#cigaretes

[callmewhenyourheartisempty]

[kmpshitposter]

Regular John

[spitinsideme]

ragatha had to go to some rich peope party (she alwys brings pomni like a support chihuaha) ans she needs a cigarette (pomni has no idea how to work a lighter)

[il3x]

[wexhappyxfew]

one after the next

(a/n): first vivian x blakely piece! first vivian x blakely piece!!!! screaming crying losing my mind. THEM! really can't get enough of this piece and just how perfectly they sort of slot into each other's lives in this moment in time. you'll see what i mean.....just, THEM. vivian ratcliff deserves all the love and hugs there is in this world! certified that carrie achterberg is also chaotic af! <3 (also peep the bucky and dougie cameos here lmao)

"I shot down at least 3," Vivian said firmly, removing her cigarette from her lip, "right when they were hitting us at the beginning."

"Yeah," Kennedy chimed in, "saw it with my own eyes. Looked like they were trying to target one side of the plane. Over and over, Lieutenant. Ratcliff handled her own though, but it was pretty persistent." Vivian watched as the interrogator made a few notes before looking to Lieutenant Bradshaw again.

"And you can confirm all the information you've spoken now at this table is to the truth?" he asked her, and Lieutenant Bradshaw nodded firmly.

"Yes, sir." she said. The interrogator nodded, making a few more notes on his pad of paper before looking about the group, giving a curt nod and standing to his feet.

"Alrighty then, you ladies are all set." he said, reaching forward to shake Lieutenant Bradshaw's hand, to which she stood and firmly shook the Lieutenant's hand.

"Thank you, sir." Lieutenant Bradshaw said with a slight smile. The interrogator nodded to her before looking to the rest of the group, giving a firm nod before disappearing out the door to Operations. A few other tables were still in their own sessions it seemed, but for the moment, Vivian could feel the tension in her shoulders slowly dissipate as she took a long drag of her cigarette and sighed.

"I swear to fucking God," Carrie said from beside her, looking to the group, "they were targeting Viv's side the entire time."

"Not entirely," Vivian offered, leaning forward, "Kenny took some shots from her side, too. Clean and clear cut."

"I know," Carrie said quietly, before placing her cigarette back on her lip with a sigh, "I just get tired of when they start coming in sideways. Nailing the shit outta you before going for Jude, it's bullshit, swear to God."

"You need another drink." Lieutenant Montez offered from beside Lieutenant Bradshaw, nodding to the already finished shot glass in front of Carrie.

"Damn right, Monty," Carrie said, "thought one of those things was gonna come through the front of the plane, give Bes and I a real wake up call, huh?"

"Yeah!" Bessie said leaning forward and looking to Carrie, "You shoulda seen the one, a few more inches and that bombsight would've been in the subpens." A few chuckles rang out around the group as Vivian continued to sit, listening to the quiet chatter of the group.

Usually after missions, it was always like this. Something Captain Faulkner used to do for the crew - to let off some steam, shoot the shit with your crew about whatever the hell you had just witnessed, dropping the formalities without a Captain breathing down your neck, and a few cigarettes and shots to go around.

Vivian slowly looked around the room, looking to a few other tables, noticing Major Cleven's crew talking still, along with Captain Blakely and Major Egan's crew. There was something about still seeing those planes return that kept her mind at bay.

"You all really need to experience this sorta stuff from a ball turret," Judy said with a chuckle, "every time, I swear one of those planes is gonna sweep the bottom of Silver Bullets, clean me out and send me flying."

"Ain't no way none of us are letting that happen, Jude," Carrie called, placing her cigarette on her lip, standing to her feet and imitating shooting a gun, "I'd bring my gun up, BOOM, BOOM, that sucker would be dead."

"Damn, Bergie, you shoulda been at Hollywood!" Margie called with a chuckle, a joking tone to her voice, "The hell you doing here?" Carrie smirked and took a bow.

"To beat up some Nazi shit, that's what." Carrie said, settling again into her seat as the group chuckled at her words, "If I'm ever face to face with one of 'em, Ich werde ihre Köpfe haben-"

"Come again?" Marianne offered from beside Carrie, "I'll take it as whatever you said, it ain't pretty-"

"You can bet your bottom dollar on that, Mari," Carrie said, "I'd have their fucking heads." Vivian watched as Lieutenant Bradshaw smirked quietly.

Lieutenant Bradshaw was always noticeably quiet after interrogation - like she was coming down from it all, taking the time to digest everything, come to terms with it. She always looked different in this light. Vivian watched as Lieutenant Bradshaw took a quick cigarette drag before looking up behind Vivian.

"Captain Blakely." Lieutenant Bradshaw said, causing heads to turn, voices to silence and cigarettes to return to lips. Vivian slowly looked up and over her shoulder and found him coming to stand right behind her, slowly removing a cigarette from his lips, the smoke swirling upwards above, and behind him.

Ev Blakely looked noticeably worn, sweat and grease glistening on his forehead, his tired eyes moving around the group, as he approached, a small smile riding his face.

"Lieutenant," Captain Blakely said, giving a quick salute towards Lieutenant Bradshaw and the rest of the group as he approached, "you all alright? Saw you take that hit back when we were over IP."

"Just fine, sir." Lieutenant Bradshaw answered for the group, a small smile growing on her face, "we were just listening to Lieutenant Achterberg recount what she'd do if she ever had the rather opportune chance to engage with one of those German fighters."

"Oh yeah?" Captain Blakely said, turning to look at Carrie, a small smirk on his face as he took a drag of his cigarette, "Mine as well show it, looks like they're starting to target different elements of the wing every time we go out now."

"That's what I'm saying, sir." Carrie called valiantly from her chair, as she settled into it again.

"We figured it had to do with our first engine going out early on, followed by the third," Lieutenant Bradshaw said, "smoke trails and all. Easy target."

"Sounds about right if my track record keeps up." he said, his eyes moving around the group again, steadying for a moment on Vivian's to which he offered her a slight pinprick of a smile. She usually was fairly stoic in times like these, at the interrogation table, on the plane, letting those bullets rip.

But, she found herself smiling back as he went and looked at their pilot.

"Left side though," Lieutenant Bradshaw started, letting out a low whistle, "took quite the beating. Lost two engines, then began to lose the third, sir. Poor Ratcliff had to jerry-rig her .50 cal up just to shoot the thing." Blakely turned to look at Vivian with a raised brow.

Vivian was born into the mechanics of life it seemed - she practically grew up learning all there was to fix and figure out any sort of issue that required fixing with metal.

"It's true, sir," Vivian said with a nod, "the JU-88s got a hit on the left gun, took her out almost immediately. Spent 3 minutes getting it back working, greased her up and got her working again. They were hitting that side whenever they could afterwards."

"Damn," Blakely said quietly, eyes meeting her own, "they didn't get you anywhere did they?"

"Just under the eye." Vivian said, pointing to the scabbed spot underneath her right eye, "Caught me just above the mask. Thought Kennedy was gonna blow a gasket by the time we landed."

"Farley? Blowing a gasket?" Major Egan's voice chimed in as he came sauntering up to Captain Blakely's side, "Would of never guessed." The table let out a ring of chuckles as Kennedy narrowed her eyes.

"You were asking for it the one time, sir." she offered to him, that familiar joking tone to her voice as Major Egan chuckled, patting a hand on Captain Blakely's shoulder.

"Alright, maybe I was." Major Egan said, before addressing the group, "Saw you ladies take a few hits out there."

"That's what we were just telling Captain Blakely, sir," Judy piped up from her spot, calmly rebraiding her hair as she looked up at him, "especially our Viv." Major Egan looked to Vivian this time, with a rather surprised look on his face, and Vivian caught the spare glance Captain Blakely seemed to send her as well.

"After I got my .50 cal working again, sir," Vivian started, "I let 'em have it. Silver bullets and all." Major Egan chuckled.

"Knew I was always a Viv Ratcliff fan," he said, "gotta let those Krauts have it when they beg for it, ya know?"

"That's what I'm saying." James Douglass chimed in from somewhere near the other table, picking up his crusher cap and wading over, "Swear to God, anymore ricochets into the side of the nose, I was gonna let them have it. Open up, just go in, guns' a'blazin'."

"That's what I'm talking about!" Carrie called from her spot at the table, removing the cigarette to point at him, "I swear to God, Dougie, it looked like one was coming for you at one point, came twirlin' outta the sky. Acting dead, still shootin'."

"You saw that, too?" Dougie said, before looking over at Blakely and Egan, "I told you two. The thing was coming straight for us."

"You still got it shot down though, Doug." Egan said with a smirk, slapping Dougie's back, "Before we could even get eyes on it."

"That's because someone was spending too much time telling a joke rather than paying attention to that fucker flying at me." Dougie offered with a chuckle, a few of the girls at the table snickering at his words.

"Alright," Blakely said, stepping forward, "let's all get outta here. Missions done anyway. Get ourselves at least a meal, or better yet, a drink."

"Don't gotta tell me twice, sir!" Carrie said, standing from her seat, others beginning to follow.

"Ev Blakely knows a thing or two about a drink, huh?" Egan said, pointing at Carrie with a smirk as she blew out a drag of smoke.

"That and how to dance, that's all I gotta say." Carrie said as she came around the table. Vivian laughed quietly to herself, staring forward at the center of the table, watching as Lieutenant Bradshaw began to clean up some of the notes, some of the model planes that were scattered about the center.

"Hey, Vivi." Vivian looked up, feeling Blakely's hand on her shoulder, and met his gaze, his big eyes watching hers softly, "You okay?" Vivian hoped she hadn't looked distracted, or dazed out. A quick smile fell onto her face.

"Yeah." she said, her tone light, her smile bright, "You?"

It was always like this since Jimmy had passed, since she'd gotten the letter from the Navy, telling her that he had been KIA. The thought kept her up most nights, sometimes to the point where she'd cry and cry and cry until she fell asleep, silent as a judge. Keeping it to herself - this pain, this grief.

Annie Bradshaw kept her tabs well.

And she usually was checking on Vivian daily - but so was Ev Blakely.

"Glad to be on solid ground again." he said, his tone that quiet hum he seemed to use when it was just the two of them. Slowly, Blakely sat down in the chair that Margie had previously occupied and looked towards her, putting on another soft grin again, Lieutenant Bradshaw sending her a look before disappearing with the maps.

"How're you doing? Truly, Vivi." he asked her, hands braided together as they draped over his knees. Vivian watched him, her right hand which was rested up on the table, slowly closing into a fist.

"I'm okay." she said with a nod - she refused to beat around the bush with him, or anyone really, "Just…focusing on each mission. One after the next." She nodded and watched him.

Blakely was typically the one to see through that she found. The walls she'd put up, the words she'd put out there so the others didn't have to worry. She hated the thought of the others having to worry that she'd lose her mind or go crazy from spiraling emotions. She hated that she constantly considered those options. Blakely tilted his head to the side and nodded back.

"One after the next." he said, continuing to watch her in a quiet manner. A small smile crept onto her lips as she looked down to his hands instead.

"Bergie was getting pretty passionate." Blakely commented, his voice low, but gentle - this is how it usually was. They got quiet - she enjoyed sitting in the silence with him - and then they'd talk about the mission. And sometimes, she'd bring up home. Or Jimmy. And he'd sit and listen; big, brown eyes and all.

"You shoulda heard her when we were up there." Vivian said quietly, watching Blakely beginning to light up a cigarette - they did this, too. Shared a cigarette. Blakely laughed lowly, somewhere under his breath and put the cigarette on his lip.

"She's laser-focused up there, quiet, does what she needs to. But sometimes - I swear to God, it's like the Germans egg her on. She thinks she's clicked off of comms." Vivian said, as Blakely leaned forward and handed her the cigarette, blowing some smoke from his lips. She placed it on her lip, taking a deep drag before sighing.

"She's lucky she's got Annie Bradshaw." Vivian said with a chuckle and Blakely smirked at her as she shook her head, "She lets a curse slip here and there." Blakely chuckled and took back the cigarette as she leaned forward to pass it back.

"You should hear Major Egan," Blakely said, his eyes continuing to observe her in this moment, "whole bird's shaking like its about to explode and he's yelling, cursing. Usually just smack his shoulder, he gets his wits back."

Vivian found a laugh escaping from her lips at the thought of Major Egan doing such. Which wouldn't surprise her. She'd seen him in many lights - in the morning, on alcohol, late in the night, and both before and after a mission. She wouldn't be surprised.

Blakely leaned forward with the cigarette and she took it from him and grew quiet again, letting her left hand rest against her knee for a moment, fingers tapping the torn bit of her uniform at the knee she'd gotten. Kraut prop blast into her side, which had sent her onto the floor. Scrapped up knee, dried blood. Just like a kid again. Except it wasn't.

"How's Monty?" Blakely asked her. It'd been over 2 and 1/2 months since losing Birdie - that's all life seemed to be.

Losing, losing, lost.

Lost, losing, losing.

"She's okay," Vivian said with a small smile, bringing the cigarette to her lip, taking a drag before blowing it out and passing it back to him, "big Annie Bradshaw fan. Just like the rest of us." Vivian bit her lip. "I see her at night though, just looking at the sky sometimes. Like she's reliving it." Blakely was quiet, the cigarette in his hand, which was now rested on his own knee.

"It was the loss of her life, I feel." Vivian whispered, meeting Blakely's eyes again.

They both grew quiet again - Vivian remembered it all like a distant memory. One you tried to shove away, and one you tried to forget. She remembered the sound through her headset, the sound of Captain Faulkner dying, and then - gone. She remembered what Lieutenant Montez had said - I'm manning the plane now. She remembered it all. Blakely passed the cigarette back to her, which she took gratefully and then sighed, taking a drag. Blowing smoke.

"I must admit, Ev," she said, handing back the cigarette, a small smile on her lips, "I think you have more important matters than sitting here with me." Blakely grinned at her, placing the cigarette on his lip.

"Nah," he said, voice quiet as he shook his head, reaching up a hand to run back over his wet curls on his head, clinging to his sweaty forehead, "the drinks can wait." Vivian smiled.

For a second, it was completely silent in the interrogation hut, save for the sound of voices just outside, the bustle of unpacking from a mission, the rumble of jeeps and trucks, along with the clang of metal in the far-off distance.

Vivian always found herself observing him, trying to get inside his head - why he would sit with her after missions, watch her so gently, listening with the greatest intent. Offering a cigarette and a drink. He always would seem so much more relaxed, laid back, his eyes all soft the way they usually went, his body looking worn and tired. He continued to watch her back, as they passed the cigarette between them until it was basically a dud. And by the time she'd taken the last bit of what she could from it, he was watching her in a wistful manner.

"I got a letter from my Ma last night," Vivian said, looking to him this time uncertainly, and watching as his eyes grew serious, leaning forward in earnest, "nothing bad just. With everything that's happened. Knowing how she's feeling. With me here. And that I can't change that." Vivian felt her shoulders drop as she sighed.

She'd always been close with her parents and her brother, even when she was younger, a more emotional and radical teen, than now - 25, a good head on her shoulders, a smile on her face. And her mother had always been protective of her only daughter, now over an entire ocean and in a new country, having lost the man she was planning on marrying.

Now having to navigate that level of loss by herself.

Of course, the distractions of war and having a crew like the Silver Bullets made this new reality not as scary. But sometimes all she wanted was to curl up next to her mother, have her mother's warmth and hugs, and cry her heart out to her. Vivian felt herself focus again and quickly looked to Blakely, who was still sat there, watching quietly. She smiled quickly.

"It's okay though," Vivian said firmly with a nod, "I told her I was okay. It'll be okay." Blakely held her gaze - and it looked as if he was going to say something, say something more than whatever his eyes were currently saying. But he didn't. And he didn't need to.

"And are you okay?" he said, watching her eyes shift away from his and down to her twtichy hand. Vivian leaned her head up against her hand on the table and nodded.

"I think I'm just tired." she said, ignoring the way her voice caught a bit, "I think some coffee could change that." Blakely watched her for a moment before chuckling at her words and nodding.

"Well, you're in luck then, Vivi, I know just the place." he said, a smirk growing on his lips, "Ever heard of this little place called Thorpe Abbotts chow hall?" Vivian laughed.

"No," she said as she stood, him following her movements, "you'll have to introduce me." Standing in front of him, looking up at him, she could see the worried look in his eye that had learned to live in his gaze ever since she had told him she'd lost Jimmy. Ever since she'd broken that news.

"Entrusting me, huh?" he asked her, his voice filled with a warmth that made her smile grow even more, "I'm honored, Vivi, really."

"Don't get ahead of yourself now, Ev," she said as he wrapped an arm over her shoulders, the two slowly walking towards the exit, "it is the place that I have quite literally had every meal since being here." Blakely chuckled and pushed the door open, letting her step outside first before he followed, resuming wrapping an arm over her shoulders as they continued to walk outside now, the sweet, summer breeze ruffling their hair, removing the musk of the interrogation room, the entire feel of sitting in that room recounting death.

"You better drink some coffee, too, okay?" Vivian said, looking up at him, taking in the side of his face, his tired eyes, "Waking up at 0300 isn't for everyone."

"Says the morning person." Blakely said with a laugh, "Remember the time I saw you on your run?" Vivian let out a barking laugh, slapping her hand over her mouth as she looked at him.

"Oh God," she said, her eyes shining, "I felt so bad, Ev." Blakely bashfully looked down, before looking towards her again with a smirk.

"You caught me at the wrong time."

"And that's when I discovered you in fact were not a morning person." she offered back, before smiling, "You still clean up well though." Blakely smirked at her words.

"Guilty as charged, Vivi." he said with a grin.

"Smartass." she murmured and he let out a laugh, squeezing her to his side for a moment, "Hey, what are you up to tonight?" Blakely glanced down at her and then shrugged.

"Was considering the flying club. Maybe a drink or two," he said, watching her with a tender look, "or whatever you have in mind."

"No, no," she said with a laugh, "some of the girls, they'd considered going to one of the local pubs. Figured I'd invite you and the rest of your crew along."

"Say less," Blakely said with a smile, "I'll open the tab. Buy you ladies some drinks."

"You don't have to, Ev," she said with a shy smile, "you always do."

"Nah, nah, my treat." he said. Vivian smiled.

"I'll let you win in darts then," Vivian said, looking up at him with glowing eyes, "my treat." Blakely let out a laugh, looking down at her with a soft gaze and a wide grin.

"Smartass." he murmured. Safe to say, she didn't think about anything else for the rest of the day except coffee and then drinks and darts tonight.

One after the next.

[weaselle]

being a line cook is insane but people do it anyway

do you want to know the secret to why line cooks stay line cooks?

We're addicted to a certain aspect of the job. A sort of combination of Pride and Power.

See, most of what is going on in that restaurant comes down to you. If the restaurant was a dairy, you'd be the cow, everything is based on what you produce; how much, how fast, and of what quality.

And it's INSANELY hard for most people to do. It requires you to keep mental track of tons of stuff while doing complicated physical creation in a dangerous environment under intense pressure

Any line cooks reading this? let me recreate a moment most of us have had many many times

For the rest of you this will be a nice window into the line cook experience

you have a rail FULL of tickets, and the printer will NOT stop printing more.

You've got a stove FULL of stuff you're cooking, and half of it is for stuff you don't even have a ticket for, because of something on a table that already went out was wrong or missing, or a server forgot to put something on a ticket and needs it in a hurry, or...

the tickets you are working on are for tables that finished their appetizers 45 minutes ago, and it could be an hour before you even get a chance to read whatever the printer is currently printing.

You have a head FULL of stuff you're tracking: how quickly the sauce is thickening in this pan, whether the garlic is about to burn in that pan, how long before you drain the pasta in that pot before it over cooks. As soon as the thing in the oven for table 31 is 5 minutes from done you gotta put the other thing on the flat top to go with it, you're putting together Something on your board and you can't finish it because you need a refill of an ingredient from the walk-in but you can't go get it because if you leave the kitchen you'll burn the thing in the salamander. And you can't plate the thing in salamander yet because the Something you're putting together on your board is taking up all the room you had left in this disaster of a kitchen

Three people have just told you complicated changes to dishes you have to organize and keep in your head. Something like

"24 needs 3 gnocchi not 4, and 2 with no rosemary; 3 needs all 4 gnocchi to have extra rosemary, 2 with no garnish; 22 needs an extra gnocchi extra garnish no rosemary, salads are almost out you can go in 3 or 4 minutes"

The manager, assistant manager, about 8 servers, and a fuckton of people at tables are all waiting on YOU with an impatience bordering on fury.

right? sound familiar? okay that's not the moment, that's just the dinner rush on a night somewhere between bad and average.

The moment happens when, during this insanity, you reach an internal place where you become completely overwhelmed. Panic and frustration and over stimulus all rise up and wipe your brain completely clean. You can't think, you have no idea what to do, you want to run away, you want to quit, you can barely think of your own name, everything feels completely impossible.

And then. The Moment

You pull it back together.

You stop being overwhelmed, you stop panicking, you insist that it IS possible, and that you are going to do it. You decide what has to happen and you start. You clear all the clutter you can from your kitchen. You pull all your tickets as far down the rail as possible and scan through the tickets on the printer so you have an idea of how things are going to go. You write down a couple of times on tickets that you would usually keep in your head but you need the brain space. You group the tickets according to not only time but what dishes they have in common so you can do batches of things. You decide if you can just get these two things out of your way you'll be in a much better position and so you concentrate on getting those two things cooked and plated. You beg the dishwasher to grab you the thing you need from the walk-in. You call your assistant manager or manager into the kitchen and you tell them you need them to start you 8 gnocchis: 3 no rosemary one extra garnish, 4 extra rosemary two no garnish, and one normal.

Right? Okay so first of all, as you can see... The job is INSANE

and second of all. Not everybody is capable of that Moment. The moment you stare already-existing catastrophic failure in the face and tell it No. That moment.

and you have to be capable of that moment if you want to be a line cook.

Which means pretty close to zero other people in that restaurant can do what you can do.

So now let me tell you a story.

I was 19 years old. I was a line cook at an italian joint. We're slammed off our ass one night, and the manager is in the little galley kitchen with me, and he's just standing there because he isn't good enough to not be in the way if he tries to help

and he's over my should about everything, telling me to drain that more or turn the heat down on this etc.

Finally, I stop completely, look him dead in the eye, and say "Tony, i'm not cooking another thing until you leave this kitchen."

I'm 19. Ive worked here six months. Tony is twice my age and married to the owner's daughter. There is a heavy pause.

Then Tony turns around and walks out of the kitchen.

What's he going to do, send me home? Zero other people in this restaurant can do the thing that makes it a restaurant. If i go home the customers are going home too.

And that's the real reason most line cooks stay line cooks even though the job feels like a war you never win.

It's that interplay of Pride and Power. For those few hours, the restaurant is happening because of you.

That's the power.

For the other part, try pulling a cook off the line during the rush. You can't. Even if they are in the weeds. Maybe even especially if they are in the weeds.

Once i was working with a cook who, in the middle of the dinner rush, sliced is hand open - a cut both deep and wide, pouring blood. No bandage we had was going to be a solution for it.

So he popped a latex glove on that hand, triple wrapped a rubber band around his wrist to keep the blood in, washed with soap, and went right back to cooking.

Because it was the dinner rush and no one else could do the job, and he wasn't coming off that line.

30 minutes in he had to swap gloves because it had filled with blood like a water balloon and was making it hard to cook. Leaving the line was never even a question.

that's the pride

[smokersarea]

Cyberpunk 2077

Deus Ex

[acccursed]

*on my knees praying* bioware please give us companion appearances & special romanced companion interactions & red jenny inquisitor & sera content & ...

i ran out of hairstyle ideas after realizing that maximillian would abandon his long hair & preferred mohawk style for something that was easier to wear & maintain post-trespasser. this inquisitor's hair is in god's (veilguard character creator) hands now.

[anachronistic-falsehood]

clockinf out of my day job and clocking into my night job: thinkign about gay people

[justn0nsaneofficial]

[wikimediauncommons]

file: Kees de Bok, de mascotte van de Prins Bernhard Kapel krijgt een sigaret voorgeho, Bestanddeelnr 91-3-5.jpg

[likeag69]

Elaine from The Love Witch is someone we should all aspire to be.

[angelstills]

Sex and the Single Girl (1964)

[marley-warriors]

The exact moment I broke character to figure out what the heck our bird was doing.

The Enkudin to my MD Basim. XD His name is Dexter.

[suguru-getos]

quitting smoking 🚬 today

[muckmagister]

Feeding you soggy cigarettes and dog kibble 🩷

no more cigarettes pleas i can't handl ethis