#also so far so good for all the plants besides the water lettuce

[l3irdl3rain]

My slimy friend

[crack-whore-who-fuckedup-already]

Catchin’ The Vibe

Pairing: Loki x reader

Word Count: 2,543

Warnings: drug use (devils lettuce folks), wee bit of angst, fluff if you squint, awkwardness if that counts lol, older GenZ!reader

A/N: Ahhhh! This is my first time posting something I’ve written! I hope you all enjoy!

 Classes that day were less than pleasant. The reminder of 4 major exams coming up did nothing to soothe (Y/s) constant stress and anxiety and she couldn't help but rush out of her final class, ready to finally relax.

          The brisk walk home got her thinking and she quickly pulled out her phone and sent a text to her roommate, Cassie. The girl was well aware of Cassie's habits of bringing friends over unexpectedly. She'd learned to text ahead so that she could change her course of direction before it was too late and Cassie made her begrudgingly agree to stay with them. For as much as their external personalities clashed, she really did love Cassie but she also really didn't feel like trying her own patience today. Instead, she prepped for her backup plan.

When the inevitable response came from her roommate, she sighed and set a course for Avengers Tower. Even if a group of super heroes lived there, the tower was big enough to grant her space from them.

Walking in the front door, she flashed the card that her aunt Pepper gifted her upon her arrival to the big city to the security guard. If you need anything, Pepper had said, pressing the card into the girls palm, just come find me. She absolutely adored her aunt Pepper and although she didn't particularly need anything from her aunt in person, she was ever grateful for the unlimited access to the tower.

The girl was pleased to find that the residence atop the tower was seemingly empty. Out on a mission, she presumed. Thank God.

  She wasted no time plopping herself down on the couch and reached deep into her backpack, searching for the little ziplock bag. The perfect little cookie she had placed in there earlier that morning had crumbled to bits and she made a sound of disappointment. She opened it and poured a handful of crumbs, careful not to spill any on the couch. Only after carefully putting the rest away, she finally let herself fall back against the sofa and unwind.

When the girl found her eyes sore and red, and her mouth dry as the desert, she knew her high had hit. The previous anxious pounding in her heart and head was replaced with a subtle, pleasant throbbing throughout her body. Finally, she felt like she could take a deep breath. Reveling in the feeling, she closed her eyes and thought back on the day. 

Unbeknownst to her, Loki stood in the doorway of the living room, watching her intently. His fingers softly tapped on the hardcover of his book, debating whether or not he should go back to his room. He could sense that there was something different about her today. Something off. Now that Loki thought about it, the girl's energy always seemed a little ‘off’ compared to the other mortals on Midgard, but never this heavy before. It made him shift in discomfort.

Before he could turn and sneak away, her soft yet dry-red eyes peered over the couch and caught his own deep green ones. He was caught.

“Hello,” she said kindly. "You can join me, if you'd like." Loki's presence was one she always welcomed. She smiled softly and gestured to the sofa across from her. Loki hesitated for just a second but then slowly took a seat. She sat up to address him better and continued.  “I wasn't expecting anyone to be here. I thought everyone was out on a mission.” 

Only a couple feet from her now, the god could clearly see the red in her eyes and her exhaustion radiated off of her. His curiosity got the better of him and the question shot out of his mouth, quiet but clear. “Is something wrong?”

The girl froze suddenly. Her thoughts fluttered excuse from excuse. But she stopped, suddenly. She wondered with a bit of mischief -and defiance, probably-, what if she just told the truth. She realized quickly that Loki would probably be the last person to rat her out, quite honestly. Besides, something told her that Loki'd had his fair share of, well, exotic herbal substances, for lack of better term. Forgetting herself, she laughed a little at the thought.

Thinking he'd said something foolish, it took everything in Loki not to stride out of the room then and there. Irritation and perhaps embarrassment bloomed deep in his chest. Instead he let out a little huff which luckily got her attention. 

“Im sorry, but no. Why do you ask?” Her voice lilted up in a teasing manner. She had a small smirk on her face as she took a sip from the water bottle in her bag. 

Loki knew that look all too well. It was the same one he got on his face when he was up to no good. Suddenly intrigued, he narrowed his eyes at her and slipped on his shit-eating grin.

“Your eyes are red. And your presence feels more... tense than usual.”

She leaned forward and swallowed quickly. “What, you mean like my energy?”

Loki paused pensively then nodded.

She snickered and thought about that particularly interesting tid-bit of information. The scientific and spiritual knowledge on Asgard is far different and more advanced than anything on earth, she knew.

Minutes passed and the girl found her thoughts wondering, as well as her eyes. At some point, they landed on Loki reading his book and suddenly a light bulb went off in her head. Surprising herself with this idea, she mulled it over in her head. He is literally the most stressed individual I have ever met...and aunt Pepper has to deal with Tony on a daily basis so that's saying something... there's no harm in asking.

"Loki, have you ever heard of weed?" she asked as innocently as she could muster. He looked at her, contemplating. Eventually, he shook his head no. Delight spread across her face before caution took its place and the girl thought of the best way to explain to Loki what exactly the Midgardian herb was.

 "On Earth, there's this plant called marijuana." A look of slight recognition passed over his face. "It's used as a destresser, antidepressant, muscle relaxer…” She paused pensively. “Some use it for spiritual purposes. It's got loads of uses. Not to mention it gets you nice and toasty." 

With the Avengers away, his normally stiff and stoic facade was softer, allowing the girl to just barely make out the contemplative faces he was making. She had also noticed his brief look of uncertainty at her use of the term 'toasty'.

"So this is Midgards form of the Gift," he concluded.

"If that's what you guys call drugs on Asgard then, yeah. Sure." She let out a little laugh and looked at him intently.

After a second of thinking, he finally looked at her again, mischief seeping into his words and face. "And why might you be telling me this, dearest?" 

Leaning back with a grin, she fished the baggie from her backpack once more. The loose crumbs looked less than impressive to the god but the girl didn't seem to care. She gave Loki a look to rival his own and for a second, it actually made him falter. 

The amount left in the bag was just the amount she felt comfortable giving him so she handed him the plastic baggie. When he didn't take it right away, she pulled back. 

"You don't have to if you don't want to." The gentleness in her voice caught him off guard and reassured him that it was his choice. He had no doubt after that, he wanted to do this. 

For as much as he didn't trust Midgard or their people, Loki was quite comfortable around her. The child of the group and yet she seemed to be the only tolerable one. Her normally quiet disposition drew him in and her ability to launch passionately into one of her stories only made him enjoy her company more. It reminded him of his mother.

Shoving those thoughts aside, he did his best to pour the cookie crumbs into his mouth then set the baggie on the coffee table. Leaning back, they both fell into comfortable silence and waited.

---------------------------

She was in the kitchen when out of the corner of her eye, she saw Loki slowly close his book. The girl looked up and across the space to the connected living room where he sat and saw him staring blankly at a spot in front of him. Finally, he let out a small groan and fell backwards. It had finally hit.

"Loki?" 

His hand twitched in her direction and she knew he wasn't doing well. Quickly filling a glass of water, she was at his side in a second. His head was all the way back, looking at the ceiling and his eyes were wide, pupils blown. His breathing was labored and his hands were shaking. 

"Hey, ok," she said, sitting gently next to him. She placed her hand on his arm but he flinched away. Paying it no mind, she spoke gently. "Don't fight it, Loki. Just relax and breathe." 

Loki tried his best to relax, truly. But there was this relentless twitching all throughout his body and his senses felt dulled by this incessant tingling. His mind was flitting through thoughts faster than he could grasp. Not having control over his mind and body was completely unexpected. The Gift was nothing like this. 

On Asgard, the Gift clears your mind and energy and makes you feel present and centered. It connects mind and body, bringing them together in harmony. This was the opposite. It was incapacitating his body and his thoughts swirled senselessly in his head.

"May I touch you?" 

He looked at her but the words were lost on him, he couldn't focus. He stared at her until she spoke again.

 "Loki? Is it alright if I touch you?" 

Before she could even finish the question a second time, he was already nodding his head yes. The girl smiled and softly placed her hand on his shoulder for reassurance. She rubbed her thumb gently back and forth and held up the glass of water. 

"Take a sip, it'll help," she urged. Loki mustered enough composure to sit up and take a few sips. When he was done, he rested back against the couch, shutting his eyes tightly.

Putting the glass down, the girl sighed as she looked at his rigid body. Poor thing was torturing himself with how tense he was. "Loki, if you don't relax, you're gonna cause more harm than good. Your muscles are going to snap."

He only shook his head.

Suppressing her own increasingly anxious thoughts, she continued. "Then what can I do to help? Please? I want to help you…" But Loki couldn't bring himself to say anything. Instead he shakily took her hand. Gentle but firm, it was the smallest of acts but she could already feel the difference it made. 

After a few moments, his scrunched up face was finally smoothing into one of ease and his breathing began to level out. The twitching was unavoidable and so was the probability of zoning out a couple times but that was all a part of the experience. After regaining control of his breath, Loki finally seemed to be letting himself unwind.

As his body started to melt into the couch, she gently readjusted herself next to him so that she was more comfortable. Not once did they let go of each other's hand. They sat in silence, enjoying the buzz but also each other's quiet presence.

---------------------

As the night got darker and the high mellowed out, Loki found himself actually enjoying his time. He could still feel the tingling in his body but had decided that he liked it. The girl had managed to pull him out of his trance when she pulled her hand away to put on some slow, quiet music that was pleasant to his currently sensitive ears.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, softly.

Still lounging back against the couch, Loki took a moment to think then nodded his head. A lazy smile spread across his face. "I feel...good." 

"Yeah?" she chuckled.

"Yeah."

They both let out a lazy chuckle and the girl fell back against the couch. "So…" She hesitated and wondered if she should say something so soon but continued anyway. "Are you okay? That was kind of... intense and I just want to make sure you're alright."

Loki took a second to gather his thoughts and cleared his throat. "My mind went places I try very hard to keep hidden. I wasn't prepared, is all."

When he didn't say anything more she decided it was best to leave it there. She watched him lose himself in his thoughts again and immediately scooted closer. Grabbing his hand wholly, she pressed herself into his side lightly as not to startle him and gave him a reassuring laugh. "I've gotcha. You're stuck with me now, buddy."

He just closed his eyes and exhaled heavily, the slightest hint of a smile on his face. But then he remembered why he was in this strange situation in the first place. When he had initially walked into the common room, the girl's abnormally heavy presence had made him want to flee. He wondered for a second if it could have been an effect of the Midgardian drug but if he focused hard enough, he could still sense that same tension deep in her muscles.

"And how about you?" 

She looked at him uncertainly. "What about me?"

"Are you ok?"

She shook her head in confusion as she couldn't understand what he was trying to get at. Loki thought about giving it up but he managed to convince himself otherwise. Pay her the same courtesy she did you, he willed himself.

"When I walked in I noticed a particular...mood settling over the room. It wasn't much like you and I wonder if something upset you," he spoke, afraid he might be over stepping.

Recollection spread across her face and she laughed begrudgingly. Now that she had time to relax and let the day sink in -not to mention the external help of her good friend Mary Jane-, she could separate herself from the anxiety and stress of everyday college life. Four exams were nothing, she concluded. She'd gotten through worse before. She could do this.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just some trivial human stuff. But I'm ok, I promise." 

They looked at each other, both their eyes red and droopy. She had a soft, genuine smile on her face and Loki felt himself relax all over again. As the music met their ears once more, they fell into pleasant silence.

----------------------

When the team got home early the next morning, they were surprised to find the two asleep on the couch. With Loki's head hanging back against the couch and the girl's face smothered into his shoulder, it definitely wasn't the most comfortable condition to sleep in. And yet, these two, in their stubborn chaos, managed to make it work. Deciding not to disturb them, the team just let them be and didn't dare mention a word to them when they woke.

[sideblogformindtrash]

A PLANT GUIDE TO ALTERNATIVE FOOD SOURCES/PLANT BASED MEDICINE/POISONOUS HERBS

FOR WHEN YOU ARE A 15th CENTURY PEASANT AND GOING TO THE DOCTOR WILL KILL YOU BECAUSE NO ONE HAS WASHED THEIR HANDS IN A MONTH.

This post ended up huge. 

DISCLAIMER CAUSE I DON’T WANT ANYONE TO GET SICK BECAUSE THEY ATE BAD LEAF:

Natural medicine is a fascinating topic and it carries a rich history of survival, culture and human history.

It is also a valuable source of insight for traditional medicine – it is often by searching the traditional, plant or nature based solutions and researching the active compounds on them that regular medicine can be crafted. These sciences are allies, they aren’t enemies, and the end goal is, always, to save lives.

HOWEVER it is NOT a replacement for traditional medicine. Traditional medicine works on isolating and amplifying components that are proven to be the source of the healing properties of plants and other things, both increasing the chances of obtaining a result and reducing the collateral effects, as well as monitoring people on a close and safe environment were any side-effects particular to that individual, caused by other pre-existent conditions, can be taken in consideration and dealt with by professionals. Dosage is also a very important factor that has to be considered. Doctors are equipped to deal with that. Everything can be a poison in excess.

By this, I mean to say if you go around using this info to justify selling mlm essential oils or being antivaxx I’ll personally haunt you once I’m dead. Natural medicine can be an interesting addition to conventional treatments if used responsibly, but it is not a replacement and is not to be used if you have no clue what you are doing. Please don’t go outside to eat random leaves and don’t trust random moms on facebook, their ‘research’ is far less than what I did for a tumblr post :’)

I can’t stress this enough: this is intended as a writing resource and not to be used in real life or as a guide. Don’t eat/use plants you don’t know. Please don’t. I’m also not a medical professional, I’m a plant nerd :)

And – a lot of this comes from oral traditions passed on by family. So shoutout to my grandma. Most of it is stuff you should be able to verify with a quick google search and I expent the day doing just that as well as gathering more info; I can link more trustworthy sources than Wikipedia if someone is interested, but they are mostly not in English.

ALSO, as a note: Popular plant names are NOT RELIABLE and vary greatly among regions, besides, they often are used to refer to a great number of species of the same genus; when in doubt always check the scientific name of the plant as that is standardized globally and taxonomists work hard to keep it concise.

Go to the doctor if you are sick please please please please please please please please please please please please please please :)

And just one more little note: I live in South America, that’s the flora I’m most familiar with. I know very little about European and Oceanic flora; but I reckon a lot of these might be similar to Asia and North America since a bunch of these plants are invasive species originated from Asia that have adapted well and spread around the continent.

Ok, first part is medicine second part is poison.

Some general info:

TO MAKE A BALM: You’d need some sort of animal fat or vaselin + a triturated mix of the correct plant parts and bee wax. Fat needs to be melted first, then you’d add the plant mix and lastly the bee wax; it needs to be constantly mixed until it gets the balm consistency and then filtered.

HOW TO MAKE A POULTICE: It’s basically just the mashed ingredients + something to make it slightly moisty; it largely depends on what it is exactly but it could be water, milk, coconut oil or animal fat. The paste is to be spread over a warm wet cloth and wrapped around the wound.

ON TEAS: A lot of the time you will need the fresh plant leaves and not the dried versions they sell on little sacks; Or they might both work, but likely to different things. Different parts of the plant might have different effects.

ACTIVATED CHARCOAL: It’s the go-to emergency poison retardant. It has the characteristic of being an adsorptive; this means other particles tend to cling to its surface and later be expelled with it. It can cause vomiting and nausea. Regular charcoal has been used historically for the same reasons. Eating the charcoal may interfere with other medications the person might be on.

 A Few Non-Conventional Edible Plants and Medicinal Herbs:

-Pereskia aculetea: Popular names are lemonvine; blade-apple cactus; leaf cactus; rose cactus; fruits, flowers and leaves are edible and has high-nutritional value. Depending on how it’s prepared, the leaves taste somewhat like fish. The flowers are sweet, and can be used in baking cakes and pies. They have sharp thorns on the fruits and branches. It is a good emergency food-source as it causes a fulfilling sensation and can be consumed raw.

Tea made with the leaves is good for the intestinal flora. It is anti-inflamation and helps ulcers heal. Can be used externally if the leaves are triturated and mashed into a paste. The fruit is anti-oxidant;

Stanchys byzantina + some others of the genus: Known as Lamb’s ear. It’s cute and fluffy. It also tastes like fish if fried on butter. Making tea with the leaves can help with cough and throat irritation. Helps with stomachache and indigestion.

-Mentha sp. – MINT! Everyone loves mint. It smells nice and is fresh. It helps with colds and is effective against parasites such as giardia and amebas. The tea has to be made with fresh leaves for it to be effective, not dried ones.

-Arnica sp. – NOT EDIBLE AND CAN BE TOXIC IF INGESTED. Small amounts can be used as a spicy however is not recommended. However, it’s a very good topical painkiller; can be used as a balm, a poultice or on lack of other options, making a strong tea and infusing a clean piece of cloth on it then applying to the sore muscles can work.

-Calendula sp. – It’s edible but not exactly tasty, a little spice I’d say. A balm can be made from it that is very good on cuts and bruises.

-Begonia cucullata – Known as wax begonia. It’s all edible, but calcium rich so should be avoided by someone with kidney problems.

-Portulaca oleracea – The Poultice is good against acne and insect stings; helps with inflammation and tea can be used against intestinal parasites. Slightly cooked leafs can help with burns (1º degree burns, don’t apply on anything worse). The seeds are specially good against parasites. Leaves, flowers and seeds are edible.

-Conyza canadensis / bonariensis – The Horseweed. Leaves are edible. They taste spicy-ish.  Can help treat hemorrhoids and diarrhea.

-Echinodorus grandiflorus: This one is common of wetlands and water proximity. The crushed rhizomes can be put over the skin to alleviate rashes and hernias. Tea made with the fresh leaves is a diuretic and laxative; is also good against throat inflammations. Cold tea can help with skin conditions as well. Leaves are very bitter, the rhizome is somewhat sweet.

-Hedychium coronarium: White-ginger-lily or garland flower; It is common on wetlands or near water sources. The rhizomes and flowers are edible (leaves aren’t), flowers usually consumed as sort of a jam and the rhizomes as flowers. Helps with throat inflammations and pain. Oil made from this plant can be slightly sedative.

-Cymbopogum winterianus: Citronella; or Lemon Grass. NOT EDIBLE. It’s super sticky to the touch, makes your hands sticky too and very easy to get cuts from it because the leaf blades are somewhat sharp. A poultice of the leaves can be used on cuts, but the better use for it is as a natural repellent. Mosquitoes and other insects hate this plant. Just by having it planted somewhere near is very unlikely they’ll approach; candles can be made from it and incenses too.

- Pampinella anisum – Commonly known as aniseed and actually easy to find as dried leaves or the seeds. The dry leaves tea help with cold and throat swelling. Poultices and the essencial oil can be good as a relaxant; Tea made from fresh leaves is good for insomnia, nausea and stomachache. Tea made with the seeds can be used against intestinal parasites; breathing the vapor helps clean a constipated nose.

-Plantago major – Probably the most common one on this list and one of the best.  Called great plantain or broadleaf plantain. Leaves are diuretics; help against inflammations and help soothe stomachaches and diarrhea. Everything but the roots are edible. Tea helps with cold.

-Ilex paraguaiensis – Yerba-mate or just matte. Has a very good nutritional value. People drink the dried leaves tea like water in Brazil and it’s very good for cooking sweets. It is slightly stimulant(high caffeine teor) and highly antioxidant. The fruits and leaves are nutrient rich; can be good on fighting anemia; has some effect against caries inducing bacteria and is effective against certain types of fungi; it only grows in forested areas because it is very sensitive to sunlight.

-Xanthosoma sagittifolium – Arrowleaf Elephant’s Ear. Rhyzomes, leaves and haste are edible BUT ONLY IF COOKED. Tastes similar to spinach. When they are raw, they have oxalic acid and are somewhat toxic. Is somewhat good against fever. A fried leaf can be used as a wrap over burns.

-Hibiscus sabidariffa  - Slightly sour tasted tea made from the leaves; have a diuretic effect. Can be used as a natural pigment on other foods.

-Pistia stratiores – Water lettuce. It looks like a lettuce and it floats. Can be consumed as a juice, infusion or used as a poultice on hernias. HOWEVER I’d recommend never using any found on nature. Floating plants are being studied as having absorbent qualities and helping filter toxins and heavy metals from water, so much so they can make part of sewage treatment.

 Dangerous/Poisonous Plants:

General treatment idea: A very generic idea of how poisoning is treated would be the administration of activated charcoal and a gastrointestinal wash depending on how long ago has been the ingestion. Mucosa can be treated/washed with products like egg whites, milk and olive oil in small quantities. Eyes are washed with water and saline. Most poison’s don’t have antidotes, so everything else would be treating the specific symptons. Catheterization may be needed on cases where the urinal tract is paralyzed because it’s important to keep the person hydrated. Laxatives may also be used in cases where it is safe. Everything largely varies with the specifics of each compound. On many of them inducing vomit might be worse.

PLANTS:

Brugmansia spps.: Known as Angel Trumphet; Angel’s Tears or Snowy Angel’s Trumpet. This plant likes high-humidity, so in a dry climate, it might indicate proximity to water sources. The in-nature form of this plant is highly toxic; every part of it being leaves, flowers trunk or roots. Seeds and leaves are specially dangerous. Can induce a trance-like and delusional estate as well as induce visual and auditory hallucinations; can cause paralysis of smooth muscles, confusion, dry mouth, pupil dilation and paralysis of the eyes. Can lead to death; severity varying depending on part of the plant ingested as well as the age of the plant and hydration state. They start from 15 to 30 minutes after ingestion.

Euphorbia milii.: Known as Christ’s Thorn; Crown of Thorns or Christ Crown. Honestly this one’s strength is the aesthetic. It has thicc thorns, pretty red flowers and I’m pleading you all to put it on a Whumpee’s head. It’s a moderate poison compared to the others; Inside the whole plant there is a white latex substance that is toxic. It causes skin and mucosa irritation. It can cause severe stomach-ache. Can lead to blindness if non-treated eye contact occur. If ingested, can cause severe stomach-ache and ulcers. The latex is very sticky to the touch. 

Dieffenbachia spp: Similar to the one above without the fun thorns.

Zantedeschia aethiopica: The Calla Lily. In contact with mucosa’s it causes swelling and irritations; feelings of burn, nausea, vomit and diarrhea; difficulty swallowing and can cause death by asphyxiation due to internal swelling of the digestive system that in turns compresses the pharynx.  ALSO: This is not exactly widespread knowledge I think, but this plant is hallucinogen and like 2-3 years ago the tea has been used as kind of a drug around here. However, this plant does not work as other popular recreational hallucinogens; it causes damage to the central nervous system and even if used just once, the user might never recover from it. What I heard from people who did try it, is that the hallucinations tend to be really bad and on the negative side.

Cicuta maculata – If you want to be dramatic and die like Socrates I guess. Its poison was used for execution in ancient Greece.

Calladium spp. – It’s ALSO called Elephant’s ear. See what I mean by common names not being reliable? Irritation, pain and swelling of tissues. All parts of the plant are poisonous. If ingested can lead to death due to swelling of throat/tongue.

‘Curare’ – this is actually not just one plant, but a mixture of several made into poison for darts and arrows. The Strynchnos and Chondodendron genus are the most important. It was used for hunting, but considered bad practice on war. Causes paralysis of the external body and some of the main internal systems killing the prey by asphyxiation. The person responsible for producing the poison was very likely to die due to being exposed to toxic fumes, because it was needed to cook the tree-barks during two to three days. Someone hit by the poison can survive if artificial respiratory methods are available until the poison-effect passes.

Potatoes – I’m not even going to elaborate on this one but raw and green potatoes = bad; however cultivated potatoes are way less toxic than the wild variations and the most poisonous plant parts are the leaves;

Aesculus hippocastanum – A horse chestnut seed, bark, flower and nut can cause poisoning when consumed raw. Causes muscle twitching, weakness, loss of coordination; vomiting; kidney problems and stupor. It slows the formation of blood cloths and might worsen the condition of hemorrhagic wounds.

Agave sp. – The flowers are edible and the saps can be used for an alcoholic beverage. But the saps cause pain and burning in contact with the skin; it will also start to develop blisters soon after the exposure. The healed skin tends to remain sensitive and have reoccurring itchy for years after the contact. Ingesting the saps might be fatal.

Anemonoides nermorosa – Wood anemone. All parts of the plant contain protoanemonim, it can cause irritation and burning sensation to skin; ulceras on the mouth; vomiting blood and nausea.

OK that should be it for today, but it isn’t even the surface. If anyone wants to expand or correct something on this, I encourage you to do so. Just don’t eat the leaf. Please don’t.

Not all but some of the sources (again, not english): here; here; here; here; here; here; one that IS in english and a shoutout for wikipedia cause why the hell not and one to my grandma who is a lovely lady who hates just about everything in the world.

[patchdotexe]

explorers of arvus: now what? / 2.2.21

LAST TIME ON EXPLORERS OF ARVUS: we kicked the shit out of a witch, a murdercow, and a tree, and nearly got murdered by a broom! also i exploded the tree, which was pretty fucking poggers. we also did have to hold taure down to feed her some healing elixirs but yknow

silje, meanwhile, was spaced the fuck out the entire time (bc of being a dmpc last time) and has no idea what just happened or that he commited gratiutous amounts of tree violence.

And Then We Slept For 24 Hours (we didnt)

thorne rolled a nat20 on drawing the tree blight on fire! which is EXTREMELY COOL. im glad we have a memorial of the coolest thing ive done on arvus so far (and also hopefully the fire wont spread bc it would suck if we set all of arvus on fire) oh nvm we're in a swamp so we good. hard to set things on fire in a swamp.

i swear im paying attention but green is talking about dreamout in 772 rn and has some very interesting theories about how the eggpire plot would go down so i am just. side-eyeing it. i am Looking. i swear im paying attention.

oh man i havent collected my notes from last session bc i was liveblogging in discord for nyx's benefit. that's gonna be interesting to compile.* i wonder if i should put these in gdocs instead of wordpad lmao (wait no i use wordpad bc its easier to just pop open and have layered over discord / roll20) * [ AND THEN I DIDNT DO THAT FOR LIKE 2 MONTHS ]

michael: ...burn the house down charlie: ~ we're gonna burn the whole house down! ~ thorne: [confused] how do you know that song? we dont have any bards charlie: [buffering] ...BITCH I MIGHT BE

what if i took a level in bard, would that be fucked up or what

tiny hut tiny hut tiny hut tiny hut. TINY HURT (sieron casted Leomund's Tiny Hut bc we burnt down the only nearby shelter)

lots of discussion about the hut. hut talk

thorne: sieron, why havent we been doing this? charlie: great question! hey sieron, what the fuck? sieron: i guess i just havent thought about it? charlie: you're lucky you're cute >:/ sieron: AA??

discussion of sieron's alter appearance and how its probably somewhat awkward bc thorne is just. openly a horc. unfortunately, sieron's hometown is super racist

HELLO I HAVE BEEN DISTRACTED BC RUBY DID A PANEL REDRAW FROM ASP AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA aa a a a a a

time for taure and thorne to chat on watch! frenship taure hasnt noticed her hair colour bc shes been busy doin stuff, like killin people taure misunderstands thorne asking abt her hair and thinks he has a tragic backstory of being a hairdresser before becoming a warlock DOES TAURE KNOW WHAT THE FEYWILD IS yes she does! war of the veils was a thing, where the feywild invaded the material plane and honestly i should read all the worldbuilding again bc its been forever but i thought all that was neat

oh shit thorne called taure a uhhhh eladrin? OH BOY TAURE ROLLED A 1 we're on the same page here TIME FOR THORNE INFODUMP eladrin are feywild elves! as in closely related to the fey, as well as living in the feywild. their hair changes with the seasons, like taure's does :O !! taure and thorne have not had a fucking one on one conversation before

thorne: taure. taure: yes, hello that is me i am taure [..] taure: now, counterpoint, the sun makes hair change colour-- thorne: Taure.

thorne is trying so hard i love they everyone else is sleeping through this convo so theyre spared the awkwardness but ooc we are having a great time :o eladrin hair colour changing stuff related to mood / seasons / powers?? thorne is admittedly confused bc Weird Documentation but this is really neat to hear about taure, meanwhile, has no idea why this is important.

thorne: if i had told you this, and you had-- transcended-- into your next phase-- id be very concerned taure: hold on [loud grunting] okay no

why havent we been doing tiny hut this whole time. sieron.

oh right taure has a tragic backstory and her mom ditched her as a babby. MEANWHILE, THORNE DOESNT EVEN HAVE PARENTS michael: there are two types of people in the world: those who're kidnapped as infants, and those that kidnap infants WAIT IS THIS LIKE, THE FIRST TIME ANYONES HEARD ABT THORNE'S BACKSTORY BESIDES "LIVED IN THE FEYWILD" thorne is very chill about it though. god i love thorne. i love the entire party

thorne: ...after the third or fourth prophetic vision, they all sorta blur together.

god i wish id written down more about the magical mystical adventure OH. THE ORACLE FORESHADOWED THE ELADRIN THING. NEAT thorne: oh, the oracle! is that the guy with the, uh... [snaps fingers] the gryphon fart orb?

IREL IS HERE YAY IREL i have forgotten how to spell their name. how about i split the difference and spell it Yirel. michael is rolling to see if thorne and taure woke yirel up-- OH OKAY yirel just. sleeps for fun. god i wish that were me

charlie's hair can hold many small pets of dubious sapience.

I LOVE YIREL,,, thorne is just pleasantly confused. WAIT IS YIREL PURRING yirel: you are confused by that action! :D taure: ...yes. what were you doing? yirel: i was performing magic! i can now detect your minds! i can hear your thoughts. :D OKAY SO YIREL WAS. NOT PURRING. yirel has cast Detect Thoughts on thorne. thorne's train of thought is now "???"

we need to teach the snake consent. we have now taught the snake consent.

YIREL IS GOING TO VERY POLITELY ASK THE BIG BAD IF HE CAN READ THEIR MIND its okay i love them. thorne is SO CONFUSED yirel is attempting to be helpful YIREL LITERALLY DISCOVERED THEY COULD CAST DETECT THOUGHTS SO THEY CASTED DETECT THOUGHTS. thorne is hoping yirel wont learn to cast fireball on themself. yirel: there's two timelines where that could happen. i will do my best to avoid them! :D

okay its really hard to get across in text but yirel is basically just. permanently happy/excited sounding. like a puppy! or like the ":D" face in winged snake form.

ooh, a celestial serpent location! off in the mistwall mountains. they are Extremely Dead but yirel told thorne+taure where it is on the map and said we can learn stuff abt time! and then went to sleep. goodnight yirel. i will kill for you

S. S. BIG BOAT (it is 60 miles across. big boat. thank you jorb)

WHAT IS WRONG WITH JORB'S CAMERA, WHY DOES IT KEEP ZOOMING IIIIIIIIIIN

it rained overnight so all the water that collected on the tiny hut got dumped on everyone, and THEN silje shook off like a dog and charlie is MISERABLE

SILJE GOT A NAT20 FORAGING the survival squad are gonna get the fuckin best breakfast ever

oh yea the poison / disease was stored in the tree blight! so now that we've incinerated it it's all good. still gonna take time for the whole river to clear, but with the source of it gone we should be golden. fuck yea

oh man today was hourly comics day, wasnt it. or was it feb 1? fuck shit damn uhhhhh i have done. nothing. besides work on the PMV, talk about dreamout, and now play d&d. this is unrelated to everything im just Thonkin

TIME FOR SWAMP FACTS solar knows So Much about swamps. time to discuss cattails (please no) these are cattails............. ME WANT BITE. ME WANT PLANT CORN DOG DELIGHT. ME WANT DEEP FRIED. ME THINK WATER TWINKIE NICE

oh shit thorne has spotted a ufo. yuufo time OMINOUS YUUFO silje, with an armful of frogs and a lizard in his mouth: [looks up] mrrp? poor silje cant see for shit. NEITHER CAN THORNE its either very small and close, or very big and far away

HRM. actually this MIGHT be related to the vision bc the ominous yuufo was heart-shaped, and the vision was of a necromancer on a floating bloody platform raising all kinds of undead

its been forever and i didnt take a lot of notes on the mini-session but the last time we saw the oracle was a cave on theral! so, unrelated to the place yirel marked on the map. which michael marked down as "seat of the oracle"!

TAURE THINK OF THE CHILDREN THAT WE DONT HAVE (we have yirel!) TAURE THINK OF THE CHILD THAT WE HAVE

ahoyhoyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy i wanna go to ahoyhoy. we are not currently going to ahoyhoy but maybe some day

i had to stop paying attention because buttons wanted to see my Horrible Streaming Setup and apparently something terrible has happened. also honse

we are potentially dealing with a salad katamari.

thorne: could that be what the object in the sky is? silje: ...a lettuce?

we have voted to ignore the salad katamari for now. this action will have consequences.

charlie and silje take watch! charlie wants to know what silje's deal is! silje is a monster hunter. charlie misses bein a thief ): SILJE WAS A MONSTER HUNTER SINCE HE WAS 12?? charlie realizes that perhaps becoming an adventurer and doing a huge amount of murder on a regular basis, especially as a child, is Maybe Not Great silje likes books! charlie offers to lend him her books :D charlie, quietly: i am totally doing the friendship thing so good. RATS RATS RATS RATS hehe rats.

uh oh, nyx has died. NVM NYX IS OKAY nyx's power has not gone out again

we've been on arvus for 13 days! neat.

OH SHIT FLOATING ISLAND its also shaped weirdly like a heart. YEP IT LOOKS LIKE ITS BLEEDING probably bc of clay or iron oxide in the dirt but still that looks ominous as hell SIERON'S A SMART BOY he rolled 20+ on the 3 rolls he had to do, fuck yeah. this fucked up island is an Earth Mote! which are lil sky islands. or like, just general dirt chunks thatre in the sky. theyre either natural events or wizards showing off! also they usually move, but this one is just kinda... tethered. not like Literally but its locked in place. this is apparently the "Heart of Arvus"! which is . at the heart of arvus. or at least the centre of the continent.

solar: leo, we've found the ruins of mumbo jumbo's base. leo: [leans over and thwaps solar on the leg w nerf sword]

penn: i swear to god, if i look out my window and i dont see jorb in the sky, im going to be disappointed that hes not doing his job. jorb: slowly rotating.

we are now thinking about how to get up on the rock. TINY HUT STAIRCASE solar: could i featherfall the wrong way? wand of wonder / wild magic surge! NOPE mage hand! charlie is 41 pounds. mage hand is 5 pounds limit. korred rope! we have enough rope to tie together and tie to the korred rope, BUT the korred rope cannot fly. OH THE ROCK IS INHABITED there's an elf!

sieron & taure: [worried about the necromancy] charlie: HOWDY~!

[party arguing about who's gonna go up bc not all of us can fit up there] [leo and solar start swordfighting in the background]

sent kaepora through the portal to the heart of arvus aaaaaand end of session! CLIFFHANGEERRRRRRR

michael: DID YOU FUCK MY MOM, DUNGEONMASTER?

[jayus-fandom-writer]

Syrup and Pancakes. A Destiel and Sabriel Fanfic

Story summery:the two teen Winchester brothers have an unplanned sleepover with their angel friend. Then someone unexpected comes to see Sam.

Warnings: Absolutely none. Unless you die from being smothered by this fluffy fluff :)

Dean wakes up on the far side of his large bed. He looks around confused and sees Cas, still fast asleep, on the other side facing away from him. He then remembers that they had been just hanging out and looking through random posts Cas had made on his new phone. Dean's memory is confirmed by seeing the phone, buried slightly under the covers. They both must've fallen asleep. Dean smiles a bit. He's going to need explain why Cas is still over. Dean looks over at Cas. He's sleeping peacefully. A little TOO peacefully. Dean quietly gets up and puts a thick blanket on the carpet beside the bed. He then jumps into the bed and shoves Cas into the blanket. "Hey Cas wake up!" Cas yells as he falls off the bed, almost missing the blanket as he struggles to catch himself. "Dean what-" Cas looks up slightly angrilly at Dean. Dean hangs his head over the side of the bed, giving him big puppy dog eyes. Cas's gaze softens and he laughs. "Ok so who's gonna explain this to Sam?" Dean shrugs right as Sam enters the room, attracted by the noise. "Hey Dean you good? I heard a crash-" his gaze falls on Cas who violently is trying to get up while punching Dean at the same time. "Ah ok nevermind carry on." Sam smirks and starts to walk to the kitchen. "Sam- No it's not like that...- you son of a bitch!" Dean scrambles out of the bed, blocking Cas's punches while pulling him along.

"Ok," Sam says as Dean and Cas crash into the kitchen, "what do you two want for breakfast? Pancakes sound good?" Dean looks at Cas and they both turn back to look at Sam, voicing their agreement to the proposal. Sam's phone suddenly rings. "Hey what's up?" Sam's automatic answer causes Dean and Cas to stop fighting, interested in who this person is. "Oh ok yeah I'll be over in a second." Sam flips the phone closed and turns to Sam and Dean. "Gabriel wanted me to go help them plant their new garden-" Dean looks at Sam with a smirk. "Oh yeah that's fine have fun with your date, Sammy!" Sam rolls his eyes. Then grabs his keys. As he heads out the door he looks back. "You two can make the pancakes if you're careful. I think I'll be back in the afternoon sometime." And he shuts the door.

Dean and Cas look at each other, then at the cookbook in front of them. "A'right I think I'm the better cook out of the two of us..." Cas gives Dean a hurt look and walks over to the cabinet, pulling out the flour, sugar, baking power, and salt. He also pulls out sour cream from the fridge. Dean watches this quietly but when Cas pulls out a head of lettuce he sighs and brings the book over to Cas. "Ok fine maybe we're both pretty bad cooks but where are you seeing sour cream and lettuce?" Cas smiles a bit and puts back the strange ingredients. "You were right about the other stuff though. Here come look at the recipe real quick." Cas gives a small laugh and looks over. Sure enough, the dry ingredients had been guessed by Cas perfectly. Dean pulls out the eggs and milk and the two begin trying to work around and with each other. Dean thought Cas got a bit too close while he was mixing and flung a full cup of flour at him. Cas immediately let out a few dozen coughs while Dean, only mildly concerned, laughed at his white face. As the flour was flying around the room Cas shoots Dean a look of betrayal. As he tried to rappidly recover his dignity he tried to look as angry as possible. But seeing Dean's laughing face, also covered in flour, cracked a grin instead. Neither of them had realised how much time had passed. But Dean suddenly stopped laughing and instead tried to regain any self control he had ever had. Cas looks over to see a dirt-covered Sam smiling at them. "And you both claim you aren't a couple." Sam then took his leave of the two, walking to the bathroom, to take a shower no doubt, leaving Dean yelling a few choice remarks at him. The two then finish the pancakes with no further food battle.

After a short good natured argument the two decide Cas should be the one to fry the pancakes since Dean had had the honor of stirring the mixture. Cas cooked up beautifully golden pancakes and tossed them on the plates lying on the counter ready for their golden burden. Dean sighed and huged Cas, putting his chin on Cas's shoulder. Cas didn't seem to object so Dean watched him flip the rest of the pancakes in silent admiration.

Once all the pancakes were cooked Dean yelled to Sam about their completion. Sam soon came out from his room saying "oh yum people always say food is better when it's made with love." Dean imediently punched his brother's arm, a glaring look in his eyes. But then he simply laughed and muttered "bitch" under his breath. Sam returned the playful insult quickly with a louder "jerk!" Accompanied with a twinkle in his eye. Then all three sat down to eat their food. Sam complimented both boys many times saying that "the pancakes are very good, much better than your attempt at muffins last week!"

After the pancakes were devoured Sam headed back to his room, leaving the two friends alone. Soon the sound of his music could be heard faintly playing from his bedroom. "Geeze only Sam would listen to Taylor Swift and enjoy it." Dean remarked, turning to Cas. Cas laughed and said "hey you listen to her music on repeat all the time when you're in the car." Dean's eyes widened "what- who told you that??" Cas's expression turned into a straight face as he remarked gravely "Sam let me look through your 'roadtrip' CD's and you have 4 Taylor Swift albums."

"Well at least I... Uh..." Dean's comeback falls short but he quickly recovered himself, "at least I got all the syrup off my lips. Bruh, they look like they're covered with the stuff." Dean then quickly held Cas's face with both hands and gently kissed Cas's lips. He then realised what he's done and quickly dropped his hands and backed away quickly saying, "Damnit Cas I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." He took the plates from the table and quickly moved away to wash them in the sink. He couldn't even look at Cas's face. But he also licked his lips just slightly once he's turned away from Cas. They're sweet with syrup. It's how he always imagined Cas's lips to taste.

Dean became so absorbed into his thoughts and dishwashing that he hardly noticed Cas getting up. He hasn't said a word but he walked over to Dean and looked up slightly. Dean is a good 3 or 4 inches taller so he has no choice. Dean hardly noticed Cas's efforts to get his attention, or at least was trying to ignore them. Cas turned off the water and grabed Dean's shoulders, forcing him to look directly at him. Dean's green eyes reflect his worry. He didn't want their friendship to end over a dumb kiss. "Cas..." But Cas cut in. "Dean it's ok. But just tell me one thing." Dean, slightly confused, asked what he wanted to know. "Did you like how my lips tasted?" Dean couldn't help but laugh a bit. But he replied back with only a hint of a smile, "Yeah Cas... I'm I did..." He scratched his head, worried about what Cas will say. Cas smiled. "Well you can kiss them again. Until you get all the syrup off at least. I don't think they'll taste as good after it's gone." He then leaned into a very surprised Dean and kissed him. Dean held Cas up to him gently, just trying to figure out if he's really there in front of him, TELLING Dean to kiss him. As Cas wraped his arms around his neck Dean could tell it was real this time. He's not just imagining it now. By this time the syrup's completely gone from both lips but they didn't care. They broke apart, each slightly out of breath. Cas snuggled his head under chin. Dean in turn held Cas more tightly. It's at that moment Dean looked over at the hallway and saw Sam standing there, leaning against the frame. The look of pure glee on his face told plainly that he witnessed that entire episode and he's pleased with his work. He slowly walked back to his room, laughing on the inside.

back inside his room he grabbed his phone and pulled up Gabriel's contact. 'Hey Gabe' he sent the message and then quickly typed and sent 'Dean and Cas finally kissed in the kitchen. All it took was some syrup. You were right babe.' Sam sent the message but then quickly realised the typo. "SHIT." Sam said out loud to himself. '*Gabe* sorry autocorrect is the pits isn't it?' but before he has time to send it a new message appears. Sam opened it and it read 'haha I told you so. they just needed that final nudge to get it going. and yeah I know babe lol I'll come over in a few minutes if you want to try it too? :)' Sam almost choked. He loved Gabriel but never expected him to actually like him back! 'wait what? Really?' Sam quickly replied back. 'REALLY. Not joking. I'm already in the car.'

'You dumbass bitch... What am I gonna tell Dean? And Cas??'

'idk you figure that out lol. I'll be there in about 4 minutes.'

'ok I'll get out the syrup.' Sam hopped out of his bed and walked back into the kitchen. Dean was pouring orange juice into a glass. Cas was clearing the table. "Oh hey Sam" Dean's eyes begged Sam not to mention seeing what just went down. Sam simply ignored the look, and chuckling slightly said quietly, "Hey Cas can you give me the syrup?" Cas, with a confused look at Dean, handed the syrup to Sam. "Hey wait- is that Gabriel's car out front?" Dean remarked, looking out the window. It was more of a statement then a question. Sam looked out. "Oh yeah it is... Huh wonder why they're here..." Dean burst out laughing. "Dude-" he then recovered himself. "Ok good luck." He grabbed Cas's hand lightly and lead him back to the TV room couch to watch some stupid old movie they had picked out. Sam brought the syrup to his room and sat on the bed. Is this really happening? Dean and Cas FINALLY get together and Gabriel is coming to see him to- to KISS him? WHAT? The knock at the door brought him to realize that this really is real life. It's actually happening. He realised this as he quickly hurried over to the door to let Gabriel in.

[warofshadowstheorder]

Chapter 04

The flow of the Atlantic Ocean was calm and steady.  Airplanes flew overhead as different boats and ships floated by on their way to various destinations.  Underneath the waves, the various marine life forms that populated it went about their daily lives and saw to their needs.  In the sky, a Peregrine Falcon gracefully and swiftly soared through the air.  It flew through the sky and away from the populous nations that surrounded it.

The bird’s path instead led it far away from the nearest logical established landing place and far into the Atlantic in a region very seldom traveled.  An island measuring five miles around, located approximately 100 miles northwest of Ireland, shrouded in mist was the bird’s final destination.

The falcon flew directly into a mist off the coast of the island and perched on a high tower.  The tower was a parapet that was part of a 20-foot high wall encircling the island like a giant snake protectively coiling around its eggs beginning approximately 20 yards inland with the Atlantic Ocean forming a natural moat.  The island varied in elevation, the lowest points being by the ocean, the rest of it was mainly rises that rose into hills and back down again.  The highest part took up most of the northwestern, northern, and northeastern sectors of the island.  It was a mountain rising up to 3,000 feet with a prominent ridge at 1,200 feet.  The locals called the mountain Mount Titus, the ridge they called Gideon Ridge.  Together, they formed an impenetrable barrier from the part of the island.

There was a large quarry not much farther inland from Mount Titus.  Several teenage boys were inside hard at work harvesting ore, under the supervision of a few older men.   Not far beyond that was a mine shaft with more teenage boys occasionally entering and emerging from it.  On the western coast of the island, there was a small hydroelectric plant set up that used the flow of the ocean to generate electricity.  Further inland, various structures dotted the landscape.  Several homes ranging in size so that the human inhabitants could see over the wall surrounding the island were the most numerous.  In the midst of the homes were a few other buildings dedicated to various tasks.  All of the homes and buildings branched out from a prominent hill, whose peak was dominated by a large breathtaking church built after the manner of a Gothic Cathedral.

The soil on the island was the most fertile imaginable.  Over parts of the island not taken up by man made structures corn, potatoes, turnips, spinach, lettuce, carrots, apples, oranges, and various other forms of vegetation thrived alongside cattle, horses, chickens, pigs, and other animals grazing freely over seemingly endless fields of grass.  On another part of the island falcons, pigeons, doves, and numerous kinds of birds flew through the air; sailing on the winds before perching on some of the various trees in the dense woodland that began just after where Mount Titus ended.

The island was a hive of activity.  Little children ran around playing in the warm open air.  Elsewhere, activities ranging from boxing training to lessons on Renaissance art and how to cultivate the various kinds of plants found all over the island were in progress.

One of the buildings inside the Monastery was a dormitory with various bedrooms on multiple floors.  Nearby was a dining facility with a kitchen and an adjoining area for people to eat.  A few different gymnasiums were close by as well.

The Cathedral was the focal point of the island, with the chapel at the center.  The chapel consisted of pews for a congregation, an organ, and a podium for a speaker with an elaborately carved symbol consisting of a red background with a dark colored circle on top with four white beams inside of it in a plush shape extending from the center to the edges.  Another part of the Cathedral housed the chambers of the one they called the Apostle, who oversaw everything, and was also used for some specific rituals.  Another room was something unique to the monastery.

At the top of a high tower was an empty room except for several large cauldrons placed all along the floor.  The cauldrons were black with large handles on either side and filled with water.  Besides the handles there was nothing particularly unique about them other than their mere presence.

The room was still and quiet, with a black duffel bag resting on the ground near the front.  By the duffel bag was a small table where two young women dressed in dark gowns resembling Habits without Wimples sat.

The woman sitting closest to the cauldrons had long red hair and beautiful blue eyes.  The other woman had long light blonde hair and big chocolate brown eyes.  The brunette, Alicia Bruce, waited with barely contained patient anticipation.  The blonde was her friend Sara.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be here?” Sara asked slightly concerned with a Dutch accent.

“Until he gets back,” Alicia answered in a Scottish brogue with a tone reflecting the fact that she’d been in that room for several hours, “I have Gifted McAllister looking after the boys and I don’t want to be relieved until my Odin gets back.”

“You sure do love him, don’t you?” Sara asked with a hint of admiration.

“He’s the man of my dreams,” Alicia answered “I hope that someday you can find the man of yours.”

“Some of us aren’t as fortunate as you,” Sara said, “the perfect man isn’t just brought into the Order and then given a love-struck girl to show him around the place.”

“Oh please,” Alicia said, “I completely loathed him when he first got here.  I didn’t like how he was cocky and arrogant and such a smart-aleck.  But,” she got a far-off wistful look on her face, “in time I got to see that he had dedication, persistence, and charm as well, and that when taken together…he was everything a girl could ask for.”

“Hmm,” Sara said, “if the first step to having the man of your dreams is to loathe him, then I should say that I have a good start with about half the Knights here.”

The two of them laughed heartily and were almost at the point of tears when they heard a sound like a rock splashing into a pond emanate from the nearest cauldron.  They both paused and looked at the cauldron, ripples forming in the water.

“You take it,” Sara said, “we both know that you would rather get the news than me.”

Alicia smiled and walked over to the cauldron.  She pulled back the sleeve on her robe and put her arm into the water.  She felt around at the bottom of the cauldron until feeling a rock resting there.  A watertight bag with a note inside was wrapped around the rock.  She undid the rope and read the note:

Dieter and Olcán in USA, convenience.

Alicia’s heart sank enough that it was visible to Sara as she read the note.  She walked up and gently took the note from Alicia.

“Do we have any higher priorities right now?” Sara asked.

“Not at the moment,” Alicia answered, “we should have time to bring them back.”

“Okay,” Sara said, “I’ll prepare the cauldron.”

Sara walked to the cauldron.  She then put the tip of her finger into the water, closed her eyes, and concentrated.  After a few moments, she slowly moved her finger in a crisscross pattern before stirring it in the center.

After removing her finger, she opened her eyes.  She looked into the water and saw it begin to swirl in a whirlpool motion before stopping and moving back and forth.  In a moment, the reflection of the water began to change and distort until the image in the water was of a tiled ceiling and what appeared to be a storage area in someone’s basement.

In a moment, she saw Dieter’s face in the water.  He looked into her face and a smile made its way across his features.

“Guten tag Sara,” Dieter said into the water, “you’re just looking for any excuse to see me naked aren’t you?”

“Just keep telling yourself that spierkop,” Sara answered, “Alicia and I are here and right now you two are our top priority.”

“Olcán’s right here,” Dieter said, “und we are on our way over.”

“Fine,” Sara said slightly annoyed, “we have your Brussels package here, and tell Olcán we’ll have a towel and clothes for him.”

“Well stand back,” Dieter said with a smile, “because you know that I am too much of a man to not cause an overflow.”

“Yeah,” Sara said rolling her eyes, “your ego takes up too much space.”  She then stepped back from the cauldron before Dieter could say anything else.

A moment later Dieter rose out of the cauldron, with a significant amount of water splashing out as he did so.  He came up with a gasp and shook some of the water off his head before rubbing his eyes, the water dripping off his immensely muscled body as he stepped out of the cauldron.

Many of the people at the Monastery, including Sara much to her chagrin, were so impressed with Dieter’s physique that they thought he looked like a comic book character or some kind of Hellenic deity.  Every inch of his body was solid muscle and looked like he had been sculpted out of pure Granite.  His body was so chiseled that it seemed as though someone had made a conscious effort to organize each muscle so that they weren’t crowded together.

His body was adorned with ten geometric symbols on his shoulders, chest, back, and abdomen.  He also had a tattoo on his left forearm that read:

124872

לעולם לא

The most prominent mark was a large black circle over the left side of his chest.  It had been burned onto his skin, the borders of the dark circle surrounded his flesh.  Within the circle, four beams extended from a smaller circle to the borders of the larger one.

He was completely naked with the exception of a metal Star of David medallion with each corner fashioned into a razor-sharp blade around his neck.  It was three inches high, an inch and a half wide, and an inch thick.  It had a silver color, with the exception of red beams that rose above the middles of the beams that made up the Star with a prominent rise and point at the center of the symbol.

“Like what you see,” Dieter said confidently to Sara, who threw the duffel bag at him.

“Just hang tight,” she said, “you have to join Duncan in Brussels for your assignment as soon as Olcán gets back and I can get the water prepared.”

“I love how you are able to mask your feelings for me,” Dieter said confidently as he walked forward to take the duffel bag, not bothering to dry off.

“Whatever,” Sara said, “Nigel says not to bother cleaning Bathsheba or Solomon since he took care of that for you.”

“Ah,” Dieter sighed wistfully, “I will have to thank him personally when I get back.”

“In the meantime,” Sara said trying to sound disgusted, “do us all a favor and cover up.”

Just as she said that, Olcán came out of the cauldron in a similar fashion to how Dieter had earlier.  Olcán also had a muscular build, but it was more trim and toned compared to Dieter’s large and chiseled form.

He had the same marks on his body that Dieter did, in addition to nine more.  His medallion was in the shape of a Celtic Cross with red beams and bladed corners similar to Dieter’s.

Several scars also adorned his body, including a long jagged one up his right side, and a smaller one over his heart.  He also had a Japanese character burned onto the base of his neck and wore Odin’s crucifix next to his own.  Olcán climbed out of the cauldron as Sara tossed him a towel.

“Go raibth maith agat Sara,” Olcán said as he dried off his face and ran his hands through his flat hair to put it back up into a flattop.

“I’m not surprised to see you here,” Olcán said when his eyes found Alicia, “don’t worry, Odin should be fine.”

“Oh thank God,” Alicia breathed out, “when the note said that it was just you and Dieter I thought that…”

“He is just going to be a little late,” Dieter chimed in, “he volunteered to stay behind and distract the authorities who were there while Olcán und I slipped out.”

“Do you have any idea how long he’ll be?” Alicia asked concerned as she took the crucifix Olcán handed her into her hand and held it tight.

“We told him that the longer he was away, the more worried he would make you,” Dieter responded, “but you know as well as I do that how long he stays locked up is his decision.”

“He’s in jail?!” Alicia shrieked out catching Dieter and Sara completely off-guard.

“Jah,” Dieter replied after a moment, “but we got the message out that he will need legal counsel, so he will be fine.”

“I’m sure he will,” Alicia said getting a smile on her face, “he always finds a way to get back here.”

Olcán smirked as he thought of his old friend and comrade and remembered some of the many missions the two of them had undertaken.  One particular event that he remembered with fondness was when they went on a mission to rural Mexico and had to go on the run afterwards.  They wound up in the desert eating whatever Rattlesnakes and other animals they could catch as they moved to where they could get back to the Monastery.

At about that time, Sara had again placed her finger into the water and gotten it back to normal.  She then put her finger back in and concentrated until the image in the water changed from a reflection of the room known as the Cauldron Chamber, to a cellar somewhere in Brussels.

“It’s ready now,” Sara called out, “now get out of here Dieter.”

“Auf wiedersehen,” Dieter said grabbing the bag, “try not to miss me too much fraulein.”

“I will manage,” Sara replied callously.  Dieter then jumped into the cauldron feet first holding the bag above his head.  He fell into the cauldron and didn’t stop dropping, and he didn’t come up in the monastery.  Sara looked into the water inside the cauldron and saw Dieter’s face in it looking back at her.

Once she saw that he had made it there, she put her finger back in the water and cleared it.  Olcán had already dried off and dressed in a black undershirt and shorts along with the dark Cossack that had been provided for him.

“Why’d you cut him off like that,” he asked, “you’re supposed to wait for him to confirm his safe arrival?”

“I probably should,” Sara answered, “but I don’t want to give him a chance to talk more than he already does.”

“Hmpf,” Olcán lightly grunted, “I imagine the Apostle wants to see me?”

“You imagine right,” Sara answered, “you should probably tell Chloe and the boys that Odin will be delayed.”

“I’ll do that,” Olcán replied as he walked up to Alicia and gently put his hand on her shoulder, “I’ll see you around Alicia.”

“Thanks Olcán,” she said as she softly put her hand on top of his, “I’m glad that my Odin has a friend like you.”

He then left the room and made his way down a stone staircase a short distance from the door.  He walked down the staircase slowly, knowing that he didn’t need to hurry.  He got to the bottom of the stairs and walked through the back end of the chapel to a staircase leading to the Apostle’s chambers, stopping for a moment to look into the chapel.

The chapel was very simple, but it was all that the residents of the Monastery needed.  The floor was made of stone, as were all the floors in the Monastery that weren’t earth, and the pews were simple wooden hand-carved benches.  An organ rested behind the makeshift pulpit, and stands for a choir were on either side of it.  Despite its simple nature, the atmosphere inside the chapel instilled feelings of reverence, humility, and solemnity in the hearts of anyone inside.

The only somewhat elaborate decoration similar to something that would be in a similar structure was a large circle carved out of a thick block of wood with the center removed.  Four beams forming the shape of a plus sign extended from the edge of the circrcle, they converged on a solid dark circle in the middle of the larger one.forming the emblem of the Order.

Olcán looked to the front of it and paused for a moment to let the feeling of the place sink in.  He thought for a while about what he had done, and what he would continue to do, in the service of the organization he belonged to and the ones he served.  After a while, Olcán genuflected and walked across the chapel to ascend the stairs to the other tower.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he saw a familiar face coming out of the only door.  It was a man about his age and height, with long brown hair down to just past his shoulder blades.  He was very handsome, and had a dashing appearance akin to figures depicted in swashbuckling films and books.  He also had alluring grey eyes.

“Dang it Tadeas,” Olcán said, “when are you going to get a real haircut?”

“I’ll get a ‘real’ haircut,” Tadeas answered with a sly smile and accent-free voice while making quotation marks with his fingers, “about the same time that you fail a mission.”

“If that’s true,” Olcán retorted, “then your hair will be tickling your heels before you know it.”  The two of them laughed and then hugged.

“It’s great to see you again,” Olcán said after they came apart, “how did your assignment in London go?”

“Jolly good,” Tadeas answered with a perfect English accent, “it was difficult to find the targets,” he reverted to his real voice, “but after Jamuike and I found their hideout the rest was pretty easy.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Olcán responded, “is Jamuike in there now?” he asked gesturing to the door.

“Yeah,” Tadeas answered, “the Apostle wanted to go over a few things with him before we left.  You caught me on my way out.”

Tadeas and Olcán had gone on several missions and a few holidays together.  They both had pictures together from various parts of the world they had visited.  One favorite of theirs was them standing on the Great Wall of China wearing old-time Chinese hats.  They were disappointed that they didn’t get to see as much of each other as they would have liked, but they did their best to make up for it whenever they got an opportunity.

“Are you planning on staying here for your next holiday,” Olcán asked, “or are you going somewhere off the island?”

“Olcán,” Tadeas said calmly as he patted his old friend on the back, “when have you ever known me to stay around here when I have holiday time?”

“Touché brother,” Olcán answered, “where do you think you’ll go this time?”

“I’ve wanted to go back to Monte Carlo for a while now,” Tadeas said, “I figure that now’s as good a time as any.  Are you up for a little Monte Carlo adventure?”

“Thanks,” Olcán said, “but I really don’t feel like traveling.  Besides, Odin got arrested on our last mission and…”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Tadeas asked rhetorically while rolling his eyes, “He’s got to learn to be less reckless and more focused.”

“Hey,” Olcán answered, “we all have our shortcomings.  Odin’s happens to be discretion.”

“We can both agree on that,” Tadeas said, “but I’m sorry for interrupting you, what were you saying?”

“I was just saying that while Odin’s gone I should really stick around and help Chloe with the boys while Alicia’s waiting for him.  Plus, I should check up on Declan and see how much he’s progressing.”

“All work and no play Olcán,” Tadeas said “you shouldn’t take yourself so seriously.”

“I don’t,” Olcán answered as the door to the Apostle’s office opened, “but I take this work very seriously.  Jamuike.”

Olcán greeted a large black man with a shaved head and muscular build who came out of the office.  Jamuike had had a serious look on his face when he came out, but at the sight of Olcán and his greeting, he immediately brightened up.

“Olcán,” he said in a Nigerian accent as the two of them shook hands and patted each other on the back with their free hands, “I take it the American assignment went well.”

“It did,” Olcán replied, “the only damper is that Odin got arrested when we were trying to get out of the hot zone.”

“Really,” Jamuike asked surprised, “does he have an escape plan?”

“We took some precautionary measures when we loaded up for it,” Olcán replied, “so I have every confidence that he’ll get out fine.”

“Let’s hope so,” Jamuike answered, “if he’s away too long Alicia will kill him when he finally does get back.  Worst case scenario, she’ll have the kids take her name.”

“I doubt it will come to that,” Olcán said, “but he should be getting back soon enough.”

“Olcán,” a voice came from behind Jamuike, “coe in here please.”

“I guess you’d better get in there,” Jamuike said, “the Apostle has been expecting you.”

“Right,” Olcán turned to face Tadeas and patted his shoulder, “I’ll see you when you get back.  Have fun in Monte Carlo.”

“Thanks,” Tadeas said as he patted Olcán on the back, “I hope you have fun hanging out around the island.”  Olcán smirked and then turned to Jamuike.

“Always nice to see you Jamuike.”

“Same to you Olcán,” Jamuike answered.

Olcán walked through the door Jamuike had been holding open and heard it close behind him.  The chambers of the Apostle, unlike the chapel, were adorned with various decorations.  The most prominent features were three large paintings and two other wall decorations.  One of the paintings was a depiction of Da Vinci’s “The Last Supper” in a condition that appeared as though it was fresh from the artist’s canvas.  Another was a depiction of a man dressed in Roman armor with a shield and long spear, and a black man almost as large as Dieter holding a sword with a flaming blade facing some kind of huge monster in a barricaded area near a small village.

The third painting depicted a man kneeling on top of a high cliff overlooking a vast ocean.  The man on his knees had the sword from the other picture resting on top of his hands while a majestic celestial being standing before him reaching forward to take it.

The other wall decorations were two large plaques with an elaborate collection of symbols engraved on the top portions.  Several nameplates were underneath the symbols, along with more adjoining plaques with additional nameplates.  One of the plaques had considerably more names than the other.

A dazzling array of different artifacts from every region of the world, most of them priceless, decorated the walls and rested on several shelves around the Apostle’s chambers.

A man sat behind a desk set up at the far end of the room.  The man looked to be in his late forties or early fifties and had a full head of brown hair that reached down to the base of his neck, along with a short beard that matched the color of his hair.

His eyes were green and had a constant look of compassion and nurturing.  He spoke with a voice that was simultaneously calm and comforting but also strong.  He was sitting comfortably and smiled as Olcán entered.

“Olcán,” the man said standing up and pointing to a chair in front of the desk, “please have a seat.”

“Yes sir,” Olcán said as he gave a respectful half bow and sat down in front of the desk as the Apostle did the same.

“I was expecting Odin,” the Apostle said calmly with a strong voice, “but I’m sure that you will let me know why I have the pleasure of addressing you.  Now, you know what I want to hear, so let’s have it and we can both move on.”

“The mission was a complete success,” Olcán said in his usual tone, “the target was taken out and no one else.”

“Good,” the Apostle answered simply, “I have to commend you and the others on the execution of this mission.  When I first heard of it, I was worried about our chances of success.  The mission itself must have been difficult.”

“This is what I do sir,” Olcán answered with his usual tone, “and that man had to be taken out.  Anyone who makes a deal with the Devil has forfeited his right to share this world with those who follow God.”

“Do you hate them Olcán,” the Apostle asked in a strong voice mingled with mild concern.

Olcán was silent.  He sat still in his chair staring forward, never breaking eye contact with the man across from him.  The Apostle mirrored Olcán’s stare, knowing that eventually Olcán would answer his question.

“Sir,” Olcán answered still maintaining his usual tone, “you know that the mission is always my first priority.  I will never let any ill feelings I might have interfere with that.”

“I understand that,” the Apostle answered, “but I need to know that those ill feelings will not overpower you.  If we harbor anything apart from pure feelings, then we are no better than what we are called upon to fight.  It’s…”

“The price we pay for doing the work of God,” Olcán finished, “I know that sir, you’ve told me many times.  You know that I’m focused.”

“It’s not your focus that concerns me Olcán,” the Apostle answered, “but your motives.”

“They are pure sir,” Olcán said.

“And what of the other group that bears your disdain,” the Apostle asked in a strong voice with a hint of concern, “do you harbor ill feelings toward them as well?”

“I’ve come to terms with the past.” Olcán answered.

“Have you?” the Apostle asked making a slight gesture to Olcán’s right side earning a slight wince.

“I have enough,” Olcán answered quickly and spitefully.

“I couldn’t help but overhear you talking outside,” the Apostle said inwardly deciding to move on with the interview, “and your presence here rather than the man who was in charge of the operation prompts me to ask what happened to Odin.”

“Everything went as planned up to the escape,” Olcán said inwardly grateful to be moving on and returning to his usual tone, “Dieter was in his seat and made sure that there was validity in the voice recordings that we used.  But when we met up with him after the mission,” Olcán paused, obviously a little embarrassed at admitting what happened next,  “our exit route was blocked and we realized that there was no way we were going to be able to walk out without leaving the rifle or some innocent bodies behind.”

“I see,” the Apostle said, “and what was the result?”

“We realized,” Olcán continued, “that one of us was going to have to distract the security at least long enough for the rest of us to get out.  We knew that Dieter needed to be back here as soon as possible and couldn’t risk being caught.  Then Odin volunteered to go and I didn’t have time to argue with him.”

“I take it that Odin did the best he could at being a distraction,” the Apostle said already knowing the answer.

“And I ‘m sure that he is continuing to be a distraction in the penal system,” Olcán said, “I’m sure I’m not alone in hoping he gets back soon.”

“We all feel the same way,” the Apostle said, “but I am glad to know that the mission was successful.  I can only imagine what would have happened if he had become President.  I don’t know if we would have been able to stop him had he reached that point.”

“We would have found a way,” Olcán answered, “but it would have been a lot more difficult and probably with a larger body count.”

“That,” the Apostle replied, “is one of the many reasons why our Watchers are so invaluable to this organization.”

“They have their uses,” Olcán replied with a hint of resentment, “few though they may be.”

“Olcán,” the Apostle said firmly but doing his best to convey honest concern, “you can’t let what happened in the past forever control how you feel and act.  The past is gone, and it is essential that we learn from it., but you must live in the present.”

“My past,” Olcán responded, “is what has made my present.  I act the way I do because I have learned from the past.  I can’t help it if the results are somewhat undesirable.”

“Very well,” the Apostle said knowing full well from previous conversations that this issue wouldn’t be resolved any time soon, “you have two weeks of holiday starting tomorrow.”

“I will only take one,” Olcán answered in his usual strong voice.

“Do you want to spend it off the island?” the Apostle asked.

“No,” Olcán answered, “I’m fine here.”

“You concern me Olcán,” the Apostle said, “it’s been years since you’ve left the island for any reason other than a mission.  I encourage everyone here to use the resources we have to go out and see as much of this beautiful world as possible.  Why don’t you take advantage of this?”

“With all due respect sir,” Olcán answered in a respectful tone, “I have seen much of the world already, and I prefer to stay here.  I have all I could ever need right here, and I should help out with Xander, Angus, and Malcolm until Odin gets back.  I would also like to see how Declan is progressing in his training since I will be vouching for him soon.”

“I see your point,” the Apostle said, “although if you ever have some time when you have holiday and no obligations here, I suggest you tag along with Tadeas.”

“I will think about it,” Olcán answered.

“If you have nothing further to add,” the Apostle said, “you are dismissed.”

“Thank you sir,” Olcán said as he stood up and the Apostle did the same, “I will be around here if you need me for anything.”

“Enjoy your holiday,” the Apostle said, “with all you did for your last mission, you have certainly earned some time off.  May the light within…”

“Drive away the darkness without.”  Olcán replied before turning around, walking to the door, and beginning to open it.

“One more thing,” the Apostle called out to Olcán, “stop by the Combat Room.  O’Connell will want to know that you are back safely.”

“I will be sure to do that,” Olcán answered, “thanks for letting me know where he is.”

The Apostle nodded, and Olcán exited the chamber.  He walked back down the stairs and made his way over the grounds, overhearing teachers inside various classrooms as he passed them.  Some of them were talking about traditional subjects such as math, science, or history; others were talking about subjects as diverse as military history and modern vernacular.

He made his way across a patch of open ground where several people were sitting on benches reading, talking, and otherwise engaged.  Olcán moved by unnoticed until he was spotted by a small group of children.  Three skinny red-haired boys were out in the field playing together when they spotted him approaching.  In no time at all, the three boys ran over to Olcán and wrapped their arms around his neck.

“Hey boys,” Olcán said happily as he hugged the three boys when they came up to him.  They were Odin and Alicia’s three sons, Xander was nine, Angus seven, and Malcolm five.  They knew Olcán very well through his friendship with their father, and they all loved him.

“Have you been good for Gifted Murphy while your dad and I have been away?” Olcán asked the boys.

“Yes,” Xander answered in a voice that was equal parts Scottish and Australian while his younger brothers continued to squeeze Olcán, “is dad back yet?”

“No, not yet,” Olcán answered, careful to keep the same upbeat tone he had been using, “but he told me that he will be back soon.  Until he gets back, you three need to keep being good for Gifted Murphy and stay out of trouble.”

The three boys laughed and nodded, then Olcán stood up.  Malcolm and Angus continued holding onto him and laughed as they went up into the air with their arms wrapped around Olcán’s strong neck.  Olcán spun around once and then wrestled them to the ground, loosening their grip by tickling them until they released him.

“You boys go and play,” an older silver-haired woman said in an Irish accent, “Mr. Olcán needs to be going.”

The three boys laughed again before running off to another spot on the grounds and starting to play with some of the other kids.  Olcán walked up to the woman and the two of them embraced.

“Hello Gifted Murphy,” Olcán said once again speaking in Irish Gaelic, “was Xander telling the truth?”

“Oh yes,” she answered in the same language, “they’ve been perfectly well behaved.  They just have so much energy” she sighed, “I’m getting too old to handle children.”

“Please,” Olcán scoffed, “Odin’s boys can be a handful, but you’ll never be too old to handle children.  Mother Theresa would’ve had trouble with those boys.”

“That’s probably true,” she said laughing, “they’re so much like their parents.”

“What makes you say that?” Olcán asked.

“They’re wild and energetic like their father,” she said, “and at the same time they’re polite and well-behaved like their mother.”

“You’ve got a point there,” Olcán replied, “complementary opposites really do make for the best combinations.”  Gifted Murphy nodded.

“Are you going to see O’Connell?” she asked, Olcán nodded.  “I know he’ll want to be seeing you, go on down.”  Olcán gave her a kiss on the forehead and was on his way.

There was a staircase leading down inside the building adjacent to the open ground.  As he went down the stairs, he could hear the sounds of fists, feet, and legs hitting punching bags, jump ropes repeatedly striking the ground, several men yelling out instructions and criticisms, and bodies slamming onto mats.

Olcán got to the bottom of the stairs where a simple door stood against a wall of stone.  Above the door was an intricately carved wooden sign with the words “Abandon all hope ye who enter here” carved in large imposing letters and surrounded by relief-carved skulls with a large fire behind them.  Olcán pounded the sign with his fist before opening the door and walking into what was officially known in the Monastery as the Combat Room, but what Olcán and the others who trained there called The Pit.

Hard Rock and Heavy Metal music played over speakers throughout the room.  The walls were decorated with various posters.  Some were of boxers, including Olcán’s personal favorite Rocky Marciano.  Other posters showed Bruce Lee and other famous martial artists and MMA fighters.

Very little floor space in the room was visible.  There was a full-size boxing ring in one part, with a complete Mixed Martial Arts-style octagon-shaped cage at the other end.  There were four traditional punching bags, four Thai-style ones, a row of Mook Jongs, and half a dozen speed bags distributed about the room.  There was another area that was entirely matted where several men and boys of different ages were practicing rolls and throwing moves, wrestling and grappling each other in hard and almost inhumane brutal training.

The only feature in the room not specifically dedicated to combat training, was an interlocking series of wooden plaques with several name plates screwed on.

A few older men around the room were coaching and offering instruction.  Olcán walked toward a man a few inches taller than him with scraggly silver hair that went down to the base of his neck, a similar build to Olcán, and an appearance so grizzled that he looked as though he had been living in the woods since St. Oliver Plunkett's final sermon.  He was standing outside the boxing ring barking out instructions to a sixteen-year-old boy sparring inside.

“Keep your guard up,” the grizzled man barked out in an Irish brogue that matched his appearance, “chin down and hands up boyo, remember that!”

“You’d better do what he says,” Olcán spoke up loud enough for anyone nearby to hear, “if you get him really mad he will jump in there himself and make sure that you never ignore him again.”

The man paused for a moment, and then looked at the stopwatch he was holding.

“Time!” he yelled out, “go in the corner and relax for a bit!  But don’t spend too much time sitting on your arse!”

“Little wolf,” the man said in Irish Gaelic after turning around to face Olcán.

“O’Connell” Olcán said and the two of them shared a strong embrace.

“So I take it that the mission was a success?” O’Connell asked continuing to speak in Gaelic.

“Now I thought you knew me better than that,” Olcán answered in Gaelic as they came apart, “after all, I was brought up by the best.”

“You give me too much credit Little Wolf,” O’Connell answered with a smile as he placed a hand on Olcán’s shoulder, “but I’m glad that whatever you learned from me you are putting to good use.”

“Absolutely,” Olcán said before turning to look into the ring and getting his first good look at the boy’s sparring partner, “Declan?”

“Oi master,” the sparring partner, a twenty year old boy with long red hair tied back in a braid and brown eyes said in an Irish accent, “when did you get back?”

“Just now,” Olcán answered, “what are you doing here?  Is this the best way you can get ready for your trials?”

“Oh no,” Declan said quickly and apologetically, “I had some time off and O’Connell asked if I could help him with Nathaniel for a while.”

“Okay,” Olcán said turning to face O’Connell, “once you’re through here would you mind if I take Declan off your hands for a while?”

“Not at all Little Wolf,” O’Connell said, he gave Olcán a smile then turned to face Declan and Nathaniel in the ring, “GO!”

He then hit the stopwatch and the two of them went back to sparring while Olcán watched and helped O’Connell with his advice and critiques.

[revbrowman]

Melon Cooler

Locusts and other buzzing bugs weren’t sounds either of them were accustomed to hearing. Kun-lai was far too cold for them, as far as Rev OR Hass both knew. Even if they lived by the coast, the weather wasn’t anything like here in the valley. Hot, humid, sticky. Hot.

Very hot.

Hass sat back on a deck chair on the porch, head back, staring out into the night to the expansive farmlands below their little hill.

They had been lucky to find a house available. A family had just moved out of it some months before and while it was in rough shape, it was well loved (and nothing a few repairs couldn’t fix either.) Rev considered themselves lucky to grab it at all.

The stairs would prove to be a problem in the years to come, but for now, he wasn’t thinking about it. Or much of anything, for that matter.

“You dying out there?” Rev called from the kitchen.

Hass’ ear flicked and he closed his eyes, sighing through his nose. Sometimes it felt too hot to move. And while his fur was thin for summer, it was still like being constantly wrapped in a towel. “Aye.” He almost groaned, slouching further and letting himself slide lower, legs sticking straight out onto the porch.

“Hang on.”

It was odd, being in such a large house. They had an entire kitchen now that wasn’t combined with both their bedroom and their living space (the bedroom was upstairs.) There was room for actual furnishings and decorations and all sorts of other things. It was a nice house. Compared to every other place they’d been living since they moved out of the monastery.

Still, it was theirs. That was a nice thought.

Rev’s boot steps made the wooden floor boards creak as he walked outside, carrying with him two glasses and a large pitcher of something. Hass’ ears perked up slightly more at the sound of ice jingling around in it. “What’s that?”

“It’s one of those fruit waters.”

“Fruit WHAT?” Hass opened his eyes and sat up now, leaning in to sniff the pitcher. “It’s green...What th’ hell’s in it??” He wrinkled his nose, conflicted. It smelled sweet, but it also smelled like plant matter.

Rev scowled at him, handing him one of the glasses. “Just try it. Don’t make a face.”

“I dunno,”

“It’s melon, cucumber, sugar, lemon and ice. It’s not going to kill you and it won’t taste like a salad.”

Hass grumbled a little as Rev poured him a full cup. And then one for himself. Immediately he picked out a little floating piece of cucumber while he wasn’t looking, before sipping at it.

Cold, refreshing, not just boring ol’ water. Sweet… Like lemonade. He smacked his lips a few times. It was OK. Rev watched him with a critical eye before sighing in exasperation, shaking his head, and sitting in the deck chair next to him.

“I think I’m going to cut my hair tomorrow.” He said suddenly, running a hand through the mop that was currently on top of his head.

“Again? It ain’t gonna grow back so quick the more times ya do it ya know.”

“It’s either that or suffer.”

Hass couldn’t argue with that. Sometimes he too wanted to just shave all his fur off. Not that he ever made mention of THAT out loud.

“This summer’s gonna be a hot one.” Rev sniffed as he poured himself a second glass. “Feel like m’ cookin’ in my own skin sometimes with how hot it gets in th’ day...th’ sun’s searin’. Like bein’ in an oven.”

“Yeah, kinda. But there’s lots of shade here, and windows.”

“Well I know but it doesn’t cool down FAST enough...” Hass sipped at his own drink cautiously. He was still unsure about the taste overall. “...I like the house though.”

“Thank goodness for that, huh.”

“Yer th’ one who’s more picky than I am.”

“Yeah, yeah. You still gonna be singin’ that when you’re stuck upstairs one day and unable to walk down??”

“Hey now-”

The two went back and forth with their banter, before laughing to themselves and falling quiet again, once more staring out to the land beyond.

“It’s too bad I missed the window for planting spring things. I dunno anything about farming though, or growing anything. Might have to go ask the neighbors. I wanna get started on those planters tomorrow like you said you would.” Rev set his glass aside on the small box they had between them that held the pitcher.

Hass let out an airy sigh and looked away briefly. “Ahuh,” He didn’t want to do it. But, he said he would…But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to get out of it at least once. “Yeah, tomorrow,” He muttered. “Uh- early in th’ mornin’ though. It’s too damn hot to do it in the daytime.”

Rev rolled his eyes. “Alright alright. Besides, don’t complain. Tomorrow I’m making that chicken with the sweet sticky teriyaki sauce you like so much.”

“No bones either right?” “No bones.”

The troll licked his lips, pleased. “Ok.” He could build ONE planter.

Bribing Hass with food was easy enough. And Rev could do it even more now that they lived so close to Halfhill. Almost every ingredient available out there was at his disposal. And there was little Hass could do about it.

Not that he wanted to.

A grasshopper bounced past them and off into the grass, startling a couple fireflies. There would be many more come summer.

“How pretty,” Rev sighed, leaning to the side with his elbow.

“Hm?” Hass glanced over at him. “I could make ya light up like that.” Rev sat up making an ‘ugh’ sound. “Oh I know, I KNOW. Now light up angry or light up all lovey dovey, there’s a difference.”

Hass snurked. “Why not both?”

“That’s pretty dangerous. Even for you.”

“Yeah I know. But it’s fun, sometimes.”

“Mmhm.”

With a snort, Hass reached over and poked at Rev’s hand, in a sort of ‘gimme’ kind of way. Rev let him have it eventually.

“Don’t knock over the pitcher.” Rev warned.

“I love you.”

“I know, but don’t knock over the pitcher.”

They gave each other’s hands a squeeze before returning to doing absolutely nothing except lazing about. Even Rev was starting to feel the humidity and the heat now. Sweating every night due to JUST the weather wasn’t something he liked to do.

“You gonna roast out here some more? I’m gonna go back inside. Where it’s slightly cooler.” He said suddenly, sitting up.

Hass looked over at him again. “Nah, m’ done roastin’.” He also sat up, bones popping, muscles aching and stiff. The pitcher was still about half full. “Next time, can ya do no cucumber?” “Next time I might as well just make lemonade. I dunno why you don’t like cucumbers.” Rev took the pitcher and headed back inside. The neat thing about having an icebox finally was being able to hold onto drinks and cold things just a little while longer. In it went.

“Well it just tastes...Green.”

Rev squinted. “Tastes green??”

“Well, ya know,” “Yeah, I know you don’t like eating vegetables is what.” Hass clicked his tongue, “Jus’ carrots...an’ cucumbers…”

“And peas, and spinach, and lettuce, and sometimes turnips, and cauliflower, and broccoli and eggplants and zucchini and-” “Hey now-” The troll grumbled, “Ya try bein’ force-fed a concoction of green sludge when YER teeth are extra sensitive, on top of errythin’ else- ya ain’t gonna like th’ taste of MOST veggies and things either-” “For your information, I DID, one summer. If you remember THAT.” “Ok well-” “Ok well nothing! I can’t coat EVERYTHING in sugar-” “Well I ain’ askin’ ya to I just-”

“Just what huh??-”

The sounds of their voices went from the downstairs floor, and drifted upwards to the second floor.

Only when they fell into bed did it quiet down again.

…Though not for terribly long.

[nannetteriegel2-blog]

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[uglybabby]

I love coming home and checking on the progress of this tank! It’s not the prettiest ever but it’s the first tank I ever set up by myself and it’s actually been going really well. I originally got it for my three mystery snails when they outgrew their old tank and I added about a dozen male endler/guppy mutts (drove all the way to the lfs and they were out of endlers but the feeder guppies looked suspiciously like juvenile endlers...) My Mom also put a male platy in there so she could get rid of my brother’s tank, I know platies are supposed to be kept in groups but this one is 3+ years old and seems content guarding the snails, but I’ll find him a better home if I can. Besides a diatom bloom and a couple gupps dying after I added them (didn’t notice they were sickly/had torn fins when I picked them out of the feeder guppy tank) everything has been going really smoothly! The plants are doing super well and the gupps are coloring up really nicely. I’ll probably do some sort of rescape over the summer and add more rocks and driftwood to make a better hardscape, I also wanna add some of the water lettuce from pidge’s tank once it grows in enough. My SUPER big dream would be to somehow talk my parents into getting a bigger (30gal?) tank and letting me make it all pretty and moving the snails and guppies over to that (the snails just keep getting bigger!) and then letting pidge have the 16 gal and maybe getting him one or two lady friends and just using the spec for snail breeding. My mom said no more tanks but if I get good grades this semester I might be able to do it for my birthday.... Sorry for writing so much, I’m just really new to this hobby and I’m already LOVING it and I’m actually really proud of what I’ve been able to do so far!

[ovalleba]

As if all the gardening I’m doing isn’t enough, I ordered half a beef. I don’t really want to have issues with food shortages and pray I don’t lose power! It came in and my freezer is full. I’ve a large chest freezer and it is now stock piled. I’m thankful I didn’t follow up on getting a pig. As it is, I have a turkey thawing in my fridge that just wouldn’t fit in either freezer!

Besides having two garden beds, I started growing herbs. Since my daughter is moving, I’m doing a set for her also. I’ve containered them in pint glass jars. It seems to be working well. Stones in the bottom to help drainage and it lets me check on the roots and water amount. I don’t want to drown them.

  The only issues I’ve had is the cilantro seems to be dying off around the edges and I’ve had no luck growing chives. Luckily, I was garage saleing yesterday and found someone selling them. Rather than containerize them, I’m going to see if I can plant them around the bed of my raspberries. Better than the creeping charlie that has taken over everything!

Besides the appeal of fresh herbs for cooking, I bought a book, Medicinal Herbs, to get information on how to use them for health. To be honest, I’ll probably experiment on myself, lol. But, it is mainly for research for the next book in a Dragon’s Fated Heart Series.

The one after Reviving Mara which I’m working on now.

Rog’s book needs to be done. He is the healer of the group and I think it is appropriate if his mate is interested in the same. Beginning to grow herbs and researching is as far as I’ve gotten, but I have to start somewhere.

Now, on to news of my garden. My jalapeno peppers are flowering. My cherry tomatoes are flowering. Carrot, turnip and radishes have made an appearance. I thought my carrots never would! Sweet corn has come up. My broccoli are forming and my garden is flourishing.

My parents came over and my dad was shocked at the size of them. He’s the gardener. My tomato plants are anywhere from a foot to two feet in size already and hopefully will be blooming soon. I had 24 plants set aside for my dad. My parents were thrilled. They bought some from the store that are only a couple of inches tall. The ones I had for them were a bit over a foot already so will bloom sooner.

I’m sending a few tomato plants off with my daughter also to her new house.

My lettuce is growing good. I made a salad with the greens I harvested. I won’t ever have a ton, but enough to not have to buy too much from the store. A nice supplement to keep costs down! I watch every penny since I retired. I’m growing that in my greenhouse, but pull it out to bask in the sun every couple of days. I’m going to try to start romaine lettuce from the bottom of the head I got from the store. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Have a healthy and happy week! Let me know if there are specific herbs or books I should be checking out.

Herbs and Containers As if all the gardening I'm doing isn't enough, I ordered half a beef. I don't really want to have issues with food shortages and pray I don't lose power!

[toddlazarski]

A Definitive Taco Truck Tour

Shepherd Express

Before 2010, when The Fast Foodie trademarked the name “Globaco” in some kind of full shark-jumping signifier of the epochal food truck wars, and long before today’s scene of the Zocalo food truck park, complete with the backing of real estate developers and an “incubator” program; before food truck festivals, Food Truck Friday, Food Truck Thursday, Takeout Tuesday, changing locations necessitating hungers be equipped with GPS-capabilities, before $12 crepes, $5 mushroom tacos, takeovers, residencies, Food Network validation, before the food truck was a hip wedding menu option—almost all somehow worth it, all ridiculous but inevitable, overdone but delicious—there was the taco truck.  

Really since, probably, 1974. That is when Raul Martinez converted an ice cream truck into King Taco and parked it outside of an L.A. bar. Lines formed, a legend was born, offshoots ensued, and it was a first step toward fixed, consistent locations. A metaphorical flag seemed planted. The dawn of an era, certainly, but really it was but the next step in a lineage that flows organically, pragmatically, from roaming street tamale vendors that date to as early as the late 1800’s. Also, more simply, from lunch carts at construction sites. Any time humans move, mass, and build, portable kitchens will surely follow. Today, in an era of mobile offerings listing the likes of Mochaccino cupcakes, how much said kitchens choose to raise their fists in culinary challenge to brick-and-mortars really just seems a matter of ambition and philosophy.  

But a quest for such bygone spots is not just an act of nostalgia. It’s far from slumming or the loaded, problematic idea of authenticity. It’s a harkening of a simpler time, before we gussied menus and overshadowed the farmers at farmers markets with lines for $8 waffles, before mobile grilled cheeses required “Cedar Valley 2 Year Aged Cheddar,” before what Ta-Nehisi Coates, in a skeptical essay penned in the Atlantic in 2010, termed with some derision, “nuevo-food trucks.” 

If you know where to look, when to stop, how to navigate crinkly handwritten placards of exotic sounding mouth meats and such, can make yourself heard over grumbling generators attached to rickety Freightliners, glimpses of this old world still abound. Quick, cheap, consistent, doused in multiple salsas, chased with frigid Jarritos, this is a pursuit of no-frills, flavorful, long-stewed quick meal. You don’t have to live every moment like it’s a beer commercial afterall, with an Instagrammable converted camper, with clever alliteration names, hyper-specification, like it was Austin, like it was Portland, pesky cities of smug overachieving and some oblique pursuit of “weirdness.” Sometimes you just want a taco. Through a hungry and thorough survey of Milwaukee summer streets, these are your best bets for such movable feasts. 

12. El Charrito

Some slithery cooked onions and half of a huge charred jalapeño side a taco plate—the only real indicator this is anything but standard, cheap workaday Mexican fare. But that might very well be what you’re after, especially after shopping at the never-ending Restaurant Depot, or cranking on the sprawling hard hat site that is the new Michels Corp development that one of the four El Charrito’s sits beside. If so the pastor is a satisfyingly seasoned pork filling, tender and mostly drowning in blood red adobo-rich sauce. The asada might land on the dry side, but that actually makes it rightly fit for salsa water-falling. A chorizo torta, with not quite crisped but not too greasy meat, is a big-hearted lunchtime bomb of a sandwich just this side of nap-inducing, held together precariously by a griddled bolillo roll, souled up with the usual filler of cream, lettuce, tomato. Side anything with the special stewy charro beans—pintos in a smoky, soupy broth—to fill out a full appetite. Otherwise it is limited-menu, no-frills starter platter fare starring prominently two-buck, double corn tortilla tacos, packed with the salty meatstuff of your preference, peaked with heaps of onion and cilantro, sided by exactly the well-executed baseline taco truck spirit that flattops-on-wheels should always embody. 

11. Tacos El Amigo

Perhaps as a nod to the neighborhood’s encroaching condo sprawl the menu here sports the likes of nachos, wings, pulled pork, other Philly sandwich type stuffs. Also, perhaps in protest, the dark truck appears in raggedy, noisy form, the service comes sans smile, and the vibe is that of the Black Hat character on the 1st and National scene.     

Skip the drunk college kid fare, also the singular allure of what proves to be a docile shrimp taco. Rather the milanesa torta hits all pleasure points for a quick lunch or a hunger-necessitating buzz from too many nearby craft cocktails. Inside the pale, soft bolillo roll, breaded, lightly fried chicken cutlet hunks form a well-rounded flavor squad with pinto beans, avocado, mayo, and melty queso. Or try the pastor, which is tender and scooped in smoky hunks that are a bit sweet, minimally saucy. There is also the always helpful campechano - a taco filling combo of the eater’s own calculus, for those who can’t decide. Chorizo and asada is a personal favorite. But they even have hot dog on the meat list here, so a choose-your-own adventure might be endless.  

10. Taqueria Buenavista 

Despite consistency woes, and worse, a reliance on lettuce-and-tomato taco topping sacrilege, this rolling outpost of the ‘Stallis taqueria deserves much matchmaker credit for my introduction to this verde salsa, a comforting friend now oft-found about the southside taqueria scene. The emulsified sauce is a spicy viscous goo: part oil, part cream, plenty of green pepper capsaicin zing, and a whole lot of soul. It can perform the soft miracle of making dry pollo good, or further enhance a stew-y birria that is by itself a saucy hangover comfort blanket. Really anything at the spot—regularly stopped suggestively outside of the Piggly Wiggly, seemingly nudging, prodding, asking: “why cook yourself?”—is mostly canvas for the bite-back salsa.  

9. Las 7 Estrellas

Even an unabiding love for the singular offering of albondigas couldn’t sell me on any exceptionalism at the brick-and-mortar branch of this new-ish Bay View spot. Then the truck popped up nearby, and seemed aggressively approximate to Buenavista—a decidedly unchill encroachment of competition. Nonetheless, there is our local Home Depot, and there are Saturday to-do lists, and there is a unique “order ready” system that finds a siren wailing once your number is up. Ringing like Pavlov’s perro, it is an indicator that it’s time to get your fingers greasy, the cuticles a bit burnt, especially by way of pambazo. This is a soft-bunned bruiser of a sandwich, the bread of which is dunked in fire-y hot sauce, griddled, and then lined reasonably with meat, lettuce, crema. The salty chorizo, or a saucy, pineapple-flecked pastor are ideal.    

Or there is tripa, cabeza, lengua—more proletariat cuts for less Americanized palates. No matter the filling, the bun will bleed delicious salsa onto your fingers, staining skin, implicating eaters, making it obvious you did more than make a productive run for yard work supplies.

8. Taqueria El Paso

The good guy in the white vs. black hat rivalry in the 1st and National zone of moving taco trucks, El Paso belies it’s mildly racist caricature—brown skinned man in a sombrero and pancho, holding a burrito, grinning under a mustache amongst desert and cactuses—with smiles, a welcome picnic table, and even friendlier meat cuts. Look no further than the alambre. It’s a gargantuan two-meal styrofoam plate of melty queso, variably crisped asada bits, salty, suggestive bacon hunks, onions and peppers, and beefy, grounded flavor scoops for personal taco crafting. Spike it with the spark plug orange-red salsa, which also works well with a dry, salty, scrappy take on pastor. 

Bold, or, possibly too-drunk Walker’s Point feasters might combine these two and venture a stomach for the El Paso Special: steak, pork, bacon, onions, peppers, mushrooms, cheese, pineapple. It is basically like an alambre on steroids, which is a dish that is already itself like a Mexican skillet on HGH. Maybe American obesity is a bit inspired afterall.  

7. El Tapatio

Speaking of American appetites, a white person order, the Taco Bell-ification of our view of Mexican cuisine, the oft-called “gringa” is a popular truck option mistakenly easy to sleep on. It’s basically a quesadilla—a large, griddled flour tortilla, lined with gooing cheese and whichever meatstuff. Simple, basic, here it is the everything you want in one bite, especially with the asada. Deep, greasy, fatty grilled steak flavor, aggressively chopped, almost pulled, sticks and makes close friends with half-soft queso. Smoky rojo elevates it well beyond the realm of packaged ‘Fire’ sauce and into something that reeks of an old country. The same can be said about the pastor, another in the line of adobo-seasoned pork offerings, one with murmurs and rumors of pineapple, something sweet, something smoky, chopped and sauced to the point of making salsa optional, the taco package happily sassy as is. It’s maybe the best such version around, and is offered generously, heaping. 

It’s a truck along the lines of Charrito—in fact they also have 4 roaming kitchens about town, and a minimal menu. But you can tell by the milling eaters huddled across the street from Koz’s: these are the basics cooked slowly, carefully, everything seemingly done, welcomely, much better than it has to be. 

6. La Mazorca 

Sometime early next summer, when the troves of “Actually, Milwaukee’s Not So Bad” headlines make their way through the national press to preview how to spend time here during the DNC, there will certainly be an article fronted by a picture of Mazorca, the entirety of the new Zocalo food truck park. Perched against not-quite gentrification—the shell of Camacho’s bar and a discarded sidewalk syringe loomed over a recent Sunday afternoon visit—it is still adorably cutesy, the taco truck made for Instagram. It’s almost worth an eye-roll. As a tree grows in Brooklyn, so a food truck grows in a gentrifying warehouse district. The tacos themselves also come overly-crafted, like a contoured Mexican experience: the pastor is pre-topped with avocado cilantro salsa, the birria with pickled red onions, the bistec is marinated in “Wisconsin beer” and topped with pintos and tomatillo salsa. It’s a tad unfortunate, a bit prefab-feeling. Especially as the two fire-colored squirt bottles of salsa and endless to-go containers pack so much arbol sizzle, creamy piquant buzz.

It’s also not that unfortunate, because said tacos are indeed bursting with vitality, high-end flavor. The pastor especially oozes with adobo essence and juicy grilled-ness, the birria is a perfect texture template for an overly avuncular orange salsa pour, the steak strips are smartly seasoned and thin and unimpeachably beefy. 

On a true crawl of southside streets, amidst grime and espanol-only ordering, a trek here can seem like selling out, like going Pirates of the Caribbean. But then you walk out, past the patio lights and bumping “Wonderwall,” and realize you’re sucking air, craving water, and wondering why your mouth is still on fire. Serious tacos come in many backdrops. 

5. El Comedor

The on-paper listing of the aptly named Torta Suprema here is absurdly gluttonous, borderline-stunt-ish: ham, mozzarella, chorizo, milanesa. That’s not a choice of meat types, it is the lineup. Additionally, unannounced, coming off the bench, there are refried beans. Then you see it, scoop it, can’t stop. And you realize it’s actually an exercise in restraint, with thin, minimal layers of each ingredient laid carefully atop one another, all beautifully constructed for integrity, neatness, consistency, the whole beast cut in half for easy, no-fallout management. Of course it is still absurdly gluttonous. It is two kinds of pig—crumbly, greasy chorizo and fatty golden ham slices, with chicken—golden-fried strips of barely-breaded breast, all tied together with stretchy, melty virgin-white mozzarella gliding throughout, every bite contrasting soft and crisp, as the fluffy bolillo has been gently charred both inside and out, and lined with mayo, lettuce, tomato.  

There’s, also, somehow, a Cubano, the same sandwich with American cheese and turkey added to the fertile fray. And, according to handwritten cardboard signs, there are occasional special mole offerings. But Comedor is definitely, foremost, the rolling torta king, the truck on 13th and Hayes good enough to make it forgettable that their brick-and-mortar big brother is mostly known for its pastor. Which, when you try it here, is a succulent, juice-running, half-crispy shimmering pork take, delicious and welcoming of fiery red or fresh green salsa. No matter though, the most important impression you’re taking away is really that other half of torta, for the fridge, and then for a brilliant late-night snack. 

4. La Flamita

 Flamita might serve the greasiest chorizo around, the finest, tiniest dice of any meat on any menu, and the most over-stuffed of all taco truck tacos. There’s also a big, bad alambre— an asada, bacon, cheese, pepper, onion melange of heft and farmland machismo.   

But, on Sundays, between 3pm and midnight, when pastor tacos are $1, when the crowds gather, when the knives are being sharpened by big laughing men glimpsed through the little window, it’s trompo time on 20th and National. It’s the only time of the week they use the vertical spit of Lebanese, Greek, Turkish descent. As if coming to life for everyone else’s day of rest, it wields slithery wedges of reddish-brown and amber, the half-charred pig flavor dribbling juice, the tacos decked with huge wedges of pineapple, splashed liberally with onion and cilantro. 

Some bites come on like bacon, some like semi-fatty shoulder, taste profiles bounce between rich, fruity, bracing, and, if you’re doing it right with the orange sauce, tingly and blood-flowing. They are little six-bite nuggets of life affirmation, pillowed by double corn layers, gleaned for less than it costs to park downtown for an hour-and-a-half. 

3. Marta’s Tamales

There is no way to half-ass tamales. A labor-intensive dish of corn husks, steam, and up-at-dawn love, it would be like your doctor just sort-of practicing medicine. That’s why if it’s in the name, if it is in the taco-slinging game, there’s certainly legit pedigree. So it is with the Christmas-lighted truck on Cesar Chavez, amidst the cacophonous intersection by El Rey. You can tell the seriousness from the crumbly, heavily seasoned, ground-beefy asada, from an inspired, neatly shredded, soupy barbacoa, rich with faraway spices and earthy, funky sweet-savory balance. Big appetites and food pic takers will be drawn to the pambazo. The chorizo and potato mix is especially hearty, filling, crisped with lettuce wedges, the entire drowned-roll concoction crowned with a sea of crema and a little mountain of crumbly cotija. It’s a sandwich basking in photo op. Then there are elotes—the favorite Mexican street dish of corn smeared in mayo, cream, cheese and spicy pepper seasoning—served either on the cob, or, for those dainty or with a too-nice-an-interior to spill queso, in a dish.   

And what of those tamales? Bulbous and piping hot, try the puerco, which is tender pale chunks chock with a potent red-hot chile pepper mash. It is 2-buck brilliance. And somehow almost an afterthought.

2. La Guelaguetza

Rick Bayless once famously opined that the best taquerias are those attached to grocery stores. So it would follow that Guelaguetza, it’s extra long frame situated outside El Rey at 13th and Burnham, is a natural extension, a vomitorium, if you will, of the always-bustling, teeming, slightly-stressful emporium of meats, seasonings, breads, and everything that you could possibly imagine inside. Pig’s feet? Yes. Jewelry? It’s by the checkout counter. Take, for example, the fact that a recent trek found radishes and fresh cucumber offered along the counter salsa bar. Like they belong to a CSA and aren’t sure what to do with all their extra stuff. Sometimes though, there is a downright ferocious onion-habenero pickled mix. In a world of menu repetition, it’s such small touches that add up, that get you a top-2 ranking. It helps that they have a trompo, one of the very few in town. This spit yields pale, red-hued chopped pork scraps, a touch fatty but beautiful, with whiffs of adobo-seasoning, maybe cinnamon, something bright and sweet and indefinable in each balanced bite. There is also a deep-stewed, earthy barbocoa, with intense, unrelenting beefiness. There are, maybe, if you know how to ask, homemade tortillas. And, of course, there is an alambre. It is best as a piping, queso-gooey gumbo of steak, chorizo, crumbly bacon bits, peppers, onions, and the subsequent happiest grease slither of DIY-taco mix possible. Or try try one of their specials that might team ham with pastor. Either way it’s sided by a baked potato, seemingly as that something extra, to give the feel of going to grandma’s house, her wanting to show that she loves you very much, wants you to eat, and to get fat.  

1. Taqueria La Costena

There is a filter on Instagram—Nashville, Ludwig, whatever—that brightens, lightens, accentuates, makes pop all the colors and vividness of the happy summer days of life. The tlayuda here, once you pour some thick smoky rojo salsa atop, seems to exist in this doctored state of beauty all on its own: dazzling green avocado, pristine and pure crema, milky queso, sheeny tomato and lettuce flecks, the whole thing framed by they earthy tones of a griddled tortilla and pinto beans. Red, white, green, it looks like the Mexican flag, waving loudly, begging to be scooped, one triangle wedge at a time, folded like a NY-style slice, and devoured. Top it with perfect crumbly chorizo—like a little but ambitious cousin of piquant pepperoni—to complete the Mexican-pizza experience. It’s a destination-worthy dish. But really the fake-wood paneled, slant-roofed mini house is more, much more than just an adorable tlayuda outpost between St. Luke’s and the Domes. 

They also have a specific take on pastor: drier, but still liberally seasoned, small-diced, with half-blackened bits, the result yielding moist, just-grilled flavor that allows the meat itself to shine. The same can be said about the smoky, beefy barbocoa. Or even the asada—-so often rote, so often a shoulder-shrug of a meat offering, here is tender, juicy, and seems to fully reveal a careful hand at the flattop. It’s indicative of a subtle touch, a deft hand, offered with friendly delivery. Everything here is more than enough reason to stop the car while cruising 27th Street. It’s actually inspiration to get in the car, to get a car-meal, in the first place. 

[thewritingduckling]

A China Rose: Chapter 2

Summary: Y/N was once an employee at Prince Adams castle along with being his childhood friend but she doesn’t remember. Caught up in the curse, she ends up in Villeneuve where she stands out. But circumstances arrive and she somehow returns to the place she once called home, and a beast she once thought a friend. A multi-chapter fanfiction.  CHAPTER 1

Authors note: Well, this took longer than expected (exams suck), but it’s here now. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2: The Provincial Life You were laughing. A true laugh. As you ran you could hear the shouts behind you. The young boy you felt you knew, but didn't, was chasing you, hopping slightly due to the fact his right shoe was clasped tightly in your hand. You were young too, back in a time when you were carefree. That was the joy of sleep. You could travel to any time, make up any scenario and live it for a few brief moments. You were rushing though a beautiful garden that went on for miles to see. Green was surrounding you as you pushed your way through a small door that led to a beautiful rose garden. Several bushes of different coloured roses. The white ones shimmered like frost in sunlight and the red ones shone like glittering rubies. All the other coloured roses seemed to twinkle as you sprinted past them, desperate to try and evade the boy who was hot on your heels. You were running up a bridge over a lake when you stopped, breathing heavily but still allowing yourself to giggle in between gulps of air. The boy had just emerged from amongst the roses when you looked up. You smirked and pushed yourself up onto the side of the bridge, the hand which clasped his shoe hanging over the edge. He came barrelling towards you. "Y/N! Give me back my shoe!" He practically screamed. You only laughed harder and in one swift movement he collided with you sending you both over the edge into the lake below. You swam towards the bank, no longer grasping his shoe. He was floundering behind you retrieving his footwear from the surface of the water. You sat on the bank, still giggling as he made his way to shore, his shoe now secure on his foot. He glared at you as he pulled himself out. You pointed to his foot, "I see you found your shoe," you stated, in between a fit of giggles. He pushed you playfully on the arm before laughing too. "And I only had to swim to get it." "Well you wanted a distraction from tutoring. I gave you one." You point out giggling. You sat there for several moments staring at each other, still smiling. But then you heard the roar of anger behind you as a tall man in fine clothes came stomping towards you and the boy. He glared at you before picking up the boy by the scruff of his plain white shirt. He dragged the boy away shouting horrible things at him. The boy took no notice of the man’s words, he was starting back at you, still a gleam of happiness in his eye. He disappeared in a cloud of smoke, and you woke up from your dream. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The first thing you noticed was that it was still dark outside. You looked over to the clock to your side. Half six in the morning. There was no point in trying to sleep any longer. The rage of the man in your dream was something to behold and you feared that if you closed your eyes you'd be suffering the same torment the boy did. Besides, you had to deliver the new clock to the schoolmaster before the boys were to start learning. You also agreed to help Père Robert by buying the evening meal in the market. You heard a small thump from downstairs and you knew the vicar was cleaning the church after morning mass. Few people attended it but he still rose at five every morning to fulfil his duty to the close-minded people of the town. You admired him, and you were extremely grateful to him. When you arrived in the village nine years ago, he was the only person willing to take you in and he was the only one who understood your love of reading. He gave you access to his small collection of books when the schoolmaster refused you entrance to the school's collection. You smiled to yourself and hastily dressed into a simple white blouse, green skirt, leather jacket and boots before picking up your book, Romeo and Juliet (a personal favourite of yours). You headed out of your room and down the stairs where you met with Père Robert at the entrance to his quarters. "Up so early, Y/N?" He greeted you with a warm smile. "Couldn't sleep. Besides I have to prepare the clock so it's worthy of the schoolmaster's taste." You said, returning his smile back. "If it is anything like the clock you made for the church, it will more than satisfy his needs." He nodded towards the church entrance, where your clock rested above the doors. You looked down and felt the blood rush to your cheeks as he compliments your work. "Thank you," you said sincerely, "Is there anything specific you want for dinner this evening? Or will the usual suffice?" "Just the usual but maybe throw in a fruit or two, seeing as you have been working on this clock for several weeks now." He smiled at you before nodding to you as he entered his quarters. You walked out the back door to the church's garden. You strolled past the vegetable patch, where your lettuces were thriving, and head towards your workshop which was a small shed at the far end of the garden. You unlocked the door and entered, before lighting several candles. You reached up to the shelf by the door where you were storing the, soon to be, new school clock. You were pleased with your work. You had spent weeks making the cogs all fit in place and even longer carving and painting it so that it resembled one of the schoolboys straw hats. You were simply dusting the clock and packing it away in your bag when the sun began to peak over the horizon. The different tones of orange and pink calmed you and made you feel inspired. You quickly grab your paints and plant yourself by the window. You mix together the right tones before removing the glove from your left hand. You always wore it. You and Père Robert were the only ones who knew of your china hand. You didn't want to give the village another reason to call you odd, so you hid it from sight. You'd had it all your life, you think, and you felt bad having to hide a part of you from the world. However, when you were alone, you took great joy in painting it to create different scenes. Your favourite design so far had been a rose bush. It made you feel a sense of belonging. You hastily began applying the paints to your hand. You created swirls of pink and spots of orange till your hand was completely covered. You held it up to the sky and it blended in with it seamlessly. You smiled at yourself knowing that your Papa would be proud. He was an artist, and you missed him terribly. You can't remember what happened to him but you were certain that the last time you saw him, he was heading out to do a job. You presume that he has remained at the job ever since. You refuse to accept that he was dead. You'd have felt it if he was. You smiled thinking of your Papa. He loved you, and that was all that mattered. You touched your hand to ensure that the paint had dried before you put back on your glove. You picked up your bag, now heavy with the clock and your book. With that you head outside ready to face the provincial town you lived in. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You walked down the path towards the market place and with the church being on the outskirts of the village (due to its large grounds) you had a fair way to walk before you saw anyone out and about. That didn't stop you from hearing them greeting each other with a loud "Bonjour!" You were humming a tune when the baker walked past and you briefly stopped to grab a baguette from him which you placed in your bag. As you walked to the outskirts of the market you were greeted by Monsieur Jean, the town potter. "Good morning Y/N!" He greeted, a distracted look on his face. "Good morning Monsieur Jean. Have you lost something again?" You inquired. He was known for forgetting things. "Well you know I believe I have. Only problem is I can't remember what!" He exclaimed and you let out a small chuckle. "Where're you off to this morning?" "To give this clock to the schoolmaster. He says it'll make his new lessons great again." You joked slightly. His eyebrows furrowed in slight disgust. "Sounds boring." He commented as he turned back to his little shop and you continued on your way. You hop over the stepping stones by the bridge, humming once again. You walk past the washing area, where several women and girls had congregated to wash the clothes. You elected to ignore the comments they made about you. You reached the market which also housed the school at the far end opposite the washing area. You hastily ran up the steps to the school and were relieved to see that the boys had yet to arrive. The schoolmaster looked at you through the doorway before giving you a brief grunt, signalling that you could enter. "I have the clock you asked for." You said with a half-smile as you fumbled in your bag. You lifted it out carefully and placed it on his desk. He looked at it blankly before reaching into his pocket to reveal your pay for your work. Three silver coins was all you got. You did your best to remain civil as you accepted the coins with a forced smile. You bid him good day, and left the small building as quickly as you could. The market was bustling with people and you decided to get out your book and read whilst making your errands. You needn't look up from the page as this village followed the same routine every day. You always found it rather disconcerting that the village had the exact same routine each day with little difference. There was something mechanical and forced about it, but the more you thought of the inner workings of the town, the more disturbed you got. Therefore you tried to think little of the fact that you could easily navigate your way through the men and women complaining about stale bread, smelly fish and expensive eggs. You walked up to the fountain and sat down to finish reading the ball scene, having already acquired the necessary ingredients to produce tonight's meal. You were thoroughly enjoying the love that was blossoming between the two lovers of Verona, when you were interrupted by a deep, smug voice. "Good morning Y/N!" You looked up and internally groaned.  Gaston, the 'town hero' was standing above you, a bunch of flowers gripped in his hand and from the look of the florists angry face as LeFou (Gaston's probably only true friend) gave her some coins, it was clear to you that he actually hadn't paid for the flowers, and that he was simply 'borrowing' them. It was a nice thought but you weren't interested. He and LeFou were the ones who found you out in the woods on the way back from one of their hunt. He apparently saved you from wolves which you found hard to believe. Not only did he bring this up in every conversation he had with you, he also had this idea in his head that because he saved you, (and the fact that he considered you to be almost as beautiful as him), you were destined to be together, which wasn’t the case at all. His brashness and his attitude was what made you dislike him, that and the fact that he refused to take no for an answer. Your rejection only spurred him on more, and the one time you punched him because he ripped your book away from you and chucked it in some mud, he simply smiled and made a comment about how you liked to play rough. You felt a little uncomfortable around him and you wondered how anyone put up with him. On the other hand, you loved LeFou. He was quiet and reserved but he still managed to be over the top at the same time. He never boasted about what he'd done, even though he and Gaston have both achieved the same things together. He was sincere and polite, the only quality you disliked about him was his devotion to Gaston. He was staying away from the fountain where you sat. Most likely because he was still having to apologise to the florist who, despite the payment, was seething with rage. It was almost comical. You drew your eyes away from LeFou's failing attempts at calming the woman and looked up at Gaston, deciding that you were to be as blunt, but as civil as possible. "Bonjour Gaston." You said as pleasantly as you could. He smiled at your acknowledgement. "Lovely book you've got there." He said as he gestured at your book. Your eyebrows raised slightly. Gaston has read a book. You didn't think it possible. "Oh really?" You replied rather enthusiastically, "Have you read it?" His face contorts slightly. "Well not that one. But, you know, books." You let out a silent chortle. There was no need to question your life; Gaston still didn't like books. He whipped out the flowers that you'd noticed before, as they were terribly hidden behind his back. The sudden movement made you jump back the smallest amount. "For your dinner table this evening." He offered, "Will I be joining you this evening." The kindness behind the gesture, was thoroughly destroyed. You looked at him in the eyes and pushed the flowers away from you face before you replied. "Sorry, not this evening." He looked puzzled. "Busy?" "No." was your simple answer. You walked away shaking your head. You begin to travel back to the church, your previously happy mood (set by the book) now ruined. You pass Agathe, the town beggar, and pass her one of the silver coins the schoolmaster had given you. She smiles at you and you give her a big toothy grin in return.  As you walk back up the slight hill, you made a small, silent wish that you would find something, some adventure, away from this provincial village. Behind you Agathe smiled, knowing that your wish had just been granted.

Tag list: @rainwing-galaxy @loneliestlittlerainbow  @bucky-with-the-metal-arm @theeeeens (it’s not letting me tag you, I’m sorry)

[thewitchesvoice-blog]

Hey, I absolutely love your blog! I'm a new witch and was curious if you have any witchy tips/sigils for sleep anxiety or anxiety about sleeping alone? My SO works midnights and I've been having a hard time coping as silly as that may sound. If so, thank you so much ♡

Hey and thank you for the ask, I see you popping up in my notifications often, so, it’s nice to talk to you! Interestingly enough, my SO also works nights and I have had to learn to adapt myself, I hope that these tips can help you out too!OBJECTS TO USE FOR ANTI-ANXIETY: I highly suggest making a charm pouch with some of the below objects. You can carry it with you at all times around your neck, in your pocket, purse/bag or car!OBJECTS TO USE FOR GOOD SLEEP: The same as above except, place the pouch in your pillow case, underneath your pillow or mattress or keep it on a table beside your bed.CRYSTALS AND GEMSTONES FOR ANTI- ANXIETY: Malachite, citrine (are my two favourites, actually, I wear these two ALL the time), amber, rhodonite, black tourmaline, any type of quartz really, selenite, amethyst, howlite, moonstone and green aventurine. CRYSTALS AND GEMSTONES FOR GOOD SLEEP: Amethyst, lapis lazuli, moonstone, peridot, black tourmaline, citrine, jasper and garnet.INCENSE/ESSENTIAL OILS FOR ANTI-ANXIETY: Chamomile, juniper, fennel, peppermint, catnip, lavender, benzoin, cypress and pine, INCENSE/ESSENTIAL OILS FOR GOOD SLEEP: Lavender, rosemary, peppermint, thyme and passionflower.HERBS/PLANTS/FOODS FOR ANTI-ANXIETY: Angelica root, lemon balm, st. john’s wort, nettle and crab apple.HERBS/PLANTS/FOODS FOR GOOD SLEEP: Chamomile, mugwort, vervain, cannabis, mint and lettuce.COLOURS FOR ANTI-ANXIETY: lavender, white, light blue, royal blue, pink,COLOURS FOR GOOD SLEEP: black, white, lavender, greyMANTRA/INCANTATIONS:

“I let go, I set my conscious freeI will acknowledge the dream realm as realitypleasant sleep shall come to me without frightI'll sleep restfully throughout this nightAs I will it, so mote it be and so it is.”“The wind may howl but, I’ll never cryThe fire may burn but, I’ll never meltThe water may be deep but, I’ll never drownThe earth may shake but, I’ll never fallI am okay, I am okay, I am okay.The sun rises each day and so shall I.I have made it through 100% of my hardest nights so farThis one will be no different.As above so below, and so it is.”MEDITATION/ENERGY/VISUALIZATION TECHNIQUESStart at 30 and go up one and down one. So, 30, 31, 2929, 30, 2828, 29, 27… and so on. Allow your mind to become distracted by counting the numbers and when you start to loose track, that’s a GOOD thing! Keep going where you think you left off or, start again. In no time at all, you’ll nod off into a peaceful sleep. This is an alternative to counting sheep that has ALWAYS worked for me. SIGILS: 

I hope that some of this can help you out! Take care for now and blessed be. xx