https://aquaremedyireland.com/product/shrimp-set-smart-2-30l-black/

(Not from this place; that was just a handy link in English.)

The model name is pretty coincidental. I was just looking for a tank of around that size, which happens to be a popular setup for mini shrimp. Currently going back and forth between the idea of also getting a matching stand (which is pricier than the tank itself), and just picking up a reasonably sturdy small table from IKEA. I could get, say, a Skruvby--which looks functionally very similar minus a cabinet door--for less than half the price.

It's both exciting and sort of intimidating to be starting over completely from scratch with aquarium stuff. All of it basically ended up getting abandoned back in Romford. Including the multiple tanks of various sizes.

I don't have 15+ years of accumulated equipment/supplies to dip into now and set up another small tank on the cheap, or really the means to get out looking for bargains or picking stuff up from the local Craigslist equivalent--and pretty much everything aquarium (or most other hobby) related is spendy as shit here, compared to when I was feeding my aquatic habit in the UK.

But yeah, it is what it is. And we can afford to get a damn shrimp tank up and running, even at full Swedish retail prices. Better just pretend it's Monopoly money, and pick up what I need.

(Also, gotta say that my tiny dyscalculic brain is also still more prone to sticker shock, seeing as it's around 100kr to $10 or £7.50. Gotta shift that decimal point one space over for those quick mental conversions! Otherwise you're gasping at a $25 loaf of bread. Could be worse, it could be either yen or, say, Jamaican dollars for the extra denomination mindfuck. Just remembering hearing one guy bitching about spending J$200 for a head of cabbage after some bad growing weather. 😱)

But yeah, besides just really looking forward to some new little water buddies? I'm enjoying mentally planning out the aquascaping and looking at some potential options. Also looking forward to the prospect of planning around something as polite as these little guys.

They couldn't really tear/gobble up their plants or root around in the tank substrate if they even wanted to, so you don't need to plan around that. (Yes, I am looking at you, messy carp beasts goldfish. 😒) Easier to get things looking nice with tiny guys who actually like to help by grazing on algae.

[bonniebird]

Billy x Fem!Reader

Requested by Anon

December event

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While your other two roommates had left for the holiday, Billy was staying at the shared house. You had tried to get to the airport but found that your plane was cancelled due to bad weather.

You’d complained for hours until you opened the curtains one morning and found ankle-deep snow and that it was still snowing so hard you couldn’t see to the end of the drive. Billy had made a deal with you, he’d make a stop at the grocery store on his way home from his shift and you’d shovel the driveway so he could get his car in the garage. You’d agreed and had bundled up and headed outside half an hour after he left.

You’d cleared the driveway. Then the snow got heavier so you cleared it again. By the third time the snow got ankle-deep, you gave up. Billy pulled up at the end of the drive with the food shopping and stared at the drive. He could see that you’d tried to clear the drive and headed in with a few bags. As he shook the snow off his feet he spotted you sitting in the kitchen. You were still bundled up and you looked as if you hadn’t long headed inside. He could hear you snuffling before he stomped into the kitchen.

"Please help me shovel the driveway. I did some of it but I’m cold and tired." You said as soon as you spotted Billy. He chuckled and nodded, spotting the wide spade in the corner of the kitchen that was surrounded by a pile of melting snow. “Every time I go out and clear it, it snows again.” 

“You’ve cleared enough that I should get my car into the garage. I don’t know about going out again though.” Billy said as he took the shovel. He cleared a little around the curb and then had to stand and wave your arms to help him back into the garage. He hopped out and dug a pathway from the front door to the letter box. The two of you hurried inside and unpacked the rest of the shopping through the kitchen side door that led out to the garage.

Just as it starts getting dark, and you finished heating up some warm soup and a fancy loaf of bread that Billy got cheap because it was going to get thrown out at closing, the power cut out. There was a crackling noise and a bang. Heading out to the living room you found Billy peeking through the curtains.

“What happened? Why’s the power out?” You asked and joined Billy who let you stand in front of him and peek out with him.

“You know that tree Hopper told the neighbour across the road to cut down? Well, it just fell down and took the power lines with it.” Billy said. You saw your neighbours come out one by one and start shouting at the couple who came out of their house.

“So we have no power? We’ll freeze!” You complained. 

“I have a camping stove and we’ve got enough blankets. They won't be able to leave live power lines down for long.” Billy said. The two of you watched for a while and went to fetch some soup and bread while it was warm so you could eat and watch. You jumped and yelped when the tree lost another branch and the next power line landed on the front lawn right where you and Billy had cleared the drive.

“I think we should stay inside.” Billy said calmly as the group outside got bigger and bigger until two police cruisers and a fire truck pulled up outside and sent everyone in.

Billy tags:

@savagemickey03 @zoomdeathknight @pheonix4269 @bloodrose @sarahbullet235 @lovelyy-moonlight @stellasblog @DeanWinchestersgirl87 @thekayarlene @linkpk88 @babypink224221 @lisainhell @spiderwebs-blog @gryffindorqueensworld @rockyrascal @twerp8999 @theletterhart @boardstomymood @big-galaxy-chaos @greekktragedyy @ietss @alexxavicry @daughterofthenight117 @sarcasm-n-insomnia @multi-fandom5 @skylermoyer @justice-for-the-kaldorei @favmeyou @kaylantus @supernatural-wolfie @yougottalovefandoms @alwaysadreamingoptimist @love1deandra @archaeologydigit @im-eating-rn @bucketbunny @littlefreakingfangirl @hardladyheart @gillybear17 @lchufflepuffcorn @prettyplant0 @hardladyheart @slxthxrxn-sxmp @jamie-c-bower-simp @aw--heck @amournoir @boardstomymood @heeheehoohoohahahihi @elenavampire21

[prosopagn0sis-a]

@cheshire-shuntaro, my beloved. missed you dearly. in this life and in every other.

we’ve met years ago, without the scorching sun kissing our skin and the ocean breeze caressing our faces as we walk with our feet in the sand around the nearest beach.

i wasn’t rich then — well, i still am not, relying on white rabbit’s money — the nickname not suiting him at all — but his money is mine, even if i don’t feel like it.

we’re married. whatever we have is shared between us two, split in half, his small fortune included.

shuntarō has his report today, as each sunday, but… something’s off. weird. as i wake up, i know the day’s gonna be different — maybe it’s the gut feeling i follow combined with the logic, or maybe i finally got the full access to morphogenetic fields and the knowledge stored there is telling me something i cannot decode yet.

i make my best effort not to wake my husband — oh, how weird it sounds, husband; i never planned to get married, but when he proposed, i just agreed without a second thought. i was seated on his lap in a strip club as he requested a private dance. he recognized me from college, i did not until he spoke to me.

“marry me.”

i didn’t think twice.

“under one condition. you will never get me this awful tea again.”

it’s not like we knew each other well before that encounter — we didn’t. i approached him once at the university while he was studying before an exam, correcting one of his chemical formulas. demanded tea for that. got it the next morning, a cheap and disgusting piss-colored liquid in the smallest size possible from a local chain coffee shop.

for some, my decision could seem impulsive. it was. anything to escape the life i was living after i had to drop out on my second year. everything else was better than that, easier to figure the solution for any problem i could encounter later on.

i didn’t have to worry; waking by shuntarō's side each day, staying by his side at all times. he never cheated, never lied, never left. also, he was honest about his profession from day one.

“this is my boss. he’s a gang leader. we make cocaine.”

it wasn’t a mistake to share that; i never left him and appreciated forwardness. this, later on, made me acquire the lovely title of cheshire cat — always doing whatever i wanted, however i wanted, choosing my own ways and paths instead of the ones demanded, never siding with anyone. i wasn’t officially a part of the gang, so what would they do, anyway? enrage their lead chemist by hurting me? as if.

i make my best effort to not wake my husband as i slip from under his arm and leave our shared bed. something’s off, i can feel it. time for me to change the routine, even by a little bit. besides, shuntaro’s been working hard these past few weeks. he deserves a little treat.

i like it here, i really do. despite the city being run by drug lords and cartels, i have this privilege of being safe. i stroll around the place just a little bit, visiting the bakery for the still warm loaf of bread and some coffee i know white rabbit would love. then, i make breakfast.

i do not wait for him, no; he’ll get up soon enough, his alarm never failed to get him out of the bed. nothing to worry for me. there was, in fact, a thing that did.

whoever followed me on my little walk around the neighborhood was about to meet his fate. i wouldn’t kill them right away, obviously; first i will get to know why would they do it in the first place and for whom do they work.

it’s nothing to inform my dear sleeping love about. he doesn’t need extra stress today.

and so, armed with the knowledge of thousands interrogation and torture techniques, the cheshire cat is off to the city, about to catch these filthy rats.

[klugami]

Amitie the idol?! New conflict. I’m done. Anyways I wish I had a boyfriend but more Klugami soon. Or not. It took like half a year for this one hehe

Isolation.

For a city with such a colorful cast, everyone blurs into the same shade of brown. Browns, purples, reds. No matter what you do, you’re just another hat in a crowd. Embracing yourself might be fun, but in the end, you’re still a nobody. Faceless, perhaps. Why pretend you exist? Occupy your niche, pretend it’s all fine. Aren’t you happier like this?

Why do you want to be unique so badly? Is it truly unique, or do you just want to feel loved? Do you even want to be loved, or are you so desperate to have acknowledgment? To be something more than one brick in the Great Wall of society.

Perhaps.

Sig looked at the window, from behind the counter. Orange lights, a sight that he’s grown tired of. In the past few weeks, or maybe it was months, it feels like he’s seen Klug less and less. Raffina told him that this was normal, but… no, it’s probably fine.

Besides him, Raffina and Lidelle seemed to be more consistent customers. They’d chat about the happenings, usually that nothing new happened. Amitie was usually there too, but today she was not. Sig never talked to any of them outside of orders, anyway.

He still comes by, every now and again, though he’s grown a bit stranger over time. Now, Sig always felt that Klug was kind of the hiding type, but it feels like whatever Klug was hiding got bigger. But at the same time, he smiles more. Was it genuine or not? Sig didn’t know.

As the door chimed, Sig immediately looked to see who came in. Disappointingly, it was not one of his friends, but rather a papergirl. This is odd, Sig thinks, as usually letters are delivered straight to his home. “Is it urgent?” He asked, now looking at the bread he had for sale.

“No, no!” Ally tried to explain. “I’m not here to deliver anything. Ooh, but your bread looks super good! I insist, Mister Sig! I want to make a purchase!” She looks at many loaves of bread, pointing out each one’s qualities to her like “oh! It’s so cute!” Or “I really like that bug!”

Ally fawned over all the bread, before lightly smacking herself to remain focused. “Ok! I’ll have.. whatever’s cheapest!” She decides.

Sig looked behind him, then grabbed a loaf of bread. The plainest one he had, as per Ally’s request for something cheap. At least he wasn’t parting with something more extravagant.

“Here it is. 5 silver coins.” He recites, putting the bread in Ally’s hands. “I thought you had letters to deliver?” Sig said, offhandedly, as he went to go bake a replacement loaf.

“There’s no need to worry! I’m off today!” Ally said, as she sat herself down to eat her bread. Though before she could even get started, the door swung open again, seeming out of breath

“Puff… Baker! Baker! I’ll have the usual!”

Amitie waved from the door, upon seeing everyone present. “Oh! Raffina, and Lidelle! The whole gang’s here!” She grinned, as she scuttled to the front. “Y’know, I didn’t expect everyone here! Usually we’re all too busy to meet up!”

Lidelle turned over, excited to hear Amitie’s voice. “Oh! Ami! I-It’s been a while since we’ve talked… you’re alone this time. W-What happened to Klug?” She asked.

As Amitie waited at the counter for her usual order, she contemplated what she was going to see. “Well uh— how do I put it.. I haven’t the foggiest clue what happened to him!”

“He’s dead?!” Lidelle gasped.

“What? No, of course not!” Amitie reassured her. “But like… he’s been all cooped up in his house, and he won’t answer the door. I don’t think he’s left it since we talked about the thing..”

“The thing?” Raffina asked, now also invested in the conversation. “Amitie, what on Earth is the ‘thing?’”

Since she was going to be here awhile, Amitie sat down near Lidelle and Raffina. “So, like, the short of it is that we were at his place talking but all of a sudden, he got mopey. And then he told me I should leave and that we—“

“But why were you hanging out together? No, why were you at his house? What happened before this?” Raffina interrupts, suspicious. “What was so important that you had to tell him something at his place?”

“Well, I should probably explain the rest of what happened before. Okay?” Amitie said, as she leaned back on her chair, nearly falling, but that’s per usual with Amitie.

…

So like, before we talked about it, it was actually really normal! I had actually gotten a meeting with a company! Like, a real idol company! The actual meeting was super nerve-wracking though, because there was this tall mysterious type!

I remember giving them a demo of one of my songs, and some long questions, but only one I really remember! “Why do you sing?” He asked me, his aura actually freaking me out. “What inspires you to perform?” Well, that question was the most important to me.

Really, I knew this answer already! But it was the only answer that I knew! From the get-go! “I perform to make people happy! To make the world I live in better, even if it’s just one person who smiles!” I told him, pep and all! And I think this was the ticket, because I got a card after!

The interviewer even seemed to be smiling, but I couldn’t tell. “We’ll arrange for an audition. We can talk further on the phone.”

I was stoked! It was absolutely incredible that I could have a chance! And of course, the first thing I had to do was tell Klug about it. But as I got up to leave, they told me something else.

A few things, actually, but most important was that they’d end up… taking me to another city. One that was far, like, somewhere I don’t know the name of.

It’s scary, right? I think it is…

But, this is something important, still, so I had to tell Klug! After all, he’s my closest friend—

…

“Aren’t you two..?” Lidelle interrupted. “I-I thought you guys were.. and… did you two…?”

“Well, yeah, we are dating, but that doesn’t make him not my friend! This story isn’t about us splitting!…I hope.” Amitie explained, before returning to the story.

…

After all, he’s my closest friend, and I can’t just leave him in the dark of such an important decision! Now, I know his schedule like the back of my hand, so that day, at that time, he’d be at the top of the hill that overlooks the clo—

…

“Clock? Klug? The same Klug who adores exhaust pipes?” Raffina interrupted immediately after.

Amitie frowned, but ignored that entirely.

…

The Hill that overlooks the clock tower! It’s actually a really nice place! That’s where we hung out and made advertisements. And he was still there, probably drawing the same clock tower again. I could probably look at him draw for a while, super mesmerizing!

Well, I wasn’t there to go just admire, I was there to talk! So I tapped him on the shoulder, which surely got his attention. “Hey, Klug! I’ve got the best news of my life today! I need to tell you!” I told him, loud and clear.

“Is it something that you have to spend money on?” Klug retorted, as per usual. Sometimes we end up spending a bit of money on shopping, but I don’t know why he said that like I do it DAILY! It’s kind of rude of him to speak like I do it often.

Well, anyway, I tell him “What makes you think that? What I’ve got to tell you is something so important that…” And then, I had the perfect idea! “Oh! Actually, let’s go somewhere!” I said, as I grabbed both of his hands, which is probably why he was in a sour mood later, as it ruined his canvas or whatever.

I mean… maybe if I told him then… then he wouldn’t be so…

Whatever! That’s not the point right now, right now I’m just telling what happened, and what happened was that I took him all around the Primp District! I took him to the train station, then I took him to the restaurant we ate at, even this very bakery! It was like.. like hitting him with all the good memories so that I could soften the blow!

Because, like… well!

What was I talking about? Oh, right! So, it was at one of these places that I decided to tell him about what happened! I forgot where exactly, but I basically just told him something like “I have wonderful news!! I’m going to be a real singer! For real!”

And he wasn’t shocked or anything. If anything, he seemed happy for me! “That’s… that’s really great, Amitie!” He said. “Your dream is coming true before your eyes. That’s amazing!”

“Yeah! Yeah it’s all great! I’m thinking about packing soon, cuz there’s gonna be a LOT of train rides! That’s traveling! Isn’t that exciting?” I said, and it was then that his happiness got kind of … sad.

He didn’t say anything that seemed envious or anything. He just went “Oh. Well then, if that’s what you must do for your dream, then you should go for it.” And “But if it’s hell, it’s what you wanted after all.” Actually, maybe that last one was a bit envious. Whatever he felt, he left for a bit. I didn’t see him until—

….

“Your order’s ready” Sig called out, and Amitie stopped her story.

“Ooh! Delish!” She chirped, as she took a large bite out of one of the loaves given to her. It seemed whatever sadness she had reminiscing was going to be buried under delicious bread.

Raffina watched as Amitie had stuffed herself full of bread. That story seemed kind of…unfinished. “None of this mentions the…‘thing’ you two talked about though…” Raffina thought aloud.

“Well— uhm—“ Amitie stammered, but swallowed her words. “It’s actually—“

“And if there’s no mention of the ‘thing’…” Ally finished her plain loaf, adjusted her bag strap, and clapped her hands together. “Which means that we should go and ask for the other half of the story!” She chimed in, happily. “These two happy lovey-dovey friends…we have to fix this!”

Raffina didn’t share the sentiment, but it.. was sort of her job to keep peace. This sort of falls under that. Technically. Maybe it’s a thinly veiled excuse to verbally attack Klug. “Well… if it’ll help us figure out what’s wrong with that guy...” She reluctantly agreed, to Ally’s cheer.

“Wonderful! This story is so exciting, my heart may burst!” Ally cheered, as she went to the door with Raffina. “Miss Amitie! We’ll be off! We’re going to find out what exactly happened”

“U..uhm… Good Luck, Guys!” Amitie wasn’t too sure why they were talking about this. But if it meant things’ll get better, then it was fine. Right?

~

The most obvious place to look would be his house, of course. Ally knocked on it, but there was no answer at all. She knocked again, but no answer. “Phew.. there’s no response. He really is cooped there, how lonely…” Ally lamented with a frown.

But while Ally was knocking, Raffina had managed to open a window.. Well, it wasn’t really that hard. Especially for someone like Raffina. “Don’t give up so quickly, look! Damn it, a door lock isn’t going to stop anyone if you leave your windows open. Come on, we have a talk to have.”

The two girls climbed into the house through the window, only to find Klug was sitting there, idly, almost lost in thought. Ally tiptoed over, and waved her hand in front of his face. As expected, he made no comment nor even reaction.

“…it’s so scary..” Ally whispered, as she retracted her hand. “It’s like he’s devoid of anything…Mister Klug, can you even hear us?” She asked, tilting her head slightly. “You’re ok, right? …Right…?”

Klug blinked, then looked straight at Ally, then Raffina, then at the open door. “…Ah. Salutations, Raffina, Orange Hair Girl.” He mumbled. “You broke into my house… Is there an evacuation notice?”

“Of course there is no- have you really sunk so low as to be unaware of what’s outside?” Raffina gasped, in disbelief. “No, we’re here on the grounds of where in the hell were you for the past few weeks! Locking yourself in your home is a safety hazard, as well!”

He sighed, now falling onto the ground. “You worry too much. I suppose Amitie sent you on this little quest. I’d tell you to tell her I’m alright, but it wouldn’t matter.” Klug said, his voice with a pinch of regret.

Struggling, Ally tried to pull him upright, but this only resulted in her dropping him on the ground a few times, so she left him as is. “Amitie actually told us you were locked here, but she never sent us on a fetch quest. We actually came here to find out why you’re so sad and lonely!”

Hearing that, Klug stood up, and tried to walk elsewhere, but Ally stopped him. “No! You can’t keep hiding, we’re here to help you! It’s for love’s sake!” She assured, almost shaking him.

“If I tell you what happened will you two leave me alone?” Klug asked, to the two of them nodding yes, almost rhythmically. It wasn’t the answer Klug wanted, but he wasn’t a guy who’d go against word. “..Alright, alright, so.” He sat down.

…

This couldn’t have been any more than a few weeks or a month ago, so it’s still fresh in my mind. Amitie must’ve told you that she had landed some sort of acting gig, and that’s true.

I don’t actually mind her pursuing her career, but her immediately saying that she was leaving town did make me feel sad. If it was Raffina, I wouldn’t really care that much, but having to say goodbye to Amitie for a bit was actually disheartening, to say the least.

After the conversation ended, I chose to mull it over, maybe pick up something to make it easier on me. So, I chose to take to what made me the most clear minded— painting.

You surely must know that I enjoy putting what’s in my thoughts and in my eyes onto a canvas, and that’s precisely what would save me from mental confusion! I sat down, propped my canvas against myself, and took to still life drawing.

And it was while illustrating one of the most beautiful lamps I’ve laid eyes on that I was finally thinking— Why should I have to say goodbye to Amitie? Surely, someone as simple-minded as her would likely realize that leaving Primp won’t be as cracked up as she thought! Hm.. that sounds more like something you’d say, Raffina.

Regardless, the gentle orange glow that the light gave off was just enough for me to get my thoughts in order. At first, I thought of going with her, though if I left Primp District, who would be here to preserve its rich culture? I couldn’t do that. So I thought about keeping Amitie here, though I couldn’t go out and just marry her. Thus! I settled on the idea of convincing her.

With what money I had, I knew I’d be able to give her some sort of big reason to stay. I even planned out a day and everything! No, it was a week! A week that I’d finish off with a grand hot air balloon ride, a so perfectly Amitie-like activity!

…

“Ahh! A week of just the two of you!” Ally gushed, her eyes practically full of hearts. “That’s so romantic!”

Klug froze in his storytelling, and held his head down, as if disappointed, or even upset. “… … I guess it was romantic.” He finally continued. “But you came here to figure out why I’m ’sad and lonely’, correct? Let’s skip ahead.”

…

The sixth day is when things went downhill. I decided to close the day off with a sleepover, something that Amitie and I haven’t done in a while. That, and it would have been a good way to wake her up early for the balloon trip. Getting her to agree to staying over was easy, no surprise there.

Of course, now you two are here, and if you glance at the couch, you’ll notice I even moved the cushions around. Yes, Amitie was to sleep there, but she never did, because we never got to sleep in the first place.

In fact, we spent almost all night just.. talking. I was hoping she’d try to practice her dancing — preferably, not around any of my valuables. But within an hour, she was seemingly already tired, and she mumbled about how she was excited about her new “totally-amazing extra-wicked new life” or whatnot.

Yes, it was then I decided to reveal my plan, and so I got up and told her that she should come with me to the living area. And it was… THERE, that everything was to fall apart! Oh, the minute I started talking about how much I would miss her… the girl would interrupt. I remember it well. Saying things like “Ooh, but imagine how many people I’d meet outta town!” And the like..

Eventually, she told me the worst of it— it wasn’t simply leaving for a bit, but that she might never see Primp District again. She’d never be back.

“But, But Amitie! To leave Primp District forever?! Doesn’t that sound hasty?” I cried out, now in a desperate plea to change her mind. “I only just finally got to see you again, and you’re going to leave me and the others…”

“I’m not a kid! I want to go after my dream, I can’t standby.. I can’t just say no! I wish I could be here forever!” Amitie yelled. Her yelling was so.. abnormal. She almost never did that. “But I wanted this for years! I can’t back out now!”

It was a whole thing. It felt like a betrayal, even.

I think she knew I was upset, and she tried to comfort me. She gave me a hug. She held my hands. She left a kiss on my left cheek. She apologized about having the outburst. “I didn’t mean to hurt you” and “I could’ve said it better!” But if she was so worried about me, why was she willing to leave so suddenly?

I couldn’t convince her to stay, I realized, and so it was pointless to continue! “No, it’s nothing for you to be concerned about!” I told her, regaining my composure! “Well, I doubt you have time for tomorrow, so how about you go home?”

And she stammered! Amitie stammered, like she usually does, but it wasn’t her usual tripping over her own words— she sounded kind of.. shocked. And that was strange. She babbled about something, but I can’t recall. And after that, I told her again to leave, and she did.

Hm.. come to think of it. I wished she’d stay. But, as she so clearly has her life figured out, I can’t hold her back! But.. but I..

…

“Alright, alright! Hold it.” Raffina interrupts, though this wasn’t so much an interruption and more an after-examination. “You’re saying that.. the reason you’re upset.. is because Amitie’s successful? That’s a pathetic reason, isn’t it? Do you really want her to stay or do you just want someone to like you!” She crossed her arms, as if restraining herself.

Klug stared upwards, the faint light reflecting off of his glasses. He didn’t have an answer, nor did he want to know the answer. “I wish she’d stay. Or at least, I’d wish—“

His line of thought was interrupted as Raffina (now free of her self imposed restraints) picked him up off the floor and held him up as if he was an easily throwable plush doll.

“Kch. You’re so annoying, sometimes! You wouldn’t be here, and you would’ve been happy, if you just.. spoke up!! You’re the furthest thing from perfect I know, stop trying to be that, because it’s PISSING me off!” Raffina shouted, before running out of steam. She dropped him, took a breath, and simply unlocked the door, and left.

Ally, meanwhile, stayed a little longer. She dusted off her dress, went towards the door, but paused. Looking back at Klug, even if he’s dazed, he really does look pathetic. Not even in a sad way. He just looks so lonely. “…I promise you that we’ll fix everything! For the sake of love.” She told him, under her breath.

~

Ally went scrambling back to the bakery, Raffina’s (unwilling) hand in tow, and bursted the doors open. “Alright, Baker! Miss Lidelle! Miss Amitie! I have a—“ She stopped midway, upon realizing that Amitie is missing. “Ah. Miss Lidelle, any idea where Amitie is?” She asked.

Lidelle turned her head towards the door, then back to Ally. “Uhm.. Ami said she had to catch a train tomorrow, so she, uhm, she went to her house…” She answered. “Do you want her for anything? It’s really late..”

Ally then grabbed Lidelle’s sleeve, pulled her out of her chair, and bolted out the door again. “Alright, alright! Let’s go after her then!” She announced, now with a party of 3 (and Sig, who followed after.)

The 3+1 of them had scrambled to Amitie’s house, though none of them really knew what Ally was planning. Ally knocked on the door with a simplistic rhythm, and a mere two seconds after, the door opened.

“Oh! Raffina, Lidelle, and Sig! What’re you guys doing here!… and uh— what’s your name again? I forgot..” Amitie chirped, with a wide grin. Her smile faded as she saw the determined face Ally was making.

“Miss Amitie, I have a plan to get Klug out of the house! It’s going to need you, so forgive me for bothering you, but come with us!” Ally told her, extending her hand for Amitie to take.

Seeing as Amitie valued her friends, it was an easy choice. She took Ally’s hand, and gave an affirming nod. “Alright! Let’s do it, then!” She agreed.

The 5 of them, now complete, had begun the march to Klug’s house again, though none of them knew the plan at all. In fact, when they arrived, Raffina nearly opened the first floor window again, before Ally stopped her.

“We can’t break and enter again! That’ll just make him worse!” Ally scolded, before she turned to Amitie. “Miss Amitie, which window would he be near at this time?” She asked.

“How would I know that! He could be anywhere! Uhm.. it’s uh.. it’s night right now, so he might be going to sleep, which would be…” Amitie looked around the outside of the house, before pointing at a higher window. “That one!” She exclaimed.

The five of them looked at the general height of the window. It’s not exactly too high, but it wasn’t gonna be reachable with just a short hop.

But Ally had a look in her eye, as if she expected it. “Perfect-o… so! Here’s my plan. We all stack up on top of each-other, having Miss Amitie knock on the window as if she’s an angel from heaven.. surely, this’ll allow them to reconcile..”

Sig kept looking at the window. “…and if Glasses doesn’t open the window?” He mentions, taking a bite out of snack food he brought.

“Then we’ll try a different window! And again. And again! That’s the power of Love, Mister Sig!” Ally assured, with a wink. “Miss Raffina, I want you to pick me up, as high as you can! After I pick up Miss Amitie!”

“Doesn’t this idea sound a bit foolish?! Ally, you can’t possibly be serious— we have better hopes of having Amitie just knock on the door!” Raffina argued, as she effortlessly lifted Ally upwards (who was, herself, struggling with Amitie)

But Ally just giggled at the retort. “That’s why Miss Lidelle and Mister Sig will be on standby, in case something happens. Like a human ladder!” She explained, as she wobbled slightly. “Ok.. Miss Amitie, can you reach the window?”

Amitie reached her hands to the windowsill, grasping on for dear life, and pushed her face against the window to make a knock. “I’ve knocked on the window, but I can hardly hold on!” She exclaimed, her hands trembling.

She peered through the window, and while Klug was there, he seemed out of it. Just sitting in the middle of the room. Not sleeping. Just.. nothing. Was it a depressive spiral? She knew he got mopey sometimes. But that just meant she had to try harder.

Trying her hardest to still her movements, she knocked on the window again, and again. And again. But it felt like he couldn’t hear her. If a knock wasn’t going to do it, she had to try something else.

“… Everyone, time and time again, can feel that they’re all sad and hopeless.” She sang, trying to project her voice as loud as she could. Amitie wasn’t really the best singer, but she knew that he couldn’t ignore it.

Seeing as Klug perked his head up to the window, it just meant Amitie had to keep going. “It’ll be fine! Let’s cheer ourselves up!” She continued, now smiling. Even if she wasn’t believing in her smile, it’s what a true idol would do.

And it’s a true idol’s job to make others smile, too.

Klug looked out the window, and was somewhat shocked to see that Amitie was literally right there. “How on.. How on Earth are.. Amitie, get down from there, you’ll fall.” He told her, pointing downwards.

“Let me inside! I want to talk with you! About— uhm.. What was the plan, Ally?” Amitie asked, looking at Ally. As the window was opened (nearly smacking Amitie in the face), Amitie never got a response from Ally, who simply just smiled.

Just the two of them now, Amitie thought. She.. didn’t actually know what to say. The few times she was at his house, she had friends with her. And the time she was alone, it only resulted in her getting kicked out.

“So, why are you here? Don’t you have a magical fantastical job to do?” Klug remarked, moving stuff around to appear tidier. “I thought you had to leave. I thought you were gone, even.”

Amitie gulped in nervousness. She was trying to think of what to say. “Uhm.. uh.. I leave tomorrow, actually.. but— but that’s why I’m here today! I’m here to— I’m here to at least see you one last time for a long time!” She finally decided, trying her best to remain positive and chipper.

Throwing away empty paint bottles, Klug tried not to look at Amitie. “You know, I’d rather you have not come back here. It hurts me too much to look at you.” He told her, now walking away. “I’ll let you out the house, just—“

“But— but I don’t want to leave!” Amitie called out, freezing Klug’s movement. “Believe me, I wish— I wish I could see you and follow my dream.. but— but I’m not…”

She stopped talking. She said something like this last time. That resulted in a fight.

“I really wish I could see you when I leave. I wish you and Raffina and Sig and Lidelle would all follow me.. but, you guys also have dreams.” She explained, starting to cry. “And.. and that means I gotta go places. And I gotta say goodbyes… but that just means you can focus on your dream too, Right?”

Sniffling turned to sobbing, to Amitie loudly crying. She was the emotional type, still, even now. “I’m.. I’m sorry! I’m so.. I’m so sorry!” She kept repeating. “I’d miss you, and everyone, and Primp… but.. but..”

At this point, Klug turned around. Watching and listening to Amitie wailing was hurting him. Hearing her say what she was saying was breaking him. He still, of course, was her friend. And the best thing he could do as her friend was to give her a hug, like last time.

The simple act of a warm embrace wouldn’t make Amitie stop crying, but the acceptance of her speech was comfort, too.

“If it’s your dream, you should go for it. Don’t.. don’t worry about me or the others.” Klug told her. “I don’t want you to worry, and I’m sure we can still keep in touch. I’m pretty sure a mailwoman even visited my house earlier, we can send eachother mail. Weekly.”

A loud sniffle, and Amitie stopped crying as much. “Re-really? Would you promise every week?” She asked.

“I promise.” Klug affirmed, wiping away one of Amitie’s tears with a swipe of a finger. “So you leave tomorrow, huh… you better get to sleep then. Do you want to— uhm, stay over? I live closer to the train station anyway.” He offered.

Amitie flushed red, but she tried to steady herself to be calm. “I’d.. I’d like that, I think. We never finished the last one… but I’m tired already.. I’ll see myself downstairs.”

“No, no, you need to rest easy, you can just take the bed here. I’ll sleep on the couch.” Klug insisted, pointing. “You could- er.. you could borrow a shirt from the dresser, so you don’t mess up your own clothes! I’ll get out now, even.”

Closing the door behind him, Klug went downstairs, and simply sat on the floor. He still kind of wanted Amitie to stay forever, but just knowing she’ll speak to him every week is fine enough.

He wanted to go back and tell her something else, but he couldn’t bring himself to go upstairs. Not right now anyway. He stared upwards at the ceiling, thinking about the time he had spent outside, not just with Amitie, but with the others.

Wanting to thank her, Klug went upstairs, and gently opened the room door, cracking it open to make sure Amitie wasn’t busy. Turns out she already was out like a light. Delicate and smiling, as she usually is when awake.

“Ah, Amitie… Thank you, for everything. I love you.” Klug told her. Gently brushing her bangs out of her way, he lightly kissed her on the forehead. It was the least he could do. The littlest of a last memory before she went on to the rest of her life.

~

The smell of baked goods filled the air, and the world was still as bland as ever. But this time in the bakery, it was lively. Raffina and Lidelle were here, of course, and just a few minutes ago, Klug came by for an order.

“You know why I need plain bread! I can’t use a loafy bug as my model!” Klug argued, frustrated. “Sig, I’ll pay you extra, I just need a standard loaf!”

Sig blinked flatly. “There’s only bugs here. If you want bread, you go somewhere else.” He answered, tired. “Do you ever even eat the bread you order? Food waste.”

Slamming his hands onto the counter, Klug gave up. “Damn! You’re so difficult, refusing the customer won’t give you any money!” He told Sig, before his frustration melted away. “…but, I guess I’ll have the one that looks like a ladybird.”

“Coming up.” Sig said, leaving for his work. Mild banter like that was usual, and while it did annoy the customers, Sig didn’t really mind that much. Klug’s his friend, and he’s just ok with the fact that he’s actually here.

And then, suddenly, the door opened with the chime of a bell. Curly haired and red all over, it was an exhausted paperwoman. “Excuse me, excuse me!” Ally called out. “Is this a Mister Klug here?”

Klug turned around, his eyes lighting up. “Oh. Letter. It must be from Amitie.” He remarked, as Ally handed the letter over. “..She sure writes fast. I wonder if it’ll even be legible. Raffina, Lidelle, you should come listen too.”

Confirming his hypothesis, the words themselves were scratchy, but at the very least, they were readable.

“ ‘Hello from the distant land of Lyla! It’s Amitie! It’s really great here, though there’s not a lot of people. I’ve been kind of busy preparing for the audition. It actually went super well! I got to write a contract and everything♥︎ I’m gonna try my best on my first album, and I’ll invite you live to my first concert! Isn’t that exciting? Best wishes, Amitie!’ “

“It seems like Ami’s got her life together…” Lidelle commented, in awe. “We should go see her soon, maybe we can surprise her..!”

Klug put the letter down, and shook his head. “I want her to focus on her career right now. We’ve still got lives too, Lidelle.” He said. “I’ll write her back after I finish my next masterpiece, I’ll even invite her back here for when she’s free! We can even pay for her train ticket.”

Sig came back, ladybird bread in hand. ”Alright. Got your ladybird. 7 bronze coins.” He informed Klug, who paid nearly immediately. “Oh. Ami sent you a letter, huh? Is she doing ok?”

“…Yeah. She’s doing alright.” Klug nodded. “I think that her dream is finally coming true.”

[fancoloredglasses]

The Rocky Horror Picture Show (Making it fun to yell at the movie since 1975), Part 3

[All images are owned by 20th Century Fox Disney....wait, really?! Anyway, please don't sue, kill, eat, or...whatever they did to everyone at the end...me]

WARNING: This review is NSFW, as it deals with sexual themes. You’ve been warned.

Are you OK with this? Good, then let’s continue.

This review is going to be done slightly different than most, even the one that was essentially a musical in that I will be going over the songs after the clips (as most of the plot is driven through them) and will be including audience partici…

SAY IT!

…pation lines (at least the ones I do) on occasion. These will be done in chat font (as shown above).

(Word of warning, despite whatever I may say at the movie, it’s not intended to be mean-spirited. I’m just going along with the show)

PREVIOUSLY ON...

Brad Majors...

ASSHOLE!

...and his fiancee Janet Weiss, ...

SLUT!

...following their car breaking down, find themselves in the castle of Dr. Frank-N-Furter. Frank, along with his servants Riff Raff and Magenta and his groupie Columbia, have created life! (to wit, Frank's newest plaything Rocky)

During the course of the celebration, a biker named Eddie emerged from cold storage and terrorized the party-goers before being murdered by Frank with a pickaxe.

Now, on with the show!

Following the party, Brad and Janet were brought to their rooms to stay the night as Riff and Magenta looked on.

Same room, different filter. What a cheap fucking movie!

Later in the evening, Frank pays a…personal visit to Janet

SLUT!

What about the football team? That was just practice!

Meanwhile, Riff and Magenta decide to torment Frank’s new plaything…

…until he runs away. Then they celebrate.

(Remember what I said earlier about them being siblings? Apparently, incest is best in Transylvania)

Later in the evening, Frank pays a…personal visit to Brad.

ASSHOLE!

She’s not down there!

Unfortunately for them, Riff interrupts announcing Rocky’s escape.

Meanwhile, Janet has left her room in search of Brad. However, she finds Rocky and starts tending his wounds…

…which inspires yet another song as Magenta and Columbia watch via the cameras.

(NOTE: Due to content, you'll have to click on the video to watch it on YouTube)

(Thanks to RockyHorror274306)

So…I guess Janet just had a fantasy gangbang?

Unfortunately for Riff, Frank is NOT happy that Rocky escaped (imagine what his mood will be when he realizes one of his other new playthings is playing with Rocky!)

Thank him for the beating, Riff! Say it in French!

Riff checks the cameras to locate Rocky, but instead finds Dr. Scott (remember him? Brad and Janet’s old professor) outside. Brad of course recognizes him.

I…don’t think you meant to let that slip, Riff!

Frank has also heard of Dr. Scott, who is now working with the SETI research with the government, and suspects that Brad and Janet are government spies working with Dr. Scott (if that was the case, the Brad is the dumbest spy ever) Riff announces that Dr. Scott has entered the castle.

Zen go get him!

Frank then turns on a powerful electromagnet that drags Dr. Scott’s wheelchair all over the castle until…

HEY KOOL AID!

After Frank gives his paranoid theory to Dr. Scott, Dr. Scott throws that accusation away, saying he’s looking for his nephew Eddie.

Frank was picking on him

Then Frank hears a gasp from Rocky’s birthing tank and discovers…

After this awkward reunion, Magenta announces that it’s time for dinner. Rather than throw everyone out on their collective asses (or worse), he invites everyone to dine with him.

Any way you slice it, it’s still Meat Loaf!

As Riff and Magenta serve dinner, Frank sings a half-hearted birthday song for Rocky, then Dr. Scott again asks about Eddie.

Yep, as the audience hinted at earlier, they’re likely eating Eddie! Columbia then leaves the table in hysterics

What’s the matter? She’s eaten Eddie before!

For some reason, this prompts Dr. Scott to start singing.

(Thanks to Lewis Hewitt)

Upon seeing Rocky comforting Janet, Frank immediately starts in on another song.

(Thanks again to Lewis Hewitt)

Unfortunately, the clip ended before the song did, so here’s the rest...

(Thanks again to THIRDPROJECT)

Shut up bitch. It wouldn’t have rhymed anyway!

Then Columbia has had enough and demands that Frank choose between herself and Rocky.

I don’t think that went how she saw it in her head. Then for good measure…

…Rocky gets turned to stone as well.

So with just the Transylvanians left, Magenta wants to go home to Transylvania. However, Frank wants a floor show. So now we go to the Big Production Number.

What? You think those other ones were Big Production Numbers? You ain’t seen nothing yet! Tune in for the epic conclusion!

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

Okay but for real I'm so FUCKING sick and exhausted of having to rely on the kindness of strangers just to fucking live

Rent is too expensive for this shitty little flat that has black mould in every room and pipes that leak. Food is too expensive and I spent £40 the other day on a loaf of bread, margarine, and enough cheap ass vegetables tins and frozen food for like a week and a half if we stretch it. Electricity is too expensive and £20 lasts a week of us switching every appliance and loght in the house off unless we're actively using it. We have no savings so if an emergency hits we're unbelievably fucked. I havent seen my sister in a month because train travel is, say it with me, too fucking expensive

I've applied to dozens of jobs, been told I'm not eligible for bennifits because my partner is in work, been told I'm definitely gonna get a job only to hear nothing for 2 weeks and then a boiler plate rejection if I'm lucky. What am I doing wrong? I'm happier and safer than I've been in years and I'm still having to hold my partner as they sob because they're so stressed over wether we get to live for another week. This is fucking insanity and I'm just...here. unable to help except to beg the group of wonderful kind people on here I barely know

[kbandtrash]

Black Eye (Vernon x Reader)

~Rachel~

Masterlist

I actually finished this at least a month and a half ago but I couldn't decide if I was really done with it or not so yeah

Content: angst, hurt/comfort but unresolved, feelings of abandonment, mention of death of a parent

Word count: 1.8k

“I could have driven. I got my license before you did.”

“You’ve gotta stop rubbing that in my face,” Vernon said, rolling his eyes. “At least I actually tolerate driving.”

“I don’t mind it so much anymore. I found out that driving is a lot easier when you don’t live here.”

“Sorry you had to come back.” 

“Sorry you had to stay.”

He pushed your shoulder so you would lean back into your seat. The roads were angled terribly at this particular intersection, and this brought back memories of learning to drive and almost getting hit because it was impossible to see. At least tonight it was late and nobody was around to blind you with their headlights.

“Why did you come back?” he asked once he had cleared the intersection. “I know it wasn’t to pay your respects.”

You let out a cold “ha.” “You just want to hear me say it.”

“Maybe I’ll actually believe it if you do.”

He wasn’t the one who had changed between the two of you. You had to remind yourself that you were the one who was different now, that this version of him was the one that had always existed.

“I came back for you.” You let it hang in the air for a moment while you tried to figure out how to phrase what you wanted to say next. “Unless things have changed since I left, I didn’t think anyone else would want to be there for you.”

His expression darkened. Whether he realized he was doing it or not, he started speeding up. “Then why did you leave in the first place?”

“If I hadn’t left when I did, I would have been stuck here forever,” you said sharply. “I wanted you to come with me.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed under his breath, reaching over to the volume dial on his radio. The sudden wave of sound that blasted from the speakers made you flinch, but you didn’t try and stop him.

Of course he felt betrayed. There wasn’t anything you could do about it now, but there wasn’t anything you would have done differently then, either. You had your reasons, and he had his, too.

You didn’t know any of the songs on the radio; you didn’t try to sing along, not that you would have felt like it, anyway. You watched the road instead, and you let yourself remember all the reasons you never wanted to come back. If there were good memories, the only reason they were good was because of who you made them with.

You were glad you were beyond it all and you would never go back, but you wished he could have been with you on your journey. After all this time, it was hard to see him still in the same place.

Instead of the mom and pop diner you had agreed to go to, he surprised you by pulling into the gravel parking lot of an old haunt of yours—a little secluded spot out in the natural outskirts of the town. You must have been too lost in thought to take notice of where he was going.

“I packed food in the trunk,” he admitted in response to your wary expression. He cast his eyes downward shyly in as much of an apology as he was ready to give. “I guess I just…I didn’t want to share you tonight.”

His heart hadn’t changed, either.

Despite the less-than-cordial beginning to your night, you smiled, similarly not meeting his eyes. “I didn’t want to be shared, anyway.”

You met him at the back of the car. He handed you some blankets to carry while he stacked the food in his arms. You hoped his food selection was meant to be nostalgic, but even if it wasn’t, it still made you crack a smile. Grocery store deli fried chicken and baked goods, complete with a cheap loaf of French bread. Nothing different from the snacks you used to eat here.

“My trunk is going to smell like fried chicken for a month,” he complained jokingly as you walked over to your spot. You were a few steps ahead of him.

It wasn’t a particularly wooded area, but a few trees and a steep little path down to a creek sheltered you from the road. As far as you knew, this was private land, but the owners hadn’t built a fence, but rather set up a little fire pit and some benches, so you didn’t feel like you were necessarily trespassing.

“That’s a good memory for a month, though, isn’t it?” you replied, looking back over your shoulder at him. 

He took a few big steps to catch up to you and bump your elbow. “Depends on how the rest of the night goes.”

You set the snacks and the blankets on one of the benches and set out for some tinder to start a fire. It wasn’t quite cold yet, but if you didn’t start something now, you would regret it soon. 

“I left the lighter in the car,” he said, standing up and brushing his knees off.

“Okay, be safe,” you responded as he jogged back up the incline.

“No, I think I’ll be dangerous instead,” he called back.

You snorted. “Alright, then, as you will.”

After a while of chatting and laughing and playing musical chairs with the smoke off the fire, Vernon became quiet. He seemed to be a little lost in his own thoughts as he stared at the chicken bones you had thrown into the fire.

It was just like old times and completely different at the same time. While it felt like no time had passed between the two of you, like you were still in high school yesterday, there was an unspoken fissure between the two of you. 

He finally sighed and unfolded a blanket. You glanced up at him just as he wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“I don’t blame you for getting out of here when you could,” he admitted. “I don’t blame you for leaving and starting over somewhere else.”

You watched him as he looked anywhere but at you. “But you blame me for something.”

You wanted to look away now, but it was hard to give him the privacy he wanted when his face was screwing up like that.

“For leaving me alone.” 

His voice broke and he turned away, hiding his face from you. If you tried to comfort him, it would either feel like you were denying responsibility for the way he felt or that you were being insincere in your acceptance. In all your years together, you had never quite figured out how to tell him that you were sorry.

“And I keep trying to get over it,” he continued in your silence, “but I guess I just always thought we could be together no matter what. Even after we stopped talking, there’s always some part of me that thinks you’re still here.” He sniffed and wiped his face with his wrist.

“We were supposed to stay together,” you said, finally able to tear your eyes away and back to the fire. “It felt wrong leaving and going to school without you.”

“I don’t think I believed it would really happen,” he agreed, sniffing again. “I even helped you pack all of your stuff into your car, and I still thought that nothing would change.”

“Honestly, me too.” You twisted your hands in your lap. “I don’t think it set in until I got back here last night, how much time had passed and how different our lives would be.”

“Is that why we’ve had like two conversations since you left? Time just flew by like that?” Bitterness was seeping back into his tone.

In fact, that was the truth. Days turned into weeks turned into months turned into years, and you had barely noticed. Reinventing yourself was something that had taken all of your time and energy, leaving you none to remember your only childhood friend. If only he had that chance, too.

He didn’t want to hear that, though, and you didn’t want to say it. All of your apologies, one after the other, couldn’t possibly sound sincere. He deserved so much better than the life he had been dealt, and you felt like you were part of what he deserved better than.

“I thought maybe it was because you hated me,” he said when you didn’t answer. “Finally got the chance to ditch me and you took it.”

The air left your lungs like you had been hit in the stomach. 

You wanted to tell him that that couldn’t be further from the truth. The town? Your life there? All of that was what you wanted to leave behind. Never him.

You finally brought yourself to look at him again, although he was blurry through the tears you were holding back. He was staring at you, waiting for a reaction. You could have sworn his cheeks were shining, too.

“I think I hated you for a while, too.” Once he had gauged your reaction, he looked away from you like it was painful to meet your eyes. “But I can’t do that. You never did anything wrong.”

“I left you behind,” you finally spoke up, coming back to the beginning of the conversation. “It doesn’t matter how much I didn’t want to, I still left you alone without hardly a word.”

He didn’t interrupt you or have anything to say this time.

“You were the most important thing in my life, and I just let you go. Why can’t you blame me for that?”

“Because I probably would have done the same thing, and…” He buried his face in his hands, and you could barely make out what he said next. “I really wish we could be together.”

So did you. If you could have stolen him and taken him with you, you would have.

“I have to stay now, though, now that Dad’s gone, I know Mom won’t be able to take care of Sofia by herself. I can’t leave.” He looked back at you again. “And I would never make you stay.”

You couldn’t help it anymore. Moving the half inch you needed, you wrapped your arms around him and let him hide his face in your shoulder as you both really started to cry.

He had missed his chance to start his own life, and you had both missed your chance to be something.