#dairy fee

[fullcravings]

V/GF Almond Lemon Blondies

[colekinnie-4life]

I made more incorrect quotes

Kai: Have I ever told you that you cook well?

Cole: Awww, no, you haven't!

Kai: So why do you keep cooking?

Kai: How do Jay and Cole usually get out of these messes?

Nya: They don't. They just make a bigger mess that cancels the first one out.

Jay: I have one brain cell and it bounces around in my skull like a windows screen saver.

Jay: When it hits a corner perfect, I’m allowed one good idea.

Cole: When I get Doordash I order 20 Cheeseburgers at a time and heat them up throughout the week so that I don’t have to pay the delivery fee multiple times.

Nya: I hope you understand how food poisoning works.

Cole: I hope food poisoning understands how I work. I never met a burger i couldn’t eat.

Kai: How are you today?

Lloyd: Please don’t make me think about my life.

Kai: Screw lactose intolerance! I will consume as much dairy as I want!

Kai 2 hours later, crying on the floor: WHY DOES IT HURT SO MUCH?!

Cole: Sometimes I talk to myself for no reason.

Cole: Me too!

Cole: I'm not that stupid!

Nya: Cole, you literally ate the wax from a babybel.

Cole: KAI TOLD ME IT WAS EDIBLE!

[shivadh]

It's not really in the spirit of the lighthearted romance genre, but every so often I want to write a story in the Shivadhverse that's about one of the kings passing on to the next king the weird covert stuff you occasionally just have to do as a working politician. Canonically, though I haven't put it in the books anywhere, Fons-Askaz was a neutral ground where Meetings That Never Happened could take place during the cold war, but I also step very carefully around that kind of thing because "A Jewish politician secretly mediating a peace treaty" can spill over into "Secretly Jews run the world" very, very quickly.

But I was listening to a podcast about Nicolae Ceaușescu this morning and it was talking about how basically, he ransomed Romania's Jewish population for spending cash -- if Romanian Jews wanted to immigrate out of the country there was a visa fee, which Ceaușescu then took and used on shopping sprees outside of Romania, a cash-low socialist country at the time. There is a reason the podcast about him is called Behind The Bastards.

Most of the Jews leaving Romania were heading to Israel, which paid the fees to get them out. Still, I can't shake the idea of Jason introducing Michaelis to the more dangerous side of the job by taking him, around age 15 or 16, to a nighttime meeting at the country's one tiny airstrip (purportedly abandoned since WWII) to greet a small aircraft with a handful of undocumented Jewish-Romanian immigrants on board, to welcome them to Askazer-Shivadlakia and give them their new papers as citizens.

"We can't pay the fees, but we can get a few out at a time, illegally. Generally small aircraft flown by volunteer pilots. You asked about the budget line-item for keeping up the old airstrip, and this is why."

"How often do you do this?"

"A few times a year. Sometimes they're only passing through, but they still need papers. Most stay -- there are farmers in dairy country that take them in, until they can get on their feet."

"But you don't have to meet the plane yourself. You could sign the papers and have someone else deliver them, if you wanted."

"I could, but I want to meet them. I want them to know I'm here, that the man holding the highest office in the country cares about their safety. Someday you may have to pass this on to whoever follows you as king. It's important that you pass on the values, not just the actions. So we go and look them in the eye as we give them their new life."

On the one hand, the good thing is that Gregory was born after Ceaușescu fell from power, so this particular tradition doesn't have to be passed on. But I would imagine Askazer-Shivadlakia might still have need of a small covert immigration program of some kind, and sooner or later Gregory's going to have to take Joan with him and teach her that the king goes and looks his new citizens in the eye as he gives them their identity papers.

[takotakigum]

kiss it off me — gojo satoru

characters: gojo satoru x fem!reader

warnings: dubcon (probably noncon), food play, making out, gojo satoru is a pervert, this is messy: both literally in writing and content, breast fondling, and breast kissing

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: that one summer day you find out gojo satoru might have a liking to your breasts…covered in melted ice cream.

takotakigum’s kinktober 2023 | please read at your own risk!

“i bought ice cream! anyone wants to share?” you hear an excited voice echo through the outside hallways of the classroom, a chill creeps through your spine despite the humid atmosphere all around you. of course, before you could even answer—which you didn’t even think of—the shoji loudly slides open with much force coming from gojo’s foot. there he stands, a big grin stretched along his face holding two cones of ice cream; his eyes becoming crescent shapes as his glasses fall loosely to his nose. “oh? there’s one one else here again?” from your desk, you shake your head to a no. although gojo doesn’t falter with his smile, but instead, he seems to get brighter. “well, more for us!” there’s only two cones in his hand, so you want to ask: how? but you don’t even know if he’ll give you a useful answer.

with the sweet tooth gojo satoru has, you’re in no way surprised that he absolutely loves eating ice cream on a particular hot summer day in jujutsu high.

however, something you did not expect is him also being extremely clumsy with his precious dessert that his arms are flailing by the second, his own ice cream cone abruptly dropping and splattering on the confinements of your jujutsu high’s uniform.

“gojo,” you sigh, looking down at your table, hoping the ice cream cone landed there. unfortunately, the cold, seeping substance you feel directly on your breasts proposes otherwise. “oh no, i’m so sorry!” overly dramatic and overly sarcastic is what gojo sounds like. “gojo,” you say again, eyes fixated on your messed up uniform as you hold in a deep frown. “it’s the fourth time this week.” you manage to say, goosebumps sprouting all over your arms when gojo leans closer to use his bare hands to wipe away the ice cream off your chest.

his fingers are slow, feeling up the accentuated curves on the upper half of your breast that got contaminated with the dessert. your breath quickens, and you bite your inner lip as you feel the pads of his fingers give little controlled pinches on your uniform’s fabric—acting like he’s soaking out the absorbed melted dairy when really he isn’t.

“has it been? gosh, i’m so sorry, really!” by now, irritation eases back the goosebumps that went up. “i don’t have any other spare uniform now, gojo.” your voice becomes smaller, yet it weighs the same. gojo knows it, he isn’t stupid—clumsy but not dumb. at least, not dumb on purpose. “hmm, but you shouldn’t even be wearing the outer uniform when it’s summer. did ‘ya know that?” with your three years of studying in jujutsu high: no, you didn’t. but it doesn’t even seem real, you should know.

before you could say anything, gojo’s hand now rises higher to the dry part of your uniform—the buttons on near your collar. for a brief moment of shock, you stay still, and you gulp at the sensation of gojo’s knuckles teasingly flutter against your neck. within that still moment, gojo was able to snap off the buttons in charge of closing your uniform’s top together with ease. naturally, your vest loosens, and the white button up you’re wearing inside peaks through. once more, your breath gets heavy. and it piques the interest of gojo in front of you even more.

“what are you doing?” you ask so sweetly—so innocently in gojo’s end. your hands try to close the buttons back up, getting conscious. “helping you clean and letting you cool down, duh!” gojo’s hands regress, sticky hands grab onto your outer uniform tighter, pulling it down until it’s crumpled up on your elbows. “‘s killing two birds with one stone.” he says, face too close. you feel his hair tickle your forehead with the way he’s leaning towards you eyes fixated down rather than in front of you. with your jaw going slack and face going hot, you quickly rush your hand to hide under his glasses, palm pushing tighter onto gojo’s eyelids when his hand squeezes on your shoulder.

in that moment of purely fluster, you realize gojo hasn’t moved. at that moment of broken composure, you forgot to remember some things. “you know,” your hand can feel the way gojo’s cheekbones contract as he—you assumes—smiles. “i can still see. even if you’re covering my eyes.” almost, you almost slap him. your still clothed breasts, with a faint stain of melted ice cream that has seeped through the first layer of fabric and onto the second—has been stared at by gojo for the past five minutes. “d-did you have to keep staring, then?!” your face is hot, your legs stiffly closed together under your table. “maybe?” from between his teeth, gojo sticks out his tongue as he grins.

taken aback by everything, you fail to feel the waving presence of gojo in front of you, then, a glob of white ice cream replaces the dollop of white hair that was once in front of you. “sorry, sorry.” even so the apology, gojo’s voice is still laced with amusement; his hand holding the cone obnoxiously swaying the ice cream side to side without care. like he wants it to melt and holler down back to your chest. “what do you want me to do with that?” you ask, the sweet treat getting closer to your lips by each word you speak. gojo only shrugs, not stopping until your mouth has been smothered with the cold temperature of the dessert.

suddenly, the wave of coolness disappears within an instant. instead, it’s replaced with gojo’s own lips. you dare not admit how soft it feels, or how if he pushed his body a little bit more onto yours, your mouth would’ve been so weak that it would open up just enough for his tongue to slip in and taste the rest of you. but somehow, your senses get a hold of you. and this time, you really were about to slap him—that is until his hand wrap around yours and nonchalantly holds them with a level of strength you struggle to be released with.

your breath is heavy as gojo’s tongue prods into your mouth. disgustingly so, it’s sweet. all of his essence is so, so disgustingly fucking sweet. his tongue is deep in your mouth, saliva of which you don’t even know is from trickles along the side of your chin, mixing in with the remains of the melted ice cream down on your neck. with a loud, needy release from your mouth, gojo pants along with you. you’re unable to speak, though. with the way his tongue is undying as it laps on your lips hungrily for every bit of stray sweetness, you’re in no shape to move an inch.

however, when gojo’s mouth roughly kisses down from your lips and follows the trail of melted spit and dairy to your neck and collarbones, you make an attempt to push him off. somewhere along the desperation of touch by gojo, his glasses falls on the ground, although you nor him spared the time to glance at anything other than the moment. you feel as though each push you project onto him, he places more of his body weight to you. you whine in each attempt of defeat, and with each whine slips out an undistinguishable moan from the back of your throat. your body naturally lets it out, continuously, too as gojo begins sucking on your neck, leaving pink bruises.

“so sweet, aren’t you?” with a voice so hoarse like that, you can’t seem to deny the way your nipples harden under your clothing anymore. “gojo,” you whine, eyes shut close as blood continues to rush up to your cheeks and stain. “no,” you whine again, head turning left and right with all your strength when you feel his tongue play lower than your collarbone.

“be a good girl and hold onto my shoulders for a bit, ‘kay?” you shouldn’t. god fucking knows you shouldn’t when the opportunity to distance yourself is right there. but alas, you obey. your hands weakly clutch on the fabric of gojo’s uniform—exactly on his shoulders, as he asked you to. your body and mind do not intersect into any agreement. your mind is telling you to use your strength to pull gojo away, to use your arms to do something that would retain your self respect. but your body? it can’t hear it—can’t understand it.

just like how gojo’s ears sign deaf when you whisper and choke on your own words trying to tell him to stop—to not go anywhere lower than your neck. after successfully undoing the buttons of your last remaining top, gojo’s fingers scoop up the last bit of ice cream that’s almost liquid on the table. you yelp out at the cold substance being massaged onto your breast, especially the nipple. “tastes better like this, i have to say.” gojo speaks like he’s ever had a hold of your tits before. his tongue is back with more fervor than you’d imagine. it flicks over one of your nipples, sucking loudly and groaning when the soft skin easily gets squeezed by his other hand.

you, are a different story. as gojo seems to bask in your melodic, repetitive moans of his name, you feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes angrily as gojo’s pace is too far beyond enjoyable; layers of sweat accumulating on your skin, giving it an extra shine gojo is murmuring about. but even so, why did you not beg of him to stop? when did you forget to shake your head no after the first few times? even with gojo’s hands and mouth dissipating all the innocence on your body, even with his bite marks charring your skin with evidence of sin—why does your lower abdomen twist for more?

as your thighs subconsciously rub against one another along with your fingers gripping on gojo’s hair and shoulder so tightly—gojo’s phone rings—too loudly.

“fuck,” he clicks his tongue, licking one last stripe of whatever your breast has to offer and rises his head to give you one last deep kiss for you to feel the fleeting moments of his sore tongue. gojo takes the call right in front of your face, his lips swollen as his eyes are gazed in lust. “gotta take this mission, sweets.” gojo says, face morphing into a look of stoicism as he finds his disregarded glasses on the floor. gojo wipes some excess spit-mixed-with-dairy with his hand from your cheeks to suck in his mouth. you, being dumbfounded, is unable to say anything before gojo is near the open shoji already.

“gojo! are we not going to talk about this?? fuck that mission, please get back here and-” as if nothing ever happened, gojo beams a smile at you. red lips unwavering as he bids you farewell.

“i’ll buy ice cream again when i get back, then we can continue~ ah, but first, you should fix up. you might get cold next.” with a wink, he’s gone. leaving you in your heated, disheveled state: clothes crumpled all apart, hair disorganized, chest heaving with large breaths of hair—and all the possible things gojo has done to you.

© takotakigum | do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works.

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

Since my previous post didn't turn up anything comprehensive like I was hoping for, I'm just going to do an informal writeup of advice on how to approach traditional Jewish observance with limited funds. I am not a rabbi or formal educator or anything official, nor is this in any way exhaustive. This is just based on my experiences as a 30ish year old adult who converted Conservative with no prior familial connections to Judaism and did so on a limited budget. I strive for traditional observance and would describe my practice as leaning more traditional egalitarian or Conservadox rather than what is most common for typical Conservative Jews in the US.

Okay? Okay.

Taking up traditional observance on a limited budget

So you're looking into traditional Jewish observance for the first time, either as a reclaimant, baal teshuva, or convert. One of the the first things you probably realized is that this lifestyle - especially the initial startup costs - is expensive. If, like me, you started reeling from the sticker shock but don't want to let that dissuade you out of stubbornness, commitment to Torah, or both, you're probably wondering where to go from here. Here is a list of things that you will need or want for an observant lifestyle that could cost money (some of this may be different based on your community and/or gender):

Ritual use (and practical use) items:

Mezuzot with a kosher klaf inside for each halachic doorway

Shabbat candles and candlesticks

Kiddush cup

Havdalah set

Challah cover

Tzedekah box

Tallit

Tefillin

Handwashing cup (and basin)

Tzniut clothing (this may be incredibly community specific) that is also practical

Tallit katan

A legitimate and covering rain coat

Walking shoes that you're not embarrassed to wear at shul (no really)

Kippot (and any other relevant head coverings, depending on your community)

**Replacing any kitchen utensils, appliances, and dishes that cannot be kashered if you're starting from scratch in keeping kosher, possibly ×2 or even ×3 depending on whether you intend to have a dual kitchen (or a meat, dairy, and pareve set of kitchen items)

Sukkah/building materials and decorations

Lulav & Etrog (these are plants; they are for ritual use but you will need to buy them each year obviously)

Menorah & Chanukah candles

Pesach dishes and kitchen utensils (noted separately because not everything is likely to be able to be kashered over for Pesach from year round) and any additional cleaning and covering items (so much tin foil lol)

Seforim (religious books)

Siddur

Bentcher(s)

Chumash

Tanakh

Practical halacha/practice guides and other basic reference books

Ongoing expenses:

Tzedekah (including special holiday giving such as mishloach manot and extra tzedekah for Purim or maot chitim for Pesach)

Shul membership fees

Kosher food is often more specialized and therefore more expensive, especially Pesach food

Wine or grape juice for Shabbat

Extra food if you're hosting people for Shabbat or potentially to bring to your host's home if you are invited over frequently

Specialized food for holidays (e.g., special fruit on Rosh Hashana, blintzes on Shavuot, brisket or matzah ball soup on Pesach, etc.)

Mikvah costs if you are married, menstruate (or have a spouse who does) and are shomer taharat mishpachat and/or if your community has a tradition of men using the mikvah before, e.g. Shabbat and holidays. Even if you don't need the mikvah for personal reasons, you will still need to pay a fee to immerse for conversion (if relevant) and to toivel any new kitchen items. You will also need bedika cloths for taharat mishpachat.

Housing in an area that allows you to walk to your shul, ideally within an eruv

Day school/Hebrew school if you have kids, and summer camp during the summers

Fees for certain classes and events; especially if you are a convert, you will likely need to pay for an Intro to Judaism course through your shul or at another local shul.

Other things that are extremely helpful, make observant life much easier and more pleasant, may help you fit into your community better, and/or enable more advanced participation, or are just nice to have:

Timers for electronics on Shabbat and Yom Tovim

Light switch covers for Shabbat

Hot water carafe for Shabbat/Yom Tovim

Plata or other type of warmer for Shabbat lunch and/or seudah shlishit

Specific laundry dealibobs (idk what they're actually called) for keeping your tzitzit in good condition

Shabbosdik watch

Shabbos key (especially if you live outside the eruv, but it's good to have for if the eruv goes down anyways)

Light box and/or thrip cloth for bug-checking produce

Bedikat chametz set

Purim costumes

If, like me, you owned exactly zero white clothes before now, you may want to invest in a white outfit for Yom Kippur &/or a kittel

Shofar (if you plan on contributing to your shul that way)

Etrog container and lulav transport bag

Machzor

Haggadot

Aramaic dictionaries for Talmud study

(Depending on the community) some amount of the Talmud

Commentaries

Tikkun

Talpiot

An extra bookshelf for all your Jewish books (not a joke)

Hebrew language classes and learning materials (which are extremely helpful in getting you integrated and up to speed)

This list doesn't even touch on things you might just want, like attractive judaica (hiddur mitzvah), jewelry, Jewish art and decor, etc.

(I also didn't touch on things that are part of major simchas such as bnei mitzvot or weddings, or travel to Israel, or studying in seminary, or other significant but highly specific expenditures that are unfortunately outside the scope of this one layperson's tumblr post)

Oy, that's a lot! This list (with a few exceptions) was generated by me going through everything I've had to invest in over time and ongoing expenses (or that I've had to find a workaround for), or things that are on my list for later when I have the funds.

I'm sure there's plenty I forgot. Where to even start?

Well, the first thing to note is that what I have took seven and a half years (and counting) to obtain, so don't expect to compile this all at once, and don't worry that you'll have to have all that money/resources marshaled up front. It will take time, and that's okay!

The other good news is that while some of this is nice to have, there's a lot that is not immediately (or ever) necessary for most/all folks to personally own, even if it is common for observant folks to own them.

A reality: Sometimes you're going to feel poor, and there will likely be a lot of people in your community who just, won't get it. Sometimes those people are in leadership. Yes this sucks and is sometimes really painful.

A counterbalance to that reality: A lot of people and communities are extremely generous and kind, even if they don't quite get it. Tzedekah is a huge mitzvah, and it is an added bonus for a lot of folks if that tzedakah goes toward enabling another Jew to observe more mitzvot. Hosting is also a major mitzvah. By accepting other people's help and being a guest at their Shabbos table, you are actually doing them a favor by giving them an opportunity to give tzedakah and host. Drill that into your head now, and early; don't be ashamed to ask for and receive help.

Now that I've laid all that out, some general advice. I will follow up later with specifics for each item from the above lists to the best of my ability in a later post.

Skip the judaica store for anything you can get at a thrift store. Candlesticks? Goodwill. B'samim jar? Find a cute container and throw some spices in there. Kiddush cup? Get a cute cup or wine glass at Target.

Start small, and take on one mitzvah at a time. It can be frustrating to have to wait, but it will help you pace yourself in reshaping your lifestyle, which is actually a very good thing. Also, before you take up a particular new mitzvah, learn deeply about it first so that you understand what is actually required, and what is customary (minhag) or stringency (chumra). You may not need the specialty pre-approved [read: more expensive] version of the thing if you know enough of what you're doing.

See if your shul, another nearby shul, or JCC ever has a community rummage sale. If so, check that out for secondhand menorahs, tallitot, siddurim, etc. (If not, consider suggesting that they do to leadership that organizes events or offer to organize it yourself if you're on that committee.) Also check out thrift stores and secondhand bookstores in particularly Jewish areas.

Talk to your rabbi about your needs. Your rabbi may have good suggestions that are specific to your area/community, may have discretionary funds to help, or may know folks who would be willing to pass on extra judaica they don't need.

Your shul may also have items you can borrow. I was able to, for example, borrow a machzor for the high holidays, and borrow a set of tefillin for nearly two years while I saved up for my own set. (And even then, the rabbi helped cover half of the cost from discretionary funds when I did purchase my own set, and was happy to do so.)

Honestly, just borrow whatever books you can until you can get your own. You can do this from your shul, your shul's library if they have one, or even the public library for reference books and certain commentaries. I would buy them in the following order: the siddur your shul uses, a chumash, a Tanakh, and then whatever else you're interested in. Sefaria.org is an incredible free online resource, but you'll want these for Shabbat and Yom Tovim sooner rather than later.

Talk to your rabbi or shul leadership about reduced membership fees, or join a shul that has a pay-what-you-can fee structure.

Look for classes that are free, have a sliding scale fee structure, or scholarships. If you're dead-set on a particular class and it doesn't advertise reduced fees or scholarships based on need, reach out to the organizers and ask. They might not have advertised it, but would be able to ask if someone would sponsor a student or give you ideas of other funds you could apply for.

Keep a wish list updated, and if friends or family are buying you birthday or holiday gifts, ask for important (and specific) items. I recommend an online registry so that you get the specific thing you need/want.

For specialty kosher food, see if your area has a kosher co-op so you can buy for bulk prices. (This is especially helpful for Pesach.)

These are general suggestions, but there's a lot more. Stay tuned!

[lost-onpurpose]

They're putting in a new subdivision that bumps up against the back of our property. We've received a letter from the developer offering to buy the property for $36,000 (for 18 acres with a pond, highway frontage, and three natural wells - that need a little work to make useful for household water). The property is owned by my grandmother and my dad, that's $18,000 each, which isn't enough to buy a house somewhere else.

When they refused the offer, we got a letter with the new HOA bylaws and fees for the subdivision. The developer got upset when we told them we weren't part of the subdivision and would not be paying dues or following their bylaws. "Well we're the -redacted- Dairy Farm Subdivision and your property used to belong to -redacted- Dairy Farm so you're part of the subdivision!" No sir we are not. This property was purchased in 1994 and you purchased the subdivision property in 2024.

Needless to say, I'm reading the HOA bylaws and fully plan on breaking every single one of them (that we haven't already broken by the fact that we have horses, more than one dog, two businesses, and several 'junk' cars).

I hate that there's a new subdivision going in this close to us because it's been all pasture land for decades. Now it's broken into 1-3 acre lots with an HOA.

Quiet country life is coming to an end.

[antiquatedplumbobs]

Christmas 1911

The holiday season at Sable Dairy was always a jolly, convivial time, with plenty of good food and fun to be had. Freddy's return from Britechester brought with it an increased energy and desire to make the most of the holiday.

The boys were tasked with finding and securing the perfect Christmas tree; selecting a fine fir from the small copse behind the farm. The assistance of a sledge was needed to drag it home, but once inside and garnished with a festive popcorn and cranberry garland it took up a dazzling countenance tucked up against the stair. The card table that usually sat there banished to the attic for the time being.

It would be a lie to say that none of the Sewells had a sweet tooth, and so a flurry of holiday baking was accomplished by both Violet and Elsie. Elsie, having recently discovered both a passion and talent for baking, had been allowed to build the annual gingerbread house unsupervised (with some assistance from Charlie). To Violet's delight, none of the pieces were broken, and only one had some small tooth marks that she was studiously ignoring.

A fine meal of roast ham, potatoes, vegetables, mince pies, and Christmas puddings was made by Violet. The family exclaimed that it was the best they had eaten yet; leftovers were scarce, despite the magnitude of the meal.

Under the tree, the collection of presents the family had gotten for one another was wrapped gaily in bright papers and festooned with ribbons. Will's present to Elsie was front and center; a wrapping job foregone due to the awkward shape and size. The small pram he had built, but the little mohair bear, the latest fad toy for young children, he had ordered himself from the Sims Roebuck Catalog, paying the fees with the money he had begun saving from the farm work and odd jobs he did. He had been right; the smile on her face had been completely worth it.

Violet received a teapot in a stylish new pattern. Charlie was gifted a wooden train set, each car hand carved by Will and the functional track built by Hamish. The bright paint job, with wheels that resembled the peppermint sweets Nathanial gave each of his grandchildren, was all by Violet's precise hand. Elsie received a new dress from her mother and father, with bright red embroidery and a snowy white collar; she donned it immediately. Hamish found a box of cigars under the tree with his name on them, but with a strict reminder from Violet not to smoke in the house. For Will, Hamish had purchased a sturdy and expansive tool kit, and for Freddy, a fine leather attaché to hold his school papers and a beautifully crafted fountain pen.

The day was long and filled with excitement and good times. The family perhaps stayed up later than they should, all except one that is. His father, once realizing his torpor, carried Charlie to his bed, where his dreams were full of trains made of gingerbread and passengers that bore striking resemblances to Christmas puddings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

next / previous / first

[dwellordream]

“The Great Depression reached into every corner of the country, but it did not affect all people equally. For many middle-class women of all races, the depression required certain changes in spending patterns: buying cheaper cuts of meat, feeding the homeless men who stopped at the back door, and doing without new clothes. Some of these women continued to do community volunteer work, raising money for the unemployed. They saw the food lines, but they did not have to join them.

Among women workers, race played an important role. The fierce competition for jobs fueled racial resentments. Mexican-American and African-American women were the first to lose their jobs and the last to get relief from welfare agencies. Often, they were already living on the margin of survival. Before 1933, when the Prohibition amendment making the manufacture or sale of alcoholic beverages illegal was repealed, many of these women turned to bootlegging, making their own beer or liquor and selling it.

…Even relatively prosperous farm women--owners, not tenants--in general produced as much as 70 percent of what their families consumed in clothing, toys, and food. They not only gardened but raised poultry. During the depression, women increased the size of their gardens and the number of their hens. They made more butter from their dairy cows and sold it. They cut up the sacks that held large amounts of flour and sewed them into underwear. In the previous decade, they had proudly begun to participate in a culture of store-bought goods. Now they began to can food again. Government agents dragged huge canning kettles across the mountains of northern New Mexico and eastern Tennessee so that women in remote farming villages could preserve their food.

Even with all this work, rural children suffered from malnutrition, and rural women faced childbirth without a doctor or midwife because they could afford neither the medical fees nor the gasoline for transportation. The women resented their declining standards of living, particularly those from better-off farm families who owned their own farms and had, during the 1920s, aspired to participate in the new domestic technology of indoor bath-rooms, modern stoves and heating, and super cleanliness.

…In 1936, a federal appeals court overruled an earlier law that had classified birth control information as obscene and thus illegal to dispense. That decision still left state laws intact, however. The number of birth control clinics nationwide rose from 55 in 1930 to 300 by 1938, but in some states and in many rural areas women still had no access to birth control. In 1937, North Carolina became the first state to provide contraceptives with tax dollar, and six others soon followed. Ironically, North Carolina’s reasoning was not that birth control was a human right but that birth control would reduce the black population.

Despite statistics showing that black women had fewer babies than white women with similar incomes and living situations, many white southern officials in states with large black populations feared a black population explosion. In 1939, the Birth Control Federation of American responded to eager southern state governments by developing “The Negro Project,” a program to disseminate birth control information, which they carefully staffed with local black community leaders. Whatever the logic, one quarter of all women in the United States in their 20s during the depression never bore children. This was the highest rate of childlessness for any decade. Many people simply decided not to get married, and marriage rates fell.

…In the mass media women seemed to be receiving mixed messages. On the one hand, in 1930, the Ladies’ Home Journal featured a former career woman confessing, “I know now without any hesitation… that [my husband’s job] must come first.” In 1931, the popular magazine Outlook and Independent quoted the dean of Barnard College, a women’s college in New York City, telling her students that “perhaps the greatest service that you can render to the community… is to have the courage to refuse to work for gain.” And on its front page in 1935, the New York Times reported that women “suffering from masculine psychological states” and an “aversion to marriage” were being “cured” by the removal of their adrenal gland. In this atmosphere, not only were women workers under fire, but women who centered their lives on women rather than on men came under attack. Lesbianism was no longer chic. Lesbian bars almost disappeared. Homosexuality was now seen by many people as just one more threat to the family.

On the other hand, movie houses showed zany screwball comedies with more complicated lessons. Often deliciously ditsy, incompetent women were rescued by sensible, capable men. Yet, the men in these movies were frequently portrayed as bumbling or slower-witted than the women. Sometimes the men were people who needed joy and whimsy restored to their lives, not an unexpected theme for a nation in the throes of an economic depression. In other movies, however, women were by no means incompetent. The women portrayed by Katharine Hepburn, Bette Davis, and Joan Crawford in the 1930s were often intelligent but needed men alternately to tame and to soften them.”

- Sarah Jane Deutsch, “Making Do with Disaster.” in From Ballots to Breadlines: American Women, 1920-1940

[voidsentprinces]

I...am...ELIDIBUS! In all of the Convocation it was said...that my dairy beverages brought the most gentlefolk yonder abode. I would apprentice many and levy a fee. For it was my duty, the fate of the star depended on it. A rare occurance...always fleeting...but not this time...not this time...from the windows...to the wall...my friends...from the window...to the wall...

[fullcravings]

Fudgy Sweet Potato Brownies (V/GF)

[byrdstrolls]

Mysteries Are Like Onions Part Three

[Part One Here! Part Two Here!]

Back in his hometown in Umbra, the only library in town was sparsely staffed. It opened sporadically with no real rhyme or reason, and so Barely was always keenly aware how much he must make every second count. He would scour the shelves for books, picking up rare non-fiction and fantasy and memoirs from in between long rows of farmers almanacs and suspicious black magic tomes. There were two murder mysteries available there, that he read religiously, checking them out pretty much monthly, waiting a couple weeks to try and forget as much of them as he could before reading them all over again. They were And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie, and Sherlock Holmes and The Hound of Baskerville by Arthur Conan Doyle. Barely knew them so well, if another troll happened to be reading them, he could peek over their shoulder and tell them precisely what would happen on the next page without looking. Which was an impressive feat of memorization, but something Barely’s brother found deeply annoying. Right now, those two books resided at the bottom of the child’s huge backpack, fees be damned. 

“Come on Miss” Barely pleads. “We’ve got hours till the train comes. Let me just poke around” The detective says, lingering by the door of Creekturns Library. 

The sign atop the small little building illustrated a trout with a pair of glasses reading a book. These kinds of fish themed nick-nacks seemed to be all over the town, in a manner some might find kitsch and tacky but both Barely and Miss Laryan found charming. 

“Well” Miss Laryan sighs. “I suppose. I don’t know if you’ll find anything in here, darling.” She says, not wanting to get his hopes up, but willing to concede. 

“There’s gotta be some way,” He says. “To narrow things down.” 

“You might be more likely to find that in town, Barely” She says. 

“I think we should steer clear of DunnerMart.” The child says, looking at the glow of the building's sign through the window. 

“Yes, but they have this lovely little shop down the way” She sighs. “That makes the best damn fish sandwich this side of the river.” 

“Well,” Barely pauses. “If you lend me your library card, you could go and grab one for both of us” He offers. 

“Of course” She smiles, and then frowns. “...It was in my wallet” She recalls, unfortunately. 

“It’s probably not hard to sign up, Miss” He corrects. 

“Alright, Barely” She says. “If you say so. Stay safe, ya hear?” She says, patting his head fondly before she leaves. The young man straightens out his hair, before skipping up to the desk. 

“Excuse me Mister” He says. “Could I sign up for a library card?” 

“Absolutely” The man says, lowering the tome in his hands. Barely is caught off guard by his jarring northern accent. He was well accustomed to the quick, sharp syllables of the alternian north from the mouths of fleet officials and TV characters, but not so used to them falling so clunkenly from the mouth of a troll with a shade of rust no warmer than his own.

“Name?” The librarian asks. 

“Barely” He replies. “Say, what’s your name, Mister, where ya from?”

He chuckles slightly. “I get that a lot.” He admits. “I’m Calcul, I flew all the way down here from Alphanette. Are you an um… resident of the tri-town-municipality?” He asks, looking through papers. 

Barely frowns. “No…” He admits. 

“You sure? Shercattle and Baskertop count too, Barely.” The librarian replies. 

“No, Mister Calcul.” he sighs. “I’m from even south-er than that. Can I still check out books?” 

“I’m afraid not,” The librarian says. “Fleet rules, library is for the townspeople. You can hang around and read for a bit, if you like, tho.” 

Barely is about to argue, but then, realizes he couldn’t have checked out books anyways, if he was gonna get on that train by dayfall.

“Okay” he says. “Do you have anything on industrial cow farming? Illnesses, chemicals and processes used in dairy factories? Mister, do you have a newspaper archive? Does it go back half a sweep?” 

“Well, kind of,” Calcul says, picking some books off the shelf. “Cow stuff’s over here- We have old newspapers but only on the microfilm machines. Heh, probably should have been updated a while ago.” 

“Thank you, Mister Calcul,” Says Barely, grasping the tall stack of books he’s been handed, and, glancing at the apparent complexity of some of them, he adds, “could I also get a dictionary?” In case he needed to look up words. 

“Of course” Says Calcul, putting one last book on his stack, and the young man trots over to a nearby table. 

The teenager goes to open the first book, and then pauses. 

“Have you lived here long, Mister?” He asks. 

“Moved out with my kismesis a perigee ago” He shrugs. “So I don’t know if I could say that.” 

The young man flips through his notepad. A few key questions could unravel everything. He just had to pick the right ones to ask. Barely inhales, deciding to pick at a thread long left hanging. 

“Have you met the Mayor?” he asks. 

“Oh, many times” Calcul shrugs. “Mr. Deceil seems very hands on, friendly. He’s always around. He told me I’m too polite.” He laughs. “Honestly, I don’t think he’s all too different from the royal’s I’ve met up north.” He describes. 

“How so?” Barely asks, quirking an eyebrow. 

“You might have noticed this yourself, little man.” He says, to the other rust. “But a lot of highbloods and fleetfolk seem so weirdly invested in pretending to be from humble beginnings? You hear it from the Mayor's mouth he’s a local, had some ranch property in Baskertop for thirty some sweeps. But-” Calcul pauses. “I don’t think he ever worked it. And you didn’t hear this from me-” He starts, the way many polite minded southern trolls qualify their gossiping- perhaps the city boy had learned something in his months here after all-

“But I saw him take a call from his boss once. All ducked away in an alleyway. And that sweet as honey southern accent dropped like a dime. He was all ‘you guys’ and ‘are not’. He can’t have been raised anywhere south of Tes Roven, I promise you.” 

“I see,” Barely says, turning the necklace in his teeth. This information didn’t help him much except for giving him a general dislike of the Mayor he had never met. Which solidified his hunch he was involved somehow. There was something fishy about that ranch, he was sure of it. And, something he had noted on his pad all the way back in Baskertop, an elected official sure seemed like the kind of troll who’d have an extra key to a municipal office. 

“Well, thank you kindly Mister Calcul” He replies with a nod, picking up his book and starting it. 

There is a creak as Miss Laryan quietly enters the library door, walking over to sit next to him. She sees the child is already deep in thought, and elects not to address him, simply sitting down and setting a sandwich beside him. Independently, she begins to work on her crossword. It’s a long moment before Barely even seems to notice there is a sandwich next to him, with how absorbed he gets. Reading seems to take an amount of his attention you’d expect from a boy genius. Finally, nearly an hour later, as Barely jots down notes from the book on his pad, his stomach reminds him of its woes and he bites into the sandwich. It was beef and something, ever so slightly cold. 

“Okay” says Miss Laryan. “I really don’t mean to bother you dear, but I’m stumped. Fifth letter e, second letter i,  goliath ______, an arachnid the size of a dinner plate.” 

“A goliath birdeater” Barely answers, a strange awareness dawning on his face, he looks straight forward, and then at his food. 

“Weren’t you gonna get us fish sandwiches, Miss Laryan?” He says slowly. 

“Yes- but, oh! Strangest thing. They were all out. Wasn’t even on the menu. Creekturn- outta fish! Will oinkbeasts fly next? There really is a curse about.” 

“Haven’t eaten a lot of fish since I moved here” Calcul shrugs. “Bummed me out too. I was looking forward to it. I asked around, and every troll said-” 

“Let me guess,” Barely says slowly. “The fish started disappearing. A half sweep ago.” 

The librarian frowns, unsettled by the child completing his sentence for him. 

“Yeah” He stumbles. “No one knows why. Ton of fisheries went out of business. A lot of people moving south to work at-” 

Barely is staring intently at the tail map given to him by Miss Laryan two nights ago. 

“The dairy factory” Barely interrupts, looking down at the rail map. Trailing his finger down the river. Too convenient, too convenient livestock illnesses by far. He glances at his notes, frantically looking through them for a moment, before losing steam and letting out a frustrated noise. 

“Augh!” he exclaims. “I’m so close. I’m so close, Miss!” he insists. 

“Barely” She says, quietly but sternly. “Don’t make a scene.” 

“So close to what?” Calcul asks curiously.

“Solvin’ a case” Barely huffs, and then adds, sitting back down. “I’m a detective.” 

“Here” Miss Laryan says, trying to distract the upset child. “Help me out, Barely” She says, pointing at her crossword. “Third letter n, fourth letter s- a legal term for a partnership in crime” 

“I ain’t got time for a crossword! Miss Laryan” he huffs. 

“Calm down, Barely” She pleads. “Think about it.” 

He fumes silently for another moment, and then caves. 

“‘Conspiracy’ Miss” He says quietly. 

“What were you asking all those questions about the mayor for- were those also for the case? I was just gossiping, kid, I don’t know if I’d repeat any of that in a court of law” Calcul warns. 

There's something staring him right in the face here. Right under his nose. He was slippin pieces from a jenga tower. He just had to set his hands on a load bearing brick and it would all come crumbling down. Think, Barely, Think. 

“What’s Mayor Dunner got to do with all this?” Miss Laryan says confusedly, so casually, as if she didn’t even notice the bomb she’s placed on the floor. 

“Excuse me” Barely squeak slowly. “Could you repeat that?” 

“I just asked” She frowns. “What Mayor Dunner’s got to do with all of it, darlin, I know you aint fonda him since he called the sheriff on ya-” 

“Dunner” The child says, skipping past the entire end of her sentence. “IS the MAYOR? He’s the mayor AND the CEO of DunnerMart?!!” He exclaims. And then points to Calcul. “You called him Deciel!” 

“Trolls have two names, kid” Calcul shrugs. “That’s his last one.” 

“You know how fleet folk always say” Laryan shrugs, still not seeming to understand the significance of this detail to Barely. “Businessman mayor’s are good for the economy an’ all” 

“WHY” The rust says through gritted teeth. “Did no one tell me this!!” 

“Well, we figured it obvious, Barely, everybody knows Dunner” Laryan defends. 

“I don’t” Barely snaps, staring down at his notes, the town map, the industrial farming report, as pieces begin to snap together at an alarming rate. He pauses, and rushes over to the microfilm processor, flipping through the slides from a sweep ago. 

Click, the machine sounds. 

Local Landowner Shirli Goin On Big Holiday! Won’t Say Where She Got The Money, the headline reads. 

Click, Barely flips the page again. 

New Dairy Factory Finishes Construction!

Click

New Mayor Appointed- Baskertop Landowner!

Click

Fleetrail Takes Cattle Lands

Click

Where Have all the Fish Gone?

Suddenly, the child steps back from the old catalog machine as if it burned his hand. 

“I have to tell someone” he squeaks, stumbling backwards out of the library, into the town square. 

“Barely!” Miss Laryan calls, hurrying over. “Can you clue the rest of us in here?” 

“It was DUNNER” The child snaps. “It was ALL Dunner!” He exclaims, the trolls going about their day in the square pausing at this sudden and loud exclamation. 

“Dunner is fleet! Dunner BUILT the Fleetrail! Dunner bought the ranch!” Barely insists, lifting his papers. “So he could control the cowpokes- after he destroyed their lands- so he could make ‘em only sell to his DAIRY FACTORY” He accuses, running out of breath, not seeming to notice nor care about the small crowd pausing to listen. 

“His factory on the river- that polluted the river!” He asserts. Holding up the rail map.  “That killed the other cows, so every farmer in Shercattle had to work for him! His factory that polluted the river- That killed the fish” He snaps, and it is this accusation in particular that draws a sharp silence from the people of Creekturn. 

“That had everyone in Creekturn” Barely growls. “Switching to Dunner Beef!” He claims, lifting up the wrapping paper label of his sandwich. The crowd is murmuring amongst themselves, their expressions turning. 

“He broke the whole system” Barely says, not even seeming to notice how quiet the crowd has gotten, how wide eyed. “And he wants Baskertop- AND Shercattle- AND Creekturn- to PAY HIM to keep breakin’ it!” He finishes, but then the child freezes, some ancient instinct tracing the audience’s gaze to behind him, where Dunner has walked out of the sheriff's office, two gunslingers dragging a handcuffed Damial towards the county jail. 

“Now, don’t get ahead of yourself, son,” Dunner says softly, smiling like a fox does to a rabbit. “Those are some wild accusations to be screaming in the square, Barely” 

The young rust backs up towards the distrustful looking crowd. 

“Prove him wrong, Mayor!” shouts a random fisherman, “I wanna hear what the lil’ fella has to say!” He accuses, distrustingly. Dunner sighs. 

“Now, gentleman” He huffs. “This pupa’s too young to know about correlation and causation and all that- just because a great number of things happen at the same time don’t mean they’re all related” 

He’s good with a crowd, Barely realizes, with a sinking pusher, noticing some trolls throwing doubtful glances at each other. He was a liar and cheat and a scoundrel but he talked confidently and calmly. 

“I can assure you,” Dunner says. “There is no pollution from my factory- why, if there was, don’t you think trolls would be gettin’ sick? Don’t our water also come from the river?” He points out. 

“The filtration standards” Barely counters, flipping through his papers furiously. “Are different for livestock then they are people- the plumping system processes the-” 

“And even if there was,” Dunner interrupts him. “It was an honest to g-d accident I didn’t notice nor foresee- and can be quickly rectified” 

‘Except it wasn’t!” Barely snaps. “I’ve been reading about industrial farming! There ain’t nothin’ comes out a dairy bottlin’ factory that should be toxic enough to kill off an entire cow and fish population! It HAD to be deliberate-”

“Miss Laryan” Dunner interrupts again. “Could you keep that young man under control- Ladies and Gentlemen. There ain’t nothin’ I’ve done in these towns that couldn’t be explained away by good natured naiv-ete and errors I could promptly fix! Who even is that boy, really? Some rusty from outta town- who's to know if he can be trusted. Me, I’ve never lied to y’all-” 

“But you have” Barely hisses. A moment of pure clarity flashing through his mind like a bullet. 

Dunner pauses. “I don’t know whatever you could be referrin’ too, son” He growls. 

“Mister Dunner,” The rustblood says. “Could ya empty your pockets?” 

The seadweller pauses. 

“Whatever for?” He laughs. 

“Bear with me,” The child says. 

“I’ll do no such thing” Dunner hisses, turning back towards the sheriff’s office, but he is halted by a townsperson, who, seeming to have taken Barely’s side, frisks him, pulling the contents of the Mayor’s pockets into her hand. 

“My friend Miss Laryan is a municipal clerk in Baskertop” Barely begins, trying to catch up the crowd. Two could play at this game of livening things up for an audience. “She had some important papers in her wallet two days ago,” He continues. “Ones that some troll with an official key tore apart a municipal office to find. An ol’ land sale receipt. This wallet was stolen from her, when she fainted at a train station. I saw you that very night, Mayor Dunner.” The child says, taking a step towards him. “When Miss Laryan had fainted a second time- and you said somethin’ funny' to me when you first saw us, Mayor Dunner. You said, ‘she havin’ one of those again’? Like somehow” He posits. “You knew about the first faintin’, which Miss Laryan hadn’t told nobody about-” 

“She faints all the time!” Dunner snaps. “Nervous composure- I only meant she had a condition-” 

“You also said” The detective insists. “‘She must be having a hell of a night- how is that not specific to the night it occurred-” 

“Listen,” Dunner insists to the townspeople. “I don’t mean to brag, really, but you’re all well aware I got a little more money than most- what cause would a guy like me have to pick a midbloods pocket- it’s ludicrous-” 

“I don’t know, Mister Mayor” Barely says, pushing aside Dunner’s phone and a pack of gum in the frisking troll's hand aside to pick out a teal leather wallet, and show it to the crowd. “How ‘bout we find out?” 

“Now folks- what’s this gotta do with anything!” Dunner says, seeming to slip out of his accent in his anger, not helping his case. He makes a lunge for the kid and the wallet, but is held back.

Barely pulls out two folded up pieces of paper out of the wallet, pausing to unfold them and read their contents. The crowd waits on bated breath. They are exactly what Barely expected them to be. There is crashing from the Sheriffs office, as the handcuffed Damial seems to have taken this opportunity to fight the sheriff’s escorting him. 

“A request to make public” The young rust reads, holding up the first paper. “The record of the ownership of Redgrass Ranch,”

“Filed by one Vekeso Endoze.” He finishes. 

“...”

It’s nice, sometimes, to believe that people care about each other more than they let on. It’s even nicer to be proven right. 

The child turns to the fushia. “I reckon” He says, “Vekeso was never fonda you, was he Mister Mayor?” Barely says, hearing the sounds of the fight escalating in the sheriff's office. 

“I bet he didn’t like you tellin’ him he couldn’t sell to Mister Damial no more. An’ he started thinkin- just like I did- you know, for all Dunner’s hey sons and drawled rs and boots with the spurs- I don’t think I’ve actually SEEN Mayor Dunner ‘round Baskertop! Or Shercattle! Or Creekturn before- and if you don’t mind, I’d like to see his papers on supposedly ownin’ this ranch for thirty sweeps- and that made you nervous, didn’t it, Mister Mayor.” The child glares. 

“Because you knew this paper said loud n clear-” Barely says, switching to the next paper. “Redgrass Ranch was only purchased by you a half sweep ago. You’re a stranger. You moved in the same time you built the Fleetrail, to force the cowpokes to rent that land. The same time you built the dairy factory, to funnel the cattle and poison the river. Because you couldn’t stand any of these trolls havin’ a livelihood that had nothin’ to do with you. And you thought they’d turn on you” He accuses. “If they ever had an inkling that you weren’t ona them” 

Barely says, sealing the nails in the coffin. He didn’t have solid proof for a lotta things- but he had one bit of evidence, that this seadweller, at the very least, had egregiously lied to their faces, and had tried desperately to cover up his lie. All else will come crumbling down after. Once trust is gone. Funny thing is, a thing like this probably wouldn’t have undone Dunner just standing on his own. He maybe coulda talked his way out of it, he coulda pushed it off as a misrememberance or error, had Vekeso actually gotten the thing public. But like ouroboros swallowing his tail, it was Dunner and his own rampant paranoia that was his own undoing. His desperation to hide this weak bit of evidence against him proved his guilt more than the paper alone ever could. 

Sometimes a troll will point a finger anywhere but inward at others, just because they know how much they have to hide. And they assume everyone else around this thinks this same, selfish way they do. These people’s worst fear is always that they'll start gettin treated the way they treat other people. 

“Now, Folks” Dunner stumbles, lifting his hands in surrender as if some part of him knows all is lost. He says something else, but it’s drowned out as the crowd’s mutters are starting to turn to shouts and accusations and threats. The fushia takes a few steps back, only to run directly into a bloodstained Damial, having fought his way away from the two sheriffs and broken outta those cuffs with sheer force. Judging by his expression, the purple had heard enough of the conversation to understand. Miss Laryan pales in the commotion, rushing forward and making a running grab for Barely, picking him up and rushing him away just as weapons start to be drawn and the mob descends into chaos. She stashes the child away, ironically, inside DunnerMart. 

“Barely you stay right here” She insists. “You stay right here and still and quiet and hide if anybody comes in, ya hear?” She says, frantically, handing him her phone. “Here- it’s got games on it. Don’t look outside Barely, it’ll do ya no good.” She says, and then rushes back out into the town square. 

Gone through the proper channels of fleet law, a crime like Dunner’s would be hit with a fine at most, in a trial that takes months and gives him plenty of time to sort out his paperwork enough to get out nearly scot free. But he is not in proper court. The disenfranchised fishermen of Creekturn have taken justice in their own uniquely alternian way that seems to involve a lot of Dunner screaming and thuds of metal and stone and flesh. 

Barely doesn’t hear a bit of it over the pleasant chimes of Miss Laryan’s computer phone as he plays tetris facing away from the window. Weeks later, investigations would roll through. New Sheriffs would fly in looking for someone to cull for all of it. Asking who killed Dunner and those two sheriffs. But in some stubborn prideful pact of the people of the municipality, no one would say a word to them. No one from Creekturn, or Shercattle, or Baskertop. ‘I don’t recall’ they’d say. ‘Dont remember seein anyone’. And the piles of leads would dry up so quickly the fleet wouldn’t even be able to point a finger. 

Because not one of the trolls there would think for a moment of sellin out their neighbor- not for the man who literally poisoned their water supply. But sometimes, at Lars, on late nights when some of the people who had been in the crowd had too many- they’d come to a proud agreement amongst themselves that the killin’ blow had been Damial. Many who had seen him despairing in the streets for months were inclined to agree that he had more than earned that one. Whether this was legend, or fact, no one really knew. Attacking the Mayor had happened so fast. In reality, many of them were truly not sure what did the fushia in. 

But isn’t it nice to believe in some justice in the world, even for a second?

Barely loses his game of tetris, pausing to reach over and steal another pack of gummy sharks from the DunnerMart rack, before starting a new game. 

.

.

.

.

.

He didn’t end up taking the train that night, or the night after. He had hoped he could make a little money before hopping on the express train anyways, and the people of the municipality were nothing if not grateful and willing to indulge him after everything with Dunner. One of the better off fisherman in Creekturn offered the young man a ludicrous sum of money, which the six sweep old had humbly turned down, instead offering it to his friend Damial, to buy back his farm, to which the giant purpleblood had started to cry, and then loudly insisted his allergies were acting up and stormed out of the room. 

But Barely had accepted measlier sums. Many of the trolls from these towns didn’t have much to give but so many seemed glad to be rid of Dunner that the small sums piled up, until he had acquired a pretty eighteen hundred caegars. Which the young man had joked would probably get him a hotel room in the big city for a single night, knowing rent up there, and the adults had laughed in the slightly surprised way adults do when charmed by a young person's unexpected worldliness. 

He had been given physical gifts too. A man good with sewing had made Barely a smart red cap and jacket, insisting things really were that cold up north. He had been given pretty lacey new bow ribbons for his braids and tail, a full pair of gloves, a first aid kit, another brown jacket- which Vekeso came up from Baskertop to deliver, proudly telling him that it was Baskertop made leather, and would last him twenty sweeps longer than whatever plastic fabric they’re pedalling in the city stores. 

At this point, the little celebrity had started to run out of room in his backpack, and had told his admirers that there was only one thing left he’d make room for, and that was books. Science, mystery novels if they had them. And so the town looked through old boxes for such things. One troll gifted him a box set of the complete works of agatha christie, which had made him beam so much in excitement Miss Laryan called him an angel, to which the little man huffed and declared his interest to be purely academic in retaliation. There were more mystery novels- popular ones- but also rarer ones, the kind of old out of print little pulp fictions that are harder to come by. 

Eventually, Barely became so attached to the many books he finally conceded to bring another bag, a little roll along suitcase where he stored the novels. Miss Laryan had given him her little book of crossword puzzles, telling him that he was better than her at them anyways. 

“Barely” She had said to him, from the end of the table at Damial’s sparse living room, when the novelty had truly started to fade, and she finally found time to ask a question she had been dreading. 

“Do you have anybody waitin’ on you up north?” She asks. 

He pauses, tucking a bookmark in his book and closing it. 

“No” he admits. 

“I was scared you’d say that” She sighs. “It really is dangerous up there, darling. They don’t have the kind of hospitality we do. I know you think you’re tough as nails, Barely, but I just…” 

She sets down her mug. 

“Do ya really have to go?” She says softly. 

“I made it this far, Miss. I’m not runnin’ back to Umbra with my tail between my legs.” 

“Not back to Umbra, Barely, here” she says. “You could stay here, with me and Vekeso, we’ve got a smart little school downtown.” 

Barely pauses, his eyes softening so sweetly she’s sure he will answer yes, but when the detective opens his mouth, the words-

“Thank you Miss, really. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve had the pleasure of meeting in my travels. But I can’t do that. I’m headin’ up north for a reason. It’s why I left home in the first place.” 

-fall from it. 

“And what reason is that?” She says, hurt and bitter and worried. 

“What other reason could there be for a detective, Miss Laryan. I’m workin’ on a case. A very important one.”

“More important than what you did here? I don’t know what money they offered ya-” She starts. 

“I’m doin’ it for free, Miss.” He replies. “Because it's the right thing to do.” 

She doesn’t seem sure how to answer that. 

“Not a murder, is it…?” She voices another fear, slowly. 

Barely pauses, as if, inexplicably, this question requires careful thought. As if this case blurred the lines on what murder was and wasn’t, which was somehow more concerning than an all out yes.

“No, Miss Laryan” He decides. Choosing his words so slowly and carefully an apt listener might be able to determine he described something only technically true, that he was misconstruing to calm his friend. 

“More of a regular old theft” He says, spitting his necklace into his hand, staring at it. 

“You don’t sound awful sure,” She accuses. 

“I swear,” he says. “That’s the truth, Miss. Somethin’ mighty important was stolen from somebody I care about more than any troll in the world.” He insists, and he seems so passionate that Laryan pauses. 

“And who's that?” She asks. 

“My twin,” The young man says. 

“Your TWIN??” She guffaws. “There's another Barely out there?”

“Well, that's not his name” Barely grins, shyly and a little sorrowfully, before determinedly changing the subject. 

“But anyways, Miss, I’m goin’ uptown, and all messiahs and terrors couldn’t stop me.” 

She seems like she wants to argue more, but the teenager is so final in his tone, she caves. 

“You’ll write once you get there?” She asks. “And call, just so everybody knows you’re fine?” 

“Yes ma’am.” He answers, picking up his book again. 

.

.

.

.

.

“How long’ve you been a detective? '' Vekeso had asked him, while leading him on a victorious horse lap around town a couple days prior. 

Barely pauses, not wanting to have his prowess questioned. “A long time,” he insists. 

“I said how long, Megapan, you got a number?” The cowboy scoffed with a grin. 

The child looked to the side. 

“A quarter sweep” He admits. 

“A quarter sweep” Vekeso says, “is not a long time.” 

“It is too!” Barely insists. 

“You just think that” The man shrugs. “Cus you don’ have many sweeps to spare, Detective Barely.” 

“I unraveled a town wide conspiracy” he defends. “Not bad for an amateur.” 

Vekeso raises his hands in surrender, but doesn’t drop the lead he was guiding the horse Barely was on with. 

“I’m not doubtin’ yer ability, kid” he assures. “Just- Messiahs in name” he swears. “Ya shoulda never had to do sucha thing. Pupa’s like you should be chasin’ voles down rivers without a care in their heads, Barely. Don’t forget that.” 

“It’s not my fault a case needed solvin’” he retorts, for some reason his concern making him feel more small than Vekeso’s mockery ever could.

“I guess that’s true” The jadeblood sighs. “That just makes me sad. What kinda world are we makin’ for youngin’s, huh?” He huffs. “You got plenty of time to grow up, lil’ columbo. Spend some of it bein’ a regular ol’ kid.” 

“I’ll try-” He starts. 

“Promise, Barely” The cowboy answers, holding up a pinky to the young man, knowing a pinky promise passed for blood oath among most children. 

The young rust is silent for a long moment, before reaching over and wrapping his pinky with the jade’s.

“I promise, Mister Vekeso” He says. 

.

.

.

.

.

Eventually, despite Miss Laryan’s best efforts, a young man stands once again at a train station, being looked over by three adults. 

“An’ you got that first aid kit I gave you?” Asks Damial, his hands on the kids shoulders. Barely nods. 

“An’ the cellphone? An’ the pocketknife? An’ the pepper spray?” He asks, fussing. 

Vekeso laughs at his friend. 

“You sound like a jadeblood” He jokes, in that loving way Vekeso always teased people he liked. 

“Who took a two nights train ride up justa say bye to the kid?” Damial bites back, reaching behind Vekeso and slapping upwards on his cowboy hat, causing it to fall comically forward over his eyes, before turning back to Barely. 

“An’ don’t go talkin’ to no highbloods” He says. 

“Mister Damial, you’re a highblood” Barely grins. 

“Yeah but I’m not a jackass” Damial warns, to which MIss Laryan shushes him.

“Pupa words! Pupa words!” She insists, genuinely upset with him for cursing. It might just be because she’s worked herself into a tizzy, trying not to cry and or faint. Barely takes her hand. 

“It’s okay Miss,” He says, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll be alright, I promise” And no sooner than his arms wrapped around her body true to her nature, Miss Laryans drops to the ground, fainted. 

“It’s okay,” Damial says, scrambling to catch her. “Don’t miss yer train, kid, we got her.” He reassures. His hands are trembling ever so slightly. Miss Laryan had insisted on the man sobering up for a spell, which would probably do him good, but the withdrawals were still working their way through his body. Vekeso slips an arm under his elbow quietly and effortlessly, and in a simple and intimate gesture, takes the larger cowboys hand to steady it. 

“Yeah Barely” Vek reassures. “We’ll be fine.” 

Barely had not been there for Vekeso and Damial’s reuniting. He had imagined it hadn’t been quite as pretty as this picture of them now appeared to be, and he was right. There had been long winded monologues of anger and guilt and upset that were exchanged. Both trolls seemed to agree they had done each other wrong. But the truth is, Damial had forgiven Vekeso the moment Barely had read his name off that wallet paper, and Vekeso had forgiven Damial even sooner, the moment he had heard the purpleblood took on three cops to give that kid a moment to escape on the train. For an hour or two they cried, and yelled, but at the end of it, in the manner men sometimes have a way of doing after being especially vulnerable, they had dropped the topic like a stone and considered themselves best friends again. This simple and effective communicative solution to what had been a months long feud had caused Miss Laryan to tearfully exclaim

“You two are so STUPID” In a frustrated happiness and relief, and stormed out of the room. 

Whatever had happened with the business of whatever feelings they may or may not have had for each other, well, the town gossiped and gossiped, but I don’t think it’s my place to say. Damial was frightfully shy for a man his size when sober, and Vekeso was just as private a person as he’d ever been. Every quad in the book was tossed at the wall but couldn’t be proven. Eventually, they decided to let the cowboys be, and decide in their own time. Everyone was long past the subject by the moment one of the farmhands told his friends a Lars, that late one night on the ranch once, he had seen Damial standing up near the wooden fence of the property line in the distance, and seen Vekeso step off the ground onto the fences first rung to lean up and plant a kiss on the man’s lips, as if it were the easiest most natural thing in the world. 

Many of the townspeople found themselves strangely relaxed by this believable rumor, as if through all of Damial’s drunken lamenting and Vekeso’s sullen rides through the countryside at odd hours, a small part of them was truly glad it had worked out for the two men after all. 

“One more thing Mister Vekeso” Say’s Barely, bringing the story crashing back down to the reality of them at the train station. The jadeblood looks up curiously. 

“You too Mister Damial-” Barely adds. “A warning, to the people of Baskertop, and Shercattle, and Creekturn, all the way up from Umbra” He qualifies. 

“You ever see a fancy dressed purple bandit come this way- hat and poncho lined up with golden runes, low bangs and four horns and a weird shadow” He lists, turning slightly towards the train. “Kill him” The child warns, “On sight.” He says, and then with that strange and ominous note, climbs aboard the train. Having lingered too long in his goodbyes, he has to rush a little to find an empty cabin. He sits down for what will surely be a long, long ride. Barely watches the edges of Creekturns landscape roll past. The sparse farmhives slowly give way to sprawling lit suburbs. His mind struggled to wrap itself around a melancholy of large concepts that had started to consume him in his friend’s absence. Thinking about change, and loss, and fear.

Wondering what people thought of him, meeting him with no knowledge another half even existed. Thinking about his brother. What he thought about his brother everywhere but didn’t say. What he saw of his brother in every troll he came across. He found his twin in Vekeso’s jives, in Damial’s resentment, in Dunner’s fear. In Miss Laryan’s quiet loving assistance with so many things she didn’t really know much about. A quarter sweep is a long time, and a short time, and both all at once. Yes, it was the amount of time he’d been a detective. But it was also the longest he and his sibling had ever been apart. Barely was the exact same, but had changed irrevocably. He was a buried nest of contradictions that lies in the tumbling deep little heart of any troll brave enough to ever be six sweeps old and afraid and alone. His worry about ever finding him giving way to a larger, stranger and scarier worry, that Barely would find him, but then come to realize slowly, that he no longer was the meek mannered young boy who had followed around his stronger sibling like a ghost. 

About an hour into the ride, He tires of this meandering solique of thought, and instead shuffles through his bag, and pulls out Miss Laryan’s book of crossword puzzles. The first one is far too easy. Popularized by Joseph Cambell’s favorite novel, a circular plot structure consistent against cultures, it reads, five letters, 

The _____  Journey

[fuck-customers]

Why is Christian music apparently the only "family friendly" music available to fast food joints? I've been in a McDaniels, a Dairy King, and the Bendy's i work at now, and that's what all three play. Which makes my lunch break really uncomfortable (I'm a non-religious) and even knowing that it's not true, it still feels like trying to force a religion on me. And I doubt I'm the only non-religious/non-Christian person that has encountered this. And that bothers me, especially when we are supposed to provide a friendly and welcoming environment for all (that was the founder's goal, for fuck's sake). So keep the damn religious stuff out of the public areas. Call up Red Crustacean or Captain Letter-after-C's. Both of them have found family friendly music that isn't religious. Why can't these others?

All three of those chains you mentioned can be owned by anyone willing to pay the franchise fee. It is possible the same local person/company owns the restaurant's and choose to play the same music in of them. 

Here they play pop music mostly but as of Nov. 1st it’s all christmas in EVERY! DAMN! STORE!

-Rodney

[martinys-world]

The Girl (2)

so chapter 2 is out. please let me know what you think in comments. the drawing took the longest. also because the movie is new at the time of typing this. I was stuggling with doing all of this by mermory --love you all

“SLIVER! Wake up dog.”

I launch forward. Breathing heavily. Feeling my surroundings soft floor. Car windows in front of me. I am on earth I am in reeks car, in the Back seat. 

“You look like you were going to mess someone up.” 

Now I am differently on earth.

“Hey reek.” 

I slowly climbed out of the backseat of his car. There was no way I was going back to sleep any time soon. 

“Are you fighting that monster again.” 

“Yea something like that.”

Monster was the excuse I used to when I toss and turn. No one ask anything more. I  pulled out my two bags. They were basically my lifelines. A mini purse backpack I put around my waist. While the black and green on was on my back. I got to do a lot today.

“Thanks for letting me crash in the back seat.”

I was shaking my head getting the bed rest hair gone. 

“No problem. You help me more than I can ask for it’s the least I can do.”

“Either way thanks and call me if you need me.”

“Hey before you run off will you be okay.  I have seen you toss and turn in your sleep and beating up those “monsters” before, But not like this.”

“I mean it one of those dreams where it seems like a memory but it’s not.”

“what’s the memory?”

“I don’t know, it wasn’t being clear.”

My watch began beeping. 

“I’m going to be late. I got to go.”

“Hey, be careful and No more disappearing without a word.”

“I’ll try, can’t promise.”

Someone holding a bag of apples when one apple began falling to the ground. I put my knee out and let it bounce back. In the bag. Putting the ear buds in my ear so I can dim the world around me. I pulled random granola bar out my purse. I need something in my stomach, Or I will be the monster in real life. This will have to do. Substation was my fast possible route to get to where I am needed.  The subway gets me a moment to write in my journal. I always wrote in something, ever since I little I would wright anything that was worth remembering. That not the first time I dream about something like that. but this is the first time interacting with the environment. 

These dreams play out like a movie. I was always on the side just watching everything unfold. like people do in a theater. most of the dreams that I do remember are fragments. I had one were two lover’s kisses. I had one where a farther is knocking down his daughter. There are too many that I remember. my mine can't remember the last time a thing like this happens. This is diffidently first time some being has died. 

Why did he say midnight. Who midnight I am sliver and no one else. After sitting in a spot that was safe as you could be. I open my big bag and pull out a notebook the said ‘I need space’ and it had a galaxy in space background. It a sketch book but I write and draw in it. a ton of people have called it many names. Reek called it a journal before. I had many people call it my dairy. Buster jokingly said before it my evil planner. Yea right buster. I can't hurt a fly even If I wanted to. In a way It’s a journal of me. my life, people I meet, my dreams. I hope this journal shows that I was not perfect. I am human just like everyone else. 

After going to a blank page. I was sketching the whole dream; the face of the ape was first thing that came to mind.  The sequence was mushy, but I did my best on all the important parts. 

Above the guy that won the battle.  I wrote scrouge in big sharp letter. Underneath him. I wrote bad guy with a question mark.  Because to everyone can be a bad guy to a family like scourge could be bad to just this ape and his family. Then have no fire with me. I have a feeling that not the case. it a possibility can't full rule out the. ‘Proven until guilty’ what the cops say.  Above the ape I wrote Apeling. Leader of the maximal.

Why did I write that and why did that feel right. Who are the maximal? Confusion filled my brain with how I know any of this. Let alone where did these works come from?

“You will know soon.” A whisper came from my left.  there was no one there when I turn my head. the seat was completely empty and there was no one behind me that could be close enough to say it. 

“Next stop Broadway Ave. “

Closing the book and grabbing my bags. I slip past people.my body has a flow. I slip pass people without touching them knowing I was there. anyone would use it to their advantage when its places like this.    At these times it almost completely true and I used it. I have gotten to the top of the stairway without any issue. 

“I don’t want to, but I need too.” I spotted the clinic with its massive red plus sign. Speedy across the sidewalk to reach it without any difficulties walk over. I pull out a 10 I had in my pocket and put it in buster cup. 

“Hey sliver.” 

“Hey buster. Keep both of stomachs full.”

“You know I feed him before I feed myself.” 

 Buster was a homeless guy with a lot mental and physical problems. He is ex-military soldier, who lost his arm in battle. With the battle on top of that he has severe PTSD. Then there Altan a small brown and white boxer, that found his way in buster arms.  Altan means second chance. Buster even admitted feeling like he gotten a second chance, ever since he meant the boxer. 

“That is loyalty, at its finest”

I open the door. where there was no line, making me not delay any longer. 

“Here for sliver.”

 The lady behind desk. Look at her Monitor. 

“Ahh yes for your shots right.”

“Yea” I said grimly. 

“It will be over before you know it.” She said with an empathetic smile and pointed to the waiting room.  

No one hates them like me. me and needles have a VERY bad history. Before I can go down memory lane. I spot an eleven-year-old by his self. Seem like Noah was trying to speed up the waiting process again. 

“Hey tails”

“Hey sliver, you getting your shots done?” 

“Yea, you know me and needles. Did you finish that level with bowser?”

No, I gotten him down like 5 percent. One attack away from wining. Then I died.”

“Oh man. You were almost there. You were one hit away?”

“Yea.”

“how about this, I help you beat him tonight?”

“It sounds like fun.” 

“Okay I have nothing planned after this, so I can follow you home.”

“My brother has an interview.”

“I can still follow and keep you company. An interview takes about an hour.” 

“SLIVER.” Said a nurse in blue.

“Looks like my que. Hey, can you watch greenie I have a feeling you would be here a bit.” Only grabbing my purse and my journal that still in my hand.

“Sure.”

“Be back tails.”

Nothing special happen. They ask the classic questions. Took my measurements, and weight. Am I don’t any drugs. Am I smoke so on so forth. 

When I was left in the room, I wrote in my journal my weight and height. I still average size, but I grew an inch. Now, I am 5’5. I went to the page with the monkey and robot. I know I need to add more. Like that ball or sphere in my dream and they shape of that key. Just trying to do whatever to distract myself.  Form mine understand this “scourge” is linked to this “Unicron” in some way.  I am guessing, that this Unicron eats planets to fill their hunger. These Maximals are keeping this key away. I drew just a diamond because the closest I can draw it because it went with that second ape.  I barely saw him for a minute.

Okay main thing to take away from this dream so far. key from Unicron. This Scrouge and Terrorcons do whatever Unicron says.  These Maximals are this guardian of this key. That would make him more powerful. They swore to play keep away.

This is all to my understanding. Many questions are going through my head. what is this key. where did the rest of the Maximals go. what more is out there? who is this ‘midnight’? the biggest question that I have was, why me? I just a nobody that just run and knows a lot of random facts. 

I just kept sketching I just let my hand wonder.

 A doctor in white coat came in. my right sleeve was already rose up for her. So, I can get this over.  my legs were crossed, so this book was in some what a stable condition.

“that’s a nice wolf you are drawing there.”  

A black wolf was under the word midnight. Was that midnight?  My gut was saying yes but didn’t want to trust it on something as a drawing. I can't seem to find a reason to disagree. 

“Thank you.”  I said trying to be polite. Now realizing she was cleaning up.  

This wolf was nothing like me. I am a human from my planet earth. I am walking on two feet not four. I have hair, not fur. There so much that different between the two of us. could the ape confuse my kindness for her, or Mr. Apelinq could have been having a life flash before his eye’s moment. 

I HATE not knowing. I also know that I am not getting an answer.  While I was going down this worm hole of possibilities or theories. The appointment was over before I know it. Prefect timing to as I was walking out sonic, and tails were about to start there’s. 

“I got it tails, go.” 

I traded places with him. I pull out the last cholate chip cookie I had in the green bag. Staring monkey with graphite eyes. Like he could talk back.

“How can I solve this mystery?

Tag: @apexprime.

[divine-knight-hand]

“It’s Not Safe Here!”

Chapter 2: Fanning the Flames

Series Masterlist || Michael Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3

Content Warnings: Arguing, yelling, derogatory terms, walking in on a sexual scenario

Notes: There's no Michael x reader smut in this chapter, but since there is a sexual scenario in this chapter, I still marked it as smut. You have been warned!

Word Count: 2,743

Dividers by @cafekitsune

I drummed my fingers on my desk as Henry and William sat down in front of me. William looked expressionless, but Henry just looked tired. That’s what waking up early will do to you. Especially after a morning like mine.

And it was true. After waking up early, running for my life from an animatronic bear, and having some sexy quality time with my boyfriend, I was drowsy, to say the least. Nonetheless, I sucked it up (no pun intended) and decided to see through the rest of my shift. Now, I was sitting in my office, about to discuss finances with my two bosses.

The space was small, but I always found it cozy. I was happy to have my own office at all. There was enough space to leave a bit of walking room around my chair, my desk, and the two chairs in front of it, where my bosses were making themselves comfortable. Behind me, a filing cabinet with previous financial records fit almost seamlessly into the corner of the room. I had to dig in there more than a few times to gather the information I needed and summarize it on the papers in front of me.

“Someone’s dressed nicely for the occasion.” William raised a condescending eyebrow at me. He never liked when I dressed even remotely masculine, so I instantly knew that his compliment wasn’t sincere. What a douche.

“I hope that means you have good news for us.” Henry offered me a small smile. At least he tried to be polite during these meetings. Besides, he did have a warm fatherly quality to him. I thought it must have made him more likable. At least, it did to me.

“I just figured I’d clean up a little more today, that’s all.” Also, I don’t have good news for you. So, surprise! I offered a shy smile of my own, but I might have come off looking like I was in pain. I was, but I didn’t need my bosses knowing that.

“Let’s get down to business, then. What do you have for us today, Y/N?” Henry cheerily asked.

I shuffled through my notes and started, “Well, this quarter we brought in almost double the amount of money through entry fees and food costs. That new ‘buy one pizza, get another half-off’ deal we started is bringing in more customers, which seems to be increasing our cash revenue.”

I did a little more rustling through my notes before proceeding, “We remained within the budgets set aside for party favors, plates, and utensils. Our spending on pizza ingredients is fine, but our cheese expenses are steadily increasing and, though we haven’t gone over budget in that area, we should watch out for that. I would suggest adding dairy-free items to the menu to balance that out. This could decrease our cheese usage while expanding our consumers to the vegan crowd.”

“We’ll decide what we should do with our own menu, young lady.” William scowled. I forced back a scowl of my own. “Young lady” was such a demeaning term, especially when it came from him. I wasn’t someone to be looked down on. Not by the likes of my snarky boss. I burned with resentment.

“We’ll take your suggestion into account.” Henry shot a quick glare at William. I really liked Henry. He didn’t treat me like garbage, “Please continue, Y/N.”

I looked at my notes before my eyes dropped to my hands, dreading what was next. It was the one financial update I had attempted to hold off on for as long as I could, but the time for stalling was over. I took a deep breath, steeled my nerves, and looked back up to the men in front of me, sitting up straight to deliver the worst news, “We overspent on mechanical parts and tools, once again.” William’s frown instantly deepened. Here we go again… “That facial recognition project sent us over budget by almost double. At this rate, we’ll have to declare bankruptcy within the decade.” This would suck in any case, but our advanced robotics tech going belly-up in an age where the world wide web and MP3 players were just invented would have been pretty embarrassing…

“Do you hear this, Em?” William scoffed, clearly annoyed.

Henry rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Please, William, if you’re going to refer to me by my last name, finish it.”

“Fine, but only if it’s among other things.” William raised another eyebrow at his own business partner, but rather than being condescending this one was accompanied by a smirk that made it seem almost… flirtatious?

Henry just glared at him, his face displaying a clear scowl behind an embarrassed blush, “Now’s not the time for that.”

I cleared my throat, bringing the attention back to me, “Well, uh, I suppose that’s it, then?” I decided to try to use that awkward distraction to try to bring the meeting to a quick close. I began straightening out my notes to emphasize that I was done with this conversation.

“I don’t think so.” Damn! Of course William was too smart for that cheap trick. He was a jackass, but he was smart enough to pursue robotics as a major part of his career, and he just blew up what I thought would be my ace in the hole.

Henry seemed to sense the growing tension and cautiously held out his hands, “William, wait-“

“Don’t tell me to wait!” William snapped, “And you,” He turned back toward me, fury painting every inch of his face a tomato shade of red, “Who do you think you are? You don’t think I see what you’re doing?”

“My job?” And just like that, my heart dropped into my stomach. That comment just slipped out of my mouth. I didn’t even think about it. William somehow grew redder. I didn’t even think a person could turn this shade of red, but he did.

Well, if I was getting fired today, I might as well have committed to my stance. I took a deep breath and went on, “I’m just saying. This is what you hired me to do. To make budgets for you and suggest ways to help the business.” I tapped my fingers on the table, resting my head in one of my hands, “I don’t remember seeing ‘personal punching bag’ in the description when I applied.” I lean my head forward to emphasize my last sentence, “I’m good with numbers, not assholes like you treating me like shit.”

“You’ve got some mouth on you, girl!” William slammed his hand on my desk and stood up, “You really think you can walk into my establishment-“

“ Our .” Henry sighed.

“Beg for a job from me-“

“ Us .”

“Tell me how to run my own business-“

“ Our own business.” Henry began massaging his temples.

“Blatantly disrespect me, and not face any repercussions for it?!” William finished.

I slowly blinked at him, “…Are you done, yet?” William just responded in a series of incoherent sputtering, giving me the space to continue, “Do you know how tiring it is to deal with your bullshit every three months? Every single meeting, I have to dread doing my own job because you just berate me for doing what I’m supposed to do.” I slowly rose from my desk, “And if you thought I was going to tolerate your verbal beat down for another meeting, you’re just wrong. The way you treat me is wrong ! You don’t get to drag me through hell for things I can’t control. It’s not my fault you have no impulse control with money, and you know it! I have a right to do my job without worrying about how you’re going to treat me in response.”

“Yes, because whining like a little cunt is going to get you very far.” William sarcastically drawled. I felt my veins churning with rage. This was the nastiest thing he’s ever said to me. I was seeing red.

I gritted my teeth, starting in a low mutter, “Why you little-”

“ENOUGH!” Henry shot up out of his chair, “Enough from the both of you!” His head instantly whipped to face his business partner, “William! Y/N’s right. We do not pay her to face your verbal abuse every quarter! And calling her a ‘cunt’ is extremely inappropriate!”

William scoffed, “Sure, because the way she talks to me is completely fine.”

“I never said that.” Henry scowled, “But you did bring her to her wit’s end. Quite frankly, even I find it difficult to deal with you at times. I’m shocked she was able to manage for as long as she did.”

William just scowled, let out a “Tch!”, and stormed out of the office, slamming the door on his exit.

Henry went to follow him, but paused with his hand hovering over the doorknob, “You’re not completely free of consequence, either.” Henry turned his head to deliver a disappointed look in my direction, “Though William mistreated you today, he is your boss. You still have to respect him. I have to ask that you refrain from derogatory names when you’re on the clock.”

That one stung. I’d never made Henry upset before, so this was new territory, and it was frightening. I felt as if I had just disappointed my own father. Somehow, the fact that he wasn’t even angry was what cut the deepest. He was just disappointed. He expected better out of me and I failed to deliver. Even if William was a complete asshole, I regretted tearing into him at Henry’s expense. I lowered my head in shame, “I’m sorry-”

Henry waved off my apology, “Save that for him.” An agonizing heartbeat passed before he spoke up again, “I’m not letting you get fired, by the way.” My head shot back up as I wondered if I heard him correctly, “William and I will discuss your job status, but I do believe we need you here. You are good with money management, after all.” He let out a heavy sigh, “I just wish we would take your advice for once.” His remark was wistful, as if his hands were tied on the matter. With that, he grabbed the knob, opened the door, and disappeared without another word.

As the door softly closed behind him, I whispered as if he could still hear me, “Thank you.”

I dropped back into my chair, leaning back and resting a hand on my eyes, only peeking through my fingers to see the clock on the wall. It was 6:57 AM. The restaurant was going to open in three minutes. I let out a deep sigh and went to work reorganizing the papers in front of me.

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By the time the clock hit 9:00, I found myself standing in the corner of the party room, watching as children ran around and played in the noise that was Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. Since the new quarter just started, there wasn’t really much data for me to work with in my office. That being said, the first day of a new quarter was always the most uneventful for me. My eyes were glued to the stage, where Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica proceeded to sing and play their instruments as if they weren’t bloodthirsty monsters just hours ago. Posers.

I watched Freddy’s head go on a swivel as his jaw snapped in a variety of robotic positions. His eyes jerked side to side with each movement. Everything about him was unnatural. Yeesh! Even in daylight, these things are creepy! How do kids like this? I would have been pissing myself at their age.

I especially hated them now, knowing what Michael told me about them. His words still seemed to echo in my head. The animatronics walk around at night, and they always make their way to the office in an attempt to kill the security guard. Knowing that Michael risked his life each shift as the place’s current security guard made me nervous, but he made it this far. I knew I had to trust him. He must have been on to something. Despite all of this, the idea that really made me sick seemed to shout the loudest in the back of my mind. I think it has to do with the missing children. I felt nauseous.

I rushed to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face only to pause and realize I couldn’t do that. I looked in the mirror and remembered that I was wearing eyeliner, and that stuff wasn’t cheap. I rested my hands on the cool ceramic of the sink as I looked at my reflection. Damn, do I look good for someone who almost died just this morning.

The only thing amiss was my hair, which I never fixed after Michael held his hand in it. I was surprised my eyeliner didn’t even run, only smudged, since my eyes watered as I was staving off my gag reflex earlier. Remembering that brought back the warm feeling in the pit of my stomach. I never exactly got my own release, but it was worth it just to see and feel him come undone under my touch. Of course, the feeling only intensified into a dull throb between my thighs when I remembered the way he moaned my name. The way he needed me felt as if it could set my very skin on fire. I quickly fixed my hair with a bit of water and left the bathroom. I couldn’t get riled up now when I still had the rest of my shift ahead of me.

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It was 10:30 when I realized that I still hadn’t heard back from Henry. I definitely didn’t want to get fired if it meant I would have to sit at home, doing nothing, with my fingers crossed each night for Michael to come home safely. I was grateful when Henry insisted on saving my job, but I knew William was going to be a hard person to sell the idea to. I didn’t exactly know how their conversations usually shook out, but three and a half hours was a lot of time to be discussing one person’s employment status. That, I knew.

So, I headed over to Henry and William’s shared office to see what was going on. If worse came to worst, I would apologize and beg William for forgiveness. I decided that would be a last resort, since my ego wasn’t too keen on dropping my tail between my legs.

When I approached the door, I saw that a light was on inside the room. I took a deep breath, steeled my nerves, and opened the door. Then, I immediately regretted forgetting to knock, my jaw dropping open in shock.

Everything froze. Even me. I couldn’t move if I wanted to, and I really, really wanted to. The energy in the room came to such a screeching halt that I thought time might have even slowed down. All the air left my lungs as I stared in horrified shock. I never would have thought I’d walk in on William bending Henry over his desk and thrusting into him.

Judging by the scene, they obviously weren’t going the whole time I was waiting for them (three hours would be a hell of a long time to be fucking), but they’d been at it for a while. Henry’s face shone with sweat, his cheeks a warm pink. William was breathing heavily, yet even through his feral gaze I found some sort of loose composure.

We stared at each other in silence for another awkward heartbeat before William finally shouted, “Well? Are ya dumb between your ears? Get out!”

I felt the redness flooding my cheeks as I picked my jaw back up. I was so humiliated, I couldn’t even find a retort to his rude comment, “I- I’m sorry! Oh my god!” I kept struggling for the door as I slapped a hand over my eyes, “Oh my god! Oh my god!” I stumbled out of the room and slammed the door shut. Finally feeling safe enough to open my eyes, I stared at the floor, trying to process what I just saw. Oh my god.

I shuddered, unsure if I was ever going to get over that memory. I didn’t think I would ever see my bosses the same way again…

[pure-ablution]

How do you make and save money?

It’s mostly about increasing your income, and then reducing how much of that income you actually need to spend. This is what I do. Not all of it is technically allowed because of my university’s employment rules, but I haven’t run into trouble yet. It’s not always fun to live frugally, but it allows me to indulge in the things that matter to me.

Increasing income:

I receive a termly stipend as part of my scholarships, covering my rent and utilities and leaving me with a little money left over.

I work at least one shift at the student bar per week, and usually receive tips.

I do part-time paid internships during term-time, and full-time paid internships in most holidays.

I work for my university by taking shifts in the libraries, and working with admissions and outreach.

I offer myself for some compensated research trials and surveys at my uni.

I do online tutoring, mostly to foreign highschoolers whose parents are willing to pay a fortune for my university’s name.

I work freelance in translation services and proofreading in my native languages. This pays by the word.

I offer basic beauty services (waxing, eyebrows, etc.), styling and tailoring/mending services to students at a reduced rate compared to local salons and tailors.

I sell PDF copies of my notes and lecture transcripts to students on my course, and very occasionally write essays for a higher fee.

I babysit/pet-sit/house-sit for my professors, neighbours, and other local families I know.

I receive occasional cash prizes for competitions.

I have some music and poetry published, and receive a little bit of money regularly as royalties.

I sell clothes etc. on behalf of people who are too old or lazy to use online secondhand sites, and take a portion of the cost.

I sell a few printables and some of my embroidery and other handicrafts on Etsy.

I take on any little ‘odd job’ offered to me. Last week I was paid £25 as an extra in a student film production.

I have a few investments, and I withdraw portions of the interest already generated if I feel I need to.

My parents send me a small amount of money every month (something like £75) specifically for groceries.

Reducing outgoings:

All of my tuition is covered by my scholarships, plus a single airfare to and from home per year.

I get all my fish free from my neighbour, and I eat a lot of it.

I get all my milk free, in exchange for doing the eyebrows of the girl who runs the dairy near me.

I buy the rejected fruit and vegetables from the greengrocer’s at the end of the day for a discount.

I buy rice and beans in bulk from the international market a few miles from my house.

I cook everything from scratch at home. Most meals I make come out at less than a £1 spend per portion, because I buy in bulk.

I walk everywhere, and I have a Railcard for when I need to use the train.

I pirate books and movies, or use my university’s libraries. I never, ever pay for books.

I always shop in sales or usually secondhand, and I’m really good at using discount codes.

I don’t bother with fancy salons. I do most of my cosmetic work myself, or I go to independent aestheticians who work from their houses.

I get a friends’ discount with the dry cleaning shop I use, because it’s run by the local monastery and I know most of the monks there.

I don’t have any subscriptions or monthly payments to anything except magazines. My phone and laptop were bought outright for me as a part of my scholarship agreement, and I don’t have a car or any streaming services.

I have a black and white television (the licensing charge for B&W in the UK is significantly lower than colour).

I use a cashback app whenever I buy anything online. It’s only a small percentage, but it adds up over time.

I never buy alcohol. There are more than enough events with free drinks in a student city.

Saturday brunch was recently swapped to a homemade brunch, so now I no longer pay for any meals out at all.

Most of my cleaning products are homemade in the way my grandmother taught me. All you really need is bar soap, white vinegar, lemon juice and a cheap bottle of bleach in your cleaning kit.

I never, ever forget to use my student discount.

[kristsune]

13, 21, 33

thank you for asking!!

13. What talents do you have? hmm.. not sure how to answer this, ive always been so bad at that. i perhaps have a minor talents with painting, watercolors specifically, but i dont practice enough to be really good at it. i feel like i have a decent eye for photography, for composition. ive always enjoyed taking nature photography and i think i am pretty good at it

21. Have you ever been to the hospital? Yes, ive gone to urgent care a couple of times, once when a coworker ran over my foot with a fixture and i needed a few stitches, and once with my ex husband we both had the flu, and he passed out and hit his head and was on blood thinners so we needed to go to hospital to make sure he didnt have a brain bleed, but i was too ill to drive, we panicked and called the ambulance. and both ended up paying a few hundred dollars in fees

33. What do you typically have for breakfast? on days i work i have a bagel with margarine and dairy free cream cheese, and on days off i have cereal.

Feel free to send me asks!