#grasshopper cake

[morethansalad]

Vegan Grasshopper Cake

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Tasty cake. No grasshoppers needed.

When I was in high school, I took cooking as an elective. I'm not any great shakes at it, mind, but I can toss a cassarole dish in the oven and get something edible in the end, generally. There was one recipe, however, that I absolutely adored and was sure the hang on to so I could make it again in the future.

Naturally, the recipe was missing the next time Mum and I went to make it, so we have to sort of re-invent a little every time.

But the recipe is:

GRASSHOPPER CAKE

Now, for those of you who are unaware, at least in America 'grasshopper' in cooking normally means chocolate-mint. No actual grasshoppers involved. You can, occasionally get little boxes of grasshoppers as novelty food items, but they're not a protein staple here. So if you're wondering how on earth you can have grasshopper cake without grasshoppers, there's your answer.

(If, for some reason, you would like to add actual grasshoppers for protein content, try your local pet supply store. You may have to make due with crickets though.)

Now, the recipe goes something like this. You will need:

1 box white or yellow cake mix 1 jar hot fudge topping 2-4(?) tsps mint flavored stuff 1 pint whipping cream Food colouring (optional)

The original recipe specifically called for a white cake, because you were supposed to add green food colour to it. Yellow works just as well and, fun fact! Yellow is one of the primary colours that makes up green, so you can still add food colouring if you want to. Also, the original recipe called for creme de menthe as the mint flavor. Mum and I just use regular old extract.

You make the boxed cake according to the instructions, only you add food colouring if you like and some mint flavouring. How much? That's one of the things Mum and I can't remember. It's one or two teaspoons and every time we have a debate over which and every time, I'm pretty sure we do something different. Never had the cake taste bad, though, so I would say two tsps if you really like mint and one if you're a bit shy of strong mint flavor.

Once the cake is partially cooled (but not all of the way) heat your fudge topping to the point you can easily get it out of the jar and spread it over the top. You don't need the topping to be completely melted - the warm cake will help it move.

Let cool. Possibly refrigerate, if you're in a hurry.

When your cake is good and cool, mix up your whipped cream. Add more food colour if you like, whatever you prefer for sweeteners (if any) and another teaspoon or two of mint flavor.

If there's anything left once you and the entire family have sampled it, stick it in the fridge.

Variations:

At one point I did this with orange instead of mint. I forget why, but it was also tasty.

At one of my former jobs I had a coworker who loved choco-mint and cake and was sadly diabetic. I discovered that Pillsbury makes a very nice sugar free boxed yellow cake and Smucker's has you covered on sugar free hot fudge topping. Sweeteners, of course, have lots of options. TASTY CAKE FOR ALL!

[allyooops]

Have a page of warm up doodles and a bunch of memory drawn ponies from a discord chat the other night!!

[thecomet-and-themeteor]

would you eat a bug

Hell yeah

[roostersbby69]

Special chapter for my story “Brothers best friend”!

Summary: So I had this idea for my “Brothers best friend” storyline and just wanted to give a little extra chapter of a few moments between them.

Warnings: little bit of age gap, nothing else really

Check out the whole story!

When Jake and Bradley were fifteen, and you were eleven, they were stoked to be starting ninth grade. Jake had went over Bradley’s and if he went, so did you. The Bradshaws didn’t mind, Carol loved having you around. She kept coloring books, puzzles, a couple barbie dolls and some boxes of cake mix for you to bake when the boys were playing football or play wrestling in the living room.

Today you chose to sit at the table and color, Carol took note you were a lot quieter than Jake was. You kept to yourself and weren’t as rowdy as the boys were. You were gentle with the Barbie dolls and would gently step over a grasshopper or inch worm if you were playing outside.

You colored the princess sheet Carol placed in front of you as she sat across from you and worked on her 1000 piece puzzle. The boys were wrestling in the living room and Nick was mowing the lawn.

“That’s some great coloring skills, Y/n.” Carol smiled as she watched you color the princesses dress pink.

“Thank you, Mrs. Carol.” You smiled and kicked your feet back and forth.

“Boys! Watch my vase!” She yelled to the boys as Bradley threw Jake into a choke hold.

“Yes ma’am!” Bradley called back as he held Jake down.

“Uncle! Uncle!” Jake yelled through a fit of laughter. Bradley let go, laughing himself, and watched as Jake rolled away from him in a laughing fit.

“How’s your mom, Y/n?” Carol asked as she tried to fir a piece of puzzle into another piece.

“She’s okay, shes excited for my brother to start big school. “ You said as you continued to color. Your mom was always overjoyed with Jake’s accomplishments, sometimes she was a little too proud.

“I bet, I’m sure shes excited for you to go into the sixth grade. You must be too.”

“I guess, I am a little nervous though.”

“That’s normal. You’ll do great. You can always get the boys to help with school work.” She smiled at you. Nick walked in with grass all over his forearms and kissed his wife on the cheek.

“Hey, squirt.” He walked over to you and ruffled your hair.

“Hi, Mr. Goose.” You continued to color, you sometimes wished that your parents were like Bradley’s, but then you wouldnt be able to experience this, and you liked this.

The boys walked into the kitchen where you and Carol sat and grabbed a drink from the fridge. Bradley grabbed his and came and sat at the table by you. Jake also joined and sat by him, “What are you coloring, Y/n?” Jake asked as he cracked open the soda can. You looked up at him then at Bradley as your face reddened, “A princess.”

“Aw, looks just like Bradley.” He teased his friend, “That pink really brings out your eyes, Brad.”

Bradley rolled his eyes but a small smile sat on his lips as he watched you finish the princesses hair.

You finished and Carol smiled as she grabbed the sheet and stuck it under a magnet on their fridge. You had a smile on your face as you picked up the crayons and placed them back in the box.

“Can’t you boys learn a thing or two from Y/n and clean up after yourselves?” Carol asked as you cleaned up.

“Nah, shes pretty good at it.” Bradley laughed.

“Bradley.” Carol warned.

“I’m just kidding.” He surrendered as his dad walked in and hit him on the head with a rolled up newspaper.

—

Three years later

At the start of ninth grade you had your first boyfriend, his name was Jackson. All of the girls liked him and you should’ve been excited to have a boyfriend who was popular, but he wasn’t the best boyfriend.

He was in a grade above yours and he liked to party, a lot. He drank, vaped, and fell into the frat boys group, and that wasn’t really your kind of life.

Bradley’s parents had gotten him a small pickup truck and Jake had yet to get one from your mom. You usually rode with Jackson after school, but today you decided to break up. Since you didn’t have a cell phone, you had no way of contacting Bradley or Jake to catch a ride with them.

You walked on the sidewalk and yanked your backpack higher up on your shoulders as a truck stopped beside you and honked, you looked to your left and saw Bradleys green truck. The window rolled down and Jake and Bradley looked at you like you were a ghost.

“Y/n, what the hell are you doing walking on the side of the road? I thought you were riding with Jackson?” Jake yelled over the cars honking at them and passing by.

“Jackson doesn’t give me rides anymore.” You said.

“Get in.” Bradley called to you as Jake got out and opened the door for you to get in on the bench seat. You slid in and put your book bag in your lap as you thanked Bradley who was beside you.

“Why doesn’t Jackson give you rides anymore?” Jake asked angrily as he slammed the door shut.

“We broke up.” You said as you played with a loose string on your book bag.

“Why?” Bradley asked.

“I know why, he’s a good for nothing asshole.” Jake spoke for you.

You sat quietly as Bradley drove off once you were buckled.

“He didn’t hurt you did he?” Jake asked, still sounding angry.

“Can we please not talk about it right now?” You stared down at your lap.

“No, Y/n, you tell me now.” He grabbed your shoulder to try to get you to look at him.

“Jake! Knock it off, man.” Bradley looked at him.

“I just want to go home, please.” You whispered. Jackson had small anger issues sometimes, at parties, when he was drunk, he would get angry at you for not drinking with him and force you to drink. You hated the taste of alcohol, that wasn’t how you wanted to spend your high school years.

Once you got to Bradleys house you got out silently on Bradley’s side and he grabbed your book bag for you. “Are you okay, Y/n?” He softly asked you as he noticed your face was red.

You nodded, “Yeah, thanks.” You reached to grab the bag from him but he held it higher, “Do I need to have a talk with this, Jackson?” He raised an eyebrow and asked.

You smiled and shook your head, “No, Bradley, but thanks again.”

-

Four years later

“Have you talked to Y/n lately?” Bradleys mom asked him as she made supper.

He raised his head to look up at her from the kitchen table, “Um, no not lately. Why?”

Carol shrugged, “I don’t know, it’s not like she was over almost every day and suddenly she just disappeared.”

Bradley nodded to himself, “Well, she is a bit younger than I am.”

“So?” Carol asked.

“So…I don’t know.” Bradley couldn’t think of words.

Carol sighed, “Boys are so oblivious.”

“Oblivious to what?” He asked.

“You’ll figure it out one day.”

“Can’t you just tell me now?”

“Nope, it’ll make its way there.”

Carol always watched them two grow up together. When Bradley ran to Y/n when she fell and scraped her knee when she couldn’t keep up with him and Jake in a game of tag. When she cried when her mom was having one of her episodes, he was there to listen to her.

Carol knew bradley was always keeping an eye out for her. And she knew there would be something special for them in the future.

—————————————————————

[gallusrostromegalus]

Funky Muguruma Kensei AEIWAM headcanons? Spare serotonins with the blorbos? /j Also what's AEIWAM Mashiro like? She's one of the only characters I genuinely get annoyed by in the canon oof

:)

So the friendship between Kaname and Mashiro is one of my favorite things in the fic so far. Have a spoilerific Scene (Part 1 of ?)

Crickets and Grasshoppers

Scene One of ??? Approximately 7K words Fluff that goes South and won't get (sort of ) better until part 2, warnings for body horror, referenced torture and Emotionally Devastating Betrayal

:)

It was Tuesday November 5th, 1901, Scheduling Day in the Ninth Division and Mashiro was standing in front of the vending machine just down the street from the Ninth, choosing her armaments for the coming battle. 

In other divisions, the actual drawing up of rosters was the job of lower-seated officers and the specific parts of the Division they were responsible for.  Tousen’s friend Komamura has told her once that the 7th Division’s schedule was so predictable, they only looked at the roster once a year when people retired or were hired. A fascinating concept to Mashiro, who listened to Komamura’s tales of the 7th with the rapt fascination of an anthropologist privileged to hear the folklore of distant and largely unknown people. 

The Ninth was… complicated for the sake of simplicity.  Information did not move the same way people did, and while the seventh could pass an inbound soul from the Intake Team to Queue Management to the Registry Office, passing an information project from one subdivision to another was a great way to lose said project. So instead of projects moving from subdivision to subdivision as they reached different stages, subdivisions went from stage to stage, following projects. 

This meant scheduling had to be done every month, but it beat the hell out of a major archive loss or communications failure. 

And it meant that Snackage was in order. 

Mashiro surreptitiously glanced over her shoulder to make sure Captain Muguruma was still overseeing drills in the courtyard, then selected 37 cookies, chips, snack cakes, bottles of pop and juice and other goodies from the machine and paid out of the Division Purse.  

Kensei, bless him, was a deeply honorable man who was so reliable you could set a watch by him and would probably cross actual Hell to help a friend, but he did not understand scheduling, much less the kind of caloric requirements it held. 

-- “You’re just sitting there!  What do you need all that for?” He’d asked her once.

“The brain’s the most expensive organ to run in terms of calories.” She’d explained, rolling her eyes and opening a bag of Barbecue-flavored corn chips. “-I know your brain is a plodding cart horse, but you can’t do scheduling.  You need my thoroughbred racehorse brain, and it needs snacks!”

He’d given up with a disgusted groan of defeat, which was good, because the other reason she needed the snacks would have actually made him snap.  -- Mashiro shoved the snacks into her backpack, checked that Kensei was still distracted by drills, darted back across the street where he might spot her, ran around the back of the division, and jumped up to the third-floor window that had been left open for her. 

“The level of subterfuge this perfectly normal administrative process requires…” Fifth-seat Kaname Tousen groaned from where he was lying on the floor, partially under his traditional low desk. 

“-Is half the fun, you dork!” Mashiro giggled, closing the window after her as she climbed in. “All the autumn stuff is in the shops and vending machines now, and I made sure to get every persimmon-flavored thing they had just for you!” She grinned down at her chosen assistant for scheduling. 

The other purpose for the snacks was Bribery. 

Kaname Tousen was, by Mashiro’s estimation, definitely the smartest person in the Ninth Division, and possibly in the entire Soul Society.  If the world was a fair place, he’d be lieutenant and she’d be fifth seat, but the world wasn’t a fair place and in the week between Graduation with every honor Shin’o academy had and starting as the 9th Division’s 20th seat, Kaname had been struck down with some sort of horrible spinal infection that damn near killed him, made him miss his entire first month and a half of work, and left him with occasional bouts of crippling pain, like today, when he’d decided to risk worsening Kensei’s already low opinion of him by doing his work lying flat on his back on a hot pad. 

Kaname’s services as a Brainiac were much in demand and his availability highly limited, so Mashiro guaranteed her place on his schedule with confection-based compensation.

“I mean, Kensei’s a mean old sack and that’s not great for the division too, but the spy shenanigans and scheduling snacktime really is like, The Highlight Of The Month sometimes.” Mashiro shrugged, flopping down on the floor beside him and  dumping the snacks out between them. 

“Captain Muguruma’s sense of discipline is intense but very necess- ow. Yeah, that’s not happening.” Kaname sighed, laying back down from trying to sit up. “-He’s a good man.  Difficult, sometimes, but a good man.”

“You’re way too nice for your own good. Here’s the Persimmon castella cakes.” Mashiro grunted, handing Kaname the small package and the payroll notes to read. 

Kaname groped across his desk for a clipboard, attached the payroll notes to it, propped them up on his stomach so they were balanced on the edge of his desk, and laid all the way back down, face pointed at the ceiling rather than the notes.  Mashiro opened up a packet of Amakara rice crackers, watching him with interest as Kaname took off his goggles. 

The goggles were what convinced Mashiro he was the smartest man in the Soul Society.  Kaname had been born totally blind, but he had figured out how to mount a pair of tiny cameras in the frame of a pair of safety goggles, which were connected to… he’d explained that the little bricks behind the opaque white lenses of his goggles contained something like an obscenely long and complicated Kido spell that spotted readable characters, ‘read’ them, and turned the resulting text into words that played out of the tiny “Microphonogram Speech Players or ‘speakers’ “ hidden in the legs of the goggles.  So he could read pretty much anything printed with enough contrast (and decent enough handwriting, Captain Urahara) because his goggles would read it aloud for him.  They were much slower than most people read, and sometimes he had to stop work to “charge” the spell that made them work, but they worked a damn treat, and had the added advantage that Kaname himself did not need to be looking at the thing he was trying to read, only the goggles.

So now he unwound the coil of wire that connected the Kido brick to the microphonogram, placed the ‘speaker’ back in his ear, and set the glasses on his chest so he could read the notes while keeping his back and neck pressed to the hotpad. 

True Genius, that.

“I love how the cameras wiggle.” Mashiro grinned, watching the two lenses shift and dilate as they focused on the notes. “They move the same way cicadas and grasshoppers shift their eyes independently to focus. It’s so clever to have them operate like that.”

“Hm.  That was Kakiyo’s design, not mine.” Kaname smiled.  Kakiyo was his adopted and now-deceased sister.  “She was always more of an entomologist than me.”

“Weird that you ended up with Suzumushi the cricket for a Zanpaktou then.” Mashiro pondered.  She liked Suzumushi- that sword, and her own Musabori Kuu Batta (Devouring Locust) were two of less than One Hundred insect-type Zanpaktou in the court guard, and fewer still that weren’t butterflies. She couldn’t really see Suzumushi- no shinigami could perceive another’s Zanpaktou Spirit- but she could hear Batta’s half of the conversation the two would chirp to each other sometimes.

Kaname paused from opening the persimmon cake packaging with his teeth. “...Yes. Bizarre.” he said, with a rueful finality that Mashiro took as her cue to change the subject.

“Right. Where are we on the Agricultural Practices census?” She sighed, pulling the active projects list and next month’s calendar out in front of her. 

“Maegawa-san has requested travel permissions to-” Kaname replied, flipping through the pages, the goggles faintly reading off names as he tracked them with his fingertip. “Ah, ‘pull the damn report out through the East 36th Daimyo’s nose if I have to’, which I think we can call a requisitions expense rather than reconnaissance. Unless you think Lieutenant Fon would enjoy the catharsis as well.”

“She WOULD, actually, that girl is wound tighter than my grandpa’s pocketwatch.”  Mashiro nodded, placing the card for “3rd Seat Maegawa” in the “Out Of Office” Pile. 

And so it went for a pleasant hour, eating snacks and solving the five-dimensional time, space and payroll puzzle of scheduling, with Kaname helping her keep track of the process and who was not supposed to be doing overtime or couldn’t be trusted to work with someone else or on maternity leave or whatever. 

“Alright, I think that’s nearly everyone sorted…” Mashiro muttered, going down the list of all 200 division members to make sure they’d made it onto the roster. “Oh wait, we didn’t put you down!” She giggled. 

“I believe my schedule should be identical to last months while we are still doing data entry into the archives, but I do have a request- May I have this coming Friday off?” he asked. “I have an engagement.”

“Who’s getting engaged?” Mashiro teased, erasing him from the roster that day.

Kaname tilted his head a bit, pointing his ear at her with a conspiratorial smirk. “...Can you keep a secret?”

Mashiro blinked at him in surprise, then gasped with delight and leaned in  “Cross my heart and hope to die!” She whispered back, giggling. 

Kaname regarded her for a moment, teasing. “Love- Captain Aikawa has finally worked up the nerve to propose to Lieutenant Yadomaru.”

Mashiro made a noise like an asthmatic teakettle as she tried to not shriek with delight and deafen Kaname as well, rolling onto her back and kicking her legs in the air with excitement.

“-He wants it to be a surprise though, and Lisa is always going through his bag for his water bottle or whatever at kendo practice and she will notice if his schedule changes, so I need to duck out during lunch today and pick up the ring for him to propose with on Friday.” Kaname elaborated.

“A conspiracy!” Mashiro balled her fists with excitement. “When? Where? Can I come?”

“You got an invitation to Captain Kyoraku’s next moon-viewing party, right?”  Kaname asked and she nodded.  “It’s then.”

“EEEK!” Mashiro giggled with delight. 

“What’re you two giggling about?” Kensei grunted from the doorway, still sweaty from training. 

“It’s a SECRET!” Mashiro glared imperiously, sweeping the snack wrappers out of sight off the desk as Kaname sat up with a small grunt of pain and bowed his head in salute.

“Whatever.” Kensei rolled his eyes. “Tousen. Read your report on the dodgy census statistics and possible disappearances in West 66 and I think you’re right.  Something stinks on ice out there.”

Kaname gasped sharply with relief and bowed his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Sir.”

“I gotta attend a captain’s meeting this afternoon because Urahara has some harebrained new project to show and tell-” Kensei continued, glaring at his battered fingertips where he’d caught a bokto the wrong way during training. “-Saw that Maegawa is gonna be in East 36 and Fukuda’s on maternity leave, so I’m sending every seated officer from you to 15th seat Shizawa out there to investigate and deal with it.  You all need to be at the Kido Corps for teleportation at three. Mashiro, don’t burn the place down.”

“OH COME ON!” Mashiro shouted with disappointment. 

“HEY! No backtalk!  I know you wanna go but someone’s gotta hold the fort-” Kensei glared down at her. 

“It’s not me!  Kaname has to- I mean-” She sputtered, abruptly remembering his request for secrecy.

“It’s alright!” Kaname tried to smile but ended up grimacing at her as he got up. “I’ll just go get it now and it’ll be in my pocket when I get back!” 

Mashiro glared at him for a moment, but sat back down. “Okay. I guess.” She pouted. 

“Get what?” Asked Kensei. 

“A surprise for Captain Kyoraku’s moon-veiwing party!” Kaname grinned at him as he collected his belongings into his satchel by touch.

Kensei pondered that for a long moment, glaring at Kaname. “...How’d you score an invite?”

“Captain Aikawa invited me along.” Kaname explained over Mashiro’s offended scoff. “We were roommates when we were at the academy and he has very kindly kept inviting me along to things despite my not really being able to keep up with him anymore.” 

Kensei regarded him a moment longer. “Huh.” he eventually decided. “Well, see you when you get back from the investigation.” He waved, dismissing Tousen.

“Thank you Sir.  Lieutenant Kuna.” Kaname bowed before jogging off. 

“See you later Kaname-kun!” Mashiro called after him.

“-Even if he won’t technically see yo- OW!” Kensei yelped as Mashiro clipped him sharply under the ear. 

“Why are you so MEAN to him!?” Mashiro glared up at her captain as he rubbed his jaw. 

“I’m not mean! I’m just- it’s just office banter!” Kensei growled back. “I can just not like a guy and still be colleagues with him, okay?”

“No, apparently you can’t!” Mashiro “You’ve been really hard on him and getting on his case and teasing him since day one!”

“-More like day thirty-two, he missed the first six weeks of his appointment.” Kensei grumbled.

“That was literally FIFTY years ago and he was in the HOSPITAL. BECAUSE HE NEARLY DIED!”  She bellowed, probably loud enough for Kaname to hear in the street but it didn’t matter. “Yeah, it sucked, but it wasn’t his fault! I don’t get why you were mad at him back then, and I really don’t get why you’re still mad about it NOW!”

“I’M NOT MAD ABOUT THAT, I JUST-” Kensei bellowed back but then stopped, hand over his mouth. “...He keeps secrets.”

Mashiro stared at him blankly for a moment, face slowly collapsing from bewilderment into disgust. “OH. MY GOD. You’re the one always going on about operational security!  He’s just careful- all the details are in his summarial reports, if you ever read them…”

“I do!” Kensei barked. “And they’re-  I mean, All the information he’s required to fill out is there, and then some.” He sputtered, deflating. 

Mashiro leaned in close, eyebrow cocked at him. 

“...But I keep getting this feeling it’s not the whole picture.” Kensei muttered. 

“Ugh!” Mashiro shouted, throwing her hands up and turning away. “So you don’t like him because you have bad reading comprehension?”

“Shut up! I don’t- there’s just something off about that guy! He’s always taking weird days off-” Kensei started, ticking off a list on his fingers. 

“You mean the sick days from his spinal infection?” Mashiro glared, arms folded across her chest.

Kensei continued to count his grievances “-and taking secret calls in weird corners-!”

“You mean privately scheduling his medical treatment? For his spinal infection?” Mashiro continued to glare.

“-And getting him to go to the fifth or third division is like pulling teeth! What the hell is up with that?” Kensei demanded.

“You mean the divisions that have A) Lieutenant Iba, the woman who has a weird horoscope-based personal grudge against him-” Mashiro asked, mimicking Kensei’s earlier counting, “-and B) Lieutenant Aizen, who also keeps forgetting he has a spinal injury and slaps Kaname across the shoulders every time they meet?  Yeah, I don’t blame him for wanting to avoid two of the most annoying people in the whole court guard!”

“Whatever.” Kensei waved her off. “I’m still right. There’s something off with him. Now get that roster updated and posted!”

“Yes, sir.” Mashiro groaned, rolling her eyes at him and stomping back to Kaname’s office for the Roster.

***

Kaname hadn’t felt this light in years. 

Oh god.

Oh, GOD!

Please, please, please please let this be happening?

He sprinted down the road, back towards the apartment that he and Sajin shared, the small box with Love’s ring in his chest pocket.  He allowed himself an ounce of elation- After all, I am just a young man who has picked up the engagement ring of one of his best friends!  It is exactly what anyone would expect to see-

That was the tricky part of The Curse. 

He couldn’t talk about it, like many curses, but it had the added complication that anyone who looked at him- or listened to him, or put their hands on him, or- 

Well, they’d only find what they expected to find. 

Certainly not a curse. 

But curses cut both ways- The broader and less specific a command for someone bearing a curse was, the harder it was to enforce, and it was harder to come up with a command broader and more open to interpretation than “Help Me Kill God”. So as long as Kaname could argue to the curse that an action did “help” some aspect of Aizen’s plans, he could be inefficient, neglect to mention something important, do an assigned task sloppily, fail to cover his tracks and so on-  Sometimes Other times, the curse would take effect and cripple him until he relented and obeyed Aizen’s command again. Or at least, managed to convince Aizen he was doing what Aizen wanted. 

Aizen hadn’t quite realized it, but he was also subject to his own illusions, and there was a gap- a mirror image, if Kaname understood mirrors correctly- so long as he appeared as Aizen expected, Aizen wouldn’t notice him sabotaging Aizen’s machinations. So for the last three years, Kaname had done his best to appear tired and overworked and failing from exhaustion rather than malice, or like he was starting to agree with Aizen, which is exactly what the narcissist expected after fifty years of mental, physical and spiritual torture. 

It was finally  paying off. 

He’d managed to make the kidnappings Aizen and Gin had been conducting on the villagers of West 56 appear by conducting a census that showed the discrepancy of expected versus actual population.  -And made sure the increased hollow activity in the area from Aizen’s experiments showed up in the 10th Division’s monitoring statistics. - And the weird waves of reiatsu visible on the 12th’s monitoring equipment- not what people expected to see, but by keeping all the evidence noticed by unrelated parties, he kept it out of the scope of Aizen’s Illusions. 

Kyoga Suigetsu took a lot of energy to operate, and Tousen was pretty sure Aizen could only passively fool about 150 at a time- he chose mostly his own division and people he saw daily, like his neighbors and cross-division colleagues, and could only actively alter the reality of maybe 20 people at once- the other captains and a few key would-be witnesses.   So a rural census-taker, and two members at the bottom ranks of other divisions weren’t actively subject to the illusion. 

He had to do it on faith, that someone would notice-

Kaname felt like he’d been holding his breath for weeks now, doing his best to tell Aizen and the constantly-itching nails in his spine that this was a Perfectly Normal Database Cross-referencing project- very boring, but it will be missed if it’s not done, Lord Aizen- and nothing to draw attention to the horrible Laboratory…

…By some miracle, Mugurama had read the report, understood and believed it- Kensei had a naturally suspicious mind, so Kaname made sure the report was full of “It's entirely possible this is all a weird coincidence!” to make him suspicious.  The curse only showed people what they expected to see, and for once, Kensei’s natural pessimistic expectations allowed him to see the truth. 

24 hours.  That’s all I have left.

The only people in the Ninth Aizen had under his Active Influence were Kensei and Mashiro, so he wouldn’t be able to hide the nature of the laboratory from the investigation team without dropping the Active Illusion on someone else and risk discovery- and so long as Aizen didn’t find out about the expedition, he wouldn’t know to make that shift in time.

24 hours. I only need to keep Aizen distracted for 24 hours. 

In Aizen’s personal quarters, The Distraction Apparatus waited.

Aizen was mistaken to force Kaname to do his lab work for him- Kaname understood it better than him now, and had pulled aside a little trick to confuse him. The Hogyoku bonded with its user, almost like a zanpaktou, and communicated with them- it purred when Aizen fed it, and whined when it was hungry.  Aizen knew about Suzumushi’s Bankai- he’d insisted Kaname develop it under his supervision, so he would know of all Kaname’s abilities.  But he only knew it from the inside, and hadn’t realized that not only was anyone inside blind, deaf and without any form of sensory input, neither could anyone on the outside sense anyone within. It was worth it to break Suzumushi like that. It was actually her idea, to break the guard of his Zanpaktou and separate the ring from it.  That’s where the Bankai was stored, and with a hell of a lot of practice, he’d learned to cast it remotely.

It had been months before he had an opportunity-  Kaname would never forgive what had been done to that poor angel, but during one of the The Sessions where Aizen was using the Hogyoku to change the angel, Kaname was able to get ahold of the little Illusion box Aizen kept the infernal device in, Secure Suzumushi’s ring to the floor, disguise the tampering with a false floor, and return the box to it’s place without Aizen’s notice. The Ring had been waiting there for months.

24 hours, and the secret will be out. 

He’d memorized Aizen’s schedule- in 22 minutes Aizen would be entering the reiatsu-locked laboratory of the 12th with his own Captain Shinji for Kisuke’s Demonstration, and would not be able to feel Kaname activate his Bankai. When he came back out, it would seem like the Hogyoku had vanished. And for all Aizen would be able to tell, it had- he wouldn’t be able to perceive the Hogyoku or it’s illusion box until Kaname released his Bankai. 

So for now, Kaname acted exactly like Aizen would expect him to act- a little tired, a lot in pain, but elated that two of his best friends were getting engaged, and that he’d be able to help. That was a natural source of excitement, and definitely not any kind of counter conspiracy-

Kaname jogged down the stairs to the apartment, ring box in his pocket, heart hammering, hands shaking a bit as he took out the keys to unlock his door, grabbed the knob that was not there and was suddenly off balance and falling- Into something soft and steady that carefully picked him up like a child’s doll and set him back on his feet, gently taking his hands.

“Are you alright?” Sajin asked, soft, deep voice tinged with concern. “My apologies, I was just trying to do some house cleaning while the weather is mild and had the door open for ventilation.”

“Y- yeah! I’m. I’m alright. Just- distracted. I’ve had some good news!”  He grinned up at his friend. 

“Oh?” Sajin asked, tugging lightly at Kaname’s fingertips to indicate he should step inside.  “Mind your way, I have all the chairs out in the living room so I can sweep.”

They had been living in this garden-level apartment for the forty years since Sajin had followed Kaname into the court guard, and under the same roof at the Akaido City Library for many years before that, and their domestic arrangements settled into a comfortable and comforting routine- Kaname was incapable of seeing grime, so Sajin did the housekeeping, and Sajin would eat raw, expired meat if left unattended, so Kaname did the cooking and shopping. 

Kaname followed his lead, hand reflexively on Sajin’s instinctively proffered arm to keep balance while he unbuckled and took off his boots- the gestures of proximal intimacy had calcified into a secret language between them.

“Thanks-” Kaname stood up and stepped in with a guiding hand on the wall. He could normally navigate the apartment by memory alone. “-I’m only here for a few minutes, I’ve also got a deployment I need to pack for.”

“Deployment?” Sajin asked, following after him, voice slightly muffled from the cloth mask he wore over his face- at least when the door was open.  Being mostly underground had it’s advantages- Kaname didn’t need much light and Sajin possessed almost superhuman darkvision, and the small, high windows that were obscured by bushes gave them enough Privacy that Sajin could relax and keep his face bare at home. 

24 hours.  

Maybe. Maybe when it all came out, and the dust settled--Assuming they don’t hang me alongside Aizen, which was a big If--But once it was all said and done and I still draw breath- Maybe I will have the courage to ask Sajin what it is he feels he needs to hide.Surely, he is far too gentle to be half so monstrous as he claims.

“Kaname?”  Sajin prompted, and Kaname realized he’d been silent for nearly a minute. “S-sorry. I just. Captain Muguruma finally read my report on West 66 and ordered and immediate investigation, so I have to be at the Kido corps by three-” “Kaname.” “Ah, No don’t worry,  I’ll get dinner prepared so you only have to put it under the broiler, and There’s um-” “Kaname.” 

“-I’ll be back by Friday for Love and Lisa’s- Right- Here, I need you to-”  He sputtered, dozens of ideas baying for his attention at once, patting his chest for the ring box- “Kaname!” Sajin snapped, and his giant hands were on Kaname’s shoulders again, turning him around in place to face his friend, gloved hand suddenly under his chin, holding his face up for Sajin to glare at. “...When was the last time you slept?”

“I’m fine!” Kaname tried to jerk back, laughing defensively. 

“You’ve gone to bed after me and gotten up before me, if you went to bed at all for at least a week, and I’m doing maximum overtime. You don't have bags so much as matched luggage under your eyes and can’t finish a sentence coherently.  You’re not touching anything in the kitchen.” Sajin rattled off, giving Kaname’s chin a light shake. “...it’s not yet eleven, and the Kido Corps is less than ten minutes from here. I’ll see to your packing. Lie down. Please.”  

Kaname sighed, shoulders slumping. “Sajin, I- I need to-”

“You need. To sleep.” Sajin rumbled, no room in his voice for argument.

Kaname panted for a moment, realizing that if Sajin wasn’t holding him in place he’d be swaying with exhaustion. 

24 hours.

…I can spend one or two of them resting. 

If I don’t manage to prove my innocence, I’ll want to have at least this to think about on the gallows.

“...Stay with me until I fall asleep?” Kaname asked, voice soft. “It’s just. It’s been a lot.” “Of course.” Sajin hummed, rubbing his cheek. “I also need to, ah- use facilities, first.” he grimaced, and Sajin let him go. 

“I’m coming in after you if I think you’ve passed out on the floor.” Sajin threatened. 

“That happened ONE TIME-!” Kaname protested, following the wall to the bathroom.

Once inside, he checked the time again. 

If the meeting had stuck to schedule, they should be inside the 12th’s labs now.  

Kaname sent Aizen a test message to his Soul Pager. 

> Mandatory Status Report: Muguruma handed me a sudden assignment. Won’t be back until Friday.

If he was outside the Reiatsu-locked lab, that missive would have Aizen furiously calling him in under five minutes. He timed it, relieving himself and washing his hands as he waited-

Nothing.

“Here goes…” he muttered, hoping the sound of the bathroom fan and the running water would cover his voice. He focused, feeling the silver ring start to rotate in his mind, the way it multiplied and stretched, the rings dancing a circle on that which needed to be concealed-

“-Bankai.” He whispered, skin tingling- 

-And suddenly he was keenly aware of the hogyoku and it’s illusion box, as though he were holding it, both wholly contained and hidden by his Bankai.  

It is done The distraction is set. In a few hours, all will be revealed to the rest of the court guard. There. All I need  to do now was follow the assignment like I was told and investigate the- the-

-He suddenly he felt the Bankai’s draw on his power and he collapsed over the sink, retching and knees shaking with how weak he felt. The skin on the back of his neck prickled and almost tasted like vinegar in the back of his mind,  high-pitched ringing between his ears. 

The nails sizzled ominously but there was no power behind it- It’s alright- I can- I can deal with this. Just breathe, come on dumbass, you just need to keep breathing for another 24 hours.

“Kaname? Sajin called.

“Nothing broke!” Kaname called back, forcing himself to his feet and stumbling back against the wall.  He tested the Bankai again- It holds. Very convenient of you Suzumushi, that I only need to cast and feed it, rather than concentrate…

Suzumushi chriped distractedly, her focus on maintaining the Bankai. With her concentration, the illusion would hold even as he slept. Cold water on his face and neck, trying to make himself vaguely presentable and the room stop spinning as he stumbled out- oh, Sajin is right here, how thoughtful of him…

“It’s alright, just follow me…” Sajin soothed, guiding him along to the Thick Futon and large collection of pillows they used as a couch- nothing with legs would bear Sajin’s weight for long. He allowed Sajin to pull him down, settling beside Kaname until he was wedged between Sajin’s giant body and the collection of cushions, head on his friend’s chest, listening to his heartbeat- A little slower than mine, and steady- always so steady- so- 

Kaname was asleep before he completed the thought. 

---

Scene two: 23 hours later

“It’s just up this way Mister Shinigami!”  The boy said, his hot little hand pulling Kaname along. 

They’d gotten to West 66 and Kaname had realized he’d been wrong to worry about looking like he already knew the way to the Laboratory- Iruka Village had taken some fairly extreme defensive measures against the kidnappings since the last time he’d been forced out here- Barricades errected, bridges taken out, and even the road torn up and replanted to hide the route to the village. Kaname was entirely turned around before they even set foot in the Village and started asking the peasants if there was anything unusual nearby.

Fortunately for the expediency of the investigation, one Young Shuuhei Hisagi was extremely eager to help, giving them a detailed accounting of the strange activities at the old foundry, where someone had turned one of the kiln’s back on and there was “An ‘lectric” generator and it smelled a lot like someone was cooking rancid pork but he’d never seen anybody there, even when he went into the basement because he wasn’t ascared of it, weird that there’s a basement, nobody makes basements here as it’s a swamp-

Kaname felt his skin go cold when he realized the boy had somehow gotten inside and made notes and even poked some of the machinery, but given he hadn’t tried to actually chew Kaname’s arm off as he lead the Ninth Division Investigation team to the Lab, he was probably uncontaminated…

“There’s a hill an’ it’s on the other side- mind the branch.” Young Shuuhei was one of the great tragedies of the poor parts of the Rukongai- whip-smart and observant and thoughtful, but illiterate from the lack of teachers, and likely destined for an early grave if the statistical average lifespan out here held true.  His Reiryoku shimmered at the edges- with a little training and a better diet he might even make for a good Shinigami. 

Maybe if I live through this I can get him a scholarship.  Kaname mused, trying to think about literally anything but the nauseating familiarity of the smell creeping over the hill. 

“Mr. Hisagi?” he asked in the polite voice he’d cultivated as the Head Librarian to indicate to children he was taking them very seriously.

The Boy snapped to attention. “Sir?”

“Thank you for leading us here, but I absolutely cannot allow you any closer. It’s extremely dangerous here-”  he started to explain.

“I been in before! An’ the door’s trickylike you gotta pull the handle up and in and rattle it to get in and then prop somethin’ in the gap or it locks back behind you-”  Shuuhei explained, gesturing  like Kaname could see him demonstrating. 

“-And you were lucky to get out in one piece! I also need you to do a very important job.”  Kaname sighed, familiar with this kind of kid- slightly too bright and kind-hearted for his own good, but reliable at a task- “-I can hear that some of your friends have followed us from the village.  They’re about a quarter mile behind us-”

“Dangit Suichi-!” Shuuhei muttered under his breath. “-Yeah that’s probably my little brother and his friends. You want me to go chase him back home?”

“Precisely. Also, tell everyone to get indoors and stay put until they get an all-clear.  Just in case something goes wrong, I need everyone to stay safe until re-enforcements arrive.  So go get everyone back home and inside, alright?” “Yessir!” Shuuhei snapped a salute and Kaname heard some of the other Shinigami giggle behind him.

“I’m glad I can rely on you.” He nodded, and shooed Shuuhei down the road. The boy took off, hollering for his brother.

“I didn’t know you were so good with kids.” Laughed Sixth Seat Todo Izaemon. “Cute little thing too-”

“Being in charge of the West 51 Children’s Intensive Literacy School teaches you how to get along with them.”  He shrugged. “Alright, I can’t sense anything, but that doesn’t mean danger is not present.  Even numbered seats- go west and approach from the north. Odd numbers, we go east and approach from the south.”

“Sir!” Izaemon nodded, the next ranked officer. 

Kaname approached the building at a crouch, straining to hear- the brief nap Sajin had insisted on and six-pack of illicitly acquired 4th Division “Stamina Supplements” were doing what they could for him, but everything  hurt and Suzumushi’s Bankai was even more draining than he’d anticipated and he could barely sense more than a few feet around him. But he found the door- Shuuhei was right, the Handle was starting to go out of alignment- Up and in, right? Yeah- and when nothing behind it exploded, he cautiously stepped in. 

“Nobody ran out our side Sir!” Izaemon called and Kaname acknowledged him with a nod. 

“What the hell IS this place?” Seventh-seat Akishita asked, looking around the room.  This was the main floor of the laboratory, where the bulk of Aizen’s butchery was done- the whole place reeked of rotting flesh and sulfur- byproducts of the ‘Hollowfication Process’, and Kaname very nearly tripped on a groove gashed into the floor that hadn’t been there last time. 

“That looks like an office or control room up there-” Kaname said, pointing to the partial second story that took up the west third of the building that he REALLY hoped was still there. “-Akishita, with me. Lets see if there’s a schematic or something.”

“Sir!” She agreed. 

Oh good, it is still there. He thought, trying to not pant with pain- oh god, his eyes were burning and spine felt like it was actively dissolving he was so TIRED- He touched his watch, checking the time again. 

24 minutes.  Come on, just a little more-

He got to the door at the top of the stairs, Akishita behind him. 

“Are you alright Sir?”  She asked.

“What?” He jerked towards her. 

“You seem… really off today.”  She frowned. He could sense the shape of her this close, and the way her hand on the hilt of her Zanpaktou. Maybe just resting, maybe not. 

“I- I haven’t been sleeping well. Nightmares.” He gulped. That was actually entirely true.  Still the nails sizzled louder and he winced. “-I -I might need to put in for sick leave when we get back.”

“You really should.  You look awful.”  She nodded, hand off the hilt. 

Kaname nodded, and carefully opened the door into the control room. He felt Akishita turn, making sure nothing unexpected followed them as he stepped in- no traps, but a strange sort of coldness- not a draft, like a there was a block of ice in here-

The door slammed shut behind him. 

“Heya Goggles!” a boy’s voice drawled behind him. 

-Or a snake. 

Kaname froze, skin going cold as Akishita called for him from the other side of the door.

“Gin?” He asked, trying to keep his voice even.

“She’s right, you look like shit!” the boy laughed, activating a Kido seal that barricaded them in the room.  “-Boss sent me to talk to you because the CRAZIEST thing happened at the Captain’s meeting this morning!”

“-Please tell me Urahara’s latest crime against nature maimed him?  I could use some good news.”  Kaname groaned, complaining like usual, like nothing was wrong. There was more shouting from the main floor. He braced himself, feet under his shoulders, feeling Gin’s aura twist as he decided on an angle to strike from.

“Oh nah, Aizen-sama is wrapping things up and planting evidence over at the 12th right now, that’s why I’m here!” Gin laughed. “No, Your Boss Muguruma stopped everyone before Urahara’s demonstration to tell everyone about this report you submitted sayin’ several hundred people had vanished in West 66!  The other haoris were all horrified, I tell ya- Captain Hirako just about shit bricks!  Hollerin’ Aizen-sama’s ear off about it the whole way back to the fifth!”

Kaname gripped Suzumushi’s hilt.

“Oh now don’t be unfriendly!  I even got somethin’ for ya!” Gin laughed, and tossed something his way. Knowing better than to catch anything he threw, Kaname waited for it to hit the floor-

PING!

-Stomach turning over as he recognized the metallic chime of Suzumishi’s ring. 

“Neat trick by the way- Aizen must have spent ten hours turning over the fifth looking for the Hogyoku!!” Gin laughed. “-He didn’t actually find it neither, if it’s any consolation. But he has me, and I got…Abilities.” The boy leered as Kaname Swiped the ring from the ground- Suzumushi had been strangely quiet, and only now did he realize that at some point the sensory illusion of his Bankai had been reversed. Louder yelling from the main floor and the sound of Akishita preparing a Hakudo Kido to blow the door in on the other side. 

“-Shit.”  Kaname growled, reconnecting the ring to the hilt, Suzumushi whimpering in pain. 

“Madder than a mosquito in a mannequin factory he is!” Gin chuckled, then surged forward. Even on a good day, Gin was nearly impossible to block and tonight-

“-Sorry goggles, but I got orders. Rikujokoru!” he hissed fingertips on kaname's sternum, and Kanane was slammed to the ground, six beams of Kido energy hitting his middle, paralyzing him completely. “Aizen-sama says if you can get outta this and get home you can live, but if I’m honest, I don’t really like your odds-” Gin explained, walking over to the control panel and flicking it on, the machines whirring to life and something rumbling beneath them. 

…Basement. Kaname realized. The boy said there was a basement- there wasn’t one last time?

There was a loud hissing as vents opened and gas streamed out of the floor into the main room, the sickening scent of rotting fruit comingled with melting plastic- The Hollowfication Compound? It’s a gas now!?

The shouting turned to screaming.

Oh God.

The screaming turned to roaring. 

Oh god, no. Please-

“- 'Specially not now.” Gin leered, patting him on the shoulder as he turned to leave. “Bye-Bye!  See you tomorrow-! …Maybe.”

Kaname could hear Gin leaving out the small fire window up at the roofline and he struggled, concentrating his reiatsu in his mouth to speak the counterspell- “-Horses of wind and gale, river of thread- 

-Akishita screamed in the hall, and there was the terrible wet sound of tearing flesh and breaking bones-

“- By Shadow and storm, unbind me!” He hissed, and the spell dissipated with the loud sound of shattering glass. Kaname scrambled to his feet, standing up in time to feel the gaze of ten newly-turned hollows fall upon him. His watch pulsed against his wrist, the timer for 24 hours Going off. 

“Well. I did say it would be over one way or another, didn’t I?” He grimaced, drawing Suzumushi as his former colleagues charged the plate glass that separated them. 

---

Part two approximately whenever I finish it :)

[miasmaghoul]

*ahem* edelweisss, edelweisss . . .

Swiss leans in the doorway to the common room, arms crossed over his chest, tail idly swishing behind him. He's been here for a few minutes now, left his book dog-eared on his bed with the intent of grabbing a snack. He'd found the kitchen occupied, though, and the smile he wears is exclusively thanks to the sight before him.

The kitchen is a mess; the small island is occupied by an ancient stand mixer and a few dirty bowls, while the counter lies covered in open containers, half-empty ingredient bags and not-small pile of used measuring spoons. The scent of sugar, citrus and something floral hangs heavy in the air, and Swiss can feel the heat of the oven from across the room.

At the center of the mess, though, lies what holds Swiss' attention.

Mountain's humming, swaying in front of the stove along with the album playing on the common room turntable. Something jazzy Swiss recognizes but can't name off the top of his head. Whatever it is, Mountain is clearly lost in it while he rather vigorously stirs something Swiss can't see. What he can see is the smattering of floury handprints covering Mountain's jeans, and the streak of something pale yellow that's somehow ended up in his hair. Swiss can only imagine how much worse Mountain's front must be, but there's one more detail that keeps him from wondering too hard.

The few delicate white flowers that have made their home at the base of Mountian's antlers have Swiss' eyes crinkling. He'd know those pale petals anywhere.

Swiss pushes off the doorframe and drags his feet just loud enough to announce himself. Sneaking up on Mountain in the kitchen doesn't usually end well. He sees the other ghoul's ear flick, sees him pause in stirring, and Swiss feels safe to speak.

"Thinkin' about me, grasshopper?"

Mountain peers at his over his shoulder, raises an eyebrow. Swiss gestures at his head as he strolls into he room, and Mountain rolls his eyes as though he can see his own antlers. He makes a chuffing sound and resumes his mixing, but Swiss doesn't miss his little smirk.

"Might be," he replies with a half shrug. "It's happened once or twice, against my better judgement."

Swiss laughs as he hops up onto one of the bar stools at the island, one leg tucked up under himself. He rests his elbow on one of the few clean spots by the mixer - the remnants of whatever Mountain has in his hair sits in the bowl closest to him, so Swiss picks it up and gives it a sniff.

"What's on the menu today, peaches?" Swiss swipes a fingers through a blob on the side of the bowl. Gives it a cursory sniff.

"A lemon and lavender cake," Mountain supplies, just in time for Swiss to pop his finger into his mouth and find out for himself.

The batter is delicious, sweet and tart and wonderfully smooth. Delightful on all counts. Swiss isn't surprised; Mountain is as good a cook as he is a messy one, and judging by the splotch of egg yolk Swiss can see on the ceiling this has been particularly inspired session.

"Fancy," he says, gathering another bit of batter. "If you need someone to taste when it's baked, my mouth ain't busy."

Mountain snorts, and together they say,

"For now."

Swiss playfully tosses a dirty tea towel at his back, and Mountain catches it without even looking. Tucks one corner into his pocket while his tail meanders towards the fridge.

"Already baked," he says, nodding towards the appliance while his tail tugs it open. The middle shelf holds three identical rounds of cake, the loveliest shade of yellow speckled with what must be flecks of lavender. "You'll have to wait for the finished product, I already trimmed them down. For quality control. You know how it is."

Swiss nods sagely. He slides from his stool and wanders over to the stove, humming when Mountain's tail sways up to greet him, the tufted end caressing his jaw. Swiss leans against the counter, and now he can see what Mountain is working on.

"What's, uh," he waves at the odd arrangement on the stove - a pan beneath what appears to be the stand mixer's bowl, which must contain whatever Mountain is tirelessly stirring. "What's this all for, then?"

"Frosting," Mountain tells him, lifting what turns out to be a whisk. "Eventually."

Something thick and gooey drips from the whisk and immediately gives Swiss several indecent thoughts.

"Don't say it looks like cum," Mountain says before Swiss can so much as open his mouth.

"Wasn't gonna," Swiss lies, tongue poking out between his fangs. Mountain gives him a look. "I wasn't!" Swiss insists, pushing away from the counter. He slips behind Mountain instead, wraps his arms around the taller ghoul's waist. Swiss kisses the back of his shoulder. "But I was gonna ask if that was why you were thinkin' about me."

Mountain barks out a laugh.

"Gross," he complains, but his tail wraps around Swiss' calf all the same. "But you're actually half right." Swiss makes a questioning sound, and Mountain points a thumb behind them. "Look at the recipe."

Swiss will, eventually. He indulges in holding Mountain first, just for a moment. Presses his nose to his sweat-damp shirt and breathes in the the homey scent of warm earth and something herbal. It blends beautifully with the lemon and sugar surrounding them, makes him feel a little fuzzy around the edges. He gives Mountain a squeeze, and stands on his toes to kiss the back of his neck before he lets go; another soft, white blossom pops up behind Mountain's ear.

Mountain picks up humming again while Swiss hunts for the recipe he mentioned. He piles dishes as he searches, stacks bowls and gathers measuring spoons. He finds it after a minute, an index card stained with vanilla and sticky with egg.

"A-ha," he holds up the card triumphantly, a light dusting of flour raining down from it. "Let's see what got you growing me."

Swiss wipes the card on his pants, and recognizes its looping, cursive script as Cumulus' handwriting. Lemon lavender layer cake with -

"No fuckin' way," Swiss says through a laugh. He looks up to find Mountain watching him with a glimmer in his eye. "That's all it took?"

"Yep," Mountain sighs, turning back to the task at hand. "That's all."

Swiss stares at the back of his head for a beat, and then the goofiest smile cracks his face. He tosses the card to the counter and returns to his place at Mountain's back, wrapping him up just a little tighter this time.

"Lucifer, you're a sap," he teases, but they both know it's true. Swiss reaches up and plucks one of the flowers decorating Mountain's antlers, spins it between two fingers. "Not that I'm complaining about bein' on your mind."

"Neither am I, edelweiss," Mountain rumbles. He briefly abandons his dutiful whisking to turn and knock their horns together. "Neither am I."

Mountain ducks down just enough for Swiss to catch him is a leisurely kiss, one that tastes like summery sunshine, and then he's gone again. Leaves Swiss grinning dumbly at the back of his head while warmth trickles into his belly. He settles against the taller ghoul's back, and in no time at all the pair of them start to sway to the music as one.

"So," Swiss murmurs into his shirt after a long moment, "what's a Swiss meringue buttercream, anyway?"

[pareidoliaonthemove]

Where's Mine?

It was a blessed break in rescues, and Virgil was taking the opportunity to restock his personal snack stashes.

The most important ones would be in Thunderbird Two – both in the cockpit and cunningly secured in the various pod bodies. Rescues could be both arduous and time-consuming, and there was rarely the chance for a proper meal. Their ‘official’ ration bars and packs were all well and good, but each of the Tracys had their own preferences.

Scott’s personal snack stashes were aboard Thunderbird One (and Thunderbird Two, Virgil had found them – and occasionally ‘appropriated’ part as a ‘transport tax’). And were, unsurprisingly, apple-pie themed. Apple-pie flavoured protein bars, apple-pie flavoured cakes, apple-pie flavoured chewing gum, apple-pie flavoured fruit/custards, and one time, even mini-apple-pies in a cold box.

Gordon’s snacks were his ubiquitous Celery Crunch Bars, a left-over from his calorie-controlled Olympic training diet. The noxious green bars (as well as their wrappers and crumbs) occupied Thunderbird Four – and Thunderbird Two. Gordon didn’t bother trying to hide his snack stash – nobody else would eat the disgusting things. And that went double for his ‘cheese’ spray cans.

John’s ‘stash’ was no secret. Thunderbird Five’s kitchen pantry was filled to bursting with bagels – and chocolate. Grandma had long despaired of the astronaut’s diet, and had threatened – numerous times – to blockade John’s supply line and only allow whole fruits and vegetables into orbit. John’s vowed retribution of stopping production of her precious soap operas quickly shut down any attempts to interfere with his diet.

Alan’s snacks were a diabetic crisis waiting to happen. High energy, high sugar snacks graced Thunderbird Three (and Thunderbird Two – Virgil was beginning to think his precious ‘Bird was considered as little more than a mobile snack shack), a rotating roster of brands as Brandon ‘The Bear’ Berringer lost and gained new sponsors. The only exception was the venerable ‘Spaceman Food’, based on NASAs food rations in the early days of manned space exploration.

All the brothers had gone through a phase of hoovering up the highly processed ‘snacks’. Virgil had a memory of insisting that his father eat them constantly – thinking that they were what he ate in space, and not wanting his father to be ‘unhappy’ on Earth. Jeff, whose orbital diet was much better than those early pioneers’, choked down the bars to humour his son. Lucy had finally taken pity on her husband, and convinced Virgil’s younger self that when he was in space his father missed ‘Earth food’, but couldn’t take it into space, so when at home he should be left to eat the same as the rest of the family.

Virgil’s own snacks tended to be more varied. Although there was a definite trend towards coffee-flavours, it wasn’t exclusive. At various times, there could be pre-packaged cakes and cookies, protein bars, dried fruits, chocolates, and various sweets. An outbreak of pilfering from Virgil’s stash had been combated by the inclusion of chocolate-covered grasshoppers, candied ants, and meal-worms with various chip flavours. All of which hadn’t been too bad, Virgil thought. His brothers’ disgust was misplaced, food was food, after all. And good food was good.

And Virgil liked trying new things, so he scoured the online market places for small businesses with interesting, shelf-stable snacks to compliment his tried and true favourites. As he sat on his bedroom floor with the various boxes and containers around him, he was pleased with the assortment this time.

He was sharing out the various incoming supplies to boxes to replenish his various snack stashes. Thunderbird Two – the Pods – his Workshop in the Hangars – Studio – and his ‘Official’ stash in the Villa’s pantry.

The klaxon blared, and John’s hologram popped up. “International Rescue, we have a situation.”

Virgil jumped up, grabbed a box at random, and hurried out of the room.

The situation was in Cairo, a massive sinkhole had opened up beneath four residential blocks of flimsy high-rise buildings at approximately breakfast time. The death toll was massive even before International Rescue had been contacted. All that was left to them was to stabilise the edges to prevent it enlarging beyond the six blocks it had consumed by the time International Rescue had taken control of the Danger Zone, before trying to extract the pathetic few lifesigns before they too blinked from existence.

The heat was intense. It was now noon in the middle of the northern hemisphere’s summer, and the temperature had surpassed the 35 degree Celsius mark hours ago.

The air conditioning in the Pods were good, but it had its limits, and Virgil’s gecko pod had reached it over an hour ago. He was hot, tired, hungry, and still had hours of work to be done.

A moment of realisation had him reaching for a compartment built into the side of the pod body, where he had stashed a handful of the snacks he had brought with him.

Without looking he had fished one out, and brought up into his eyeline. It was a freeze dried ice-cream, a ‘Paddle-Pop’ which was apparently an ‘iconic’ Australian treat.

Virgil had had no idea what flavour ‘rainbow’ was supposed to be, but the concept had been intriguing, and he eagerly tore open the packet now, and, considering, decided to start at the top, sticking part of the treat into his mouth.

It was, he decided, a kind of bubblegum flavour, and the sweetness was welcome, even if he wasn’t convinced by the texture. It had a kind of chewy, gluggy marshmallow feel to it, and Virgil quickly decided that he would let it slowly dissolve in his mouth.

He wondered idly if he could break the remainder into bite-sized pieces for future use, as he refocused on what he was doing.

John’s hologram flared into life in front of him. “Virgil–” John performed a comic double-take as he saw the ice cream in Virgil’s mouth. “Uh, do you have an estimate for when we can commence retrieval operation?”

Virgil eyed his readouts, and performed a couple of quick mental calculations. “Another half to three quarter hour,” he said, pulling his snack from his mouth by its stick. “Alan will be able to start pulling large rubble out of the way with Thunderbird Two, Gordon and Scott can reconfigure the pods for gecko lift, and I’ll go in with my exo-suit. Local rescue to standby and receive victims and remains. We’ve just got to finish coating the bottom of the south-west sector.”

John nodded. “I’ll relay those instructions,” he promised, before giving Virgil another questioning look as the snack was stuffed back into his mouth.

Virgil was going to need a lot of energy, and fast.

An undetected weakness in a the section of the sinkhole that still had to be stabilised blew out Virgil’s projected timeline, and it was over an hour later before he climbed out of his pod in the relative coolness of Thunderbird Two’s module alongside Scott.

“Hey, Virgil! What config for the gecko lifts do you …” Scott’s voice trailed off at the sight of the ‘ice cream’ in Virgil's mouth, before deciding there were more important things to focus on. “Uh. Um. Should I set them up for claw or grapple?”

Once again, Virgil pulled the confectionery out of his mouth by the stick. “One of both to start with. If necessary, the other pod can be reconfigured, but until we start picking that mess apart, we won’t know for certain what we need.”

Scott nodded, and jogged over to the holographic controls, but not without giving Virgil a puzzled look as he shoved his treat a back into his mouth and headed towards his exo-suit.

The exo-suit was wrapped around him, locking into position, and he rolled his shoulders, stretching out before he started the physically intensive part of the rescue.

Jogging back towards the internal access, Virgil headed back to the cockpit, grunting in frustration when he couldn’t sit down wearing the exo-suit. He was going to be on his feet too long soon enough, and he would have liked to save whatever energy he could now.

Alan burst into the cockpit and beelined towards the pilots chair without acknowledging Virgil. Great. The kid was in a snit about being ‘left out’ again – Virgil sighed tiredly, Alan really should have learned by now that it wasn’t his age that had put him in the cockpit, it was his lack of specialisation in this type of rescue.

Alan triggered the comms even as he was adjusting the pilots seat. “Thunderbird 2 to Pods. Please update status.”

Scott’s voice came back immediately. “Thunderbird 2; Gecko Claw Pod. Clear.”

“Thunderbird 2; Gecko Grapple Pod. Clear.” Gordon chirped a handful of seconds later.

“FAB, Pods. Thunderbird 2 commencing lift off to take hover station above Danger Zone.”

Virgil was pleased to note Alan’s professional conduct over the comms. Maybe he had been wrong about the attitude? Maybe Alan was just tired.

“Thunderbird 2 in position. Standing by for extraction and to grab and lift designated targets.”

Alan cut the open comm line, before speaking again. “Alright, Virgil; where am I,” he glanced over his shoulder and started. The jolt went right down his arms and into Thunderbird 2’s control yoke, and she bucked enough that Virgil had to grab hold of the overhead grab bar to steady himself. “Shit, sorry. Um. Where am I dropping you off, Virgil?”

“Language,” Virgil said absently, once he had pulled his snack out of his mouth again. He glanced again at the holographic display of the top levels of the debris pile. “Right next to that two story chunk of apartment building in the centre. That’s my first priority location for search and rescue. That looks like it’ll have a high concentration of survivors.” He frowned. “I know solar power is better than any of the alternatives, but in a situation like this, it really messes with our close range sensors. I wish there was a way to remotely stop the battery discharge.”

Alan nodded. “Be careful. I don’t want to be digging you out again because your exo-suit shorted out with you in it.”

Virgil frowned. “Brains and I reworked the entire grounding system after that. It was a one in a billion chance.”

The little brother snorted. “Yeah, well, Scott had to make a supply run to the mainland for hair dye after that. I don’t wanna have to do the same.”

Virgil chuckled. “No chance, kiddo. You have to shave before you worry about that.”

He took two big bites of his treat, tucking the chunks into his cheeks hamster style before returning the snack to its package in his baldric, and setting his helmet in place and striding over to the floor hatch and locking his grasping claw onto the winch-fed safety line.

Alan double-checked their position. “Good to deploy, Exo-Suit.”

“FAB. Exo-Suit away.”

It was five, long, hot and dusty hours later when John finally called the rescue.

They hadn’t found anyone alive for the last three.

Virgil sighed as he hauled himself into Thunderbird Two’s pod to divest himself from the exo-suit.

No doubt there would be the usual recriminations. Why had they taken so long? Why had the spent the time shoring up the sides? Grieving families rarely understood that first the site had to be made safe for the rescuers. All they saw was people letting their loved ones die.

All they would see was the people who were supposed to save their loved ones flying away and leaving them.

Not all the missing had been accounted for.

Scott was going to have to pay PR another bonus after this one.

Virgil groaned as the weight of the exo-suit disappeared from around him, along with its support. It wouldn’t be the first time he hadn’t been able to stand upright once the framework had been removed from around him. He had learned quickly to leave his helmet on until after he knew he could stand upright.

It had taken a considerable bribe to buy John’s silence as to the exact cause of that broken nose.

Satisfied that he would remain upright, he removed his helmet, and took a deep breath. No matter how much Brains protested, the built-in filters gave the air a distinct taste, and it was a relief to breathe the fresh air of the module.

His stomach gave a growl as he stepped into the internal corridors leading to the cockpit. Virgil idly wondered if he could convince Scott to pick up some takeaway on his way back to the Island as he once again pulled the freeze-dried ice cream from his baldric and stuck it back in his mouth.

John was on the comms as he gained the cockpit. “...giving you a heads-up, Alan. Scott’s already told me to remote pilot Thunderbird One home. Given the duration and environmental conditions of this one, he doesn’t want to risk anyone flying alone. You’ll be taking shifts at the controls all the way back to Tracy Island.”

Alan snorted. “Yeah right. Scott and Virgil will have a hissy fight, Virgil will win ‘cause it’s his ‘Bird, Scott’ll sulk in the co-pilots seat, while Gordon and I are sent back to the bunks to ‘rest’, despite having done the least amount of physical work. Meanwhile, you’ll secretly have remote control and will be flying us home anyway.”

John smiled. “Maybe.”

Virgil flopped into one of the jumpsuits, shucking off his baldric and harness before pulling coverall uniform off his torso and tying the arms around his waist. “Nope,” he mumbled around the confectionery. “The Thunderbird Pilot you’re calling is not available. Please call again when he is conscious.”

Alan and John stared at him. “You okay, Virgil?” Alan asked, standing up to try feel Virgil’s forehead.

He batted the hand away. “Fine, Alan. Nothing that a good shower, a good meal, and a good sleep won’t fix. A good massage would be nice, too. Remember that place in Japan, Johnny?”

“I remember. The masseuse literally walked all over your back for an hour. I don’t know how you stand it. And don’t call me Johnny.” There was a question in John’s face as he considered Virgil. “Say, Vir–”

He was cut off as Scott stumbled into the cockpit to collapse groaning into a chair, followed by an altogether too energetic and bouncy Gordon who slammed, performing a comedic double-take when he noticed Virgil.

“What the seven seas, Big Guy? You have ice-cream and you’re not sharing? Dude, where’s mine? I thought these guys were kidding me! Where’d you even get ice-cream from, anyway?!”

Virgil closed his eyes as his three other brothers joined in on the chorus of questions and recriminations.

Maybe keep the freeze-dried ice creams for his studio in future.

Notes:

This one’s been sitting in my WIP pile for the last six months.

A co-worker had brought a freeze-dry set up and set up a little side-hustle selling freeze-dried snacks. I brought a packet of paddle-pops and amused myself at various loading sites, waiting a couple of hours and pulling out a freeze-dried icecream and sucking on it for the next four hours. In 40deg Celsius heat.

It’s the little things that make life worth living.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the TOS or CGI Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[fizzingwizard]

Hi hi, I arrive with a little ficlet for prompt blueberry. Pretty PG stuff with a sweet indulgent dose of Snufmin :)

--- Blueberry Summer

"I want to go blueberry-picking," Snorkmaiden announced, sitting up.

"So go," Moomintroll replied lazily from where he lounged beside her.

"Aren't you coming with me?"

"No." He had no plans of moving. The summer breeze was warm on his back, and he'd molded the soft, pliant grass into a perfect Moomin-shaped nest. He didn't feel like stooping among the bushes in the heat, getting his paws stained purple with blueberry juice. He closed his eyes, fully intending to doze off until the dinner bell.

For a few minutes there was no noise but the bird song. Still, he sensed Snorkmaiden waffling. She wanted the berries, but she didn't want to go alone. Typical Snorkmaiden.

Most days he would give in and join her. But… not today. Just now, he really wanted to prolong the peace and quiet. She could do this one thing without him, just this once.

"I heard Snufkin was thinking of picking blueberries this afternoon," she said after a while, sotto voce.

In spite of himself, his ear flicked.

"So you are awake." She sounded smug. Cheeks burning, Moomintroll slowly, slowly uncurled from his oh-so-comfortable position. He stretched his arms with a huge yawn.

"Well," he sighed, "if you insist on it. I guess I'll come with you."

—

They did find Snufkin in the blueberry patch. And not just him - Sniff, Little My, Snork, and Moominpappa and Mamma were there as well. There was no need to pick the blueberries either, as they had already filled several baskets to the brim.

Clearly this was some pre-arranged gathering of sorts, but the truth didn't hit Moomintroll until Moominmamma lifted the cloche off a frosted three-layer cake.

"Oh, it is my birthday," he exclaimed.

"Did you forget?" Snufkin asked in amusement.

"No!  But since no one said anything, I figured there was a surprise waiting at home. I never expected the surprise would be in the blueberries."

"There was a reason behind it," Snorkmaiden explained, scooping up a handful of berries and placing them artistically on the top tier of the cake. "Your birthday cake is lemon-blueberry, so we thought why not some fresh blueberries to go with it?"

"Also Moominmamma is going to make jam later," Sniff added.

Moomintroll accepted a glass of raspberry juice from his mother as the others fussed over the cake. The picnic blanket was strewn with daisies. The wireless played cheerful music at a low volume. There were plates of sandwiches and salad, and his friends had set lanterns all around, predicting that the party would extend, as Moomin family parties were wont to do, long into the night.

"Snufkin, don't you have a blueberry-picking tune?" asked Little My.

"Hmm? No…"

"Why not? You have a tune for everything else."

"You should ask him to make a tune for Moomintroll," said Snorkmaiden. "After all, it's his birthday."

Looking for an excuse to hide the mounting color in his cheeks, Moomintroll dipped his head to take a big bite of sandwich. To his surprise, Snufkin seemed equally off-balance, stammering through a weak reply about not being good at composing on the spot. (Which was rubbish - Snufkin could compose melodies in his sleep to make Apollo jealous. Not that Moomintroll was any expert in judging music… or could sing or play himself… anyway, everything Snufkin played sounded wonderful, at least to him, and that must mean something.)

"I do have an idea for a blueberry-picking song," Snufkin went on in a hurry, shaking loose pebbles and leaves from his pocket as he drew out his mouth-organ. He played a quick scale to warm up before launching into a merry, staccato tune, which reminded Moomintroll of grasshoppers jumping in tall grass.

Although they'd picked enough blueberries to last all winter, Moomintroll, Sniff, Snorkmaiden, and Little My ran laughing into the bushes, impelled by the song. Snufkin trailed after them languidly.

There were no more empty baskets, so they competed to see who could carry the most in their paws (or, in the case of Little My, who refused to be left at a disadvantage due to her smaller-than-average paws, in their frock). The bushes still teemed with berries even after the earlier harvest. He picked and picked, cradling the berries in the crook of his arm when he could no longer hold them in a single paw.

Sure he was bound to win, he glanced up, only to spot Sniff tossing blueberries into his mouth.

"Sniff! You won't have a chance to win if you do that."

"What do I care about winning when there isn't even a trophy or a bag of gold? This is tastier."

"I concur," Little My said, and bit into a ripe blueberry still on the bush.

Moomintroll turned to Snorkmaiden in appeal. But he stopped short on seeing the tell-tale spots of purple dotting the edge of her mouth. She blushed and covered her face. "Well, they just taste so good!" she giggled.

"Sniff's right." Snufkin sauntered over. He nudged Moomintroll with his elbow. "Besides, instead of picking berries, you can have a blueberry-eating contest."

Little My's lip curled in a smirk. "In that case, you lot might as well forfeit here and now. No matter how much you eat, none of you will ever outdo me when I swallow this."

And she produced the biggest blueberry any of them had ever seen. It was easily twice the size of the largest they had gathered, and bluer than a cornflower.

"A mutant blueberry!" Sniff let out an awed gasp.

"Gosh, can you even eat that? It'll get stuck," added Snorkmaiden.

"Cut it in half like a cherry tomato," Sniff suggested.

"No way." Little My's bun jiggled furiously as she shook her head. "I'm eating this baby whole in one gulp."

"That's not a good idea, Little My…" Moomintroll said, but he knew trying to warn her off the idea was useless. Little My always did exactly what she wanted.

Sure enough - "Watch me," Little My said flippantly, and popped the blueberry into her mouth.

She didn't chew. They all waited with bated breath, but Little My had gone still as a statue, unmoving except for a twitch in her brow.

"She's choking!" wailed Sniff.

"How can you tell? She looks the same as always," Moomintroll said. But as he looked closer at her face, he thought her skin did have a strange blue tinge. Her eyes rolled back and her paws rose to her throat.

Sniff squeaked, jumping up and sending blueberries flying. "Now she's drooling! She's going to die! Who knows the Heimlich?"

"What's the Heimlich?" Snufkin asked. "Just give her a good smack, here -"

He pulled Little My in front of him, drew back his arm, and gave her a few sharp slaps between her shoulder blades. She made a gurgling noise, but nothing more happened.

"Let me try," Moomintroll said, switching places with Snufkin. As the heel of his paw came down on her back, she jerked forward and the blueberry shot out of her mouth like a marble.

Snufkin gave an approving nod. "Good work."

"You enjoyed that," Little My glared at him, her voice hoarse but strong as ever.

"Hitting you? Of course not," Moomintroll protested.

"I was hoping I'd get a turn…" Snorkmaiden looked away wistfully.

"Me too," said Sniff.

"You're a bunch of violent louts. But I don't care. I won at least."

There was a sudden uproar.

"You didn't win!" Moomintroll cried. "You didn't swallow one blueberry! We had to Heimlich it out of you!"

"Well, are you going to try to swallow it?" she demanded.

They looked down at the mammoth blueberry lying on the grass, soggy and deflated.

They looked at each other.

"... Like I said, there isn't even a bag of gold to win," Sniff replied with a shrug. "I'm going to see if Moominmamma's cut the cake yet."

"I'll pass too." Gathering as many unbruised berries off the ground as she could, Snorkmaiden followed Sniff to the picnic blanket. "We've already picked more than enough blueberries. Some bird or squirrel will be very grateful we left the biggest one for them."

Everyone knew what Snufkin's answer would be. That left Moomintroll to bear the brunt of Little My's dagger eyes all alone.

"Alright, alright!" he groaned. "You win, by virtue of being the stupidest of us all! Even though it's my birthday and if anyone should win for no good reason, it should be me."

She grinned, satisfied. As she strode away, Moomintroll took some small comfort in the conspicuous dark stain down the front of her dress. That would take some work to wash out, and Mamma would make her do it herself too.

He must have seemed rather forlorn, because after a minute Snufkin wandered over and slipped an arm around him.

"Purple's not really her color, is it," he offered.

Moomintroll shook his head. "No, it isn't."

"I prefer normal, non-mutant blueberries anyhow. But not the teeny tiny ones. They tend to be extra sour."

"Exta extra sour."

Snufkin gave Moomintroll's shoulder a sympathetic pat. "Race you up the hill?"

It bothered him a little, to be coddled by Snufkin. He expected it from Snorkmaiden. But he wished Snufkin would see him brave and decisive and grown up - someone to respect, not pet. His tail stiffened. "I don't know…"

"Oh, I guess your legs are rather short for sprinting."

"What!" Moomintroll cried, but Snufkin had already taken off. He was laughing so hard it was a wonder he could still manage to run. The wind blew his hat off his head and right into Moomintroll's snout.

"I'm winning, Moomintroll!"

Moomintroll absolutely did not yell out what the others later claimed they heard him yell at that moment. Snatching up the hat, he dashed after the old green trickster, who was only less of an annoyance than Little My because he was worlds lazier, and one day Moomintroll was going to smack him for it.

Yes, smack him. And afterward maybe Snufkin would let him kiss it better.

�� It was his birthday, after all. "One day" might as well be "today."

Later, Little My would swear she had never seen a Moomin move so fast, or a Snufkin go from unflappable calm to abject terror with such alacrity. It was a good thing there were so many blueberry bushes around to conceal them once Moomintroll got a fistful of Snufkin's smock. It was less of a good thing that they'd eventually have to return, exhibiting the proof of their little misadventure in the stylish form of numerous purple polka dots.

But after that neither of them could ever manage to eat blueberries without breaking out in laughter. Little My drew a picture to commemorate her enormous blueberry find that Sniff claimed was greatly exaggerated. And "the blueberry summer" became a point of reference for the Moomins whenever they wanted to think on a time when they had been particularly happy and particularly content.

[monst]

Craving late summer vibes but specifically the ones found at a local fair. Playing rigged games as the sunsets. Competitively shooting the water gun spray into the clowns mouth to one up your date. Maybe pushing their gun down, and then you both end up losing because you're too busy laughing trying to sabotage each other.

Shrieking along with the rest of the people on the hastily built rides and gulping down soda after like it's going to vanish. Trying all the deep fried sweets knowing your stomach is probably going to revolt afterwards but the snow cone that follows is doing wonders to cool you from the still humid air.

And at the mini arcade your tickets are clenched in your fingers as you count them but only having enough to exchange them for cheap spider rings. Crashing into your date with your bumper car, your hair a mess when you go take photos at the booth after. And since summer is ending there's a slight breeze as night stretches across the sky.

It's on your way up that your date hands you their jacket, fingers interlocking as you watch the crowds, the tents and rides grow smaller. It's also at the top of the Ferris wheel where you taste all the sweets you both ingested. Kiss just as sweet as the caramel dipping sauce your funnel cake swam in earlier.

Bodies curved into each other as you were brought back down, practically one person while walking off in each other's arms. Sharing an order of fried Oreos and water, the background chatter and grasshoppers chirping follow you on the way to the car. Van Halen on the radio, while fireflies dot your vision as you drive back home with the windows down and your hand in theirs.

[zenmasterlover]

Sad we never got to know what Hyde calls Jackie😔 here are some nicknames I think Jackie might’ve said if Hyde didn’t shove that cake in her mouth: his doll/ dollface, his grasshopper/ young grasshopper, angel eyes (yes, based on that ABBA song because here eyes are 2 different colors and so gorgeous), Jackaroo (like kangaroo)

[sairitaikutsu]

FINALLY WATCHED MK 2021

So a few things

I did not cry. Im sry but it was prolly the pacing of the movie cuz it was a little too fast, or because my brother’s asleep and it’s 2am and i’m not supposed to be loud, but i did not cry (uuu internally i did but im sad that i didnt cry). However i did feel hyped especially at the ending :D

LIU KANG RAGGHHH HE’S SO FUCKEN BABEY. I LOVE HIM. I WANNA RUFFLE HIS HAIR AND SQUEEZ HIS CHEEKS URHRHHRHGGG. HE DESERVES ALL THE HUGS IN THE WORLD‼️‼️

The shaolin boiss!! Love them. Kung Lao really said “skill issue” 😭😭 i’m just gonna casually steal that. Liu joining in was the icing on the cake

there’s a next movie coming if i remember correctly? Anyway, i’m looking forward to that as well ueueueu

Love how Kano’s portrayed here. His banter with the others was funny for a while but as the movie progressed, I got a little too immersed and the second hand embarrassment kicked in 😭

I love the idea that Cole’s just standing there while Hanzo’s talking to him in Japanese like “yeah i totally got that (did not understand a single word he said).” It doesn’t really mention that he can understand it soo yep

I FINALLY GET WHAT ONE OF THE REBLOGS ON THE GRASSHOPPER POST WHEN THEY SAID SOMETHING LIKE “(in tears remembering mk21)” THE FUCKING HEADBAND RAHH

Can Kung Lao be brought back as a revenant, pls? I’m under the impression that Bi-han will come back as Noob Saibot, so if that can happen but Revenant Kung Lao can’t, I’m gone

Overall, a solid 9/10 for me. Minus 1 because of the pacing. Again, I’m looking forward to the next :0

Shoutout to @natyoboi for watching with me lmao

[thisbelongsto-nohbodys]

Sasha: *On the couch watching Marcy play a video game* Hey Marcy, you remember our wedding?

Marcy: *Point to wedding photos on the walls* can’t really forget it Sasha, why do you ask?

Sasha: The wedding was so beautiful, even the cake was in tiers.

Marcy: *Dies in game and then looks to Sasha* I got one for you.

Sasha: *Excited* Oooh do tell.

Marcy: What does a baby computer call his father?

Sasha: What?

Marcy: Data.

Sasha: *Smiles* I got a better one, If you see a crime at an Apple store, are you an iWitness?

*Anne Comes home to see Sasha and Marcy having a pun battle*

Sasha: I tell dad jokes but I have no kids. I’m a fauox pa.

Marcy: ….. dang it how can you come up with these jokes so fast?

Sasha: Years of training young grasshopper.

Anne: Are you two done? I was hoping to get some cuddles in before dinner.

By training she means trying to find the right opening line/joke to attempt to ask Anne out back in high school. Sasha has enough bad jokes in stock she could write several books

[guooey]

- deep self-discovery is one of the most fulfilling things in life - so is self-creation - make as many things as possible by hand - learn the names of the trees around you—the birds, bugs, cloud formations, geological formations, constellations, and architectural styles. learn their histories. build depth in your surroundings - make accommodations for yourself. allow yourself to be disabled - sit on the floor more often - listen to music from the 1200s - get into etymology - make a calendar of when wild radish begins to flower and the first-week grasshoppers arrive. become intimately aware of local cycles - remember all the little creatures we used to be before primates evolved. keep them in your heart - create private monthly videos of your life - talk to your neighbors, bake them loaf cakes, offer them a hand when in need, share your excess

some life advice I have as of yet..

[mecthology]

Scottish Folklore’s Maggy Moulach.

Known for her diligence in household chores, she even served as the family’s banshee, foretelling deaths within the clan. Maggy was also known to be a chess mentor to the clan chief, helping him outwit rival leaders. With her hair-covered hands or sometimes even in the guise of a grasshopper, she was a unique figure in Highland folklore.

Maggy’s helpful nature took a dark turn when she was taken for granted by a greedy farmer. After firing all his workers, the farmer overworked Maggy to the breaking point, ultimately leading her to abandon her brownie ways and become a boggart—a trickster spirit known for causing trouble and harm. From that point, she was no longer a helpful creature but a figure of mischief and menace, capable of spoiling food and harming animals.

Maggy’s son, Brownie Clod, joined her in her work, guarding the mill at Fincastle. One night, a young girl, desperate to get flour for her wedding cake, broke into the mill and accidentally scalded Brownie Clod, causing his death. Initially, Maggy believed it was a clumsy accident, but when she overheard the girl boasting about killing a brownie, her grief turned to rage. Maggy retaliated by transforming once again into a boggart and killing the girl, showcasing the peril of disrespecting these mystical creatures

Follow @mecthology for more mythical information and lores❗️

Source: wikipedia.org, folklorescotland.com

[snapthistiger]

found a nice grasshopper while I was mowing

then I baked a cake. all kinds of talent here.