#food bought for everybody in my own house.....

[nepenthean-sleep]

you know what. i've always been hesitant to describe my anaphylactic food allergies as a disability because "it's just allergies" but if you look at the numerous ways this has affected my life as an adult (because everybody only talks about kids having anaphylactic allergies):

no restaurants or fast food

no store-bought food from small companies (less accountability/resources to prevent cross-contamination)

no candy or desserts (unless they are 100% homemade, which takes a lot of time and energy if you have other disabilities like i do)

no hand-washing dishes (every place i live in has to have a well-functioning dishwasher)

no kissing people on the mouth/lower half of the face

other people cannot kiss me/put their mouth on me

no allergens in the house (really difficult to enforce with non- immediate family members!!)

always having to cook my own meals/bake my own treats/desserts

no sharing drinks/food with other people

no food cooked in other people's houses/kitchens

always having to bring my own "lunchbox" to family events, work or school, all-day events, or any other situation in which i could THEORETICALLY need to eat or drink something other than bottled water

calling food manufacturers to verify label information on new/changed foods

and none of this is counting the avoidance behaviors i developed with obsessive-compulsive disorder around age 13 in response to the panic attacks i'd have remembering about the anaphylactic shock i experienced at age 10.

i was taught to read labels at age 5. i was taught how to use my own epi-pen at age 6. my parents and i have always been careful and responsible about my allergies. it's not "i just don't like this food", it's "if i eat this my throat will swell up and block my trachea AND i'll go into shock from low blood pressure." as inconvenient as it might be for YOU, you can learn these things too and save a life. happy disability pride month; stop being a dickhead

i don't usually talk about my allergies because it gives me a LOT of anxiety but i felt this was important to share, because most people have no idea what being an adult with allergies is like. life went from "everyone at the birthday party gets a cupcake but me and i'm sad" to to "if i want to kiss someone i like, i have to make sure she hasn't eaten anything i'm allergic to in the past few days" (which is like. hugely awkward to ask of someone holy shit) or "i have to turn down the meal from my friend's mom even though she has the best of intentions and now she thinks i'm an asshole"

[outermaybanks]

i was thinking if mean!jj x kook!reader,

jj works for reader and she gets on his nerves but he kinda likes her and she teases him sometimes but little does he know she kinda likes him too

i LOVE mean JJ

a/n: soooo I loved this request so much that it kind of took on a mind of its own and became wayyyy too long, so this is part 1, part 2 coming soon after i proofread and edit. but also if this isn't quite what you were requesting PLS let me know I love this pairing and dynamic and would fully be willing to try again

part two posted

This summer was supposed to be your summer. Your dad had bought you your dream car, a whole new wardrobe, and your parent’s 15th anniversary fell in the middle of July, and this year you were promised the house to yourself for that week while your parents took a second honeymoon. 

But then, your dad hired none other than the infamous JJ Maybank to work for him this summer. 

Now, normally, you would have no problem with your dad hiring a Pogue to work around the house, both of JJ’s friends, Pope Heyward and John B Routledge had worked small jobs for him in the past, but JJ was practically your worst nightmare when it came to your plans. You had planned for this summer to be the best ever, to be the height of your social life, and now, the most big mouthed, impulsive, Kook-hating and downright rude Pogue to ever grace the OBX was working in your house five days a week.

So, you naturally came to one conclusion: You had to get JJ to quit before your parent’s trip in the middle of July.

June 10th

It started small, ignoring him when he was there, it was no secret that JJ hated Kooks, so you figured being as rude as he assumed you to be would be easiest. But honestly, it seemed like JJ liked that you ignored him, so you had to kick it up a bit. 

“Hey Pogue!” You called as you stepped out of your mansion, clad in only a bikini as you prepared to enjoy your pool. JJ released the gas on the lawn mower to make it stop as his jaw clenched and he put on his most tolerable face. “When you finish with the lawn, you need to change the oil in my car.”

“In case you didn’t get the memo, princess, I work for your dad, not you,” JJ called before reaching for the pull cord. You made your way down the steps and over to him just as he began tugging the cord, but you stood right in front of the mower, so JJ begrudgingly released the bar again.

“In case you didn’t get the memo, my daddy does anything I say. Daddy has fired workers for making my food wrong, so really, you work for me, princess. Got that?” You asked with a sickeningly sweet smile. JJ’s lower jaw stirred then clenched into a forced smile. “You got it, ma’am.” “That’s better, Maybank.”

You didn’t like being mean, and you didn’t like asserting power over others, that’s why you didn’t just follow through on your word and tell your dad to fire JJ. You knew he needed this job, and you didn’t want to close that window for him permanently, but this was a man who was known for getting into fights, especially with Kooks, a man who you already knew hated you, and now he was standing in the way of your summer plans. JJ being here meant half the Kooks you knew wouldn’t step foot on the property just to avoid drama, or avoid upsetting their boyfriends. You just needed your summer back. If you could just get JJ to quit for the summer, you’d have your daddy offer him more money to come back in the fall. Really, a win win for everybody.

You weren’t naive to the rumors around the island about JJ, and as you walked towards your lounge chair on the edge of the pool, you couldn’t help turn your head to catch a glimpse of JJ’s arms as he yanked the starter cord to resume mowing the back lawn. 

June 17th

A week had passed since that encounter, and JJ showed no signs of quitting. He was currently cleaning your pool as you were inside, in the cool AC, as your mom had the house chef make you lunch. The house chef liked to listen to noise while they worked, so from you sat at the island, sipping a pina colada, you heard the weatherman announce the heat wave that was currently plaguing the Outerbanks. Despite everything, you found yourself looking out the window to JJ, shirtless as he used the pool skimmer.

You groaned to yourself as you couldn’t bring yourself to cruelty. You went to the fridge and grabbed a cold water bottle before sliding the glass door open.

“Hey Maybank!” You called, making JJ look up. You held up the water bottle then gentle tossed it to him. JJ dropped the pool skimmer to catch it, and then inspected the water bottle before opening it. He gave it a test sniff, which make you giggle, before he took a sip.

“Thanks, Kook.” “Just y/n works, y’know. Unless you want to go back to calling me princess,” You joked, walking closer to him, your lips wrapping around the straw to sip your pina colada as JJ downed the water bottle. 

“Can I ask you something?” You asked suddenly, surprising yourself that you had actually spoken your thoughts aloud. “What?” JJ replied coldly, looking at you suspiciously. “Why did you start working for my dad? Everyone knows you hate Kooks, I figured that meant you’d want to stay as far away from them as possible.” “Well, firstly, don’t assume you know anything about me. Secondly- you’re right. I do hate Kooks. Your dad was offering more than anyone else, that’s all.” “Really? Extra money is all it takes to abandon your morals?” “See, that’s it right there. To you, it’s extra money. To me, it’s survival. All you damn Kooks wouldn’t know shit about struggling. But god forbid you don’t have a brand new dress to wear to your weekly Courtillion or some shit.”

“Cotillion,” You corrected. “Which is only for debuntants, which I am not.”

“What the fuck ever. The point is, you think you know real struggle, so when you see someone actually struggling, you don’t give a fuck, but the truth is you’ve never had a real problem. Rich people make up their own problems so they don’t get bored, and then act entitled to people who actually struggle, it’s fucking annoying,” JJ finished before picking the pool skimmer back up. His words felt like a slap in the face, but you took them to heart. That night, you went to your dad and told him he needed to pay JJ more. 

June 20th

“Chug, chug, chug!” The amalgamation of voices cheered on as Kelce and Topper shotgunned a beer. Since you couldn’t invite your friends to your house, you had gone over to your friend’s house for some fun, but then she got a text about a get together at the beach, so that’s where you found yourself. 

“Hey, y/n, what’s this I hear about JJ Maybank working for your dad or something?” A girl named Hannah asked. “Yeah, he started a few weeks before summer break,” You answered. “Ooooo,” The girl teased. “Has he been… putting the work in?” You rolled your eyes, a sick feeling forming in your stomach at her words. “That’s so- It’s not like that. I barely speak to him,” you answered, bringing your beer can to your lips, hoping that would end the conversation. “You’re better than me, girl. On the first day I would’ve jumped his bones.”

It disgusted you to hear Hannah reduce JJ down to his looks, to his sexual reputation. You couldn’t help but remember what JJ had said about all Kooks feeling entitled.  

“Actually, Hannah, he’s like, really cool, and smart, and… passionate about his hobbies. He’s not just a dick for you to jump on,” Honestly, you pulled all of that out of your ass, but you just couldn’t let her speak about JJ like he was a piece of meat.

Hannah laughed. “And you learned all of that by barely speaking to him? Yeah, sure, y/n, it’s okay, your secret is safe with me. I wouldn’t want everyone to know I was boning a Pogue either.” That was your limit. You quickly excused yourself, and when no one was looking, you left the beach.

Unfortunately, your friend had driven you, so you were stuck walking home. Whatever. You couldn’t stand to be there another moment.

JJ had been off that day as well, so he had spent the day with his friends, and they were currently on their way back to John B’s house. Just as JJ had put his blunt between his lips, about to spark it, his night was ruined.

“Hey, is that y/n y/l/n?” John B asked as he slowed down the Twinkie to get a better look.  “Yeah, yeah, it is,” Pope answered. “Stop the van.” “What? Why? She can walk just fine,” JJ argued. “It’s dark out and she’s walking alone,” John B answered. “So? She’ll be fine.”

“JJ.” John B scolded before pulling the van over beside you. You recognized John B’s van from when it was parked in your driveway when John B worked on your dad’s boat. “Hey, y/n, you alright?” John B asked after he rolled the window down. 

“I- Yeah, I just… my car ran out of… oil… so… walking.” Your lie pricked up JJ’s ears, as he had practically become your personal mechanic, he knew there was nothing wrong with your car because he had checked it before going home yesterday.

“Do you need a ride?” Pope asked from the passenger seat.

You couldn’t get JJ’s words out of your mind. Kooks create their own problems because they’re bored.

“No, no, really, I’m fine… Um, but my phone died, do you- um- Do you know how I would get home from here?” The beach you guys had gone to had been on the border of the Cut and Figure Eight, you had never ventured that far before. 

Of course she doesn’t even fucking know her way around, JJ thought. He argued with himself in his mind before leaning forward between John B and Pope. “Just get in, princess, we’ll get you home.”

It had shocked you to suddenly see JJ, although you suppose it shouldn’t have considering the three of them had been joined at the hip for as long as you’d known them. Before you could get  out a response, the van door slid open, and JJ was beckoning you inside. You stood there, frozen.

“y/n, c’mon, your dad would have my ass if he found out I left you out here alone, just get in.”

You slowly got inside the back of the van, JJ slammed the door shut as he leaned back on the bench. You noticed the unlit blunt between his fingers.

“Is that weed?” You asked. JJ sighed. “You caught me, princess, but I’m off the clock, I would never smoke while-” “Can I hit that?”

JJ was taken aback, and his first instinct was to get defensive, why the hell would he share his bud with a Kook? But he realized, if you took a hit, he’d have just as much dirt on you as you had on him, so he happily handed it over. You carefully put it between your lips then held your hand out for a lighter, but JJ would be damned if a Kook stole his favorite lighter, so he lit it for you. He was surprised by how naturally you inhaled the smoke, and how relaxed you looked as you exhaled. JJ then realized how little he actually knew about you, but then, he got angry with himself for thinking that.

“So what happened? Chad didn’t ask you to Cotillion?” JJ asked coldly, but you smiled to yourself because he said it right this time.  “I already told you I’m not a debutant, and who the fuck is Chad?” You couldn’t help but giggle as you took a second hit, then handed the blunt back to JJ.  “You know what I mean.” “Yeah, I do. That was your sneaky way of asking me what’s wrong,” you called him out.  “You wish,” JJ replied flatly before taking a hit. “Actually, since you asked, I didn’t like how a girl there was talking about you, so I left.” “I didn’t ask.” “Mmm kind of seems like you did.”

Pope chuckled from the front seat, taking your attention for a minute, and when you turned back to look at JJ, he seemed deep in thought.

“If I’m being honest, hearing her talk that way about you reminded me about what you said about Kooks the other day, and… I didn’t want to be around people who act like that.” “Huh. Didn’t think you Kooks listened to non-Kooks.” “Well, maybe you shouldn’t assume you know anything about me,” you threw his words back at him, making him raise an eyebrow at you.

After John B dropped you off, you charged your phone and had dozens of missed texts and calls from your friends, but you couldn’t care less. That night, all you could think about was JJ Maybank.

July 1st

After John B gave you a ride home, JJ ignored you even more. You had half a mind to throw away your plan, JJ’s words had haunted you and you didn’t want to be the type of person he described, but on the other hand, there was a part of you that had spent way too long trying to fit in, you couldn’t throw it away over one boy’s opinion, so you settled for a happy medium.

JJ’s bike was parked in the driveway, so you knew he was working today. You eventually spotted him in the back, working on your dad’s boat, so you mustered up your courage and boarded the boat, walking over to him with crossed arms. 

“Maybank,” You greeted. “Y/L/N,” JJ mimicked, keeping his eyes on the tools in his hand. “I’ve come to you with a deal.” “Oh yeah? And what would that deal be?” “You can’t be here at all for the week that my dad’s gone. I’ll tell him you came, you’ll still get paid, just don’t actually come.” “Am I supposed to believe that you’ll be doing all my work during that week?” “I- Fuck it, fine, yeah, I’ll do your job for the week.”

This took JJ by surprise. No Kook ever was willing to get their hands dirty.

“Why do you need me gone for that week?” “Because I’m throwing a party,” JJ was already laughing. “I’m serious, I’m throwing a party, and half my girlfriends can’t come because their boyfriends don’t want them around you.” “Smart guys,” JJ retorted, making you cringe. “Whatever. Do we have a deal?” “Like I’d want to be here anyway.”

You smiled, this was the best of both worlds, truly the best case scenario, and in your happiness you wrapped your arms around JJ’s shoulders, but he pulled away, tensed up, and then it hit you. You had grown comfortable with him, and that was your mistake. It didn’t matter that you gave him water, it didn’t matter that him and his friends had been your heroes, JJ Maybank hated Kooks. 

July 4th

“Sweetheart!” Your dad called from his office, you quickly made your way down the hall and leaned against the doorframe. You were already dressed for your family’s annual barbeque, which had become a big even on Figure Eight. 

“What’s up, dad?”  “Can you tell JJ he can go home early today after he cleans the pool?” You nodded and went downstairs to the backyard, once again finding JJ shirtless as he cleaned the pool.

“If you’re trying to get my mom to leave my dad for you, this whole thing won’t work, she prefers construction workers,” You said as you shut the door behind you, JJ looked up at you, but the only response was a confused face. “You know, the whole- hot shirtless pool cleaner has an affair with the lady of the house, that whole trope.”

A smile slowly crept on JJ’s lips, but then it turned into a smirk. “Did you just call me hot, y/n?” You quickly realized your mistake. “You know what I mean.” “Yeah, that was your sneaky way of flirting with me.”

Normally, you would’ve denied it, but this was the nicest JJ had ever been to you, which wasn’t saying much, but you liked it more than his constant ignoring you.

“So, my dad told me to come out here to tell you you can leave after you clean the pool,” you said. “Sounds good to me.”

That should’ve been your cue to go back inside, but instead you stood there, biting your lip as you internally argued with yourself.

“Do you have any plans for today?” JJ’s eyes came up to glance at you, almost suspiciously, “Uh, probably light a bunch of shit on fire.” “Well, my family has this like annual barbeque-” “Yeah, I know. Kie’s stuck going.” “Well… I just wanted to say if-if you wanted to stop by, a lot of my dad’s employees usually come.” “Thought you wanted to keep me far away from all your Kook friends, isn’t that our little deal?” JJ said, and in a panic you walked closer to him, trying to shush him so your dad didn’t hear. “That’s just for that party, and I wouldn’t even care about you being there if you didn’t start a fight with basically every Kook you meet.” “Who says I started it?”

That shocked you. Hearing your friend's stories, it had never occurred to you that they always omitted how the fight started, only how it had ended.

“Regardless, I just wanted to say if you wanted to stop by… it might be cool.” “Might be cool?” “God, do you always make it this hard for people to talk to you? Yes, JJ, it might be cool. It’s a barbeque, not a cult initiation.”  JJ chuckled. “Okay… Maybe I’ll come by. You might want to hide your mom though, I look good in a construction vest.” You smiled then bit down on your lip to hide it. “Okay. Maybe I’ll see you.”

©ᵒᵘᵗᵉʳᵐᵃʸᵇᵃⁿᵏˢ ²⁰²⁴

[actualbird]

confession: i refrained from talking about It here (though i livetweeted the ordeal on my priv lsbdfsdlf) but now that things have calmed down, i wanted to share what's happened

from february 4 to february 12 of 2024, i experienced the most heartbreaking and heart wrenching week of my life. my mother tried to commit suicide several times, and the days were first spent taking care of her while in an overdosed state while she said over and over that she wanted to die before i finally broke and begged her to go to the hospital. up until that point, i was looking after her on my own. i was feeding her, getting her to sit up to drink water, walking her to the bathroom, checking if she was still breathing, and enduring it when she got mad at me and told me she was “fine.” i was hanging on by a thin thread. i’ve always been the house’s caretaker—always known as the pragmatic and responsible one—but this was more than I could ever handle.

“i don’t know how to help anymore,” i told my older sister when i myself had my own breakdown on the night of my mother’s hospitalization. as i hyperventilated and sobbed, the feeling of helplessness shook my body and my words. “i can’t help anymore.”

and then something really wonderful happened: people came and helped

when news got out of my mother's attempts, suddenly my phone was blowing up with texts and messages from people i didnt know. they were her friends: old friends from college, friends from the university she teaches at, her family from the province. they were all asking me and my siblings if they could help with anything: driving, food, money, emotional support. her family in the province drove hours from the province to meet us in the city just to lend a hand in keeping us calm. her friends from the university were the ones who drove her to the hospital and helped us out with a loan and financial aid for the ER bills.

my brother who lives in japan flew in back to the philippines despite having an academic conference just to help. his girlfriend drove him from the airport to the hospital despite having to study for an exam. my older sister's boyfriend came over just to buy us all donuts and food to make sure we were all eating while looking after everything. my girlfriend bought my sisters and i trinkets from a convention just to make us smile during these hard times, and she kept reminding me to sleep and eat and drink and take my meds. my online friends who knew were messaging me asking if i was okay, if i wanted to see some bird posts for serotonin or if i needed somebody to vent to or even to help with money too. hell, even my coworkers asked me if i was okay. they asked about my mom, and i told them, but then my supervisor asked "but how are YOU?" and i burst into tears

all this reminds me of that weird "discourse" i see around about how youre not supposed to ask friends for help because we're all adults and. i am 24. and in these weeks, i felt more like a helpless child than ive ever felt in my life

and yet

people came and helped

when youre needed, youre needed

and we didnt even ask. they just....showed up.

everybody we knew—friends, acquaintances, colleagues, family—they all showed up when we needed them

idk. i guess in this world it's really easy to feel really alone. i sure did. but youre really really not. i had no idea how many people were looking out for us, but they're here. they were here for us. ive lost count of how many people came to help, and isnt that a beautiful thing. i lost count of how many people helped

[bitchsister]

What have you done to me. what was their first date like (modern Lucky Charms au) xoxoxoxoo

PELASEEE yall love them hehehehe but so do I…

So yes. Let’s go. 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Their first “date” is that very same night.

But Curt would later insist it didn’t count.

Bucky had been well aware inviting a stranger to his home that he’d just met only an hour earlier seemed like the start of a perfect case file, slapped right onto his desk.

“You don’t always go to strangers homes when they invite you, do you?” He’d paused in the kitchen where he’d been gathering ingredients for the real food he’d tempted Curtis with. “S’dangerous.”

Curt had been exploring Bucky’s living room, connected to the open layout of the kitchen, which he just couldn’t seem to believe the sight of. White marble countertops, old oak bookcases packed to the gills with literature, and modern lighting.

“You rich, or somethin’?”

Bucky snorted.

“I’m a defense lawyer.”

“Well, what the hell does that mean?”

Bucky walked the sparkling floor into the living room, a handful of berries held in his palm. “It’s the answer to your question.” He shrugged, offering a berry to Curt by holding it in front of his lips.

Accepting the offer, the warmth of his tongue engulfed Bucky’s fingertips for only a half second — and it’d totally been on purpose. “You ain’t even told me your name yet.”

“Haven’t.” Bucky whispered, fighting the incessant urge to shove the fingers Curt had just put his lips against into his mouth, and down his tight throat. “I haven’t told you my name yet.”

Curt unhinged his jaw again, another berry popped into his mouth by Bucky who simply couldn’t resist giving him everything he wanted — already, they’d developed a silent language of their own.

“My name is John, but everybody calls me Bucky.”

“Even your clients?”

“Yeah. Even my clients.” Bucky pulled a business card from his back pocket and flicked it toward Curt before he made his way back into the kitchen to pick up where he’d left off.

Bucky Egan

Attorney at Law

“Why they call ya Bucky?” Curt asked as he plopped down into a leather barstool at the center island, taking in the decoration there as if it’d tell him a bit more about the man he allowed to take him home. “You fuck a lot?”

The sound of Curt’s growling stomach could be heard across the room, and there was an immediate need that had already lived within Bucky to please him, and rid him of his hunger.

“Guess we should have bought a snack, huh?” Bucky bent over to search inside the fridge, and to hide his burning cheeks, hardly hearing footsteps clad in socks that crept up behind him, blue eyes staring back when he finally turned back around.

“What’s your deal?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why’d you bring me here? To your house.”

The question was valid, and warranted, but the last thing Bucky had wanted to do was admit to Curtis that he’d had a burning ache and desire to care for him the moment he laid eyes on him.

Sleepy, stressed, stoned out of his mind.

Hungry, and settling for hard-to-reach breakfast cereal.

Bucky shifted from one foot to the other, “To make you dinner.”

“And?”

“And..?”

“Is that really it?” Curt took another step forward, a contagious grin flashed up at the stranger who’d driven him to his lavish home in the suburbs where most houses were occupied by families of four or five, not one guy picking up a broke college student at the grocery.

Bucky had always been one to wander the path less traveled.

“Do you not want dinner?”

“Yes. I do. But — that’s the only reason, hm?” Curt eyed the paintings within gilded frames upon the walls, many depicting the male form. One, or two, or three within the same frame. “I don’t look like any of your paintings.”

“You haven’t told me your name.”

“Curt.”

Bucky took another step even closer. “Right. Well.. No, Curt. You don’t look like any of my paintings.” He drawled, another berry held against Curts parted lips that was immediately accepted, along with Bucky’s fingers right down to the joint where he sucked them like it’d cure his hunger. “You’re like nothin’ I’ve ever seen.”

[theonetruegnome]

The sixth course

After literally seven hours writing and brainstorming and no sleep, it is supper time my children. Gather round! We now have the shift of everybody's favourite good boy, Dogday! Introducing

MunchyPup!

MunchyPup is the group foodie, and it isn't hard to deduce for yourself! The candyfloss dog always has something in his mouth, be it a light snack, second breakfast, a ball or just gum. His appetite and metabolism are frankly startling, being able to eat a full seven hobbit meals on a good day and only feel the teensiest bit overstuffed. Some people may think him greedy or that he's putting on an act, and yes, he does sometimes feel he eats too much, but he can't really help how fast his digestion is, so it doesn't bother him too often.

You may think that he ends up as a sort of side character in most of the gang's adventures, feeling more like someone's younger brother tagged along because mum said so, like so many of the pink critters, but Munch actually ends up being one of the focal ones in the group's activities. He, of course, brings the food for the group picnics and camping trips, as well as packed lunches for when some of the others go off on their own separate adventures from the main group, even with little notes saying 'We all love you' or 'I'll still be here, no matter what'. He also sometimes ends up helping Picky's shift (no spoilers!) plan the group's activities and, when necessary, discipline them for misbehaving, acting as her #2 in command.

He has also created diet plans for each of them to help with specific goals or issues. For instance, Conk has been ordered to consume more nuts and chamomile, as well as taking fish oil to help regulate his sleeping schedule. It doesn't help much, but Conk tries to keep it up because it's better than nothing. Leah has spinach, eggs and raw salmon on her plan, both to help with her anxiety and to try to get her to grow more, as she's very short due to years of malnutrition from being bullied. Callum is given chicken to keep his fur silky and smooth. MunchyPup tried to get him into mousing, also for his fur, but Callum couldn't bring himself to finish them off once he'd caught them. Munch then tired just serving the mice, but Callum still felt bad for the mice and didn't like the taste, so just sat there looking sadly and guiltily at his full plate.

All in all, Munch's home life is quite good! He has two younger brothers, one who is two-and-a-half and the other who is now six. His parents used to alternate staying home when they had only to raise him, but when his brother was born they both had to work almost all week to keep the family afloat, leaving MunchyPup at a very young age to care for the house and raise his brother, Darner, feeding, bathing and playing with him. When their third son was born, the family thought things could only get worse. However, Munch yet again took up the mantle and cared for yet another brother, this time with help from Darner. The split workload allowed Munch to get some odd jobs around town and, with three of the family working together and some days with everyone going hungry, they managed to keep the roof over their heads until his mother could find a better job. Sometimes, the two parents regret taking Munch's childhood from him by having Darner and Harper, but to MunchyPup they were some of the best years of his life, and the three brothers have grown only closer because of it.

and now, an after dinner trivia mint:

He can stand on his head for over forty-five minutes without vomiting and once did so for a bet with Eli. Eli conked out at 7 minutes 33 and when he woke up Munch was still upside down.

Once when the gang went to the movie theatre, everyone bought regular snacks except Munch, who brought a large punchbowl of sliced melons. He finished it before the climax of the film as well as at least half a pound of popcorn.

Despite encouraging the others to eat healthily and responsibly, his favourite meal is a tomato and French-fry sandwich with extra mustard.

As a joke, Conk and Dandy got he and Picky's shift (no spoilers) matching mugs for fathers' and mothers' day. They say 'no.1 Mom' and 'the best Dad ever'.

The first words Darner ever said were 'Buvver!' Munch still thinks about it sometimes and feels as warm inside as if he's drunk a bowl of home-cooked soup.

Finally, his charm is a sack lunch with picky's charm on the front (see below) and his scent is fresh mango.

[brights-place]

A/N: I made this in 2am Im so tired and anyways here’s An special Halloween Headcannons of welcome home! Let’s enjoy these Headcannons even though this is a very early Halloween post :DD

Halloween Headcannons with “Welcome Home” Characters

You and sally like to go to Julie’s house so you three can show each-other your costumes.

When you want to add some finishing touches to your costume you ask Julie and sally for help.

Wally tried to convince you to match with him with an Angel and Devil costume like a “Matching Couple” costume you thought it was cute but wanted to do your own costume Wally was sad but understood.

You visited Howdy’s to buy some candy and noticed his Ghost costume beside him was Poppy who was buying things you ran to poppy and continued to tell her how her Pumpkin costume is so cute “Well Later Once im finished making Pumpkin pie you can come over if you would like?” You nearly cried at Poppy due to her motherly figure and howdy laughed at how you looked at Poppy “Poppy Look She/He/Their Close to crying for how sweet you are” poppy started getting worried hut you assured her nothing was wrong and said ‘You are a gift’ poppy heart was aching

You bought the stuff you needed and started chatting with howdy about your plans for halloween.

Howdy enjoyed how you were bursting with joy about Halloween (If you don’t like Halloween ignore this one!)

You planned on buying food and watching horror movies and pranking kids if they decided to poof into the town.

Returning to Julie’s house you waved hello to Eddie and frank who waved back with a smile on there face.

Heading inside Julie’s you noticed the two surrounding a bowl of candies “What are you? OH DANG THOSE ARE (Favourite Candy/Sweet) LET ME JOIN THIS CULT” you joined the two.

Eddie knocked on the With frank but heard nothing frank sighed taking out a spare key Julie had given him he clicked the door open and walked inside the dark house.

Flicking on the lights he and Eddie jumped seeing the three of you dancing around a bowl of (Favourite Candy/sweet)

Frank gave the weirdest look while eddie laughed.

Eddie motioned you guys to leave julie’s house “Wally is hosting the Halloween party this year come on” you guys walked over to Wally’s and. You smiled greeting house only reciving a *Creak* and a *Squeak* in return.

Heading inside everybody separated you in the living room talking with howdy before noticing Eddie and Frank in the corner of the room.

Both do them blushing and smiling at each other you couldn’t help but squeal silently hearing Eddie compliment frank is costume and frank doing the same.

Howdy noticed this as-well and glanced at you when You slowly raised up a Polaroid camera and took photos of the two and ran away once frank noticed you and the camera

“SHOW MERCY FRANK” you screeched running to Julie while frank chased after you while Eddie laughed at the scene seeing you and him run around in circles.

Barnaby walked out of the kitchen with Wally both chatting and noticed the commotion.

Now Standing beside Eddie Wally tilted his head confused but chuckled ���LET ME GOOOOO” you yelled wiggling in franks grasp as he held you upside down while you flapped your arms “No” Frank said.

Julie entered with sally inside the room after they went outside to give poppy a hand with food both of them were even more confused seeing you upside down.

the two laughed along with the others as you begged for mercy seeing frank eat some of your candy as revenge making you wail.

Wally walked towards you and smiled wearing his lil devil costume and helped you up Barnaby by his side.

You grinned “Nice Vampire and Devil costume guys” Barnaby smiled “Not bad costume either! I like the (Insert costume) I like it very much” Barnaby said crossing his arms nodding.

Wally smiled “I like it too” you grinned at him and turned your attention to Eddie “Eddie here I took the photos just for you” You said handing the Polaroids do him and frank you took moments ago “I’m keeping one for my Memory Book” Eddie grinned “Thanks Y/N”

Wally smiled calling out to everybody to get ready for a group photo.

Rushing over the group huddled together smiling at the camera “Say happy Halloween!” Wally said grinning everybody shouting out “Happy Halloween” at the camera with smiling faces.

[bejeweled-girl]

Storyteller

Mako from The Legend of Korra

description: Mako is a teacher than owns a library. All of his students love his storytelling.

contains: just Mako being teacher, his students like him

requested by @princeasimdiya12

a/n: thank you for request! Hope you like it😊

Mako wakes up to birds chirping outside. It’s sunny today and the sun was warming his skin. He yawns and checks the time. His school starts at 8 and it’s already 7. He rushes to the bathroom to get ready. When he’s done, he goes to bakery next to his house to get pastries for breakfast and lunch. He lives kind of far from his library so he does have to hurry but his students usually come later. He’s unlocking the door when someone greets him. “Hi Mako,” said Asami. “Oh hi I didn’t notice you.” “Yeah I just saw you and wanted to say hi,” she said. “I just opened the library and need to prepare everything so it was nice seeing you Asami.” “You too Mako. Have a nice day!” He wished her the same and opened the door he was standing in front of the whole time. He bought this library 2 years ago and it still amazes him how many people come by every day. He also didn’t expect that a year after he bought it he would teach people. He likes the job. Parents either pay him or give him some food they make. He cleans up the furniture and prepares papers with books. The library isn’t huge but big enough for bookshelves and tables. The bell rings and few of his students go inside. They greet Mako and go sit by the table. In 20 minutes all of his students are present. They are different ages from 5 to 17. And sometimes older if they don’t know how to read. But one thing everyone says is that Mako is the best storyteller. His voice is so smooth and it makes everyone fall asleep. Whenever someone new comes all the students gather and tell them how amazing he is.

His teaching technique is working. Sometimes they read loudly or to themselves. Or they write little stories. It’s different for everyone so they feel like they can learn it themselves.

“Okay so today it’s up to you what we do. Give me examples and we’ll see who wants to do what.” Mako tells everyone. Everybody looks around and they know what they want to do.

“Please Mako can you read us stories from your diary?” Asks little girl who’s eyes are red like fire. Mako smiles and pets her head. “Of course I can do that. Make yourselves comfortable I will read you some of my adventures.” He gets up and grabs his diary that’s sitting on his table near the door. As he’s sitting back down all the chatting among students quiets down to few whispers but mostly quiet silence. Mako also opened door to the library so people can come in and read or listen to him. “The story starts with a man that wanted…” The story goes on and everybody’s waiting for the happy end. “And then the girl came back home and her parents were happy again.” He closes the book and gets comfortable on the little sofa. It’s late afternoon and everyone in the library is sleeping. The door is closed and nobody makes a sound. It’s peaceful. Until one person wakes up and goes home then it’s time to go home. They thank Mako and make their way out. Mako cleans up and locks the door. He’s walking home with little smile on his face. Sometimes he whistles little tone and jumps a bit. It’s kind of late when he gets back so he does few things before he gets undressed and falls in bed tired. His adventures ended but only in real life. In his head they continue to grow and make his diary more full. He’s asleep now dreaming and slowly breathing.

[extraclwnporeal]

Steve Harrington sucks at keeping secrets.

(That one is long and english is not my mother language).

Steve can remember it — even though he was 7 at the time. Tommy stopped by Harrington's house and rushed to Steve's room. All of sudden there was a young and freckled and smiley Tommy shaking Steve to make him swear to keep it a secret that he kissed Carol for the first time.

The morning after, all of school knew. Steve didn't do it because he was mean, he just couldn't tell that it was something bad or unworthy of being proud upon ��� his best friend kissed a girl, after all. Carol did kick Tommy's ankles for telling Steve, and Tommy did give Steve a two day long silent treatment for telling the whole school, tho.

He couldn't even keep his own secrets, dear God. Steve's travels and grades and hook ups and hated foods were everybody's business, if it depended on him. Of course, that extended to his personal, personal life.

Steve Harrington always knew he was bi and was cool with it, since, well, everyone just assumed he was straight. There was no risk on it if everybody just assumed otherwise, he figured. The way he eyed guys at trainings and spent too much time alone at Tommy's house and had a soft spot for his swimming team couldn't mean anything, Steve's a ladies man after all, isn't he?

Yeah, he was fine. Until he met Eddie.

The day Steve met the metalhead, the DM, the guy Dustin couldn't shut the fuck up about, he was lost. Eddie was a magnet to Steve's eyes, his voice was melodic and all his manners made Steve smile, how did he do that? Suddenly he understood why his kids kept telling Steve how he and Eddie would get along just right — Steve hoped they would.

Eddie walks by and Steve has this impulse to just follow the guy with his eyes, not really caring who was around — especially if they're alone with the party. Time goes by and it gets worse, because now they know each other. Oh, Eddie was prone to talk to Steve now, to spend time alone and have their own inside jokes. And Steve's infatuation wasn't just glances anymore: he got vocal about it.

He compliments Eddie's curly hair, his handmade or customized clothes, the eyeliner Max bought for him, his painted nails and smiles and the way he light up the mood every time he enters a room. Yeah, Eddie is always willing to listen to any sort of rant Steve might go by and not make him feel dumb about anything he says. Steve feels safe and that's new, that's good. He might feel he's developing a massive crush but, yeah, that should be predictable by now. Predictable and pretty much noticeable.

Robin was a genius, Steve's sure of it. She could tell a musical note by ear, learn a foreign language in the middle of a crisis and is pretty good at acting her way out a situation. It doesn't matter that much, of course, because you don't need to be a genius to notice when Steve have a crush: you just need to be his friend.

Steve would go on full debates about Eddie and she would engage him on it.

“I swear, Robin, his hair is so soft, someday I will touch it if he lets me.”

“Oh, tell me about it, dingus.”

And he does. All day along, if she gives him the freedom. He does it because Robin's a safe person, and it's fun, it's so fucking fun it's unfair — be all giddy and silly and keep talking about a guy with his best friend, God. And she doesn't know he is well aware that it is a crush, just letting him be. Until, of course, she points it out — because it could be dangerous for him to go on and tell everybody about other guy's cologne and shit —, and all he says is a shy “hm, well, I know?”. She looks at him dead in the eye.

“What do you mean by 'I know'?”.

“I'm bi, Robs”.

Her eyes are wide. “Then why the fuck did you get so nervous when I told you I'm a lesbian?!”

“Don't be unfair, I wasn't nervous! I'm just not good at keeping other people's secrets.”

And she couldn't argue with it. He is shitty at hiding that kind of thing even if it is about himself, you know.

Dustin knows — he is the second one to do so. Of fucking course he knows. Because the little prat is always there, gravitating between his two older brothers for enough time to notice that they were always glued together, intertwined in their little world. Enough time to notice how Steve's eyes lit up as soon as Eddie entered the room and headed straight for him. Enough to notice that they were both smiling more, talking more, a little happier. And of fucking course he went straight to make fun of Steve.

When Steve was driving Dustin to a D&D session — what he, suspiciously and enthusiastically, volunteered to do —, they were both in silence. Steve was smiling like a dork and Dustin eyed him curiously. All of sudden, he shouted: “Do you like Eddie?”.

And Steve almost crashed the car.

“Hey, watch out, you dick, I didn't die to interdimensional creatures yet so I refuse to die because of you!”. And Steve doesn't laugh, so Dustin is a little unnerved cause usually he would've. Yeah, he was tense.

“Sorry for being so straightforward, didn't mean to startle you”, Dustin says, softly.

Steve looks at him for the first time, eyes watering just a little bit by noticing the kid's tone was reassuring and sweet. He sighs — that idiot.

“It's okay if you like him”, Dustin assures, not keen on making fun of him anymore, “really”.

And Steve softens. Because why on Earth would he think that Dustin could be anything but supportive? He hugs Dustin. An awkward hug, cause he was on verge of crying and the positions in the car were weird, but a good hug nonetheless. “I do”, Steve says, “liked him for a while now. I like girls and dudes, okay?”.

Dustin smiles widely. “You were always greedy, man. Who knows about it?”

“Only Robin”. And Dustin winces.

“What?”

“I might have discussed it with Lucas too”. Okay, great. First Robin, and then Dustin, and now Lucas, which meant Max also knew. It was getting complicated.

“He's okay with it — I'm sure everybody in our group is —, and he told me that I should say that he's bi too, if it makes you feel better?”.

Steve shout him a look, a really, really confused one. “What?”.

Dustin shrugs. “They come in packs, man”.

And then, finally, there was Nancy. As if he wasn't going to be humiliated enough, his ex would find out how whipped he was for the weirdest guy they know. But, to his surprise, none of it was humiliating, not even awkward.

Steve was a touchy person, specially with loved ones. He was willing to hold hands, hug, kiss their cheeks; and Nancy did know it firsthand. And when she saw Steve not-so-subtly going out of his way to put his arms over Eddie's shoulders, to pet his hair — he finally got the pass to do it whenever he wanted, just 'as long as you don't ruin my curls, Harrington' —, or hold his waist from behind, the way he only did to his girlfriends, something clicked. She walked on them during a meeting in the Harrington house. Loud music, some weed, friends kissing: like the old times, minus the underage drinking.

Steve had a smiley Eddie by his side and a hand on his leg, drawing circles on his skin with his fingers while they talked. Then Eddie got up (getting a frown from Steve), to run to the toilet because 'Mother Nature is calling, sweetheart'.

And Nancy waltzed to him, two beers in her hands. Steve smiled brightly at her, saying a really soft and maybe a little drunk “Nance!”.

She handed him a beer. “Having fun? I kinda missed those parties, you know.”

And he looked around, his kids talking loud and laughing and Mike shamelessly eyeing the beers he was not allowed to touch. “I did, too”, he smiled, looking at her again. “What are you so smiley for?”.

“I was just looking at you, all happy talking with Eddie”, she took a sip from her beer can, and Steve blushed.

“I'm glad I got to know him better”. Even if it was in that shitty context, he almost added, but didn't — because why would he? Everything was okay now.

“You two are getting along, aren't you?”, she softly punched his arm. “I'm proud of you, I mean, you found someone that makes you feel all sappy”.

He looked at her deep in the eyes, maybe to find that spot of mockery he expected from everyone. But there was none. It was Nancy. The same Nancy that helped him study to graduate, laughed at his stupid jokes.

“Thank you”. He whispered. “He really does make me happy. The happiest”.

She grinned, like she always does when she makes a correct guess. “You deserve it”. And then she gets back to her old spot, listening to Robin and her rant about some new movie that her menager won't put on the shelves no matter how hard she begs. She smiles even more.

It's not a surprise that Eddie was the last one to know. Because what Steve had in obviousness Eddie had in obliviousness. Sure, Steve's words and acts were a little weird, but not in a bad way. Sure, his tummy was filled with butterflies each time Harrington leaned forward to better listen to him talk about his favorite bands, even though he knows Steve's not understanding shit. Sure, he was dragging Steve along his nerd shit and, sure, Steve was willing to be dragged. But that was because Steve was a gentleman. Felling funny next to him was natural and expected, because he is charming and touchy and really, really good at making Eddie laugh. So, he kind of accepted it. He was liking Steve. In love, if you will. And was pretty mad at himself for it — Steve Harrington, of all people.

So, months go by. And Steve is still in love, and Eddie is still in love, and none of them are actually doing anything about it. Until there's Christmas. And they were stuck together in Eddie's trailer because snow was thick and Eddie didn't want Steve to risk himself driving home.

They were watching The Grinch, cause Eddie said he liked the guy — enough to wear a ugly sweater with Grinch's face in it, telling Santa Claus to fuck off. Steve thought the green grumpy thing looked like Eddie, but didn't say so, because the blonde Who lady might look a little too much like Steve and that may be used against him.

They were cuddling on the couch, and that happened without much thinking. They just sat down and in the next moment they were as glued as it comes. Steve was playing with Eddie's hair, the movie almost on it's end. Eddie was holding on Steve's torso, seeking the warmth the weather wasn't providing that night.

Steve's hands lowered, caressing Eddie's back, and he shuddered.

“What's wrong?”, Steve asked, voice hoarse from being unused.

“Feelin' cold”, Eddie whispered. “Could you lay lower? I wanna hug you”. Steve didn't have to be asked twice. He lowered himself and was facing Eddie now. His nose and mouth red from the cold weather, making him look like a deer — with his pretty doe eyes.

Steve smiled, hugging Eddie and putting his chin on his shoulder. “There you go”. He felt Eddie's smile against his skin. “It's late, wanna sleep?”.

Silence. And then a silky voice ghosting his ear. “Could we stay here a little more?”. Eddie turned his face back at him, finding Steve's lips in a pout, and his eyes closed. Eddie's cologne really felt like heaven that night.

Steve opened his eyes, finding an amused Eddie in front of him. “What?”.

Eddie chuckled. “I'm trying to figure you out”.

Steve smiled. “What did you conclude so far?”.

“That you like to be held, and gets really beautiful when sleepy”. He said shamelessly. It was really late and his mouth had it's own mind now.

Steve blinked. “Do I?”.

Eddie's eyes also had their own mind now, flickering between Harrington's hooded eyes and his mouth. “You do, I swear”.

Steve got to catch Eddie's eyes on his mouth for a little too long. And whispered a low, low 'Eddie'.

Steve was trembling, just a little bit. Eddie was pretty and the night was perfect and all that rightness made him disconcerted, the butterflies in his tummy dancing like crazy.

Unbeknownst by him, Eddie was feeling the same. God, having a former ladies man in his arms on Christmas night was almost killing him, specially if said ladies man was looking so, so beautiful by dawn light.

They kissed, not sure about who started it, but glad enough it happened. They kissed for minutes or hours more, who cares. But they kissed, fucking finally.

And they didn't have the guts to get up and go to bed, so Wayne was the one to find the two of them sleeping on the couch the next morning, with The Grinch tape still on.

Yeah, Robin, Dustin, Lucas, Max, Nancy and Wayne: now them all knew. After all, Steve Harrington sucks at keeping secrets.

(Adapted from my twitter account @/sillycervero).

[coffinlid]

If y’all wanna hear some shit read below the cut. It’s a lot. Sorry 🩷

OK SO! Yesterday I go into work at 4 and one of my coworkers immediately tells me that the restaurant is closed Saturday. I was like oh ok…. Why? Like shut down for the day or…. And he said no like the business is shutting down forever. He kinda jumped the gun bc soon after the director of operations (Pete) gathers all of the evening crew around and lets us know the situation.

(I’m gonna try to explain some context without being confusing. The company I work for owns 3 restaurants. The restaurant I work at is technically not owned by them, but they manage it for the original owner/landlord. The landlord (who fucked off to the Dominican Republic because he’s in trouble with the law) saw our finances for the first time in like a year and decided to just shut it all down. He has no restaurant experience and doesn’t understand the concept of slow season in the food world. Yes, business has been slow since November. However, we are ALWAYS popping off spring-fall. Business BOOMS. Well. Landlord guy gave our company an ultimatum.)

Pete explains that himself, the CEO, and I guess some of the other corporate people tried reasoning with landlord and even just begged to let the restaurant stay open until spring when business picks up. Landlord said they could do 3 things:

1. Buy the restaurant from him for an astronomical amount

2. Continue to run the restaurant but with absolutely no financial support from him from now on (which we were already kind of doing for a year…)

3. Shut down the whole bitch

Our company can’t afford to keep the restaurant with no support so they had to concede to landlord and just shut the whole thing down. And it had to be on Saturday. There was no reasoning with him. This took absolutely EVERYBODY by surprise. EVERYBODY, including corporate and head management of the restaurant, got a total of 2! DAYS! of notice.

I could tell when I walked into work yesterday that Pete and my two managers had been crying a lot. I know the GM is gonna float between the other restaurants as a training coordinator, but I have no clue what’s gonna happen to the assistant manager bc there are no other management positions available in the company. She’s pretty much just been hung out to dry. With 2 days notice.

My front of house and back of house coworkers were all discussing where we’re gonna go from here and what the fuck we do now. 2 days to find a new job. Everybody was scrambling to get each other’s socials so we can all keep in touch. This fucking sucks dude. I loved coming into work just for my coworkers, not even the work itself. I know it’s a cliche that companies call themselves a “family” but honestly truly we really were a little family.

Pete wants us all to stay within the company if we can, and I know at least 3 of us are going to transfer to one of the other restaurants. It’s technically not the end of the world, at least for servers. But I have no clue if the other restaurants have any space for back of house employees. I know I’m never gonna see some of these people ever again.

And we have a whole ass brewery in the back. And we JUST CHANGED THE MENU AND INVESTED IN ALL THIS OTHER SHIT JUST LAST FRIDAY!!!! We had 1 week with the new menu and that’s it. Everything is completely stocked. There are so many fixtures and plants and technology, so much new merch that we just bought.

Somehow a mass text went out to all the other stores and restaurants on our street that we were shutting down and we had so many people walking in to share their condolences. But this text went out before most of the restaurant even knew about it. So when they came in some of us were like uh… what are you talking about…. How the fuck did that happen???? No one knows who sent the text.

On the bright side, I got a SHIT TON of sympathy tips last night and made almost $200.

It was going to be my last night since I wasn’t scheduled for the next 2 days but thankfully my manager added me to the roster for Saturday night. So I will be there for the end of it all 🥲

[princesscolumbia]

Summer camp where kids stay in a cabin for weeks - Getting less and less common, especially for urban kids. I did once work as a camp counselor volunteer at a multi-week place, but even back then (late 80s) the camp had to trim the duration to 1 week.

Tail gate party where everybody gathers at the boot back gate of their cars - Legit, to the point where I've seen specialized appliances that are gas powered (you'd call it "petrol," which honestly makes more sense) just for making food out of the back of a truck. And, btw, the "serious" tailgaters drive a truck and usually have their portable grills strapped in for the trip. (Sidebar: Why the hell do you call it a "boot"?!? There's nothing remotely boot-like about the back storage area of a vehicle)

Sororities and fraternities - Thankfully, this one is dying, but from what I've seen in popular British television that gets brought over to the States (esp. since the popularization of The Series That Will Not Be Named by the UK's own TERF-in-Chief), the "house" system of what we'd call a boarding school is fairly similar to the "Greek" houses, though for different age brackets.

Garbage disposal in the sink - Okay, just how do you NOT use these?! My last two apartments were built before these became Just A Thing Everyone Had Here™️ and it drives me ABSOLUTELY NUTS to not be able to dump scraps down the disposal! SO much better than having to scrape your dishes off into the trash where it just sits there and stinks up the place until the trash is full and it's finally time to take it out!

All of the disposable cups being those red ones - It's...cause they're cheap? I don't get the confusion.

Cheerleaders at sports - As someone who had their childhood dreams of being a cheerleader crushed by a TERF, I take exception to you NOT having cheerleaders!

Ranch Dressing (I'm still confused by what's in this) - "Wet" ingredients: Mayo & sour cream, "dry" ingredients: chives (green onion), parsley, dill weed, garlic powder, onion powder, salt, pepper. Combine with wisk, jar or bottle and keep in the fridge. Recipes are plentiful online, but here's the one I used for that list. It's surprisingly good, even in the homogenized store-bought form, and goes on damn near anything savory. IMHO, blue cheese dressing is superior, but I'm aware I'm in the minority on that count.

Person who bags your shopping for you at checkout - Admittedly, this is one of those things that's going away, the two stores I primarily shop at don't have baggers, but this kicked off back in the post-WW2 era (if memory serves) as a way for grocery stores to compete when they couldn't slash prices any further without impacting their bottom lines. At the time, it was cheaper to hire someone to bag your groceries for you than any other measure to bring in customers, and before too long it became the standard...until commodification of food staples drove the cost down so much the baggers were more expensive than slashing prices.

[maurenislife]

i hate tiktokers and mf lifestyle youtubers

now before i say anything im not hating

im not even really hating on what you think cause i dont wanna be or have a desire to be known for anything cause thats not even my mode or my goal in life and i dont idolize anything cause im not a sad 16 year old who yearns for a image that i liked and bookmarked on the internet ANYWHO ...

everybody thinks your a instant hater cause ur just jealous...... umm newsflash u fucking junkie whore, whats not meant for me isnt mine to have and whats not done for me i can do myself it takes nothing to get a few coins and prance around in a marble counter cosplay

trust.

Moving foward this whole brigade of wannabe lifestyle whores

they all immolating and channeling which i think is quite impressive down to the candance and lingo etc. its impressive :) all the copy and pasting they do is quite impressive to see, and ill sit with a popcorn bucket and vape to laugh at it all cause its a waste of time.

a long time ago i stopped being jealous of certain lifestyles and things cause once u can attain them or find a way, or figure out how the sausage is made its not that hard and that isnt impressive or even likeable in any sense

people are immulating at a high frequency and the universe can sense imposters and non believers who do not live in. their truth and go cower in fear and just simply conform one thing they will never know if nobody can smell it the universe can sense it even if nobody can see, universe sees, it feels, it calls out, it grasps you

Everybody wants to potray and cosplay a shitty portray aina but what u dont know is lets say even if u make it big, get the sponsorships, the trips reap the benefits of u raping your own life with cameras and tripods what is it all for? fuck money, fuck the gift. fuck the family feeding for just 45 seconds what are you gaining in spirit?

like what in your femmine spirit and the many who have died along the way for you to get here are you proud the answer might still be yes just to stick it to me or it might be genuinely yes cause you in turn think you are very much a success i mean thats what you have been showed and by scoreboard standards band 4 band u beat a bitch >

you didn't though lame you didn't, the inner work didn't completed and i honestly dont give a fuck if a bitch got a isn't for me of why i dont know her and im not in her household,

bitch with your content I AM IN YOUR HOUSE, I AM IN UR BRAIN, your constantly gagging up information every-time u take a bite into a stupid food u bought cause of your audience and everytime u gag up information when you say spend the day with me

we see inside your frame even if its all a act what does that inherently say about you???

You give us yourself and think we got no right to comment

okay enough of jealous prefacing and putting the condom on for yall

Wannabes

These women grew up being ridiculed or extremely loved theres no inbetween because both have the ultimate libido and desire to be seen and heard and viewed in a certain light to get illicit reactions out of other people... its odd ngl

i look at my tiktoks and its all been jokes i crack on me or stuff me and my friends did drunk and just goofing im not saying everybody gotta take that route i do appreciate lifestyle influncers who serve the purpose of showing us the viewer and cost breakdown of spas or vacations or maybe even a resturaunt or things i might wanna go do

like who am i to get mad at them for the sake of curiosity and further knowlege on a place i intend to visit i never been like dope case closed type shit

But if you a wannabe ..........................................................

its a waste of time and energy and your soul and we see it bleeding out for a "look at me mommy" like its sad.....

you can tell the want the mommy to compliment their outfit and the sister to ask where did you learn to do your makeup? and the auntie to ask where can i get that slice of pizza

they want the overall appeal of who is gonna ask me

who is gonna notice me and with each clip you see apart of them kinda just yelling out to the universe not only notice me but award me for being noticed and nobody is gonna do that not even 1 million viewers can set you free,

COPIER

you know the one philposhy thingy of the barnyard picture and like idk ill have to look this up but basically to break it down simply

theres a pic of a farmhouse and soon it gains popularity every mf wants to go and soon its like a disney w a giftshop its copied and copied till it loses its meaning idk look that shit up its a real philosphy and its deeper than what im saying but i ont got time for allat yo

bitches copy till they mf face turn blue and they want it to have the same effect the 1st one did

but the reality remains your immulation ends there

your cleaning the same marble counter like everybody else

taking the same pic on that goddamn boat like everbody else

wearing the same oufit bookmarked and tagged on pintrest like everybody else

its a waste..... why do we need 567,000 copies of the same bitch doing the same shit its lost its meaning besides "you did it"

like ................... no

and i dont wanna be different either and throw my hand in and see who can do it better cause why its so dumb

live ur life like ??? u gone spend ur 20s and 30s chasing after whats not yours ............... no thx

[the-firebird69]

George Stephanopoulos On Holding Politicians Accountable For Election De...

You can hear him speaking in these eloquent and he's clear and he's saying that he's a giant and he's a prime and they all get ousted and Mac Daddy says no they ousted me and Ben Arnold. And they did that because they're related to us. So it's a bit of a mystery and it's going around and the guy who is the show host is also a Mac he's a massive **** to my husband but the subject matter was children of mine and I had them with me and they were at the house and Olivia was taking care of them as if they were her own and they were growing a little and one day I left with the baby. And she sort of figured it out and that's her story that she's not told anyone I left shortly after showing my husband our child and yeah I was mad at him because he was doing this routine with the abortion stuff I almost could kill him that **** **** **** he said I don't have any money to raise a child and I need a lot of money and he kept giving me money so I'm making children and we have a lot of money and I'm using it. But I was pretty mad at him for quite awhile however I may have been having him do it. Said it was spinach and there was a lot of the spinach around and everybody bought it and that was what made him nuts and I was doing it because I had to and the left and they thought it was Olivia and she panicked she told a few people and they started fighting over it. I didn't know where to go so I went to the governor's bunker and I had the child there and I brought life support and food and things to the baby and comforting music and I went there a lot and I had more babies and I raised them fast they grew fast they were big very quickly and it's a story of hardship this is our story and it's never been told. I guess he's saying I don't know should we say this so I see that. And I brought them a lot of things and I was teaching them from class work I was doing and I and I was teaching them some faster stuff and I was tutoring and they were learning a lot of things and I had to leave them with classwork for themselves and leave them on their own quite a bit and they got big and they're saying who am I no they knew I was the whole time and they knew why I was smaller I also on medicine. And I didn't tell my husband they had me on psychoactive stuff and it got him into it yay so it started off this thing and they don't have mates yet and they do not commingle it is illegal and I taught them correctly they are looking for their mate and it is something that is happening and it's going to go very well. We have several other things happening but they grew and they took over the bunk but they grew and they took over the bunker and they were learning a lot of things about the world and spying and what's actually happening and knew that they had to hide and get arms and eventually we moved but this guy George Stephanopoulos he was the one who was governor and it was trump and he fought with governor weld and lost and that's Terry Cheesman and they tied each other up and he couldn't get to the bunker because it was a way to scare people and try and blow people up and scare people and try and blow people up and things and it was relatively safe but we were always afraid and Dave is trying to get there to it made a big mess ere and George and others it made a big mess it's kind of a simple story but that's what happened

I'm very proud of what I did and he's very proud of me I had many children to follow and we started enclaves and they asked us to make more and have more brothers and sisters and you can imagine and in the future they find wives and you can hear them and the others find husbands and it works. We are onto getting this done and we're into making it work but if you're looking for us we don't know what to say.

Hera 

Zues

Reprove this to be printed and to go out.

Thor Freya

we use this as an example f teh morlock being turned on ok are out and un there. now too. it is a weapon they aim it at our cities we help now and need to. and it is a snow plow like mr plow this rules we do it now

and they move fst too tons

Olympus

It will be most likely 30% by the morning and it will continue we think until they're all out. They're also moving to where they think they can get down below and they're forming new townships they'll be like 10 of those around the city it is going to be intense and they're going to build castles.

Thor Freya

[purplesurveys]

1863

Do you remember what colour the street sign was at the house you grew up in as a kid?     If I remember correctly, it was white on green. I could also absolutely be wrong, though.

Before this one, when was the last time you took a survey? Did you rate it, and if so, how many stars?     I took it the other night. I'd give it a solid 8.5/10, it allowed me to be more insightful than other less intense surveys would make me be.

How old are you?     26.

Have you ever done an escape room? What was your opinion?     I haven't done one because I know I will be atrocious and have no contribution at all to the teamwork. I've never been good at puzzle/problem-solving stuff.

Do you own any antiques? Where did you get them?     Nah, not my taste. I'd rather see them from a museum hahaha.

What board games do you like?     Not really a fan.

How did you celebrate last Christmas?     We mainly attended family gatherings although it was more than our usual since everybody decided to throw something, lol. We must have gone to like 5 different sides of family in total.

Do you still live in the same city or town you were born in?     No. We moved away from Manila when I was around 1 or 2, which I'm guessing is because the place is just not conducive for a child to grow up in. Super polluted and can be dangerous if you find yourself in the wrong crowd.

What's your favourite kind of pasta to make?     I've never made pasta, but my favorite type to eat is fettuccine.

What did you want to do as a job when you were a kid?     I wanted to be an author, then a news reporter/journalist. So definitely not far off from where I ended up in as I still do a lot of writing in my day-to-day. :)

What was the last item you had to return to where you bought it from?     I don't think I've ever returned an item.

Are you expecting any phone calls soon?     Nope.

Have you watched Succession? What do you think?     I haven't.

Do you watch The Golden Globes? Do you even care?     I used to watch it before but tbh I didn't care much for it as I looked forward to the Oscars a lot more. If anything, I pay attention to it these days mostly to see what everyone's wearing.

When was the last time you saw your best friend?     A little over a week ago.

What room of the house are you in right now? Do you spend most of your time in this room?     I'm in my room, and yes I do spend lots of time here.

What was your least favourite class in high school?   Chemistry. Didn't understand it in high school, didn't understand it in college.

Have you ever tried vegan bacon?     I probably have at least once...? Hard to remember exactly though.

Do you have a storage area separate from your main house, like in a basement or parking garage?     Nah. Our main storage area is under the stairs between the 1st and 2nd floors.

When was the last time you lit a candle? What scent was it?     Close to three years ago; I eventually shifted to reed diffusers. The last candle may have been vanilla.

Have you engaged in negative self-talk today?     I don't think so.

Do you have many plans for the next week or so?     Not much besides work. My dad is coming home next weekend though, so we might do our routine visit to his side of the family by then.

Are you close with your cousins?     I am quite close with the cousins on my mom's side, yes. With my dad's, I can only think of one that I take a liking to. The rest are either too shy and hard to relate with; have differing political opinions; have drastically different personalities and upbringings; or are too aloof.

Have you ever been to a kids birthday party as an adult?     I've been to a handful. Usually of a much younger cousin or family friend.

Do you use a slang word for cigarettes?     No, I just say cigarettes.

What was the last app you downloaded on your phone?     A marble game, hehe. Similar to Zuma.

Do you keep your apps organised or categorised in any way?     Yes, I have 4 main tiles – one for K-Pop; one for all my online shopping/food delivery apps; one for social media and work group chats; and the last is for the iPhone basics like camera, calendar, settings etc. I like keeping it to 4 because my wallpaper is BTS and I like to be able to see the full home screen whenever I'm on it haha.

What did you have for lunch yesterday?     I skipped lunch yesterday, but today is my cousin's birthday so we had quite the feast with Filipino-style spaghetti, fried chicken, takoyaki, cake, and halo-halo.

Have you ever had to block a friend on social media?     Nah. I've blocked people I'm not very close with; or if I've stopped being their friend and the fallout had been messy. I've never blocked a friend while still being their friend lol.

Where in the world would you like to travel to?     I've been hooked to Q's Greenland lately and she's been making me want to visit Greenland.

Did you play The Sims when you were a kid?     I played The Sims 2 everyday like it was my last day on Earth.

How often do you eat fast food?     At least once a week.

Do you own a pair of gumboots?     Nope.

Have you ever been to any supposed haunted locations? Did you experience anything weird?     Sure. Most recently we stayed at a hotel that, well, my co-workers got the spookies from. Some of them apparently felt some kind of presence but given my apathy towards the paranormal, I couldn't say the same.

Do you know anyone who's had gastric bypass surgery?     I don't think so. I could be wrong, but right now I can't think of anyone.

When was the last time you wore a striped top?     Yesterday.

Are you a paranoid person?     Usually.

Do big dogs scare you?     No.

What actors do you really dislike?     Tom Cruise is one obvious one that gives me the ick.

How long does it take you to fall asleep? I kind of cheat because what I like to do is to doomscroll to the point of exhaustion, so it usually takes me less than 5 minutes. If I didn't have that option, it could take me 30 minutes to an hour.

[kassiemari]

E N D I N G

APRIL 17, 2024

Hi it’s me again 

Are you excited for this? Well I’m not, HAHAHA as the title itself it’s ENDING HAHAHAH

Hurtful isn't it? But it is. It was expected but still hurt a lot you know? HAHAHAH

I'm too busy today but i cannot let pass this feeling i felt, its 17th day of April today exactly 2 days that i don't hear from him, the last time i’ve reply to him was on the 14th day of April my moms death anniversary, he didn’t message the whole day but i did reply quickly as i saw him replied on my last message and that was the last time.

I've expected this naman na a long time ago pa but still hurt a bit you know, and it bothers me for those days HAHAHAH ARTE NETO 

What's the funny thing I did? Always checking on my phone if there’s a message from him. When you look at my messages his name is buried on the second scroll HAHAHA but I'm still searching for him.

I’ve always says naman once you want to stop na let me know naman I don't want to be hang on that thought that he’ll come back in a few days  HAHHAHH 

STILL ASANG ASA KA NA NAMAN GIRL 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA YOU’RE TOO FUNNY  SILLY

There’s again scenario in my head always that im overthinking but now

The overthinking scenarios come to reality and I can't let everybody know how hurt I am just because they also have their own problems to deal with.

Can I rant a bit? 

Pleaseeeeee

I dont have anyone to listen right now 

It just so so so so so heavy for me now 

My family depends on me now i know there’s nothing wrong with it but sometimes they don’t think if i still have extra for myself, they even question why I bought a sack of dog food for my dogs when they don’t have a grain rice 

I know it was a joke but really? Don’t question it, it’s my dogs my happiness now 

I don't have any savings anymore, but the money that i got from selling my house did not turn back the money because of the contract. It was a good decision for me to get one if I don't have heavy responsibility now.

My sister know that i don't have big salary but she dont want to ask for her child’s father just because she doesn’t want to beg for them, I get it but 

UBOS NA UBOS NA KO PROMISE

Then my uncle said you look like you don’t think there’s a problem with you and your family, sooo healthy and fat, I want to say i'm struggling too

I have loans to pay bills

I have credit cards to paid that my sister use to grocery

I have dogs to feed

I have personal sanitary needs need to buy

I have to pay bills for the Internet

          (that when the connection is poor my father asked, "Did you pay for this?”)

I have water bill to pay 

          (that really goes up every month)

I have to pay the Electricity Bill.

What do I reduce to produce and pay all that? My personal wants and my personal bonding with friends 

It was okay for me but sometimes I'm asking myself Am i still okay?

E N O U G H HAHAHAHHAHA

That’s why you have no one eh you’re too dramatic lunatic HAHAHAHAHA

But it lessen a bit to write it down HAHAHAH

HAYSSSSSS NAKU

Why it bothers me now all of this 

I can't work now feeling something lazy of everything now, though i dont have really work now unlike earlier but still so lazy na i want to lay down na lang and look at ceiling until i fell  asleep 

You know i want to share to a friend what i feel but i restrained myself to be extra burden and i felt it was just nothing serious naman 

It just my KAARTEHAN HAHAHAHAHAHA

All my writings is all about unsaid rants 

So nothing to be serious about me its me and me and me 

it's unsaid and unread so i'm too safe to said all this things 

Writing this really helps me to unleash my thoughts 

I don't know how to deal with this eh so i write all this it helps naman 

Remember to be beautiful always and always be kind 

Lovelots

Kassie Mari

[free-for-all-fics]

Here’s my first Oldies but Goodies Crossover Prompt! Main pairing is Captain Louis Renault x Reader, but there are some other Claude Rains characters that appear. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of this and I’d love to read it! 🥘💚🍲

Rick Blaine is the owner of Rick’s Café Américain, an expensive and chic nightclub which possesses an air of intrigue. It’s the most popular joint in Casablanca, even more popular than The Blue Parrot, one of its competitors. Everybody comes to Rick’s. As such, Rick Blaine is a very busy man. Both his days and his nights are sacrosanct. Time is money, and his time is of the utmost value. He’s not an easy man to impress and is very peculiar about who he hires. Everyone under his employ must know how to multitask, think on their feet, and work under stress. They must come into work without the assumption that it’ll slow down or die off eventually. No matter how busy a workday gets, it can always get busier, even as it gets very late into the night and turns into the early hours of the morning. Employees must be able to single-handedly manage all the needs and demands of their jobs, including the wide variety of customers, all of whom are unique characters with their own specialized set of needs, wants, and demands. They must do all of this without the expectation of being able to rely on others to help or pick up the slack. That’s a luxury, not a right. He must be able to run a tight ship to keep his establishment afloat, or else he’d sink from bankruptcy. If his employees take care of him, Rick will take care of them in return.

Which is why he almost lost it when his newest cook that he just spent two weeks training quit without warning or notice. Apparently she got lucky and bought an exit visa from Signor Ferrari. She was leaving on the next plane to Lisbon to pursue her career as an aspiring playwright or actress or whatever nonsense opportunity there supposedly was in America. Rick didn’t listen or care to know. He needed to find someone to replace her and quickly. Except Rick couldn’t seem to find a single woman in town that was willing to leave the house or work long hours pouring over a hot stove. Most of them were married, with husbands that wouldn’t allow it. As he crossed off names and the list of applicants dwindled down, he began to get nervous that he’d never find anyone suitable for the job…

…until you walk through his door. You’ve been living frugally for many months but, even though you’ve been saving and spending your money wisely, pretty soon you’re running extremely low. To keep a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and food in your stomach, you go to Rick’s Café Américain to apply for a job. Upon entering, your senses are assaulted and almost overwhelmed. The lights are bright and there’s a heavy scent of smoke wafting through the air that nearly makes you cough. A middle-aged black man sits on a stool before a small salmon-colored piano on wheels, playing and singing while accompanied by a small orchestra. They’re going through warmups before opening to the public. You’re greeted by a fat, jovial German man with spectacles. He appears to be getting trays and glasses ready.

"Good morning."

"Morning, miss. What can I do for you?"

"I'm here about the cook position that’s open in the kitchen. I’m supposed to meet with Rick Blaine at 7:00."

The man pulls out his pocket watch to look down at the time and back up at you. "You're early. We’re not quite ready to open.”

"My father used to say that if you're right on time, then you're late."

“Respectful and self-conscious of others’ time. Rick will like that. Come with me.” He introduces himself to you as Carl, the waiter. He shows you to an empty table and has you sit down. "Have a seat, I'll let him know you're here and he’ll be with you shortly.”

"Thank you." You smile at him and sit where he tells you to and wait. You watch as Carl, dinner tray in hand, goes up the stairs and knocks on a private door. It opens and he speaks to someone on the other side who you cannot see. He comes back down a few minutes later, followed by a man in a fine suit. He sits down across from you and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it. Carl leaves the two of you alone.

“Here to be the new cook?” Rick asks as he looks at you, blowing out a puff of smoke as he leans back in his chair to get a good look at you.

"Yes, sir."

Rick clears his throat and sits straighter in his chair. "I was told that you had culinary experience?"

You nod. "That's right."

"Can you manage multiple incoming orders at the same time? Can you manage a kitchen full of people?”

"Yes."

"How do you feel about long hours?" He crosses his arms over his chest.

"I don't mind."

You smile again and Rick almost has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling too. You seem like a promising applicant. During the rest of the interview, you’re able to maintain eye contact and answer all of his questions, no matter how difficult. You carry yourself in such a way that demonstrates you’re prepared and respect his time. You have all the skills he’s looking for in an employee. But now comes the question that will determine whether he’ll hire you or not.

"Your boyfriend is okay with you working?" He furrows his brows. "Last thing I need is a man walking in here and causing disturbances in my place, all because he believes his woman has neglected or jilted him.”

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Husband then."

"Don't have one of those either."

"Well, you're not missing out on anything. I promise you. Can you start today? Right now?"

"I'd love to."

"Great. You're hired.”

You examine the incoming ingredients. Damn suppliers, always trying to get one over on Rick. You turn the aubergines in your hands to look for the sallow brown spots, tossing your rejects into a separate bin with a grunt. Then you pick up the basil and look at each leaf like an art appraiser, taking in the minutia of the details, sniffing a ripped leaf before chewing it. The truck driver scratches at his stubbled jowls and checks his wristwatch for the fifth time in two minutes. You continue, no faster, no slower. As far as you’re concerned, he can check the time a hundred times in his indiscreet way, huffing and puffing like the nuisance he is. Timetables are inconsequential to Rick unless it affects his opening and closing times or wastes the time of his staff when they’re on the clock. Your boss will only accept ingredients that are of the utmost quality.

And what this man has brought you looks like picked over scraps more suitable to feed to the stray dogs you’ve seen wandering around than for human consumption in a fine establishment. After you’re done taking what’s usable, you warn the truck driver in no uncertain terms that the next time he comes to make a drop off, he better bring you what you ask for and not attempt to cut corners like this again. If all he has is food he wouldn’t dare feed his own wife and children, then he shouldn’t show up at all. You won’t tolerate him wasting your time. If he dares to insult you in such a manner again, he and his bosses will have to deal with Rick directly. You tell him to trust you when you say that he doesn’t want that to happen. An insult to any employee of Rick’s is an insult to the man himself.

You pick up the chopping knife and cut the vegetables into perfect matchsticks in the time it takes most people just to peel the carrots. Every motion is precise from intense repetition and you pride yourself on the machine-like perfection of your shapes. Everything is even, uniform, perfect. You look over at the sous chef and scowl. So slow! So inept! You’d been born faster than that! Your eyes narrow as she applies the seasoning and your mouth tightens to a thin straight line. “Too much, too much!”

As Prefect of Police in Casablanca, Captain Louis Renault knows everyone. And everyone knows everyone. He puts everyone at ease, draws them into liking him and wanting him to like them. There's a familiarity amongst both locals and tourists which forces him to put on a facade of efficiency within his administration. If he wants his fellow officers and the rest of the populace in Casablanca to listen to him and respect his authority when he gives orders, he has to round up twice the usual number of suspects and make out reports that reflect said efficiency. If he doesn’t take these measures, it’ll be absolute chaos in the streets and any violations of neutrality in Casablanca will reflect on him. Or so he claims. But you’ll sooner shoot Captain Renault than trust him, because you know the truth.

He’s a handsome, middle-aged Frenchman, debonair and gay, but withal a shrewd and alert official who’s embraced the corruption and vice that comes with his police uniform. He agrees to do whatever will impress his Nazi superiors and help maintain his cushy position of power. He’s perfectly fine with his normally extremely controversial behavior of opportunism, but only out of self-interest. He has no conviction. He often blows with the wind and the prevailing wind happens to be from Vichy. He has no qualms about who his actions hurt in the process. To him, they’re circumstantial collateral for what he considers a necessary evil. Captain Renault is a tough man to please, both at work and in life. He’s very peculiar not only with the way he runs things in the Palais de Justice, but with women too. He may call himself a romantic who gets by on charm and charm alone but, to you, he’s a rake, an indomitable playboy, a scamp, and so on. He’s a hedonist who’s gone through women faster than cigarettes and only ever seems to care about nothing and no one but himself.

While lower ranking officers deliver critical documents that they need him to sign off on, men and women desperate enough for an exit visa swallow their pride. They try to sweet talk him with praise and admiration. An honest man would feel bad, they'd be terrible at his job, but he loves it. It’s a thrill for him to listen as they gush about what a great man he is, only to have to act apologetic when he says his hands are tied and he can’t provide them an exit visa. No matter how much he wants to help, he just can’t. Compliments don’t pay the bills. They only serve to stroke his ego. While he does take great pleasure from that, there’s something else he’d rather have stroked by such beautiful women. His price can only be paid one of two ways: Monetary compensation or sexual favors.

And indeed, many beautiful women with very little pocket money have come to him in hopes of obtaining an exit visa. He’s taken out countless breathtaking blondes and brunettes for dates at Rick’s while they grin and hang on his every word, willing to do anything for him in exchange for an exit visa, regardless of their marital status. No one is indispensable to him and everyone in his life fulfills a purpose. In the years he’s worked for Vichy, you’ve never seen a genuine emotion from him other than greed. You pity him just as much as you do his victims. He knows the importance of give and take, but other people are simply pawns to him. He always keeps his word and fulfills his end of the bargain by procuring the exit visas, but it’s not just money or sex he’s taking from these women. It’s their bodies, their pride, and other precious things they hold dear. Once his price has been paid one way or the other and he’s filled out the exit visas, all the promises he might’ve made while engaged in the throes of passion die on the wind that he blows with, the very same wind that dries the ink on his signature. He gets everything he wants as an officer, everything he needs.

You know that Captain Renault and Rick have some sort of mutual agreement or understanding that involves Rick paying him in bribes so that he’ll turn a blind eye and look the other way, permitting Rick’s establishment to remain open while illegal gambling and other underhanded dealings are taking place. You sometimes notice Emil handing him roulette winnings when you walk into work. You thought nothing of it at first, but you eventually caught on to what was really happening. No man could ever be as lucky as Captain Renault is, unless the games were fixed in his favor. No wonder Rick bought this place for a song. But it isn’t your place to speak up or complain about it. Even if you do, who’ll believe you? It’s not always honest work, but it’s work. As long as he signs your paychecks, what Rick decides to do with his money is his own business.

There’s much activity at the various tables and far worse things occurring, such as black market dealings, human trafficking, and sexual extortion, which seems to run rampant due to the corrupt officials who participate in such shady activities. All about you there’s the hum of voices, chatter and laughter. The occupants of the saloon are varied. There are Europeans in their dinner jackets, their women beautifully begowned and bejeweled. There are Moroccans in silk robes. Turks wearing fezzes. Levantines. Naval officers. Members of the Foreign Legion, distinguished by their kepis. And your least favorite of all, the Germans who are loyal to the Nazi Party. Everybody comes to Rick’s.

Everyone seated at the table looks at the dishes that have been prepared upon Rick’s request. Many of the dishes are unfamiliar to Major Strasser and Herr Heinz, but Rick’s place doesn’t provide free food samples. Carl gives them recommendations, and they have very little reason not to trust the opinion of a fellow German. The first time Captain Renault sets eyes on you is when Major Strasser wants to summon you in front of his comrades so he can thank you in person for the fine meal they just enjoyed after the appetizers and main course is over.

“Why don't you send for her? Bring her here so we can thank her ourselves.”

“I'm sure she's too busy.”

“I doubt she's too busy to answer a summons from you.”

“I don't want to embarrass her. Carl?”

“This is the busiest time of the kitchen staff’s day, sir. Er, maybe it'd be better...”

“No. Fetch her.“

“Very good, sir.”

And then you come from the back, pink in the face, your hair pasted to your forehead with either steam or sweat. You’re child-like in your demeanor but clearly an adult. You smile in the way inconvenienced people do. It’s likely you have orders to fill and now some big customer wants to speak to you in person. While you smile at the suited men, your fingers are being crushed in the rhythmic grip of your other hand. You look like a woman who’s done all but given up on life. Your once white uniform is stained and your hair greasy. Your eyes have a strange sunken look and are threaded with scarlet so densely that they appear pink. Your cheeks glow under broken veins, your actions are slow, clumsy.

Even though you’re a total mess, Captain Renault thinks you’re beautiful. He barely focuses on anything the men seated next to him are saying, too busy watching your every movement, listening to your every word. He wants to commit everything about you to memory. The way you pick at your fingernails, the way you sweep stray hairs behind your ear, the way you maintain eye contact and speak of your work with pride even when you’re flushed and out of breath.

“ls something wrong with the dinner, boss?”

“Not at all. No, we apologize for interfering with your duties in this strange and inconsiderate way. Major Strasser and Herr Heinz here just want to thank you for tonight’s meal.”

“Before we left Germany, we hadn’t had much opportunity to try foreign delicacies. We were a little apprehensive at first since most items on your menu were unfamiliar to us, but your waiter gave us some recommendations and we trusted his word. We’re glad we did. This was one of the finest meals we ever had outside of Berlin. Very well done, miss.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you fine gentlemen enjoyed it. Mr. Blaine was kind enough to give me this opportunity. He’s opened my eyes to a world of knowledge I knew nothing of. Maybe I'll stay a cook all my life, but I have choices now. Interests, facts at my fingertips. And I'd never have had any of that if I hadn't come to Casablanca.”

“Well said. Quite a testimonial.”

“May I go, boss? Only I’ve still got the dessert and the savories.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

You make a small awkward bow and retreat, the smile vanishing from your diminutive features and your pace stretched out wider than what looks comfortable.

Ever since that day, Captain Renault has requested that a special table at Rick’s is kept reserved for him, one that allows him the best view of the kitchen. He loves to watch you through the kitchen window. You’re an artist of food. He sees your great mind so immersed in every sense, using that expansive intelligence you call intuition. He sees the love you have for this way of giving to others, this deep avenue for self expression. Here in the kitchen you’re at one with all this, the food, the spices, the flames, and a feeling of music even when none plays. He would sit here all day just to watch you, to feel your smiles and those facial expressions that are the hallmark of a genius at work more than see them. As a chef, you see brilliance in food, a potential to help and heal others, a way to show them how the sublime is simply a mixture of the ordinary. It’s your genius at play, seeing what the rest of them don’t. He’ll even make small talk when he can, usually when you ring the bell to alert Carl an order is ready to go out.

You’ve noticed something else that’s strange about Captain Renault. Every time he comes here, he seems to get free drinks. But you’ve never once seen him eat anything after that first night. No matter how long he stays, no matter who’s seated with him at the table, no plate is ever set in front of him. Only the occasional glass for any alcohol of his choosing. Why doesn’t he ever get himself something to eat at Rick’s? In his own words, as the Perfect of Police, he’s constantly busy and often doesn’t have time to take care of himself. It’s not unusual for him to get home late from a long day at the office and fail to do basic things like eat something or take a shower. He either forgets or just puts it off until the morning when he wakes up and gets ready for the day.

But he doesn’t always realize that eating something that would qualify as a snack instead of a meal quickly in the morning and warming up leftovers in the evening isn’t enough. He takes a lot of time training his secretaries because they need to be the grease to keep the wheels turning while he demonstrates the efficiency of his administration to his superiors by arresting twice the number of usual suspects. They need to be on the same page so that the monotony of filling out paperwork can be done as soon as possible. Not because he wants to take credit for all the work that’s done, but to make sure that the work that's put out is always believable and plausible, whether or not the reports made out are false or not. Training someone takes a lot of time, energy and money, none of which he has.

Over time, you find yourself wanting to take care of him. You don’t like how he keeps odd hours and hardly eats anything. And when he does eat, he has the cheapest meal on the menu, usually the same soup night after night, week after week. So you cook him better, more savory meals using whatever’s leftover in the restaurant and still fresh enough. There’s a roast chicken in the pantry and a previously made broth you found on the stove, so you make do with what you have. You make him another soup, but one that’s full of cooked meat and vegetables. You store it in a thermos and pack it in a bag. Sitting beside it in a Tupperware container is a chicken sandwich. You’re unsure if he even drinks coffee, but still make him a cup with sugar cubes and cream on the side in case he wants to add either.

You bring it to him personally while he’s in his office, and he devours the whole thing in seconds. Quickly setting the soup aside, he picks up the sandwich and savors the taste of the chicken, bread and mustard as it all comes together inside his mouth. When that’s finished, he happily over-sugars his coffee and drinks it down, feeling contently full for the first time in years. You worry he’ll get a stomach ache and make himself sick from eating so fast, but you’re glad he enjoyed it. It seems he doesn’t eat a great deal, and that worries you. Even though he doesn’t take his job all that seriously and doesn’t work very hard, he’s still human and should be eating and sleeping well. To work in the kitchens is to work for the love and nourishment of others, to give of yourself, to put your soul into the food. He’s very grateful to you.

Every Monday and Friday morning you come in early with a basket of freshly made baked goods that you leave in the break room for everyone to enjoy with their coffee. You always separate them into two batches, one for the night shift who are about to leave and one for the day shift who are starting their day. Needless to say both shifts appreciate having a little something to either start or finish their day on a good note. You make him and his fellow gendarmes all so happy, and food does that, right? It feeds the soul, brings smiles and bonds, makes everything so much better. Even if you think you're being subtle, everyone knows that every week you have a little something special for Louis whenever you bring him homemade lunches. He doesn't have the time nor the energy to cook for himself and by bringing him his lunch he doesn't have to eat at Rick’s. He pretends like it's not a big deal but you can see a difference in his mood and confidence. There's a twinkle in his eyes that didn't used to be there and you hope he never loses it again. You've heard him make comments here and there about his shape and the way he looks. You think he’s perfect the way that he is, and you know that he’s only teasing and not being self-deprecating.

"Sweetheart, you need to stop bringing me food or else my trousers will cease to fit.” He looks at you as you walk into his office with a very familiar brown paper bag in your hand.

"Are you going to start bringing yourself food?" You arch a brow, knowing the answer before he even says it.

“You know I don't have the time."

"Then I won't stop bringing you food." You put the paper bag on his desk. He shakes his head and tries to give it back but you don't take it. "Just say thank you, Captain."

He sighs and gives up. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." You smile brightly at him.

“I fucking love you, babe.”

“Of course you do.”

“Any chance?”

You flick out your tongue from the side and curl it upwards, as if you’re thinking about it. You place your hand to palm him through his uniform pants. You give him a quick squeeze before walking backwards. “No, you can wait. I've got a red-hot Russki with her finger on the trigger if I don’t get her lunch order in. Sacha is talking her down by distracting her with drinks and conversation so I could get away just long enough to hand you your lunch. But now I gotta go deal with it.”

“I don't mind the two of you.” He grabs your arms and pulls you back into his embrace.

“Go on, fuck off!” You put your entire hand over his face and push him away. You blow him a kiss before leaving his office.

It's the same fight every week and you win every week. He scares some of the locals and tourists, gruff and intimidating on the exterior, but he’s softer towards you. He insists that you move in with him, wanting privacy with you so he can indulge in showing you just how much he cares for you, but you politely decline. You like having your own space and he respects that, so you come up with a compromise instead where he’ll come over to your place certain days of the week and you’ll come over to his place on the other days. Rick has noticed how close you and Louis have become and he's not sure how he feels about it. He's known you for months now, so he recognizes the look in your eyes whenever Louis is around. You like Louis and there's no denying it. He makes you laugh and he's always sweet to you. You've become close friends and it's not rare for people to see you out and about with him.

It isn’t long before people start whispering about the two of you. It starts when they notice you eating lunch together every day and it only gets worse when word gets around that you’re officially dating. You do your best to ignore the lingering looks or the not so discreet whispering wherever you go. Louis tells you it’s just jealousy or, more likely, resentment and hatred towards him for how he treated women in the past. He’s a changed man now, but they don’t know that. They can gossip all they want. Neither of you care. Your friendship is more important than the opinion of the bored housewives of Casablanca.

You’re working late, which isn’t unusual for either of you. Your jobs make it sometimes difficult to spend time together. There are times when he'll work all day until it’s well past midnight and the early hours of the next day have arrived, without having a second to sit down. Other times he'll work until the middle of the night and, on some occasions, it’s both. It’s the same for you. Usually whoever gets home first just lets themself in and makes themself comfortable, or goes straight to bed if they’re so exhausted that they can’t keep their eyes open. Tonight is no different, as you tell Louis he can just let himself into your place with the spare key and make himself at home until you get off of work since he’ll probably finish his shift before you. You tell him not to wait up, and he teasingly tells you that he’ll wait up if he wants to.

In your apartment he pulls out a cookbook that he purchased. He stands at your kitchen counter and starts flipping through it. He doesn’t look up as he keeps turning the pages and frowns as his eyes move across the page with the recipe he decided on. He had gone out to buy some alcohol and cigarettes, and found this book in the Arab market. It had been an impulse to buy the thin leather bound volume. You both agreed that he should leave the grocery shopping to you since you’re the expert in that regard. You always know what to look for to determine if something such as bushels of potatoes are of good quality and how to bargain for a fair price.

You’re a wonderful cook. Always making hearty and filling meals that taste delicious. It’s hard to eat food from the Blue Parrot or his own god awful attempts at eggs and toast after being spoiled by the food you offer. Captain Louis Renault is a man of many skills and talents, but he isn’t well-learned in the arts of the kitchen. Before you came into his life, he didn't do much more than toast cheese over bread and add a slice of already cooked meat to it since he’s just a poor, corrupt official and couldn’t afford much else. There may or may not have been past incidents where he accidentally started small fires, making him apprehensive about using the oven. But he tried. And he wants to try again. He wants to do something for you. Something that in some way will thank you for all of those past meals. Something that requires more time and effort than just eggs and toast.

He isn’t sure where you keep your ingredients, so he opens almost every cabinet in his search of what he needs. As he rummages through your pantry, he finds something hidden in the very far back of the shelf. Arsenic, cyanide, strychnine. Poisons of varying levels of toxicity. He starts to panic internally as he thinks back to all the lunches and dinners you made for him in the past. He wonders if you had put any of these poisons in his food. But you couldn’t have. He never once felt ill nor did any of his gendarmes. But why are these here? If neither he nor they are your intended target, who is? You don’t plan on committing suicide, do you? You seemed so happy in all the time he’s known you, but now he’s doubting his own perception of the past. If the demands of the culinary job at Rick’s is getting to be too much for you to handle or you’re plagued by invasive thoughts that are making you miserable, you would tell him. You wouldn’t keep these bad things close to your heart, locked away so he couldn’t see, just for his sake. Or would you? He’s not so sure anymore.

It won’t do him any good to get all worked up about it now. For his own peace of mind, he decides to focus on the task at hand. Before he assumes the worst and literally worries himself sick, he’ll bide his time and let you decompress from your long shift at work. He’ll ask you about his discovery after dinner. Once the timer goes off, Louis stands back and displays a grumpy look, muttering to himself as he admires his work. The meal he prepared looks okay, but still he worries that you won’t like it. He hates this. Never before has he worried about pleasing or impressing a woman outside of the bedroom. But now he’s afraid that you won’t care for his efforts, or worse, he’ll fail horribly. He sets the table as he waits for you. He keeps the food warm on the stove until you finally come driving up the road. Your smile when you see him makes his heart thump wildly in his chest. His expression doesn’t give away his nervousness, but his fingers twitch against his thigh as he resists the urge to meet you halfway.

"What's this?" You ask, curiosity sparkling in your eyes as you notice the crockpot on the oven and the casserole pan on the kitchen counter.

Louis’ eyes slide over to the still warm dishes before muttering his reply, “I made dinner."

"Really?" The surprise in your voice makes him tick nervously.

"Yes. You’ve been working so hard at Rick’s and have always made meals for me and my gendarmes at work, as well as for us when we’re both home, so I wanted to try my hand at cooking something for you instead. To show that…that I love you.”

You set your purse down and walk up to him, but he’s not looking at you. Your arms slide between his and go around his back. "Thank you, Louis. I know you’ve been very busy lately too, so I appreciate you doing this for me. I really do. I love you, too.”

He rolls his eyes and begrudgingly puts his arms around you. "It's probably going to be vile,” he warns. Your laugh makes his stomach flutter, filling him with a sense of lightheartedness.

"That's okay," you assure him, giving him a quick kiss. "I’m proud of you for making an effort and doing this all by yourself. It was so thoughtful of you, darling. You know how they say it’s the thought that counts. And you didn’t set the kitchen on fire, so you’ve already exceeded my expectations,” you tease as you kiss him again.

You’re all soft smiles and loving eyes at him throughout the course of the dinner as you tell him about your day.

“When I got off of work, I pushed the door open and walked outside. Unfortunately I could see a group of women, wives and mothers, all gathered around and gossiping like they always do. I could feel their stares on me, making me feel uneasy. I ignored them. I could tell they were talking about us. I had to walk past them to get home.” You take a deep breath and shake your head, as if to shake off your nerves. “I was almost out of earshot when I heard them say my name and laugh. I stopped walking and huffed, annoyed. I slowly turned around and looked at them. 'Anything I can help you with, Mrs. Mayhew?’ I said as politely as I could. Usually that makes them lose all their courage and fold immediately, not wanting a confrontation, especially so late at night. Not tonight though. Apparently whatever alcohol was in their systems was making all of them feel brave enough to be catty. ‘Aren't you even a little bit ashamed of yourself?’ Mrs. Mayhew said, her voice laced with an accusatory tone. Her question surprised me. Ashamed of myself? Why would I be ashamed of myself? That’s exactly what I asked her. ‘You're throwing yourself at Captain Renault every single day when he’s so much older than you. Desperate, much?’ She looked at me, almost disgusted. ‘As if you’ll be any different from all the other women he’s taken to his bed. Don't kid yourself, honey. Way before you came along, there were a lot of women who thought they were special too, only to be tossed aside like a used toothpick. They all came and went, most of them aren’t even in Casablanca anymore. You really think you’ll be lucky enough to be Captain Renault’s woman? No. You’ll just be his whore. Once he takes what he wants from you, he’ll get bored of you and move onto the next beautiful young woman that catches his wandering eye.’ Mrs. Mayhew rolled her eyes and shook her head disapprovingly at me before she turned around, putting an end to the conversation—” You used finger quotes when you said the last word. “—If I can even call it that. It’s true you’re so much older than me. But we’re both adults and unmarried, so it’s nothing scandalous. I don’t care about our age difference, darling. And I know you don’t either. Oh well, it doesn’t matter. I’m not really sure why I even told you. They aren’t going to ruin my day, darling, not when you went through so much effort to make tonight a romantic night for the two of us.”

Usually he loves listening to you tell him about your day but, this time, it only makes his blood boil. Not at you, but at those odious women for harassing you. But he can’t get angry now. It wouldn’t do you any good. All he can do is hold your hands and squeeze them reassuringly to comfort you. He wishes more and more that he didn’t have to question you about the poisons in your cabinet. He trusts you, he really does, and he knows that you know that. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s tricked you into an interrogation or is threatening you into making a confession, but he’s just so worried about you. He doesn’t care where you got them from, but he needs to know why you have them. Once the table has been cleared and the dishes have been washed, he broaches the subject gently or, at least, as gently as he’s able. He’s not the Prefect of Police looking for a reason to arrest you. He’s just Louis, your Louis, your concerned lover who doesn’t want you to wind up in a concentration camp or dead.

By this point in your relationship, it’s pretty clear to you Captain Renault has no love for the Nazis. He never did. He never went all that far out of his way to help them out. There were subtle hints that you picked up on indicating that Louis had been quietly sabotaging Strasser’s agenda this whole time. While he and Strasser were in his office at the Palais de Justice, he told his Nazi superior there was no way Rick would hide the letters of transit in his café after Strasser suggested a raid to get them. He subtly reminded Victor Laszlo that obliging Strasser’s offer of an exit visa in exchange for the names and locations of anti-fascist leaders across Europe would be helping the Nazis destroy Europe. Strasser looked at Renault sharply, but saw only a noncommittal smile on his face.

Still, when he voices his concerns, you can’t help but let out a small scoff. It comes out involuntarily, almost like a reflex. You immediately apologize for your reaction when you see the wounded look in his brown eyes, making him look like a kicked puppy. You know Louis means well and you don’t mean to brush him off so coldly. His fears are very much valid in this scenario. It’s just…tragically ironic, isn’t it? He wants to protect you from a fate you’ve already suffered once before and another fate you’re not afraid of. You regretfully tell him that it’s too late for you in regards to the former and you’d welcome the latter with open arms so long as you believed you did everything you set out to do. He doesn’t understand what you mean, so you sit with him and hold his hands as you tell him the truth, the whole truth.

It all started when you and your twin sister were eleven going on twelve. It was 1927, and your parents just divorced. The court said that children should stay with their mother and, while your mother agreed that children should, she believed neither of you would be very happy staying with her since you both loved your father so much more. Your father was no hypocrite and was glad you did. But your parents knew perfectly well that if either you or your sister were miserable, your mother would be miserable too. So she asked your father to talk to the both of you, see how you felt about it. He was glad to do it. He took you and your sister out to dinner, but the three of you hardly ate anything.

“You'll see. You'll be very happy with your mother. Your mother loves you. You know that, girls, don't you?”

“Yes, Daddy. But you love us too, don't you, Daddy? Why wouldn't we be happy with you too?”

“Well, I don't know if I can explain this to you, girls. You see, your mother and I are of different faiths.”

“I never noticed any difference, Daddy.”

“Me neither, Daddy.”

“Well, I mean, religious faiths.”

“You believe in God, don't you?”

“Oh, certainly, I do.”

“Well, so does Mommy. She told us so.”

“Oh, honestly, we don't see any difference.”

“Well, girls, it's... uh, you see... l'm Jewish. Your mother is not. Now, if you stay here with your mother, you will never know what it is... I mean, if you come to Europe with me, it's different there...and people may look upon you as... Oh, this is very difficult to explain to children.”

“I suppose it's easier to explain to grown-ups, isn't it?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, if you don't want us, Daddy...”

“…I suppose we can always live by ourselves.”

“Oh, my darlings!”

“Oh, Daddy. Daddy. Please take us with you, Daddy, even to Europe!”

“We won't be any trouble. we promise!”

“Shhh. Girls, girls—“

“Oh, please, Daddy. We promise!”

“Well, darlings, there are wonderful schools in Switzerland.”

“And mountains. Oh, Daddy, please speak to Mother. Maybe she'll say yes.”

“She will, darlings, she will. Shhh.”

“Oh, Daddy.”

“Daddy... Do you think Mother will be very lonesome?”

“Not too lonesome, darlings.”

Over the years, you received handwritten letters from your estranged mother, who was probably enjoying being the center of attention at all her fabulous parties and having a series of affairs with lovers much younger than herself, living well on the extremely generous settlement your father left her - half his fortune - and hardly giving a thought to you and Fanny, her daughters. She was probably relieved to be free of the encumbrance of her children, since she didn’t make any effort to see either you nor Fanny for many years. All you ever received from her were sporadically sent letters.

“My darling daughters...where does the time go? I thought I could surely see you this summer…”

“My darling daughters, it is terrifying to think...that so many years have passed and we still haven't seen each other...but Mother misses you, and...”

You were a nineteen-year-old woman when imprisoned alongside your father in a concentration camp. He urged you to flee to safety with your twin sister and return home to your mother in New York while you still had the chance, but you refused. Although you could, and he even told you that you should, you wouldn’t just leave your father behind in Berlin. You didn’t want to just abandon him to whatever fate the Nazis chose for him. You were frightened of the Nazis just like your sister was, of course you were, but you could conceal it better than she could. You turned that fear into power, into motivation to survive in spite of the odds that were stacked against you. The Nazis didn’t frighten your father, so you wouldn’t show fear in the face of your oppressors either.

Your father was stripped of his entire fortune, his freedom, and even his eyesight. You were forced to watch as they tortured him, helpless to do anything against the armed guards. Knowing that you were watching and couldn’t look away unless you wanted to get shot, your father tried to put on a brave face for your sake despite being in excruciating pain. He tried to be quiet and just bear it through gritted teeth, but he still involuntarily let out sounds of anguish which was music to the Nazis’ ears. Though the Nazis didn’t touch you that day, you flinched. Every cry, every whimper from your father felt like the lashing of a whip against your skin. Your heart felt like it was being squeezed so hard you couldn’t breathe. As you were forced to listen, you stared at the Nazi commander, burning the image of his face into your memory. He had to have felt your eyes glaring daggers into the back of his skull, but he didn’t care. Your father’s blood stained his jacket, but he didn’t stop torturing him until he was completely blind and half-dead. Only then was the inhuman monster satisfied. He looked so smug as he took everything from your father except his life. You nursed your father as best as you could with whatever supplies you could get your hands on. Materials were scarce and often makeshift, but you’d find whatever you could use and get creative if it meant you and your father would live another day. No matter how abysmal the conditions were, you had to hold onto hope. The Nazis wouldn’t kill you that easily. They could very well try.

You keep a diary and in it you’ve written about anything and everything, from your time in Switzerland all the way up to now. You’ve done well to write using an encoded language that only you understand in case it ever falls into the wrong hands. Your time in Berlin taught you that. Everyone was under surveillance and nobody was safe. You’ve worked extra hard and taken extra precautions to keep your secrets safe ever since you were stripped of your right to privacy.

You had friends and neighbors who were outright killed, while others died from suicide, starvation, or disease. The Nazis wanted you to feel like you were alone. Nobody to help you. Nobody to protect you. They dehumanized you. They took your freedom from you. They took your property and possessions from you. They put you in a cell and took everything they could take except your life. And you believed that was all there was, didn't you? The only thing you had left was your life, but it wasn't, was it? You found something else. In that cell you found something that mattered more to you than life. It was when they threatened to kill you unless you gave them what they wanted...you told them you'd rather die. You faced your death. You were calm. You were still.

Whenever you felt your hopes of freedom dwindling, you traced the message that was carved above your bunk in your cell and read, "It is time to remember. If there is a God, he will have to beg my forgiveness.” You would never know who carved that message. A past prisoner who was more than likely dead and had been before you and your father ever arrived. But whoever they were, you hoped they were at peace. Their message filled you with determination to survive every damn day until you either died, were liberated, or escaped. That message from a ghost motivated you to endure. You vowed to the dead that you would keep fighting. No matter what the Germans had at their disposal, no matter what contraptions they used to torture you and break you down mentally, physically, and emotionally day in and day out, you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of witnessing your surrender. Come what may, you and your father would endure this Hell together. You would resist the evil that operated these death camps. Even if it killed you both.

Even you’re not exactly sure how you managed it, but you and your father escaped around the same time as Victor Laszlo. Since he was a much more prominent and influential figure as the leader of a rebellion group who supported the Resistance movement, he was Public Enemy Number One. The Nazis focused all their attention and energy on recapturing him. Taking advantage of their distraction, you and your father slipped through the cracks and were able to get away. Now your father is back home safely with your mother in New York City while your twin sister is married and with her husband in Seattle. But not you. Following your escape from the concentration camp, you spent years hunting for the camp commander who took everything from you and your father. You went all the way to England, where you ended up working as a cook for a Free French garrison stationed way out in the countryside, with no street signs to tell you where you were for miles and miles. With cows, hay bales, and barns, it was a quiet place that looked more like a dairy farm than a base of the famous squad, Victoire. To think that all those incredible bombings came from a quiet place like that. It seemed a strange environment for one of the deadliest squadrons in the service, but the French didn’t mind the quiet. They rather enjoyed it.

In 1941 you finally received some very valuable intel from Captain Freycinet, a liaison officer who was in charge of the whole operation, on the whereabouts of the Nazi commander. With his help, you assumed a new identity and traveled to Casablanca in French Morocco, North Africa. You found him. Major Heinrich Strasser. You made sure to change your appearance enough so he wouldn’t recognize you. And indeed, he didn’t, not even when you were stood inches away from him at Rick’s. But you’d recognize him from miles away.

Your escape didn’t change the fact there were millions of children and their family members who died every year in concentration camps since before the war even began. Even now as you speak, more are dying every day from malnutrition and starvation, in a world able to produce more than enough food. Who would be their voice during this holocaust? Artificial famine is still being used by the Nazis as a weapon against whoever they consider undesirable. Their agenda needs challenging, those starving kids need champions. Who will answer their call? Who will take effective action? Who will free them from this inhumane torture and give them good health? You can’t just sit around twiddling your thumbs and wait for the war to end. You can’t just bear witness to the suffering around you and do nothing. You got out. You want to help others get out too. You want your survival to mean something. You won’t leave Casablanca until Major Strasser is dead by your hand.

Hitler is a vegetarian. He never eats any meat. And Hitler is so paranoid that the British will poison him — that's why he has fifteen girls taste the food before he eats it himself. The food is delicious, only the best vegetables, asparagus, bell peppers, everything anyone can imagine. And always with a side of rice or pasta. But this constant fear — those girls know of all those poisoning rumors and can never enjoy the food. Every day they fear it’s going to be their last meal. But neither Major Strasser nor Herr Heinz nor any of the other Nazis have such a luxury in Casablanca.

Death by arsenic is heavy-metal poisoning, meaning it would have to accumulate in the victim’s system to kill them. A massive dose would be immediately detectable, as arsenic has a bitter, nasty taste— Imagine getting a mouthful of powdered aluminum. No one would have gotten past the first bite before spitting it out, and a residual mouthful of arsenic, while not the greatest thing for one's liver or kidneys, is not fatal. Even if the victim could choke down such a large direct dose, death would be a slow, agonizing process over a period of days as their organs slowly shut down. You tell Louis that you’ve been using a different poison, one that’s odorless, nearly tasteless, and dissolves instantly in liquid, making it untraceable. It’s among the more deadly poisons known to man and you’ve already begun lacing Strasser and Heinz’s food with it. Nobody has noticed, not even Strasser or Heinz themselves. They’ve accredited their illness to Casablanca’s climate or some sort of virus going around and spreading through the air. You tell Louis he can either help you or not, but it makes no difference to you. Nothing he can say or do will convince you to change your mind. You emphasize to him that what you’re doing isn’t revenge. It’s retribution.

You and Louis both watch the Nazis drop like flies in the aftermath of your grand scheme. The deaths are spaced far enough apart that the uptick in illnesses and deaths are blamed on something going around in the air, like influenza. Herr Heinz dies before Major Strasser. He takes a turn for the worse and just never wakes up again, despite attempts at resuscitation. When the doctor examines him and an autopsy is performed, nothing is found in his system that would indicate foul play. His death is ruled as being caused by his heart, attributed to his diet and alcohol intake. He was rather fat, after all.

While the Germans mourn, you bide your time and get cooking, waiting for an opportune moment to slip Major Strasser the final dose. His immune system and metabolism are stronger than Herr Heinz’s was, so it’s taking longer for the poison to work, but it matters not. Major Strasser, angered that he and his fellow Nazis are drowned out while singing a patriotic German tune by "Marseillaise," a Free French anthem sung by the club's other patrons, led by Victor Laszlo, orders Louis to find a reason to close Rick’s establishment until further notice. The Germans think they’ve won a battle against the French Resistance in doing so. Major Strasser has since worsened considerably, but he’s a very stubborn man who refuses to display weakness, so he keeps working.

Come that fateful morning in which you’ve planned for yet another name to be listed in the obituaries, you make coffee for yourself and Louis. He nearly takes the thermos with the poisoned tea by mistake, but you’re quick to let him know, stopping him just in time before the poison even touches his lips.

“Don't drink that. Never.”

“My dear, do we have to do this? Must we?”

“Yes. You have no idea what they'd do. I would be taken from here. Locked away. Tortured until death by hanging or firing squad. Made an example. And if they ever found out, if they ever even suspected you were a part of it, you’d suffer the same fate as I. I’ve come too far to be interrupted now. I can’t turn back. We can’t turn back. We either succeed together or we fail together, there’s no other choice. Trust me, I know what I’m doing. And I trust you to know what you’re doing too. Don’t get cold feet and turn on me now.”

Around lunchtime, you pay a visit at the Palais de Justice under the pretense of bringing food and drink to Louis and the gendarmes again, like you’ve always done. Everyone says they can smell blackberry pie and, indeed, that’s what you’ve baked as a special dessert for them. You pass it off to Lieutenant Casselle before entering Louis’ office, the door closing firmly behind you with a soft click. Louis is with Major Strasser, who remains seated while Louis prefers to stand at his desk. Major Strasser’s strength is failing him, but he does everything in his power to hide it. Louis is drinking coffee and eating whatever's left from the baked goods you brought him last Friday, but Major Strasser looks as if he hasn’t eaten a single bite since he woke up this morning.

“Major Strasser. I’m surprised to see you’re up and about. Your landlady said she found you at the bottom of the stairs this morning. Are you feeling any better?”

He doesn’t respond, but his expression gives away his displeasure at his landlady having loose lips. Clearly he was hoping that nobody else would find out about what happened this morning.

You hold up two thermoses. “I brought you some homemade broth. Do you think you can eat?”

“No.”

“Then you must drink something at the very least. Here, I also brought you some herbal tea. It should clear up all that congestion in your throat and in your chest." You open the other thermos and slowly pour him a cup. You guide it into his unsteady hands. "It will help with building your immunity,” you assure him. “You must get stronger.”

He takes a sip of the hot tea, but grimaces at its acidic taste. "It's just a little bitter."

"I'm afraid that's the medicine. I tried to put as much sugar and honey in it to lessen the bitterness, but I see that my efforts were to no avail." In actuality, what he’s tasting is the laced sugar powder. In small amounts it kills the victim slowly enough that nobody will notice.

“I can cope." He continues to take small sips of the tea as he readily watches you.

Major Strasser is very sick. He’s dying. Of course he’s dying. He didn’t eat the broth. Doesn't matter. You put the poison in the tea too. In the evening, you’re told by the landlady that Major Strasser has retired early and won’t be taking anymore visitors. Louis uses his authority as Prefect of Police to create a believable distraction that allows you to sneak upstairs and into Strasser’s room. He’s laid up in bed and startles at your sudden appearance, but is so weak that he can barely move or speak louder than a hoarse whisper. He can’t even muster up the strength to pull himself into sitting up.

“What are you doing here? I told my landlady I didn’t want to be disturbed. How did you get in here? Doesn’t matter. Get out.”

“I tended Father in a bed. Though, now that I think about it, it wasn’t much of a bed. More of a cot, really. The man who put him in that cot was a brute. He hated Father. He tortured him, beat him within an inch of his life. The cruel and unusual punishment inflicted upon him rendered him completely blind. He never quite healed. He was bedridden for a long time. But I cared for him. Fed him. Bathed him. Combed his hair. Rubbed liniment on his scars. I made him better. I'll do the same with you. I'll make you better. You’ll be out of this bed soon. I promise.”

The more you talk, the more perturbed Strasser becomes. He looks at you as if you’ve gone insane. He has no idea what you’re rambling on about. Everything you’re saying sounds like utter nonsense to him. He hides it well, but you can still see it. The thinly veiled fear in his eyes. He’s little more than wholly paralyzed, incapable of moving a muscle beyond twitching his fingers, blinking, and, of course, moving his lips. He can’t call for help. He’s at your mercy, what he believes is the mercy of a madwoman, but you have none to give. Not tonight.

“Look at me.” You force him to maintain eye contact with you. “Do you know who I am?” It’s a rhetorical question and he doesn’t answer, only stares at you. You need to refresh his memory. You weren’t expecting anything else. “No. You still don’t know me. Well, can’t say I’m surprised or disappointed. I’ve been beside you all this time and you never once recognized me. But I can’t fault you entirely for it. The years no doubt have changed me, Major. But then, I suppose the face of a Jewish banker’s daughter — the face of a prisoner in a concentration camp — is not particularly memorable. I’ve had my eyes on you ever since you took away my father’s eyesight.”

Major Strasser’s expression, usually that of hardened iron, morphs into one of horrified realization. No… You can’t possible be… Both you and your father died. He wants to deny what’s right in front of him but, as he looks upon you now, really looks at your face, your eyes… he sees so much of your father in you and realizes he was gravely mistaken. His voice is laced with unbridled hatred when he seethes through his teeth, “Y/N Skeffington!”

You shake your head. “No. That’s the name given to me upon my birth, the name I had to abandon before I came to Casablanca. The immigration official on Ellis Island wasn't a good speller, and ‘Skeffington’ was the closest he could get to ‘Skevinzskaza’. That’s the name I want you to think about as you die. Give Herr Heinz my regards when you see him in Hell.”

You listen closely as Major Strasser lets out his last feeble gasps and then stops breathing. Nobody notices you leave as you close the door behind you and go back down the stairs. They’re still distracted by Louis. After you leave, Louis strays behind for a few minutes longer to convincingly sell the deception before making an excuse to leave. When you get back to the safety of your apartment, you stand for a long moment, sweat dripping from your face, exalted. Then you sink to your knees, overcome. You did it. You finally did it.

You and Louis have your bags already packed and ready to go. You’ve already gone through everything in your apartments with a fine tooth comb so that no evidence tying either of you to your crimes would accidentally get left behind. The plan is to get in and get out, as if you’re both ghosts and nobody ever lived in these apartments. Once you decided on what Strasser’s death day would be, it was go time. So you and Louis have been prepared for this day for days, possibly even weeks in advance. The poison is untraceable and undetectable once it enters the human body. It’s highly unlikely it’ll come back to you, that’s true, but neither you nor Louis want to take any chances. Your work here is done, so you have no reason to stay in Casablanca a minute longer. Nobody will check on Major Strasser until the morning, so you have a few hours to get away before anyone discovers his body or reports his death.

“There’s a Free French garrison in Brazzaville. I could provide us a passage. Rick has already used his letters of transit to travel there and join the fight on the side of the Allied cause. I could cable him and—“

“That’s not a bad idea, darling. But I have an even better one. My godfather is the owner of a mining company that specializes in diamonds. He’s based in South Africa. I can cable him ahead of time so that he knows we’re coming. He and my father started off as business partners, but became very close friends over the many years they worked closely together. When Fanny and I were born, he was unmarried and had no children of his own, so Daddy made him my godfather. I’m confident he’ll welcome us with open arms. I’m his favorite godchild.”

“Are you his only godchild?”

“Yes, but the point still stands. His morals may be gray at times when it comes to business, but he would never give us away. He loves me and respects my father too much to even think about betraying me. If there’s another man in the world who would help me get away with murder apart from you, it’s him,” you joke at the end to try to lighten the mood and calm Louis’ nerves.

When Louis takes your hand and helps you step off the train, your godfather is stood there on the platform, waiting to greet you. You let go of Louis’ hand and your godfather immediately pulls you into a crushing hug. He kisses the side of your head, mussing up your hair a little bit.

“There she is, my darling girl! I'm so glad you're here. It’s been so terribly long since I last saw you. Too long. Let me get a good look at you.” Not letting go of your arms, he steps back and looks you up and down. “You look healthy. So you’ve been sleeping well? Eating well? That’s good.” He hugs you again, then wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Have you missed me as much as I’ve missed you? Tell me all the news. Did you have a good trip? I got your cable but, tell me, is your father worse? I was just beside myself, nearly sick to death with worry when I heard the dreadful news that the Germans captured the both of you. If I could’ve, I would’ve used all my money and influence to get the both of you out. But money had completely lost its power over there. The only thing that motivates those devils is the thought of total extermination. Then to hear that you escaped, but that poor Job was rendered completely blind…”

“Dad is doing just fine. I won’t lie, It’s been an adjustment and isn’t always easy for him, but he and Mother have reconciled and are living together again. I believe they’re happy now. I’ve called and written letters to home as often as I’ve been able, though it isn’t nearly as much as I’d hoped. I’ve been very busy lately. I’m sorry I haven’t had many opportunities to write or call you to keep you informed on what’s been happening. I know how frightened for Dad and I you must’ve been. The not knowing must’ve been the worst. After Dad and I escaped, he went to New York. Uncle George found him sitting on a park bench, sunning himself. He immediately took him back home to Mother. I went to England and stayed there for a while, then traveled to Casablanca. But I had company all the time. Speaking of which, Uncle Fred, may I introduce you to Mr. Louis Renault? Louis, this is my godfather, Fred Martingale.”

The men act cordial and shake hands.

“How do you do, sir?”

“I’m doing very well. Thanks for asking. You both must be tired from your long journey. Come, let’s all get in my car and I’ll show you to my house. I’m sure you’re both eager to get settled in. There’s guest rooms ready for the both of you. Or if you’d prefer, I could arrange to have you share a room. Just make sure to lock the door first whenever you use it.”

“Uncle Fred!” You sputter, your face heating up from embarrassment. You know exactly what he’s implying, but your admonishment isn’t serious. You can’t help but laugh.

You load your bags into the trunk and get in the car. You want Louis and Uncle Fred to use this time to bond, so you sit in the backseat while Louis sits up front in the passenger seat next to your godfather. As he drives along the desert roads, you’re the first to break the silence and make conversation. You want to help Louis to get comfortable and build rapport with Fred. The sooner you can all get past the awkward part, the better.

“So what have you been up to, Uncle Fred? How’s the diamond business going? Have there been any major changes since we last corresponded?”

“Oh, for the most part it’s been business as usual, I would say. Though we did have a bit of excitement for a time. Do you remember that man I told you about, Michael Davis?”

“Yes, I remember. Wasn’t he the one who came across a cache of diamonds in a prohibited mining area located somewhere in a remote region? He was caught by the mine's police, but refused to reveal the diamonds' location, even under torture at the hand of the diamond company's security chief, Paul Vogel. But I thought Davis left South Africa?”

“He did. For some time. But then he came back. To make a long story short, he came back because he wanted the diamonds and had no reason to believe they wouldn’t be in the same place he left them. I hired Suzanne Renaud, a trollop from Cape Town, to seduce Mike so he’d tell her where the diamonds are, information which she would relay back to me. Unlike Vogel, I wanted to use guile rather than force. Suzanne, or whatever other aliases she went by, was a talented actress and I trusted her to get the job done.”

“And then what happened?” Louis asked, intrigued.

“Mike made me a deal that appealed to me. He said he’d trade the location of the cache of diamonds he found in the desert if I helped him save Suzanne from Vogel. The diamonds for the girl. I personally didn’t think she was worth it, but they were in love and there was no changing his mind. He shot Vogel dead, sailed off somewhere with Suzanne to start a new life, and I got my diamonds.”

“Good riddance, I’d say. I never did like Vogel. That horrible man was always so power hungry and sadistic.”

“You know, in his way he was quite a remarkable fellow. Nasty, but remarkable. Your timing is impeccable, actually. When I got your cable, I had just recently got back from holiday. I had an early flight the day before yesterday and haven’t yet had a chance to unpack my bag.”

“Pleasant holiday, Mr. Martingale?”

“Very nice, yes. When we get to my house, you can fix yourself a drink there, if you like, Mister...uh, Mister...? I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“Renault. Louis to you, Mr. Martingale. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Fred. If we’re to be on a first name basis, you should drop the formality and use mine too, don’t you think? After all, we are practically family, Louis.”

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

“You are attached to my goddaughter, are you not? You’re her…her lover, her boyfriend, her beau, whatever you’d like to call it. Why else would she bring you here? Then you must also know that I cherish the woman sitting behind us as if she were my own flesh and blood. So from now on, call me Fred.”

“Then I’m Louis to you, Fred.”

“For now. I imagine it won’t be much time until you’ll officially be like a son to me. Am I right? Will there be wedding bells in your near future? I never know what to think anymore. I'm being constantly disillusioned. Has money completely lost its power? Is everyone motivated now by love? First Mike and Suzanne, and now you two.”

“Why do you think I agreed to come here with your goddaughter? Why do you think she asked me to assist her in her goals? From the moment when I first set my eyes upon her, I knew I'd met the one woman that I wanted to be my wife. Even though she was a mess and smelled of sweat, grease, and oil, I was a little overwhelmed by her beauty. It’s a gross understatement when I say that she was the most beautiful woman to ever set foot in Casablanca.”

“Well put, Louis. When the time comes, I can provide you with any diamond of your choosing. I have a fine selection here. The Starlight, The Eureka, The Cullinan Dream, The Kazanjian Red, Tiffany… Nothing is too expensive for my goddaughter’s hand.”

You piped in, “Just as long as it’s not too gaudy.”

“Gaudy? Impossible. Any diamond you wear could be nothing but glamorous, my dear.”

Once you’ve settled in, you use the phone to call home.

“Number, please.”

“Long distance, please.”

“Long distance.”

“I want to put in a person-to-person call to...Mrs. Frances Skeffington, New York City, 2926.”

“2926?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Hello?”

“Mother. It’s me. I know it’s been an awfully long time since we last spoke, but—“

“My darling! Oh, where have you been? Where are you now? Your father told us that you were going to England, but we haven’t heard much of anything since!”

“I’m currently in South Africa and staying with Uncle Fred. He’s more than willing to provide me with room and board until the war is over. As for everything else… It’s a long story, Mother, but I promise I’ll tell you it in person as soon as I’m able to come home. Though I feel I must warn you now that it likely won’t be until after the end of the war is announced. Traveling isn’t safe for me right now. But I promise I’m perfectly safe here. May I speak to you for a moment about something else? Something very important?”

“Of course, darling. Yes?”

“After I left England, I spent nearly three years in Casablanca, North Africa. While I was there, I got a job as a cook in a café and…I met someone. Someone I love very much. His name is Louis Renault, and he and I are going to be married after the war is over.”

“Louis Renault. Well... I had no idea. But, darling, have you known him very long?”

“I've known him several months, longer than I've known you.”

“But don't you think you should have talked it over with your mother?”

“Have I a mother?”

The line is silent for a few moments, and you wonder if maybe your mother hung up until-

“That's not kind of you, darling. I've always loved you very much.”

“Sort of a long-distance love, wasn’t it, Mother?”

“I never wanted you or Fanny to leave me. It was just that... Well, just that you loved your father so much.”

“And it was just that our father loved us so much.” You pause for a few moments as you gather your thoughts. “Oh, Fanny and I know you had a difficult choice to make. You couldn't be both a beauty and a mother.” You pause again as your words sink in. “Oh, Mother, we used to worry about our looks too...when we were thirteen and all arms and legs. Fanny used to hate that brace she had on her teeth. I hated the acne on my face. But Father would always comfort us. ‘A woman is beautiful only when she's loved,’ he'd say.”

“Yes, he said that to me once too. I didn’t understand or appreciate it then, but I do now. Darling, do you suppose it's too late for me to be a real mother to you now?”

“It would have to be a long-distance love again.”

“I'm willing to try.”

“It wouldn't work out, Mother. Once the war ends, Louis and I want to move back to his home in France. I’ll get a job as a cook, and Louis’ been expressing interest in leaving behind his law enforcement career and pursuing other fields where he can find more honest work. Though I do want you to come to my wedding. I really do. Well, I suppose you wish me luck.”

“Of course, darling.”

“Is Dad at home? I’d love to speak with him, if I can.”

“Yes, he’s here. I’ll pass the phone to him.”

“Thank you. Goodbye, Mother.”

“Goodbye, darling.”

You hear the sounds of the creaky armchair as your mother gets up. You listen to her faint voice in the background as she tells your father that you’re calling. You listen to the armchair creak again, this time a bit louder from your father’s heavier frame as he sits down and gets settled. Hearing your father’s voice fills you with immense relief and elation.

“Daddy… forgive me for not calling you sooner. So many things have happened since we parted ways, some unexpected, some wonderful. But I just had to hear your voice. I just had to tell you… I am engaged. Rejoice for my mind is made up.”

“Engaged? My goodness, sweetheart. I… I don’t know what to say.”

“I hope that, in time, you’ll understand. My prayer is that you’ll accept that this is my decision, my free decision. I know I went about this backwards. Forgive me and Louis for not asking your permission first. But we—“

“Permission? You don’t need my permission, silly girl. You’re nearing twenty-six, aren’t you?”

“I know. But I would like to have your blessings, Dad. Do I h—”

“You don’t even have to ask. Wherever you go, you may take my blessings with you, whatever that means.“

“Oh, Daddy. It means more than anything. More than anything! I promise that I won’t be married until after the war is finally over. Once France has healed, I’ll leave for Paris with Louis to marry. We don’t want a big affair, something quiet with just close friends and family. But trying to convince Uncle Fred of that is proving difficult. He’s accustomed to the life of a bachelor, and the overindulgence in the world’s finest luxuries that comes with it.”

“I always thought he spoiled you too much. Well, I do hope you get your way, darling. But your godfather can be just as stubborn as he is charming. Don’t let his charm persuade you into letting him plan your entire wedding. It should be your day, not his.”

“I know you didn’t get to see Fanny’s wedding to Johnny Mitchell, Daddy, but I want you to see mine. You, Mother, and even Fanny and Johnny too, if possible. Please, Daddy, will you come over for the wedding? I want you to give me away.”

“We'll see. We'll talk about that later. I don’t know about your sister and her husband, but I promise your mother and I will do everything we can to be there. I promise I won’t let you fall, but you must promise me the same when we walk down the aisle together.” His voice has a teasing quality to it near the end. You’re relieved that he hasn’t lost his sense of humor after all the horror he suffered.

“It’s not just a promise, it’s a deal! Goodbye, Daddy. I promise I’ll write or call you whenever something interesting happens in my life until next we meet. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Goodbye.”

[littleflowersforyou]

Don't be so quick to, walk away.. dance with me.

"...Is that who i think it is" Usopp said, pointing at the caramel skinned bartender, the bartender took off their hat, showing their gorgeous curly black hair, turning to the table, they grabbed their notebook, pen and walked over to them, "Welcome to The Swisha, how may i help you." Rico said, looking down at them, smiling, "A..- The whole Menu Please!" Luffy said, shocked to see her again, as Rico wrote that down, "And that comes up to.... hm, why not, new guests so it'll be free." She said, writing it down, "And is that all Luffy?" She said, everybody's eyes widened when they saw the door swing open, But Rico stayed unphased, Rico turned, the most annoyed face ever. "Hello!" Precious said, smiling at Rico, "Oh Look how pretty you've gotten Rico! so pure and beautiful!" She said, cupping her cheeks and smiling, "Hello, Precious." The annoyed Rico said, but smiling at her so she wouldn't hurt her own poor friends heart

"How have you been" Rico said, placing her down, Rico was a tall glass of chocolate milk, shes one of the most dangerous people. "Well, my husband Marco bought me this pretty necklace!" She said, smiling once so innocently, "Its very pretty" Rico said, turning around, "Go ahead and join this table, its on the house." She said, walking away to the kitchen, "....Wow." Sanji said, "Thats.. thats a full on woman alright." Zoro said, looking at her walk away, a couple of moments later, Rico would walk back with 6 whole trays, stacked and stacked, Rico had them stacked perfectly, having her head straight, hands up in the perfect position, as she placed the big plates of food down, she smiled, "Enjoy, oh and, your vanilla cake, Precious." She handed it to her, sighing slowly while she closed her eyes, walking away once again.

As everybody was silent, looking straight at Rico, "...uhm ma'am, you know Rico?" Luffy said, turning to precious, "Well of course i do, she's a very.. dangerous woman, i met her when she was surrounded by 56 marines, and she destroyed all of them.. by hand" she said, eating the vanilla cake, swallowing, "...And?" He said, "Shes the realms protector." She said, looking up slowly and smiling, whistling slowly, Then Rico kicked the door open, throwing kitchen knives straight at 15 marines, then running at another marine, jumping at him and wrapping her thighs around his neck, strangling him, as the marines face turned black and blue, Rico lets the marine go while she took the marines keys, whistling and dragging the bodies to the kitchen, just to leave them there, walking out then looking to the table, "You guys come on." She said, "I got you guys a ship since y'alls were so... messed up" Rico said, as she walked out, everybody followed, silent and in a straight line, not wanting to make Rico's blood boil.

~End of chapter~