#a whole section of town used to smell like bread because of them

[promptsinpanem]

Longing

Summary: Peeta Mellark realizes he isn't happy giving up his dreams of having his own family. He is at odds with himself, longing to have a child with the love of his life, Katniss Everdeen. Rating: T Prompt: R6D4 Green (Life)

At Odds

(Peeta’s POV)

I would never pressure Katniss. I love her, and she is more than enough.

Or is she?

I don't know. Why am I having these thoughts? I know I love her, and she IS my life. My whole life. But lately, the tug in my heart for a baby has been too much. It's like a physical ache that pierces me every time I think about it. When I walk to town and see children playing, my usual response of being happy to see them becomes sadness. I would never get to experience having a child of my own.

I don't know what changed, because I used to be fine about it. For years, I had accepted that Katniss did not want to have a child, but these past few months, I doubted my decision. Was I really okay with it? Will I ever really be happy just having Katniss as my only family?

These thoughts make me feel like I'm betraying her. By even entertaining the idea that Katniss is not enough for me. Why wouldn't she be? Katniss loves me. In the arena, she gave up everything for me. When I returned to Twelve, she helped me get better despite her own struggles.

When I was released from the Capitol, I was half-mad. They didn't know what to do with me, so they exiled me to District 12 before I was even fully healed. Saving me became Katniss’ priority. After I planted primroses in her yard, she came to my house to see me. Her eyes were filled with fear at the sight of me, but she did try to check up on me, even from afar. In Thirteen, I traumatized her when I strangled her. Touching her neck whenever I was in her presence became an unconscious habit of hers. Even though I was holed up in the basement, trying to get away from her, Katniss brought me game every day and stayed in my living room just to keep me company. So many times, I pushed her away -- so many times -- yet she always came back. Katniss loved me. Still loves me after all these years. So why am I asking for more? Why am I so baby-crazy that I would even consider Katniss not enough for me? I love her. I love her. I love her. I love her. There is no doubt about it, so why is my heart double-crossing me?

I try to brush away these feelings to the back of my mind as I work in the bakery. Things have been looking up, and we're expanding to the next lot beside us. It will be a cafe of some sort where people can dine and enjoy freshly baked bread and pastries. My right-hand man, Lenny, is doing all the work in the drink section, and our taste tests have been more than promising. Many of our customers who tried our free samples can't wait until we finally start our cafe. Katniss has been nothing else but supportive of me, coaxing me to keep going and trusting in myself. She always tells me how proud she is of me and I feel so loved by her. I wish I could brush away my other feelings because, damn, I sound so ungrateful and disloyal at the moment.

I guessed it all started when Thom and Delly had Katniss and me babysit little Timothy. He was two years old, a chubby and fudgy little thing with blonde hair and gray eyes. His cheeks were rosy even with his fair skin, and with his teeth coming along, it made him so ridiculously cute. It was just for one day as Delly and Thom needed to visit an ill friend in District 11. I have held so many babies before; mothers just seem to toss them into my arms at the bakery, but there was something about little Timothy that day that snared my heart. We were just playing in the living room with the wooden blocks Katniss gave him for his birthday. She took the time to cut branches and carve out different natural shapes for little Timothy, then she sealed the wood with sweet-smelling beeswax. Timothy loved it, and he couldn't stop playing with the blocks. We were stacking the blocks together and laughing out loud when they fell.

His squeaks were so endearing they made our big house vibrant with life. We chuckled and laughed, and I made funny faces at him to make him giggle all the more. I was always good at making babies happy, and I pulled all the stops for little Timothy. He was so jolly and so giggly, clapping his hands while saliva drooled out from his mouth. His head would jerk back when he started to smile, and we both lost it in happiness. Then, he just suddenly hugged me and called me "Papa." I didn't think he meant that I was his father. It was just how kids were. They used the words they knew when they spoke, and at that time, he called me "Papa" and embraced me. He rested his round head on my shoulders, seeming to want to sleep, and I just held him. He was tired from all our playing and laughing, I guess. I still remembered his sweet baby smell. The faint scent of vanilla shampoo that Delly used on his hair. The slightly sour smell of milk clinging to his skin. His delicate and tiny baby clothes. And the soft mewls that he made when he fell asleep. I fell asleep on the floor with him, leaning my back on the couch while little Timothy rested on my chest. When I woke up, Katniss lay sideways on the couch behind us, one of her hands resting on little Timothy's back and the other on my shoulders. After that, I couldn't shake the feeling of hoping for our own child.

I brushed the feelings away days later because I felt like I was a hypocrite to Katniss. I've been reassuring her that she was enough for me all these years, and here I am harboring feelings for another dream. I threw myself at bakery work with a vengeance, focusing all my attention on the cafe, sketching various layouts, and designing menus. I baked like crazy, inventing recipes we didn't need at the moment. I tried as much as possible not to think of vanilla shampoos, tiny baby clothes, and tender little breaths. When mothers with babies came to the bakery, I made an excuse to get something at the back. When I saw kids playing on the street, I walked on the other side, so I only needed to give them a wave and not stay awhile for chit-chat or arm swings.

It was working, and I finally felt like my old self, but then I had a dream of Katniss in the meadows holding our child. It was like my mind retaliated against shoving the thoughts aside. If I couldn't bring the contemplations to my conscious life, then they would come out in my unconscious life -- a.k.a. my sleep. I wish I could say it was a nightmare, but it wasn't. I woke up with warm, fuzzy feelings that morning. And even the mornings after. I was happy, but I was also heartbroken and mad at myself. The more I tried not to think about it during the day, the more vivid and blissful my dreams were at night. Nothing was as captivating and soothing as seeing Katniss in the meadows, breastfeeding our baby. In my dreams, she would look at me with her stormy gray eyes and a peaceful smile as she nourished our child. The picture was so beautiful, Katniss was so beautiful, and our baby was so beautiful. I wanted to go back to sleep the very moment I woke up just to relish the feelings longer. I felt awful, though. So freaking horrible because Katniss was asleep beside me in bed every time I woke up. She would give me a good morning kiss and look at me with so much affection, but all I wanted was to go back to my dream where another Katniss was waiting for me. Katniss, the mother of my child. I was so fucked up. I hated myself.

I know Katniss noticed the changes in me. She would ask me what was wrong or give me this concerned look when I would zone out. If we were walking together in town and there were kids or a couple with a child between them along our path, I would involuntarily squeeze Katniss' hand. My heart simply ached when I saw children. I had these questions about how it would feel if I was in their parent's shoes. How would it feel like walking hand in hand with my son, swaying him between Katniss and me? How would it be like taking my daughter to school or braiding her hair because fathers could do that too, right? How would it be during birthdays? What cake would my son request when he turns seven? What questions would they ask? Will they be as stubborn and resilient as their mother? Will they be interested in the bakery? How would our lives change the first moment we would lay our eyes on our child? With every question, my insides clenched and ached, and I swear I wanted to cry sometimes. I did once in my painting room when it was too much. It just hurts. I scolded myself for being so uncontrolled after. The emotions of just wanting something so much but not seeing how it could work out or worse, agreeing that it was best to not have it in the first place was agonizing. Every time Katniss smiled at me or hugged me or kissed me, I felt like a fake. I felt like I was lying to her. And I was. I was even so ludicrous that when we were in bed and making love, I had momentarily wished that maybe a slip would happen and we would be pregnant. I was so fucking selfish in those times, and I hated myself even more. It was unfair. It was wrong.

How could I have those thoughts about Katniss? She needs to be on board with this decision -- which we already agreed on years ago. My skin crawls at my hypocrisy. I have to talk to Katniss about this. She's the only person in the world that I want to talk to about my feelings about bringing a baby into our lives. I know that she would understand me and set me right.

 ….……………..

 Lies and Realizations

(Katniss’ POV) 

Peeta's been hiding something from me. I know I'm not the perceptive one between the two of us, but the changes in him are just too evident to hide. Try as he might, Peeta is such a poor liar and is innately good that when something is wrong with him it just spills out.

While asleep, he would have this contented expression -- peaceful and quiet like our afternoons in the meadow. It was like all his worries were resolved. I loved watching him like that when he slept. He was just so beautiful. He carried a soft smile, and his breathing was calm. Sometimes I even see him have an eager smile, and then he would say my name. I would press a kiss on his forehead on those nights, sometimes even a kiss on his lips, because I couldn't resist. But when he wakes up, something shifts. Happiness would shine when he opened his eyes, but after I kissed him, his lips would grow cold, or there would be a momentary freeze as if he realized something terrible. Then he would try to hide it by burying his forehead on my neck and kissing me there. But his kisses felt different. One time he even said the word "Sorry" after a kiss. It was so faint, and he thought I didn't hear him, but I did. What was Peeta apologizing for so early in the morning? What is happening to my husband?

I tried to cast aside the feelings first because I trusted Peeta. If something was wrong, I knew he would tell me. Our vow spans fifteen years now. Sure, our toasting was impulsive, and we didn't plan to have it in the middle of the night on some random day, but we both knew we wanted to do it. It was like what he said in the interview during the Quarter Quell, we wanted to make our love eternal, so we did. We vowed to love each other, honor each other, make each other happy, and provide for each other's needs. His hijacking, my depression, and all our fears were things we fought fiercely so that they won't come between us. None of them was above our love. Together, we would forge a strong marriage. Always.

But something is gnawing on Peeta now, and he is not telling. I have to find out and help him.

I have an inkling of what it might be, but I have to be sure before talking to him. Knowing him, I don't want to scare him or make him push his feelings aside because I know he will prioritize me above everything else. That's just so Peeta. Putting himself last so he could make everyone happy. Make me happy. He loves me so much, and he tells me so every single day and opportunity he gets. I can only wish he knows how much I love him back. He is my life. My love. My everything.

I started noticing the changes a few months ago. Peeta would vary his path going to work or squeeze my hand at random times of the day when we were together. We would walk in town eating ice cream, then suddenly, I would feel him stiffen for a split second as if something ached inside him. I would look at him and ask him what was wrong, but he would just brush it away and give me some small reason. Reasons like the hot weather, which he never complained about before ever. Or that his prosthetic leg had buckled, which he never said anything about, even when we would take the long hike to the lake. We would trek for four hours straight every Sunday, and never once did he say that his prosthesis would "buckle." What did "buckle" even mean? To give him the benefit of the doubt, I would give his leg a massage when we got home to make sure he was all right. He would be very thankful after, and then he would retreat to his painting room. He would go there to sketch or draw up ideas. Doing art relaxed him, and he would show me his paintings or sketches after. It has been a long time since he has shown me any of his works. I'm welcome to come to his painting room, but I never did unless he asked me to. I do it out of respect for him. Peeta needed his own space, just like I needed my woods every day.

The very clue that convinced me was my visit to the bakery three weeks ago. Mothers love handing Peeta their babies. I guess they figured out years before that between Peeta and me, it was Peeta who would welcome the tiny living creatures with open arms. They would lift their babies over the counter so Peeta could hold the gurgly little things while they filled their baskets with bread and pastries. He would coo and make faces at the baby and everyone in the bakery would smile from hearing the baby giggle so much. It warmed everyone's hearts. It warmed my heart to see him so happy and enjoying himself. But lately, he would go to the back to fiddle with something or make a call when a mother came in with her child. Peeta would never pass up the opportunity to hold a baby before, but now he seemed to be avoiding them entirely. We would still babysit little Timothy when Delly and Thom needed help, but aside from little Timothy, Peeta was staying away from all children, it seemed.

When things become too hard to sort out, I go to the woods. One way or the other, I always get answers in the woods. Sometimes, I go to my father's lake to talk to him and seek his advice. His body may be long gone in the mines, but I know his soul and spirit live in the woods. I knew he met Peeta before he died. My father would trade with Mr. Mellark, and we would get fresh bread every three days. Peeta was always with his dad in the kitchen, kneading dough or just watching him decorate cakes until he was assigned the job himself.

It warms my heart to know Peeta and my father crossed paths. I still wish he is here to see Peeta as my husband. I think he would have liked the boy with the bread and would tell me that I made a rare catch.

While in my father's lake, I ponder everything that has happened to Peeta's life so far. I am not the introspective type between the two of us, but living with Peeta taught me a thing or two about contemplating life. I remember how Peeta acted when he was younger, living in the bakery with his loving father and a witch of a mother. How he had two older brothers he wrestled with. He loved his brothers, and he would tell me this over dinner. Talking about his family helped him heal. Peeta became an orphan when he was just seventeen. He lost his family when the Capitol firebombed Twelve on that horrific day. He didn't know it at the time as he was being tortured by Snow. He came back to me slowly. I could still hear him asking to let him die during our Capitol mission. He pushed me away to protect me because he went mutt on me at the hospital. I'm glad I still had the good sense to not give him the nightlock pill. I was half-mad at that time, but I knew one thing then: Peeta needed to live. He came back to me after the war, albeit still sick from the hijacking. They gave up on him.

How preposterous that they gave up on the kindest, most generous, and self-sacrificing person in all of Panem. They just put him on the train and left him in his house to die from his tortured mind. He couldn't be expected to heal by himself alone. He needed people to help him sort out what was real and what was not real.

I resented the new Panem then; I still resent them to some degree because of it. Slowly and with much resistance from my help, Peeta let me in. He came back to me. I still feel the warmth of his palm on my forearm the first time that he voluntarily touched me. We were sitting on his porch just watching the rain pour on the earth and make puddles, not speaking but just letting the time go by. He just placed his hand on my right forearm as he did before on the train and said nothing. When the rain stopped, he removed his hand and then said the softest thank you before going back inside his house. I considered it a win then and never doubted that Peeta could fully recover his memories.

We grew back together. He started baking again, bringing me cheese buns in the morning. He took care of the primroses in the garden. He held me on the first night he was conscious enough to recognize my screams. After that, he stayed with me every night. There hadn't been one night when we hadn't slept on the same bed (or couch or carpet) for fifteen years. Starting his own bakery again brought so much joy to Peeta. I was so proud of him for keeping the legacy of his family alive. Those were blissful years. It felt like nothing could dampen our day.

Except for one thing -- having a baby. The only thing that brought us real conflict was talking about starting a family. Peeta would reason with me, and I would explain or yell at him. We would go back and forth, tossing the ball to each other without respite. He was kind and calm all the time, and it was me who would lose my composure because my fears were just too great. In the end, it was always Peeta that would concede for my well-being. He was the one who stopped asking five years ago. We talked about it one last time, and he said that he had finally accepted what I wanted. He granted every wish of mine for years except that one. It took him a decade to come to terms with it, and we were both comfortable with our decision. We both agreed that many things in life made us happy and that having each other was the ultimate joy. He loved me, and I loved him. After everything we both went through, that was enough. More than enough. But now, I think Peeta has a change of heart.

I guess I knew that this would have happened anyway. Peeta would be perfect as a father. And Peeta, being an orphan, sure longs to have a family of his own. A family with me.

I sigh deeply at the realization of what I had withheld from him all these years. I'm still afraid, extremely, but I guess I should have realized earlier that Peeta would hold my hand no matter what. He stayed with me all these years and through every situation. Nothing was beneath him when it came to me. He loved me, pure and simple. And now I look at how much I didn't love him back. This was one longing Peeta held on to, and I was too selfish to see it. I let my fear blind me. I didn't factor in the effect Peeta would have on me. We're always better when we faced our demons together.

My Peeta. My poor husband. How incredibly long have I refused him, have crushed his heart out of fear? He must be so miserable denying himself such simple happiness because he put my needs first. I feel terrible overlooking this part of him. How can I call myself his wife? I have to fix this, and I hope it's not yet too late.

 ….………….

 Resolution

(Peeta’s POV)

 "Hey," I greet Katniss as she enters the bakery. "How was hunting?"

"Hey," she greets me back lazily with a warm smile. She's always so alluring when she returns from the woods. She carries its calmness and life with her every time. "I went to my father's lake."

“Oh yeah? That’s wonderful.”

"It was. I didn't bring anything back, though. I'm sorry."

"It's okay." I grab a paper bag from the back and give it to Katniss. "Cheese buns?"

"For me?" she flirts. "Why not?"

Katniss eats the cheese buns with gusto. She savors the cheese oozing out of each bun as she bites into them. I've been baking like a madman this afternoon to ease my anxiety. I made her all kinds of cheese buns -- a batch filled in the center with three different kinds of cheese, another bunch with some paprika in it, and the third batch with pesto made from the herbs Katniss gathered yesterday. I have two more stashes for tomorrow which I will bake in the morning at home. Baking really does wonders for my nerves, and I calmed down substantially after doing it.

"Are you closing up soon?" Katniss asks after her third piece of cheese buns. She already guessed about the paprika that I added in the second batch. "I haven't made dinner yet, I'm afraid. I went straight here after the woods."

“It’s okay. I made a lot of cheese buns. Is that acceptable for dinner?”

"You don't even have to ask," she mumbles in between bites, then kisses my cheek with her cheesy lips. "I could eat this all day!"

“Good thing you married a baker, huh?”

“Best decision I made,” she teases. “By the way, we should go to the lake tomorrow. We haven’t gone there in two weeks. How about it?”

"Sure. I'd love that," I say and move in to claim a kiss. "Good thing I married a huntress."

She beams at me and gets another cheese bun. She really loves cheese.

We walk hand-in-hand on our way back to Victor's Village. It's Sunday tomorrow, and the bakery is closed, like every shop in District 12. We pass by some kids playing on the streets, and I try my hardest not to react to them. Instead, I focus on the warm cheese buns in my free hand and on the feeling of a small piece of paper tucked deep in my pants pocket. While waiting for Katniss at the bakery, I started making a list of reasons why Katniss is more than enough for me. I scribbled a couple so far before she arrived and I quickly hid the list in my pocket for later. I'll finish it at home after dinner. Katniss wouldn't suspect a thing as I usually make lists when we're sitting on the couch by the fire.

“I’ll take a shower first, okay?” Katniss tells me after we’ve settled down in the kitchen. I usually do the cooking except for days when there are too many orders at the bakery. Tonight, I don’t mind doing it. It will give me more time to work on my list while she showers.

"Okay. Take your time," I reply, and Katniss gives me a quick kiss and ruffles my hair. She knows that I love it when she does that. That's one more thing I have to add to my list.

When I hear the shower pour upstairs, I bring out the folded paper from my pocket.

'Reasons why Katniss is MORE than enough for me.' The word 'more' is underlined twice and written in bold letters for emphasis.

  1. She loves me.

 Nothing compares to being loved by Katniss Everdeen. She loves so fiercely and generously. What more can I ask for?

2. She brought me back from my hijacked state.

  3. She saved my life so many times and in so many ways.

4. She’s the most patient when I try out new recipes. She doesn’t rush me like Haymitch. She just watches me and writes down the recipe as I go.

5. She kisses me every morning. Even with bad breath because there was a time we both loved having midnight snacks.

6. She brings me game and fruits and herbs and flowers from the woods. She forgot today, but that's nothing compared to fifteen years of gifting me every day.

7. Her voice. Need I say more?

8. She ruffles my hair like I have the most beautiful curls in all of Panem.

9. She lets me braid her hair on Sundays.

10. She encourages me to pursue my dreams — the bakery, the cafe, my art.

I rub my cheek as I remember how I got to exhibit some of my works twice because of her. I never imagined that in my wildest dreams.

11. She tells me she loves me EVERY day.

12. Her body.

13. She holds my father in high regard.

She traded with him, and I'm so thankful they met even briefly.

"Hey, Peeta," Katniss calls from the stairs, and I stash away my list. "I forgot, I brought you some wild apples. It's still in my hunting bag."

I scratch out 'She forgot' on number six of my list. She never forgets.

After dinner, we retreat to the living room to warm ourselves by the fire. It's not really cold today, but we love it nonetheless. Katniss is reading a book sent by Effie. She's been sending us classic books for a few years now, and Katniss is the one burning through them as I've been busy working on the cafe. I bring out my list and tuck it between my usual notebook to disguise it. I glance at Katniss, and she's buried in the old book. Good, I'm safe to write as many things I can on my list.

14. She loves bread and cake.

15. She lets me sketch and paint her.

16. She sings to me when I am sick or just tired.

 "So serious." Katniss distracts me after a while and rubs her foot on my outer thigh. She's taking up most of the couch, leaning on the other end while her feet just brush my thigh. "It's Sunday tomorrow, Peeta. Just rest."

I give her a small smile and close my notebook to hide my list. “How about a foot massage?” I offer. I shift on the couch to remove her socks and start rubbing both her feet. I make a note to add this to my list.

17. She lets me massage her feet.

She lets out a deep sigh as I warm up her gorgeous feet with my big hands. I place my palms on either side of her right foot and gently twist it with just the right amount of pressure that she likes. The result is immediate, and she relaxes. She's a little tense from hiking to the lake, so I take my time to warm her feet up. Then I rub her arch, slowly running my thick thumbs along its length. Katniss has such deliciously slender feet that I take my time stroking them. Kneading them and caressing them with my full attention. I continue my smooth motion from the heel to the ball of her foot, shifting from soft to hard presses.

To my luck, I get rewarded with a throaty moan and a deep exhalation from Katniss. "So good," she tells me as her chest dips.

I can see that she already stopped reading her book but is still holding it up. The toes of her feet are a little ticklish, so I massage them lightly and slowly. It still tickles, she says, but at least she doesn't kick me or pull away her foot. I love seeing how my touches shoot signals up to her knees and hips, sending them off the cushion as her muscles contract. Sometimes she scrunches her eyes, and her foot curls as she restrains her natural reflexes. 

I don't know what it is, but she's so exquisite to watch during these times. She’s seriously so sexy. I can't take my eyes off of her.

I try different massages on her feet, finding delectable pressure points that trigger spots around her body. I squeeze her heels firmly, then use my knuckles or fist to indulgently stroke her arches. I then airily tap my fingers all over her skin like fluttering kisses. She hates it when I grasp her Achilles tendon with my thumb and index finger, but I do it all the time to get a reaction from her. I make it up by sliding her loose sweatpants up and running my hands along her powerful calf. I stroke her firm muscles to build heat on her skin, then apply more and more pressure after, increasing the blood flow there. My blood flow increases somewhere too, just watching her.

The massage would have been better with oil, but the oils are all the way up in our bedroom, and I am in no mood to get them. Katniss closes her book later and lets it drop on the floor with a soft thump. She finds a more comfortable position, laying her back flat on the couch and resting her feet on my lap. She shifts her free foot near my crotch unconsciously before digging her head deeper onto the couch pillow. She takes a deep breath and then puts her right hand over her chest. Her neck is blushing red as she tries to calm her breathing.

"Peetaaa ...," she releases breathily. I take all my cues from Katniss and continue massaging her luscious feet. Most of the time, she likes her massages hard and lingering, her legs and feet needing deep stimulation because of all the walking she does in the woods. Other times, she just likes warming and rhythmic touches. I'm happy to oblige with both anytime.

When I'm done, Katniss is so cozy, that she's ready to go to sleep. "Katniss?" I coo and give the top of her feet delicate kisses. I've been resisting it while giving her the massage.

“Hmmm ….”

When Katniss doesn't move, I gingerly lift her up and carry her to our bedroom. I almost forgot my list and have to double back to get it.

"Peetaaa ..." She drags my name just under my right ear while I go up the stairs. Her voice radiates warmth all over my torso.

"I got you, love. Don't worry." She tightens her arms around my neck and nuzzles the skin there. I only get away with pet names when she's very sleepy. Otherwise, I get a scowl. I guess I have to add her scowl to my list too. As much as she gives it to me out of frustration, I still love it. I love every bit of Katniss. Even the things that annoy me, like unscrewed containers of spices or milk in scrambled eggs or mail half-opened and left on the kitchen table or bath towels left on the bed. I can't count how many times I exited the shower only to find out there were no towels. At first, I thought she did it on purpose. You know, so she can see me wet and naked after a bath, but more often than not, she's not there when I leave the bathroom. I just find two towels on the bed. One mine and one hers. I have to add those things to my list. Not the towel, but how much she drives me crazy and how she scowls at me. It's weird, but I love them.

I make a mental note.

18. Her scowl that I love so much.

19. Her quirks that drive me crazy.

I carefully lay Katniss on her side of the bed, tucking her under the covers, then I make my way to the bathroom for a shower. The list is still in my pant pocket, safe while I wash off the flour from my skin. It's been such a long day, but tomorrow will be longer. I have to be honest with Katniss. She needs to know what's going on with me.

Freshly bathed and loosened up by the warm water, I lift the covers and slide beside Katniss. She lays her head over my shoulder like every night, cupping my bare chest where she can feel my heartbeat. I linger on the lavender smell of her hair and skin.

"I love you, Peeta," she says sleepily before planting a kiss on my collarbone. She then puts one of her legs over mine, hooking her body against mine. She is perfectly melded on my side, and I feel so loved.

"I love you too, Katniss," I whisper back and kiss her dark hair.

"You're my world, Peeta … you make me so happy," she whispers while lightly rubbing her palm over my heart. I feel guilty all over again for all my uncontained thoughts of babies and starting a family.

I silently mouth ‘I’m sorry’ into the air of the room and squeeze her hand over my heart. Katniss is more than enough for me. I don’t need anything else.

Nightmares totally have a different hold on me. Or I should say, my hijacked brain and not my nightmares, have a dubious hold on me. My dream bit me like a venomous snake because I actually touched our baby in my sleep. It was the same picture of Katniss gracefully sitting by the meadow in a flowing green summer dress that conveniently opens in front for breastfeeding. Normally, I would just watch from afar as my dream unfolds, but this time, I was right there beside Katniss, my right arm over her lean shoulders and my left softly on our baby's downy hair. I swear I could feel their weight and warmth on my palms, on my chest, and on my heart. I could unmistakably smell baby shampoo and milk. And I could vividly remember Katniss' expression of joy and peace. She was so radiant, and I felt so complete holding my world in my arms. I woke up with warm, fuzzy feelings all over my body again but quickly brushed them away. I can't indulge in these sensations. I still have an hour before Katniss rouses, so I carefully untangle myself from her body. I need to get this image out of my head and also finish my list.

I put on a worn-out shirt and go to my painting room, dragging my loose pajamas on the floor and clutching my list in my left hand. I turn on the lamp beside my work table. Then I sit in front of my easel that holds a painting I have been working on. I know Katniss doesn't come to this room unless I ask her, but I still cover this painting for fear that she may glance at it while passing by. That would be a disaster when it happens. I reread my list and added a few more things to it.

I must have been so engrossed in my thoughts because when I heard Katniss call my name, she was already in the hallway, only a few feet from the door. I panic and hastily hide the list under the cloth covering my recent painting in front of me. I brush my hair without purpose, trying to search my brain for what to say to Katniss when she comes into the room.

“Peeta?”

"I'm here," I say, failing terribly to sound normal. I turn around on my stool to face the door. "I'll be right out."

"Peeta?" she says again, but this time she's standing at the doorway. "Did you have a nightmare?"

‘No, I had a very pleasant dream, actually, ' I say in my head. "Yeah," I lie instead.

"Did you paint it already?" she asks with her raspy morning voice. She knows me so well. I need to paint my nightmares so they stop.

"Ummm …," I offer, and my lack of a clear answer worries her. She walks towards me, enveloping me in her arms. She feels so soft and comfortingly warm as she embraces me.

"I'm okay now, Katniss," I lie again. "We can go back to bed now." I pull her off of me and cradle her cheeks between my two hands. I offer her a weak smile and kiss her forehead. She nods, then embraces me again. We stay entwined for a few more minutes until I feel her hand move behind me as if reaching for something. I hold my breath.

"What's this, Peeta?" she asks and holds up my list near the light. Shoot. I didn't hide it well enough. The next thing I knew, the cloth behind me fell to the floor, revealing my painting.

"Um ... umm …," I offer feebly.

Katniss rubs my arms and then walks towards the easel. It holds a painting of her by the meadows breastfeeding our baby. It's my favorite dream but one I felt most guilty of. I didn't know why I thought it would work, but I'd been secretly painting them, hoping the dream would stop, just like my nightmares before.

"Are there more?" Katniss asks with a raspy voice. I steal a look at her and catch her soft gray eyes, she's not mad, so I go ahead and show her the rest. In total, I have four paintings done already. They're all from the same dream, but I rendered different parts. One was Katniss' careful arms holding our baby over her chest, another our baby's small pink hands, then just soft, yellow swaddle cloth, and another just the meadow with its golden sunset. I don't offer Katniss any explanation as she thoughtfully observes them. She touches each one, her fingers lingering on the tiny baby hands I painted on a big canvas.  

"Katniss?" I ask after a while. I'm so terrified that she would plummet into depression, the paintings triggering her long-time fear. "I wanted to talk to you about it … I was going to tell you later …"

She puts her fingers over my lips, silencing me. “How long?”

I won’t lie to her anymore.

“Four, five months. Since Delly and Thom had us babysit little Timothy.”

Katniss just nods her head once and lets out a shallow breath. She's just standing there in front of me, her eyes softly looking at me, but they are unreadable. My heart is thumping out of my chest, my tears building out of nervousness. I feel hot and cold all at the same time. "I'm sorry, Katniss," I begin and try to hold her gaze, but my eyes betray me with tears. "I'm sorry … I didn't mean to …," I sob.

"Sssshhh … Peeta …," she coos and hugs me tightly. I'm trembling, and I can't help it.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss ... I know … you're scared …" I gulp for air.

"And I understand. You're … " I can't breathe. "You're more than enough for me … You make me so happy," I ramble on in between sobs and hiccups.

Katniss is all I need. I know that now more than ever.

"Peeta …," she begins while running her palms over my back. "That's not true, and we both know it."

"No, it is," I say in earnest and hug her tighter. "You're all that I need. You're my world. Please, you have to know that."

"And you are mine." She pulls back and cups my face with both her hands. "You are my world too, you understand? I want to make you happy," she says, her voice so incredibly tender.

“I am happy … I just need more time … I’m sure I’ll forget …”

"Peeta, you're not, and you shouldn’t." She pulls me back and rests her forehead on my chin. "I want to make you happy. Completely happy."

"Katniss, please …," I plea, pouring all my love into her at this moment.

"I want to try." She exhales to my chest, her warm breath seeping through my cotton shirt. "Let's try starting a family."

"But Katniss … you don't ..."

"No buts, Peeta," she cuts in and bunches my shirt with her right hand and I know she's trying to be strong. I feel her squeeze her eyes shut. "I'm still scared, Peeta. But you will take care of me, right?" she says with a quiver in her voice. I can't believe my ears, and I am shocked into stillness.

"Peeta?" she calls, then looks up to my face. She's peaceful, afraid but with resolve. "I want to try having a baby with you. Build a family. I'm so scared, though, Peeta ... but I know it will make you happy. You will be with me all the way, all right?"

"Always"

My tears continue on, but I feel my body relax with her palms over my chest. I’m crying from happiness.

"I love you. Now come and kiss me." A small smile laces her eyes, and I know this is real. We are going to try having a baby. It will happen. My dream is suddenly happening.

“I love you, Katniss. You make me so happy. You’re my everything,” I say with every ounce of my being.

“Kiss me already, Peeta.”

And I do. I did it in between laughs and sobs and hiccups and with trembling hands on Katniss' jaws. I was giddy with joy and excitement for our future together. Katniss is more than enough for me. So much more than what I deserve in a hundred lifetimes, maybe not even then. I add one more important thing to my list.

20. She wants to start a family with me.

Katniss then picks up a pen and scribbles something on my list.

21. Katniss Everdeen has Peeta Mellark. Her love.

      -- Fin --

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Life Without Colour (PART FIVE)

Soulmate AU: Your vision is in black and white until you meet your soulmate. You and your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, aren’t each others soulmates but you love each other. He introduces you to his friends, the Avengers, and a very odd thing happens.

Characters: Steve Rogers x Plus Size Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader

Note: ignore that i don’t even question bucky being able to get through security at the airport, i couldn’t think of how he would be able to get through the airport security bc of his metal arm so i’ve skipped that detail completely. i hope it doesn’t detract from the story! 

this is nearly 6000 words!

Taglist:  @domainoflostsouls​  forgetthisbull  handon-h-art  yourspecialcrush  giulsgotmusic  mrsbarnes-rogers  luosymekawa  linzeyzarcone  forgetthisbull   calamityreads  talgra   marina-darling  btsforlif  lamoursansfin  classic1985  lovesicksofi  fandomsfallnomore  thebivirgin  classygladiatorcupcake

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours. You had long since stopped trying to figure out what state you were in and where you were headed. Bucky had been driving non-stop aside from two bathroom breaks at a small gas station in the middle of nowhere. You had stopped crying a long time ago, too drained and too tired to continue. You felt horrendous. You hated this, you absolutely hated this but you had no choice in the matter. The car had been silent for the whole way aside from the quiet chatter on the radio. Bucky hadn’t wanted to speak in fear of upsetting you further. He had been driving you out of state to go to an airport that would be a little harder to find. It had been Fury’s idea, to go to an airport that Hydra wouldn’t look for straight away. It gave you a little more time to get away without being watched.

You took a break from watching the blur of trees and roads to glance at the clock on the dashboard; 13:42. You hadn’t eaten yet, barely had anything to drink either and you knew that you weren’t far away from a dehydration migraine. As if on cue, your stomach rumbled loudly. Bucky, without speaking, reached behind his car seat and produced a rucksack and dumped it on your lap with a, “Here. There’s water and some snacks in there. We’ll get a proper meal when we’re at the airport.”

You dug through the bag, producing two bottles of water. You opened one and offered it to Bucky, he accepted with a nod, draining half before handing it back to you. You offered him a muffin but he shook his head. You dropped the bag to between your feet and began to have your water and muffin. It helped curb the hunger, at least for a while, and you felt a lot better once you had something in your stomach. After a while, you sank back into your seat with a yawn.

Bucky glanced over at you, “We’ve still got a few hours to drive, you can sleep if you want.” You looked at him and he gave you a small smile, “It’s okay. I’ll wake you up when we’re there.”

You thanked him quietly before closing your eyes. It didn’t take long before you fell asleep and your soft snores filled the car. Bucky looked at you for a couple of seconds, smiling to himself. Man, it’s gonna be a long few weeks.

It only felt like you’d closed your eyes for a few minutes when Bucky was saying your name, gently shaking your shoulder. Groggily, you opened your eyes to meet his blue eyes and it almost gave you a fright seeing them. Sometimes it still surprised you to see colour and especially when Bucky was around... colour seemed to be brighter and those deeper blue eyes seemed so bright in person.

“We’re here,” he said, pulling back quickly, not wanting to upset you by being too close. Bucky was very careful of boundaries, he always had been but especially after the Winter Soldier incidents. He knew what it felt like to not want to be touched or have your personal space invaded so he was always careful to not overstep.

“You’ve got the fake passports and stuff, don’t you?” You asked him, yawning and stretching in your seat.

He nodded and told you that they’re in his bag. In order to help the process of becoming anonymous, Fury had fake IDs and fake passports made for the two of you. They’d even gone so far as to create two new backstories for the pair of you just in case anyone ever questioned the pair of you. You and Bucky got out of the car, your legs ached from having sat in the car for hours upon hours. It was dark outside now, you didn’t know the time. Bucky grabbed the bags out of the car and handed you the two passports to hold. As you walked into the airport, you flicked to it. Miss Jane Smith and Mr John Smith. Two very common and obvious fake names but you hoped that it wouldn’t be picked up.

The check in process was much easier than you anticipated, the passports passed the ID checks and soon, the two of you were through security and heading for the food outlet. Bucky had told you to keep your head down for most of the time and to avoid direct eye contact with cameras. The airport was relatively quiet which was good in the sense you didn’t have to worry about people around you noticing Bucky. Bucky led you to a small café which was quiet and the two of you sat at the back. Everything was kind of passing in a blur and it only seemed like a few seconds until Bucky was back with your food.

You began to eat in silence and it was then you realised where you were going, “Estonia?” You asked quietly, making sure to not be overhead.

Bucky nodded as he took a bite of his burger, “Managed to find a secluded house, already furnished. The owner agreed to let us stay for a discounted price as well.”

“I’ve never been,” you shrugged, taking a bite of your food, “Where are we right now?”

“Pittsburg,” he said, glancing around the café to make sure no one was taking notice of the pair of you, “Steve thought it would be a good idea to leave from an airport a few hours away from New York. Hydra and Rumlow would check New York airports first once they realise you’re out of town.”

You smiled sadly as you looked down to your food. Leave it to Steve to think of everything. Bucky told you that the flight would be leaving in an hour and it would be a long ass flight but it was okay because you were exhausted and you could absolutely sleep for a good portion of the flight anyway.  

You sighed, “When can I take this stupid disguise off? I’m so uncomfortable!”

Bucky studied you carefully, “When we’re in the safe house.”

“Do I look stupid? I feel stupid.”

“You look... different. Not bad just different,” he paused before speaking again, “I prefer you as you are though, without the wig, contacts and flashy clothes. I think you look much better when you’re being yourself.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that with anything other than a nod. It felt foreign and wrong to receive a compliment from him, even though it was a genuine, friendly compliment, it felt wrong. The two of you didn’t say much after that.

After eating, you and Bucky went to get some plane snacks. You grabbed some water and some treats, you also wandered to the book section and picked up a book. As you were walking to the books, you saw a little boy and girl pass wearing matching Captain America t-shirts. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched them pass. It seemed to hit you in that moment that this was real and this was truly happening.

“(y/n)?” Bucky asked appearing behind you.

You turned to him, “Sorry... I just can’t believe this is happening.” 

Bucky nodded before gesturing to the check out, “Let’s get this all checked out and then hopefully we’ll be able to go to our departure gate.” He didn’t really know how to help you without overstepping or potentially upsetting you. He didn’t want you to get upset in public so he thought that he could keep you distracted and that would help ease your worries. It helped, having him there to guide you and distract you from possible sad thoughts helped a lot actually.

You found your airplane seats quick, the two of you were bang smack in the middle and you were both in a two seater section. Bucky let you go in first, saying that he preferred not to look out of the window when taking a flight. You sunk into it, keeping your head down and wrapping your arms around yourself to get warmer. As Bucky sat beside you, tapping his foot and his hand on the armrest impatiently, you looked at him curiously, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, “Just... not a big fan of flying.”

You pulled out the magazines which were in the pocket of the chair in front of you and handed him them, “I find that reading the safety procedures always helps. Also reading the magazine where you can just check out the meal deals and the perfume deals help a bit.”

Bucky took them off of you and began to flick through them. In the meantime, you closed your eyes. As the plane began to move, Bucky tensed beside you and you opened your eyes to look at him, his hands were clenched around the arms of the chair, jaw clenched too.

“Hey, show me that,” you said, sitting up straighter and pointing to the magazine. He looked at you and then handed it to you. Bucky had been helping you out by distracting you from being sad, the least you could do is distract him from being anxious. You leaned over, probably a little closer than you would’ve felt comfortable with in normal circumstances. Bucky stiffened as he smelled your perfume when you came closer. You took no notice of the closeness.

“Look at that!” You said, pointing to the menu that they were offering that night on the flight, “What would you have?” Bucky shrugged and you rolled your eyes, “C’mon. I’d have the chicken curry and the cheese and ham panini and then I would absolutely have the tiramisu afterwards. What about you?” You held it closer to him for him to study.

“Uh... I mean, I suppose the lasagne sounds nice. The breaded mushrooms too, I like those. Never had tiramisu but it sounds nice enough so I’d give that a go too.”

“No way,” you said shaking your head, “I would order the tiramisu and you would order the chocolate and raspberry mousse and we’d share them both.”

Bucky snorted slightly, “Sure thing, whatever you want.”

You flicked through more of the pages, “Ooooh,” you said noticing the deals on the perfumes, “I love airplane and airport deals. I only ever buy my perfume from duty free, honestly. No point in buying it full price anywhere else.”

“I still find it crazy that there’s a shop on an airplane.”

You nodded, “I mean, it’s pretty weird but I’m not complaining about the deals. Some of the stuff you can buy is so bizarre though. I was on this flight once, going on holiday with my family when I was younger, and they were selling t-shirts with a picture of the airplane we were in on them saying ‘I rode in this plane and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’.”

“That sounds like it’s a total dad shirt,” Bucky laughed slightly. He looked a lot younger when he smiled. He was always so stony and serious but when he smiled or laughed, it knocked years off him. He was already a handsome man but when he smiled, he was just... wow.

You burst out laughing as he said it, “My dad did buy it and he wore it so proudly!”

Bucky laughed with you, finding his nerves easing up as he spoke to you. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to you about anything other than the fact you were soulmates so it felt rather nice to talk to you on another level. It was still prettty strange but it was nice. Steve always told him that you were easy to get along with so he wasn’t too surprised. As you continued to chat, you gasped audibly when you came to the ‘collectibles and merchandise’ page, “There it is!” 

“No way!” Bucky grinned as he looked down at the picture of the t-shirt exactly like the one you described, “Oh, god, it’s hideous.” The two of you lapsed into laughter again, talking and looking at it before Bucky happened to glance out of the window, “We’re in the air?”

You looked out, “Yeah, we took off about fifteen minutes ago actually.” Bucky breathed out an impressed laughter, “My distraction technique always works. Keep the mind occupied on something else like the ugliest t-shirts in the world.”

Bucky smiled, “Thank you and thanks to the ugliest t-shirt ever-” it was then that a man wearing the exact t-shirt you had been slating got up from the seat in front of you and shot you a dirty look as he walked past, “Oh, shit.” It was hard to keep your laughter in but somehow you both managed it.

As you calmed down, Bucky sighed, “No, really, thank you for that.”

You smiled as you handed him the magazines back and sunk back into your seat, “And now, I sleep.”

When you woke up a few hours later, you found yourself to be sitting alone with no Bucky Barnes in sight. You looked up to see a flight attendant coming down the aisle, “Excuse me,” you said with a smile, “do you know where the man sitting next to me went?”

She smiled, the same warm smile that every flight attendant has, “Yes, your husband is in the queue for the toilet, he should be back in a few minutes.”

You nodded, she went to leave when you caught her again, “Sorry, can you do me a favour?”

When Bucky came back, he was pleasantly surprised to see you sitting awake, smiling at him, “Good sleep?” You nodded,  “Don’t worry, you didn’t snore... too loud.” 

Your cheeks burned as he teased you, “Shove it, Barnes,” you scoffed, “I bought us a present.”

He frowned, “A present?”

You grinned as you held up two t-shirts, the exact same one that you both said was the ugliest shirt in the world, “No way!” He laughed, clapping his gloved hands together, “Oh my god, they’re worse in person.”

You laughed as you handed him his, “You’re so welcome. I will make us wear these at some point by the way, don’t think you’re getting out of it.” You’d never seen Bucky smile so wide with pure joy radiating from him. It was nice to see; it made you feel a lot better about the situation that was happening. You and Bucky hadn’t broached the subject of being the other’s soulmates, you actually really didn’t want to have that conversation anytime soon, but it was nice to know that at least you got on a little bit.

The fact that the pair of you were laughing so soon felt wrong. It felt like you were betraying Steve for merely getting along but it was nice. You were scared of what was going to happen and Bucky had been anxious about flying so the pair of you had nothing to do but talk to each other. Sure, it wasn’t a particularly interesting conversation but it was something. It was still a little awkward and a little weird at times but you could look past that for a few minutes to just appreciate the fact that Bucky was doing this.

Soon, you were curled back into your plane seat, your own jacket draped across you, “Thanks,” you said quietly as sleep began to take over,  “for doing this for Steve. I know that it’s not ideal and I know you probably don’t want to be stuck with me for weeks. I appreciate it, Bucky.”

Bucky nodded and didn’t say anything. I’m not doing it for only Steve, I’m doing it for you too. He watched you for a moment longer before closing his own eyes and resting into his own seat.

The rest of the flight went by in a blur, you slept some more, read your book and ate some food. It wasn’t long before it was time to land and Bucky could not have been more happy than in the moment the wheels of the plane landed on the runway. The airport was a relatively quiet which meant that security and getting your bags was a lot faster than anticipated.

Soon, you were waiting with Bucky in line to get a rental car. To your surprise, when it was your turn to speak to the receptionist, Bucky slid a wad of cash over the counter, “I want a car to keep and I want it off book.”

The receptionist, who was a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair, eyed Bucky with narrow eyes and Bucky stared right back at him. You glanced between the two men wondering who would give up the staring contest first. After a pregnant pause, the receptionist shrugged and dug around in the drawer next to him before pulling out a car key, “Grey sedan in Lot C, registration plate ends with RUS. It’s old and a little worse for wear but for this price, best I can do.” He glanced from left to right before sliding the keys across the table. Apparently he seemed to accept the bribe. You raised your eyebrows, looking between the man and Bucky.

Bucky thanked him with a nod before taking the keys and picked up his and one of your bags before walking away with you in tow, “Wait,” you said quietly, rushing to keep up with him, “You just bought a car?!”

Bucky nodded, “We needed a car. This one will do for a while, keeps us off of the radar for a while.”

Finding the car was easy, the hard part was trying to keep up with Bucky. He took long, quick strides that were hard to keep up with. The car was parked alone in Lot C. It was a little old, with some dents and scratches in the doors from previous bumps and accidents and some of the paint had chipped but aside from that, it seemed to be fine. Bucky loaded the bags in the trunk before getting into the driver’s seat. You settled into your seat and Bucky said that it would be a forty minute drive but could do it in half the time if the road’s were quiet. Then, you both set off.

You couldn’t stop staring out of the window, looking at every single detail of Estonia. It seemed like a dream that you’d be waking up from any second now. Your hands fidgeted with your jacket sleeves as you stared out to the vast unknown. What would become of you and your relationship, you had no idea. You didn’t know what was going to happen and you had absolutely no clue where you would be going. A wave of uneasiness crashed over you as you tried to swallow down the nausea. 

The drive seemed to simultaneously be the longest and shortest drive ever. Seconds felt like years and minutes felt like nanoseconds. You just wanted things to go back to how they were two months ago when things were easy and simple and life was without colour. You glanced over at Bucky, wishing that it had been anyone besides him that was your soulmate. Bucky was a decent enough guy from the short time you’d been with him, I mean, he was willing to take you to a safe house for god knows how long after meeting each other less than three times so obviously he was a good guy but... even if you and Bucky ended up friends, ended up falling in love... nothing could ever happen. You just couldn’t do that to Steve. 

Oh, Steve. 

You wondered what he would be doing just now. He would probably be in the gym with Sam, boxing his feelings and emotions about the whole situation out. That’s what he usually did when things were tense or when he was stressed, he would go to the gym and work out for hours. Sam would usually go with him, being his comic relief to make things less stressful for him. You had never been so thankful for Sam Wilson than in that moment of realisation. You had been so focused on what this meant for you and how this would affect you that you’d practically overlooked your boyfriend’s feelings.

Steve would be blaming your kidnapping on himself, even though it wasn’t his fault that Hydra were dickheads. He would be devastated that he’d had to send you off with your soulmate, knowing fine well that you could easily come back home in love with Bucky. It had been so hard for Steve to make that decision but it had to be done. He wished that he could’ve came with you but it was his mess to clean up and he couldn’t just let his friends do it. He wasn’t that selfish even though he wished he could have been. Steve would rely on Sam pretty heavily over the coming weeks. Sam had been such a good friend to Steve in the few years they’d known each other. Sam understood Steve, they shared the same values and same morals and that was something you liked about Sam. Sam wasn’t afraid to stand up and fight for what was right. You knew that Steve would be in good hands with Sam at his side.

Little did you know, Bucky was thinking of Steve Rogers too as he drove. It was surreal that he was driving with you, through Estonia, to a safe house where you’d be for weeks, potentially months. It scared Bucky, honestly. He liked you, not in a romantic way (yet), but he had heard all about you from Steve. All of those months that Bucky was in Wakanda, Steve called every week to check on him. Every week, Steve would talk about you. He remembered the things he would say about you. ‘She’s great, Buck. She’s got this smile, this really wide smile that I’ve only seen a handful of people have in my life. You know the one I mean. That genuinely happy, makes you smile when you see it smile.’, ‘You gotta meet her, Bucky. She’s everything I’ve been looking for and even though we’re not soulmates, we are.’, ‘It’s crazy. After Peggy, I never thought I’d fall in love again but (y/n) came into my life when I needed her most. Every day, I wake up thankful for her. My god, you have to meet her. You two will get on so well. She keeps my on my toes and is hilarious.’

Bucky glanced at you, a familiar pang of guilt shooting through him. You were his best friend’s girl and he could never do anything to pursue you because he cared about Steve too much. Steve was the one person who had given him a chance and had stuck by him through everything. Steve deserved you, Bucky didn’t.

It wasn’t long before Bucky pulled into a driveway. You looked around, realising that you were deep in the woods. It was an off road cabin that seemed to be pretty far from civilisation, “This is it.” Bucky cut the engine before getting out of the car. You stayed put, staring at the cabin in front of you. From the outside, it looked a little run down but very liveable. It was made with a dark oak wood which blended in well with the trees. Passers by would have to do a double take at first because of how well it blended in.

You got out of the car, grabbing the rucksack that had been by your feet. Bucky appeared beside you, carrying all of his and your bags, “Ready?”

You didn’t look at him, eyes stuck on the cabin in front of you. This was it. This was your future. You were unusually terrified as you stared at it. As soon as you stepped into that cabin, your future would change forever. Everything would change. Life as you knew it with Steve would completely change as soon as you walked into that cabin. With your heart beating fast, you took a breath and nodded, following him up the stony path and to the front door. He unlocked it and swung the door open before disappearing inside. You hesitated at the front door, staring at the line on the floor to mark the cabin’s entrance.

“I love you, Steve,” you whispered before stepping into the cabin and closing the door behind you.

The cabin had an old musty smell to it, the smell of emptiness. Clearly, no one had lived here for a long time. The décor was simple and pretty outdated but it was nice. Bucky had flicked the lights on throughout the cabin and was checking each room just to double check. You wandered through each room. The living room was simple with a couple of recliners and a small couch with a small TV on an old coffee table. You’d be surprised if the TV still worked with a thick layer of dust coating it. There was a large fireplace in the middle of the side wall which would be nice on a cold night. The kitchen was nice with everything that the pair of you would need to get started in the wooden cupboards and on shelves. It had a small table in the corner of the room, looking out of the window. Bucky told you that tomorrow, he would go get some shopping and food supplies until then you had the water and a few more snacks.

Next, you ventured into the bedrooms. Yours and Bucky’s separate bedrooms were adjacent to each other. Bucky had dropped his bags in the slightly smaller room. You went to object but the look on his face told you not to even bother. Bucky’s room was smaller yet still spacious enough for a double bed and a wardrobe. Your room was pretty much the same though as well as a wardrobe you had the chest of drawers as well. The shared bathroom was beside your room and it was... well, it was just an outdated bathroom. And that was it.

The cabin wasn’t particularly big or luxurious but it was much than you had expected. You seriously were expecting to sleep on the floor on a bug infested hotel but Bucky had done pretty good. You’d long since abandoned your disguise, feeling much better when looking like yourself. As you wandered around again, checking cupboards, finding extra duvets and pillows in the wardrobe in your room, you remembered something important. You dug around in your bags until you found it; a picture frame. Bucky knocked on your bedroom door. You turned to him, “You don’t need to knock,” you said.

“Come so I can show you something.”

You followed him into the living room as you held the picture frame in your hands. He stopped in front of a painting on the wall moving the painting to reveal a safe, “Oh, wow,” you said surprised.

“I got this safe installed and I’m putting this gun inside it, okay?” He told you, taking a gun from his back pocket. You jumped slightly, not expecting him to wield a weapon in front of you, “This is for emergencies, got it? I’ll teach you how to use it but for now, I’m locking it up in here, okay?”

“I don’t want to use a gun-”

“Neither do I,” Bucky said, cutting over you, “but I have to at least show you how to use it just in case, okay? The code is 0407-”

“Steve’s birthday.”

Bucky faltered before nodding and continuing, “Yeah, Steve’s birthday. Type that in,” he typed it in, “and it’ll unlock.” He dropped the gun inside of it before closing it over, “Re-type the code and it locks. Got it?”

You nodded.

“I always have at least one weapon on me at all times, okay? I have my gun and I have my knife. I’m only putting this here and showing you just in case, okay? We’ll probably never have to use it but it’s just in case something happens, just so I know that if I can’t get to you, you can have some way to protect yourself.”

Again, you nodded. Bucky eyed you carefully, making sure that you were okay with this. You didn’t really know how to feel about it. You weren’t surprised that he had weapons but it scared you the thought of you having to use them. Hopefully it would never come to that though. He could see the toll this was taking on you and you’d barely been gone a day. He was about to ask what you had in your hands when you wandered over to the fireplace and put the photo atop. It was a photo that you had once upon a time hated. It was you and Steve laughing as you posed for a picture in front of your Christmas tree. Nat had taken it on Christmas Eve. You wore a dress that hugged your curves a little too tightly for your liking but Steve had loved to see you in that dress. He always said the colour complimented your complexion so well and now that you could actually see colour, you could see where he was coming from. You loved that picture now, you remembered the night fondly where he twirled you around, telling you how beautiful you were every other minute. So yeah, you could see your protruding stomach and your bigger arms but you loved it. You smiled as you looked at Steve’s smile, heart soaring as you looked at him. Steve could make you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. With him, you truly believed it. Your weight never defined your worth, you defined it.

Almost instantly, Bucky lunged for it, grabbing it and almost tumbling into you,  “What the fuck?!” You hissed, leaping backwards. You hadn’t expected the dark haired super soldier to lunge from across the room, almost knocking you off of your feet to grab the picture frame down.

Bucky released a sharp breath, “The window,” he said gruffly. He pulled the curtains shut quickly, “We can’t put any photos up.”

“Why the fuck not?!”

He rolled his eyes, Steve had warned him that you could be stubborn, “In case we’re being watched. If someone’s tailing us, they might look through the window and have our identities confirmed if we put photos up.”

You rolled your eyes, “If someone’s tailing us then I’m pretty sure that they know our identities already. Give me it back.”

“Fine but you’re not putting it there,” Bucky said.

You glared at him as a bubble of anger boiled in your stomach, “My god, how am I meant to stay here with you for weeks if you’re such an arse over a photo?!”

“Yeah?” Bucky scoffed, “I didn’t have to come here, (y/n). I came because Steve asked. I came for you.”

You were breathing heavy as you glared at each other, “Yeah well maybe I don’t want you here.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be here!”

“Keep the stupid picture.” You turned on your heel and stormed into your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you. You knew that you weren’t angry at Bucky, you knew that the two of you were tired and hungry. You knew that you were a flurry of emotions from having your life flipped upside down. You knew that Bucky was looking out for your safety but you were pissed and he was the only person near you so he would have to deal with it. 

Bucky sighed heavily as he fell onto the couch, pursing his lips and pinching the bridge of his nose. Yeah, Steve, she’s fucking brilliant. 

It was hours later when you rolled over with a huff. Sleep wasn’t coming easily. You were still too pissed off and because you were still so pissed off, you were only getting more annoyed. You knew that if the anger faded, you’d probably end up crying and you didn’t know which was worse so you just stayed angry. You wished that Bucky would’ve just been able to talk to you normally instead of treating you like a child. You would’ve absolutely understood the picture fiasco had he not leapt over the table and yanked it like a dog stealing someone’s dinner from the table. 

You sat up in bed. Usually, if you couldn’t sleep you’d watch TV or go on your phone but you didn’t feel up for watching the tiny TV in the living room and you obviously didn’t have a phone so you couldn’t do much than think. You’d need to see if there was a cheap CD player and CDs in town so that you could at least have some background noise. The cabin was eerily quiet at night. It was a different surrounding in a different country and everything just felt a little uneasy. You were used to New York where the hustle and bustle was part of every day life but the woods was so quiet aside from the rustling trees... it would take some getting used to.

With a huff, you grabbed your dressing gown from the bag on the floor and made your way into the kitchen. You grabbed a glass and filled it with water before taking a long drink. You didn’t know why you wandered into the living room but you found yourself venturing in and it was then you noticed, in the dim light from the moon, you saw a note and the picture of you and Steve that sat on the coffee table in front of the TV. You picked up the note.

I’m sorry about freaking out over the picture, it’s been a long day. Steve warned me you were stubborn but I wasn’t prepared, I guess. Let’s not put it on the fire place until we’re absolutely sure that no one’s tracking us. Until then, it can go here where it’s not facing a window. Hope that’s okay. It is a lovely picture of you and Steve... Again, sorry. - Bucky

You smiled slightly as you read it before slipping the note into your dressing gown pocket and going back to bed. So Bucky Barnes was decent after all.

[four-loose-screws]

FE7 Novelization Translation - Chapter 3 Section 6

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Chapter 3: Blood of Pride (Section 6)

Lyn’s Legion arrived in Araphen’s castle town at dawn.

It was a prosperous city second only to Ostia, and the many passersby filled the area with activity.

The smell of baking bread, the noises of blacksmiths tempering iron, and the voices of beckoning merchants all filled the air… 

Since the moment they’d set out from Sacae, all Lyn and the others had seen were rampaging bandits and ruined towns and villages, so it had been a long time since they'd been in a city where the people were so lively.

Serra immediately said that she was going to check out the local shops, and took Erk with her. “Hey, Florina. Wanna look around with us?”

“Okay!”

“Ah, then I’m going too!" Sain raised a hand and added himself to the group. “We never know when an assassin might come after Lady Lyndis!”

“Are you sure? In a town this big, there must be a whole horde of women waiting for you to introduce yourself to them!” Lyn said teasingly.

Sain answered with a serious expression on his face, “There is! When I think about that my heart screams as if it is about to burst, but I, Sain, will protect the beautiful Lady Lyndis while Kent is away!!"

"Then what will you do when Kent comes back?"

"I will of course go straight to the ladies waiting for me… I-I mean no, I won't! Guarding you is my duty, s-so I could never do anything like that, could I?"

Sain's desperate excuses to cover up his wavering heart made Lyn burst into laughter.

Considering he had never faltered in his way of life before, it was impressive that he was able to overcome his shock and stay somewhat composed.

"Speaking of which, Kent said he would be away, but where did he go?"

"He said he was going on ahead to the castle, but…" He didn't know why he went, Sain’s answer implied.

"Oh… You know, something seems a bit off about this town."

"You think so? Is it because it's big, and lively? And seems safe." Lyn's question made Sain look around and survey the area. 

"It is large and does seem safe, but I don't see a single person from Sacae anywhere."

"Now that you mention it… that is true." Sain looked around once more, and nodded. Just as Lyn had said, no matter where he looked, he couldn't see anyone from Sacae.

"This is the closest town to Bulgar in all of Lycia. Wouldn't it be advantageous for people from Sacae to come here for trade? Yet no one is here. It’s very strange."

Wil, who had been quiet until now, spoke up after thinking for a minute. "Hmmm… is it because there's bandits in the area? So they go to Bern, which is even closer to here?"

"That is one possibility."

The moment Lyn acknowledged Wil's thought, a voice came from behind them denying it. "That is completely and utterly wrong, Lady Lyn!"

"Serra! You're back already?" She turned around to see the spirited cleric standing there. 

Serra seemed to have come neck running, as her shoulders were heaving. Behind her was Erk, looking exhausted from her dragging him around.

"I overheard something worrisome, and ran straight back!"

"...So we're wrong? What does that mean?"

"The marquess of these lands hates Sacae."

"He hates… Sacae?" Lyn's expression darkened at Serra's words.

"Yes. If any traveling nomads come here, the soldiers force them out. Screaming 'Don't bring the smell of wild beasts in here!' And other such things."

"That's… That's unbelievable!" Humans all had their likes and dislikes, making them each different from one another. Not everyone could get along with everyone. But hearing that someone hated the very people she was proud of enraged her.

Serra seemed able to guess how Lyn felt, because she nodded. "Yes. What you said is also right. But the reason why he came to hate Sacae is even more funny." Serra explained while stifling back giggles, "It seems that long ago, the woman he loved, a lady of Caelin, ran off with a nomad of Sacae. Not knowing when to give up, he started to hate the man she left with. He was not engaged to her, but he has always held a bitter grudge for losing the one he loved. And because he of all people is the Marquess-" She stopped there, then suddenly whirled around and looked the entire area over.

"What's wrong, Serra?"

"...I can feel it."

"Huh?"

"...I can feel it! Someone gazing passionately at me! It is the gaze of a poor, poor man who loves me. But I am too cute, so he cannot bring himself to call out to me! Ah, I'm such an indecent woman!"

"O-Okay…" The conversation changed so quickly that all of the anger Lyn was just feeling vanished.

As she watched Serra's imagination run wild, her mind raced. '...Wait, could the lady of Caelin that the marquess loved be my mother?!'

The moment she realized that, she was filled with complex thoughts.

If it was true that he hated Sacae because he mother eloped with her Sacaian father, then she couldn't blame the marquess of Araphen. Rather, it made her feel a bit sorry for him.

'It would be hard to face him, so as soon as Kent gets back, we should probably leave here as soon as possible.'

The moment Lyn put her thoughts together, Kent returned. "Lady Lyndis! Come with me to the castle. The marquess agreed to support us on our journey to Caelin."

"He's going to help us?"

The very first bit of information Kent gave surprised Lyn.

They had just been talking about how the marquess hated Sacae. She couldn't have imagined even in her dreams that when Kent went to request his cooperation, that he would agree to giving her aid.

Everyone else looked just as surprised as she was.

Kent, who, on the other hand, did not know that information, remained serious as he continued giving his report. "Yes, Araphen has had a deep friendship with Caelin since long ago. When I explained our situation to the marquess, he promised to support us."

'I see… So that is a factor as well…' Lyn agreed to do as Kent said.

If this was a request from a long time friend, then they could not simply ignore it, as if word got out that she had turned him down because of a personal grudge, then it would greatly damage her reputation. Lyn knew little about noble society, but was aware that nobles were the types of people to worry about their reputation, so she thought it best to behave in a way that would not damage hers.

Plus, Kent had explained her situation and gotten the marquess to agree to help.

Perhaps the marquess of Araphen wasn't as bad of a person as the rumors led them on to believe.

"If that is indeed so, then everything will be easy from here on out!"

Kent nodded at Sain’s words and answered, "If we are able to borrow some soldiers here, then the road to Caelin will become much safer. I truly apologize for giving you nothing but hardships until now."

"You don’t have to apologize… But you really are capable, Kent." Lyn smiled.

"Kent is?" Sain asked.

"Huh? Oh, you too of course, Sain!"

"That's what I thought!"

"Now then, to the castle…"

The moment Kent tried to start leading Lyn to the castle, they heard one of the locals shout, "E-emergency! The castle is on fire!!"

Lyn and the others all looked up at Araphen Castle in response to the voice, and saw black smoke rising up from its location in the middle of town.

"What?! What the hell is going on?!" Lyn gasped in surprise at the sudden change in events for the worse.

Kent and Sain were also staring at the castle in shock.

And then…

"You're Lyndis, ain't ya?!"

"Wh-Who are you?!"

"I ain’t gotta answer that question! Prepare yourself!!" 

The moment they turned around towards the voice they heard behind them, the man was already about to bring his sword down on Lyn.

"No!" She had been caught completely off guard, and did not even have time to place her hand on Mani Katti. All she could do was glare at her opponent and blame herself for letting her guard down.

"Guh!! Gah!"

With a scream that was not her own, she watched the man who attacked her fall backwards.

Stabbed deep into his back was a single arrow.

"...A bow and arrow?" At the sight of the murder weapon, she thought that Wil had saved her. 

But when she noticed the person casting a shadow over the enemy's corpse, she was convinced she was wrong. "Huh?!"

The man spoke not a word as he looked down at Lyn from atop his horse. He was a man from Sacae that she had never seen before.

His clothing was of the style unique to the nomadic tribes’, and he was holding a short bow designed to be easy to wield from atop a horse. He had a fearless look about him, and a fierce stare like a hawk.

"Who are you…?" The moment Lyn tried to ask him who he was… 

"Lady Lyndis! Are you alright?!" Kent ran up to her.

"I'm fine. He saved me."

"Excuse me for asking, but who are you?" Kent noticed and asked the nomad.

However, the man said nothing, and began to leave.

"Wait! Why did you save me?"

"...It appeared that someone from Sacae was being attacked. But I was wrong." The man answered Lyn's question, speaking for the first time.

"No, you were right! I am from Sacae. I am Lyn, daughter of the Lorca Tribe's chief!"

"The Lorca? …So there were survivors?" Surprise showed on the man's previously expressionless face.

"Yes."

"...You should get out of here quickly. A fire is spreading from within the castle. Do not waste the life that I so painstakingly saved.”

"You came from the castle?! If so, then please tell me! What happened to Araphen Castle… and the marquess!?"

"I am the commander of the guard hired by the lord of the castle. Right now, the allies of the men wreaking havoc in town are attacking the castle, and have captured its lord. …I must defeat them and retake the castle."

"I understand… then let us help you!"

"...Why?" The man asked in response to her request with a puzzled look on his face.

It wasn't without reason. There was no way he could know why a woman from Sacae was so determined to help a Lycian noble that she would put her life in danger.

But Lyn had a reason why she must risk her life. "Those men are targeting me. …If you say that they are attacking the castle, then it probably has something to do with me. If so, then I have to help…"

The man who had just tried to take her life was unquestionably an assassin sent by Lundgren. He had likely started the fire at the castle, throwing the town into chaos, and attacked her directly after.

If that was so, then it would mean he was an ally of the group that had captured the marquess.

All because of her personal problems, Araphen had gotten wrapped up into something they had nothing to do with.

She of course could not let the bandits get away with what they were doing, and this was something that she could not turn a blind eye to on a personal level either.

"...You seem to have your reasons. Then… I shall borrow your strength." He seemed to understand how Lyn felt, as he casually requested her cooperation. 

"Are you sure?"

"I am Rath, of the Kutolah Tribe. Though you are from a different tribe, I cannot abandon a woman from the same plains as I…"

"Thank you, Rath! May Mother Earth bestow her blessing upon you!"

"And may Father Sky inflict his wrath upon our enemies…!”

After leaving her birthplace, meeting a man from her same homeland after so long and hearing his words gave her courage. "Let's go!"

First, they had to take advantage of the chaos to defeat the men ransacking the town.

At her order, every one of her mercenaries all readied themselves to fight in unison.

☆

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales: Terror of the Terra-Firmians!  (Lena Retrospective) (Commission by WeirdKev27): Launchpad Looses his Last Brain Cell and I Loose My Patience

Welcome back Weblena Warriors to the second part of my look at everyone’s favorite Emo Teen Shadow Lesbian Duck... and probably the only one but hey, semantics, Shadow Into Light, which was made possible by viewers like you, the ultra humanite and a commission from WeirdKev27. Picking up where we left off, we have our first episode that has a different intended order than airing order. 

As most of you probably remember, but some of you who joined later might not be aware of the broadcast order for the first half of season one is, in the academic sense, pretty fucked. It’s not Darkwing Duck’s entirely fucked by a web of badger spiders and a queen snake on top to make it some sort of train situation, but by just sorta airing whatever episodes they wanted to, Disney messed with the character balance so Huey got less focus, not that he got a ton of focus this season but still, as well as leaning into the episodes focusing more on the kids with less involvement from the adults which gave the wrong impression about the series. While it IS very focused on the triplets and webby, the show isn’t entirely about them, but as Frank has mentioned a few times, Disney Channel apparently has this WEIRD thing where they assume kids won’t like stories starring the adult characters. 

Yeah I’ve been wanting to talk about this for a while. Mostly how it’s so dumb I could swear Pauly Shore was an exec at Disney Channel. And he might be I don’t know what he’s doing these days and i’d like to keep it that way. For starters, the Scooge comics, while barely published in the US these days, are still popular globally and have appealed to kids and adults for generations and are mostly focused on him, with the kids in a supporting role and Ducktales, you know the thing your directly remaking here, was also mostly about him with the triplets supporting, if a bit less than the comics. Most of the Disney Afternoon was about adult characters, with any kids in side roles in the main cast. And it comes off entirely hypocritical of them to say this when the MCU is easily marvel’s biggest cash cow at the moment, and marvel properties have appealed to both kids and adults, like the duck comics, for decades. And if it’s because the marvel cartoons weren’t doing well , I’ll let you in on a little secret: Those didn’t do well because they looked bland and from what I’ve seen of them felt kind of bland, though I haven’t seen enough to fully judge. Kids LIKE adult characters as much as kid characters, and also like teen characters despite not being teens. Focusing on either is valid and while I LIKED Disney’s youth starring shows I also want another X-Men cartoon before I turn 50, and I bet kids would like that too, with the last one only failing because you bailed on it because you were throwing a hissy fit over fox having the movie rights, and do not get me started on that. Point is this argument is horse shit and should stay in the stables. 

So yeah I do think this episode came too soon and it’s placement effected it at the time and as such it dosen’t have the best rep with the fandom aside from the Lena bits and that includes me. The fact it was very early in the series and the characterizations hadn’t yet sunk in really hurt this episode in places but is it really that bad? Join me under the cut to find out

We open at the movies! Which scrooge apparently hasn’t been too since the 1930′s or seen any on video despite Della existing and being really stubborn. 

A rant for another episode. But the kids just got out of a Mole Monster movie, along with Lena, Beakly and Launchpad. Their reactions are as follows: Lena, Webby and Dewey really enjoyed it, Huey found it unrealistic... says the boy whose uncle fought a dragon made of gold a month or two back but we’ll get to that, and Louie was bored and felt it didn’t have enough of the ultra violence, kids these days it’s not about the gore it’s about the tension. And Beakly.. is just pissed Lena tricked them into seeing this and said it was educational. And the more I think about it the more this sounds like BEAKLYS fault than Lena’s. BEAKLY is the one who likely bought the tickets, who saw it was likely an r or pg-13 and who as we’ve seen HAS A PHONE, and ulnike scrooge probably isn’t so stingy she wouldn’t spring for a smart phone, so she could’ve just googled it, or whatever bird related pun is in this version.. gandered it.. yeah let’s go with that, gandered it, and SEEEN it wasn’t appropriate or walked htem out of the theater and ate the cost if she was that bothered by it. Sitting through a Horror Movie you didn’t research, didn’t pull the kids out of and dind’t bother to even check the poster for or use basic common sense is YOUR fault. And this could’ve worked fine, had Lena talk the kids into begging for it or had launchpad take them and have Beakly find out after, having driven to pick them up as she didn’t trust launchpad to take them home. Instead it makes the former super spy look REALLY stupid and feels really out of character for a SPY to not to do research. And it wasn’t like they decided on this later, Bentina being a spy was part of the character’s backstory from day one and its made clear as early as episode 2 in both airing orders. This is just lazy writing to justify the episode and I expect better from this crew. 

But an argument errupts between Huey and Webby over the Terra-Firmians, a hidden race of rock people living in Duckburg’s discontinued sewer system, allegedlys. So Lena suggest simply going down which gets a disapproving look from Beakly, despite you know this being their bread and butter, and the fact that if she had a problem with Scrooge not being involved.. she could just call him. Exploring fabled rock people is something he’d be into. I mean there’s a low profit margin but it also costs him almost nothing to walk to the theater or have launchpad swing around and pick him up. Just gas which given how much he pays for jet fuel isn’t a big ask. But Beakly soon gets distracted by Launchpad whose convinced the film is real and is attacking the poster a grim sign of things to come as while Beakly annoyed me in this one on rewatch, especially after realizing the above... Launchpad annoyed me both times and for VERY good reason we’ll get into. This provides a distraction and allows the trio to escape. Cue titles. 

After the title sequence, our heroes head deeper underground, there’s too much panic in this town... I mean props to Donald for trying something new but he really needs to rethink his cologne choices. Sex Panther is just.. not a good smell on.. anyone. 

So our heroes journey through the depths of the subway system, and we find out part of why Huey’s so skeptical, as he finds anything that isn’t in the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook to not exist, though the cracks in this already show as he’s added anything that does. We’ll get back to this later but as you can tell the basic dynamic for 24 minutes is Webby being a wholehearted True Believer and Huey being a Skeptical Sally. And Lena is just sorta “Eh gives me an excuse for shenanigans” about it. We also get a peak into webby’s mind as we see her notes .. which really just come off as Terra-Firmian fanfiction involving a war of succession between two sides, the terra’s and the firmies, something based on previous media, and also some doodles of a fictional candy called webby-dings and herself as a superhero, both things I want to see. 

But yeah the first third of the episode is pretty simple, just them journeying, the occasional shift in the firmament, and it’s not bad, and there are a few great bits: Huey nerds out about rocks, and finds them way more interesting than a possible rock monster.

Which leads to the best gag of the episode as when Huey tries to pick up a big sample Webby, annoyed at his hyperfixation on the JWG, asks him to ask his book for help.. which he does by reading it and actually manages to pick the large rock up. This is halted though when Lena screams.. though she really just did it to draw them to an abandoned subway car full of glomgold posters for glomgold products because of course a failed subway project has his name plastered over it. You can’t spell glomgold without failure.. the failure is silent. Glomgold is not. 

The fun is interuptted though by a livid Beakly who had realized they were missing in an earlier scene, after telling the Manager that McDuck Industries would pay for the poster.. and then found out Launchpad also destroyed the toilets “They come up thorugh the sewers!”. Launchpad that’s CHUDS, Ninja Turtles and Rats who raised Ninja Turtles like their own sons, mole people dig or use old mineshafts. It’s basic mole science. Also Beakly really shouldn’t sweat it, I just assumed the city has had a runnig bill witht he company for “McDuck Family and Employee Related Accidents, Mayhem and Shenanigans”. I mean he’s had Gyro on his payroll for at least a decade and a half by the series start, Gyro has leveled whole sections of city in an afternoon more than most giant monsters. Of which several have destroyed Duckburg. It got better. 

Point is she’s livid about them sneaking off with Lena pointing out their some sort of adventure family and Beakly.. saying she won’t see them again, or at least implying it hard. I’ll put a pin in this, as the train buckles and a bit of seismic, or rock men, activity means their stuck. So they divide into teams: Beakly will go try and unhook the train car from the busted cars so they can ride out, Launchpad will go try and fix it, and we get this lovely exxchange as a result

Launchpad: Cool never crashed a train before Beakly: Can’t you try driving it without crashing it? Launchpad: Wha? 

His face in that scene is priceless. He takes Dewey along. More on that in a second. Webby, Huey and Louie are told to stay put with Beakly only bringing Lena along because she dosen’t trust her. So since we have three split plots for a second... let’s split up gang, starting with the most aggrivating, middling with what you all came here for and why this is part of the retrsopective, and ending with the plot that directly heads into the final part of the episode. 

Launchpad and Dewey: GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Okay starting with the most infamous plot and easily the worst part of this episode, probably the worst plot in any Ducktales 2017 episode. That’s not hyperbole it’s really that bad and really pissed people off, as fans of the original launchpad felt they made him overly stupid. This is where the airing order’s a problem as putting an episode with a subplot where one of your characters is obnoxiously dumb right up front means they assume this is his charcter and not just one poorly written chapter in a very dumb but very loveable characters life, likely because the writers hadn’t figured out how to properly scale his stupidity with comptience. 

So as a result we get a good 3-4 mintutes if not agonizingly more of Launchpad assuming something he saw in a fucking movie film was real. That.. that’s his actual plot. Need I remind you, he’s in his late 20′s early 30′s. He’s not much older than me. While other episodes have him as dim this one claims he CAN’T TELL FACT FROM FICTION. 

There are lines you have to keep with your characters to keep the audience from hating them. They crossed it about 80 times with this plot and make Launchpad into a gibbering dunderhead who can’t do anything right versus a regular dunderhead whose good at one or two things and loveable enough for us to like him and not care about his numerous safey violations and child endagerment charges. Thankfully this is the ONLY episode that gets this bad and they clearly learned from this, but it dosen’t make it any less of a tough sit. 

Dewey spends most of the subplot with a look on his face that just screams that he’s as done with this bullshit as we are, as Launchpad assumes he’s a mole person and brought along a pipe to presumibly bludgeon him, because wanting to cave his best friends skull in over stupidity is a GREAT look> Thankfuly he does not. And when the lights come back on Launchpad.. assumes he’s a monster because of bright light, GAH, and locks him out before they end up outside and the plto resolves itself by Dewey pointing out by Launchpad’s utterly baffling logic that he could be a mole monster, so Launchpad.. assumes he is. 

The subplot’s later buttoned up as he claims “I love being a mole monster”, again diffrent subteranian creature launchpad, she says he’s not and my suffering is thankfully at an end. This plot just sucks, it’s bad, overly stupid and dosen’t work with an adult character. Someone like say Ed from Ed, Edd N Eddy, or someone who belivies in weird conspiracy stuff like Dale Gribble or Stan Pines. with either of them this plot would’ve been fucking great. I could buy it from Dale and it just comes off as his normal paranoid weirdness. With Launchpad it comes off like he seriously needs help because the episode frames it as if he can’t tell ficton from reality, and his splotlight episode later would directly contridct this and make this episode even more aggrivating, as he’s a fan of Darkwing Duck, and KNOWS it’s acted out by an actor, so why wouldn’t he get this? It’s just....

It sucks, it sucks and I thankfully get to move on to a better subplot

Beakly and Lena: What You Are in the Dark

Beakly tells Lena she’ll never see Webby again after this.. then chastises her when she won’t help despite you know having just said she’s going to force their friendship apart, which Lena points out. She then gets mad at Lena making a sarcastic comment at her. Okay she’s lived with Louie for at least a week in airing order and a month or two in actual order. She has to be used to this by now. She’s insolent.. because you show her no respect, blame her for something that while sure she talked you into, you should’ve known better, and top it off by saying you want to keep her from the kids because they have bright futures and come from good familes and asks who rasied her and her face.. well.

Yeah wheras Launchpad and Huey, more on that in a second, were hurt by this being some of their earliest big roles, Bentina wasn’t.. until later when we found out just HOW bad Magica is to Lena and how much she dosen’t care about her other than as a tool to use. At this point we didn’t know just how much Lena was playing webby, how much she was only manipulating her, and even with her heroic act here we didn’t know if she only saw Webby as her way to break free. The next episode makes it clear she dosen’t and genuinely does care, 100%, so in hindsight it makes Bentina come off as ghoulsih for horribly asssuming about a girl she dosen’t know, and even if she did know about Magica wouldn’t know the full story, just like us, and then BERATING her after already saying she’s going to rip her away from Webby, which itself is PRETTY bad as she’s the only friend the girl has and sh’es doing so on... talking them into a horror movie, which as I outlined was more Bentina’s fault than Lena’s, and leading the kids into a dangerous place whicha gain, Lena pointed out is something she lets Scrooge do. And trust me i know that she actually knows Scrooge, and we later find out, as we’ll cover next month, that she isn’t ware HOW dangerous things are with Scrooge. It dosen’t change the fact she knows they do dangerous stuff to a point and that Lena may just be acting out. It also dosen’t change the fact she drove three children, yes including launchpad, down here with her instead of sending them home with Launchpad.. granted that option isn’t the safest but it’s safer than taking her with them thena cting like it’s ALL lena’s fault when three of the children, again including launchpad, are down there because of HER. Not Lena, HER. I’m harder on her because she’s older, wiser and was “raised properly” apparently. Though given the way she treats a random teen off the street she again knows nothing about and dind’t bother to ask... it begs the question. 

IT’s a good question. I could see the classism coming from being raised in 40′s and 50′s britain, judging by the timeline.. but even then she’s seen the world, and while her nature is supscious, the classit bullshit makes no sense after presumibly working with, and later spymastering for, various agents of various backgrounds. How has she not dropped this in decades. Scrooge very clearly dropped the racisim and homophobia of his time, so it still stands  on her for not dropping this. And Lena’s hurt shows under hte mask for the first time, that beneath the snark and secrecy.. is just an abused teenager with nowhere else to go and no way out being bullied by an older woman whose cutting off the only light at the end of the tunnel nto for good reason but out of classist, overprotective mallice.  My issues, which to be fair probably were intentional in the episode but sitll are a bit overblown, aside we do get an absoluttley tremendous moment later as a car falls on top of Beakly.. and Magica, speaking once more urges Lena to leave her, let her die and let their plans progress. And while that iself is.. dumb, what if someone finds her or her corpse later, especially since Scrooge would likely perosnally want to retrive the body to give her a proper burial as she’s his only friend at this point, or the rest of the family questoin the story?, it fits Magica’s lack of foresight we see throughout the season. But Lena... saves her. While she later gives an explination, and a valid one at that, it’s clear from her expressoin, her actoins and how she does it... that this is her. Part of it is defiance, as she glares at Magica before doing it, her own stubborn nature mixed with her hatred of her “aunt”, meaning Magica just made it all too easy for her to do this. But the real reason is clear: It’s the right thing to do. While pissing off her aunt and getting away with it is the cherry on top.. the real reason is that unlike Magica.. Lena is not a killer, not a monster, and not a heartless vacum ofa person. Even if she doesn’t like Beakly, for good reason.. she can’t, she WON’T leave her to die and leave Webby an orphan again. She loves Webby too much to do that to her and while she may deny it.. she’s too good a person to leave someone to die for something so petty. Even if she never sees webby again and the plans ruined. It’s better than the weight of knowing she let someone who wasn’t trying to harm her and whose actions, while terrible, were out of misguided protection of her granddaughter, die like this. She saves her. And as we’ll see it pays off.. but before that. 

Huey, Webby and Louie: Into the Unknown This plot’s a bit shorter, as Webby and Huey continue their argument, with Louie eventually making it clear, and not even hiding it when directly asked by Huey, that he’s playing both sides with a delighted expression on his face as the movie was boring but this, this is interesting. Which it is. But it’s interupted by dings on the roof and while Huey assumes i’ts just a regular rock, it moves while their not lookiung.. and soon red eyed, horrifying beasts look out at them and the kids flee back to the car. This dosen’t pan out as the car starts to shake and is clearly going to collapse.. and while Webby and Louie are prepared to flee, rock monsters or no, Huey, in an utterly heart shattering image.. stays in place, terrified of moving. 

This is where this plot goes from mildly aggrivating, as Huey’s Skeptic shenanigans can get on the nerves.. to BRILLIANT. See at the time this was more annoying because it was assumed the skepticsim would be a part of Huey’s character and we’d get more episodes of him being annoying only to be proven wrong, as he semeingly dosen’t learn his lesson at this point, looging the terrafrimians in the guide book. But on rewatch.. this plot is amazing.  For starters the plot subtly introduced the defening characteristic of Huey’s personality, one that’s become more prounounced in Season 3: His need for Order. He needs things to make sense: He solves stuff because he likes there to be order in the world and something he can understand, he can put in a box in his head. Like a lot of neurotypical people, myself included, he struggles horribly when the clearly defined boxes of his life and things he undestand have wrinkles or complexities he can’t get. I for instnace easily got it when I was introduced to the concept of trans people or being non binary.. they just make sense in hindsight: given how our brains are messya nd complicated it makes sense some people would be born in the wrong ones, and tht with all the science and medicine we have to correct that, should be allowed to transition if they so choose. It makes equal sense that some people just don’t have a gender or are gender fluid, being both or neither. Despite struggling with non binary prounouns due to force of habit.. I get the concept with no real difficulty. But when it comes to accepting I don’t have to apologize for everything and that everyone is not angry or that anger is natural and people sometimes get mad and you can’t and shouldnt’ fix it.. it’s something I STRUGGLE with even knowing it’s not right, because my brain is just wired that way. 

That’s how Huey’s struggle comes off here.. he reveals he’s willing to stay and die.. because he’s SO scared of the unknown, that the idea of dying from something he at least knows what it is versus something he dosen’t.., so paralizyed by his own brain he can’t figure out the obvious.. it takes Webby reaching out to him figuratively and literally, to show him that sometimes you have to face the unknown. The unknown is fucking terrifying.. but it can be good and it’s better than sitting there, scared and unable to move. You have to try, to grow and take that risk that things may not go well to really LIVE. 

So he does.. and they reunite with the rest of the group.. and soon find the terrafirmains.. who as it turns out once we get some light on them... are actually just goofy looking,  brightly colored, each one matching one of the kids, kids themselves, and Huey reaches out and touches one, which by ET logic means their friends now, and the terrafirmians help them get out. And this lesson sticks. While sure Huey catalogues it and it seems it didn’t.. he’s never this skeptical again. This douchey skepticsim was only for one episode, his fear of the uknown replcaed with boundless curosity and from here on he’s CURIOUS about new stuff as long as it’s not trying to kill him. He loves taking in new experinces, maybe not to webby levels but he does actually try them and study them instead of just fearing them. 

Before we wrap things up, obviously we need to talk about the JWG not having entries on a lot of stuff. This would be corrected next season as it returns to being a big book of everything, but dosen’t completely contridct this as Timephoon! shows there’s stillcgaps.. which i’m fine with. While it knowing EVERYTHING was fine for the original series here, with things being slightly more groudned, it’d just be an obvious plothole if Huey didn’t use it every single time they ran into something and that’d get boring. Instead it’s simply that it dosen’t know everything, and really in the comics at times it didn’t and the triplets found out new things. It knew almost everything mind you, but having some gaps for dramatic tnesion is fine with me and Seasons 2 and 3 decided on that instead of just having it being a scouting manual which wa sfor the best. And even by later in the season hit has guides to getting a small buisness loan, so they already course corrected. 

So everything’s wrapped up and while Magica berates Lena for disobeying her.. Beakly interputps, thankfully not seeing magica and admits she was wrong and invites Lena for pancakes, even taking a crack about if their actually pancakes or english muffins with syrup, which sounds like my own living hell, in stride, having clearly grown. And Lena explains to Magica that this was the better approach: now she’s got the in theyw anted, and is above suspcison for now. Still not so much that an obvious act won’t be detected but enough that she dosen’t ahve to work actively around her anymore. Magica scoffs.. and while part of it is probably rage.. part of it is deep down both of them know she did it out of defiance.. and only Lena knows that she did it for the right reasons... she just dosen’t get why. She probably justifies it as playing the long game.. but deep down she knows something’s changing about her.. and she’s not sure if that’s a godo thing or not. 

Final Thoughts: This episode is as you can tell a mixed bag. It’s 2/3 of a good episode, with the Lena plot, my issues aside, being excellent and the Terra-Firmian plot likewise fun, even if Huey can get grating the payoff is worth it, and the jokes are really high quality. It’s just bogged down by that fucking launchpad plot that just crushed my soul in it’s palms every time it came back. I went on at length why i hated that one but boy oh boy was the hate of that subplot warranted and I stand by calling it the worst plot of the series. It is: it’s not funny, it makes no goddamn sense, and it drags down what’s otherwise a pretty solid epsiode.

Next Time on Lena: Jaws the shark, lurking in the dark, in the depths of the bin one day of a lark decides to get rowdy, get real violent takes a vacay out to Duckburg er.. Island.. also Scrooge faces his greatest Nemesis.. a PR Tour to clean up his image after an unfortunate giant Beanstalk Incident. Be there and be hip to be square. 

Next Time on This Blog: I Tackle a DCOM for the first time for another commissioned review as we take a look at racisim, specifically Apartheid and breaking indoctrination, with The Color of Friendship. See you next Rainbow. 

[themousetales]

The Meeting: Hazel and Thyme (Part one!)

- 1 -

Hazel walked the damp streets, she heard the sounds of drips from the trees hitting the wet pavement. She let out a small shiver as she kept walking, and held her purple scarf close to her for a brief moment as she felt her stomach starting to demand some food,and something to drink. She took a deep breath and let her nose continue to lead her in hopes she’d find somewheres that looked good. She only recently moved to this small city. It was bigger than her home town, but it wasn’t a huge city. Not like some of the ones she’s heard others talk about, but big enough she hasn’t explored the whole place yet. As she walked she heard her heels click along the paved roads, and eventually she stopped in front of a shop. From the window peering in, she could tell it was very home-y. Almost like a cafe, but it had flowers in the window, like lavender hanging from string. She also noticed other herbs hanging up in the window too like sage, and stinging nettle. She looked for a moment longer, and for some reason she felt herself wanting to go in. Hazel always followed gut when it told her to do things, and at this moment her body was telling her to go into this cute little shop. She was also curious. So she opened the door and as she did, her red mouse ears flicked as she heard a bell chime, and she noticed another mouse girl. She felt a bit silly, why didn’t she notice the clerk before? Maybe she was bent down? Or maybe her senses were off a bit due to being so hungry, she just didn’t notice. The mouse girl in the shop, she had on a small witches hat, and a cute mori kei styled dress on, and a little apron on that was a soft tan color. Her hair was a soft golden blonde color, with what looked like flicks of strawberry blonde. The strawberry blonde hair was long. Hazel stared for just a moment, and then quickly noticed she was just standing in the doorway, allowing the cool outside air to wisk passed her, and come uninvited into the warm shop. Hazel, cluing into this, quickly shut the door behind her and started to blush. The mouse girl invited her in. “Hello, and welcome! I don’t think I’ve met you before have I?” The girl asked. Hazel, looking a little confused, shook her head no. “Oh, um… N-no. I was just walking by, and became curious…” The mouse girl nodded, as if she hasn’t heard this before. “Mhm! I thought so, I typically remember everyone who stops by... But you're in time, I just put a kettle on, I’m making some thistle tea. Would you like a cup?” Hazel thought for a moment, taking a pause. “Its free, don’t worry. I don’t charge for the tea here. I grow it in the back garden.” The mouse girl added. Hazel then nodded her head. “I’ll take a tea, thank you.” The shop keeper mouse nodded her head and ducked into the back room for a moment to get the tea ready. As the shopkeeper disappeared into the back room, Hazel decided to explore the little shop a bit as she pulled off her scarf. As Hazel pulled off her scraf, and she let her hair down a bit, it was a sharp red color, and it was also very long. The little shop was an odd mixture of a bakery, and a herbalist supply shop - almost. So it had some seating, with four tables tucked away in the corner of the shop. It also had a little display area, keeping bread and baked goodies both warm and safe. As she looked at the baked goodies, she noticed a lot were infused with herbs. Rose, and lavender, lemon, and orange peel seemed to be the most common. Every baked goodie had a handwritten list of ingredients and also the intention to whom might want it. Hazel smiled softly when she figured it out. “Ah” She thought to herself, she kept looking around, and she started to notice more rather obvious signs to herself now. She noticed bags of herbs, freshly chopped, up for sale, each of them writing down what they are good for, she saw both hanging flowers, and bagged flowers which followed suit, and quickly she noticed the tea section, which had a lot of the same description for what tea might be good for what, but her eye noticed some of the

house blends. They were titled as ‘Thyme specials:” and then a clear and carefully written out purpose behind each tea. Such as Tea’s for a full moon, new moon, to new friendship, new beginnings. She figured it out quickly and soon enough, this was probably why her gut was pulling her into a place like this. She was meant to meet another witch and not be so alone and isolated anymore! As Hazel looked, she grew feeling amazed. She found herself wondering many questions, and her brain started to spin, and as those questions started to form, the shop mouse came out of the back room, carrying a tray. She was balancing a teapot, with two tea cups on a tray. The tea cups were a beautiful shade of light brown, with a gold trim, and the teapot matched. On the tray was small dishes, one had some sugar cubes, a small honey dish and a small milk jug was on the tray too. Although Hazel couldn’t see them yet, there was also two bronze plated tea spoons on the tray as well, for each of them to use. The shop keeper, she carefully walked over to a table and slowly set the tray down. Hazel, who was full of questions, now approached the table. She was excited to finally meet a witch locally. Or at least, what she hoped was a witch! Hazel’s face grew with excitement, and she had a big smile on her face as she felt so alone since she moved here, and to finally meet someone who was a witch too was very exciting for her! But not only that, but it seemed like this shop keeper was about the same age as Hazel, and had already had a business in an actual location! They both ended up sitting down, and the shop keeper poured tea into each tea cup, and then took some honey, and added that into one cup followed by milk, she then offered Hazel to do the same. “I haven’t introduced myself yet.” The shop keeper said. “My name is Thyme, and this is my shop, I realize now I probably should’ve told you that before. Sorry about that.” She giggled softly. Thyme seemed really relaxed and calm, her giggle wasn’t a nervous one. Hazel added some sugar to her cup, and took a spoon off the tray, and started to stir her tea. “Oh! Don’t worry about it, I probably just had poor timing.” Hazel said. “I’m Hazel.” “Not poor timing. More like perfect timing. I kept getting a feeling today I was going to meet someone special!” Thyme smiled softly. They to sat for a moment, each still stirring there tea, and then finally taking a sip. Hazel wanted to ask many questions, but didn’t want to overwhelm Thyme. While Thyme herself was curious herself and had some questions to ask. “What do you think of my shop?” Thyme finally asked. Haze,l who was sipping on her tea, put the tea down for a second, and thought to herself. Hazel was starting to fall in love with the shop, as it allowed Thyme to work her magic through the shop. Hazel, being a new witch, and a recently located witch. She’s been going through stopping at peoples houses and doing readings for tarot cards and other dividation privately in peoples homes. Because of this, she wasn’t able to haul much with her. She had her little bag she’d bring with her. But, if she owned a shop like what Thyme had, Having a location where people come too - is a wonderful dream come true. She could sell much more, and also have private readings in the comfort of her own space, and at home visits could be less. “I love it!” Hazel started to blurt out. “I-I mean! I like it! I like that you don’t have to travel to people. And that people come to you! I also like that it feels like a cozy home meets bakery with a small area for supplies. The energy to this place too is very inviting. It’s relaxing to be in here, and I feel like I could be in here all day. Although… I’m not sure how my current wallet feels about all of the goodies I keep smelling.” As Hazel started to compliment the shop, Thyme started to giggle again. She was pleased and very happy to hear from a fellow witch about her shop, and about her baking. “Thank you!” Thyme started to reply. “I’m happy to hear from a fellow witch who can notice the

work and energy that goes into keeping such a space… hmm… I guess this mean then that you’ve been doing the walk around town? I remember that part being very hard on my poor feet.” Thyme stated. “I will say through, the walk around town for my first year, I feel like that’s where i’ve made the most loyal guests. I still do house calls sometimes, but a lot of them enjoy dropping by.” Slowly over tea, the two girls talked about what it’s like to be witches in a newer area for the both of them, and what it was like to be away from home, and to deal with their witches powers, and grow. For Hazel it was nice to just hear from someone who had started out, just like she did. They also talked about what it was like to have non-magical clients and the expectations some of them have. As they chatted Thyme would stop her from time to time as, - not to be rude. But because she’d have people entering the shop and she wanted to help her ‘guests’. When this happened Hazel watched, studying her almost. Thyme would put a lot of energy into talking to her guests and making sure they had everything they wanted, she never called them customers either. The exchanges would never be long. (WattPad Link)

[justthehiddleswrites]

Bah Hiddleston | Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon) | Chapter 3 | Not What I Expected

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon)

Summary:  Tamra Harmon has no mind to mess with Christmas. All that talk about Christmas magic and the joy of the holidays is just a bunch of mumbo jumbo. But will a chance encounter with perennial Christmas lover Tom Hiddleston change all that?

This chapter:   Luke is not pleased with Tom’s scheme but Tom is relentless in his pursuit to find Tamra’s Christmas spirit. Perhaps a bit of Christmas shopping will do the trick.

Warnings for story: smut, oral sex, implied smut, vaginal sex, light angst

-

“What on earth do you need to tell me at 10 at night two weeks before Christmas?” Luke’s voice boomed through the phone as Tom walked up the stairs to his home.

“Listen Luke, I thought I should be the first to tell you… for once,” Tom muttered those last words.

“Tell me what, Tom.” Luke spat back.

“Over the next few days you might see pictures of me with a mystery blonde woman. Nothing is going on between us. We are just friends.” Tom blurted out before he realized what he had said.

Silence. “Luke?” Tom asked.

“Sorry, mate. I’m marking down the date as the STUPIDEST FUCKING THING EVER!!”

Tom held the phone away from his ear. “Did you really need to shout, Luke?!” Tom replied, anger growing. “For once, I call you ahead of time to tell you about some upcoming potential problem and I am rewarded with you bellowing in my ear. Now I appreciate why they say it’s better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.”

“I might have overreacted.”

“Might?!”

“I overreacted. Apologies. Now pray tell why you are hanging around with a mystery blonde woman?”

“None of your business.” Tom snapped as he flicked the light on in his bedroom, Bobby nipping at his heels.

“In your fucking dreams, Thomas!” Tom overheard a loud thud in the background.

“How’s your hand?”

“Hurts.”

“Next time don’t bang it against the counter. Now if you can keep calm, I will explain that it is none of your business because there is not nothing to manage. She is a friend in town for the next two weeks and she is keeping me company through the holidays.”

“When do I get to meet her?”

“If everything goes to plan, never. Luke, trust me. I got this under control.”

Luke sighed heavy into the phone. “The last time I trusted you, I didn’t sleep for three days.”

“I’m not living that down, am I?”

“Not in the foreseeable future.” Luke grunted. “Okay, Tom, I won’t push you for information for now. But if things get crazy, you will force my hand.”

“Fair enough. You are a good friend and a great publicist.”

“I won’t argue with you on that point. Goodnight Tom.”

“Night Luke.”

Tom hung up the phone and changed into pajamas before sliding underneath the blankets of his inviting bed. But sleep did not come. His mind raced at the possibilities for tomorrow. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and pulled up the web browser. Before long, he found himself engrossed in the website for the British Museum.

“I really need to get out more.” he muttered to himself as he scrolled the site.

“Oh, this is perfect!” he exclaimed as something came across the screen. He tapped the screen a few times to purchase tickets before setting the phone back down. He drifted off to sleep with a smug smile on his face.

-

Tamra awoke the next morning to a loud pounding. At first, she thought she was dreaming, but the pounding became more insistent and more frantic. She popped open one eye to view light streaming through the window next to the bed.

“Go away!” Tamara yelled at the unknown knocker as she rose to answer the door, wrapping a robe around her frame.

“What do you—” Tamra groaned as she opened the door. Tom bursted through running hard into her shoulder.

“I have been ringing you for an hour! I almost called the police! Did you not hear your phone?”

Tamra rubbed her shoulder, still sore from the first encounter with Tom.

“Are you made from marble? That hurts.” Tom gave a withering glance towards her. Tamra rolled her eyes. “Sorry! Heard of jet lag?”

“You worried me. Now get dressed so we can get breakfast.”

“Now?”

“No, tomorrow. Yes now! We are burning daylight as we speak.”

“Oh god.” Tamra groaned as she turned away from Tom still standing in her kitchen.

“Oh god what? What have I done now to earn a Tamra Harmon groan?”

“It’s… you’re a morning person aren’t you?” she rifled through the drawers to find clothes for the day.

“You say that like being a morning person a bad thing.”

“It is. I’m going to take a shower.”

Tom moved as if to follow her before stopping in his tracks when she shot daggers at him.

“I’m joking. I am the consummate gentleman. Lighten up.”

“I’ll lighten up once I get coffee.” Tamra yelled as she disappeared into the bathroom.

“That can be arranged.” Tom whispered to himself as he surveyed the small flat.

The whole place was small but well appointed. A small kitchen and living area with the bed tucked into one corner. Tom settled onto the small couch as he waited for Tamra to finish getting ready. He spied a well worn folded piece of paper on a nearby table. He glanced to check if Tamra was ready yet and then rose to pick it up.

“What are you doing?” Tamra’s voice rang out as Tom unfolded the sheet of paper.

“Looking at your…” Tom turned his head to the side to read the paper as he righted it. “… itinerary. My, you have planned things out haven’t you?”

“Give that back!” Tamra snapped as she moved to rip the paper from Tom’s hand but he moved too quick, holding the paper high above his head. Tamra took two jumps before retrieving the paper. She folded the paper back up before tucking the whole thing into her wallet.

“Now what is the plan today?” Tamra asked as she grabbed her coat, impatient to get Tom out of her flat.

“We can discuss that over breakfast because I promised you coffee. I found a place down the road that serves the best French pastries.”

“Color me intrigued. Lead the way, tour guide.” Tamra opened the door and Tom stepped through.

They took the short walk to La Gauloise and Tom held the door for Tamra. The small cafe smelled of warm bread and coffee. Tamra took a deep breath. Tom looked over and smiled at the sight of her taking in the smells, eyes closed.

“Shall we?” Tamra nodded. Tom ordered two coffees and two pain au chocolats. The cashier turned to fixed the coffee.

“Pain chocolate?” Tamra wrinkled her nose.

“Pain au chocolat.” Tom repeated with a French flair. “It’s a croissant with chocolate in the middle.”

Tamra grabbed the bag of pastries while Tom sat a nearby table. “Do you eat any meals without chocolate in them?”

“Usually yes, but it is the holidays. I like to indulge.” he raised his hands.

“Fair enough.” Tamra took a bite with the pastry shattering against her face. “So we should go to Victoria and Albert—”

“I already made the plans for the day.” Tom fished an envelope from his jacket. “Here.”

Tamra opened the envelope to find a printout for tickets to a lecture at the British Museum. “You bought tickets to a lecture?”

“I did.”

“But the lecture isn’t until 5:30.”

Tom leaned over to glance and what he already knew. “So it is. I guess we will need to do something else to fill the day.” Tom’s pulled into a smug expression.

“That’s not part of our deal.” Tom held up a finger to shush her.

“Our deal is that you get to go to one museum a day and I get to show you the wonders of Christmas.”

“But…”

“No buts, I have fulfilled by part of the bargain. Now…” Tom leaned in close to Tamra. “How do you feel about Christmas shopping?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

-

“When you said Christmas shopping, I did not expect this.” Tamra yelled after Tom down the aisle.

Tom popped his head around as he jogged back. “Did you expect Harrod’s? Personal shoppers? Glitz and glamour?”

“Kind of.”

Tom moved in close to whisper in her ear. “I’m not that kind of celebrity.” And he took off down another aisle.

“But a bookstore?”

“Foyle’s is perfect. Books are the perfect present.”

“For a nerd.”

“Are you insulting my people?” Tom said in mock hurt.

“Not at all. I am your people.” She said with a smile.

“Excellent. Now help me find a book suitable for my younger sister?”

Tamra laughed before taking off towards the fiction section. The two of them spent the better part of the morning roaming the store, picking out books as both presents and a few for themselves. Tom insisted on paying for everything and even arranged for the store hold the purchases until tomorrow when someone would pick them up. While they shopped, a light dusting of snow collected on the ground and a brisk wind blew as they stepped outside. Tamra pulled her jacket tight around her but it did little to keep the wind from chilling her bones.

“We must do something about your jacket.” Tom commented as he buttoned his own wool coat up.

“I’m fine.”

“Your teeth are chattering. You’re not fine. Just let me help you.”

Tom grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her inside a clothing store. He didn’t let go until they stood in front of a confused sales associate.

“She needs a warm coat for the inclement weather. Preferably wool.”

The sales associate looked Tamra up and down. She raised an eyebrow at Tamra’s thin jacket.

“I’m from Florida.” Tamra offered.

“I see.” the sale associate replied, a smile growing across her face. “We have the thing.” She led Tamra off to a far wall by the arm, while Tom chuckled from behind.

By the time Tom reached the two women, Tamra wore a grey wool pea coat, very similar to Tom’s.

“And you can match your boyfriend.” the sales associate said, out of earshot from Tom.

“Not my boyfriend.” Tamra hissed.

“Could have fooled me.”

“How are the two of you getting along?” Tom popped in. Tamra jumped. “You look smashing.”

“Thanks. I will wear it out of the store.”

The associate snipped the tag and Tom again insisted on paying.

“I can pay my own way, Tom.”

“I respect your wishes, but I want to pay. Consider it my gentlemanly duty.”

Tamra rolled her eyes.

“Let him pay, darling.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Tom finished the transaction, and they headed out of the store. The snow fell more steady as they stepped back out.

“Warmer?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tom’s stomach growled. “We skipped lunch.”

Tamra’s stomach growled in response. “We did.”

“Let’s walk until we find a place to eat.”

Tamra nodded in agreement. As they walked, they passed by the Donmar Warehouse. Tom tugged on Tamra’s sleeve.

“That’s the Donmar Warehouse. I played Coriolanus there.”

Tamra noticed how Tom’s eyes twinkled as he talked about his time performing. Tamra looked at him in wonder.

“You really love Shakespeare.”

“I feel the most alive when I perform the Bard’s work.” Tom responded. He grabbed her hand for a moment and squeezed. “But right now, I may not go on living if we don’t get sustenance soon.”

“Agreed.”

They found a restaurant and sat down for a bite to eat. They continued to talk about work as they ate. Tom asked about Tamra’s job at the museum.

“I love being a curator!” she exclaimed. “Putting the exhibits together and imparting all the knowledge to our visitors. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

Tom leaned onto his elbows. Not once since he met her, Tamra never spoke with such passion as she did about her job. Tom found himself hanging on her words.

“I can tell you care about your work. It is rare to come across that sort dedication and passion these days.”

Tamra blushed. “Thank you, you’re making me blush. You seemed to be passionate as well. While I don’t share your enthusiasm for Christmas, I appreciate your passion for your work and life. More people could do with a healthy dose of passion.”

“Now it’s my turn to blush.”

They finished their meal and headed off to the British Museum. The lecture was titled “A Tudor Christmas”. Not a particularly interesting topic for Tom but he figured Tamra would appreciate the history aspect. He was not wrong.

Tamra hung on every word of the lecturer. She didn’t notice Tom sneaking glances at her throughout the lecture, smiling the entire time. When the lecture ended, Tamra jumped up to move to the front. Tom waited for the room to empty before heading to meet Tamra. Tom saw here towering over the diminutive lecturer, gesturing wildly.

“Lovely talk.” Tom shook the hand of the lecture. “My friend here really enjoyed it.”

Tamra nodded. They continued to talk for a few more minutes before leaving the now empty lecture room.

-

“Did you enjoy the talk about Christmas?” Tom asked outside of Tamra’s flat.

“I enjoyed the talk about history. Christmas happened to be the topic of that lecture.”

“I bet you are a hit at cocktail parties with that winning conversational style.”

Tamra did a little curtsy and twirl. “You should see me in a dress.”

“Another time. I will pick you up tomorrow.”

“Goodnight Tom.”

“Wake up in the morning this time.”

“I make no promises.”

Tamra smiled as she extended her hand to Tom. He took it and then pulled her into an embrace.

“Just so you know, I’m not above breaking and entering.” Tom whispered into her ear.

Tamra pulled away laughing. “Goodnight, psycho.” She closed the door behind her.

Tom pulled his phone from his pocket.

“Ben. Yes I’m aware of the time. I’m sorry if I woke the kids. Yes, get Sophie on the line.”

Tom tapped his foot.

“I need a favor.”

[zmediaoutlet]

fic: survivors

Title: survivors Rating: E Wordcount: 4466 Relationship: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester Warnings: Season/Series 13, Post-Episode: s13e22 Exodus, Established Relationship, Happy Sex Summary: After getting all the refugees out of the apocalypse world and leaving Lucifer in it, Sam and Dean take some we-time.  (from @sketchydean ‘s prompt: all survivor, no guilt.)

This was my first time posting in Salt, Burn, Porn -- thank you so much for the timing, because I wouldn’t have been able to knock out this fic on like any other night this week, haha.

*

(read on AO3)

There's like a hundred people in their house. Dean's not—he doesn't hate it, at least not for the night, but he sure as hell could do with a little privacy. And, okay, it's not a hundred people—it's not even a house—but it's theirs, and he never really thought of it as a boarding house, a halfway station on the way to—what? He doesn't know, and he doesn't think any of them do either. Bobby, or at least this guy who's passing for Bobby—he's in charge, more or less, and so Dean just does what he always does. He checks out the situation, he makes a list, he does what needs to get done.

Ketch disappears fast; so does Charlie (other-Charlie), for some reason. Mom's looking after a lady who it turns out might be pregnant, and Dean's not touching that situation with a fifty-foot pole. Castiel talks to Rowena, and Jack—Jack ain't talking to anybody, and Dean looks at Sam and Sam's already looking right at Jack, his eyebrows tugged into a flat straight line over distant eyes, and maybe Dean's not touching that with a pole of any length at all, at least not right now. Everyone's drinking up his stash and they're gonna need more food, more blankets, more cots, more space, but for right now, he needs to smell less like apocalypse-ash and grave-dirt. He's smelled enough of both for a lifetime; not fair to bring it home with him.

Shower's empty, somehow. Refugees swarming his halls and they haven't found the whole bunker's best friggin' feature. Well, Dean was due a lucky day. He boils his skin off for about ten minutes, just glorying in hot water, in water pressure. He swabbed his ass with a literal rag in a literal bucket over in Shitville. If all the refugees actually make it back with a plan to save the day, he hopes for their sake it involves some kind of legit plumbing. When he feels sufficiently disinfected he brings the temp down, grabs the soap, lathers up. Scrubs his scalp all minty-fresh and rinses off and feels like an entirely new person, and when he's free of bubbles he drags pruny hands over his face under the water and opens his eyes and there's Sammy, leaning with his ass against one of the sinks and two glasses of whiskey on the shelf next to him and a little smile on his face, watching.

"Perv," Dean sputters, like his heart's not turning over in his chest. Sammy.

"Takes one," Sam says, smile tucked up into the soft piled-up fold of his cheek, a dimple carved in deep. Ridiculous, Dean thinks, and watches Sam's eyes drop. He turns around, making sure the water's carving off all the soap bubbles, carrying away all that otherworld nastiness, and knows Sam's watching that, too, and how is it possible that after years of this—after, christ alive, almost twenty years of this—he can still get riled up just from how Sam looks at him.

Water off and he pushes his hair back, and when he turns around he catches the towel Sam throws into his chest. "Everybody settled?" he says, and Sam shrugs. "We're gonna have to clean out a Super Walmart of camping supplies, man. I don't think the Letters planned for a whole village to move in."

"We'll figure it out," Sam says. Relaxed, like he hasn't been in—shit. Dean can't even remember. He dries off, pricklingly aware of being watched. Bright in here. Maybe he can blame the heat in his face on the hot water. "Man. Seriously, did you burn yourself? You're like a lobster."

"Benefit of having an angel friend," Dean says, wrapping the towel around his waist. He steps out of the shower pan and the concrete's cool on his feet, the glass Sam holds out for him cooler, the whiskey inside just the right amount of burn. He licks his lips, scrapes his teeth over his lip, and up this close he can smell Sam: blood and mud, an edge like rotting forest floor. Gross, except that it's Sam. He remembers what he was saying only belatedly. "Got any burns, you can get 'em healed up, lickety-split."

"Lickety-split," Sam echoes, eyebrows pulled up like he's making fun of Dean, and he is, but Dean's found it in himself this last handful of years to be okay with that. To look forward to that. Sam doesn't make fun unless he's okay, and that little dig, that eyeroll before he takes a sip. That's Sammy, a-okay. What a miracle.

"You reek," Dean informs him, soft as a tub of mallow-fluff on the inside, and Sam wrinkles his nose, shrugs. "Yeah," he says, and hands his glass to Dean, and that means Dean gets to watch as he strips out of the unfamiliar stained sweatshirt, his undershirt below smeared with old blood, with vamp juice, with handprints Dean doesn't want to recognize. He drops them to the floor, heels off his boots, and then—belt, jeans, socks, boxers, and he's tanned and naked and whole, unmarked in any way that counts. Dean drains his own glass and sips at Sam's left-behind one, watches Sam under the shower. His eyes closed under the water. The rust-brown streaking away, uncovering the tattoo they share. His hair slicking against his skin, dark almost to black, on his skull and that patch in the center of his chest and at his crotch, his dick heavy and soft, the water limning it, dripping, a pouring river Dean could stop with his mouth, if experience didn't tell him he'd choke on it. Right now he maybe wouldn't mind, but. They got guests.

Still. "What are you doin'," Dean says, real quiet. Sam doesn't hear him over the rush of the water, there's no way, but he turns off the taps and pushes his hair off his forehead and looks at Dean anyway, and they can't, they got work to do and there's too many people around, they both know it. Still.

The Walmart's three towns down the road. Dean doesn't ask Sam to come; he comes anyway. Clean clothes that are his own, that smell like their detergent. Mom and Bobby can be in charge of all the strangers for a while. It's a pretty quick trip, especially with Dean driving as fast as he's driving, and he cranks up Appetite for Destruction and Sammy doesn't even complain, and they don't talk, and with it loud like that the guitar solo's still rattling in Dean's bones when he's moving quick around the fluorescent aisles, grabbing everything he can think of that'll fit in the car. Sam's got his own cart and they see each other on the turns and Sam grins at him, every time, basket fuller and fuller with soap and toothbrushes and pillow cases, underwear in three-packs, socks in ten-packs, bread and cheese, carrot sticks because Sam's a damn rabbit. Dean tells him so, when they pass each other with Dean on his way to the electronics section, and there behind a gondola of basketballs Sam says, "Vitamins aren't the enemy, jerk," and then like it's nothing fits his hand big around the back of Dean's neck and tugs him in for a kiss. It rings through Dean's head, bright as a brass gong. Quick, and Sam's smiling, thumbs at the corner of Dean's mouth and pushes him away and strides off with one janky cart-wheel rattling, and Dean's left in the rubbery smell of the basketballs, thinking, burner phones, but his brain's not quite operating on all cylinders. Call in the pit crew, he thinks, touching his damp lip and thinking of the store cameras, but. If Sam doesn't care then he doesn't, either. So. Burner phones.

They fill the trunk and the backseat besides, piled high enough with crap and three of their good cards burned. Dean revs the engine and Sam says, "my turn," and Dean doesn't object, and with Sam's choice of tape thumping the car body and sailing out through the open windows into the cornfields they race home, clouds scudding over the moon. Dean's never actually known what Bron-y-Aur is, but the song's great anyway, especially with Sam clapping the side of his thigh along with the beat.

At the bunker someone's built a fire in the shelter of the entrance and a few of the refugees are sitting around it, beers clutched in their hands. They stand up fast at seeing the car, fear softening out of their faces when they see that it's just them—and Dean has no compunctions about pressing them to work, either, even if Sam's mouth does a complicated thing. "Food in the kitchen, and you guys got someone who knows how to cook?" A lady scoffs, accepts a bag piled high with crap for sandwiches. "There we go. Yeah, and there's a shower down in the west hall, y'all figure that out how you want, okay? Someone tell Mary we've got some clothes for the kids, and tell Bobby Singer there's a hat in here that won't be frankly embarrassing if anyone else sees him."

"Dude," Sam says, but he's still smiling, and Dean raises his eyebrows like, who, me? Sam rolls his eyes—but then all the strangers have cleared away with all their purchases and Dean fishes out the bourbon bottle he hid up in the driver-side footwell and Sam sighs, but he's still goddamn smiling, like no other day Dean can remember in the past five hundred. He jerks his head and Sam follows him up around the hill over the back of the bunker, the narrow unused path up to the abandoned plant, and through the shouldered-open door to the huge empty cathedral-vault of the thing, and through the archway to the old control room, where there's still a used-to-be-blue couch and an electric lantern from when Dean would hide up here sometimes in rougher days, and where when Dean lights it Sam tugs him around by his hand and tilts his head up and kisses him, not like before in the linoleum-squeaky aisle but for real, like he means it, soft and full, his fingertips on the back of Dean's ear, his nose cold somehow even in the summer-spring air.

Dean breathes him, holds his bicep through the washed-soft flannel. His mouth, tasting clean. "Sammy," he says, when Sam pulls back to breathe, and Sam laughs somehow, happy-sounding. Happy, Sammy. Doesn't go together that often in Dean's experience and he doesn't even know how to countenance it. But who cares, he thinks, lifting up and biting Sam's lip. Finds himself smiling, for his own part, and hell. Who cares, if it's true.

He didn't think about glasses, but it's not the first time they've necked a bottle. They collapse onto the couch in huge poofing plumes of dust, their knees knocked together, Dean's ankle hooked over Sam's by happenstance and then by choice. "Good day?" Dean says, and Sam toasts him with the whiskey, eyes crinkling and familiar even in the blue-white blast of the lantern light.

"Had worse," he says, and sips, and hands Dean the bottle, and Dean can toast right back to that. They've had a hell of a lot worse. Any day where Sam was dead and came back to him, that's—that's a good one. Swallow goes down like fire and he takes the burn, the sting at the corner of his eyes. Sam takes it back from him, takes his hand too. Squeezes, his thumb dragging hard over the bump of Dean's palm, up to the knot of veins where his pulse feels shaky-wobbly as a kid trying out legs for the first time, and Sam’s smile goes from cocky to warm, just like that. "Name a better day."

"That time Lucinda Morris kissed you on a bet," Dean says, promptly, his heart not in it. Sam rolls his eyes. "Or, hey, how about that time with those identical twins, Callie and—uh, the other one, and they wanted—"

"Callie and Courtney," Sam says, "and I thought we agreed we weren't going to talk about that."

"Could've been hot," Dean argues back, for what's probably the dozenth time, but it's not like it matters. Sam still hasn't let go of his hand, and they're not usually—it's been a while. Since it was easy, like this. He almost wants the other shoe to drop, just to get it over with, but oh man if he hasn't been owed an easy night. His heart feels full of helium, soaring up to make a lump in his throat. "Sammy, guess what." Sam's eyebrows raise, dutifully. "You took care of him."

Zero guesses, who Dean means. Sam gets it immediately and his mouth does something all kinds of complicated, his eyelids lowering. "Yeah," he says, like it's somehow sore, and Dean reaches over and grips a handful of buttons and flannel, hauls with all his strength, and Sam comes, pulled over the top of him, half-laughing in surprise, propped over Dean suddenly, his eyes right there for Dean to see. He shrugs, bites the corner of his mouth. Dissembling like it's nothing. Liar. "We don't know what happened. Jack's not talking, you notice that?"

Dean touches his throat, his neck, warm and whole, where he'd seen the lifeblood gouting out of him. "Don't care," he says, and it's true. Jack'll come around, and it doesn't—matter. Not like this does. "I hope Michael took his head off."

Sam huffs, eyes bright. His hair's haloed in blue-white. "I hope it hurt a lot more than that," he says, quiet like it's a secret, but he's smiling bright and wide again. Dean's brother, happy and a little vicious, and Dean's heart could about blow up. Sam's eyes go all over his face, his hand wide on Dean's cheek, his jaw, and Dean touches his chest, feels the swell of his breath. Watches Sam's tongue wet his lip. "That door lock?" Sam says.

Dean spreads his legs, and says, "No," grinning after, and Sam huffs again and dips and kisses him anyway, drags his mouth open, that helium spinning up and lighting through his whole head. He feels drunk, high. Sam's hot, and when he shifts over he's heavy, too, and Dean doesn't want him moving. Sam's thigh settles along his, his hand on Dean's head and his dick riding against Dean's hip, making itself known, and oh, man, it has been too long, been so many days far too long, long enough that Sam could be five feet away in their own kitchen and Dean'd be missing him, life fucking them over like it so often did and not leaving time for this. At least not time to do this right.

"Oh," Sam says, breathes. He drags his thumb over Dean's eyebrow for some reason, his other hand slipping under Dean's shirt to feel his belly. It sucks in without his say-so, tingly shock of sensation. Sam hooks an arm under his lower back, tips his weight in so Dean's dick pushes against his stomach. Dean makes a noise and Sam's mouth quirks, and Dean hits him in shoulder.

"Smug bitch," he says, and Sam says, "Oh, you haven't seen smug," like a promise, and then his brow furrows, even as he's hitching Dean up into his lap in a haul of easy muscle, a show like—like it's five years ago, longer, and Sam was in that body-building phase. Still strong, enough that Dean's seriously straining the limits of what his jeans should take. "Man. Wish we had something, I want—"

He shakes his head. His hands on Dean's ass, big, squeezing, his chin tilted up so Dean can lay kisses on his mouth, his cheekbone, holding his head still for it. Sweat's starting up at Sam's hairline, his body overheating predictable as always, and Dean smiles, presses his lips to the scratch of Sam's sideburn, smells him. "Who's your favorite brother," he says, and Sam digs fingers into his back and clutches like he always does when Dean reminds him of what they're doing—like it was ever in fucking question, like somehow he could ever forget—but then Dean plunges his hand into the super sketchy crack between couch-cushion and -back and comes up with—

"What the hell," Sam puffs out, when he looks at what Dean's pressing into his hand, and Dean shrugs, smiling down. Who's smug now. "Tell me you didn't get this from the hobo couch."

Dean smacks the back of his head. "Dumbass," he says, and Sam raises his eyebrows and smacks his ass in retaliation, light but enough to—ah, yeah. Dean shakes his head, tugs Sam's hair. "No, obviously, but uh, sometimes you need a little privacy, you know, and—look, it's not dried up, don't look a lube horse in the mouth, okay. Gratitude, Sammy."

Wrinkled nose and Sam says, "Please never say lube horse again," and yeah, that's—that's Dean's brother, and it's proved more when he's hauled around again, dumped onto his back, his head bouncing against the dusty cushion. He sneezes, spreads his legs wider, and Sam drags a hand along his thigh, hot through the denim, Dean's muscle flexing up into it without his brain being involved, his heart thudding low in the pit of his belly it feels like, his skin aching. "We don't have time," Sam says, like he's got any goddamn intention of doing a thing but what he's doing. "This is nuts."

"When are we not?" Dean says, inviting, and Sam laughs like he knew Dean was going to say that, and maybe he did, maybe after enough years they're just predictable like this, an old married couple working the same ruts and rhythms. Only—Dean doesn't think most old married couples get days like this, days of forty hours with no sleep and running on fourth winds, days of fighting and killing and saving lives, and definitely they don't get Sammy, whole and particularly, always, himself. That alone makes this something that's all theirs, and he's damn lucky, in this way if in no other, that he gets it. He bites his lip, Sam's eyes dark and watchful. "We can be quick."

Like he has to coax, with that look on Sam's face. He goes for Sam's belt first and tugs, and Sam starts unbuttoning his plaid, shucking it backwards over the edge of the couch by the time Dean's unbuttoned and -zipped, has Sam's dick full and heavy in his hand. God, he loves this thing. Feeling's mutual. Dry warm skin, the edge of pubes crinkling his fingertips when he gets a real pull in, and he tucks his fingers down, brushes Sam's balls where they're still tucked heavy into his boxer-briefs. His mouth waters. "How quick?" he says, answering his own question.

Sam snorts, touches Dean's mouth. Gets his thumb licked, sucked in, and groans for it. Yeah, Dean knows what Sam's after. "Quicker than that," Sam says, though, and dips down, replaces his thumb with his lips, opens up Dean's jeans and lets Dean take care of dragging off his boots—awkward, scraping against floor and wooden couch-edge until they strain over his heels—and then leans back and tucks his fingers in and drags boxers and jeans off all in one go, so Dean's left Donald Ducking it in the warm dusty air, his socks still on. His dick swings lazy against his thigh, his balls full and ready, wanting, and Sam cups them up, out of the way, drags his thumb into Dean's crack. "God," he says, like he didn't mean for Dean to hear, "I thought—"

—and he doesn't finish but Dean doesn't want to hear it, not right now. He knows that look on Sam's face, too, and his nuts and gut and heart all ache too hard to have to think that way. "Sam, get the lube," he says, easy demand, and Sam's eyes snap to his face, his thoughts redirected along safer lines. When Sam's thinking with his dick the easiest thing in the world is for Dean to say that he needs something and Sam—yeah, he shoves his jeans down, pulls his undershirt up out of the way, slicks his dick ready to give it to him. Shining, in the white light, the head heavy, dark with blood. Dean touches it, gets his fingers wet and watches Sam's face flinch—touches himself, between the legs, and smears slick all over, barely dipping inside. "Come on," he says, and doesn't have to playact to put the right need in it.

"Sure?" Sam says—liar, like he's gonna stop—pushing Dean's thighs open right there on the nasty couch, their mom somewhere under the dirt twenty yards below them, fuck, they haven't done this with her in the same state ever before—and it's a shove, the wet head bulling in, Dean holding the backs of his knees and tipping his head back so Sam can't see how it tears at him—but his body remembers this, it knows what it means when Sam's here, when they're together, and he breathes and feels that sticky-parting, the full open shove that means—that it's Sam—

"Oh, fuck," he says, when Sam's seated. Sam laughs again, the crazy bitch, he smears a slick hand over Dean's dick and grips the lapels of Dean's canvas shirt in both hands, tugs him down, bullies himself somehow deeper. Goddamn. "Jesus, Sam, you can't fuck my throat from that side."

His voice is all screwed up, anyway. He gives up on keeping himself open and reaches down, grips Sam's thighs through his jeans, arches his hips and feels the slick fat drag inside. When he tips his chin down Sam's hovering right over the top of him, mouth open but a smile threatening. "Can't hurt to try," he says, dark wild edge in him, and Dean laughs back, helpless, and holds on while Sam churns his hips, when he rears back and starts to fuck for real, when he knocks Dean off this axis and onto a so, so much better one.

Crazy, it's always just—crazy. Sam's body, his heat, the bigness of him that just bowled Dean over. How this made Sam into a new animal—only it didn't, really, Dean came to realize later—this Sam was just as much the normal Sam as the Sam who hunched over in libraries and got wet-eyed over widows and went prissy when Dean ordered a second burger. Dean loves them all, exactly the same. Well. Maybe sometimes he loves this one a little more. Especially like this, driving deep, curved and hitting every possible good spot, his hand on the back of Dean's neck and a grip on his thigh keeping him open, making it so all Dean has to do is hold on, arch into it, a punching up and in and through, god. He hooks one heel over the back of the couch, tries to breathe. Clutching together, Sam's sweat in his mouth, his taste at the back of Dean's tongue, his breath coming fast and quick and proof, the whole time, proof. Dean tugs him down, kisses him, his hands in Sam's hair, and his dick drags against the scratchy-soft of Sam's undershirt, Sam's jeans pressing into his ass, a sparky hot throb inside that pushes all of those considerations away—that makes it just him and Sam, and really, just him and Sam is all it ever was, and all it ever will be, and oh—fuck, does it feel good, when that's so.

He comes first. Anymore that's always how it goes. Stupid Sam. He jerks, groans, heels digging into Sam's ass, holding him inside. Sam sighs against his jaw, flexing in him. Dean strains rippling for a long held moment, drawing it out, before he relaxes, tugs, and Sam moans into his throat and hammers home. A floaty unhinged ache spreads all through Dean's body, his thighs and hips, his asshole, his throat, his fingertips for some reason, and by the time Sam unloads in him—half-shout, bitten into Dean's shirt—he realizes it's because he's holding Sam's waist so hard that Sam'll probably have ten perfect bruises, fingerprints where Dean lost his damn mind. He lets go, feels the circulation start up in his hands, while Sam jerks in him, his dick and nuts trying to do more than they can. Always makes Dean flush up, tender, stupid. He touches the back of Sam's head, traces a line down the sweat trail along his spine. Hugs his hips, between his thighs, and feels Sam's shudder, inside and out. God, he's missed this and he misses it again, already.

Sam barely rolls off of him. The couch isn't that big and Dean's not letting him go anywhere. Any other day, he'd bitch about being a pillow—and he'll bitch later, probably—but. This is Sammy. What a goddamn miracle. No matter how it came about.

"I think Mom's got a thing for Bobby," Sam says, out of nowhere.

The distant ceiling is a shadowy mystery, not giving up anything to how Dean's eyes have slammed open in horror. "Why," he says, "the fuck," he continues, while Sam starts to shake on top of him, "would you bring that up now?"

Sam's just laughing, not making any sound, his grin pressed against Dean's sweaty chest.

Dean squirms, puts an unfeigned amount of disgust in his voice. "You are the actual worst."

"I know," Sam says, eventually, breathless, and lifts up on his elbow. "Is it better if he's not really Bobby, if he's like—whatever, stranger-Bobby?"

Dean stares at him. "No!" Sam collapses down, laughing out loud this time, and Dean gives up, shoves, and Sam rolls off to land on the dirty floor with a massive thud. He says ow, but not like it hurt, and laughs some more, quieter, his arm thrown over his face. He really sounds drunk, happy drunk, when they never even made it through half the bottle. Dean rolls his eyes, slides his sticky thighs together, tips onto his side. He flicks the back of Sam's arm, and Sam drops it, shows himself all wrinkled-up eyes and dimples. "Sammy, you seriously got, like, twenty-five screws loose. Twenty-six."

From the floor, Sam bites his lip, breathes deep and lets it out long and slow, like the first breath of a clean new day. Dean thinks it's around midnight. Maybe the day really is new. "Yeah, I'm crazy," Sam says, but he says it like it's a gift. Dean smiles at him, takes it like it is.

[prorevenge]

Insult my girlfriend and refuse to pay your bills? Kick me out of my house? Hope y'all like fish!

So this happened a few years ago when I was just finishing my second year of university. I had an international student for a housemate who was a member of a load of different societies, we both worked to help pay for things. The way the bills worked was they sent me money every month and i'd pay the bills.

For about 3 or 4 months before the end of term HM (housemate) was trying to save up for a field trip to Tanzania, so he was working all sorts of overtime, he went there for like 2 months and didn't actually pay me any money at all from April - July.

I was working overtime whenever I could get it, but I was also going out a lot, in hindsight I probably could have been more careful with my money but If I wasn't being screwed left, right and center I would have been okay. He kept promising to pay his bills but every time I asked for the money he didn't have it. It was annoying as the bills had to be paid, so I just paid them, he promised to give me the money later on. In total he owed me about £300-400.

Around this time our previous landlord sold the house to LL (the new landlord), who was foreign and had very little idea of how UK tenancy law works, he would show up at the house at random times throughout the day to organise viewings, often showing up at 10pm or later without any notice. When he tried to get the tenancy agreement switched over he required another deposit, that I didn't have as I hadn't received my deposit back from the old landlord yet (I got the full amount) as well as having to pay my housemates bills on top of my own, and basically going out too much. I didn't feel bad about spending so much on nights out, I worked a lot on top of studying so I earnt the right.

I tried to explain to the landlord that I couldn't just come up with that kind of money on top of everything else, the academic year was winding down so all of my colleagues who were also students had lots of free time, and it was difficult to get a lot of overtime, I explained that I would have to wait to get my old deposit back before signing the new agreement (apparently you had to pay when you signed), which he agreed to. During this time he started letting the spare rooms out to his employees, and lo and behold he decided he wanted me out, giving me 10 days to vacate the property (Illegal, but whatever). My HM was friendly with the landlord (thanks to having enough money thanks to having rich parents to pay the deposit straight away, they would pay for anything directly related to housing like rent and deposits and I think a little bit to live on, but he had to work for anything else)

On a side note, the house was a state, we had an archaic heating system that pumped heated air through vents in the house and you had to punch the boiler to get it to actually turn on, the bathroom door handle was broken so you would often get locked in (The same thing happened in my bedroom early on in my tenancy when everyone else was out and I had to kick the door down to get out, which I reluctantly paid for) really dangerous shit like that.

I asked my housemate to give me the money for the final bill as I was moving out, and he hit the roof, he called me and my girlfriend fat, told us we were dirty etc, told me he was never going to give me the money. He went ballistic.

On top of this I had the utility companies breathing down my neck, as I said at this point in the year overtime was hard to get and I was only contracted to work 8 hours a week, On top of this most students went home during summer break but I didn't have contact with my parents so had no choice but to stay in the house over summer, meaning things were pretty tight to say the least (I worked in a cheap clothing store, in a town with several universities, so when 95% of students went home over summer the overtime would really dry up.

The atmosphere inside the house was extremely frosty for the last week or so of my tenancy, with HM and LL both acting like a pair of entitled bitches I decided I wanted to get some revenge.

On my way home from work I bought 3 whole fish from the reduced section at the local supermarket, as well as a couple of tins of sardines (in spring water for extra rot), and decided to get to work. I think I spent about £2 in total. I put fish in all sorts of places:

-Outside HMs bedroom window -In the loft hatch -Underneath the fridge -Hidden in the back of a cupboard, inside an old disused bread bin. -On top of a kitchen cupboard -Screwed the grill off the heating vent in my room and chucked one in there.

I tried to get them spread fairly evenly throughout the house so as to create a nice even stench.

And to top it off I unscrewed the dryer door switch, HM broke it because he used to kick the door closed and I ordered a new one from amazon months ago, I had no use for it but fuck him, it was mine. I still have it somewhere.

The day I vacated the house I was gathering up my stuff from the kitchen when I decided to see how the fish was getting on, so I simply opened the cupboard door.

sweet jesus how it stank It was eye wateringly bad, I could feel it in my throat.

I quickly closed the cupboard door and opened the back door and windows to get rid of the smell so I wouldn't be prematurely rumbled, finished packing and got the fuck out.

I never found out what happened or whether they even found all of the fish, I would assume that within another couple of days the house would have been absolutely stinking, but without any sort of formal tenancy agreement or contact details LL couldn't chase me up for it, his bad. I hope it was expensive to fix.

I like to think that every time they found a fish they would think they had solved the problem of the awful smell, only to have it remain and slowly get worse. HM only ever contacted me in relation to the dryer door, I told him to go fuck himself.

I had to pay some of the left over bills myself, but the electric company were the only ones willing to chase him up for the money, so he had to pay that too!

TL;DR piss me off, get fish

(source) story by (/u/AngryBipolar)

[ybarrcs]

           hello  ,  what’s  good    !    my  name’s  lina    &    i’m  super  excited  to  be  here    !    i’m  21  ,  am  currently  chilling  in  the  gmt  timezone    &    my  pronouns  are  she / her    !    i’m  literally  a  trash  bag  in  human  form    &    spend  way  too  much  time  thinking  stefan  salvatore  deserved  better    &    hoping  that  bazzi  will  someday  release  another  album    !    anyway  ,  that’s  all  boring  nonsense  ashfkjk  but  i  can’t  wait  to  get  to  write  with  u  guys    &    introduce  u  to  this  little  messy  b*tch    !    i’m  too  lazy  to  rewrite  for  things  so  below  is  just  a  section    (    with  his  secret  removed  bc  😏    )    of  his  app  bc  i’d  never  put  y’all  through  reading  ALL  of  that  so  i  hope  u  enjoy    !    if  u’d  like  to  plot  then  smash  that  lil  heart    &    i’ll  come  running  to  u    !

           oh my gosh, am i crazy or did i just see XAVIER SERRANO jamming out to CHANGED by BAZZI ? wait nevermind, i think that’s just AVERY YBARRA . pretty sure i heard they’re known around hollywood as THE CONNARD. while that is a broad term, it makes sense because they’re known around hollywood for being HEDONISTIC but can also be CALLOUS.  which makes total sense after seeing everything prominence insider has posted on their site about them. + missed calls at 2am, tangled knots of headphones, burnt matchsticks, well worn leather jackets, there are pasts inside they, do it out of spite.  ◜ lina. 21. gmt. she/her. ◞

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒  .

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥  𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞    :    avery  ybarra  ,  previously  matías  castillo

𝐚𝐠𝐞    :    twenty - four  .

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫    :    male  .

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬    :    he / him  .

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲    :    september 2nd  .

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫  𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧   :    virgo  .

𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭    :    6ft  1in  .

𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭    :    80kg  .

𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫    :    light  brown  .

𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬    :    green  .

𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧    :    chef / social  media  influencer / youtuber  .

𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲    :    heterosexual  .

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬    :    victoria  castillo    (    mother  ,  deceased    )    &    alejandro  castillo    (    father  ,  46    )  .

𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬    :    alisa  castillo    (    sister  ,  21    )    &    amalia  castillo    (    sister  ,  18    ) .

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡  𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞    :    barcelona  ,  spain  .

𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭  𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞    :    los  angeles  ,  california  .

𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲    :    spanish  .

𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲    :    hispanic  .

𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬    :    spanish    (    first   ) ,  english    (   second   )  ,  french  ,  italian  ,  portuguese.

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡    :    10  million  .

𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐬    :    the  connard  ,  the  hacker  ,  the  runaway  .

+  𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬    :    analytical  ,  intelligent  ,  meticulous  ,  modest  ,  practical  ,  reliable  .

-  𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬    :    conservative  ,  fastidious  ,  fussy  ,  harsh  ,  judgemental  ,  overcritical  .

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘  .

                                                           TRIGGERS    ;    leukemia  ,  death  ,  drugs    &    alcohol  .

        in  a  quaint  yet  suburban  town  located  on  outskirts  of  barcelona  ,  spain  lived  alejandro  castillo  ,  a  recent  high  school  graduate    &    current  owner  of  the  castillo  residence  .  he’d  call  it  a  home  ,  but  he  wouldn’t  label  a  100  square  meter  foundation  a  home  .  the  castillos  never  had  an  easy  life  ,    &    as  the  only  child  of  his  late  parents  he  was  left  with  the  entirety  of  their  his  family’s  fortune  .  or  so  ,  how  little  of  the  fortune  they  had  left  .  alejandro  was  a  level  headed  young  man  who  had  worked  hard  in  school    &    had  a  weekend  job  to  pay  off  the  bills  ,    &    with  little  family  he  was  left  alone  in  the  big  city  to  find  a  stable  future    &    work  through  his  grief  .  he  had  three  ,  very  important  steps  to  follow    :    get  drunk    ;    it  wouldn’t  cost  too  much  for  a  pint  of  flaherty’s  finest  bitter  ,  right    ?    buy  a  car    ;    although  he  had  little  money  to  play  around  with  ,  his  inherited  money  was  enough  for  him  to  buy  an  beaten  down  toyota  4runner  .  then  ,  get  a  girl    ;    it  was  a  common  necessity  back  then  ,  but  who  would  want  a  struggling  mechanic  who  was  left  to  live  his  lonely  life    ?

         in  a  more  upstate  area  in  barcelona  ,  victoria  de  la  rosa  resided  with  her  parents    &    three  siblings  .  now  ,  the  de  la  rosa’s  were  not  by  any  means  considerably  wealthy  ,  but  they  were  comfortable  .  their  children  were  educated  in  some  of  the  best  schools  in  barcelona    &    had  full  scholarships  for  college  .  in  conclusion  ,  victoria  had  a  good  life  ,  but  she  wasn’t  spoiled  about  it  .  a  modest    &    kind  young  lady  ,  she  accepted  everyone  no  matter  their  status    &    lived  somewhat  an  idealistic  life  .  everyone  expected  her  to  do  well  in  life  ,  to  marry  someone  who  could  treat  her  the  way  she  deserved  to  be  treated  .  her  parents  ,  who  had  even  higher  expectations  would  cast  her  off  to  have  meals  with  already  successful  young  men  ,  but  victoria  didn’t  care  about  success  .  success  ,  to  her  ,  was  three  notches  short  of  happiness    &    if  you’re  not  happy  ,  then  what  are  you  doing    ?    her  whole  life  ,  she  told  herself  that  happiness  comes  first    &    success  comes  later  ,  so  she  would  quickly  send  who  her  parents  considered  to  be  eligible  candidates  on  their  way  with  that  delicate  smile  of  hers  .

           the  day  that  victoria  met  alejandro  castillo  ,  her  whole  world  changed  .  he  was  everything  he  parents  didn’t  want  her  to  be  with  .  he  didn’t  have  a  lot  money  ,  a  flashy  car  or  an  expensive  house  .  but  what  he  was  brave    &    determined  ,  thoughtful    &    fair  .  it  was  these  traits  ,  rather  than  the  little  fortune  he  had  behind  him  that  made  victoria  fall  in  love  so  easily    &    undeniably  .  within  a  year  ,  the  pair  were  married  ,  but  the  wedding  wasn’t  exactly  what  would  be  called  ‘ traditional ’  .  in  fact  ,  it  was  just  the  two  of  them    &    two  witnesses  in  barcelona’s  registration  office  .  it  wasn’t  decorated  with  pretty  flowers    &    silk  sheets  draped  over  chairs  ,  with  hundreds  of  guests  holding  back  the  tears  as  vows  were  exchanged  ,  but  it  was  everything  they  could  hope  for  .  on  the  contrary  ,  victoria’s  parents  were  not  happy  at  all  .  not  just  in  her  choice  of  the  wedding  venue  but  the  man  she  chose  to  dedicate  the  rest  of  her  life  to  .  so  ,  as  some  form  of  punishment  ,  they  cut  off  her  funding    &    left  her  to  her  own  devices  .  but  victoria  was  happy  regardless  .

           the  happy  couple  lived  in  the  castillo  home  for  a  couple  of  years  ,    &    after  victoria  had  caught  on  a  stable  job    &    they  had  a  good  influx  of  money  to  keep  them  on  their  feet  ,  they  decided  to  invest  in  a  bigger  home  .  it  wasn’t  much  bigger  ,  but  it  was  a  house  a  lot  more  fitting  for  their  growing  family  .  after  all  ,  victoria  was  pregnant  with  their  first  child  ,    &    with  that  comes  a  responsibility    &    the  need  for  a  lot  more  room  .  the  pregnancy  was  tumultuous    &    complicated  at  times  ,  but  when  it  was  good  ,  it  was  incredible  .  the  problems  became  defeated  by  the  pure  happiness  that  came  with  feeling  their  baby  kick  in  victoria’s  belly  for  the  first  time  ,  or  feeling  it  have  hiccup  after  hiccup  .  it  was  a  long  nine  months  of  waiting  for  the  day  to  finally  come  ,    &    after  they  had  both  agreed  not  to  find  out  the  gender  of  their  first  born  ,  the  day  their  baby  was  born  was  the  happiest  date  of  their  life  .  it  was  at  02:51 AM  on  september  the  2nd  ,  1994  ,  that  matías  castillo  was  born  .

           as  a  child  ,  he  was  vibrant    &    playful  .  always  curious  about  his  next  adventure    &    finding  new  ways  to  entertain  himself  .  he  was  close  to  his  father    ;    attached  to  his  hip    &   striving  to  be  more  like  him  ,  a  man  who  had  recently  succeeded  in  his  mechanic’s  degree  after  years  of  trying    &    only  just  catching  a  stable  job  .  but  no  matter  how  close  he  was  to  his  father  ,  matías  would  forever  be  his  mother’s  son  .  she  was  his  angel  ,  or  so  he  saw  her  .  she  was  kind    &    she  would  teach  him  to  be  so  .  she  would  easily  talk  to  strangers    &    he’d  follow  suit  ,  wanting  people  to  look  at  him  the  same  way  they  looked  at  her  .  even  with  his  sisters  ,  he  was  kind  .  when  they  were  born  ,  he  assumed  the  role  of  the  protective  older  brother  ,    &    despite  the  odd  few  debacles  that  every  single  sibling  has  ,  he  still  adored  them  .  the  family  were  as  what  people  would  say  ,  like  a  pack  of  wolves  .  everything  they  did  ,  they  did  it  together    &    even  though  they  didn’t  have  a  lot  ,  they  had  each  other    &    that  was  all  they  needed  .

           in  school  ,  matías  excelled  in  everything  he  did  .  he  was  one  of  the  top  pupils  in  all  his  classes    &    was  a  good  ,  respectable  student  .  especially  in  food  technology  .  when  he  was  young  ,  he  used  to  stand  at  the  kitchen  counter  ,  peering  over  the  top  to  see  what  his  mother  was  cooking    &    over  time  ,  it  became  his  passion  .  most  boys  his  age  were  into  sports    &    computer  games  ,  but  all  matías  cared  about  was  the  smell  of  bread  baking  in  the  oven  or  the  satisfied  smiles  on  his  family’s  faces  as  he  created  yet  another  delicious  meal  .  he  became  quite  good  at  it  ,    &    despite  how  proud  he  was  of  his  skills  he  felt  alone  in  school  .  nobody  understood  what  it  was  about  cooking  that  made  him  feel  so  fulfilled  ,    &    despite  his  mother’s  constant  reassurance  that  it  didn’t  matter  as  long  as  he  was  happy  ,  he  distanced  himself  from  the  oven    &   focused  on  computer  science  instead  .  it  didn’t  provide  the  same  form  of  contentment  as  cooking  did  ,  but  it  was  enough  to  occupy  his  mind    &    make  him  fit  in  .

           but  it  wasn’t  all  plain  sailing  ,  especially  for  the  castillos  .  not  long  after  matías’s  fourteenth  birthday  ,  victoria  was  rushed  in  to  hospital  due  to  unexplained  nose  bleeds    &    weight  loss  ,  which  both  led  to  an  incredibly  low  blood  pressure    &    a  worrying  amount  of  dizziness  .  after  hours  worth  of  blood  tests    &    different  types  of  medical  examinations  ,  the  family  were  faced  with  the  distressing  news  that  their  beloved  mother    &    wife  was  showing  symptoms  of  acute  leukemia  .  after  more  tests    &    scans  were  ran  ,  the  diagnosis  was  confirmed    &    the  severity  of  the  condition  rattled  the  family  as  a  whole  ,  no  more  than  matías  .  he  spent  hours  locked  away  in  his  room  ,  trying  to  come  to  terms  with  the  the  news  while  his  mother  received  failing  treatment  .  the  leukemia  had  spread  too  far  ,  reaching  to  her  vital  organs    &    they  knew  then  that  it  was  too  late  .  on  august  the  21st  ,  victoria  castillo  passed  away  with  one  final  request  to  her  son    :    take  care  of  the  family  .

           the  castillos  were  overcome  with  grief  ,  which  each  of  them  handled  in  their  own  way  .  the  girls  delved  into  their  school  work  as  a  form  of  distraction  .  matías  kept  his  promise    &    took  care  of  the  family  .  he  cooked  them  meals  ,  made  sure  his  sisters  were  getting  to  school  on  time    &   made  sure  his  father  didn’t  drown  himself  in  the  amount  of  alcohol  he’d  been  consuming  since  the  funeral  .  in  little  to  no  time  at  all  ,  he  became  the  man  of  the  family  despite  only  being  a  young  teen  in  high  school  ,  but  he  tried  his  best  however  hard  it  was  .  their  mother  had  managed  to  save  up  quite  a  collection  of  money  for  them  throughout  the  years  ,  but  it  didn’t  take  long  for  their  father  to  make  that  disappear  on  what  he  would  call  ‘ necessities ’  that  he’d  hide  from  his  children  too  quickly  for  them  to  have  a  good  look  .  as  suspicious  as  he  was  ,  matías  knew  he  couldn’t  spend  too  much  time  pondering  over  it  because  his  father  had  quit  his  job  ,    &    they  had  no  other  form  of  income  to  see  them  through  .

           for  a  little  while  ,  the  family  were  slowly  sinking  towards  the  way  of  poverty  ,    &    matías  was  struggling  to  find  ways  to  provide  for  them  .  he  tried  cleaning  windows  ,  washing  neighbours  cars  ,  but  none  of  the  money  he  earned  could  provide  enough  for  a  house  of  four  .  but  he  was  a  smart    &    determined  kid  ,  with  knowledge  way  beyond  his  years    &    after  trying    &    trying    &   trying  ,  he  found  a  solution  .  or  more  so  ,  the  solution  found  him  .  the  solution  being  one  of  his  classmates  wanting  unwarranted  access  to  a  friend’s  phone  .  matías  wasn’t  a  computer  expert  ,  but  he  knew  his  way  around  programs    &    after  learning  of  his  mother’s  condition  ,  he  lashed  out  a  little  in  school    &    managed  to  unlock  certain  websites  that  were  previously  banned  from  the  school  network  .  although  the  school  board  were  quick  to  notice    &   shut  down  the  sites  again  ,  they  never  found  the  culprit  ,  but  that  didn’t  mean  the  students  had  no  idea  who  did  it  .

           at  first  ,  matías  declined  .  he  had  so  much  to  worry  about  already  that  he  did  not  need  someone  wanting  to  find  out  their  friend’s  personal  information  being  on  his  shoulders  .  but  once  a  good  lump  sum  of  money  was  brought  to  the  table  ,  he  had  no  choice  but  to  agree  .  after  all  ,  it  was  only  one  person  ,  right    ?    if  only  that  were  true  .  after  succeeding  in  gaining  the  information  his  classmate  asked  for  ,  word  got  out    &    suddenly  he  had  a  whole  list  of  people  wanting  him  to  access  someone’s  system  for  one  reason  or  another  .  over  time  ,  he  became  quite  good  at  it    &    earned  a  lot  of  money  .  money  which  his  father  used  to  pay  for  the  debt  his  children  didn’t  know  about  .  no  matter  how  much  he  earned  ,  through  what  he’d  call  his  extra  curricular  activity  ,  it  would  go  in  alejandro’s  back  pocket  until  he  was  waist  height  in  debt  that  he  had  no  choice  but  to  admit  where  the  money  was  really  going  .  after  all  ,  matías  had  already  spotted  the  bags  of  powder    &    pills  his  father  had  attempted  to  stash  away  ,  which  he  had  skilfully  ignored  .

           uncovering  their  father’s  drug  addiction  caused  a  further  rift  between  the  family    &    matías  decided  he  had  had  enough  .  after  graduating  high  school  ,  he  had  good  enough  grades  to  further  his  education    &    achieve  his  bachillerato  certificate  in  food  technology  ,  pursuing  his  dream  career    &    fulfilling  his  mother’s  expectations  of  him  .  he  even  got  a  part  time  job  working  as  waiter  in  the  a  nearby  restaurant  ,  telling  himself  that  if  he  could  keep  this  up  for  another  couple  of  years  ,  he’d  be  able  to  leave  spain    &    his  estranged  family  behind  .  he  didn’t  tell  his  father  about  his  job  ,  however  .  he  used  enough  money  to  provide  for  the  family  but  the  rest  was  stored  away  somewhere  safe  for  later  use  ,    &    after  he  had  earned  his  certificate  ,  matías  booked  a  flight    &    earned  a  place  in  an  american  university  majoring  in  food  tech    &    left  his  old  life  behind  him  without  so  much  as  a  good  bye  .

          for  months  ,  he  had  to  swallow  his  guilt  for  leaving  his  family  .  after  all  ,  he  made  a  promise  to  his  mother    &    broke  it  by  leaving  his  family  in  the  thousands  of  euros  of  debt  his  father  had  landed  them  in  .  but  he  wasn’t  happy    ;    matías  wasn’t  happy  being  branded  as  a  castillo  .  he  didn’t  want  to  have  any  ties  to  his  family  so  after  a  few  months  of  living  in  the  US  ,  he  decided  to  change  his  name  .  it  took  a  lot  of  back    &    forth  throwing  of  different  names  but  after  a  while  of  deciding  ,  he  settled  on  avery  ybarra  .  nobody  would  ever  suspect  he  was  a  castillo  with  that  name  ,  or  so  ,  that’s  what  he  was  hoping  for  .  living  in  a  different  country  was  refreshing    ;    he  was  free  to  do  what  he  wanted  to  do    &   what  he  wanted  to  do  was  cook  .  but  he  needed  to  work  up  to  the  position  he  wanted  .  he  already  had  experience  as  a  waiter  ,  so  getting  a  job  in  that  department  was  easy  ,  but  it  was  soon  noticed  that  he  was  more  than  just  taking  orders    &    bringing  out  dishes  .  he’d  often  critique  the  food  that  was  being  sent  out  ,  which  at  first  his  boss  found  annoying  until  he  realised  that  the  customers  were  complaining  of  the  same  thing  ,    &    promoted  avery  to  chef  de  partie  as  a  roundsman  .

          his  newly  accounted  role  in  the  restaurant  boosted  sales  ,    &    his  talent  was  noticed  by  many  .  so  much  so  that  his  colleagues  ,  well  aware  of  his  passion  for  food  persuaded  him  to  apply  for  hell’s  kitchen’s  14th  season  .  as  reluctant  as  he  was  ,  he  eventually  applied    &   was  accepted  as  one  of  the  contestants  .  the  competition  was  tough  ,  but  he  battled  through  each  challenge  like  a  champion   &    gained  a  mass  following  on  his  instagram  ,  if  not  for  his  youthful  looks  then  it  was  his  attitude  in  the  kitchen  .  but  eventually  ,  on  june  the  9th  2015  ,  he  was  crowned  the  youngest  winner  of  hell’s  kitchen  .  after  that  ,  he  worked  closely  with  joël  robuchon  ,  a  world  renowned  french  chef  who’s  dishes  avery  was  in  awe  of  but  he  was  also  awarded  a  grand  total  of  $250,000  to  do  with  what  he  pleased  .  he  planned  to  buy  a  nice  home  ,  a  decent  car    &    put  some  money  to  one  side  so  he  could  eventually  purchase  his  own  restaurant  .  but  his  father  had  other  words  .

           after  his  victorious  win  ,  avery  ybarra  was  a  name  everyone  knew  .  young  ,  promising  ,    &    strikingly  handsome  ,  he  was  popular  among  many  .  but  back  home  ,  his  family  still  knew  him  as  matías  .  so  ,  in  return  for  his  family  to  not  expose  who  he  actually  was  ,  his  father  proposed  a  deal    :    pay  off  his  debt  ,  give  them  a  comfortable  amount  of  money  to  live  with  ,    &    then  they’d  have  nothing  to  do  with  him  again  .  avery  did  not  think  it  through  too  much  .  after  all  ,  how  much  debt  could  his  father  had  gotten  them  into  within  such  a  short  space  of  time    ?    his  first  mistake  was  underestimating  his  father’s  addiction  ,    &    after  paying  off  the  debt    &    giving  them  a  lump  sum  to  spend  in  their  bank  accounts  ,  he  was  left  with  next  to  nothing  .  avery  felt  sad  ,  manipulated    &    above  all  betrayed  .  he  never  trusted  his  father  to  begin  with  ,    &    there  was  a  good  reason  why  .

            *  here’s  where  his  secret  goes  but  let’s  say  he  got  a  lot  of  money  *

           at  first  ,  avery  didn’t  know  what  to  do  with  the  money  .  he  just  needed  enough  to  get  him  off  his  feet  .  but  after  time  ,  he  did  everything  he  had  planned  before  .  he  had  his  nice  apartment  ,  his  luxurious  car  ,  started constructing  own  restraurant  ,    &    a  pile  of  designer  clothes  that  eventually  were  given  to  him  by  brands  over  time  .  his  following  on  social  media  kept  growing    &    brands  kept  coming  to  him  to  promote  their  products  ,    &    suddenly  avery  didn’t  need  to  do  what  he  used  to  to  gain  money  any  more  .  he  started  a  youtube  channel  where  he  would  teach  people  how  to  cook  ,  a  channel  that  soon  hit  off    &    earned  him  more  money  over  time  .  eventually  ,  he  settled  into  his  new  profit    &   his  new  life  as  avery  ybarra  .  he  wasn’t  matías  castillo  any  more  ,    &   it  about  time  the  world  knew  about  it  .

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘  .

           due  to  the  course  his  life  took  ,  avery  has  altered  a  lot  through  the  years  .  when  he  was  a  child  ,  he  had  a  simplistic  outlook  on  life    &    didn’t  really  take  notice  of  a  lot  of  things  ,  mostly  because  he  didn’t  need  to  .  now  ,  avery  is  thoughtful  .  every  decision  he  makes  has  to  be  well  thought  out  before  he  can  even  consider  carrying  it  out  ,  mostly  due  to  the  fact  that  he  doesn’t  want  to  embarrass  himself  or  come  across  as  somebody  who’s  relatively  useless  .  avery  is  also  very  critical  of  other  people’s  actions  .  he  has  this  mindset  where  he  believes  he  is  superior  to  other  people  ,    &    that  often  shines  through  in  consistent  eye  rolling    &    only  listening  to  half  of  what  someone  says  before  occupying  his  mind  with  something  else  .  if  he  sees  someone  as  being  dull    &    boring  ,  he’ll  immediately  shut  off    &    act  like  they  don’t  exist  because  to  him  ,  they’re  just  wasting  their  time  talking  to  him  .

           despite  all  this  ,  however  ,  avery  is  very  humble  about  his  career  .  he  knows  he’s  a  good  cook    (    after  all  ,  he  won  hell’s  kitchen    !    )    but  he  doesn’t  let  it  get  to  his  head  .  he  knows  he  can  be  better   &    excel  in  it  ,  so  until  he’s  the  best  of  the  best  ,  he’s  not  satisfied  .  he’s  very  ambitious    &    is  not  afraid  to  speak  his  mind  if  it  means  it’ll  benefit  him  in  some  way  .  a  lot  of  the  time  ,  he  speaks  his  mind  anyway  .  avery  is  a  very  outspoken  individual  ,  not  afraid  to  voice  his  opinion  no  matter  who  agrees  or  disagrees  .  the  fact  of  the  matter  is  ,  he  simply  doesn’t  care  enough  .  people  are  generally  irrelevant  to  him  ,  especially  if  they  serve  no  purpose  in  his  life  so  it’s  not  uncommon  for  him  to  be  rude    &    brash  whenever  he  wants  to  be  ,  even  if  it’s  uncalled  for  .  he  doesn’t  care  about  hurting  other’s  feelings  ,  no  matter  the  cost  of  it  .

           avery  is  also  ,  despite  popular  belief  ,  incredibly  loyal  .  he’s  not  opposed  to  sleeping  with  strangers  ,  but  when  he’s  committed  to  something  ,  he’s  in  it  wholeheartedly  until  he  loses  interest  or  for  whatever  reason  he  can’t  anymore  .  but  ,  getting  close  to  avery  is  very  difficult  .  with  him  being  a  secretive  individual  ,  he  tends  to  hide  his  thoughts    &    feelings  so  as  a  result  ,  can  come  across  as  being  quite  fickle  .  he’s  a  man  who  knows  what  he  wants  in  terms  of  his  career    &    lifestyle  ,  but  in  terms  of  everything  else  ,  he’s  still  not  sure  what  exactly  he’s  searching  for  .  he’s  an  aimless  wanderer  ,  meaning  he  travels  a  lot  in  order  to  gain  more  knowledge  .  be  it  in  food  or  culture  in  general  ,  avery  is  always  keen  to  learn  something  new    &    bring  it  home  to  share  with  everyone  else    (    or  those  who  he  feels  are  deserving  ,  that  is    )    .

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒  .

           𝖎  .  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭  𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝  :  avery  isn’t  the  best  at  making  friends  but  this  person  is  the  one  avery  is  closest  to  .  honestly  ,  i  imagine  them  to  have  the  same  dynamic  as  nick    &    schmidt  from  new  girl    ??    this  person  has  probably  seen  a  side  to  avery  that  very  little  people  have  seen  before    &    is  one  of  the  only  people  he  can  relax  around    !

           𝖎𝖎  .  𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞  /  𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐫  :  listen    !    these  are  my  favourite  sort  of  plots  because  i  feel  like  they  can  be  go  in  so  many  different  directions    &    i  just  love  them  so  much    ??    i  feel  like  with  avery  being  such  a  difficult  person  to  get  along  with  ,  it’d  be  interesting  to  see  how  he’d  live  with  /  next  to  someone  else    !    brownie  points  if  they  just  moved  in    &    it’s  all  awks  .

            𝖎𝖎𝖎  .  𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬  𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡  𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬  :  ok  hear  me  out  ...  avery  can  be  quite  insufferable    &    more  often  than  not  finds  a  way  to  bicker  about  anything    &    everything  .  anyway  ,  these  two  pick  fights  about  almost  everything    &    as  the  tension  builds  up  everything  gets  foggier  the  more  angry  they  get  then  ...  u  Know  how  the  story  ends  .  ‘  this  is  the  last  time  ’  they  say  ten  million  times  .

           𝖎𝖛  .  𝐩𝐫  𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩  :  i  don’t  mean  like  justin    &    hailey  ‘  let’s  pretend  we’re  married  ’  sorta  vibes  .  imagine  them  going  out  on  fake  dates  ,  been  spotted  out  in  public  holding  hands  ,  whoever  set  them  out  to  do  this  thought  it  was  a  brilliant  idea  but  they  might  have  different  thoughts  .  brownie  points  if  they  hate  each  other  .  extra  brownie  points  if  they  can’t  tell  anyone  about  it  .

            𝖛  .  𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞  𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩  :  god  i  literally  love  this  connection  so  SO  much  .  avery  p  much  lost  his  siblings  so  give  him  SOMEONE  to  be  protective  over    &    care  for  ok  i  would  DIE  my  heart  is  soft  .  let  them  be  confiding  watching  comedy  movies  all  day    &    fighting  over  who  gets  the  remote  .  how  sweet  :’)

           𝖛𝖎  .  𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬  :  an  iconic  connection  that  Never  gets  old  .  these  two  do  not  get  on  ,  for  whatever  reason  they  go  together  like  chalk    &    cheese    &    are  always  fighting  about  something  .  their  interactions  consist  of  them  constantly  wanting  to  one - up  each  other    &    it’s  like  a  battle  of  who  can  win  this  time  .

[chrysaliseuro2019]

Kyparissi Village

Another glorious morning and another leisurely start. We are gradually slipping into the Greek way of life though in a way it's not too hard for us. They like to eat late (so do we) probably because of siestas (though we haven't gone for them yet apart from snoozes on the beach) and, for us at least, as a consequence, a slow start to the day is not a prob. Eating late for the Greeks means 9.30 - 10.00 start time sometimes later. At least in the restaurants we have been visiting. There is none of this Australian - the kitchen closes at 9.30 stuff even in the smallest towns. Suits us. Today we drive to Monemvasia from Porto Kagio this is a fair stint of 130km which on the mountain switchback roads will take us around 3 hours. Scenery picturesque and we headed off around 10.30 arriving in Monemvasia around 1.30. The first thing you see as you approach it is a massive Gibraltar like rock with a causeway connecting it to the mainland. Monemvasia was part of the mainland until 375AD when an earthquake cut it off. It's essentially a very pretty medieval village perched on a rock which is hundreds of metres high. You approach across the causeway which leads up via a fairly steep road to the front gate and no cars past that and boy were we lucky. We got a parking spot probably 150 metres from the gate. The road was possibly a kilometre and a half and people were walking up that distance at least, with no shade. Temperature the usual 35 or so. The town is very engaging with narrow alleyways, medieval houses, churches and fortifications and lots of exposed stone. We had a little explore and then found a great taverna for lunch with view out to sea. A rest was needed after a long drive. Eggplant Imam was our shared dish. Obviously the Ottoman influence still prevails in some dishes and this was just a shared side dish with crusty bread. Yum. I am going to make this at home. Post lunch we continued to explore the streets for a little while. Churches were not open so it was really about the exteriors. We didn't have the energy in the heat to trek up to the castle at the top especially with cautionary tales in Lonely Planet about the steepness of steps. The key decision was would we stay there for the night or press on. Small hotels and rooms for rent were dotted all over the place in town. Given that you could not proceed past the front gate in the car, hauling bags to some of the spots away from the gate would be difficult as it was literally up and down steps and wheeling along rugged stone surfaces. We decided the sea was beckoning and in particular Kyparissi Village which again Liz's contact Teresa had recommended. Some discuss it as the prettiest village in Greece. It was not a hard decision though we definitely missed aspects of Monemvasia which was regrettable but you just can't tick all the boxes. Sometimes there are compromises. We arrived at Kyparissi village after the usual winding journey. About an hour and a half. The small town seemed a little unprepossessing but we drove through and still weren't sure. Then we backtracked a little and found a small cove with a couple of bars and a few houses clustered around it. Liz went into the cafe to ask if they provided accommodation and immediately the very friendly and engaging Nikolas made himself known and said his mum and dad had rooms. It was a no brainer to take one as we started to think this place looks good and also at a very reasonable price. No balcony, those rooms had gone but several large windows looking out across the bay. We immediately went for a swim. Best way to cool down. The little beach was 10 metres away from the pension. Water, fantastic temperature and clear as can be. Back for showers and then we headed to the local bar/cafe to grab a front row seat looking out at the sea. Even better Liz could get a vodka and tonic. A pleasant 45 mins or so and we headed for dinner. A couple of local restaurants 200 metres or so away and we opted for the one with the most people. By the sea, fish has to be good so we opted for Dorada after Liz had gone out the back to inspect what was on offer. This is pretty customary here with the fish kept in drawers on ice and you can pick which one(s) you want. Usually they will provide some guidance though Liz goes through her - are the eyes clear and what does the fish smell like routine. I think she does that to me after I've had a big night out. I usually fail. In fairness only the smell test. We sat there amid the typical hubbub of a local Greek taverna enjoying the ambience and the food. We also discussed that Kyparissi was looking promising and that we should consider staying another day (our second last night that would be before heading to the islands). A lay day without dashing anywhere seemed a great prospect. Especially in this delightful place. Just had to sleep on it and check room availability. Next morning we checked with Nikolas and the room was still available, we were keen and so a second night in Kyparissi. We headed for breakfast at the same restaurant that we had had dinner at the night before. Quite a user friendly breakfast menu for Aussies and poms. I tucked into the eggs, bacon and grilled tomatoes and Liz bacon and grilled toms. They came with some sliced fried potatoes. Too much really but we did our best. The restaurant is owned by a Greek Canadian guy who came back to Greece essentially to run it. No spring chicken either but very jovial. Waddled back to pension with the sun beating down. It was around 11.30. We immediately bumped into Nikolas' mum who offered us a "real Greek coffee". This was very kind though since I don't drink coffee, apart from the odd decaf, I declined much to her disbelief, particularly when I said it might keep me awake - given it was around midday. She offered me what I thought was a fruit drink which I accepted. Liz graciously if a little reluctantly accepted the coffee with a degree of foreboding. Usually you can stand your spoon up in these - half mud/half coffee. It fitted the mold and Liz waded her way through the coffee half leaving the mud section at the bottom. The fruit drink turned out to be candied fruits. Liz got cumquat and mine was orange with Earl Grey tea flavour. Both very rich and syrupy. We were grateful as they tasted nice though this fixed us up (well certainly me) coming so soon after the eggs,bacon and potatoes. One thing Nikolas had mentioned about the beach was that they deliberately did not allow beach chairs/lounges on there to discourage the usual tourist scenario. This worked in one sense as it was certainly not crowded however we wouldn't have minded an umbrella and a couple of lounges though perhaps it was even too hot for us. The next best thing and as it turned out probably the best thing was to sit in some chairs under a tree in front of the pension. We did this the whole day reading, blogging, relaxing, interrupted only by the occasional swim to cool off. Water was entered via a ladder from a little jetty in front of the pension and as ever it was crystal clear. Nikolas' dad came out and gave us a beer and shandy to sort of re-hydrate otherwise we had the place virtually to ourselves. We did meet a fellow Melbournian, John, who was of Greek origin from Kyparissi and was spending 3 months there before returning to Melbourne. He was friendly, lived in Coburg and we had a brief natter about what we were respectively doing on hols. Of course living where he does he knew N. Fitzroy pretty well including our street. Classic Aussie accent too it was great to hear. We had a glorious day. Nowhere to get to or visit, just relaxing time with the setting being a background of hills to set off the sea. I went for a short walk round to the next bay where there was a little church and a couple of impressive motor boats moored. Around 6.30 we went up showered and headed out for pre dinner drinks at the same place as the previous night. We met John's wife Mary and daughter Melina as they headed home (their place is two doors up from our pension). They were here for a shorter period than John as Melina is in year 11 and has to get back to school. Another good catch up with local stories swopped of both Melbourne and Greece. Mary suggested another place for dinner which is apparently the No1 in town. It was around the bay about 2/3 kms so a car job. Interestingly it was close to a hotel that friend Teresa had recommended but which was a bit out of our league. We were keen to see it. Dinner turned out to be very nice. Our choice was stuffed peppers, fried calamari and Greek salad so not really cordon bleu but it was tasty. Rose wine unfortunately no better than elsewhere, though white passable. As we were leaving around 10.00 o'clock, John, Mary and Melina were just arriving and knew everyone pretty well. We headed home and got back in 5 mins. As we drove past our taverna of the previous night it was absolutely chokkers with people all having their usual late dinner. A great day and we were pretty keen on Kyparissi.

[susannaprouse]

Eleven - Baños

The breakfast at our nicer hotel was great, mainly because they had three different types of cereal! And I love cereal. I'm also a little sick of scrambled eggs which is what you get at every hostel. So I had three (teeny weeny) bowls of cereal and fruit while Mike had eggs, fruit and bread again!

After breakfast we started our journey to Baños. We had a couple of options to get there from Latacunga. We could either get a bus to Ambato, take a taxi across town to another terminal and get another bus for another to Baños. Or (we had heard) you could get a short taxi ride to this huge roundabout on the Pan-American highway just outside of town, hang around there and get a bus straight to Baños. The second option seemed less hassle and cheaper so after discussing it with the guy at the hotel we decided to risk it and go with that.

The taxi driver seemed to know where we wanted to be dropped and as we got out we saw a make shift wooden bench structure that could only have been a bus stop. We waited there while bus after bus stopped going to Ambato, Latacunga and Riobamba. None of them seemed to be going Baños. But, after waiting for about 20 minutes a bus declaring Baños on the front in big bold letters turned up. The Ecuadorians around us started running toward it but as we had our big packs we kind of walked quickly. We shoved our bags in the bottom of the bus and got on. We soon realised why the other people were running, there was only one seat left! Mike, being a brilliant husband, let me sit in it. This was a blessing and curse as I did have a seat but the man next to me refused to move to let me in so I tried to slide in without landing on top of him. Instead I slid onto the floor and could barely get up. This was all happening while the bus was moving and Mike was laughing.

Mike stood for about 10 minutes while the bus hurtled down the road. Eventually people got off and we could sit next to each other for the rest of the two hours to Baños, watching an awful film with Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler in Spanish that everyone around us found HILARIOUS. It was quite fun to practise our Spanish and try to work out what was being said.

We eventually arrived in Baños and found our hostel quickly. Every place I've been booking on the notes section I've said it's our honeymoon hoping for an upgrade in one of the nicer hotels. No one had mentioned it so far so I'd kind of forgotten but when we entered our little private hostel room there were towels folded up as swans with roses and a sunflower making a heart. Cheesy but amazing!!! The woman who let us in read 'Congratulations on your marriage' from her phone which she had obviously translated and been practising. I already loved this hostel.

After organising to get some washing done with the hostel we went out for a walk. Baños is definitely geared towards tourists and is like the Ecuadorian version of the New Zealand resort, Queenstown. It's full of adventure activities and so people come here to white water raft, go canyoning and zip line. I wasn't sure if I was going to like it as I was expecting to see a lot of Western teenagers on their gap year. When we arrived we realised we hardly saw any foreigners. It seems Baños is a bit like Blackpool and the town was full of Ecuadorians on their holidays. It made me feel a little better. They even have their own version of Blackpool rock, a taffy-like stuff they make on their stalls, repeatedly stretching it and coiling it like rope.

We wandered to the town's main and most beautiful attraction, a huge waterfall cascading down a cliff. I can't say how odd it was seeing this in the middle of a town, even in New Zealand we didn't see anything like this! The other strange thing is Ecuadorians think the waterfall and the thermal waters in the town (more on that in later posts) are blessed by the Virgin Mary and so have healing properties. And so by the waterfall is a carving of the Virgin Mary.

After admiring the waterfall we walked to the Central Market to find some lunch. We walked around a couple of times feeling overwhelmed with all the stalls and women shouting at us to come to theirs. We eventually just sat down at one that had people sat there but not too many that it was crowded. We both ordered an Ecuadorian delicacy, llapingachos, which is a plate full of avocado, fried mashed potato with cheese, chorizo sausage things and a fried egg. It was absolutely delicious, but we could almost feel it clogging up the arteries!

As it was our wedding anniversary the day after we decided to treat ourselves in the afternoon and walked to a spa. Spas and thermal pools are the other things Baños is all about. On our way we stopped to look in a another church. We didn't see any hell paintings but did see some disaster paintings, showing people drowning, falling and on fire - lovely.

The spa was much nicer than I had expected, embarrassingly we'd forgotten to bring our card so after choosing to buy the entrance to the spa, a eucalyptus steam bath and massages we were $5 short in cash. Luckily the lady let us through anyway. We were shown where to get changed and immediately told to come to have the steam bath.

This was no ordinary sauna. We were taken to a row of big wooden boxes looking out on the amazing mountain scenery. We each sat inside the wooden box and shown a handle to turn the steam on and off. The man then closed up the box so only our heads were sticking out. It was so weird. But also so nice! My chin was resting on the towel on the box and I could smell the eucalyptus so I started to completely relax. After about 15 minutes of the steam the man opened up the box and proceeded to throw ice cold water on is. Not so relaxing. And the process continued, 15 minutes of steam box, and then different forms of ice cold water - sitting in a little bath of cold water while we poured it on ourselves, a whole bucket over our heads while we were standing and finally being hosed down like we were in prison.

All in all I loved it!! I felt so refreshed after! Next up we had our massages, we had them together which was nice and typically romantic. They were regular massages but I was impressed that at the beginning they asked if we wanted it light, medium or strong as I hate a light massage, it just feels like being tickled.

After the massage we spent a couple of hours in the pool area, reading on the sunbeds with the amazing view and going in the hot tub.

We wanted to walk back before it got dark so we got changed and were about to leave. But before we did we were given half a pineapple each to eat, a great ending! Considering we only paid $55 for everything it was amazing!

For dinner that night we chose to go to a fusion restaurant, Asian and Ecuadorian. While we waited for our food we noticed they had some games so had a quick game of Ludo before it came out. We had some gyozas to start, then I had vegetable noodles and Mike had Thai noodles. They were delicious!!!

Feeling tired we headed back to the hostel to watch 'When They See Us' on Netflix which is hard to watch but I'd definitely recommend.

[diningpageantry]

When Are We Not Dreaming

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15747540

Word Count: 21,648

Summary: This is the tale of two lovers, existings in two worlds and meeting only in their slumber. When dawn breaks, away the sun leaves the moon to rest and sulk and await the return of his starshine. When the day trickles away, the warrior of the land returns to the darkness to only find warmth. One a war machine built to slaughter, and one a dark creature built to survive, and both exist to kill. Bloodshed shall end when lovers find paths within each other.

-

Simon Snow is the greatest warrior of his time and he’s sent off to slay the Bloodtaker, a demon who has been terrorizing the lands. He falls in love with him instead, and falls out of himself in the process.

TW: Suicide Attempt (Not graphic; Romeo And Juliet-esque).

Notes: Mega thanks to my betas, @ravenclawbaz @jessethejoyful @thedrag0nqueen and @wisest-girl for their efforts on this work! Also, I am not publishing the whole fic under the cut; I’m only posting the first section because it’s quite large. Also, I have art of Demon!Baz, if you’re interested in my interpretation. Anyway, enjoy!

A man steadily approaches a broad opening, fingertips dragging against the crumbling stone walls surrounding the village. They seem to deteriorate at just a glance, raising high and towering as ghosts hiding away an abandoned land, splattered with dried blood and fresh fear of a village now gone.

The bravest warrior, from water-tip to water-tip of England, Simon Snow, stares at the barren wasteland of a previous town, brain buzzing with energy, with ability, with skill to be the one man to finally defeat the Great Bloodtaker. There’s only rumors of his true form, yet when he comes to the mortal realm, he’s bursting with charm; a dark man, tall of stature, with a gentle voice, upturned lips, and a handsome face.

Soft-spoken. Ruthless.

A demon.

A demon walking the land. A demon who’s said to be akin to vampires. If he pleases, he’ll suck the life from your neck, provoked only by a broken deal. He uses favors as an exchange of currency, posing as a poor man. Only a true fool would resist the pleas of the attractive trickster, one that asks for home, for food, for care. The figure then makes deals around, promising good health for a dying man’s wife if he can provide anything of his wishes. All fall for his tricks, all being unable to provide the small things he wishes (a single red shoe, a young pheasant hunted by hand, all differing according to the victim). He sends a curse upon them, continuing to each family until the final night of bloodshed and destruction. The night he attacks.

And now stands Simon Snow, the one chosen to take down the Bloodtaker, to end his path of destruction and blood consummation of the great people of the lands. He takes in the aftermath, hand clutching the hilt of his sword while utterly unsure of what he’ll face.

But alas, as he descends into the crumbling town, he faces nothing in the empty homes and discarded shops. All but rotting food and a pet or two, left untouched and crying for help, have been emptied out. Snow lets the animals smell him. He has nothing to offer but small pieces of bread, and even that runs short too quickly.

The bodies are gone, most likely dragged off somewhere to be burnt to hide the evidence of bloodless carcasses, but it was too late. The word spread far and wide of another town culled by the cannibalistic beast.

It has been occurring far too often, and for far too long. It’s time for this to end.

It’s the time that Snow has been trained for.

With every clash of the blade, with every strike in the heart of his enemy and cry into battle, he grew stronger and more capable. With every training day, The Grand Mage tutting aside at every sloppy movement Snow makes and reminding him countlessly that he was chosen for a reason, and the reason was not to make a fool of him and his country.

He was chosen because he’s magic with a sword; his energy explodes out of him. He’s a killing machine, stronger than the largest brigade threatening the lands. Snow’s choosing was one of tradition, one passed from the previous Grand Mage--the one who found him, who built him to become what he is. Brave. An honor to look upon. The country’s unbeatable weapon.

Despite his reputation, Snow hasn’t completely proven himself without a final challenge.

His challenge is proving himself absolutely, once and for all, as the greatest warrior to come to man. The destroyer of all creatures, human or beyond.

That could be proven, of course, if the demon would step out of his shadow.

Which does not happen. At least, not within his daylight hours of searching. This prompts Snow to set up camp, laying in an abandoned bed in an abandoned house. Drinking ale until he sends his lone body spinning into a spiral of sleep, waking only in the depths of a pit of his mind.

Only his mind doesn’t exist. Purgatory only holds enough, and not one's’ mind.

Yet there stands Snow, clamored in armor and sword in hand, in a strange place with only one staircase as an exit, leading him into an unsure descent.

With nowhere else to go but down, Snow goes. Sinking into the world, into the depths, into the new land he’s unsure of. Steps taking him deeper and deeper. It’s burning hot, as if flames licked at the wall from behind the thick stone.

Hotter and hotter, into the lair of the Bloodtaker.

As Snow’s decline continues, the walls slowly compress, pressure squeezing the air out of the man’s lungs as the world reeks of fire and blood.

Then, as if someone flipped a lever, it’s clear. Open.

A long hallway to an open room, flames crackling beyond his sight.

And there, Snow finds the Bloodtaker, lounging in his seat and swirling a glass of something unknown, something dark. The creature sips it slowly, watching the gold speckled man enter his realm. His piercing eyes following his every move, like a hunter watching its prey. Yet, he doesn’t advance towards him. Not even as Snow draws his sword, hand shaking in the slightest. Snow feels… scared?

“O-O’ great Bloodtaker,” he begins, the metal of his suit clattering the slightest against itself. “I’ve come to destroy wha-what’s destroyed so much… else…” he trails, watching the great beast rise to his feet and approach Snow steadily.

Assumedly, this is his true form, which is somehow grander than what the stories have told. He seems to have some of the attributes that the tales tell, but with more embellishments; pitch black hands, razor sharp claws, pointed teeth and curling horns. He stands at possibly a foot taller than Snow, rising to his feet with impeccable grace, silken robes following in swirls as he steps forward. Pause. Another step, reaching closer and closer to the glowing man of maybe 19 years of age, face relaxed and eyes traveling over the smaller figure before him.

Snow freezes, feet moulding to the ground beneath him as he gapes up at the human-like creature. His skin is much richer in person; like he was sculpted by the gods with river clay and given gemstones for eyes.

He looks like he was built for sin.

By the way Snow reacts, he feels as though the Great Bloodtaker has casted his will onto him. The mortal’s breath catches in his throat as the creature’s hand rises and levitates above the long line of tawny neck, staying as an untouched claw under the jaw of the man.

“You’ve come to bring what upon me, exactly?” he coos, velvety voice twisting Snow’s insides. “You think you can defeat me , mortal?”

Snow’s chin lifts further, breath trying to scratch out in huffs. “Y-yes,” he manages out, eyes staring directly into the creature’s leveled gaze and sputtering out breaths as the Bloodtaker drops his hand to his side, stepping back swiftly and meeting both clawed fingers in front of him in a clasp. The creature’s mouth draws out into a smirk, watching the golden boy scramble to a fighting stance. “I’ve been sent to-to t-take your l-life…”

The Bloodtaker drags his tongue slowly against his top lip, chin tilted up as he stares down at Snow, lips tweaked into a smirk. “Oh you can’t possibly do that, can you? Not with such a simple blade?”

Snow advances in the slightest, hand trembling. He’s not quite sure he exactly can. “I can, I can, I can. ” He has to. He can’t return to his homelands without the head of the beast, but yet, his stance falters, limbs nearly giving. He’s weak to whatever curse the demon cast upon him, giving in to his gaze as the monster grins.

“Oh, but you can’t,” he breathes, stepping back forward as Snow drops his blade, leaving it to clatter against the ground. The Bloodtaker’s hand reaches forward to Snow’s face, nails subtly dragging against the underside of the human’s chin. “Why don’t you stay, oh brave warrior, and keep my lonesome self some company? I’ll feed you for your time, and you can try to defeat me tomorrow.”

Snow crumbles like the gates of the town, head shaking yes as his feet tumble forward. His eyes drift around the room for the first time, absorbing his surroundings. Although he could have sworn that it was empty except the throne, it now has a large dining table, filled to the brim with various foods and drinks, causing Snow’s stomach to growl at the sight.

He drags himself there, immediately beginning to stuff his mouth with whatever he can get his hands on. It dawns on him, half a turkey leg down his throat, that the creature could have easily poisoned his food in attempts to kill him. It’d be so simple, and there he sits, across the long end of the table as he swirls his wineglass slowly, eyeing him carefully through long sips.

Yet Snow doesn’t stop. After all, he’s eaten enough for two regular meals anyway, and he’s going on his third, ravenously hungry from his travels, both alive and in his current realm. As he exists, he’s starved. He stuffs himself further until he can barely manage another bite, food smeared across his face and dripping off his chin as he chugs down ale and clean water , eyes closing and hands trembling as he gulps.

And the beast just stays, eyes locked on the mortal’s face.

One would expect the beast to attack, as he’s fattening up the merely muscle and bone fighter, but instead he admires. He stays, watching his curls bob too and fro and catching the eyes of the man on occasion, giving him a long, satisfied stare. Even as he finishes eating, raising to his feet with a gentle grunt, the creature gives him a once over. “You are free to stay, Great Warrior,” the demon offers, gesturing over his lair.

“It’s Snow,” he states clear as day, eyes flicking over the creature. “Simon Snow, The Mage of Warriors.”

A curt snort comes from the demon, swirling his blood-thick drink. “As if you hold any power above me,” he purrs, licking his lips once again before waving a hand to himself. “Pitch. Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch is the name my human form takes upon.”

Snow, with raising brows, watches him with curiosity. “Such a bold name for one to pose as a beggar, no?”

“Such a bold question to ask a creature that could kill you so quickly.”

“I don’t believe you’ll kill me after you’ve fed me.”

The creature, or so as he calls himself Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, sneers at the mere mortal before sipping from his glass. “I like to play with my food.”

Snow shifts his weight again, this time in the slightest. Food . “Do the words have any significance?” he queries, stepping over to the throne and sprawling himself over the grand chair.

Bold and idiotic, this brave man, and why the creature hasn’t killed him yet is the mystery for the ages.

As he sits, untouched by the darkest creature of the land as he disrespects his power, he continues to challenge him, to question him, to dig deeper into the mind of the being.

“My name?” Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch mocks. “I… it quite fits me. I’m quite handsome, and a handsome face requires a handsome name?”

“Such as Basilton?”

“ Yes .”

Snow smiles in the slightest. “I quite like that part. Basilton .” He draws it out, head resting back against the cushioned side. “Basil? Bazzz?”

“Baz is quite a crude bastardization of the name...”

“Exactly,” Snow grins. “ Baz . A tad whimsical.”

“I don’t think I agree that it would be fitting.”

“I believe so.”

Baz cocks a brow, sipping his wine (thickened to look like blood for the dramatics) and rolling his eyes for the effect. “You dare taunt a demon?”

“I dare taunt a demon who won’t kill me.”

“I see why you have no further title than Mage of Warriors.”

Snow throws a mean look, but it doesn’t stick.

“Alas, The Warrior is speechless.”

The golden man watches him and slowly spreads across the chair even further, making a point of the demon’s (frankly inexplicable) lack of punishment for disrespect. Baz remains in his seat adjacent to Snow’s, though, enjoying the mortal for all he’s worth, for he’s never had a moment to truly enjoy something so beautiful in his long lifetime, and he’s not quite sure he’ll be able to again.

Fate is so sick and twisted, even for the darkest of creatures. To live without a love, to exist without simple joys is a robbery of a life at all. So, it should be drunk in; sipped slowly and with caution, but finished to fill. To live a short life, one full of true existence is preferable to a never-ending life without such care.

A life known by the striking soldier with rich honeycomb skin, speckled like a hen’s egg and bronze licks of hair curling at every odd and end. He’s a sight to drink in, a sight that Baz doesn’t quite want to take in steadily, but instead he wishes to have him all to himself for now, and for the rest of time.

Such fate isn’t one that would be so kindly graced upon a killer like himself, but wishes can be dreams and dreams can be wishes.

And thus stands their bickering interactions, a back and forth of questions, such as Snow asking why he chose such a lair as his and Baz simply answers “It doesn’t beg the question whether or not he’s genuinely dark”, which was satisfying enough for the mortal, but not enough, as he asks further questions of how he came to be a demon, why he attacks such villages, and whether or not he takes the effort to make his hair fall in a careful way. The personal grooming questions were a tad odd, but somewhat reasonable, given the humanoid’s attention to detail in his appearance. All questions are ones that other creatures would slash the throat of the man after he dares speak, but Baz simply listens, giving snarky answers and snide comments, all the while a small smile trying to push through his cheeks. He takes notice as Snow starts to yawn, struggling to keep a conversation while his eyes grow heavy.

“Tomorrow, then,” he says, eyes drifting up to meet Baz’s. “Tomorrow, I’ll kill you.”

“Tomorrow it is.”

Tomorrow it is. It echoes through Snow’s brain as he rattles awake, laying among the sheets of an abandoned bed in the emptied town.

read the rest on archive!

[loiswolf]

Day 31 June 18 Stone - Redditch 83kms

Day 31 June 18 Stone - Redditch  83kms

This morning was so much cooler than yesterday. I must have been very dehydrated yesterday afternoon. I drank all the sparkling water I bought at Lidl and heaps more. I used jugs of ice from the bar to keep the food in my food bag cool and also enjoyed a delicious meal in the restaurant with iced water. In my traumatised state I failed to notice that my sunglasses had fallen from the side table into the bin. There was a slight moment of panic when I realised they were missing but fortunately I checked the bin before making a fool of myself down at reception insisting I’d left them there.

I cycled off in a t-shirt enjoying the feel of the cool air on my sunburned arms. Navigating wasn’t difficult at all today. I just tried to follow the most direct road without ending up on a motorway. This is more difficult than you might think. The road system here is very confusing. I know I can’t ride any roads beginning with M and a blue sign, but what does this mean?

I used roads like this between my morning tea break near Wolverhampton and my lunch break outside  Birmingham. There was a fairly good path along this section so I stayed on it. It was rather slow going ( almost as tedious as the canal path) avoiding cracks and lumps caused by tree roots and bumping up and down gutters at every cross road.

Back to the morning…..I had a nice quick run on smooth roads which were quieter than usual as it was early Saturday morning.

Morning tea was a cupcake and coffee at a nice little cafe.

The cake was a bit stale. You never know how long they’ve been there when you order things like that…I should have had the French toast with bacon and maple syrup. Next time I will.

It was raining when I came out. I’d checked the forecast and knew it wasn’t a passing shower so I dug out my clown pants and pulled Pinky out of her little sack.

I’ve already told you about the next section, Slow but uneventful. There were signs to Redditch guiding me around Birmingham so I just followed them . I stopped at a KFC and had some wicked wings because I was pretty sure I wouldn’t get anything much for dinner.

Only about 20kms to go from there but it took a bit more navigating. The handy signs had disappeared so after a few map checks I ended up following a cycle route right down into Redditch.

I had planned to divert into the town so I could go to Lidl. I’ve decided it’s no use buying food earlier in the day unless you like your raspberries puréed and everything else squashy and damaged. So Lidl was exactly where it was meant to be but it was a brand new Lidl and hadn’t opened yet. Grrrrr. I had to go to Morrisons up the road. This one was better than the last one I went to so I didn’t end up with horrible orange bread rolls with fruit in them. Shudder!!

Only a couple of kms to my hotel. It’s a dive. When I arrived the girl told me I should have had an email telling me all bookings had been cancelled because their card ( door opening ) system was down. I assumed I just hadn’t seen the email yet and explained that I had nowhere else I could go because I was on a bike and there was nothing else around. She said I could stay but I would have to pay again because Booking.com would be sending me a refund. She could let me in the room but I wouldn’t be able to lock it if I went out. Not a problem since there is nowhere to go.

She let me in the room which smells awful. There were boogers on the wall right next to the bed which I have cleaned off. There was filthy sludge in the bottom of the kettle. I’m using my own. There is something horrible stuck to the underside of the toilet. I’m not going there.

After checking my emails and finding only a confirmation of my booking I have contacted Booking.com. The whole thing is dodgy. They knew nothing about any cancellations. They are unable to contact the hotel ( not surprising) and need me to send a screenshot of my back statement. Naturally the ANZ website is down for maintenance for a few hours so I will have to wait.

At least the cycling wasn’t traumatic today!

[running-on-fanfiction]

Alex Nylander - Love

if you do song based imagines, can you please do one about Alex Nylander and “You” by Callum James?

Author’s Note: I love doing song based fics, because it shows how everyone hears a certain song differently and I feel like you can learn a lot about that person based on their thoughts of the song. ALSO, Callum James, knows how to make my heart hurt and I love that. Enjoy! -J

The thought of Alex with someone else killed you inside. If someone would have asked you five years ago if you still saw yourself with Alex, you would have said yes.

Alex, was your first true love, and your best friend. He knew everything about you, that most didn’t know, and he even knew more than you did. It was scary to think someone else could do that and still mean so much to you. Alex, was. You were sure he always would be. So, when the words that escaped your mouths that one night, the ones that hurt everything you two had, broke you, you were lost.

It  had been two years since you last saw Alex. After the break up, you moved. There wasn’t one place in Rochester that didn’t make you think of Alex. It killed you to stay knowing that the man you loved so dearly was running around the same town with someone else. Not, that you knew if there was someone. In fact the only reason why you went back was because of your dad.

You dad had raised you, since you were a baby. Your mom was, never in the picture. You dad never talked about her, all you knew was that he loved her too much and she broken his heart. You knew she left you and your father, but you never really cared to know why or where. It was always you and your father, so when you got the call from your aunt you didn’t think twice before driving back home.

“Hey daddy.” You said giving him a weak smile as you walked into his hospital room.

“Hey almond.” He smiled as he held his arms out. “I’ve missed you.” He said as he hugged you.

“I’ve missed you so much. Are you feeling okay?” You asked trying not to cry.

“Oh, almond, don’t cry. It was only a mild heart attack. The doctor said it’s not too bad. No damage to the heart, all I have to do is change my eating happens. I even get to go home on Monday.” He smiled.

“I should have been there.” You said.

“There’s nothing you could have done sweetheart.”

“But-”

“No, no but’s. You’re here now, that’s all that counts.” He said placing a kiss to the top of your head. You spent the next day and half in the hospital, talking to the doctors who said the same thing your dad said. He was going to be fine. On Monday you took him home. He tried so hard to make sure you didn’t feel like you had to stay, but deep down you were thinking about moving back.

“San Diego, isn’t my cup of tea.” You said as you placed your stuff in your childhood room. You gave a weak smile as you looked up at your father, who was standing in the doorway. He knew there was more to it, by the tears that wanted to leak out but he also knew that when you were ready you would tell him.

“I’m going to go to the store. I noticed you don’t much and I have a list from the doctor.” You said placing your coat on.

“Okay, almond. Be careful.”

The place looked the same. Your school, the park, the arena, the lake where you would spend your nights with Alex. Oh. You felt the sick feeling again.

You parked the car, grabbed your bag and walked into the store. Everything, was feeling better, until you turned the corner to the bread section. Then the sick feeling bad it’s way back. Alex. You felt warm, and a smile appeared on your face, until.

“Babe, I can only find this bread.” The redhead said as she snaked her hand in his. You froze. You tried to walk away but you ran into the girl behind you.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You said still trying to leave.

“Oh sweetheart you’re fine.” The older lady said, but it was too late.

“Y/N?”

“Shit. Alex!” You faked a smile.

“You look good.” He smiled.

“Thanks.”

“Sorry, about your dad, I heard he’s doing better.” He said stepping closer. You could smell his cologne, the one you had bought him your first Christmas together.

“I um, I have to go.” You said. You left your cart and drove to a new store.

It took you awhile, do to the fact that you were trying so hard not to cry, and if you knew what awaited for you at home you might have taken a little longer.

“Dad, could you help me with the bags?” You asked as you walked into the kitchen. “Sure, someone’s waiting for you in your bedroom.” He smiled as he walked outside. You were confused as to who it could be, but then you smelled it again. Alex.

You thought of running out of the house but you saw your dad sitting on the front steps and knew there was no way he would let you run. So, you took a deep breath and walked into your room.

You looked at him, as he looked back at you.

“Her names Shelley.” He said  as you looked around.

“Huh?” You said turning towards your dresser and began to place the rest of your clothes in it.

“The girl at the store.” He said as he took a set on your bed.

“Well that’s nice.”

It was quite again.

“Why are you here?” You asked still not moving from your dresser.

“Because, I missed you.” He said. You scoft.

“Sure.”

“Hey.” He said sternly. “You left. Not me.”

“You broke up with me Alex, you.” You said feeling anger again.

“We were kids back then, Y/N. We broke up like every Sunday.” He said standing up. “But, you were the one that left.”

You turned around to look at him.

“I left because you were everywhere. Every spot in this town, has a memory of you. And it killed me. It killed me to see the roof that we use to sit on late at night when one of us was unset. It killed me to see where we had our first ever kiss, and it killed me to know that you were always five feet away from me no matter where I was in town. It killed me!” You said yelling the last part.

“You don’t think it killed me!” He yelled back. “You got to leave! I didn’t. I got to stay here in this shitty ass town knowing that the love of my life was nowhere to be seen. I love you. I never stopped, so that’s why I came here. Because, when I saw you at the store tonight I realized that, the feelings I had are still there, and I know that you feel the same. I can see it on your face.” He said this time lower. He tried to walked closer to you, but you moved away.

He placed his arms down and sighed. He placed his hands in his coat pocket. “I have a game tomorrow night.” He said as he walked towards the door. He placed two tickets on your pillow.

“You can come or you can sell the tickets. I don’t care, anymore, but I need you to know, I love you. We aren’t kids anymore.” He said as he walked out. You heard him say goodbye to your dad.

You picked the tickets up and placed them on your dresser, before going to bed. You wish you could say you slept but you didn’t. Alex’s words raced around your head, and when you logged on to your Twitter, you saw his name trending. When, you clicked on it you saw news articles upon, articles saying the same thing.

“Alex Nylander breaks it off with Model girlfriend.”

“Ten signs that showed us that Alex and Shelley were never going to make it.”

You turned off your phone and rolled over.

“Almond, wake up. I made pancakes.”

“Dad…” You whined.

“Come on, I have something for you.”

You huffed but got up and got dressed before heading to the dining room. Your dad had placed two plates, cups and a plate full of lemon blueberry pancakes on the table. You took your seat just as your father walked in with a shoebox in hand.

“What’s that?” You asked. He took his seat and took a sip of his coffee before answering you.

“I heard what happened last night and I think you need to go. We all know you still love him.”

“Da-”

“You remind me of your mother.” You made a face.

“I mean in a good way.” You dad laughed. He pushed the shoebox over towards you and nodded for you to open it.

Inside was, a bunch of little things. A photo of a church. A ribbon. A photo of a young girl. A ticket stub. You looked up at your dad, who kept talking as you looked through the box.

“I met your mom when, I was 18. Like, you and Alex. She was the light of my life for six years. She was kind, gentle, smart, and beautiful.” She was my Alex.” He said looking at you. He picked up the picture of the church.

“She, stole this from the church.” He chuckled. “She gave it to me and said that one day, one day this was where we were going to get married.”

“Dad, why are you showing me all this?” You asked confused.

“You mom was a saint in my eyes. I freaked out and left her.”

“Dad-”

“I left her, because I was scared to get hurt, but when she called me and told me she was having a baby, I ran back. It took her while to see that I wouldn’t run away again. Then, you came along and my whole world felt right, but she didn’t like the whole mom thing. Now, she loved you. She really did but she didn’t want to be a mom. So, I took you and moved here.” He said sitting back.

“I’m telling you this because, I don’t want you to run again, because you’re scared. That boy loves you, and I know you feel the same. You have to just go with the flow.

“Even, if I get hurt.”

“Even, if you get hurt. It’s better to say I tried then, I just ran away. Don’t become me, or your mom.” He smiled as he slide the tickets towards you.

+

Alex’s team lost that night. It was a close game, and you were so proud of him. He might not be in the NHL full time but he made it. He made it to his dream.

“You came.” He smiled as you were leaning against his car. You said nothing but kissed him.

“You were right. I do still love you.” You smiled as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Go on, let’s go home.” He smiled.

-Julianne

[the-jade-cross]

Burning Water - Chapter VI

Chapter 6

��So… I hope we didn’t miscommunicate,” Maya stuttered as she stared at the door that was the only thing separating her from the brothel of Kings Landing.

The woman, Zarina, smiled at the rather flustered and horrified girl. “Don’t worry. I promised that you would not feel uncomfortable working here. There is a parlor on the second floor. That is where the guests go to eat before or after their stay. No inappropriate behavior is allowed in there. Other than that, you will help with the washing, hanging the sheets to air and collecting the sheets. However, you will only have to remove sheets after the customers have departed. I have been working here doing those same duties here for five years and I have only run into someone having sex once and it was because they were so quiet, I didn’t think anyone was in the room.”

Maya let out a shaky breath, trying to calm her pent-up nerves. “Okay… erm… how will… the guests…”

“They will know you are off limits by a veil or a mask,” Zarina explained. “I only take my veil off when I am either out or there are no guests around. If they see you wearing a mask or a veil or if the lower half of your face is concealed, that means you are off limits. There are a few men who will try to pay handsomely to get their way. It happened once to me but when the man saw my scar, he took it back. You can make up a story… like you have no lips or something and they will leave you alone.”

“Anything else I have to do in order to get this job?” Maya inquired. “Credentials or something?”

Zarina chuckled, “No. Though, it would be nice to know why you came to Kings Landing. Helps to make bonds and build trust.”

Maya pursed her lips, “I… was almost raped back home… my brothers and father found it fit to send me somewhere where I wasn’t known… at least until I grew up and possibly… found a husband or became less… desirable. I am not sure what he meant by that.”

Zarina smiled at the innocent girl. Sixteen years old and she didn’t realize that she would make any man blush at her luscious curves, gorgeous eyes and perfect hair.

“Well, until you see it fit to leave or return home, this will be your new home,” Zarina told her. “I sleep up on the roof at night. It is never too cold at night and it smells less than indoors. Come, I’ll show you.”

Zarina led the girl up the stairs and Maya found with joy that they only ran into a prostitute once or twice, but they were dressed enough that Maya didn’t feel uncomfortable. She was thankful the men had the decency to have their pants on while the girls had only undergarments on, if that.

Once they reached the roof, Maya saw that it was flat with potted plants lining the small roof. There were a couple of hammocks to one side, a pile of pillows in a corner and across from the stairs at the other side of the roof were a few mattresses on the floor.

“All the prostitutes are either working at night or have their own homes so it will just be you and me up here,” Zarina explained. “I like to spread out though and Miss Veer, she runs the place, she likes to change the bedding and mattresses every month… they are used quite roughly so I bring them up here.”

Maya spied a bed that was a little set off from the others and dropped her bag on the red sheets.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Zarina told her with a smile, “I will head downstairs to grab some food. I will be right back.”

Maya sat down on the bed and pulled out her bag’s contents. She slipped her notebook that she used to sketch, write dancing plans and moves or just to write letters. This she slipped under the mattress between the floor and the mattress before pulling out her clothes and setting them in a small basket at the end of the bed.

The hatch to the stairs opened and Zarina stepped back up, carrying a tray with a pitcher of water, some bread, ham and cheese.

“Hungry?” she asked as she sat down at a small crate that she had transformed into a table.

Maya came over and sat cross-legged across from her.

“I didn’t think you drank wine, so I brought some water instead,” Zarina explained, pouring her a glass. “I also brought you these.”

Maya looked up, a bite of ham still in her mouth when she saw what Zarina was holding up. A simple green dress that was much more revealing than the simple dress she wore but a lot more modest than the things the prostitutes were wearing. Similar to what Zarina was wearing.

“I am sorry that it doesn’t cover more but Miss Veer insists. She doesn’t want to ‘scar off’ customers with vulgar dressed women. I think she misunderstands the term ‘vulgar’. Anyway. I also brought you this.”

She reached into her pocket and drew out a golden chain mask which she slipped onto her head to show Maya how it worked, “It will cover your forehead and your lower face. You can see perfectly fine and it is not uncomfortable. However, if you tell the customers that you have a scar or something, they will believe you since it covers enough. It will also help hide your pretty features and that way; less people will become interested in you.”

She took the mask off and held it out to Maya who looked at it before trying to pull it on, but it kept slipping. “Maybe I should do my hair up…”

Zarina nodded before scooting closer, “May I?”

Maya nodded and Zarina set about braiding Maya’s hair into an updo before helping her pull the mask on. Zarina sat back to give her a good look and she smiled, nodding.

“It suits you. Now the dress.”

Maya, knowing that there was no other way to avoid it, stood up and allowed Zarina to help her slip into the dress. As she looked down at herself, she realized that her mother was probably screaming from her grave, but she knew that if she wanted to hide her true self, no one would expect to find Mayaka Tyrell in a brothel in the middle of Kings Landing. This was the safest place to hide. For now.

“So, I do not believe you gave me your name,” Zarina observed.

Maya pursed her lips, thinking of what name to give but realized that everyone but her closest friends and siblings knew her as Maya. Everyone else thought she was just Mayaka.

“Maya. My name is Maya.”

************

A FEW WEEKS LATER

"Up and then to the left," Maya whispered as she swung her leg around, moving her arms in the opposite direction, trying to get the spin jump just the right way.

She tried but stumbled when she landed, huffing. "again," she told herself as she did the movement again.

"Maya! Have you seen the new soap Miss Veer..." A voice called as the hatch opened.

Maya spun around but forgot that she was in midair and she went falling to the ground, head first.

"Maya!" Zarina screamed but her cry died on her lips when the water from the pitcher on the crate shot out from the jar, flew through the air and wrapped around Maya's body like a big bubble, cushioning her fall so that the girl just stumbled onto her backside, the water soaking into the floor below her.

"Wha..." Zarina began but Maya scrambled to her feet and held up her hands.

"Zar, please, don't tell anyone about this...." she started but Zarina's eyes just kept getting wider.

"You're her.... the girl everyone was talking about a few months ago!" she whispered. "The water manipulator... the water dancer..."

Maya hung her head and Zarina's face split into a huge grin, "I was wondering why your name sounded familiar... Mayaka Tyrell. I would have never have guessed to find you here."

Maya shrugged, "Well you did kinda bring me here."

Zarina chuckled before rushing over but then her eyes fell on the wet puddle. Maya quickly began to move her hands and the water evaporated from the floor before she returned it to the jar.

"I promise I wont tell anyone," Zarina told her as the two sat down on one of the beds, crosslegged across from each other. "But Maya, you have to be careful. Not only are you still trying to do this but... men are beginning to notice you. Some of the guests have been asking about you... even some of the male prostitutes!"

Maya's head snapped up but Zarina rubbed her shoulder, "I wont let any of them have you but... the place that you thought would be safe to hide you... might not be as safe as we once thought."

******

Zarina hummed in contentment as she walked down the alleyway toward the brothel. She had gone to town to pick up some food and a little bit of fabric. Maya hated having to leave the brothel, even though that sounded totally perverted but the girl was afraid that someone would recognize her by accident so Zarina would do her shopping for her. The two women had gotten their monthly wage the night before and Maya had asked Zarina to buy a simple bolt of strong dark blue fabric for the dress that Zarina had given Maya two years ago when the girl first arrived was wearing out and tearing in places, so Maya wanted to make a new one and had given her money to Zarina to use.

It was early morning, and the sun was barely up, giving the whole of Kings Landing a dark reddish hue. Few people were up this early except those who worked for a living like the blacksmiths and bakers.

When the woman stepped into the brothel, it was silent. The guests were probably sleeping in the guest room section of the building near the back or they had left, and the prostitutes weren’t yet in. Barely any customers came in the morning so they never had to come in till later but Zarina was always up before dawn doing the shopping she couldn’t do during the day while Maya did her morning rounds, doing laundry and preparing beds.

Zarina stopped in the pantry to drop off the extra food before heading up to the roof. Maya was not there so she set the bolt of fabric on her mattress before heading downstairs to see if she could find Maya to help her with the sheets. She searched every room that was not occupied by a paying overnight guest but there was no sign of the girl.

Beginning to worry and fearing that Maya had stepped outside for an emergency, Zarina hurried to look outside when she heard a muffled voice coming from the linen room. The room was only opened to get fresh linen to replace soiled ones so Zarina crept toward it cautiously, hoping dearly that she wouldn’t open it to find two of the prostitutes having on the side sex in the closet. She quickly threw it open and her heart relaxed when she did not find anyone in there between someone’s legs but then her heart plummeted to her soles when she saw who was in there…. Maya!

The girl lay on the corner of the closet, her knees brought up close to her chest with her ankles tied, wrists bound above her head and attached to a nail in the wall. Linen was spewed on the ground, having been knocked down and there was a gag in Maya’s mouth.

Zarina took in the sight of the girl in an instant and she felt anger boil in her throat. Tears were streaming from Maya’s gorgeous blue eyes that were wide with fears and puffy from constant sobbing. She was trembling in the bonds, bruises littering her bare arms and her skirt was ripped… oh…

“Maya!” Zarina cried, dropping to her knees to unbind the girl and Maya tore off the gag. “What happened!?”

“I don’t know…” Maya admitted as Zarina helped her sit up straight and outside the linen closet. “I…. I was changing the bedding…. And… one of the male workers… he came up and asked if I needed help…I said he could help…. Everything seemed okay… but the next thing I know… everything went black and then I woke up in here two hours ago.” Maya choked out as she tried to still her panting and sobs.

Zarina sighed. Perhaps the man just wanted to steal something, so he knocked Maya out. She prayed dearly that was the case until she saw something that made her blood boil… blood…seeping from between Maya’s legs.

“Maya,” Zarina whispered, cupping the sobbing girl’s face to look her in the eyes. “Do you feel any pain?”

Maya frowned before Zarina stood up and motioned for her to do the same. Taking Zarina’s hand, Maya got to her feet but immediately cried out in pain and doubled over, clutching her lower abdomen close to her thighs.

“Ow… oh ow… why does that hurt!” She cried, tears streaming anew from her eyes. “I have never felt this pain….”

Zarina sighed, feeling tears prick her own eyes when she realized what had happened. “Maya sweetie, we need to get you to the roof and then I need to get a hold of Miss Veer. Do you remember who it was who did this to you?”

Maya nodded weakly as she allowed Zarina to help her up the stairs to the roof. “Olyver’s brother… Octovio.”

Zarina found herself growling in anger as she supported the sore and bruised Maya up the stairs. When they reached the roof, Zarina helped the girl lay down on her mattress and Zarina began to gently remove Maya’s outer clothes. When Maya was in nothing but her undergarments, Zarina saw the extent of the damage. Hand bruises on the girl’s waist. Thankfully the man hadn’t removed her chest wrap which remained intact but her underwear was torn in half and soaked with blood and smelt of semen.

“The bastard,” Zarina hissed as she gently removed the soiled garments from the weeping girl. “He will rot in hell for this.”

After grabbing a damp cloth and helping the girl clean up before redressing her in her nightgown and covering her with the blanket, Maya turned to look at Zarina, tears trickling onto her pillow. “Zar… he… did he… he did didn’t he?” she whispered, lip trembling.

Zarina wished she didn’t have to say this but the look in Maya’s eyes… broken hope… destroyed trust and horrified innocence… she couldn’t lie to her. Slowly she nodded and Maya whimpered, turning to hide her face under the blankets.

The girl gently shushed Maya before stroking her hair. “You stay here. I am going down to find Miss Veer. I will be right back.”

Maya didn’t realize Zarina had left until she heard the trap door open and two sets of footsteps hurry over. Peeking out of the covers, she saw the stern Miss Veer standing with Zarina, a serious look on her face but worry in her eyes.

“May I see you child?” she asked gently as she knelt beside Maya.

Maya weakly nodded and allowed Miss Veer to open her skirt and slide aside her fresh underwear. The woman too one look at the bruised flesh, red puffy eyes, grip marks on her thighs and waist and the still bloody womanhood before standing up and turning to Zarina angrily.

“Rape is punishable by being thrown out of the brothel but this… rape while the other is unconscious… this is punishable by imprisonment and torture. I will inform the authorities and have a guard come and find Octovio. He probably thinks no one would realize what happened since Maya was unconscious. You stay with Maya today. I will have one of the girls take your places for today. Do whatever you need to in order to ensure that this never happens to Maya again. Arm her, change her clothes, whatever you need but fix this.”

Zarina nodded as the woman angrily stormed downstairs, yelling orders to the other workers. Zarina sat down beside Maya who was crying again.

“I am ruined, aren’t I?” she whispered. “I had begun to like being here… with you… and Miss Veer…and I hoped that perhaps if my family every visited Kings Landing, I would return to them but… no one will want me like this… not my sister… not my brothers… not a possible husband… most definitely not my father!”

“Sh,” Zarina cooed. “None of this is your fault Maya. That man will pay for what he did to you and I am certain your family will not hold you responsible and welcome you back with open arms. As for a husband. Every man is a fool for not wanting to marry you, virgin or not. Just because you aren’t a virgin anymore Maya does not mean you are not the innocent, sweet, caring girl I have known these two years.”

Maya whimpered as she remembered her sixteenth birthday and the romantically memorable dance, she shared with the young prince of Dorne. “Not even Oberyn Martell of Dorne, the man whore of Westeros would want me, even if I paid him.”

[peterstestkitchen]

Circus Peanut Peanut Butter

Rating: 5/5 ~ 16 votes

Time: 5 minutes (omnivore, unhealthy version), 7 minutes (vegan, unhealthy version), 1 hour (vegan, healthy version)

Every Thursday when I was a kid, my mom would plop me and my brother down at the local library for children’s storytime. When it was over and the head librarian had dismissed us, I would roam the library in order to gaze upon my favorite library things: the model ships, the strange YA cartoon books, and the aisle where every book had a blue sticker of a man smoking a pipe. When mom showed up again and it was time to go, a video cassette—the Star Trek episode, “The Trouble with Tribbles,” usually—was clasped between my grubby paws. In my brother’s, the latest installment in the Hank the Cowdog children’s book series. Ahh… just thinking about the VHS section and I can smell the polypropylene-imbued air sure to be found when in close proximity to the clamshell case palisade!

Come spring, a box of circus tickets would appear on the library counter suspiciously close to the checkout machine. The circus was coming to town! ...And our parents would never let us go. ...Until the day they did.

In truth, I don’t remember much from the circus. It wasn’t in a tent, it was in the town’s hockey arena—and poodles took the place of elephants. In fact, I didn’t even eat circus peanuts while there! Get this, my dad bought a box of Cracker Jacks—for himself! However, this was the genesis of my love affair with the circus. Sorry, honey. There’s someone else… and his name is Barry Lubin! (Barry Lubin is a famous clown.)

Fast forward to the near present and after getting the quarantine spring jibblies, I finally snapped and declared, “If I can’t go to the circus, well, in fact, I’ll bring the circus to me!” (Side note: still to this very day I have only been to the circus once. It’s more about having the feeling that I could go to a circus if I wanted to, rather than the feeling of being barred from a yearly ritual. After all, circuses are generally banal and raise many animal treatment issues. Again, it’s the romanticized circus I like. The Idea of Circus.) So I decided to acquire some circus peanuts, having never actually tried them before.

“So, from where did circus peanuts first appear, even?” you ask. Well, it appears no one knows. They are believed to have come onto the confectionary colosseum sometime in the 1800s, making them one of the oldest continuously produced candies. Well, I shouldn’t say continuously produced, as they originally were a seasonal treat before better packaging techniques were invented! Thank you, science! :) My best guess is that they originated as an ersatz peanut product, similar to how the hazelnut was used as a filler with which to cut chocolate products during a cocoa scarcity in Italy during WWII. (More talk about hazelnut spreads below!) Whatever the case, this homemade recipe is on scale! :) Okay, so back to business.

Acquiring circus peanuts in quarantine was a bit harder than expected. Every store I visited was sold out: Fleet Farm, Walgreens, Kwik Trip—all out! Alas, toilet paper wasn’t the only thing people were snatching up! Curse you, omnivores! (Side note: lest we forget this pandemic would have never happened had the world been vegan. I don’t think it’s wrong of me to suggest that everyone who consumes animal products from factory farms should have to pay the unemployed vegans an extra $600 a month. Why should I, a humble plant eater, pay for the mess of the omnivores yet again? Stop eating meat, y’all! Factually stated, 41% of all land in the United States is used for livestock! What a fuckin’ waste! And excusez mon français!)

So instead of continuing on a wild goose chase to find these golden eggs, I decided to take a radical approach and make my own circus peanuts. (Plus, I found out after Googling around that circus peanuts aren’t even vegan! For shame!) This is where things start to get a little tricky. You see, I’m a bit of a health nut. Well, maybe a little more than a bit of one... I may be a full-on health peanut! Peanuts like me would never eat something so processed anyway... But who’s to say I can’t have a taste of the circus in a healthy, vegan way? Why not make homemade circus peanut peanut butter? And better yet, why not use duckweed as a base instead of circus peanuts? You get all the goodness of the circus but in a spreadable way with all the health benefits of the most nutrient dense plant known to humanity. For yumzeez! :)

World’s healthiest food

For those who only know duckweed from smelly retention ponds, duckweed (also known as water lentils) is actually a great food for humans. It has more protein than soy, has many antioxidants, and is a natural source of B12. Get this, the bacteria that make B12 grow in a symbiotic relationship with the plant! Question: How neat is that? Answer: That’s pretty neat! And by the way, omnis, B12 comes from bacteria in the dirt that vegan animals eat. Given that most cows and chickens eat feed that’s been washed, these animals too have to be given vitamins—the meat you eat is trash :) 

So I finnicked for a long time to get the duckweed circus peanut peanut butter spread consistency right (we’ll save that process for a different post!), bought some peanut-shaped molds from eBay, found some food coloring in the back of the cabinet, and I was off to the races! Err, Circus! I had done it! I had made circus peanut peanut butter! Granted, it tasted more like an artificially flavored banana salad than candy, but it’s the thought that counts!

So… days go by and I get tested and find out I don’t have the coronavirus. Yipee! Time to see my folks! ...But I couldn’t serve that to my family. They’d think I’d lost my marbles! So instead, I came up with a more palatable, albeit less healthy, option. Instead of duckweed, I would use Trader Joe’s brand vegan marshmallows, dye them to the proper color, and mold them in shape. Then I could serve my folks organic, gluten free, non-GMO circus peanuts, or I could blend them to make totally delicious circus peanut peanut butter. Then maybe make a circus-y themed fluffernutter? Mmmmm!

And there’s even an option for the omnis among us: get real circus peanuts and follow the same procedure. (Just know if you do that, the gelatin you’ll be consuming will be from the bones, skin, and hooves of dozens of different cows or pigs.) For simplicity’s sake and also because I am collaborating with an omni for this post, we ended up going with regular circus peanuts. She had already purchased the circus peanuts before I could alert her that it had to be vegan. My bad! :^O “’Tis better to use the food you have than to let it go to waste.” Plus, they were Spangler brand, the classic choice for circus peanuts!

Aforementioned, I called in the big guns: food stylist, chef, event planner, and artist, Kendal Kulley. Check her out on Instagram! She assisted me as we made her favorite sandwich with the addition of my favorite ingredient: the Circus Peanut Peanut Butter and Pudding and Chocolate Peanut Butter Sandwich! First, take lightly toasted Whole Wheat bread (100% whole wheat works best). Then, slather a thick layer of homemade circus peanut peanut butter followed by a smathering of lemon pudding (Snack pack brand is my favorite, lemon is her favorite flavor (within the Snack pack brand family)). Next, add a sprinkling of hemp hearts for a bit of protein and roughage—not to mention polyunsaturated fats!

After that, Kendal likes to add a squidge of chocolate flavored peanut butter or hazelnut spread to thicken the whole thing up. Please note that I do not condone the use of most flavored peanut butters or products like Nutella as they often contain palm oil, a cash crop leading to rainforest deforestation. The same goes for cocoa. Instead, I propose we continue to advocate that the UN apportion monies to residents of poorer rainforested countries so they can live comfortably and keep our biggest source of oxygen intact. I’m happy pitching in a handful of dollars every year if it means I can keep breathing clean air :)

Then, simply close it up and enjoy! Buuuuuuut, if you’re feeling really ambitious like we are, you can make… wait for it… a TRIPLE DECKER! Just repeat the process over again with a third slice and add it on top! YUM. Cut it in half and there you have it! A perfect guilt-free (provided you followed the vegan duckweed version and omitted the peanut butter and used a more hearty bread) lunch item! Bon appétit!

I hope you enjoy this recipe and let me know in the comments how it turned out! It shouldn’t take any more than five minutes if doing the omni method (grrrr!) and about one hour for the healthy vegan method. It makes one jar worth and will last three to five days in the refrigerator—but it never lasts that long! Oh, and if you do end up having sandwich leftovers, it works great for a morning hash! But again, I, for one, almost never have leftovers! :)

Peace!

Peter 

Omnivore version (unhealthy):

Ingredients:

1 package Spangler brand circus peanuts

4 tbsp water

If making chunky, set aside one circus peanut to mince in a food processor or with a knife. In a large bowl, add the circus peanuts and water. Microwave for two minutes on high or until the circus peanuts have expanded to twice their size. Serve immediately or add to an airtight container.

Vegan version (unhealthy):

Ingredients:

1 package Trader Joe’s brand vegan marshmallows

4 tbsp water

2 drops natural banana flavor

4 drops orange food coloring

In a large bowl, add the marshmallows and water. Microwave for two minutes on high or until the marshmallows have expanded and softened. Mix in the food coloring and natural flavor and microwave for another minute. Add to mold and set sit until at room temperature. When fully set, add to Vitamix and blend until desired peanut butter consistency is achieved. Serve immediately or add to an airtight container.

Vegan version (healthy):

Ingredients:

6 cups fresh duckweed

4 tbsp flaxseed meal.

4 drops natural banana flavor

12-18 drops orange food coloring

If making homemade duckweed, follow these instructions and skip the next step. If collecting from a pond, read on. Preheat the oven to 300 degrees. In an Instant Pot or lesser pressure cooker, steam the duckweed for one minute on high pressure with the valve set to sealing. Do five minutes of natural pressure release. Blend in the Vitamix with food coloring, flaxseed meal, and banana flavor until it becomes a fine mush. Put in peanut mold. Place in the oven for 10 minutes, or until the peanuts have mostly dried out. Put back in the Vitamix and blend until you have the desired level of consistency. Serve immediately or add to an airtight container. 

Captions:

Oh look! An ant wanted to join us! Hello, little ant!

Comments:

Feel free to email me your comments and I will add them below :)

OMG this looks so goooood!

Thanks for the post, Peter! I just wanna say that I too used to go to the circus with my family every year and loved it! I will try this recipe ASAP.