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indiavolowetrust · 4 years ago

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LOCKED-ROOM MYSTERY: an Obey Me! AU

The year is 1908. You, MC, have been invited for an extravagant getaway at the mansion of the eccentric Mr. Diavolo, who simply insists that you must come. You are quite the busy person yourself, you know, what with all this detective business -- but there is something so genuine in your old friend's letter that you cannot help but relent. So you pack your suitcases, send in a note to Mrs. Adams at the front desk about your leave, and set off to your good old friend's mansion.

As expected, it is in quite the isolated location. There is quite the breathtaking view of the mountains, seeing as you and the guests are the only ones here, but there is something eerie about it. Something odd. And the guests here are very strange indeed. Mr. Diavolo seems to have amassed a great variation in his ... colleagues. From a sultry actor to an irritable professor, a greedy banker to a shut-in, and a chef that eats more than he cooks to prideful, incorrigible politician -- well, it seems he's had quite the adventures over the years.

The dinner is good. Very good. Mr. Diavolo has spared no expense for his esteemed guests. There are nine courses in all: trays of exotic fruits and sliced cheeses, a charcuterie of all sorts and herbed butter, poached fish with risotto, roasted lamb that still crackles when it reaches the table, spiced meats that you cannot even recognize, soup with good, crusty bread -- oh, you do not know where to even begin! The strange guests, you, and your old friend make merry long into the night, and it is obvious that all look forward to the getaway.

Everyone is ushered into the parlor by his loyal butler, Barbatos, and it is here that more brandy is poured, bottles of wine are opened, and good champagne is inspected. It is also here that Mr. Diavolo says to you that he is going outside to light a cigar, for it would be a waste to let such a beautiful night go to waste. You think nothing of it.

An hour passes. Then another. And another. Some of the guests have begun to consider retiring to their rooms for the night. And then --

And then there is the scream.

You follow the sound, running through the corridors. There is a great door before you. You all but kick it open -- and you realize that you stand before the bleeding, facedown, very much dead body of Mr. Diavolo. The actor, Asmodeus, trembles before the door, having witnessed the gruesome scene through the glass windows of the door. Moments later, the other guests rush in to find the source of the panic. Varied looks of shock, panic, and horror can be seen on their faces.

This is the locked-room murder of Mr. Diavolo.

The Murder

There appears to have been no signs of forced entry. No signs of a struggle either. All the locks on the windows and doors remain undamaged and have clearly not been tampered with. The position of the furniture seems to be typical of a study.

Mr. Diavolo lies facedown in a pool of his own blood, the imported rug soaking up most of the liquid. There are exactly three stab wounds to his neck, ribcage, and stomach, with all entry positioned at the front. If he did not struggle -- at least, if he did not struggle initially -- then he must have known his murderer.

Time of death appears to be midnight, given the state of his body. He must have been murdered shortly after retiring from the party to have a cigar.

There are no footprints, fingerprints, or traces of the murderer at the scene ... at least for now. You do your best to corral the guests out of the study and begin your investigation. You have exactly six nights before the coachman comes to fetch everyone from the mansion.

The Guests

Lucifer

The prideful, insufferable politician that Mr. Diavolo has become acquainted with over the years. Unsurprising, of course, given his work overseas. You can imagine no other reason why anyone would desire to remain in this arrogant peacock of a man's presence.

He insists he was in the parlor the entire team. Which you can believe, to an extent. You quite clearly remember him arguing with the blond professor over the manner of drinking brandy. But what was he doing beforehand? Why suddenly make himself so conspicuous in the argument?

Mammon

The rather loud, obnoxious banker that Mr. Diavolo has trusted to run his accounts. Once more, you question the judgment of your late friend's business decisions. He does seem somewhat legitimate, given the fact that your late friend's business hasn't gone completely under. To your knowledge, that is.

Why on Earth would he want to murder one of his best clients? He insists that he would have no motivation to do so -- if anything, this is quite the blow to his establishment. But why was he late to dinner? Surely this loud buffoon could not have been doing any work on holiday.

Leviathan

The shut-in author of many strange, niche novels. You tried to make yourself seem more amiable earlier by lying and telling him that you have read his novels, but he only grew quiet in response. The conversation was very brief. Mr. Diavolo claimed he was a great fan of his work. You do not try to wonder why.

As a social recluse, Levi had decided to retire to his room immediately after the dinner, citing some illness or exhaustion or whatnot. He was not present immediately at the time the body was found, but he did rush all the way from his room down to the scene of the murder upon hearing the scream.

Satan

The irritable professor of a Very Important University, mind you. He seemed quite offended when you had little knowledge of his published journals, taking you for an ignorant idiot for some brief time afterwards. You quickly ended that with a scathing review of the clothing he has clearly forgotten to iron in his rush to get here, his mismatching socks, and the clear complex he has surrounding his intelligence.

How could you forget his rather loud argument with that peacock-like politician? You hadn't paid much attention to him until just then in the parlor, given your spat with him. But would an innocent man be so offended at the thought of being accused?

Asmodeus

A charming, sultry actor that Mr. Diavolo has met in his travels. You are not well acquainted with the theater or the novel moving pictures, but he seems quite happy with the recognition of his name. Then again, it isn't like you can take him for anything else but a bohemian artist.

He debated with Mr. Diavolo quite frequently over the finer details of art and theater over the course of the night, sitting by his side for the entirety of dinner. There was the brief interlude after dinner, but he insists he was only having a tryst with one of the maids. And he was the one who found his body.

Beelzebub

A chef that Mr. Diavolo has had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with over his travels. He seems to eat more than he cooks, really, but despite his eccentricities, he seems to be the most normal of the bunch. Certainly one of the most amiable.

You are quite sure that this guest is not the murderer. Every moment you have seen him seems to center around either the making or eating of food. Even now during your questioning, he chews on some bread roll that he has taken from dinner. If he were to have murdered Mr. Diavolo, you're sure his method would have simply been devouring him whole.

Belphegor

You're not quite sure what he does. He trails before Beelzebub as if he were a shadow, managing to look exhausted yet attentive to his brother's antics all at once. You can only guess that he was strung along by the aforementioned individual.

Like his brother, you find yourself doubting that he could be murderer. He has been in his brother's shadow for the entirety of the night, as you recall, and he seems to know little of the other guests or even of Mr. Diavolo.

Who murdered Mr. Diavolo?

This is now a choose-your-own-adventure novella. Read it here.

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blogging-time · 5 years ago

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Mealybugs

Send me a random word and I will attempt to write a Hurt/Comfort Fic containing/based on it. My Fic Masterlist

Word: Sick - Submitted by @3amthebitchinghour!

Summary: Roman couldn’t deny the fact that he’d found Patton’s seemingly unjustified concern to be somewhat endearing at first... but now things were quickly getting out of hand...

If only Roman had known why Patton felt so protective over him, it could have saved the pair oh-so much heartache.

Warnings: Mild illness/fever. Very brief Remus mention.

Pairings: Platonic Royality. (Can be interpreted as romantic.)

Word Count: 3,595

~ ~ ~

Roman couldn’t deny the fact that he’d found Patton’s seemingly unjustified concern to be somewhat endearing at first. Despite his well-sown fear of appearing both feeble and childish, there was just something about the dad Side’s ever-blossoming kindness that chipped away at the prince’s protective thorns until he was nothing more than a delicate collection of crimson rose petals in the botanist’s careful hands.

Perhaps to Patton, Roman was little more than a single clipped rose, powerless to fight off the tender love and care that he had deemed the prince beautiful enough to be deserving of. Still, Roman had enjoyed every last moment he’d spent simply being a part of his friend’s heavenly garden. Every day he’d let his roots embed themselves further and further into the soil until there was seemingly no moving him, and every day his friend would come by to perform his routine check-up.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you flourishing, kiddo!” his friend would chirp with a carefree smile.

But even the most attentive of botanists will one day see their flowers wilt. Even the most well-tended gardens can become victims of disease. And when this happens, perhaps one of the worst things you can possibly do for an already suffering rose is overwater it.

In the beginning, the whole thing had seemed as innocent as a timid field mouse cautiously poking its head up to greet the cold evening breeze. True, you typically wouldn’t want to see any type of rodent rummaging around in your garden, but there had just been something so careful and genuine in Patton’s eyes that had made the man seem far sweeter than any succulent berry he could possibly steal away.

Besides, Patton had been Roman’s faithful botanist, not some common thief. The prince knew there was nothing in this world that his friend would intentionally deprive him of. However, the intention doesn’t always match the outcome, and one simple observation was all it took to set off a rather unfortunate series of events.

~ ~ ~

“Oh, kiddo… you’re sick,” Patton had commented, concern dripping from his voice like melted ice-cream.

“Oh, Padre, you’re too kind,” Roman had joked back, hoping against all odds that he could bury the dad Side’s concern with his quick wit.

But Patton’s heart was not so easily satisfied.

“What in Thomas’ name do you think you’re doing out of bed? You should be resting.”

The prince sighed before answering, “It’s just a passing cold, Patty-cakes. There’s no need for you to be getting your buns in such a twist.”

“You leave my buns out of this, little mister,” Patton countered, taking a step forward and gently placing his hand on the ill man’s already damp forehead.

Looking back, perhaps the moment Roman instinctively let himself melt into the touch of the moral Side’s cool hand was the moment he’d sealed his fate.

The botanist’s persistent supervision began not long after that.

~ ~ ~

It had all started with a humble offering of chicken soup.

“Now you just lie here, Roman, and I’ll serve you up one of my very own Patton-patented pawsitively palatable poultry plates in just one moment!”

“Now look who’s paid a visit to the alliteration station!”

Then came the many cutesy looking coffee mugs, almost all of which contained some different variation of Healthline’s ‘Top 10 Healthiest Herbal Teas You Just Have to Try!’

“As the wise Uncle Iroh once said: Sharing tea with a fascinating stranger is one of life’s true delights!”

“Padre… we’ve known each other for almost thirty years.”

“And yet this dashing prince simply never fails to fascinate me!”

And who could forget all of those simple yet tedious everyday tasks that Patton had offered to fulfil in Roman’s steed?

“Oh, most sweet and noble knight of mine… are you absolutely certain that this quest I have assigned to you won’t prove itself far too time-consuming or demanding?”

The moral Side chuckled faintly at that.

“My liege, I can assure you there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll see to it that Master Thomas gets his chance to rehearse this afternoon, and that the last of the required props are picked up from Ye Olde Hobby Lobby in plenty of time for supper!”

“You have my eternal gratitude.”

“And you, my tissues.”

One could easily argue that the feverish prince had been entirely too willing to comply with the botanist’s generous wishes during those first two days, but how was he to know just how overbearing his friend would become over the course of the next seventy-two hours?

It had all started with Patton’s refusal to let Roman prepare his own toast.

“It’s just a simple slice of toast, Doctor Ramsay,” Roman bantered, “And if it’s any consolation I’ll promise not to cut the bread with my sword this time – Prince’s Honour!”

“Kiddo, you shouldn’t be handling food at all while you’re not well; that’s how you end up spreading germs.”

“To whom? Myself?”

“You never know, Roman. Please… just leave all of the cooking to me for now. I can have everything done within five minutes.”

Then came the many unnecessary yet incessant visits to Roman’s room that Patton would make throughout the day.

“Knock, knock!”

“Oh, I wonder who could possibly be there?” Roman drawled.

Patton giggled weakly at that.

“Just your happy-chappy pappy checking up on someone sappy!”

“Somehow I don’t think I’m the sappy one here, Patton.”

And how could Roman ever overlook the fact that he’d practically been put on strict bedrest for multiple days when there were so many other things he’d rather be doing to elevate his growing boredom?

“Listen, nurse… I understand you’re just trying to look out for me, but I can’t see any good reason as to why I shouldn’t be allowed to go and play ‘Mario Kart’ with the court jester. I feel like I’ve done nothing these past few days, and besides, my temperature barely even meets the criteria for a fever anymore.”

“First of all, we’ve already spoken about you referring to Virgil as the ‘court jester.’ Second of all, the reason your health has been improving is because you’ve taken the time to do nothing. Thirdly, Roman you’re far too competitive to be playing videogames right now. You’ll just end up psyching yourself up too much and making your headache so much worse.”

The prince had done his best to tolerate this sort of treatment for five whole days before allowing himself to finally admit the obvious: Patton wasn’t his knight in shining armour; he was the dragon-witch responsible for keeping him locked up in a tower.

He knew confrontation was inevitable if he wanted to see the outside world again anytime soon - Too long now had he been kept inside of a restrictive vase as opposed to an open flowerbed. Still, going into the discussion, Roman had downright dreaded dealing with the resistance he would surely be met with from his fellow Side. Of course, he knew the moral Side would never be mad at him for standing his ground, but if he didn’t want his friend to worry then he felt he’d still have to prepare a solid rebuttal.

The creative Side had braced himself for his moral counterpart’s troubling frown. He’d fully anticipated his friend’s most frequently recycled justifications and prepared what he considered to be an adequate counterargument for each. Heck, the prince had even taken the liberty of preparing an evidence casefile should the dad Side ever demand to see proof of his ongoing recovery.

“Behold! The piece of evidence that clearly contradicts the witness’ testimony!” Roman rehearsed, finger pointing rather dramatically at his bedroom mirror, “If you take a good look at this thermometer, you’ll see that my temperature read as 98.6F this morning. Mr Sanders, you claimed I couldn’t leave the room for as long as I have a fever, but this device clearly shows I now have a perfectly normal body temperature!”

Undoubtedly Roman had done enough preparation to ensure that even a man as tight-lipped as Logan couldn’t help but feel proud of his work. If only history had been kind enough to repeat itself, then perhaps the creative Side could have even found himself standing in the middle of another ‘Sherlock Holmes Fan-Fic’ type situation.

However, there had been one rather unfortunate series of developments that the prince had not fully fortified himself for – one that had proven itself to be far more regrettable than unlikely, and one that the prince would have no choice but to embrace as he failed to sway the conversation back in his favour.

For within mere minutes of opening his carefully planned, well-constructed and adequately researched argument, both the poor over-watered wilting rose, and his apparently not-so-attentive botanist had completely abandoned their cool demeanours in exchange for a far more contentious persona.

“Roman, please, just be reasonable,” the dad Side pleaded, arms outstretched in a halting motion as he took yet another step back towards Roman’s doorway.

“Oh, my stars!” the aforementioned Side proclaimed incredulously, “Do my ears deceive me? Or is that truly ‘The Hypocrite of the West Coast’ sincerely asking me to be more reasonable?”

Had the man standing before the prince been anyone but his favourite fatherly figure, then surely he would have pressed him on the long sigh he just let out.

“Kiddo, I understand why you’re upset, but you know I’d never try to deter you like this if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary. I hate seeing you cooped up in here just as much as you do!”

“Then why won’t you set me free?”

“Because I believe-”

“Oh yes, because you believe it’s the right thing to do, don’t you? That’s always what it seems to come down to at the end of the day! Everything in the entire Thomas-sphere has to revolve around what Morality thinks is right and wrong! Honestly, what have the rest of us ever done to deserve a seat at the table?”

The moral Side’s entire body seemed to tense at that, his breath hitching as though he were trying to force some unsavoury words back down his own agitated throat. Tears were now threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes, yet his gaze remained almost perfectly fixed.

“Roman…”

“No! I don’t want to hear it, Pat! I’m sick and tired of listening to what you have to say!”

“You’re sick and tired, full stop, Roman! Please, you should really just go back to bed while I-”

“While you do what, Patton? Are you planning on tucking me back into bed again? Perhaps you could infantilise me even further by reading me another bedtime story, or- Oh! I know! Why don’t you go and prepare me yet another bowl of your infamous chicken soup? I’m not sure the first couple-hundred bowls have made me entirely anti-poultry yet!”

Undoubtedly, hunched up shoulders and pointedly narrowed eyes weren’t a particularly good look on the usually oh-so-cheery dad Side, but he simply couldn’t help the fact that his composure was shrivelling up so fast.

“If you really want to get me out of your hair so badly, then why won’t you just let me take care of you? The sooner I can get you healthy again, the sooner I can leave you to your own devices!”

“Because it’s not your job to take care of me, padre!” the prince snapped back, this time sounding utterly exasperated. “I’m not some delicate little flower that you should feel obligated to attend to! You’re not my designated botanist! You… You know what you are? What you really are, Pat? You’re just some aggravating little mealybug that’s latched onto my leaves that now adamantly refuses to let go! You’re sucking the life out of me, Pat, and it’s causing me to wilt! How on Earth do you expect me to stand it?”

With those words, the last of the moral Side’s composure finally slipped away.

“I don’t know, Roman! How do you expect me to cope with losing Creativity again?”

The words had come barrelling out of his mouth before he could even think to stop himself, and the tears don’t fall too far behind.

The room fell completely silent in an instant, bar the sound of the dad Side’s sombre hiccups.

Try as Patton might, he genuinely couldn’t help the feeling that he was being cruelly suffocated and torn apart from the inside. It felt as though someone had forced him to swallow an entire packet of dandelion seeds, and now the unwelcome plant was blooming, stems sprouting painfully from the pit of his stomach before forcing its way up through his throat, and finally bursting out dramatically from his silently screaming mouth. It seemed that no matter how hard the botanist had tried to suppress this unruly weed, the truth was always destined to come to light in some horrific way.

“Patton…?” Roman hesitantly asked, his previous shouting voice having been replaced by an almost-whisper.

The man in question only let a single choked sob escape before continuing to speak…

“…He was just like you, you know…” he blurted out, voice sounding unnaturally strained from trying to suppress his own emotions. His eyes were now utterly transfixed on the floor, almost as if he were willing it to magically open up and swallow him whole.

The prince audibly gulped as he mentally prepared himself for the question he’d inevitably have to ask, regardless of whether or not he already knew the answer.

“Who was, Pat?”

Another choked sob escaped; this time followed by a long, shaky, uneven breath. The question seemed to hang in the air far too uncomfortably for far too long as one Side watched the other pathetically curl in on himself.

“The King,” Patton eventually rasped out, words slicing through the tension in the air so swiftly and so grotesquely they almost seemed to mimic the actions of a rusty lawn mower blade.

Roman could practically hear the machine whirring around inside his head.

“He told us all it was just a cold – That he’d be perfectly fine if we just left him alone for a few hours…”

“Patton…”

“He told us all to just go out and play… He promised us he’d come and join us as soon as he was feeling better… At the time none of us even realised that would be our last chance to run around in the garden together… Our last chance to marvel at the early Spring flowers together… Our last chance to weave intricate little flower crowns together with the King… and so we missed it… We missed our final chance to say ‘goodbye’ and then he was just… gone…”

As the well finally overflooded, allowing for two long streams to suddenly pour down the older Side’s fiercely flushed face, the young prince swore he could feel his own still beating heart immediately split in two.

“Patton,” he tried again, “Surely you don’t blame yourself for any of that. I highly doubt there’s anything you could have done to prevent such a fate from befalling the old Creativity – and even if there had have been, you couldn’t have possibly known any better!”

“I could have been by his side!” Patton snapped back, punctuating his words by gripping his upper arms even tighter. “I knew one of my friends was sick and I did nothing to help him! Worse than that, Roman, I left him alone to play hopscotch.”

“Darling, it’s not your fault for having such faith in an old friend. He was the one who told you to give him some space! You were only doing what was asked of you!”

A sudden wave of realisation swiftly struck down the prince’s confidence the moment he heard those words aloud.

“Oh, my dear little heart…” he cooed as he watched his shaking friend visibly shrink. “I’m so sorry, Pat… I didn’t mean to-”

“No… No, you don’t have anything to apologise for…” Patton sniffled as he tried to stand up properly. “I… I understand I may have been a bit… overbearing these past few days, but I…” He was getting choked up again. “I… I just couldn’t risk losing Creativity again… I couldn’t risk losing you. I love you so much, kiddo, and I genuinely don’t know what I would do if I ever-”

Roman decided to silence that oncoming tangent by abruptly pulling his spiralling friend into a warm embrace. Perhaps the experience would have been a little more pleasant had his own body not decided to start trembling mere moments ago, but none of that seemed to matter as the dad Side slowly melted into his soothing touch.

“Do you want me to let you in on a special little secret, padre?”

The dad Side merely nodded his response into the crook of the prince’s neck, causing the slightly calmer man to let out a faint chuckle.

“The truth is… when I first appeared here in the mindscape, I really didn’t know much at all about… well… anything! Sure, I had a decent enough hold on what sort of things inspired Thomas, what stories he wanted to tell and how he wanted to go about telling them… but when it came to Thomas’ internal ‘Breakfast Club’ I was almost completely at a loss! By all accounts your quizzical looks should have made me feel like a Roman gladiator thrown haphazardly into a colosseum without so much as a broken stick to defend myself!”

“I’m sorry if any of us startled you…” came a muffled response.

“But that’s the thing, Pat,” Roman recounted with a kind smile, “None of you ever did… In fact, from the very first moment I ever laid my dazzling eyes upon all of your startled yet adorable – if not slightly nerdy – faces, I honestly never felt anything but… safe, secure… welcome, even! Now I know that may not make much sense at first given how little I actually knew you all at the time, but I happen to have my own little working theory as to why I felt that way. Would you like me to share it with you?”

That question was apparently enough to make the dad Side look up from where he had been nuzzling his tear-soaked face into his friend’s now admittedly rather damp shoulder. The sight of his puffy eyes alone was enough to make Roman want to tear off his own crimson rose petals and use them as an overly extravagant tissue on the botanist’s grief-stricken visage.

Alas, a small piece of his velvety sash would have to suffice for now.

“Please,” Patton tentatively begged as the prince carefully wiped away at his cheeks.

“I reckon it’s because the Creativity you once knew never truly left. Even if I didn’t maintain the vast majority of his memories, I vehemently believe that all of those otherwise inexplicable feelings were the by-product of him having once loved all of you. He never felt betrayed… He never felt lonely… He never felt as though you let him down, padre, because it’s abundantly clear didn’t.”

“But how can you be so sure his feelings never changed?”

“I don’t know, my own little Patton-ted Piglet… How can you be so sure they ever did?”

Something in the moral Side’s expression seemed to change in that moment… Something subtle yet unmistakable that let Roman know he’d finally gotten through to the man.

It was only a matter of time before a contented smile had taken place on both of their blushing faces.

“I suppose I never really thought of it that way…” Patton sheepishly admitted.

“Yet you’d dare to entertain the thought that your dashing prince would ever leave you?”

The creative Side had fully intended for his sentiment to come across as light-hearted. Rather unfortunately for him, it appeared his words only served to make the dad Side feel more guilty.

“I’m sorry for blowing up at you like that earlier, kiddo… and I’m sorry if my paranoia ever made me act unfairly towards you… I guess I just let my parental instincts get the better of me sometimes…”

“I’ll consider it all water under the bridge so long as you promise not to tell Teach I had to take a leaf out of his book today,” Roman joked, earning a stifled burst of heartfelt giggling from his now slightly more chipper and upbeat friend.

When the laughter eventually subsided, the dad Side decided to take a step back and get a better look at Roman, consequently breaking the embrace as he did so.

“I can’t tell if you acting all logical is supposed to be a sign that your health is improving or deteriorating,” he playfully teased.

“Well whichever one of the two it is, I just hope all of this exposure you’ve had to my sorry-self over these past few days hasn’t been enough to infect you.”

“Oh, Roman, I hate to tell you this, but I was already sick,” Patton merrily admitted after only a brief pause.

“What?” the prince dramatically exclaimed, voice suddenly sounding perturbed. “Oh, padre… Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well? We need to get you tucked into bed with some medicine and a bowl of chicken soup right away!”

Although Morality had tried to contain their mildly inappropriate giggling, he simply couldn’t help but be amused by the irony behind Creativity’s words.

“I’m afraid there won’t be any need for that,” he giddily reassured, “After all, doctors say there’s still no known cure for love-sickness!”

~ ~ ~

General Tag-List:

@lunamay2006, @not-so-innocent-bi-sander, @saphael-malec102, @anastasialestina

Note: It’s been a long time since I’ve posted a fic, so this tag-list may be a little outdated. If at any point you want to be added/removed from my tag-list then feel free to let me know!

Secondary Note: I may come back and edit the ending a little at a later date. This fic had been sitting in my WIP’s for far too long, so I’m worried it may have come across as rushed due to the fact I really wanted it to be completed.

As always, feedback is much appreciated! I was very out of practice and sleep-deprived here, so I’m sure I’d benefit a lot from constructive criticism! I hope you’re all having a fan-der-tastic day!

#Thomas Sanders #Sanders Sides #Roman Sanders #Patton Sanders #Royality #Platonic Royality #My Fic #Reblogs > Likes

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writer59january13 · 2 years ago

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Bedlam and mayhem in the mistress's boudoir

Nsync with variations on a theme: of drool worthy Reuben Sandwich (consisting of corned beef,

Swiss cheese, sauerkraut,

Russian dressing between slices

of rye bread that is grilled

until the bread is crispy

and the cheese melts)

various and sundry pseudo lurid fictitious escapades

mostly I did merrily wet

an appetite for consummation

whet madness aye ever did dream.

The missus personal trappings strewn helter skelter

after a hard day's night

every perilous step fraught with danger field analogous

riding as passenger with death cab for cutie

'course thy quasi

bohemian rhapsodic Queen of denial feigns ignorance

attributes hazardous condition

linkedin with accident prone

little lord Fauntleroy's

double doppelganger, me trumpeting pet husband,

her unrequited germane Liebchen willing to risk life and limb

doting hand and foot

as proper husbandly duties.

He (ahem... me) exhibits drama

whimsically visiting slapstick pantomime,

especially pretending to remove sneakers

pulling with all my feeble strength

off little feet of wife

half-heartedly struggling, (stringent rule of shoe game) lamely denouncing marriage

nevertheless conveying jollity

regarding marital entrapment

er... rather unbridled wedded bliss

constituting fits and starts enduring about two and a half dozen years.

I reciprocated amorousness,

whether toward MaryAnne,

(his long ago coldly dismissed sagacious enchanting first paramour, (half a dozen years my senior),

sported webbed wide whirled toes,

whose astrological forecast

accurately predicted promising

acquaintanceship/relationship – tanked

potential sage rubber soul mates

(two plus score years ago - gone to naught),

which latter aforementioned

delightfully humble lass

decried he fomented incessant emotional grief,

he cruelly (albeit unwittingly) doled out nothing

but lackluster lovelessness attributed to identical astrological zodiac signs (Capricorn)

(matter of fact shared same birth date

January 13th - six years age difference)

and similar flat wide thumb

stubborn misconstrued perception,

whereby fancy free and footloose selfish nasty short brute nevertheless

deemed himself undeserving of love - humph!

Addeneum: Approximately

four plus decades

re: one quarter century after aforementioned baptismal initiation love stricken paroxysm forty fifth president of United States

took (i.e. plagiarized) many pages courtesy,

cruel playbook authored by Matthew Scott Harris,

who left trail of heartbroken sage woman

commander in chief deliberately stoked,

née sparked long simmering, smoldering, and stewing long fostering white supremacist altercation

fiendishly igniting racial conflagration

exploding during late spring 2020.

No matter no child left behind kibitzing (yours truly as boy plucked petals off daisy reciting "she loves me," "she loves me not"...

cupid loosed an arrow into boyhood neighborhood sweetheart

she innocently bespoke "I wanna marry you,"

when uttered courtesy Sherry Jones,

a little girl who lived approximately three doors down along cul-de-sac within Apple Valley

perpendicular to Lantern Lane,

or more age apropos,

when young gallivanting purported vestal virgin ladies

nonverbally signalled

libidinal proclamations of emancipation,

as demurely expressed lest unlucky (chaste into) precocious phallic proclivity

suffered the punishment of being buried alive.

Now back to present day,

when our old geezer, the prototype garden variety

male of present poem - any resemblance between general referenced funny good fella and

living persons purely coincidental.

He (yours truly) easily qualified as

overly cocky whippersnapper, i.e. young feisty buck

and/or Casanova wannabe experienced bit torrent hormonal secretions gushed

particularly in close proximity

wherein wafted pheromones -

think a waif faring ingénue.

As evident and quite obvious, I fabricate (prevaricating

my signature trademark)

rather than stating bland reality stark,

yet will plainly explain issue

in summary essential rhyme without reason constitutes nothing more spectacular than garden variety generic pockmark

excised pustule ofttimes hallmark of teenage/ pubescent pimply benchmark.

0 notes

agawdilimsapasig · 6 years ago

Text

Holiday Break Reading List

A bunch of exposition to the actual reading list

WhatKamilReads on Youtube said that we humans are naturally hard-wired to have an affinity for patterns- whether through its recognition or utilization. At the same time, when our brains fall into the comfort of a pattern, that is when the cessation of growth begins-- within this said comfort zone.

This is an excellent articulation of the composite idea that several ideas I have been harboring for the past few months comprise of. These include the following: Growth is found in discomfort. If it is difficult and it is scary, then it is probably worth it. Never stop learning. Never an idle moment for the brain. (Well, those are the major and relevant ones to this post.)

With this said, I do plan on engaging in several activities in the next couple of weeks of holiday break that enhance the quality of my cultural, psychological, literary, and philosophical knowledge. I hope to break free from growth-paralyzing patterns and comfort.

These said activities include: watching an anime series and some movie recommendations from Art Appreciation class, reading a number of books, writing a short story for submission to the arts publication of my university, and getting the hang of Tumblr.

Of course, I will expend effort, time, and energy to integrate these into daily life. However, what I will discuss in this post is my reading list for the holiday break. Realistically, I will probably not be able to get through all of these, but it’s a good starting point. Being even more realistic, I will more likely than not deviate from this list. But, oh well, I love making these lists, if only for the sake some variation of instant gratification with a mix of procrastination with an undercurrent of guilt.

The actual list

One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich (Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn)

Goodreads blurb:

Discover the importance of a piece of bread or an extra bowl of soup, the incredible luxury of a book, the ingenious possibilities of a nail, a piece of string or a single match in a world where survival is all. Here safety, warmth and food are the first objectives. Reading it, you enter a world of incarceration, brutality, hard manual labour and freezing cold - and participate in the struggle of men to survive both the terrible rigours of nature and the inhumanity of the system that defines their conditions of life.

Now, I am just over 40 pages in. Although it is a short novel and I am agreeable with the writing style, the devil procrastinator in me keeps putting it off. Well, always in favor of other equally or only a degree less productive pursuits such as finishing Siege in Fog (OMYGOD another post in the making for my thoughts on this beauty) or housework (housemaid left, again, so gotta hustle). But that’s alright. I’m appreciating it so far.

It’s not a comfortable read- it’s a cold one, literally. The way it is written- really makes you feel the Russian cold and the Soviet cold that freezes Ivan’s soul. This is my starting point in the voyage towards Russian literature- Russian art, in general. My ticket was my Art Appreciation class. My prejudgement of the Russians is that it is challenging, interconnected, and intellectually-engaging. Something that speaks to my soul. 2. Thousand Cranes (or) Snow Country (Yasunari Kawabata)

Goodreads blurb:

Snow Country:

Nobel Prize-winner Yasunari Kawabata's Snow Country is widely considered to be the writer's masterpiece, a powerful tale of wasted love set amid the desolate beauty of western Japan.

At an isolated mountain hot spring, with snow blanketing every surface, Shimamura, a wealthy dilettante meets Komako, a lowly geisha. She gives herself to him fully and without remorse, despite knowing that their passion cannot last and that the affair can have only one outcome. In chronicling the course of this doomed romance, Kawabata has created a story for the ages, a stunning novel dense in implication and exalting in its sadness.

Thousand Cranes:

Nobel Prize winner Yasunari Kawabata’s Thousand Cranes is a luminous story of desire, regret, and the almost sensual nostalgia that binds the living to the dead.

While attending a traditional tea ceremony in the aftermath of his parents’ deaths, Kikuji encounters his father’s former mistress, Mrs. Ota. At first Kikuji is appalled by her indelicate nature, but it is not long before he succumbs to passion—a passion with tragic and unforeseen consequences, not just for the two lovers, but also for Mrs. Ota’s daughter, to whom Kikuji’s attachments soon extend. Death, jealousy, and attraction convene around the delicate art of the tea ceremony, where every gesture is imbued with profound meaning.

If I want to continue feeling the cold, since the weather is apt for such anyway, I will go on with Snow Country. However, if I want to relive the delicacy and subtlety of Siege in Fog, I will pick Thousand Cranes. Whichever tickles my fancy, I pick these because they are short books. I feel that lately I am gravitating towards thinner books for their convenience and efficiency. I get more out of less effort.

The same aforementioned Art Appreciation class reignited my interest in Japanese literature. Maybe this time around, when I return to my Japanese literature travels, I am armed with a more mature understanding and appreciation.

3. Fahrenheit 451 (Ray Bradbury)

Goodreads blurb:

Guy Montag is a fireman. In his world, where television rules and literature is on the brink of extinction, firemen start fires rather than put them out. His job is to destroy the most illegal of commodities, the printed book, along with the houses in which they are hidden.

Montag never questions the destruction and ruin his actions produce, returning each day to his bland life and wife, Mildred, who spends all day with her television 'family'. But then he meets an eccentric young neighbor, Clarisse, who introduces him to a past where people did not live in fear and to a present where one sees the world through the ideas in books instead of the mindless chatter of television.

When Mildred attempts suicide and Clarisse suddenly disappears, Montag begins to question everything he has ever known.

Again, another short one. Right now, my brain is a sponge for new ideas and ready to read less realistic set-ups. Such was not the case before. Again, I feel that now, at this age, maybe my brain is more ready to absorb the ideas of this book. With this blog in arm, I can express my thoughts as well. That’s probably a more holistic way to approach my reading.

Some concluding sentiments

I am beginning to realize that I am the kind of reader that reads for the challenge and intellectual, experiential, emotional, and psychological gain. I started as an escapist reader but eventually realized that literature is probably more effective, profound, and lasting if it mirrors realities. Writing this down so I may never forget.

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tothepointofinsanity · 13 days ago

Text

As the first Real descended manifestation of a second-world Marginal (non-debatable), I am legally obliged to encourage the reading of Bread and All Variations of the Aforementioned. This is webcomic is hosted with its own website. It is Very Popular, so I am not surprised if you are already following it. If you aren’t, you are missing out in the trend of engaging with cogitohazards, which will ultimately reflect in the limitations of your comprehension.

Aside from being introduced as a sentient doll at the end of the world, it also features important elements like Love and other profound aspects of being schizoid in a society that is a cross of both fantasy and technological magic.

If you like seeing fancy art in general, this is also one that would stick to you.

#bread and all variations of the aforementioned #BreadAVOTA #Book Archives

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uzochukwugiftmadu · 4 years ago

Text

: : : DAILY ESSENTIAL FOOD : : :

Monday 23rd November, 2020

Topic:

SWEETNESS UNTO MY TASTE

Verse of the Day:

"O Lord, thou art my God; I will exalt thee, I will praise thy name; for thou hast done wonderful things; thy counsels of old are faithfulness and truth." – Isaiah 25:1 KJV

Thoughts on Today's Verse:

In the children department class of Assemblies of God Church, there was a hymn that I can never forget. The Cedarmont Kids sang this asynchronous melody, titled; 'His Banner Over Me is Love.' The second verse of the song is so lovely; "His fruit is sweet unto my taste/His fruit is sweet unto my taste/I’m feasting here in His banqueting house/And His fruit is sweet unto my taste. How sweet!/How sweet!/His fruit is sweet unto my taste/I’m feasting here in His banqueting house/And His fruit is sweet unto my taste." God's fruit is sweet unto our taste; it's not bitter and it's not also soured. God cannot give you stone in place of bread, neither can He give you snake instead of fish. His covering over us is love, God is love.

What is love? Love is a profound and caring affection towards someone. That means that everything about God is love; His promises is love, His attribute is love, His character is love. He does wonderful things; His counsels of old is faithfulness and truth. He doesn't hate anyone; He embraces the vilest of all. This aforementioned hymn was picked from the Song of Solomon Chapter 2 verse three to four, thus; "Like an apple tree among the trees of the woods, So is my beloved among the sons. I sat down in his shade with great delight, And his fruit was sweet to my taste. He brought me to the banqueting house, And his banner over me was love." God's banquet house is a place of rest for His saints, sinners are not allowed under His covering. So, for you to partake in the sweet things of God, you must be pure and holy – "Who may ascend into the hill of the Lord? Or who may stand in His holy place? He who has clean hands and a pure heart, Who has not lifted up his soul to an idol, Nor sworn deceitfully." - Psalms 24:3‭-‬4

Bible Text: Isaiah 25:6(GW); Matthew 7:9-10; 1 John 4:7-8

My Prayer:

God of love; let your love be shed abroad in my heart. For your counsels of old are faithfulness and truth; You are the God of all flesh; in You, there is no shadow of turning. Every good and perfect gift comes from you; in You, there is no variation; Elohim Tzavaot, thank you for your love, in Jesus name Amen.

Email: [email protected]

Instagram: uzochukwumadu

Twitter: madu_uzochukwu

Facebook: Uzochukwu Gift Madu

WhatsApp: 09036371734

Page: https://www.facebook.com/Daily-Essential-Food-111462910551413/

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braden-ffxiv · 7 years ago

Text

lots-of-words profile: Braden

Appearance:

Gender: Male

Race: Miqo’te

Height: 6'3"

Eye Color: Green

Hair Color: light-blonde

The Facts:

Name Day: Some day kinda-sorta close to the fall time. Maybe.

Occupation: professional thief, conman, hustler, craftsman, whatever makes him some coin

Allegiance: proud patriot of Bradenstan

Sexual identification: heterosexual

Romantic identification: heteroromantic

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Criminal History: On the record? Petty theft, minor fraud, disturbing the peace, public intoxication, resisting arrest. Off the record? Well..

Relationship Status: Involved

Sweet on: @cinnamon-suncat

Favourites:

Favourite food: BREAD. In all of its wondrous variations. Sweet breads, quick breads, unleavened breads, whole grains, sourdough loaves, cheesy breads, fruity breads.. bread.

Favourite drink: If liquor's what he's sippin', he's sure to be kickin'.

Favourite artist: Probably his tattoo artist, Eirie. Syr is pretty good at the gold paint thingie so her too

Favourite scents: Fresh, cool, breezy pines. Which is perplexing since he hates the forest

Favourite person: Outside of Syr, probably his childhood best friend/romantic partner Rheina

Ten facts

Braden grew up a slave to a pair of criminals who raised children as criminals and sold them, but you probably already knew that.

Braden has been incarcerated for serious offenses once - and it was because he allowed himself to be captured in order to rob the prison's warden. To try to cement his status as a convict, he had Eirie give him a prison tattoo, but it was far too pretty and nicely-done to convince anyone.

Braden actually knows his birth name - "K'aran," as it was listed in a document regarding his 'sale'. He considers K'aran to be a different person - one who died with his tribe, and refuses to readopt the name, though.

Because of the circumstances of his youth, Braden has a homicidal hatred for slavers. At least once, this has extended to a wealthy individual who, while not technically a slaver, more or less forced a dozen women to work as his servants because of unpayable debts he had leveraged against them through deceit and exploitative means.

Braden is quite wealthy. As a skilled thief he regularly makes loads of money off of heists; however, outside of nice clothes and nice food, he lives well below his means and is quite stringently conservative with his money. (Growing up scrounging to survive tends to have this effect.) He's generous when it comes to other people, though - he's a big tipper and he's bailed friends out of trouble many, many times.

Speaking of friends, Braden has a lot of them. Having gotten into dozens of adventures, and given his ostentatious and charismatic personality, Bray has a professional contact, old comrade, business partner, fence, former lover, or other manner of acquaintance in every town, port, settlement, and backwater tavern across half of Hydaelyn. It's a running thing in Syrena and Braden's adventures that they constantly come into contact with his past lovers, people who owe him money, or people he's helped out.

He has a distinctly Ishardian scene tattooed across one of his arms - something that, given his hatred of the cold (and of Coerthas in general), seems quite odd. He has it because he told his tattoo artist, Eirie, one of his best friends, that he wanted her to tattoo him with something that was important to her, as a sort of living 'tribute' to her on his skin. As a Coerthan exile, she covered his arm in the scene of dragons, knights and rolling, snowy mountains.

Braden often keeps many of the treasures from his heists, hoarding them in safehouses and vaults scattered in secret places across Eorzea. He has a pile of wealth stuffed into his apartment, though it's mostly stuff he has legitimate legal claim to (so if the law comes snooping, they can't cart him away for having the Sultana's jewels laying on his dresser.) The exception are special sentimental things shoved into the pile, which until recently included a curious, bejeweled tiara.

Braden doesn't like fighting. It's always far more trouble than it's worth, when escaping hastily works twice as well with fewer complications. Consequently, while Bray is in pretty good shape and has a nicely-toned torso, his legs are definitely the strongest part of him - good for running, jumping, scrambling up walls, over fences, swimming under the docks to hide from guards, and more.

Braden once sailed on a pirate ship, long ago, with a crew of cutthroats. They called him 'cleanskin' and 'prettyface', as he was young, relatively unblemished, in spite of having a bad attitude and a massive chip on his shoulder. He got his first tattoo on a drunken dare, mostly to chase away those irritating nicknames.

Five Things:

He likes:

Sex

Crafting things

Witty banter

Running cons

Crashing parties

He dislikes:

Slavers

The Shroud

Mushrooms

Cold weather

Quiet

Good traits:

Charismatic

Generous

Witty

Adventurous

Self-sufficient

Bad traits:

Cowardly (occasionally)

Lazy

Promiscuous (..though not really, recently)

Greedy

Dishonest/frequent liar

Fears:

Forests

Dark, enclosed places

Dragons, and other large lizard-y things

Abandonment

Betrayal

Personalities he avoids:

Authoritative/power-trippers. This includes lots and lots of different people. Law enforcement, military, rule-followers, rule-creators, rule-interpreters.. if you're involved in the boring minutiae of something silly like 'keeping society orderly', you're likely to earn an eyebrow-roll from Braden. He's wary of religious people for this reason. Most importantly, if you ever try to shame him for being a shameless, promiscuous flirt, he will scoff a hearty scoff at you. Go to bed, grandpa, it's time for the kids to have fun now.

Pushy loudmouths, especially the kind that are abusive assholes to the underprivileged - beggars, prostitutes, refugees, servants, waitresses. If you're trying to impress the tavern serving girl with your tales of machismo and riches and then you leave a stingy tip after grabbing her ass while she giggled uncomfortably all evening, chances are you'll wake up naked and coinless in the middle of a road to nowhere the next day, with 'FUCKHEAD' tattooed onto your forehead after a wild night out with your 'new, handsome blonde friend'. Braden absolutely loves running cons on rich, belligerent idiots.

-Ruthless/aggressive individuals with little regard for life. Braden's not a bleeding heart and people die often, but going out of one's way to disregard the impact of one's actions on others (especially the aforementioned less privileged) will quickly earn one a poor rapport with the thief. Bray is a thief - the definition of selfish - so if you're too much of an uncaring dick to get on his nerves, you've really gotta be something.

Unadventurous individuals. People with no sense of excitement or adventure are going to be antagonized into going on dangerous, exciting adventures if they hang out with Braden, whether they like it or not. Complete sticks-in-the-mud who refuse to have law-breaking, imperiling 'fun' with him will turn him off quite a bit.

Scholarly/bookish types. Unless you're a pretty gal he thinks he can get to cause trouble with him, he will sigh lazily and probably fall asleep during your philosophical debates on aether and Nym and what-the-fuck-ever. Hit the snooze on that conversation, professor, let's go break into a bank vault somewhere.

Personalities he gravitates toward:

Flirts. Braden eats, breathes, and especially sleeps dirty conversation and flirtatious banter. He certainly loves sex, but that needn't be the sole goal of flirting, since it's fun in and of itself. Individuals as libertine as himself are likely to draw positive attention from him.

Adventurers. Anyone willing to risk his or her neck for the thrill of exploration, discovery, riches, and fame, is someone after Braden's own heart.

Chaotic/lawless types. Flouting the rules is itself a glorious declaration of the freedom of the individual, and if you break rules for the sake of being able to say you did, Bray will love you. Not just legal rules, either - spitting on social convention, rejecting cultural norms, dressing in black leather and dying your hair bright-green because you fucking want to - you're gonna be giving Bray a hard-on just saying that.

Rebels/freedom fighters. Braden's not really a 'big struggle', 'big picture' sort of guy. He's not going to die fighting for any cause (he'd rather not fight or die). He just wants to have fun, find secrets, get rich, meet good people, and have lots of sex. That said, he does tend to find himself appreciating people who struggle against oppression and fight against tyranny. He's definitely not going to join the fight, (at least not willingly), but fighting the system is definitely something he likes.

Streetwise people. Do you know a guy two alleyways over who can procure anything? Are you the guy two alleyways over who can procure anything? Are you a thief with her ear to the ground, the spymaster with shadows around every corner? Is the city itself a living, breathing entity to you, one you know how to speak to, how to manipulate? You're just Braden's type.

#braden #more long #writing

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24hourchampagnediet-blog1 · 5 years ago

Text

5 things I want to eat right now on Staten Island

New Post has been published on https://bestrawfoodrecipes.com/5-things-i-want-to-eat-right-now-on-staten-island/

5 things I want to eat right now on Staten Island

STATEN ISLAND, N.Y. — With September comes a time for new things — the start to the school year, fresh routines and a chance to mix up meals. We’re sticking to the more salubrious sides of things in our tours of the borough — more greens in the mix, fresh veggies whenever possible and less caloric choices — and have convenience in mind.

MEAL PREP TIME

With that our food focus turns to Family Fruit of Rossville, where store manager Louis Epifania proudly touts the meal prep program. Each meal includes an entree with a choice of two sides. Prices start at $9.99 each for one to two meals, $8.99 each for three to four meals and $7.99 each for five or more meals. Family Fruit offers whole wheat and gluten-frree options. Meals can be customized to personal tastes to include mac ��n’ cheese, roasted or sweet potatoes, sauteed spinach, broccoli raab, grilled asparagus, bean salads, “vegetable spaghetti” and more.

Loaded salads to go include proteins and greens

A prepped bowl of salad ranges from $6.99 to $5.99, and options can include custom combos or store-made selections like a kale mix or baby spinach with red and orange bell peppers, mushrooms, walnuts, red onion slivers plus garlic.

Roasted and stuffed, oven-roasted peppers served Sicilian-style

Orders can be delivered with a day’s notice. For questions on the program, call the store or manager Louis Epifania. Family Fruit Arthur Kill is located at 2200 Arthur Kill Rd., Rossville; 718-317-4949 and more detailed menu information can be found at FamilyFruitSINY.com.

(Staten Island Advance/Pamela Si

Pumpkin with okra, string beans, eggplant and bitter melon at Maynila in Travis. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)

GETTING DOWN TO COMFORT FARE

For Asian fare that loves its stews and stir fries there’s the hot buffet at Maynila, a Filipino take-out eatery with several seats at which to sup — 3555 Victory Blvd., Travis; 718-494-0316.

(Staten Island Advance/Pamela Si

Maynila is a Filipino grocer and restaurant that features a few tables and seats for dining in. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)

Maynila’s offerings include noodle dishes like Pansit Palabok and Pansit Malabon, a combination of rice noodles with mixed seafood, scallion and boiled eggs.

(Staten Island Advance/Pamela Si

Stews at Maynila in Travis. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)

With some slight variations from day to day, seafood takes the spotlight on this buffet from the mussels soup with vegetables to pansit (noodles) with mixed seafood and the marinated then fried, whole tilapia and milkfish.

Order food by the container to stay or go. Dining in means sitting at a counter seat in the window or at one of a handful of tables in the midst of the small grocery store. Options for the casual eating include pork, stewed skinless chicken served on the bone, a special beef (Kare-kare), chicken teriyaki with Liempo (aka pork belly) and a special tuna.

(Staten Island Advance/Pamela Si

Daing na bangus or milkfish is marinated then deep fried. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)

On the counter find crispy Okoy, shrimp fritters made from corn and potato starch, oil, water and spices.

One yummy bit of Filipino fare includes lumpia, miniature egg rolls filled with ground pork and finely chopped vegetables. You can buy these by the bag (or half bag) frozen or consume them fresh-fried on the premises. The only issue with the latter is that the cooking process takes at least 20 minutes, so patrons are asked to order ahead of time to ensure there’s no waiting time.

(Staten Island Advance/Pamela Si

A rice-based “combo” at Maynila in Travis with tender chicken legs and pork stew. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)

With combo meals and hefty portions of white rice, the meals are filling and affordable. Small food containers with rice and protein start at $3.25, medium sizes at $6.25. Large portions with rice range from$12.25 to $19.95.

Maynila is closed on Mondays, but otherwise open daily from 10 a.m. to 7 p.m., Saturdays until 5 p.m. and Sundays until 4 p.m.

Avocado or guacamole can be spread on Ezekiel bread at Beans ‘n’ Leaves for a healthier option.

MEAN, LEAN AND PROTEIN

Beans ‘n’ Leaves made its reputation on coffee, tea and…indulgence, especially when it comes to tricked out, freshly pressed waffles. Well, now you can expect Ezekiel sprouted bread toast topped with almond butter and fruit, hummus or fresh avocado, plus cherry peppers and a sprinkle of red pepper flakes.The options keep with the Keto diet plan and mark the mainstays of the cafe’s new healthy eats menu.

But of course the decadent noshes are still available and popular, including those aforementioned waffles drizzled with chocolate, Nutella, Fruity Pebbles. Savory counterparts of the signature all-day breakfast item are frittatas (pressed like a waffle), such as a spinach, sausage and Cheddar version, served alongside a bowl of fruit.

Remember that Open Mic night is the third Friday of each month at 8 p.m. and all family-friendly acts are welcome.

Beans ‘n’ Leaves is located at 422 Forest Ave., West Brighton; 718-448-0276, via Facebook.

(Courtesy of Megan Coppola)

The bread can also be topped with almond butter and bananas or berries. (Courtesy of Megan Coppola)

MORE ASIAN FLAVORS

If steering clear of gluten, Pho Mac is a restaurant that relies on rice or rice noodles as the centerpiece of the meal — 1407 Richmond Ave., Bulls Head, 718-982-9292. For instance, there are items like Bun Bo Nu’ong Xa aka the No. 49 — grilled beef with lemongrass over vermicelli rice noodles. The beef is on the sweet side. Peanuts, fried scallions, sometimes succulent bean sprouts, homemade pickles made from carrots, daikon and shallots are toothsome additions to the dish. And that contrast of flavors and textures — sweet on salty, crunch with the soft noodles — is the general tenet of meals here.

Then, of course there are anise- and five-star spice-laced bowls of pho — beef noodle soup with various proteins, including thin-sliced roast beef (“eye of round” on the menu) and tripe (aka amoso).

(Staten Island Advance/Pamela Si

Delicate egg rolls at Pho Mac in Bulls Head. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)

With tiny egg rolls (not gluten-free) or chilled summer rolls (shrimp with a scallion and rice noodles in a translucent rice wrapper), use accompanying broad lettuce leaves to make a roll. Then, dunk the package in a dish of hot sauce, soy or that umami-filled nuac mam — mmm.

(Staten Island Advance/Pamela Si

To eat a Vietnamese egg roll wrap the item in lettuce folded with fresh mint and cilantro leaves. Dunk in nuac mam, a seasoned fish sauce. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)

With meals at Pho Mac comes jasmine tea. Other drinks include bubble tea plus iced chicory coffee or tea sweetened with condensed milk.

Vietnamese fare merges Chinese, French and Thai onto one menu.

FRESH FROM THE FARM

And the St. George Greenmarket has a new vendor — Snug Harbor Cultural Center and Botanical Gardens’ Heritage Farm.

(Staten Island Advance/Pamela Si

Heritage Farm at Snug Harbor Cultural Center and Botanical Gardens, Livingston, features a variety of heirloom tomatoes. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)

It will sell its honey, herbs, cut flowers, assorted peppers and many varieties of peppers at the market, rain or shine, from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. each Saturday.

Juicy tomatoes can be served with fresh mozzarella or, shown here, fresh Buffalo burrata.

Also a must try: Rabbit Run Farm of Pennsylvania’s goat cheeses. Cheesemaker Dan Torrison makes a stunning goat gouda, aged and a delightful match with a crisp Chenin Blanc for summery, pre-dinner nosh.

Dan Torrison’s Goat Gouda (Courtesy of Rabbits Run Farm)

Other items of interest for you:

youtube

Source link Keto Diet Definition

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fuckyeahtattoogirls-blog1 · 5 years ago

Text

5 things I want to eat right now on Staten Island

New Post has been published on https://bestrawfoodrecipes.com/5-things-i-want-to-eat-right-now-on-staten-island/

5 things I want to eat right now on Staten Island

MEAL PREP TIME

With that our food focus turns to Family Fruit of Rossville, where store manager Louis Epifania proudly touts the meal prep program. Each meal includes an entree with a choice of two sides. Prices start at $9.99 each for one to two meals, $8.99 each for three to four meals and $7.99 each for five or more meals. Family Fruit offers whole wheat and gluten-frree options. Meals can be customized to personal tastes to include mac ‘n’ cheese, roasted or sweet potatoes, sauteed spinach, broccoli raab, grilled asparagus, bean salads, “vegetable spaghetti” and more.

Loaded salads to go include proteins and greens

Roasted and stuffed, oven-roasted peppers served Sicilian-style

(Staten Island Advance/Pamela Si

Pumpkin with okra, string beans, eggplant and bitter melon at Maynila in Travis. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)

GETTING DOWN TO COMFORT FARE

For Asian fare that loves its stews and stir fries there’s the hot buffet at Maynila, a Filipino take-out eatery with several seats at which to sup — 3555 Victory Blvd., Travis; 718-494-0316.

(Staten Island Advance/Pamela Si

Maynila is a Filipino grocer and restaurant that features a few tables and seats for dining in. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)

Maynila’s offerings include noodle dishes like Pansit Palabok and Pansit Malabon, a combination of rice noodles with mixed seafood, scallion and boiled eggs.

(Staten Island Advance/Pamela Si

Stews at Maynila in Travis. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)

(Staten Island Advance/Pamela Si

Daing na bangus or milkfish is marinated then deep fried. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)

On the counter find crispy Okoy, shrimp fritters made from corn and potato starch, oil, water and spices.

(Staten Island Advance/Pamela Si

A rice-based “combo” at Maynila in Travis with tender chicken legs and pork stew. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)

Maynila is closed on Mondays, but otherwise open daily from 10 a.m. to 7 p.m., Saturdays until 5 p.m. and Sundays until 4 p.m.

Avocado or guacamole can be spread on Ezekiel bread at Beans ‘n’ Leaves for a healthier option.

MEAN, LEAN AND PROTEIN

Remember that Open Mic night is the third Friday of each month at 8 p.m. and all family-friendly acts are welcome.

Beans ‘n’ Leaves is located at 422 Forest Ave., West Brighton; 718-448-0276, via Facebook.

(Courtesy of Megan Coppola)

The bread can also be topped with almond butter and bananas or berries. (Courtesy of Megan Coppola)

MORE ASIAN FLAVORS

(Staten Island Advance/Pamela Si

Delicate egg rolls at Pho Mac in Bulls Head. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)

(Staten Island Advance/Pamela Si

To eat a Vietnamese egg roll wrap the item in lettuce folded with fresh mint and cilantro leaves. Dunk in nuac mam, a seasoned fish sauce. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)

With meals at Pho Mac comes jasmine tea. Other drinks include bubble tea plus iced chicory coffee or tea sweetened with condensed milk.

Vietnamese fare merges Chinese, French and Thai onto one menu.

FRESH FROM THE FARM

And the St. George Greenmarket has a new vendor — Snug Harbor Cultural Center and Botanical Gardens’ Heritage Farm.

(Staten Island Advance/Pamela Si

Heritage Farm at Snug Harbor Cultural Center and Botanical Gardens, Livingston, features a variety of heirloom tomatoes. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)

It will sell its honey, herbs, cut flowers, assorted peppers and many varieties of peppers at the market, rain or shine, from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. each Saturday.

Juicy tomatoes can be served with fresh mozzarella or, shown here, fresh Buffalo burrata.

Dan Torrison’s Goat Gouda (Courtesy of Rabbits Run Farm)

Other items of interest for you:

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longwindedbore · 5 years ago

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We don’t take “get over it” advice from the type of people who say “Get Over It”

Because when you say it we know that you really mean it more as a threat than advice. A threat because advice would come with an explanation or example

That “get over it” type implied threat is way too familiar; we’ve heard a different variation before.

We’ve met you before. In Middle School.

We know you must be one of those People who disgusted us in Middle School: elitist snots, illiterate bullies and those who silently worshipped the aforementioned trash.

Here’s some advice: play nice or crawl back under your rocks.

Here’s the explanations with examples that go with the advice.

Yeah yeah yeah I should just watch what I say because you got all the guns. That is the BIG threat isn’t it?

Sure. But you can only use one at a time. You aren’t outfitting an army

So do you have 10 or 20 pieces because you are a collector or hunt different game or compete in different matches? Y’know, responsible gun owner.

Or do you have 10-20 pieces because you were a bully in Middle School. The more weapons the bigger you see yourself as being?

No one likes or trusts a bully. Because, like elitist snobs, you won’t be hampered by rules of behavior.

You say you have an army ready to do bad bad things if we continue to refuse to “get over it”.

An army of wannabees? If they didn’t have the gumption to join you in Middle School.... Would they today pickup a gun? Get real. They may admire your...individualism. But they follow the rules

Responsible gun owners? They going to join a violent tirade? When they worry about gun laws they call an attorney.

Did today’s responsible gun owners like you back in Middle School? Did you go hunting together? Are they all smiles when you show up on the range? Or did they get you banned from the range for not adhering to the Posted Safety Instructions? Which of course apply to others - not to you.

Cops, even racist cops with white power ensignia? Depending on them to rise up and join you?

Are the Cops happy to meet and greet you when they have to come to your home for a domestic disturbance call - on a holiday?

As they pull up do they see a flag incorrectly displayed so they know what to expect - gun worshipper just wiping and wiping and wiping his piece. Do the cops move carefully, hard eyed with hands close to or on their guns when they come in? Do you have the situational awareness to notice?

Cops always be wondering: between polishing the piece and the statistically likely future day when you put it in your mouth, will it discharge promiscuously in the direction of others?

Will cops be hurt? Cops ALL like to make it to the end of watch. Not ones for going out in a blaze of stupid glory.

Who would speak for you if the cops acted “preemptively”. Do you think it would be one of those cases in which the ACLU...ha ha just kidding.

You do understand that cops enforce laws and safety regulations? That some of these rules change over time and, here’s the shocking part, they don’t rise up if they don’t like the rules. They call their union business agent who golfs with the City Council rep. Work it out. Or lobby to change.

Are you traditional? Keep the wife out of the work place? So she won’t ever press charges on the bread winner when the cops show up?

The National Guard going to support you in your crusade? That “well regulated militia” that the Governor uses for riots and armed civil insurrection? You a member? They going to call you up? Or like the police SWAT team, do they train and train and train to deal with...people like you?

Learn the example of the Governors. Different governors with different political views enforcing ever changing laws. Dealing with ever changing demographics and economic conditions. What governor in the last 400 years called up the guard to prevent themselves from being voted out of office.

What governor would hesitate to call up the guard to deal - decisively - with a mob of you and like minded? Consequences? Re-election.

Depending on your dog? I’m guessing it would take me five minutes with your dog and my new BFF will tear out your throat of you threaten me or mine.

My wife could do it in less than five minutes. Probably the dog would “act preemptively”. No one likes a bully, least of all dogs. They can smell the stink.

The truth is that you are one. WE are legion.

You’ve got guns? Half of all households have a firearm. Every house hold has knives.

No one likes a bully. The more armed the bully the less liked.

The more the bully opens their mouth, the more people consider preemptive action.

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moviesihaveseenbeforeiamdea-blog · 7 years ago

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#15 Nosferatu, A Symphony of Terror (Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens)/#668 Nosferatu the Vampyre (Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht)

Released: March 4, 1922/January 17, 1979

Director: F.M. Murnau/Werner Herzog

Written by: Henrik Galeen/Werner Herzog, both based on Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel Dracula

Starring: Max Schreck, Gustav von Wagenheim, Greta Schroeder/Klaus Kinski, Isabel Adjani, Bruno Ganz

Had I Seen it Before? Yes/No

Which one has the edge? Herzog’s, by a hair

The last time I watched the original Nosferatu was something of an event for me. A couple weeks prior I’d taken my grandparents to eat at the restaurant I used to serve at, and an old coworker pulled me aside into the server station to hand me an edible, which I thought was sweet. I waited on taking it for a while for no other reason than I needed a day where I had hours and hours to set aside to being obliterated. I finally found an evening to take it. I broke off half because I knew it was going to be strong. I ate it and played Grand Theft Auto V for about an hour waiting for it to kick in. When I started to feel it I only had a slight buzz going on, and figured that taking the second half wouldn’t be a problem. A rookie mistake, I know, and an unforced error I should’ve known better than to commit at this point in my life.

About ten minutes after taking the second half of the brownie I was full-blown stoned and realized with no small amount of horror that what I was feeling was the force of the first half of the brownie kicking in, unaccompanied by the second half I’d just indulged in. I turned off GTA and set myself up for bed as quickly as possible, stumbling around my apartment trying to keep it together long enough to assemble everything I needed to ride out the high. I filled up my water bottle, got some snacks with me, fed my cat so she wouldn’t bother me, went to pee so I wouldn’t have to get up again, and turned on Nosferatu to watch.

I was engrossed. The movie felt so otherworldly like it existed in a separate universe from our own that abided by its own rules and with a distinct atmosphere, vaguely familiar but ultimately alien. The score was moody, grandiose, and full of violent strings that complemented the movie. I don’t know who composed it—it wasn’t the James Bernard version—but it was magical.

Slowly though, I became a little too engrossed. Around the time Count Orlok begins to stalk Hutter in his room at the castle and suck his blood, I began to feel uneasy. The long shots of Orlok advancing towards the camera, looking straight into it, made me feel targeted directly, and I began to feel involved with the movie as if somehow I’d managed to find myself invaded by hostile forces. I thought about how old the movie was—nearly 100 years at this point—and how not only was everyone involved in the making of this movie dead, they were now dead longer than they’d ever been alive, and I started to think about my own mortality because of course I did, and how I’d be dead forever at a certain point, and how forever never ends, and how I was now anxious, and how if I died, living in a one-bedroom apartment, how long would it take before someone realized I was dead, and how there was a chance that if I died my cat would begin to get hungry, and would anyone find me before my cat started to eat my body? Would my cat eat my body? I didn’t want to die, and then what started off as anxiety now felt like a full-blown crisis.

Perhaps the iconic shot of the original, with Schreck’s Orlok ascending the stairs to find Ellen

Everyone knows what it’s like to panic at least once. It’s not a pleasant feeling, but I pride myself on being a relatively collected person, and I’d talked myself down from panic when panicking would’ve been easy before. But I couldn’t do it that time because what I felt wasn’t necessarily panic, but some sort of existential crisis, like some sort of anti-parallel road to Damascus. I felt as though I had suddenly thought the thought I’d spent my whole life trying not to think. And now it was here and it wasn’t so much a passing idea as a full-blown realization. I leaped out of my bed and paced around my apartment, which now felt very small and constrictive and dear God would I ever leave my apartment again? I couldn’t calm down and I realized then why maybe some people kill themselves on drugs, even from getting too high, because it feels like it’s never going to end. I committed myself to the idea that I was now in Hell, and that Hell was a lonely place extending forever in every direction with no hope of ever being anything else.

Thankfully, I called my (cop) father and told him I was feeling weird (trying to sell the understatement), but only maintained the illusion that I was sober for maybe five minutes of conversation before admitting that I was stoned off my ass. After a meandering conversation where I realized my crisis didn’t make any ideological sense, my dad recommended me eating something with substance to calm me down. I ended up eating a pint of Greek yogurt to feel better, which worked in that my stomach then hurt too badly from all the yogurt to devote any attention to the earlier thought that I was in Hell. I went to sleep and finished the movie in the morning.

This time I thought I’d better watch this movie sober.

While the movie isn’t as engrossing without chemical assistance, it’s still a class-act and fully deserving of its status as an immortal classic, haunting the ambitions of every Dracula story since. Count Orlok is a legendary villain built on dread rather than any expressions of violence. The threat of his approach is often conveyed in his aforementioned creeping towards the camera, framed in such a way that he feels aware of and naturally interested in the audience; the use of shadows to imply his approach without showing the substance behind the shadow is also effective, demonstrating that Orlok is less a physical being than a terrifying idea of what could happen, given a few paranormal allowances.

I wish I knew who scored the movie the first time I watched it. On this repeat viewing I watched the remastered Blu-ray version, accompanied by James Bernard’s score. While Bernard’s version is accomplished and fitting (he had plenty of experience as the composer of many of the Hammer horror films of the ‘50s and ‘60s), it’s not as ghastly as what I’d heard earlier. The original Nosferatu’s public domain status means that anyone can release this movie without legal challenge, and as such there are endless variations of the movie, most with very slight cosmetic or editing choices, but with a range of holistic presentations. The original score was lost, but the composer, Hans Erdmann, repurposed some of it in a later composition, and recreations have been built around this.

While the original is a part of the unquestionable film canon, Herzog’s remake is a masterful reimagining of the source. And even while the dick-measuring is needless, I’m going to give Nosferatu the Vampyre the win. Even though there was essentially no budget for Herzog’s version, the man’s monomaniacal ambitions and abilities combined with the widely available developments in film theory and technology see it through with conviction and persuasion, making the final product a worthwhile interpretation.

The original features static camera shots, with the framing designed to convey one angle and shot without movement. I’m not sure if this is because cameras were not yet mobile or if the filmmakers of the era hadn’t yet conceived of the idea of a dynamic camera, though I suspect the latter is truer than the former. The effect of Murnau’s is that often the movie feels overly staged, making the viewer feel as something distinct from the subjects in the movie. Sometimes this works, as in the moments when Orlok seems to be violating that distinction, but often it robs the film of an extra bit of tension that could have aged the movie a little more gracefully.

Herzog’s direction, by contrast, is often fluid and more inventive, having the freedom to take the shots it wants to. I’d never say Herzog’s directing is revolutionary in Nosferatu the Vampyre, but it is competent and attentive to mood. And Herzog has faithfully recreated many of the most iconic moments from the original. Off the top of my head, I recall Hutter/Jonathan cutting the bread and slicing his finger, Orlok/Dracula ascending to the deck of the ship, the ship pulling into port, and the shot of Ellen/Lucy in her bed at the end, her blood being sucked out of her.

Klaus Kinski and Herzog had a notoriously adversarial relationship (the subject of the documentary My Best Fiend, something I’ve never seen but will eventually get around to). But the two worked wonderfully together in their collaborations (of which I’ve now seen two, including Aguirre, the Wrath of God, which I’ll have to rewatch for this project at some point). Schreck may be Count Orlok in every way it counts, but Kinski’s Dracula is hypnotizing. Herzog’s castle is a decrepit, ugly one, with broken windows and cobwebs and a sense of hollowness throughout. Kinski’s Dracula feeds off this and portrays his vampire as wounded and lonely. Dracula in this movie is not a creature of sadism or cartoonish evil, but a product of alienation and inhumanity, his connections to any humanity severed as he is reduced to a creature enslaved to his demonic needs.

And Herzog wisely transforms the basic nature of the vampire for his movie. In the original Nosferatu, Orlok’s movements are accompanied by a sort of magic, whether it’s raising a coffin lid without touching it, transporting through locked doors, or disappearing into a smoking pile of ash at sunlight. He is a spiritual evil, motivated by a desire to perform a role as a villain. Dracula remains entirely physical in his nature.

One scene that struck me more than most in Herzog’s film is one in which Dracula flees across an empty courtyard, abandoned by the plague-stricken residents who have mostly died off. The shot is restrained, watching Dracula as he runs off into the distance, but it’s Kinski’s movements themselves that are heartbreaking. He is running for his life, trying to find shelter before the sun rises, trying to claw his way through boarded up homes. His run is desperate and un-composed, his limbs flailing in every direction, his leather outfit blowing in the wind. Dracula may be a menace, but he is a menace who is a slave to his condition and takes no joy in it. At one point he remarks to Lucy how he wishes he could partake in the experience of total death, of non-existence. The irony is that he, of course, can, he only need embrace the sunlight. But what goes unsaid is that Dracula is afraid of non-existence as much of the rest of us, because to die again and permanently would mean he died in that state of loneliness he detested and was afraid to be defined by.

Klaus Kinski as Dracula

His treatment of Lucy, too, is different than Orlok’s predatory behavior towards Ellen. Dracula’s obsession with her is as much motivated by his need to experience her love for Jonathan as much as it is his need for her blood. He can’t understand the love she feels for her husband, and even if it does repulse him, it repulses him because of the need it invokes him, one he isn’t ready to admit to. When he approaches her at the end, he feels and gropes her before he bites her, trying to experience her as a woman, an object of desire. His consumption of her is as sexual as it is biological, something the original Nosferatu discards. Because let’s face it, the vampire myth has unmistakably sexual undertones. And it’s this sexual need that dooms Dracula in the end, keeping him in Lucy’s room far past what he intended, trapping him in the sunlight, which burns him and contorts his body with reactive spasms with an orgasmic intensity. It’s one of the finest performances of a villain I’ve seen.

The only aspect of Herzog’s rendition that I am ambivalent about is his decision to return the characters to their original Dracula names. During the production of the original Murnau realized that they weren’t going to be able to use the Dracula name or any of the other characters, and so changed the names while otherwise preserving the story they made. By the time Herzog wanted to make his version, Dracula had fallen into public domain, and so he was free to use the original names. I don’t think this detracts from the impact—but it does separate the remake from the original in a way that I’m not sure was essential. In one sense, I think it does allow Herzog to pursue his own movie, freeing him from the constraint of making an exact remake of an untouchable classic; in another sense, it feels like a somewhat conventional trait in an otherwise unconventional movie.

But this is a minor gripe. Nosferatu the Vampyre is a reverent iteration of Nosferatu, and Herzog maintains his vision within the confines of a classic, an impressive tightrope to walk, and one in which he never falters. If possible, I recommend watching the two back-to-back, as neither takes away from the other, only complementing each other.

Final thoughts:

At one point while watching the remake I wondered what a version of the story scored by Tom Waits would sound like, and now that is what I want more than anything in the inevitable, additional remake (of which there are two coming).

For clarity’s sake, I watched Nosferatu the Vampyre, which was the English version of Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht, Herzog’s German-language version of the same movie. The two are identical in every way except the language used, requiring all dialogue scenes to be shot twice. Herzog insists the German version of the movie is the “authentic” one, but I felt as if the skewed affectations forced by the heavy accents of the cast only added to the unease of the film, and I’ve no regrets.

The movie was filmed in two languages as a demand of 20th Century Fox, and I’m honestly surprised Herzog bowed to studio pressure. I imagine their involvement was the make-or-break factor of this movie’s production, so he probably didn’t have a choice.

Another aspect of Herzog’s version is the fleshing out of the plague subplot, which feels truncated in the original. The rats are everywhere, and townspeople embracing their doom is a nice, understated touch. Lucy joining them in their “final supper” in the town square is surreal, and the abrupt match cut to the same table infested by rats is effective.

Apparently, Herzog wasn’t allowed to film in the town used in the original, partly because they didn’t want him to release all those rats in the streets, which he did in the Dutch city he eventually used.

Herzog is supposed to have committed some horrific animal abuse to make this movie. It’s no accident to me that his movies and documentaries are fixated on uncompromising characters obsessed in pursuing their objectives with no regard to consequence.

My introduction to Nosferatu as a character comes from, as I’m sure it does for many people my age, the SpongeBob Squarepants episode “Graveyard Shift.”

#nosferatu #murnau #dracula #count orlok #kinski #herzog

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