#and will only eat them if its triangle cut

[kcalsforhim]

˖⋆࿐໋ thursday 26th of december

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today i woke up erm at like 12 pm idk… i slept kinda wonky ? i weighed myself again and saw i gained even more.. how embarrassing… sighs.. its fine, it’s better to face yourself then to hide right ?

breakfast :

2 pieces of bread, coated with egg and greek yogurt batter and put in the oven. low-fat cream cheese and 0 added sugar strawberry jam

this was good ! it was the only 2 pieces left, i just cut them down the middle to make them more pleasant to eat. no oil was added since they were made in the oven, my mom made it ! it was pretty tasty T_T

then i got upstairs and applied make up to go to work, i haven’t done a full face in days if not more than a week, so seeing myself in my female face was kind of weird but its always nice to feel pretty

after getting ready i went on the treadmill and i walked for 20 mins and then left to go to work.

lunch :

1 zero sugar strawberry dreams monster, this small chocolate, and 1 red bull zero sugar

i got the monster, red bull and chocolate gifted to me by my friend, i didn’t ask for the chocolate but i was feeling fatigued so i let myself have it. work was good all the way untill the last hour, then it went to shit and i got really stressed

after work i walked home, and felt frustrated cause i was nowhere near my step goal. get home, storm upstairs and go on the treadmill, literally refreshing my health app every 2 seconds.. my dad got mad cause i was being noisy, get more mad, go outside and smoke and force my mom out with me and we go on a big walk.. kinda calmed down

after our walk feeling sick cause i smoked so much lel, she asks me if i want to watch the first episode of squid game season 2 with her, says sure. she gets snacks for herself, says there’s pudding in the fridge. i said no thank you… but i did want something

snack 1 :

3/4 of a cucumber, with a small side of crème fraise

this was good ! i cut them into little triangles with shaky hands.. i felt so skinny snacking on cucumbers buuut i also felt guilty because this food totally wasn’t necessary..

snack 2 :

3 dates (20c per date, i looked it up !)

these were good, i never had them just on their own, apparently these were those really expensive kind you can buy… you take it, rip it in half and take out the seed, then you take out the hard bit at the top, and then you can eat it ! its naturally very sweet… nghhhsgehh im not sure, i feel like i ate too much today, but i really didn’t have any kind of.. meal or something

shockingly, again, like yesterday, i really didn’t feeeeel like eating. when my mom texted me at 9:30 saying she’d make me something for dinner i got mad and i was like i don’t want to eat, but i lied and said i already had something…

i really hope i lose weight soon.. is this too much food for a day ? im kind of scared LMAO but idk what im scared of cause i’ve had genuine huge binge fests before.. aha ?

cals : 2 days binge free !

steps : 13.4 k

cool song that makes me think of my oc’s… very like, cool guy music LOL

⋆˙⟡

[supernaturalkickparty]

Me to the toddler: hey buddy what do you want for lunch today?

Toddler: I'm not hungry.

Me: ok well I'm gonna make me some butterfly noodles, you sure you don't want some?

Toddler: no I'm not hungry, maybe a banana please.

Me proceeds to make my lunch and cut up a banana for him/about to sit down eat my lunch.

Toddler:mommy can I please a boiled egg and a cheese toast triangle sandwich and strawberries please.

Me:🙃🙃🙃sure child

[purerae]

— DUPLEXITY;;

fem!reader x coworker!yanderes

— who knew attempting to bond with your co workers would lead to a fucked up love triangle?

prologue; quit your job! If dying was an option right now, Y/N would take it with a gleeful smile.

Sprinting through the woods, her ears ringing, she slams her grimy, broken hand against her head over and over. Her knees, bruised to a swollen pulp of purple, threaten to buckle beneath her. A deep, unprotected gash dressed painfully across her back, its edges rotting, every movement tearing at the poorly dressed wound.

Ignoring the piercing whine in her ears, her heart froze at the sound of shuffling drawing closer. Her legs wobbled, threatening to give out, but the surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins kept her moving forward. An ear striking screech bursts from the girl’s throat, desperate to catch the attention of any passing drivers or hikers.

How could she be so foolish? It’s four in the morning, and she’s in the middle of nowhere, with two freaks relentlessly chasing her.

Her scream was a terrible mistake. It brought her no closer to freedom instead only closer to her pursuers. Their shouts echo behind her, filled with words she can’t—and doesn’t want to comprehend.

Pleas, threats, and bursts of anger escape from their mouths but the only thing that Y/N had her mind on was getting her brother and leaving this shithole. Y/N ran and ran, but to her dismay and an almost comical cruel sense of bad luck , Her vision was slammed with a wall ruined with graffiti that was now taunting her from her inescapable future. Her breathing slows as she stumbled back, desperately praying for anything that could save her. Surely they weren't close, she put in all this effort, they cannot be close! With trembling caution, she moved backward, her steps deliberate and silent. She avoided every brittle branch and insect littering the forest floor, straining to make as little noise as possible. Her back pressed into something soft yet unyielding, carrying the earthy scent of firewood mixed with the sharp tang of blood that she’ll always loathe.  Y/N’s breath hitched, frozen in her chest as the sound of heavy breathing enveloped her ears from just behind.

‘Fuck.'

“You can’t run from us. It’s two against one, cutie.”

Even with her back turned, she could picture his smug, shit-eating smirk. A chill ran down her spine as his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer, trapping her. God, she wished she had a bat so she could beat him till he was a lifeless piece of flesh that she could point and laugh at. Too bad that would never be possible, even if she had a weapon to begin with. Deep down, Y/N knew there was no escaping this. But with every ounce of strength her battered body could summon, she let out the loudest scream she could muster; a semblance of hope in her body that somebody could save her. It tore through the cold night air before everything turned black. The last thing she heard was another man's footsteps approaching them, and two voices she made an oath to never hear, conversing. All she wanted was a fucking pay raise.

-

-

- Y/N buttoned her blouse with a giddy smile, rushing around her room in search of the shoes she’d bought just for this day. "I can't believe I got the job! I'm so excited, this still feels so surreal."  she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm as she grabbed her phone, waiting for her friend’s response. "Girl, I'm happy for you!” her friend shouted over the line, her voice barely cutting through the loud music and chatter in the background. “Just work hard, and you’ll be promoted to detective in no time! My little Sherlock Holmes~” Y/N scoffs out a laugh before she shakes her head at the chaos on the other end. Normally, she’d lecture her friend about hosting a party at seven in the morning, but today, she was too nervous and way too excited about her first day to care. "Ahaha, Yeah  I don't know about that... I'm still in shock that I got the job to be the assistant, let alone be the main thing. I just hope the person in charge of me is nice." The E/C-eyed girl replied looking at the ceiling , nervously biting her nails whilst walking back and forth in her room.

"Don't stress about it! I'm sure they'll be nice, babes. And you should ju-" Y/N’s friend was abruptly cut off by a guy shouting in the background, his voice carrying over the music: “Ayra! Get back to the party already!” "Hold on a sec Noel! Im talking to Y/N" she yells back with an obvious scowl on her face… Well, Y/N was almost positive that she displayed one based on the tone of her voice. "It's fine! You go do your shit, I gotta’ finish getting ready." "Okay Okay, message me after your shift ends. I wanna know everything~!" The bubbly girl says as she mimics a kiss sound. Despite Ayra not being able to see Y/N, she smiles with a soft gaze at the phone before hanging up. Staring into the mirror, she carefully assessed her outfit. A sleek black blouse layered over a white undershirt paired perfectly with a matching black pencil skirt. Light makeup enhanced her features, and her neatly styled hair framed her face just right. She smoothed her clothes with her hands, beaming widely as she twirled in front of the mirror. Y/N gathered all her essentials, carefully packing them into her bag before stepping out of her apartment. She locked the door with a quick twist of the key, then paused to double-check it twice…just to be sure; it was a habit she had done ever since she lived in her parents home. 

Stepping into the elevator, she pressed the button for the ground floor. Knowing the ride would take a while, she lived on the second-highest floor, after all, she pulled out her phone to check the time. It was 7:15 a.m. Perfect. With the bus journey to the department taking only 30 minutes, she was right on schedule (which was always a struggle for her.) A grin spread across her face as she opened her email app and tapped on the message from the 'Warrens Department.' Her heart fluttered nervously as she re-read the letter, scanning each line to ensure she hadn’t missed anything important. As she scrolled to the bottom, her brows furrowed. There, tucked away, was a link she hadn’t noticed before.

'Shit I must've missed this' She thought with worry before quickly clicking the link, silently thanking her instincts for prompting her to double-check the message. The link was a profile of the detective that she would be working with. Looking at the picture, she notices that he was a very conventionally attractive male. The formally dressed girl squints her eyes before assessing the man that her eyes laid upon.

Xavier Allette, it read. Twenty-five years old, with five years of experience as a detective.

‘Holy shit, he became a detective at 20? I was still in university then.’ Y/N’s thoughts wandered briefly as she reminisced about her own journey, a flicker of envy stirring as she compared herself to her boss.

Letting out a breath of relief that she didn't know she had; The assistant was expecting an old cruel man as her boss, but to her luck, it was someone of a similar age to her. And, as a bonus, he wasn’t bad to look at either.

Y/N knew better than to judge someone based on their appearance, but as her cheeks warmed, she couldn’t help but blush at the handsome face staring back at her from the screen. A straight pale face, with a clean-shaven look. His hair was a wavy deep black, tussled formally. Eyes sharp and matched with his extremely dark hair. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the absence of a glint or any sign of life in his pupils. ‘I’m overthinking it,’ she told herself. ‘He’s just posing for the picture’. It had to be her psychology degree kicking in, making her analyze every feature of his face like a subject in a case study. Xavier’s nose was strikingly defined, and his lips were full, holding a slightly warm tint that gave his serious expression a subtle softness. Though he was wearing a suit, anyone could tell the detective worked out as his jaw was sharp and his shoulders were broad. It was clear that he took good care of himself.

The only other information displayed on his profile was a list of the cases he had worked on and details about his educational background. 'Maketa Academy?!' That was the most prestigious high school that Y/N had ever heard of. You could either get in with a scholarship or a lot of money. Unfortunately for her, she had been neither crazy smart nor crazy rich, so attending a place like that had never been an option. Y/N couldn’t tell whether Xavier had gotten in through wealth or intellect, but either way, it was impressive. Her train of thought abruptly halted as the elevator chimed, signaling her arrival on the first floor.

Turning off her phone, She exits the building before walking a short distance to the bus so she could arrive at the destination where she was going to be working.

'Please be nice to me, Warrens Department.'

-

-

-

Y/N rushed out of the bus, the clock read 8:00 am. The bus kept on delaying because of the traffic that the driver faced. The 15 minutes that she was hoping she had left to spare, disappeared all because of not getting a driver's licence! Cursing at herself, she ran to the building that was two minutes away. She could get there in ten seconds, her stubbornness is saving her life today.

The girl stared in awe at the building for a second. It was massive and incredibly modern. A large sign labelled Warrens Department was placed right in the middle of the building. Shaking her head, she scans the key card that came into the mail a week ago and fixes any loose hairs before walking into the building.

8:01 am, Already a minute late, though not much of a difference, she didn't want to disappoint her boss on the first day. Power walking to the reception she sighs shyly before speaking up. "Hi!" Her voice cracks.

'Oh my god, first I'm late, now my voice cracks, I should just quit my job and leave this e-' "Hello! Who’re  you? I've never seen you before?" The ginger girl behind the desk questioned loudly. Her light southern accent peeked through. The red-haired was incredibly short, her face caked with pink-themed makeup matching her formal pink outfit. Y/N thought the receptionist was cute and seemed nice too! If she wasn't too busy stressing about being late, she'd love to be her friend. "I'm the detective's new assistant— Xaviers Allette's assistant." Y/N rambles, hands shaking with nerves.

"Y/N L/N?" The receptionist questioned with eyebrows raised, Y/N nods quickly and shows her key card to the lady. "I'm Abigail!" her smile drops, "Also, you should probably head over to his office quickly, Mr Allette hates tardiness.. a lot." It was now Y/N's turn for her face to drop, she mumbles a quick thank you before running off.She stops in her tracks as she realised her stupid mistake. "Hey Abigail, what's his room number?" Y/N spoke rushing back to the desk. Reaching halfway, the red-haired girl puts her hand out, ordering her to stop running back. "It's on the second floor, room 11, hurry!" She yells, shaking her hand. The late assistant puts a thumbs up as a way of saying thank you before completely ignoring the elevator and rushing up the stairs. Turning left she finds the room that is the lead detective. On the door, a silver plate is shown with  'Room 11' and 'Xavier Allette' engraved onto them in a fancy font.. It was clear that his room was the biggest on the floor.

Wiping the sweat off her hands and re-checking herself on the reflection of the plate, she checks the time. 

8:05 am.

Y/N knocks on her boss's door. The door opens automatically, she notices the man that was just on her screen almost an hour ago, sitting down with his eyes furrowed and lips pulled into a frown.  His eyes were fixated on his computer screen, fist propped against his chin. The assistant looks around while patiently waiting for him to say something.

20 seconds passed and all that she could hear were the sounds of him typing. the h/c hair-coloured girl clears her throat.

"Good morning, sir. My name is Y/N L/N, and Im p-"

"You're late." A deep, harsh voice cuts her off. 

A/N : New story :p !! i really like the plot for this one and will have a masterlist out for it soon!

[talekinesis]

Random Gravity Falls Headcanons

Stan

This guy smokes to help deal with the stress of everything. He picked up the habit after he was kicked out by his father and hasn't quit since. He used to be a chainsmoker but after getting to look after the kids for the summer, he drastically cut back and is actually thinking of quitting altogether because he wants to be around long enough to watch Mabel and Dipper grow up

Actually a pretty decent cook, it's just baking he sucks at. With cooking you can sort of eyeball the ingredients and add more or less depending on your own personal taste, but with how strict baking is with its ingredients, he never really picked it up. He's only baked a cake twice in his life, once for his mom when he was a kid, with the help of Ford, and once for the kids' birthday (it was lopsided and runny and they decided to just go out for pancakes instead)

He can play the guitar really well. He had to teach himself how to play when he was young and homeless, playing for tips. He still has his original guitar and occasionally, on a good day, will get it out and play it. He played it once for Mabel, who, for once in her life, actually sat still and listened

Part of his daily routine is kicking gnomes out of the trash because they keep trying to eat leftovers. He just bats them off with a broom like they're raccoons

He grew up a huge mama's boy since she was the only supportive parent he had. After he got kicked out of the house, he called her from a pay phone a couple times to ask to come back home and to wish her a happy birthday. To this day he still makes it a point to get a cupcake on her birthday since he can't celebrate it with her, and sometimes he'll tell the kids stories about her, like how she would have loved Mabel since Mabel has all these different unique sweaters, and his ma used to collect different, big, unique earrings

Stan coaches Mabel in boxing, and actually helped her discover a passion for it, he attends all of her matches. He even taught her a couple illegal moves that she can't use in the ring but can use in real self defense

Even in his early 60s, he still thinks it's funny to bother Ford as if they were still kids. He'll randomly snatch his glasses off his face (forgetting that he also wears glasses and Ford can retaliate), he'll just start copying Ford and repeat what he says, he once even dressed up as Ford, but it didn't last very long because Ford wears a much smaller size of pants, and Stan has a bit of a gut on him. He changed after about five or ten minutes.

He's a die-hard fan of Chappell Roan

He's actually the more responsible of the Stan-Twins. He breaks laws sure, but he always makes sure everyone is fed and safe. He's like this close 🤏 to putting Ford and Mabel on leashes when they go out because they have a tendency to run off

"I'd like to make an announcement to the store, I lost someone." "Oh, did your kid run off?" "My 60 year old brother, yeah. No he doesn't have a cellphone."

Has a biological kid out there somewhere but the mom cut him off. I just think the scene where he said, "Scary movies are great, the girl cuddles up next to ya... next thing you know you gotta raise a kid.. And your life falls apart.." sounded too much like he was speaking from experience and not as a hypothetical. He wants so badly to be a dad though and regrets not keeping contact. (let me know if I should make an oc for this :] )

Ford

He can't eat doritos or any triangle shaped chip because one time Bill hid inside a chip bag just to startle him

It took him a while to adjust to this dimension's laws of physics. He was frustrated for a while that he couldn't just leave his coffee floating in the air. He broke three mugs and one of them was Stan's.

Despises pickles as if he held a personal grudge against them. He hates them an irrational amount, and even gets irritated with Stan for just having them in the house. He acts like a child about it too, arms crossed and everything. "Here, Poindexter, you want me to take the pickles off your sandwich? Like a child?" "Don't bother, the meal's ruined >:( "

He gets sucked into those soap operas that Stan watches, and will sometimes watch from the doorway or over his shoulder. He won't admit it, but Stan knows.

He lights his face on fire because he saw someone else do it in a different dimension where that was normal

Unlike Stan, he's actually amazing at baking (he likes to follow precise measurements and instructions) But sucks at cooking. Caught a pot of water on fire.

When he first discovered the shape shifter, he kept it as a pet because he found it cute, but ended up letting it go when he found out it had a human-like sentience and could speak. But for a while he raised it the same way Mabel raises Waddles, putting it in little shirts, hats, and just absolutely adoring it

Used to play 'Dungeons, Dungeons, and more Dungeons' with a group in college as the DM, and it was the first time he actually had a friend group. The other players loved the way he set things up

Doesn't like alchohol. At least from this dimension, he got used to alternate dimension alchohols that tasted way better, so when he came back to Earth everything tasted way too strong and almost like dirt to him so he just quit

Used to know a little banjo since Fiddleford taught him but forgot it while in other dimensions

Used to babysit Tate on occasion and sucked at it

He also used to babysit Shermie and *also* sucked at it. He'd have to pass him off to Stan if he got fussy or started crying since only Stan and their mom could calm him down

• Used to play David Bowie in his lab and would occasionally lip sync or dance to it. Even when traveling dimensions, he'd introduce David Bowie music to the people, creatures, and beings he met, until he lost the cassette tape and was devastated

Mabel

Allergic to chocolate and makes up for it by eating way too much of other candies. She still tries to eat it though because "Maybe I'm not allergic anymore," but Dipper has to stop her. Stan even makes it a point not to keep chocolate in the Shack when they visit because he knows Mabel is a heathen with little self preservation. It's not epi-pen bad, but it will burn and itch her throat and get her coughing (Ford will use chocolate substitutes when baking for her and Dipper)

She likes to tell people that she and Dipper were originally two of three, and that she ate their triplet in the womb to become stronger. This is not true.

She wants to be a big sister really bad and sometimes that comes out onto Dipper despite him only being 5 minutes younger, much to his dismay and protest

She found a passion for boxing after Stan taught her how, and even asked her parents to let her start doing it as a sport, which she got really into. Coincidentally, after she picked up boxing, Gideon suddenly left her alone completely. Future Headcanon: She grows up to box professionally and one day even faces Grenda in the ring, but there's obviously a mutual respect between them. They agreed ahead of time that if they ever had to face each other, neither of them would hold back and it would be a fair match. Even after there's a winner, they meet up afterward and go out for dinner with Candy, who posts their matches to social media. Waddles is her mascot.

Mabel makes even more friends when she returns home from Gravity Falls because she takes Waddles for walks on a leash and it's a pretty good conversation starter

She is convinced that if she eats all the ingredients for a cake, she'll have successfully made a cake in her stomach. Once again, Dipper has to physically stop her from doing this. Ford does too, the first time he heard her say this (through a mouthful of flour) he went, "That certainly is an interesting theory, Mabel, but no-"

Dipper

Let's get it out of the way, I really like the 'Trans Dipper' headcanon. It just fits really well and I, as a trans person, can relate to him a lot

I think he knows how to dance a little because his mom taught him and used to take him to 'Mother-Son' events

He secretly keeps a tally of how many times Mabel rolls herself out of bed because it always wakes him up but he also kind of thinks it's funny because she just sleeps through it. Even if they don't share rooms back at home, he can always here the distance "thunk" of his sister hitting the floor. The tally isn't a sheet of paper, it's a small notebook with multiple pages filled in

He sometimes gets the courage to try and roughhouse with Stan, who is always on board but purposely takes it easy on the kid because he's like "baby bird" fragile

Dipper was the one to break the news to his Grandpa Shermie that Stanley was still alive and Stanford was actually missing for 30 years with Stan taking his place, almost giving the poor man a heart attack. (Shermie ended up booking a flight to Gravity Falls to yell at his brothers in person because that's not a conversation you can have over the phone)

Dipper was the one to introduce Stan to Chappell Roan by accident, but now they listen to her if they're in the car together

his DD&MD character is a female orc fighter named Yotula and he got very excited to info-dump about her to Ford (who was equally as excited to listen)

Has an odd addiction to chocolate milk. He makes a glass of chocolate milk at least once a day. Twice if it's been a rough day. He actually gets a little upset if he misses his daily cup of chocolate milk, its just routine. Stan one time made an offhand joke that since Mabel's allergic, Dipper has to consume twice as much for the both of them, but Mabel took that seriously and now to her its just the truth.

[crows-in-the-house]

Bill Cipher x Reader possesion hc's

tw: harm to reader, violence and blood?

i think he would posses you in your sleep, making sure you are deep in nightmare realm, getting in only when he's sure you won't wake up :

he will start his fun with drawing eyes on your eyelids and your forehead, maybe whole body if he's in the mood,

and the best part? It's going to be with a the pernament marker sucker!

if he gets bored he might start drawing triangles or riddles, sometimes just in places you won't see, like "Bill's property" on your nape (ha! you still have that you fool!)

oooh, and maybe he will tattoo that if you've been ignoring him lately

just so you know haha

will try to see if he can bite of ur fingers

will eat spiders (his fav human must be well feed)

will bath you in nailpolish so you're "well preserved"

will prank call random people hoping he finds any of the Pines numbers (so you two can go on a murder date!!)

will make a fashion show!

but don't hope it will turn out well, he will cut out "clothes" out of your curtains, make a shawl out of toilet paper and use a grater as a bracelet. Later you may just find yourself half naked cuz he bearly knew how to put back normal clothes on you (he will defend himself saying that real clothes are boring and out of style)

on the other hand he will also put on lots of jewelry and accesories - so you may also wake up with three hats, old winter glove, two bowties (which you didn't own earlier?) and 6 rings on your toes. enjoy!

sometimes Bill will just watch tv. Maybe he will comment on "my little ponny" or other shows, what else can he do? He has to talk to somebody, you know, while waiting for his lazy human. The next day you can feel ur throat burning and eyes itching

"what about building a portal?" - you would ask. Well no, he obviously does that. It's just that it's not so enjoyable when you don't have anyone to boss around! So he gets bored quickly and nags you about it later. Or send you more nightmares about it, cuz how dare you be so sloppy with your work!?

he will also draw himslef on all your mirrors so you can look at him every time u try to look at ur relfection (if you try to clean that off, he will just scratch it with something sharp the next day, so better be cearful, theres going to be lots of glass shards everywhere)

prolly will just throw brokade everywhere cuz its pretty

if he's feeling lonely or desperate he will start rewiring your brain, maybe adding a few fake memories where he's your hero, or putting himself in a place of somebody that helped you in hard sytuation. Remember that one time you got sick and somebody was next to your bed 24/7? Yeah it was Bill, do thank him.

will read all your thoughts about him

will drink a soup made of energy drinks and candy

will write his name on ur brain. or heart. or lungs, maybe just everywhere, why not?

will act like you in front of the mirror and compliment himself!

will try making a piercing. if he fails with your ears he will just practice on your tights! And neck!

will haunt down your friends, you better tell them you were just playing tag with them. Yes, with a knife, who doesn't?

will try to lick your eyeball

and elbow

also will hurt your body in weird ways but that obvious

(buuuut maybe, just maybe, he will make you not feel all the pain the next day. If he likes you that enough, that is)

[vv-julian]

SOC HEADCANONS RAAHHHH

kaz brekker: -grinds his teeth nonstop day in and out -good at logistical math like statistics, inequalities, stuff like exponential expressions etc. so fucking bad at geometry. give him a triangle he is like kys. prove this is a triangle? you want proof? i have proof that your wife is cheating on you -inej makes him do puzzles a lot. sudoku type stuff -drinks black coffee for show but hes not a caffeine-keeps-me-awake guy. hes a sugar-keeps-me-awake guy. sometimes its candies but usually it is sugar cane that he chews (did not originally know you weren't supposed to eat the fibers and would just swallow all of it)

inej ghafa: -made herself a self care routine, then ignored it and still completes all the tasks but not the way she organized it -is not one to yell at the other crows but they have many behaviors that are her pet peeves -when practicing climbing trees she tried to climb a weeping willow and got stuck on some of the leaves. inej vs weeping willow and she lost. now willows are her least favorite type of tree. plant in general -thought counting sheep was literal. learned it wasnt but it still helps her sleep

jesper fahey: -has an infrequent tendency to accidentally buy doubles of something. when he does he goes 2 wylan and is like SUPRISE!! i got us matching (insert thing) here -can do the worm, cannot do the macarena -went through a phase where he tried to impress kaz with puns. ended with violence -tried ballet. Tried

wylan hendriks: -gets regular migranes -buys huge sticker packs and puts the stickers on random people he sees. sometimes the crows but mostly just random unsuspecting people on the street. -dry ass skin. hates lotion texture though so its permanent. -likes to wear bracelets underneath his shirts/jackets and wears a LOT of them on the daily but theyre all really tight so they dont make noise or anything. and nobody can see them

nina zenik: -owns a stuffed animal but its for beating the shit out of when she gets mad. big ass stuffie that she just goes cobra kai on. -prefers hard candies over soft ones. hard candies like rock candy or those grandma caramel things that hurt if you bite them -neutral on classical books and poetry but actually despises old philosophy things written by dead guys. -has some joints that she can bend further than normal. like a double jointed elbow or smth and likes to scare matthais and be like OH MY GOD I SNAPPED MY ARM BACKWARDS and then laugh at him (lovingly though)

matthais helvar: -isnt dead L+Ratio -went to a rave once on accident. has never forgotten the experience and regularly thinks about it when he spaces out. little disco lights behind his eyes when hes staring at a wall. (he also would not go back to one) -only wears low-cut socks. gets into arguments with people about his dislike of high-cut socks -has stupid rare non-lethal allergies. nina tries to get him to eat food that is foreign to him and sometimes he just like. starts hacking it up and gets hives or somethn

[lolasimms]

lazy sundays

Summary: Your wife has an affinity for all things orderly, neat and precise. You on the other hand are the complete opposite. To her Sundays are for productivity, but you have other ideas.

When you walked into the kitchen, your wife was already seated at the table eating her very practical breakfast. She was a very particular person. As always, her black coffee was to her right, served in a plain, white mug. A cup of water sat to her left.

Next to the water was a plate of plain, buttered toast, and beside her coffee was a small container of greek yogurt. A mostly eaten grapefruit sat unfinished in a bowl in front of her with a jagged, spiked spoon next to it. Her precise meal was part of what she insisted kept her body in shape. To her breakfast was simple, she'd spend the rest of the day pumping her body full of protein anyways.

She didn't hear you come into the room. Her tablet was propped up on its stand, and she was scrolling through a patient assessment from the hospital in between bites of bitter fruit and strong coffee. Walking up behind her, you tousled her wet hair as you passed by her, disrupting the smooth style.

You yawned on your way to the coffeemaker and pulled your favorite mug out of the cabinet above. You set the giant, mug etched with Moroccan patterns, down a little too loudly, earning your wife's attention.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," she teased, pushing her hair back into place. "Sleep well?"

You grunted and poured a glug of vanilla syrup into your coffee before returning the bottle back to the pantry and kicking it closed. You grunted at her, not ready to speak yet. Coffee first. Glaring at her from behind your mug, you took a long sip of coffee out of the mug. You tipped the mug up, flashing her your middle finger.

Your hair was a mess, and your eyes were still tired. You'd thrown on an oversized, ratty t-shirt with holes around the collar, worn thin from years of use. You padded back over to her in your fluffy slippers and bent to give her a kiss. While your lips met hers, you reached over and took her tablet, taking it with you as you returned to your seat.

"No work on Sundays."

Abby gave you a half hearted scowl while leaning back in her chair and folding her arms across her chest as if she was going to challenge you, but then thought better of it. "So," she asked with a smirk, "Are you going to eat breakfast today or just over-caffeinate?" 

You tucked your leg under you and sat down before taking another pointed sip of coffee just to flash her with another flick of your middle finger. "I haven't decided yet."

Abby hummed and pushed the plate of toast across the table to you. "Eat." The two pieces of bread were toasted to your exact specifications: lightly browned and slathered in butter with each piece being cut into four sharp little triangles.

"Wow. Toast." You teased, opening your mouth wide and shoveling in a toast point. Your cheeks bulged as you chewed, and she shook her head at you. "You shouldn't have gone through the trouble, babe." Crumbs fell onto your shirt when you spoke with your mouth full, and you brushed them onto the floor.

Your wife was ever amused by your carefree nature - whatever that meant. She thought you played too loosey-goosey with life, and you thought she had a stick up her ass at least 90% of the time. Her proposal had possibly been the most unromantic experience of your life and could have only been worse if she had presented you with a prenup attached to the ring. But still, you'd jumped up and down with your hands over your mouth, screaming your acceptance before pouncing on her for a kiss. You'd knocked the ring out of her hand, and you cried for fifteen minutes straight in the middle of the park where you had met while she searched the grass. Of course, when she found it and slid it on your finger, you started crying all over again and subjecting poor Abby to the accusing eyes of anyone who passed by.

"What's the plan for today mommy?" You wiggled from side-to-side in your chair doing your happy dance while you ate the rest of your toast.

Abby looked very satisfied with herself when she told you that she had already done everything on her to do list. "I went for to the gym, showered, called dad, put in a grocery order, did a little work, and had breakfast."

You glowered at her and shoved another toast point into your mouth to keep from telling her to shove her over-efficiency up her nicely rounded ass.

"What about you, darling?"

Shrugging, you chased your food down with a couple sips of coffee and dusted your fingers off over your plate. "Same shit I do every Sunday." You felt her eyes on you when you hopped out of your seat and set your plate in the sink before returning to the table and clearing her away.

"So nothing?"

You smiled while you rinsed the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. You didn't need to see her to know that she was still leaned back in her chair, legs fully extended and crossed under the table, arms folded across her chest, left eyebrow raised with her blue eyes sparkling as she spewed what she considered to be impugnable sarcastic wit.

You closed the dishwasher and hit it with your hip to make sure the latch caught. Abby was sitting exactly as you expected her to, and you cocked your head to the side as you drank her in. Her honey coloured hair damp, as it rested against her Henley top. Pink lips soft as ever and arms looking so delectable you thought you'd combust right there.

"Mostly, yes." Your hand was on your hip as you leaned against the counter.

She hummed at you as she left her seat to retrieve her tablet. "Well, if you have nothing planned, I'm going to keep working." As she passed you, she dropped a sweet kiss on your lips before refilling her coffee before retiring to the living room.

Trailing behind her, you grabbed your phone from the charger in the beroom and took a seat across from her in the armchair that faced the couch. You scrolled through social media mindlessly, liking and hearting, chuckling at memes, and quickly becoming bored. Putting your phone down, you leaned your head in your hands and sighed heavily. Abby glanced up from her work, saw you were fine - just over dramatic - and went back to working.

It was hard to get over how hot she was, and you loved looking at her. You did it often - just sitting and looking at her. Every piece of her was perfect. You loved her toned legs and how long they were and how strong she was. Her pants always hung low on her hips, held up by the most adorable ass you had ever seen. It was perfect for squeezing and making her yelp when you bit it. An accidental little moan slipped out when you thought about the last time you'd gotten your hands on her. Abby's hands stilled and her eyes snapped to yours. The look she gave you confirmed she knew you were perving on her.

"Stop ogling me."

You groaned and slumped in your chair. "Ugh, but I can't help it." You dropped your head back and complained to the ceiling. "You don't understand," you whined. "You're just so fine. I can't help it."

Abby deadpanned. "You'll live." And then she went right back to working.

You snapped back up in your seat and glared at her, testing her to see if she would break first but knowing full well that it would be you. Her eyes were on the tablet, but her hands were idle, and she was having trouble keeping her amused smirk at bay. That little upwards tug of her lips might as well have been an invitation. Crawling out of your chair, you padded over to her. You stood next to the couch, hands clasped demurely in front of you as you waited for her attention.

Your doting wife continued to pretend to ignore you. She continued to work, forcing herself to keep her eyes on the tablet and not you. If she did, the game would be over, and what would be the fun in that? Wiggling your fingers greedily as you reached for the table, you plucked it out of her hand and tossed it onto the coffee table.

"You're an ass. You know that right?" Taking her hands, you opened her arms and crawled into her embrace. You settled onto her lap, rocking your hips against her with a coy smile. Abby hummed deep in her chest when you kissed her chastely. It was the sweetest whisper of a kiss with your hands on either side of her face.

"And you're needy." Abby's hands slipped under your shirt. She leaned into you, asking for another kiss. You gave it to her, and she took more than you were giving. She nipped at your lip and tugged your mouth back to hers. You moaned into her mouth, and she swept it away with tongue. She tasted bitter - like coffee and grapefruit - but she felt good.

Underneath the hem of your shirt, she pawed at your bottom, kneading your ass while she guided you to rock back and forth on her lap. You felt her crotch as she ground it up against you; you were greedy for her - just the hint of her arousal making you clench around nothing. Hands wandering from her broad shoulders to her hair, you sank your fingers into the gorgeous strands you were obsessed with, grabbing it at the root and making her seeth. You broke the kiss and pulled her head back, holding yourself just out of range.

Abby bared her teeth at you and tried to nip at your neck, but your hand in her hair acted as an anchor and kept her at bay. Rising up on your knees, you held your lips just shy of her, close enough to feel your warm breath drift across her lips but far enough away that she couldn't steal a kiss. You basked in the power of depriving her of what she wanted - consequences be damned. Teasing her with a little taste, you licked her lips playfully. Abby immediately tried to snap her teeth at you, but she was too slow to catch you.

"Come on, wife. Let me go." She wasn't asking. It was an order presented as a choice. Her hands were starting to roam your body, skimming up and down your sides, ghosting your skin with her fingers. The featherlight touches erupted goosebumps on your skin and sent your shivering as an excited chill ran through your body. She knew exactly where to touch without even having to look at you.

When her hands brushed the bottom of your breast, you tugged her hair back farther in warning.

"Are you looking for trouble, baby?" Her voice was low, and her eyes sparked trouble. You knew that tone well, and you loved what came along with it.

You nodded deviously and licked the side of her face, disappointed when she didn't react. You had at least expected her to look surprised.

"I warned you once," she said. "Let go."

You shook your head from side to side. You weren't giving up your power - even if it was just an illusion.

"Remember, you did this to yourself." was as much of a warning as you got. Abby pinched your nipple hard, making you buck against her. Your grip in her hair loosened for just a moment, but that was all that she needed to pull herself out of your grasp. She moved quickly, grabbing your wrists and forcing them behind your back. The position pushed your back into an arch and put your breasts in her face. Your nipples were hard peaks, and you looked on nervously while she rubbed her lips over them.

"Are you going to be good?" She sucked your nipple through the shirt, and you tried to pull your hands free. She looked up at you with her mouth on your breast. The fabric of your shirt was starting to darken, wet with her spit.

You whined, trying to wiggle out of her hold while still keeping her mouth on you. Abby held your wrists tightly and snickered at your helplessness. She moved to your other breast and repeated the same torture. She teased you, switching back and forth between them until her plan backfired and she ran out of patience.

She looked at you desperately, undecided. Her choices were either to let you go and touch more of you and risk your impertinence or leave you restrained and her choices limited.

You took advantage of her frustration and ground yourself against her clothed-cunt. You knew you were soaked and probably had left a wet spot on her grey sweat shorts where you had been rocking against her.

Still, Abby held your arms behind you and held you hostage on her lap.

"You could just let me go, darling." You teased her, doing a fair impression of her voice.

"But I don't trust you" she copied yours, and you scoffed.

"I don't sound like that," you argued. At this point it didn't matter if your arms were behind your back or not. Your bratty attitude didn't require the use of your hands.

Abby's eyebrow went up and gave you a stern look. Her beautiful eyes were framed with the most delicate blonde lashes. Even when she was trying to look angry, you found her face sweet. She was far too serious in everything she did, and you loved her for it. Just thinking about how much you loved her made your heart swell, and you knew the moment that she saw how deeply you felt for her written across your face.

Abby released her grip on you and let your arms free. Immediately, you lifted your shirt over your head and let it hit the floor. Abby watched you silently as you crawled off her lap and stood to remove your underwear.  You smiled sheepishly as it slid down your leg, and you kicked it away. She always looked at you like you were beautiful, and you still weren't used to being so thoroughly adored.

You held your hand out for her to take. "I'm going back to bed. Do you want to come?"

Abby snickered and took your hand as she stood up. "Pun intended, darling? She tugged your hand and led you to the bedroom while you rolled your eyes at the terrible joke. You hopped onto the bed, bouncing on your knees while she undressed and squealing when she grabbed reached into the draw for her strap, quickly putting it on and then you turning you around by the waist and crawled on top of you.

She kissed you without a word, nudging your legs open with her knees and sliding between them. Her arms caged you in on either side of your head, and you snaked your arms around her neck and begged for a kiss. Abby wasted no time in giving you what you wanted. Her lips were soft and pink, and you lost yourself in how she made you feel. Eyes closed, you sighed happily as she kissed you until you were dizzy and obsessed with what her mouth and tongue were doing.

Her strap was sliding back and forth against your slit, your slick wetting the pink piece of rubber. Abby bucked causing you to moan, positioning herself at your entrance. You lifted your head to ask for another kiss, while she guided the tip of the strap into you. While she slanted her lips back over yours, you smiled into the kiss. Your mouth went slack as she pushed into you; the slow burn muddling your brain. Abby's lips moved to your jaw and your neck and your ear. Her mouth was everywhere she could reach as she moved your hand out from between your bodies and fully sank into you.

Arching against her, your body pressed against hers and your limbs folded around her. You clung to her, draping your arms around her neck and wrapping your legs around her waist. Abby settled her body weight on top of you and slowly began to move, dragging out your pleasure with long strokes and slow pushes into you. Your need was building. Each time she pulled back, she left just enough inside you to make you clench around her, desperate to stay with her.

"More. Please, Abs. More. You're torturing me." You whispered your plea against her neck, kissing the secret spot under her ear that only you knew about. Your teeth grazed against her skin. You nipped the same spot, and she growled at you and snapped her hips against yours.

Her name fell out of your mouth on a curse, and you sucked the same spot into your mouth, lathing your tongue over it before sucking at it again. You worked the spot, not stopping until you had marked her.

You begged her again for more. She was too soft, too gentle, and you needed more . You were so close and you just needed a little more.

Abby lifted her head and rose back up on her knees. She looked at you greedily. She gripped your thighs and hauled you roughly against her. You back arched and you called out when she bottomed out in you.

"Harder. Please. Fuck me harder. Please." Your hands grabbed at your breasts and pinched your nipples. You were ready to come. "Let me come on your cock, please please please." you whined and pleaded while she slammed her hips against yours and gave you exactly what you had asked for.

Abby sucked her thumb into her mouth to wet it before dropping it to your clit. You continued to beg for more while she rubbed you. Her fingers and strap were pushing you towards ecstasy. Your body clenched around her. 

"Come."

With one word, the need in you snapped, and your orgasm hit you.

Out of breath and exhausted, she pulled out and flopped down onto the bed beside you, immediately pulling you to her and kissing your forehead. She took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before letting it whoosh out all at once.

Resting your head on her chest, you patted her chest contentedly. "I told you Sundays were for staying in bed."

[brimbrimbrimbrim]

The Seed of Human Kindness (The Ghoul/F!OC)

CHAPTER ONE/TWO/THREE/FOUR/FIVE/SIX

Summary: The Ghoul stumbles upon a piece of walkin' talkin' meat out in the Boneyard. Instead of eating her, he takes her on as his personal traveling chef. Only this chef is a smoothskin vaultie looking for the seed of human kindness, which is exactly what it sounds like, though comin' from a Vault of all women, she's gonna take some convincing on where to find it.Tags: Cannibalism, Sadism, Body Horror, Misandry, Dehumanization, Vault Experiments, Vault Dweller, Cunnilingus, Cum Play, Rough Sex, Power Dynamics, Breeding Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, Voyeurism, Non-consensual Exhibitionism, Sexual Awakening, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Male Character

A/N: This is nasty. Please heed all the tags for your fair warning before reading.

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The Los Angeles Census Bureau looks about as inviting as it did in the seventies: a delightful courtyard of bones and failed dreams bordered by brutalist cement beds spilling with dead flowers. As he and his spurs jingle-jangle up the pavilion, a decayed hand staked between two dead bushes catches his eye. A blooming stalk of bleached bone, phalanges bent into a middle finger like some 'fuck you' posey straight out of the afterlife. Call him a presentist, but just the fuckin' sight of it makes his lip curl. 

'Fuck the establishment, indeed.'

The Ghoul's been following this endless trail for a while now; turning over these little slices of American bureaucracy is just another dot on the map, but a barbeque on the wind has urged his heels into a proper trot. Hungry as he is. Savory, smokey�� mouthwatering, bringing to mind Saturday cook-outs with Barb and Janey, that ol' good boy Roosevelt at his heels, waiting for burnt hotdog tails and the stray charred burger as the martinis pile up. Those good times were lived by another man playing a good old American boy role. Those bygone memories come like a miasma: toxic. It's delicious in its own right, and he's just lucky the aroma seems to be coming from this building right here. A 'kill two birds with one stone' scenario, it would seem. 

He can hear the muffled commotion of chaos inside and the clatter of something heavy. Judging by the reverb, a bullet snaps concrete. It must've hit wiring too because the sign above those broken doors flickers—time-yellowed plastic covering a photon tubing of loops and flourishes. 

'The American dream…'

A broken, clipped shriek presses out the thin crack of busted glass and splinted wood ahead of him. 

'Oh, if life ain't grand.' 

What once were crying mothers standing in the breadline are mothers on the breadline, he thinks, some of that ol' Cooper Howard making a show again. He pushes that moralistic nuisance down and surveys the exterior once more, and… judging by the crude bullseye bloodstains on a single Brahmin skull, used creatively to keep the doors ajar (not to mention the smell)… they're cookin' folks on a spit inside. Fiends, most like…

Still, two hundred years later, the LACB is where folks get eaten alive every day.

Quiet-like, The Ghoul enters Feind territory, The Gun heavy front and center.

The aroma of fatty meat, both freshly shorn and sour, curls under his nasal ridge, drawing him through the decayed lobby. He steps carefully, spurs quite over toppled queue barriers, avoiding broken glass and crunchy piles of clothes. There's a burnt stroller with tiny bones and floral blankets he chooses to ignore, giving them and its mother's remnants a wide berth, focusing intently on the triangle of flickering firelight cutting from the ajar breakroom door. 

Silent as a corpse, The Ghoul leans into the doorway, The Gun raised, and takes in the gruesome scene he's seen a hundred times, both worse and better but never benign. Eventually, someday, he won't feel sick at the sight of such horrors. Who's to say whether that'll be a good day or not?

There's five of them, counting a naked woman hanging from a crude bleeding rail, 'cept she ain't being bled out, just cut down slow and sweet, as if the fear and pain is the finest marinade. Her body jolts, and another wail rattles his eardrums as a rail-thin Fiend saws off another strip of thigh meat from her bucking body, tits bouncing with delicate pockets of curvy fat jiggling deliciously. 

The Ghoul's stomach growls, and something else further south twitches, but his empty belly is more worried about being without food for much longer. Nothing but vials and rainwater means he's more inclined to find human flesh aromatic. Thankfully, the pretty rotisserie's screams are so fucking loud it makes his unceremonious entrance nigh fuckin' soundless. There's no reason to announce himself anyway—no reason to keep any of 'em alive for questioning since he's sure none of these boneheads have worked a computer system before, let alone know how to read logs.

The first slug blasts a hole into the back-head of the closest one: a suit-wearing twitchy son of a bitch sitting by the fire. Their brains spray across their friend's face, who yips as some chunky bits catch with a hiss in the fire. With the second one blinded by brain matter, The Ghoul turns at the hip and blows off the arm of a ratty-headed man still beating his own meat to dinner being sliced and spitted. A shot from his rotating revolver beneath the jawline into the brain puts that one down, even though chems seemed to have ruined it already. 

That leaves two left. 

The blind bastard's still swiping grey slop, blood, and skull chips from his eyes as his buddy rushes on The Ghoul's left with a sticky knife, leaving the girl to sway on her ropes, panting and cursing the Lord's name. This one's mean, sadistic… having enjoyed eating that smoothie alive. He's got janky teeth bared like an ape, poised and ready to take The Ghoul to his grave… again. 'Course, a quick backhand of The Gun stock puts him to the ground with a yelp, and two .357s to the chest keep him there. 

'Three down. One to go,' he muses, cracking his neck with a grunt as the last one curses and snarls. Still blind but jet-fueled, his eyes open and swimming in red offal, the remnants of his hit still smoking out his mouth. He stands like some western cowboy at a sunset showdown. The man even looks the part with two bandoliers and some sweet cowboy boots. Cooper Howard smiles with his straight white chompers as the Fiend tries to unholster a gun that ain't there, spewing nonsense through his teeth, but Coop's dead and gone. 

"Ugghh—fuggin'ghoul, ruin'dinna!"

The Ghoul's grin turns ugly and strong. He's the gunslinger—the outlaw—death personified by time and decay—somethin' outta Hollywood again, just not the good guy. 

With a snap, aim, and trigger pull, the last little Fiend's no more than maggot-meal slumped over The Ghoul's first empty-headed victim. Their dinner has been officially ruined, well… more like taken over. With the barrel still hot, The Ghoul turns to the naked smoothie with a careful eyeful of flesh, ignoring the way her gaze squints in fear before surveying his efforts with frenzied understanding. She's either gonna die or she ain't, and it's clear which one she thinks is 'bout to happen.

"P-please… please. I-I can… I can-"

"Hush those tears now, sweetheart," The Ghoul cuts her off, wetting his lips for a dry whistle before holstering The Gun, "I ain't here to eat ya." Though he turns to the fire, drawn in by the smell of cooked meat and sustenance—the promise of a full belly and a level head for a time… it'd just take a half-pound of juicy, tender-

'No… not yet.' 

It takes a heaping spoonful of willpower to turn away, to look back at her without seeing a hanging steak, begging him to sink his fangs in, tear apart, and swallow hole. But The Ghoul manages, somehow. With a Cheshire grin, he thumbs his hat up, brim lifted to show off his radiated smile—proof he means no harm. And when her breath slows and her eyes shine over his chops, he's only slightly surprised to find her more curious than afraid.

"Welp, it seems your dinner guest's got a little too careless, leavin' the door open like that an' all. Could be anyone come walking through those doors."

He takes a step closer, daring her to scrunch her nose in disgust, though she just blinks… some old tears falling off her lashes. Minus some missing meat, a bloodied face, one shiner, and… maybe two weeks of constant immune system shock, she's too healthy lookin' to be anything but a Vaultie. A pretty little thing that only good food, shelter, and generational-bred naivety could create. The Ghoul already don't care much for her.

"You from one of those Vaults." He doesn't ask, all ambivalence and peckish know-how. His survival instincts lure him from her to the spit over the fire again, where it looks like some of her thigh meat is slow roasting. She's lookin' real fuckin' tender over the licking flames…

"S-seven," she pants, shock and pain makin' her sound small, "V-v-vault seven…"

The Ghoul makes a sound of understanding, though he couldn't give two shits these days about which of the Big Four's Vaults she came from, even less which fucked up experiment they ran down there. For some reason, her being a Vaultie makes him even hungrier…

He glances back at her over his shoulder and smirks, all crude oil and a lil' starvation there, too, no doubt. It's been weeks since he's eaten, and before that, it was expired cram and a soggy snack cake, and she seems to know it. The smoothie can see it—notes the look in his eyes and deduces quickly what he's thinking. At first, she yanks on the rope, choosing to struggle against her bonds, though that works as well for her as before he showed up… 'cept it gives him another free show of the goods usually hidden from his eyes. Her tits are perfect.

That southbound lurch kicks up his belly, threatening to confuse his ache for food for something else, so The Ghoul snaps his teeth and points a leather-bound finger her way.

READ THE REST OVER on AO3 HERE

[bumbledees]

YOU ARE ALWAYS WELCOME TO STEAL MY OPEN TAGS <333

hmmmm oh choices choices, but I must say the title that most grabbed my attention is "Please Hang Up! Don’t Try Your Call Again"- I'm VERY CURIOUS.

:D <333 I LOVE TO PLAY TAG GAMES. and to hear other people talk about their wips!!

I'm also SO glad that out of all the fics you picked that one. It's one of the first SW fic ideas I had before Rumor Has It jumped my brain in a dark alley, and I really want to write it eventually. It is actually codywan this time, eventually. POV Cody and occasionally Ahsoka.

In which Cody does some breaking and entering, endures a month of the galaxy's most aggravating phone calls, fistfights the dark side of the Force, and accidentally fulfills a prophecy. Or: Chancellor Palpatine: Such a shame to lose our dear Commander CC2224. Cody: Stop telling people I'm dead! Chancellor Palpatine: Sometimes I can still hear his voice.

[snippet under cut]

"My General will come," Cody says, because the idea that Obi-Wan wouldn't is the biggest insult he's heard to the man in at least a year standard.

"The Force, my dear Commander, can hide a great many things from view," the hologram snarls. "He and your men will leave you for dead, and you will starve long before you can even attempt escape." With a spasm of blue, the figure disappears.

Cody can't help a frustrated hiss through his teeth. Food is his most immediate problem, despite the ominous atmosphere of the complex and the nightmare its comm system has on speed dial. Would a dar'jetti even need to eat?

Ooh, look at me, I'm a Sith, he can almost hear Waxer saying. I'm having evil rations for my evil breakfast.

His next thought--that he might never hear Ghost Company's nonsense or watch the 212th shinies earn their paint ever again--hurts more than he expects.

The battalion will be fine; they've got the General and a fine roster of veteran troopers to guide and protect them. But he can't give them up without a fight, and right now the mystery darksider is his only source of intel on... anything about this place.

Kenobi tactics almost certainly won't work here, so it's time to go Skywalker. Cody punches the comm button again, summoning up the tiny cloaked figure. "Hey fucker, I wasn't done talking to you."

The hologram is managing to look surprised without having any visible facial features, so Cody takes that as a good sign. The creepy artifact seems like it could be good leverage for a dar'jetti; he'll go for that first. "Do you want me to break your haunted triangles? Because keeping me here is how you break your haunted triangles."

[knightotoc]

Just finished IWTV book, so now I can say the differences between the book, movie, and show. The movie is quite accurate to the book, while the show is more original. I love them all quite a lot, but I think the show is my favorite since it's the most romantic. Long post with spoilers below the cut.

book:

The depth of Louis' interiority, especially his thoughts about religion, can only be found in the book. I am also ex-Catholic so this is high-key my shit. Especially knowing Anne Rice went back and forth later in life. I can relate. Louis wants to talk about his feelings with other vampires, but Lestat and Claudia aren't interested, which is the main reason Louis is attracted to Armand. Where is the Brideshead Revisited crossover?? Louis get in a bisexual love triangle with the Flytes for me🙏

I learned in the Matt Baume video on Anne Rice that she wrote IWTV while grieving her daughter, who died of leukemia just before her sixth birthday. This feeling of grief, reflected so clearly in Claudia, is the most moving and unique aspect of the book, far more than anything between the adult characters.

One reason this feeling is watered-down in both adaptations is that in the book, Claudia is only 5/6, the age of Anne's real daughter. In the movie she is 10 and in the show 14. Of course it would be impossible to find a 6 year old actress who could act with the maturity of an 80-year-old woman. But the character is even more pitiful and bizarre as a little child than as one nearing puberty.

In the book, Lestat is shown to have survived the murder attempt pretty early on, and he keeps jump-scaring Louis and Claudia on their adventures. I prefer the movie's version where they hold off on this reveal. Though of course I always love to see him, lol

In the book, I got the impression that Lestat and Louis are both bi, but Lestat prefers men and Louis prefers women. Still, their motivations aren't driven by sexuality in a straightforward way. For example, Lestat's ideal prey is a young man, because he loves to destroy their potential. Louis feels something like love for a few women characters, because he feels empathy for their misfortunes.

The adaptations soften/change Louis' status as a slave-owner; in the movie, he frees his slaves, and in the book he just flees. As much as Louis is a soft-hearted quasi-feminist, defined by his guilt and regret, he is still racist and close-minded in most ways. This seems realistic to me.

I did think it was interesting and cool that the enslaved people can tell Louis and Lestat aren't human, while the other plantation owners and even Lestat's dad have no idea. But we don't get their perspective, just Louis' racist assumptions.

Yeah in the book Lestat has a dad! It is rather confusing since Lestat explains nothing, but it creates some great melodrama. I guess I have to read the next one and hope for a backstory reveal.

Fun spooky detour into Eastern Europe! I hope the show goes there in season 2.

Louis and Armand's discussions are really cool. I especially loved Louis' monologues after Claudia's death. There wasn't room for these discussions in the movie, but I feel like it'll be a main focus in season 2 of the show.

movie:

Like I said, the movie is impressively accurate, and a beautiful work of art on its own. The best innovation is holding off on the Lestat reveal until almost the very end. This makes it look like their murder attempt really did a number on him, and it took decades and decades of rat-eating to even drag himself out of the swamp. I like that.

The movie also has a more exciting and ridiculous ending, in which Lestat attacks the reporter in his car and drives away to Guns N' Roses. The book ends with the reporter hurrying off to find Lestat himself. It's funnier and more awesome if Lestat is the one driving the plot and the car. Pleased to meet you :D

"How avant-garde." Best line in the movie, and it's not from the book!

Since the movie cut out most of the minor characters, there isn't as much evidence for Louis' bisexuality. Louis seems more like, gay but closeted. And Lestat seems more like, gay but misogynist, so he'll prey on women just for sport lol.

I'm a Fight Club guy so I love that this is, like, a reverse companion movie (this time, Brad Pitt is the pushover in a dangerous gay duo)

show:

This is the only version that is clearly gay. But this dynamic is the same: Louis wants to talk about things, and Lestat does not. In this case, the focus of these discussions is not vampirism or religion but their relationship. Louis points out that he is gay and Lestat is bi. Perhaps it's just because I saw this version first, but this is my favorite version of their sexualities. The show simply spends more time with this dynamic, and how it affects everything, including their interracial relationship and openness in society.

In the book, Lestat is a talented but soulless musician. He can play anything, but without heart. In the show, music is Lestat's one genuine connection to humanity (even if this connection just leads him to kill musicians who don't impress him). I believe later books go more into Lestat as a musician, so I'll have more thoughts on this later.

Since the reporter is cynical, old, and dying, this creates a much more compelling conversation within the framing device. He holds Louis to task with a forcefulness that rivals Lestat. It is a clever way of modernizing the story, since Daniel references their last interview in the 70s (when the book was published), and you are meant to wonder which version is more truthful.

Since Claudia is 14, she can pass as an adult, and she is able to go on her own rather disastrous adventure. It is exciting, terrifying, and sad, and a welcome addition for this character, though it is much different than the book's helpless, heartless Claudia.

The Catholicism in the show is flashier, but not as interesting as the book. For example, in the book, Louis is haunted not just by Paul's death, but Louis' failure to meet Paul's faith-driven monetary demands. In the show, Paul's ideas seem like more of an annoyance. Maybe there will be more religious doubt in season 2, but I don't really expect it.

In the book, it seems like Louis and Claudia throw Lestat in the swamp since it's faster and more thorough than fire. In the show, the oven they use is a major plot point, and Louis can't bear to put Lestat's body in it because he still loves him. Instead they throw Lestat in the trash, which is one of my favorite tropes (see: Maul in The Clone Wars, Soldier 1998). This is just one of the many ways the show complicates and deepens Louis and Lestat's bond.

I feel like the show is more believable and has more deepness in general, since it's a smart retrospective on an old franchise and a response to decades of vampire fun in pop culture. For example, in the show Louis has volunteer humans to feast upon, and it's very "safe, sane, and consensual," versus the universally predatory relationships in the book and movie. Because we all know now that if vampires were real, and they were hot and rich, they could get all the blood they want without hurting anyone. An ethical vampire like Louis isn't impossible anymore. Compared to other billionaires, he's a pretty decent guy.

So, I'd say the book has the most profound perspective on grief, the movie has better structure, and the show has the most complex romance.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

steven grant and pumpkins? i’m so excited for october now

2023 Fall Blurbs

As much as you loved your cozy, little flat, sometimes it felt a little too small and cramped for your liking. It was difficult to have people over and to cook in the small kitchen and deep cleaning was almost impossible with how little space you had to move things around. Still, you loved it, and you’d never consider moving.

Not even when Steven brings home pumpkins that take up most of your kitchen and dining area.

“What’re those for?” You ask, pausing your dish washing to watch him struggle through the door with the pumpkins.

“Halloween,” he answers with a smile, clearly pleased with his little joke, “thought it might be fun to carve them, yeah?” And while you didn’t disagree, even the logistics of carving the pumpkins, let alone displaying them, made your head spin.

Still, Steven was never to be deterred from a plan once he set his mind to it, and he spent the rest of the afternoon setting up the pumpkins and finding carving supplies and newspapers he was willing to part with to catch all the gunk that comes out of the inside of the pumpkins. Really, the pumpkins are almost perfect, round and large and bright orange, and you can’t help but wonder if Steven just found them or if he went searching for the most perfect pumpkins to bring home.

Either way, the carving extravaganza begins after dinner, which you ate on the couch because the pumpkins were taking up the entirety of the table. Using a large knife that was definitely too expensive to be used on giant pumpkins, Steven cuts the top off the plants before the two of you get to work scooping out the guts.

As you clean out the pumpkins, scooping out seeds and guts and sending them falling with a splat onto the newspapers you’ve laid out, you talk about all your favorite fall memories, your best costumes and favorite treats and movies. Steven’s are, of course, from more recent years, and most of them feature you, but he loves to listen to you recount your childhood tales of trick or treating and trading candy and eating yourself sick.

It makes the time go by faster, and before you know it, the pumpkins are ready for carving. You decide to just wing it, taking one of the knives and jabbing it through the thick skin of your pumpkin, while Steven takes his time to sketch out his design just the way he envisions it. You keep yours a surprise, turning the pumpkin this way and that to keep Steven from catching a glance.

Once the two of you are done, hands sore and cheeks hurting from laughing at each other’s struggles, you light small candles to place inside, and then you reveal your designs to each other.

“What is that supposed to be, love?” Steven asks through barely contained laughter, glancing between your pumpkin and his, with its perfectly drawn and carved cat.

“It’s a spooky pumpkin face,” you reply as if it’s obvious, “the triangles are the eyes and the square is the nose and the circle is the mouth because he’s yelling.”

With your explanation, Steven only laughs harder, picking up his pumpkin to display in the window sill and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

[no-where-new-hero]

On this fine Sunday afternoon, I shall sit down with my scripture (Emily of New Moon) and perform my devotions (catch up on book club commentary). In the interest of space, I'll try to keep this short.

Chapter 9: A Special Providence

The knack of turning this novel epistolary with the Father letters is one of LMM's best narrative decisions because she is, at heart, a voice writer, and I just saw in the lovely interview on craft that @gogandmagog posted that LMM loved writing in first person despite discouragement from her editors, so this way she gets to have her cake and eat it too. She also establishes Emily as a woman of text, specifically, as opposed to Anne, who got away with first person narration through non-stop chatter. Emily as a character is much quieter and more introverted, so her ability to blither through letter-writing kills many birds with one stone. It's also astronomically funny.

"I felt so insulted that I came up to the garret and wrote a deskription of myself being drowned on a letter-bill and then I felt better." Legitimately, Emily has died so much in her imagination in the course of nine chapters. You'd think her self-dramatization would be for good things, but no, she gets her revenge on people through self-destruction. Which is very funny as a child but also sets up her depressive nature as an adult very well.

Chapter 10: Growing Pains

Reading Rhoda's betrayal hurts every time! Also since the last time I read this, I went through a Rhoda experience of my own, soooo yeah not fun. Interestingly, I think Rhoda is the only one who gets a definite birthday other than Emily in the whole book. She doesn't reflect well on Cancers 💀

"Just cut a good big bang. Lots of the girls have their hair banged clean from the crown of their heads." This description always confused me because that kind of style sounds like a description of the "Dutch boy bob" that only came into fashion 30 years later (in the 20s). Also when I Googled hair being "shingled" it's basically also a bob? Maybe more of what we'd consider a pixie cut today, though it seems to be referred to as a "shingle bob" and therefore close enough to what Emily would have wanted. (I am a bit obsessed by how the "Pringle shingle" anticipated the 90s Winona Ryder style pixie cut craze). Though of course Aunt Elizabeth wouldn't have done this cut with any style in any case lol.

Chapter 11: Ilse

Emily aka Jane Eyre fanfiction strikes again. This is, though, a rare instance of New Moon itself being hostile to Emily in a way that isn't ever shown elsewhere. Though the house represents the motherliness that Emily lacks from people, it also has its dark patches that Emily must rebel against, though she only thinks she rebelling against Aunt Elizabeth.

Oh, Ilse my beloved. She has many endearing lines that show the depth of her neglect, but I think this one hit most for me this time: "And you won't be ashamed of me because my clothes are always queer and because I don't believe in God?" I also love how both she and Emily know exactly what their futures will be at this moment and both succeed in them.

Chapter 12: The Tansy Patch

I never focus much on the descriptions in this book because they come thick and fast, but I noticed this time how many flowers grow around the Tansy Patch, nearly suffocating the built structures. This is a place of surface beauty if festering neglect--much like Mrs. Kent's treatment of Teddy.

"He washes the dishes for her and helps her in all the house work. Ilse says the boys in school call him sissy for that but I think it is noble and manley of him." LMM saying fuck gender roles.

"I guess Ilse wants Teddy to like her best but she is not a jellus girl." The love triangle begins.

"I read the story of Red Riding Hood to-day. I think the wolf was the most intresting caracter in it. Red Riding Hood was a stupid little thing so easily fooled." RIP Emily Starr, you would have loved Angela Carter.

Reader, I did not keep this short. Second post incoming soon.

[isobelleposts]

“Eat The Rich” — My Favorite Genre in Film

by Isobelle Cruz [February 1, 2022]

The Menu (2022) dir. by Mark Mylod

The phrase in the title comes from political philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s quote, “When people have nothing to eat, they will eat the rich.” The last film I watched that had me surprised they did not literally eat the rich was The Menu by Mark Mylod.

This film never took itself too seriously despite its center around the wealthy and the lengths they go to just to experience the finer things in life. It is fully aware of its bizarreness and adds bits of humor here and there, making it enjoyable despite mostly taking place in one setting.

As the first film I had seen this year, The Menu truly sets up expectations and a fresh path to more of what the industry has in store for the rest of the year. Moving on, here are four more films to see if you enjoyed The Menu:

Triangle of Sadness (2022) dir. by Ruben Östlund

Starting off strong with one of my final watches of 2022 that had me saying “what the fuck?” under my breath every few minutes is Triangle of Sadness directed by Ruben Östlund. What initially caught my interest in watching this film was a clip in the opening part wherein we see a bit of the modeling industry and its quirks, or so, ridiculousness. What I didn’t know, and certainly wasn’t prepared for,  was what I would witness next.

I went into this film after refraining myself from spoilers or even a hint of what it could be about, preparing myself to be either disappointed or pleased with what I was about to be met with. And that is exactly what I suggest to you as well. Ditch the synopsis and logline and head straight into this experience. Just know that you’ll be met with great dialogue, delicate cinematography, and a whole lot of shit—both figuratively and literally.

Parasite (2019) dir. by Bong Joon-ho

Behind my little song to the clouds to tuck its raindrops away, a certain thought would always lie at the back of my head while growing up. As we celebrate a class suspension and give thanks for the chilly weather in the desert-like heat of the Philippines, I wonder what life is like for those living by the rivers, whose roofs are made with cheap iron or yero and whose walls are made of thin wood.

It hasn’t occurred to me before how important these thoughts were until I encountered this film a few years back. Parasite presents its audience with the rich’s ignorance of their surroundings and several contrasts between the everyday life scenes of a wealthy and poor family. 

Parasite is precise, well-written, and surely deserving of its multiple awards.

Knives Out (2019) dir. by Rian Johnson

Whodunnit—-they say that when you see them once, you’ve seen them all. And that may be true, but Knives Out’s fast pacing and quick cuts from past to present still kept my eyes glued to the screen. It’s a classic murder mystery, encouraging the audience to say things like “It’s too early on for such an obvious clue.”

This will keep you thinking throughout its length, asking questions again and again in your head, eager to beat the ending before the killer’s reveal. Though predictable for some, Knives Out nonetheless offers a fun view into the world of a money-starved family and their deceased father, along with a bunch of odd and entertaining characters.

The Handmaiden (2016) dir. by Park Chan-wook

Of course I found a way to sneak The Handmaiden into this list. 

The film follows Kim Tae-ri’s character who falls in deep romance with Lady Hideko, the woman she works for. Just when you think it is about to finally end, a sharp turn comes and it’s as if the story had only begun then—this happens thrice, by the way.

As we go further along the story we encounter money’s play in the wickedness of men and are left with our mouths agape after another unexpected revelation or scene. 

The Handmaiden is not only a story of forbidden romance between two women but also a showcasing of comradeship and care for another in suffering. Looking past its long length and adult scenes is a mind-boggling and thoroughly written story accompanied by excellent direction, camera work, and acting.

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

when reading this keep in mind that A) i dont know much about your oc Phoenix or the other fics and B) i strongly believe that stories cant exist without confict of some sort. love triangle, war, homework is due tomorrow and u havent started, if there isnt an issue there isnt a story

about the Phoenix reader situation, i dont know about your oc Phoenix but i worry if you don't write it carefully it might feel like an op oc situation. every time she runs into an issue its gonna be why didn't reader use this artefact? why didn't reader use that artefact? i don't know how strong the artefacts are but i do know that unchecked overpowered-ness can ruin a story. if sun wukong wasn't limited by tripitaka and his rules, he would have dealt with every demon in their way without much issue and jttw would have been much shorter and suckier for it.

i find stories shine when characters have to work around their limitations and what they have instead of giving them powers/tools that solve issues for them. its kinda hard to write a conflict when somebody has a maguffin that completely bypasses the issue.

reader is from the modern world, use that! we have access to a breadth of knowledge that people didnt back then, even if reader is no expert in the field, she should have picked something up by social osmosis at the very least!

everyone knows something about cpr, and if reader had classes regarding health and the body, she might have learned basic first aid! imagine the tension of reader having to use barebones first aid knowledge, being unsure if she's patched up to recover in time and having to navigate the threat of infection instead of an artefact bypassing all that juicy juicy plot.

and the glamor artefact, have reader struggle to get a disguise instead. have reader having to bargain or barter or hell, even steal to get different outfits to change her is a good way to explore her personality! how much of her apperence would she be willing to change to be in disguise? would she cut her hair? wear a mask and hood? give up things she had on her from her homeworld to barter for a better disguise? cover herself in mud or walk through a creek/river to throw off her scent?

and thats just two artifacts that i covered here! every time you give a character a tool that solves problems you strip yourself of multiple potential plot points you could have explored and written a story about!

to end this all off:

sun wukong and the six eared macaque[jttw ver at the very least] are the spiders georg when it comes to power scaling. they are extreme outliers, both of them. when it comes to a fight, they exist to be op. so dont give them fights, give them issues that they cant punch their way out of. they cant fight their way into readers affections, use that.

When reading this know that I love a good debate. I can definitely see where your coming from don't worry.

I like the idea of using fantasy and fiction in my writing. I like reading about character that have it too.

Just because a character has a tool doesn't mean they always know how to use it. And each tool would have a weakness.

Reader doesn't know how to fly, just because she gets wings doesn't mean that she'll know how to use them immediately.

Fire burns, Reader isn't immune to fire being human so she'd only be able to use it for specific things. Such as lighting a camp fire, but again just because she can light it doesn't mean it would stay lit. Such as if the wood she is lighting is too wet or so forth. Since fire needs fuel she'd have to learn how to keep a fire going and all.

Growing plants would be slow and can't garrenttee that they will be healthy or say the food it grows safe to eat.

When healing it would require energy and honestly the healing would be closer to just a slightly sped form of healing. So the person healed would still need time to rest because it would also use there energy as well. It also can't be used all of the time (I would be deciding an actual logic system for it later if this is the route I would like to go.) *Basically pain relief and minor healing*

- Adding onto the healing, it wouldn't be able to work on herself, and since she is the only one who can use it, that doesn't help too much. Since Shadowpeach are fucking immortal! Well only like 2x immortal at the beginning since it starts between the time after Subodi and before the heaven attack.

- As for CPR that would be really fun to play around with. But again I'd she was to heal someone it would be another human or Spirit. Due to the op power of the monkeys (and no they can't use their fists to gain her affection 😂 though they Wukong might try to impress her that way)

The sheild is almost impenetrable, not completely, and honestly, it was more of a tool to be used against Wukong and Macaque for plot reasons. So that they have a harder time getting to Reader rather than being able to just capture her immediately.

The glamour mask was also more so for a plot point that comes up later, a specific idea that came about in my head a while ago. Which ends with --- (Said mask can only have one other transformation besides the user's real form).

Also the first two are unable to be used in the cold because plants sleep in the winter and cold is the opposite of heat.

So there are downsides to all of these. Ways to get around them and ways to damage them. I'm not trying to make the Reader OP at all, I was just having an idea and seeing where it was going. These artifacts wouldn't be able to all be used at once, all would require concentration (she's getting attacked she needs to concentrate to make a sheild but her fear gets in the way) or (having a panic attack over someone being injured and can't concentrate to heal them)

These artifacts existing also wouldn't mean that they are with her at all times. In the beginning of the story, she only has a switchblade, and that's it. She might find one and lose it, or she might get a different one and break it. Who knows being as they would be physical objects she wouldn't be able to have them at all times.

I loved answering this, and I will be hoping you respond, anon. I wonder if you've got some other tidbits of ideas for me.

Also, does anyone else have suggestions? Send them my way. I love to debate~ I think I'm using that word right at least 😅

[pomodoriyum]

heeey could you tell me a little more about your girdling method for ligustrum? what age group is the ligustrum in when you treat ti that way and at what density in the stand? it was never a high priority target in the places i worked before just because it was in such high density monotypic stands that we didn't have the means to do followup restoration work so i never really tried a lot of control methods for it!

Hi! Thanks for the questions, I’m pretty stoked to be asked about this.

Going to start with identifying the ligustrum I girdle first, mostly for folks who don’t know what it is, where it’s native to, what it looks like, and its role in the ecosystem it comes from (and how it doesn’t fulfill those roles in the Americas). also, going under the cut because this is long.

The plant that I girdle is Ligustrum lucidum (common name: glossy privet).  It’s a shrubby tree that grows about 20-30ft tall here, and creates monoculture stands (read: it’s the only plant in the area).  Bugs don’t recognize it as food, and it tends to soak up available groundwater in such quantity that it kills our native trees during droughts due to additional stress. Where I live it’s considered invasive, though due to deregulation many types of ligustrum are used in landscaping.  Ligustrum originates from china, japan, and korea, and in these areas, it’s a fairly important plant (frequently used in nonwestern medicine, but it’s also been documented as a poison and an allergen, so….don’t try at home?).

Riparian areas–especially disturbed riparian areas–is where most escaped ligustrum is found. 

Ligustrum is notoriously difficult to remove. It’s got really large energy reserves in its root system, so if it’s cut down, the tree will re-sprout rapidly. There are ways to chemically poison it, but over vast areas that’s dangerous and very expensive.  Usually, the best method is to prevent it from entering the ecosystem in the first place– once it’s there, best efforts are really about controlling its spread rather than completely eliminating it.  I do think part of the issue is that it’s commonly used in landscaping, so there’s endless ‘stock’ revitalizing escaped populations.  Also, ligustrum leads the way for other invasive species to colonize more land, as it is extremely quick to mature and reproduce, thus choking out other native vegetation.  It’s a bit brutal to see. Anyway, it’s everywhere once you know how to spot it. 

One drop of good news: the seeds that enter soil tend to rot within the year if they don’t sprout– though, of course, individual trees may produce up to three million viable seeds. One thing they do is feed cedar waxwings, which I can’t really be upset by. However, outside of their original ranges, they don’t do much to support the new communities they’re in, and actively kill legacy trees.

Now, to your questions:

could you tell me a little more about your girdling method for ligustrum?

Sure! Very simple and satisfying. I’ve also included a video link– similar method to mine.

The goal of girdling is to disrupt energy flow from the leaves of the tree to the roots, causing the trees to starve and die. It usually take 6 months to 1 year to fully kill the tree, though I’ve seen the effects (leaf wilt, drooping) as early as 2 weeks after girdling.

Tools needed:

Paint scraper

Isopropyl alcohol in spray bottle, or soapy water

Rough sponge that’s fairly abrasive

Hedge clippers

Steps: 

Identify the tree. Look for glossy, dark green leaves with grey-green bark.  The edges of the leaves will light up when you hold them up against the sun.  The edges of the leaves are also smooth, not serrated, and they are opposite each other on the stem. Ligustrum also tends to have 2-8 mini “trunks” that support its branches. When flowering, its white, perfume-y, and the flower branches are sort of shaped like a triangle or a cone.

Their seeds are drupes, blue and similar to seeds from some species of juniper. Please don't eat them.

Clean the tree up– frequently there’s lots of growth around the base, with a bunch of tiny little branches that should be trimmed away. The hedge clippers are handy here.

Remove the outer layer of bark from one of the trunks with the paint scraper, all the way around. It should come up easily in the spring, but will resist strongly during the summer and winter.  You want to make sure that there’s at least a 5-6 inch gap between the top and bottom edges of bark. I usually go between 1 and four feet of space, when the bark is easy to peel up. This layer is about an eighth to a quarter of an inch thick, depending on the age of the tree.

Repeat this step to all of the trunks present.  Make sure that you remove the bark from all the way around each branch. This prevents it from scabbing over.

You’ll notice that the sapwood is slimy to the touch where the bark has been peeled away. This is a tissue layer responsible for generating more bark, and it must be scraped off, or else the trunk will scab over and recover.  Use the paint scraper to get rid of all of this material in a ring around the trunk, about 5-6 inches wide.  If you miss any, it will start drying a dark brown color on top of the lighter sapwood, and is easy to spot.

Make sure to remove all leaves and non-girdled branches that are below the cut / where the ring of bark was removed. This prevents sugars from being created by leaves that are still connected to the roots.

Finally, take your spray bottle of isopropyl and spritz each girdled band all the way around, and scrub it in with the abrasive sponge.

Congrats! It’s been girdled!

The tree will likely try to sprout new growth underneath the girdle bands over the next year. If you return and remove them before the stems become woody, the tree will die.

what age group is the ligustrum in when you treat ti that way and at what density in the stand?

I’ve girdled trees that are fully mature (30ft) as well as smaller saplings that are still part of the understory (8-10 ft).  Typically, I prioritize removing ligustrum within 20 ft of our legacy trees (oaks, pecans, hackberry that range between 50-200 yrs old). The project area’s pretty large, and has stands of trees with various percent ligustrum, probably between 10% ligustrum at the least affected areas and 85-95% ligustrum in most affected areas.  Most of my work has focused on areas with less than 50% ligustrum monoculture.  I’ve noticed that smaller trees tend to die faster when girdled, while more mature trees need to be checked frequently to prevent regrowth. This is probably due to large amounts of stored energy in the roots. 

 A lot of follow up is needed for these plants– about half of the ligustrum I’ve girdled so far has actually died, while the other half (while severely injured and on the way out) have needed new growth removed from their bases at least once, if not twice so far.  It’s a highly intensive process, and probably isn’t suited for large scale restoration projects, unless endless time and money is available. I just happen to be the right flavor of nuts to do this in my free time. You’ll need to check girdled trees at least once every three months for a year or so.

One thing that kills ligustrum pretty effectively are temperatures below 15 degrees F for a week or more, though larger trees will recover from the damage. Those kinds of temperatures clear out small 4-5 ft trees decently, and guarantee death for the 3ft bushes. If you figure out a way to selectively control the weather, let me know.

For trees below 4 feet, I use a tree puller to uproot them. It’s more efficient than girdling.  Also, snails really like climbing up ligustrum when it rains, so watch out not to smash them!

Thanks for the questions, feel free to reach out for more info!

Photos are from wiki commons and creative commons.

[mariacallous]

It should come as no surprise that Nigella Lawson, who nicknamed her microwave the mee-cro-wah-vay and regularly refers to pomegranate seeds as “ruby jewels,” has her own name for rugelach: scuffles.

“Scuffles,” the British television cook and proclaimed food writer explains in a recent YouTube recipe tutorial, “is the really delightful American name for an even more delightful Ukrainian pastry, rohalyky. Now if you’ve ever encountered rugelach, you’ll know what they are, but think like doll’s-house-sized croissants.”

So much to unpack here.

As a Brit, I regularly have to turn to my North American colleagues for insight into the food habits and psyche of those across the pond, but only a few had heard of scuffles. Hmm. Further research online revealed that scuffles are a fairly popular Canadian Christmas pastry. A rugelach by any other name would taste as sweet, I concluded, and moved on.

… But not very far. 

I was as thrown by the term “scuffles” as I was by Nigella’s pronunciation of rugelach, with its long “oo” like in “arugula,” which is different to the way it’s typically pronounced in the U.K.: rog-a-lach. Ultimately, I reasoned that we’re probably all pronouncing it wrong and there was no need to be petty. 

Regional differences resolved, I whiled away a happy hour researching the origins of rugelach and their relationship to Ukranian rohalyky. Turns out, they’re essentially the same pastry, which has long been enjoyed across Eastern Europe by non-Jews and Jews, who called them “rugelach” in Yiddish. 

Finally, I addressed Nigella’s description: “doll’s-house-sized croissants,” concluding it’s a bit of a stretch given that 1) her recipe does not call for a laminated dough, 2) you rarely come across cinnamon croissants and 3) neither rohalyky nor rugelach are French. Later in the video, Nigella likens her scuffles to “miniature armadillos,” which if you squint, or live inside Lawson’s kitschy brain (and how I often wish I did), is much more plausible. 

Still with me? (Fellow Virgos, I know you are.) Time to dissect Nigella’s recipe, which you can find on the website of upmarket British online grocery store, Ocado. 

In a pleasant turn of events, I have few complaints. The scuffles are easier and simpler than most rugelach recipes I’ve come across; on the video tutorial, Nigella even makes the pastries by hand, no mixer required. And you could argue that Nigella’s scuffles are a gratifying hybrid of American- and Isreali-style rugelach. Like Israeli rugelach, she adds yeast to her dough — but unlike the babka-esque Israeli dough, hers doesn’t need to rise. Like American rugelach, she enriches her dough, calling for sour cream rather than the typical cream cheese. 

And then, in true Nigella style, she ever-so casually turned my world upside down.

After chilling for an hour or two, ’twas time to roll out the dough — but not in flour. No, in a technique that Lawson correctly calls “fascinating and revelatory,” she rolls out each quarter of dough in cinnamon sugar. 

“Geometrists, please turn away because I’m going to describe this as a circle,” Nigella quips as she displays a sparkling disc encrusted in warm, scented sugar (I imagine she might say), which she then cuts, pizza-style, into small triangles (Nigella, use a pizza cutter not a knife, it’s much easier!), rolls up into “enchanting” pastries that may or may not resemble “teeny-tiny croissants” (see above), and bakes. 

Having told us her recipe feeds a crowd (64 scuffles, to be exact), which I think we can all agree is very Jewish, Nigella then recommends serving the pastries with ice cream, which is… not very Jewish.

Sadly, as with the entire Ocado YouTube series, we do not get to see Nigella eating a scuffle, nor even sneaking into the kitchen in the middle of the night in a silk nightgown to snatch a couple from the jar. But in the absence of a television show (how much longer must we wait for you to grace our screens once again, Nigella?), this will have to do. 

I’ll pass on the ice cream but — just as I always cover my rising bread dough with a leopard-print shower cap and double-butter my toast (once when the toast is warm, so it melts; once when the toast is a little cooler, so it coats the surface) — I shall, forevermore, roll out my rugelach dough in cinnamon sugar, just like Nigella does.