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twistmusings · 2 years ago

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i absolutely adore your writing! can i request jade, leona, malleus, jamil, and trey (just the first four if it's too much :)) with a cheesy s/o or crush? Someone who cracks up at their own puns, and makes really dorky pick up lines (like. really dorky. like, "are you mcdonalds? Because I'm loving it" territory here.) as a friendly joke, but is easily flustered themselves in return? just thought it'd be cute :) hope ur having a good day <33

Thank you! I hope you're having a wonderful day as well!

Some of the TWST boys with a cheesy but easy-to-fluster crush

CW: None, it's all pretty wholesome here! :)

Trey Clover

While Trey himself doesn't make a lot of puns or cheesy jokes, he's more than happy to indulge in a few pranks here and there. They're not the mean sort, thankfully, but it's his own little contribution to the playful nature of their relationship.

He would be lying to say that he wasn't a little impressed with their ability to find new ways to say something that makes him groan at how bad it is.

He'd never really taken their flirting seriously. It was kind of hard to when their idea of flirting was "Oh, you must be the library book I checked out last month because you have 'fine' written all over you." He can't help but to laugh when they say it, but he's never really thought too much about it. Besides, they wouldn't even be the only one of his friends who play-flirts with him even if he did.

He's really, genuinely surprised at how much it seems to fluster them when they're helping him peel apples for a pie and when he says he 'finds them a-peel-ing'. They're unable to speak for several minutes and Trey can't help but to be sort of charmed by it. So they can dish it but they can't take it, huh?

Leona Kingscholar

At first, Leona found their puns insufferable. He couldn't even really look past the fact that they were puns long enough to acknowledge that they were flirting with him, he just sighs loudly in protest everytime they make a pun at him and removes himself from the situation.

They are frighteningly persistent, though. That or they simply genuinely find themself funny, given how much they laugh whenever Leona rolls his eyes at them. It takes him a while, but eventually he stops feeling the need to turn and walk away from them whenever they start making jokes like that. Aside from the jokes, they're really pretty good company otherwise.

Leona doesn't really make many puns, nor does he make many jokes in return. He will pretty rarely, but they rarely seem to land because his idea of a joke is usually just a little mean or threatening. It can be very hard to tell if he's being serious when he says something until he starts smiling.

He starts to notice the pattern after a while-- that they're pretty obviously hitting on him when they make those godawful puns. He privately admires them for it. Not because of the jokes, but because it takes a lot of balls to not only hit on a prince but to hit on Prince Leona. He's well aware of his reputation for being kind of a scheming dick and he really doesn't care, but it's impressive someone so... normal has that kind of bravery in them.

He doesn't acknowledge it for a very, very long time, until one time they whip out the "I'd be lion if I said you weren't cute." He decides to push their boundaries just a little, just to see how they react. He plants an arm over their head against the wall and leans into their space, grinning at them roguishly, and huffs a "Really? Tell me then, herbivore, what do you find so cute. Don't leave out any details." He's never flirted back with them (if this even qualifies as flirting back) so he's a little surprised how quickly they go red in the face and have to scramble to cover their face. Oh? He might just have found his new favorite hobby if he's going to get reactions like this every time.

Jade Leech

Jade is thrilled when he finds someone else who enjoys puns as thoroughly as he does. ("dilly of a pickle" headass.) It's sort of a competition between the two of them to see which of them could make their friends the most exasperated.

Jade is probably the one who picks up on their flirting the fastest (immediately, honestly) and then immediately dishes it right back to them. The "You're a reel catch" has barely left their mouth before he's already snapped back in and instant with "And you must be here to catch me because you're simply a-lure-ing."

He loves the way they immediately clam up on him, and he always ends up grinning at them like the devil while they sputter and get red. Maybe it's a bit sadistic of him, but it's a competition and he's more thank happy to duke it out for title of "best worst flirt".

That being said, they're both absolutely insufferable to the people around them when they do this. Neither they nor Jade know when to quit, and Azul swears between them, Jade, and Floyd he'd going to snap simply from the amount of fish puns in his vicinity.

Jamil Viper

Jamil is definitely not a fan of the puns at first. While he finds them to be a smidge better than Kalim's literal-mindedness, he can't help but to groan and toss an accusatory look at whatever god might be out there whenever they make a pun at him. Exasperation is definitely the name of the game.

Sometimes he really, really wonders why he puts up with it but then he's reminded when they will tell him thank you for even the smallest gestures and just look genuinely happy to see him whenever he stops by even for a couple of minutes. It's... wholesome. At least that's the best word that Jamil could think of to describe it. He feels appreciated, and that far outweighs the suffering their puns cause.

He very quickly notices their puns trend toward flirting with him after the first couple. He's not the sort of person who like to draw attention to himself, though, so he chooses not to bring it up. It's not like he minds, honestly even if the puns kind of suck he appreciates the compliments at any rate.

Eventually one of them snaps him. Specifically it's "Did you just come out of the oven, because you're looking hot." He's had a long day and it's the first thing they say to him and somehow it's so decidedly in their character that he just starts laughing. Genuinely and unrestrained. He would never admit to it, but having them walk right up to him after the hellish day he's had and just make a pun at him kind of felt like a warm hug.

They look a little like they can't decide if they should be worried or proud, so he finally decides he might as well call attention to the common thread he's noticed.

"You know, you sure joke about how good I look a lot. I'm starting to wonder if you've got something you'd like to say to me." Jamil is gratified immediately at how high their voice pitches as they scramble to find something to say back to him but end up unable to make words form. It's sweet, maybe he'll have to bring it up to them later in private, where they can have a proper conversation.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus likes their puns-- actually he finds them to be quite charming... unfortunately for them, his favorite pastime is to pretend he doesn't understand them so that they have to try and explain themself to him. He's well aware of what he's doing, but he does enjoy watching them struggle just a little bit. That's probably mean, but in his defense they're cute when they try to hide their face from him.

He lets them think that he doesn't know that they're hitting on him. He knows. He's quite flattered, actually, though it takes him a long time to warm up to any sort of romantic feelings so he doesn't reciprocate for a while.

When he does, he tries to get them at their own game. And he would have too if only he'd thought it through a little more thoroughly. When he hits them with "Can I have your name or can I just call you 'mine'?" he's really, truly not expecting them to respond and say that Lilia told them they shouldn't 'give' their name to a fae. He ends up laughing because that such an old prank that the fae have played on others that he forgets for the moment that he'd just been foiled in his flirting attempt. He'll circle back to it in a few days once he's had more time to think.

Or, well, he would have, but while they were spending time together they stopped short and said 'Wait.' Then they, rather excitedly, told him they finally grasped what he'd asked them and told him that it was clever and praised him for how good he'd done. Malleus preens, or course, but it's clear that they didn't quite take it the way he'd intended.

He continues to ramp up his attempts to see how long it takes them to catch on. It's kind of a game for him, trying to find clever ways to get them to catch on. Except it doesn't seem to be working. Eventually he gets kind of fed up with it.

"Hey Malleus, looking good. What's your shirt made of, boyfriend material?" "Only if you're the treasure I've been looking for. After all, child of man, you're as dense as gold." Is the exchange that gets it to click for them, and Malleus smiles at them as he watches their expression go from mildly offended to realization to thoroughly embarrassed and unable to meet his eyes. Ah, yes, that's more what he'd been hoping to see. He quietly celebrates his success as they take the time they need to process.

#answered;;#sfw;;#malleus draconia #jade leech #jamil viper #leona kingscholar #trey clover #fluff;;#twisted wonderland #twst

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formeandmyfics · 3 years ago

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Jugenea Fic

IN STITCHES

just a short, random, fun one

1956

New Frontier Hotel

Vegas

It was nearing 4 a.m. when Judy turned out the lamp on the nightstand and snuggled into the feather-down comforter of her hotel bedroom. The darkness, along with the fresh, cool sheets, made her immediately drift off into sleep. As she did so, her mind replayed tonight's events.

She was nearing the end of her contracted show at the hotel. Every show had been a success, and with such a great audience, she was having a blast. Unfortunately, that morning, she had come down with laryngitis. She could speak alright; singing, even a slow melody, her voice had come out raspy and trying any loud or high notes sounded like a good impersonation of Mickey Mouse. She panicked. She could not cancel that show, not just because of financial aspects with the hotel, but because she didn't want to have newspapers write more false claims as to why she cancelled, which some columnists had gotten almost venomous since she left MGM. Most importantly, she also didn't want to disappoint her fans.

With Gene's quick thinking, he contacted their buddy Jerry Lewis, whom was in town, and begged him to help Judy out. Fortunately, he came through, but told both of them, "I'm scared shitless. I don't know what to do out there." Judy was nervous, too! She didn't know how the show would pan out or how the audience would react.

Gene had said to her, "They just want to see you. That’s all. You can sit at the edge of the stage and talk to them about the weather and they'd be happy. That's how magnetic you are, so go and use it. Go out there with Jer' and just have fun."

Jerry did his comedy bits, bantered with Judy, leaving her in hysterical laughter, and they interacted with the audience. Jerry also sang some of her songs, in her normal arrangements, including 'Rock-A-Bye' with Judy as his personal cheerleader by his side. The crowd didn't mind at all that she couldn't perform. It was a very intimate evening, and all-in-all, a smash. She was so very grateful.

After the show, she had a late dinner with Gene and a few friends, including Frank and Lauren, who surprised her by showing up to the show. By 2 in the morning, more people started coming around their booth in the bar and the noise was too much for Judy's exhaustion. Gene wanted to stay there with Frank a bit more so he told her to get some sleep. Giving him a kiss goodnight, she went up to the room. After reading a book, she finally got sleepy and head to bed. And boy, it felt marvelous.

In the downstairs lobby, Lauren shook her head, annoyed, as she walked hastily up to the front desk in the hotel's lobby.

"May I use the house phone, please?"

The receptionist nodded, "Here you are ma'am," then placed the phone on the corner for her.

"Thank you." She immediately dialed the Kelly's hotel suite. When there was no answer, she dialed again, but no answer.

"Dammit, Judes," she murmured as she clicked the phone down. She hoped Judy hadn't taken a sleeping pill.

The Kelly's suite was quiet, and dimly lit, as Lauren entered with Gene's key. The double doors to the bedroom were shut, no light coming from beneath them, so Lauren knew Judy was dead asleep. Still, out of curtesy, she knocked before entering. Walking over to the empty side of the bed, she turned on the lamp there.

“Judy,” with no response, Lauren kneeled on the bed and leaned over to softly shake her friends arm, “Judy. Wake up, hun.”

She stirred before turning, a puzzled look on her face, clearly still more asleep than wake, “Betty?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“What are you doing in my room,” she asked sitting up.

“Something’s happened. Are you awake?”

“What time is it?”

“4. You gotta get up. Gene’s got himself in a dilly,” Lauren said getting off the bed to grab Judy’s silk robe which hung over the vanity chair.

“What do you mean,” she asked alarmed.

“Some drunk asshole kept running his mouth and Gene kept antagonizing him. It ended in a brawl and Gene cut his arm pretty bad.”

Judy bolted out of bed putting her robe on, “Oh my God. Is he alright?”

“He’s okay, but the cut’s pretty deep. He won’t stop bleeding. The bartender gave him a rag to hold on his arm. I told him he needs stitches but he won’t stop arguing with me,” Lauren said as she followed Judy into the living room.

“Where is he now?”

“Downstairs with Frank talking to the house detective.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Judy said upset, “What should I do? I can't go down there like this. Lord knows what would come out in the papers if someone saw us.”

Just then there was a knock on the door and Lauren went over and opened it. Gene came in first, and irritatingly nudged Frank’s hand off his back, as he did so.

“Gene, what the hell have you done now?”

“I’m fine,” he said upset himself before he plopped onto the sofa.

“You’re not fine. You need stitches.”

“I don’t need fucking stitches, Betty. I told you that.”

“Please don’t talk to her like that, let me see,” Judy said sitting next to him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lauren replied unphased, “He’s cranky and has a gash the size of the Grand Canyon. I think it’s all the blood loss that’s messed with the tone in his voice.”

Judy tried not to smile at Lauren’s sarcasm, but Gene shot her a dirty look as if they were siblings. When Judy got the rag off of his arm carefully, she looked at her husband horrified.

“For Christ sakes, Gene.”

“Baby, I’m okay.”

“You’re not okay. You’re still bleeding. Look at the damn rag. It’s soaked,” she cried out.

“He needs a hospital.”

“He’s not going to a hospital because that’s dramatic and a waste of time,” Frank cut in, “Just call the house doctor.”

“I’m not taking him to the hospital or calling the house doctor,” Judy said getting up and walked across the room towards the phone, “If this gets out, people will think he came down with a Judy Garland ailment.”

“Judy,” Gene yelled shocked, then shot her a look over his shoulder, “That’s not funny.”

With the phone to her ear, she waved him off, clearly had been poking fun at her own expense.

“Who are you calling,” Frank asked.

“Tom Jacobs. He came to see the show tonight and is staying at the hotel,” she said of their doctor friend, a prominent Beverly Hills physician, “Maybe he can come look at Gene.”

“You’re going to wake him up at four in the morning,” Gene asked.

“Yes, so my husband doesn’t bleed to death...Hi, Tom? Hi, it’s Judy. I’m so sorry to wake you up, but I don’t know what to do. I’m alright, but Gene’s got himself in a pickle. He cut his arm pretty bad and we think he need stitches...”

“I DON’T NEED STITCHES,” Gene yelled interrupting her.

Judy continued, looking at her husband upset and yelled back at Gene covering the receiver with her hand, “He DEFINITELY needs stiches! Ok. Yes. Room 209. Thank you, darling. Buh bye.”

She walked on back over to Gene and sat down next to him again, “Why did you antagonize him, especially when you know he’s a drunk. You know I hate that stuff,” she said in a stern, wifely manner.

“If you heard the things he was saying, you would have thrown your martini in his face,” Gene retorted leaning his head back against the couch tired.

“Judging by what he was saying, she would have thrown it on his crotch,” Frank agreed.

“How hammered are you,” Judy asked.

“Scale?”

She sighed impatiently, “1-10.”

“4.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“No,” Lauren interrupted, “He didn’t drink that much.”

“I can attest,” Sinatra added.

When Gene rolled his head to look at her with a ‘see’ expression, she smiled, softening.

“What did the house detective say,” Lauren asked her buddy next to her.

“Threw the guy out and I sweet-talked him and he let us go,” Frank quipped quite proud.

“Are you in pain,” Judy asked sweeping some of his hair back with her fingers.

“No. Can't really feel my arm right now.”

“Can you feel this,” she asked and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“That I can definitely feel.”

When the doctor came, Lauren and Frank said their goodbyes to give them privacy. Tom looked Gene over and took his vitals.

“Well, here’s the deal, bud,” Tom said, “Your vitals are great. Your blood pressure is just a little high but that’s to be expected after what happened. And your wife is right. You definitely need stitches.”

“Fuck,” Gene said to himself.

Judy looked at Tom and whispered, “He hates needles.”

“Tell ya what, pal, I’m gonna give you some happy juice so while I suture you up, you won’t feel a thing.”

Judy lit herself a cigarette as the doc worked on Gene’s stitches, who looked like he was asleep. She paced slowly back and forth. The movement caught Gene’s eye and his head slowly rolled to look at her. He tried focusing his eyes a moment, and when he did, he made a silly grin.

“Hey, you.”

Judy stopped in her tracks and looked over at him, exhaling.

“How are you feeling?”

“Come here,” he said and reached his free arm out towards her, lazily.

“Gene, don’t move, please,” the doc said looking through his magnifying glasses.

Judy immediately went over and took that hand so he wouldn’t continue to move.

“You’re beautiful.”

Judy let out a surprised chuckle, “Even at the crack of dawn, huh?”

“Is that what it is?”

“Pretty much.”

“You look familiar.”

Judy’s eyes widened and she looked up at Tom who just smiled not lifting his eyes, “Don’t worry about him. It’s the same effect as if he’s coming off anesthesia. He’ll be fine.”

“Well, you look familiar, too,” Judy played along.

“I’m Gene Kelly,” he stated proudly, but still with a slurred speech.

“Nice to get reacquainted, I’m Judy Kelly.”

His smile faded and he furrowed his eyebrows, “We have the same last name? Oh, no, you're not my sister are you?”

Judy let out a laugh but quickly cleared her throat, “No, darling, I’m your wife.”

“What’s your maiden name?”

“What an odd question. You want my maiden name or my given name?”

“Pick.”

“Well, you probably remember me more as Judy Garland.”

“Wait,” Gene went to sit up but Judy pushed him back, “I married Judy Garland?”

“Yeeeees,” she teased.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled to himself which made her laugh again.

“Oh my goodness,” she giggled.

“How long we been hitched?”

“5 years.”

“How can I not remember this? Where have I been this whole time?”

“You’ve been with me...dancing me off my feet and giving me two little Kelly’s.”

“We got kids?”

“Yes, sir,” she said reaching for her cigarette again, “A four-year-old girl and a one-year-old boy.”

“Can I see them?”

“I’m sorry, darling,” she giggled feeling a tad uncomfortable with her husband’s temporary amnesia, “Your parents came and took them home with them a few days ago. We’ll be with them again next week when we leave here. Tom,” Judy said a bit worried, “How long is this going to last?”

“Oh, it’ll wear off in about an hour, if not sooner. It’s a completely normal reaction, Judy, don’t worry yourself.”

“I’m worried he’ll want to re-do our honeymoon and have two more kids in that next hour since he can’t remember,” she teased.

They both suddenly heard Gene softly snoring and Judy felt relieved.

“I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about that. He’s going to have a very restful night’s sleep.”

“He’s such an idiot sometimes,” she said looking at her cute, sleeping husband, “But he’s my idiot.”

#judy garland #gene kelly #jugenea #fan fic

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beyondtheciouds · 5 years ago

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Vampires, Stale Scones, and Lucie Herondale

Part 1.

Lucie was in way over her head.

Her body trembled as she bit down on her lower lip to keep from sobbing or screaming, she isn’t sure which. Panicked, all she can think about is the pretty boy’s gleaming fangs. Oh, if only I had listened. She had gotten herself into more than a dilly of a pickle this time. I should have been more careful, she thinks, frowning. A frustrated sigh escapes her chapped lips, knowing all too well the trouble she’s in. Her lips, puffy, and sliced up turn down as she pries the bent hairpin into the lock for the hundredth time. “Ugggghhh.” She wriggles her wrist, sore, and raw underneath the metal handcuff. James…where are you?

Lucie’s ink-stained fingers are a blur as her hands twist and turn the pin in the keyhole, hoping for a break. She all but tries not to think of the fanged boy or the hungry way he had stared at her.

Beautiful was the first word that had come to her mind when he appeared last night. A silhouette against the light of the moon, he had snuck into her cell and stood beside the pole she was chained to. He was watching her the way a predator might watch prey. He kept sniffing the air and licking his lips.

Lucie tried to act unnerved but her blood was heating and her skin was tingling. She felt disgusting; her dress torn and ruined; stained with her blood. Her face and hands were dirty, the nails on her fingers bitten down to the quick from nerves and pain.

His face was arresting. Much like Jesse’s, it had made her heart stop. Sharp lines and all angles, his face had shapes that made sense on statues. Long lashes made his eyes wider and cherub lips could have easily disguised the boy as an angel. Lucie knew better, or she thought she did when she stared back into his gleaming red eyes.

Lucie hears shuffling and looks up, almost hopeful. It has been two days since Grace kidnapped her and brought her to this prison tower. Damp and smelling worse than Bridget’s infamous cabbage stew, Lucie found herself repeatedly gagging or gasping for air during the night. Desperate to get out of her nightmarish fairytale, she had thought about calling to the dead for help, like she had before, but the thought of those rotting and decaying bones in the corner rising to greet her had her dismissing the idea instantly. Gast.

A glance up and amongst the cobwebs, she discovers a window carved into the stone. It is small, but she knows she will be able to fit. It is about thirty feet up and Lucie wonders if she ought to try and scale the wall once she’s able to break the lock. Noises and voices in the stairwell cause her to refocus and stare into the dark. She stuffs the pin back into her hair, mousey curls half hanging down her back. “James?” she whispers, her blue eyes peering eagerly into the shadows. “Is that you?”

Unexpectedly, Tatiana turns the corner. Her face is stern and her eyes are hard and unforgiving under the pale yellow light of mundane candles. Lucie immediately shrinks back into the darkness, unintentionally pulling on her restrained wrist. She gives a little yelp of pain as Tatiana appears before Lucie’s cell. Lucie struggles to catch her breath.

A smile is on Tatiana’s wicked face, “Oh, your brother isn’t coming to save you, dear.” She spits the word at Lucie and clasps her hands in front of her.

Lucie scowls, kicking the six stale scones off the plate and onto the ground. “He will save me. You don’t know my brother. He and his friends will go to the ends of the earth for me.“

Grace snorts at Lucie as she stops beside her mother. Her gray eyes are cool and calm, matching the man all decked out in silver moving to stand beside her. “Sorry, Lucie. Not this time.”

“What have you lunatics done with James!? I demand to know!” Lucie screams, her knees giving out. She drops to the ground, refusing to cry.

The man slowly raises a silver eyebrow at Lucie, pulling her attention to him. His arms are crossed over his chest and the robes he wears sway around his ankles without a breeze. Lucie glares at the man, getting to her feet. She can’t help but noticing that he isn't young or old, but he looks young enough to be her father. Middle-age. The more she stares, the more she feels an odd sense of recognition and the man somehow seems older to her than he looks. Lucie can’t shake it. The feeling, it’s like a parent that won’t give up nagging. His eyes are deep and fathomless, saturated like small stars. Those eyes remind her of somewhere… someone.

The silver man grins, his perfect teeth stark white against his skin. “So this is the darling Lucie,” he croons, his voice thick and sickly sweet like honey. The way he says her name strikes a chord in Lucie and it makes her more apprehensive. “Beautiful and sweet.”

Lucie scowls at the man, goosebumps flooding her flesh as she pulls her manners together. “You may refer to me as Miss Herondale, Mr…?”

The man grins and it is not friendly, “How is your mother, darling? You must tell her and your father I say hello.”

“Who are you?” Lucie squints, still feeling shaken and it isn’t just the man’s offbeat smile or the strange look in his eye.

“Oh, Lucie. Tsk, tsk that you cannot recognize your own kin.” He smiles, deadly and determined to shatter her mind. “I am Belial, your grandfather.”

Lucie gasps, her blue eyes wide with a new fear. “No. You can’t be..”

Tatiana smiles and takes a slight pleasure in the shock on Lucie’s face. Lucie had forgotten she was watching the sideshow. “You did not know, my dear? James did not mention Belial to you?” she asks, eager for a taste of Lucie’s misery. If she can’t destroy Will right now, she’ll settle for starting with his children.

Lucie grimaces, pulling her gaze from the man calling himself her grandfather. She turns and eyes Grace accusingly, “We have a deal, Grace. Remember?”

Grace smiles bitterly, ”We had a deal, past tense.”

“I don’t understand,” Lucie says, scratching her head. She plays dumb for the audience, but she knows this is really between her and Grace.

Grace’s face is concrete; hard and unforgiving like her mother’s. “Don’t play dumb, Lucie. I saw you.”

“What did you see?” Lucie has to ask politely, but she is scowling.

Grace sighs and shuts her mouth. At least she has the decency to keep Lucie’s secret from Tatiana and Belial. Her gray eyes are steel and Lucie knows what Grace knows. I saw you kissing Matthew.

Lucie chews on her bottom lip. The kisses; moments that were stolen between her and her brother’s parabatai had happened more than once. Actually, in the last few weeks, it had been many times, more than Lucie was willing to admit to. Lucie thought they were being discreet. She hadn’t wanted to tell anyone although Matthew wanted to put his family ring on her finger and shout his love for her from London’s rooftops. Lucie thought about it and Cordelia nearly had convinced her that she could heal Matthew; fix him.

Lucie knew which time Grace had been referring to. That night Lucie had felt the chill of a ghost on her back and she knew it wasn’t Jessamine.

One mistake made under the moonlight in Brocelind Forest had caused this nightmare of a mess. The last two days she had been telling herself she wasn’t in love with Matthew. She kept making her mind believe she had made a huge mistake and would make it up to Jesse. Math was like a brother to her… wasn’t he? Jesse was the one for her.

She was Jesse’s girl.

Belial looks on unfazed by the tantrums of two girls. His silver eyes remain on Lucie as if she is a prize-winning animal, his smile thin at the secrets the girls hold between them. “Well now, what do you have to say for yourself, darling?”

“Where is my brother?” Lucie demands again, ignoring his question. She turns cold, blue eyes to him. She gives it her best shot. “I want to speak to Jamie.”

“James is indisposed at the moment. He will be along to join you shortly, my darling.” Belial says, waiting for her to calm down. “For now, let’s talk about your powers.”

Lucie is horrified but tries to play it cool. How does he know about her abilities? She furrows her brown eyebrows, trying to be steel although she withers like a flower inside. “I have no demon powers, I do not have a clue as to what you are talking about.” Lucie pauses and then takes a tentative step forward out of the darkness and into the sunlight streaming in from the window. “I want to see my brother.” She stomps her feet like she did when she was seven and James blamed her for setting the couch on fire.

Belial chuckles, the sound reverberating through the hollow hallway.”Oh, you are a firey darling, aren’t you?” He pauses, considering. “You remind me of your mother at that age. She was beautiful, all passion and righteousness.“ He smiles, the insidiousness at her mother’s chosen life direct. “Your mediocre Shadowhunter future isn’t far off from hers, darling.”

“Stop calling me that!” Lucie shouts as she tugs on her shackled wrist, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Oh, Little Lucie how you underestimate yourself. I suppose, my darling you would. Being second to James and all.”

He is testing her, that much Lucie had already figured out. She keeps her mouth shut, letting the fact that she is usually overlooked when it comes to Jamie simmer in her blood. She will store that fuel inside her head and use it later on the lock when they are gone.

Scuffling in the stairwell and shouting causes Tatiana and Grace to turn their attention away from Lucie. Several long moments later, noises in the hallway send unwelcome shivers up Lucie’s spine as Belial grins at her. Lucie’s mouth is suddenly dry and her eyes dart towards the sounds. James? Cordelia?

A moment passes and then the fanged boy from last night appears in the shadows of the mundane torches. Several of the torches line the wall across from her cell. They emit a very low light, casting ominous shadows. The hall is dark, but Lucie can still see every detail of the fanged boy’s face. Impatient and nervous, she shuffles her feet.

The shadows move and Lucie notices the fanged boy is dragging another boy by his hands. The boy is dressed in familiar gear and is kicking and screaming. His hair is a mop of sunshine that Lucie recognizes.

”Heathen from the underworld let me go! I am the Consul’s son and you are hereby violating the accords, vampire!“

The fanged boy is undaunted by the other boy’s antics and continues to drag the blonde boy towards Lucie’s cell without hesitation. Lucie blinks, not believing her eyes. Not James. Not Cordelia. Matthew.

Matthew came to save her.

The vampire grins and tightens his grip on the boy as he hauls him across the smooth stone floor. "Look what’ I found lurking ‘round the back,” he announces as though this spectacle is staged. “an’ he’s lookin’ for her.” The vampire jerks his head in Lucie’s direction and Belial grins approvingly. “Two dead Shadowhunters are better than one.”

Tatiana breaks a rare smile, genuinely filled with insanity. “Herondale. Fairchild. Check, check.”

“Let go!” Matthew yells again, trying to yank his hands out of the other boy’s tight grip. “My neck is far too dirty to have fangs sunk into it this early in the morning! I’m too young and beautiful to be eaten alive!”

“Relax, I’m not going to eat you, Shadowhunter.”

The fanged boy’s face is calm and collected although his lips turn up at the corners. "Turns out, I’m not very fond of angelic blood so you get to continue to sit and be chained to the pretty one.” He laughs lowly and then stops when he catches Lucie watching him.

Matthew is still carrying on, talking fast like a maniac. The fanged boy moves in a blur. Suddenly, he is close enough that Lucie can see the color of his eyes has changed. They are no longer red, but blue like hers. Actually, as pale as ice, nearly white. Lucie takes a tiny step forward, careful not to pull her chain. She had picked up on his slight accent and now struggles to place the lilt. Ireland? Scotland? Wales? Australia?

“Let me go, you son of a—” Matthew screams, disrupting Lucie’s thoughts on the vampire’s origin and language. Matthew is stubborn, dragging his legs then kicking the air behind him as he is pulled along. He wiggles and twists his fit body defiantly.

Lucie gasps when he turns his face towards the cell, but she is not shocked to find those familiar dark green eyes simmering with rage. “Matthew? What are you doing here?”

The door of the cell opens and Lucie rushes forwards on instinct, only to be yanked back with a yelp of pain. She steps back until the chain is loose once more. “Where’s Jamie?”

“Luce—” Matthew says on a halted breath, his eyes wide. “I came to rescue you like one of your knights in shining armor.” A charging grin sweeps onto his face as he is tossed to the floor of the cell. Lucie has never been so excited to see him in all her life. This means Jamie isn’t far behind, she thinks and smiles to herself.

Matthew as he so often does makes the mistake of taking her eagerness for something else. “Luce,” he says again, his mouth softening. The door locks behind him with a loud clang that echoes through the tower. Matthew tries to stand when the fanged boy hauls him to his feet. He grips Matthew’s arm and pulls him over to the rotten, wooden pole that Lucie is shackled to.

Matthew’s dark green eyes soften at the sight of Lucie alive, relief on his face clear like stream water rushing over rocks. “Are you hurt, Luce? Everyone has been out looking for you. I-I was worried for you.” He eyes her dirty dress stained with blood. “What happened? Luce, are you sure you are alright?”

Lucie breathes her own sigh of relief and her heart melts at Matthew’s genuine concern. She hastily lifts her free arm when he is pushed against her. His body curves around her and she fits beside him like she was made for him.

The thoughts of his naked body beside hers don’t escape her and she sighs, disappointed in herself. She needs Matthew to keep quiet because she cannot have anyone knowing about the two of them and their misdeeds. She will be ruined and sent away like Eugenia.

Unless Matthew proposes and she accepts. Then she will be no better than Cordelia, settling for a lie.

Matthew leans into her delicate shoulder and starts smelling her hair. He gently kisses the bruises on her cheek and the act is so intimate she finds herself nuzzling into him. On instinct, his arms wrap comfortably around her waist, his strong, calloused hands rest easily on her lower back. He feels like home.

“No, Math–not really,“ Lucie says into his shoulder as she hears her heart thrumming like a drum in her ears.

“Good,” Matthew says, breathing heavily. “I’m so glad I found you, Luce. I-I mean, we would be lost without you.”

The fanged boy glances at Matthew, stunned by his honest omission to Lucie while she takes it as a grain of salt. The words bounce off her ears and she flinches. Pale blue eyes watch them for a long moment but the vampire boy does not comment when he continues to shackle Matthew’s foot to Lucie’s foot. The noises of the chain moving draw Lucie’s gaze down for only a minute before her eyes return to Matthew’s expectant face. For a moment he looks the way he did as a child; happy even in a nightmare of a situation.

The fanged boy glances up curiously at Lucie when she isn’t looking. He smiles as the lock around her foot clicks into place. “All set, love.”

Amid her nightmare, Lucie cannot help but believe there is a deeper meaning to Matthew’s words as he stares into her eyes. Lucie is so close, she can see the sweat and stubble beading on his top lip and the bags under those brilliantly mossy eyes.

The thought of being engaged to Matthew frightens Lucie. She tells herself these wild thoughts unnerve her because she always assumed she was just a passing phase for him. Lucie had accepted the fact that she was a childhood memory that he needed to hold onto and one day would let go. Her heart is turned upside down at the truth, her mind swirling with alternative scenarios.

Now she realizes she may have been more all along to the Consul’s second son.

“Where is Jamie, Math?” Lucie, asks, shoving her feelings aside. Matthew pushes a loose curl away from her eyes as the fanged boy moves away from the two of them. Lucie breathes in Matthew’s clean scent, searching for a whiff of brandy. To her delight, she finds none.

Matthew looks up, a frown forming on lips that Lucie can still feel on hers even days later. “I lost track of him when this monster,” he gestures to the fanged boy now leaning against the wall, watching the two of them with minimal curiosity. “caught me yesterday. He held me in the dungeon until now.”

Lucie wants to shake him until his brain rattles in his skull. "Matthew, did you leave Jamie behind? How could you? Where is my brother?"

Matthew shrugs, sighing at the bombard of questions coming from Lucie. “I don’t know, Lu. I..I can’t feel any movement within my rune, but it isn’t fading either.” He pauses, sounding distant, his eyes far as he lifts the sleeve of his gear jacket to show her. “It is unusual, Lucie.”

Lucie wrinkles her forehead, wishing for a wooden spoon ladle to whack him with. “Where did you last see Jamie, Math? It is very, very important you remember!”

Matthew looks over at her solemnly, and it strikes Lucie how rough sobriety looks on him even as the panic about her brother sets in. “James left me five miles from here. In the forest, he heard screaming. Cordelia had been with us until she got lost after two demons attacked us. James and I killed them, but she got mixed up and ran the other direction.” He pauses, thinking. “James went off to find Cordelia. She is missing too, Lucie. You couldn’t feel it either?” He blinks, staring at the brand-new parabatai rune glistening on her pale neck.

Lucie’s skin heats and she rests her head on Matthew’s shoulder to hide from his intense gaze, “We have to get out of here,” she whispers. “We need to find James and Cordelia.”

Grace scowls, her iron eyes on Lucie. She has pretended not to hear Matthew and Lucie talking. “Don’t get too comfortable with Matthew, Lucie. Remember he has a bad reputation; scandalous. ”

Grace is trying to be snide and cruel, but Lucie had never cared about Matthew’s devious past. Besides, she knew a lot more about Matthew Fairchild than she let on, nevermind that Lucie had already been corrupted by his charms.

And wouldn’t it be fun for a while? Something interesting to write about. A love triangle about a childhood friend, a girl, and a ghost.

Grace continues talking over the conspirative whispers of Tatiana and Belial who are watching Lucie with strange looks on their faces. “Here’s your warning, Lucie. Jesse will be out and about soon and I know he wants to have words with you.”

Tatiana’s ears perk up and she shakes her head at the sound of her son’s name. Lucie blinks, looking up. She glares at Grace, then Tatiana. Lucie watches the ugly bird on Tatiana’s awful looking hat bobbing from side to side like it is drunk. Under pressure, she tries not to laugh like a lunatic.

“He will do no such thing. I will not have him fraternizing with these two and besides, I need him tonight.” Tatiana spits, glaring at Lucie and then Matthew.

Grace turns, perplexed. She glances at her mother and Lucie notices Belial shift, uncomfortable. “For what purpose?” Grace asks, crossing her arms over her pale pink day dress.

“Never you mind,” Tatiana says sternly to Grace. She turns on her heel as if she means business and nods her head to Belial. “Let’s be on our way. There are issues to be discussed in private. Come now, Grace and Aiden. ”

Grace shakes her finger at Lucie before following her mother. “You better not disappoint Jesse, Lucie.”

Aiden, the vampire boy bows to Lucie and then vanishes into the shadows. Belial turns to follow Tatiana, but not before he says over his shoulder, “Our conversation is not over, darling Lucie.”

***

Later on, the moon is shining and someone had left another plate of scones at the door while Lucie and Matthew were asleep. A rat pulls on one of the hard pastries with his teeth, broke and sharp. Spiders and other bugs crawl over the others.

It’s a good thing I’m not hungry, Lucie thinks as she eyes the rodent wearily. Lucie and Matthew sit on the hay strewn stone floor chained to each other. Lucie had tried to unlock the lock around Matthew’s foot but failed miserably after several attempts.

One would think this would be pleasant, Matthew thinks as another awkward silence consumes the space between them. He twists his hands in his lap, unsure about what to say. He didn’t mean to lose James and Cordelia, it just sort of happened.

Lucie sits with her chained wrist over her head, sullen and dreary, lost in her own world. After several hours of being chained to her, Matthew was left to assume she didn’t want to lie to him. He considered that might be why she was keeping quiet about Jesse.

The truth was, Matthew felt suffocated by the unexpected thought of another boy wanting his Lu. He was jealous in a way he did not expect to be. He felt threatened.

He had spent years pining for Lucie; lost years denying himself a chance at something real with her. He had kept her and James believing it was a phase, of which he’d get over. And he did until he fell for her again.

Now, after freeing himself of guilt and shame, he has Lucie. Opening up to her, he finds out there is someone else. Someone else who possibly loves her more than him.

Determined to get space, Matthew had moved away from Lucie as much as he could when she refused to answer him. Now, he can no longer deal with the elephant in the room. He has to know.

”Luce,“ he begins, glancing at her. He has placed his hands on his knees, drawn up to his navel. His look is pensive as if he is afraid of her answer. The shoe had seemed to be on the other foot now. He never considered Lucie being with someone other than himself.

It sounds selfish, but it is true.

Lucie seems to come to life at the sound of her name on his lips. It is music to his ears as she starts humming one of her father’s light, Welsh tunes. A light brown curl falls in slow motion into her blue eyes when she turns her skyward gaze to his face. "Yes, Math?"

Matthew is stunned by how beautiful she looks even in a dingy cell with her clothes stained and torn. Lucie belongs in a fairytale and for a brief moment, Matthew is silent as he imagines the story she could write.

To Matthew, for years she had sounded and looked like an angel. For as long as he dared to admit, Lucie Herondale had invaded his dreams. Even when he was with others, he always seemed to dream of Lucie. She had become the first dream of his life and even if this didn’t last, he would still dream of her. Nevermore than in this moment with her face turned up to his did he want her swollen lips on his, but he forced himself to ask the question he knew she didn’t want to answer instead.

His voice is small, heartbroken. “Do you love Jesse Blackthorn?”

#the last hours #cassandra clare #lucie herondale #fanfiction #au #matthew fairchild #grace blackthorn #tatiana blackthorn #belial #part 1 of 3

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drawingfromthevoid · 4 years ago

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i was tagged by @dillislazii and @sinister--potato <3 much love, sorry this took me so long!

relationship status: taken hehe

favorite color(s): i love yellow and pink like mega mega

three favorite foods: hmmm def brownies, white pizzas, and... green grapes

song stuck in my head: Juanita by Le Wolves ! it’s so good, my sister recommended it to me recently and i haven’t been able to stop listening to it or get it out of my head

last song i listened to: Ruthless by the Marias

last thing i googled: “roma children denied school in europe” it was for a french assignment but fr that situation is such a mess. i dont remember how recent it is tho

time: 5:39 am.

dream trip: i get on the next plane to arizona with my best friends. we spend a week or so road tripping through just arizona and california until we reach oregon, then we road trip across the us to new york. we stay there for a few days before catching a plane to london, where we stay another few days before taking a train to every country we can, which we stay in for a few days or a week each.

anything i really want: now? that dream trip bro. but in general. just a few days with my closest friends all hanging out in person.

i’m tagging @hvcore also what abt that dream trip bro. 👀 w dilly pickle too. haha jk, unless 🥺👉👈

#fr tho ily guys #tag game

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mil-unloaded · 4 years ago

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I purposefully tried to keep today fairly low key because yesterday I had a really rough time. I just got like 30 something minutes of Just Dance in because P wanted to get us to 1000 Mojo points (Whatever that means), and that’s cool. I’m about to go grab a shower. I ate a bagel for breakfast and a mini pizza for lunch. We’re trying to clear out the freezer and pantries a bit, so it’s going to be questionable feasts for a bit. Not even caring, just want to get through October and November spending as little as possible. December shouldn’t be nuts, either, but usually we drop a little on Christmas presents. We decided I think, that we’re going to a deconstructed chacuterie board in a bag. I can make jam, pickled stuff, etc, J can smoke some cheese and nuts, and we can toss in some nice crackers and give a gift card so people can get deli meats if they so desire. I’m not sure on that last part though. They can splurge on that themselves (unless we toss in a summer sausage or something. We’re both vegetarian—well, John is a pescatarian). Anyway...

My brother A called me today to ask if I could make him some dilly beans because one of his friends is visiting from out of town and has never had them. I told him too short of notice, but maybe next week I can get it done for him and he can mail them to his friend (he lives in Oregon, so it shouldn’t be stupid expensive to ship a jar or two). Also for the record, dilly beans are dill pickled green beans, and they are delightful.

I decorated with a few Halloween dollar tree garlands. P helped me hang them up. The added color kind of kicks up the festivity feeling, but he keeps asking me if it’s time for Halloween yet. Heh. So I’ll probably make a sign, laminate it, and let us count down the days until Halloween every day. I’m trying to figure out what all we’re going to do. Probably just hide some mini jack-o-lanterns and hunt for them a la an Easter Egg Hunt. He said he wanted to be Mario for Halloween, lucky for us he already has pajamas. Hah.

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fdhfjdafdajfa · 5 years ago

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tl;dr I’m a homeless sex trafficking refugee in third world poverty and I’m fleeing again for my safety.

the old post got too long

my life so far

again hi it’s me vivi or pearl or sibyl. some of my old urls are whimslcott, fistdeserver, lalondeite, and there are a whole lot more I don’t remember. my history on this website starts in 2009, when all my friends got called out for things like stabbing people and trafficking me for sex. i've been reforging my entire personality in this dark crucible from before we realised that softboys watching my little pony wasn’t going to revolutionise gender relations, and, as should surprise nobody by now, i am in need of some assistance.

back when i lived in USA, my primary source of income was social security disability. i made some posts about how shit it was. before i got on SSD, I was homeless for six years, which I hope helps bring home how much I needed it. but when i got sick of spending my whole life waiting for an awkward reunion with my sex traffickers I fucked off to a completely different part of the world. because I did that SSDI cut me off and i’m now without a source of income, but I’ve had tumblr come through before in a pinch. my list of mental health diagnoses is as extensive as you might imagine. i imagine i’ve cycled through about half the DSM by now and it’s not like I have access to a therapist right now. Let’s just say I have a lot of post-traumatic stress and leave it at that.

anyway, in addition to the big list of horrific disabilities i still have, there’s also a big allcaps notice on my visa saying NO WORK/BUSINESS so that’s that on that. i’ve asked a few ngo-people about it but they mostly just kinda make :/ expressions and then tell me they’ll look into it. But my visa status requires me to periodically throw lump sums of a couple hundred dollars at the Indian embassy about once a year or so and if I don’t have that I’ll go from being a kind of hoopty immigration status to being straight-up undocumented and nobody wants that.

since my legal immigration status is kind of hoopty, I haven’t been able to get things like a bank account and am dependant on my roommate for stuff like that. as such I don’t have anything like a venmo or an impactguru.

i have these things:

https://ko-fi.com/vivyansarlas https://www.paypal.me/pcoolpearl https://www.patreon.com/vivyansarlas

while I’m technically capable of *surviving* for another few months off of what’s left of my savings, attempting to isn’t a very good idea. my computer is starting to age a bit, my cell phone fell off a 13th story window almost a year ago and so is not really functional, i really need new clothes, and i’ve got a few neglected medical needs, like therapy and jaw surgery. also, my meds are about $30 a month. this is to say I need to have some income so I can start working out a plan for these issues in the medium-to-long term.

aside from my web presence, which is pretty good these days (ask me about my twitter), i’m also working on my first book, which is about 3/7ths of the way complete by current trajectory and I've gotten publishing offers from a couple pieces of shortform I’m working on.

my current living situation

i am currently homeless. the earlier iteration of this post was about how I lived in a shitty delhi slum flat that was extremely injurious and hazardous to my health due to heat and dust. as of writing the earlier iteration, I had been suffering from heat stroke on and off for about a week, and had given up trying to sleep In the flat itself, and had started straight up carrying my mattress out onto the roof.

hilariously enough, my situation has gotten immeasurably worse since then. my roommate had a lot of personal flaws I’d been making excuses for, because as anyone who knows me will tell you, I’d rather make excuses and trust people and run the risk of getting screwed over every now and again. when my roommate snapped and started verbally abusing and threatening me for like. hours a day. i figured no problem, it’s not too hard to find a place to live here.

i made a miscalculation. what i didn’t account for is that in the past 2 months all the hindus have gone crazy and now there are hindus who keep mass reporting my posts in the housing groups so I can’t use housing groups anymore. there’s a lot more info on that on the old post. but between them and other subtle changes in hindus in delhi i’m really feeling like it’s time to get the fuck out of dodge.

the political situation making me unsafe

it’s hard to impress just how bad things have gotten over here. so here’s some news articles to do it for me.

You know India’s democracy is broken when millions wait for election results in fear

A country where some live with fear has failed

This Is What Young Muslim Voters Are Thinking About This Election: “I keep fearing something like the holocaust can happen here.”

This is pretty much ground consensus. Delhi is no longer safe for Muslims. Period. it doesnt really even matter how the election goes. what matters is that hindus are crazy now and can’t be peacefully coexisted with. Now that I have seen what this monstrous religion is I can’t go back to pretending not to know how they’re just dormant until the next riot or election when they will become rabid dogs again. the coordinated reporting campaigns against me, a homeless muslim trying to find a place to live, are absolutely targeted hate violence and the only reason i’m alive is because it happened behind a computer screen.

the person i was going to stay with from the 21st on has also left the state so i’m packing up and going to muslim-majority kashmir, which from everything i’ve heard is way safer than you’d expect with the extreme levels of militarisation. i guess i’ll find out! i do not have any plans for what to do once I am in Kashmir or any idea of where I am staying. It is a scouting mission to find stuf like that out. that’s the level of desperation we’re dealing with right now.

i’m really in a dilly of a pickle here so it’s definitely a “future deeply uncertain, every bit helps” type situation.

https://ko-fi.com/vivyansarlas https://www.paypal.me/pcoolpearl https://www.patreon.com/vivyansarlas

#signal boost #add testimonies about me perhaps

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leaveharmony · 6 years ago

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Didn't sleep for so much as five minutes the entire night, monday. The bed was a torture device and the pillows were either paper thin or rock hard, both of them snored the whole time, intermittant airplane comings and goings and the absolutely unbearable agony of my left ear all contributing.

I don't even remember what set off the complete emotional breakdown at the airport but exhaustion was probably a contributing factor...by the time I had to strip my jewelry, put Daryl and my stuff in a baggage scanner and relinquish my goddamned shoes, and then when I got to the other side only to find nobody ready to help me take everything backdown..the trays just kept going and I had no idea what I was doing, shoeless and waiting for Daryl and my hat and jacket and shoes to reappear, struggling to get my carryon bag down again alone and then trying to pull it with my elbow while lifting the other tray to the table - idk where the fuck numbnuts had gone but mum got pulled aside because her intended carryon had been too big so she had to rearrange some things but forgot to move the shampoo, conditioner and body wash to the checked bag, so they took all three of them away from her and I think that was when I really started sobbing and hyperventillating bc it was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Anyway nobody cared. We ended up with no preplanning on the same flight as aunt Diane and her wife Jan, running into them by complete accident outside one of the checkpoints, so we had a small...I guess it was breakfast idk, I hadn't slept and I was all fucked up, anyway I had just like hashbrowns. We found one small bottle of head and shoulders which...didn't make me feel much better tbh because it was mainly conditoner I was worried about, and washing. Smol Daryl was eyeing a plushie panda that came with its own purse carrier but I had to remind him we don't have much space. We were essentially right at the front of the plane on account if numbnuts and his expensive tickets...it wasn't so bad at first but with the pain in my ears preventing much earplug use and one guy who kept coughing every five minutes like clockwork, I didn't sleep then either (that was emotional breakdown/panic attack #2) Took some pictures that I'll have to sort through later. My dumb ass was trying to overlay a map of the Fallout: New Vegas over the landscape as we progressed towards the end. There were canyons one or none of which may have been grand, a large lake which may or may not have been Meade, a desert which may or may not have been the Mojave...which I in my addlement refered to as the 'Sahara' when trying to convey this to mum, who of course did sleep. Landing was...very abrupt lol. We met back up with Diane and Jan and I of course was the one who spotted the right baggage claim area even as they tried go the other way. "24 hours awake and I'm still more on the ball than you people," I said. Our shuttle driver was a lovely personable gentleman who by the accent and hand tattoos may or may not have been an ex russian mobster. Very fond of Top Gear lol. He told us why so many of the trees out in the hills are grey, which seems obvious in hindsight (drought). At some point my dumbass brother texted to say the shuttle should drop us off in Julian and not the resort proper, maybe due to checkin times, IDK. So we found a small general store and replenished our lost toiletries (I also bought 89c ramen as emergency rations lol), then found a place to eat, which I believe was called the Julian Grill. The lady at the desk was a saint and made room for all our luggage around the table. Had a fucking amazing veggie sandwich...portobello and tomato and lettuce, swiss cheese I think, pesto mayo, avocado. And the most amazing potato salad I've ever put in my mouth lol. Relish and sweet pickles and like a dilly-celery kinda flavour, goddamn. I could have eaten three times as much. That was unfortunately when the fatigue finally caught up with me, sometime around the 27 hour mark...more unfortunately Jon had still been en route and then had to check in himself (w/Doris, obviously) and empty the car...then of course in this town w/like 4 streets he couldn't find us, so we stood outside for like a half hour. He drove past once, squinting anywhere but at us like a dumbass apple out of the dumbass tree who stood us under the shade behind parked cars in the first place, so after about 20 minutes of sitting collapsed on a low wall fighting off panic attack #3 I wandered up to the actual big intersection while mum handwrung back by the restaurant and dumbass sr. complained to uncle dumbass on the phone. Then just waited til dumbass jr drove past and all but threw myself into traffic, waving my arms. Miraculously he didn't mistake me for some other random maniac in plaid leggings and a Nakamura shirt, and followed my aggressive pointing to the rest of the group. "28 hours awake," I said, limping back to them, "and I'm still more on the ball than you people." Haven't seen much of the place yet and skipped the rehearsal dinner on account of I was unconscious. The water is yellow, the squirrels are chubby, it isn't actively on fire (as much as I could tell), that's about all I can say at this point, other than I wish none of this was happening to me. Finally had a chance to listen to the new MSP album whilst packing whatever day that was though - may finally have a line for a Manics tattoo: "I convinced myself / that I have walked the line / I've never deserted / by luck or by design"

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jimins-crooked-tooth · 7 years ago

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Apartment 504 — Chapter 1 (Edited)

Summary:

Mark eyed the glass in Jackson’s hand and hesitated. He didn’t know this man. The only time he’d ever talked to him was once when Jackson was intoxicated past the point of coherence, and once after both had returned home at the same time. This man was so loud, so sporadic, so unpredictable, and so unlike anyone Mark would ever want to be around.

But still, after a timid look into Jackson’s hopeful brown eyes, Mark met Jackson’s glass midway, the clink of glass and a shared smile between the two kicking off the start of the night.

More Chapters

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

Also read on Archive Of Our Own:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11292225/chapters/25263081

Tags/Trigger Warnings:

Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Romance, Eventual Smut, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Eating Disorders

Growing up, Mark was a shy kid. Throughout all his years in school he was the student who sat in the back of the classroom listening, observing, absorbing. That's not to say he wasn't an excellent student, because he was—A's and B's year after year; he just wasn't one to raise his hand to answer questions in class or get involved in student council or drama club like the rest of his fellow classmates. He liked alone time—in fact, he thrived off alone time. His parents were always getting on him about "putting himself out there" and "trying new things" and "meeting new people" but that wasn't the type of person Mark was. He was much more content sticking to being an introvert.

However, Mark's introverted tendencies sometimes posed problems for him. Social situations were often a struggle for him to persevere. For instance: parties? Definitely not Mark's thing. He would prefer to be cooped up in his bedroom playing video games, watching movies, listening to music, or catching up on some much-needed sleep instead. Mark and people were like peanut butter and pickles—they didn't quite go together.

But while Mark had never been much of a people-person, a couple of years ago in high school he had managed to befriend someone (or rather be befriended by someone). It was during Mark's second year of high school when he met Jinyoung in World History class. History wasn't one of his strongest subjects, so he tended to avoid those classes at all costs, but he needed a certain amount of history credits in order to graduate and he wanted to get them done early in his high school career rather than later.

It was the end of the school day and history was his second to last class that semester. For whatever reason, this particular time period that the class was learning about was confusing the absolute hell out of Mark and it was really beginning to take a toll on his grades and his mental state. He spent hours every night reading through his textbook and trying to find information for his homework online, but it was no use—he just wasn't retaining any of what he was learning. A unit test was quickly approaching and his lack of understanding was going to be of no use to him when it came time to take the exam. He was frustrated to say the least.

At the end of class, he stared blankly down at the study-guide in front of him, fingers laced through his dark hair and pulling harshly at their roots. "Tug any harder and your hair might fall out," a quiet voice said from his right. It took Mark a moment to realize the comment was directed at him and he glimpsed to the side to meet his classmate's dark brown eyes squinted slightly in amusement. He huffed and turned back to his paper that mocked him more and more the longer he stared. He ignored the shrill screech of chair legs sliding against the tile floor as the boy to his right pulled his seat closer to Mark's desk. "Anything I can help with?" he asked.

"Sure. Take my test for me this Friday?" The boy beside him chuckled a bit under his breath, clearly unaware of how serious Mark was and how desperate he actually was to learn and understand this material.

"Hm, I'm not sure that's something I can help with."

"Then, I'm not interested." Mark's words came out a bit harsher than intended and he immediately felt a pang of guilt in his gut. "Sorry," he sighed, relaxing his shoulders and leaning back sluggishly in his chair. "Just a little frustrated and a lot confused."

"It's okay," the boy said. "I get it. Tensions are high at this point in the year and this is a hard unit." Mark nodded in agreement and clicked the pen in his hand absentmindedly. The bell suddenly rang overhead, startling him slightly. Usually Mark spend the majority of the class period staring at the clock on the wall above the classroom door, waiting for the period to end, but this encounter with his classmate had distracted him from the task, causing the bell to catch him off guard.

Mark stood up and began packing up his belongings to head to his last class of the day, but was stopped when a hand was placed on his textbook "Before you go," his classmate started, "I'm pretty good at history and I have a good grasp on this unit. Why don't we meet up and study before the test?"

Mark's eyes widened a bit at his words. This had never happened before. Mark was an introvert. That meant he didn't ever talk to people, and as a result, people didn't ever talk to him. He'd said a total of like five words to this kid, so what made him think he'd be willing to meet up face-to-face to study?

Mark swallowed and stared blankly at the boy before him. "Um..."

"Here," the other said, placing his phone in Mark's hand. "Put your number in and I'll let you know when I'm free this week to meet up." Reluctantly, Mark typed his number into his classmate's phone and handed it back to him when he finished.

"Mark, huh?" the boy said, eyes skimming over the contents of his phone screen. "I'm Jinyoung. I'd shake your hand but my arms are a bit full," he said, eyes flicking down to the books clutched against his chest. "Anyway, talk to you later. Try not to detach the hair from your head." And just like that, Mark left World History class for the ump-tieth time that semester, only this time, with a classmate's phone number and the potential of a first real friend.

. . .

"MARK! COME HELP ME WITH THIS GODDAMN TABLE!" Jinyoung yelled from the front room. Mark tossed his notebook onto his bed and rushed down the short hallway to the front door where Jinyoung stood holding a large, solid wood table in his arms, struggling to keep his grip. Mark hurried over to him and lifted some of the table's weight off of Jinyoung's arms, helping to set it down in the middle of the living room floor in front of their black leather couch.

"Christ," Jinyoung panted, massaging his shoulder with one hand and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the other. "My arms feel like they're about to fall off."

"Maybe this is your sign to start working out," Mark teasingly suggested, dodging the incoming swat from Jinyoung's hand aimed for his chest and chuckling proudly. "But seriously. Why couldn't you just wait for me to come down before bringing this up by yourself?" he asked, gesturing to the coffee table at his feet.

"Maybe because you were dilly-dallying around up here while I was actually trying to get shit done," Jinyoung huffed, rolling up his sleeves. He released a long breath and glimpsed around the room at the mess that lay before them. "I think we're done moving now. Everything's all here, so we may as well start unpacking."

"Way ahead of you," Mark said, side-stepping Jinyoung and stalking back down the hallway to his new room. His friend walked up behind him, peeking over his shoulder to glimpse into the bedroom. The floor was flooded with things—clothing, shoes, boxes, school supplies, and just about anything else imaginable.

"So, while I was downstairs moving all the heavy furniture, you decided to unpack all your things?" Mark shrugged and picked up the notebook on his bed. "Figures," Jinyoung muttered, exiting the room, and leaving Mark to his own devices. He skimmed over the contents of his notebook, occasionally crossing things out as he found them in the pile of things strewn messily all over his bedroom floor.

Over the next couple hours, Mark spent his time arranging his room, moving furniture, hanging pictures on walls, organizing his closet, and putting away all his belongings in dressers and on shelves. Just as he was beginning to finish up, a knock sounded on his door, followed by the familiar face of his roommate.

"Looks good," Jinyoung complimented, eyes scanning the room and nodding approvingly. "I just finished my room too. Why don't we work on the living room next?"

Mark stood, brushing his sweaty palms off on his jean-clad knees and followed Jinyoung out of the room. The transition from one room to the next was quite stressful to say the least. Mark had just finished getting his bedroom all put together, satisfied with the outcome, only to walk into the living room to see boxes stacked tall and furniture scattered about. He breathed a sigh and closed his eyes momentarily, already beginning to dread the new task at hand.

A loud thump sounded outside their front door followed by a voice shouting, "GYEOMIE, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? TURN THE GODDAMN SOFA." Mark opened his eyes and turned to face his roommate who was already mirroring Mark's confused expression.

"I'M DOING THE BEST I CAN. WOULD YOU SHUT UP FOR FIVE SECONDS AND LET ME FOCUS?"

A moment passed with more yelling and bickering. It seemed to peak Jinyoung's interest because he approached the front door and opened it slightly to peer out into the hallway. "Do you guys need some help?" he asked. There was a brief exchange of words before Jinyoung waved Mark over to the door, asking him to come out and help. Mark rounded the corner to see two boys, both equally frustrated, standing in the hallway, a couch turned upside down between them. The boy closest to Mark had stark black hair, his sweaty bangs brushing across his forehead, but the hair color brought out the deep brown in his irises. Mark's eyes were drawn to the boy's prominent cheek bones and porcelain skin, a freckle dotted about an inch below his right eye. His height was something Mark envied, something Mark wished he had. Looking down the hallway to the other side of the couch, stood a younger-looking boy with sandy-brown hair and much tanner skin than his counterpart. His cheeks were fuller than the other's and his lips were plump and pursed.

"This asshole," the boy furthest away started, gesturing towards the other, "doesn't know how to follow simple instructions."

The taller one rolled his eyes and groaned. "Bam, this hallway is too damn narrow to move the couch like this! It's not my fault it's not working!"

"We can help," Jinyoung interjected, already reaching out to grab one end of the sofa.

Mark and Jinyoung helped the two maneuver the couch down the rest of the hallway and through the door of the apartment across the hall from them. After setting it down in the middle of the living room floor, Jinyoung offered his and Mark's help in assisting the pair to move the rest of their furniture inside. Mark sent Jinyoung a look that said, "Seriously?" and his roommate shot him one back that he could only imagine meant, "Don't be a douche."

So, a half hour later of moving more heavy furniture than Mark would have liked to have moved, the two residents across the hall thanked their neighbors for their time and energy spent helping them move in. Mark had come to find that the tall boy with dark hair's name was Yugyeom and his roommate's name—well, rather nickname—was Bambam (Mark made a mental note to find out where the nickname came from or what it meant). The two boys were first-year college students, Yugyeom majoring in dance and choreography and Bambam majoring in fashion design. Mark was a bit surprised that the two were moving into an apartment so early in their college careers rather than a dorm, but according to Yugyeom, the two had been saving up money from their jobs over the past couple years to afford off-campus living.

"I'm not really into the whole shared bathrooms and showers thing," Bambam explained. "I'd rather just pay more money to have my own space." Mark understood as he, too, hated living in a dorm his first year of college. There was so little privacy and space and everything was shared and there were always too many people around and, ugh, Mark hated it. But now he didn't have to worry about any of that. He and Jinyoung had finally moved into their own place where they had ample room to live and more privacy in one room than in an entire dorm put together.

"They seem nice," Jinyoung said, closing the front door behind Mark. Mark shrugged and headed over to the counter bar to unpack one of the multiple unopened boxes. "You don't get an opinion, Mark. You don't like anyone."

Mark tsked. "It's not that I don't like anyone, it's just that I prefer to be alone."

"Or with me," Jinyoung added proudly.

"Yeah, or with you," Mark smiled. He spun around on his heels slowly and took in the sight of the disheveled living room, sighing once again before sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room. He looked up at his roommate standing in the doorway and patted the spot beside him on the floor. "This place isn't going to unpack itself."

. . .

Mark's eyes drooped tiredly as he yawned and pulled the blanket on his lap up over his shoulders. The light from the television screen flickered in the dark room, illuminating the space enough to maneuver through the living room with little hassle but didn't provide much more sufficient lighting than that. Mark glimpsed at a sleeping Jinyoung sprawled out on the couch perpendicular to him and gently nudged him with his foot.

"Jinyoungie. Wake up. You're going to wake up tomorrow with a sore back if you sleep here tonight." Jinyoung grunted in annoyance and rubbed his eyes with his palms. It took him a couple minutes to fully get up and walk to his room to prepare for bed, Mark sleepily following close behind. Mark changed into an old pair of sweatpants and stumbled into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

As he made his way into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, he heard a pair of keys jingle outside their door, followed by a long string of curse words. Mark turned off the kitchen faucet to listen more carefully, taking the toothbrush out of his mouth and setting it on the counter to approach the front door. The jingling of keys ceased, and a loud knocking on the door ensued.Who the hell comes to someone's door at one o'clock in the morning.

"Jaebummieee," a raspy voice slurred on the other side of the door. "Open uuup." After a series of more knocks, a very puzzled Mark opened the door, peaking out only to meet a pair of large, dark brown eyes that he could only describe as puppy-dog eyes. "You're not Jaebummie," the stranger said.

"Uh, no. I'm not," Mark said, blatantly, avoiding the eyes of the man standing before him. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Um, I live here," the man stated matter-of-fact, stumbling a bit over his own two feet and bracing himself on the door frame.

Mark opened the door a little wider, stepping into the light of the hallway and looking in each direction for some sort of explanation for this man's presence. "Uh, no, I think you're a bit confused," Mark stated. "My roommate and I just moved in today. I'm certain this is our apartment."

"Hm." The man thought for a moment, swaying back and forth slightly and attempting to regain his balance. "I'm sorry," he apologized, eyebrows still furrowed in his confused daze. "I'll find Jaebummie and he'll find our apartment," he said confidently. He nodded to Mark in a polite farewell before taking a few steps in the direction (Mark assumed) he came from initially. Mark watched as the man's legs betrayed his brain's orders, his knees giving out every couple steps and making it incredibly difficult for him to complete his journey down the long corridor. He stopped about two doors down from Mark's apartment before bracing himself with one hand on the wall, doubling over, and retching all over the floor.

"Jesus Christ," Mark muttered under his breath, leaning his shoulder into the door frame and massaging his temples. This guy is a mess. But as much as he disliked confrontation, this man was intoxicated past the point of coherent thinking. He posed a serious threat to himself if he were to stumble into any sort of unfortunate or dangerous situation.

Mark swallowed his pride and walked down the hallway to where the stranger stood, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder as the other wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Come inside," Mark said, a dash of annoyance clear in his voice. "I'll help you find your apartment."

Mark guided the drunk man inside, shutting the door behind them with his foot as he lead the two of them into the bathroom. Jinyoung exited his room and ran into the pair mid-way to their destination, eyes wide in surprise.

"Who is this? What are you doing?"

"I'll explain later," Mark huffed as the stranger's weight seemed to increase with each step they took. By the time Mark got him to the bathroom, he was practically carrying him. He set him down in front of the toilet and shoved his head over the bowl for the man to continue his hurling, only this time, not in the middle of the hallway.

Jinyoung momentarily watched the events unraveling before him, half in disgust, half in just utter confusion. "Uhhh, okay. Let me know if you need anything, I guess?" Mark nodded and Jinyoung headed back to his bedroom, leaving Mark and this... person... alone. As the man heaved into the toilet, the undeniable stench of sour liquor lingered in the air. Mark willed himself not to gag. He took a moment to get away from the wretched smell, taking a detour to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Upon reentering the bathroom, he noticed the stranger was no longer regurgitating alcohol and instead had his face pressed tiredly to the porcelain toilet seat.

"Here." Mark handed him the water and a damp washcloth before taking a seat on the ledge of the bathtub. He watched the man down small sips of water, wiping his mouth with the cloth after each little sip.

"Thank you," he breathed, seemingly a lot more sober now than he was before. Figures, Mark thought. He pretty much just emptied his entire stomach of all its contents.

Mark nodded and shifted uncomfortably. "So, um, do you, like, have somebody I could call to come and get you?" The stranger handed Mark his phone and said, "Jaebummie," before laying his head back down on the toilet seat and closing his eyes, one arm holding his stomach in pain. Mark scrolled through the contacts on his phone until he found the name he was looking for. Upon calling, a concerned voice answered.

"Jackson, where the fuck are you?" said the person on the other end. "Youngjae and I have been looking all over the goddamn planet for you."

Mark cleared his throat awkwardly and ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what exactly to say. "Um, hi, so, uh, I'm not Jackson, but I guess this person with me is?" He glimpsed down at the sobering man on his bathroom floor, cheek pressed heavily against the toilet bowl.

"Wait, what? Who is this?"

"Um, well, my name's Mark but, uh, this guy came to my door, saying it was his apartment, but it's not, and, well, um," Mark met the stranger's brown eyes again, "now he's on my bathroom floor."

The man on the other end of the line groaned. "Fuck, Jackson," he cursed through a sigh. "I'm so sorry about all of this." Jaebum apologized. "Will you text me your address so I can come get him?"

Mark sat awkwardly on the side of the tub for a few minutes after texting this Jaebum person his and Jinyoung's new address, intentionally avoiding the gaze of the other person in the room. He cleared his throat and twiddled his fingers absentmindedly, hoping this stranger's friend would get here quickly so he could finally go to bed. He was tired and sore from moving furniture all day and his body was pleading for him to finally lay down and get some rest.

"Your name is Mark?" the stranger asked, sitting up slightly to adjust his posture before resting his cheek back on the seat, his red, hooded eyes connecting with Mark's. Mark nodded slightly and waited for the man to say something else so he wouldn't have to. "Mark." He tasted the name on his tongue. "It's not a very Korean name," he decided.

"I mean, neither is Jackson," Mark quipped, surprised himself with his witty reply.

"Touché," Jackson snickered, lips turning up into a gentle smile. Mark began to feel his anxiety kick in under the stranger's unwavering gaze. He went to wipe his increasingly sweaty palms on his t-shirt before he realized he wasn't wearing one. Embarrassment washed over him at the realization and he crossed his arms over his stomach, hoping the man in front of him couldn't sense his discomfort.

"You're cute," Jackson said, a smile forming on his lips. Mark's heart skipped in his chest at the shameless confession.

"Oh, um, what?" he stumbled, thinking he'd heard the other incorrectly.

"I said I think you're cute," Jackson chuckled, his words coming out in short slurs.

"Oh, o-okay. Thanks, I guess...?" he trailed off, looking down at his lap to avoid further eye-contact, even more intimidated now by the other's forwardness. Mark racked his brain for a logical explanation as to why he decided to bring this man into his apartment when he easily could have just closed the door and gone about his own business, but he came up empty-handed. A good ten minutes later, a knock sounded on the front door and Mark side-stepped an out-cold Jackson to answer it. He was greeted by a tired face, the look of a man who'd just had enough.

"Are you Mark?" he asked and Mark nodded. "I'm Jaebum. You talked to me on the phone. I'm honestly so sorry about this. Where is he? I'll get him out of your hair."

"Oh, uh, this way," Mark said, waving Jaebum inside and leading him to where Jackson lay unconscious on the bathroom floor.

"Fucking hell, Jackson," Jaebum sighed, scratching the back of his neck, and squatting in front of his comatose friend. "He just got back from a summer-long trip to China to see his family, so my other roommate and some other friends thought it would be a good idea to throw him a 'welcome back party.'" He looked back up at Mark regretfully. "It seems we were wrong." Mark snickered despite the wave of exhaustion that had finally begun to wash over him. "Thanks for taking care of him until I got here. We seriously owe you one."

Mark waved him off. "It's whatever. I just didn't want him walking out into traffic or something while he looked for you or his apartment."

Jaebum laughed a little under his breath. "Well, he wasn't too far off from finding it," Jaebum said. Mark sent him a confused look and he added, "We live right next door."

omg okay so welcome to my first markson fic. let me know what you all think! xoxo

-mia <3

#fanfic #college au #apartment 504 #chapter 1 #markson #mark tuan #jackson wang #park jinyoung #im jaebum #bambam #kim yugyeom #choi youngjae #eventual smut #slow build #fluff #kpop #got7

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sweetseda · 4 years ago

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How to Make Pickles + 14 Garden-Fresh Pickle Recipes to Try

If you have never tried homemade pickles before, you are missing out! Pickling is one of the best ways to preserve a prolific veggie harvest and ensure the bounty of your garden can be enjoyed for months to come. In this post, I’ll walk you through the basics of pickling as well as the veggies and fruits (yes, fruit!) that can be preserved and enjoyed. Plus, I’ll share 14 pickle recipes to try. Keep reading to learn why pickling may just be the best thing that has happened to your garden!

Pickles. You either love them or hate them, right? For many people, their only experience with a pickle is the soggy, overly-salted disc that comes slathered in ketchup on a hamburger patty. However, there’s a whole world of incredible, crispy, flavourful pickles out there waiting, made from almost any vegetable imaginable.

As more and more of us are finding the draw to go back to basics in our lives, learning how to make pickles has become more and more popular. Not only is it a fairly easy activity with delicious results, but this is an excellent way to ensure your garden bounty can be enjoyed all year long.

What is Pickling?

First, let’s talk about what pickling is. Pickling is the process of safely preserving food by using either pickle brine or through fermentation. I’ll go into more detail about both methods below, but for now just now that either way will greatly extend the shelf-life of perishable foods.

Pickling isn’t a new thing either. In fact, there’s evidence of people learning how to make pickles as far back as 2030 BC! While some techniques may have been refined over the past 4,000 years, the basic process has stayed the same.

Which Foods Can You Pickle?

We all know that cucumbers can be pickled, of course, but there’s so much more. There’s an entire world out there of flavourful vegetables and fruits that have been preserved. Practically anything that you grow in your garden can be used to either become a pickle or as part of the flavour in the brine itself.

Fruits That Can be Pickled

Let’s start with the fruits. Many people are shocked to know that you can pickle fruit just as easily as a vegetable, but it’s true. Personally, I love the sweet-sour-salty combination that pickled fruit produces. Here are some of the most common fruits you can pickle:

As you can see, the list is quite extensive, even though it is not exhaustive.

Vegetables You Can Pickle

Likewise, although more people are familiar with pickled vegetables, they often only think of cucumbers. There are so many other colourful veggies that make excellent pickles, such as:

Other Foods You Can Pickle

It’s not just fruits and veggies that can be pickled. You can also pickle protein such as brisket (turning it to corned beef thanks to a salt brine) or even hardboiled eggs.

Pickle Brine vs. Fermentation

As I mentioned above, there are a few methods you can use when learning how to make pickles. While I have some fantastic recipes linked below that will walk you through how to make pickles step by step, I wanted to give you a quick overview of each method.

Pickles with Vinegar Brine – Water Bath Canning

When we think of pickles, we often think of the cucumber in a jar of vinegar-based solution. The proper name for this is vinegar brine. Pickle brine is made of a combination of vinegar, water, and salt. There are often other spices and seasonings added too, such as dill or peppers for example.

Once the food is emersed in pickling vinegar, it must be sealed properly for the food to stay fresh. This is done by the canning method of a water bath, similar to how you would traditionally can jams.

Quick Pickles or Refrigerator Pickles

This is the easiest and fastest way to pickle, thus the name. Using the same vinegar brine method as you would with water bath canning, you will prepare a sweet or salty vinegar brine and cover the veggies or fruit. Then, instead of canning them, they simply get stored in the fridge and eaten up quickly.

Fermentation

Fermentation is another way to preserve vegetables and create pickles. This can be done with almost any veggie successfully. Fermentation preserves food while also increasing the good-for-you bacteria. Well-known fermented foods include kimchi and sauerkraut.

To successfully ferment foods, you need to choose one of three starter methods:

Then, add the food to the starter along with distilled water into a fermentation crock. Make sure the vegetables are weighed down underneath the brine, then place the crock in a cold storage environment.

14 Pickling Recipes to Try

Now that you know a bit of history about pickles and a quick overview of each method, let’s dig into some recipes! Each of these fantastic posts will show you how to make pickles step by step.

The Best Ever Deli-Style Pickles

I have tried a LOT of pickle recipes in my day. When it comes to deli-style pickles, this recipe is my favourite, hands down. These pickles turn out crunchy and perfectly seasoned every time I make them!

Get the recipe for deli-style pickles.

Sweet Pickled Figs

This recipe for pickled figs had my mouth watering. Rather than your typical savory, sour pickle, these pickled figs are more like candy with notes of cardamom, cinnamon, clove, and all-spice. Spoon this over yogurt for a delicious treat!

Get the recipe for these pickled figs at Nitty Gritty Life.

Super Simple Quick Pickled Radishes

If you long for instant gratification in pickling, this recipe is as good as it gets. These delicious pickled radishes can be eaten the very next day! If you have never been a radish fan, I encourage you to give these a try. They just may change your mind.

Get the recipe for quick pickled radishes.

Fermented Pickles with Squash and Cucumber

Have prolific squash in your veggie garden? Give this pickled squash recipe a try. The fermented squash is reminiscent of your classic dill pickle with a little bit more sweetness to it.

Get the recipe for fermented squash pickles at Attainable Sustainable.

Lacto-Fermented Dilly Beans

If you have an excess of green beans in your garden, I encourage you to give this recipe a try. These pickled green beans are fermented in vinegar so you have those awesome probiotics packed into one crispy green bean.

Get the recipe for fermented dilly beans at Grow Forage Cook Ferment.

Golden Beets with Ginger and Star Anaise

The brine in these golden beets is slightly sweet with a bit of spice, which balances out the earthy beet flavour perfectly. These pickled beets make a great alternative to the typical beet and also happens to be one of my favourite salad toppings.

Get the recipe for pickled golden beets.

Easiest Fermented Pickled Vegetables Ever

Here’s another beginner-friendly recipe to try out when you are learning how to make pickles for the first time. With just a few minutes of preparation, you can have veggies in brine fermenting. The best part? You can enjoy eating them just five short days later!

Watermelon Rind Pickles

If you haven’t tried watermelon rind pickles before, you are missing out. I love that I can enjoy eating the meat of a watermelon and then use the rinds for pickling, rather than throwing it into my compost pile. Here’s a quick video showing you how to make this tasty treat.

Pickled Ginger

Pickled ginger is a lovely addition to sushi, of course, but it works with so many other meals. This bright and flavorful pickle is excellent chopped in salads, stir-fries, and just eaten as is.

Learn how to make pickled ginger from The Kitchn.

Garlic Honey Fermented Cloves

Garlic is one of the most popular ingredients for a home cook to keep stocked. While garlic and honey fermented together may sound like an odd combination, they truly work in tandem in this fermented recipe.

Grab the two-ingredient recipe for the fermented cloves at Nitty Gritty Life.

Sliced Pickled Jalapenos

Are you one of the lucky gardeners that have pots full of jalapenos ripe for the picking? If so, you’ve got to give these pickled jalapeno slices a try! Add them to nachos, layer them in sandwiches, or just enjoy eating them on their own.

Tarragon Pickled Beets

Pickled beets are both flavourful and colourful. This recipe seems to become even more delicious in time, so I recommend making a large batch and then letting them sit at the back of your pantry a bit.

Get the recipe for tarragon pickled beets.

How to Make Pickles with Asparagus

I used to get pickled asparagus at a favorite local restaurant when I ordered a Caesar (a Canadian savory cocktail similar to a Bloody Mary made with Clamato (clam + tomato) juice). The drink was nice but my favourite part of the entire thing was the pickled asparagus. Of course, I haven’t been able to visit the restaurant in several months, but thankfully this recipe lets me make my own at home to enjoy.

Get the details on how to pickle asparagus at The Elliott Homestead.

Spicy Pickled Carrots

I LOVE pickled carrots! I think I may enjoy them more than the classic cucumber pickle. My friend Crystal gave me a jar of these and they were truly delicious. I enjoy these layered on sandwiches and chopped into salads.

Get the recipe for spicy pickled carrots at Hello Creative Family.

How to Make Pickles: Final Thoughts

There are so many incredible ways to experiment and enjoy pickled produce. You’ll be amazed at how pickling will change the flavour of familiar vegetables in the best way. I hope this post gives you the inspiration to give it a try if you haven’t before.

More Recipes About Preserving Food

This content was originally published here.

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fan-tasticfour · 8 years ago

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Did I hear a request for literally all of Uendo Toneido’s in-game dialogue? Cuz now you’re getting it.

( Dedicated to @alexandritethegreat who commented in tags on another post: “#i admire the op because i'd just list like all of their lines”. )

( ...Also under a Read More because this post is MASSIVE. )

[ FINDING TAIFU ]

U - Sh-Shisho's dead...? No... D-Do you think... HE did it?

P - Oh, no! I-If he did... then wh-what do we do?!

K - Hey, pull yourself together!

K - Don't worry. I have an idea...

[ INTRODUCTION ]

U – I am the rakugo storyteller Uendo Toneido. Even if my performance isn’t worth watching, I will certainly watch my words. I wouldn’t want to say anything thoughtless and get arrested.

P – After all, that’d be…a “raku-no-no”! Hee hee!

U – Thank you everybody! Good night!

U – [ fucking UP AND LEAVES ]

[ RETURNS TO THE WITNESS STAND ]

P – Oh, my, my!

U – Are you a fan of mine, miss? Would you like my autograph? One moment… [ signs the thing and throws it at her face. Athena is not a happy lawyer. ] No need to stand on ceremony! My fan deserves a fan, after all.

P – A “fan” for a “fan”! Nice one! Hee hee! Oh, why if it isn’t Simon! How are you on this fine day, sir?

U – Quite a dilly of a pickle we’ve found ourselves in, wouldn’t you say?

P – Never performed in a place like this, y’know. I got butterflies here, can’t you see? Hee hee!

U – Ah, I suppose you’re right. In that “case”…

P – I was promoted to “futatsume” yesterday, and received the stage name of “Uendo”. The show was our way of celebrating my new name and “middle rank” standing! Hee!

K – And then THAT happened… Haah… I never dreamed something like that’d happen, not in a million years. And just as I got my chance to start repaying my debt to Shisho, too…

U – Yeah… Plus, I’m worried about Geiru… The way she clung to Shisho… Poor thing. I told her to keep a stiff upper lip… Stiff like rigor mortis…

K – Keep telling those lame jokes, and Shisho’ll come scold you from the grave!

U – I wouldn’t mind getting yelled at, you know, if it meant seeing him again.

[ WITNESS TESTIMONY #1 ]

U – I noticed Shisho’s dying message right away.

U – The stiff cards were right next to the stiff, you see.

P – Hey now, enough with the silly puns already! Hee hee!

U – Anyway, I got the meaning right away. I knew it must’ve been talking about Bucky!

K – That was the master’s final message, left as he was drowning in soba brother. It’s so like Shisho not to write Bucky’s name outright. “Plain and simple” wasn’t his style.

[ COMMENTARY ]

U – It’s obvious. All you have to do is look at the crime scene. He was found with his face shoved in a bowl.

K – It’s only natural to assume he was drowned in the broth for the noodles!

P – My, my! It’s so like a chef to kill someone this way, wouldn’t you say? And with the karuta message he left behind, it’s clear Bucky Whet did it!

K – Bucky used soba for the deed, all to get back the soba shop deed.

[ CROSS-EXAMINATION ]

[ Statement #1 ]

U – Well, it was a coded message right there next to the body. I’m sure anybody would’ve thought that they were there to name his killer. I love murder mysteries, and often watch them on TV.

U – I saw a similar scene during a murder mystery marathon last Tuesday. That’s what made me think, “This must be a dying message!”

[ Statement #2 ]

U – As I said, the stiff cards were right there next to the stiff, so they were hard to miss.

U – The message just caught my eye, because the stiff cards were right there next to the stiff.

U – Stiff cards…next to the stiff…

U – *sigh*…

[ Statement #3 ]

P – But look at all these wonderful people in the audience! It’s only natural for an entertainer to want to have some fun! Hee hee! I guess we can let a few jokes slide, right?

P – Right, right! That’s exactly what I’m talking about! Well done, Your Honor! Guess you can’t judge a judge by his cover!

P – Much obliged! Hee hee!

[ Statement #4 ]

U – There’s only one “Whet Noodle” around here, and you’ve seen that giant “4″ on his back. It’s the only interpretation that makes sense!

P – Wh-What is it?!

K – [ smoking after Athena suggesting there was another whet noodle ]

[ Statement #5 ]

U – I know Shisho. He would never let someone get the last word on him, even in death. With his face in the soba broth, and his consciousness fading away… …he left a message that pointed toward Bucky as he left this world. It’s the only way it could’ve happened!

K – Look, a dying message is something you leave as you’re dying, right? I saw a scene like that in a detective show.

U – But talking is my livelihood, you know. I talk all the time. This and that, truths and untruths… I can’t stop myself from talking!

[ Statement #6 ]

U – Even in the throes of death, it was in Shisho’s nature to throw in a twist somehow. Truly the consummate entertainer till the very end, don’t you think?

P – If I ever bite the big one like that… …I wanna leave a message just as good as Shisho’s! Hee hee!

[ OBJECTION! ]

U – [sips tea nervously. spits it out when Athena points out lack of broth in Taifu’s lungs ]

P – M-Me?!

P – Well, those cards are from Shisho’s special “Soba Scenes of Tokyo Past” set. Each card is related in some way to soba.

P – Well, uh, there was soba broth spilled all over them…

K – No. There’s no one named “Owen” in the Toneido family, or our circle of friends.

U – Go ahead, ask anybody you’d like!

U – Are you accusing me of rearranging the cards?

K – ME, who came to testify out of the goodness of my heart?!

U – *sip* *sip*

P – Eep! M-Mr. Prosecutor! What’s a guy supposed to do at a time like this?

U – Oh, I see. So that’s what they’re after, is it? In that case… Your Honor, I’ve decided not to say another word.

U – That’s right. I’m not going to fall for it.

U – E-Even so, I have the right to refuse to answer.

U – [ silent tea sipping ]

K – Are you saying I should quit?! Because I’m not afraid to speak my mind, I’ll have you know.

P – Oh, no! Never mind what I just said! It IS scary to talk! It’s absolutely terrifying!

K – But, no! As a rakugo artist, I must talk! If I don’t, how can I ever show my face on stage again?! Your Honor, I’m ready to testify!

[ WITNESS TESTIMONY #2 ]

K – After my performance, I went to visit Shisho.

P – I called him from outside the room… but he didn’t reply.

U – When I entered the dressing room, I saw Shisho slumped over the table, motionless!

[ COMMENTARY ]

K – Of course there aren’t any. Because I’m not trying to hide anything.

K – It’s fine by me! I have nothing to hide. Bring it on!

[ MOOD MATRIX #1.1 ]

K – After my performance, I went to visit Shisho.

P – I called to him from outside the room…

P – …but he didn’t reply.

U – When I entered the dressing room, I saw Shisho slumped over the table, motionless!

[ OBJECTION! ]

U – “Some thin stranger with cheesy toe skin,” you say?

U – I don’t know. Maybe it’s me who’s got some cheese in my ears…

[ 80% of his cushion pile is gone. Athena questions if he willed the floor to open from underneath and swallow them. (Personally, I say yes.) ]

U – So what was this unexpected thing you noticed?

[ Cushion overload!! They had to take some away from him again. ]

U – I-Is it, though?

[ Zoned Out ]

U – Yeah, you got me! I’m a total space case! Ha ha ha!

K – Well, get your head out of the clouds and go do some work for a change!

P – Don’t worry, honey! I found a wallet the other day. We have plenty of money to live on now!

[ Entertainer’s Guts ]

P – Sadly, I busted a gut laughing at Shisho’s bits last week.

U – Now I’m practically gutless… Does my tale of woe pluck at your gutstrings?

A – Don’t you mean heartstrings?

U – Sorry, I was just trying to match…

P – …the level of nonsense coming out of your mouth, lady! Hee hee!

K – If you don’t like it, just say so! Go on, spill your guts!

[ ALREADY DEAD ]

P – Wh-Whaaat?! What kind of a thing is that to say?! You’ve got it all wrong…! O-Oh, right! I just remembered something! I thought Shisho was just sleeping when I first saw him! Hee hee!

U – Well, he had his head and arms up on the table, as if he were taking a nap.

P – Oh, and one other thing! There was that note, too!

P – Yes! That’s the note I saw! After reading that, who wouldn’t think Shisho was napping?!

K – That’s right. I saw this note, so that’s why I thought Shisho was asleep.

P – I want to change my testimony to include that statement!

[ MOOD MATRIX #1.2 ]

K – After my performance, I went to visit Shisho.

P – I called to him from outside the room…

P – …but he didn’t reply.

U? – When I opened the door, I thought he was sleeping.

K? – But something seemed off, so I rushed over to him.

U? – I was shocked to find him dead! I couldn’t believe my eyes!

[ The ‘?’ are my personal speculation because it’s the only part of the testimony where the speaker is unclear. ]

[ OBJECTION! ]

P – “Funny”, you say?! I guess an entertainer of my caliber can make people laugh, even with my emotions!

P – What Hmm… Let’s see… Oh, yeah! Now I remember! As I was going in, I whacked my little piggy on something. I was annoyed at my own clumsiness! Hee hee!

P – J-Just a little bump on my little piggy. N-N-No big deal… I-It’s embarrassing, really…

K – You tell her. Really, who doesn’t stub their toe every one in a while? You really gotta fuss over every small detail like this?

[ Wrong Selection ]

P – Oh, I could never stub my toe on that!

U – That would really be starting things out on the wrong foot! Right, Mr. Golden-Ager?

[ TELEVISION ]

P – Y-Yes, you’re right… It was the TV!

U – Y-Yes, I stubbed my pinky toe on the TV. B-B-But what of it? Why is this so important to you?

U – Shisho must’ve moved it so he could watch my routine. But what a place to put it! Right in the middle of the doorway like that! I didn’t want to bump into it again, so I put it back where it belonged.

P – That’s right. It’s a closed-circuit monitor that shows the stage.

P – O-Oh my! Yes, you’re right! The TV hit the table, and Shisho’s body moved with a jolt… That’s when I first realized that Shisho was dead! Oh! But how scared I was!

P – A-All right.

[ MOOD MATRIX #1.3 ]

K – After my performance, I went to visit Shisho.

P – I called to him from outside the room…

P – …but he didn’t reply.

U – When I opened the door, I thought he was sleeping.

K – I tried to enter the dressing room, but stubbed my toe on the TV.

U – When I put the TV back in its normal spot, I realized Shisho was dead!

P – Seeing him slumped over that cluttered table…*sniff*…Oh, Shisho…

[ Wrong Answer ]

U – Match, match… Ahhh, I see. “MATCH”, as in…

P – “Manage to Assert

K – a Thoughtful, Calculated Hypothesis.”

U – In other words, YOU are the something here that didn’t “MATCH”, correct?

[ Simon, being a punny little shit – “Looks like you’ve met your match.” ]

[ OBJECTION! ]

P – Wh-What do you mean?

K – S-Search me. Your little thingy must’ve made a mistake!

U – Well, I…Er…

U – Nnnngh… I… I-I…!

[ Wrong Answer ]

U – I can express many emotions, such as surprise, sadness, and anger upon my cushions. To me, these expressions are simply an act. If I lost control over such things, I wouldn’t be very effective on stage, now would I?

[ KARUTA CARDS ]

P – I, er…

U – [ nervously sipping tea ]

P – Nnngh! [ noise (...and cushion) level to 0% ]

[ U.3.N.D.0 ]

U – YOU. ARE. CORRECT. I. AM. A. ROBOT. BEEP BOOP BOOP!

K – Hah! What a space cadet!

[ Superpowers ]

P – Oh, yes! I make these butterflies dance in the air with psychokinesis. Hee hee!

K – NOT! They’re floating on the breeze of my fan, that’s all.

U – I’m very sad to say I don’t have any supernatural powers.

[ MULTIPLE PERSONALITIES ]

U – (SPITS OUT TEA)

P – H-H-How did she know? How did she figure it out?!

K – Hey, you! Lawyer girl! You got a problem with us?! Huh?!

U – Uendo Toneido. I’m a rakugo storyteller, as you know.

P – Hello, everybody! Patches, the friendly jester here! Hee hee!

K – Hmph. Kisegawa. Courtsean.

A – And is that all of you?

U – Yes, that’s all of us.

[ Wrong Answer ]

P – Wow! You are amazingly heedless, aren’t you!

[ FOURTH PERSONALITY ]

U – N-No! That’s not why! We kept our disorder a secret for a different reason altogether.

P – We’ve been taking advantage of our affliction to act out various rakugo characters. If word of this got out, well…

K – …our reputation as a rakugo artist would be tarnished, as would the Toneido name.

U – That’s why we kept it a secret from everyone except members of the Toneido school. But really, there is no “fourth personality”. It’s just the three of us in here.

U – B-But…!

P – Y-Yes, I’m afraid so! Really stunk up the stage, I did! Hee hee!

U – And yet, I have a perfect alibi!

P – Okey-dokey-smokey!

[ WITNESS TESTIMONY #3 ]

U – I was onstage until just moments before I went into the dressing room.

K – The entire audience was my witness.

P – But my performance was a huge bust. Not a single soul laughed!

U – I’ll never be able to live down how terribly I bombed during that very important show.

[ CROSS-EXAMINATION ]

[ Statement #1 ]

U – Are you asking whether it could’ve been some imposter?

U – Unlike a big arena, a rakugo theater is a cozy, little place. It would be hard to fool an audience in such an intimate setting, don’t you think?

U – Good. I’m glad we could clear that up, because I guess you could say…

[ Statement #2 ]

K – Not a thing. Everything was the same as always. Mr. Prosecutor, you questioned the audience, didn’t you?

P – Oh…It’s so embarrassing! I tried my best! Really, I did…

[ Statement #3 ]

K – Hmm… I’m not sure if it was my performance, or if it was just that particular audience… Or maybe it was the story I picked. But every entertainer knows that this kind of thing happens from time to time.

[ Press #3 > Audience Number ]

K – Well, let’s see. We drew a full house, so… …I think there must have been fifty, maybe sixty people in the audience.

P – Exactly! I dropped a big, stinky bomb in front of all those people. It was a catastrophe, I tell you! I was sweating buckets from start to finish!

[ Statement #4 > Fifty People ]

U – That’s right. Everybody was just staring in silence at me. It was simply awful.

K – What are you trying to say?

P – O-Of course there were people in the audience! It was a full house, I tell you! Lots of regulars. Want me to ask ‘em all to come here?

[ Press #3 > What you performed ]

U – I could, but I’m not sure if it would mean anything to the uninitiated.

U – All right. If you insist… The story I performed is called “Tokisoba”– otherwise known as “Time Soba”.

[ Statement #4 > Performance ]

K – Well…I suppose I was a little nervous… It’s a lot of pressure when you’re the star of such an important show, you know?

U – I wanted so badly to live up to the great name of “Uendo” that I inherited… …that I guess I overperformed a little this time.

U – That’s right. The name belonged to one of Shisho’s former disciples who died of illness at a young age.

U – In that case, can I count on your sympathy, and have you go a little easier on me?

[ Statement #5 ]

K – Well, aren’t YOU a regular rude daisy?! Do you really think a rakugo artist who regularly bombs would get promoted? In fact, I’m known as the Toneido School’s “Whirl-Uendo of Laughter”, I’ll have you know!

U – [ fucking sadfacing at the nickname being insulted ]

P – Hee hee. I’m glad you like it!

[ OBJECTION! ]

U – Odd? N-No, I don’t think tere’s anything odd about it.

U – [ SPITS OUT TEA ]

K – Well… You see… The reason for that is…

U – How do I say this… You see… Um, let’s say it was a, uh… a prank…

P – Th-That’s right! It was just a little joke, you see! H-Hee hee! I was trying to surprise Shisho by performing his routine before he did!

[ Performance ]

U – But Shisho’s scheduled routine is written right here in the invitation.

P – Here, why don’t you read what Shiso was going to perform out loud?

K – “You just earned yourself a penalty, defense!”

[ Cause of death ]

P – Come on! Not even a jester like me thinks the cops would be fooled by such a silly trick.

K – Besides, the story I was originally going to do, “Soba Glutton”, also features soba.

[ TIME OF DEATH ]

P – Eeeeeeeek!

U – [ spits tea ]

P – Yipes!

U – [ SPITS MORE TEA ]

U – Ngh…

U – ……….

U – Nnngh… …I-I confess. I-I tampered with the crime scene.

K – Now wait just one minute! Yes, I admit to messing with the dressing room, but I didn’t kill Shisho!

K – I… I refuse to answer that question!

U – …Geez. Not that again. I told you we don’t know anything about this “Owen”!

P – Bravo! You tell ‘em, Mr. Prosecutor! Hee hee!

P – I-I exercise my right to remain silent!

P – Sh-Shut up! I will remain silent, and that’s it!

K – Patches, you fool! You stay out of this!

[ WITNESS TESTIMONY #4 ]

U – I’ve never met any personality named “Owen”.

K – Patches was just blurting out nonsense in a panic.

P – We’re always aware, so we’d definitely notice if a personality like that showed up!

K – How dare you treat me like a criminal based on mere conjecture?!

[ CROSS-EXAMINATION ]

[ Statement #1 ]

U – Well, it’s more like all three of us are always here. And the personality that is most suited to the moment is the one that comes out.

P – Well, we never know when our turn will come, right?

K – So we stand by, and listen.

U – I never really thought about it, but I guess that’s right.

[ Statement #2 ]

P – Hee hee! Why, hello! You rang?

P – Well, er… You see…

K – I’ll take over from here, if you don’t mind! Listen. I hate to say it, but Patches is about as smart as a sack of rocks. If you grill him with a bunch of highfaluting words, he’s going to want to keep silent.

K – Well, I don’t know about that. But, anyway… …I do know that Patches was just flustered, and that’s why he decided to remain silent.

[ Statement #3 ]

U – Wh-What would happen? I’m not even sure what you mean…

U – N-Ngh…!

K – Comparing us to cockroaches– do we bug you that much, girlie?!

[ Statement #4 ]

U – But how can you be so sure that that’s what the cards really mean?

U – Well, for example, “Owen, the fourth hitter”!

P – He’s a baseball player! A really great one, too! Owen Gonzales, thirty-six years old. He’s a “cleanup”, fourth-place hitter, of course.

U – Well, then how about this? Maybe it means

P – “OWE N 4 TH”, like “I owe ‘N’ four thousand.”

U – What? “N” isn’t a person! It was Shisho’s favorite hobby shop, “N-Joy”. He was a huge model train collector.

U – Maybe he owed the hobby shop some money. So he left a note to remind himself.

K – Shisho worked in mysterious ways.

K – I’m being completely serious! The point is, “OWEN 4TH” could mean just about anything!

[ Wrong Answer ]

P – I may be soft in the noggin, but I don’t see a single bruise on my head. Do you?

[ RICE WINE SAKE ]

K – Oh please. Don’t call it “rice wine”. That’s so unsophisticated. And it’s not even “wine”. Hmph. Silly girl.

K – I drank sake? Oh, that’s a good one!

U – We have a real sweet tooth, you see, so, yes, we did accept a sugary, red-bean bun… …but since we really dislike sake, we said no, thank you to that.

P – Believe it or not, we’re real weak when it comes to booze. Hee hee! Even a tiny drop can knock us right out!

U – So, you see… …I had a sweet manju bun, but I didn’t drink any sake.

U – Yes, that’s right.

U – I don’t recall doing anything like that.

U – Well, yes…That’s right.

U – [ SPITS OUT TEA ]

K – H-Hmph! What kind of lightweight do you think I am?! Even I wouldn’t pass out from eating a single manju!

[ AFTER RECESS ]

U – ……….Ngh…

U – D-Don’t be ridiculous! A sweet little snack like this couldn’t possibly… I-I mean, it could never…

U – Ngh… F-Fine. whatever!

U – *chomp* *chomp* … *gulp*

U – See? I told you… It don– don’t affect me in the suh– slightest! *hic*

P – We might be a liiightweight, but c’mooon, nnnobody’s THAAAT l-light. Hee hee!

K – Hmph. Sh-Sheriouslyyy… Nobody ge’s drunk offa wuh, wuh, one lil’ bun… *hic*

[ OWEN ]

O – Oooooh… *sniffle*

O – Oooh… *sniffle*…M-My name is Owen… I’m…five.

O – A-Am I in trouble…? Please don’t yell at me… Oooh…

O – Shisho… Shisho…! *sniffle*

O – Uwahhhhh!

O – Uwahhh! Whatta scary lady!

O – O-Okay… Shisho was…super nice… He always played with me… Just ike… Just like a real grandpa. I loved Shisho… *sniffle*

O – Ooohhh… *sniffle*

O – I-I saw it… I saw Shisho getting…

O – Y-Yeah…

[ WITNESS TESTIMONY ]

O – Shisho was standing with a knife in his hand…

O – Blood was dripping onto Shisho’s face, getting it all red..

O – I couldn’t move at all!

O – I was so scared… I passed out.

[ COMMENTARY ]

O – I…Ooooooh… I was so scared…! *sniffle* Oooooooh… So… So scared…! *sniffle*

[ MOOD MATRIX #2.1 ]

O – Shisho was standing with a knife in his hand…

O – Blood was dripping onto Shisho’s face, getting it all red...

O – I couldn’t move at all!

O – I was so scared… I passed out.

[ Wrong Answer ]

O – *s-sniffle* Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

O – Oooooh… Uwaaaaaaaaaah!

[ OBJECTION! ]

O – Yeah… Blood was dripping down onto Shisho’s face…

O – I-I remember now! Somebody was sitting up on top of Shisho!

O – O-Okay… So…Um…So…somebody was sitting up on top of Shisho, bleeding from their head… …and smooshing something into Shisho’s face!

[ MOOD MATRIX #2.2 ]

O – Shisho had blood on his face and a knife in his hand…

O – He was on the floor, and somebody was smooshing something into his face...

O – I couldn’t move at all! I was so scared… I passed out.

[ Wrong Answer ]

O – Um… no. Not at all, lady.

O – Oh, no! Now the lady is mad at me! Waaaaah!

[ OBJECTION! ]

O – Ooooh… Y-You’re scaaaring me…!

O – Well… Wh-When I woke up…the person who killed Shisho…was standing over me… …bleeding from their head…

O – Ooooh… I… I don’t know who it was….

O – *sniffle* Okay…

[ MOOD MATRIX #2.3 ]

O – Shisho had blood on his face and a knife in his hand…

O – He was on the floor, and somebody was smooshing dough into his face!

O – I couldn’t move at all!

O – I was so scared… I passed out.

O – and when I woke up…

O – …the person who killed Shisho was standing over me.

[ Wrong Answer ]

O – “Incon…” Huh? What does that mean?

O – Y-You mean, I did something bad?

O – I-I’m sorry, really! I’ll try to be a good boy from now on, honest! *sniffle*

[ OBJECTION! ]

O – That nice smell… I love the smell… of that perfume…

O – I-It’s the smell of…of… Ungh…

O – Ooooooh… It’s the smell of… [ faints ]

[ CREDITS DIALOGUE ]

U – That trial the other day really inspired me. I’ve even created a rakugo routine based on Shisho’s case.

P – It’s a mystery story that’ll keep flipping the audience’s thinking on it’s head! It’s called “The Scary Udon Noodle”! Hee hee!

K – Hmph, you’re giving away too much in the title!

U – Keeping the Toneido School going… …is our way of paying penance and repaying our debt to Shisho. And that includes rakugo training for that kid, Owen.

#ƸӜƷ Reverse Run ƸӜƷ #uendo toneido #:: Uendo Meta ::

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survivingmexico · 6 years ago

Text

In rural eastern North Carolina where I grew up, church dinners on the grounds are staples of summer. Church Homecomings are scattered throughout late spring, summer, and early fall with seemingly coordinated timing so that no two are on the same Sunday. After all, folks might want to go to more than one, depending on which church their extended family attends (or attended).

Homecoming – when everyone who ever went to a particular church comes home and brings all the young’uns and the grandbabies. It’s like a big ole family reunion. The laughter, the hugs, the embarrassing stories of youth, watching the kids run around on the same grounds you ran around on as a kid – it makes for a truly delicious bit of nostalgia. And the food. Oh my, the food.

Although technically a potluck dinner, a Southern country church dinner on the grounds is no average run of the mill potluck where people show up with just a skimpy little side dish. No, ma’am. The rule is you bring enough to feed your entire family and at least two other people so that out of town folks don’t feel so much pressure to perform. Because it is definitely a performance. I wouldn’t say the ladies are competitive, but heaven help the poor fella who yumyums someone else’s fried chicken if his own wife made fried chicken that day.

When the last amen is said, there’s no dilly-dallying. Dozens of country boys with uncomfortably snug neckties dutifully follow their wives, mothers, and sisters to the parking lot and return heavily laden with casserole dishes and Tupperware buckets and tubs. They follow the perfectly manicured finger of the church lady in charge who is pointing everyone to the correct table. Advice for the younger men: Remember the color of the dish you are carrying, what’s in it, and what table you put it on because you absolutely must put your wife or girlfriend’s food on your plate even if you have to search for it. The only acceptable excuse is that it was finished by the time you got to it.

More than a dozen eight-foot tables are stretched end to end piled high with everyone’s best dishes. First up – meats and main courses including sliced ham and roast beef, chicken pastry, pulled pork, lasagnas, and at least ten variations of fried chicken, followed by potato salads, seven layer salads, jello salads of every color, deviled eggs, collard greens with ham hocks, squash casseroles, macaroni and cheese, baked beans, scalloped potatoes (technically au gratin because, cheese), green bean casseroles, succotash, broccoli a dozen ways, corn on the cob, raw veggies with ranch dip, plates of sliced red tomatoes fresh off the vine, alongside a divinely heady selection of homemade pickles and relishes. Lots of biscuits, yeast rolls, breadsticks, and cornbread both baked and fried. And of course, plates of ham biscuits are scattered throughout just in case you needed a snack while waiting in line.

And desserts, lawdamercy! What can I say? It’s an irresistible confectionary dream or diabetic nightmare depending on your perspective. Banana pudding with toasted meringue, coconut cream pie with real whipped cream, cheesecake, chocolate layer cake, German chocolate cake, caramel cake, carrot cake, strawberry shortcake, Boston cream pie, lemon meringue pie, pecan pie, chess pie, apple pie, blueberry pie, peach pie (my fave!), puddings, trifles, cookies, brownies, and homemade ice cream. Oh, my! *I make most of these exquisite Southern specialties at home from scratch because I love to do it, but for folks who can’t make them at home, really SadFace because there is no bakery here that sells them.

So, when the little Mexican church we attend announced an “Anniversary Celebration” complete with a potluck dinner on the grounds, this little ole Southern girl’s heart was just all aflutter with excitement and anticipation. Oops. Hold the phone.

Sign up sheet? What do you mean, I can’t bring deviled eggs? All my Mexican friends love them. I can’t bring a seven layer salad either? They love that too!

Nope, tacos. Tacos? OK, so back up and punt.

Right now friends SOTB are saying, “yum!” and friends NOTB are going “huh?” We aren’t talking about those crunchy shells with meat-like filling that some consider tacos which I do love and recreate here in Mexico from scratch with healthy ingredients. Shhhh! But no. A real Mexican taco is made with soft tortillas, usually corn but sometimes flour so you can fold them or roll them up depending on your age and eating style, often with una copia, a second tortilla to give a little extra support. Basically, a tortilla is cornbread that’s been rolled out like a pie crust and lightly toasted so you can pile it up with all kinds of deliciousness.

So, the day arrived. We brought a large casserole dish of chicharrón en salsa verde (recipe below) and a 13×9 simple chocolate cake. I forgot that a lot of Mexican women don’t bake, and ovens are often absent from Mexican homes. Mine was the only dessert other than the official celebratory anniversary vanilla sheet cake. Faux pas? Maybe, but it was eaten, every crumb.

From the moment the church service was over and the people began setting up tables, the air was buzzing with a familiar church dinner electric excitement as people greeted friends they hadn’t seen in months or years. The menfolk paraded through the crowd with pots and pans full of the aforementioned deliciousness made by their wives and mothers and sisters into the sanctuary turned fellowship hall, and followed the perfectly manicured finger of the church lady in charge pointing them to the correct tables to display their chicken tinga, chicharrón en salsa roja, res con papas, nopales, rajas con crema and so on.

Kids eagerly scrambled to find their places at big round tables, to nibble on corn chips and frijoles refritos, to hear instructions from the church lady, and the blessing from the pastor.

And then, the most familiar tantalizing aroma tickled my nostrils as the top was removed from a nondescript metal box near the table. Carry me back, cochinita pibil (“Buried Little Pig”)! No time to discuss that now, but we absolutely will be comparing Down East pit-cooked barbeque to cochinita pibil in an upcoming post, and I’ll be asking my brother-in-law for the recipe for his famous sauce. Stay tuned.

This is what happens when I am unable to write for a long time; I can’t stop. Here I am already well over a thousand words and haven’t even gotten to a recipe yet! So, here is my husband’s very spicy, strongly seasoned recipe. This is definitely NOT a “no pica” salsa, but there were some habañero salsas on the table that were even spicier. Remember our motto, always make it yours. Use fewer serranos, less garlic, less onion if you like. Or more. Remove the seeds if you want. Or not. Up to you.

Nico’s Chicharrón en Salsa Verde

12 tomatillos

12 serranos

One medium onion

One small head of garlic or 5-6 large cloves

1 ½ tsp salt

½ tsp black pepper

½ tsp dried herbs of choice (we used epazote & oregano)

½ kilo (1 lb) chicharrón (fried pork rind)

Place the tomatillos (whole), serranos (whole with stems removed), garlic (whole peeled cloves), and ¾ of the onion (rough chopped) in a large stockpot and just barely cover with good water. Bring to a soft rolling boil and cook until the tomatillos are soft but not bursting, about ten minutes.

Please be careful with this step and use proper precautions. If your blender cannot handle very hot liquids, allow the veggies to cool completely before blending. You know that, right?

Transfer the veggies to a blender along with a cup of the liquid, the salt, pepper, and remaining quarter of the onion, chopped. Reserve the remainder of the liquid in a separate bowl. Blend on medium speed for one minute.

Return the salsa to the stockpot and let simmer for about five minutes, adding more liquid if the salsa gets too thick. Using a small piece of the chicharrón, taste and adjust seasoning if needed. Keep hot until time to serve, then break up the chicharrón and stir into the salsa.

Nico’s plate

My plate

This is the point where Southern and Mexican diverge. I love the crunchy chicharrón by itself and have eaten it plain since childhood. As an adult, I like to use the salsa as a dip with a little sour cream. But I my husband loves it this way, and it is a very popular dish. Enjoy!

***Y’all, just a little side note. As I was proofreading this article, the voice in my head had a decidedly more pronounced Southern accent than usual. Weird, huh?

***************************

Read more Southern Comfort Mexican Style by Neva here.

Southern Comfort, Mexican Style – Church Dinner on The Grounds In rural eastern North Carolina where I grew up, church dinners on the grounds are staples of summer.

#adapting recipes to Mexico #chicharron with salsa verde #chicharrron recipes #salsa verde

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junker-town · 7 years ago

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The teams that wish they could have done things differently at the MLB trade deadline

Or, rather, the teams that I would mess with if I were in charge. Which I’m not. And you’re grateful for that.

The trade deadline was just 11 days ago. It feels like 40 months ago. The rumors were everywhere, hanging over the heads of losing teams, giving life to winning teams. Anything was possible. Justin Verlander on the Twins? Sonny Gray on the Rockies? The Mariners acquiring every single Tyler in baseball after Jerry Dipoto had a waking vision of a flaming trade eagle? Which he has every other week? It was all possible.

Now we’re in the middle of August, and the teams are mostly set. Sure, Verlander still might get sent to the Astros. Other players will be traded. But for the most part, the teams that made moves have to live with those moves, for better or for worse.

These are the teams that would do things differently if the deadline were just 11 days later. Maybe. I don’t know. Probably not. Teams are stubborn.

There’s are the teams for which I would do things differently, at least. These organizations made their decisions, and I’m here to retroactively change them.

Cardinals - All-in

The state of the Cardinals is something like this: They have a rotation that’s so full, they can’t work in their best young prospect, who’s probably ready. Their current no. 3 hitter is a rookie shortstop who was injected with Temporary Serum of Stan Musial’s Pancreas, which they’ve fully synthesized at this point, but there’s no way to tell how long it will last. It was a season for Randal Grichuk and two for Allen Craig, but the serum is still pumping through the veins of Jedd Gyorko and Matt Carpenter. Total crapshoot.

And the Cardinals are winning. Like, a bunch. I was so very excited to crow about my preseason pick of the Brewers finishing ahead of them, but, as always, the baseball seasons are too long. The Cardinals are battling for first place in the NL Central, which is one step closer to meeting the Dodgers in the NLCS, which is their destiny, even if it looked unlikely a month ago.

At the deadline, there were talks that the Cardinals were interested in trading Lance Lynn, possibly to replenish the farm, possibly in a three-way deal to bring back an outfielder. Now that I’m in charge, I dial it back all the way before the deadline and get them J.D. Martinez, who was kind of the perfect fit and didn’t take a bevy of prospects to acquire for the Diamondbacks. I understand why the Cardinals weren’t interested in a rental back when they were spinning their wheels in the mud.

They’re probably cool now, though. And they would love to have Martinez.

Astros -- More, dammit

This is an obvious one, and I’ve written about it before, so I won’t belabor the point. But ...

Astros first 85 games: 58-27, 3.91 ERA, third-best in AL. Astros last 29 games: 13-16, 5.20 ERA, 27th-best in MLB.

— Richard Justice (@richardjustice) August 11, 2017

Yeah, that. Add in the surly Dallas Keuchel comments, and you have a team that’s lost a little puff of steam. Their main addition — Francisco Liriano as some sort of super reliever — has been a small-sample flop because he has trouble throwing strikes and hasn’t been used in short relief for years.

I’m torn, though. Do they give up prospects for Yu Darvish? Or do they beat the Yankees’ offer for Sonny Gray? Both seem daunting, but I’ll go with the Gray option because he would bring the Astros’ guaranteed payroll commitments up to, oh, $60 million next year and $30 million in 2019. That would give them the freedom to buy whatever complementary players their hearts desire to supplement their absurdly young core.

And they would have Gray for next year. It made far too much sense to work. But when Derek Fisher is in the middle of baseball’s first 60/60 season, maybe they’ll look back at this moment and laugh.

Royals — Sell, sell, sell

Oh, I know better than to doubt the Royals. They shouldn’t be here in the first place. For the first 45 days of the season, when I was writing article after article about how the Giants were on fire and running straight for the oxygen tent, I was mad at the Royals because they were so bad offensively that it forced me to write things like, “The Giants are the worst offensive team in the National League” or “the Giants are the 29th worst offense in baseball.” Ruined the impact.

Then the Royals started winning and winning, and while they didn’t exactly go on the same streak as the Dodgers, they were 44-27 after a 10-20 start. They were in position for a wild card slot, and that’s if they weren’t pushing the Indians for the Central.

Since then, they’ve gone 3-10, including getting swept in a four-game home-away stretch against the Cardinals, which put both teams here. They have six more games on the road trip (against the two worst teams in the AL), and then they’ll start a 15-game stretch against contending teams. If they can’t make up ground against the White Sox and A’s, they’ll be in a dilly of a pickle.

If I have control of the Delorean and I’m redoing their trade deadline, I’m selling. There would be no way to sell it back then. It would have been worse than the White Flag trade of the 1997 White Sox, a punch in the throat of fans who deserve better. That’s why I’m taking all of you with me. To explain.

The Royals have been outscored on the season, and their expected record is more like 54-60. The players they traded for — Brandon Mauer, Trevor Cahill, and Ryan Buchter — have all been terrible. The most important part of this endeavor, though, is that the Royals are going to be decimated by free agency. Eric Hosmer, Mike Moustakas, Lorenzo Cain, and Jason Vargas are either going to be so expensive that they’ll prevent the Royals from signing some of the other guys, or they’re going away.

In this new reality, the Royals can swoop in with Mike Minor to appease the teams disappointed that Brad Hand and Zach Britton didn’t go anywhere. They could have dealt Vargas when his value was as high as it has ever been. Heck, they could have kept Hosmer, Cain, and/or Moustakas to keep the exclusive negotiating window and the potential that one of them might accept a qualifying offer in a weird market.

They would have had prospects, they would have been facing the same confusing offseason, and they still would have lost just as many games. There was no way to justify it back then, but we’re here, and even with the Royals just a game behind the Mariners for the second wild card, I would be ready to pull the emergency chute.

Now let’s all kick back and wait for the Royals to win 10 straight, just to make the pundit look stupid. They’re good at that.

Mariners - Trade James Paxton for all the prospects before he breaks, then crawl into a little hole and hide there forever, because baseball is not your friend, baseball will never be your friend, baseball is trying to tell you something, Mariners, you’re not wanted here

Wait, that’s not nice. Dial it back a bit.

Mariners - Get at least one more pitcher

There we go. And this seems unfair because I loved their creative approach to filling out a rotation on a budget. Marco Gonzalez and Erasmo Ramirez were both fine additions for a team that didn’t have a ton of prospect capital to spend, and I applaud them for this.

That written, James Paxton might miss time with a left pectoral strain. That’s not an elbow or a shoulder, so maybe I’m making too much about this, but I’ve got the heebie-jeebies about this. Felix Hernandez has shoulder bursitis. Hisashi Iwakuma has issues with his shoulder, too. One of the pitchers they got at the deadline, David Phelps, has an elbow impingement, which always sounds like the most painful injury in baseball. Nothing is going right for the Mariners, who are resigned to the fact that baseball is their personal kite-eating tree.

Yovani Gallardo is back in the rotation, for example. After all those deals, all that planning, they’re back to where they started.

My suggestion is this: One more pitcher. It doesn’t have to be as creative as Gonzales or Ramirez. Something obvious, like Yu Darvish or Sonny Gray. Maybe if we go back and tell the Cardinals that they lose 14 in a row, they trade Lance Lynn after all. The Mariners looked like a team that would do well making some creative additions. It turns out that the dumbest, most heavy-handed prospect-for-known-quantity deals were what they needed the whole time.

If Paxton just needs a little rest, forget that I wrote this. But if he has to miss even two starts, I’m a little fidgety thinking about how the Mariners are going to maintain their contending status for the rest of the year. Paxton getting hurt right after Hernandez is absolutely brutal.

Although, I must say, isn’t it their time to have a streak of dumb luck? Shouldn’t this be when Gallardo throws six straight quality starts? We’ve seen the White Sox, Red Sox, Giants, and Cubs get it this century after not getting a lot of it in the previous century. The Royals climbed out of the depths. Why not the Mariners? Isn’t this their time? Is that too much to ask*?

* Yes

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