#and i can use the broken pieces as temper for the next batch.

[imalsorettish]

i really hope my work doesnt explode when i try to fire it. theres a good chance it will, which would fucking suck! but ive made this one shot glass about two and a half times now (once because the side broke off, the second because i FUCKING SAT ON IT) and id really love to be able to just give it as a gift finally lmao.

[caramelslate]

Day 3 of Moms Made Fullmetal Week!

Prompt: Disappointment or Apologies or Grounded 

AO3 link is here.

Enjoy reading!

“Ed?”

Trisha Elric hated scolding the kids. It is fortunate for her to be given two sons that are mostly well behaved. Although her older one is a bit short-tempered and would throw some tantrums every now and then. But that’s common with kids and it’s nothing she couldn’t handle. Most of the townsfolk often admire her sons for being so mild-mannered compared to other more rambunctious kids.

However, this is clearly a different scenario.

He punched another kid and broke his nose?  Trisha stared at the piece of note asking her to come to school tomorrow and explaining the reason why.

Ed couldn’t do that. Well, he easily gets angry, especially when teased but she has never seen him get at least a bit violent. But now, she really needs to know the truth straight from her son. Trisha crouched, brought her eye level to Ed and stared at her eldest in the eyes, and asked, “Did you really punch him?”

Ed looked down at his shoes then to the side, literally looking anywhere else other than back at her and her heart sank. He always does when he does something wrong. She got her confirmation a few seconds later with a small “Yes.” She sighed in disappointment. What is happening?

Ed spoke up, “But Mom, they were taking Al’s lunch yesterday, I saw it happen.” Trisha’s eyes went wide and her head went flying towards her younger son, Al, who was silently sitting by the kitchen. “Al, honey, come here.” With slow steps, Al shuffled to her side. He is chewing on his bottom lip and burning a hole on the floor. She asked it if it was true and for the second time, her heart sits in the pits of her stomach as Al quietly nods his head.

“For how long?” Trisha quietly asked Al. She knew between the two boys, Al was the more soft-hearted one. He gives tiny pieces of bread to pigeons in the backyard and sneaks little kittens into his room. She was afraid that this personality of his might make him a target at school.

She reached out and smoothed his head to comfort the boy. Trisha sighed and sank down the chair and faced her two boys. “Al, the next time that happens, I want you to go talk to your teachers. If not, you talk to me okay? I don’t want you to be taken advantage of in school or anywhere. It is never wrong to tell someone if you’re not comfortable in a situation. Understood?”

Al nodded and several strands of blond hair fell down his forehead, as his eyes filled up with unshed tears. He needs a haircut soon, Trisha thought.

Now, turning to her oldest, “Edward,” she began and Ed slightly flinched. “You know it’s not good for you or anyone for that matter to hit other people. Even if they hurt someone you love. If someone tries to hurt the people you protect, find another way to protect them. Violence is never the answer. Remember that.”

Ed sullenly nodded his head. “I know you love your brother. But sometimes you’ve got to take the high road and forgive. Find a way to get out of that situation without hurting anyone. You’re smart. You’re the smartest kid I know. You’ll find a way.”

Ed suddenly rushes into her arms and whispers “Sorry, Mom.” in a broken voice, almost crying.

Trisha is taken aback. Ed never cries, he’s usually not comfortable showing emotions, unlike Al who wears his heart on his sleeves. She reaches out to Al, inviting him in their little circle and Al runs and throws his little limbs around them both.

They’re going to be okay.

Trisha pulls away, “Now, I want you both to know that things like these have consequences. No alchemy for a week. You boys go outside and play with other kids or go to the Rockbells. Starting today.” Both boys’ jaws dropped open. It’s hilarious how some parents have to take away toys or make them stay inside during punishments like this. But with two aspiring alchemists under her roof, both boys kind of forget how much time passes when they’re inside their father’s library. She had to sometimes fetch them because they forget to come down during lunch. It’s amazing how much they are similar to Van when it comes to these little things.

Van, look at our boys, they’re getting bigger every day. I just hope you were here to see it.

“If I see anyone sneaking around and doing alchemy, it will be extended for a day for both of you. Understood?” They both nod, shoulders dropped, and their faces dejected.

Trisha stands up, “Now you two, come help me set the table for dinner. Just because you’re grounded, doesn’t mean you don’t get pie for dessert.” Suddenly the twin faces of dejection turn to two bright smiles and arguing over who gets to set the table better. Trisha looks at the brothers and permits her lips for a soft smile.

The next day, Trisha sorted out Ed’s situation at school. Obviously, the other boy’s mother displayed annoyance as she apologized for Ed’s behavior. She told the headmistress about Ed's reason and agreed that it did not (and never will be) justify Ed's actions. With this new information, the other parent’s eyes went wide and directed a glare to her own son, who suddenly became interested in the fraying hem of his coat. At the end of the meeting, the other was alternating between apologizing profusely to Trisha and shooting looks at her son. Trisha assured her that it would be okay and that Ed swears it won’t happen again.

When Trisha was on her way home, she passed by Pinako with little Winry in tow.

“Trisha! How was the school meeting?” Pinako asked as a way of greeting. She was wearing a traveling coat and had a small briefcase with her.

Trisha smiled. “Nothing new. I’m just glad Ed’s not getting suspended or something. He just had to do extra work at school for the teacher along with the boy he punched.” She quickly explained the situation to which Pinako hummed her agreement.

“I am sorry, dear. But I had to leave for Rush Valley immediately.” Pinako explained when Trisha asked where she was going. Apparently, one of her local clients had called for her to fix his automail while he’s in Rush Valley as he’s in no condition to travel to Resembool to get it fixed.

Pinako clasped her hands together, “Would it be too much of a bother to leave Winry with you for at least two days? I can’t bring her with me right now as she just got better from having the flu.”

Trisha didn’t even hesitate to say yes. “It’ll be refreshing having another girl in the house. It’ll be better since both boys are grounded. They have to find something else to do.” Trisha smiled at the little girl, who she just noticed was silently crying. She turned to look at Pinako and the older woman explained, “She wanted to come along but I really couldn’t take her. It’ll be more difficult for both of us if she gets sick again.”

Trisha nodded and then turned to the little girl and said, “You know, I have some extra apples at home. Would you like to help me make a pie? I’d like a little helper with me because Ed just likes to eat and Al makes too much of a mess because he’s still a little boy. You’re a big girl now, right?”  Almost immediately, Winry stopped crying and stared at her with watery eyes. “I am a big girl now.” she hiccupped in the most adorable way and smiled. “I’ll help you!” The girl took off to the direction of her house yelling out that she’s going to have pie for dinner.

Pinako looked after her with a small smile on her face. “She is so full of energy, I can barely keep up. Her parents sent her a letter this morning. She ran around the house almost tearing the letter up.” Pinako’s son and his wife are doctors shipped to the military and left Winry in the care of her grandmother who owns an automail shop. The couple barely had the chance to bid them farewell before both were shipped to the war front.

“Don’t worry, Pinako. I’ll look after her while you’re gone.” Trisha said, resting her hand on Pinako’s shoulder to reassure the older woman.

Pinako smiled, a small weight lifted off her chest. She put her wrinkled hand on top of her hand. “I sent you a batch of stew I made this morning because I didn’t know I would leave. So you won’t have to cook dinner. It’s the least I could do for you. Tell Winry I’ll see her in a couple of days.” With that, Pinako set off to walk towards the train station towards Rush Valley.

When Trisha reached the house, she found the boys had already washed up for dinner. Winry was standing on top of the stool in front of the sink and washing the freshly picked apples. A pot was sitting on top of the table, the stew Pinako was talking about. Together, the four of them tried to make a pie, in this case Winry helped measure the ingredients while the two boys kept getting flour everywhere and settled with wiping the counters instead.

While enjoying Pinako’s beef stew, Trisha listened to the antics the small children got into during dinner. It feels carefree to live as a child again. She was subjected to the stories of who hides the best during hide and seek, which kid scraped their knee at lunch, how the teacher asked them what pet they would have if they don’t have one.

“I’d want a kitty.” Al turned to her with pleading golden eyes. Trisha returned that look while saying “I haven’t forgotten the mess of the last time we had a cat in this house.” Al sheepishly shot her a smile as he proceeded to devour his plate of stew.

Eventually, Trisha went to prepare the spare bedroom for Winry while the kids played downstairs. Just as she was changing the sheets, she heard the door creak open

“Mom?” Ed said by the door. He was pushed further into the room by Al. Both boys had their hands behind their backs. When they got in front of her, they looked at each other first then held out their hands.

In Ed’s hands is a tiny flower, almost as big as her thumb and obviously made with alchemy, the curves of the flowers are too smooth to be handcrafted. “For me?” When Ed nodded, she took the flower from his hands, her heart warm. “We made it last week, so we didn’t do alchemy after you grounded us. I wanted to do a rose or tulip but it was too complicated so I went with a simple wildflower like the ones growing on the street.”

Trisha smiled but before she can even speak, Al holds out his hands. This time, it was a tiny kitten curled in a ball, no bigger than the flower his brother made. “Brother helped me out since it was too hard so I guess we both made it but I wanted the kitty.” Al proudly declared, his smile wide across his face. “Sorry, Mom. I never should’ve done that. I won’t do that again.” Ed threw his hands around her waist and Al followed suit. Looking down at both of their blond heads, she set down the two gifts and smoothed both of their hair back.

See, Van? I told you. We’re going to be fine. The three of us. Don’t worry.

[ladyaudentium]

Confectionary Affection

Title: Confectionary Affection Fandom: Final Fantasy Crisis Core Rating: T Pairing: AngealxOC Characters: Angeal Hewley, Zack Fair, Genesis Rhapsodos, Original Characters Links: A03, FF.net 

"Morning, Kali!" the bell above the bakery door jingled a girl's entry. The sun had only just risen, and the misty light was beginning to illuminate the darkened dining area. She turned on the lights and the cafe was brought to life.

The colorful pictures of flowers and fruit backed by a cheerful, pastel blue paint with fluffy white clouds adorned the walls; an attempt to help people forget about the metal jungle they lived in.

Another young woman was already present, working diligently in the kitchen, "Good morning, Anri!" Kali -a nickname for Kalika- called from the kitchen where she was just pulling a fresh batch of cupcakes out of the oven. The previous batch was still cooling on the counter and there was enough batter left for a half batch afterwards. Carefully pulling the red velvet cupcakes out of the tin, they were gently set on the wire cooling rack.

"It smells so good in here! I don't know how you can be so productive so early!" the cheery girl announced from behind the blue haired baker as she entered the small, but well equipped kitchen.

"Don't touch those scones!" Kalika warned her, turning sharply and brandishing the batter covered spatula as threateningly as she could.

The brown haired girl jumped backwards, hastily pulling her hand away from the blueberry scones that were cooled and ready to be set out in the display case. Her green eyes were open wide with shock and guilt at being caught red handed. "I wasn't!" she cried, a blush adorned her cheeks, "Stingy!" was the last thing she noted before walking in a huff back out to the dining area to bring the chairs down from the tables and open the register.

Chuckling, Kalika went back to filling the last of the cupcake tin with the batter, and put them into the preheated oven. Setting the timer for 20 minutes, she turned back and began to pipe icing onto the newly cooled cupcakes, brushing a wayward piece of periwinkle hair back behind her ear, "Once I finish these cupcakes, we'll have some breakfast before the cafe opens."

"Yay! That's why you're the best, Kali!"

She grinned, and focused on the swirls of cream cheese icing. They had to be perfect. The world fell away as the blue haired woman concentrated. Her hands worked deftly to gracefully swirl the icing around in a perfect circle. The smell of the sugar and the freshly baked cake lulled her into a peaceful haze of concentration, soon she was lost in her work.

Kalika swirled the icing onto the cupcake and then dusted with gold sprinkles before topping with a tempered chocolate swirl for decoration. The oven beeped, signalling the last batch of red velvet cupcakes were finished baking. Quickly switching gears, Kalika grabbed her oven gloves and pulled the cakes out of the oven. Like the previous batch, she carefully pulled them out of the tin before she set them on the newly vacant wire rack to cool.

The mini chocolate cakes were next as she switched piping bags to the one with strawberry icing and layered a generous amount over the top and sides before smoothing it out. She grabbed a third bag with a decorating tip attached and began to detail swirls and dots of vanilla. The cakes were finished with a large dollop of vanilla and a sliced strawberry spread in a fan shape squished into the icing.

Afterwards, the second batch of red velvet cupcakes were cool enough to be iced. The young woman treated them the same as the first, gracefully swirling the icing-

"KALI!"

She screamed and fisted her hands in shock, causing cream cheese icing to splatter all over her white apron and the cupcake she was currently icing, ruining it.

"WHAT?!" Kalika yelled, crimson eyes flashing with anger over being disturbed and simultaneously ruining the perfectly innocent cupcake before her.

"It's nearly opening time and we still haven't eaten the breakfast you promised me." Anri deadpanned, crossing her arms to glare more effectively.

The baker glanced at the clock which sure enough read 6:47, the cafe was due to open in less than 15 minutes; Anri had gotten here at 6:00am. Kalika had gotten lost in her decorating for over 45 minutes while her coworker had completed the rest of the opening duties.

"I uhh…" the silence hung in the air.

"So… since you forgot -again- we'll call it even if you give me that ruined cupcake and one of the blueberry scones, deal?" the Cheshire grin over Anri's normally innocent features was strangely fitting.

Sighing in defeat knowing she was right, Kalika handed her the splattered cupcake and one of the freshly glazed blueberry scones. She took the opportunity to grab one for herself before walking to the front of the house to make a nice cup of coffee to enjoy before the cafe opened for the morning rush.

Together, they sat at one of the tables and watched as the sun continued to rise and brighten the cafe further. Both girls sat in comfortable silence, at ease with each others' presence. Plus, once the cafe was open, silence and rest would become a distant memory, this was the calm before the storm.

The clock on the wall chimed 7:00am as Kalika sipped the last drop of her beverage. "Well, that's the end of our peace and quiet." getting up, she placed her empty cup behind the counter to wash later and went to unlock the door, officially opening the bakery and cafe, 'Confectionary Affection'.

Almost immediately customers came streaming in and with a merry, "Welcome" or "Good morning" over her shoulder, Kalika hurried into the back where the kitchen was. The sooner she was out of sight, the better.

Making sure the bandana covering her brightly colored hair was still securely in place, Kalika stepped into the safety of the back kitchen. Another day, another adventure. Rolling up her sleeves, she began to place each of the completed cupcakes on a tray and brought them out to the front.

Anri was busy chatting with customers, making coffees, and distributing pastries from the freshly stocked counter. The atmosphere was light and happy, people were laughing and enjoying themselves. Even those who were on their way to work seemed happy to be here, to enjoy the cheerful decorations, and a good cup of coffee. Possibly their only joy of the day.

"Wow… look at this place, who knew a cheesy place like this existed above the Plate?" a male voice mocked from the door above the cheerful din of the shop.

"Ugh, I know right? It makes my eyes hurt with all the color." an equally mocking voice replied. Together they laughed.

Kalika's eyes snapped up to the two men entering the cafe, on their backs were swords and under their arms were three eyed helmets.

"Excuse me" she called out as the cafe silenced, "there are no weapons permitted inside this cafe, please leave them outside or in the designated area beside the door." she gestured to the stands and wall racks for proper weapon storage.

The Shinra guards made sounds of disgust, "You do know that we're Shinra employees, right? This dingey, fake-ass place is only able to exist because of us!"

Kalika glowered, her crimson eyes flashing with hatred and resentment. "Those are the rules in my establishment, whether you're Shinra or not has no relevance in the matter. Weapons at the door, or leave, those are your choices."

The whole cafe was watching at this point, to see what would happen between the bakery owner and the two Shinra swordsmen. In times like this, Kalika was happy her eyes were such an unnerving color; as she stared down the two men, refusing to break eye contact, she could tell they were beginning to become uncomfortable with her gaze.

"Tch, fine, this place isn't worth it anyways." the first guard spat, turning on his heel to push past his buddy and make his rather over exaggerated, and disgraced exit. His buddy wasn't far behind.

The cafe door slammed and Kalika flinched at the sound. The entire cafe turned to face her, the silence was deafening, the whispers that started up afterwards even more so. A deep blush colored her face as the young woman hurried back through the swinging kitchen door.

"Venti double mocha frappuccino for Reika!" Anri called, breaking the silence as some sense of normality came back to the flow of the cafe.

"Did you know she had red eyes? How scary…" one such comment made it through the crack in the door.

Kalika fisted her hands over the decorating table, "Calm down, it's not worth it…" she hissed to herself. Don't they know that her eye color wasn't a choice? It wasn't fair to be judged on something she had no control over. Her hands relaxed as she took a deep breath. Life wasn't fair, there was no use getting upset about it. She smiled contentedly, at least not while there were cupcakes to decorate.

Grabbing one of the cupcakes, the blue haired woman got back to work, and soon the incident with the comment about her eyes was all but forgotten. The noise and the din of the busy cafe melted away until Kalika was once again lost in her own world.

Once the cupcakes were finished, she took out a ball of dough that had been proofing in the fridge overnight and after deflating it with a quick hit, she placed it into a lined loaf pan and set it in the oven to bake fully. Then she took out another ball of dough, and began to chop it into halves, and then quarters until she had eighths remaining in front of her. Lightly brushing them with some olive oil, she finished with a dusting of sesame and poppy seeds before putting them aside to await their turn in the oven.

The work continued with croissants, and biscuits until it was time to pull the fresh loaf out and place it to cool while the smaller buns took its place.

"Hey, Kali!" a cheery voice called and her concentration was broken. Glancing up, the blue haired woman saw Anri standing in the doorway with a cheery grin, "It's almost two, but the cafe has died down, I'm going to take a break and go grab some lunch, do you want anything?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you. I'll watch the front while you're gone." Kalika responded as she took off her apron that protected the black bandana around her chest and the blue button up shirt she left open.

"Okay, see you later! Don't scare anyone away while I'm gone!" the cheery girl called as the door jingled her escape.

As Kalika sat down on the bar stool behind the register, she noticed that her coworker had been right, the bustling crowd had all but disappeared. Only two tables were occupied; one with a solitary man reading the newspaper by the window and another with a group of girls giggling excitedly over their desserts and sugary coffees.

Taking a look at the desserts display, the young woman noted that they were beginning to run low on a few items and made a trip into the back to retrieve more from the fridge. The bell jingled as she returned to the front, "Welcome!" Kalika called out to the newcomers over her shoulder as she used her back to open the door separating the kitchen from the dining area.

"Woah! Look at these Angeal! They look so delicious!"

The young woman looked up to see a boy's face almost completely squished against the glass of her pastry display case, his breath was fogging up the glass as he ogled the wide variety of desserts held within.

'Puppy…' was the only thing she could think as she blinked in surprise.

"Zack, we don't have time for idle stops like this, we need to get back to headquarters." a deep commanding voice spoke slightly to her left and when she turned to see who it belonged to, Kalika dropped the tray she was holding which clattered noisily to the counter in front of her.

SOLDIER, First Class, Angeal Hewley.

She could feel the blood rush from her head leaving her slightly dizzy, as he turned his attention to her. His eyes, they were a bright piercing blue that could only come from Mako. She couldn't draw her gaze away. The world was drowned out by the sound of her own heartbeat. His mouth moved as his eyebrows angled downwards but everything was growing blurry and she was having trouble keeping balance.

Kalika's vision turned white as she fell to the side. Her mind knew she was falling, but her limbs refused to move. Wind whistled in her ears, somewhere in the distance there was an exclamation of some kind before she was cushioned by something soft. It smelled nice too, it reminded her of home, of greenery.

"Hey! What's the matter, are you okay?" a deep voice rumbled in the vague distance. Two fingers appeared under her neck against her pulse. With a jolt, Kalika came back to awareness as she stared into two glowing blue eyes framed by a wreath of raven black hair.

Angeal Hewley, SOLDIER, First Class.

He had caught her. She had fallen and he had caught her. A deep blush spread up her neck all the way to the tips of her ears.

"Hey Angeal, what happened?" A second head appeared from behind Angeal, more bright blue eyes and black spiky hair.

For a brief moment to address his companion, the First Class SOLDIER looked away, but before he could respond, the door jingled after someone's arrival. "Kali, I'm back! I also grabbed you something 'cause you probably haven't…" Anri trailed off when she noticed the situation.

"It's not what it looks like!" Kalika squeaked as she quickly freed herself from Angeal's grasp and took several wobbly steps away from him to lean against the bar stool she'd been occupying before.

There were several beats of confused silence between them before it was broken by the younger boy, "Angeal, you should be proud! She took one look at you and fainted, usually only Genesis gets that kind of reaction!" he was grinning ear to ear as Kalika turned even redder than before.

"Zack-!"

"-That's not what it was!" The First Class SOLDIER and the blue haired baker started at the same time, not caring about how it was rude -not to mention dangerous- it was to cut off this particular person, the young woman steamrolled through her sentence to clear her name "I fainted because i have a low blood sugar!"

"I knew it! You haven't eaten since before we opened! Jeez…" Anri cut before either of the men could speak up.

Three sets of eyes were on her all at once and she could feel the blood run from her face under all their combined stares. Each one had a different form of judgement from accusatory to confused concern.

"I'm sorry for the trouble, whatever you'd like to have, there's no charge." Kalika murmured as quickly as she could before making a hasty retreat into the back away from their prying eyes.

Voices called for her to stay, but she ignored them as she made her way to the back door to get some fresh air and solitude to sort her head out. How embarrassing! Sliding down the door, she put her head between her knees to hide the bright red blush that was rapidly heating her face and neck once again.

She'd fainted! Fainted! Right in front of Angeal Hewley of all people! Not only that, but then he'd caught her, was concerned for her and then the other one, Zack, thought she'd fainted because of an infatuation with him!

She knew who he was, of course she did! There wasn't a soul in Midgar who didn't know the three First Class SOLDIERs. They were practically celebrities, the poster boys for the Shinra SOLDIER program.

Quietly screaming under her breath, Kalika couldn't decide what was the most mortifying, the fainting, the concern, or the wrongful accusation.

A metallic squeak was the only warning she had before a bump to the young woman's back sent her sprawling forwards, landing on the dirty pavement. "I keep telling you to stop sitting directly behind the door, how many times do I have to plant you face first in the dirt before you'll realize it's a bad idea?" Anri scolded her.

"This time it feels appropriate. I wish I could become the dirt." the young woman spread her arms out to either side as if to embrace the ground, "Please swallow me, anything's better than going back in there."

The brunette scoffed, "You big baby, you're worrying about it too much, besides, everyone's left anyways."

"I'm still not going back in, please just let me wallow in peace for a little while longer."

"Nope! You need to get your butt back in there and eat the sandwich I had enough forethought to buy you."

As if in anticipation of receiving sustenance, the blue haired woman's stomach growled loudly. There was a long silence between them before Kalika relented, "Fine…"

Grudgingly she picked herself up off the ground and dusted the front of her clothes off as best she could, there were a few dirt smudges and blemishes, but those would be easily hidden by her apron. She turned back towards the door where Anri stood, one hand on her hip and the other on the door handle. Glowering half heartedly at her friend Kalika followed her back into the bakery.

As a force of habit, she began to make her way into the kitchen, but an arm blocked her, "Uh-uh, nope, you're going to sit outside and take a break to eat that sandwich like I said."

Blue eyebrows lowered over red eyes, "But I can eat just fine back here. Why do I need to be out front?"

Green eyes sparkled with an intention the young woman couldn't quite discern, "Because there's nowhere to sit back here, silly! This is to be your break! Don't worry, there's no one out there, and I closed us for a little while, so you don't have to worry about anyone else coming in while you're out there."

"I suppose that's fine then…"

With one last too-wide smile from the young girl, Kalika was pushed through the swinging doors into the main area of the cafe. Instantly her blood ran cold and her hair stood on end.

The cafe was indeed closed and everyone had left. Everyone except the two SOLDIERs.

Zack waved at her from one of the tables where he was happily munching on a blueberry scone with a red velvet cupcake sitting untouched on a plate. Angeal sat reclined in the chair across from his protege, one arm resting on the table and the other resting in his lap. A simple ceramic mug was placed in front of him, steam rose from the contents. A small coffee, Kalika guessed.

Turning back around, the young woman intended to make a hasty retreat back into the kitchen only to be confronted with a still grinning Anri. Suddenly everything made sense, "You lied to me." Kalika hissed as quietly as she could.

"Oh, I don't know about that, here! Don't forget this!" a sandwich was pushed into her hands and the blue haired woman's mouth dropped open. She had known that Kalika would try to make a break back into the kitchen and prepared for it.

Clearly she had underestimated this young girl's scheming abilities. She would have to be careful in the future.

"Now get out there! You look crazy right now. I'll stay back here and mind the rest of the blueberry scones." with that the door swung shut in her face and Kalika was left to face her fears.

Taking a deep breath, she turned around and made a direct path to the stool behind the register but was stopped when an excited voice broke the silence of the room, "Come sit with us Kalika! Take a break, get your strength up so the sight of Angeal doesn't-ow!" the older man in question had smacked him lightly with a fist. Likely to silence him quickly and effectively, Kalika was grateful before he said something that would embarrass everyone.

"That's enough out of you for now until you apologise." he stated firmly and the young boy looked up.

"Apologise?" his head cocked to the side in confusion.

"Puppy…" Kalika murmured under her breath before she could stop herself.

"Yes, you accused her of something that was not true and then took advantage of her hospitality. Now," Angeal pulled the younger man up by the scruff of his uniform and then forced him into a bow, "apologise and thank her for the sweets."

"I'm sorry I said you had fainted because of Angeal, it was insensitive of me. Thank you for your hospitality. The scone and the cupcake are delicious!" Zack announced formally and somewhat disjointedly, the juxtaposition was so great that Kalika was at a loss for what to say for several beats of silence.

"It's okay, no harm done. I'm glad you like the pastries. I make them all myself every morning." she smiled, genuinely pleased that he was enjoying her baking so much.

"You have true skill." Angeal stated, his compliment completely genuine, "Please join us. It's the least I can offer to make up for this one's poor behavior." he once again clapped a hand on Zack's shoulder.

To continue refusing their offer to join them at this point would be rude and with a small sigh, Kalika sat down in the empty chair at their table. This was beyond surreal, here she was having lunch with two members of SOLDIER, one of which was a First Class. Not only that but he was so nice and down to earth, nothing like the arrogance and pride she anticipated.

Once again, a blush threatened to make itself known on her face, and in an attempt to stave it off she took a larger-than-normal bite of her sandwich. It wasn't fair! How could someone be so good looking and so genuine at the same time.

"You said you make all these yourself? That's incredible! You must work really hard every day!" Zack exclaimed with a mouthful of food. Angeal frowned disapprovingly over the rim of his coffee cup at his young protege's lack of manners.

Kalika smiled despite the food in her mouth and quickly swallowed. "I really couldn't do it without Anri to help me. She works really hard as well to be responsible for the front area here, I just wish I could hire someone to help her." the young woman sighed as she took a much smaller bite of her food this time.

"You are the manager, then?" Angeal asked to keep the conversation going.

"The owner," she corrected him, "this is my cafe, I built it up from nothing with the money my parents left me after their death. It's always been my dream to own and run a bakery. It's hard work every day for sure, but I couldn't be happier to do it." Kalika grinned as she looked back at her two companions

Like this, without anyone else, the world was falling away. There was no Shinra, no SOLDIER, no troubles at all. It was like three equal people, enjoying each other's company. The flowery scenery and blue sky depicted on the walls gave the open feeling they were no longer in the metal Midgar but somewhere far away.

"I'm sure your parents are very proud you are following your dreams." Angeal stated with an underlying air of respect. The young woman looked up, meeting his glowing blue gaze with her crimson.

"I can only hope that they would be proud of my accomplishments, but even if they're not, I am. This place brings happiness to many people every day, including myself, and I couldn't ask for more." Glancing at the clock on the wall, she noted that it was getting late. "Although I should get back to work now, we'll have to reopen in soon for the evening crowd."

"We also need to return to headquarters, Zack make sure not to leave a mess, we've already taken advantage of their hospitality enough." Angeal ordered and just like that the illusion was shattered. Shinra exists, they were both prominent members of SOLDIER and she was naught but a common baker. The gap between them was too wide to even consider building a bridge.

The young boy, in haste to finish his cupcake, tilted his head back and dropped the remaining third into his mouth. Kalika had to fight the smile that threatened the corners of her mouth while Angeal could only look disappointed.

"It'sh re'lly gud. Th'nk you!" he said through his mouthful of cupcake which Kalika was somehow able to translate to "it's really good. Thank you". The breach of etiquette was the final straw for Angeal who grabbed the young boy by the scruff of his uniform and dragged him around the table towards the door.

It was at that moment that Kalika saw the swords that occupied the racks she'd had specifically installed to hold weapons safely. Two were typical SOLDIER swords, but the third was a large buster sword. It was sharpened on only one side and had an intricate gold hilt. Angeal attached it and one of the standard swords to his back.

"Wait!" Anri called from the back as she burst through the swinging doors, a wrapped package in her hands. "Take these too, make sure to share them and maybe mention our name for us, kay?" she winked and held out the wrapped box.

Angeal looked unsure, but Zack was all too eager to accept the package, "You bet! We're going to tell everyone we know about this place! Right, Angeal?"

"It would be dishonorable not to do so." The older man turned back to the blue haired woman and offered a small bow, "Thank you for your hospitality, it will not be forgotten."

Kalika smiled brightly, "Anytime."

As the SOLDIERs exited, Kalika watched them leave. She wondered vaguely if she'd ever see them again but as the door shut and they disappeared from view, any fantasies she'd entertained of speaking with them again evaporated. Soon today would fall into happy memory that she would carefully lock away and only bring out to admire every so often.

Confectionary affection indeed.

[lolabean1998]

This Better Work Part 7

Sweet Pea X OC

Summery; Hey guys, not sure how well this is going to go but I originally put it on Wattpad so its way long, but hopefully its not horrendous. Let me know what you think! So, it follows the story line kind of, it’s not exact but I have tried and it follows my OC Ali as she navigates through the hell that is Riverdale. Whilst struggling with financial, social and romantic difficulties, she has the added pressure of keeping up with school work and bonus of being thrown into the frightening world of the criminal underground.

Side Note; None of the gifs or pictures I use are mine, I’m not talented or smart enough to even begin an attempt at making my own. Thank you to those who have such abilities and if you don’t want me using them then please let me know so I can remove them for you. 

Word Count; 

"Hey Ali! Ali Cat! Why the hell are you siding with the Southside scumbags?" Reggie bellowed down the corridor at Ali as she threw her unneeded Chemistry and Geography books in her locker. 

"Really Reggie?" She questioned sternly, slamming her locker and spinning to face the jumped-up Bulldog. Being met by the whole squad, her arms folded as her eyebrows raised in amusement. 

"Are you serious? You got the whole damn squad out just to confront me about a HOODIE? A FUCKING HOODIE REGINALD? I'm not taking anyone’s side. I'm just trying to keep the peace. Something you clearly aren't capable of!" Ali bellowed. How dare he challenge me! 

"You need to get your affairs in order and get your head out of your arse, IT'S NOT A HAT!" Ali warned before slamming past him cutting through the see of Jocks. 

"I'm not the one wearing their clothes. That hoodie warm is it? Looks more like a snake skin if you ask me." He spat stopping Ali dead in her tracks. Her bag dropping to the ground as the last string of her temper snapped. She spun quickly on her heels storming back down the corridor towards Reggie. Her hand reached out grabbing his throat. Slamming him against the lockers. 

"Yes. Its very warm. But so is the River Vixens t-shirt underneath." Ali growled through gritted teeth. Her faces inches from his. 

"I live on the border so I'm neither one nor the other. I'm Both! Remember that before you open your mouth next time." Ali snarled. Her fingers curling round Reggies throat increasing the fear and disgust in his eyes. 

However, this didn't last long. A pair of strong arms wrapped around Ali's waist heaving her up and pulling her away from Reggie. 

"Settle down Ali Cat you nearly got yourself expelled." Jughead cautioned as he placed her on one of the sofas in the common room. All eyes on her. Betty and Toni arrived seconds later carrying Ali's bag. 

"Damn girl that was bad ass!" Toni exclaimed with an impressed smirk as she slumped besides Ali on the sofa. Ignoring the warning glare Jughead shot her.

“Don’t encourage her.” Jughead groaned.

"I leave you alone for one minute and THIS is what you do?" Ali smirked handing Sweet Pea a beer before kneeling beside him to look at the boiler he had just stripped. He looked over at her with a boyish grin plastered across his face, before taking a large swig of his drink. Turning back to the boiler pieces scattered in front of them.

"I had to see what was broken. I know where it all goes. I'm not an idiot!" Sweet Pea replied nonchalantly, a cocky twinkle in his eyes. 

"Besides who are you to judge me? I'm not the one that nearly got myself kicked out for standing up for a bunch of actual gang members." He smirked shoving Ali's arm lightly. He loved spending the weekends helping her around the garage and fixing up her old run-down house. She made him laugh and he swore whenever he was around her, he felt as if his luck would change forever. But that was him. He knew there was no way she would feel the same way. They were friends. End of.

"You too good to say gangsters now?" Ali teased, her usually bright smile was brighter than ever and this time, it was real. 

"You know you've taken this apart only to find the whole damn thing needs replacing. Right?" She asked after a moments glance over the corroded parts.

"Yeah I know." Sweet Pea sighed. Knowing full well that this meant Ali and her family going without heating. 

"I'll think of something Ali Cat. Hey if worse comes to worst my caravan is always warm and I have room for three more." He smiled sympathetically. His words making Ali chuckle for a moment before she fell silent. Her eyes trained on the parts in front of her as if they would run away if she blinked. 

"Hey, Princess. It's going to be ok." Sweet Pea soothed, turning Ali's face to look directly at him. 

Her eyes welled with tears. For the first time ever, her guard was down. Her walls had fallen. There was no longer the endless reals of hope and joy that once resided in her eyes. Her bright, contagious smile had faded and all that was left was the fear and misery she had always hidden so well. Sweet Pea's heart broke at the sight of her feeling so vulnerable. Before he knew it he had wrapped her up in an enormous, warm bear hug. His chin resting on top of her head. His hand wrapped in her hair whilst the other pulled her deeper into the hug. He could feel the tears soaking through his t-shirt and onto his skin. They sat there for a moment. But when Ali pulled away her bright shining smile was back, her eyes filled with false happiness as she looked up at him.

"With all do respect Sweet Pea. You barely fit in that caravan. How would we ever fit around your giant ass." She replied, the thick sassy sarcasm flooding her voice like nothing had happened. Ali felt a rogue tear fall down her rosy cheek. Swiping it away with her finger tips, staring at it a moment before flicking it away. 

"Ugh gross I'm leaking. Think its time for my M.O.T." She complained. 

"Want a cup of tea?" She offered making her way to the kitchen before Sweet Pea had a chance to reply. 

Good job Ali. Cry in front of everyone like a fucking wimp. Good one dick head. Ali scolded herself, pottering around the kitchen for Tea and mugs.

"You know you don't have to be like that Ali. It's ok to cry." Sweet Pea soothed from the doorway.

"Why because I'm a girl? Because that's what girls do? I have nothing to be sad about. I have a roof over my head, amazing friends, a loving family and I'm a jack of all trades." Ali snapped. Who was he to say she was allowed to cry? 

"My tears are pointless and selfish. There are people in the world with far less than me so why should I allow myself to cry?" She continued, her words taking Sweet Pea back a step. 

"Ali I was just trying to help. No one, male or female should have to be an emotionless robot. Its ok to feel." He reasoned, trying to defuse the situation.

"So, NOW I’m an emotionless robot. Oh gee thanks Sweet Pea. I feel much better now!" Ali thundered, her eyes flooding with red mist as she glared aggressively at Sweet Pea. 

"You should go." She growled.

"I was just trying to help! You were sad so I tried to comfort you! How am I the bad guy?" Sweet Pea retaliated. Arms flailing angrily as he spoke. But Ali was a stone-cold bitch, it would take more than that to persuade her.

"I DIDN'T FUCKING ASK FOR YOUR HELP THOUGH DID I SWEET PEA?! I TOLD YOU BEFORE I DIDN’T NEED A KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOUR THEN AND I SURE AS HELL DON’T NEED ONE NOW SO GET THE FUCK OUT! DON’T STAY WHERE YOU CLEARLY AREN’T WANTED!" Ali roared, her vocal cords screaming at her in pain with every syllable.

"Wow." Sweet Pea stepped back, his word quiet and upset. His heart crumbling to the floor at her last words. 

"You're right. I don’t know why I bothered helping such a pompous, stuck up Northsider anyway." He snapped before spinning sharply on his heels and strutting out the house. Slamming the front door in frustration as he went.

"I mean, what a wanker! Can you believe the balls on that over-sized shoe lace?!" Ali ranted. She had been ranting to Cheryl for the last hour whilst they all made cookies for the local homeless shelter. 

"I told you Ali. Serpents are the scourge of Riverdale." Cheryl stated putting the last batch of cookies in the oven.

"Oh yeah? That including Topaz?" Ali smirked raising an inquisitive eyebrow. She had seen the two girls eyeing each other up all week at school. 

"Pffft please. She's Queen of the hobos". Cheryl snorted turning her face away from Ali so she wouldn't see how badly she was lying.

"Really? That's not what your eyes have been saying." Ali teased knowing full well what was going on in her best friends head. "You've been giving her your come to bed eyes all week." 

Ali's phone went off before she had a chance to reply. The song Sharp-dressed Man playing loudly from her jet black, well armoured Iphone. 

"What the fuck does Hiram Lodge want?" Ali mumbled wiping her hands before picking up her phone. 

"Hello Mr. Lodge, how can I help?" She answered politely.

"Ah Ali. I was wondering if you could do me a small favour? Unfortunately, I cant ask anyone else to do it as I cant have anyone catching word of this. Is that understood?" He asked carefully. He was up to something and since Ali needed the money, he knew she'd do it no questions asked.

"Of-course Mr. Lodge. I'll come round later to discuss this in further detail. Shall we say 6pm at the Pembroke?" Ali replied. It wasn’t the first time she'd done something under the radar like this for the Lodges. She knew the drill. 

"Perfect. I'll see you then. Oh and Ali, it is my understanding that you are in need of a new boiler. Is that correct?" He quickly stopped her before she hung up.

"Um. Yes Mr. Lodge, may I ask why?" Ali questioned curiously. "I'm sending a boiler round tomorrow. Someone will be there to fit it in at 11 o’clock sharp." He answered happily before hanging up.

"What was that all about?" Cheryl pondered, watching Ali jot something down on her phone.

"Hiram Lodge has a job for me and he's paying me with a boiler." Ali puzzled staring at her phone.

"That's not weird at all." Cheryl commented just as her phone began buzzing like crazy. 

"Oh my god what is with people today." She muttered grabbing her phone. "Yes, dear cousin." 

"Cheryl hi, I was wondering if you and Ali fancied going dancing at the White Wyrm tonight? I don’t want to go on my own." Betty responded sheepishly.

"Ali, want to go out dancing at the Wyrm tonight? Betty has something going on there." Cheryl muttered to Ali, her phone pressed to her chest muffling their voices. 

"Yeah I'm down providing we're drinking. I should be finished by about 7 so I'll come back here, and we can all get ready and eat at mine." Ali agreed, she needed a release.

"Be at Ali's for 7 we can get ready here. Toodles." Cheryl instructed before hanging up. 

"Ready to get the last batch of cookies out and hit the road?" She asked, skipping over to the oven when Ali nodded, her eyebrows still knitted in concern. 

"I'll grab the containers for them." Ali muttered disappearing to the storage room by the bathroom.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Solace-Jim Mason series

Chapter 7

A/N: A shit ton happens in this chapter

Warnings: making out, talk of suicide, underaged drinking, hints to drug use, the usual

Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: Sonny’s dad kind of reached maximum douche

“Sonny? Jim? Wake up, guys.” Medina softly shook my shoulder. I groaned, bringing my hand up to rub my eyes. She was standing over Jim’s bed trying to wake us up.

“Hi, Medina.” I brushed my hair back out of my face. I could feel someone behind me, their arms locked around my stomach. I glanced over my shoulder to see Jim was fast asleep. I smiled softly at him. He looked so peaceful.

“Hey, I just wanted to wake you guys up before I go.” Medina said. “I’ve been keeping mom away but I can’t when I’m gone.”

“Okay. Thanks, Medina.” I gave her a little smile and watched as she left.

The door softly closed behind her. I turned in Jim’s arms, struggling just a little as his grip on me tightened when I moved. I brushed my fingers over his brown hair and them along his jaw. He hummed softly.

“Jim? I need to go home.” I told him. My fingers left his cheek to trail down the side of his neck. I didn’t remember actually falling asleep last night. We were up until four in the morning just talking. “Jim? James?”

He raised his brows and turned his head just slightly towards me. I giggled softly.

“Emerson.” He hummed, moving his head so that he rested his chin on my shoulder.

“I need to go home.”

He groaned loudly and frowned. His beautiful blue eyes opened to meet mine.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” I leaned forward to kiss his forehead.

***

As Jim pulled up to the curb outside of my house, the sight of three police cruisers in the driveway made my stomach drop. The last time there had been that many cops at my house, Summer had died.

Jim’s hand gave my knee one firm squeeze before he let me go. My heart began to hammer inside my chest as my hand fumbled for the handle. He followed me up the stone pathway towards the front door.

Dad stepped out first then two cops behind him.

“That’s him.” Dad pointed behind me. “He took my daughter.”

I furrowed my eyebrows together as I stared at my father in absolute horror. What was he talking about? I looked over my shoulder to Jim, who was just as confused as me.

“What are you talking about, dad?” I asked him. One of the cops began to move towards Jim but I stepped in his way, shaking my head furiously. “No, no, no, no! I-I-I left with him! I went with him! I wanted to!”

As the cop came closer, I tried to stop him. Before I could put my hands on him, Reese was there to stop me. His arms wrapped around my waist.

“Stop it!” I cried out, watching helplessly as the cop slapped cuffs on to Jim’s wrists. “Leave him alone! He didn’t do anything!”

Our eyes met and my lips parted. I couldn’t breathe.

“I’m so sorry.” I whispered.

As he pushed into the back of a cruiser, Reese finally let me go from his vice grip. I stepped away from him and towards the cruiser. My hands came up to run through my hair. I pulled the long strands. My throat itched and my nose burned but I wasn’t ready to cry. I was angry.

My arms fell to my sides as I spun around to face my father. He stood on the porch of our house. Behind him in the doorway was Steph. Reese was a few feet away from me. Asher and Jackson lingered near the bottom of the porch steps. Miles was in the window of the living room.

“Why would you do that?” I spoke through my teeth as I moved towards dad. “Why would you do that!” My voice went up three octaves as tears of rage and guilt filled my eyes.

Jim was being arrested because of me. What if they found something in his system? What if he went to jail?

I stomped up the stairs and pushed dad. He stepped back, locking his jaw tightly.

“How could you!” I screamed, not caring who in Palos Verdes could hear me. “Jim is the only good thing that’s happened to me in a long time! Why can’t you just let me be happy?”

“You’re tearing your future apart, Sonny. I won’t allow you to do that.”

I stared up at him, wondering how the man I looked up to and admired so much had turned into who I saw.

“I should’ve died with Summer.” I murmured quietly, wiping my nose on the back of my hand. I pushed past him. Steph reach out to put her hand on my arm but I shook my head. I wasn’t in the mood to be consoled.

***

Ten minutes later, I was upstairs in my room. I didn’t bother to open the balcony doors and go outside to smoke. I sat in the floor against my bed to do so.

Jim probably hated me by now. My father was a complete dick to him from start to finish. He didn’t even give Jim a chance. It wouldn’t surprise me if he never wanted to talk to me again.

I was pulled from my thoughts by shouting coming from downstairs.

“Don’t you fucking get it?” That was Reese.

“I’ve had enough of you acting like a child, Reese. You’ve been taking her side for everything-,”

“We are going to lose her, dad!” Reese shouted. I’d never heard him sound so angry, so furious. He was always the one to keep his cool and stay calm. He never lost his temper. “She’s not going to run away with Jim, if that’s what you’re scared of! She’s going to kill herself! Don’t you fucking get it? You’re too busy trying to control her, to control her future because you’re afraid something’s going to happen to her but damn it, dad! You’re the reason she’s going to die!” He was crying by now. I could hear it in his voice. He sounded broken and worn.

I closed my eyes tightly, my head falling as I brought my hand up to rub my forehead. How long had he known? How long had he been keeping from me that he knew?

“I told you to keep her in therapy longer than that month after we lost Summer. I stayed quiet when you took her out. That’s when I stepped up and started being the brother she needed. But I-I can only do so much. I saw the way the accident messed her up, dad. Don’t you see it too?”

There was silence.

“And-And then a month ago, she changed even more.”

I inhaled sharply. I put the cigarette into an empty bottle and closed it before sitting it down beside me.

“She’s having dreams, she’s not sleeping, but when she is sleeping, she’s only falling asleep down here on the couch or with me or Miles.” Reese paused. “I-I-I don’t know what-I don’t know what happened to her but I think she’s doing better these last few days because of Jim. And dad, I don’t know what you have against him, but it’s a load of B.S. He’s a cool kid and he’s nice, and he’s good to Sonny. He makes her smile and damn it, I miss her smile.”

There was movement downstairs as Reese fell silent. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.

“Where are you going, Ash?” Steph asked softly.

“To get that kid out of the trouble dad got him in. He doesn’t deserve any of it.”

“How are you going to do that?” Miles asked.

“’ll think of something.”

“Go see if Sonny wants to go with you.” Steph suggested. I tightened my grip on my legs and tucked my nose into my knees.

“I’ll go.” Reese offered.

I closed my eyes and listened to him come up the stairs and to my room. He knocked softly. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and lifted my head from my knees, clearing my throat.

“Sonny? It’s me.”

“Come in, Reese.” My voice was raspy. He cracked the door and stuck his head in. “I don’t want to go.”

“You don’t?” He furrowed his brows together. I shook my head, my face crinkling up as a fresh batch of tears came to my eyes. “Why not?” Reese moved into my room, closing the door behind himself. He came to sit next to me on the floor, putting one arm around my shoulders.

“He hates me.”

“Jim?”

I nodded my head, putting my forehead against my knees.

“He doesn’t hate you, Sonny.”

“Dad had him arrested for some bullshit thing he didn’t do. He-He could get in trouble, Reese. He’s going to hate me.”

“Jim’s not that kind of guy, Sonny.”

“How do you know?” I wiped my cheeks, lifting my head to look at him.

“Because he likes you, that’s why.” Reese rolled his eyes. He watched me for a few moments before he pulled his arm from around me and put his hands in his lap. “Did you hear everything else I said?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, biting my bottom lip for a moment. “How long have you known?”

“Known what?”

“That I thought about killing myself.”

His eyes fell to his hands. He stayed quiet for a few moments. 

“Um, it was just.... it was this look in your eyes. You were so full of life before the accident. You smiled all the time and you laughed. I don’t want to say light because that makes it all sound cheesy as shit. I guess the best way to put it is there was a will in your eyes. A want to do things, a drive.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, shaking his head. “That went away. You started losing interest in everything. You’ve been painting less and less. I don’t find you with paint in your hair or on your cheeks or on your hands like I used to. Mom’s even asked a few times if you still like to do that.”

“I stopped for a while.” I stood up and crossed my room. I disappeared into my closer for a moment. Hidden in the back underneath a white sheet was a four foot tall by three foot wide canvas. I pulled it out and revealed what I had painted to Reese. “This is the first thing I did in months. It took me three days because I wanted to get all the colors right.” 

Reese’s face lit up, a little smile crossing his lips as he took in the artwork. I moved so I could look at it too. It was of Jim. I had done finished it just yesterday. He was looking off to the left, his lips parted as he smiled just slightly to reveal his perfectly white teeth. His always unruly brunet hair blew with the wind that I imagined to be blowing. A few pieces fell across his forehead. 

“Wow. You are obsessed.” 

I rolled my eyes at him, though hearing him tease me made me feel better. I covered the work back up and returned it to the safety of my closest.

“Um, I-I told you that if you lied to dad for me, I’d tell you about the party five weeks ago.” I rubbed my palms on my jean-clad thighs. I sat on the edge of my bed instead of next to him in the floor where I had been.

“You don’t have to do that right now, Sonny.”

“But you deserve to know. I told you I would.” I closed my eyes and swallowed the lump in my throat. Here goes nothing. 

***

Two Weeks Later

“Cereal for dinner?” Reese raised his brows as he eyed what I was eating.

“I didn’t feel like cooking, and Steph and dad are talking in dad’s office.”

“I’ll run out and get something.” He offered. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Pad thai.” I answered with a grin as I looked up at him. 

“Good, cause that’s what I want too. I’ll go see what everyone else wants before I do.”

I watched him leave the kitchen before returning my attention back to my cereal. I could hear Steph and dad talking in his office. They weren’t yelling, but they weren’t quiet either.

“She’s hanging out with her friends, Greg. What the hell do you want from her?”

“Oh believe me, I’ve got credit card bills to let me know. I just wish she wasn’t hanging out with Lindsay’s friends.”

“Lindsay is her friend, Greg. She’s been Sonny’s friend since we moved here.”

“Lindsay’s fine, but the girls she hangs out with aren’t who I want Sonny around.”

I shook my head, locking my jaw tightly. 

It had been two weeks since my father had Jim Mason arrested. Jackson and Asher went down to the police station he was at and somehow got him released. Jackson was a lawyer so he had to know what he was doing. I made sure to thank them and give them hugs before they went back to Portland and New York.

It had also been two weeks since I heard from the boy I saved on the beach. I texted him the morning after the incident when I knew he wasn’t still in police custody. I couldn’t think of anything other than to tell him I was sorry. He didn’t answer me back, but I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want anything to do with a girl whose father tried to have me arrested on kidnapping charges. 

It had been two weeks since I looked or even spoke to my father. I wasn’t going to punish the rest of the family and be an asshole towards all of them, so even when we had family dinners, I’d join. I’d make conversation with Steph, Miles, and Reese. But I wouldn’t talk to my father. I wanted him to know just how furious I was with him and how he acted. I couldn’t believe he’d act that way. 

In retaliation to his behavior and his actions, I’d decided to take Lindsay and a few of her friends that I considered friends shopping using my credit card funded by dad himself. 

My phone buzzed on the island counter. It was Lindsay.

7:23p.m. From: Lindsay Grace <”There’s a party down at JJ Perez’s house tonight. Do you wanna go with me?”>

I put my spoon down, a smile forming on my lips. I bought a new outfit one of the times we went shopping. This would be my chance to try it out. 

7:25p.m. To: Lindsay Grace <”Absolutely. What time?”

***

Lindsay’s fingers were laced tightly in mine to ensure that we wouldn’t lose each other in the tight crowd that took over JJ Perez’s house. JJ was a grade above me in school. He graduated with Lindsay. He was super cool and known for throwing amazing parties. I’d only ever been to one of his parties-that was the first time I tried cocaine.

“I want to find Chet!” Lindsay called over her shoulder. I frowned. Chet was her sleeping buddy. I wasn’t a fan of him but only for selfish reasons. I liked her better with my brother.

“Why?”

Lindsay didn’t answer me. 

The bass was so loud that it vibrated my chest. The lighting was dark but there were colorful strobe lights flashing from somewhere in the room. There was a haze beginning to fill the living room, a tell-tale sign that someone was smoking. It smelled like a joint. 

Lindsay found Chet, who was with another group of guys. They eyed me up as I straightened my shirt. Squeezing through the crowd had messed it up. I was dressed in a pair of faded high-waisted skinny jeans with a black belt fastened securely around my waist. Tucked into the jeans was a sheer see-through black top with black stars here and there. Underneath the top, my black triangle bra could be seen. My red hair was left in loose waves that cascaded down my back.

I didn’t like the way Chet’s friends were looking at me. They were whispering to each other like I didn’t see them. 

“I’m going to go get a drink, Linds.” I told him, putting my hand on her arm. She nodded her head then returned to her conversation with Chet. 

I started making my way towards the kitchen, slipping between grinding bodies and wondering hands. 

The counters in the kitchen were filled with numerous different kinds of alcohols, all with different sizes, different labels, and different tastes. I slipped by a couple making out against the counter by the dozen or so bottles of Heineken and picked up a red solo cup from the stack. I decided to go with rum and coke. It was a basic mix I knew I liked. 

I took my drink and started to make my way back towards where I had left Lindsay. The only problem was she wasn’t there. I frowned and let out a sigh. She must’ve gone somewhere with Chet already. 

“Shit.” I took a few sips of my drink.

“Sonny?” 

I turned around to see Jim Mason standing at the bottom of the stairs. A little smile crossed my lips. I opened my mouth to say something when a dark haired girl threw her arm around his shoulders, nearly knocking him off balance. He looked at her and smiled softly, his arm slipping around her waist. I looked away as they kissed. The smile on my lips immediately disappeared. 

“Who is this, Jimmy?” She gestured to me with the beer in her hand. 

“Um, this is.... this is, uh, um....” He seemed at a loss for words.

I forced a smile on my lips, though something in my chest began to ache. 

“I’m nobody.” I told her, meeting Jim’s gaze one last time. I turned back to the large crowd and started to make my way back to the kitchen. My heart was racing and my chest burned. Rejection was painful and tasted bitter. 

I finished off the last of my coke and rum. 

“Whoa, sweetheart.” A guy moved towards me, holding a beer in his hand. “You look like you’re having a rough night.”

“More like a rough life.” 

“Do you want another drink? Cause I could use another beer.”

I looked him over. He was tall and seemed firmly built. His shoulders were broad and his face was cute. His dark hair was styled perfectly. He was the jock type. He wasn’t someone I’d willingly put myself in a relationship with, but tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight, I wanted to forget about my problems.

“I’d like that.” I put on a smile. He took my cup from me and led me to the kitchen. 

***

“What’s your name?” He glanced over to me as he poured whiskey and sprite into my cup. His ratios were a lot different than what mine had been. While I added a lot more coke than rum, he added more whiskey than sprite. 

“Sonny.” I twirled a piece of red hair between my fingers. 

“That’s cute. I’m Jake.”

Jake. Of course his name was Jake. 

“Was there a reason you were chugging whatever you had earlier, Sonny?” He handed me my drink and then turned to face me. I held his gaze for a few moments before deciding that it would be best to get at least a little more than tipsy. I needed to let loose. I needed to have fun tonight. 

I took a sip of the drink and hissed at the burn. 

“You don’t want to hear about my problems, babe.” I shook my head. I put my drink down for a second to jump up on to the counter. 

“I’m just curious why a pretty girl like you was all alone in a place like this.”

I wanted to laugh at him. 

“I have daddy issues.” I picked up my cup to take another sip. I liked the burn of the drink.

“That’s hot.” Jake was blunt. He watched me take a drink of the alcohol. His eyes trailed down to my chest for a moment. He took his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Oh yeah. Definitely. He’s driving me fucking insane.” I raked my hair over one shoulder. Feeling someone’s eyes on me, other than Jake’s, I looked over my shoulder to peek out into the living room. Jim was with the dark haired girl. He wasn’t looking at me when I looked at him, but I was positive he had been looking at me. 

He had someone else, someone who’s dad wouldn’t get him arrested. Fuck it.

I turned my attention back to Jake, giving him a little smile. I downed the rest of my drink, knowing very well it wasn’t lady-like of me, and put the empty cup aside.

“You know what, Jake? I think you are just the guy I’ve been looking for.” I poked his chest. Underneath the thin black t-shirt he wore I could feel muscle. Hmm. Maybe he would be fun. 

“Oh, really?” He quirked a brow up, stepping a little closer to me so that he could put a hand on my knee. 

“Really.” I nodded my head. He brought his hand up to my cheek and pulled me in for a kiss. His lips were rough and he tasted like the beer he was drinking. He came to stand between my knees, his hands slipping around my hips to pull me closer to the edge of the counter. I brought one knee up just a little, wrapping my leg around his waist. My fingers gripping his biceps. 

“Good luck with that one, Jakey-boy.” 

I pulled away from Jake upon hearing Will Talbot’s voice. I stiffened up, my grip on Jake’s arm tightened. Jake kept one hand secure on my hip while he reached over to bump his fist against Will’s. 

“You know her, Will?” 

“Oh yeah. Me and Sonny are good friends, aren’t we, babe?” Will winked at me. I diverted my eyes away from him, focusing instead on Jake’s chest. 

Will started to get himself a drink a few feet away from us. Jake didn’t seem to mind so he started to kiss my neck. I closed my eyes, trying to focus everything I could on Jake. Jake was the one touching me. Jake was the one kissing me. It wasn’t Will. 

My stomach churned. The walls were closing in. My heart was thumping in my chest. 

“I-I can’t do this, Jake.” I shook my head, pushing him away. I don’t think he heard me over the music. “Jake, stop it!” I raised my voice, giving him a firm shove. He stumbled back, hitting the counter across from me. 

I jumped down from the counter and hastily made my way towards the front of the house. I pushed through the crowd, not caring who I elbowed or shoved out of my way. 

The night air was warm and welcoming. For once, the salty scent that filled the air even outside of Palos Verdes was welcoming. My eyes flickered around the front lawn. There were a few people scattered through out the yard but not many. 

My feet took me to the center of the perfectly cut grass. I hunched over with my hands on my knees. My eyes closed tightly as I tried to think of anything other than Will Talbot. The next best thing was Jim and the girl with him. 

“Damn it.” I cursed, exhaling as I pushed myself off of my knees. I brushed my fingers through my hair and moved towards the sidewalk. So much for a fun night. I pulled my phone out to text Lindsay and let her know I was walking home. 

“Sonny!”

I turned upon hearing my name. Jim was jogging across the yard. 

“Hey, Jim.” I moved to continue walking.

“Where-Where are you going?” He started to walk beside me. 

“Home.”

“Will Talbot’s back there. That’s why I came to check on you. Make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine, Jim.” I gave him a tight smile. “Go on back to your girlfriend. I’m sure she’s missing you.”

“Heather? She’s not my girlfriend.” He shook his head, his blue eyes growing wide for a moment. “I, um, I’m sorry I never texted you back, Sonny.” 

I came to a stop and turned to face him. All of the emotions running through my veins right now were toxic.

“Jim, it’s okay.” I assured him. “Don’t worry about it. I get it completely. I wouldn’t want to hang around someone like me either.”

“Sonny, that’s not.... that’s not what happened.” Jim furrowed his eyebrows together. “It’s been a rough two weeks for me. Mom’s been rough. I-I used coke two days after I last saw you and I couldn’t-I couldn’t bring myself to come around. I didn’t want to get you in trouble either. Your dad really doesn’t like me.”

“Right now, I really don’t like my dad.”

Something moving behind Jim caught my eye. It was Will. He lingered in the doorway of the house, watching me with darkened eyes.

"Don't apologize, Jim." My attention flickered back to the brunet in front of me. "You did nothing wrong."

I turned to leave again but his hand wrapped around my wrist. I was pulled back around to face him, my hands finding his chest to stop us from colliding. Before I could say anything, my lips met his. It didn't last long. He pulled away, resting out foreheads together.

"I missed you." He admitted, his voice airy and almost pained.

"Missed you too." I bit my bottom lip. I opened my eyes to meet his. He was smiling down at me. A little giggle left my lips. His beautiful blue irises seemed to be bigger than natural. His pupils were pinpoint small but that detail was shaken off in that moment in time. I missed those eyes. "Come on. I don't want to be here."

***

After walking for nearly thirty minutes of walking in complete silence, we got to Jim's house. Adrian was over, secretly keeping Medina company while their mother watched television in the living room. I stayed outside so Jim could get a blanket.

We took the blanket and wet down to the beach to lay on the sand.

I faced Jim on my side, one arm tucked under my head while my opposite was stretched out across his stomach.

"Who was she?" I asked softly, curious about the Heather girl he was with at the party. I felt tingly. I knew the two drinks I had chugged earlier were coursing through my veins. I felt good.

"Who?" He turned his head to me.

"Heather."

"Just.... Just someone." He softly shrugged his shoulders. "She's kept me busy for a while."

"She's not your girlfriend?"

"No." He chuckled just slightly. "What about Jake Davenport? Is he your boyfriend?"

"No." I shook my head, turning my attention to the sky. "I just wanted to get laid." The bluntness of my words surprised me but there was no taking them back now.

"Classy."

"Yeah, I know." I looked back to Jim. He was gazing at me. I reached out to brush my fingers through his hair. "I didn't know it was real."

"What?"

I bit my bottom lip. The part of my brain that was sober was telling me to shut up. I was going to say something that I regretted. But that was a small part of me. The majority of my brain was being ran by the rum and coke slash whiskey and sprite mixed drinks I had earlier.

"You know in movies or in books where people talk about how someone can comfort them just by being there? They can.... They can bring them solace?" My eyes flickered down to his pink lips. "I think you're my solace, Jim Mason."

He was silent for a few moments, his mouth falling open to say something but no words came out. I took the chance to kiss him. I got up on my hands and knees and straddled his waist, one hand supporting my weight by his head while the other held my hair back. I leaned down and sealed my lips to his.

His hands found my thighs, fingertips digging into my impossibly tight jeans. This kiss was unlike any other one we had shared. This one was passionate and maybe even a little lustful. Our teeth bumped together. The kiss was a little messy but I didn't mind.

My phone vibrated in the back pocket of my jeans, causing me to groan softly. His lips left mine and trailed down my jaw.

"Answer it." He breathed against my skin. His teeth sunk into my jaw. A whiney moan left my lips. My hips grinded down on his, rubbing my jean-clad crotch to his. "Shit." He cursed.

"Two can play at that game, sweetheart." I whispered as I pulled away from him and sat up. Still straddling his waist, I reached into my back pocket to pull out my phone. My eyes stayed locked on Jim's. His fingers slipped underneath my sheer top. Lindsay was calling me. "Hey, Lindsay."

A dark smirked came to Jim's lips. I furrowed my eyebrows together at him, silently questioning what was going through his head. He bit his bottom lip. His fingertips ghosted across the skin of my stomach as they traveled north.

"Girl, where the hell are you?"

"Busy."

Jim traced the curve of my breast, his eyes watching his fingers. I took his hand and used him to grab my breast. My head fell back as a soft groan left his lips. The sound was heavenly.

"Linds, I-I have to go." I hung up and tossed my phone down on to the blanket next to us. "Don't be shy, sweetheart."

"Fuck, you're so hot."

***

Jim trailed quietly behind me, his index and middle fingers laced together with mine. I glanced over my shoulder to him. There was a dazed smile on his lips. He carried the blanket over his shoulder. He brought my hand up to his lips to place a little kiss on my knuckles.

The backdoor to my house was always left unlocked. It was a bad habit my parents had. I slid it open and quietly pulled Jim inside. All of the lights were off in the house. Everything was silent.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Jim whispered.

"You said we couldn't go to your house." I reminded him as we started up the stairs.

We made it to my room with no problems. I locked the door behind me and moved across the room to turn the lamp by my bed on.

"I've got some pants you'll fit into." I picked up a hair tye from the stand by my bed and tied my hair into a ponytail. "I had a boyfriend last year that went to Miami with us on vacation. I ended up with a pair of his pants afterwards. We broke up and I never gave them back."

It didn't take me long to find the sweatpants. I liked to wear them when it was cold. They were comfy. I tossed them to Jim and then proceeded to change in the closet. I put on a pair of shorts and a baggy black t-shirt.

Jim and I settled into bed. He was back between me and the wall while I took the outside.

"Sonny?” 

“Hmm?”

“You’re mine too, you know.” His fingertips brushed up and down the outside of my thigh as he buried his nose in my hair. “I’ve never.... I’ve never been so at peace like I am with you.”

I smiled a little and turned over to face him. Our foreheads pressed together. His hand returned to my hip but this time, his fingers played with the waist of my shorts. 

“Your dad isn’t going to like this.” 

“Stop bringing him up.” I put my hand on his chest. “I don’t care what he thinks. If he doesn’t want to see me happy, then fuck him.”

Jim pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

“M’too tired to talk.” I moved closer to him, tucking my nose into the front of his neck. “Just hold me.”

His chest vibrated with a little chuckle. 

“Good night, angel.”

[frozenfallenuniverse]

Cracks in the Wall

Its ya boy, tired child looking for job. Its been a while since I posted a story but Lavi won the last poll (landslide even). Next story will be about the first time samger and Meiyo meet but I hope you enjoy this one!

Most planeswalkers would have servants, assistants or little creatures to help them with work. Not me, the most overworked walker that I know off. Now, I could spawn a large amount of spotters to try to help but without any form of appendages to write with or mouths to speak with, they wouldn’t get far. You would think I’d have some sort of plan for this but it seems as though my forward thinking is complete and utter-

“Lavi? I can never tell if you can hear me on this. The job is done. What’s next?” The voice came through one of the many spotters that floated about my room like palm-sized dust mites. Based on both the feminine, almost siren like, voice and the spotter’s form being extremely similar to a goldfish, it seemed to be Nozari. Thank god. I sat at my desk and the fish spotter floated atop the desk to eye level. It bounded in front of my face as I rested it inside of my hands.

“Well, step one is getting off the plane but if you’ve already done that, I’ll send you a bit of money within a few days. Your next job is finding a certain planeswalker. His title is the Immortal and he was last spotted on Tarkir. Quite tall, probably missing some skin at this point, hard to miss.”

“Tarkir? Can’t say I’ve heard of that…”

“Wonderful. It's a terrible plane. Tons of dragons, lots of fire, lightning, poison and many things that don’t like merfolk or would assume you are an overgrown bass that has learned to walk on two feet.”

“Why am I being sent there exactly?”A sigh followed her question and her voice was full of disdainful annoyance. Not that out of the ordinary for her to be entirely honest.

“I can send Alexander if you prefer.” She made a gagging sound, presumably nodded and signed off. Not a second too soon, if you ask me. Her and Alexander were some of my assistants. Well, I say assistants but they are more like mercenaries. I pay them coin, they find concerning planeswalkers and deal with them. Nozari is non-lethal and Alexander is… Alexander. Now I can hopefully make some headway on these papers-

“Lavi~ Guess who’s here to do some fun stuff today!” A masculine yet flamboyant voice that sounded like wet paint being thrown across a canvas came from the main hall. Another spotter, this one with the same colors as bird who live in paradise, came close and it seemed to be one of my least favorite generals. I tossed on robes that seemed ill-suited to the current heat and stepped out of my mess of a study.

The window blinds were half-closed, letting fragments of the sunrise come through. Songbird calls mixed with footsteps filled the wide hallway as I trotted to the main hall. The man, who has already decided to redecorate one of the walls of the room, was wearing fluorescent clothing, that had the closest description as a rainbow that vomited on a tailor’s workshop, and hair the color of dying fall leaves. The painting, if you could really call his art style ‘painting’, was a horrendous rendition of two merfolk and a high-class woman messing about in his latest experiment. The closest thing to a greeting that we exchanged was a half-nod and a sigh from myself.

“To what do I owe the pleasure today, Rotek?” I only just realized that I sounded like a sick frog that cannibalized a smaller one. Hopefully, he doesn’t mind if a spotter ran about to fetch a glass of water for me. Without even turning to face me, he spoke like I was an audience of twenty.

“The experiment went wonderfully! There were no major deaths. Three walkers came in and they all left. Two seemed quite normal and the third seemed a bit…” He dabbed his brush on the regal looking doodle, that was partially on my artwork. My new artwork. It cost close to three weeks of work. Wonderful. The sound of shattering glass from the direction of where I sent the spotter made this conversation all the better. My hand was reaching for the bridge of my nose as I spoke.

“Did you get names or are you here to showboat?” I could feel my eyes rolling into the back of my skull as I spoke. Rotek might be useful for his knowledge and magic but his… artistic freedoms made things like diplomacy, discussions and basic talking like pulling teeth. He spun on his heels, tossing a letter from his breast pocket at my flailing arms. Barely caught it as well. Why do people throw so many things at me. They know I can’t catch.

“I know your whole deal is peace and the prevention of disasters so think of this as an invitation to my next art piece.” His voice was much more somber now, almost sad to speak of the thing that gave him the most passion. I tore open the note and flipped it out, skimming across it. In large bolded letters, it said ‘The Destruction of Ravnica. Performed by an elder dragon. Watch as I paint the final moments of the most populated plane of the multiverse.’ Several of the spotters floated around the note, desperate to get so much as a glance at it. With a soft breath, the note became blank and wasted away in my grasp.

“You’re helping someone destroy a plane!” I spoke with the anger of a dragon that was woken by a farmer after sleeping for millennia. The heat on my face most likely made me look like a tomato, or a pyromancer. Same thing really.

“Capitalising on what will happen, really. I can’t stop it nor can any of the others. I’d suggest you get your friends to help evacuate or, more likely, work with some of the walkers there. No reason for that many sparks to be extinguished.” He had no enjoyment in his voice. His brush was thrown to the floor, spilling paint across the tiles. His artwork was melting off as well. I need to control my temper better.

“Fine. Keep this a secret from the other generals then. No reason to get Ice or Shadow excited about a plane dying.” My hand was glued to my nose bridge and a thumping sensation was deepening in my temples. Rotek patted me on the shoulder and disappeared with a rainbow light following his exit. My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is now ruined, suffice to say.

The normal rhythm I kept with my steps become erratic and the space around me shifted, warped and fragments came out of focus. I heard stories that something like this would happen but I was hoping, no, praying they were just rumors. What used to be a wall became a time-worn veranda with ivy growths burgeoning beneath the posts. Several spotters floated towards me with concerned visages. The goldfish led the pack and I dragged it by the tail to my desk. A haze came over the eye that took up most of its body and I decided to speak first.

“Nozari, forget the other mission. Find Alexander. I need to talk to you both.” My words were rushed. Something was welling up in my throat and a sickness flooded my stomach. The floater I sent, what felt like years ago, returned with a bottle of sparkling cherry juice. It took hardly any seconds to drink several fingers worth.

“What? What about the immortal? I’m not gonna abandon this mission!”

“The Immortal can wait. It's not like he’ll die anytime soon!” Some papers became dotted with droplets from the neck of the bottle. I cursed under my breath. That’s even more things to fix.

“Shouldn’t I just come there? Why can’t you say it now? I have plans later you know! I finally found a cute dress that fit!” She did mention something about a cute girl earlier. Explains why she’s been more relaxed recently. Or anxious. I think both is the answer. She’s a bit more of a mess than me.

“You bring yourself and Alexander here after your plans then. I won’t force you to do your job but keep in mind: you swore to help me protect planes and right now, I think your possible lover would understand a canceling.” The strangest thing about Nozari’s knowledge of languages was that she could be annoyed in all of them and curse like a sailor in most of them. They all sound beautiful as well. Perhaps merfolk have- Introspection into the different races of the multiverse can wait after the problem is fixed.

“Fine! I’ll be there tomorrow with the problem child! You owe me something other than money for canceling this date though!”

“Would a pearl necklace suffice? An associate got fresh batch of chocolate ones during a trip to Ixalan.”

“Oh dear Kosi. Its that bad?”

“Horrendous is a better term in my opinion.” The faked joyfulness I spoke with seemed like a different flavor of sarcasm and she noticed.

“Any idea where he is?” My silence was more than enough of an answer. With a groan, she hung up. Well, hung up is the wrong word. She smacked the spotter on her end which ended its transmission. They are small but quite durable. I think that’s her favorite way to end our little talks.  Fifty times ended in that way now. Anyway.

My hands were already massaging my skull. The droning in the back of my mind was a voracious woodpecker that just ended a fast. A growling came from the sick that slept in my stomach. This is the worst day of my life. And I almost died! To be fair, who hasn’t really. Planeswalkers are strange. The drink helped to an extent so, I couldn’t blame the situation on a lack of caffeine or sugar. Sleep was always an excuse but I don’t wish to sound like a broken record. I need food. A distraction. Something.

Knocking came from the door. A rarity would be an understatement. Something that no one has ever done before would be more fitting. I creaked open the door, whose rusted screeching made the throbbing of my skull even worse, and saw the chubby, blonde hair-framed face of Lisbeth greeting me.

“You alright, hun? Rotek said to leave you alone but you’re a bit looking pale.” Her smile was the only warm part about her. Her clothing and personality were normally cold but around me and some of the other generals, she acted like a concerned mother. Why did Rotek even talk to her? I thought fire and ice don’t mix. I fake coughed a bit to make it seem I was stable.

“Everything is fine. If you bought anything, leave it at the door. I’m busy.” I said with clear irritation in my voice. It seems the frog in my throat became an annoyed toad at this point. She chuckled a bit and dropped a basket of what smelled like mouth watering baked bread. She said something along the lines of ‘call me when you’re better’ but the migraine become worse from the scent of the bread. Why does she always bring me food?

It did not take long for me to drag the basket into my room and for me to greedily devour every baked snack she provided. My stomach seemed to be resting but the migraine and anxiety continued to fester. The walls around me slowly began to dissipate, turning into white gold light before me. I finally got off my floor, tightened some heavy duty boots on and began walking to the door. If a plane was to be destroyed, I wanted to learn all I could about it before then. Perhaps. I’ll even find a distraction while I’m there.

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 7

Table of Contents Go to first. Go to previous. Go to next.

(Updated 2019.01.29. Minor name tweaks.) Bugs, insect gore, and food squick tw’s.

Not again.

Seeking his face, the two-foot-long RadRoaches flowed up Carey’s legs. He’d contended with these insects in Vault 111 as well, and defrosting and awaking to their thinking him an intruder had punctuated the jet lag. Here, it was less a rude awakening and more a rude greeting. He should have known better. What kind of oversight to think, when he found no humans or even ghouls, that this building had no inhabitants!

He smacked the barrel of his cane over the one in the lead. Its carapace over his thigh cracked not at all unlike that of shucking a crab, and the insect generously splattered its oleous innards. Though half the vermin scattered upon this one impact, the rest dove around their fallen ally in hot pursuit of the invader’s sweet face-flesh. The light from Carey’s Pip-Boy swung about in the fray as though a dangling light bulb in a shaking building, its illumination frenzied, dizzying, and uneven. A second light source came right at him--the source of the chartreuse glow he’d observed from afar before he’d entered.

Steady, Carey. Remember, one solid hit is all these fucks take.

Radiation imposed from the seams of this one’s exoskeleton, and he misconstrued the sputtering clicks of his Pip-Boy’s Geiger counter as threatening emanations from the enormous roaches. Carey kicked the glowing vermin in the face, and it reeled a few feet away before flying right for him along the ground. He cried out and fumbled to whack it away with the crook of his cane. Its body broke against the foot of a nearby lab desk.

A forceful hammering of his heel against the floor crushed a third, but the remaining two went for his forearms. He flinched as he shielded his face. The cane dropped to the enameled metal floor. When the RadRoaches would not relent, he laid down with his hands to his face, and stupidly hoped they would get bored if he stopped struggling. They persisted; but in falling over, he recovered enough to catch them off-guard, and he smashed both of them against the floor.

Ragged wheezing slid out of Carey as he recollected his faculties and belongings. The altercation had knocked off his glasses, and he felt around in the dimness for them and his cane. When he sat up, he winced at the deep nicks in his left forearm, left by the roaches’ blade-like mandibles. He sooner prioritized finding the breaker box for the floor than tending his injuries. Somehow, he appreciated that he’d had his sleeves rolled: for a feeble chemist, repairs of the flesh came more easily than those of fabric.

He pushed off with the cane to stand, and shambled cautiously along the walls of the room, his shaky eyes ever vigilant for the RadRoaches that had retreated. There had been twelve of them at the start, hadn’t there? Carey counted five dead. Only his dress shoes and hard rubber cane tip traversed the floor with any sound, so surely the rest must have fled.

Or, maybe he just couldn’t hear over the blood pressure surging in his ears.

Light and electricity soon returned to this floor of the building, and he turned off his Pip-Boy screen. The familiar fluorescent overhead lighting soothed him, its faint humming the lie of comfortable sterility. Now that he could see unimpeded by a windowless room, he navigated the lab readily.

He encountered two long, small confection tins on one of the lab desks and sighed in exasperated relief at the trademark label. Mentats.

“Oh, thank fuck.” He groaned and slid the lid off one tin to dispense a small white seltzer-like tablet, which he promptly chewed up as he continued investigating the lab. “Maybe now I can focus.”

He’d gone two hundred years without a fix. All the chemists at both his jobs in the States had relied on them by requisite of their positions: nursing an appetent addiction to the minty chem’s boons of neurological efficiency and productivity gains came naturally to anyone in a medical manufacturing field, it seemed. Maybe he’d get lucky and put his hands on a few syringes of Daddy-O, too. Or, better yet, some barberry syrup and ethylene glycol--so he could whip up a few batches of intensely potent Berry Mentats. Albeit alarmingly experimental in perspective, the Deenwood chemists all seemed to rely upon what they all endearingly termed a special edition flavor.

Everything carried a collectedness, a clarity, his mind abuzz. A sense of normality, familiarity, returned to him, standing here in a lab, standing here like this. His mind felt like his own now. For now. Carey’s gaze halted upon the wall-mounted locked glass-front gun case near the security door he’d entered.

A Syringer.

He whet dry lips and hooked his cane over his left arm, to ineffectually wipe the grime from his hands with his crusty kerchief, then worked at picking the lock with his screwdriver and one of his hairpins. It gratified him, his formed habituation of having pocketed the tool, half a two-part skeleton key. He could go and take as he pleased, provided sufficient time and patience. The kerchief hadn’t quite done the trick, so he compulsively smeared his hands along the backside of his legs to knock off further oily residue from the insects’ guts, then kept at the gun case until he had it open.

He admired the weapon in both hands as he extricated it from its place. His fingers traced along the rifle-styled copper blowgun, which most commonly utilized tranquilizers, and his eyes followed its sights down the barrel. Subduing threats often proved more effective than simply shooting them, depending on what chem piloted them in the moment. The all-too-familiar Psycho came to mind, and how security on base had relied upon Syringers to subdue without killing subjects puppeteered past their thresholds of pain, injury, and self-preservation. As predicted, he put his hands on a few boxes of Pax Syringes at the bottom lip of the case.

Melancholy would have to play with the notion of what else might be more effective--or more fun--than the Pax tranquilizer. He nearly lamented that it had not been Calmex, which evinced a low smooth enough to afford self-administration, but reminded himself the two had very different applications. His nostalgic grin washed into self-consciousness when he could hear his Handy’s thrusters approaching the lab. Angel came up beside him and eyed the rifle he still held.

“My word, what happened here?”

Carey murmured, “I intruded.”

Reminded of the carnage, he set down the rifle and rounded back to identify from which pieces of the RadRoaches he might ideally isolate useful compounds. He cracked off legs, and collected abdomens wherever they remained in tact. With the Glowing RadRoach, he also scraped together its slime into a chemistry jar and stoppered it.

“These samples will have to suffice for now. Maybe their friends will return later. They scattered like cockroaches.”

A grimy hand to his his mouth stifled a licentious chuckle.

“They certainly roughed you up. What a mess.” The Handy promptly descended upon the broken coffee cup with its housekeeping attachments, and deposited the bits of ceramic in a nearby waste bin. It looked to its owner with knowing concern, recognizing the Mentats in his tone and behavior. “Sir... You really should reconsider bringing your work home with you.”

“What can I say? It’s a calling, and its calling me?” Wryly, Carey piled up his findings on a medical tray, and placed it on the nearest lab desk. Lost in thought, he repeatedly stroked his fingertips over the scraping slices the roaches had taken out of his forearm. He raised his chewed-up forearm level to his head as he spoke next, his tone uneven but hardly composed. “I was fortunate the Pip-Boy provided me a bit of protection. Angel, would you... be a dear and... administer a Stimpak to my left arm?”

“--Certainly.”

Without hesitation, the robot produced the requested medication and took ginger hold of his wrist to press the pneumatic syringe to this antecubital fold. An astringent pleasantry, Carey spectated as his wounds healed in real time. Angel didn’t feel like the more enticing option, but still it tried:

“Could I impose upon you to take a break for dinner, Sir? It’s late, and you ought to rest up your injury. Remember, we found Yum Yums! I could use them to make you an egg salad perhaps? And I could... freshen your coffee...?”

“...Mm, I suppose pacing myself couldn’t hurt. Besides, now that I’ve got an idea of the lab’s amenities, I ought to assess what from the store room I could make use of here.” The cool derangement in his grinning eyes grazed Angel, and the robot’s ocular lenses stuttered. “Egg salad sounds exceptional.”

Jerking at the unexpected success, it flew animate and excited.

“Come join me whilst I prepare it? You can catch me up what all you’ve discovered up here, if you like. I’d love to hear what all you’re scheming!”

“Mm. You would, then, wouldn’t you.” Carey retrieved one of the tins of Mentats to take with him, then walked out into the receptionist’s office to retrieve the carafe. “Shall we?”

“--Sshall,” was the best it could muster. The Handy never had liked this side of its owner.

Carey sat in the break room with the catalog from the store front register, and pored over it with a new cup of the same coffee. One hand fidgeted with the mug, the other with the publication, and both eyes glued indifferently to the catalog.

“Say Angel, how many doses of Melancholia are left?”

“Twenty-seven, Sir. Hm!”

“Hm indeed...”

Angel added a few ingredients to the blender and puréed them. Then it poured the pale purple concoction into a tall glass, and, with the tongs which terminated one of its trio of mechanical tendrils, it presented it to its owner, who accepted the stuff in a tempered confusion.

“What say you of a smoothie?”

Unperturbed by a testing sniff, Carey took a drink of it. His face scrunched a bit. Chalky, salty, heavy, and inexplicably sharp. He took a second sip anyway.

“You didn’t happen to find sugar in the pantry, did you? What is this?”

“Why, I blended a Mutfruit with one of the eggs, and a few other things I happened upon in the cabinets. Vitamins and protein in one convenient beverage! The sweetest thing we have is the sweet rolls, I’m afraid. And-- the Halloween candy! Do you think that might suit you?”

The image of intention came to mind, of adding pulverized licorices and ribbon candy to... whatever this was. The chemist narrowly kept himself from retorting couldn’t possibly make it taste any worse, instead shoving the ill-placed sarcasm into taking another big sip. Christ, this isn’t a smoothie or an egg salad, and it’s nowhere between the two either. I didn’t program it to do this. Was this a result of deteriorating algorithms, or has it somehow learned this compulsion?

“It’s wonderful as is, Angel. I do think I’d still like the Yum Yums themselves--an accoutrement to your fancy beverage here.”

Brutal honesty then would have merely excused unwarranted meanness and crassness. What point was there, in verbal cruelty towards a machine? His Handy was trying its best. At what, he couldn’t be certain.

Angel brought over the half-dozen carton of deviled eggs, and he opened it to pluck out one for himself. Their whites had transformed dark and translucent, their yolks now a waxy heterogeneity of ashen grey and rusty gold. He sniffed at one, and noted its pungency did not evoke the same manner of gag reflex as something which had rotted. Cautiously, he nibbled it, and, intrigued, nodded as he chewed slowly. Muskiness clung to his mouth, something like accidentally having tasted cologne. Where the other components in the smoothie previously masked this note, an attempt to wash down the bite of egg with the concoction only served to overwhelm all other flavors. He coughed, disguising his displeasure by faking food going down wrong, and chugged at his coffee.

He definitely owed Angel long-overdue repairs and firmware tweaks, and this experience underscored the need for it. He made a mental note to scrutinize to what extent he could provide such care with the extant resources on premises. At the very least, he could try to program definitions into its algorithms so it had updated knowledge on what post-apocalyptic food tasted like. Not that it could understand flavor.

Carey finished the other half of the Yum Yum anyway.

He couldn’t subsist solely on Melancholia. Could he?

Appetite spoiled, again he pored over the pages boasting the company’s orthotics offerings, compared those he’d found to the variety advertised. The most basic provisions for minor infirmities and sprains. Unavailable at most locations, the sturdiest and most rigid binding Walden carried seemed nearly excessively so: fan-laced surgical orthotics. The company stocked everything from pharmacies to dementia wards. A quick thumb to the locations index designated that the hospital branch of their warehouses lay in Nashua, New Hampshire.

Constitution. Stability. Disposition.

His nostrils punctuated a breath, and he cursed in Russian at his coffee under his breath.

These braces are fine. A trek like that, on foot. It’s both excessive and out of the question.

They’re fine.

I’m fine.

He looked at his Pip-Boy and pretended that seeing it was after midnight had caused his irritation. He then slammed back the last third of his coffee in one go and put down the cup beside the egg carton. Mentats in hand, he shuttled himself off to the lobby couch.

“I’m turning in for the night,” he told Angel on his way out the door. “The day I’ve had is... catching up to me.”

“Rest well, Mister Carey! I’ll be sure not to disturb you.”

The Mentats went to one of the side tables with his glasses, and he sat on the couch while he struggled to remove the braces, which he set in the floor beside the couch before buttoning his shirt back up and curling up under the hospital blanket. The thorough oily coating in his mouth, and his nettled confidence, persisted throughout the night.

Go to Next »»»

[nebula-starlight]

Corrupt (Part 6 - Naris)

To say that Narssia felt entirely like herself the next morning when she woke was a lie. What was normal after months of internal torment and being stuck with an insane dead spirit hellbent on vengeance? She was, however, met with a splitting headache when she first opened her eyes, finding herself gently propped up against a padded wall with a soft blanket covering her. There was no one in the room when she woke but she soon heard Mark’s voice pleasantly coming from downstairs.

She originally wasn’t going to move, groaning as she lifted a hand to shield her sensitive eyes from the sunlight coming in from the two large windows off to the right of her. Her stomach, however, had other plans as it grumbled the second she smelled the aroma of food cooking. He must have known she was waking up. 

Reluctantly getting off the floor, she hissed as she bent to retrieve the fallen blanket and her fingers brushed lightly against her chest. Confused, she lifted her shirt up to see an angry red scar that she didn’t remember having before. Injuries weren’t something she normally worried herself over but this one was new. What exactly had happened last night after she excused herself during the midst of talking with Mark?

She paled, tracing the wound mindlessly as broken fragments of the evening before pierced through her subconscious. Void had taken her over with surprising ease and gone after Mark. And, yet, she obviously hadn’t been successful… Narssia shook her head, letting the fabric fall back over her newest mark of possession. Why was it that she had ended up with a psychopath literally stuck in her head? What evil had she done in life to deserve such a fate?

Trying to ignore what she had seen, Narssia quickly retrieved the blanket and folded it neatly before going downstairs. She felt calmer, able to breathe easier now than she had in months. No longer was her mind abuzz with vicious remarks from the parasite she’d come to know as Void. She just needed to get used to having the quietness she had longed for back… How strange it was after so long. Normally the spirit would already be off screeching in her ear about something. Maybe that’s why she started to sleep in later and later. Hoping she could somehow drown out the static-ladened snarls.  

“No,” she softly huffed, trying to pull herself away from such depressing thoughts.

She did wonder if Void had an accent prior to her corruption but, then again, she never got much out of the spirit that wasn’t an angry commentary on whatever she was currently doing. Perhaps it was for the best that she not know.

As she entered the kitchen, she spotted Mark standing over by the stove. Narssia hesitated, internally debating on whether to speak or not but before she could decide, he noticed her.

“You’re up earlier than I thought. Well, come on in then. I’m just about done with this last batch.”

Curiosity drove her to walk over to the island bar in the middle of the floor where he had already stacked several fluffy golden pancakes on two plates. Taking one of them, she looked around anxiously, trying not to stare at the knife rack next to him that had one missing. Void had taken it the night before when she tried to kill him. It was strange that she hadn’t seen the blade upstairs though.

“I’m sorry for last night… for whatever she did. I- I can’t control her. Void does what she wants and I’m just pulled along for the ride.”

Mark looked up from the frying pan, expression softening in sympathy. “You did nothing wrong. I’m fine and you’re here now so don’t worry about it.”

She offered him a smile, still unsure of what she was to do now. It was so strange to have nothing but her own thoughts in her head. Liberating perhaps but also unnerving not knowing when Void could come back. If she knew anything about the spirit, she fully expected it would be agony for her the very minute she returned.

Taking a seat, she picked at her food mindlessly with a fork, unable to get rid of the image of the scar. Void had left that, hadn’t she? A warning that she wasn’t gone despite the peaceful silence Narssia currently enjoyed. Would she ever be free of her unwelcome passenger? It had taken months, after all, for the insane glitch to worm her way into her head. Small things at first, mostly second guessing herself as she helped to heal a wounded dragon, but eventually she heard the sickening voice with its raspy hissing. She hated to think about it but reaching out to Geer had helped, at least in the beginning. The more she fought back though, the worse she felt as her scales became brittle and her performance as a healer was brought into question. Soon enough she was released from her work, quickly becoming isolated in her small house as even the tiniest amount of light sent her into a panic. The letters she received from her dear friend had given her the courage to meet with him but she fell silent on their way back to her home shortly after seeing the shadow that lurked behind him with its crimson eyes. Even Void had taken notice, hissing in her ear that there wasn’t much time left before she joined him and became nothing more than a hollow vessel.

A hand suddenly came down on her shoulder and she immediately reacted, jerking away from the touch before spinning around as she sank into a low crouch and bared her teeth. The sound she was met with, however, threatened to tear away the bravery she’d acted upon as a low ringing filled the air. Her gaze lifted in timid curiosity, finding the color fading from the air as a being similar to Mark but all together different stood in his place with a hand still outstretched.

“My, my, aren’t you jumpy this morning?” He commented as he glanced back at her out of the corner of his eye. Moments later, he turned slightly to better see her, hand retreating behind his back as the faint shimmer of twin red and blue auras briefly spread outwards from his form.

She shrank back, fear creeping in as the scenario reminded her far too much of meeting the spirit inhabiting Geer for the first time. He’d just barely gotten her inside after Void had relinquished her initial control when he stopped, lifting a suddenly trembling paw to his chest before turning away. Concerned, she’d tried to ask what was wrong despite how exhausted she was but he growled that he was fine - only it wasn’t his voice. The vocals were lower, bringing in a distinct rumble that Geer himself never had.

Perhaps it was because she wasn’t thinking straight after the trauma she’d endured but she lashed out at him, lunging forward as her claws tore across his snout. He’d said nothing, only parrying her blows once she started using her tail as well. Soon she was panting for breath, weaving slightly between far weaker attacks. The beast had known of her exhausted state, she realized seconds before he sidestepped another attempt at a lunge and wrapped his tail gently around her neck.

Narssia blinked, breaking away from the terror-filled memory and coming back to her senses as she backed up against the doorframe. This darker version of Mark hadn’t moved particularly much since his initial appearance, only watching her retreat with the tiniest smirk before she accidentally made eye contact.

“You certainly do have a lot of demons inside that pretty little head, don’t you?” He muttered softly, moving toward her with deliberately slow steps as his shoes clicked against the hardwood floor. “A lifetime of mistakes and yet the biggest one, in your eyes at least, was accepting that parasitic glitch.”

Dark paused for a moment, stopping in front of her as she timidly glanced up. Every instinct in her, dragon or otherwise, was screaming for her to run but she was paralyzed by her fright. Instead, she stared into the black irises that studied her curiously.

“I’ll admit that I see now why she was so quick to defend you. For her petite size, she certainly has a temper - unlike what I’ve seen from you. Such a shame really, I thought you’d prove more useful to me in discovering her secrets. You are her vessel, are you not?”

Something struck a chord within her at the remark and she growled, staggering to her feet even though he was a good foot taller than her. Using the frame behind her to keep her balance, she finally broke her silence since his arrival.

“Where is she? Don’t play dumb either, demon. I can read enough of her memories to know she met you last night. It doesn’t take much to put the rest of the pieces together after I wake up feeling empty and yet decidedly free of her poisonous influence.”

Dark chuckled, the sound a low rumble that threw her panic back into overdrive. She wasn’t crazy… It was just that everything about her current situation reminded her so much of Nether. Even his voice echoed with the same influence - a trait the spirit had used to craft his illusions no doubt.

“She’s fine, for now. However I need you to pass along a message on my behalf.” Narssia’s gaze narrowed in suspicion, shifting uneasily on her feet. “I would naturally do it myself but given how Mark ignores my presence I have little choice but to entrust you. Do tell him that there’s another demon loose now, if you’d be so kind.”

“A-Another?” She hadn’t meant to stutter but the thought of another being similar to Nether or even this darker Mark was terrifying to consider.  

Dark nodded in affirmation, lifting her chin up with the lightest of touches as his other hand dug into the wooden frame. Despite the slight cracking she heard behind her, there was no fear in her eyes as she waited with baited breath to see what he would say next.

“Relax, he isn’t like myself. More unpredictable, somewhat spastic at times… Truthfully he reminds me of your other half.”

She hissed in a mixture of surprise and pain, hand going to her chest as the scar burned. What horror could come about by those two meeting? Having one unstable psychopath was enough but to know now that a second had appeared…

“Of- Of course.” She hesitated, biting her lower lip as she let go of the split doorframe behind her and tried to ignore the throbbing gash. “Please, don’t…”

Dark tilted his head, barely hearing the low whimper but nonetheless determined to coax the reserved plea out of her. “Do speak up, child. I don’t particularly like to keep my prisoners waiting for too long.”

Narssia drew back, noticing the sudden reappearance of his aura as the constant ringing noise that had persisted during their encounter rose in volume. As much as she hated to ask, she had to know if Void was alright. Sure she might detest the corrupt spirit who took over her life but she had become a part of her during the months that followed.

“I asked you earlier where Void was and you didn’t answer me. Tell me where the darker half of my soul is!” Her hands shook, anger replacing any fear she might of had towards the demon. When he didn’t respond, she snarled, lifting up the front of her shirt to show the injury as the skin around it now appeared discolored and bruised. “I demand an explanation, demon. This isn’t a normal wound. Sure Void has thrown her injuries off on me before but this one in particular was meant for Mark. Hell, she even tried to kill him last night with a knife that now, surprisingly, I can’t find.”

The demon took a step back with a soft hum, collecting his hands behind him once more as he rolled his neck with an audible crack. “I’m certain it’s up there. She didn’t have a weapon when she arrived in my domain… Although I can assure you that you needn’t worry about her.”

“All this because she went after Mark? It seems excessive.” She muttered, letting her shirt flutter back down over the injury before advancing as Dark retreated a couple more steps.

“Only one deserves to hurt him and that, child, isn’t her. Now then, I’m afraid I must take my leave. Do inform Mark of what we discussed, won’t you?”

[ecotone99]

[HR] The Autopsy

Here's a short story a wrote sometime last year. I think, ideally, this would end up being a scene in a larger piece but I'm happy with it for now.

​

March had been unseasonably warm in St. Louis. A dense humidity hung everywhere --almost panging for the release of rain-- yet still, after every storm, persisting. This odd wash of jungle air, coupled with the building owner’s miserly decision to forgo turning on the air-conditioning, had turned the examination rooms of Clark-Horace County Hospital into George Monroe’s personal, scalpel-adorned, sauna. The rundown building was poorly insulated and had a habit of providing you with a clear imitation of whatever conditions befell the outside world. If it was windy, you could expect a draft; if there was a storm, the doors would be leaking; and on a day like today, the oxygen choking atmosphere was well-at-home in every hall and office.

George, who studied Biology at Michigan and subsequently served his residency at St. Luke’s in Duluth, had a cooler temperament. Since moving to Missouri last September, he found it difficult to adjust to the Midwest’s uniquely fickle climate. These past two weeks, his usually brisk Sunday-morning plunge down the elevators to the basement examination rooms of Clark-Horace felt more like a dive into some thick Amazonian canopy. He had even resorted to taking brief breaks in what was apparently the only room in the building required-by-law to be kept at a comfortable temperature-- the morgue cooler. Dave and Janice, his coworkers, liked to give him a hard time about this particular habit. “Frosty the Snowman's gotta get to his cooler before he melts away!” was a favorite of theirs, referencing the admittedly sluggish nature George took on when the heat started to get to him.

It was of no consequence to him. The cooler always reinvigorated George and he - a licensed Autopsy Technician of almost three years now - was never bothered by the presence of dead bodies.

But, today, there would be no teasing. He worked alone during the dreaded Sunday morning shift. Honestly, it suited him better. George had never been good at workplace chit-chat and he always felt at his most productive with headphones on and in near-solitude. Still, the workload on Sunday mornings was always a challenge for one person — a sort-of reverse graveyard shift that rotated weekly between the three of them.

Even as he worked, George could feel his glasses slide down his nose. He took near-continuous pauses to push them back up to his eyes with the back of his wrist. A pool of salty dew formed directly under the bridge of his black wayfarer frames, acting as both an irritant to his eyes and a lubricant on which the glasses would languidly shift back down. He didn’t like to wear his glasses while working. He didn’t like his glasses at all, in fact, and had years ago resolved to only wear them when he was colossally hungover, which he decisively was.

His friends had made a point to tell him that his upcoming morning shift would not alter their plans of brewery hopping the night before. He had long ago agreed to the affair and so resigned himself to his eventual fate of bludgeoning headaches and nausea. George didn’t have any particular love for the craft beer scene his friends so delighted in. The complex chemistry of artisanal recipes and their ever-expanding hierarchy of styles, colors, ingredients, flavors, and off-flavors had never inspired him to dive nearly as deep as his companions had into the fanatic lifestyle of small-batch brewing. He did, however, enjoy the company of his friends and (being completely frank with himself) he enjoyed the different tastes of the beers they tried. It was the in-depth analysis that irked him. The sense that you must mine every last ore and ingot of knowledge from every sip and understand, not only the complex palette of flavors therein but also the intention behind those flavors. Anything less and you were wasting your time and should promptly “fuck off to a sports bar and order a Bud-Light if you just want to get drunk.”

But, it got you drunk all the same. One of the dangers of craft beer, and perhaps most responsible for George’s suffering today, was the alcohol content. These were not the canned pilsners that he and his college friends stacked 30-high back in Ann Arbor. Some of these draughts would push north of 11% alcohol-by-volume! All of them deceptively draped in the added flavors of coffee or chocolate so as to slip past your better judgment. Some four or five drinks later, it would be too late, like when hypothermia cradles a stranded climber to sleep.

George could still taste the brews from the night before. Or was he smelling them? Yes, the scent must be running out of his pores now, as his body desperately pushed the toxins out via any means necessary. The clear memory of the stygian stout burned clearly in all of his senses. The ghost of the dark liquid shot up his spine: Tahitian vanilla, with the viscosity of milk, high pointed with the ever-present, fiery notion of bourbon. He felt a chill up his neck and his stomach churned like the sea.

George got too drunk, he decided. He should not have driven home, either. Usually, he did not recklessly endanger his own life like that. There was something about the jovial attitude of a night spent in drunken comradery that can give a man a dangerous level of confidence — the kind that, if left unchecked for a few successes, leads one to believe they “drive better when they’re drunk.” He scolded himself. After all, he had seen many grotesque figures on this very table that used to “drive better drunk”.

Such was the job, especially on the Sunday morning shift. Dave, another technician and five-years George’s senior at the hospital, had affectionately nicknamed it “Scared-Straight-Sunday” after the increased number of “patients” produced by accidents, overdoses, and any other form of dark debauchery that took place the night before. He used to joke that “after a year of Sundays seeing what people do to themselves when they’re fucked up”, you’d end up sober for the next ten years.

George didn’t have to look any further than the bloated figure on the table below him. “D. Vernon.” Drowned. Fallen into some rough tide of the Mississippi, knocked unconscious judging by the laceration on the left-back of his head, and washed up down-river about eight hours later. The cut was deep and had swollen outward like a mouth nestled in the beard of D. Vernon’s long, wiry hair. He had a stern face, even after passing on. The face of a man with a short temper which, seeing his twice-broken nose and scarred knuckles, likely saw him in scuffles. He was the kind of guy who would accost you in the parking lot for pulling out in front of him, George imagined. His eyes screamed back up at George as if to say “Don’t you judge me, motherfucker. I get by.”

George closed up the abdominal incision. This hangover had slowed him down more than he thought and he was behind schedule on gathering up the various tissue, blood, and hair samples. D. Vernon had been in the water long enough to cause his body to swell up though not long enough to totally distort his features. The man’s once-well-toned muscles were still visible beneath the quasi-gelatinous coat of his skin and the once-black ink of his numerous tattoos now glowed with an almost putrid green. He was like an action figure- some edgy, anti-hero character, perhaps- that was left out at the playground, melting and contorting under a brutal sun only to be snatched back up a moment too late.

Toxicology would need to come back to officially determine whether or not drugs were involved in the accident, but the track marks on his arms seemed a clear enough indication at first. Stomach analysis proving his last meal to be little more than Adderall and french-fries was all the proof George needed.

“Definitely time to dial it back,” George told himself.

Odd. Suddenly George’s eyes were drawn back to the site of his incision. It had been a clean suture- straight and symmetrical. But now, at the midpoint, there rose a mound of skin in D. Vernon’s mid-section.

“Damn this hangover”.

George had always prided himself on his organization skills. Everything had its space on his tray and would, without fail, return to that space when its job was finished. Had he really been so careless? Sewn up one of his clamps inside the body? It was a troupe that surgeons heard frequently- leaving some instrument or another inside of a patient- but not during an autopsy. George scolded himself and snatched for a scalpel to reopen the poor man when he counted- no he hadn’t counted; he simply knew- that all of his tools were still in their exact place.

“A gas pocket?” He thought to himself. “Some residual pressure one of the untouched bloated organs had finally released?” No, this wasn’t right either. The bulge wasn’t rounded as bubbled air would be when pushing up against the skin. It was singular. Almost conical. As if someone had tied a string to the stitching in the center of the incision and pulled it upward. He reached a gloved hand down to the foreign mass and gave a firm press with his middle finger. It was lean. He could almost feel a rough texture to it through the skin.

George’s examiner’s mindset must have left him at that moment. In one movement, he had snatched away his mask, uttered a choked shout and slid back against one of the brick walls of the examining room. These were not commanded movements. These were from a long-forgotten section of the lizard brain still intact underneath millions of years of evolution. The part of the brain that knows- truly knows- the sight of danger and when to shield its host from such things. For while George’s hand lay on the dead man’s strange internal growth, it began to move.

Feverishly in slid inside poor D. Vernon’s cavity. But these were not erratic convulsions. Even if this man was a fresh corpse, any attempt to explain these movements away as some rare spasm of freshly-dead neural pathways would have to be swept away. These movements had purpose. And they were becoming wilder. They had an almost feral drive- now lifting the hips of the cadaver off of the table as they searched. No, they were not thrashing movements. They were poking, prodding at the inside walls of their decaying prison for any sign of air- like a house cat rooting around under a blanket.

And then, all in a moment D. Vernon slammed back to the table, his stomach as flat as when he had arrived.

There was a ringing in George’s ears which could only be the sound of that same lizard that pulled him to the wall, now screaming viciously- desperately- in his ear to run to the elevator. His eyes were clasped onto the figure, equally desperate for the cadaver to stay infinitely still- less the madness they had just witness continue and be committed to memory. It must have been his eyes that pulled him closer to the body still, feverishly wishing- begging- to prove that there was no movement left in this bloated corpse. Against every internal instinct, he slid toward the now frighteningly still cadaver, scalpel still in hand.

The room was a vacuum, devoid of sound. So crushing was the silent pressure of this moment that George could hear his blood pumping into his brain, and that brain firing commands down to his right hand- how was it so steady? Slow and methodical, he began to unzip the stomach again, bisecting the original cut. The cold flesh gave way on either side like a blooming flower. George reached to spread the aperture further to reveal what was certainly madness incarnate within D. Vernon’s bowels.

He should have rejoiced, he remembered thinking. The scene was completely normal- as normal as the bloated organs of a drowned drug addict could be. But it was the lack of evidence that shocked George. The way the immediate normalcy seemed to laugh in the face of what he, and his eyes, and his lizard brain had all witnessed. No sign of the hateful foreign body that had just moments ago attempted to wrench its way free from his patient. No sign of the damage that such a struggle should have certainly caused to the dead man’s insides.

He tasted bile then. The ringing in his ears receded and the heavy gravity that held the room silent finally lifted. He could hear his arid respirations now louder than anything and he was reminded again how humid the room was. He was hyperventilating.

In a mad dash, George threw the scalpel to the floor and made desperately for his refuge. He burst into the cooler, gasping and trying to settle his breathing. He leaned heavily on the open morgue drawer that had belonged to D. Vernon. Then George- thinking of the drowned man, and his hangover, and the horrors he had seen- in an attempt to lament, vomited.

submitted by /u/robertamporter [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/30soVRM

[beantobar-blog1]

Making bean to bar chocolate at home: Batch #1

DAY 1...

This morning I decided to attempt my first batch of bean-to-bar chocolate.

I freaked out when I opened the sack of Madagascan beans, worried they looked mouldy. After a bit of research, I was relieved to discover the pale dusty appearance is normal - just yeast from the fermentation process. Plus they smelled good. Phew! Dumping 10kg (22lb) of gorgeous Sambriano Valley beans would’ve been gutting; and my own fault for not storing them properly. They’ve been in a burlap sack in a cardboard box in the coolest part of my house, but I’ve been wondering whether it would be wiser to keep them completely airtight.

Since it was my first time using the Premier Table Top Tilting Grinder, I ran 1kg (2.2lb) of granulated sugar through it for over an hour, slowly tightening the rollers until they were all the way down. This smooths the rollers out and gets rid of any minerals.

I threw the sugar away, but didn’t wash the grinder, since moisture would ruin the chocolate.

Step 1 - ROASTING

Before roasting, I removed the dodgy looking beans that looked gnarly or broken. Some folk recommend discarding the flat ones too, as they haven’t fermented properly.

I don’t have a roaster so just roasting in the oven.

There’s no definitive answer when it comes to temperature and roasting times. Every chocolate maker has their own way and there are lots of variables: your oven, the dish you roast them in, the type of beans and of course the flavour you’re after.

One method is to start at a higher temperature and gradually lower it, or vice versa. Since this is my first go I went for a simpler method, roasting at 130C (270F) for 30 minutes.

It’s common to roast beans in a single layer spread out on a baking sheet, but I heard that this can scorch the beans underneath, particularly if the roasting tin is thin, so a heavy glass dish could be more reliable. I didn’t have a glass dish big enough so used a cast iron pot, stirring the beans every 5 minutes for an even roast.

After 30 minutes there was a distinct aroma of brownies, so I took them out the dish to cool. Some chocolate makers think it’s best to cool them for a few hours, even 24, but I didn’t wait that long.

Step 2 - CRACKING & WINNOWING

I assumed since the batch was small, cracking and peeling the beans by hand wouldn’t be a big deal. Holy crap was I wrong. After an hour, I had a tiny jugful of nibs and a massive tray of unpeeled beans staring at me. Some of the beans were difficult to peel and pretty soon I wanted to kill myself.

I decided to crack the beans a bit more aggressively, putting them in a plastic bag and bashing them with a rubber mallet (in the absence of a rolling pin). I learned from this first botched attempt that it’s better to put fewer beans in the bag and use a transparent bag, so you can spread then out in a single layer and see what you’re doing, carefully whacking them just hard enough to crack the husks and break the beans into pieces, without pulverising them to a powder.

When I attempted winnowing with a hairdryer, I suffered the consequences of bashing my beans over-zealously.

I put the cracked beans in a large bowl and blasted them with a hairdryer on the cool setting. This is best done outside, as husks fly everywhere, making a huge mess. You might want to wear goggles and a mask if you’re doing loads, because it gets really dusty.

The idea was to shimmy the bowl around while blowing the husks off with cool air, leaving the nibs. But unfortunately there wasn’t enough weight difference between husk fragments and nib fragments, so I ended up blowing loads of my nibs away.

I ended up with just under 500g (1.1lb) of nibs, when I started with 750g (1.7lb).  I only expected to lose about 20% of the weight after winnowing, so I’d wasted over 100g (3.5oz). 

Second time around, with fewer beans in the bag, a clear bag and much more careful bashing, I cracked the beans into bigger chunks, rather than powder.

I also tried to use a little more finesse with the hairdryer, holding it further away and gently agitating and sifting the nibs with my hands, so I didn’t create a hurricane in the bowl and blast everything clean out. The tortoise approach is definitely superior to the hare.

After a while, there were still quite a few beans with husks on, so I spent another hour or more hand-peeling those, wondering whether I was being too OCD about it. I didn’t want to risk the texture and flavour of the chocolate by leaving too many husks in, so veered on the side of perfectionism. About 2% husks is okay.

Step 3 - GRINDING & CONCHING

I ended up with 483g (1lb) of nibs.

Before grinding the nibs, I whizzed them to a fine powder in a blender, to ease the pressure on the grinder’s rollers and motor. If I had a better blender or food processor I would’ve kept going until they were more like a rough paste, but they were clogging up, so I stopped at a powder.

I’m in a hot climate - it was about 35C (95F) outside and 28C (82F) in my adega-turned-chocolate-factory. I tipped the nibs into the grinder, holding the hairdryer above to get the heat going, but they reached 45C in no time so there was enough heat in the grinder to ditch the hairdryer.

I tipped 140g (5oz) melted cocoa butter into the nibs straight away. Next time I might try waiting for a few hours, before adding the cocoa butter. Apparently some chocolate makers conch the nibs for 24 hours, then add the cocoa butter and sugar and conch for another 10. There are endless combinations and it’ll be interesting to see what difference it makes to the flavour.

After about 10 minutes I added 340g (12oz) sugar, so everything was in the grinder really quickly. I gradually tightened the rollers in 5 minute intervals until they were all the way down.

I was aiming for 65% dark chocolate. The recipe was 500g (1.1lb) nibs, 350g (12oz) caster sugar, 150g (5oz) melted cocoa butter. Since I blew away more nibs than planned, I reduced the quantities a tiny bit. Having tasted the liquor and read more recipes, this might be heavy on sugar, but we’ll see how it turns out. I tend to prefer less sweetness. Next time I might try more like 65% nibs, 5% cocoa butter and 30% sugar.

My liquor was grinding at 45-50C (113-122F), so I didn’t need to put the lid on for extra warmth. Leaving the lid off reduces the acidity and smoothes out the flavours. If you’re in a cooler climate you can use a lamp to keep the temperature up.

After a few hours, during which I scraped down the sides of the grinder a few times, it looked like melted chocolate. I kept tasting as it got less grainy. Still seems a bit sweet.

I’m going for a 24 hour conch.

I’m worried about tempering, moulding and storage in this heat. Storing chocolate in the fridge may be my only option, but there’s a risk of condensation that’ll cause sugar bloom and ruin the temper. From what I can gather if chocolate loses it’s temper because it’s too hot (I know the feeling), you can re-temper; but if it loses it’s temper because it has been stored in the fridge too cold, you’ve had it. I haven’t tested this for myself yet. Regardless, the chocolate will still taste good and will be perfectly fine for cakes, hot chocolate etc. The best I can do is to store it in an airtight container, wrapped up in towels or bubble wrap. That way, when I come to use it, I can bring it up to room temperature slowly to reduce the moisture. Not ideal, but until I get a wine fridge, it’s the only way.

DAY 2...

I tasted my chocolate after 16 hours in the grinder and all the graininess had gone. Silky smooth and tastes delicious.

I could store my untempered chocolate for a few weeks to age, to develop the flavours. But I’m already concerned about storage in this hot climate, so that’s an experiment best left until Winter. I’m not sure whether ageing is effective in the fridge. Also I don’t have the patience to wait, because I’m desperate to see my first chocolate bars!

So tempering and moulding right away it is.

Step 4 - TEMPERING

As with most aspects of chocolate making, opinions differ on the best tempering method. If you don’t have a tempering machine, a bain marie works fine to raise the temperature. Then to drop it down, you can spread the chocolate onto a marble slab, or use a cold water bath, stirring like mad. Some people seed the chocolate with pieces of previously temperated chocolate, but I don’t have any yet. I’ve also seen Dom Ramsey and others succeed by cooling it naturally.

I spotted a few minor variations on recommended temperatures:

i) Heat to 49C (120F), cool to 26C (79F), heat to 32C (89.5F). ii) Heat to 45C (113F), cool to 28.5C (83F), heat to 31C (88F). iii) Heat to 40C (104F), spread on slab until it thickens, heat to 31C (88F)

Some say tempering in a hot climate is nigh impossible, but I’m not having that. My first attempt, however, was not a success.

First of all I tipped the mixture straight out of the grinder. It had been sitting around 43-45C (109.5-113F) all day, so theoretically was close to the high temperature already. By the time I’d scraped it into the bowl, it was in the thirties, so I decided to heat it back up. I tried the hairdryer first of all, but that wasn’t cutting it, so made a bain marie. I took the bowl off when it was at 45C (113F), but it rose quite a bit more, to almost 50C (122F).

I thought since the room temperature was around 28C, I’d be able to hit the low temperature with the help of a fan and lots of stirring. Not so. I ended up running to fetch a pan of ice water, but I didn’t have enough ice, nor a big enough water bath, so it was taking forever to cool down.

After about 10 minutes of frantic stirring, I remembered I had one of those blue ice pack things in the freezer, so dropped that into the water and the temperature started to fall.

When it hit 28C (82.5F), I started heating it back up with the hairdryer to 31C (88F).

I do have a marble worktop, so perhaps shouldn’t chicken out of the spreading method.

The bars aren’t beautiful and glossy like I hoped for, so it’s back to the drawing board on the tempering front. There’s cocoa butter bloom on some of the bars and the chocolate stuck to the mould for the same reason. 

With only 10 bars from this batch, I’m not going to sweat it too much. I’ll have another go with tomorrow’s batch.

Overall, the chocolate is silky sooth and I’m pleased with the result flavour-wise. I just need to master the tempering, despite the challenging climate.

Lessons for next time:

If using the water bath method: big sink / basin full of water, don’t skimp on the ice.

Don’t keep the bowl on the bain marie; instead take it on and off, stirring and measuring the temperature, so it’s easier to control and doesn’t rise so aggressively. It’s particularly important not to let the final temperature rise about 32C (89.5F), otherwise you need to start again. This could easy be what knackered my temper this time. Perhaps it also took too long for the chocolate to cool.

Life is too short for crappy, floppy silicon moulds. Invest in some decent, rigid, transparent ones. They’ll be easier to tap and shake to remove air bubbles; plus you’ll be able to see when the chocolate is set. I blemished two bars popping them out a little early as I couldn’t tell.

Test the temper before moulding by putting a blob of chocolate on a knife and letting it set at room temperature (some say in the fridge) for a few minutes. If it looks uneven dull, as opposed to glossy and smooth, re-temper it right away. When you touch properly tempered chocolate, it won’t leave a melty smudge on your finger.

Experiment summary, Batch #1

Recipe 483g (1lb) nibs (50.2%) - Madagascar Organic, Sambriano Valley 140g (5oz) cocoa butter (14.5%) - Chocolate Madagascar Organic 340g (12oz) golden caster sugar (35.3%)

Method Roasting: 130C (270F) for 30 mins, stirring every 5, in cast iron pot Adding ingredients: Everything added very close together in the first 10 mins Conching: 24 hours Temper: half-assed last-minute-flap water bath. Rubbish.

[coolkitchenthings]

Best Tips for Organizing Your Kitchen Like a Pro

Top Tips for Organizing Your Kitchen

   3 Tips for Getting Your Kitchen Organized

by Kimberly Hensle Lowrance

The busy school year is quickly approaching, and to be prepped for the hustle and bustle, your kitchen could probably use a touch up. The fall, right on through the winter, is often our busiest time. And much of that time is spent….in the kitchen.

In anticipation, I’m getting a head start on the back-to-school rush with a kitchen shape up. I’m sharing three no cost (and super easy) ways to get ready for what I know will be a hectic season.

Each of these organization tips can be done in 15 minutes. (Set a timer to keep yourself on track, if you’d like!) Do them all together or spread them out over several days.

1. Clean Out Your Storage Containers

Mismatched storage containers filling up drawers and cabinets in your kitchen? You’re not alone—and now is the time to get rid of the mess.

Take out all of the containers and lids from their hiding places. Place them on your countertop or table for easy access. (Put on some fun music to entertain you while you work!)

Wipe down the drawers and cabinets these containers reside in, and recycle containers and lids that are cracked, broken, or without a match.

Tip!  Recruit your kids to help, making a game of who can match the most bottoms with tops.

Once the tops and bottoms are paired up, put them back in their place and high five your helpers!

2. Consolidate Your Spices

​I’m always surprised how easily spice containers accumulate in my kitchen. Half used containers of rosemary, thyme, and basil tell the story of delicious meals—but overstuff my cabinet. If you have the same problem, consider purging your spices as part of your back-to-school campaign.

Take all of your spices out of their cabinet or drawer, sorting them by type. Wipe down the space where you store them. Throw away expired spices, recycling their containers.

Consolidate multiple jars of the same spice together, and make a list of which spices you’re missing for your next trip to the grocery. Consider adding purchase dates to the tops of your spice containers so you know how long they’ve been in the cabinet.

​Place the spices back, using an organization technique that works best for you—like alphabetical or by use.

​Tip!  Keep out one spice you haven’t used in while, and pledge to cook a meal with it that week; it will be your reward for your hard work!

3. Gather Your Glassware

​From well-beyond-their-time sippy cups to chipped coffee mugs, the shelves that hold glasses and mugs get filled up quickly.

Make time for another kitchen purge by taking all of the glasses and mugs out of your cabinets and cleaning off the shelves once they’re empty (Pause and appreciate that emptiness—looks great, right?).

​Recycle anything that’s damaged. Put the beer glasses from college and the kids’ outgrown cups from toddlerhood in a bag to donate.

​Only put back in the cabinet that which you will use, organizing the glasses by size so you can see what you have with one glance.

Tip!  If possible, move the kids’ cups and glasses to a low shelf so they can help themselves.

You’re done! Pour yourself a glass of something cool to drink, toasting the completion of another organization to-do.

​Did you finish all three steps? Congratulations! Now enjoy how much more organized you are as you bid farewell to summer and say hello to fall!

Source: 3 Tips for Getting Your Kitchen Organized

Making Kitchen Organization a Snap

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Products to Help Organize Your Kitchen

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      Rubbermaid Easy Find Lid Glass Food Storage Set, 22-piece

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★ NEW & IMPROVED – airtight lid is leak proof; fastens tightly to keep products fresh; keeps your snacks, chips or fruits separated in container with deep indents on box and lid; divided containers with lids is a neat solution for crafts and fine motor toys; SPACE SAVERS! containers nest together to save space when not in use; stackable, functional & attractive!

Meal Prep your portion control diet in advance! Top choice by fitness experts these handy 3 compartment bento boxes with clear lids are designed for easy meal prep. Made of safe POLYPROPYLENE they are engineered for heat and cold resistance. It’s thick walls keep cold items cold and hot items hot. These versatile lunch containers are microwavable for the ideal take out container. They are easy to stack in coolers and picnic baskets and it’s New & Improved AIRTIGHT lid keeps delicate foods fresh!

    Kitchen Organization Products on Wayfair

 Storage Container (Set of 12) 5 Piece Galvanized Storage Container Set Storvino Nero 6 Bottle Wine Storage Container (Set of 2) Tin Container with Lid Chroma 9 Piece Container Set Color: Crystal, Green, Lavender, Light Blue, Yellow 5 Piece Galvanized Container Set AMAC 5-Piece Container Set AMAC Chroma 760 5-Piece Container Assortment Kartell-One Modular Storage Unit with Feet

  Organizing Your Kitchen Like a Pro

  How To Organize Your Kitchen Like a Pro

Learn more about Secrets of an Organized Mom at http://ift.tt/1JhAoIc;

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Originally posted 2015-08-14 18:58:37.

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