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between-the-lines-fic · 3 years ago

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Between the Lines - Bruno Madrigal (Modern AU) Chapter 3

Summary: Bruno Madrigal is a popular telenovela writer, though he keeps his identity secret under the pen name Pedro Oscar. You just happen to be a big fan of his who’s doing their laundry while a telenovela plays in the background.

Pairing: gn!Reader x Bruno Madrigal

Words: 2,143

Warnings: Intended to be GN, though reader is occasionally referred to with female pronouns

Chapter count: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 (More to come!)

Available on: AO3

“...núfar.”

You stare up at the wall, eyes tracing the familiar patterns of the yellowing wallpaper that Abuela put up decades before you were even born. Who made it, you wonder? It’s a bit different than most wallpapers, a tapestry of various opera and telenovela posters glued together in a beautiful collage of dramatic arts.

“Nenúfar.”

Abuela had always said that she thought you’d be just like one of the stars. When you were younger, the three of you would huddle on the worn, threadbare couch as Abuelo turned the tv on to the late-night opera channel. He loved the telenovelas, while Abuela preferred the actual operas that they aired. It was often a source of their bantering arguments, but they had always been in good spirit. You wonder what she’d say now, looking down on the both of you as you live out your days in this corner store, rooted to the ground.

"Y/N!”

You snap at attention, peering over at your abuelo. He grins right back at you, amusement crinkling the crow's feet in the corners of his clouding gaze.

“Good to know you can hear, mije,” he teases, and you roll your eyes with a faint smile. “I need you to go get some more bags of rice from the back, okay? Senor Pepita was asking for an order since he ran low this week.”

Nodding in absentminded agreement, you rise from your seat at the register and slip past Abuelo’s chair, patting him as you slip by. Just a few months before, those bags wouldn’t have been too much for him, but after his fall…

Well, a little exercise could never hurt. You weren’t called short and sturdy for nothing. You open the back storage, hefting a few rice bags up in your arms before lugging them over to the bulk food bins. On instinct, you almost open a bag to begin refilling the container, only to pause. Wait, no, Abuelo had asked you to stack them, not refill the buckets. Glancing back sheepishly, you check to see if he caught your blunder, and… well, he did. Joder.

“Pequeño nenúfar, you’ve had your head in the clouds all day. What’s on your mind?” He leans forward on the metal foldout chair with a creak, bony hands resting on the crook of his cane. You glance nervously at the telephone and he follows your line of sight with a raised eyebrow.

“I, uh… I’m waiting for a phone call is all.”

He sniffs, unimpressed. “Is that so? Well, when your Abuela was younger I waited for plenty of ‘phone calls’ too.” You flush, suddenly coughing into your fist. He bursts into a wheezing snicker, the sound rattling his ribcage.

“It’s- a friend of mine wants to go to coffee this week, alright? Nothing like what you’re thinking.” You’d reasoned yourself down from a 'date,' a practiced safety precaution that kept you from absolutely freaking out. Not that it was working, clearly enough.

“I’m glad.” Abuelo's words snap you from your thoughts once more, and you glance at him to see him with an uncharacteristically fond smile. “It’s about time you spent more time outside of this hole in the wall.”

“Abuelo…” you start, already gearing up for the old, worn argument.

“No, I’m serious. You need friends pequeño nenúfar. When was the last time you hung out with friends? Saw our neighbors outside of the business? I’m grateful that you’ve worked so hard, but you need to get outside. Go live life.”

You press your lips thin, eyes darting to the wallpaper once more. Countless stars stare back at you, half-lidded gazes and upturned faces shining with cheap, fluorescent light glaring through the yellowing gloss of pasted posters. “I have friends, Abuelo. I’ll be fine.” Stepping over, you bend down to press a light kiss to his forehead, and he lifts an arm to give you a half hug.

“Don’t worry mije. You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he boasts, puffing out his chest just like Jorge does on the television. You stifle a laugh, pulling away to swat gently at his shoulder. “Fine, fine.”

“Good. Now, can you please stack those bags properly?”

A sigh. “Yes, Abuelo.”

—

It’s not even two hours later when the phone rings. A smile rises to your face like the sun, and you reach over to pick it up with perhaps a bit too much eagerness. Abuelo gives you a knowing look, and you squint back at him.

“Ah, hello?”

“Hello! Who is this?”

“Bruno.” A pause, and then, “… this is the right number, right?” You can just barely hear as he seems to devolve into quiet muttering, something along the lines of “Did I… wrong number?”

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” you laugh into the receiver, pushing the phone up against your chin with your shoulder as you reach across the desk. Deft fingers pick up his pen, twirling it in your hand. “Glad to know you kept your promise. You’re at least more honest than Abuela Ana, yeah?”

“Mhm. It’s not like that’s a high bar to pass, no?” he replies, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice. It only bolsters your own, and you stifle a laugh.

“So when are we meeting up? And where?”

“Well,” he offers, words stilted and halting, “I was thinking the one on 8th street, the small one next to the bank? It’s quiet. Small. Good coffee. Meet me in an hour?”

“You drive a hard bargain, but I like the cut of your suit,” you grumble with an exaggerated rumble, and you hear Abuelo snort in the background.

“La Visión viva de la Esperanza y el Futuro?”

“Yeah! I was wondering if you'd get that one. I’ll see you then?”

“Alright. Break a leg, see you soon.”

You set the phone back in the receiver with a soft click, still absolutely beaming. Turning around, you find Abuelo staring at you with a knowing smirk.

“Oh, déjame en paz, Abuelo,” you mutter, face going red.

–

In the end, it takes you a surprisingly short amount of time to travel over to the coffee shop. Abuelo had practically shoved you out of the store, shooing you away so that you could change out of your work clothes and head across the city for your… get together. Not a date. Yes a date? Until he said it was a date, you’d treat it like a hangout.

You approach the shop curiously, peering around the street until you finally come to the entrance, where you see Bruno through the window. He looks uncharacteristically nervous, seemingly rapping his knuckles along the leg of a wooden table in some odd rhythm. A nervous habit? But as soon as he spots you, his hands halt, and he offers a warm smile. Returning the expression, you push open the door and step inside, heading over to his table.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I didn’t know you’d be here so early,” you say, pulling a chair away from the table so you can sit down.

“I spend a lot of time here, don’t worry about it,” he glances away as he says that, scratching sheepishly at the back of his neck. “Maybe too much time. But! It’s a great place for inspiration. Big windows mean lots of people watching.”

“People watching? I guess that’s just a less dramatic telenovela in real-time, huh?” you tease, plucking the pen you borrowed (stole) from your hair to hand it over. “Your companion safely returned.”

“Ah, the hostage,” he says, grandiose and serious, though the corner of his mouth gives away his suppressed laughter. “But really, it helps me uh, get ideas for my writing.”

Writing? That’s new. “Really? Do you write? I don’t remember you saying that before. What’s it about?”

“Oh you know, this and that. I.. uh…” he trails off, and what should be a simple question suddenly has him staring off into space.

“HEY. Wanna get some coffee?” he suddenly asks, rising to his feet so fast it makes your heart jolt.

“... Yeah. That’s the point of a coffee shop?” He nods emphatically to your words, although it’s almost as if he doesn’t hear the words because he snatches up his wallet and starts to march over to the counter.

“Yep yep yep yep, I’ll get some for us, just uh, stay put.”

You watch him animatedly exchange words with the cashier for a moment, before your gaze trails back to the table. His bag sits beside his chair, half-open, and you can see thick stacks of ruffled papers and a laptop peeking out. Whatever he’s been writing, it certainly seems like it takes up his time, especially if he brought his work with him.

It does explain why he spends so much time criticizing telenovela. If he’s a reporter or reviewer of some kind, maybe it’s a refreshing change of pace to talk about the twisting and turning plotlines that play on screen. Does he work for a newspaper? Maybe an online magazine, given his laptop. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you barely hear him return with your respective coffee cups, and only when he sets yours down in front of your nose do you finally blink back into reality.

“Thanks,” you smile, picking up the cup to sip at it. Bitter, but not unpleasantly so. Bruno nods in acknowledgment, grasping at his own with surprising dexterity given how the tiny cup seems practically childish in his hands.

“So…” you venture between sips, eyeing the man in front of you critically.

“So,” Bruno echoes, looking a little red in the face. Maybe it’s the hot drink?

“How’d you end up here? Move in? Grow up here?” You raise an eyebrow, learned from Abuelo himself, and practiced to perfection. It seems to work, as he lets out a nervous laugh and shrugs.

“Grew up here, but I guess my family moved here when I was young. We, uh… well, Mama did what she thought was best.” He pauses, clearly having more to say, and yet for some reason, he withholds it. Well, it’s not like you have any right to pry.

“That’s fair. I guess I could say the same? I wasn’t born here, but I ended up moving in with los abuelos when I was young. I’ve been here ever since.” You swirl the remaining coffee in your cup, watching how it rises and laps at the rim without spilling. “It was just the three of us for a long time, and since Abuelo can’t run the corner store as well without Abuela around, I pick up the slack.”

He nods slowly, the uneasy tension in his shoulders lessening. “That must be difficult. It’s admirable of you to stick by your family like that, I think. Not many people would,” Bruno dips his head to you, lips pursed with another pensive pause. “I… ended up moving away from my family further into the city to uh… make it on my own. I wasn’t pulling my weight, and it was better off that I left.”

A nervous, birdlike laugh escapes his lips, and he stifles it in his coffee cup. “I couldn’t bear to move completely away. They’re my family, and I want to make sure they’re okay. So… I sort of live on the fringes.”

Now it’s your turn to hold your tongue as you give him a quiet frown, cup set gently back on its saucer. “... Right.” Quick, think of something to wipe the sudden melancholy that seems to weigh on him like an oppressive stone, the weight of a house pressing down on his shoulders-

“Tu familia siempre te amará, querido Jorge,” you mutter under your breath on instinct, though you wince. That’s perhaps not the greatest thing to quote to someone who just mentioned how much they missed their family. Praying that he didn’t hear you, you chance a glance at his face, only to find him stunned speechless as he stares at you with something like… like awe?

That was… not the expression you were expecting. Nor is it helping your poor brain that is now imagining that beautiful face of his in other scenarios. Dios te salva.

“Y siempre los amaré, Gabriella,” he murmurs back, and you pause.

“That’s not in the episode,” you say a bit dumbly, the rest of your brain smoking as half tries to strangle the other into submission because you could have sworn he said 'I love you' instead, and that is not doing your heart any favors.

“Eh?” He blinks, and the vulnerable moment disappears as he straightens. The weight is lifted. “Oh, I guess not. I probably deleted that from the draft before I sent it in for editing.”

“Oh.”

…

“I’m sorry, you sent what in for editing?”

#bruno madrigal #bruno madrigal x reader #encanto bruno x reader #bruno madrigal x oc #encanto bruno #encanto au #between the lines fic #between the lines au #we get into more of reader's background here #as well as bruno's #>:)

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fbwzoo · 3 years ago

Note

I have to keep my (two) hermits in one of those tiny cages until i can get a 10 gallon

Is there anything i can do to help them until i get them into a better habitat? It might be a few days before i can but i don’t want them to die :( I don’t have anything but a spray bottle to keep the cage humid and some food. I’ve done my research and my mom will be buying everything for them but she can’t right now. it won’t be long until we can get a good habitat and everything they need but what should i do to make sure they’re healthy until then?

Is it one of the open wire sided cages? Or is it a solid side critter keeper type thing? Second one is easier to work with, but either way:

Use distilled water if you can just for right now, or else some bottled water if you can. Prime would be one of the first things to get if possible, to make sure the water is safe.

Try to enclose the container if at all possible. A lot of people use glad press & seal for wire lids, but I'm not sure how well it'd work for a wire cage. Another option is checking whether you have a small plastic storage tote at all - that make really good emergency homes for moving or other temporary situations.

Make sure they have a small container of water - just fresh for now since you probably don't have the right salt to use. That will help them from drying out badly enough to harm them until you get things fixed. The water they keep in their shells can be used to wet the gills in an emergency.

If you got them from a beach or pet store, don't give them too much to hide in or anything just yet. You want to give them lots of good foods and there's a special method to use to help them recover from stress and abuse before you give them full substrate, hiding places, etc.

Here's some links about that method here:

https://crabstreetjournal.org/blog/2013/02/21/pps-post-purchase-stress-minimizing-the-impact/

And

youtube

For heat, just try to keep the temperature above 75F if you can - try to have them in a warmer room in the house, up higher since warm air rises. If you have a space heater or human heating pad, you could try to put that nearby to help.

I think that's most of it - heat, humidity, safe water, and food are most important right now. I know I'm a couple days late, I'm sorry & hope it's still helpful! You mentioned already doing research, but just to make sure, my recommendations for that are Land Hermit Crab Owner Society & Crabstreetjournal.org, and Crab Central Station, as linked above. Good luck with the new babies! 💜

#fbw rambles #asks #hermit crabs #hermit crab care #binglets

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urbancripple · 4 years ago

Link

I’ve updated my gear page and added more of my recent recommendations. I also fixed the shitty image formatting so stuff isn’t cut off :D

Each purchase made through those links helps support my site. So many of your have done that recently and it’s been a great help with keeping things running around here. I deeply appreciate it.

This article contains one or more Amazon Affiliate Links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.

Urban Cripple’s Wheelchair Gear and Accessories

If you want suggestions on what kind of gear you should get for your wheelchair, check out this list.

Wheelchair Tools

Every Day Carry (EDC)

In the Kitchen

Around the House

Bags and Carrying Cases

Food and Fuel

Wheelchair Tools

I don’t carry a ton of gear with me when I go out, but what I do have is super critical to staying safe and mobile while rolling through god‐knows‐what in the streets. Most of this stuff falls in the “Oh shit!” category. You won’t need it every day, but you’ll be glad you have it when you do.

Tekton Long Arm Ball End Hex Key Wrench Set

Most wheelchair components are held together with either with some kind of hex screw. If something goes wrong, you’re going to need a set of wrenches to fix it.

I like this particular set because it comes with both metric and standard wrenches and folds so it can lay flat in your bag or tool wrap.

Pedro’s Tire Levers

Don’t let their size fool you: these are great tire levers. What I love most about these things is the fact that they come in pairs and are designed to wrap around a spoke so you can keep one in place while using the other to remove the tire.

When not in use, they snap together and can easily be tossed in a bag or stashed under your chair.

PRO Bike CO2 Inflator

If you realize your tires are dangerously low after leaving the house or you pop a tube and need to reinflate the replacement, you’ll need a C02 inflator.

Make sure you always keep a couple of spare cartridges on you and remember to never store a fresh C02 cartridge in the inflator: it’ll just be flat by the time you need it.

Black And Decker ASI300 Air Station Inflator

For regular tire maintenance, I really love this air compressor. It’s powerful enough to fill a standard wheelchair tire but small enough to travel in a vehicle. It can even be powered by your car’s DC outlet.

Every Day Carry

This is the stuff I keep with me and use every day.

Foldable Phone Stand That Fits In Your Wallet

It’s a ridiculous piece of plastic and aluminum, but it fits in your wallet and actually works really well to hold your phone up. I use it when doing video calls with coworkers so I don’t have to move my laptop, open it up and plug in my wired headphones.

Harbinger Pro Non‐Wristwrap Weightlifting Gloves

By far, gloves are the most important piece of gear for your chair. City streets are super gross and full of hazards that can stain, cut, or bruise your hands. A good pair of gloves should offer you plenty of protection from hazards while allowing you to maintain your grip, dexterity, and the ability to use touch‐sensitive devices like a smartphone.

That’s why I love these weightlifting gloves from Harbinger. They have enough padding in the palms to protect from dirt, grime, and heat (gripping your tires while going down hill can burn your hands) while the fingerless design lets you keep your dexterity and use a smartphone.

Tactical Flashlight

I know we all usually use our phones when we need a flashlight, but I find a dedicated flashlight to be a lot more effective ( and a lot less expensive if you drop it.)

These flashlights are small, light, and crazy bright. They also come with various modes including strobe and S.O.S.

Contigo Extreme Vacuum Insulated Stainless Steel Travel Mug with Handle

The only way you can safely carry a hot beverage while pushing a wheelchair is by keeping it in an airtight container. I really like this mug because it’s insulated and has a clip. The clip is great because you can easily attach it to your bag or to the back of your chair (I use the backrest release bar). Because it seals so well, you don’t have to worry about it spilling.

Snap Lock Folding Pocket Knife

I like this knife because it’s small, sharp, and easy to carry. Just don’t accidentally leave it in your jeans for the TSA to find (true story).

AmazonBasics Lightning Cable

Fun fact: lightning cables are super cheap if you get them from anywhere except Apple.

Cocoon Grid‐IT Organizer

These things are great for taking all the small stuff that usually ends up rolling around in your bag and keeping it in one place.

Portable Charger Power Bank 22400mAh

Having your phone die is terrifying. This thing will charge your phone and tablet several times over. However, it does take a long time to charge the battery itself.

Slim Portable Charger Power Bank 10000mah

It won’t charge your device as fast or as many times, but it won’t take up nearly as much room in your bag as the other battery.

In the Kitchen

Cooking while everything that is boiling or on fire is at face‐level can be a bit daunting. Here’s some stuff that’ll make it safer and easier.

Meal Prep Containers: 3 Compartment with Lids, Food Containers

These meal prep containers are microwave/dishwasher safe and they stack. It’s a great way to prep meals and save yourself some time and energy.

Extra‐Large Silicone Freezing Tray with Lid

These trays are great for freezing stews and sauces and such. I do a lot of large batch cooking and these are waaay easier than trying to portion stuff out into ziplock bags. The lids make it easy to move it around one handed (what wheelchair user hasn’t gotten wet trying to refill an ice cube tray?)

Silicone Baking Mat

These things are a life saver in the kitchen. Basically, if you use them, you’ll never have to clean a baking sheet/pan ever again.

16 inch Kitchen Tongs

When sitting in a wheelchair and using the stove top, it can be really tough to reach both the temperature dials and anything sitting on the back burner. These super long tongs let you easily reach and turn the knobs on your stove and anything that might be sizzling away on your back burners.

Ove Glove

These things are machine washable and can withstand up to 540 degrees of temperature. They grip well and make it easy to get stuff in and out of the oven. In a pinch, they’ll even double as a makeshift pot holder.

OXO Steel Press & Pour Insulated Cocktail Shaker

If you’re looking for a cocktail shaker that doesn’t freeze your hands off, won’t burst open, and can be operated with one hand, you should get this one. I make a lot of cocktails at home and I really hate cocktail shakers. Your standard Boston style shaker has a tendency to break open on you if you don’t seal it right (and that means your chair gets covered in booze) and it’s a pain to open if you seal it too tightly. This cocktail shaker has a really straight‐forward design. The top is screw-on, it has a simple push button in the lid for pouring and sealing, and it can pour from any direction. I highly recommend it for folks who wanna mix drinks at home but don’t wanna risk wearing their beverage.

Around the House

This is the stuff I keep around specifically because it makes daily life easier for me when I’m at home.

Microfiber Cleaning Cloth

For folks trying to keep their place clean while avoiding using up too many cleaning wipes or paper towels, I’ve found that having a stack of cheap microfiber cloths on hand plus a mix of water and vinegar in a spray bottle really helps keep things sparkly while cutting down on waste.

Multi‐Position Heavy Duty Folding Hand Truck and Dolly

This dolly is great if you need to move something that’s too big or too heavy to carry on your lap. It can be configured in multiple ways and folds up easily for storage.

Retractable Dog Leash

Walking your dog with a standard leash can be tough if you’re in a wheelchair. I use a retractable dog leash with my dog so that I can easily adjust the amount of slack I need to keep her under control while not getting the leash tangled in my chair. In addition, the size of the handle lets me easily loop it through the buckle of my Grab‐It Pack, which means I can securely hold onto the dog while pushing my chair with both hands.

Bags and Carrying Cases

All of the various bags and slings I use to carry stuff when I’m out of the house.

13.3 Inch Sling Bag Riding Hiking Bag Single Shoulder Backpack

This bag is small and doesn’t have a ton of storage, but I wanted something that I could wear constantly and had just enough room to hold my backup charging cables and small tools so that I could go out without having to have as much physically strapped to me. If you need something with more storage, they have a bunch of different sizes that are meant to hold more stuff.

This isn’t the exact bag I use day‐to‐day but it is the correct style. I really like the sling style bags: they’re light enough to not restrict my movement and the single strap means it won’t shift around as I push my chair.

Food and Fuel

This is the stuff I carry with me in case I’m too busy to pack a proper meal.

ThinkThin High Protein Bars

It’s always a good idea to keep some kind of portable snack in your bag if you think you’re going to be out and about for an extended period of time. I like to keep a couple of these ThinkThin bars in my bag just in case I’m stuck between meal times. They don’t taste like death or cardboard and they’re not just a glorified candy bar.

#gear #disability #wheelchair #recommendations

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tagsecretsanta · 4 years ago

Text

From @hedwigstalons

to @lenle-g

Secret Santa does not own this work, full credit to the author above!

“Merry Christmas, John.”

"Merry Christmas, Eos."

Eos’ camera unit tracked his progress through the gravity ring towards the small section that passed as a kitchen module. He could tell just from the way her servos whirred that she wasn’t finished and the length of the pause gave a good indicator that she was puzzled.

"John?"

"Yes, Eos?"

"You sound...sad."

"I'm not sad, Eos, but I'm not really happy either."

"You sounded happy when you spoke to your family."

"That's good. I don't want them worrying about me."

"Should they be worried about you? You seem well. All your vitals are registering in the normal range."

There was something touching about her gentle curiosity and John couldn't help but smile at how far she had come in terms of displaying sensitivity, but it was at times like these that the AI showed just how inhuman she was. Much as he would like to brush it off and forget the whole situation he owed her an explanation, if only to further her education into the nuances of people.

"No, I'm fine, Eos. But it would spoil their day if they thought I was missing them. Just because I'm stuck up here doesn't mean they should hold back on the holiday spirit on my account."

"So you lied to them."

"I didn't lie, I just didn't tell the whole truth."

"This is one of those human things, isn't it."

"Yes, Eos, it's a human thing."

It had taken a lot of effort to plaster on a smile and give a convincing act that, yes, he really was fine about spending Christmas up on Thunderbird 5. If everything had gone to plan he would have been in the thick of it. Calls would have been diverted to the island and global rescue agencies reminded the International Rescue was first and foremost a family unit. Of course they would still respond to a request for help but courtesy dictated that for this one day only the direst of calls got sent their way.

John might grumble about the paper crowns, claim tinsel made him itchy or threaten to head back to the office when the inevitable pillow fight broke out between Alan and Gordon but they were his family and he would much rather be spending Christmas surrounded by the noise and chaos than alone. Unfortunately, this year, alone was exactly how he was going to spend the holiday season.

"Eos, give me another readout on the coronal mass ejecta and electromagnetic radiation levels."

"The solar flare is continuing. It is still inadvisable to use the space elevator."

It hadn't answered his request but she had given him the information he needed. Eos really was getting better at understanding people and reading the subtext, he couldn’t help but feel a little proud of her.

“Thank you, Eos.” There was a whirr as she dipped her lens in a nod of understanding. “Well, it looks like the emergency Christmas meal is going to come into play.”

By this point he had reached the kitchen module and he extracted from storage a small silver tray that looked just like all the other silver trays that provided the bulk of his nutrition up on the space station. A small label proclaimed it to contain roast turkey and all the trimmings but he didn’t hold out much hope of it being any more appetizing than his usual bland fare, there was something about the preserving process along with the high levels of vitamin fortification in each meal that gave his food a unique, if not wholly pleasant, flavour. The meals weren’t bad as such, but they weren’t good either. Normally he appreciated being spared good ol’ home cookin’ with Grandma at the helm but you could guarantee that Christmas, along with Thanksgiving which he had also missed this year, was one of the occasions that everyone pulled together to make a meal worth eating.

Three minutes in the warmer and the meal was ready to eat. He carried it through to his sleeping quarters and perched on the bunk before peeling off the lid that had so far kept all food smells sealed inside. As soon as the seal was broken rich aromas filled the cabin. If the smell was anything to go by then maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. Unfortunately it still had the same greyish tinge and odd consistency as his usual staples but he’d survived on space rations for long enough to know that looks didn’t matter as long as it was edible.

Despite the tantalising smell it was with some trepidation that he picked up the first forkful. Recreating the holiday meal was a challenge and one that Brains had only recently applied himself to. If everything had gone to plan he wouldn’t even be having this meal now, he would be back on Earth with his brothers tucking in to the real thing and this, whatever it was, would have become just another food tray to grab when he fancied something different.

He gave the lump of grey a tentative nibble, paused to assess the flavour, then shoved the whole forkful in with enthusiasm. It was delicious. Okay, he would have preferred to be eating the real thing and to not have all the component flavors all jumbled together but if he concentrated he could tasted the turkey, the mashed potatoes, the gravy and all the other parts deemed essential to a Christmas roast. Once again he was happy to declare that Brains was a genius. He carried on eating until every single scrap had been scraped out of the tray, even going so far as to wipe a finger round the edges to get every last bit, before slotting the tray and lid into the disposal unit for recycling.

The rest of the afternoon was passed with an open comm link. It was bittersweet being both there but not there as the family laughed and joked around his hologram but with calls still being set to extreme emergency only it wasn’t like he had much else to do, especially since Scott had commanded Eos to block any activities that might be construed as work. Reports, inventories, maintenance, even reading for anything other than pure pleasure, of it was off limits.

Time ticked on and one by one the residents of Tracy Island drifted off to bed until only Scott was left having chivvied everyone along with the reminder that they would all be back on standard duty in just a few short hours. With that the guardian down on Earth flopped down on the couch for a few moments of quiet and turned to the guardian in the sky with a sigh.

“Well, we made it through the whole day. Even that mudslide in Chile didn’t need our attention.”

“No. Local rescue services managed it with zero fatalities.”

There was a shared look as though each dared the other to comment on their knowledge of the situation in Chile even though they technically weren’t meant to be working. They both knew there would be no admonishment though, however much they might tell the others to step away from the day (and night) job, for the Commander and Space Monitor of International Rescue a ‘day off’ would always follow a different definition.

“That’s good to hear. Are you sure you’re okay up there?”

“I’m absolutely fine Scott, the flare isn’t producing anything that would trouble Thunderbird Five.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Blue eyes held turquoise until, safe in the knowledge that this was just between the two of them, the lithe form in the hologram slumped a little.

“Of course I would have preferred to be there with you all.”

“I know, buddy,” there was a nod of understanding, “but we’ll get you down here as soon as we can.”

Both of them knew it wouldn’t quite be the same. Neither of them realised quite how quickly they would get their wish to have John planetside.

***

It was around 3am Tracy Island time when John first realised something wasn’t quite right. Scratch that, ‘wasn’t quite right’ did not do justice to the roiling, churning feeling in his stomach, the waves of nausea or the chilled sweat that had broken out all over him with accompanying shivers to round off the experience.

“Eos, increase the gravity to 1G,” he rasped out for as much as he he normally enjoyed keeping the living areas of Thunderbird Five at lower than Earth’s gravity, if his predictions of what the next few hours were going to entail proved true then low gravity was not the best environment to experience it in.

There was a feeling of pressure as he settled slightly heavier against his bunk and the change did nothing to quell the feeling in this stomach. A lurch and swoop inside him told him that the inevitable was about to happen. Ordinarily John was the tidiest brother but he was incredibly glad that for once he hadn’t gotten around to stowing away the fresh uniforms that had been sent up on the last supply run. It was the work of a moment to extract the box from under his bunk, unceremoniously tip the neatly folded stack of blue suits onto the floor and clutch the box to him. He’d much rather deal with cleaning up the now rumpled pile of uniforms than his stomach contents.

Minutes ticked into hours and the feeling didn’t abate. He huddled on his bunk, hunched over the box, his blankets pulled close over his shoulders. Another spasm wracked his body and he added to the contents of the box.

“John, shall I alert your family?”

It was the third time Eos had asked that and for the third time John refused. Alan had barely made it back in time for Christmas himself and while the young astronaut was technically cleared to fly again John would much rather his youngest brother racked up a few more hours of sleep. Anyway, he wasn’t sure he could face a trip in Thunderbird Three just yet.

“Conditions are such that the space elevator is now operational.”

If such a thing were possible John could have kissed the AI at that moment but he settled for a weak nod instead. There was a good reason why astronauts used to quarantine before every trip, illness in space was hard to deal with and while the advances in space travel meant that time and distance were no longer the barriers to medical aid that they used to be, a space station was still not a comfortable environment in which to ride out a sickness bug.

“In which case please tell them I’m on my way home.”

John left Eos to handle the necessary communications. He really didn’t feel up to answering a stream of worried questions from his brothers, or worse, Grandma, and knew she would relay all the required information. Instead he concentrated on hauling himself along to the space elevator, a journey that felt a thousand miles long to his weak and ravaged body. The chills as he left the blankets behind made his body ache but he couldn’t manage both the blankets and the box and the box was still definitely needed. Anyway, there was no way he could leave that up there to fester.

The space elevator posed it’s own challenges. The reclined seat, normally so comfortable for dealing with the rapid transit back to Earth and designed for optimal safety, was not an appealing prospect for someone still prone to bouts of vomiting which, while abating, hadn’t finished completely. He hoped he could make it through the journey unscathed but he kept a few bags in his hands just in case, knowing that the restraints would stop him from using his now well-loved box.

***

The docking clamps engaged with their usual reassuring thuds and John breathed out a slight sigh of relief, his stomach had behaved for the duration of the journey and for that he gave thanks to any deity that might be listening.

Ordinarily he would be out of the seat the moment the harness disengaged but hauling himself upright felt too much effort. He wasn't left in peace for long though before strong and comforting arms were scooping him up, one set on either side.

"Come on, let's get you to the infirmary and check you over."

He turned a weak smile on Virgil, for once agreeing that the infirmary was the best place for him.

As he was led away by Scott and Virgil he vaguely registered Alan and Gordon hovering by the doors of the space elevator, mops and buckets at the ready, and he wondered quite how bad a picture Eos had painted of the situation. That was a conversation for another day though, for now he just wanted bed, fluids and probably a clean box.

***

Four days he was stuck in infirmary. Four long and tortuous days punctuated by rehydrating fluids that only tasted marginally better on the way down compared to their inevitable journey back up. It was no comfort, when he was finally allowed out into the wider villa to continue his convalescence on the couch, that Virgil explained he had got away with a mild dose. A mild dose of what, he wondered.

Salmonella, it turned out. It was a very sheepish Brains who confessed that something in the new flavourings had compromised the preserving process and the tastiest space meal he had eaten in a long time was actually the case of all this trouble.

Despite now being able to keep down plain toast (as long as it wasn’t cremated by Grandma) he was still feeling as weak and washed out as a kitten. He didn’t even put up a fight when Virgil said he was going to be kept Earth side until at least the new year. He was quite happy to stay on the island even if life had returned to its usual frenetic whirl of rescues, there was something incredibly restorative about being in the midst of it all with his family around him and within a week of his return he was back running dispatch from his cocoon of blankets in the lounge. It would be a little while before he would be fit to return to normal duties, salmonella poisoning had done a number on him despite the main physical symptoms passing in a matter of days, but he was getting there.

***

Over three weeks had passed since John’s rapid and unplanned reunion with his family and he was starting to feel the call of space. John loved his family, he really did, but he’d just about reached his limit of unexpected noises, stolen snacks and impromptu hugs. Unfortunately his plans to make an escape seemed to be thwarted at every turn.

“Look Virgil, I’m fine.” There was a non-committal grunt as Virgil checked his temperature and heart rate for what felt like the 400th time. “Take me out to Gran Rocha if you must and put me through my paces, there is nothing wrong with me now.”

Evidently the medical evidence was on John’s side because the engineer come medic stopped running tests and instead trotted out one of the many other excuses he’d heard more than once. “We still need to restock Five. There is a chance that other meals in that batch were contaminated and we cannot risk a repeat event.”

John was in full agreement on that one. “I know and the new batch has been ready for at least the last three days,” Virgil opened his mouth as though he were about to interrupt, “I asked Brains.” Virgil’s mouth closed again. “I’ve also spoken to Alan and the next time he’s racked enough downtime he’s happy to take me and the food up in Three. And if that doesn’t happen any time soon I’ll just take whatever I can fit in the elevator and you can send the rest on later.”

Virgil knew he was beaten. Unless John had a fairly firm date for his return (barring rescues of course and there was no way he was going to stage a fake emergency to occupy Thunderbird Three) Virgil estimated they had maybe three days before John made good on his promise to just hop in the elevator with whatever food he could cram into a bag.

As soon as John had left the infirmary and Virgil was confident he was out of earshot he activated his comm, sending out an Island wide broadcast that excluded one grumpy astronaut.

“How are we doing guys? John’s about ready to bust out of here. Any chance of us being ready for tomorrow?”

“Well, we’re still missing some of the fresh stuff…” there was a note of concern in Scott’s voice. He hated to admit it but a flurry of rescues meant they were behind schedule.

“I’m on it,” cut in Kayo, “just tell me what we need. He won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Safe in the knowledge that the sneakiest Thunderbird would take care of the missing items the island residents each gave the affirmative that all other aspects were taken care of, or would be as long as John was kept out of certain areas. A final itinerary was cobbled together and everyone kept their fingers crossed that the plan would be carried off without a hitch.

***

John woke a little later than usual, possibly due to the gaming session Alan had dragged him into that seemed to have lasted for hours. He’d only ventured into his youngest brother’s bedroom to confirm his ride back to the office but by the time he got to leave, slightly stiff from being sat glued to a controller for so long, the only place he was going was back to his own bed. He’d tried to escape a few times but every time he'd checked in with Eos she had just confirmed that all was quiet and there was no need to stop his game, prompting Alan to load another level. He made a mental note to have a word to her about interpreting tone and teaching her the cues so she could distinguish a request for information from a plea for a cover story.

Barring the usual disclaimer that rescues would take priority, Alan was booked to take him back to Five the following day. Now he knew where he stood he felt a lot better about the whole situation and wondered how best to use his last day on the island. His plan was to grab a light breakfast, maybe recheck the supplies list of what he would be taking back up, then have a quick swim provided Gordon had vacated the pool and the risk of a ducking was ruled out.

His plans didn’t quite work out.

As soon as he entered the kitchen he was greeted with a maelstrom of sounds and smells. Warm sugar and cinnamon competed with roasting turkey, Christmas carols assaulted his ears and he scratched futilely at his neck as it became adorned by a swathe of tinsel draped gleefully there by Gordon. Everyone had clearly been waiting for his arrival and much as he might have objected to the idea had he known about it, it left him with a warm and fuzzy feeling knowing that his family were prepared to go to such lengths for him.

“Merry Christmas, John,” Scott greeted him, shoving a plate of warm cookies under his nose. “Seeing as you got such a rough deal we decided to have a rerun.”

“With minimal risk of food poisoning,” Gordon chimed in before adding in a stage whisper, “it’s okay, we kept Grandma out of the kitchen.”

It looked like everything had been thought of to ensure he didn’t miss out on a proper Tracy family Christmas. Once breakfast had been completed and the gathering had moved upstairs he found that even the lounge had been festooned in decorations that he knew had been put back into storage; evidently Eos did know how to provide a cover story after all.

It might seem slightly nuts to try and eat a full turkey roast in tropical heat, it was probably a misappropriation of International Rescue resources to take an unnecessary trip to Norway just to make sure John could have the real tree he’d always loved but hadn’t had for years, but to see the smile on John’s face it was definitely worth it.

#thunderbirds are go #John Tracy #Eos #Thunderbirds 2015 #hedwigstalons #tag team secret santa #secret santa 2020

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dapandapod · 4 years ago

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Hollow part 2

After months and months here is part 2 of Hollow finally. I have decided to make a part 3 of this, since this part ran away from me a little.

You can find it here on Ao3!

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Ao3

~~*~~

It’s early morning. Julian can’t explain it to himself, but he wants to be there when the witcher leaves. He can’t stand the thought of the man just disappearing.

The night before was so odd, the resigned hurt written over the witcher's features as they sat across each other in the filthy tavern. Like he was holding back, like there rumbling forces above a dam moments before it breaks. And there is that feeling when he looks at him, at his white hair, scars and yellow eyes. That feeling where he feels like he is missing something important, a small scratching on the inside of his ribs insisting he keeps an eye on him.

So Julian stands by the stable waiting for the witcher. One would expect him to come from the inn, but to his surprise Geralt comes from the streets. His gait is slow, exhausted. His hair is mussed and filled with leaves and moss and when he gets closer Julian can see his knuckles are scraped raw and his eyes are red and swollen. Haunted.

Geralt's eyes do not leave the cobblestones beneath his feet until he is just a few steps from Julian. There he stops mid motion, eyes latching on to Julian and he looks so… sad. Deflated, as if the air in his lungs left and refused to return. His nostril flares and Julian can see it happening, how a lid is put on whatever is simmering in there.

“Jask-... Julian.” Geralt greets. For some reason, the name sounds flat on his lips. Wrong.

“Good morning master witcher.” Julian responds with an incline of his head. “I wanted to see you off. I have always found goodbyes hard.”

The witcher gives a weak smile not reaching his eyes.

“They are.” He says and ducks into the stables. Julian follows close behind him and the smell of straw, fur and that distinct scent of horse hits him. It is comforting, but also just a little confusing. Julian rarely spends time around horses.

Together they take care of the witchers mare. Julian likes her eyes and he smiles when he buffs his arm.

“Sorry, I got no treats, honey.” He is not sure why, but it hits him hard, how could he forget to bring a treat for her? She seems to be such a sweet thing.

“Did you get a contract last night?” he asks the witcher, who just grunts. It seems to be his prefered way of communicating, spicing it up from time to time with a little “fuck”. During their two weeks together Julian almost has it figured out, and he interprets this as a solid maybe.

Jaskier rubs absently at his side, he has a scar he almost remembers getting and the new skin is still tight and stiff and a little itchy.

They reach the outer walls surrounding the city and walk under the gate. Awkwardly they stand by the side of the busy road, trying to figure out what to say. Why is this so hard?

”Do me a favor Jask- Julian. Let a magic wielder look at you. Mage or witch or something. To make sure the spell didn't do anything else.” Geralt says quietly.

Julian had almost forgotten about the spell. Honestly he finds it hard to care about, there is so much going on in his head right now. Confusion, mostly, and for some reason a lot of sadness and a little fear.

Julian is not sure he likes the witcher leaving.

It doesn’t sit right with him, but who is he to ask him to stay? They are not friends, they don’t know each other?

“Julian?” The witcher asks, and there it is again. That off-ness when the witcher says his name. Julian looks up at him, ripped out of his reveries. Right, there was a question.

“Uhm, yeah, sure. I’ll look into it.” He says, trying to keep that thought from slipping away. It seems to fight him, wriggling out of his fleeting grasp, slippery between his mind's fingers.

They watch a carriage pass, dust rushing up in its wake, particles dancing in the early morning light. Neither of them make any indication to move.

“I guess this is goodbye.” Julian finally says.

The witchers fist tightens around the reins in his hands. He is still staring after the carriage and Julian is staring at him.

“Or maybe…” Julian thinks out loud, a nervous flutter of excitement sparking into existence in his chest. “I could join you? Travel with you for a while? See the world?”

“No.” The reply is short, definite. The fluttering crumbles, sinks, lands heavy and weighs him down.

The witcher's horse steps a little, impatient to get moving. On instinct Julian puts a hand on her neck to calm her, her fur warm beneath his fingers. He is not sure who is comforting who, but this mare has a calming impact on him. And because he is looking at her, Julian misses the pained expression of the witcher.

“You are not safe with me.” Geralt says, and really, Julian understands. He was not very comfortable during their travels, the ground was hard and cold even through a bedroll.

“Please Jas-Julian. Find a magic wielder. Be safe.”

With that, the witcher mounts his horse, gives him a brief nod, and turns their backs to him. And Julian just stands there, letting the noise of the waking city behind him wash over his curiously empty mind. He stands there as long as he can see them, and then he stands there a little while longer.

The halls of the Oxenfurt University are big and echoing. Perfect acoustics for singing, if that was something you liked, Julian mused as he walked through them. He walks through the corridors and halls on his way to the room assigned to him.

It’s the same one he always had, but it doesn’t give him the sense of comfort he expected. His sleeping pallet is soft, his writing desk neat and tidy, ready for a day's work. So why does he feel so restless?

He moves about in the room, not really doing anything. The witcher gets further and further away for every minute and Julian just can’t get it out of his mind.

A soft knock on the door pulls him back to reality. He moves to open it, and for some reason he really, really wishes for it to be him. Geralt, right? The witcher, Geralt, will be on the other side of the door, asking him to join him on the road.

It’s not the Witcher.

It is one of the professors, Julian is sure his name is O-something.

“Good morning Professor Pankratz.” O-something smiles at him. He is an elderly man with fine clothing and a few extra pounds around the middle and a moustache. “I came to wake you for the morning meal, but I see you are already up and about.”

Jaskier stands with his hand still on the handle, squeezing it a little. Of course it would not be him. There is no reason he would want Julian with him on the road.

It is with some reluctance that Julian follows O-something to the dining hall. He laughs and smiles and eats with the other professors and scholars and students. They all seem to be surprised to see him, talking about some muse Julian had found on the road.

Huh.

Is that why he feels so empty? Because his muse is gone? They all ask him of stories from the road, of his muse, and he would be glad to answer if he felt like he knew how.

The feeling of unease washes over him, and the spoonful of porridge he just placed in his mouth just refuses to go down. The others don’t notice his silence, his turmoil, and as soon as he can get that horrid piece of food down he excuses himself.

Pure muscle memory brings him back to his chambers, so deep in thought he barely registers his surroundings. When safe behind his door again Julian stops in the middle of the room and just stares into nothing.

If he did find a muse, as he dreamed of his entire life, why would he possibly let them go? Did they die? Get tired of him and left? That did happen more than once, a small lonely voice in the back of his mind reminds him. Absently he drags a hand over the side of his stomach, over the scar he almost remembers.

His eyes fall on a case next to his bed. It looks like it might contain an instrument of some kind. Did someone leave it in this room for storage?

Placing it on his bed, he drags his fingers over the fine grains of wood. It feels oddly familiar under his fingers, and something makes him open it to look inside.

The case holds a beautiful lute in perfect condition. He can tell someone cared deeply for it, there is barely a scratch on it. And under the lute Julian finds notes bound together by a string. He picks them up and flips through the pages. Precious paper and ink and so many words collected.

With a start he recognizes his own handwriting, his own way to express himself, but the words are unknown.

They are lovesongs. Poems, thoughts, feelings unadulterated and raw and overflowing. It’s spilling over, the ink rippling waves of ebb and flow, raging storms against the cliffs that seems to be Julian.

He was in love with someone.

Julian has no recollection of writing this. None at all. Was this from a drunken stupor? He did have a stormy relationship with his countess, and he did drink a lot during that time. He sits down on the bed and leans back against the wall, getting comfortable.

There are no dates. Here and there you can see the shade of the ink change. He kept notes long enough for the ink to run out at least three times. Either he was drunk for longer than he remembers, or there is something wrong here.

When next Julian looks up, his neck is aching and his back is stiff. If the new shadows in the room is anything to go by, he’s been at it far longer than he thought. And he is none the wiser.

Carefully he puts the case under the bed for safekeeping, the notes he puts on his desk. The writing is really good, and he grumbles over how he could possibly have forgotten about it as he leaves the room to reacquaintance himself with his life in Oxenfurt.

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maelabraaten · 4 years ago

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Survival Tips - The Best Emergency Food Kit

Which Needs The Best Emergency Food Kit? Who knows what the future holds? If only we knew, day to day, what challenges would arise, we would never be caught unawares. Unfortunately, life just doesn't work that way. Those who prefer to look forward and make preparations for the "just in case" scenarios are often painted as fringe lunatics and doomsday preppers. However , assembling the best emergency food kit for yourself and also your family should be something every responsible adult takes seriously. Just a few of the "normal" situations that could arise, when having emergency rations for your family would make sense, include: loss of a job, temporary lay off, extended storm damage or power outage that traps your family at home. Or perhaps you'd just like to be a position to help another family in need, should the opportunity arise. Then there are Armageddon type examples that plague the mind of some, and no better way to put those fears to rest than to look ahead and prepare for the worst. Whatever your reasons for looking forward and setting up emergency rations against a difficult time ahead, we are here to help you build the very best emergency food kit for your family. Identifying Your Needs First, lay out your preparation strategy. If you're just getting started in emergency preparation, you do not have more than a day or two worth of food in your cupboard. If that's the case, building up a thirty day supply of food is a good place to start. If you already have 30 days of emergency rations laid by, the next step may be building up a six month or year emergency food kit. The important thing is to start somewhere, and build your supplies up until you've assembled the best emergency food kit that you're able. Who ? re You Feeding? Do you have children in the house? Teens? Older or elderly adults? Infants will require special feeding accommodations like milk or formula, while the elderly may have some unique nutritional needs, as well. Map out on paper who you're building a food supply for and any special things you need to prepare for them, or for yourself. Then consider what it takes to feed that person for a single day. How Many? Once you've published down what it takes to feed one person for one day, you'll need to multiply that by the number of people, and the number of days for which you're preparing. What Do They Like To Eat? There's no need to live for a month on nothing but rice and beans. You don't want to stock up on three months worth of food that your family won't touch with a six-foot pole, just because it was cheap. It may keep you alive within a pinch, but you want to enjoy it, if possible. So take the likes and dislikes into consideration as you plan. Don't forget to consider food allergies, as well. In an emergency situation, you wouldn't want to face an allergic reaction from cross contamination, so better to avoid problem foods altogether, if possible. Types Of Emergency Rations There are dozens of ways to build up a great emergency food kit. The easiest, though certainly not the least expensive, is to invest in commercially prepared catastrophe rations, offered by various companies. These kits come as single servings, or a month's worth of food for a single person. There are dozens of options to choose from. Another method, requiring a little planning and management, is to simply take what you buy and use on a weekly basis, and start building up a supply that will last. If you ordinarily use three cans of beans and two boxes of macintosh 'n' cheese and a jar of peanut butter each week, then begin buying double that, and set the extra aside for your emergency food kit. Then manage your stock by rotating it so that your food stays as fresh as possible. Freshness would be a significant advantage in a long-term disaster, where you're relying on your emergency rations for months, or even years. Once you've built up a few months supply of foodstuff, organize your cans and boxes with the soonest expiration date in the front and the furthest out in the back. Then, when you do your grocery shopping, put the new stuff in the back and use from the front. This keeps your stock fresh and ready to use if and when the need arises. Home canning is another less expensive way to build up your emergency food kit. Canning is becoming some sort of lost art, so if you're not familiar with how to do it, you're not alone. Canning food in glass jars requires a little learning and effort but can allow you to preserve tasty, homemade food for years. Be sure to learn which foods require pressure cooking versus water-bathing methods of preservation. Properly canned goods keep best in cool, dark places between 50 and 70 *F (10 - 21 *C) and are safe to eat for years after canning. For bulk dry goods that are intended for long term storage, wheat, beans, rice, sugar and other dry goods can be vacuum sealed and stored in five gallon buckets with O2 absorbers to last for thirty years and more. For the truly prepared minded, a few buckets of wheat and corn will go a long way toward peace of mind. A vacuum sealer constitutes a investment for anyone serious about their emergency rations. Sealing foods in smaller quantities not only preserves them longer but allows you to use them a little at a time, rather than having to use a large container up quickly once you've opened it. If you're worried about the expiration date on store-bought canned goods, keep this story in mind. A steamboat named the Bertrand was trying to reach Montana in 1865 when the idea sunk to the bottom of the Missouri river. One hundred years later, canned goods from that wreck were recovered. In 1974, 109 years after the accident, the food was tested by chemists and found safe to eat. You should use good sense when eating canned foods that have passed their expiration dates. If it looks odd, smells bad or tastes bad, don't eat it! Signs That Food In Your Emergency Food Kit Has Gone Bad Signs canned goods have gone bad: the can is bulging, or the lid has come unsealed. Check for mold or fermentation bubbles in the liquid. If the food rushes out of the can or jar when you open it, there is pressure on the contents that wasn't there when the can or jar was sealed. This is a good indication with bacterial activity causing a chemical reaction. Comfort Foods Once you've established a good base for emergency rations, you might want to start thinking about adding some comfort foods to your store. In stressful situations, we all turn to food for comfort, and yummy food might not be easy to come by in the event of a disaster. Some things to store include: Chocolate - powdered cocoa keeps the best, but chocolate bars over 70% hot chocolate will keep for several months, and much longer if frozen. Hot chocolate mix has a shelf life of several years, and could easily be added to the rotation of your emergency food kit. Mac n' cheese - Best preserved dried by separating the noodles and cheese, and then vacuum sealing them with O2 absorbers. If you're worried about being able to cook macaroni and cheese, it can be canned, but it don't have the same texture as freshly made. Under cooking the noodles before canning will help it to be less mushy. Honey - made with natural preservatives, honey will keep indefinitely, as long as water never gets near it. Store in very clean, very dry glass jars. If it crystallizes, you can return it to its liquid state with a little heat. Freeze dried fruit or even dehydrated fruit can be a great energy booster and will keep well when stored properly. Hard candy - store with desiccants and vacuum sealing to provide a much needed pick me up under stressful conditions. Coconut oil, especially virgin coconut oil will store for a very long time and provide added fat for comforting recipes when butter isn't available. Spices - if you get to a place the place you're having to make all of your food from what you have on hand, you'll be very glad for some extra spices to... well... spice things up. Alcohol - Obviously, a comforting item, but it serves many purposes in a disaster scenario and it keeps well. High alcohol content (over 20%) will keep the longest and over 40% can serve as a disinfectant if needed. Tea - will keep well without special accommodations. To keep it the very freshest, store in small quantities with an O2 absorber. Coffee - For those who really need their cuppa to keep their chin up, coffee will be an important part of the very best emergency food kit. Roasted coffee keeps, vacuum sealed in Mylar bags, for up to two years. If you rotate it through your emergency rations, you will have good coffee for some time. For prep beyond that, you can store green coffee beans in Mylar bags with O2 absorbers, then roast and grind them as needed. What To Choose? How to decide what goes into the very best emergency food kit? A good rule of thumb is six months to a year of food that you would eat every day. This is easily managed through good shopping and rotation. For preparation beyond that time frame, vacuum covered Mylar bags will keep dry goods for years. Many companies and even faith-based family preparation programs offer dry goods preserved in #10 cans that will keep up to 30 years. Building an emergency food kit that can last several years in a pinch is possible, with planning and forethought. Water will be critical to surviving certain types of disaster scenarios. When planning for emergency situations, one liter of mineral water per person per day is a good starting point. You'll need some extra for sanitation and cooking, as well. Be sure you have plenty of water on hand, or a way to obtain water and sanitize it. Sanitation tablets and filtration systems would be a major component of the best emergency food kit. Looking Ahead For total preparedness, it's important to think ahead to food preparation during an emergency. If the power was out for three weeks, how does one cook that mac 'n' cheese you took such care to store? Even if you have a power generator for emergencies, stoves and microwaves pull too much energy to use the generator for cooking. A propane or butane camp stove with plenty of fuel cells, or a propane or charcoal grill are great options to have on hand. And don't forget to include a manual can opener in your unexpected emergency food kit. Where To Keep It? Storage space can be tricky, depending on your housing situation. If at all possible, you'll want to designate a neatly organized room that's specifically for food storage. You'll label your shelves, and keep things nicely stocked and rotated. If you don't live in this kind of fairy tale situation, you may have to get a little more creative about how you store your emergency food kit. A lot of food can be neatly stored, with cardboard boxes, under beds, in the bottoms or tops of closets, and under the stairs. You may need to reduce unnecessary clutter, to make room for emergency rations. The reward will be worth the effort. Be Prepared, Not Scared Taking the steps required to create the best emergency food kit that you possibly can will pay off in peace of mind. To know that you have the ability to care for those you love, and to be able to reach out to those available you in their time of need, will put you in a category reserved for just a few. You'll rest easy at night, knowing that whatever tomorrow holds, your family is provided for.

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thisdiscontentedwinter · 5 years ago

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Bad Blood - Chapter 32

You can read it on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here.

___________

Two days after the shooting the professional cleaning service is finished at the loft, and Peter drags Laura and Derek home again. Derek is like a moping pup, leaving Stiles behind, and Peter isn’t much better. But Peter knows that Stiles and John need some time alone, to relearn how to be a family. Peter’s not exactly happy to be leaving either, but it’s necessary. The connection between John and Stiles is tenuous right now, and that’s something they need to work through. The Hales can’t be their buffer.

And there are things that John and Stiles need to talk about. Things that—after witnessing Stiles’s breakdown in the back yard the night before—Peter knows only John can address. Because John’s been there too. John’s been the hunter who suddenly had to face the realisation that he’d taken innocent lives.

Besides, Peter has his own family reunion to work on.

The drive to Satomi Ito’s territory is only an hour or so, but it feels much, much longer. Laura and Derek are at the loft. They’re in charge of getting food and a cake—and it had better be a chocolate cake with spinkles on the frosting, because that’s Matty’s favorite. They’re also in charge of clearing out the secure room—they stacked a bunch of boxes and assorted crap in it the night of the shooting to make it look more like a storage room and less like something out of the Saw franchise so that it would pass a cursory inspection from the deputies and that no uncomfortable questions would be asked. Still, from the look Deputy Parrish gave him once, Peter is fairly sure the man thinks he’s into some kinky shit.

Peter grins as he drives. That’s the kind of reputation he could enjoy, honestly.

Meanwhile, the front seat of Peter’s car is littered with packets of peanut butter M&Ms he picked up at the last gas station—another of Matty’s favorites.

Peter’s heartbeat picks up as he turns off the county road onto the private road that will take him to Satomi’s house. Her house, like the Hales’ once was, is a grand three-storey residence surrounded by woods. Seeing it always makes Peter a little homesick, and more than little bitter with jealousy. Woods, and pack, and family. The Hales are not what they once were.

But today, that’s all in the past.

Today there’s nothing that can dampen Peter’s mood.

He pulls up in front of the house, and raises a hand in greeting at the beta standing on the porch. He can’t remember the man’s name, but his face is familiar. The beta waves back, and steps off the porch to meet him.

“The alpha will see you,” he says. “But of course there’s someone who wants to see you first.”

The front door bursts open.

“Uncle Peeeeter!” Matty screams, launching himself off the porch and into Peter’s willing arms.

Peter catches him, laughing and crying at the same time, and spins him around in a circle a few times before hugging him tightly. He drags his nose through Matty’s soft hair and inhales deeply.

“Missed you, pup,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I missed you.”

Matty’s finger’s dig in tightly and his breath is hot against Peter’s throat. “Are we going home now, Uncle Peter?”

“Yes,” Peter says. “Just as soon as I thank Satomi for looking after you, yes, we’re going home.”

***

Matty leaves chocolate smears all over the dashboard of Peter’s car.

Peter doesn’t even care.

***

The loft smells of bleach. Even Matty’s human nose wrinkles when he first steps inside, but he’s quickly distracted by being smothered in hugs from Laura and Derek, and then by the veritable feast of junk food set out on the dining room table. Cake, and candy, and soda, and all manner of things that will have Matty bouncing off the walls in minutes, and passed out in a sugar coma soon after that.

“Did you make the hunters go away, Uncle Peter?” Marry asks through a mouthful of cake.

Peter ruffles his hair. “Yes, pup. They won’t be coming back.”

The sugar crash hits right on cue. Peter insists that Matty has a shower before his nap, because he’s managed to wear at least half his cake. Matty grumbles about it, but lets Peter take him upstairs to the bathroom.

He strips off in the bathroom while Peter gets the shower at the right temperature. Peter catches a glimpse of the old burns scars on his back and his legs as he steps into the shower.

“Uncle Peter?” he asks loudly, over the water.

“Yes, pup?” Peter gathers up his clothes and dumps them in the hamper.

“Do I really have to have a nap? I’m not a little kid.”

“No, you’re not,” Peter says. “But you’ll feel better if you have a little sleep. Your sister and brother might have bought you way too many sugary snacks, I think.”

“My tummy hurts.”

“Yes, I think you overdid things a little,” Peter says.

“Can I sleep in your bed?”

“If you like.”

“With you?”

Warmth blossoms in Peter’s chest. “Of course, pup.”

Minutes later, Matty is curled up in Peter’s bed, snuggling up with Peter. Peter puts a hand on his stomach to draw away his tummy ache, and Matty smiles and traces the faint dark tendrils as they curl up Peter’s forearm.

Then his smile fades. “I was really scared, Uncle Peter. I cried a lot because I thought that maybe you or Laura or Derek would get hurt, or die!”

“I was scared too, pup,” Peter says softly. “I was very scared. But we’re safe now. It’s okay to be scared, but we’re safe now.”

“Asami asked me why I don’t have a mom or a dad,” Matty whispers. “I said I don’t need them, because I have an Uncle Peter.”

Peter’s chest aches, and he holds Matty closer.

Matty looks up at him, his green eyes wide. “Would it be okay if sometimes I called you my dad? I’m your pup, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you’re my pup,” Peter says. He thinks of Talia, and of James, and of what it means to take this from them. It feels selfish, because he wants it so much, but at the same time Matty wants it too, and he can’t imagine Talia or James would mind. Not if they were here to see the desperate look on Matty’s face, and his blatant fear of rejection. “Yes, you can call me your dad if you want to, pup.”

“Thank you, Uncle Peter,” Matty whispers, and burrows close like a tick. When he murmurs the word it’s so faint that Peter’s werewolf hearing barely catches it: “Dad.”

Peter closes his stinging eyes.

***

Matty falls asleep, and starfishes his way across Peter’s bed. Peter leaves him and heads back downstairs to clean up, before the loft is infested with ants. He gets downstairs to find that Derek and Laura have already done it. Derek’s wiping the table down, and Laura’s putting the remains of the cake into a Tupperware container.

“I heard what Matty asked you,” Laura says.

Peter flinches. “Did you?”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping.” She seals the lid on the container. “I was going to my room to grab my phone.”

Peter waits for the flash of her alpha eyes.

It doesn’t come.

“Mom and Dad would be happy for you, Peter,” she says. “And they’d be happy that Matty has a dad. If it’s what he wants, and it’s what you want too, then they’d want it for you as well. God knows you’ve earned it. You were always here for him in ways that Derek and I weren’t.” Her expression clouds. “That we couldn’t be. You’ve been his parent in everything but name since the time he was three.”

Peter’s throat aches, and he jerks his head in a nod.

“So be his parent in name too,” Laura says.

Peter’s eyes sting. He blinks, and a hot tear slides down his cheek.

Laura steps forward and hugs him tightly.

***

Peter doesn’t sleep. He prowls through the loft, listening to the soft sounds of Matty’s breathing, or Laura’s, of Derek’s. The loft might be clean now, but it’s hard to shake the memory of the bloodshed. The loft was their sanctuary, but it’s been breached, and no amount of bleach and new furnishings can erase that.

It’s past midnight when Peter makes himself a tea and sits down on the new couch. He sends a text to John: How’s your boy?

He gets back: How’s yours?

So John’s not sleeping either. Peter calls him.

“I think I want a new house,” he says when John answers.

“Not sure the Argents will pay for that.” John’s voice is soft with weariness, but Peter can hear the smile in his tone.

“It might be fun to make them try. How’s Stiles?”

“He’s been better,” John says. “He’s been worse too, I guess. What was it you said? Baby steps.”

“Yeah, baby steps.”

“Alan Deaton says he knows a woman down in Redding. She’s a therapist, and she’s what he calls ‘supernatural aware’. Guess you don’t put that on your website, do you?”

“Not unless you want to be overrun with people who think they’ve been abducted by aliens, no.”

John laughs. “Yeah. Anyway, I’m gonna give her a call in the morning, and see if she can work with Stiles. The more I talk with him, the more I get the sense there’s some fucked up stuff that Gerard and Kate did to him, and I just want to yell and punch walls, you know? And that’s the last thing Stiles needs. I was an adult when I had to face this stuff, Peter, and it was something I came to on my own. Stiles is just a kid, and he’s been dragged every step of the way without having a chance to come to terms with any of it in his own time. He needs more help than I can give him.”

“Baby steps,” Peter says softly.

“Yeah, I know.” John sighs, and is silent for a moment. “I’ll bet Matty is glad to be home, huh?”

“Not as glad as I am.” Peter closes his eyes. “I gotta say, John, I really didn’t think I’d ever see today.”

John huffs out a breath. “You’re not the only one. But here we are, huh?”

“Yeah,” Peter echoes, warmth spreading through him. “Here we are, John.”

#sterek #steter senior #my fics #discontentedwinter #bad blood

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dreamsinger-rose · 7 years ago

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Taken - Epilogue

A fan-epilogue to the epic Trolls story on fanfiction.net by WaruiOkami, under my username, Dreamsinger, if you prefer to read it there.

Taken

A Trolls Fanfic

By Warui Okami

...

Epilogue

By Dreamsinger

Branch pulled up the concealed trap door in front of the boulder that served as his front door and they jumped down onto the lift. Poppy looked around dubiously at the small dark space, the stacks of mousetraps, and the multiple locks meant to keep the trapdoor closed. “This is…nice.”

Branch felt a cheeky grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, suddenly looking forward to what was coming. “Oh, this?” he said casually. “This is just my front hall.”

As she blinked curiously at him – troll pods being only a few rooms at the largest – he sauntered over to what looked like a tree root coming up through the floor and nonchalantly rested his elbow on it to press the lever down, leaning to the side and with one foot crossed behind the other. Poppy squeaked in startlement as the floor began to move downward.

“Sorry, it’s a little bumpy when it first starts out.”

Her sleepiness gone for the moment, she looked at the wall moving in front of her, then turned back to see him giving her a suspiciously mellow look, one eyebrow raised. “What is this?”

Suddenly he grinned. “You’ll see.”

As they descended, he watched her looking around, taking in the various supply and exercise rooms, her eyes going bigger and bigger. Finally she turned to him, excitedly throwing her arms out to the sides. “Branch, this is amazing! I had no idea this was all here! I know you said you’d collected supplies, but I always pictured some kind of dark, spooky cave or something, full of scary-”

Just then the lift set down on the ground floor with a deep thrum and Poppy caught a glimpse of the Fear Wall. “Oh.” She shifted uncomfortably, staring up at it. “Um… That is kind of what I pictured, actually.”

The wall was covered in the worst products of his most paranoid, nightmare-induced times - drawings of vicious bergens, some sideways or upside down, painted and carved warnings about bergens on the wall, support strut, floor and nearby boulders.

Suddenly he was embarrassed. “Yeah… Not very accurate, it turns out. At least, not anymore.”

There was an awkward silence, as Poppy tried to reconcile the mind that had produced such horrible things with the stable, seemingly sane troll standing in front of her. “Different.” This is what he meant. She twiddled her fingers and said abruptly, “Maybe you should think about redecorating. I could help!”

Branch smiled, reassuring her that her Branch was the one who was here now, no matter what he had been like before. “I’ll think about it.” He sighed. “I had this really cool thing planned for when we finally got attacked. ‘You all said I was crazy. Well, who’s crazy now? Me. Crazy prepared.’”

Poppy laughed and felt better, shoving his arm. “You goofball! But I can just see you pulling it off. I would’ve been impressed. Kind of creeped out, but impressed.” Her face softened and she smiled at him proudly. “I still am.”

He blushed, covering his embarrassment with a joke. “Which? Impressed or creeped out?”

She grinned. “I’ll let you know when I’ve seen the rest of this place.” She turned in a slow circle, taking in the large room with his desk, storage shelves and other furniture, as well as the bits of food, paper, glitter and assorted supply containers strewn about in the aftermath of his unexpected “guests”. She whistled. “I mean it, Branch. This place is a marvel. You built all of this yourself?”

“Every bit,” he said proudly. “I have enough supplies to last me ten years.” He thought about trying to impress her by describing how he could stretch it to eleven years, but then he remembered something. “Or I did. I don’t know how much will be left, since I played host to the entire village while we were away.” He gestured to the mess they’d left behind.

“Oh. Sorry, Branch.” She looked at him with regret. “If I hadn’t thrown that party-”

“I’m so glad you did.” He took her hands in his, his clear blue gaze leaving no doubt of his sincerity. “If you hadn’t, I’d have spent the rest of my life down here, alone.”

She stared at him, then blinked back sudden tears at the thought that she might never have known how wonderful he could be; that he might have gone on getting more and more unhappy until he either died or went crazy for real. “I’d do it all again,” she said through the lump in her throat, and sniffled. “I’d fight Chef, Creek, and anyone else who might try to take you away from me.”

“Hey,” he said, his tone shifting to sound warm and soothing as he pulled her in for a hug. “It’s all right, Poppy. Everything’s going to be all right.”

She relaxed into his warmth, then yawned. “I’m glad I’m not the only optimist here anymore,” she murmured.

She felt him chuckle under his breath and gave him an affectionate squeeze, then released him and looked upwards. “Just how big is this place? We have 262 trolls in troll village; did they really all fit down here?”

He crossed his arms, standing up straighter at the clear admiration in her tone. “Oh, it’s fairly extensive,” he said in a falsely casual tone, then uncrossed his arms and moved his hands to the sides, his palms facing upwards. “Hey, I know, how about tomorrow I give you a tour?”

“I’d love that.” She beamed at him and he smiled back. There was a long pause, his eyes flicking around the room and back to her face several times, then they widened. “Oh! Um, how about some hot chocolate? There should still be some left; I have some locked away in a separate area with a small cache of supplies in case the main bunker ever got compromised.”

“I thought your bunker was supposed to be bergen-proof?” she teased with a raised eyebrow, remembering their last conversation before that fateful party.

“Bergen-proof, yes; troll-proof, no.” He gave her a wry look that made her laugh.

“Then yes, please. I love hot chocolate.”

“I know.” He smiled softly at her, making her feel a little shivery.

They had sweet hot chocolate; hers with marshmallows, his with peppermint bits in. Neither of them said much. Poppy was too busy looking at many of his more unusual inventions, and he was feeling too content to really need to say anything. Her very presence relaxed him.

Afterwards, he led her to his bathroom. “I want to put some ointment on your burns.”

“Okay. I did put some aloe on them after I bathed for the party – Satin and Chenille didn’t want to let me wear any of my fancier outfits, in case the aloe stained them.”

“That’s good, but I want to use something to prevent infection, too.”

When they got there, Branch grimaced at the mess. It looked as if there had been an epic water fight in here. The little room was covered in long streams of damp paper, glitter, confetti, and other random things like some kind of sports racquet and a small fuzzy ball. If not for the drain in the center of the slightly sloped floor, there would probably have been inches of water, too.

The light blue troll saw Poppy looking more closely at the floor, which was made of tiny square pieces of stone in sky blue, sea green and lavender. He had carefully cut and mortared the tiny tiles into a series of pleasing semicircles, similar to the vest he wore, in colors that gradually went from green through blue to lavender.

“Ah, a floor that appeals to a scrapbooker’s heart. Branch, that is beautiful!” Poppy clapped her hands. “Inventor, builder, and artist, too!”

Don’t forget poet. Maybe someday I’ll let you read some of mine. Branch smiled widely. Her praise was music to his ears – it had been so long since anyone had appreciated anything he did. “Thanks. Now, why don’t you sit here and I’ll get the ointment, if nobody moved it… Ah, here it is.” The contents of his mirrored medicine cabinet were intact. “I guess nobody realized you could open the cabinet.” Branch pulled out a small jar and unscrewed the lid.

“What a clever idea. So convenient.” Poppy looked so pleased that he offered, “I could make you one, if you like.”

“Why, thank you, Branch. You’re so sweet.”

He blushed. “It’s no trouble. Okay, could you hold still for a minute?”

Poppy closed her eyes as his warm hand lifted her chin, then held her bangs back from her forehead. His other hand gently spread cool, aloe-scented ointment on her cheeks, forehead, nose and chin. It was so relaxing, almost like being taken care of by her father, as if she were a little troll again.

As he finished, Branch smiled, a soft look in his eyes as he took a moment to study her lovely face. With her eyes closed, he didn’t feel so self-conscious about doing something he’d only ever managed to do from afar, or in rare moments recently when she had been unaware that he was looking at her.

She had a broad, cheerful face with delicate glitter-freckles, long eyelashes and fine, slightly curved eyebrows that always made her look as if she were about to smile. On their journey, he’d seen her take on expressions he’d never thought she could have – desperation, terror, brave resolve, despair, heartbreak, hope, and shining love that radiated from her like the sun. And he’d loved her through all of it, and always would.

“Okay, Poppy, are there any other spots that feel sore?”

She opened her eyes to see him leaning over her, his gaze kind and gentle. “A few places on my arms and legs. My clothing helped protect the rest of me.”

Branch knelt on the floor in front of her. “Just show me where.” As she held out her limbs, he could see darker pink areas of varying sizes, some with red centers. He sucked in air through his teeth. “Some of those look really painful. Are you sure you’re all right?”

He had to look up to meet her eyes, and for a moment, she forgot what they were doing as the brighter lighting in the little room reflected in his eyes, shining like stars. His pupils had gotten a little smaller, making his eyes seem so, so blue. Best of all was his caring concern, emphasized by the deeper creases in the corners of his eyes.

His expression turned puzzled, making her realize that she had spent way too long losing herself in his gaze. “I’m fine. They don’t hurt that much,” she finally answered. “They felt much better once I put the aloe on them earlier.”

“That’s good,” he commented. He tried to be gentle, using a light grip on her arms and legs on non-burned areas to steady them, delicately smearing her burns with the cool, slightly greenish-tinted ointment. “Mine should help you heal more quickly than plain aloe, though.”

“Thanks, Branch.” Her tone was so affectionate that he looked up from his task in surprise. She was looking down at him with a smile of pure love. He blushed, and smiled back. “Anytime, Poppy.”

By the time he finished, Poppy was so relaxed she was half-asleep already, her eyelids fluttering as she tried to stay aware. She yawned, making him yawn even louder, and they both chuckled. As he stood up and put away the ointment, Branch was considering carrying her to bed when he realized something. He froze, giving her such a look of awkward discomfort that she was awake again. “What is it?”

“Ah, it’s just – I’ve only got the one bed. It’s a pretty big bed, plenty of room, but I don’t know how you feel about sharing. I can sleep on the floor if you don’t want to.”

She relaxed and smiled at him as she stood up. “We’ve already shared a bed, remember?”

Seeing her smile, he looked more at ease. “Well yes, but things are different now.” He gestured with his hand to indicate the space around them. “This isn’t the dark, scary forest, with you all upset from having a nightmare. You’re safe here, safer than anywhere else.”

She smiled and reached out to hug him. “That means I can enjoy snuggling with you all the more.”

He blushed purple, a silly smile on his face as he hugged her back.

…

“Wow. That is a really big bed. The biggest I’ve ever seen. You could have three or four trolls in there, easily.”

His eyes popped as he realized what conclusion she could easily jump to. “That’s-”

He flinched as she turned abruptly to him. “Do you have sleepovers here often?” She gave him a perky, clueless look, the kind that had once made him think her silly. “Why haven’t I been invited? Or are they secret sleepovers?”

Awkwardly he said, “That’s not the reason why, Poppy.”

“Oh?” She looked from him to the bed and back, and then the shoe suddenly seemed to drop. “Oh,” she said in quite a different tone, realization widening her eyes. Her eyes flicked up and down his body assessingly, then she seemed to realize what she was doing and blushed so hard he could see it through the burn ointment.

“Th-that’s not the reason either!” he yelped, holding up his hands with his palms toward her and blushing just as hotly. “It’s because I have nightmares, okay?”

“What?” Now she looked perplexed.

He sighed. “I got tired of falling out of bed whenever I have a nightmare.” He crossed his arms, looking pleased with himself. “I thought about adding rails on the sides, but I figured I’d just bang into them, so instead I made a bigger bed so I’d have plenty of space to thrash around without falling off. It’s saved me a ton of bruises and rough awakenings over the years.”

He expected a bit of praise at his practical solution. Then he realized she had been quiet for far too long. “Poppy?” He heard her sniffle, and turned to see her standing there looking at the bed with tears in her eyes. “Poppy, what’s the matter?” He reached out to place a hand over hers, giving her a look of concern.

She swallowed and turned to face him. “Do you – do you have nightmares that bad often?”

He made a small noise of chagrin. All he wanted was to see her happy, and yet because of him here she was, on the verge of tears yet again. “Not as often as I used to. Maybe once a month,” he replied soothingly, stretching the truth only slightly.

“You have dreams bad enough to make you fall out of bed every month, and you never told me?”

“I don’t fall out of-”

“Branch.” She sounded half exasperated, half distressed.

“Well, it’s not like you can make them go away, Poppy. They’re in my head, not yours,” he said reasonably. “Besides, I told you. I didn’t want to let people get close. I figured if I did, I’d only have even more nightmares, about losing other people besides Grandma.”

She looked up at him, fighting to keep from bursting into tears. Suddenly sensing that she had no more energy left, Branch folded her into his arms, feeling her tremble as he said soothingly, “Oh, Poppy. It’s all right. It’s all right, my love.”

Surprised at the endearment, she pulled back a little to look up at him, her hands on his chest, her nose red and tears shimmering in the corners of her eyes. Branch unselfconsciously wiped the moisture away with a thumb, still holding her close. He wondered what he could do to comfort her, to keep her colors strong, and then he knew.

“You with the sad eyes,” he sang softly. “Don’t be discouraged.”

His tone was as delicate as the wind, so light and clear she was lost in awe, staring at him with big wondering eyes.

Oh I realize It's hard to take courage In a world full of people You can lose sight of it all The darkness inside you Can make you feel so small

He paused, searching her eyes, then smiled encouragingly as he continued to sing, his tone so sensitive and sweet she felt as if she were melting into his arms.

Show me a smile then Don't be unhappy Can't remember when I last saw you laughing This world makes you crazy And you've taken all you can bear Just call me up 'Cause I will always be there

The look of adoration on her face was almost too much for him. Oh, how he loved her. This beautiful, caring troll who had taken an interest in him from when they were small, who had never given up on him.

And I see your true colors Shining through I see your true colors And that's why I love you

Now she reached up to place her hands on his cheeks, her expression earnest as she joined his song, adding her own message just for him.

So don't be afraid to let them show Your true colors True colors are beautiful

He took her hands in his and led her in a slow, graceful dance. His voice was stronger now, more sure than ever. Their future would be a bright one. He would stay at Poppy’s side and support her, no matter what.

And Poppy sang the rest with him, her voice sustaining and complementing his in perfect harmony.

I see your true colors Shining through (true colors) I see your true colors And that's why I love you

So don't be afraid to let them show Your true colors True colors are beautiful (they're beautiful) Like a rainbow

Ohh oh oh…

Like a rainbow

Branch drew her close, gazing deeply into her eyes, and kissed her tenderly. His heart beat intensely as she melted against him, moving her soft lips ardently against his own. Nothing had ever felt so right, so natural. Her warm chocolate-scented breath against his mouth made him shiver, and he moved one hand up to the back of her head, threading his fingers into her soft hair.

Ting. Clank.

They froze, blinking at each other. “What was that?” Branch frowned slightly as he looked at the source of the sound, Poppy’s cowbell, lying on the floor behind her. As he met her eyes again, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Just how much stuff do you keep in there, anyway?”

“Sorry, Branch.” She looked so abashed at having broken the mood that he laughed again, scooping her up off the floor into his arms. She squeaked in surprise, throwing her arms around his neck as he carried her the rest of the way to his bed.

He laid her down gently, taking a moment to appreciate what a lovely picture she made. She looked up at him with eyes that were soft and trusting, and he felt a moment of such fierce passion that it made him stop and take a deep breath for control. He didn’t want anything too serious to happen between them tonight. They were both exhausted, and she was injured. He suspected she might be in more pain than she was admitting.

“Branch?” She looked puzzled at his hesitation. “What’s wrong?”

Out of habit, he answered, “Nothing.”

Now she looked hurt, and he remembered; it was okay to tell her what he was feeling. But he didn’t want to make it sound like he was blaming her for being injured; it wasn’t like that at all. “Poppy, I – I think tonight we should…” He hesitated, struggling to find the words, then looked down at her worried face and suddenly wanted nothing more than to comfort her. His face relaxed into a reassuring smile as he lay down on the bed near her. Rolling onto his side, he reached out an arm invitingly, and she immediately moved to snuggle up against him, sliding her own arm around his ribs.

“We’ll sleep tonight,” he said softly. “Just sleep. We’re both been through a lot in the last few days; we need time to recover. Is that all right with you?”

He felt the rapid pace of her heart against his chest slow down as she accepted his words. “Okay.” She tilted her head back so he could see her tired smile – she looked as if she would be asleep in moments. “I love you, Branch. And I’ll wait as long as you need.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say she had it wrong, that he was ready to show her how much he loved her, but at the same time he was touched at her consideration for his admittedly sometimes oversensitive nature.

“Thanks,” he said instead. “Which reminds me – if I should start flailing around, wake me, will you? If you can’t, shove me onto the floor.”

Her eyes snapped open. “Branch, no…”

“Yes,” he insisted. “I don’t want to hit you by accident. It’s okay.”

Poppy looked unhappy for a moment, then leaned up to kiss his forehead. “If I have anything to say about it, you’ll never have a bad dream again.” She snuggled closer to him, sharing her warmth, and curled her hair around his, intertwining her fine magenta strands with his dark purple-blue mane. Then she began to gently tug his hair upwards from his head as if she were brushing it, repeating her soothing actions while Branch closed his eyes blissfully. As he lay there, a delicious lassitude began to spread through his body and his breathing deepened. “Mmm. I love you, Poppy,” he murmured.

Her tone had the husky sound he loved so much. “Love you, too, Branch.”

He held her close, breathing in the sweet smell of her, somehow knowing that he would sleep peacefully as long she was by his side.

…

Author’s Note: I’m not the original author of Taken, only a devoted fan who loved this Trolls alternate universe too much to want to leave it. The author warui-okami is from the UK, I believe, and so uses the delightful UK version of English. As I’m from the US (New Hampshire) I have nevertheless attempted to match the author’s speech patterns (I had fun, lol). It helps that I’m a longtime Doctor Who fan!

I base the total number of Trolls on movie-Branch saying how his supplies will only last the villagers two weeks. Ten years x 365 days = 3650 total days that the supplies would last Branch alone. Divide that by 14 days, 3650/14 = 260, roughly. So I chose 262 for the number of Trolls in Troll Village.

I hope you enjoyed this epilogue as much as I enjoyed writing it, and please check out my other stories on fanfiction.net, including a short Trolls fic inspired by the movie, which helps to tie up some loose ends such as exactly what kind of love Poppy feels for Branch…

Dreamsinger

#broppy branch poppy trolls

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crazytummyblog · 4 years ago

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unfolded73 · 7 years ago

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This Graceful Path (19/19)

Wow, what a bittersweet day, to be posting the last chapter of this fic. Thanks to everyone who read along - your tags and comments were so gratifying!

Summary: Emma has just moved in with Mary Margaret and started working as a deputy in the Storybrooke sheriff’s department when she meets Killian Jones, the town’s introverted harbormaster. When a prominent Storybrooke resident is found murdered, Emma tries to juggle solving the case with new friendships, parenthood, and romance. A Season 1 Cursed!Killian AU.

Rating: Explicit per CSBB guidelines (violence, sex); more of an M on unfolded73’s scale. The sex, when we get there, is not extremely graphic in nature. Same with the violence.

Content Warning: This fic contains two major character deaths, one canon and one not. (You’re already past them.) Sexual content in this chapter!

Total word count: ~ 75,000

Acknowledgements: Thank you to @j-philly-b for betaing this monstrosity. Thank you to @caprelloidea for all of the read-throughs and cheerleading; not sure I could have written it without your excitement early on. Thank you to @teruel-a-witch for the original prompt on tumblr which sparked this fic. Thank you to @pompeiiablaze for the wonderful art which accompanies Chapters 3, 9, and 16. Thanks to the CSBB mods ( @sambethe in particular, who had to look at my check-ins) for your support and for enduring my neuroses.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 – AO3 Link

Chapter 19

Emma moved the last of the stack of file folders from her desk to the banker’s box, putting the lid on top.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” she said, hefting the box into her arms to carry it to storage. “The Gold murder case, closed due to lack of evidence.”

David snorted. “Lack of evidence?”

“Well, it was either that or write down that he was killed with a magical dagger which turned to dust when a big evil cloud was confined to Pandora’s box. I know this town isn’t on the map, but just in case somehow the state of Maine ever discovers we exist, I’d rather not have that in writing. Or the fact that the killer wasn’t in his right mind due to a magical curse.”

“Fair enough.”

Emma carried the box into a storage room and put on as high a shelf as she could reach, standing on her tip-toes. “Goodbye, Dark One,” she murmured, turning off the lights and closing the door.

“Speaking of the big evil cloud,” David said as she came back, “how is our resident pirate captain?”

Emma grimaced. “Avoiding me, I think.”

“Why?”

“Guilt? Self-loathing? Take your pick.” She plopped down in a chair across from David’s desk. “I thought I’d gotten through to him the other morning, but then he fell asleep, and since then he’s not returning my calls or texts. Ruby said he stopped by for takeout yesterday, though, so I know he’s not dead.”

“Fell asleep?” David asked in with an affected nonchalance. “So you two are back to…”

Emma groaned. “We just slept, not that it’s any of your business.”

He looked suitably chastened.

The door to the station opened. “Hello!” Mary Margaret called. “Lunch is served!” She came in bearing a picnic basket.

“You really didn’t have to do this, Mom.”

Mary Margaret waved her hand. “Nonsense. I’ve got the day off from school, and my two favorite people need to eat.” She started unpacking several plastic containers onto David’s desk as he dutifully moved his paperwork out of the way to accommodate her.

“Can I ask you guys something?” Emma said after they’d eaten a small fraction of the food Mary Margaret had brought, which was enough to feed the proverbial army.

“Of course, sweetie,” Mary Margaret responded.

“After the sleeping curse was broken, when you knew it was true love between you… what did that mean, exactly? Like, did Dad automatically propose, just because some weird exploding rainbow wind thing said you were meant to be?”

David grinned, looking at Mary Margaret with that look he got sometimes. “I mean, it wasn’t long after that I proposed. But I already knew I loved her, so I didn’t need true love’s kiss to tell me that I’d met the love of my life.”

“Yeah, I felt the same way,” Mary Margaret said with a smile, leaning over and kissing her father.

“And you didn’t feel pressured to, I don’t know, live up to destiny? And what about now? Do you think it means you’ll always be compatible? Do you think you’re divorce-proof?”

“Emma, where’s all this coming from?” Mary Margaret asked, and then her expression shifted. “It wasn’t the spell.”

“What?” David asked.

“You didn’t get the darkness out of Killian with a spell. I should have known; Regina isn’t really the type to minimize her own accomplishments. You kissed Killian and it broke the curse. That’s why you’re asking all these questions about true love. Oh, Emma—”

Emma shot up out of her chair, uncomfortable. “Don’t, I can’t… I don’t wanna talk about this.”

“But why not?” Mary Margaret asked. “It’s exciting! True love—”

“With a pirate—”

“Oh, big deal, this isn’t the Enchanted Forest, David. And they might have fallen in love while he was cursed — doubly cursed, actually — but now all the curses are broken and they’re free to be together.” Her beaming smile almost made Emma smile in return.

Fallen in love, Emma thought. She hadn’t imagined those words applied to herself since she was a teenager. She wasn’t even sure she knew what being in love was supposed to feel like.

Her father sighed heavily. “Go find him. Get him to talk to you. I can handle things here for the rest of the day.” He began helping Mary Margaret to pack up the leftovers of their lunch. “But for the record, I’m still not sure I approve of this.”

Emma grabbed her coat. “Thanks, Dad.”

She found Killian in his apartment again, although this time he wasn’t drinking; he was cleaning: mopping the kitchen floor, to be precise. “This place got into quite a state over the last few months,” he explained as he led her into the apartment. He looked much healthier than he had… well, ever, or at least for as long as she’d known him.

“If you say so.” She stood nervously next to him, her hands shoved in her pockets. “I’m sorry to show up uninvited; I was trying to give you the space you needed, but—”

“No, I’m glad you came over.” His cheeks were tinged with pink. “I’ve almost called you half a hundred times over the last few days.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asked.

“Cowardice.” He indicated that she should sit down, and the two of them faced each other across the expanse of his sofa. “The more time that went by, the more I realized how badly I wanted to see you. And the more I wanted to see you, the more I began to convince myself that you had probably decided that the last thing you needed in your life was an old pirate like me.”

“Do you know what I thought of you before the curse was broken?” she asked.

“I shudder to think.”

“I thought you drank too much, for one.”

“True, and I intend to work on that.”

“I thought you were easy to talk to, at least once I got to know you, and that you were a kind person who seemed to genuinely care about my son,” she went on. “And I thought you were really hot.”

He laughed. “Well, that last part’s true. And it’s true that I care for Henry. The rest…”

“Now I know that you’re someone else, that you’re… Captain Hook, which is crazy, but no crazier than my parents being Snow White and Prince Charming. You’ve got an ugly past, but you’re also still the same kind, easy-to-talk-to person who I like spending time with. Aren’t you?”

His expression was filled with longing. “I hope that I am.”

“Then can we start there and move forward? Forget what’s in the past, forget this true love thing because it’s way too much pressure for me, and just… be together and see what happens?” She looked down at her hands, which she rubbed restlessly against her jeans. “I’m not like my parents; I’m not someone who can leap in with both feet. I’ve got too many scars for that. But I can be here. With you. That’s what I can do.”

He moved closer to her on the sofa, ducking his head to catch her glance and draw it upward. “When I remembered who I was, one of the first things I felt was an overwhelming guilt for forgetting Milah. It was losing her, the first real love of my life, that drove me for so long. I always assumed it would drive me forever. I assumed that love wasn’t in the cards for me, not anymore. When I realized that I had allowed myself to develop feelings for you, I wanted to deny it. I wanted to pretend that it was all because of the curse. And the darkness inside me fed that belief. Now I know it did that because it knew that together, we were capable of destroying the darkness forever.

“But I would see you, and even with the darkness whispering in my ear, even with all my denials that I could never love again, I knew deep down that it wasn’t true. That my feelings for you were real. That I did… that I do love you, Emma.

“I still don’t think that I’m worthy of you. I don’t think I deserve you. But I want to redeem myself. I want to try to make up for the bad things I’ve done and be worthy of your regard. Of your love. I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything, even my revenge against Rumpelstiltskin. I don’t care about destiny or true love, I don’t need any of that. I just need you, Emma Swan.”

She launched herself toward him across the remaining gap between them on the sofa, capturing his mouth and hoping that her acceptance of his words was communicated by her kiss. She’d spent so much of her life alone, always betrayed by those who claimed to care for her. But then Henry found her and brought her to Storybrooke, and since then her life had been filled with people who stayed and who didn’t abandon her: her parents, her son, her friends, and this man. So Emma closed her eyes, and in her imagination she jumped, hoping this time for a graceful path to the ground.

Killian pulled her onto his lap and she went willingly, slinging a leg over his and sinking down, their lips meeting over and over, his tongue devastating as it explored her mouth. She felt his arms wrap around her, his hand and hook pressing on her back, and then just as suddenly he let go with his left arm, his body jerking slightly under hers. Emma looked at him, confused, as he rested his hook on the sofa.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I didn’t mean to…” He lifted his hook. “Touch you with this.”

Emma contemplated it, reaching over and grasping the hook and bringing his arm between them. “It’s been a part of you for a long, long time, hasn’t it?”

“Aye, much longer than I had a hand there,” he said softly, his voice raspy. “But if it bothers you—”

“It doesn’t.” She traced the shape of it with a finger. “It’s pretty. It’s kind of sexy, actually.”

Killian raised his eyebrow, a grin blooming over his features. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “There are other prosthetics you may want to look into, this being the modern world and all, some of which might be more functional. I can help you. But if you want to stick with the hook, that’s fine with me.” She pressed her lips to it, making his breath hitch.

He sat forward suddenly, kissing her hard, his hand weaving into her hair while she continued to hold his other arm between them. “So should I leave it on in bed, then?” he asked seductively.

She could have responded in the same teasing tone, but it was important that she make him understand something. “Sometimes, sure; I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t find that hot.” She squirmed a little bit at even the thought of the smooth metal against her skin. “But I wasn’t afraid of what’s underneath before, and I’m still not. Okay?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Okay.”

“Speaking of bed,” Emma said as she kissed him again, “we should go there. Now.”

“Gods, yes,” he muttered, and she wasn’t sure if two people had ever moved (or undressed) so quickly before.

“Next time,” he said as he unbuckled one of the straps that held his brace on. “I don’t want anything separating my skin from yours right now.”

Emma nodded as she unfastened her bra. She really couldn’t have agreed more.

The sheets were crisp and clean, changed as part of his efforts to tidy up his apartment, she imagined. They got into bed, facing each other on their sides, filled with anticipation as they studied each other’s faces. Killian rested his hand on her hip, and Emma reached down and turned his arm over, tracing her fingers up and down his tattoo.

“I’m sorry that you must see another woman’s name on my arm, love.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t care about that.”

He frowned. “You don’t?”

“She was a hugely important part of who you are, or you wouldn’t have mourned her for so long.” Just as she had with the hook, she brought his arm to her mouth and kissed the red heart of the tattoo. “Besides, I’ll always see the dagger here and remember that we defeated the Dark One, together.”

Killian closed the gap between their bodies, pressing against her with chest and legs and hips as he kissed her again. They writhed against each other for several long minutes, his mouth wet and seeking purchase on her neck and shoulder. Emma scraped her nails through his wiry chest hair, delighting in the way it made him groan and rut his hips against her, his erection rubbing against her skin as he sought any kind of friction. It suddenly hit her how long it had been since the one night they had been together, and how desperately she wanted him.

She was so keyed up that when Killian finally touched her between her legs, she thought she might come on the spot. He seemed content to stroke her slowly, spreading her wetness over her sensitive flesh, but she felt like if he didn’t get inside her soon, she might die.

So she told him so.

“I don’t think you’ll die, Swan,” he teased, his fingers maintaining a steady rhythm that had her trembling with how good it felt.

“I will,” she said, her eyes squeezing shut.

He chuckled, and she decided it was time to turn the tables. Pushing on his shoulder, she forced him onto his back. With a smirk of her own, she rose up on her hands and knees, nosing through his chest hair and down the trail of hair in the center of his stomach as she made her way toward his cock. She drew the tip of him into her mouth, swirling around with her tongue and listening with satisfaction to his choked gasps. Opening wide, she lowered herself and took him deep.

“Emma, gods,” he groaned as she set up a rhythm. “Please, love… I can’t…”

She released him with an obscene, wet pop. “What?”

Killian levered himself up, shifting to sit back against the headboard of the bed. He took her hand and to pull her toward him, and Emma detoured to grab a condom from his bedside drawer before straddling his legs. She rolled the condom on before sliding forward, gripping his shoulders and grinding against him. “This what you wanted?” she asked.

He swore under his breath, his control fraying. “Let me… I need…”

She was just as desperate and didn’t waste any more time raising up on her knees and taking him inside on a slow slide. His arms folded around her, his hand clutching at her back as she started to move, a slow roll of her hips that allowed him to slide out the barest inch before burying himself fully in her again. Their kisses were sloppy, his mouth wide open and tongue lapping as they moved in shallow thrusts together. The position wasn’t giving Emma what she needed to come, but she didn’t mind, wanting to prolong the experience and enjoying the way they could hold each other close. His mouth moved down her neck to her collarbone, teeth dragging against skin, as Emma kissed the beads of sweat from his forehead. Their earlier desperation dissolved into something more tender as they explored each other with hands and lips, small movements where they were still joined keeping their arousal on a slow burn in the background.

Finally, he rolled her onto her back, a move with some amount of finesse, but not enough for him to stay inside her. Killian hovered over her, his hand gripping her thigh and pulling it over his hip to spread her open so he could slide into her again, both of them groaning at the sensation. His thrusts were long and deep now, speeding up as the flames between them suddenly flared higher. Every push inside brought his pelvis where she needed it, every drag out eliciting sparks of sensation radiating through her body. She was on the edge again in no time, her fingernails scraping against his skin as she cried out, not holding anything back. Her pleasure peaked and he fucked her through it, everything bright and pulsing and perfect. Opening her eyes in time to see his orgasm hit, she watched the way he gritted his teeth and tightened every muscle, his voice a raspy, pained groan.

Emma lay splayed out on the bed, her chest heaving as Killian got up to throw away the condom. She drifted, floating on a sea of happy contentment until he returned, moving her arm out of the way to make room for himself next to her in the bed.

“Don’t let me fall asleep,” she mumbled. “I’ll be worthless the rest of the day.”

His fingers trailed down between her breasts, palm settling on her belly with a warm, comforting weight. “What would you like to do then, love? I’m at your service.”

She grinned at that. “Maybe go for a walk on the beach?”

He hummed, leaning over to kiss her. “That sounds lovely.”

“Then have sex again?” she said, arching an eyebrow.

With a chuckle, he nodded. “Then I can make us some dinner.”

“And we can watch some TV?”

“Or just go back to bed,” he murmured, his nose brushing against her cheek.

“Yeah, or that.” She was still smiling; couldn’t stop smiling if she tried. “Sounds perfect.”

“Aye, love. Perfect.”

~*~

“Now,” Killian said once the small sailboat was untethered. “Henry and I are going to man the sails; your job will be to steer.”

Emma looked at him with wide eyes. “I don’t know how to steer.”

“You can do it, Mom!” Henry said cheerfully, his eyes bright with excitement, his hair tousled by the wind.

“It’s easy,” Kilian said, tapping his hook on the handle of the rudder. “This is the rudder. Sit right there,” he said, and directed her to grab the handle. “Hold it straight like that, unless I tell you to turn to port or starboard.”

“And that is?”

“Port is left, starboard is right,” Henry told her, clearly proud to show off his knowledge.

“Why don’t you just say left and right, then?” she grumbled.

There was enough breeze to get a good wind under his sails, and Killian was able to take them out far enough into the bay that Storybrooke felt distant; unimportant, even. The wind was cool enough to bring spots of color to Emma’s cheeks, but not so cold that any of them were uncomfortable. The sun was high in the sky, making the water sparkle like jewels.

Every day, Killian thought of Rumpelstiltskin. As much as Emma seemed to have accepted that Rumpelstiltskin’s death was the price they had to pay to defeat the darkness, Killian knew that what had been in his heart that day wasn’t any kind of noble cause — it was revenge. Maybe he would have killed the man if he’d been in his right mind and maybe he wouldn’t have, and the fact that he didn’t know the answer haunted him. What he did know was that he still had a long way to go before he’d truly redeemed himself for what he’d done. For now, though, he allowed himself to feel a small measure of peace and freedom. The burden of his quest for redemption would still be there when they returned to shore.

Once they were far enough out, he dropped the sails and secured them, guiding Henry and letting him do some of the work under close supervision. With the boat now bobbing in the water, he went over to sit next to Emma. “You can relax, love,” he said, prying her fingers off the rudder and interlacing them with his own.

Emma smiled, her shoulders lowering. “Sorry; I don’t have any experience with boats.” She looked around, turning her face up to the sun and closing her eyes. “It’s nice out here, though. Peaceful.”

“Exactly my thoughts. I figured you would probably enjoy some peace and quiet after the last few days.”

She hummed, leaning over and resting her head on his shoulder. “Yeah.” Emma had finally found an apartment, not too far from his own, and she and Henry had been quite busy in the evening unpacking boxes and shopping for essentials that she hadn’t needed while living with her parents. Between that and her duties as Sheriff and her magic lessons with Regina, she’d been busy, to say the least. And he had to admit, as much as he genuinely loved spending time with Emma’s son, he was also looking forward to his upcoming week with Regina, when he and Emma could properly christen her new bed.

Henry dashed from one side of the sailboat to the other, pointing out a dolphin fin in the distance or a pelican gliding overhead while he and Emma sat, holding hands and soaking in the calm as small waves lapping against the side of the craft. Killian focused on the way Emma’s fingers felt in between his own, his thumb absently stroking the soft skin on the top of her hand.

With a deep sigh, Emma picked her head up, turning to look at him. “Thank you for this. Really.”

Killian leaned over, kissing her softly on the lips. “It’s my pleasure, love.”

“Eww, you promised you wouldn’t do that,” Henry called.

“I’m a pirate, lad; I’m a scurvy dog with no honor,” Killian responded as Emma laughed.

“Come on, you scurvy dogs,” she said, placing a smacking kiss on Killian’s cheek. “We should probably get back so we can have some dinner.”

“Can I steer on the way back?” Henry asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Of course you can.” He raised the mainsail, instructing Emma how to tie it off, his hook trailing up and down the thin material of her shirt as he did so. She shivered, giving him a look that said she would get him back for his teasing later. He grinned wickedly back at her as if to say, I’m looking forward to it.

He turned the sail to catch the wind and the boat picked up speed, skimming across the water, carrying them toward the shore. Toward home.

END

#csbb #cs ff #captain swan ff #cs smut #this graceful path fic #my fic

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lilibug--xx · 7 years ago

Text

Lemon Drops and Chocolate Chips

CHAPTER 2

Ao3 - chapter 1 chapter 2

Read chapter 1 here, on Tumblr.

Despite their interaction last week, bordering on flirty, Betty hadn’t seen Jughead since then. He still had her Tupperware container, so she supposed he would bring it back eventually. She really doubted those cookies had lasted the rest of the night with the way those three had been eating them before she even left. She was glad they enjoyed them though, could hear their groans and pleased ‘mmmm’s when she thought about it, the smiles on their faces.

She really liked baking, cooking too. It gave her satisfaction to see others eating, enjoying the things she made. Betty liked it so much that in addition to working as a freelance editor (working from home but meeting with authors, publishing houses, bookstores, as well as editing manuscripts) she started a blog online called ‘Burnt Cooper’ (it started as easy recipes for those burnt out on life – time, money, etc.) which has gained a pretty decent following and with the ads from the site she actually makes some money from it. She posts at least once daily if not more. Whether it’s about a dish she’s made from a recipe she found, one that she created herself, or a review of a restaurant or food product from a store.

She’s still saving up for a better camera than her phone. It takes decent enough pictures, but as her blog continues to grow, she’ll need something a little fancier. However a large portion of her income goes toward the student loan bills she’s been paying (and will be, it feels like) forever. The price of a good education, even with the scholarships she had acquired, was steep. Her monthly payment was almost more than her rent. It didn’t afford very many luxuries. She didn’t have a car, but did have a bike she rode or generally walked places. She also used uber if needed, though it could get pricy.

Since, Jughead had moved in she had noticed a shiny black motorcycle parked near or in front of their building most evenings when she came back from running. It had to be his. He just seemed like the type, his scent creating the picture in her mind – him on the back, cigarette between his fingers, smoke clouding around him as he leaned forward, leather stretching across his back. A hand pushing through his hair as he looked over toward her, expression a mix of cold fearlessness, pupils wide with desire. He tilted his head toward her, cigarette perched between his lips, pulled up in a smirk.

Betty blinked, reality coming back to her. She was sitting on her loveseat, plate of leftover Chinese food teetering on her lap. She righted it, placing it on the coffee table, appetite gone. Leaning her head back, she stared up at the ceiling. Why did she always have a type?

Betty hadn’t even seen Jughead in passing. She gazed curiously at his door a few times. Found herself with her fist raised, poised to knock, but always lowered her hand at the last second. She didn’t want to be a bother. So instead, each time, she slipped back into her apartment.

The silence was deafening.

A loud knocking at her door started her, she jumped, eyes moving to the door and then back to the clock on the bookshelf by her tv. It was almost 10, on a Tuesday and the front door was key only. Her heart rate started to slow a little, the thoughts of someone coming to murder her dying down.

Betty jumped up from the couch and started toward the door, got halfway there before she froze. Her feet were cold on the hardwood and she chewed her lip. Should she throw something on really quick? She was only wearing a thin pair of mid-thigh shorts (that might have kittens on them) and a white v-neck shirt – the red lace of her bra fairly visible underneath. Another loud knock on her door brought her closer, hand reaching out and pulling it open. Her pajamas were fine.

“Betty, hi,”

She blinked.

Jughead was only holding a towel around his waist, one hand clutching it closed at his hips.

His chest was bare, his skin and hair were wet. He was leaning against the door frame, all bare skin, and arms, and hands, lips being chewed nervously. Her throat felt dry and scratchy, her fingers clutching the door under her grasp. Damn it, why did he have to be so attractive? She brought her eyes up to his, an eyebrow raised as she stood straighter, composing herself.

“My shower isn’t working. Or, well. It was working until I got in and started washing my hair.” He explained, pointing to where there seemed to be soap suds in the locks that were pushed back on his head, colored darker with the water.

Her eyes flicked back down to his, blue eyes looking at her pleadingly.

“You want to use my shower?” she questioned, mentally emphasizing the whole sentence, because she really couldn’t deal with this being reality right now.

“Yeah, if you’ll let me. I don’t know anyone else in the building. Plus you said ‘knock anytime’, the other day,” he started to try to run a hand through his hair, but pulled it back immediately, fingers soapy.

On instinct she wanted to scream ‘of course’, but obviously that would seem over eager. Thinking about Jughead naked in her shower, wet, possibly using her soap? Yeah, of course.

The time it took to picture him was enough that he must have thought she was leaning towards ‘no’ because he spoke again.

“Don’t make me beg,”

Maybe I want you to.

A flash of him kneeling before her, towel slipping down his waist as he pleaded with her. His fingers would disappear into the waistband of her shorts, tugging them down her thighs. “Favor for a favor..” His lips tickling her skin, as he kissed down her belly. Her fingers threading through his hair, pushing his head further down.

Betty shook her head, pushing the fantasy away. “Yes, sorry. I don’t think I’m cruel enough to let you stand around like this,” she offered, opening her door further and letting him step inside.

“Thank you, Betty. I really didn’t want to have to go upstairs and try someone up there,” He was looking around her apartment, eyes taking in the eclectic mix modern farmhouse, vintage, and pastel colors she had used in her furniture and décor. The soft click of the door closing behind her back reminding her that she was going to be all alone with him.

“Yeah, of course. Follow me,” she gestured as she walked towards the small passthrough to the right of her living room. The small room had a stacked washer and dryer and storage shelves. The door to her bedroom was open and she flicked the light on, trying not to think of the state of it.

“Pink your favorite color?” Jughead asked as he shuffled behind her, almost running into her where she stopped halfway to the bathroom. He stepped beside her, eyes sweeping over all the pink in her room. Her breath caught in her throat and her hands curled into fists, shaking slightly. She clenched her eyes shut tightly and counted to three, slowly.

“Betty?” he laid a hand on her shoulder, her eyes springing open. She gazed up as him, fingers releasing and stretching out the stiffness.

“No, not my favorite color,” she said simply, crossing the room quickly and pushing the bathroom door open. She glanced quickly at her sink counter to make sure there was nothing completely embarrassing sitting out. With an exhaled breath Betty pulled the flowered curtain back from her tub.

“So, I’m sure my shower is the same as yours. Just don’t go breaking mine now, okay?” she teased, smile on her face as he stepped up beside her, peering up at the shower head that was just a couple inches above his head height.

“Right. Can’t promise I won’t break something, but I do promise I’ll try not to,” his words light and playful as he leaned a hand against the door, swinging it a little under his hand. Betty rolled her eyes at him, backing out of the room and catching the door from him, tugging it closed after her.

“Take your time, Jughead. I already showered earlier, so plenty of hot water,” the door clicked shut and she stepped away, further into her room. She never heard the click of the lock on the knob.

She looked around her room, fingers smoothing the wrinkles in her pastel floral bedspread. After making her bed, she picked up a couple items of clothing she had tossed on the floor earlier in her haste to get undressed. She turned on her bedside lamp, flicking off the overhead light. The room bathed in a softer glow, the pinks reflecting the orange of her window curtains.

Betty ran a hand over the jewelry box on her dresser, pink. Fingers twirling a scarf she had curled around her full length mirror, pink. Her hamper, the shades of her lamps, the bedskirt, the blanket she had folded on her bedspread, the cozy reading chair she had tucked against the window – pink.

She sighed, hand resting on the closed lid of the jewelry box, the little treasures inside haunting her.

The sounds of the shower turning on making her think of Jughead, and him dropping his towel. She quickly left the room, heading to the kitchen. Grabbing her plate from the coffee table, she put her leftover Chinese away. She pulled out a box of brownie mix from her pantry and decided to whip it up real quick.

Betty had set the timer on the oven for 25 minutes and then set about cleaning up her dishes. She was wiping the kitchen counter down when she heard the water shut off from the bathroom. Her heart started to race a little again.

She busied herself, picking up around the living room. She changed the channel on the tv to The Golden Girls, one of her favorite shows. She had settled down on the couch with her feet tucked underneath her when Jughead stepped back into her living room. He looked much the same as before, skin slightly damp, hair wet, but his skin was flushed with heat from the water. He ran his hands through his hair like a comb, playing with the strands.

Betty realized she had only seen him with his beanie on before, and was curious what his hair looked like dry.

“Nice shower?”

“Immensely. It’s always nice when the water actually comes out. Bonus if it‘s hot,” he was striding over to the door, and she hopped up from the couch quickly.

“I’m making brownies, if you want some?” she offered, biting her lip, fingers playing with the drawstring of her shorts. His eyes lowered to her hands momentarily before shooting back up to her face. He licked his lips.

“Brownies sound great. But, Betty..” Jughead trailed off and her heart plummeted. “I gotta go put some clothes on first,” he chuckled, eyes glancing down at himself.

Her cheeks burned and she stumbled over her words. “I – shit, right. Duh. Sorry,” she sat back down on the couch and he smirked at her, slipping out her door but not closing it all the way.

She waited, poised on the edge of the couch. She kept her gaze on the tv, fingers tapping against her knees. When the timer on the oven went off Betty jumped. She held a hand over her heart, cursing silently. Why was she so twitchy?

She went to take the brownies out of the oven, putting her oven mitts on and sliding the brownies out. They were brown and golden, steam rising and filling the air with the chocolatey aroma. She placed the pan on top of the stove, closing the oven door. Mitts were stuffed back in their drawer and she was pulling out a couple bowls, spoons, and a tub of vanilla ice cream out of the freezer. Warm brownies and vanilla ice cream were the perfect combination.

She was setting the bowls up, 2 scoops of ice cream in each and threw the spoons in. She had her little notepad out, making notes about the batch of Betty Crocker’s boxed brownie mix. Pulling out her phone she snapped a couple of pictures of them in the pan before slicing them into squares and placing them strategically on a teal cake plate. She snapped some more pictures.

“Those smell fucking amazing,” Jughead’s words blew into the shell of her ear and she could feel the press of his chest against her shoulder as he leant around her to get a deeper whiff. He groaned loudly, heading falling back. Betty stayed still, even as he pulled away to lean back against the counter on the other side of the pan. She looked over to him with a smile. She hadn’t heard him come back in, nor the click of the door, or his footsteps up to her. She steadied her breathing. He smelt like her soap – vanilla and honeysuckle, the scent of his leather and cigarettes muted underneath.

He was at least wearing clothes now. Red and black plaid pajama pants, dark grey t-shirt, feet and head still bare. His hair was getting fluffy, air drying right before her eyes. He had set her Tupperware container she had given him with the cookies on the counter by the sink, though it did look like he had washed it already.

“Thank you,” she had put her phone back on the counter, depositing two brownies in each bowl beside the ice-cream. “Milk?” she had gone ahead and pulled two glasses down from an overhead cabinet, shaking the glass at him.

“Yes, please,” he brought the bowls to her little round kitchen table, black porcelain stark against the white lace table cloth. Betty poured milk into the glasses and sat them down on the table, folding herself into the wooden chair and tucking one knee up to her chest.

Jughead was already spooning a bite of both brownie and ice-cream into his mouth. He moaned around the spoon, pulling it out clean and pointing it at her. “Will you marry me?”

Betty laughed, hands clutching her chest. It faded into a giggle and she tilted her head at him. He was smirking around another bite. “It’s literally just a boxed brownie mix, Jug. I’m sure you could make it the exact same,” she took a bit of her own, chewing the warm brownie, chocolate melting on her tongue and filling her belly with warmth.

He shook his head her though, eyes filled with mirth. “That’s where you’re wrong, Betty. I would have to have a baking pan, and eggs, and oil. And I would have to want to make them.”

Rolling her eyes, Betty licked the bite of ice-cream from her spoon. Her eyes watching Jughead’s fixed gaze on her lips. “It’s really easy though,”

“It’s really easy when I can come over here and just eat yours,”

She pointed her spoon at him. “You’re pretty lucky your shower ‘broke’ then, huh?” he laughed at that, hand coming up and missing through his hair, scratching a little.

“I swear it’s broken, Betty,” they each took a drink of their milk, continuing to each their late night desserts.

“So, what do you do Jughead?” she was curious, after all.

“Ah, I’m a photographer, actually.” He paused, chewing the rest of his food and sipping his milk again. “I do headshots, portraits, weddings, magazine shoots, anything really,” he was fingering a ring on his right middle finger. A dark metal band that looked raw, maybe homemade, with sharp points laying flat against his skin. She realized it was shaped like a crown, much like his beanie.

“That is really cool. Maybe you could give me advice on a camera to buy? I’m looking for one that’s not terribly expensive, but photographs well with mostly indoor light,”

He let out a ‘hmm’ fingers stroking his chin as he leaned back in his chair. “Maybe a Canon EOS 80D, not terribly expensive but has a lot of focusing points and a popup flash if you need it,”

Betty repeated the name, getting up to grab her little notebook. Sitting back down, she scribbled the name of the camera down to look up later.

“Thanks. I’m a freelance editor, but I also run a food blog that makes a little money. I’m just taking pictures with my phone right now,” she said sheepishly, spoon scraping against the bottom of her empty bowl.

Jughead looked interested though, hands tapping against the sides of his bowl. She stood back up and grabbed another brownie for him, which he took from her happily. “No, it sounds really cool. I mean, your blog. What’s the name?” he said around a bit of brownie.

“Really? It’s called ‘Burnt Cooper’, on WordPress,” she felt nervous at the thought of him looking up her blog and reading her work, seeing her photo’s, considering his profession.

“I’ll look it up later,” he smiled at her, setting her fluttering heart at ease. Jughead had this easy quality about him, and she felt eerily comfortable around him. She smiled back, pulling her knees up to her chest, ankles crossed. Her arms hugged around her knees, fingers rubbing her cool skin.

“Cool, let me know what you think,” She was working on a post right now comparing boxed brownies, hence her choice for tonight. She chewed her lip for a moment.

“Oh, I’ll be knocking on your door again. Trust me,” his eyes darkened and she felt a shiver run down her spine. His blue eyes running down the bare skin of her arms and legs, roaming over her chest, lingering on her lips, before he pulled up to lock his eyes with hers. “I am so fucking glad that Veronica is a pain in the ass to live with,” he sighed, sounding happy.

Betty rose an eyebrow at him. “I’m sorry?”

“I used to live with Archie. Veronica moved in with him and, while I can stand her in short intervals and not invading my personal space, she is infuriating to live with,” he groaned, head falling back as he sunk into the chair, hands crossing over his stomach. “I had to leave before I killed her,”

Betty laughed, hand covering her mouth. The girl who answered the door the other day seemed nice, and she would have liked to get to know her. It seemed like her and Jughead clashed though.

“Well, I’m also glad you moved in. It was getting lonely here, that apartment has been empty for over three years,”

“Maybe that’s why the shower doesn’t work? They must have forgotten to check the apartment before renting it to me,” he said with a snort, sitting back up in the chair. His hair falling forward into his eyes, now almost totally dry. A couple of locks curling in front of his face. His hand pushed them back and she almost sighed.

“Oh, maybe?” she gave a shrug. She hadn’t seen a soul enter or exit until the day Jughead moved in.

“Well, anyway. You don’t have to be lonely anymore, you have me Betts,” he winked at her, her heart thumped loudly in her chest. She loved her name coming from his lips, but Betts sounded even better.

“Thanks, Jug,”

He looked down at the table, searching for something. He reached out and grabbed the pen she had used to write down the camera name. He scribbled some thing underneath that, laying the pen down on top of the writing. “My phone number,” he gestured, getting up from his chair. Betty also stood, heading over to the door behind him. “Feel free to text me anytime you need a taste tester,”

“Oh, so you only want to come over for food, huh?”

“Now, I didn’t say that was the only thing I’d be coming over for,” he drew his gaze down to her chest, from his angle and the way he had stepped closer to her, crowding her against the door, he could see the red of her bra against pale skin. Could see the obvious flush spreading from her cheeks down, disappearing beneath the rest of her clothes. “I like you Betts, I wanna get to know you. All of you,” he hand tugged gently on the end of her blonde pony tail.

She gaped a little at him, at a loss for words. She wasn’t used to this. “I – thanks? I want to get to know you too, Jug,” she said sincerely.

He gave a little grin at that, pulling the door open and slipping out into the hallway. “Text me, I mean it. Not just about food, even though that is the way to my heart,” he was opening his door now and they each stood leaning against their doorframes.

“Good to know,” she had kind of already suspected that. “Have a good night,” she said, glancing behind him to still see stacks of boxes hanging out in his living room.

His eyes didn’t stray from hers. “Goodnight, Betty,” he closed his door and that was the end of their conversation. With her back now against her own, she slid down to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. She buried her head in her arms, wondering if this was something worth pursuing. He was definitely interested in her. She was interested in him as well. It had just been so long since her heart was broken, she didn’t know if she could do it again.

She took a deep breath before standing up and finding her phone on the counter. She plugged in Jughead’s number and texted him a smiley face. She debated adding that it was her, but she figured it would be obvious, they had just spoken.

Immediately he texted back, his own line of emoji’s including a crown at the end. She smiled, adding that in beside his name in her contacts. Another text came in and she smiled at it.

J: Sweet Dreams, Betty

B: You too!

J: I will, cause I’ll be thinking of you.

Betty bit her lip, climbing into her bed and snuggling into the sheets. She didn’t respond, just put her phone on her nightstand.

Maybe she could do this after all.

#bughead #bughead fandom #bughead fanfiction #bughead fic #bughead fam #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #jughead x betty #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale fandom #writing #wip #fanfiction #ao3fic #bhlemondrops

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tipsycad147 · 5 years ago

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For the Daily Cook

For you, an efficient setup is all about access and speed―quick in, quick out.

The Strategies

Keep necessities within easy reach to save time. Make a place in the zone around the stove and the sink for essentials: oil, vinegar, knives, cutting board. Put ingredients and tools near where you will be using them: Keep the basket of garlic near the cutting board, sugar and flour near the stand mixer, and your best-loved pan on the front burner.

Use under-cabinet space and exposed shelving. A battery-operated under-cabinet lighting strip won’t dangle a cord or steal an outlet from the microwave, while an under-shelf cookbook holder pulls down when you need it and folds back up when you don’t. Things get lost on deep shelves. Put them in baskets that you can pull out and inspect at eye level.

Put the walls to work. Hang racks or pegs to keep utensils, pot holders, and dish towels in sight. Oversized Post-it notes or hanging rolls of paper (found at stationery and art-supply stores) are useful for reminders.

Make recycling efficient, too. Streamline end-of-meal cleanup by putting a bin for bottles and cans next to the one for regular trash (pull-out re-cycler, instead of out in the garage or in the mudroom.

For the Sunday Cook

When you’re too busy to cook, one weekend session―making dinners to freeze―reduces daily stress. Your kitchen setup should facilitate that.

The Strategies

Keep essentials front and centre. Stackable storage containers, large plastic mixing bowls, and other tools left on the counter won’t be in the way during the week and will be ready to go on Sunday.

Invest in equipment. A food sealer is just the thing for turning blanched green beans, fish fillets, and muffins into future instant meals. A scale is useful for weighing ingredients, which some cooks consider a faster and more reliable way to measure for bulk recipes. A calculator speeds the doubling and tripling of recipes.

Organise the freezer. When food items get crammed in willy-nilly, you won’t know what you have on hand. Instead, make designated sections (prepared meals, vegetables, desserts). Use dividers, baskets, or multilayer ice caddies to keep containers neat and accessible. And be sure to label everything with both what’s in the container, and when you cooked it up.

For the Come-on-in Cook

You like to share conversation―and kitchen prep―with a friend, a mate, your kids. Your goal: to arrange things so that two (or five) can work as efficiently as one.

The Strategies

Make things easy for helpers to find. Bring things into the open with a wall-mounted utensil rack. Rachel Siegel, owner of Spruce, an organising company in Berkeley, California, suggests storing tools by function.

Create parallel work stations. Set up separate work areas with equal access to commonly used tools and ingredients. A trash bin with a wide foot pedal can be moved about easily to serve cooks on both sides of an island or a counter.

Make the room kid-friendly. Create a zone where kids will feel welcome to help or just visit. For safety, move cleaning products and knives to adult heights. Stock up on kitchen tools made for kids and plastic bowls. Twin cutting boards let you chop the onions on your side of the island while your friend preps the apples on hers.

For the Entertainer

If you’re a cook who enjoys an audience, all the kitchen’s a stage. Create an illusion of effortlessness that belies a tightly organised support system.

The Strategies

Set a mood. Clear vases of fresh herbs or beautiful bowls of picture-perfect produce will whet guests’ appetites. Install a dimmer to bring down the lighting, and if you entertain regularly, consider built-in speakers to keep the music flowing through the kitchen.

Use glass cupboard doors for display. Use glass-front cabinets to showcase what you love most, whether it’s your best china, an antique-pitcher collection, or even canisters filled with pastas in different shapes and colours.

Keep party gear handy. Create a place for platters and trays―with tray dividers to maintain order―so you don’t have to hunt for them. Give candles, place mats, and other table toppers a dedicated drawer. Use an index-card box to store recipes, past menus, friends’ food preferences, or wine labels. (Soak a bottle to remove the label, let it dry, paste it onto an index card, and jot down tasting notes.)

Five Must-Have Tools for Any Kitchen

Here are five kitchen-related things you really need and how to use them efficiently. These items do not represent everything you’ll need for all your cooking, in any kitchen, for every recipe, throughout your entire life. What we’re listing here are five core purchases that any kitchen should have, along with the best advice we’ve seen on how to get the most for your money out of them.

The tips and research for these items are pulled from one editor’s experience growing from a single dude who calls his mom to make mashed potatoes to a fairly reliable home cook who makes the big dinners, along with a few great reads:

Three decent knives, sharpener for two of them

If we were crazed minimalists, we’d say you only truly need an eight-inch, plastic-handled stainless alloy chef’s knife, one you can find at a restaurant supply store for $10 (more on that later). You should test out any chef’s knife you’re looking at, and consider santoku-shaped blades if you do a lot of mincing or fine chopping. The key is making sure any knife feels right in your hand. The handle and weight in your hand are just as important as the blade, since proper use and sharpening should take care of that. Other than that, a sharp, sturdy paring knife and a cheap-as-you-can-get serrated bread knife have you covered for everything else. Skip the boning/filleting and utility knives, because you definitely don’t filet fish or slice giant mozzarella wheels that often.

How do you keep your knife sharp? Popular Mechanics has a good two-paragraph primer. Using a two-sided sharpening stone:

Lubricate the coarse side of the stone with mineral oil or water; then push the blade (at a 22- to 25-degree angle) across in a sweeping motion, like you’re cutting a thin slice off the stone. “Flip the knife and work the other side until a slight burr forms along the edge,” Montagno says. “Switch to the fine side of the stone, lift the blade to a slightly higher angle and hone off the burr to create a razor-sharp micro bevel.”

Obviously you can skip this process with the serrated bread knife, which can probably cut through loaves of bread long after you’re dead.

Five pots and pans

How you save money here depends on how you cook. Unless you make a lot of meat dishes with reduction sauces containing browned bits, you really need just one cheap medium-sized nonstick skillet for your day-to-day cooking, small and larger-sized metal saucepan, a pasta-sized pot with a lid, and one serious, large (12- or 14-inch) steel pan with steep sides for your grander culinary ambitions, stir-frys, and bigger meat meals. We’re serious on the nonstick skillet being cheap, if safe-looking, because even the most expensive kind inevitably flake off, chip, and lose their egg-repelling properties over time.

Note: We don’t intend to imply you should completely cheap out on your pots and pans. Good cast iron pans, treated well, can last a lifetime. We’re just suggesting the multi-piece sets with every single size of pan, pot, and boiler, with three different lids, aren’t really necessary for cooking.

Everything else? That’s where it gets discretionary. One doesn’t spend three months’ salary at Sears to make sure they’ve got every tool for any imaginable home project, but instead builds a tool set over time. Roasting pans, springform cake pans, loaf pans, double boilers—try to borrow them for rare occasions, make do with makeshift versions, or possibly get lucky at your local Goodwill. Otherwise, another trip to the restaurant supply store is in your future.

A restaurant supply store, or an Asian market

If you’re thinking about buying your cookware from a store in a mall, strip or otherwise, don’t do it. Similarly, don’t buy multi-pot sets, especially the kind signed by a chef you’ve seen on television. The best value for your dollar is found at your local or regional restaurant supply store. That’s where the restaurants you recommend to friends buy their stuff, and they make their money on volume. For certain kinds of cooking hardware, Asian food markets and “trading companies” often stock a lot of really cheap goods. For recipes that require random equipment you’re not sure you might use again, they’re often the smart buy.

Serious instant read thermometer

You don’t have to spend a lot on this, but it’s crucial to buy quality instead of cheap. That’s spoken as someone who loves to grill, and whose wife does not like to eat on the bleeding edge of food safety. Go too cheap and you end up with unreadable LCD screens, melted plastic, and seriously slow updates that leave your food overcooked and the chef overworked.

Reliable, small kitchen scale

When you’re new to stove-top cooking, you’ll want to get precise with your meat, vegetable, and starch measurements to ensure everything stays flavoured in proportion. When you start dipping your toes into baking, that’s when you’ll really be glad you have a scale. The way you pack flour, the moisture in the air, and the random sizes of ingredients like eggs or fruits can seriously impact the outcome of a baking recipe—unless you’re weighing things in proportion. You don’t have to spend a lot, but you do want something digital, that holds up to 10 pounds, and which can “tare,” or set itself to zero, when you’ve got a container on it that doesn’t count in the measurement.

Sources:

Real Simple

Life Hacker

Apartment Therapy

Hello Kitchen

https://shirleytwofeathers.com/The_Blog/theprosperityproject/for-a-well-organized-kitchen/

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bigmacbushcraft · 5 years ago

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Survival Tips - The Best Emergency Food Kit

Who Needs The Best Emergency Food Kit? Who knows what the future holds? If only we knew, day to day, what challenges would arise, we would never be caught unawares. Unfortunately, life just doesn't work that way. Those who prefer to look forward and make preparations for the "just in case" scenarios are often painted as fringe lunatics and doomsday preppers. However, assembling the best emergency food kit for yourself or your family should be something every responsible adult takes seriously. Just a few of the "normal" situations that could arise, when having emergency rations for your family would make sense, include: loss of a job, temporary lay off, extended storm damage or power outage that traps your family at home. Or perhaps you'd just like to be a position to help another family in need, should the opportunity arise. Then there are Armageddon type scenarios that plague the mind of some, and no better way to put those fears to rest than to look ahead and prepare for the worst. Whatever your reasons for looking forward and setting up emergency rations against a difficult time ahead, we are here to help you build the very best emergency food kit for your family.

Identifying Your Needs First, lay out your preparation strategy. If you're just getting started in emergency preparation, you may not have more than a day or two worth of food in your cupboard. If that's the case, building up a thirty day supply of food is a good place to start. If you already have 30 days of emergency rations laid by, the next step may be building up a six month or year emergency food kit. The important thing is to start somewhere, and build your supplies up until you've assembled the best emergency food kit that you're able. Who Are You Feeding? Do you have children in the house? Teens? Older or elderly adults? Infants will require special feeding accommodations like milk or formula, while the elderly may have some unique nutritional needs, as well. Map out on paper who you're building a food supply for and any special things you need to prepare for them, or for yourself. Then consider what it takes to feed that person for a single day. How Many? Once you've written down what it takes to feed one person for one day, you'll need to multiply that by the number of people, and the number of days for which you're preparing. What Do They Like To Eat? There's no need to live for a month on nothing but rice and beans. You don't want to stock up on three months worth of food that your family won't touch with a six-foot pole, just because it was cheap. It may keep you alive in a pinch, but you want to enjoy it, if possible. So take the likes and dislikes into consideration as you plan. Don't forget to consider food allergies, as well. In an emergency situation, you wouldn't want to face an allergic reaction from cross contamination, so better to avoid problem foods altogether, if possible. Types Of Emergency Rations There are dozens of ways to build up a great emergency food kit. The easiest, though certainly not the least expensive, is to invest in commercially prepared emergency rations, offered by various companies. These kits come as single servings, or a month's worth of food for a single person. There are dozens of options to choose from. Another method, requiring a little planning and management, is to simply take what you buy and use on a weekly basis, and start building up a supply that will last. If you ordinarily use three cans of beans and two boxes of mac 'n' cheese and a jar of peanut butter each week, then begin buying double that, and set the extra aside for your emergency food kit. Then manage your stock by rotating it so that your food stays as fresh as possible. Freshness would be a significant advantage in a long-term disaster, where you're relying on your emergency rations for months, or even years. Once you've built up a few months supply of food, organize your cans and boxes with the soonest expiration date in the front and the furthest out in the back. Then, when you do your grocery shopping, put the new stuff in the back and use from the front. This keeps your stock fresh and ready to use if and when the need arises. Home canning is another less expensive way to build up your emergency food kit. Canning is becoming a lost art, so if you're not familiar with how to do it, you're not alone. Canning food in glass jars requires a little learning and effort but can allow you to preserve tasty, homemade food for years. Be sure to learn which foods require pressure cooking versus water-bathing methods of preservation. Properly canned goods keep best in cool, dark places between 50 and 70 *F (10 – 21 *C) and are safe to eat for years after canning. For bulk dry goods that are intended for long term storage, wheat, beans, rice, sugar and other dry goods can be vacuum sealed and stored in five gallon buckets with O2 absorbers to last for thirty years and more. For the truly prepared minded, a few buckets of wheat and corn will go a long way toward peace of mind. A vacuum sealer is a good investment for anyone serious about their emergency rations. Sealing foods in smaller quantities not only preserves them longer but allows you to use them a little at a time, rather than having to use a large container up quickly once you've opened it. If you're worried about the expiration date on store-bought canned goods, keep this story in mind. A steamboat named the Bertrand was trying to reach Montana in 1865 when it sunk to the bottom of the Missouri river. One hundred years later, canned goods from that wreck were recovered. In 1974, 109 years after the accident, the food was tested by chemists and found safe to eat. You should use good sense when eating canned foods that have passed their expiration dates. If it looks odd, smells bad or tastes bad, don't eat it! Signs That The Food In Your Emergency Food Kit Has Gone Bad Signs canned goods have gone bad: the can is bulging, or the lid has come unsealed. Check for mold or fermentation bubbles in the liquid. If the food rushes out of the can or jar when you open it, there is pressure on the contents that wasn't there when the can or jar was sealed. This is a good indication of bacterial activity causing a chemical reaction.

Comfort Foods Once you've established a good base for emergency rations, you might want to start thinking about adding some comfort foods to your store. In stressful situations, we all turn to food for comfort, and yummy food might not be easy to come by in the event of a disaster. Some things to store include: • Chocolate – powdered cocoa keeps the best, but chocolate bars over 70% cocoa will keep for several months, and much longer if frozen. Hot chocolate mix has a shelf life of several years, and could easily be added to the rotation of your emergency food kit. • Mac n' cheese – Best preserved dried by separating the noodles and cheese, and then vacuum sealing them with O2 absorbers. If you're worried about being able to cook macaroni and cheese, it can be canned, but it won't have the same texture as freshly made. Under cooking the noodles before canning will help it to be less mushy. • Honey – made with natural preservatives, honey will keep indefinitely, as long as water never gets near it. Store in very clean, very dry glass jars. If it crystallizes, you can return it to its liquid state with a little heat. • Freeze dried fruit or dehydrated fruit can be a great energy booster and will keep well when stored properly. • Hard candy – store with desiccants and vacuum sealing to provide a much needed pick me up under stressful conditions. • Coconut oil, especially virgin coconut oil will store for a very long time and provide added fat for comforting recipes when butter isn't available. • Spices – if you get to a place where you're having to make all of your food from what you have on hand, you'll be very glad for some extra spices to...well...spice things up. • Alcohol – Obviously, a comforting item, but it serves many purposes in a disaster scenario and it keeps well. High alcohol content (over 20%) will keep the longest and over 40% can serve as a disinfectant if needed. • Tea – keeps well without special accommodations. To keep it the very freshest, store in small quantities with an O2 absorber. • Coffee – For those who really need their cuppa to keep their chin up, coffee will be an important part of the very best emergency food kit. Roasted coffee keeps, vacuum sealed in Mylar bags, for up to two years. If you rotate it through your emergency rations, you will have good coffee for some time. For preparation beyond that, you can store green coffee beans in Mylar bags with O2 absorbers, then roast and grind them as needed.

What To Choose? How to decide what goes into the very best emergency food kit? A good rule of thumb is six months to a year of food that you would eat every day. This is easily managed through good shopping and rotation. For preparation beyond that time frame, vacuum sealed Mylar bags will keep dry goods for years. Many companies and even faith-based family preparation programs offer dry goods preserved in #10 cans that will keep up to 30 years. Building an emergency food kit that can last several years in a pinch is possible, with planning and forethought. Water will be critical to surviving certain types of disaster scenarios. When planning for emergency situations, one liter of water per person per day is a good starting point. You'll need some extra for sanitation and cooking, as well. Be sure you have plenty of water on hand, or a way to obtain water and sanitize it. Sanitation tablets and filtration systems would be a major component of the best emergency food kit. Looking Ahead For total preparedness, it's important to think ahead to food preparation during an emergency. If the power was out for three weeks, how would you cook that mac 'n' cheese you took such care to store? Even if you have a power generator for emergencies, stoves and microwaves pull too much energy to use the generator for cooking. A propane or butane camp stove with plenty of fuel cells, or a propane or charcoal grill are great options to have on hand. And don't forget to include a manual can opener in your emergency food kit. Where To Keep It? Storage space can be tricky, depending on your housing situation. If at all possible, you'll want to designate a neatly organized room that's specifically for food storage. You'll label your shelves, and keep things nicely stocked and rotated. If you don't live in this kind of fairy tale situation, you may have to get a little more creative about how you store your emergency food kit. A lot of food can be neatly stored, in cardboard boxes, under beds, in the bottoms or tops of closets, and under the stairs. You may need to reduce unnecessary clutter, to make room for emergency rations. The reward will be worth the effort. Be Prepared, Not Scared Taking the steps required to create the best emergency food kit that you possibly can will pay off in peace of mind. To know that you have the ability to care for those you love, and to be able to reach out to those around you in their time of need, will put you in a category reserved for just a few. You'll rest easy at night, knowing that whatever tomorrow holds, your family is provided for. By: Kelli Warners. Kelli is the owner of Every Day Carry Gear and publisher of "The Best Emergency Food Kit", one of the many articles designed to educate and help you the reader be prepared and ready for action in whatever survival situation you could find yourself in. If you enjoyed this article, I recommend heading over to website for some more great reads. Article Source: http://www.articlebiz.com/article/1051638867-1-survival-tips-the-best-emergency-food-kit/ Read the full article

#emergencyfood #emergencyfoodkit #preparedness #preperationstrategy #preppers #Survival

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garagetoilet89-blog · 5 years ago

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Meal Prep Chicken Pad Thai with Sweet Potato Noodles

Recipe At-A-Glance

This Meal Prep Chicken Pad Thai with Sweet Potato Noodles is full of complex flavors and just a bit of a kick. It makes for an excellent packed lunch or family dinner!

I’m one of those folks who loves a fresh start. I love a good Monday (especially when it falls on the first of the month). I love New Year’s. I know that technically, you can get a fresh start at any moment on any day, but the extra push of a new blank page in my planner never hurts.

Along those same lines, I absolutely love back-to-school each year. It has that same clean slate, fresh start, anything is possible vibe going on! With all the change that’s in the air around back-to-school time, it’s the perfect time of year for everyone in the family to get into healthy, purposeful routines! As my daughter’s preschool teacher said to us at new parent orientation, “Whatever routine you want your family to have for the rest of the school year, start it on the first day of school.”

And that doesn’t just apply to the kiddos either. That applies to your routine, too! Want to get up at 5am each day to do yoga before the before-school rush begins? Do it from day one. Want to read motivation books in the car line this year instead of killing time playing Candy Crush on your phone? Start from day one. Want to pack yourself a healthy lunch just like you do for your kids? Start on day one.

Getting in the habit of meal prepping for your family each week is a great routine to get into before school starts. Not only can you prep your kid’s lunches ahead of time, but you can also treat yourself with the same love and compassion by prepping healthy foods for the adults in your family at the same time.

My newest meal prepping obsession is this Chicken Pad Thai with Sweet Potato Noodles. It’s paleo, it’s dairy-free, it’s gluten-free, and my gosh, is it super delicious! With its intricate flavors and a little bit of kick, this meal prep recipe is more geared toward the adults in your fam, but if you happen to have a kid who is less picky than mine, this would also make a super healthy school lunch, too! If your kid doesn’t have access to a microwave, you can heat this before school and store in an insulated container (I like this one from Thermos) for a hot lunch.

Before I dig into the recipe, I want to talk with you about the containers I use to meal prep and pack lunches. I’m a big fan of using glass food storage containers. I know a lot of you are afraid of breakage, but I’ve been using glass food storage containers for over a decade now—and I have never broken a single one. They’ve been dropped and banged and bumped but never broken or cracked. They are pretty darn sturdy.

I even let my four-year-old use glass containers for her lunch (along with some stainless containers like these and these). She knows they are breakable and knows to be careful with them—she has to learn at some point that you need to be gentle with certain materials, so why not now? I tell her every day that she is capable, strong, and independent, and it’s important for me to show her that I believe that by trusting her with things like glass containers and dishes.

I like glass containers so much more than plastic because they are safe to microwave, don’t hold onto stains or smells, and last forever. We’re still using the same Pyrex glass food storage containers we got right after we got married 11 years ago. The plastic lids have started to crack and fail, but the glass bottoms? They look as good as new.

For meal prep lunches, I tend to gravitate toward divided containers because, honestly, the organization makes me happy. The containers I like the most are these MealPrep 2-Compartment Glass Containers. They are incredibly sturdy and strong—although since they are so strong, they are also pretty heavy. The lids are the “lock” style lids, so they are water-tight/leakproof, which is awesome.

I also use LunchBots Leakproof Metal Condiment Cups in these pictures to hold the extra sauce. I waffled about getting these for months because they are PRICEY, but I’m glad I finally ordered them because they are über useful. They are completely leakproof, and the perfect size for soy sauce or ketchup or hummus or any sort of garnish. And I like that they are small enough to wedge into bigger containers. Just make sure to pull them out before you pop your dish into the microwave.

Of course, you don’t have to pack this pad Thai up into containers to serve as lunches—it makes an amazing dinner recipe as well. And it’ll go pretty quickly if you carve out some of your weekend meal prep time to pre-cut the veggies.

Standard pad Thai has a peanut sauce, but if you’re off the peanuts due to allergy or other dietary concerns, this recipe works beautifully with almost any nut butter. I’ve used both unsweetened cashew butter and almond butter with excellent results. I’ll say that cashew butter edges out almond butter slightly, just because of it’s creamier texture and milder flavor—but both are excellent.

I think sweet potato noodles (using a spiralizer) are wonderful in this dish, but when I was on the Specific Carbohydrate Diet, sweet potatoes were off limits, and I made this using butternut squash noodles—still super delicious! If you aren’t grain-free, you can use traditional rice noodles or, honestly, whatever noodle makes you happy! Enjoy. And have a great school year!

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Meal Prep Chicken Pad Thai with Sweet Potato Noodles

Description

This Meal Prep Chicken Pad Thai with Sweet Potato Noodles is full of complex flavors and just a bit of a kick. It makes for an excellent packed lunch or family dinner!

Ingredients

For the Pad Thai:

1 pound boneless, skinless chicken thighs

Salt and pepper, to taste

2 large sweet potatoes, peeled and spiralized

1 tablespoon olive oil

2 tablespoons coconut oil

1 large onion, diced

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 red bell pepper, julienned

2 large carrots, peeled and julienned

2 cups snap peas, thinly sliced on the diagonal

2/3 cup shredded red cabbage

3 large eggs

1 teaspoon coconut aminos, tamari, or soy sauce

Chopped almonds or peanuts, lime wedges, and fresh cilantro, for garnish

For the Sauce:

1 clove garlic

1/4 cup fresh lime juice (about 2 limes worth)

Zest of 2 limes

2 tablespoons coconut aminos, tamari, or soy sauce

2 teaspoons rice wine vinegar

2 tablespoons honey

1 tablespoon sesame oil

1” piece of fresh ginger, peeled

Pinch of red pepper flakes

1/2 cup unsweetened, unflavored almond butter, peanut butter, or cashew butter

1/2 cup full-fat canned coconut milk

Instructions

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Liberally salt and pepper the chicken thighs on both sides, and then place on half of a baking sheet.

Fill the other half of the baking sheet with the sweet potato noodles. Drizzle the olive oil over the noodles, and then season with salt and pepper.

Bake in preheated oven for 12-15 minutes, or until the chicken thighs are cooked through and the sweet potato noodles are tender. Chop the cooked chicken into bite-size pieces, and then set both the noodles and chicken aside.

While the thighs and noodles are cooking, combine all the ingredients for the sauce in a high power blender or food processor. Blend or process on high until smooth and creamy. Set aside.

Heat the coconut oil over high heat in a large wok or high-sided skillet. Add in the onion and garlic, and sauté until just translucent and fragrant, about 3 minutes.

Add in the bell pepper and carrots, and sauté until just beginning to soften, about 3 minutes.

Add in the snap peas and cabbage, and sauté until just crisp-tender, about 2 minutes.

In a small bowl, whisk together the eggs and coconut aminos, tamari, or soy sauce. Pour mixture into wok, and stir continuously until the eggs are scrambled, about 2 minutes.

Turn the heat to low, add in the cooked chicken and sweet potato noodles, and then toss to combine. Pour over the sauce—you might not want to use all of it (see notes below). Stir until everything is well-coated and heated through, about a minute.

Spoon Pad Thai into four glass food storage containers. Add chopped almonds or peanuts, lime wedges, and fresh cilantro.

Notes

Just like with all stir-fries, it’s a good idea to make sure all your veggies are chopped before you start cooking—once you start adding stuff to the wok, it goes quickly!

This makes enough sauce to make for a very saucy pad Thai. If you prefer it a little bit drier, just use less sauce and reserve the leftover sauce for something else (it’d make a great salad dressing).

I’ve also made this with butternut squash noodles, and it’s equally delicious!

For a more traditional pad Thai, use peanut butter in the sauce, but if you’re not eating peanuts, almost any unsweetened nut or seed butter will do (I usually make mine with cashew butter).

Source: https://wholefully.com/meal-prep-chicken-pad-thai/

0 notes