#family really is a sour sweet commercial

[fireheartedpup]

My parents like to do this thing where they invite me over, don't specify a specific time, don't text until the time they expect me to be there, and then ask why I got there late.

I'm not gonna let it get to me today but it still sucks.

[fcukfodmap]

Low-FODMAP Gluten-free Ginger Glazed Carrots

I kind of got into a green bean rut with my low-FODMAP cooking because I was using them in lieu of asparagus or broccoli, which had been my go-to weekday veggie side. But carrots are low-FODMAP, and they've always been a crowd-pleaser in my family. They're flavorful enough on their own to pair with pretty serious spices, and they're hard to overcook, a problem I sometimes have with green vegetables. The ease of this recipe really recommends it: from start to finish it's probably 20 minutes. So here we go.

Low-FODMAP Gluten-free Ginger Glazed Carrots

1" square piece of ginger, sliced thin

1 lb carrots, peeled and cut into 1/2" pieces on the bias

3 tbsp sugar

1/2 c vegetable or chicken broth

2 tbsp lactose-free butter

2 tbsp minced chives

lemon juice

Bring ginger, 1 tbsp sugar, broth & carrots to a boil in a 12" skillet over medium-high heat. Reduce heat, cover, and simmer until carrots are almost tender, stirring occasionally. Uncover and increase heat, cooking until the liquid is reduced to a couple tbsp. Add butter and the remaining 2 tbsp sugar and cook, stirring often, until the carrots are tender and glazed thickened slightly. Pull out the ginger medallions, and sprinkle with minced chives and the juice from half a lemon.

I was well pleased with how quick and simple this recipe turned out, and the mix of sweet and sour was delightful. I'd be curious to try this with alternate sugars, like a smoky maple syrup could be really interesting. I used chicken broth because I had some to use up, but you could certainly make this recipe vegetarian or even vegan by replacing the broth and butter with plant-based alternatives.

Oh, and I feel like I'm always saying this, but commercially produced broth usually has a lot of no-no ingredients for a low-FODMAP diet, which I tend to ignore because YOLO. You could certainly replace the broth with water and maybe a 1/2 tsp of salt, and no one would be harmed.

Evergreen disclaimer: I am no dietician. I'm doing my best to minimize FODMAPs in my diet, but it's possible for me to be misinformed or mistaken about various ingredients.

[chocobothis]

Perrine Kryze Profile

Name: Perrine Kryze

Nickname(s): Perry, Quiet

Pronouns: She/Her (Questioning)

Species: Human, Echani, and Keshian (Percentages Unknown)

Birth Year: 39 BBY

Gender: AFAB (Questioning)

Sexuality: Queer (Questioning)

Romantic Status: Single

Love Interest(s): Who has time for that?

Enemy: New Mandalorians, Satine Kryze/Her Brother (for tarnishing their Clan, House, and her father’s name)

Hobbies: Photography, Radio Dramas, Admiring Leatheris Work (she wants to actually make own one day), Mythology

General Likes: Strills, Maintaining her gear/helping others inspect theirs, Camp Fires, Space Pirate Stories

General Dislikes: Large gatherings where she’s expected to socialize with everyone, How alarms only sound when she’s comfortable in bed, People who pirate radio dramas and leave in the commercials, Nobility because there’s so many rules

One Word To Sum Them Up: Exacting

Noun to Describe Them: Introspective

Temperament: Compared to Kloe’s sweetness she’s a little sour and definitely in her own head. She’s not the best at trying to socialize or expressing her feelings. So, it’s really common for her to show her feelings through actions i.e. helping people maintain their gear.

Other’s First Impression of Them: Physically, she’s tall (5’10”) with nearly white eyes, a muscled physique, and a facial scar making her come across as imposing and severe. With her job as an assassin and loner personality people assume she’s a hardass bitch. It’s not wrong entirely but there’s a lot more nuance there.

How did they get here: She’s not exactly a bastard cousin to Clan Kryze but she’s not not a bastard cousin? It’s a super complicated situation where the thing they are sure of is that she’s blood related to Clan Kryze. Growing up she heard a lot of the stories from her part of the family about Clan Kryze’s former greatness and the accomplishments of Adonai Kryze the Warlord. Seeing what became of Clan Kryze and House Kryze with Satine in charge pissed her off even as a young child pissed her off. That fire was discreetly stoked in her, culminating with her falling into Hudu Shiv’s tutelage at 13. She’s a skilled member of Death Watch with a multitude of missions under her belt. Her goal is to help Bo-Katan make up for the stain of her sister and brother; maybe even get Bo-Katan instated as the rightful leader.

Fun Fact: Because she mostly works alone, and at a high volume, she has two strill to help. Their names are Ordo and Cadera. Privately, she also thinks of them as some of her best friends.

Free Space/Ramble: She was actually sent with the group of assassins to Coruscant to assassinate Satine. Because it was with a group she didn’t have her strills. The others in the group died at the hands of a monumentally pissed off little padawan that was thriving on the hunt. Pre recalled her before she could make another go at Satine and Obi-Wan. Dutifully she returned but expected to be executed for her failures. Which she wasn’t but she did get some shit jobs as punishment.

Armor Notes: Perrine's willing to adapt almost everything to fit the Death Watch/Nite Owl Standards. However, she's keeping the Kryze Blue. It's very much her digging her nails into something that's Hers. Satine and the New Mandalorians don't get to poison that blue. It's her Clan's.

[toorusproblems]

If your still taking requests can I request a death note oneshot nsfw were it’s after Light’s fathers death and the reader doesn’t like Light in fact hates Him but starts to feel sorry for him and later that day decides to visit his apartment to help him deal with his grief and ask if there is anything she can do to help him and light subtly implies that she can help him by sleeping with him and the reader is tempted to but doesn’t want to because she remembers she dislikes him and he has a girlfriend but light eventually persuades her into it ?

Just this once?

pairing: light yagami x f!reader

wc: 1.4k

cw: infidelity (light cheats on misa), dubcon, coercion, reader is L’s little sister, not proofread (lmk if i missed anything!!!)

hi!! sorry this took forever, i took a lil break from writing. i tried my best to stick to the request but idk how well i did lmao but even so, i hope you like it!!!

Your dead-set focus is suddenly ripped from you as the familiar noise of the task force headquarters’ door creaking open pulls your eyes away from the bright computer screen. To your displeasure, the new presence in the room is none other than Light Yagami.

“Oh, Light! I thought we agreed you didn’t have to come in today?” An uncharacteristically soft-spoken Matsuda greets.

“Yeah, but I guess my father’s passing only fueled me to get to the bottom of this even more.” Light states.

Being L’s sister, you’ve inherited the black-haired boy’s suspicion of Light. After all, you were the only person in the world that L trusted with his entire heart and soul. Those countless times you’ve stayed up together throwing theories about the Kira case back and forth, only for you and the night itself to hear.

Though your brother was undeniably a bit smarter than you, you weren’t stupid either. With everything L had theorized about Light’s true identity, it’s hard for you to write off L’s death as a coincidence. The timelines just seemed to line up too perfectly.

Everything on top of the fact that because of your investigation work on the Kira case you were barely even given time to mourn the loss of your precious older brother, a heavy dislike of the brown-haired man festered in you.

Even so, you can’t help but feel sympathetic towards him today. After all, it’s true that you know what it feels like to lose a close family member too.

“Hey, Light,” his name feels sour on your tongue, “if you want I can take the heavy lifting today, don’t stress, alright?”

His eyes meet yours, and you take note that they look even more dead than usual.

“It’s okay, Y/N, no need to worry.”

—

No need to worry.

Well, you did worry. All day in fact.

You hate yourself for feeling so empathetic towards the man who you suspect of being behind the killing of your very own brother.

But here you are now, about to knock on Light’s apartment door with a small bouquet of tulips in your left hand. Nothing special, you told yourself, just something to show that you care at least a little.

As you raise your right knuckles to the wooden surface, the door suddenly swings inward.

“Oh hello, Y/N. Pretty flowers you’ve got there.” Light points at the objects in your grip.

That’s it. That’s another thing that you hate about him. How he always seems to be one step ahead of you in even the smallest things. How it feels like he always knows what you’re thinking. It’s almost like he’s watching you sometimes, for fuck’s sake!

“These are for you, actually.”

“Really?” he fakes a smug expression, making you cringe, “Thank you so much!”

“It’s nothing. Feel better soon.”

You turn to leave, but Light’s hand catches your shoulder.

“Wait. Before you leave, can you come in for a second?”

“Oh uh… sure? Why?”

You receive no response as Light silently motions you onto his couch. A nervous pit grows in the bottom of your stomach.

“So uh… what do you need me for?” You ask apprehensively.

“Just want to talk. It feels like forever since we’ve actually sat down together and had a conversation, you know?”

You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were keeping in. “Yeah, it has been a while.”

Yet another awkward silence passes. The sheer quietness seems very strange to you for a moment until it hits you.

“Hey, where’s Misa? Is she out at a shoot or something?”

“So observant.” Light chuckles, and with the tone he puts on, you’re not sure if he’s being sarcastic or not, “Yes, she’s filming a commercial for Miho Skincare. Or at least that’s what she told me before she ran out the door.”

“Oh, I see.” You bite your lip, unsure of how to continue the conversation, “Do you want me to put the flowers in a vase for you?” You ask, picking up the tulips from the coffee table.

Light moves his hand to your thigh in a smooth motion, catching you very off guard so that you nearly drop the bouquet. You hate the fact that blood rushes to your cheeks.

“No need. But there is something else I want from you, if I’m going to be blunt.” His eyes pierce directly through you. You feel naked under his gaze.

Fuck, as many negative feelings you harbour for the man in front of you, you can’t deny he’s attractive in all sense of the word. You know what he’s asking for. It’s plainly clear even just from the lust blooming in his irises.

And it’s then when you realize how touch-starved you are. You’ve been using every available hour of your life on the Kira case, of course you hadn’t had time for any kind of relationship.

So you don’t stop him from inching closer. One of his hands sliding towards the inside of your thigh while the other pushes a piece of your hair from your face. His captivating eyes flutter shut and you’re about to give into his touch when you remember the girl you had been talking about just a moment earlier.

“Wait. Misa.” You whisper simply.

“She won’t be home for hours. And you want to make me feel better, do you not? I’m just asking for one more thing in addition to those flowers you gave me, hm?” He borderline growls into your ear. You would be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on a little.

Without waiting for an answer, Light crashes his lips onto yours. The kiss is hungry, like he wants to waste no time with you. Admittedly, you still feel a little uneasy about all of this, Misa’s face—sweet as candy—beaming at you in your mind as her boyfriend sucks on your tongue.

You feel around each other’s bodies, unbuttoning anything you feel to rid yourselves of your clothing. It all goes so fast, and before you know it, you’re both in your undergarments. Light’s got you lying beneath him with your knees pressed to your chest. He reaches to pull your grey cotton panties to the side.

Suddenly, the peppy blonde girl inside your head once again appears, and you realize what you’re doing.

“Hang on, Light. I’m not too sure about this anymore…” You weakly tell him, pushing his hands away from your most sensitive area.

“Hm? But you promised you’d help me feel better.” Light throws uncharacteristic puppy eyes your way. He points to the wet patch that had formed on the centre of your panties, “And look, you want it too, right? Just this once? Please?”

It’s true, you had come here to make him happier. So why should you go back on it now? You criticize yourself, wondering how you could ever be so inconsiderate—to a coworker who just lost his father, too!

So you nod your head in coerced approval towards the man on top of you, who then in turn wasted no time pulling his cock out from his boxers.

Without warning, or any prep whatsoever, Light pushes the head of his cock into your cunt. The stretch burns, and you’re left wondering if it’s just because you haven’t gotten laid in quite a while, or if his cock is just that fat.

“Light!” You whine in slight protest, “You’re too big… hurts…”

He only hums in response, pushing himself further into you, “Sorry, little one, this cunt is just so tight, I can’t help myself. Fuck-“

Light starts a rhythm, watching his cock sink in into you over and over again. He notes how each time he pulls out, a sheen of both your slick, and even some blood coats it. Must’ve just been too big for your little cunny, he guesses.

The pain of the stretch slowly turns into pleasure and you relax into Light’s touch. You throw your hands into his surprisingly soft brunette locks as he pounds into your sweet spot.

You wonder if L is watching you right now. He must be so disappointed in his little sister, moaning and creaming so sweetly for the very same man he thought he had taught you to be wary of, the man who made the world a living hell.

[wystericwoes]

𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝕚𝕟𝕗𝕠:

・❥Fic type: head canons

・❥Fanbase: JJK

・❥Fluff, Smut

・❥requested by: no-one I’m just bored

・❥word count: 1.8k

This post is pretty tame- Implied Fem reader but GN. will mostly be fluff and angst?? Some smutty HC

These are my genuine thoughts for how the guys would be canonically in relationships.

The men will be in this order

-Yuuji-

-Megumi

-Sukuna-

-Gojo-

-nanami

-Toji (daddy)

-Inumaki (my baby)

YUUJI:

-the hard but simple truth is that he struggles to balance you and work. He knows his death is inevitable and struggles to decide between the betterment of mankind or you.

-his selflessness often gets in the way of the best choices. He'd easily throw himself under a bus for you, but also he would do that for anyone. It makes you feel less important knowing he'd sacrifice himself just as much for a stranger on the street as the person he's dating.

-says I love you way too fast

-has little to no experience

-sukuna is something that has always scared you. It's why you're too scared to do anything sexual with him, because you know he could be overpowered

-gets flustered easily and gets flirted with a lot. He's really oblivious to girls flirting with him in public so he goes along with it and you usually have to slide along and drag him away- either that or he knows and likes the attention

MEGUMI:

-I wouldn't say he's boring but-

-I can’t lie He's hella boring. Mostly by boring I mean you have to initiate EVERYTHING— mans is so damn fragile with you for no reason. I love him so much but he won’t take initiative if his life depended on it

I feel like out of all the JJK men he's one of the most likely to date a POC or chubby girl. Because he doesn't give af abt body types or abt looks. You're too skinny? Too fat? Nose to big? Eyebrows to thick or to thin? So??? Society made constructs for Beauty and nothing matters in the end anyway. He literally doesn't care about looks.

- Megumi is smart. And he knows that human emotion is inevitable. But he likes to avoid it because he’s mature enough to realize that it’s too risky

-he’s not scared of being hurt he’s scared of hurting someone

-His ideal type would be an honest and genuine person. He sees that as a truly good soul- and thinks it’s less common and appreciated now in society

-truly enjoys deep philosophical conversations

-unintentional is a feminist and no I will not explain

-I truly 100% believe this and will stand by it— out of all characters in JJK, megumis the most likely to fall in love. He probably believes in one perfect person for the rest of his life

-he’d be super shy and awkward on dates.

-would try to keep your ordinary citizen life as far away from his as possible. He doesn’t let you meet his friends or family- especially gojo.

SUKUNA:

😟📸📸📸

*aims camera at self*

-get some help

-I simp for him too

-I need a therapist

-but at least I can admit it

-yeah I see you 📸

-absolutely never has or will care about you. To him he keeps you around purely for entertainment or sexual needs. And even then you're lucky that he doesn't get bored of you

-maybe you were a sacrifice to his temple or whatever- maybe if it took place in modern canon then he was just bored

-definitely has SA’d you or dubious  consensual situations

-Does not and will not ever care about you

-smexy time is painful, he hurts you without consequence because he can heal you. He keeps you alive as a stress reliever for sexual things, 99% of the time it's completely random and unconsensual. He'd probably get bored of you if you did consent or matched his energy

(I would match his energy)

-beats you one inch within your life a lot because it gets him turned on

-has almost killed you more times than any of his twenty fingered hands can count

-never used protection

(I JUST FOUND OUT HIS MARKS ARENT CANON ITS JUST SO THE AUDIENCE KNOWS WHOS WHO IM DEVASTATED 😀✋🏼)

GOJO:

-y'know those sour patch kids commercials? First they're sour, then they're sweet. He's like that but reversed

- Roses, gifts, lots of emoji texts with all the hearts and the 🥺 emoji- cute dates and sneaking off of work to see you.

-(if you’re even lucky enough to MAKE him start dating)

-but then you get past the puppy love phase and you see the truth behind him. He's narcissistic, he flirts a lot and gets flirted with, you live solely to make himself feel better. Not entirely in a sexual way, but in a god complex way.

-he gaslights and manipulates, he's secretive and never tells you the full truth, he trusts no one but himself. And I wouldn't put it past him to cheat (this is canon that he doesn’t date because he can’t commit)

-knows how to act cute and nice and funny, but in reality doesn't care.

-god complex with a narcissistic personality disorder and maybe a lil Bipolar

-expects to know who all your friends are and doesn't like you hanging out with guy friends. But will kiss other girls when drunk. “Drunk”

-never fully trusts you, will use his abilities on you without your consent or knowledge

-just overall, really pretty and would sit in his face 110% but is incredibly toxic. And it's just how he is, you can't fix him. Good for a quick hook up but my mans is no simp and won’t settle for NOBODY

-better as a fuck buddy tbh try not to catch feelings

-don’t worry I’ll settle for you tho <3

Nanami:

(I'm conflicted with this one)

-he sees relationships as an unnecessary yet essential part to any person. A chore basically. He only will marry a woman to carry on a bloodline of children and tries not to fall in love. (But let’s assume he does for these Hc’s)

-, he's incredibly slow burn and stingy with PA.

-probably ends up planning on getting married in his 30's

-prioritizes his work over anything else. Workaholic.

-probably says "we made love" instead of sex.

-he also will be like "want me to put my penis in your vagina" like- sir

(I mean yes but- this isn’t health class 😭)

-I love nanami so I'm gonna say this because I wanna get my hopes up: if he is actually with someone and loves them, he's genuinely so sweet. I feel like he's more inexperienced because he's never prioritized relationships. (Don't get me wrong he gets could get tons of bitches if he wanted) but he's saving himself for his future partner.

-hand kisses, forehead kisses, sweethearts cradle cuddles.

-he would switch up so fast for you

Gojo: "wanna hang out now and do something???? Please please please please??"

Nanami: "absolutely not. Im incredibly busy. Please let me focus for the time being so I can do my very important work."

Phone rings

Nanami: "hello?... yes. Mmhm... be there in five. Love you too, bye."

Gojo: *what the fuck*

-honestly I feel like he just wouldn't give a fuck overall and acts how he wants with you. But he may dial it back to avoid gojo being obnoxious.

-like megumi he likes deep meaningful connections that harbor real truth and trust. And also like megumi he knows he has human emotions, but he resents them. He knows that one day falling in love will be inevitable, plus carrying on his bloodline.

-overall 10/10 would date this man. No- I would MARRY him. Not date. Idk it just works

DADD- I MEAN TOJI:

-I call this man daddy but he 100% wouldn't keep you around long enough for that

-he doesn't make love he fucks. Never has been in love and if he has it was once and never will happen again

-has fuck buddies for bad days at work

-the worm probably watches

-gives me hard sugar daddy vibes- but like he gives you gifts only for sex. Never just money for being there- he believes in "I give you head you give me head" fair exchanges but more like (I give you head you give me infinite head for a month) he doesn’t do favors often

-if he does start to get attached he cuts you off

- pays for pornhub premium

-breeding kink but never wants to get you pregnant (I won't explain)

-tries to bite the condom wrapper off sexily but tears the condom with his teeth and has to get a new one butt ass naked

-If you ever laugh at him or he sees you happy he gets really pissy for some reason and will do something not-so-consensually

-choking and degradation

-best beware of when he's drunk. He will hit you, and not in the way you like 📸

-If you have daddy issues and low self worth he's the man for you.

^^(🙋‍♀️)

INUMAKI

-"hey I like you, wanna hang out sometime maybe?"

-"cooties."

(Jk)

-I love him so maybe I'm biased but-

-he's pretty. Like I feel like he's one of the few characters that's actually canonically attractive.

-definitely is smooth and mostly hairless- shaves his legs probably and paints his nails and wears skirts and crop tops in a non toxic masculine way. He’s 100% straight but he’s just confident in his sexuality and doesn’t care about societal gender norms.

-He hates the term “fem boy” for some reason like- you made a joke about it and he pulled down the mask with an angry expression and that’s when you shoulda known you fucked up 💀💀

-he's a little pervert definitely a panty Theif and you get to comedically knock him out like in those anime moments and he just lays there like 🧍🏼ok

-gives me very much "never had a girlfriend but held hands once with a girl in kindergarten vibes

-don't ask but he's good at giving head I just know ok

-can't imagine him married but he would have a very very Very VERY long term gf. Probably blushes at the mention of marriage.

-realistically, doesn't think he's worth dating someone. I feel like he'd have low self esteem and his curse definitely gets in the way

-would make cute little playlists with titles like "I"   "Really love"   "You" and then play them in order to relay cute messages

-love language is gifts and acts of service (especially gifts. You'll come back after a mission and there's a handmade matching bracelet or a shit ton of sweets on your bed)

-you don't know how he sneaks into your room to steal shit, but everything goes missing. Makeup brushes, clothes, underwear, jewelry, pencils?? He's like a bird who collects shiny things and puts it in its nest.

-Doesnt let himself get too attached to you. He wants to protect you from him and wants someone for you that isn't cursed. He probably gets paranoid you'd leave him

-you always tell him you love his voice and it makes him blush

-back to the earlier one ^^ where I said he’s really good at giving head? The reason why is because he has low self esteem and doesn’t think he deserves you, so he compensates you living him by pleasuring you

-switch leaning bottom/mommy kink or definitely orgasm denial and edging.

-very vocal in bed. Gets flustered by the noises he makes like hon it’s ok I swear 😭

-he’s my second favorite character so I’m biased but I don’t give a shit marry me

[tiny-smallest]

the bitterest taste

Rating: G Characters: Greg, Greg’s parents Warnings: child abuse, homophobia dogwhistle, brief fatphobia Description: Greg learns very young how awful humans can be, even to their own flesh and blood.

So he learns to run in the opposite direction.

Also on AO3!

—

me: let’s finish some of those like thirteen wips I have lying around my brain: die

This is messy and written on my phone because I forgot my computer at home when inspiration struck, but enjoy.

—

Greg knows what cruelty is.

Before he can even walk, before he can speak, before he even knows what pain is, he knows disgusted, frustrated fingers pulling his hair to make him stop accidentally biting his mother’s nipple while breastfeeding, as though it were something an infant can do on purpose.

And he knows this fact later, not because a baby of a mere few months could retain any such memory, but because he hears his mother casually telling the story to one of his aunts at a family gathering when she sighs and exhausted tale of her bitey baby.

He doesn’t stay to see if she heeds his mother’s advice. He won’t be able to control himself, and he doesn’t need a refresher how his mother’s hand has since upgraded from pulling hair to open-handed reminders to know his place.

They’re rare, but impactful. Greg doesn’t realize it might not be normal until he watches a classmate accidentally spill her wet art project on her mother at school pick-up, and as he watches, stock-still with the creeping sensation of doom crawling up his spine, as she just laughs and makes a joke about her daughter being an eager beaver before consoling the sad child about her ruined art project.

She promises to get her daughter ice cream.

It wasn’t him, his art project, or his mother, but he’s shrunk into himself regardless, and when his mother arrives he says even less than usual and tries not to flinch when she addresses him.

Ice cream. For ruining her skirt. It boggles his tiny mind.

He continues to watch his peers as he grows up. They all seem so happy to go home at the end of the day. It feels fake. He can’t imagine a world where anyone would want to go home, no matter how miserable school was.

Then he remembers the little girl from second grade and wonders if maybe his life is the fake, weird one.

He sure doesn’t feel real, half the time.

Innocence dwindles as he leaves elementary and middle school behind him but even so his peers sometimes exhibit behavior that shocks him.

“Why would he do that, though?” one of his classmates asks about the father in a book they’re reading for English lit, and Greg would assume it was a question designed to waste time if not for the bemusement so genuine he can’t imagine it’s anything but sincere. He stares at her, and she listens to the teacher explain that the father is an angry, empty person who can’t handle a little embarrassment, not even an accidental offense from his own son.

“That sounds unrealistic,” his classmate said.

Greg is reminded of how angry his father became when he wandered into the living room to show him the terrible art he’d drawn of him. He interrupted something he was doing with friends. His father called his drawing awful and ripped it up.

He opts not to say anything as the class agrees the abuse theme in this book is heavy-handed, and doodles music notes all over his notebook instead, chewing his lip almost hard enough to draw blood.

The books where the parents are all nice and cuddly are the ones that feel unrealistic. But they’re comforting. Sometimes he imagines what it must be like to get your work put on the fridge. To get a hug for no reason.

To have parents who didn’t see him miming along to music at the mall while shopping for back to school clothes, and smack him on the back of the head.

He’s not sure he would call it all abuse. The word sits badly on his tongue. Like it doesn’t belong there. Like he has no right to say it.

Plenty of words feel bad to him, so he’s not entirely unused to it. They’re sour, tainted.

He’s a master at noticing tone and word choice, body language. He knows how to go small and silent and make himself scarce. He’s not surprised when he overhears mean-spirited gossip, and he learned years ago not to say anything about it.

His extensive knowledge about how people are feeling leads him to noticing surprising things. One day he tries saying ‘you’re very pretty’ to a girl all hunched in on herself in a way that reminded him of himself, and she opened up like a flower with a bright, shy smile.

His mother’s tongue clucking when he sighs over a hamburger commercial later that night still makes him feel small and stupid, but the memory of that girl’s smile brings some warmth back. He decides to do it again tomorrow.

“You’re really smart.” “You’re talented.” “That was a good job!”

Sometimes they elicit smiles. Sometimes sneers. Bradley Baker never liked him and he’s not especially stunned when the bigger boy dumps his lunch tray over his head.

He is, however, hurt. It makes him feel dumber, too.

His father piles on four weeks later by fixing him, bruised and muddy and on the verge of tears, with a hard look. The one that narrows all of his disgust and disapproval and disappointment into one, single laser beam aimed right at his chest.

And then he tells him he’s decided on a sport for him. He’s going to try out for wrestling, because a boy his age ought to be harder. Stop crying about people being mean. Life is mean.

Greg protests. It’s a mistake, but it’s automatic and once he’s started he can’t take it back. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Not even in a controlled environment where no one will probably really get hurt. 

He remembers the feeling of being pinned and having his head grabbed and his entire body weighted down to the floor and feels sick at the thought of it happening again or having to do that to anyone else.

“I’m not raising a pansy.” His father’s words cut to his core. He hears the other remarks that are probably commands but doesn’t fully absorb them, like they come from far away.

His mother makes an offhand comment about him at least putting all that weight to good use.

Greg knows what cruelty is.

So when his son brings him his shitty artwork and his shrieking laughter and his loud outdoor voice, Greg smiles and hangs the drawings on the van walls and patiently reminds him that Greg isn’t that far away.

He teaches him how to play music, and how to dance, and thanks him for the shells and rocks Steven brings him.

He gives hugs without asking, and cuddles, and tells him that he’s proud of him and always will be.

He never imagined fatherhood could taste this sweet.

Greg intends to savor every moment.

[eldritchsurveys]

1055.

How often do you watch the news? >> I don’t watch it at all.

Would you rather read the news online? >> When I do want to find out about something, I do just look it up online. But mostly I avoid all mention of current events as often as possible. I have really received no benefits from knowing as much about what’s going on in the world as the internet wants me to, and I think just knowing what’s going on locally (as in, the actual state I live in, with references to federal stuff when needed) is good enough. The internet has provided me with many wonderful things; too much knowledge about every awful thing going on at all times at every point on the globe (or even every point in this country) is not one of those things.

Speaking of being online, what website do you visit the most? >> This one, I guess. I end up on it at some point every day.

Have you ever shopped online? >> Yes.

Have you ever held a snake? >> I’ve touched one, but not held one.

Ever caught a turtle? What about a crawfish? >> I’ve picked up a turtle that I saw in my backyard when I was a preteen. I’ve never held a live crawfish.

Have you ever eaten gumbo?  >> Yes.

Or do you not like spicy food? >> Oh, I love spicy food.

What about sweet food? >> I prefer sweetness as a balancer -- like, sweet and spicy is excellent, sweet and savoury, sweet and sour... all good. When I eat fruit, I usually like to eat it with other things like crackers and cheese. Flavour complexity is my jam.

Are the Sour Patch Kids commercials funny? >> Meh. They’re commercials, so I hate them on principle.

Do you own a bottle of hand sanitizer? Do you like how it smells? >> I have some in the car because Lazarus Naturals sent me a free bottle of their lemon-scented sanitiser once with my CBD order. It smells nice, and it’s handy to have, so I kept it. I don’t usually like hand sanitisers, though.

Do you own a pool table? What about an air hockey table? Or a foosball table? >> No.

Do you live with your parents? Are you cool with that? >> I do not live with a parent and I am very happy with that.

When did/when do you want to move out? >> I left home at seventeen. I went back a couple of times, but it was never a long-term arrangement.

Have you ever been on a cruise? >> No.

Have you ever played frisbee? >> No.

Are you better at catching or throwing? >> Uh.

Did you donate to the Haiti relief fund? >> No.

Did you do so with your cell phone? >> ---

Have you ever seen Scare Tactics? Would you ever put your friend on that show? Would they totally kill you? >> I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.

Speaking of killing things... have you ever hit an animal with your car? Did you ever go back and check if it was okay? >> I don’t drive.

What game systems do you own? >> We have a 360, a PS4, a Wii, a Switch, a 3DS, a Vita, and of course our computers and phones.

Do you ever play computer games? >> I usually play computer games.

Do you have a wireless mouse? What about a laser mouse? >> Sparrow has the wireless mouse I used to use. I use a wired one now.

Do you wear polos? >> No.

Did you used to have a lunchbox? >> In elementary, yes.

How often do you/did you bring your lunch to school? >> I always had to bring my lunch to school when I was a child because school food ran counter to my father’s diet (and I didn’t start being able to choose my food until high school).

What was/is your favorite school lunch? >> ---

When was the last time you wore a hat? What kind of hat was it? >> Yesterday. Just a regular floppy beanie.

Do you wear hats often? >> No, just when it’s cold. I didn’t even wear the hat for that long yesterday, because I run hot and it has to be way colder than like 40 degrees for me to really need to bundle up.

Have you ever seen Ghost Hunters? Do you think it's all fake? >> Never seen it, don’t care about it.

Have you ever tried to ghost hunt? If so, did you catch anything? >> No.

What room are you sitting in? Are you comfy? >> My bedroom. Yes.

Do you prefer gold or silver? What about diamonds or pearls? Earrings or bracelets? Necklace or rings? Or are you not a jewelry person? >> Gold, neither, earrings, no preference. I like jewelry but I’m very particular about it.

Have you ever made jewelry? >> When I was a kid. Oh, and I made kandi a few times with Sigma back in those days.

Do you have any unique hobbies? >> No.

Have you ever put together a model airplane? What about a model car? >> I put together a model car with my father once as a kid.

Do you have a beanbag chair? What about a futon? How about a popasan chair? Or are all those words pretty much a foreign language to you? >> I don’t know what a popasan chair is, but I do not own a beanbag chair and I no longer sleep on a futon (thank god).

Have you ever broken a window? If so, what with? >> No.

Have you ever had surgery? If so, what on? >> No.

Would you date a handsome mariachi player who never stopped playing? >> No........

Do you know any boys named Ashley or Lesley or Lynn? >> No.

Do you have a thermos? >> No.

Do you prefer coffee or hot chocolate? >> Coffee.

Do you like green tea? >> I love green tea.

Do you like to play Freecell? What about Hearts? Or Mahjong? >> Nah, not anymore.

Is there a wicker basket in the room? How about an empty bowl? >> No.

Do you like cheetos? Do you lick your fingers after eating them? >> I hate Cheetos.

Have you ever fed the birds? >> Yes.

Did it cost tuppence a bag? >> ???

Do you know where that line is from? >> I do not, and this is the second survey I’ve had reference it in recent memory. Eventually I’ll just look it up.

Does your family own guns? >> I do not own a gun.

Do you like mini coopers? What about PT Cruisers? >> I don’t much care for either.

Have you ever been given flowers? Were they from a relative or someone special? >> If anyone’s given me flowers, it was probably Sparrow. Although I don’t remember ever receiving flowers.

Have you ever ridden on a motor cycle? >> Yes, many times.

Where you live, what are the laws regarding helmets? >> I’m not sure, because I see a lot of people riding around without them. I grew up thinking they were mandatory everywhere, but I guess it varies from state to state.

Do you chase after the ice cream truck? >> I have never done this.

When I say the year 1492, what comes to mind? >> “Columbus sailed the ocean blue”, unfortunately.

Do you prefer to buy or rent DVDs? >> ---

What was your favorite book as a child? >> I had a few.

Who is your favorite super hero? >> ---

Have you ever eaten at Chik-fil-a? >> Yep.

Have you ever seen a dead body? >> Not a human one.

Have you ever tried to read the dictionary the whole way through? >> I read the dictionary a lot as a child. I don’t know how far I got or anything because I wasn’t interested in keeping track of that. I was just doing it for fun.

What does your umbrella look like? >> The one I use most is red and black.

Do/did you have any hot teachers? Or is that thought kind of gross? >> I’ve had teachers I thought were attractive.

Is anyone you know pregnant? >> No.

Do you know any twins? >> No.

Do you spray tan? >> No.

Would you consider yourself healthy? >> I don’t really think about it. I haven’t been sick and I don’t have mysterious pains that I can’t explain (like, if my neck hurts it’s because I slept wrong or whatever; it’s traceable and not chronic) and my body functions relatively well, so I assume I’m mostly healthy, physically. My mental health is always up for debate.

[myownantichrist]

How often do you watch the news?

Rarely. Fuck the news. 

Would you rather read the news online?

Yeah.

Speaking of being online, what website do you visit the most?

Tumblr.

Have you ever shopped online?

Yes.

Have you ever held a snake?

No but I'd like to.

Ever caught a turtle? What about a crawfish?

No.

Have you ever eaten gumbo?

No.

Or do you not like spicy food?

I like a little bit of spice.

What about sweet food?

Love.

Are the Sour Patch Kids commercials funny?

I don't know.

Do you own a bottle of hand sanitizer? Do you like how it smells?

Yeah. Not really.

Do you own a pool table? What about an air hockey table? Or a foosball table?

No.

Do you live with your parents? Are you cool with that?

Yeah. I am cool with that.

When did/when do you want to move out?

Not any time soon.

Have you ever been on a cruise?

No.

Have you ever played frisbee?

Yeah.

Are you better at catching or throwing?

Throwing.

Did you donate to the Haiti relief fund?

No.

Did you do so with your cell phone?

Have you ever seen Scare Tactics? Would you ever put your friend on that show? Would they totally kill you?

I have. No I wouldn't.

Speaking of killing things... have you ever hit an animal with your car? Did you ever go back and check if it was okay?

I don't have a car.

What game systems do you own?

The Nintendo Wii.

Do you ever play computer games?

No.

Do you have a wireless mouse? What about a laser mouse?

Do you wear polos?

No.

Did you used to have a lunchbox?

Yes.

How often do you/did you bring your lunch to school?

Everyday.

What was/is your favorite school lunch?

When was the last time you wore a hat? What kind of hat was it?

The other night. It was a black beanie.

Do you wear hats often?

No.

Have you ever seen Ghost Hunters? Do you think it's all fake?

Yes.

Have you ever tried to ghost hunt? If so, did you catch anything?

No.

What room are you sitting in? Are you comfy? The bathroom. Not really.

Do you prefer gold or silver? What about diamonds or pearls? Earrings or bracelets? Necklace or rings? Or are you not a jewelry person?

It depends. Silver mostly. I prefer bracelets and necklaces. Well I hardly ever wear jewelry anymore.

Have you ever made jewelry?

Not properly.

Do you have any unique hobbies?

No.

Have you ever put together a model airplane? What about a model car?

No.

Do you have a beanbag chair? What about a futon? How about a popasan chair? Or are all those words pretty much a foreign language to you?

I don’t have any of those.

Have you ever broken a window? If so, what with?

No but I've been with someone when they broke a window. They broke it with their own bodily force.

Have you ever had surgery? If so, what on?

No.

Would you date a handsome mariachi player who never stopped playing?

No.

Do you know any boys named Ashley or Lesley or Lynn?

No.

Do you have a thermos?

Yeah.

Do you prefer coffee or hot chocolate?

Coffee ❤

Do you like green tea?

No.

Do you like to play Freecell? What about Hearts? Or Mahjong?

No.

Is there a wicker basket in the room? How about an empty bowl?

No.

Do you like cheetos? Do you lick your fingers after eating them?

No.

Have you ever fed the birds?

Yeah.

Did it cost tuppence a bag?

No.

Do you know where that line is from?

No.

Does your family own guns?

No.

Do you like mini coopers? What about PT Cruisers?

No.

Have you ever been given flowers? Were they from a relative or someone special?

Yeah, both.

Have you ever ridden on a motor cycle?

Yeah.

Where you live, what are the laws regarding helmets?

You’re supposed to wear one.

Do you chase after the ice cream truck?

No.

When I say the year 1492, what comes to mind?

Renaissance period.

Do you prefer to buy or rent DVDs?

I preferred renting.

What was your favorite book as a child?

I used to love to read Jacqueline Wilson books but I didn't have a particular favorite.

Who is your favorite super hero?

I don't have a favorite.

Have you ever eaten at Chik-fil-a?

No.

Have you ever seen a dead body?

No.

Have you ever tried to read the dictionary the whole way through?

No.

What does your umbrella look like?

I don’t have one. 

Do/did you have any hot teachers? Or is that thought kind of gross?

No.

Is anyone you know pregnant?

Yeah, two girls that are younger than me.

Do you know any twins?

Yeah.

Do you spray tan?

No.

Would you consider yourself healthy?

I wouldn't call myself super healthy but I am quite healthy.

[ask-de-writer]

DARING DO and the ADVENTURE of the X'IBIAN VASE! : MLP Fan Fiction : Part 1 of 21

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DARING DO and the

ADVENTURE of the X'IBIAN VASE!

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck) @ask-de-writer​

And

Carmen Pondiego @askcarmenpondiego​

Cover Art by

Doctor Dimension

52630 words

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 08/26/15

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge.  I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images. 

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

Daring Do was sitting at the bar of the Adventurer’s Guild, sipping her coconut milk and pineapple juice.  She was still steaming about the Royal Museum’s Acquisition Committee trying to put her last find, the Golden Necklace of Pharow Underrock, through “the routine process.”  

The routine process gave them the possession of the neckalce for over a year before she could see any return on the difficult, expensive, and dangerous expedition to obtain the priceless artifact.

Her recovery of it from Count Umber had involved a physical altercation.  The memory made her sweet drink taste sour.

Glancing into the back bar mirror, she casually placed a hoof on her pith helmet.  A business suited pony approached her, proffering a card.  Instead of taking the card, Daring Do swiftly lifted her pith helmet.  A knife, aimed at the suited pony stood quivering in her hat, sunk deep into the cork.

She pulled the knife out and flipped it casually back.  The thump of it striking hilt first was followed by the collapse of the silken robed pony who had thrown it.

She turned toward the shaken business suited pony who had just paled three shades of yellow green lighter.  Brightly, she said, “Well, that was a few moments of rollicking fun!  What do you have for me?”

With a shaking hoof, he proffered a card.  “Please call us at your earliest convenience. If you wish, I can take you to the appointment."

Daring Do raised an eyebrow. “Appointment?  You would make an appointment without asking me?  A bit arrogant, aren’t you?  I have some personal business to take care of first.  I will call later, after it is done.”  She turned her back and pointedly resumed her drink.

It tasted better, for some reason.

She sat at the bar until she was sure that he was gone, sipping her drink, the case with the Golden Necklace of Pharow Underrock safely in her saddlebag.  Daring Do hated what she had to do next.

She and her mother, Carmen Pondiego, master thief and head of V.I.L.E., did not see eye to eye on ANYTHING.  However, her mom’s advice was the best that she was going to find.  Daring Do steeled herself and pulled out her magic net mirror.  She tapped the code that she could not forget and hated.

The glass shimmered before a dark, redheaded figure with a gleaming grin answered the call. “City Morgue, you kill ‘em, we chill ‘em. Oooh! Look who is finally dropping a line.”

Answering in a gritty voice, Daring Do spoke low. “Uncle M, I’m trying to get a hold of-” “Yeah yeah, I know. Don’t go ruffling your feathers. Hey Red! Yer kid is on the line!”

Daring rolled her eyes as the view shakily changed to the beaming visage of a khaki colored unicorn mare dressed in red, her pale green eyes throwing a piercing glance at Daring Do. “Adora!! I am so glad you called! How was your trip? I hope you haven’t come across too much trouble. You know I will send some agents to help you if you ever need it.”

Daring Do rubbed her brow, “Mother, you know I hate that name, and no I don’t need your lawless agents. I… I just need some advice.”

A soft chuckle arose, “Of course, Daring dear. Now what seems to be the trouble?” Carmen lifted her brows as she calmly smiled, and the young pegasus held back a scoff. The thief seemed too friendly and eager to help, but why?

“Listen, its not trouble, I just want your -honest- opinion.”

Carmen pouted playfully, “My dear, you wound me, I have always been truthful to you.”

Sourly, Daring Do replied, “I do know that, Mother.  That is the only reason that I am calling you now.

“The expedition went well.  I even got the legendary Golden Necklace of Pharow Underrock.  The assorted traps didn’t even cause much damage to the Pyramid of Keychops.

“The Royal University would not and will not underwrite the expedition but they want me to DONATE the necklace.  They even threatened my tenure in the Chair of Antiquities to get it for free.  The Royal Museum was almost worse.”

The face of Carmen in the mirror nearly lost it with hilarity.  “The Royal Museum!?  It takes over a year to sell them a glass bead!  Then they will try to push you into letting it go for less than half of your price!”

Resisting a twitch in her eye, Daring Do cleared her throat, “Listen, Ma, what… Would you LEGALLY do if you didn’t get paid for a job that you did over a year ago?”

The thief took a moment to think. “Do you really want to go through the whole legal mess of suing said offender? Of course it would make it easier if you actually had a written contract.

“Heavens knows you don’t use the office here that I gave you and you bounce around from location to location so often without a home base so I don’t have any idea where you would keep such a document anyway…”

Daring’s grip on the mirror tightened. “Mother… I DO have an office.  It is in the Royal University!  I am the Chair of Antiquities!”

“Right.  Well, I would collect whatever you agreed on selling and take it elsewhere.. Are you needing my help with that?”

Daring Do’s grip on the mirror tightened even more. “Mother … Mother.  I have already taken it back!  I also know that V.I.L.E. makes a ton of money on the, um, resale of assorted goods.”

Dryly, Carmen pointed out, “In spite of our REPUTATION, we have NEVER been caught doing or been convicted of ANY CRIME.”  Her face twisted to a cheerfully sideways smile as she added, “Give me a few moments to check our inventory of PERFECTLY LEGAL buyers.”

Instead of “hold music” the recorded image of her uncle Marehem's blue furred, orange maned visage appeared giving the commercial message, “Allstable Insurance, You are in good hooves with Allstable!  Please feel free to inquire about our customized policies and truly reasonable rates!”

Daring Do’s teeth grinding together would have been sweet music to any dentist!

Carmen’s cheerful face came back to the mirror in time to save it from being tossed across the room!

One eyebrow raised in amusement, she poked, “Adora, my sweet.  I COULD move the necklace for you. V.I.L.E. does have to be paid for their efforts, of course.  How does 20 percent sound?  I am only offering such a good rate because you are family, no matter that SOMEPONY managed totally destroy all records of her connection to her MOTHER.”

Carmen grinned as Daring Do’s teeth ground together again.  Regaining her control, she asked her mother, “Oh, another thing. Do you know anything about the ROT law offices? They offered a card, I think they want me to find something for them.”

Silence came over the mirror.

“Mom?”

Carmen sighed, “Daring, if being an outlaw taught me anything, its presentation. If you are shady, you pick a shady name for intimidation, for greater intimidation one would use a completely harmless and cheerful name, though that is rare.

“I don’t know much of them but if their name means anything, I would use extreme caution if dealing with them. It could be a bluff or it could simply be an acronym, it could mean that they are rotten to the bone. Are you sure you don’t want me to send someone…?”

“I AM FINE BY MYSELF, MOTHER. Thank you.”

“Alright, Adora, dear.  If you are in the area, we’re having lasagna at 7:00,” Carmen shrugged, blowing a motherly kiss.

“I’ll be sure to miss it..” Daring Do groaned, turning off the mirror.  She rubbed her forehead, fingers running through her monotone mane.

Daring Do was just getting ready to leave when the unconscious pony in the silken robes started to stir.  He fumbled for and recovered his knife.

Setting eyes on her he got up, made a formal Far Eastern bow and said, “Miss Do, if I may be permitted to say so, that was most ill done.  That pony and a few others with him are treacherous liars and wish to steal a priceless thing to which they have no right.”

Daring Do returned quietly, “It was very bad form of you to try murdering him here, in this club. The alley or even the street outside would have been better.

“As for his character, I already know that much of him and his associates.  What more can you tell me?”

Haughtily he dodged her question.  “You knew of his evil ways and still chose to listen to him?  Perhaps I have misjudged you.”

She made a formal Far Eastern bow to him and replied in perfect X'ibian with an ancient proverb. “The failure to listen is the greatest cause of Ignorance.”

The pony’s eyes flew wide and his face fell.  “I have erred greatly by my precipitous action.  Be sure to listen with wisdom.”

He took his leave, robes making a slight swishing sound against the carpet of the Club floor.

Daring Do followed him out but he was nowhere to be seen.  Consulting the card, she trotted up the street.

The building itself was not even hard to locate.  It had a flagpole hanging over the street with a flag of pale off green with gray letters outlined in brownish red. “The Legal Team of ROT, for all of your legal needs!” was flapping in the breeze.

She entered, thinking ironically of the old joke, “pony walked down the street and turned into a drug store.  After five sales, he bought what he wanted and changed back into a pony!”

She walked up to the receptionist and proffered the card.  The receptionist looked down her nose at Daring Do and pronounced, “You are late for your appointment.  You will have to wait for at least an hour.”

Daring Do gave her a return snooty stare and retorted, “No, I do not.  THEY made the appointment without consulting me.  I informed them that they would have to wait until my business was done.  

“I am only marginally interested in whatever they want me for.  You may inform them that they can call me at their earliest convenience to set a mutually agreeable appointment.”  She tipped her pith helmet and turned to leave.

Frantically, the receptionist called after her, “Miss Do!  Please take the elevator with the bronze doors!  The Partners will see you immediately!”

“That is better, Horstense!” Daring Do entered the elevator, which had an earth pony operator. She serenely pulled a large, double edged knife and began to carefully trim her left hoof.  Conversationally, she mentioned, “If this car gets stuck between floors, you get stuck too.  Not seriously, of course.  You will become qualified for a higher paid job, though.  Castrato in the Fallen Pony Choir.”  He paled at the thought.  The elevator ride was uneventful.

She stepped out into a foyer with big glass doors at the far end.  They had black and gilt letters proclaiming, ROT, the firm for all Legal Work.”  Beyond the doors was an office with three desks placed in a U shape with a single hard chair at the focus of the U.  The desks were not occupied, so Daring Do checked to see if the doors were unlocked.

They were.  With a grin, Daring Do entered and quickly leaped across the desk at the center.  She first lifted the comfortable, padded swivel chair out and replaced it with the hard chair.  Checking the desk itself, she found a large flagon of expensive pomegranate juice and a snifter.  There was only one door that they could enter from.  She took their waste baskets and put them where the door swinging in would just miss them. Checking the other desks yielded an assortment of documents, a number of them were maps with X'ibian characters instead of Equestrian words.

She settled herself comfortably, far back, near the doors, away from the focus of the desks.  She leaned back, smiling, and poured a healthy shot.  While studying the maps, she started sipping.

Looking closely at two of the documents caused her to pull out her Magic Net mirror and make several urgent calls.

NEXT ==>

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[ducklooney]

Problems in the Mallard family

Here, I got to the important part. From now on, my fanfiction will relate to a crossover between two series or between two super heroes or between two ducks living in the same world who have similar traits and personalities, similar problems, and both are parents. Yes, this story refers to it as well as the later story of the hero's fight against the villains. I know I'm not the only one who writes like this, there are others who wrote it, but no one but me (and I mean another person) has ever written fanfiction related to the Donald Duck comic book, Ducktales (above all I mean the 1987 version), Darkwing Duck and on the Quack Pack (as far as I can see no one has ever written a crossover between Darkwing Duck and the Quack Pack), so maybe I'm the first to write about this and maybe not. What I'm going to write now is from my point of view and the way I see it. If there is anything I did wrong, feel free to correct me. Before I go any further, let me just inform you about some things, so that you can understand later my story, that is, the continuation of my fanfiction story. First, I'll use Darkving Duck or Drake Mallard from the original series (1991 version), so this Drake has nothing to do with Jim Starling or Drake Mallard from the Ducktales reboot. Secondly, as far as Launchpad is concerned, there is no need for me to explain, since one knows what kind of person he is, just to emphasize that he is not too stupid, that is, he is not too idiot as some think. Third, Gosalyn and Honker will be in their teens (between 13 and 15 years old) as Webby and Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck in my previous chapters of my fanfiction story, and that I use the Webby version from the original Ducktales series, not the Ducktales reboot, similar to the Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck I use their Quack Pack version and have nothing to do with the Ducktales reboot version. Let’s understand, I have nothing against their Ducktales reboot version except for some things, but in my fanfiction story I’ll use their Quack Pack version so you understand later what I’ll write about them. So Gosalyn, Honker, Huey, Dewey and Louie are the same age, and Webby is one year or two younger, you know. I always wondered what Gosalyn and Honker would look like as teenagers, I know there is some fanart about it, and I'll probably describe them based on my vision in my fanfiction story. Fourth, they will meet again (this is their second encounter, their first encounter as children, their second encounter as teens, I think of Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Gosalyn and Honker) because they have met before (based on the comic book "Dangerous Currency" when they met Scrooge McDuck and Darkwing Duck and saw their first encounter). Yes, I do not forget, Gosalyn will have similar personalities as in the original, except that she will have some traits (and personalities), typical of teens and that her trait (personalities) will be similar to those of Huey, Dewey and Louie. Fifth, Morgana Macawber in my fanfiction story will be different, in terms of her appearance, namely that she wears wavy hair, not a comb of hair (if that's on what I think it is). The rest will be the same as the old one, but Honker's brother Tank will be an older boy, older than Honker and a little more awkward, and let me just say that I'm not a fan of Honker's brother Tank because he's a really uncultured and uninteresting character, at least to me. I told Donald and Daisy in my fanfiction story earlier. And this is it for now, if there are any questions regarding this, feel free to ask me, I'm free to give you answers. And here I am to continue my story where I left off.

Chapter Four

It was four in the afternoon, at St. Canard was still hot during the month of July and was quiet in one part of the city, since there were no skyscrapers or heavy traffic in that part of the city, and there were all kinds of houses. At one of those houses, a duck entered his house tired of the hard work he had been doing for most of the day, since the morning. as soon as he entered his house he said: "I am the terror that flaps in the night...ah, I forgot the other day, and I'm not even dressed as a super hero. Oops, I have to close the door so someone won't hear me whispering," said the tired Drake Mallard, realizing that he still hadn't yet to say his famous phrase by which he is known as Darkwing Duck (his secret superhero alter ego). As soon as he closed the door, he made his way to his room, seeing his friend, and partly his partner, Launchpad McQuack, watching TV showing sales of some goods, known as the TV Shop. "Hi Drake, you're probably tired now after the hard work you've had. Here, I'm looking at selling comfortable pillows where you can have a good night's sleep. You want me to order it?" Said Launchpad Mcquack to Drake. Launchapd himself was in a Hawaiian T-shirt, a little different from Donald's shirt and in short pants, while Drake was in one business man's suit except that he was not wearing pants. "Yes, Launchpad. Free."-replied Drake, changing his mind for a moment and becoming a little dissatisfied, "Wait, just a second. Is that a pillow that shakes a little like it relaxes me? Is that an advertisement ?!" "Yes, that's the one," Launchpad replied. "Well, I certainly won't.After all, I don't believe in these silly commercials and TV shops at all. Last time I bought a pillow that makes me dream, I almost choke. Not to mention the vacuum cleaner that destroyed my forehead. Please Launchpad, change the channel quickly so I don't throw this purse in my hand right on the TV."-Drake replied dissatisfied. "Fine, I will. But you really won't buy a pillow, maybe it's just the right pillow to help you sleep." "Thank you, Launchpad, but no. I am no longer naive to believe those silly messages to whom they want to push us through their wares and steal our money from this vicious people who have to pay taxes immensely." "Hm, isn't the goal for them to make some money for themselves through their goods?" "Exactly, Launchpad. You see you're not stupid as many people talk and know how to insult," Drake said, taking off his tie and slim coat. "Just a Launchpad to get to my room to change and go back immediately. God, how hot it is for me, it's too warm here," Drake said, sweating and taking quick steps to his room to change and put on his Hawaiian shirt and return be back after one minute. "Of course, but you see the fan working so it's no problem," Launchpad replied. "Yeah, just because he cools you down, not me at all. Just drink this lemonade," Drake said, and took the lemonade that was on the table, drank it, but spit it out at the same time (sorry for the expression). "What's this lemonade? Sour and not cold at all ?!" Drake complains. "Well, lemon is sour," Launchpad replied. "I mean the juice," Drake replied. "You meant lemonade ?! And, this lemonade shouldn't be, maybe I put lemon in the water too much," Launchpad said, scratching his head a little as he thought about it. "Did you put some sugar in?" "Yes, I did not, at all. I forgot completely." - Launchpad replied, slightly embarrassed. Drake glares at him, "Launchpad! Well, he has to put some sugar in the lemonade to make it sweet. Isn't that right ?!" "Yes, of course. Although when I drank it, it wasn't sour at the time, it was sweet to me," Launchpad replied. Drake looks at him a little puzzled and starts to think that he didn't overdo it a bit and starts to slowly drink one glass of lemonade again, but sip at the sip. "Well, it doesn't look so bad. Well, it tastes good, but a little bit, but it's still sour. Of course, Launchpad thank you and sorry for the moment." "You don't have to apologize to me. It's okay and it's happening. Maybe you're a little nervous considering you're tired." "You're right Launchpad. I have to sit down and rest for a moment," Drake said, sitting in his armchair. Drake continued, "Yes, I'm exhausted, tired, nervous, and a little more worried about some things. First, my Morgana. For now, we're engaged, I don't know when we're going to get married. I'm worried I'll have to share some things." with her that I don't like at all, like the dishes she prepares. " "Don't worry Drake. She knows Morgan, what you don't like, and I don't believe you will break up for some little things. Admittedly, she loves you as a Darkwing Duck, not like Drake Mallard." "Yes, Launchpad, but I told her my secret identity so she knows. She doesn't like Morgan. When something is said against her that she loves very much, it breaks her heart a little and makes her very angry. Not to say, how does she it has spiders and bats behind it, and it also deals with magic, which many people view as some kind of witchcraft. ”Drake replied anxiously. "Did you tell Morgana about having to adjust to a life where she doesn't need to use some of her abilities to keep herself from explaining herself?" "I'm not a Launchpad. After all, if you told her that, you would be mad at me." "I don't think so. Morgana, you may be a dangerous woman, but she is very caring. She saved your life several times." "I know Launchpad as I do to her. And my Gosalyn likes it too. My Gosalyn loves Morgan as if he were his mother, and I'm sure Gosalyn would love to have his other parent as well." 

"Then the matter is resolved. Just make a deal with her, she'll understand you and the finished thing," Launchpad replied cheerfully. "Thank you Launchpad, but there's one problem," Drake replied sadly. “What ?!” Launchpad asked. "I'm moving." "Well that's not bad." "Not bad, considering I don't have to suffer those Muddlefoot except Honker certainly, but it's bad that I'll be further from my Morgan." "Why?" "Because in a month I have to move to Duckburg. I got a new job." "Duckburg ?! Well that's great, considering I lived there for a while and worked there. I'd love to go back there," Launchpad said excitedly. "Yes, to work again with that miserable rich duck who just orders ?!" "Yes, I worked for Mr McDee as a pilot for a while, and I haven't seen him in a long time. Like the boys, Webby, Donald, Duckworth, Beakly, Fenton ..." "Fenton ?! You mean Gizmoduck ?! That crazy duck ?!" "I don't know if he's a Gizmoduck and I don't know if he's crazy, but yes, I'd love to meet Fenton again. Wait, aren't you and Fenton friends ?!" "Friends ?! Nah. Maybe, we're more partners, and Fenton isn't interesting to me either." "Why ?! He really is to me." "For you yes, for me not. He is loved more by people than by me." "Don't be jealous. I think you misunderstand the point. They prefer him as a super hero rather than as a common man. As a common man and his accountant, everyone goes out except Scrooge, and his job is easier now than before," Launchpad replied. 

"Okay, maybe I misjudged Fenton. But again, I don't like Scrooge. His last encounter with him was bad for me, since he won me the bet, and he's a bastard." "He may have won you a bet because he always wins, but you beat the Beagle Boys, Magica de Spell, Negaduck and a few villains together and I see no reason to be angry." "Launchpad, I know you're praising because you worked for him, even if he paid you poorly, unlike me, but again he can't be a partner for me. Not to tell you he got you out of work." "He didn't drive me away. He sent me on a forced vacation and gave me a few years to do whatever I wanted, and I'm happy with that, because so far I've mostly been with you," Launchpad said, getting up and hugging Drake. "Good Launchpad, let me go." "All right," Launchpad said, letting go of Drake and returning to the couch. "Launchpad, it's actually a cancellation. You've been fired, not a vacation of several years. It doesn't exist," Drake said angrily. "Any dismissal, man. I was told by Mr McDee that I had a vacation and I took it. I don't see what the problem is?" "Good Launchpad. You've got a break. And if you go back to Duckburg now, what are you going to do there ?!" "Hm... He would probably go back to work with Mr McDee again as a pilot anyway." Drake looks at him angry seriously, but after a few moments he goes on, "Okay, let's just leave it at work. I leave your job to you and do what you want. But you have to know I'm moving to Duckburg and I'm serious this time." "Good. You'll probably bring both Gosalyn and Morgan with you." "Gosalyn yes, but I'm not sure about Morgan. I don't know how she would look at that." "She would definitely go with you." "I don't know, I'm not sure. I should talk to Morgan about it so I'll see how it will be. But I'm worried about Gosalyn again. Otherwise, where is she?" "In her room, she plays video games on her computer." "Oh, yeah. Wait, he's playing games on this hot day ?!" "Don't worry, she's got a fan in her room, and she has a cooler in her computer, so don't worry. It's cold in her room." "Good, Launchpad. I just hope she's okay. I'm worried she'll respond to the eviction, since she hangs out a lot with Honker, as well as some friends at school, even though she doesn't have many friends there, since she's most avoid her and mock her sadly. Poor my Gosalyn, neither guilty nor obliged to suffer for some of the things she is not at all guilty of, and I don't know how she would fit in Duckburg. " "Don't worry, Drake. I'm sure she'll fit better in Duckburg than St. Canard. And I have great friends Gosalyn would definitely hang out with." "I hope you're right Launchpad, since I don't worry for no reason. Launchpad, you know that she's no longer a sweet little girl, she's a teenager now and she's slowly changing. I'm worried she won't get into more trouble .I care enough and as an ordinary father, I also worry enough as a super hero, since she goes with me as a Quiverwing Quack and the older she gets, she gets involved in even more dangerous wreckage. I don't know, I'm afraid that because of some of her extreme actions, she won't fall into the trap she would really suffer from. As a father, I must not allow such things. " "Don't worry, while you're near her, she won't get hurt, and you have to let her be a little alone." "I know, Launchpad, but again, I worry. This world is too cruel where no one cares about anyone and I care how Gosalyn will adapt to it." "Drake, you worry too much. Relax, if you talk to her about some things, she will certainly have an understanding for you as well as you for her." "Thank you Launchpad. Maybe you're right. I worry too much. But then again, I'm going to be sorry for Honker. He's a very good boy and I'm worried about how he will accept our departure. I wish I could take him, but unfortunately I can't. " "Well, I mean, it would be sad, certainly, but since there are social networks now, it might not be that much. Gosalyn and Honker would certainly talk over social networks. You know, technology itself is changing." "I know, Launchpad, but it's not the same when you see yourself on mobile or computer or live for real." "Fine, but I know they certainly can't separate even if they're far away. Since they're best friends, I'm sure they'll find a way to get along." "I hope you're right Launchpad. I just have to say ..." Drake said, but as he wanted to continue, there was some loud noise outside. Someone broke through a fence and accidentally hit a tree. And a loud trumpet from the van was heard. "what the hell ?! Who broke this into the yard ?!" Drake asked suddenly. "Let's check it out," Launchpad replied, and the two got up and checked who it might be. They opened the door and saw that half the yard was in chaos, and in the middle of the yard was a van that hit a tree. That van was a van that was a small house considering it had beds, a kitchen and a toilet. Drake reacted to this by opening his mouth wide and watching as part of his yard was destroyed. He gets out of the van, two people who were anthro-ducks, one male with a Hawaiian shirt, and the other was a woman with very beautiful hair and a beautiful pink dress suitable for a TV presenter and beautiful pink shoes with heels. Launchpad looked at everyone with excited looks, partly in love, which was typical of Launchpad when he always saw beautiful ladies. At that moment, a duck with a Hawaiian shirt said, "Ah phooey! I got a tire pierced, and I have to take the van to a car mechanic, and I don't have enough money for it. Why it has to go wrong," Donald Duck said and hit with his foot in the van and after that Donald leaps upwards, holding both of his hands by the knee of the leg that hit the van. "Donald, are you okay?!" Daisy asked carefully. "Yes, Daisy. It's just that I have to take the van to the car mechanic, and I don't have enough money to repair it," Donald said angrily, not angry at Daisy, but at the van. "Don't worry, Donald, I'll pay for you. Just don't be mad, okay ?!" "All right, Daisy," Donald replied, calming. At that moment, he came out of the van and Louie Duck, with green shorts, a green sleeveless T-shirt and a backwards cap, said anxiously, "Uncle Donald! Aunt Daisy! Are you okay?!" "We're fine, Louie. It's okay. How are your brothers and Webby?!" Daisy said. "The brothers are ok, they just have a little head, now they will come out too, and Webby is fine too," Louie said. "Good. Thank God!" "Louie, could you please bring someone close to you who is expert in repairing the van, since..." - Donald asked Louie, but at that moment Donald glanced casually toward a house where two men were looking at them, one excited and shy eyes, others opening their mouths wide. Donald is surprised, too, and with him Daisy looking right at Drake and Launchpad. These were the views that would change their relationships.

[hxpeincarnate-a]

“I don’t want to lose you.”

↳  speak.   // @gerussi

―『 ♣ 』»   OVER THE YEARS she was known to be a troublemaker - someone who didn’t seem to get the word no when spoken in that fatherly tone to her. It, quite frankly was one of the reasons she had to always be so careful about slipping into the apartment without being noticed. However tonight, when she slipped into the darkened home, the scent of coffee long gone, she had realized it was empty for the time being, all but herself and the plush toys that she kept, even if she had grown far older than the child they once belonged to. 

It had been rough - there was still a few fresh wounds upon her form that she would soon deal with, ravaging through the kitchen first - brewing some hot chocolate as she grabbed the bare basics, hoping to hide the crimes of fighting once more from being an agent of SPROUT. Surely, when he’d come home finally he’d scold her for not texting him or staying at the facility to have the gashes properly looked at but - perhaps that’s what she wanted. 

Yet, the silence and shadows of the apartment had started to play tricks on her mind, the sting of the alcohol against claw marks making her hiss with fangs digging into her tongue enough to draw a bit of iron into her mouth. It was soon washed away, overly sweet chocolate that was boiling hot being gulped down as she continued the half - rushed work of cleaning and mending the marks. It was an attempt to keep her mind off of something that had begun to linger a bit too much, stopping only to hunt for the television remote - something to clear that static that had begun to fill her ears. Of course, whatever channel it had been on previously was fine as the technology sparked to life, her shoulders loosening slightly, a tiny sigh of relief as the babble of commercials filled the air for just a moment. 

The next, she looked to a corner that she’d been avoiding. A corner that now stained her memory with something sour. The smell of blood was fresh, quickening her heart beat as fingers subconsciously clawed into a spot that a bullet had made purchase only lifetimes ago. It ached to the point she took sharper breaths, swallowing down a lump in her throat as she tried to shake the feeling only to notice red on her hands. 

Another thing she’d have to hide, she was certain. For the fatherly figure ( whenever he …. would come home ) didn’t need to know about such. Even if… oddly enough it seemed that he had memories of other lives - or perhaps - that was just another trick her mind had decided to play against her. 

Quick did the ibrida go to wash her hands, making sure to use the bubbly lavender to get rid of that stench in the air that lingered. Eventually she gave up, grabbing a refill on the sugary sweet, finding the hidden cookies somewhere behind all the lemons and limes. It was a deserved treat, she believed, only jumping to attention when the television made a sharp switch to a higher volume, a news alert flashing on the screen as her phone buzzed on the coffee table. 

Grumbling, she moved forward, grabbing a blanket to drape it around her shoulders, the new headache not being welcomed as she tried to read the text that ran across the screen, switching to the news channel to see a scene that made her sink further into the couch. Another murder. But it wasn’t only that, her eyes watched as the camera shifted from the journalist covering the scene to what was beyond it, her lip being bitten as she recognized the area well, the spray painted walls making her skin crawl. The docks after all were dangerous, even for her. That, however wasn’t why she worried. She recognized a few of the patrol cars that were flashed across the screen in mere seconds, her hand reaching out for her phone while balancing the hot drink in her lap. 

Kaida knew he wouldn’t respond but… She had to try. Even if it meant sending the tiniest ‘ you alright? ‘ ever. That wasn’t enough to calm her woes, tired eyes going through the new texts to see a notification on the group chat, tapping on to see the crew talking about the newest attack. It made her heart sink more, a few texts sent back and forth to try and quell her worries that it was any of them who were attacked. Luckily such fears were quickly silenced, a road call of the bundle of friends family made it certain that they had all been fine. Of course there were a few Ryder and Luis who mentioned they were on lookout duty, but out of all of them, perhaps it was best that it was those two out tonight. They’d keep someone else from falling to a … 

Her head dipped a bit as she had dozed off for a time, the buzz of the phone once again alerting her to another text. Red eyes could barely focus on the screen, the blurry mess of text not making sense until she could rub her eyes with one hand, the other unlocking the screen with a tap. Anxiety spiked only to settle, the little  ‘ received text from: papa bear 🐻’ giving her a moment to breathe, even if the text was just as short as the one she sent an hour before. 

At least, she deemed it safe to relax, watching the news coverage again ( and again ) about the murder she knew was caused by no mortal. It was a sick curiosity that kept her watching, knowing the news wouldn’t broadcast everything about it, about what was behind those walls of warehouse 29. It made her gut twist, slowly burying herself deeper and deeper within the blankets, ignoring the time that begun to fly by before she had gone into a half - sleep daze, somewhere in - between consciousness and unconsciousness. No where near relaxed, but just enough to be at peace with the world around her, even with the soft sirens of police cars and ambulances rushing on the streets below to another crime somewhere within the city. 

It came to an end rather quick however, the sound of keys hitting the door, the tumbler of the deadbolt’s lock being ‘ messed ‘ with forcing her straight up with her instinct forming Morpheus into it’s dagger state without a secondary thought. Red eyes kept watch for the seconds leading up to the apartment door finally creaking open, only gaining the sense of peace ( be it for only a moment ) when she saw the familiar silhouette of David, being certain by the strong scent of coffee and cologne that came from the hall into the darkened place. 

What she hadn’t expected however was the tension caused when they locked eyes for a moment, her head tilting to the side. A tiny ‘  hey pops. ‘ being whispered, to ease the anxious air that suddenly took hold of the place they called home. Her concern bubbling as she saw a file be quickly tucked away before her eyes could notice what it was about ( but she had a fear she knew exactly what it was ), watching as he moved to the kitchen, her hands pulling herself up, resting her elbows against the top of the couch as she smelled coffee be brewed once more at the crack of dawn. 

Sleep was for the weak, it’d seem. 

“ How was work? “ She tried to strike conversation, noticing the fatherly glance her way as her chin was quick to rest on her hands. “ I mean… ‘m guessin’ busy since - yeah - but … Anything? “ 

When the ibrida was only answered with a grumble, red eyes watched for the number hidden to most, a sigh nearly slipping her as the value was lower than the night before. Part of her reminded herself that soon she’d have to give a bit of her own, hide it away from the other, even if it was just a false pick - me - up. Thoughts however were quickly pushed away as she heard him clear his throat, refocusing to see the first aid kit still left on the dining table, a bloodied rag surely being spotted in the trash. A guilty smile came free from those lips, a small “ Oh that? “ escaping with an awkward fit of laughter. Perhaps she should’ve studied on how to be a better liar.  

“ Kaida. “ 

Her head dipped a bit, fingers tracing against the part of her head she scratched earlier that was still stinging from the air hitting in - between the hairs. “ I got into a bit of a tussle. Not by the docks but, Sebastian had me doin’ a run and I got caught up in a fist fight that was more of a - well - claw fight. Really. It’s fine. Stings but I’m - I’m in one piece. “ 

That hadn’t been the best answer, and she had quickly come to terms with it when the gaze from the other seemed to stare directly through her soul, her heart racing as her hand clawed a bit more, nicking the scab that had just begun to heal. A nervous tick she’d never be able to erase. When she snapped to she felt something warm against her wrist, eyes readjusting as she looked upwards, an ‘ oh ‘ escaping as she noticed the tinge of red on her fingertips, her shoulders raised slightly as the worried glaze of the fatherly figure kept her paralyzed. 

It was then those few words hit, the words that rattled her to her core every time he muttered them: 

“ I don’t want to lose you. ”

It was almost cruel - a hiccup in her breath as she hadn’t the chance to retort with some quip to try and fake the truth that she was fine. All she knew was she was pulled up into a hug, gentle at first before it grew tighter - more protective than ones she’d experience previously. It left her with a quiver, something she’d blame on a cold draft if she hadn’t realized why those words were spoken. 

Despair. It had just been as she feared, the police had gone to check out the warehouse even with all the warnings from what she’d assume is the government. Perhaps the chief didn’t care - or ignored the idea of mythics being a true thing. 

But that didn’t matter as she noticed something different - the little shake that was not a shiver from the cold.  It was enough to break her heart if she hadn’t grown cold to the pain of the others in her life. Arms quick to wrap around the other’s being, burying her head into his chest akin to how the child used to so many times before. 

“ You won’t pops. “  she mumbled. “ Not this time. “ 

[elizas-writing]

When Wish Fulfillment Fantasies Meet Reality: A Re-Examination of Twilight

 **CW/TW: The following piece discusses dating violence with brief mentions to sexual assault and self-harm.**

This year, the last Fifty Shades movie finally came and went, and as its popularity slowly morphs into a bad memory for pop culture, I’m thinking again about the fiction’s effect on reality, particularly wish fulfillment fantasies, self-insert stories, etc etc.

This train of thought began with the Twilight series after watching Lindsay Ellis’s video essay, “Dear Stephenie Meyer,” where she revisits the hatred surrounding said franchise. While it’s definitely not without serious flaws, Twilight was not really as bad as people made it out to be. And most of the criticism was solely about millions of young girls and their moms liking a thing because, what a shock, our society tends to hate anything feminine. I was definitely one of those teenage girls who wanted nothing to do with Twilight, surprising no one probably. Even though I had enough plot summary from friends to pick up the actual problems of the story, I just had fun hating it for the sake of hating it and disassociating with anything feminine because I was neck-deep in my weeaboo phase.

Cut to about seven years later, I took a Vampires in Pop Culture class and Twilight (the first of the series) was on the reading list. With a more mature mind, I sat down, read it, and yeah, it really was not as bad as I thought. Yes, Bella’s too one-dimensional, Edward’s still pretty creepy, and the dialogue and prose is at best, ridiculous and at worst, stale. It knows its target audience is tweens and reads as such, which unfortunately doesn’t grip me as an adult. I gave up at the baseball scene cause I was ready to gouge my eyes out if I read one more description of the weather. And give credit where it’s due, the side characters have way more fascinating stories than Bella or Edward, and it’s a shame Meyer didn’t take a chance to further expand them instead. I couldn’t find much to be angry about with the first book, and I was honestly more bored than anything. But I also cannot deny the wish fulfillment fantasy driving the narrative which drew in a large audience all those years ago.

And wish fulfillment is fine. Self-insert is fine. Teenage girls are just figuring out what confidence is, and there is some reassurance in a fantasy where the totally out-of-league man of your dreams still finds you the most fascinating human being in the world and wants to give you all his undivided attention. Not every female lead needs to be a strong independent woman who don’t need no man. I still see people write self-insert fanfictions from time to time, and they’re very sweet and tender to imagine being loved by a favorite character. We actually consume these stories more than we like to admit.

Hell, one of my favorite guilty pleasure films is The Princess Diaries. In many ways, it hits the same notes as Twilight. It’s a pure wish fulfillment fantasy where the main girl is smart, but clumsy and awkward and just wants to be invisible. Yet she finds herself on a whirlwind journey of self-discovery where others find value in her, and she even falls in love with a boy who adores her regardless of how she perceives herself. Yet The Princess Diaries is such a popular chick flick among people my age. So why is something like The Princess Diaries fondly remembered as an integral part of a millenial/Gen Z childhood while Twilight is met with disdain and disgust?

The major differences boil down to the main female protagonists: Mia and Bella. While not an overly complex character, Mia has, well, a personality. Her journey is more personal of overcoming her social anxiety and realizing how much she can contribute to the world as a public figure if she just takes the leap of faith. Getting a romance in the end is just icing on the cake when she remembers who was there for her even when she was the awkward nerd and will love her regardless of appearance or social status. It’s cheesy and hokey as chick flicks do, but it’s a satisfying wish fulfillment fantasy where the protagonist is better off than where she started and what she was looking for was right there all along.

With Bella, I barely know who she is outside of her romantic interests. Sure, the books go into more detail of her intelligence and social anxiety, but it’s never seen in film. Her life completely revolves around her relationships to the point of obsession, but we never almost see what she’s like when not caught up in the supernatural love triangle. And unfortunately, it’s a problem which worsens with each sequel. The Twilight franchise frames romance as something Bella can’t live without to the point of shutting herself in for months when the Cullens leave in New Moon, refusing to talk to her friends and family, and getting night terrors. It’s intended to make you feel sorry for Bella, but her backwards priorities make her completely pathetic on how much of her life she misses because of some boy who didn’t hesitate to cut her from his life, and she was totally fine with him leaving if he didn’t turn her into a vampire.

Prioritizing unrequited love over your own well being is such an unhealthy idea to romanticize because there is far more to life than some dumb boy who won’t return your feelings. I saw my fair share of unsatisfying romances in young adulthood hanging on by a thread for some idealized love that’s never going to happen. Even though a break up is the simplest and most effective solution for both people to take care of themselves, they continue wasting their time being unhappy with each other and latching on to the rose-tinted view of how they first fell in love. I know some people don’t like the idea that you have to love yourself before someone else, but there’s still truth to the saying where you have to understand that being in a romantic relationship will not automatically fix all your problems and guarantee a happily ever after.

Aside from getting married and having a baby which almost kills her during pregnancy, Bella doesn’t grow as a character or develop any personality, and she just gets her happy ending anyway. The Volturi hint that Bella is special because she’s unaffected by vampire powers, but that detail is shuffled to the sidelines to get more of Jacob and Edward butting heads on who she’ll choose. Most of the story’s events are outside her control and she doesn’t explore further into what they mean about her being special, and even her turning into a vampire-- not even of her own volition, but as a last ditch attempt to save her while dying in childbirth-- doesn’t change that much about her except now she’s immortal and she can bang Edward without getting knocked unconscious again.

I know Twilight is commercial romantic fiction meant to go in one ear and out the other, but it’s still such a damn waste of great lore and  build up with no pay off. And Bella is such a bore of a protagonist to follow the entire time even for a blank slate who is meant to be easily identifiable for teenage readers. Again, not every female character needs to wield a sword or be flawless at everything they do, but having an engaging arc is the simplest bare minimum when writing your story’s protagonist. But that got lost in drawn out weather descriptions and, of course, the unhealthiest romances in fiction.

In a 2013 interview with TIME about her book, The Host, Meyer says she never thinks much about if her protagonists are good role models because “it’s fiction... I don’t think you should be using fictional characters as role models.” To that, I strongly disagree and am rather surprised to hear from Meyer given the great battles of Team Edward vs Team Jacob as each of the films released in theaters. Granted, this is an old interview, and I don’t know how much her opinion changed, but it still irks me.

Whether you like to admit it or not-- especially on the wonderful world of Tumblr.com--, fiction affects our reality. It alters our perception on politics, race, gender, lifestyles, and yes, even romance. Especially as kids and teenagers, we can’t help but find role models to base our ever-changing identities on and look up to so we can be better people for ourselves and society. It’s the reason why so many people define themselves on what Hogwarts house they’re in, why Disney milks Star Wars as long as they can, and why black communities arranged trips for everyone to see Black Panther. And unfortunately, I can’t bring myself to say Twilight is completely harmless in how it portrays the romances.

Just type in any search engine about abusive relationships in Twilight, and you get millions upon millions of analyses on how Edward and Jacob check off as abusers. They’re controlling, aggressive, easy to become jealous, and lacking any notion of personal boundaries. However, one abuser often forgotten in this conversation is Bella, who is such a despicable, emotional manipulator.

Remember how ridiculously depressed she gets in New Moon when Edward leaves? Well, she starts seeing visions of Edward checking in on her whenever she seems to be in danger. And she gets the bright idea to keep purposefully doing so-- including hanging out with shady gang members, crashing a motorcycle and jumping off a cliff-- just to get his attention and hopefully coax him to return to Forks. I’m surprised she didn’t just straight up say “If you leave me, I’ll kill myself” because it’s such textbook gaslighting. And when Edward is led to believe Bella died, then he attempts suicide! And she’s seriously surprised he would given how much needless self-harm she did over the months? What else did you think was going to happen?! I can’t even laugh at some of the badness of New Moon because Bella’s toxic behavior leaves such a sour taste in my mouth. Her severe romantic dependency went from being a damsel-in-distress to an abusive, emotionally manipulative screwball. And that’s just scraping the tip of the iceberg, folks.

Upon actually watching all the films for the first time, Edward’s behavior isn’t nearly as bad as my first perceptions when I was in middle school, but his possessiveness and lack of personal space are still incredibly uncomfortable. I know we all wrote that fanfiction where person A gets saved by person B from attempted gang rape, but Edward is so overbearingly and exhaustively protective, and it just gets worse in the sequels up until Bella’s finally transformed into a vampire. It is to the point where he hardly trusts Bella to do anything by herself knowing how massive of a klutz she is, and will pop into her home without permission, warning or respect of her personal space. As such, she never grows independence, much less learn how to protect herself or be prepared when supernatural forces come for her while the Cullens leave.

Edward may have good intentions to think of Bella’s safety with the context of other vampires mercilessly killing humans in Washington state, but he’s also on a slippery slope of controlling nearly every aspect of her life, especially when she might start feeling romantic for someone else, because guess what dude? You left for over half a year. This continuing behavior throughout the series heavily contributes to Bella’s unhealthy dependency on a romantic partner to the point where she feels like she can’t live without them. Granted, that doesn’t excuse her emotional manipulation, but because she never learns self-defense on the off chance no one else is there to save her, it’s no wonder why she has severe issues with separation and loneliness. Like I said before, you can’t have a healthy romantic relationship if you think it’s going to automatically fix all your problems. Your romantic partner isn’t your therapist or coping mechanism, especially if you can’t handle a simple break up or if said partner wasn’t even that great to begin with.

You’d think Jacob would be off the hook since he at least doesn’t watch Bella while she’s sleeping, but he’s not escaping unscathed. Despite how the series tries to explain what imprinting is, it’s glanced over so quickly on the now creepy relationship between Jacob and Bella’s daughter, even all things considered for a rapidly growing vampire child. He also has a ton of aggressive tendencies as part of the werewolf gene to the point where he will inevitably hurt Bella-- as illustrated with another pack member’s live-in girlfriend who has scars across her face--, and has zero respect for consent as he forcibly kisses her on multiple occasions. Yeah, cause painting your Native American characters-- and only prominent characters of color-- as inevitable, aggressive predators sure is good representation and definitely not some awful racial stereotype. Jacob embodies the most basic descriptors of toxic masculinity between his sense of entitlement that Bella should choose him over Edward and the “boys will be boys” mentality as though Jacob is completely incapable of any self-control, werewolf or not. Given the recent news surrounding Brett Kavanaugh’s nomination and his defenders claiming “what boy hasn’t done this” and that he shouldn’t be punished for his actions as a young man, Jacob’s character is one of the most dangerous aspects of the series to be romanticized as a wish fulfillment fantasy. He’s not only based on gross racial stereotypes, but also on harmful patriarchal ideas of men thinking they’re entitled to women without any consideration to their autonomy. Normalizing this behavior as attractive qualities in a partner allows men to run from their actions without consequence.

And this toxic masculinity only heightened when Fifty Shades of Grey entered the spotlight for pop culture to bash, but had much more legitimate criticisms to garner hatred.

Fifty Shades of Grey changes up the wish fulfillment fantasy where instead of a vampire, the clumsy and awkward female lead, Anastasia Steele, is swept away by billionaire, Christian Grey, who’s happy to spoil her with grand luxuries but has a troubled past which makes it difficult for him to love. Oh, and he’s into BDSM and writes up a questionable contract for Anastasia on all the kinky shit he wants to do. And Anastasia is so sweet and innocent she doesn’t even know what an anal plug is (like, it’s right there in the name, sweetheart. You can’t be this dumb). As you do, things go wrong, they take a break, Christian dumps his tragic anime backstory on Anastasia as a pathetic excuse to apologize, people from his past show up because reasons, and they eventually live happily ever after, married with a baby on the way.

Not only does Christian hit the same abuser red flags as Edward, Jacob and Bella on top of being the worst dom in history, but the series passes off that anyone can be fixed with the power of love. Once again, your romantic partner isn’t your therapist. Trauma may explain his behavior, but that doesn’t excuse what he put Anastasia through, and neither is it suddenly her job to fix him. And abusers like Christian are never reformed so easily with love; more often than not, they use it as leverage to manipulate and keep the relationship going for the sake of control. Sure, it sounds hot to be in a BDSM relationship with a billionaire ready to spoil you, but do the ends really justify the means of that sweet wish fulfillment? Is it really that great of a fantasy to play your partner’s therapist and humor their extreme control and possessiveness to the point where you’re almost not allowed to be an individual?

It’s one thing to have guilty pleasures and wish fulfillment fantasies. But after a while, you wonder what it is about a certain piece of media which makes it a guilty pleasure. It’s one thing if Twilight or Fifty Shades of Grey are guilty pleasures in some of the enjoyably bad writing, unnatural dialogue or squandered potential. But upholding these romances as ideal and disregarding all the blatant warning signs of abusive relationships? That’s where we really need to take a step back and wonder why this is remotely okay to normalize, especially for impressionable teenage girls. Even though I was mostly amused by the films’ bad writing and these poor actors pushing through for their paychecks, there was also a fair amount of content which was too uncomfortable to laugh at-- Bella’s emotional manipulation, the portrayal of werewolves, and the unsubtle anti-abortion message in Breaking Dawn: Part 1 just to name a few. It’s baffling how these properties became cultural phenomenons for their “romances of the century” when most of these character really need couples’ counseling.

Thankfully, these franchises didn’t made too lasting impressions and for the most part are forgotten. Stephenie Meyer quietly retired to continue taking care of her kids, and EL James just kinda disappeared from the media spotlight since the last film released. Maybe Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey aren’t the worst series to happen to mainstream media, but they still heavily reflect a society which to this day hesitates to call dating violence what it is. Where finding love in another takes priority over self-care. Where people still struggle to define abuse because “if that’s abuse, then everyone I know has been abused.” Where despite sexual assault survivors’ testimonies, polygraph tests, supporters, and grueling mental exhaustion to tell their stories, their abusers roam free without consequence and are still allowed power with their nasty holier-than-thou attitudes to silence anyone who dares question their character.

We’re slowly getting better in these kind of fantasies for teens with films like Love, Simon and To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before with genuinely health romances where the characters have to confront their flaws and grow. We’re a lot more critical of relationship dynamics in film than we were over a decade ago, especially with #MeToo in the last year. But part of me is still worried if we’ll have another trend like Twilight or Fifty Shades of Grey where it’s blindly defended because it’s fiction and disregard when people romanticize the severely problematic elements which don’t guarantee happily-ever-afters for couples’ in reality. As the possibility of reverting to pre-Roe vs. Wade days becomes more of a likelihood, at what point do we finally acknowledge that a simple fantasy isn’t automatically above criticism?

If you enjoyed this analysis and what I do here, consider buying me a ko-fi to show your support!

[winged-paki]

It doesn’t fucking MATTER that Christmas has been commercialized, that Christmas is a Frankensteined abomination of shoplifted aspects of Pagan religions and traditions, that in other parts of the world Christmas is divorced from its previously-held religious meaning. That’s not the fucking point.

The POINT is, it started off as a Christian celebration and an attempt to squash and Christianize other religions. Especially in the US, but understandably all around the world as well, those connotations will always be there in the minds of nonChristians even if all you do for the season is put up a pine tree or string your roof with fairy lights. Myself and many other Muslims are deeply uncomfortable with the permeation of Christmas into every facet of life in the month of December because it’s straight-up governments and corporations pandering towards Christianity while leaving other (major!!) religious holidays and events unseen and unrecognized. In Islam, actions are largely defined by intention. It doesn’t MATTER that Christmas is all about reindeer cupcakes and mall Santas and Mariah Carey on the radio now, what matters is that the holiday was founded with religious INTENT. THAT’s why it sours and bothers me when I’m forced to participate in Christmas traditions, when I’m bombarded with Christmas music and messaging day in and day out, when I’m pestered about my plans for Christmas Day, etc etc.

Imagine you live in a largely-Muslim country, and for the entire month of Ramadan it’s socially unacceptable to eat or drink anything, and everywhere you look you just see Ramadan/Eid, Ramadan/Eid, Ramadan/Eid. In the media, in the music at the mall, in the advertisements on TV, in conversations with your coworkers - no matter what you do, you can’t escape this holiday of a religion you don’t even believe in. Sure, maybe some of your nonMuslim friends don’t mind and enjoy in the festivities because “it’s open to all faiths” and “I’m not doing it for the religious meaning”, but you’re personally a little bothered by it. But NO ONE takes your concerns seriously when all you want is a day without hearing about this holiday you don’t care about. That breeds snowballing resentment and annoyance, until you’re like me and want to fastforward through the entire month of December (my birthday month :( ) because it’s just too damn red and green. It’s not a bad holiday; it’s sweet to exchange gifts and get together with family. It’s just so. Pervasive. And the pervasiveness really gets to you when holidays that ARE important to you (and to 1.8 billion people across the globe) only earn a “What’s that?” from every American you talk to.

Christianity isn’t the only religion. Its holidays and traditions shouldn’t be everywhere and participation in them shouldn’t be forced. All that does is annoy and isolate religious minorities. No one is asking you not to put up a Christmas tree or stream your overplayed white people songs, we’re just saying:

1. Recognize that Christmas has undeniably Christian roots that still shine through today, especially in America, and that this is fair enough reason for nonChristians to feel uncomfortable participating.

2. Recognize that Christmas is very pervasive in Western, especially American, culture, more than what’s proportionally necessary in part due to its mass commercialization, and that nonChristians have the right to be mad about how it gets so much attention while their own faiths and traditions’ holy days do not.

3. Recognize that, this holiday season, a lot of us nonChristians just want a god. Damn. Break. Please.

eta: there is a really good discussion in the notes about “religious Christianity” vs “cultural Christianity” and how that applies to (especially non-religious) Jewish ppl - I think that many Muslim people, especially Muslim-raised atheists or Muslim immigrants, csn attest to having similar experiences with wanting to retain “culturally Muslim” identities. I thought it was super educational so go read it! It’s much better thought out and articulated than my garbage.

Reminder that Christmas is a religious holiday and all the things that come with it (the tree, the colors, the traditions, etc.) are apart of it (even if you don’t celebrate for religious reasons it still is) and if you say “Oh it’s just part of the season” you’re throwing your Jewish & other not Christian religious participants under the bus

[tipsycad147]

All About Cinnamon | The Health Benefits, Uses, & More

Written by Sass Ayres

Cinnamon, as warming and sweet as it is, is a quintessential spice of the fall season. And this common spice that we might take for nothing more than the flavor of fall has a long history of use as both food and medicine. From immune health to cardiovascular health, the health benefits of cinnamon make it so much more than just a spice cabinet staple. Plus, it’s flippin’ delicious! Today, cinnamon can be found in everything from holiday pies to toothpaste.

HERE YOU’LL FIND: Meet Cinnamon Get To Know The Real Cinnamon: Cassia vs. Ceylon Culinary Uses of Cinnamon The Health Benefits of Cinnamon Resources & Further Reading

As a tropical spice that is commercially produced primarily in Sri Lanka, India, Malaysia, Madagascar, and the Seychelles, for most of us, cinnamon travels a long way and passes through many hands to get to our kitchens.

Believe it or not, cinnamon actually played a big role in colonial expansion. In the early 1500s, Ceylon, now Sri Lanka, was invaded by the Portuguese in an attempt to monopolize the cinnamon trade. Several hundred years later, the Dutch East India company took over and dominated the cinnamon trade up until the early-mid 1800s, effectively spreading cinnamon all over the globe.

Cinnamon was (and is!) adored by everyone.

But there’s more to this everyday spice than meets the eye. Because of its origin, traditional methods of processing, and the multitude of unique varieties and uses, cinnamon is quite an interesting plant!

Meet Cinnamon (Cinnamomum spp.)

Here’s the skinny:

Cinnamon is an evergreen tree, and when left to its own devices, it can grow 30-50 feet tall. However, commercially grown cinnamon is grown as a bush and typically maxes out around 10 feet tall.

The leaves are long and oval-shaped, typically anywhere from 3-7″ long. Cinnamon flowers are small, whitish-green, and arranged in panicles.

In more commercial operations, a cinnamon tree is typically ready for harvest at 2-3 years old. The shoots are then coppiced (harvested by cutting back to the ground) and left to regrow as many 2-3 times a season. Cinnamon trees can typically be harvested from for 40-50 years!

The bark of the cinnamon tree is harvested right after monsoon season, when all the rain and humidity has made the cinnamon bark softer and easier to harvest.

As the bark dries after harvest, it rolls into quills, what we often refer to as cinnamon sticks.

There are hundreds of types of cinnamon, but only 4 are typically grown commercially. These are Ceylon (true cinnamon), Cassia, Saigon, and Korintje.

Cinnamaldehyde is the primary essential oil found in cinnamon and is responsible for its characteristic taste and smell.

Get To Know The Real Cinnamon

While there are many varieties of cinnamon, the two most common are Cassia and Ceylon cinnamon. Cassia cinnamon is, by far, the most ubiquitous variety. Because it’s generally less expensive and has a stronger flavor than Ceylon, it’s the most common variety on the market shelves.

However, to most untrained palates, the two are relatively indistinguishable.

Ceylon Cinnamon

often referred to as “true cinnamon”

grown in Sri Lanka and southern India

typically a lighter brown color

more expensive than Cassia cinnamon and is more difficult to find in groceries

has a milder, more delicate flavor (and perhaps even slight floral notes)

the bark is generally in thinner sheets, which are nested into each other, resulting in a flakier appearance

Cassia Cinnamon

grown mostly in China

typically darker in color, often appearing reddish

has a much more intense flavor (and is often preferred for its stronger flavor)

contains a higher concentration of cinnamaldahyde

the bark is typically thick and usually single layered (compared to the thin, multi-layered, and flaky-looking Ceylon)

the most commonly sold and available cinnamon in the United States

Culinary Uses of Cinnamon

Cinnamon’s most prominent use is as a food. It’s been used as a spice to flavor everything from curries, teas, marinades, chewing gum, soups, baked goods and desserts, as well as liqueurs. Chocolate and cinnamon is a popular combination, and cinnamon is a key ingredient in 5-spice powder, a Chinese blend of 5 or more spices representing the traditional Chinese elements of sweet, sour, bitter, salty, and pungent.

Cinnamon bark essential oil is also often used in food. Because it generally yields a more consistent flavor, cinnamon bark oil has replaced powdered cinnamon as a flavoring in much of the commercialized food industry.

Try These Recipes With Cinnamon

Simple Cinnamon Tea Cinnamon & Pear Cordial Savory Cinnamon & Spice Herbal Salt Cinnamon & Rose Pear Upside-Down Cake Coffee & Cacao Cocktail Bitters

The Health Benefits of Cinnamon

It might be a little surprising, but many of the most commonly used herbs and spices in our kitchens live double lives as incredible plant medicines.

The health benefits of cinnamon go far beyond the alluring aroma of fall desserts and sweet treats. It’s not really hard to believe that this spice is beloved worldwide. After all, what would our apple pie and pumpkin-spiced everything be without cinnamon?!

Cinnamon is antiviral, astringent, anti-fungal, expectorant, antibacterial, anti-inflammatory, and so much more. With such a wide variety of medicinal actions, it has many medicinal uses.

Cinnamon bark oil is used in the pharmaceutical industry in products for asthma and colds/coughs due to its expectorant and fever-reducing properties.

Cinnamon helps to increase warmth and circulation, thereby supporting healthy and efficient digestion.

It can help relax uterine muscles, helping to calm painful menstrual cramps. Cinnamon tea is a popular remedy for menstrual cramps.

It can help to dissolve excess mucus, aiding in resolving coughs and lung congestion. For this reason, cinnamon can also be effective in easing respiratory allergy symptoms.

Studies have demonstrated effectiveness in helping to decrease blood sugar levels and cholesterol.

Cinnamon 101

Species  True Cinnamon: Cinnamomum verum (formerly C. zeylanicum) Cassia: C. cassia (or C. aromaticum) Korintje: C. burmannii Saigon: C. loureiroi

Family Lauraceae (the laurel family)

Part(s) Used Dried inner bark of young branches & semi-hard shoots

Origin Tropical forests of Indonesia & other parts of Asia When to Harvest Immediately after rainy season, when the bark is softer & easier to harvest

Energetics Drying, Warming, Energizing

As a Medicine Antiviral, Alterative, Astringent, Anti-fungal, Carminative Antibacterial, Anti-parasitic, Anti-inflammatory, Gastrointestinal tonic Expectorant (helps to remove excess mucus)

As a Food Excellent source of manganese & fiber Very good source of calcium

Caution(s) Caution against using large doses (>1 teaspoon/day) for long periods of time. Contraindicated in persons with a cinnamon allergy. Caution during pregnancy due to slight emmenagogue effect.

**Always consult with your doctor or a licensed clinical herbalist if you have any concern or are taking any prescription medications.**

Other Uses Crafts Aromatherapy, Body care & perfume

Resources & Further Reading

Engels, G. & Brinckmann, J. (2012). Cinnamon. Herbalgram, 95:1-5. Retrieved from http://cms.herbalgram.org/herbalgram/issue95/hg95-herbpro-cinnamon.html

Chen, P., Sun, J., & Ford, P. (2014) Differentiation of the Four Major Species of Cinnamons (C. burmannii, C. verum, C. cassia, and C. loureiroi) Using a Flow Injection Mass Spectrometric (FIMS) Fingerprinting Method. J Agric Food Chem, 62(12): 2516–2521. Retrieved from https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3983393/

Garner-Wizard, M. (2016). Review of health benefits of cinnamon. Retrieved from http://cms.herbalgram.org/herbclip/541/081546-541.html

American Botanical Council. (2000). Herbal Medicine: Expanded Commission E Monographs: Cinnamon bark. Retrieved from http://cms.herbalgram.org/expandedE/Cinnamonbark.html

McBride, K. (2019) The Herbal Kitchen.

Tilgner, S. M., (2009) Herbal Medicine from the Heart of the Earth.

   https://www.botanyculture.com/meet-the-plants-the-food-medicine-of-cinnamon/

[your-dietician]

Nearly 200 years ago, the lectures of a celebrity vegetarian visiting Portland caused a riot

New Post has been published on https://tattlepress.com/celebrities/nearly-200-years-ago-the-lectures-of-a-celebrity-vegetarian-visiting-portland-caused-a-riot/

Nearly 200 years ago, the lectures of a celebrity vegetarian visiting Portland caused a riot

People across the United States were abuzz with talk of the Portland Graham riot in the summer of 1834, a time when vegetarian ideas were in vogue locally. The “Agitation,” as headlines in Boston, Philadelphia and Albany called it, was a violent mob that attacked the Temple Street Chapel, where celebrity vegetarian lecturer Sylvester Graham was giving his popular course on the “Science of Human Life.” Newspapers here and across the country had much to say about the riot but were left to wonder at its cause.

Was it Graham’s advice to eat whole wheat bread and skip animal-based foods? Or was it something else, something unprintable?

Curiously, few if any Maine historians have examined the riot. However, scholars in other disciplines have explored its causes and implications, while historical news reports reveal fascinating details. Graham’s 1834 visit to Maine exposes widespread sympathy for vegetarianism in Portland and Brunswick, reveals the launch of Maine’s first commercial health food products and highlights local women’s rights concerns.

The Boston Saturday Morning Transcript’s July 5, 1834 newspaper printed a letter from a Portland correspondent who reported that Graham’s “private lectures to married ladies have caused so much excitement that he will probably be unable to continue his course of essays on diet. A mob broke up his lecture last evening, and made some considerable disturbance.”

When celebrity vegetarian Sylvester Graham delivered his popular lecture series in Portland in June 1834, a group of “almost crazy” men attacked the church where he was speaking to stop him from conveying his radical message. Courtesy of Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division

By the summer of 1834, Graham had been delivering his food reform lectures across the Northeast for years. “An impassioned speaker, Graham attracted large audiences, and the crusading minister became an overnight sensation,” Andrew F. Smith, who teaches food studies at the New School in New York, wrote in “Eating History.”

Graham began his Portland lectures on June 5 and continued throughout the month.

Last year, I wrote about Rev. Henry Aiken Worcester who, after attending Graham’s Portland lectures, penned a letter remarking on the widespread adoption of Graham’s principles in Portland, including among the city’s doctors. Since then, Wheaton College history professor Jonathan D. Riddle informed me of a July 22, 1834 letter signed by nine members of the Portland Medical Association giving their full support to Graham’s “diet and general regimen.” The letter from the Maine doctors was reprinted in newspapers and appeared in Graham’s 1835 “A Defence of the Graham System of Living.”

The month before giving his course in Portland, Graham delivered the same lectures at Brunswick’s Congregational Church, where the lecture series was chaired by none other than Maine’s sitting Governor Robert Dunlap, a Brunswick resident. More than 300 people attended the Brunswick course, and from their ranks a committee made up of three professors, three doctors, two attorneys and a general, drafted resolutions supporting Graham’s “principles,” which they said if widely adopted would lead “to the highest earthly welfare of the human family.”

Graham’s visit to Maine was championed by Dr. Reuben D. Mussey, who from 1831 to 1835, was the anatomy and surgery professor at the Medical School of Maine, part of the Bowdoin College campus from 1820 to 1920. Mussey was a Grahamite who in 1850 would become a founding member of the American Vegetarian Society and the fourth president of the American Medical Association. Prof. Mussey was known for converting students to the vegetable diet. 

Graham, the food influencer

The “History of Brunswick, Topsham, and Harpswell, Maine,” written in 1878, mentions the influence of Graham’s lectures on the people of Brunswick, stating “The doctor was an attractive lecturer, and his theory gained many adherents. The meat-market ran low, and butchers feared for their calling. Some really feared that their occupation was gone.”

In addition to urging people to avoid animal-based foods, Graham told people to shun alcohol and all stimulants (including spices, coffee, tea, chocolate, tobacco and opium). He urged them to eat vegetables and whole wheat bread and to drink pure water. By 1834, whole grain flour was known as Graham flour and the bread made from it was called Graham bread.

Beginning on June 24, Allen’s Bakery on Willow Street began running ads to let readers know it had “Graham Bread, Constantly on hand and for sale cheap.” On June 27, baker John Pearson alerted readers in his own ad that he sold Graham Bread at his Casco Street Bake-house, too. On July 9, the Blake & Howe bakery ran an ad stating: “We manufacture the bread recommended by Dr. Graham of good stock brought from New York expressly for the purpose.” As the summer wore on, merchant John Cox, who did business on the Central Wharf, advertised that the steamer Macdonough would arrive Aug. 18 with 10 barrels of Graham flour.

But not all merchants welcomed Graham’s presence in Portland. Within Graham’s unpublished, handwritten lecture notes housed at the American Antiquarian Society in Worcester, Massachusetts, he writes: “A woman keeping a confectionary shop in Portland told Dr. J. W. Mighels that if she should meet Graham in the Street and had a pistol she would shoot him for he had damaged her more than a hundred dollars by his lectures.” Graham counseled against eating sugar, which Dr. Mighels, as one of the nine doctors who signed the letter endorsing Graham, would know.

The reported drop in demand for meat in Brunswick and sweets in Portland combined with the ads for Graham bread mark the start of Maine’s commercial health food market. Natural food expert Joe Dobrow writes in his 2014 chronicle of the health food industry, “Natural Prophets,” that “New England … had a long history in health foods, starting with Sylvester Graham.”

A minister who came from a family of doctors, Graham was well known for his love of wholewheat bread and his vegetarian physiology message. He also lectured on sexual physiology, which proved more provocative than counseling people to eat bran bread. Graham’s temperate philosophy extended to sex and treated men and women equally. He argued in favor of extreme sexual restraint for both men and women at a time when a sexual double standard prevailed, women lacked basic rights and men wielded tremendous power over women’s lives and bodies.

Graham delivered his lecture on sexual physiology to male-only crowds without problem. But as historian April R. Haynes writes in “Riotous Flesh,” Graham’s “lecture on chastity became inflammatory when delivered to women because it insisted that all bodies were subject to the same set of God-given ‘laws of life and health.’ In this way, reform physiology minimized the significance of physical differences such as sex, and implicitly, skin color. Rioters perceived Graham’s sexual universalism as challenging the basic hierarchies of gender and race that limited and defined Jacksonian democracy.”

Despite the speculation of some newspapers, it wasn’t Graham’s advice to eat wheat bread and vegetables that created the “agitation” in Portland. Instead, it was Graham’s Lecture to Mothers with its radical equal rights message that summoned the Portland mob, according to Haynes.

Anti-Graham mob

On Jan. 10, 1870, the Eastern Argus newspaper in Portland published a lengthy, front page story about wholesome bread, which it said should be made from whole wheat without sour milk or lard. The author, under the pen name Agricola (Latin for “farmer”), observes that 36 years after Graham’s lectures, Graham bread was now in “general use.” Agricola then recalls Graham’s visit stating, “These lectures to the women excited the wrath of some of the wealthiest and most respectable citizens, and the excitement culminated in a mob which one evening surrounded Temple St. church. The street was full of people and the excitement ran high. Brickbars were hurled through the windows, shouts went up outside and the woman shrieked inside the church. The lecture was broken up and Graham was compelled to leave the church in disguise and seek a place of refuge from the mob. It was a disgraceful affair, and some men seemed to be almost crazy.”

During Graham’s visit, the June 13, 1834 Eastern Argus praised his lectures as “worthy to be attended by all who can afford the expense.” In contrast, historian Haynes calls the Portland Daily Advertiser “active in drumming up hostility” against Graham. We see the first hints of this in the June 17 newspaper, where a letter writer named Simplex (Latin for “simple”) writes that Graham had been lavished with “over-strained praise” and instead deserves “reprehension.” However, even Simplex concedes Graham “is rather a personable man” and “has a good voice.”

The newspaper also promoted a comedic evening planned for June 30 titled “The Yankee at Home” where performer Mr. G. H. Hill would recite a “New Yankee Story” called “Aunt Nabby’s love of Graham Bread, and the starved Rats.”

This detail of John Cullum’s 1836 map of Portland shows the Temple Street Chapel, where Sylvester Graham lectured in 1834. Courtesy of the collections of Maine Historical Society, Map F 601 (detail)

But most strikingly, the Portland Daily Advertiser ran a notice for an “Anti-Graham Lecture” scheduled for 8 p.m. on June 27 at Portland City Hall (located where Monument Square is today and just around the corner from the Temple Street Chapel, which sat roughly where the entrance to the Nickelodeon movie theater parking garage is today).

One detail about the 1834 Graham riot that remains elusive is its precise date. However, it seems probable that the initial riot took place on June 27, the same night a hostile crowd gathered nearby. Haynes documents that mobs prevented Graham from lecturing the following night and when he returned a month later.

Further evidence that June 27 could be the night of the initial riot comes from the date attached to seven resolutions praising Graham and the correctness of his lectures that were adopted unanimously by 160 women who attended his Lecture to Mothers in Portland. In a bold move for the time, five prominent local women attached their names to the document, which expressed regret over “the misrepresentations … so freely disseminated … by individuals from whom we had a right to expect better things.” The July 22, 1834 Alexandria Gazette in Virginia reports the women’s “resolutions are highly complimentary to Mr. Graham.”

While both local and national newspapers reported on the riot, its cause remained unclear and open to interpretation. For instance, the New York Commercial Advertiser, which was quoted in several other newspapers, stated that “if Mr. Graham has been instructing the wives and mothers of Portland to cram any of his bread down the throats of their husbands and children we don’t wonder at the excitement.”

Graham, who published widely, never printed his Lecture to Mothers and no copy remains. However, Haynes documents that in the lecture Graham taught reproductive anatomy, counseled marital sex for procreation only and condemned masturbation, all topics he commonly spoke about at the time.

On June 26, 1834, the Christian Mirror, a Congregational newspaper, printed a letter from Helen of Brunswick, who praises Graham’s lectures, noting that “even here in New England — this moral Eden of the world — we fear there is scarcely a village, which is not contaminated by the lewd conduct of some pests —(they deserve not the name of men).” Helen’s statement, though veiled, likely speaks to sexual violence, harassment and gender-based power imbalances.

“The nature of Graham’s lectures and the audiences exposed masculine fears of women empowered by knowledge of their own bodies,” historian Adam D. Shprintzen writes in “The Vegetarian Crusade.”

On the very last page of Graham’s 350-page lecture notes, he lists five Portland men under the heading: “The character of those men who got up a mob against me in Portland June 1834 — according to common and accredited report.” He names names and then outlines each man’s character, including such observations as “a rich man — an infamous whore master — having a wife and child he is said and believed to have seduced two girls last winter”; and “a violent (Andrew) Jackson man — a bitter opposer of the temperance cause and is generally considered an Atheist.” Another Portland rioter, Graham writes, was a white man “reputed” to have fathered a child out of wedlock with a Black woman.  Haynes finds no evidence of the child but notes “Graham’s depictions of the other alleged conspirators can be confirmed.”

Turns out Sylvester Graham was a threat not only to the culturally-accepted practice of eating animals but, more provocatively, to gendered social norms, according to Haynes. In reaction, a group of “almost crazy” men incited the 1834 Graham riot to reinforce and maintain the existing social hierarchy.

One final note of interest here at the start of the 2021 tourist season: Back in 1834, newspapers in Providence and Boston were among those that reprinted a story from the New York Times citing “Mr. Graham, the cold water lecturer,” among a short list of entertainments in Maine that summer that prove “down-easters are becoming a famous people for amusements and exhibitions.” Not only did Graham stoke the smoldering local interest in vegetarianism, his eventful 1834 visit helped cultivate Maine’s early Vacationland image. 

Avery Yale Kamila is a food writer who lives in Portland. She can be reached at [email protected] Twitter: AveryYaleKamila

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[douglashonorscollege]

A Family Outing

short story by Anonymous  ⌂

“WHOEVER STOLE MY WHEELBARROW F*** YOU B**** COME SEE ME.”

Duke stared at the words in front of the orange home in the Box. This was much different than the “Bless This Home” sign in front of his own house. His house--located in the suburbs, many miles away from the Box--was tall and well-groomed. The carpet in the house was soft under his paws, the bright yellow walls were smooth when he brushed his small furry blonde body against them, and food crumbs were plentiful.

Everything about humans fascinated Duke. He watched every movie with his family (even the scary ones), tried every food he was given, and even sang along when Madeline practiced the violin. When the day of the Box trip arrived, he sat in the family’s van and watched them exit the church. All Duke knew about church was that nobody wanted to go and Mom yelled at anyone who dared to wear jeans. Despite their complaints, Duke envied the time they spent in that small mysterious building.

Duke had been anticipating the visit to the Box for months. He was there when Mom had ordered the tickets online and had been attentively eavesdropping on the family’s Box discussions ever since. At dinner, Dad had remarked, “I can’t wait to see one of those Box-freaks in real life.” Dad acted really tough with his yelling and cursing and giving Duke the nickname “Schmuck”. When no one was looking, he cried during movies, sang to love songs on the radio, and cuddled with Duke after work.

Duke intently watched as Madeline, the oldest sibling, wrote a research paper about the Box:

The Box was built in 2067 in a small town formerly known as Finley, WA. After 6,000 different Hanford Nuclear Power Plant employees developed physical and mental mutations from a radioactive material leak, the government decided to intervene. Side effects ranged from psychotic behavior, tentacle growth from the brain, and green tinting to the skin. After the incident, the power plant was shut down; thousands of families were left without any source of income, ill, and angry.

First, they torched the mall, then the bank, then the churches. When they started murdering masses and rearranging the railroads, it became clear that no ordinary jail cell could contain the continually mutating victims. That’s when the Box was built. The Box is a sturdy, well-filtered facility that is 14.5 cubic miles large. All 6,000 employees were forcibly transferred to live in the Box permanently. Upon entering the Box, citizens were encouraged to build houses and begin farming with the artificial resources provided.

Duke recalled the times he had learned about the Box from the magic screen in the living room. When a Box resident attempted to scale the 14.5 mile wall in an effort to escape, he suffocated from lack of oxygen and died. In efforts to boost morale, the government transformed the Box into a freak show/amusement park for the citizens outside the Box. Within weeks, The Box became the most popular tourist attraction in eastern Washington. Duke was confused why such a sad place would bring people excitement, but he just assumed that it was yet another aspect of being human that he would never understand.

The day they went to the Box was a warm Sunday afternoon in October, so Dad decided a trip to the winery would be a good way to kill time before their appointment at the Box. Duke loved wineries. The long stretches of grass to chase his sisters on, the sunshine to bathe in, and the occasional hidden dead bird or rat to munch on. He loved how happy his family looked. Mom and Dad, sipping red wine and playing cards, and his sisters slicing apples with a small kitchen knife from Mom’s purse. Mom was incredibly thoughtful, she was prepared for anything.

Duke’s family approached the gates to the Box in their minivan and parked next to the ticket booth. A teenager wearing an “I SURVIVED THE BOX” T-shirt opened the ticket window. The shiny pimples on his face reminded Duke of the Skittles commercials his sisters thought were so funny.

“Tickets for seven please,” said Dad.

“Is your group interested in purchasing any souvenirs, sir?” the boy grunted.

“Nah, not today.” Eyeroll. Sigh.

“Welcome to the Box. At the Box, we have three rules: no leaving the vehicle, no weapons permitted, and no removing any items from the Box. Pictures are encouraged. If you post a photo, please use #getboxed to get 15% off your next visit. Since you’ve already signed the waiver you’re good to go.”

The family chanted “The Box! The Box! The Box!” as they traded their van for a rented military-grade Hummer. Duke sat in the passenger's seat on Mom’s lap. Mom is a charming woman whose big eyes, big nose, big mouth, big teeth, and big blonde Jennifer Anniston highlights, looked even bigger on her petite body. She wore large beaded earrings, pink lipstick, high heels, and a dress with lots of lines and shapes on it.

As Dad drove the Hummer through the gates and towards the steak fields, Duke recalled the time when mom had snuck him steak, fish, and even cabbage before dinner. She never forgot about Duke. He thought of their morning snuggles, the good books he read over her shoulder, and the time she defended his honor when he chewed up the cord to the vacuum cleaner. His favorite part of the day was sitting by her side and watching her paint. He often followed his family as their feet shuffled throughout the house. Mom’s were his favorite to follow.

There were times when Duke was convinced that despite her adoration for her biological children, he was indeed Mom’s favorite. He was a good boy. Mom made Duke feel as if--despite his small furry body--that he was human. It was Mom who insisted he join the family on long hikes and trips to the beach and demanded his appearance in every Christmas card. It was Mom who chose to bring him on the family’s big trip to see the Box.

Dad was not as enthusiastic to bring Duke. He found it outrageous that he had to buy an adult-priced ticket for a 10-pound chihuahua.

The further they drove into the Box, their amazement grew. Despite it being 2 pm, the sky was pitch black, and torches illuminated the houses built from garbage. Between the houses were fields of colorful produce, and green octopus-looking children eyeing the family closely, licking their lips. The fields felt endless. The air smelled different near the plants, a sweet, sour stench that made Duke feel dizzy.

Madeline shouted, “Mom look! That orange house is made of trash, just like we learned about in the documentary. The garbage man dumps our trash here so that the monsters can make houses.”

Duke watched as Mom’s bright green eyes faded to a watery grey, as they usually do after a few drinks. Her eyes were glued to a garden next to the orange house. Duke scratched her arm to ask for more snuggles, but she did not respond. The garden was filled with bright blue glowing pumpkins. She was entranced. So entranced that she didn’t even notice the threatening sign next to the house.

“Michael stop the car.”

Dad stopped the car; he is more obedient than Duke sometimes. Mom pulled a small kitchen knife from her purse, handed the knife to her two oldest children, and told them to go to the garden and grab a pumpkin for her.

They hesitated at first, confused why they were being encouraged to steal but soon jumped out of the car like it was the grandest adventure of their lives. They too, upon seeing the pumpkins for themselves, fell in love.

They had never looked at Duke the way they looked at those pumpkins. Was he not good enough? What did those pumpkins have that he didn’t? The pumpkins never chewed up their toys. That must be it.

Duke watched through the window. He observed their big cheesy smiles as the two girls tried to cut the pumpkin from the stem, and their terrified faces when the door to the orange house opened, a 300-pound green-skinned witch with scales instead of skin emerged. Her long hair was made of octopus tentacles that rattled as she walked. She wore a long nightgown made of bedsheets. After taking a long puff from her cigar, she asked them to leave.

Duke was ready to attack. He could sense that his sisters were in danger.

Dad opened the door to apologize, but before he could muster the words Mom had summoned her children to the car, put the pumpkin in her purse, and had called Box patrol.

The Box patrol rolled up in another military-grade Hummer with #GetBoxed logos on every door. Two tall brawny women armed with assault rifles exited the vehicle and inspected the scene. Duke noted the way they looked at the woman from the orange house. They grimaced at her scaly feet and overgrown nails. The stench seeping from her tentacles made them gag. The woman took a long puff from her cigar.

“These kids stole one of my pumpkins. The rules say no stealing. I’ve been growing these pumpkins for years. They are the only part of this Box that brings me joy.”

Mom remained calm, and looked the patrol woman in the eyes, “There seems to be a misunderstanding. My dog leaped from the car window and my daughters went to go grab him before he did any damage to this beautiful garden. Then this witch chased my children around the yard and threatened them with violence. I was so scared.” She paused and turned to the woman, “You have a lovely home by the way.”

Duke was in shock. That is not what happened. He was a good boy and stayed in the car.

How could the woman he loved so dearly lie so easily?

The woman became enraged by Mom’s lies and pleaded her innocence. The patrol women ignored her; they had already made up their minds.

“CHECK HER PURSE!” the witch yelled. The veins in her neck glowed through her skin.

The first gunshot fired. Duke whimpered. His sisters unbuckled their seatbelts. Mom locked the doors. Dad didn’t move, his eyes glued to the ground.

“SHE HAS MY PUMPKIN.”

The second shot fired. Duke began to bark. When his sisters cried, they were told to close their eyes. Mom was yelling now, demanding them to shut their eyes. Duke looked at mom, eyes wide open.

“PLEASE, LET ME LIVE!”

The third shot fired. Duke darted through the window to the Box Patrol and started biting their legs. He tore their pants but realized it was too late.

The woman’s body lay in front of her home. The little orange house made of garbage that she built herself. Her blood was a deep blue and bubbled as it pooled around her body. Duke walked to her corpse and stared at her. He licked her fingertips but she didn’t move.

Momo, age six, was crying and tugged at Mom’s shoulder, “Can we say sorry now? We’re really sorry we stole her pumpkins. I want to go home. Is she hurt? We should wake her up now.”

Duke’s other sisters remained silent, they knew better than to comment. They stared at the floor, nauseous with guilt.

The muscular Box Patrol women stood over her corpse, took a photo, and asked Mom and Dad if they would like a free copy of it emailed to them. Dad said no, Mom said yes, which means yes, the picture would be sent to her email address.

As one of the patrol officers bagged the body, another apologized to Mom, “We are sincerely embarrassed for your family’s traumatic experience today and would like to offer a gift to make up for it. We will be sending #GetBoxed T-shirts as well as #IsurvivedtheBoxFreak merchandise to your home as well as a 50% discount on your next visit.”

The blue glowing pumpkin now lives in the family’s beautiful home in Kennewick. It sat first in a glass box next to the easel where Mom paints, in place of where Duke used to sit. The glass seemed to be shrinking. Last week, the glass broke. Every day, Duke patiently waits for his morning snuggles, lunchtime walks, and evening painting, but Mom no longer shows any interest. She prefers to stare at the pumpkin. Her eyes have faded since staring at it, obsessing over it, and refusing to throw it away, even after it starts to decay. She has stopped sneaking Duke treats and inviting him on trips. When Duke chewed up a shoe out of boredom, she called him a monster.

His sisters stay in their rooms with the doors shut, not cracked, so he can’t push them open with his nose. At dinner, there is silence. The pumpkin at first sat on the piano during dinner but is now massive enough to be a table.

Duke often finds himself staring at the yellow walls, which have now begun to fade to green. The walls are no longer smooth, but prickly when he rubs against them. They’re covered in numerous paintings of the blue pumpkin. Duke stares in awe, confusion, and betrayal. The walls have become so shiny that Duke sees himself in the mirror for the first time. He doesn’t look human at all. He looks like a blue pumpkin. ∎

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