#allens baked rumblings

[allens-chocolate-dreams]

An introduction to all my Sidesteps!

Details under the cut.

Ollie Gardener

- Technically Oliver Gardener, but nobody calls them that.

- Nonbinary transmasc, they/them pronouns, pansexual, Latine.

- Puppet is a short Latina lady called Yasmin, and villain name is Nerium, coming from the scientific name of their favorite toxic flowers: oleanders. Armor appearance varies by playthrough, but is usually flower-themed.

- Blue leaning stats for the most part, tech savvy tactician, Puppetmaster scar with Justice motivation, sui tag true, either Anarchist or "prepare them" Hero Hunter depending on playthrough. Base is the tech shop.

- Is very manipulative, uses their cute appearance and tastes for soft colors and clothing to their advantage, very calculating despite being empathetic. Obsessed with plants, especially flowers, and has a fascination for fungi, specifically mushrooms as well. They're an artist, and frequently paints nature in their free time when they're not being dragged down by their faulty mental health.

- Has a vice on sweets.

- Romance path varies, but has had feelings for Julia, Daniel, and Argent.

- Has scoliosis and chronic lower back pain, uses a cane when leaving the house.

Chris Bunny

- Trans woman, she/her pronouns, bisexual, half-Japanese + half White Brazilian.

- Puppet is a tall mixed woman named Alice, and her villain identity is Puppetmaster.

- Orange leaning stats for Daring and Arrogance, and high Infamy, but her wavering empathy keeps her from being a full Orangestep. Streetsmart tactician, varies between Friendless and Puppetmaster scar, and between Anger or Revenge motivation, depending on playthrough. Mob Boss who's friendly with her crew and showed them her face and base. Base is in the luxury property. Armor is Imposing.

- She's reckless, loves to banter and fight even being a tactician, and despite being very driven and able to be quite ruthless, she's got a strong grip on her morals and lines she won't cross for the most part. However, she is still of the opinion that the ends justify the means. Passionate and stubborn, struggles with caring too much about others when she's supposed to be detached in order to be safe and achieve her goals. Can be very caring when she allows herself to be. Has a lot of hobbies, but the main ones include reading children's books, fashion, singing and playing guitar.

- Main vice is sweets, but drinks alcohol when she hits rock bottom as well.

- Main romance path is Ortega, but has also been with Daniel or Argent in some playthroughs.

- Has mild scoliosis and chronic pain in her hands, especially her right wrist due to repeated injury. Sensitive skin can get easily irritated from various materials.

Nathane Mariom

- Femme-leaning Bigender, she/they pronouns, asexual lesbian, White.

- Puppet is a tall White man named Nate, villain identity is Decayed.

- Blue leaning stats for the most part, but ruthless levels are unstable. Tech savvy tactician, Friendless scar with Revenge motivation, sui tag true, Anarchist who wants to break the system. Base is in the tunnels. Armor varies between Mysterious and Terrifying.

- She's apathetic, shy but blunt, struggles with recognizing her own emotions, has severe depression and does not take care of herself at all. Doesn't know how to connect to people, and though they're not openly malicious, struggles to set limits for themselves in their villainy, which often hurts a lot more people than they acknowledge. Fucked up tendencies they're not completely aware of. Main hobby is doodling and learning about ocean creatures, especially whales, sharks and jellyfish.

- Has a vice on coffee and extremely caffeinated energy drinks.

- Main romance path is the poly with Argent and Julia, though they have also been involved with Mortum as the puppet in some paths.

- Has widespread chronic pain and fatigue, likely due to fibromyalgia worsened by trauma and nerve damage. Used to just suffer without support, but as of Retribution and Revelations, has gotten a manual wheelchair with power assist and an upright rollator to help with the pain in their daily life. Sometimes uses a single crutch around the house.

Matheus Carvalho

- Trans man, he/him pronouns, gay, Black with a Brazilian heritage.

- Puppet is a short Black man named João, villain identity is Fallen.

- Bluestep, very empathetic, though there's some minor arrogance there depending on playthrough. Tech savvy tactician, Outsider scar with Fate motivation, sui tag true, varies between Hero Hunter and Anarchist. Base is in the tech shop. Villain armor varies between Mysterious and Functional.

- He's empathetic, prefers to be gentle when he can, is quiet and very shy, struggles with getting close to people or believing he's able to make connections. His beliefs in Fate are very strong, and he believes he's doomed to fall and fail no matter what, which both comforts and terrifies him. Has an all-or-nothing approach to things, struggles with nuance and rigid thinking. Despite everything, he tries his best to be kind and tell the truth when he's able to. At the same time, struggles with transitions between lies and truth, and as such often gets caught up in trouble when he holds on to a single instance for too long. Hobbies include baking, fashion, reading poetry and practicing capoeira.

- Has a vice on both sweets and coffee.

- Main romance path is the poly with Ricardo and Chen.

- Has significant scoliosis, chronic pain in both his lower back and right leg, uses a cane for balance as well as to take the weight off his painful joints. Has sensory processing disorder and episodic migraines, which his tinted glasses help with.

Zenith Orionis

- Nonbinary, zie/hir, aroace-spec panromantic, very mixed.

- Puppet is a short mixed woman named Carina, villain identity is Hunger.

- Maxed out Daring and Arrogance stats with extremely high Empathy to balance it out. Tech savvy tactician, Hunger scar with Better Life motivation, sui tag true, art Thief who's very good at hir job. Villain base varies, armor is Terrifying.

- Zie's chaotic, mischievous, thrill seeking, self-destructive and hyperactive to cover up the fact that hir senses are dulled and hir senses of personhood and connection to the world are messed up. Zie's usually kinda sweet, if snarky, and doesn't mean to cause unnecessary harm, but will often do so due to hir reckless behavior. Has a distorted mentality when it comes to the logics of villainy and manipulation, genuinely believes that zie's doing good by hurting the heroes and giving them a "challenge", for example. Constantly looking for intense sensory feelings, which makes it drawn to eyestrain, Scene and Weirdcore stuff, fidget toys, snacks with strong flavors, and abstract art. Has a special interest in space and galaxy stuff, which is where hir name comes from, and hir main hobbies include art and singing.

- Has an extreme sweet vice, but will often indulge in caffeine and alcohol as well.

- Romance path is with Danny.

- Has chronic pain and nerve damage in hir right shoulder, lower back, left hip, both knees and right ankle. Uses very colorful crutches to get by in civilian life, and relies on hir armor's pain management systems for villain work.

And these are all my Sidesteps! I hope you like them ^_^

[wingingitonwheels]

Monday 11th November: Tome

It’s only two days that have passed since I last wrote, and whilst sitting on a bike and simply pedalling seems such a basic and functional existence, it feels like I’ve had a month’s worth of experience despite geographically having not made much progress south. Avoiding Ruta 5 is proving to take me on the path less trodden and although I’ve only one degree south since Saturday, and overall just 2 degrees south, each day has delivered new vistas, different cultures and daylight hours are accelerating so fast, I wake up confused each morning as to whether I’ve slept too long or not. It’s getting colder and I’m starting to need my jacket both in the morning and descending. It is still spring here and I’ve got hay fever for the first time whilst abroad! In just 5 days, the temperature has moved from oppressive to pleasant, and just 3 days ago, it seemed I’d found Chile’s tranquility. Followed by its wine region, which leaked into Chilean Wales and finally to the Pacific town of Tomé, a busy seaside town north of Concepcion.

My rear tyre will likely need replacing by Puerto Montt and yesterday as I slogged up my fifteenth hill of the day, whilst cursing my mobile home for the twentieth time, I considered that like my tyre, I might arrive in Puerto Montt too tired to enjoy the reason I came. I worked through how I could get there and miss the rest of Chile. Plane (cheap but need a box), bus (three legs - fine if you don’t have a bike) or hire a car. All very reasonable ideas and possible from Concepcion. However the weather in Puerto Montt (the reason I didn’t fly directly there as initially planned) is still poor for another ten days. The reality is that my long held dream could be a damp Squibb by rushing. And whilst I’d love to make the most of my camping gear, as I cross Chile, tired and dirty at the end of each day, given the choice of an average hotel at a reasonable price or a tent where now the nights are cold, it’s an easy decision to opt for comfort. It is a real dilemma though.

I’ve figured out that if I convert a mile for a kilometre (kilometres measure distance here), I’ve found my formula for calculating how long it will take me to get from point to point. In the olden days, when I used to have a fast bike and legs, and carried very little, I’d roughly cover on a good day, twenty miles in an hour. Now I cover twenty kilometres on average in an hour. On a good day that could average twenty-three, but it makes me feel better to think as kilometres as miles so I’m not so disheartened at the slow pace I’m moving. But now with ten days or so until it’s worth getting to Puerto Montt, I may as well make my days shorter for the 785 kilometres remaining until the planned journey might commence 😬. In terms of the UK, that’s roughly John O Groats to Kendal or going north, Land’s End to just north of Lancaster. So today I’ll pass the midway point to Puerto Montt! Woohoo!

Saturday 9th November

Having arrived the night before to Eliana’s little cabin, sun baked and frazzled, I took my time getting going. After saying goodbye to Bongo, I put on my music and hit the road, feeling much better for a later start and allowing myself a shorter day of just thirty miles if I chose, which would take me to Cauquenes for around lunchtime. Not long into the ride, my rear wheel juddered weirdly, as though the wheel was misaligned. It was disturbing but I figured I must have ridden over a rumbly bit of road and got over it. About ten minutes later, I looked back at my rear hub and noticed the tool Allen key bolt still attached to the skewer (this is a tiny slot in key rather than a full length key for clarity) from when I changed my tyre. Doh! Stopping to take it off, I noticed my pannier wasn’t securely shut, so scalded myself and tightened it and continued. The hills seemed like less work than other days, I felt lighter and happy, singing loudly to Sophie B Hawkins Right Beside me and Randy Newman’s One day I’ll Fly Away. She has to be one of the most emotional singers in history. It was Almaz that helped me write my best ever English essay, a story which was really quite sad of a lonely boy living in probably Colorado (where at the time I’d never been, who walked up high into the Aspen forest, lamenting the world whilst taking in its beauty as birds soared overhead whilst he perched on a ledge). After returning tot the real world from my deep and distant thoughts, it immediately occurred that I felt lighter. Perhaps not fitter? At exactly seventeen miles and at the top of a climb, I stopped and checked…had something fallen from my loose pannier? Frantic checking followed and lo and behold, my telephoto lens was gone, a gift, the single most heavy piece of equipment and the thing that nearly didn’t come. I held back tears and considered what had happened. I expected the juddering was the lens falling out of the pannier and being caught in the back wheel before it was spat out and exploded on the road behind me. And of course as I was listening to music, I didn’t hear it drop. Disaster. Was there any point at riding back a likely fifteen miles to see it obliterated? I had to. I couldn’t go on not knowing. And perhaps I might be lucky. There was a hard shoulder all the way and if it wasn’t broken it was unlikely someone would stop at exactly that point. With a very heavy heart, I turned back.

There was no question of it appearing in the first thirteen miles that I retraced. Any fatigue was replaced with adrenaline. Whilst I acknowledged the positive beeps from the friendly and supportive motorists, I was laser focused, riding the wrong way on the hard shoulder. As I got closer to the judder point, my eyes traced every contour, every gutter. Nothing. With two miles to go till I was back at the start, I decided there was no harm in simply asking my hosts if anyone had found a lens. I waited by the gates as Bongo and Max bolted towards me, followed by Elish…cuddling my lens like a baby. I could have kissed him! Tired Chell makes mistakes. Chell was VERY tired that morning!

All’s well that ends well. Lunch of Chicken leg was consumed at the roadside cafe where I started the day and four hours after initially starting the day, I started again, a little heavier, but happy. Dumb ass 🙄. And although a complete pain in the ass of a day, look at the beauty I saw alive at the side of the road? A Chilean Rose Tarantula. Incredibly stunning…

I’m a day behind but there’s too much to say about my next night and day for now, so reader (assuming there’s still a few), you’ll have to wait. 😄. Adios!

[yehet-me-up]

A Truth Universally Acknowledged - Chapter One

Pairing (this chapter): Junmyeon x Reader (female) 

Genre: Jane Austen-inspired, Regency fun + angst 

Rating: PG (this chapter)

Word Count: 5,296

Summary: A chance meeting brings a handsome, charming man named Jun into your life and your heart. But as your family gets used to their new life after a scandalous loss of money and status, the obstacles between the two of you stack up. 

Moodboard by @gingersaysjump​ A GODDESS, TRULY 😍 

A/N: I’m indebted to Shanae and Kat @yeoldontknow​​ for support and plotting with me and for fanning the flames of this series. 💕😘

Story Masterlist

The meal is half finished by the time your father finally joins the breakfast table; ambling and struggling to remain proud even in the face of ruin. 

He sits down at the head of the table like the king of a crumbling country, lost and diminished with lack of purpose.

Your mother watches him anxiously, her toast abandoned on her plate as she takes in his drawn brow. He clutches a letter in his hand, his mouth thinning to a tight line.

Across the table, you and your sister meet each other’s gaze. She chews anxiously on her bottom lip and you give her a small shrug of surrender. Since word came out that your family’s fortune was lost in a series of bad investments, the news of your fate has felt like a sword hanging above your head.

But now, apparently, the sword has fallen.

Your father clears his throat. ‘John has written to me.’ The words stretch out into a pause.

With a noise of frustration your mother drops her glass to the table. ‘And?’

He can’t meet her eyes, staring at the unfolded paper in his hand. ‘The house has been purchased. And at ten percent over what we asked for.’

Your sister raises her brow. ‘Why on earth would someone pay more?’

He clears his throat, awkwardly looking out the wide dining room window to the lush garden beyond. ‘We... came to an agreement.’

Dread settles low in your stomach. Whatever this agreement is, you have a sickening feeling it involves you.

‘As Mary and Daniel will be coming with your mother and I to Bath, the house will be lacking proper help,’ he says softly, ashamed. ‘The new owner inquired as to whether my daughters would be willing to remain at the house under his employ. Your room and board will be provided for.’

Your sister stands, fire in her eyes. She slams her palms on the thick wood table. She is a spark, always a roaring blaze, while you are the embers, burning hot beneath the surface, consuming yourself with indignation.

‘You mean he offered us the gracious opportunity to be servants in our own home? And you accepted?’ She demands sharply, rooting out the truth with a voice like a knife. 

Next to you, your mother drops her head into her hands, quietly weeping. ‘How could you?’ she pleads. 

When she looks up her cheeks are shiny with tears. ‘How will our daughters ever find husbands now Richard? What will become of them?’

He straightens, trying to regain some of his pride. ‘It seemed the best situation… for all.’

Your mother and sister scoff but all you can do is stare at the way the light glints off the water in your cup in front of you. Sadness settles over you, heavy and resigned, and you try to find something positive to cling to. 

‘This is humiliating,’ your sister hisses. She folds her arm and goes to stand at the window, radiating shame and heat.

‘We have hardly enough money for your mother and I to live. There is not enough to- you would have had to support yourself somehow anyway. There are still those in this village who are sympathetic to us. It seemed... the best solution.’

‘What about Bradley?’ your sister asks. The fact that your brother is able to work a respectable job and earn his own living is a wedge between him and you two.

‘Your brother will remain here in town, as well,’ he says. ‘The Allens have consented to let him sleep in the back room of the shop, in exchange for some extra work he will do from now on.’

Silence falls in the room. 

Finally you speak, resigned to this fate. ‘When?’

Everyone turns to your father. ‘Well. Your mother and I are essentially packed. The furniture, the art, most of the clothes will remain here with the house or be sold to appease our debts.’

‘We can’t even take our clothes?’ your sister demands. Her one true love is fashion and this must cut her deep.

He raises a hand. ‘Now, now darling. You can select three gowns to take with you to the servant’s quarters. That should be plenty. And Mary has a few spare work dresses she can leave behind for you and your sister.’

She glares at him, resembling a snake, spitting venom. ‘When? A month? A week?’

Your father pauses, rubbing his eyes. He looks as old as time itself when he finally looks around the table. ‘Tomorrow.’

The word is akin to a punch in your gut and you gasp. It’s drowned out by your mother and sister speaking in unison.

He makes a noise like a bear. ‘Your mother and I will depart in the morning. The two of you will move into the servants cottage tomorrow and begin preparing the house for the new tenant. Anna will be staying here, she will show you what to do.’

‘I’ll be meeting him later today to formalize the papers with the clerk.’ Message delivered, he slumps back in his chair. The last of his kingdom gone.

The wounded pride, your family name tarnished, you could tolerate. What use have you for the opinions of the small-minded people in town, as long as those you love are happy and in good health?

But the sight of him like this, broken and hollow, undoes you. Robs you of the naive hope you’ve kept hidden in your heart for weeks. That somehow this was all a joke. That it would somehow be fine. 

The stories you read had built up in your mind a fervent hope in divine intervention. A distant relative who would take you in. A gift from a wealthy friend who takes pity on you. A fairy godmother or a magical witch to grant your deepest wishes.

But as you listen to the sounds of baking through the open kitchen door, you know it is well and truly over. Neither of your parents have siblings of means. Your best friend, Maggie, has to work as a seamstress to help her husband’s meager income. Fairies and witches only exist between the pages of books.

No one is coming to rescue you. 

Your parents will be far away. Any hope you had of a life spent in the gardens - reading and laughing with your sister and Maggie - is dashed. Freedom leeches from your life and you find it suddenly very hot in the room.

Soon, you will be forced to marry to survive, whoever will take you. Either that or spend your days working in the kitchens, scrubbing pots and floors and pillow cases until your fingers grow old with age. 

‘I’m coming with you,’ your sister says harshly. ‘I want to look this man in the eyes before you sign our fates away.’

He waves a hand listlessly in agreement. Despair roars in your chest and you stand abruptly, chair clattering to the floor behind you.

‘I’m sorry, I have to- I can’t breathe,’ you say, heart thundering in your chest.

You turn and rush through the entry to the kitchen, your father calling after you. But you don’t stop as you run through the back door out into the yard. The chill of winter is finally melting from the earth and it cools your skin as you run like a woman possessed.

The length of your dress threatens to trip you and you gather the fabric in your arms with an uncharacteristic growl of frustration. Frustration at the stupid material, impeding your desperate run. Frustration at your father and mother for what feels like abandonment. Frustration at the men in your family for losing your very livelihood. 

Frustration at whoever purchased Springwoods for offering this ludicrous arrangement. He must be an old man, you think savagely, as you leave the neatly trimmed garden of your family’s home and enter the wild field beyond.

The path through the expansive, unclaimed territory at the edge of the town leads to a small hill and you dash up it as though salvation is at the top. 

An old man with a miserable wife and several greedy children. You hate them all already with a fire you didn’t know you possessed.

The vitriol of your thoughts makes you stop and catch your breath. You drop to your knees in the long grass with surrender. 

No, you shake your head. No matter how horrible this feels, you vow to not let circumstances turn you cruel, mean, and bitter. 

For long moments you breathe, savoring the sweet smell in the air. It must have rained last night while you slept, for the air is rich and full with the scent of earth and the ground is damp beneath your palms. 

You wish it would rain again; cleanse the world back to what it was before the news of your family’s ruin. But the sky is clear and the sun shines tauntingly through the white clouds. 

If the world refuses to offer you relief, you’ll give it to yourself. Underneath the great tree at the top of the hill you allow the tears to fall. Up here there’s no one but the wind to hear your sobs.  

Just when you begin to wonder if there are no more miracles in the world, you see something that feels positively magical.

On your left you hear barking and you watch as a large golden-brown dog comes barreling up to you. Your mouth falls open with surprise as the creature reaches you. 

He pants, his tongue to the side. His mouth pulls back in what you would consider a smile if he were human.

‘Well, hello there,’ you say with a laugh. He roots himself under one of your arms, wiggling to settle himself against you. ‘Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.’

You giggle when he looks up at you, eyes wide with innocence. Without hesitation you begin to pet his head. He closes his eyes and makes a rumbling noise of pleasure that melts your heart.

‘Where did you come from, little love?’ you ask him around the thickness in your throat.

He lifts his head and his tail starts to wag, thumping against your side and back. You see what he’s excitedly watching - a man is making his way up the hill. 

A noise of surprise leaves you. You can’t help it, this man looks like an angel or a God; something powerful and radiant, impossible and otherworldly.

His black hair sweeps messily across his forehead in the wind. The white shirt and black pants he wears fit him perfectly. He must have some money, then, if he can afford such nice, tailored garments. 

He’s not from here, though; you absolutely would have remembered meeting him. He seems to have appeared suddenly from your imagination. His face is open and unbelievably handsome in a way that makes you smooth your free hand through your hair self-consciously.

When he reaches you and your new furry companion, he laughs. The sound is melodic and deep, reaching down to your bones.

‘There you are, you rascal,’ he says to the dog with amusement in his warm, dark eyes. ‘I see you’ve made a new friend.’

His attention turns to you and heat blooms in your face under his gentle scrutiny. There are several boys in town you entertained a fancy for growing up, but none of them made you feel this way - the way the air feels heavy and dangerous when a storm is brewing. 

But this is not a boy, you think. This is a man. 

To avoid embarrassing yourself further you turn away, wiping at the tears on your cheeks with the back of your hand.

From the edge of your vision you see him sit next to you, leaning his head on one elbow and stretching his legs out in front of him. He does it casually, as though he happens upon women crying in the wild every day. 

You sniffle, hating how small and fragile it sounds.

‘I think our new friend is sad, Oliver,’ he says softly, petting the dog’s head. ‘I wonder if there is anything we can do to help her.’

When you turn back to him he’s looking up at you with warmth and compassion. The sincerity and honesty of him is readily apparent.

‘You already did, just by being here,’ you answer, attempting a small smile.

He smiles broadly and you think of the stars, shining on a clear summer night. You think of him as a creature from the forest beyond this field, sent by magic to come and whisk you away from your fate. 

You imagine him riding away with you on a great white horse like some knight of old. In this moment you’d go wherever he wanted to take you.

‘No one should be alone when they are crying,’ he says gently.

His mouth tugs to the side, his thick brows pull together. He looks as though he speaks from experience and you wonder what sadness has visited his life.

Against reason you feel instinctively protective of him. Something in his nature is too open, too ready to help, and you feel a desire to shield him from everyone in the world that would take advantage of him.

Oliver shakes himself before resting his head on your knee, looking at you and begging you to pet him. You chuckle and wind your fingers through the soft fur at his neck. 

The man laughs, the rich sound spreading along your skin like a balm. ‘Sorry about him, he’s a bit… wild. He’s not used to being in the company of beautiful ladies.’

He fights the tug of his lips as he watches you. His words undress you with his boldness, warm your heart and make your chest feel pleasantly heavy.

‘Untamed, wild things are the best of all, I think,’ you answer confidently, leaning back on your own elbow, mirroring his pose.

Oliver stretches out in response, sticking his nose in between the fabric at your knees and huffing. The man sighs. It’s impossible to tear your focus away from the playful glint in his eyes, the comfort you feel around him wholly unprecedented

He raises a brow and cocks his head, considering. ‘Yes, I think you are absolutely right.’ He smiles at you like the two of you now share a secret. 

If he were Joseph, the barrister your mother has been shoving you towards for years, he’d turn the conversation to matters of politics. If he were Lord Clarke, he’d bore you to tears with tales of his days at sea with the Navy. If he were your brother Bradley, he’d make some inappropriate joke to get a rise out of you. 

But he proves himself to be an unexpected kind of man.

‘Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave…’ he says dreamily, looking up at the swaying branches of the great tree before meeting your focus once again.

This time there’s a heat, a knowing, in his expression that feels like the time you burned yourself on a candle. But this burn is far more pleasant.

You laugh with joy and surprise, the grief and anguish from an hour ago feel acres away from you. 

It occurs to you to remember your manners. You should sit up, straighten your dress; ask after his name, his family, his occupation. But up here, above the town, slightly damp and dirty, amongst the wind and the unruly grass, you can’t find it in you to care. 

‘You like Keats?’

He nods. ‘I prefer Lord Byron, myself. But I can’t deny the beauty of Keats.’

Delight flares in your chest. ‘I adore Byron, the scoundrel. ‘Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.’’

He smiles and hums, satisfied at something. The sun breaks through the clouds and he follows it, watching as it dances along the folds of your dress down to the sliver of exposed skin at your ankle.

You should find your dignity and cover it. He should stop looking. But neither of you move. 

He breathes deeply and you watch as the motion moves the fabric of his shirt. Absently you wonder what his skin would be like beneath your lips. If it would be as warm and soft as it looks.

The bell in town distantly sounds the hour and you both jolt; the spell is broken. You tuck your legs under you, feeling as though a pitcher of cold water has been poured over your head.

The wildness in his eyes is hidden safely away when he looks back to you. ‘I’m sorry, I have an appointment in town I cannot miss.’

You nod sadly, wishing you could stay here forever. ‘I should get back to-’ you start, unable to give voice to the tangle of circumstances that await you back home. ‘I should get back.’

He stands, dusting himself off. Oliver stirs, raising himself and running in a lazy circle around his master. 

The man moves closer, offering you his hands. Something warns you not to touch him. Warns you that once you know what his palms feel like against yours, the sensation will haunt you all the rest of your days.

Ignoring reason, you reach for him with a recklessness born of longing. He clasps his hands around yours and pulls you upright. You stare at him and savor the heat and the roughness of him against you, unwilling and unable to release him.

His thumbs lightly stroke the top of your hands; a thrilling and foreign sensation builds in you. The way he watches you reminds you of the cover of a book you saw, hidden away in the back of the shop. Swirls of reds and oranges. A couple in an embrace. Hands and lips and nakedness and everything forbidden and raw and sensual you had longed to know.

Your rational mind reminds you of your family, waiting for you, mourning and broken. You take a step back, dropping your hands and regarding him with surprise and a tinge of fear. 

This is a dangerous thing. And you cannot afford the luxury of danger.

You curtsy for him, trying to remember how you are supposed to act. ‘Good day, sir.’

He frowns, shaken. But his good breeding takes over and he bows to you formally in return, dissonant with the lawless nature sprawling around you.

‘Good day, miss,’ he says politely in return. ‘I hope to see you again.’

Swallowing all the desperate and foolish things you with to say to him, you simply nod. Before you can do something truly reckless you turn and hurry down the hill.

‘Wait, I forgot to get your name!’ he calls out, sounding desperate.

You turn and don’t fight the smile that graces your lips. You shout your name to him and he reaches a hand in the air, pretending to catch it and tuck it in his breast pocket.

‘My name is Jun,’ he shouts back and you mimic his motion, pretending to hold his name in your hand.

For long seconds you hold his gaze, once again wishing you could leave with him and never return. When you turn from his sight you imagine hiding his name away inside your chest.

The walk back to your house feels effortless, as though you are floating on air. A giddy lightness lives in your heart alongside his name and refuses to abandon you.

You skip breakfast and stay in bed the next morning for as long as you can, savoring the softness and comfort of your bed, knowing you won’t sleep in it again. 

When you cannot delay any further you rise and dress yourself in a simple purple dress and plain shoes. 

With a heavy heart you pack two more dresses, one plain and blue, the other white and finer, into a square of fabric with some underclothes. Along with that you add a pair of sturdier walking shoes, the essentials you need for your hygiene, and your favorite book of stories. 

Once the task is complete you linger to make the bed, straightening the already tidy room, and to stare out the small window out at the garden and the field beyond. 

You sigh. Yesterday you felt magic in your fingertips, that around Jun anything was possible. 

Today, by yourself, you feel small and human and fragile. As though you are already fading away in the background of his house. 

‘Time to go,’ you say to yourself, to the room that is no longer yours. 

Gathering the corners of the fabric together, you pull the small bundle into your arms. In the hallway you find your sister with a similar pile of fabric and items.

‘I don’t care what he says, I’m taking four dresses,’ she says, indignant and regal, like a queen. 

You laugh, reassured that even though everything has changed, you still have each other. 

The departure of your parents is strained and emotional, but neither you nor your sister cry as they drive off. You’ll need all the strength you have to face the days ahead and it wouldn’t do to break down now.

Once their carriage disappears around the bend you go to set up your meager possessions in the small corner of the servant’s cottage. Two beds and a small closet to share now belong to you and your sister. A short few minutes later you head off to the house to begin your new life as servants. 

The two of you find Anna, the housekeeper, in the kitchen inventorying the food. Lucy, a woman in her early twenties and a close friend of you and your sister, gives you a nod as she kneads a mound of dough. 

Aside from Anna, the only members of the staff left are Frederick the butler, promoted from footman at Daniel’s departure, and Lucy, a kitchenmaid who is now the head cook of the house with Mary gone.

Anna notices you both standing there. ‘Good morning ladies. We all know the state of affairs here,’ she says with characteristic bluntness. 

‘Your father told me the new family is bringing a ladies maid. So, one of you will help out in the kitchens with the cooking and one of you will need to tidy the rooms and do the laundry. It’s up to you to decide, I know you’re both capable young ladies.’

You and your sister look at each other and both start talking at the same time. 

‘Well, obviously -’ ‘Of course, I’d-’

She laughs and looks at Anna. ‘I’ll cook and she’ll clean.’

‘Exactly,’ you say in agreement, a smile pulling at your lips.

Everyone knows you’re an awful cook and she’s messier than a hoard of wild animals. Anna chuckles and rolls her eyes. Maybe this won’t be so awful, you think with a small candle of hope in your heart.

‘What time are they arriving?’ you ask Anna, already imagining the dozens of things that must need to be done.

‘They’ll be here for dinner.’ She says before waving a hand at you both. ‘Go on, get out of the house. Enjoy the day. Lucy and I have the meals for today. The house is in fine state. We can start on your duties tomorrow morning,’ she says with a wink.

‘Let’s go to the market, shall we?’ your sister asks, a light in her eyes you haven’t seen in weeks.

The air in the town is hot and close, crowded with shoppers and sellers. You and your sister cling to each other until you pass through to one of the quieter side streets. 

Neither of you are inclined toward melancholy. Despite the change in fortune and status, you’re both determined to enjoy yourselves.

‘Hmm, what shall we buy today?’ she muses, knowing full well neither of you can afford a single thing.

Always ready to play a game, you join her. ‘Let’s buy another horse for our extravagant carriage. Perhaps some jewel-encrusted slippers for the next ball.’

She laughs, squeezing your arm. A shop selling ribbons, bows, and other assorted fabric is just ahead. She dashes inside and unfurls a length of long pink ribbon from a display, wrapping it around her waist dramatically.

‘And I shall buy a new dress, the most lavish and expensive one we can find,’ she says, fanning her lashes and pouting her lips absurdly. 

You laugh so hard you almost snort and clasp your hand to your mouth. She fixes the ribbon and twines her arm through yours again, pulling you forward, cackling happily in your ear.

On days like these the loneliness and drudgery of country life seems far away and manageable. On days like these, when the sun is shining and there are reasons to laugh, life seems downright idyllic.

The two of you round a corner and the sight of a pair of men up ahead makes your heart leap into your throat.

Though he’s cleaned up a bit, one of the men is definitely Jun. Color rises in your cheeks at the sight of him, the way his lips pout as he speaks to his companion. 

He laughs, reaching a hand to the other man’s arm in delight. This man wears the standard red and gold military dress, highlighting the auburn tint to his hair. Jun is much more formally attired today in white trousers, polished leather boots, and a high-collared, deep blue shirt, confirming your suspicion that he has money. 

His eyes crinkle in the corners and your stomach flips with something hot and untamable. You freeze to the spot and your sister tugs on your arm.

‘What? What is it?’ your sister asks, looking around.

You pull her back slightly around the corner so you can observe. ‘That man, up ahead. That’s the one I met yesterday. Jun,’ you say, unable to help your grin when you say his name.

She turns and scans the crowd before frowning. ‘Oh no. Him? In the blue shirt?’ 

You frown in confusion at the intense dislike in her voice and follow her gaze. ‘Certainly you can’t dislike Jun?’ you ask, searching her face for signs she’s joking. ‘He must be new to town, what can he have done?’

Aside from Jun and his friend the only other people on the street are women and children shopping for food at the grocers across the way.

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, but the gentleman in the blue shirt - I met him yesterday,’ she points, none too discreetly, to Jun. Her intense bright eyes brook no laughter. ‘That is Lord Junmyeon Kim, the man who has purchased Springwoods from us.’

‘Oh.’ Your whole being sags in disappointment against the stone wall. 

Already your foolish and impetuous heart had fantasized about seeing him again. Last night, when you told your sister about the things he said, the way he made you feel, you’d felt brighter than the moon shining in the sky.

But if he is the new owner of your family estate, then there are several monumental obstacles between you now. While he is no old man, he might be mean and dreadful underneath his cheerful exterior. 

When he realizes you are not only a servant, but a servant in his very home, he will certainly never take you seriously. You clasp your hands together at your chest to stifle your dismay. How on earth can you face him now?

‘And so we meet again,’ comes a warm male voice to your right.

You turn, gasping in surprise when you see Jun and his companion standing next to you. You were so distracted you didn’t even hear them approach. 

He’s fighting a smile again, his lips twitching at catching you off guard.

‘Hello again, Lord Kim,’ your sister says pointedly, curtsying to him. ‘May I introduce you to my sister?’

You grit your teeth and follow her lead, forcing yourself to keep your emotion locked inside as you curtsy to the new Master of Springwoods. Your hope and joy at his presence turns to embarrassment in the pit of your stomach as you straighten to look at him.

He looks to your sister and falters, his attention darting between the two of you, no doubt putting things together. His easy, open expression draws back into something confused. After a beat he bows to you both.

‘Pleasure to see you again, ladies,’ he says, resigned, brows pulled together. ‘You must be Lord Hayward’s youngest daughter then?’ 

You nod. The moment stretches out while you get lost in his eyes once more. You wish there was some way to undo this moment and return you to the purity and lightness of yesterday on the hill. No doubt he realizes how lowly you are in comparison to him and wants nothing further to do with you. Given the circumstances, you shouldn’t want anything to do with him, either.

Blessedly, you're all saved by the military man.

He bows. 'Don't worry, I'll introduce myself,' he says gamely. 'My name is Colonel Kim Minseok. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, ladies.' 

The corners of his mouth tip up like a cat and you feel your sister grab at your elbow like you've always done when trying to discreetly get each other's attention.

There's something playful and mischievous in his face and you look between the two of them. Your sister's cheeks color and she bites her lip. As always, she is able to recover and cut through awkward situations with grace.

'So, what brings the two of you to the market today?' she asks the Colonel in an attempt at conversation.

'Ah, well. My friend Jun here is new to the life of a Lord and I decided he simply must stop dressing like some retired military scoundrel and look the part,' he says, motioning to a shop up the road.

'Oooh, I love Taylor and Sons,' your sister exclaims, clasping her hands together in delight.

She takes a step towards the Colonel and asks how a military man came to be have such exquisite taste in fashion. In the space left by the pair of them you and Jun regard each other.

‘And how are you today... Lord Kim?’ You hope he can’t see the way you knead your palm with your thumb in the folds of your dress, doing your best to stay composed. 

He winces. 'Please, call me Jun.' His expression implores you, attempting to draw you back into his warmth.

But if your mother bred nothing else into you, she always encouraged you to be polite and formal. Though she could never curb your wild and imaginative nature, you can't help but follow her lessons on decorum. It gives you the feeling of being in control in spite of your aching heart, and you cling to it.

'I think we had better remain on formal terms, Lord Kim, given our mutual statuses,' you say softly.

'Please, if we could -' he starts, reaching a hand to the space between you, seeming saddened at thought.

But something behind him catches your attention and he stops speaking to look at what caused the sudden change in your mood.

Your older brother Bradley steps out of the men’s club opposite you, looking far more disheveled than usual, especially given the early hour. He looks awful, hair matted and eyes hollow, a large stain on his shirt.

He darts a calculating look up and down the street before turning up his collar and hurrying off. It's such an odd moment you can hardly believe it's the same person you've known all your life.

'Do you know that man?' Jun asks, perplexed. 

If he was gambling... Gods, how much more trouble can this family cause in one week, you think with a sigh. An instinct to preserve what is left of your family’s reputation makes you move.

'Sister, we must go,' you call to her abruptly, interrupting her conversation and stepping forward to grasp her clothed elbow.

She looks at you with confusion, as do Lord Kim and Colonel Minseok. 'Now?'

'Yes, now,' you say, trying to convey to her the urgency of the moment with a look. 'Please.'

With a sad look to the Colonel she nods and winds her arm through yours. 'Well, it's been a pleasure Colonel.' She smiles at him and her mouth sours with tension when she looks at Jun. 'Lord Kim.'

The last thing you see as you pull her back towards the direction Bradley went is the unguarded expression of longing on Jun's face as he watches you hurry away.

[isweartoerenimnotjaeger]

Headcanon modern au

So you may think Tiedoll is the single dad who brings snacks everywhere they go right? Nope. It's Cross, though Tiedoll is a close second. I mean he has a black hole of a son so he needs to because Allen can't function without food.

Long road trip? Cross stock piles a cooler full of food. Outing at the park? Bag full of food. If Allen isn't given access to food he turns into a demon spawn and is crabbier than hell. It's like a switch is thrown the moment his stomach rumbles. One minute it's Allen, next it's Red. If Cross wants to avoid Allen hunger fueled wrath, he better have food on him.

Lavi also stockpiles on candy for his black hole of a 'besty best best friend'.

Link of course adores it because he likes baking and Allen gets rid of the things he bakes when he can't get anyone else to.

I wrote this because I'm really hungry.

[allens-chocolate-dreams]

MediBang Paint is also good for digital art — it's available for both PC and mobile, and it has lots of great features. A free option if you can't afford Clip Studio Paint, it has good brushes and the image quality is nice. Great if you do comics too. It's been a while since I used MediBang, but I remember having good experiences with it, specially with the stability. Might be a bit heavy if you use it on mobile, though.

Ibis Paint X is another good mobile digital art option — it's what I currently use the most. It's free, the ads aren't disruptive, you have lots of brushes, it's very easy to use and the app also has a default timelapse feature, which is nice if you like to see your process! There's a few locked brushes, but you can unlock all of them at once for 18 hours with a single ad, so it doesn't bother me, particularly. It's also usually less heavy than Medibang, so it might be more friendly if you have a slower device.

Read more here:

[kitty-bandit]

Practice Makes Perfect

Fandom: D.Gray-man Rating: G Pairings: Pieshipping (Allen x Link) Total Words: 1K Tags: Canon Compliant; Fluff; Baking

This is a ko-fi commission for @jellyfishflan! I hope you enjoy it!

You can also read this on AO3!

“It’s not as hard as it looks, Walker.”

“Says the guy who’s been baking his entire life.” Allen’s lips twitched into a worried frown as he held the piping bag away from the cake.

“You’re thinking about it too much,” Link said, hovering behind Allen closer than necessary, eyes sharp as he watched his lack of progress. “You said you wanted to help decorate the cake. If you’d rather I do it, then hand over the bag.”

“I can do it,” Allen replied, tone sharper than he’d intended. He took a breath and looked back down at the three tiered cake, apprehension heavy in his chest. “I just… need a moment.”

It was Lenalee’s birthday, and since Link was an amazing baker, Allen had roped him in to help bake a cake for the occasion. They’d spent half the morning picking out a recipe, gathering the ingredients, and baking the cake. It had all been a breeze with Link’s guidance, but now that it was time to decorate, Allen found himself at an impasse. Apparently, none of his skills translated into piping work.

“Here,” Link said, taking the bag back from Allen’s trembling hands and moving to the side of the counter. “I’ll show you the technique again.” With a quick swirl of his hand, he practiced on a bit of parchment paper. The frosting turned into a rose shape in a second. If Allen had blinked, he would’ve missed it entirely.

Shaking his head, Allen let out a sigh and brushed back a few strands of hair from his face. “You make it look so easy.”

“It takes practice.” Link moved closer, his chest pressed up against Allen’s back and arms around his body as he grabbed the bag where Allen’s hands held it. Allen flushed, posture stiff at the close proximity. Link, however, remained focused on the task at hand. “Twist the end of the bag like this to keep the frosting from oozing out the back—and hold it gently. If you squeeze too hard, it will come out too fast.”

“Okay,” Allen mumbled back, letting Link work his hands like a doll. He followed his movements carefully, trying to learn the proper technique, but Link’s touch distracted him more than he wanted to admit. Instead of focusing on the frosting, he found his gaze drawn to Link’s warm hands, taking in the tattoos, each crease and scar, every dimple and vein. The frustration oozed from him like melted butter, replaced with a warmth that filled up his insides and left his knees weak.

Without thinking, he tilted his head to the side, closer to Link’s cheek. “What’s that little scar?” Allen pulled one of his hands off the bag to trace the mark he’d referenced, finger smoothing over healed flesh. He almost swore he felt Link shiver.

Link paused, momentarily derailed from his piping lesson. He pursed his lips together, not moving away from Allen’s touch. “Just an old burn.”

“How’d you get it?” Allen asked, voice still innocent and soft.

Repositioning Allen’s hands on the piping bag, he cleared his throat and returned to piping practice roses on the parchment paper. “It happened the first time I tried to spin sugar. Some of it stuck to the back of my hand while I’d been working with it, and it burned me before I could get it off.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Allen replied, following Link’s movements again as they piped another rose. “But delicious.”

“Have you ever had spun sugar?” Link asked, leaning in for a better look at the roses they’d just piped.

Allen shook his head, the tips of his colorless hair brushing against Link’s chin. “I’ve never even heard of it.”

He felt a laugh rumble in Link’s chest. “Allen Walker, bottomless pit, has never had spun sugar? I’m shocked.”

Pouting, Allen squeezed the frosting bag too hard, leaving an unsophisticated blob of pink frosting on the counter. “There are plenty of foods I’ve never tried. It’s not a big deal.”

Link hummed, readjusting Allen’s hands on the bag once more before letting go. He took a step back, giving Allen the space to breathe again. “I’ll make some for you, then.”

Allen turned, looking at Link from the corner of his eye. The frosting bag felt heavier in his hands without Link guiding him. “Really?”

“Of course.” He scraped up the frosting they’d practiced with and added it back into the mixing bowl. “It’s a pain to make, but that just makes it taste all the better.”

With a smile, Allen moved back to the cake, readying the piping bag. “The next time you make it, I can help you.”

Leaning against the counter, Link watched as Allen attempted his first flower on the side of the cake. His hands were still wobbly, but the frosting passed as a rose well enough. “You want to learn to spin sugar?”

Allen piped his second rose, cleaner than the first, and smiled back at Link. “Only if it’s with you.” He caught the flush of Link’s cheeks at the confession and watched him turn his head to clear his throat, breaking eye contact.

“I would, uh—” Link began, struggling to find his words. He fiddled with the unused frosting, scraping the sides of the bowl clean. “I would like that.”

Allen’s smile grew wider at Link’s acceptance. “Me, too.” There was a beat, a soft silence between them. He parted his lips to speak, to say something that had been floating in the back of his mind for a while, when a slip of his wrist left him gasping in shock. “Oh, no. Link—help!” He’d been so distracted that he’d flubbed the last rosette he’d piped, turning it into a grotesque blob instead of an elegant flower.

Link sighed, but a hint of a smile still lingered on his lips. “Walker, you need to pay attention when you’re decorating.”

“Sorry.”

Without batting an eye, Link scraped the blob from the cake, leaving the rest of the roses intact. “It’s all right. It’s only frosting. You can always try again.”

Sighing in relief, Allen relaxed his stiff shoulders. “Thank you, Link. What would I do without you?”

“Spend more of your money at an actual bakery, I’d wager.”

[allens-chocolate-dreams]

I made this Sidestep drawing quite a while ago, but my art has improved since them, so say hello to Ollie Gardener (they/them)!

Ollie loves pastel colors and flowers, and is usually quite sweet in demeanor, but don't let that fool you: they're a manipulator who uses their cute looks to puppet people around. Don't be tempted to underestimate them just because of the soft voice and stereotypical "adorable" vibes; that's exactly what they want.

[thathalloweengal]

Christmas Eve at Wayne Manor (fanfic)

Bruce Wayne threw another log on the fire, it crackled angrily at him but its warmth soothed his weary bones. It was Christmas Eve and the newly renovated Wayne Manor had been decorated thoroughly, bright red and gold tinsel was draped from the oak staircase, a massive fern tree stood tall in the lounge and hundreds of tiny multicolored lights were hanging everywhere. The coffee table even had freshly baked cookies on it, still warm from the oven and spreading the smell of cinnamon throughout the house.

Bruce had one hell of a night, some idiot with powers called Gentleman Ghost decided to hold Mayor Grange and some city council members to ransom. When Bruce got the call it seemed like a cake walk but he didn't expect some damn councilman to be in on it. One maniac in a pig mask, two stab wounds and a pair of bruised ribs later, Bruce felt far older than he was. Ten years ago he would have been ready for them. The two newcomers to Gotham would have been taken down by what onlookers would only be able to describe as some kind of Bat demon, instead of that fifty year old playing dress up with kevlar.

"A dollar for your thoughts, Master Wayne?"

Not for the first time in his career, Alfred Pennyworth cut through Bruce's self criticism.

"Maybe when I was a kid, my thoughts are a little more expensive now"

"Damn inflation rates" Alfred sighed, sitting down in a nearby recliner and nursing a glass of what was probably cognac

"The guests should be arriving shortly" Alfred said after a moment

"Yeah they should be, you did a great job with all this by the way" Bruce nodded at the decorations and the tree

"Thank you sir, between being tactical support and stitching up near fatal wounds, I too believe that my calling lies in holiday planning"

"You didn't do it, did you?"

"Unfortunately I did not have the time but Mr. Allen thankfully stepped into my shoes"

"That kid's got a lot of heart" Bruce smiled

"Makes one remember brighter Christmases, doesn't it? I just wish he'd stop calling me Elfred"

"I always wanted you to have an irritating nickname" Bruce giggled

"Well bully for you sir, I suppose you are absolutely elated with Master Allen's choice for you?"

The look of confusion on Bruce's face prompted Alfred's reply "Bat Dad"

Bruce grimaced on the outside but deep down kept a slight warm feeling of contentment to himself, it had been a long time since anyone thought of him as a father figure.

"Any luck finding Curry?" Bruce asked

"Won't answer any communications but satellites have pinpointed him in a large stretch of ocean, near where the legendary city of Atlantis was once alleged to stand"

"More turkey for us" Bruce dismissed

A bolt of blue lightning sped into the room, carrying Barry Allen along it, he was wearing a sweater with a half eaten gingerbread man on it.

"Speaking of turkey, I don't know if you guys know this but I'm a vegetarian"

"Your dietary needs have already been catered for, Mr. Allen"

"You're awesome, Elfred"

Alfred rolled his eyes and took a long sip of cognac. Bruce decided to give his old friend a break from the young speedster by bringing back a Wayne family tradition.

"Barry, would you mind heading over to the cave and picking up the package beside the car?"

"The Batmobile?" Barry beamed

"The Batmobile" Bruce confirmed with a reassuring smile

Barry was gone in a flash, back into his blue lightning and out of the room. A few moments later he reappeared with a large crate as tall as he was, it had his lightning symbol on it.

"What is this?" Barry asked, slightly concerned

"Only one way to find out"

Barry raced around the crate, unbuckling straps and somehow removing screws, before finally removing the cover. Inside was a new costume, something that Bruce had his company create as a gift to Barry. Its design was much more refined than the current costume and had cutting edge Wayne Tech inside.

"Early present" Bruce explained

In the blink of an eye, Barry changed into the costume. It looked impressive on him, more like high tech armor than something someone had lovingly thrown together from NASA's dumpster. It's finish was a darker shade of red than Barry had previously sported and small holographic displays were already updating him on crimes around the city.

"Holy crap, this is so cool"

Barry superspeeded Bruce into a hug before saying something that sounded like:

"I'mGonnaTakeItForATestRunThanksBatDad"

Another blink and the blue lightning had once more carried Barry out of the room and through the front doors. Alfred smirked.

"That should keep him busy for at least a few minutes"

"Been getting under your feet?"

"Like you wouldn't believe, you are aware that he moved in upstairs?"

"Who do you think gave him the room"

Alfred chuckled a little before becoming a little more reserved.

"Does he know about the..."

Bruce cut Alfred off, immediately shaking his head, a matter of importance lay in the air between them.

"I wanted everyone to know" Bruce said softly "I'll tell them tonight"

Three knocks at the front door cut through their conversation.

"More of your unruly children, I think" Alfred grinned

Bruce got to his feet as Alfred topped up his cognac with a bottle from a nearby cabinet. Bruce pulled a massive door open to be greeted by a gust of cold wind, Clark Kent, Martha Kent and Lois Lane. Bruce took their coats and led them over to a sofa. He poured Lois and Martha drinks from the cabinet, Clark asked if he could get some hot cocoa instead, which Alfred kindly obliged, rising from his recliner and making his way into the kitchen.

"How's Perry doing?" Bruce asked, Lois and Clark's boss was an old acquaintance of his

"Same as always this time of year" Lois answered, taking a sip of her beverage "Santa hat on, singing Christmas songs older than the building, it's adorable"

"He's also very generous" Martha added

"But only to this one" Lois squeezed Clark's hand "He got the highest bonus that Perry has ever given anyone"

Bruce raised an eyebrow and Clark blushed.

"I don't think our cover story of how Clark Kent and Superman died around the same time and came back around the same time but definitely aren't the same person washes with Perry"

"He's too good of a reporter" Bruce replied

"We talking about the same Perry White that buries stories because they're too quote un quote invigorating for our readers" Clark spoke up

"Well he used to be a good reporter" Bruce said sheepishly "He rumbled me as the Bat a couple of days after he met me for an interview"

"How did you handle that?"

"Ever wonder how the Planet stays afloat despite hemorrhaging subscriptions and sales?"

The two reporters froze, no doubt wondering if Perry was blackmailing him or if Bruce was lying. It was unlikely that they knew they were talking to the secret owner of the Daily Planet.

Another knock to the door provided Bruce with the perfect moment to leave the three. Opening the door, once more, he found Diana arm in arm with a woman who must've been at least seven feet tall, they were both wearing stunning dresses. Bruce showed them inside and over to the Kents. Diana explained that her companion was called Mala, she was an Amazon and had just been exiled from their Island. They went back a very long time together and were now picking up their relationship.

Bruce had never seen Diana so happy, she was absolutely gleaming with joy, holding her partner's hand and joining in with the rest of them laughing at Clark's hot cocoa mustache.

A flash of blue lightning returned to the room, dropping off Victor Stone and Victor's father Silas.

"Look who I found outside" Barry announced, trying to hide his broken holographic displays and partially destroyed costume from Bruce

With one more flash, Barry changed back into his gingerbread man sweater and jeans. Bruce made a mental note to ask him about his misadventure later, but for the time being simply hugged Victor and shook Silas's hand, before pouring them out drinks.

The holiday party started well enough, Barry and Victor were talking about video games, Lois and Clark were sharing incredible "How we met" stories with Diana and Mala, and the sounds of jingle bell rock played throughout the old house. Bruce hadn't seen it this alive and full of love since his parents were there.

Bruce felt himself slipping into the past, he could almost hear his father telling him that he could open one present early. Feeling a little overcome with emotion, Bruce put on his coat and stepped outside for a breath of fresh air and to calm his nerves.

Bruce wanted nothing more than to be back inside, be with this new family he had helped create, but he knew that he would have to leave them soon enough. Why prolong the inevitable. Over the last five years, he had been through a lot, both mentally and physically. Jason's death, the fallout from the battle of Metropolis, his obsessive crusade against Clark and all of the guilt that followed after. Even helping to kill monsters like Luthor's creature and Steppenwolf didn't alleviate the demons and the damage inside Bruce.

The situation was made even worse by the fact that In the last couple of years Bruce found himself having nightmares, very real feeling nightmares. They'd always start differently, sometimes on a ruined Earth with soldiers wearing Superman's symbol, other times in an alley with Bruce himself snapping the Joker's neck. These dreams would have him being captured or buried alive or even breathing in the Joker's poison. They always ended the same way, regardless of if it was Clark, Joker or some mad man claiming to be his own father, Bruce would always be too slow, too beat up, too arrogant, Bruce always died.

Before he woke from these dreams though, Bruce would have a vision of Barry. Not the Barry currently in Wayne Manor, dancing terribly to the music of George Michael but an older, more tired looking Barry. He always gave advice and warnings before leaving. Advice that had helped calm Clark when he was brought back to life. He told Bruce that Lois was the key, had he not done that, Bruce expected things would have gone much worse than they did. Occasionally Barry yelled about being in the middle of a Crisis, about needing to correct something called a fractured timeline and told Bruce to be prepared for worse days to come.

These dreams and every night he patrolled Gotham convinced Bruce that he was seriously incapable of dealing with whatever the future held. Tomorrow as his friends celebrated, he would be on a plane to a city called Nanda Parbat, where he would seek the mythical Lazarus Pit it was infamous for. He hoped that it could heal his body and purge his soul of the pain that weighed him down.

Most people who looked for the Pit died climbing the mountain that hid the city, those who survived disappeared, never to be heard from again. That didn't put Bruce off however, he had inside information that the Pit lay somewhere within the palace of the Sensai, the ancient leader of Nanda Parbat. Bruce's only problems were getting to it through an entire league of assassins and any side effects the Pit might cause him. The only person he knew who had done this before wasn't exactly the picture of sanity, of course neither was Bruce.

"Only you would brood at Christmas" teased a voice approaching him through the snow

Holding a small stack of presents, Commissioner Jim Gordon smiled comfortingly at Bruce.

"Sorry I'm late, some damn fool decided to save the Mayor and tie me up in paperwork and reporters"

"Sounds like a real hero type" Bruce replied "A billionaire playboy like myself wouldn't know anything about that"

Bruce couldn't keep a straight face, Bruce and Jim embraced and kissed. His lips were chapped and he tasted of tobacco but it was Bruce's favorite feeling. When they seperated, Jim looked like something was troubling him.

"What's wrong?" Bruce asked

"I was just wondering, will this be the last time we do that?"

"Hopefully not" Bruce said playfully but Jim looked somber

"I know that you have to go, that for you to stay fighting in a world of super crazies you need this elixir of mumbo jumbo, but I worry"

"That I'll come back different?"

"That you won't come back at all" Jim said, sadly "Bruce I care about you, I don't want you to end up dead in some snowy hell hole"

"Good thing I'm Batman then" Bruce said, taking Jim's hand in his own "One thing you can count on in Gotham, even a small time crook could tell you, when Jim Gordon stands on top of Police HQ and lights that big Signal up, the Batman comes running, might take him a while to get there but he'll always show up"

Jim looked like he was trying to suppress a smile but it quickly broke through.

"What will we do without you?"

"Oh I'm sure you'll cope for a while but just in case I did ask Dick to look in on you from time to time"

"You two are talking again?"

"I know it's a Christmas miracle" Bruce chuckled

"I'll keep your damn oversized nightlight running" Jim agreed "Might scare some superstitious cowards"

Hearing a commotion inside, Bruce and Jim glanced through one of the windows. Barry had supersped an Elf hat onto a sleeping Alfred, Diana was dancing with Martha Kent and Clark and Victor were playing Twister, though Bruce wasn't sure who brought it, Mala and Lois were refereeing.

"You going in?" Jim asked "I've always wanted to meet Superman" he grinned cheekily

"Only if you're my plus one" Bruce said, more cheesily than he had originally hoped

Bruce walked back into Wayne Manor, Jim close by his side. Bruce had no idea what Nanda Parbat would do to him but for now at least he was content sipping tea, giving presents and sharing this night with the people he cared for most.  

[allens-chocolate-dreams]

@deviant3lover FRIEND, DID YOU SEE THIS?!!!

heck yeah we have a release date 

[chronicbatfictioner]

JayTim Week 2018

Day 2: Friends/Enemies to Lovers // Supernatural AU Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Tim Drake was a better detective than he was as a Robin. He was small, lithe; not as agile as the original Robin, Dick Grayson, or as massive and strong as the second Robin, Jason Todd. His investigative and deductive skills, however, is often said to be second only to the Batman.

Him finding where Jason has been staying would not have been counted as a surprise for those who know him. Like Dick Grayson, like Bruce Wayne, Bruce's butler, Aflred Pennyworth. Like his Titans teammates.

Like Jason Todd.

"What do you want." Jason's voice rang out even before Tim stepped in through the window.

"I should've asked you that. You've been sending me things." Tim replied, carefully walking in to the small apartment, unsurprisingly located at the Skid Row area of the Tenderloin district. Tourists avoided the area like the plague, having heard of tales and lores of the unsavoryness that is the Tenderloin District.

For Jason Todd - as well as Tim Drake - the city being San Francisco, not Gotham, even the worst part of the district looked like Gotham's standard parts. Jason would have felt right at home here, Tim thought idly, before remembering his own apartment that used to be the Theatre at Crime Alley where Bruce's parents were murdered.

The Red Hood's helmet was staring at him from a bedside table right next to the four-poster bed. The apartment itself was a loft and not overly large, and there was only a partition that would separate the bedroom from the living room. But it has a functioning oven, apparently. And Jason was baking something in it right there and then.

"I'm testing recipes." Jason deadpanned.

"What's in it." Tim retorted. "Why me."

Jason shrugged and turned back toward the oven. "You're here, and you have friends who could devour them, so nothing would be gone to waste." Jason reasoned.

"There are lots of people around here who could eat them, anyway."

Jason scowled at him. "And have them confuse French pastry with Persian pastry?"

"What Persian-- wait. No. That's not the point. I want to know why you're... feeding me."

Jason scowled at him, again. Tim started to wonder if it was his default expression setting or if the Lazarus Pit had warped his face from the grinning, happy Jason Todd of the past to this perpetually scowling-or-frowning expression.

"You have friends." Jason repeated. "I'm not just feeding you. And they're hella healthier than the junks you people have been feeding on."

"You've tried to kill us."

Jason gave him a withering look. "No I didn't. Just you." he corrected.

Tim rolled his eyes. "You've tried to kill me." he elaborated. "And now you're... what the hell are you doing, Jason?"

Jason just lifted an incredibly delicious smelling Shepherd's Pie out of the oven. "Dinner." he said. "Mine. You want?"

In spite of only recently finishing a large piece of chocolate cake that Tim hoped has not vanished to the abyss that is Bart Allen's belly by now, Tim's stomach rumbled loudly and unabashedly - and unsolicited-ly. Jason put the pie on the table and cut it to six equal pieces.

"Six?"

"Two for each." Jason said.

Tim had to look around, in spite having checked and recon-ed the entire block three times before he got in. "There are only two of us."

Jason just glared at him and handed him a spoon. "Your pick. I'll eat first." he said. And then louder, "last person here don't get to pick!"

Sure enough, a blue-black clad body practically slithered from the vents. "No fair. What if you put glass bits in where I'm gonna bite?"

"I'd have them as visible garnishes if I'd wanted to kill you, Grayson." Jason groused. Dick pointedly ignored him and took a plate and handed it to Tim. "I'll start billing you louse tomorrow." Jason added.

Tim placed a large one-sixth of the pie on the plate, and handed it to Dick, who promptly forked a large mouthful. "No poison. But if I die in the next hour, I want you to avenge me, Timothy." he said in all seriousness after swallowing the pie.

Tim blinked as he placed a second piece - picked randomly, and handed it to Jason. And another one for him. He was a third ongoing when Dick - already halfway through his piece - commented, "Tim actually hated Shepherd's pie."

Jason groaned. "And you didn't tell me this before, why?"

Dick grinned impishly. "I want to see how you'll change his mind to come to love this wonder of this English cuisine."

Tim was still shoveling the pie into his mouth quietly, savoring each and every piece of mystery meat in it. Jason caught his eyes and asked, "converted, yet?"

"Considering it." Tim replied without thinking. "The sorbet was a hit, though. Especially with the girls." he added, then shook his head and refocused. "Seriously! What. You planning to make a bakery or something, maybe? Supplementing your ill-gotten income with a more..." he looked at his plate and was quite surprised to see it kind of only have a few forkfuls remaining, "...sweet-and-savory flavored?"

Jason gave him a dirty look. "Gee, nice to know you have such nice thoughts about my income. I suggest you get off your high horse once in a while, though. Even the almighty Oracle's 'income' aren't all squeaky clean." he pointed out. "The sorbet was good?"

Dick, Tim realized, was already on his second slice of the pie, and was watching the banter with such mock-interested expression that made Tim wanted to slam the pie dish onto his face.

"It was. But that's still not answering my question. Why are you sending me and my friends food?" Tim persisted. Because if anything, persistence is his middle name: Red 'Persistent' Robin. "You've tried to kill me. And now you're wine-ing and dine-ing me. Metaphorically. Except for the 'dine-ing' part. Why."

Jason winced. "Growing pains?" he offered lamely.

Tim did not groan. Even at Dick's snicker. "You mean my pains?"

Jason was still wincing as if the pie was coming out of his sitting end in the form of jagged rock. Tim internally grimaced at his own vicious and petty thought.

"Okay," Jason said, pausing. Glared at Dick, who gave him a hand signal of encouragement. Glared at Tim. "You want seconds?"

"Probably in a minute. You were saying? --that's pertinent to my question?"

Jason sighed dejectedly. "You're persistent." he finally said after a few dozen heartbeats.

"I didn't get this job by being pretty, contrary to popular beliefs. And I will slam the pie dish to your face if you snicker again, Grayson!" Dick was visibly trying to wipe the smirk off his face, Tim could handle that, he thought. Kind of. At least Jason agreed on the face-slamming idea. 

Jason's answer, he was not sure about. "I think you're pretty. But also pretty good with this..." Jason made a repetitive circle over the pie that Tim took as his generalized gesture that meant 'everything or something', "...job."

"Of course." Tim retorted, watching the second slice of the pie landed on his plate, and realizing that Jason's fork suddenly came too near to his jugular to his liking. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"He's got a point," Dick agreed.

Jason punched Dick's shoulder. "Well I didn't leave by choice, did I?"

A little pang of hurt stabbed at Tim's heart. "I didn't, either... technically." he said, his voice suddenly soft as he avoided Dick's eyes.

"Oooh, no, no, no, no. I've said my apologies. And you two aren't going to make this about me now." Dick suddenly protested. "Back to the matter at hand," he prodded Tim, momentarily dazed and lifting an eyebrow to complete his bitchface. But it was Jason who spoke next.

"Okay. Yeah. I'm not good with it. So I'll just..." he grimaced. Twenty heartbeats later, he muttered under his breath. "I'm sorry."

Tim blinked. If he had blinked earlier, he might have missed Jason's lips moving. He was also certain that he hadn't heard the words as much as he'd read Jason's lips.

"You..." he croaked, and then cleared his throat before continuing, "baked me stuff to apologize."

Jason was clearly blushing. "Yes. No. Well, kind of. I baked because I'm not good with words. Dessert, anyone? I've only got wine as sweets."

"I'm eighteen." Tim replied automatically, because he'd had this part of the conversation with Jason before. He'd had this part of the conversation multiple times with Jason before in the past few years, to be exact.

"You're legal in Australia."

"We're not in Australia."

"We can pretend. I won't tell if you won't." Jason continued.

"Bake. Words. Why. We're not done here." Tim pressed his lips for emphasis. And opened them again to allow his last forkful of pie in.

"I said it already! I'm sorry!" Jason huffed, picking up his and Dick's empty plates. Tim automatically followed with the empty pie dish and his own plate. Jason dumped both plate into the sink, and said, "Just put 'em there." and went to get some soda and bottled water from his fridge. And Tim just watched him after he finished placing the dishes into the sink. "Soda or water?"

"Whatever won't kill me." Tim replied. Jason handed him the water bottle.

"Less sugar. Won't kill you." Jason said. Tim observed the bottle for signs of tampering, found none, and chugged down the water rather gratefully.

He also figured that if he were to die now, at least he was wearing clean underwear.

Besides, Dick took the soda. Tim was always sure that Dick would defy all expectations and actually die of diabetes at a very old age.

Tim shook his head again and tried to focus. But his belly felt healthily full for the first time in-- well, since he'd stopped residing at the Wayne Manor.

"I need to go on home, now." Dick announced. "You two derps promise not to kill and/or maim each other, yeah?"

Jason sighed out loud. Tim just shrugged. Hey, he's not the killer around here.

Still, their nonconformity seemed to satisfy Dick. "Okay," he said. "Thanks for dinner, Jay. Superb pie I'm sure Alfred would be proud of." Jason just smirked as Dick climbed out the ventilation shaft he had came in from.

"He parked the Titans' invisible jet on the roof." Jason explained.

"I didn't see or hear him comin'." Tim admitted, gingerly took a seat next to Jason on the couch as Jason started channel surfing.

"He's Grayson, whaddya expect." Jason remarked. "Anything in particular you wanna see? Other than counting my freckles, maybe?"

Yes, Tim was still gawking at Jason. His brain was still trying to compute the 'I'm sorry', delicious shepherds pie and other baked goods, and 'less sugar, won't kill you'. And Jason. And the fact that all of the above came from Jason.

"Does this mean the baked goods will be a thing?" he wanted to know and promptly smacked his head internally. No, mouth. His brain did not want to ask just for the baked goods. He wanted to know if Jason being nice and have dinners and just plain 'ole being nice to him would be a routine of some sort. Because Tim's conscience was starting to imply that he could get used to it and feel alright about it. Maybe even be a little happy at it.

Jason shrugged as he settled on a 'how-to-make' something program on TV. "If you want."

Tim scratched his head. "I..." he started. Jason's eyes were glued to the TV and Tim wondered how the hell he'd kept his emotions so much in check. Except when he was furious about something. And Tim definitely know about the furious Jason, he'd been on the receiving end one time too many. "...do you take requests?"

"If I have the recipe, sure." was Jason's reply. "You going back to the Tower?"

"Yeah." Tim answered, forcing back a yawn, his body's signs that it is contented. "I better get going..." he said, starting toward the window. "Thanks for the dinner. And the baked stuff."

Jason got up and followed him to the window. "You have my number. One of it, at least, or a dozen. Let me know you got there safe." he said before Tim slipped out of the window to the fire escape.

Tim nodded, "sure." he said. He caught jason's eyes, And if asked later, by anyone - short of by extreme and copious use of some kind of truth serum and/or mind-reading - Tim would not admit of what brought in the impulse to hug Jason. But he did. He felt Jason tensed a little, and then relaxed under his arms and hugged back awkwardly.

Nope, definitely not saying anything.

[analisegrey]

A Mere Flesh Wound

For @unforth-ninawaters, a piece of the Cap Sandwich AU.

(to be posted to AO3 later when it stops being a dick).

“It wasn’t that bad.”

Lesser men had run from the scowl Bucky leveled at Steve.

“Stevie, you think defenestration isn’t that bad. You jump out of airplanes without parachutes. I think we can all agree that your definition of ‘not that bad’ is a bit fucking skewed.”

Steve grumbled ‘You jump through a window one time…’, but otherwise didn’t argue as Bucky helped him from the elevator into their suite in Stark Tower.

The mission had been relatively simple, all things considered. A Hydra base in Hoboken wasn’t the weirdest thing they’d ever dealt with, though Clint had laughed at him when he’d expressed distaste at having to go to New Jersey. The clean-up had been underway, and they thought they’d rounded up all the Hydra goons. Obviously they’d missed one, because one moment Steve was talking to Agent Hendricks about getting the prisoners transported, and the next he was on the ground, his right leg on fire. In the ensuing chaos, Clint had taken down the shooter before he’d had a chance to take out anyone else, and Steve was just lucky the guy was a crappy shot. The bullet hadn’t hit any major arteries, which was good, but it had hit his femur and broken it before bouncing off and exiting. SHIELD medical had set it and put an immobilizing brace on just to help stabilize it, but it would heal on its own in a few days. He just had to stay off it until then. It just so happened that Bucky had made it his own personal mission to make sure Steve followed directions.

The pain from the injury was already lessening; the bullet wound would be healed by the end of the night, two shiny pink dimples the only evidence left of the entry and exit wounds. As they made it from the elevator lobby to their living room, the smell of Indian food hit him, and his stomach let out a complaining rumble.

Clint popped his head out of the kitchen. “Hey guys, I’m almost done getting everything out. Have a seat, I’ll be right out.”

By the time Clint made it to the living room with all the food and bottles of various things to drink, Bucky had installed Steve on the center cushion of the couch, dragging the ottoman closer so they could get his leg propped up comfortably. Steve eyed Clint as he set the bags of food and drinks down on the coffee table and started pulling things out and opening them.

“How did you get here so fast? And get food? I thought you’d still be in debrief.”

Clint winked at him, handing him a container full of chicken tikka masala and a fork before taking his own container and settling in next to Steve. “Special dispensation. My Dom was injured, don’t ya know. Besides, everyone knows what a handful you are when injured, and they thought Bucky might need the help.”

Bucky barked a laugh. “Please. I’ve been handling his prickly ass since we were kids. If I can’t handle him at this point I don’t think I’m ever gonna.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue but Clint deftly popped a samosa in, surprising Steve into biting down on it, and by the time he’d finished eating it, he’d lost his train of thought and Bucky and Clint were discussing something about the episode of Great British Bake-off they were watching.

It took Steve actually getting full for him to realize just how much food there was. His, and Bucky’s to a lesser extent, metabolism ran pretty high normally, but when he was healing something it sprang into overdrive. For him to eat enough to be pleasantly full and there still to be food leftover- well he boggled a bit.

“Clint, how much food did you actually order?”

Clint blushed slightly, clearing his throat with a sheepish look. “I might have asked JARVIS to just order three of everything from that Indian place on Allen Street you like. You were talking about it earlier, and I know you need more when you’re healing, so...and it’s not like we won’t eat it-”

Something warm burbled up in Steve’s chest.

“Aw, sweetheart, you don’t have to explain. Thank you for thinking of me.” Steve put a light hand on the back of Clint’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. Clint melted into him, resting a hand on Steve’s chest for balance.

“Oh sure, I only helped haul your ass back here. I’m just chopped liver I guess.”

Steve snorted, breaking away from his kiss with Clint to turn and get a handful of Bucky’s hair, tugging him close so their noses were almost touching.

“You’re a demanding brat, you know that, right?”

Bucky grinned. “A bit, but you love it.”

“Yeah I do.” Steve kissed Bucky on the nose, and then let go of his hair, laughing at Bucky’s disgruntled muttering.

Sinking back into the couch, with a full stomach and the solid warmth of his subs on either side of him, Steve let himself drift off into a much needed nap.

[yasbxxgie]

Sea level has been stable, at current levels, throughout recorded history for 5,000 years. That’s about to change. Still, it’s very difficult for people to imagine a change in sea level after 5,000 years of rock solid stability.

Nevertheless, assuming sea levels do rise markedly, one of the biggest questions of the century is whether the world is prepared for sea level rise?

As a guess, the answer is: No, not even close.

Well, they better start making plans because there’s no stopping at 410 ppm CO2 and +1°C post-industrial temperature, sea level rise is locked and loaded. It’s only a matter of when how much.

A recent scientific forum offers insight. In February 2019, John Englander, oceanographer and world-renown sea level expert, spoke at The Royal Institution, London, which is affectionately called “the home of science.” It’s one of the world’s most prestigious and long-standing institutions.

The Royal Institution has promoted scientific breakthroughs and new theories for 220 years. In 1859, Prof. John Tyndall spoke at the same spot and same desk where John Englander stood to deliver his speech. Tyndall was one of the first scientists to theorize the impact of greenhouse gases (GHG) on climate change.

One hundred-sixty-years later, John Englander spoke about the consequences of Tyndall’s observations, the onset of sea level rise: “We really can’t wait for the tragedy to evolve to deal with it.” Unfortunately, “We tend to make big changes and expensive projects when tragedy has happened… But, with this one, we really can’t wait for the tragedy to unfold to begin to deal with it. And, therein lies a particular challenge for all of us.”

Accordingly, sea level rise should be the most important consideration for thousands of coastal communities around the world. And, not only that, but surprise, surprise! Sea level rise is a regular, normal feature in Earth’s climate history of the past 400,000 years. In fact, major instances of sea level rise happened four times during that time.

The four-glacial/interglacial periods of the past 400,000 years happened at the rate of one per 100,000 years with four Down (cold) Cycles each lasting 80,000 years and four Up (warm) Cycles each lasting 20,000 years.

The last Down (cold) Cycle ended 22,000 years ago. Thus, and therefore, today is the tail end of the last Up (warm) Cycle and a new Down (cold) Cycle should already be here, but, no, human greenhouse gases (GHG) like CO2, methane, and nitrous oxide have altered the normal rhythms of the planet, stopped dead in its tracks, preventing another long overdue Down (cold) Cycle.

Englander claims there won’t be another Down (cold) Cycle as long as people exist on the planet. People are “heat machines.” They have changed the planet’s chemistry and physics and thus, artificially extended the Up (warm-to-hot-to-hotter) Cycle.

The paleoclimate record shows temperatures over the past 400,000 yrs ranged plus/minus 5°C and CO2 ranged 180 ppm to 280 ppm.

Today’s CO2 at 410 ppm literally smashes the old record of 280 ppm that stood for 400,000 years. Hmm.

Over those 400,000 years, 5°C temperature change brought 120 meter (394 feet) sea level changes in its wake. Looked at another way, sea level rise equals 20 meters (60 feet) per 1°C temperature increase. Uh-oh! Earth’s already heated that much. Does this mean 20 meters (60 feet) of sea level rise is already “baked in the cake,” ready to burst forward?

Well, yes, but not exactly, the key ingredient is when it happens because timing is tricky. In days of yesteryear when 280 ppm was top end, CO2 grew at a rate 0.1 to 0.3 ppm/annum, so sea level rise took centuries as temperatures slowly increased, whereas today, CO2 at 410 ppm and growing 3.0 ppm/annum (10xs the paleoclimate rates) is like a turbo-charged Indy race car on a geological track, and it has powered ahead, thus leaving sea level rise choking on fumes. But, it’ll catch up…count on it. Thus, there’s a lag time between GHGs today and temperature rise and sea level rise tomorrow.

Think of Earth, the biosphere, as a big oven, similar to the one at home, when turned to 450°F, the home oven takes several minutes to crank up to 450°F. It’s not instantaneous. Similarly, the biosphere oven receives tons and tons of greenhouse heat-trapping gases, but its version of “several minutes” is “several years-to-decades” to achieve maximum heat. In other words, your 2010 auto exhaust generated today’s global warming.

It’s all about “timing.” After all, when warming cycles happen, sea level rise usually takes centuries and centuries to increase. For example, 14,000 years ago an increase in temperatures took seas up 65 feet over 400 years. Accordingly, that’s 1.5 feet per decade, which calculation, in part, led John Englander to make the assumption that today’s sea level rise will be 1-2-3 feet by mid 21st century. In turn, that would be a real shocker, especially to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) with its median expectation of one-half a meter or 1.6 feet by 2100.

The IPCC’s absolute “worst-case” guesstimate is 32 inches by 2100, but a footnote hidden in fine print says the IPCC does not factor Antarctica into their calculations. Ahem! Antarctica is not included! Mercy!

Englander’s key points:

1. Sea level never rises smoothly. It’s not a straight line or a curved line. There are inflection points when it suddenly rises. So far, that has not been experienced. In fact, over the past 100 years, temps are up 1°C and sea level rise is only up 4 inches.

2. Sea level has been stable, at current levels, throughout human recorded history for 5,000+ years.

3. Thus, it’s very difficult for people to imagine a change in sea level, especially after 5,000 years of rock solid stability.

Today’s big problem: Sea levels are now (today) at an early stage of exponential growth, meaning, the rate of growth is doubling, cycle-by-cycle, for the first time in known history. Based upon satellite recordings since 1993: sea level rise 1993-98 +1.5MM/yr. 1998-2011 +3.2MM/yr. 2011-2018 5.0MM/yr. That’s nearly double every cycle, which is an exponential function, and it’s trouble, very-very big trouble.

The exponential: “The greatest shortcoming of the human race is our inability to understand the exponential function.” (Albert Allen Bartlett, 1923-2013 /Harvard PhD, Professor Emeritus, Nuclear Physics, University of Colorado at Boulder)

An exponential, to wit: How long does it take to fill Yankee Stadium with water, assuming 1 drop of water is added, then 2 drops, then 4 drops, then 8 drops, then 16 drops, on and on, doubling the number of drops every minute? Answer: 47 minutes.

Exponential is fast, real fast, and sea level rise is now on an exponential pathway for the first time ever!!! That’s a very big pill to swallow! But still, timing is everything, which nobody knows for certain.

Meantime, the sources of sea level rise are readily identifiable as Greenland 24 feet and Antarctica 186 feet and another 3 feet in glaciers found in Alps and around the world in mountainous terrain.

Greenland is surprisingly big. Englander has been there 6 times; it’s 1,600 miles north to south and 1,000 miles east to west. It’s the biggest island in world with ice 2 miles thick that covers 80% of the island.

Antarctica is even more enormous at 7xs Greenland. There are four parts to Antarctica:

1. East Antarctica – relatively solid but starting to rumble – it’s the final frontier of global warming

2. West Antarctica – glaciers go under water here and a high risk zone

3. Antarctica Peninsula- melting the fastest and closest to South America

4. Ice Shelves – thick ice slabs resting on the water, serving as backstops to glaciers- increasingly breaking off in ever-bigger chunks, e.g., Antarctica’s Iceberg B-15 at 183 miles long by 23 miles wide.

With mounting concerns expressed by scientists, six Antarctic glaciers are under special watch: Pine Island Glacier – a huge cavity discovered only recently – Thwaites Glacier-a new disturbing discovery found only recently, Haynes Glacier, Pope Glacier, Smith Glacier, and Kohler Glacier. All of these glaciers are located around the Amundsen Sea. Combined, these six have 10 feet of sea level locked up inside. Nobody knows when, but the entire region is extremely vulnerable, already showing the early signals of “losing it.”

Meanwhile, Englander’s guesstimate: By mid century, we could get a couple of feet of sea level rise. But keep in mind it doesn’t happen all at once. It’s the buildup that destroys, and that is now, unfortunately, on an exponential pathway. In other words, it’s an extremely dicey affair that could be gradual, or it could be rapid, awful, and nasty.

Englander’s conclusion: Sea level rise is unstoppable.

Interestingly, ever since the 1990s, mainstream science has been at least 30 years late with sea level projections, consistently way too low, but then again, exponential growth throws off the best of ‘em. It’s a wild card.

According to Englander, there are three key takeaways from his speech:

1. Reduce emissions, immediately – it’s most important to slow warming as much as possible as early as possible.

2. Regardless, sea level rise will still be catastrophic on a global scale. Even with 100% renewable energy tomorrow, sea level rise will happen. As an aside, oceans (2/3rds of the planet) absorbed 85% of planetary heat and emit CO2 when too warm/hot.

3. The sooner “engineering for the future” happens, the easier to adapt.

According to Englander, society has 20-30 years to redesign cities to prepare for the inevitable as thousands of coastal communities must move or adapt to sea level rise. As an aside, and in fairness to contrary opinion, there are scientists that disagree with the timeline of 20-30 years to do something.

The risk factor is heightened by the fact that past sea level rises had saw-toothed patterns with inflection points of rapid increase along the way, making it nearly impossible to predict timing.

As such, and here’s the big oops-a-daisy, with exponentials kicking into gear, it’s truly a gamblers’ world.

According to John Englander, there are no options. It must be dealt with. Come hell or high water, sea level rise is forthcoming.

[allens-chocolate-dreams]

I know a better way to do that with published games! It only works on the phone apps, as far as I know, but it might be easier than having to buy the game again if anything goes wrong. Below a read more because it got long with the images.

First, install any app extractor. It will turn any app you downloaded in the Play Store into an .apk file. I'm using this one.

Now open the apk extractor you just downloaded. The one I'm using is very simple to use, you just have to click your desired app in the list and it'll automatically extract an .apk file for you. I'm using the game "Lux, City of Secrets" as an example of how to do it, since I never got around to code dive it before.

Now open your files manager. Any is fine, you can probably use the default one in your phone without problems.

In my case, I have to go into the folder called "ExtractedApks". It should be in your internal storage. Name and place of these folders may vary depending on your apk extractor.

Inside this folder, you'll find another one with the name of the game you extracted. Open it and you'll find the .apk file.

This is where it gets fun. Now, rename this .apk file putting .zip in the end, right in the end, after the type of the file. This should change the format of the file into a compacted folder.

Now extract that compacted folder. It will create a normal folder with all the game files inside it neatly.

Open it and go to the folder called "assets". Inside it, there will be another folder called "my game". Open it as well.

Lastly, open the folder called "scenes". All the relevant code files will be there. Now it's just a matter of finding the right ones and there you go! Pretty much every .json file has an identical .txt file, so don't worry about opening them. Relevant files for code diving usually do not include stuff like "startup", "screenshots", "stats" and such, but who knows, you may find something interesting there as well!

You can open the .txt files with any file viewer it's the best for you. I personally like this one because it's very comfy to read, but any will do.

I have an Android, so I have no way to know if this can be done in an iOS as well, but I hope this was helpful!

I see a lot of people talking about diving into the code of fallen hero rebirth to view the text in its entirety. Do you have any advice on how to do that, anywhere i can learn how to do it from?

happy to help! I will do my best to explain it, I would also recommend checking out the cog forums

code diving can only be done online. so you can do it on dashingdon or with any game that you have purchased through the cog website.

on dashingdon just add scenes to the end of the url. that should open up a table of contents for the chapters of the wip

it's a little more complicated for published cog games.

for those you have to own the game through the cog website (as opposed to steam or a phone app) and be logged into your profile

once you have the game open add scenes/startup.txt that should give you a list of the chapters. once you know what titles are used you can plug them in. replace startup with the chapter title. so it would say something like scenes/chapter01.txt

there might be better/different ways of doing it but that is what works for me! I highly recommend code diving only after you've played the game a few times because this is where all the spoilers live! it's also great if you are considering creating your own if and want to see the coding in action

hope that is clear and if anyone has any other tips please feel free to add on 💜

[networkingdefinition]

Caramel Quotes

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• Anyone who thinks they’re too grown up or too sophisticated to eat caramel corn, is not invited to my house for dinner – Ruth Reichl

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Caramel', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_caramel').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_caramel img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Caramels are only a fad. Chocolate is a permanent thing. – Milton S. Hershey • Conall,” “Aye, Alexia?” He looked up at her. Was that fear in his caramel eyes? “I am going to take advantage of you,” she said – Gail Carriger • Eighteen luscuios scrumpitous flavors, Chocolate,Lime and Cherry Coffee,Pumpkin, Fudge-Banana, Caramel Cream and boysenberry. Rocky Road and Toasted Almond, Butterscotch,Vanilla Dip, Butter Brinkle, Apple Ripple,Coconut,and Mocha Chip, Brandy Peach and Lemon Custard. Each scoop lovely.smooth and round. Tallest cream cone in town lying there on the ground. – Shel Silverstein • Ever tried putting a caramel candy in a cup of hot tea? It’s excellent! Not only does it give a little different taste to the tea, but it takes the place of the sugar and cream which you ordinarily add. – Heloise • Granola didn’t sell very well when it was good for you. Now it has caramel, chocolate, marshmallow, saturated fat and sweeteners with a small amount of oats and grains. Sales picked up. – George Carlin • How complicated can ice cream flavors be? How much can you put in there? I mean, when the flavor’s something like banana ice cream with caramel, fudge chunks, cheddar goldfish and pennies – you’ve got to draw a line there. – Marc Maron • I can’t cook to save my life but I can bake a flour-less chocolate-hazelnut tort with a spicy caramel sauce. – Anna Kendrick • I can’t describe the feeling when I go down – it’s down down down and there’s never going to be an up again. And whatever was good isn’t good any more; white becomes grey, music becomes dictionaries, honey becomes beer and the sky a curdled lemon. There’s no caramel anymore. – John Marsden • I have a candle on the bus that smells like caramel brownie. I love anything that smells like food! – Carrie Underwood • I like crazy, childlike, candy bar-filled cakes with gooey caramel, chocolate-covered nuts, marshmallows, and the like. – Ron Ben-Israel • I like L.A. It’s like a mini break. For a writer, it’s hilarious. Like the food. Where I come from, we eat chip sandwiches: white bread, butter, tomato catsup and big fat french fries. It’s delicious. Here, you order a creme caramel and the waiter says, ‘You know, that contains dairy. – Helen Fielding • I like to stay hydrated with water throughout the day and snack on apples, but my guilty pleasure would definitely be a caramel macchiato from Starbucks! – Janel Parrish • I love chocolate. Black chocolate with marshmallow inside, caramel inside. If I could only have two foods, I’d take some fantastic chocolate. And some terrible chocolate. I love the Clark Bar. – Sonia Rykiel • I think love is caramel. Sweet and fragant; always welcome. It is the gentle golden colour of a setting harvest sun; the warmth of a squeezed embrace; the easy melting of two souls into one and a taste that lingers even when everything else has melted away. Once tasted it is never forgotten. – Jenny Colgan • I travel with chocolate – Godiva with caramel. When the craving hits, I have to have it. I share, but if I’m on my last one, I’ve been known to say, ‘Sorry, I’m out!’ – Christa B. Allen • I want something mouthwatering and tasty which reminds me of childhood. The scent of a fairground, candy floss, little cakes, chocolates and caramels. Perfume must not be linked just to fashion because that means that one day it will go out of style. – Thierry Mugler • Kissing George was a little like rolling in caramel after spending years surviving off rice sticks. – Aimee Bender • Leonardo DiCaprio invited me into his dressing room, and then we went into his hotel room where we stayed. We shared caramel popcorn. I think that was the coolest thing, sharing popcorn with this movie star. And then we wrestled! I always share that story with people. – Quindon Tarver • Martin, at my age, eroticism is reduced to enjoying caramel custard and looking at widows’ necks.’ – Senor Sempere. – Carlos Ruiz Zafon • Melting pot Harlem-Harlem of honey and chocolate and caramel and rum and vinegar and lemon and lime and gall. Dusky dream Harlem rumbling into a nightmare tunnel where the subway from the Bronx keeps right on downtown. – Langston Hughes • Piper leaned toward [Jason], her caramel braid falling over her shoulder. Her multicolored eyes made it hard for him to think straight. “And where is this place?” she asked. “A . . . uh, a town called Split.” “Split.” She smelled really good—like blooming honeysuckle. “Um, yeah.” Jason wondered if Piper was working some sort of Aphrodite magic on him—like maybe every time he mentioned Reyna’s name, she would befuddle him so much he couldn’t think about anything but Piper. He supposed it wasn’t the worst sort of revenge. – Rick Riordan • Sodas use “caramel coloring” to give them that dark, delicious look. Not to be confused with real caramel, caramel color is the single most used food coloring in the world. It is created by heating ammonia and sulfites under high pressure-a process that produces a cancerous substance called 4-methylimidazole (4-MEI). – Vani Hari • The circus looks abandoned and empty. But you think perhaps you can smell caramel wafting through the evening breeze, beneath the crisp scent of the autumn leaves. A subtle sweetness at the edges of the cold. – Erin Morgenstern • The fish are naked. The fish are always awake. They are the color of old spoons and caramels. – Anne Sexton • There is nothing particularly wrong with salmon, of course, but like caramel candy, strawberry yogurt, or liquid carpet cleaner, if you eat too much of it you are not going to enjoy your meal. – Daniel Handler • These French-style caramels are handmade in California. It’s always hard to give them away! – Oprah Winfrey • When I became vegan I thought I would have to deprive myself of certain sweets that I loved so much, like caramel and peanut butter cups, but on the contrary! – Kat Von D • When the guy turned around, Amy began stuttering. Silently. It was a feat only Amy could manage, and only Dan could notice. And it only happened in front of boys who looked like this one. He had brown hair and caramel-colored eyes, like Dan’s friend Nick Santos, who made all the sixth-grade girls turn into blithering idiots when he looked their way–in fact, would even say Watch, lean make them turn into blithering idiots, and then he’d do it. Only older. “He. Is. Hot,” Nellie said under her breath. “You too?” Dan hissed. – Peter Lerangis • Whether chocolate or vanilla, or you’re somewhere in between, A cappuccino mocha or a caramel queen, Rejected by the black, not accepted by the white world, And this is dedicated to them dark-skinned white girls. – MURS

  jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'a', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_a').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_a img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'e', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_e').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_e img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'i', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_i').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_i img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'o', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_o').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_o img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'u', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_u').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_u img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

[equitiesstocks]

Caramel Quotes

Official Website: Caramel Quotes

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• Anyone who thinks they’re too grown up or too sophisticated to eat caramel corn, is not invited to my house for dinner – Ruth Reichl

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Caramel', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_caramel').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_caramel img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Caramels are only a fad. Chocolate is a permanent thing. – Milton S. Hershey • Conall,” “Aye, Alexia?” He looked up at her. Was that fear in his caramel eyes? “I am going to take advantage of you,” she said – Gail Carriger • Eighteen luscuios scrumpitous flavors, Chocolate,Lime and Cherry Coffee,Pumpkin, Fudge-Banana, Caramel Cream and boysenberry. Rocky Road and Toasted Almond, Butterscotch,Vanilla Dip, Butter Brinkle, Apple Ripple,Coconut,and Mocha Chip, Brandy Peach and Lemon Custard. Each scoop lovely.smooth and round. Tallest cream cone in town lying there on the ground. – Shel Silverstein • Ever tried putting a caramel candy in a cup of hot tea? It’s excellent! Not only does it give a little different taste to the tea, but it takes the place of the sugar and cream which you ordinarily add. – Heloise • Granola didn’t sell very well when it was good for you. Now it has caramel, chocolate, marshmallow, saturated fat and sweeteners with a small amount of oats and grains. Sales picked up. – George Carlin • How complicated can ice cream flavors be? How much can you put in there? I mean, when the flavor’s something like banana ice cream with caramel, fudge chunks, cheddar goldfish and pennies – you’ve got to draw a line there. – Marc Maron • I can’t cook to save my life but I can bake a flour-less chocolate-hazelnut tort with a spicy caramel sauce. – Anna Kendrick • I can’t describe the feeling when I go down – it’s down down down and there’s never going to be an up again. And whatever was good isn’t good any more; white becomes grey, music becomes dictionaries, honey becomes beer and the sky a curdled lemon. There’s no caramel anymore. – John Marsden • I have a candle on the bus that smells like caramel brownie. I love anything that smells like food! – Carrie Underwood • I like crazy, childlike, candy bar-filled cakes with gooey caramel, chocolate-covered nuts, marshmallows, and the like. – Ron Ben-Israel • I like L.A. It’s like a mini break. For a writer, it’s hilarious. Like the food. Where I come from, we eat chip sandwiches: white bread, butter, tomato catsup and big fat french fries. It’s delicious. Here, you order a creme caramel and the waiter says, ‘You know, that contains dairy. – Helen Fielding • I like to stay hydrated with water throughout the day and snack on apples, but my guilty pleasure would definitely be a caramel macchiato from Starbucks! – Janel Parrish • I love chocolate. Black chocolate with marshmallow inside, caramel inside. If I could only have two foods, I’d take some fantastic chocolate. And some terrible chocolate. I love the Clark Bar. – Sonia Rykiel • I think love is caramel. Sweet and fragant; always welcome. It is the gentle golden colour of a setting harvest sun; the warmth of a squeezed embrace; the easy melting of two souls into one and a taste that lingers even when everything else has melted away. Once tasted it is never forgotten. – Jenny Colgan • I travel with chocolate – Godiva with caramel. When the craving hits, I have to have it. I share, but if I’m on my last one, I’ve been known to say, ‘Sorry, I’m out!’ – Christa B. Allen • I want something mouthwatering and tasty which reminds me of childhood. The scent of a fairground, candy floss, little cakes, chocolates and caramels. Perfume must not be linked just to fashion because that means that one day it will go out of style. – Thierry Mugler • Kissing George was a little like rolling in caramel after spending years surviving off rice sticks. – Aimee Bender • Leonardo DiCaprio invited me into his dressing room, and then we went into his hotel room where we stayed. We shared caramel popcorn. I think that was the coolest thing, sharing popcorn with this movie star. And then we wrestled! I always share that story with people. – Quindon Tarver • Martin, at my age, eroticism is reduced to enjoying caramel custard and looking at widows’ necks.’ – Senor Sempere. – Carlos Ruiz Zafon • Melting pot Harlem-Harlem of honey and chocolate and caramel and rum and vinegar and lemon and lime and gall. Dusky dream Harlem rumbling into a nightmare tunnel where the subway from the Bronx keeps right on downtown. – Langston Hughes • Piper leaned toward [Jason], her caramel braid falling over her shoulder. Her multicolored eyes made it hard for him to think straight. “And where is this place?” she asked. “A . . . uh, a town called Split.” “Split.” She smelled really good—like blooming honeysuckle. “Um, yeah.” Jason wondered if Piper was working some sort of Aphrodite magic on him—like maybe every time he mentioned Reyna’s name, she would befuddle him so much he couldn’t think about anything but Piper. He supposed it wasn’t the worst sort of revenge. – Rick Riordan • Sodas use “caramel coloring” to give them that dark, delicious look. Not to be confused with real caramel, caramel color is the single most used food coloring in the world. It is created by heating ammonia and sulfites under high pressure-a process that produces a cancerous substance called 4-methylimidazole (4-MEI). – Vani Hari • The circus looks abandoned and empty. But you think perhaps you can smell caramel wafting through the evening breeze, beneath the crisp scent of the autumn leaves. A subtle sweetness at the edges of the cold. – Erin Morgenstern • The fish are naked. The fish are always awake. They are the color of old spoons and caramels. – Anne Sexton • There is nothing particularly wrong with salmon, of course, but like caramel candy, strawberry yogurt, or liquid carpet cleaner, if you eat too much of it you are not going to enjoy your meal. – Daniel Handler • These French-style caramels are handmade in California. It’s always hard to give them away! – Oprah Winfrey • When I became vegan I thought I would have to deprive myself of certain sweets that I loved so much, like caramel and peanut butter cups, but on the contrary! – Kat Von D • When the guy turned around, Amy began stuttering. Silently. It was a feat only Amy could manage, and only Dan could notice. And it only happened in front of boys who looked like this one. He had brown hair and caramel-colored eyes, like Dan’s friend Nick Santos, who made all the sixth-grade girls turn into blithering idiots when he looked their way–in fact, would even say Watch, lean make them turn into blithering idiots, and then he’d do it. Only older. “He. Is. Hot,” Nellie said under her breath. “You too?” Dan hissed. – Peter Lerangis • Whether chocolate or vanilla, or you’re somewhere in between, A cappuccino mocha or a caramel queen, Rejected by the black, not accepted by the white world, And this is dedicated to them dark-skinned white girls. – MURS

  jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'a', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_a').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_a img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'e', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_e').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_e img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'i', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_i').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_i img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'o', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_o').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_o img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'u', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_u').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_u img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

[grapsandclaps]

GRAPS AND CLAPS REVIEWS - GPW 'THUNDERBRAWL'

Hello and welcome everyone to another edition of Graps and Claps taking me on another journey to deepest darkest Hindley for GPW 'Thunderbrawl' on a surprisingly sunny Friday evening given the wet weather we have had all week in the North West. Sadly for me not a lot of pub crawling on this evening due to arriving into Hindley for 6:30 pm, so me and our Geoff went to meet up with Ben (@britwresawaydays) and Tom in Hindley's new drinking hot spot called 'Korre' which is basically a Cocktail/Wine Bar that I have been trying to visit in the last couple of visits but never ending up doing, so I was interested in seeing what it had to offer.

On first reflection if you like your cocktails this is more your place, if you like your beer probably not as they only have Staropramen on tap costing £3.60 and also a handful of 500ml bottles of some local plonk, to be honest though the Staropramen was a very good pint and as a change to visit I would probably go again - so a thumbs up from this pub expert.

On the walk down to the venue, the locally famed Jonesies Bar is now boarded up, so sadly we will never see what actually lurked in that pub.

With the time coming up to 7 p.m we met up with Graps and Claps correspondent and French Football expert Andrew Gibney and also Baseball fanatic John who were visiting GPW for the first time, so it's good to see that the company is picking up new followers by the show.

This was shown as well by the sold out crowd in attendance snaking round the Rose Club looking at advertisements for 'Big Bang Tungsten' featuring some proper heavyweights of the darting world.

In the venue the scramble for chairs and tables was evident with a number of our group going upstairs on the balcony to snaffle a chair or two to set up to the side of the entrance way. With all that said let's get into the wrestling action on what looked on paper to be a tasty night of action!

First up we had a Grudge match months in the making between former Tag Team partners and friends as Martin Kirby took on Ashton Smith in a match that should have taken place at the 15th Anniversary show but due to Ashton having a supposed injury he was unable to compete leaving Kirby to take on Crater instead on that evening. It is to be noted that Ashton came out to 'All of the Lights' but as he is a very naughty boy in GPW, his usual singing section was keeping quiet and instead was giving him the sound of apathy - BOOOOOOO!!!.

The opening of the contest was mainly Kirby tricking Ashton with a number of headlock and arm reversals to frustrate Ashton enough to send him for a powder to the outside - which elicited a shout of 'Chicken' from the crowd that provoked Ashton to say 'That's Damon Leigh's Gimmick'! Back in the ring, Ashton managed to get back on the offence, including a sweet variation on a 'Code Red' for a count of 2 and seven eighths. With Ashton looking like he was on his way to victory, he was caught with an enziguri to the back of the head by Kirby and then finished off with a Rocker Dropper for the 1-2-3 and your winner Martin Kirby. With the cross in the loss column bad boy Ashton was then subjected to the AAAAAAARRRRGGHHH walk of shame from the Hindley faithful to send him sulking backstage! This was an excellent opener between two of the best in the UK and well worth your viewing once it arrives on GPW's On Demand service.

Before we get into the next contest, the greatest discovery known to Hindley man was found as a range of hot pies are now on sale at The Rose Club including Steak & Ale and Meat & Potato costing £2.50 - these went down such a treat that they had sold out by the time the Rumble had started. As I said on Twitter on Friday night, these possibly rival the Temple of Boom Vegan Curry & Rice for the 'Best Food at the Graps' award - a game changer this certainly was.

Next match was a 3-way No Holds Barred Tag Team Title Match with the Champions Craig Kollins & T-Bone taking on The Austins (L.A & Lana) and also the Midnight Bin Collection (Ste 'Bin' Mann and Jett Fashion) who as noted last time had a break up/make up of sorts at the 15th Anniversary show so it would be interesting to see if they could co-exist to rest the titles away from Kollins & Bone. 

As ever with No Rules matches at GPW this went all around the building, including Kollins sending Fashion through a fire exit door to the left of me, we had a dive sequence to the outside which included poor Ste 'Bin' Mann unfortunately not getting enough traction on the dive doing his best Brie Bella impression by going vertical to the outside and landing with a big 'THUD!' Thankfully he was able to continue the match but this didn''t half draw a gasp from the audience.

With more fighting on the outside, including some evil baking tray shots the fight took to the bar area that ended with Lana Austin hitting a dive to everyone outside from the raised bar area. Back in the ring with the match reaching it's climax, either T-Bone or Kollins got caught up in the ropes for Jett Fashion to hold in place for Ste 'Bin' Mann to use a couple of Baseball Bat shots to the gut that had Baseball expert John shaking his head in disgust at Bin Mann's swinging technique. Sadly though for the MBC it all went downhill from there as The Austins put paid to Bin Mann, as L.A Austin finished off Jett Fashion with a Swanton Bomb to get the 3 count and your new Tag Team Champions - The Austins.

Another great match for just the chaotic nature of the action, this was excellent! With the match out of the way, a despondent Bin Mann attacked his partner Jett Fashion to finally break up the long serving team due to cuts at the council - so no more bin collections in Hindley as of from Friday evening.

Next up GPW's owner Johnnie Brannigan came out to confront the GPW British Champion Sam Gradwell who has recently picked up a ACL injury which will keep him on the shelf for around 9 months which is unfortunate for Sam as he has been an excellent champion and for me one of highlights of many a GPW show over the last year and a bit. Brannigan anyway wanted to strip Gradwell of the British Title and award it to tonight's ThunderBrawl winner but Gradwell said 'NO!' and that he will compete in the Rumble to take his opportunity at winning the No.1 contendership to the GPW Heavyweight Title.

GPW Heavyweight Title time the Champion Joey Hayes taking on the former Champion Dylan Roberts w/Alan Alan Alan Tasker in a rematch from the 15th Anniversary show, this time in a Submission match. With the Submission rules, this was more technical based contest that did sort of bring the audience down a little bit from the opening two contests, but nonetheless it was still a fine contest. Dylan tried to get the Submission victory with a half crab and a variation on The London Dungeon arm submission to Joey but thankfully our Champion was able to get to the ropes to break it up. With Dylan desperate to reclaim his crown, his Manager Alan Alan Alan Tasker got on the ring ropes to try and distract Joey, but Joey instead ducked to send Dylan knocking down Tasker to the floor, leading to Joey hitting a cutter then locking in the CrossHayes for the tapout win to send the Hindley faithful celebrating into the half-time photos with Joey Hayes. 

Before we got started with the ThunderBrawl, the formality of the raffle was drawn with a drunken audience member who's birthday it was - my god this bloke was just having too much fun as he fell on his arse on the outside to roars of laughter from the crowd, it is to be noted that said fella was then hit with a stray baking tray by a lad I know in the front row - AAAAAAARRRRGGGGGHHH!!!!

ThunderBrawl time with combatants coming in at 60-second stages which did at times feel like 10-second stages it was that frenetic. Now I am not going to list all of the 40 competitors or all eliminations - you can checking @britwresawaydays for all of that, but instead I will note some of the interesting happenings during this contest. Sadly for Indy Corner fans, Benno was not present for his surprise entry in the Rumble it must have been the roadworks in Liverpool putting paid to this, but we did have a number of surprise entrants including Heresy (Johnnie Brannigan), Simon Valour, Ethan Allen, Luke Jacobs, JJ Webb, BIG T and the most shocking of them all - Liverpool's No.1 Zack Gibson as the 35th entry!

We also had Sam Gradwell who made his entrance but never actually got in as he stayed on the outside to speak some lethal barbs to Johnny Brannigan and Simon Valour commenting on their dad bod's and if they had only just grown a moustache they would have got a WWE contract - Ouch! This was a great line! We had the sound of the Bad Lads theme playing which instantly led our group who wanted to see Big Joe left in disappointment when it was Drill and Mickey Barnes making their entrance to much apathy but when Joe did make his entrance at No.37 there was much relief.

Crowd favourite in this rumble was Entrant No.28 Sandy Beach who since with his losing streak going has been on a roll in GPW and by the show he is gaining  well deserved following. As we know with Sandy he now makes his entrance with an Inflatable Shark of all things that was used to great effect in this rumble provoking the Hindley faithful to shout to the tune of 2018 smash hit 'Baby Shark' - SANDY'S SHARK DO DO DO DO! Christ alive this caught on! Also in this match we had the newly broken up team of the Midnight Bin Collection coming to blows as they eliminated each other when Jett Fashion came on rushing at Bin Mann.

Anyways we got down to the final 4 with Craig Kollins, Sandy Beach, Martin Kirby and Zack being the men that could possibly become the No.1 Contender to the GPW Heavyweight Title. Kollins was the first to go, leaving just three with the crowd fully behind Sandy Beach and Martin Kirby to get the glory. Sadly with Sandy looking to throw Kirby over the top rope, ever the opportunist Gibson creeped up from behind and chucked Sandy out much to the disgust of the audience who wanted Sandy to get the victory but nevertheless a star was made in GPW in the form of Sandy Beach!

Down to two now with Martin Kirby facing off with Zack Gibson and it was Gibson who low-blowed Kirby on the apron to send him packing over the top to become the 2018 ThunderBrawl winner and also your new No.1 Contender to the GPW Heavyweight Championship. After the match Gibson got on to the mic to proclaim his victory and to send some tasty words to Joey Hayes who came out only to be locked in the Shankly Gates to end the show. Well what a fantastic rumble this match was, breathless and plenty of storyline development in this with Gibson instantly getting 3 new challengers in Kirby, Beach and Hayes and instantly filling the void which has been left with the injury of Sam Gradwell.

With the show done at 10:15 pm, we made our way out of the venue and back to the station for one last drink in the Joseph Holt's pub next to the station for the debrief of the show before getting back into Manchester for 11:30 pm to end what was an excellent evening of action and another one to add to GPW's continuing trend of excellent shows - no wonder this event sold out if they are constantly like this one!

I hope you have enjoyed reading this edition of Graps and Claps, give it all the likes and retweets and any comments are very welcome - the support means a lot! Next review from myself will be from Futureshock's show in Stockport taking place on Sunday 16th September. Till next time  - BYE!!