#in terms of ‘how many onions do i need’

[labyrynth]

i don’t feel like bothering some random person abt a comment from several months ago so can someone tell me what i’m missing here

unless everything is in relatable units, a cup is always different

a cup is always a cup tho;;;?? like based on the context it’s very obviously Cup (culinary unit of measurement). the cup IS the unit. what am i not getting here.

[vidavalor]

*dings the bell* … I’m back.

My Ukrainian friend made potato salad! It has cucumbers, carrots, onion, & canned green peas in it, and it’s absolutely delicious!

Sooo… can I ask what moment/scene you found the most devastating so far? I guess The KissTM is the most popular but I wonder if you’ve spotted something even more heartbreaking?

Hi @procrastiel Much love to you and your Ukrainian friend & please thank her again for me for the recipe as we made it and it was delicious. 💕Hope she's doing well. The KissTM is pretty heartbreaking for sure but I had a couple of moments that I found at least equally as heartbreaking...

The blues below the cut. TW: Depression.

What really got me in S2, in terms of heartbreaking stuff, was the focus on the less "showier" kinds of depression in Aziraphale and Gabriel. I'm not dismissing the amazing Crowley story the show has been telling but it tends to be more overt. The story focusing on depression lingering beneath different types of exteriors-- those who project themselves as being upbeat and/or fine-- was really well-executed and it had moments as devastating to me as the kiss.

The "but that's for professional conjurers only" scene and, in particular, the choices made in Aziraphale's response to Crowley's "my Nefertiti-fooling fellow" response is probably my favorite bit of acting in the series entirely to date. Michael Sheen broke me into little pieces with the way he conveyed a lifetime of pain, depression, anxiety and sleepless nights in Aziraphale's eyes on the "professional conjurers" bit and the smile...

...I love how you literally watch the pain of it all melt off his face at Crowley gently reassuring him and the smile that starts and then becomes just a beam of love he can't keep off his face. It's gorgeous.

It's actually what makes The Final 15 hurt even more, really, I think-- because you know that this is what Aziraphale needed. It's the same core set of problems but he needed 1941!Crowley and he got AlphaCentuari!Crowley because of where they both were at in the moment. It just makes 2.06 even more brutal because it shows you how they do understand each other and how right they are for each other if they could just stop being idiots lol.

I also actually think this is one of the most intimate scenes in the show. It shows a lot of guts on Aziraphale's part to be honest about how he's feeling and that's courage that Aziraphale has in general but was lacking a bit in the present in S2. He lets Crowley in here-- which is the theme of all of it and what he's not doing in S2 very much, especially in 2.06-- and we get a scene where Aziraphale is vulnerable and hurting and trusts Crowley with it and Crowley is there to help him as much as Aziraphale helps Crowley. It's very sweet and romantic but in a heartbreaking way because of how it shows how much pain Aziraphale is carrying around with him all the time. The lovely bit, though, is how it also shows how Crowley knows and is trusted with it. That it all takes place in largely the same space as the mess in 2.06? Gah. Devastating...

The other storyline that broke me was Gabriel. I know not everyone has the empathy for him that I do and he can be a total jerk, no doubt, but I thought he was the best example of the show bringing in other perspectives on life in Heaven/Hell in S2. We had angles like Furfur and Muriel illustrating that life for those not on Earth is lonely, isolating and boring and that many are yearning to live a bit more. Crowley and Aziraphale have not had it easy by any means but we are given characters whose perspective is that they're jealous that Crowley and Aziraphale have at least been able to be on Earth and have one another this whole time, which is more than a lot of other angels and demons can say, and that's fair. Expanding upon the glimpses of Gabriel that we saw in S1 and showing that, really, he's more complicated than we might have expected, was something I both loved and was a bit broken by.

Essentially, S2 shows that Gabriel is actually arguably the worst off character of all of them-- Crowley and Aziraphale included. That he really had no one until Beez is shown on his face so well-- Jon Hamm and Shelley Conn selling Gabriel's depression and how healthy this relationship is in almost no time at all really shows how great they both are. Look at this poor bastard, though, really...

He has the worst job of all of them. The Metatron is really in charge of Heaven-- Gabriel's the pretty face, forced to keep everything going or be killed for disobeying. S2 emphasizes how much he and Beez did what they did at the end of S1 basically at gunpoint-- it was kill or be killed and neither of them have the power to overthrow anything on their own. They have enough power, in the future, to probably help sway some things. Gabriel's always had enough power to make differences where he could and he used it to try to protect people. He can be a judgy jerk but he also fundamentally cares about the people around him and he's been drilled for so long into believing that upholding Heaven is his only purpose and only reason for existence that he's even still mulling over the ghosts of those thoughts when he has his whole gravity crisis in S2, even when he can't remember his name.

This is the bit that got me actually teary, though:

Imagine being thousands of years old and no one's ever given you a present. You don't have a birthday. You don't celebrate holidays. No one's ever protected you or been on your side or even just listened. You don't have any friends because everyone is afraid of you and you have to put up those pretensions to stay alive. The people you spend your entire life with are out for blood-- they'd sooner see you stripped of your sense of self and tossed through the ranks or to Hell and take your seat. Your life is one, long, never-ending meeting with your abusive dad and charming personalities like Michael and Uriel and Sandalphon. For six. thousand. years. Gabriel had never eaten anything before S2. He's never slept. Imagine six thousand years of being the Senior VP of Climb Every Bullshit Mountain without ever having a lunch break or ever going home. It's kind of no wonder that Gabriel spent half of S2 taking a nap-- he's exhausted.

He's not from anywhere. He doesn't even have a desk. Is it any wonder that this poor bastard was already rebelling a bit in S1? That he didn't totally get Earth but he was sneaking down there to get tailored suits made just so he could have something that is his own and taking himself for jogs in the park so he could get away from everyone for awhile? He's vain, sure, yes, but really because his looks are all he has that actually belong to him. It's why Beez gives him a pass on the statue-- because they know that this poor guy doesn't have anybody but them. The humans immortalize him in marble like he's a God and everyone in Heaven and Hell is terrified of him-- and he's been terrified of trying to be real with others because who is he going to trust who won't stab him in the back?

All Gabriel has that is his own are his clothes and Heaven even takes that, too. Beez is the first person who has ever seen Gabriel as a person. Is it any wonder why Gabriel likes and goes to Aziraphale for help? He knows that Aziraphale is the only angel who is both kind and sorta sees him there sometimes. He's the only one who ever seems to consider that Gabriel might exist in there as more than just The Supreme Archangel.

Gabriel's memory loss is actually very much akin to the real world occurrence of retrograde amnesia, which can and does actually happen to people who have undergone traumatic events. (It doesn't happen all the time but it's also not as rare as you'd think it might be.) The mind shuts down in such a way as to intentionally forget everything related to the trauma in order to protect itself and that can sometimes result in a loss of identity. The forgetting, though, also frees Gabriel because when he can no longer recall the fascist system of Heaven that has been harming him for so long, the actual self that he's been repressing and hiding shows up.

I see a lot of people talk about Jim as if he's a separate entity from Gabriel and he's really not-- he's Gabriel without the self-protective airs that Gabriel puts on. Jim is really not much different from glasses-free Crowley-- they have the same approach to self-preservation. It turns out, when he's free from the toxic masculinity hellscape that is Heaven, Gabriel likes hot chocolate and tiny dinners and bookselling and is emotionally available and mindfully curious about everything. He's a lot of fun and he cares about his friends and is grateful to have them. He's still a snarky bitch sometimes but so is Crowley lol so... That Gabriel was so miserable before, though, I thought was really pretty heartbreaking.

Now that I've depressed you, we'll leave on the sweeter note of Gabriel torturing some humans to romance Beez...

[moorishflower]

A Fridge Full of Jam

Having a bad memory day today and so I wrote it out w/Dream

Sorry fav blorbo you get to experience the Horrors

He is walking back home from the park when he gets the text from Hob.

Cottage pie for din love

Could u pick up 1 large onion + sum garlic on way home? ta

Dream looks at the message. There is a corner market between where he currently stands, stock still on the kerb, and the New Inn, where Hob currently is. He could, quite reasonably, stop there and purchase the items that Hob has requested of him.

Another message comes through as he is contemplating.

Sum tomato paste too pls

I love you!

He finds himself smiling at this last text. Hob has had many, many years to perfect shorthand of all varieties, but he has never once shortened 'I love you.' It is always the full declamatory sentence, complete with full stop or exclamation. There is something heart-rendingly lovely about it.

Dream stops at the corner market on his way back. Hob has furnished him with an identity of his own, now that he is human, complete with debit card, and money to make purchases, and a driver's license that he still hesitates to make use of.

(He once knew how to operate a car in theory, but that, along with billions of years' worth of other knowledge, is one of the things lost to him now that he is human.)

The market is not busy this time of day. Summer has come upon London, blanketing the great city in a smog of humidity and incipient rain. It is the sort of weather to drive most people indoors, where they might at least seek the relief of a fan, but Dream is not bothered. He is cold, almost always, and it is during weather such as this that he is allowed the luxury of short sleeves. During weather like this, he takes long walks in solitude, and goes to the park to feed the birds, and sometimes there are other travelers to accompany him, but more often than not he is alone.

He prefers that, some days. The crush of humanity is not nearly so pressing now that he no longer contains all of its dreams and nightmares within his own head, but it is sometimes, still, overwhelming.

Dream checks his phone. One large onion, garlic, and tomato paste. Is there anything else that they need while he is here? Strawberry jam, perhaps. He eats it on his toast each morning, so they are bound to be almost out. There is a specific garlic-parmesan salad dressing that Hob likes, and which this market happens to carry. He picks up a bottle and puts it in his basket, along with a jar of jam. Do they have crisps at home? He thinks they do, but is it the sort that he likes, or is it the sort that Hob likes? Hob prefers sharp flavours. Tomato. Salt and cider vinegar. Dream enjoys simple fare. He picks up a bag of Walkers 'roast chicken' crisps and studies it, then drops it into the bag.

He moves down the aisle.

The clouds have broken by the time he leaves the market, though not for the better. Rain patters in the gutters, dampens his hair and sticks it to his skull as Dream hurries home, a shopping bag in each hand. The New Inn is not far, but it is far enough that he is wet through when he ascends the steps to its front door, stamping his feet to knock loose any mud or debris that might cling to his boots.

"Welcome to the–oh, hullo, Dream," the hostess says. She is a petite, smart young woman named Anne. Once, he would have known her greatest fantasies. Now Dream knows that she attends university at King's, and that she had Hob for one of her professors last term, and that she is somewhere in her early twenties...and that is all. "Out doing a bit of shopping?"

"Hob is making cottage pie," he tells her. She smiles. Hob's employees – they are not technically his employees, but they all refer to themselves as such – observe his relationship with the Inn's proprietor as though they are a much-beloved television show. It is strange, to be the subject of a story in which his own opinion is entirely unwanted.

"Enjoy," Anne says, and Dream nods at her, and ascends the stairs to the second floor, which Hob has claimed as his own. The front door is unlocked, and so Dream lets himself in.

"That you, love?" he hears, floating from the kitchen. Dream follows the sound of it, stopping in the doorway. Hob is there, standing over the stovetop, a pot of water boiling and the pale, oblong shapes of several peeled potatoes bobbing about within. When he looks up, he smiles. "'Course it is, you never answer right away."

"I will endeavor to do so in future," Dream says. He sets the bags on the table and begins to unpack them, laying the items he purchased in a neat row so that he may put them away with utmost expedience. Hob temporarily disengages from the stovetop to look over his shoulder.

"Jam?" he asks, reaching around Dream's hip in order pick up the jar. "We've already got jam."

Dream peers at it. He uses it so often. Every day. He tries to think of how much had been in the jar when he had taken it out of the fridge that morning, but draws a blank. "But...I eat it every day," he says. His voice, even to his own ears, has the unpleasant texture of a whine. Plaintive. Hob takes him by the hand and leads him to the fridge.

"See?" he says, and there, in the fridge door, is not only one, but two jars of strawberry jam. One is not even opened. "Remember? You bought more a week ago."

He does not remember. It had happened a week ago. Dream stares at the jars. His hands feel very loose; he is suddenly glad that it is Hob who is holding the new (the third) jar, because he thinks if it were him he would have dropped it by now.

"I...forgot," he says. In that moment, in the aisle, it had seemed impossible that they should have enough. He uses it every day. It had not even crossed his mind that he might have already bought some earlier.

"Hey," Hob says. "Come here. It's all right, yeah? We'll find a recipe to use jam. It's fine." He puts the jar down on the counter, and Dream finds himself being drawn into a hug. The kitchen is steam-warm, and Hob smells like raw potatoes and fresh herbs. Dream presses his nose to the curve of Hob's neck and blinks back useless tears.

"I forgot," he says again. Hob runs a soothing palm up and down his spine.

"You know," Hob says, "I read something the NHS published a bit ago...about how depression affects memory? Basically, how prolonged periods of, ah, stress and anxiety can stunt how your brain makes new short term memories?"

Dream tries to tug away, but finds himself held fast. Hob's hand splays flat against the small of his back.

"It's all right," he says. "It is. You were...I mean, my memories of after Robyn died are like Swiss cheese. And you had all that great big Endlessness to rely on before, but now...it makes sense, is all I'm saying. And it's all right."

Dream makes a sound – he is not wholly certain it is a dignified sound, nor good-tempered – and this time does not try to pull away, but buries his face into Hob's clavicle.

"How do you stand it?" he asks. He means the wild swing of moods. He means the instability. He means the being human of it all. But there is no easy answer to any of these questions. The shortest, of course, is 'you just do.'

"Lists help," Hob says. "Alarms. Things like that. And sometimes you just roll with the punches." He sways to the side, hooking his fingers around the jar of strawberry jam and making room for it in the fridge door. "Sometimes you've got three jars of jam."

(Later, when they are eating their cottage pie sans tomato paste, because Dream had remembered he liked roast chicken crisps but not the final thing that Hob had asked of him, he will try to reflect on the wisdom of this. Love, he will think, is an unlocked front door, a sentence with a full stop, and a fridge full of jam.)

[dufferpuffer]

In continuation of the 'pillow prince/ss/' topic.. Snape sex hcs? I remember you said it's basically impossible to drag him into bed but I'D TRY.

You're just spoiling me, aren'tcha? First Remus now Sev... Severus Snape is devoted to duty. Its the only thing holding him together. How often does he even go to bed…? A full-time teacher, a spy, a death eater, Dumbledore's dark little knight - He probably considers the time he spends marking 'rest enough'.

His self-esteem is dead. So dead he has come to terms with its corpse and uses it as protection. He's been teased his entire life for his looks. By his parents, by his schoolmates, by his teachers, by his cult, by his students... He's proud of how it has hardened him. It's become part of his ego: He's heard it all before - and now the words run off his oily feathers like raindrops.

Having someone say they think him anything less than hideous? Baffling. But while Remus would become a flustered mess... I think Severus would stages-of-grief it. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression… Because his romantic, affectionate side is also a corpse. It died alongside his best friend and he's spent the last decade-and-a-half making sure it stays buried.

To bring it back? That will take a stubborn dedication that rivals his. It takes grit and damn near necromancy. He will fight back, too - because to raise it from the dead is to raise Lily along with it. That is the greatest hurdle: Best friend or love of his life - either way she was the only person he has been affectionate with. He will need to digest that. He hasn't worked through his grief yet, because it is a difficult thing to work through alone. …but he CAN reach Acceptance.

One step, one stage at a time - peeling down each layer of his onion, like an ogre... Things move slowly with Severus - and in the opposite order you might expect. I guess I will go through what a relationship would be like with Severus, in a sorta dot-point fanfic format:

First note: He is allergic to showing weakness - and what he considers a weakness can be... strange. Indulgence. Emotions, affection, touch, company - he has no time for that garbage. He is in control of himself, of his body, of his feelings, of his life. Meticulous, complete control. This man 'tops' exclusively**

He is ashamed of masturbation. It means he has lost control of his emotions - and it grinds against his ego like sandpaper. He almost never does it. Thinking about anyone in particular when doing it is an insult to them - and he hates feeling guilty. He keeps it simple and almost self-harmingly dry. He has more important things to be doing with his time than engaging with this weakness…

You make your interest in him clear. He goes through everything - he belittles and denies your feelings, he gets angry with you for bothering him, he asks you to stop saying such nonsense... and he gets frustrated that even when you've finally shut up, he is STILL dwelling on it. He spends so long just tossing things up, sorting through his grief, imagining it... so, SO sick of jerking off… …when the dam bursts - he fucks. If he is going to be spending all this time obsessing over these stupid feelings he may as well get something out of it. Only sex, though. Sex he is in control of. Clothes on, greedy, not pretty, not nice. 'Thats what you wanted from me, yes? Well you've gotten it. Happy?!?' ((He does not expect the answer to be 'yes'.))

He thinks one time was too many, and did it only to take it off his mind - and to stop having you bother him about it. But it is easier for you to get him to do it a second time. And then a third... fourth... The more times it happens - and nothing embarrassing or bad follows... well, if he has done it once, he may as well do it more, right…? You are evidently trustworthy. '…You may come to my chambers IF I call - at no other times. I am too busy to play silly games.' A casual physical relationship - to solve a problem of distraction and concentration. That's all.

He does start to call. Occasionally at first - and every time he almost shows surprise that you actually turn up. But he gets less and less surprised... and starts getting more and more needy. 'You're late. I sent for you half an hour ago. Do you think I am made of time?!' He doesn't even realize how needy he sounds, because this activity is now ingrained in his routine. He is used to it. And because he is used to it: He touches more. More clothes come off. But never his own. He has gone from 'hands-on-waist' fucking to caressing your naked body - slow rolls of his hips, making his own breathe shudder, enjoying every sensation.

One day his summons aren't replied to. At first he angry. How dare you. How DARE you waste his time!? The next time they are alone he snaps at you bitterly. 'Finally tired of me? Got your fill? Met a better man?' When the response is more along the lines of 'I was a bit ill' or 'I was out'... he realizes he has shown far too much of his hand. How embarrassing. He is speechless at his own foolishness. He showed an inch of vulnerability and expects to be raked through the coals for it. ...What he doesn't expect is acceptance, tenderness and respect.

He had forgotten that he wasn't the one to initiate this arrangement - that he was wanted. Desired. In his mind he had taken control: Everything happened when he wanted, where he wanted and in whichever way he wished. To be touched in a friendly way? To he apologized to - for being made to worry? To have make-up sex offered…? '…Yes. Alright.' Its the next layer peeled off. He starts listening to offers, enjoying being asked instead of being answered. It's still a casual affair - and yet seeing them talk to other people no longer makes his hackles raise in concern for his secrets. Running into them in the morning no longer makes his skin crawl with shame and embarrassment for the night before. He feels excited when they pay a visit in the midday, offering an impromptu meeting. It is oddly... comfortable.

Of course it can't always be sex in the midday. It is too much effort, takes too much time, energy and clean-up. It suits him fine when you jump on the chance to put him in your mouth. At first he is a little taken-aback - but it feels nice. He says nothing other than contented hums, but as you get better he groans and arcs his back a little. He doesn't care what happens when he finishes - swallow or not, as long as it is not a mess for him to clean up. …Well, he tries to be that callous about it… but it doesn't last long. There is a tenderness to the act he can't deny. It isn't the mutual-benefit fucking. This is a gift for him to enjoy. That realization settles and festers in him. It creates a soft feeling he doesn't recognize... and a desire not to owe you anything.

So, without much fanfare: he reciprocates. He gets you on his seat, or on his desk, and gets down on his knees... He is a little nervous about it - when was the last time he did this, if ever…? - But he has no need to be. He is a god with his mouth. It's his attention to detail. His devotion to getting things done thoroughly and properly - even this. What starts as an embarrassing action from the weakness of his heart turns into a strong pleasure for him. He LOVES oral. It isn't him losing control: it's him gaining it. Even when his hair is gripped and yanked, even if he is pulled close and suffocated a little on you - HE is making that happen. HE is making you do that. He never expected this to make him so happy, so hot. He never expected to undo the buttons of his high collar so his neck could move more easily, to unbutton and fold up his right sleeve so he could get his hands messy... To have enough fun to start saying some truly dirty things… 'That good, is it~?' 'My-! How delicate you are today!' 'Stop squirming. Too sensitive…? Just grit your teeth and bear it.' ...and he didn't expect to not be laughed at for such things.

He certainly didn't expect to get so into it that he kissed you to shut you up as you came. A shock to both of you… another wall crumbled. Turns out he likes that too. He starts initiating sexual activity with a kiss. He prefers kissing to talking. It is succinct and expressive. Walk into his office: as soon as the door is shut your back is pressed against it, wrists in his hands, his mouth against yours. If he starts losing control of the kiss he gently bites your lip, dragging his teeth along it teasingly. Your tongue invades his mouth before he has a chance to do it first: he just about shoves your hands into his robes, tearing into your clothes... This man lives for kissing now.

But he still doesn't realize this is more than casual, that this is something he needs… Until you chat. Its a quiet moment. You comment on the parchments rolled at the edge of his desk. 'Oh - that is just my own research into the effects of aconite. I had to work with it extensively a few years ago.' You take an interest, and he starts regaling deeper and deeper into his studies: how poorly documented others' research is; how it reacts to other ingredients; how modern brewing processes can draw so much more out of it - 'you know, the plant is often just passed off as toxic when even basic purification charms are enough to-' ...He is blabbering. On and on about a dull topic nobody cares about… yet you are listening. His jaw drops a little. He realizes that, for the first time in two decades, someone cares. Someone truly cares. About HIM. His thoughts, his interests... He never thought he could have this again. He didn't think that for the sex, either - but sex, compared to this, was easy to procure. He wants to kiss you again. But not for lust this time.

Suddenly it doesn't feel so embarrassing to allow his eyes to become wet, to draw a shuddering breathe as he builds the courage - of which he has masses of - to say something important: '…I am afraid I have come to love you.' It is a terrifying thing to say, but he has never once shied away from saying what is important, even if it results in pain. And yet this time, for once… he feels like he can trust that it wont.

** Many times later, he is laying down as his shirt gets unbuttoned, his collarbone kissed... He doesn't feel ashamed, even as he gently strokes his own dick, encouraging it to harden. He pulls his arms from his shirt sleeves, fearless of his dark mark being exposed. For once work is at the back of his mind as he allows himself to be pushed back down to into the pillows, chuckling as he is told: 'Shh… just lay still darling… I'll take care of you tonight…' ...And he does. Control well out of his hands and a smile on his face.

[da-shrimping-station]

Cooking for the House of Lamentation

Let me start this post by saying that over the years I've had plenty of experience cooking for a lot of people. I'm no expert cook whatsoever, just a helping hand in the kitchen during festivals and occasions (which happens multiple times in a year). If you have more experience and insights, please feel free to share!

Let’s start this off by having some sort of baseline so we’re all on the same page.

MC /OC/you/us/we (and what have you) can:

follow a recipe well enough

be in the kitchen and not have it burn down

cook an edible meal at the end of it all

A fairly average cook if you will.

Now, time for chaos.

Cooking for a lot of people is…a lot. A feast for upwards of 10 people can take the whole day. Not to mention buying ingredients beforehand. How many dishes are you gonna cook? Do they go well/compliment each other? What’s the serving size? Are you gonna have desserts too? Do you have the right equipment? Are the ingredients available/accessible? Is there anyone who has a food-specific condition to look out for and make alternatives for? Are there ingredients that need to be marinated/prepped in advanced? Is everything within budget? (These are some questions at the top of my head)

Now the main concern here is volume/quantity. Beelzebub. Need I say more?

Actually, YES. It’s a house full of men. Men eat a lot. Oh, and they’re also demons. So let’s assume they eat/consume significantly more than humans. (You can pitch in your HCs for each brother regarding how much they eat) But let’s say the food has to be for 10-15 people at the very least.

GROCERY RUN!

There’s a whole ass booklet for the groceries, with each brother having their own page/section. Let’s assume there’s no budget constraints (Lucifer can bitch about the cost and budgeting but his brothers need to be fed). Groceries are bought in bulk. Multiple times a week. Emergency trips in the middle of the night or else they starve for breakfast. 

At some point they get their groceries delivered every 3 days or so. The runs are now for necessity/emergency.

But if a brother requests a certain dish, then it’s time to go to the market. Prepare your haggling skills.

THE BATTLEFIELD

Based off of the game (and referencing the floor plan from Wanderer’s Whereabouts), the kitchen is actually pretty spacious. Good. We need all the space we can get for this. I’d like to think Barbatos personally made sure the kitchen is fully kitted out with all the equipment and utensils one needs. (Thanks, Barbs. You’re the best!) No worries on that end.

I headcanon that the kitchen is split into 2 parts: the side where the stoves and appliances are and the side where the dirty kitchen is. That way you have access to stoves/ovens and the fancy appliances as well as being able to cook with coal or in a spit. Increases the capacity for cooking multiple dishes at once. (Please share your HCs for the kitchen!)

PREP TIME

Prepare your hands and arms. Washing, peeling, chopping, dicing, slicing, marinating. Any and every sort of ingredient prep. How many ingredients does this dish have? Are you gonna prep one dish only? Are you gonna prep for two in advance? Mis en place (or whatever the term is im no culinary shrimp)

Also think about the sheer amount of ingredients.

Say, according to the cookbook, this dish serves 5 people and it needs 1 whole onion. Pretty straight forward right? But you’re cooking for 7 demon brothers and one being the Avatar of Gluttony. Let’s go back to the 10-15 people approximation. That means you have to increase the amount (in this case that’ll be 2 or 3 whole onions). That goes for every fucking dish. 3 onions for dish #1. What about dish #2 and #3 and so on? (Honestly, your hands must be well marinated by the time you’re done with all the prep)

Measuring the ingredients too. 1 cup of this, a tablespoon of that, a pinch of this. Please please please let there be enough soy sauce for tonight’s cooking.

Another thing: you’re probably dealing with local Devildom ingredients (which you did not even know existed until then)

Veggies? Sliced

Meats? Washed and cut.

Condiments and seasonings? All measured.

Are we ready to cook? NO.

Please clean up the peels, excesses, undesirables, and packaging.

GET THE FIRE GOING

Finally! The actual cooking part! Take a deep breath and put that pot on the stove. Good luck cuz you’re gonna be juggling between multiple dishes just to be able to get ready for dinnertime.

One dish is boiling so the meat softens? Time to fry. Oh and have you checked the one you were marinating? Please add that to the veggies in dish #2. Don’t overcook the pasta for dish #1! Please adjust the heat, that pot is boiling over. Taste test for dish #3. Hhm needs more salt. Is the meat soft enough? Good, let's season it. Please mind the fire! You’re gonna char the one you’re frying. This one has marinated long enough, we can add it to dish #2. Take dish #1 off the heat. I think it’s done. Do you think this is fried well enough?

It’s hectic. It’s a mess and a half. You make sure nothing is overcooked or undercooked. Taste test to make sure everything tastes fine. (are the dishes safe for human consumption tho)

ALL DONE!(?)

You wish! Now you have to deal with the clean up!

Wash everything you used for cooking. Pots, pans, knives, measuring cups and spoons, plates and bowls you put the ingredients in, the tasting spoons you used, the ladles and spatulas, etc

Please clean the stoves, sinks, countertops/tabletops too.

Oh yea, put away the excess ingredients and return the condiments and seasonings.

You still there? Still got energy to study and do homework later?

Personally, i clean as i go whenever i have the time in between tending to the dishes. I hate hate hate a messy/dirty kitchen while i cook it makes me wanna rage

DINNERTIME

These fuckers better sit down and eat what you cooked. No. Who the fuck cares if someone is being rowdy or moody or being dramatic. NO ONE wastes your efforts in preparing the food. Sit down and EAT.

I mean alright, maybe you can tag team dinner prep but it’s still a lot in terms of quantity and sheer volume. Will that brother be of actual help in the kitchen?

To sum it all up,

May the Universe have mercy on MC when they’re on cooking duty.

[gothicprep]

I know it’s sort of gauche to comment on how other people organize stuff like domestic division of labor in their marriages, but whenever social media shows me little vignettes of how other couples manage this stuff, I don’t know how to process it. the calculus obviously changes when you have children, but it’s the tone that weirds me out.

personally, I don’t see cooking as a chore. I like doing it. i like doing something sort of mindless when I’m stressed. and between my wife and me, I have significantly better knife skills than she does. so I’m much faster at it.

she’s like my opposite when it comes to deep-ish cleans. i personally find it unpleasant. she’ll just put her headphones on and rock out with her headphones on while she’s vacuuming and making sure the toilet isn’t radioactive. can’t relate, although it’s probably a similar feeling to what I get when I have a stressful day and go all o-ren ishii on an innocent onion.

stuff like “who puts the laundry away” is sort of circumstance dependent. depends on which one of us is more swamped with work related things.

I think many long term relationships have a similar vibe. but it’s the aggressively type-a stuff I find so off-putting. i get the overwhelming feeling that when you have this sort of rigidity in your partnership, it’s going to leave you ill-prepared for situations where your partner genuinely needs your help. it might be something like a nasty depressive episode. it might be something like a recovery period from a medical procedure, or god forbid, an illness. especially in the context of a marriage, you need to have the breathing room that allows you to adjust for these possibilities.

maybe I’m overthinking it, but stuff like this doesn’t translate to “happy marriage” to me. It’s more like watching the beginning phases of One of Those divorces where people are fighting over silverware and shit.

[snailyman]

surprised that i havent seen any posts about how the rescue base camp is Autism Central

so many of the castaways have fun little quirks and they are Very Normal about their interests, hence why they dropped everything to go to a mystery planet in the hopes of discovering things about their Specific Field Of Study

Outside of just listing every castaway's special interest, specific highlights are:

Bernard - Has a distinct speaking style that implies poor volume control. Seems to not pick up on social cues (entirely unaware that Santi doesn't like him), might be poor at communicating tone himself. Invented a meal-in-a-cup one time, and is also a picky eater, so he probably has sensory issues.

Pitunia - I'm certain that at one point, she only gave me one (1) line (she started telling me more about her Onion Theories later on), telling me to go away so she could study the onion.

Komo - Makes comments about being bad at conversation and making eye contact - her dialogue is written with a pretty flat/monotone tone of voice. Talks a lot about her study of water. Not Even Subtle.

Twyla - Talks about being overwhelmed by the environment. Seems to prefer theory to practical work, mostly because she hates to get dirty.

Kit - Loves to talk about geology!! Uses cute themed terms like "oh pebbles". Needs to be super thorough and exhaustive with his papers, so he submits them a bit slowly... he also frequently apologises for when he starts to infodump :(

François - He wants to be friends with plants.......... the trait of, like, relating to/preferring the company of non-human things......

Sheeba - Is very dedicated when she decides to do something, and seems to be pretty insistent on doing things the way she thinks is correct, sometimes to the point of (self-perceived) pushiness.

Keesh - Infodumps about geology to Kaia. Likes planning and scheduling, and struggles when her plans are disrupted. Enjoys Kaia's company while "quietly working"/not really interacting (parallel play type behaviour).

Chowder - So absorbed in his real-estate work, he rushes into dangerous locales, and works through the entire night, but misses social cues (expected his other workers to have the same work ethic until he was informed otherwise).

Molly - Uses personal language that doesn't have an obvious meaning (describes things as POPping a lot), makes "weird" content but doesn't get why it's perceived that way. Seems to follow trends without entirely understanding them.

Beaux - Super dedicated to acting. Needs real life experience to fully get into a role - maybe either a perfectionism thing (he needs to get every detail right), or that he struggles to imagine things.

Grace - Speaks in her own whimsical way. Mentions not doing well with noisy environments. Much prefers to be in her own environment in space.

Horatio - I dunno it's just vibes.

Bonus ADHD haver Kaia - spaces out frequently, forgets tasks and struggles to work on things long-term, has poor impulse control, struggles with planning ahead and with studying more complex subjects.

i wonder what else other players might have picked up on :)

[vivaciouscynner]

Contingency Plan

I am hopeful that we will miraculously be smart enough to not allow a fascist to be elected president again.

I am hopeful that people will realize everything will be worse under Republican rule - read up on project 2025 to give you a clearer idea what that looks like. Listen to the awful rally at MSG last weekend.

I am hopeful the arrogance of the privileged that are aiming to "protest" by not voting will change their mind as they will be the reason for more blood to be shed. Not just in Palestine, but also right here. School shootings will increase. Deaths among women, be it by abuse or being forced to carry to term. Deaths among minorities.

I am hopeful, however.

But if this election turns to shit, you're going to need to understand how to stay safe - as safe as you are able.

There are many things you need to change regarding your online and offline life.

Online:

If you feel you are a target of republican policies, you'll want to purge or just simply stop posting data about yourself regarding your online presence.

selfies

pictures of your home inside or out

pictures of trips you've been on and posted online

any reference to your real name

any reference to your real home address or general area

jobs (where you work or what you do)

Privacy is REALLY important to me.

update your DNS settings, preferably on the router you use, but you can also do it on your PC, to use cloudflare dns 1.1.1.1 and 1.0.0.1 Updating the DNS to cloudflare will prevent your ISP seeing some traffic and will actually improve website response times too)

please use a VPN like NordVPN or something. There's a lot of them out there. Using a VPN will not only encrypt data, it will also hide your ip.

Use a more secure browser - Tor Browser is good for that given it goes through the onion network - but it can make websites harder to use because of how strict it is. You can use LibreWolf as an alternative which comes with pretty secure settings "right out of the box".

Use offline Password Managers (don't use or let your browser remember them). I use KeePass

Get off any app that tracks anything. This includes but not limited to period trackers, fitness trackers, anything that tracks your location and uploads it to the app developers. An app that says "We don't track your data" today does NOT mean that they won't update and start tracking you tomorrow. Be VERY wary of all app privacy policies. You will need to literally read them now. If they share your data, don't use it. Because these companies sell your data to not only advertisers but also law enforcement.

[Please take some time to search and understand the above by yourself, otherwise this will be a gargantuan post if I have to explain it all.]

Offline

You're going to have to accept that convenience is no longer possible or feasible. Everyone's situation is different and I can only recommend looking to the people you trust the most for help in any which way you can. Even crossing state boarders is dangerous for some people.

Breathe. Think it through. Ask for help.

Please also provide resources if you have any to this post so we can send it around.

[daily-hanamura]

Hi! Do you have any souyo fics you would like to recommend?

HELLO @littlebalsam OH BOY DO I

as a caveat I consider myself to still be relatively new to souyo, so I haven't read too many fics? but these were some of my favourites and I hope you enjoy them too!

some of these fics may have mature themes (p4 is a mature game after all) so please check the rating/tags!

a doorway back into the life he wants by chash

Rated T; a stardew valley-esque AU that somewhat follows the beats of their original story, but sees the characters as grown-ups dealing with Life (TM), with Yosuke as the manager of Junes and Souji taking over his grandfather's farm in Inaba. There's a kind of mature calmness to the atmosphere here that is both gentle and delicate, and the result is something so very gorgeous.

(and honestly, anything written by Chash has been 11/10)

mr perfect by unsungillumination

Rated G; where Yu has to work on his social stats in order to confess to yosuke - the writing here is SO beautiful and there's something so wonderfully emotional about Yu's pining here (I adore any fic that makes use of game mechanics as a plot point lol)

sharing is caring by hydrocarbon (dontrollthedice)

Rated T; where Souji learns to share (and learns what jealousy feels like when he doesn't want to) - any fic with possessive/jealous Souji is a good fic and this one was so spectacularly well done that I still think about it for days

the boy who leapt through time by MrRee

Rated T; time-travel AU where Yosuke has the ability to jump through time and struggles to create a happy ending for everyone. Yosuke's characterization here is so perfect and beautiful, and the fic is very poignant and emotional during the entire ride, but I promise the payoff is absolutely worth it.

summer lessons by thenotwriter

Rated T; "kissing practice", where Yosuke is perhaps a little oblivious, but he learns something along the way. Yu is so very patient and Yosuke is a very very lucky boy. This fic is sweet, fluffy overload and I am not complaining one bit.

just like the classics by kiwoa (Rinoa)

Rated G; Yosuke finally coming to terms about his feelings. I really love fics where Yosuke struggles a little but also when there's a contradiction between what he says and what he does, and this fic was just so cute about it!

for now (or; how to teach your boyfriend to cut an onion in five easy steps) by tattedmariposa

Rated T; Yu teaches Yosuke how to cook. If you've spent any amount of time on this blog/with me you would know how much of a sucker I am for fics that feature food as a metaphor for love - the playful, knowing banter between them juxtaposes beautifully with the bittersweet tone, and it made me so very very soft.

under cover by chromsama

Rated G; another adorable fic where Yu and Yosuke share umbrellas. I don't recall if I've posted about the umbrella scene before but I've adored it since day 1 and this fic made it something so much more. Yosuke needs a little help arriving at certain realisations, but when he does it's absolutely brilliant. I also really love the way Yosuke plays off with Kanji here, and I love how some thing can be so simple yet so impactful!

gravity's how we got here by ashley-amelie (kitana)

Rated M; same theme of first kisses in the guise of "kissing practice", a theme that I am so weak for and could read a hundred million times. I adore the careful, tentative atmosphere in fics like these, and again, YOSUKE IS A VERY VERY LUCKY BOY.

your loving is all i think about by nedrika

Rated M; yu somehow manages to read minds, and reading yosuke's teaches him something interesting. it's kind of a naughty fic so I won't go into too much detail, but it's great and that's all i'm gonna say on the subject.

and finally, absolutely feel free to reblog with your own additions!!

[thecircularsystem]

for something to write about: do you (individually or collectively) have a favorite dish or cuisine?? if it’s something you make yourself, how did you learn to make it/do you have any strong memories of making it??

We have a few dishes we love. Collectively, we all love mashed potatoes. It’s a safe food of ours; our mom, when we were sick, would always get us one of those microwave mashed potato bowls, and we would put cheese and BBQ sauce in it to make what we called muddy mash. It was sooo delicious. We don’t usually do BBQ anymore since it’s so unpredictable (safe food = the same or nearly the same every time).

Since being with my partner (now spouse), we get homemade mashed potatoes anytime I’m sick. I love them so much; to me that’s so much effort, especially when things are so hard for us right now. But regardless, they still do it, because they love me just. That much.

In terms of individual parts, some of us gravitate to specific cuisine! Numb struggles a lot with the desire for raw meat, but Protector Instincts yell at him that it’s unsafe, so we found a lot of joy from sashimi and sushi for him. Octavian also loves Japanese food, with a major soft spot for ramen. Roy gravitates towards southern foods — because of course he does — and if we drink whiskey, he’s automatically out (even if we were unaware there was whiskey in the drink).

Debra likes all food, but she’s got a soft spot for deviled eggs and for popcorn. Extra butter obviously.

Lastly, we as a system actually love cooking. It can be stressful, yeah, but once we’re actually doing it, it’s incredibly satisfying to see a meal come together. I have a lot of good memories of cooking. A favorite dish of ours to make is this creamy spaghetti and beans dish. My parents used to call it Vendetta, which was some sort of inside joke involving V for Vendetta and the Simpsons? I couldn’t begin to explain it. I remember butterflies were involved?? Anyways.

We love the taste of it. It’s really filling, so one batch goes for awhile. When I think of my limited good memories of growing up, Vendetta is one of those memories. We found out later it’s a Rachel Ray recipe of all things, but we’ve made a few edits to the original recipe.

Here’s a quick recipe for those interested in trying it out (with the ONLY picture of it on my phone that I could find, good lord):

Creamy Spaghetti and Beans

Ingredients:

1 pound box of Spaghetti

4-6 cups of Vegetable Broth

Butter for Sautéing

At least a pound of mushrooms (I recommend mixing and matching for new flavors; if you can get your hands on some maitake, I highly suggest some of it. Paired with some oyster and some common white?? Delicious)

4 cloves of garlic, minced

1 mid onion, chopped

~1 cup of shredded carrot

1 can of cannellini beans

1 cup of white wine

1 cup of grated parm (have more for later)

As many seasonings as your little heart can carry

The only seasoning that is mandatory is lemon pepper

Instructions:

Add butter to a skillet. Let it melt, then add in the onion and garlic. Once the onion is translucent, add in the carrot. When cooked through, add in the mushrooms.

While the mushrooms sauté, add in some seasonings to the veggies. My go-to are usually red pepper flake, chili powder, lemon pepper, tumeric, rosemary, thyme, basil, and some powdered ginger. If I sees it, it goes in. Lemon pepper is a must, and you should use some later too.

Once the veggies are done, move them to a different bowl.

In the same pan, on a slightly lower heat, put the dry noodles in. Yes. Dry. Don’t boil em. Toss them in and let them burn a little — not a lot, but you want them to start browning. It should let off a nutty sort of smell. You may need more butter.

After about 3-4 minutes of toasting the noodles, add in a cup of white wine. BE CAREFUL OF STEAM BURNS. I have burnt myself numerous times because the wine steams horrendously. Let the noodles absorb the wine.

Add a cup of broth. Let the noodles absorb it. Then, add another cup. Let the noodles absorb it. Then, add another cup. Let the noodles absorb it. Magically, despite the noodles not boiling, they should now be soft and limp like a noodle should be. Incredible.

Add another cup of broth. When you do this, go ahead and now add in the veggies so they can get some good broth action.

At this point, you’ve got a choose your own adventure novel. My spouse loves saucy meals, so I do another cup of broth before tossing in the cup of parm, the can of cannellini (with about half the juice, which is disgusting but @circulars-singlet loves it), and another cup of broth if it’s not saucy enough — and some more parm if it needs to thicken. If you like it drier, you can add less broth, and drain the cannellini before putting the beans in.

Top with more parm and some lemon pepper. You should also use salt and pepper to your hearts content.

NOTES:

Mushrooms are easily replaced with bacon if you’d like that, and if you are vegetarian like Mush is, then tofu might be a good route to go — especially crumbled for the texture. But you do you boo.

The original recipe suggests doing this all at the same time, but I find that way too overwhelming. If you’d prefer to do it at the same time: start with the noodles at the same time as the onions, garlic, and carrots. Add the mushrooms at the same time as the first cup of broth. The mushrooms WILL absorb a LOT of broth, so be prepared to use closer to 6 cups.

My mother once put peas in? Feel free I guess.

If you can avoid whole wheat noodles, highly suggest you do. They taste… odd in this. They’re also thinner in my experience, and you really want a nood that can absorb nicely without being TOO thick. I haven’t tried this with a lot of other pasta types, though!

Recipes are just suggestions, you can change anything you want!!!

[cjoat-boost]

March 4, 2024 Edit of this still relevant post from February 27, 2024

For those that view any of my online presences (including my blogs)…Um, this is something for you to know.

Please save this post so it doesn’t get buried by queue.

My& Current Health Situation

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I wish to communicate this to y’all now so that…I don’t end up worrying anyone when this happens. It may have been noticeable by some folks that I’m dragging, heavily. I’m not having a good time right now with my body. With this comes with an onion of issues detailing certain aspects of what I’m going through.

I know I have a lot of obligations. Not only as a creative and content creator; but as a friend, a mentor, Guardian or even older peer, and myself. I’ve neglected myself for too long. I have been noticing my vitality decrease; and my CFS and POTS flaring up further.

Social Justice is something I’m always perceiving and sensitive to; and as such, the strain I’ve noticed too late has been worsening. Includes many emotional meltdowns and outbursts from me that I can no longer control or hold back.

Trying to figure out how to exactly sort through the mass tangles of my traumatized emotional and mental state isn’t as simple as I hoped for me. While I’m creatively burned out, I am suffering Autistic burnout. A double whammy of all things.

I’m finding myself getting “stuck,” unable to physically move for hours at a time. I’d move upstairs to eat something but end up being there for what’s normally an half hour task…for nearly 2+ hours. Even so, trying to force movement to do tasks that is considered “everyone can do these” is mentally painful and physically locking. Even if I have to desperately use the bathroom when I’m about to fall asleep, my headmates (AKA alters) have to switch to co-front or “snatch me back” in order to get my body moving. That’s with the sudden rocket spike in heart rate and blood pressure, and loss of balance (at the very least).

I’m already struggling to cope with many things due to the fact that I haven’t been able to draw much at all; or create anything and write anything. Especially trying desperately to fulfill my word on things I had the energy to do, but no longer do. So much of my struggles I can’t properly transmute. It’s so upsetting.

Thus, there’s going to be a sudden and abrupt shift in posting or messaging. I don’t know when. But it is coming.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(Especially since I’ve been feeling mania over the weekend. All weekend, Saturday and Sunday, I manic cleaned large portions of certain areas I occupy as well as my housemate. Today I’m feeling the aching in my joints badly, with my calves swearing hell at me. I’m wearing my wrist brace too, I just…I’m rambling.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I wish for you to know what’s happening if you don’t see or hear from me, my headmates, or any of my online presences (as depicted here: https://cjoatbysamwise.com/cjoats-links ) No one is being forgotten. I’m not abandoning anyone. I’m not ghosting anyone. What I do know (still coming to terms with it ngl) is I need to stop, fully stop, and recover. It’s looking like my body is going to do that for me by force. It’s going to be abrupt and sudden to the inconvenience of many, including my housemate, unfortunately.

I don’t know how long this will last. But I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep “hustling” like this. Does this sound repetitive? I wanted to communicate before suddenly I’m unable.

Does this sound repetitive? I’ll end it here. I wanted to communicate before suddenly I’m unable.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I’ll end it here with how you can support me while I’m down, only able to and wish to (I’m aware financial situations are a big struggle at the moment, there is no pressure to.)

Provide support by these links:

Thank you for reading until the end; have an awesome week ahead. Please remember to hydrate and eat. 🫶🏽❤️‍🩹

[alicepao13]

Hudson and Rex S03E02 - Manhunt

I can't really say that this episode lives up to the title. Not that it's bad, the title is just inaccurate. There's also a bit more Charlie backstory.

I believe the actor who plays Danny is the guy who will be in the new St. Pierre show.

How long has that guy been unconscious?

I'm trying to decide if sending Sarah to cozy up with the Danny's pregnant wife to get information is a dick move or not.

Sarah: *explains Onion routing* Joe: I'm surrounded by nerds. Jesse: Nerds unite!

I'm having a hard time believing that Rex's nose or ears didn't pick up that Danny was right behind Charlie and didn't alert him in time. Not to mention that Charlie was also on high alert. He should have heard him himself.

"Damn. This shit again."

"The dog goes in there". And then Rex takes a look and turns to Danny like, "Fuck no, it's dirty" lol

"These are terrible accommodations! I want to speak to your manager!"

"I can't even bark? This is fascism."

So grade 8 is apparently for 12-13year olds. We don't have the same system here, our 8th grade corresponds to the grade 13-14year olds would go to, because kindergarten is not counted among school years, and used to be non-compulsory at least when I was a kid (that's probably changed now).

Once more, Charlie has to give up his gun and handcuffs.

Not the phone!

Like hell I'd leave my phone at a sketchy place that cosplays as a club. These people are nuts.

Now, that's HD lol

"I was framed." "You and half the prison population." Snarky Charlie under duress is back.

"I'm gonna prove you wrong," he says while he has taken a cop hostage and points a gun at him (and has another one locked in a room, I'm not forgetting about Rex).

"I'm asked to solve cases based on the tiniest pieces of evidence and do you know what my biggest fear is? It's that I'll make a mistake. That someone innocent will spend a part of their life in jail because of me". Can you tell that this season is post BLM movement? I mean, I don't want to throw too much shade on this show, because every cop show did the same thing and most of them ended up with the characters sounding off. Also, right before that, Charlie told her to get whatever she could about Danny from Lyn, so...

One of the many phones that have been sacrificed to solve a case.

Some of what Jesse explains about the tech they were using to steal from people is factual, and the rest is garbage.

Sarah: "Identity theft. Or, sorry, would you prefer the term social engineering?" Jesse: "Well, now you're just showing off." Okay, just tone it down a bit.

I'd forgotten how many times Danny had threatened to shoot Rex. I like him less now.

Danny: Where the hell is he? Rex: Look up, asshole.

"Who is that, friend of yours?" He shot at him, Charlie.

Charlie called someone else stubborn! Pot, meet kettle.

That's a good look. But I guess we need a tie with the suit in case we have to triage someone.

"You're gonna hand me over?" "It's tempting." "Wouldn't be the first time". The plot thickens. Or Charlie's backstory, anyway.

So Charlie and Danny had stolen something from a store at one time, they got blamed when I'm guessing there was another theft incident in the same store and the store owner had called the cops on them, Charlie had told his dad about it and that they hadn't stolen anything, his dad believed him and convinced the owner but he also told Danny's dad who was abusive. And Charlie didn't know the last part, and he never talked to Danny again. Having seen Charlie's dad now, I could see him asking Charlie to cut off ties with Danny. Anyway, it's pretty funny to think of Charlie as a troublemaker.

The most unrealistic part about all this is that people heard the gunshot with the music blasting.

Once again, Sarah arrives at the right time to be taken hostage.

Charlie's inner monologue: Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-

Sometimes the show is telling us loudly that Sarah is the woman Charlie likes and others, like this one, they do it subtly. For the non-believers (not that it matters anymore), there is no reason for Sarah to be in this scene. Sarah just goes along with Lyn because Lyn is heavily pregnant. Lyn seems to be able to carry herself just fine and is, in fact, the one to drive them there. The reason they put Sarah in that scene is because Lyn is the woman Danny cares about and Sarah is the woman Charlie cares about. Note that Charlie would want to help Lyn or Danny anyway, so adding Sarah is just to show that parallel. And wisely, whoever wrote the script realized that to do so without having Sarah offer anything to the scene would put her in a damsel-in-distress position, so they have her disarm the bad guy after Rex's charge.

Guys, we really need a safeword for when someone is kidnapped.

RIP to the shot of Charlie and Sarah with their weapons drawn together. Why did no one think to hold the camera on them for a few seconds, why can't we have nice things?

"You okay?" "Yeah". He also wanted to say, "And you look so fucking hot with that shotgun," but he's a gentleman and this is a family show.

"Hey, I'm here too."

And a nice chase at the end to give Rex a proper takedown scene.

"You made me run."

"Claire could use some better clientele". She's a lawyer.

Subtle.

[tsukkismoonlight]

For You, Anything || NakedToaster x Reader

Authors note: I meant to put this in when i posted it hut work got in the way smh but !! This was my piece for the Teahouse collab, which you can find the other entries here !

Warnings: general warnings around breakups, thoughts/anxiety related to self image/self worth

Summary: You've sworn off love. After the way your last ex treated you, after all of the heartbreak, and all of the nights you lost to someone who didn't care, you have had enough. Or, that's what the plan had been. You wouldn't have guessed that a tiny fan server with less than ten members hid someone who made everything feel like all of that pain was worth it. And you, they'd do just about anything.

WC: 1.5k

You can tell that the little server is starting to wake for the night, by the sound of your notifications going off at a rapid pace. A smile crosses your face as you head over to your computer, double clicking on its icon that you had previously pinned to the taskbar.

One by one the messages loaded before your eyes, not that you had much time to read them before everyone was welcoming you back.

Nightowl was the first, as he quickly sent 'Hey hey hey! My fellow insomniac is here!'

'You two seriously need to fix your sleep schedules.' Was Onion's way of saying hi to you today.

'Hello to you too, Onion. I swear i'm trying my hardest' you type in response, before pausing and sending another message, 'Nightowl on the other hand…he's beyond saving.'

This earned an appearance from Quest, who came in to defend Nightowl on the low, 'Lets not gang up on the kid,'

'Thanks Quest, at least someone believes in me T-T'

You hummed to yourself, as another message made its way into the server. Though, this time it wasn't directed at you.

'Well if it isn't the ever so elusive Toaster.' Xyx's odd profile picture graced the chat room as he noted that Nakedtoaster was now active in the server.

'Wakey wakey Toast and shakey~' came Nightowl, quick to reference a story that Salo had told the group some few days ago.

'That again? How many times are you going to greet me with that, Owl?' You could practically hear the half-hearted exasperation through Toaster's message as if he was sitting right next to you.

'Is it better than Xyx always following up with "what's shakin bacon?" ' owl asked next, knowing full and well that Toaster really didn't mind either of the terms.

You took the slight lapse in the conversation to greet him yourself, 'good evening Toasty,'

'yeah yeah evening' he sends, then a short pause before another message from him loads, 'specifically good evening to you though.'

Another smile settles onto your features, as you reread his message.

From there the server seemed to find a good tempo in a happy conversation, talking about some bloomic fan-theory that June happened to come across just a few days prior.

You pull your attention away from the monitor for a moment to check your phone, swiping away the notifications displayed at the top of its screen. Outside of the server, you didn't have very many people to talk to. Sure, you had a few friends from work, and maybe one or two acquaintances that you made when you were still in school, but as life seemed to drag on, the less you heard from them. There was a point in time where you had a previous partner, and you had spent most of your free time with him.

And while things had started off nicely, they didn't end that way. He was controlling, you had to dress a certain way, speak a certain way, you had to take interest in the things he liked. The conversations were never about you. He would constantly criticize you, from the way you looked, to the way you'd write your As. By the time you finally managed to escape the guy, he had stripped you of who you were, or who you had been.

Your eyes glance to the date in the corner of your monitor. It had been nearly a year and a half since then. A year and a half of trying to fit cut up puzzle pieces together, in hopes that you'd get to see yourself again. Eighteen months of pushing yourself past your limits just to pick your hobbies and interests back up. Eighteen months of wondering if you could even go back to who you were before the guy.

A quiet ping from your computer broke you from your thoughts, and you looked to see a message from Toasty in the juicy gamers channel, one that only held Xyx, Toaster and yourself. Its purpose was supposed to be for Toaster and Xyx to talk about ffxiv, but by now it was just another chat room within the bloomic server.

As you clicked on the channel, you saw that it had been Nakedtoaster who pinged you, asking if you were alright, since you had gone quiet in the general chat.

'I'm alright! I was just thinking about something a little serious, I guess I got lost in my train of thought for a bit.'

You watched as it showed him typing, then a pause, then that he was typing again. Finally, he sent his message, 'wanna talk in the voice channel? You can share your thoughts with me if you'd like'

You pause for a moment. That would mean telling them about your ex. Not that you weren't ever open about your past with the server before. But, this was different. After breaking things off with your ex, you had promised yourself to do one thing; to swear off love, at least until you were ready to try again. You didn't want to rush into another relationship, only to doubt yourself again. You couldn't get stuck in another situation like that, especially if you weren't ready to put yourself first. And if you were being honest with yourself, you hardly had the words to explain that to someone else.

Yet, you found yourself joining Toaster's call, easily falling into the pattern that the two of you had made in your time in the server.

"You /still/ take forever to join calls," he smiles into his camera, slightly leaned forwards as they spoke into their mic.

You playfully roll your eyes at the comment, sighing as you did, "Not my fault /someone/ is so impatient,"

"Only because it's you,"

Your breath seems to hitch in your throat. Toaster said it so casually, that you almost missed how they actually meant it. You always seemed to misinterpret their words, everything he said always felt like it held more weight. And despite your vow to stay far away from relationships, you could never shake off the ever growing mix of anxiety and something that you didn't want to name that resided within your mind.

"Hey, you alright? I've called your name a few times now," Toasty is leaned back in his chair again, a worried look clear as day on his face.

You blink a few times, fighting off an awkward smile, mind racing to think of any excuse. When you couldn't form the words, Toaster let out a slow chuckle, as if he had understood your train of thought.

"I meant that as in…well." He paused, a heavy blush spreading across his face, "As in, I really enjoy talking with you and I'm impatient."

"But, only me?"

"Yeah. I wanted to say something earlier, but, I think I might have developed..uh..feelings for you."

The feeling was back. A confusing amount of dread, and content, like oil and water, refusing to mix but making themselves known aggressively.

"Toaster I-" you start, feeling your hands begin to shake, "I'm not…well…I don't want to outright say no or anything but..I'm not sure I'm ready for..well for that."

To your surprise, they let out another gentle laugh, nodding their head as they leaned back towards their mic, "I know,"

"Huh?"

"Well, I remembered awhile back that you mentioned a shitty ex, so I figured that this might be the case if I did confess…which is why I prepared myself." You watch as he fidgets with the short microphone stand, his eyes straying to something on his desk as he continued, "I'm not going to rush you. And I'm not going to make you tell me anything about your past relationship. I wanted to tell you that I like you, so that you know that I'm here, if you'll have me, whenever that may be."

You were stunned. Despite spending so much time with the Blooming Panic server, getting to know everyone, and letting them get to know this new, healing version of yourself, you had never stopped to think that any of them would actually take a deeper interest in you. Especially when you seemed to feel so lost in your own self worth and image, like looking into a mirror that was hastily glued back together. And yet they had. Nakedtoaster had looked at the same mirror, and decided that he wanted you.

You hardly notice a small stream of tears that fall from your face, as you speak, "You'd do that for me? You'd really wait?"

They lean back in their chair again, looking towards their camera with half lidded eyes, "I like you for who you are, and I know that. So, as long as I know that I want you, I'm okay with waiting."

He lets you sit for a moment, not commenting on your tears, or on the way you couldn't believe his words. Toasty was true to their words, they'd be okay with you taking your time, in this moment, and in the next. Something told you that you could trust him with that. Slowly, you let a smile make its way onto your face as you wipe away the uncertainty that had come from your eyes. Then, when you bring your attention back to them, they say one more thing.

"So, of course. For you, I'd do anything."

[afairmaiden]

The Others (Part 6*)

For the Inklings Challenge (@inklings-challenge).

*Not a typo. Takes place two weeks after part 4, but I'm late enough as it is.

Sunday, November 13

I went to bed with every intention of getting up early (or as Ellen would say, at a reasonable hour) and finally joining the family for church. I wasn’t looking forward to it. My light sensitivity was growing worse by the day, and I felt a migraine coming on at the very thought of being around so many others for any length of time, but I thought if I kept my eyes shut and pretended to pray through most of the service, I might be able to endure it for a couple of hours without drawing too much attention to myself. It would be worth it to support Julia. But I woke up to find the sun already high and the house empty once again, except for the cat. There was a note on the bedside table.

Tried to wake you. Service starts at 9 but feel free to come late. Expect the hearing to start at 10:30.

I stared at the paper for a minute, then threw it aside and fell back into bed. I lay there for some time until I started feeling hungry, then slowly got dressed and made my way down to the kitchen. I was just looking through the cabinets to find something for breakfast when I heard a knock at the window and looked up to none other than Julia peering in.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as I opened the door. “I thought you’d be at the church. Weren’t they even going to let you speak?”

She gave a rueful smile and waved her hand dismissively.

“Not much point in that. Not when they’ve already made up their minds.”

She seemed to be taking it pretty well, but I felt my heart sink with hopelessness. She was the first—the only—normal person I'd met here, and now—what would happen to her?

I'd tried to get some details out of Sarah, but she hadn't been able to tell me much.

"What are they going to do?" I'd asked.

"There's going to be a trial."

"Yeah, I got that part. But what then?"

"Everyone's going to know," she had said, her eyes wide, as though that were the very worst thing in the world.

I had surmised that meant shunning, or possibly exile. Hardly the worst possible outcomes, but it still seemed terribly unfair.

“What are you going to do?” I asked Julia.

She looked out the window, to where her horse was tied to the fence. There was a long silence.

“I have to get out of here,” she said at last, then met my gaze. “They’re going to kick me out anyway. I might as well go on my own terms.”

“But where?”

She shrugged. “Maybe I'll go to the city. It's only a quick jaunt across the river.”

I stared.

“Or maybe not. But you know, there are other places out there, other people, who aren't— And anyway, anything would be better than this.”

For a moment I thought she would ask me to go with her, but she didn’t say anything.

“Is there anything I can do?”

She smiled again, a real smile, and gave me a fierce hug before whispering, “I’ll need some supplies. I grabbed what I could, but we didn’t have much in the house. I just need enough for a week or two.”

I looked out the window again, trying to gauge how much time we had. The next minute, we were in the basement, pulling things off the shelves. I felt the briefest twinge of guilt, but reasoned that Ellen would hardly miss a few things, and even if she did, she could hardly object to helping someone in need, especially when it was her fault Julia was in this mess to begin with.

In the end, she only took some bread and cheese, a small sack of potatoes, a few onions, a jar of cooking fat, and a box of preserves. After she had gone, I cleaned up and sat down in the living room to wait for Ellen and the children to return. It was almost noon before they finally arrived, all looking far more subdued than usual and saying little as they immediately set to work making lunch.

I was just helping David set the table when Ellen said to Elizabeth, “Run down and fetch some potatoes, would you?”

I found myself holding my breath as she made her way down, hoping she wouldn't notice the missing sack, and breathed a sigh of relief as I heard her turn back toward the stairs.

A moment later—

“Oh! We're out of salt.”

Ellen’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. The box is empty!”

“That can't be right.”

Ellen set down the pot she was holding and hurried down to see for herself. A minute later, she returned, a look of unmistakable worry on her face. I didn’t say anything and kept my eyes on the dishes. I could practically feel her staring at me.

“Was anyone here earlier?” she asked after a long silence.

“Julia stopped by briefly,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “She said she needed a few things. I didn’t think you’d mind. Just some bread and potatoes—”

“And about four pounds of salt,” she concluded flatly.

I was spared from having to answer by a well-timed knock at the door. Ellen quickly went out to see who it was, while the children immediately began whispering among themselves, and I continued to ignore them. It was a few minutes before Ellen returned.

“Well,” she said with forced cheerfulness, “that was Mr. Walther. He and his sister are taking a group down to the lighthouse tomorrow and wondered if you would care to join them.”

“Oh! Are they still going?” said Elizabeth. “I thought they might not—”

Ellen smiled. “He said they would hate to disappoint you all, and they supposed it would be a nice distraction from everything.”

Now Sarah said she'd hoped to finish her sewing tomorrow, and David said he was working on something as well, but James and Elizabeth were both excited to go and could talk of little else. No more was said about the salt that day.

Monday

Monday morning, I did wake up early, though I deliberately waited until they’d started breakfast before slipping into the kitchen and taking a seat at the table. I was nearly done with my meal when there came a knock at the door and I heard Sam’s voice call out, “Morning all! Who’s ready for a field trip?”

James and Elizabeth jumped up at once and ran to the door. Ellen followed after them. I heard her exchange a few words with Sam, and then they both returned to the kitchen. He smiled and tipped his hat to me and greeted Sarah and David before saying, “I guess you’ve heard my sister and I are taking the children out today. We’ve got a fairly sizable group, so I was wondering if you might be interested in coming along as an extra chaperone.”

I didn’t particularly want to, especially after our last meeting, but I also couldn’t think of a good excuse to get out of it, and as the only alternative seemed to be helping Ellen bring in the latest delivery of firewood, a minute later I was awkwardly exchanging greetings with Jess while throwing on my coat and putting on my shoes. Ellen offered me a lunch basket and a bag.

“You shouldn’t need this, but you can’t be too prepared,” she said, glancing up at the sky doubtfully.

I couldn’t see any cause for concern when there were only a handful of wispy clouds in sight, and more than half the group had already taken their coats off, but Sam only nodded and said, “Of course. Can’t be too careful.”

Soon enough, we were off, three adults and sixteen children between the ages of seven and fourteen. The “lighthouse”, as they called it, was about a ten minute walk past the west field, a two-story brick building with a sort of steeple, built on a high foundation by a big river, with dense woods all around. The lighthouse keeper was waiting out front to greet us. He shook Sam's hand, tipped his hat to the children, and nodded politely to me, but seemed to pay particular attention to Jess. His sister also came out with a tray of refreshments, after which there was a brief tour, beginning with the grounds around the building and leading up to the light itself.

After the tour, the children were allowed to explore a bit, on the condition that they stay in groups of three or more, the younger ones with the older ones, and they keep well away from the river.

"Be sure to keep within sight of the building, come when you're called, and shout if there's any trouble," Sam said.

They all agreed, and soon they had fanned out in all directions, some going back inside, and some playing in the garden, while a few of the older ones headed into the woods to gather sticks for a fire. Jess sat with the lighthouse keeper on a bench by the front door, while his sister stood some distance away, keeping an eye on them and the children playing in the back, while Sam and I both wandered here and there, periodically checking in with everyone. About the third time we crossed paths, we started to walk together.

"I guess you're pretty well settled in by now," he said. "Got everything you needed in town last week?"

I nodded.

"Good. Figured you would. I know Ellen always thinks of all the details."

"Does she?" I muttered.

I hadn't meant to say that out loud, let alone loud enough for him to hear. I realized my mistake as he suddenly stopped walking and looked at me.

"What's the matter? Don't you like her?"

I could feel my patience wearing thin and just barely refrained from rolling my eyes.

"Of course I like her," I said quickly. "What's not to like? It's just...don't you think...the people around here—"

He gave me an odd look.

"It is pretty different out here, isn't it?" he asked after a minute, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.

For the briefest moment, I'd hoped he might understand, that our shared background might mean something to him, but there was no denying that he was well and truly one of them now, with all the same aggravating sympathy and condescension, and the seemingly effortless, ever-present brilliance that felt like a mockery of all I'd dedicated my life to these past few months. And he didn't even know it.

“She—she left the children alone with me!” I finally blurted out.

He blinked in confusion. Then, rather than acknowledging this as an alarming sign of supreme negligence, he only shrugged.

“So? I reckon they’re old enough to mind themselves for a few hours. They were hardly in any danger.”

“I could have been a danger!”

He actually laughed. “Oh, please. I saw the state you were in that day. I was more worried about you than them. Fact is, if it really came down to it, you couldn’t have taken one of them in a fight, let alone all four.”

He remained entirely unbothered as I reiterated my concern about the risk of disease, practically rolling his eyes when I asked about the protocols for quarantining new arrivals.

“You got a bit roughed up and caught a chill running through the woods. It was hardly cause for a civil emergency. They brought you to the Halls' because they were close, and hardier than most, and they did keep to themselves for a few days. You know, we do try to avoid unnecessary risks, but there’s only so much anyone can do, and if doing our best and trying to help someone causes a plague to break out and kill us all, well, I suppose that's just God's will.”

That hardly inspired confidence.

“But really,” he added, “from what I remember, they would barely let sick people out of their rooms, let alone city limits. You were fine.”

We walked in silence for a few more minutes, turning our attention back to the children around us. It was some time before he spoke again.

“Did you hear Julia Thompson is gone?”

“I know.”

Of course he must have known that. Ellen must have told him everything. Ten to one they'd be calling for a new trial within the week.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where she went, would you?” he persisted.

“No.”

“Did you know she has a daughter?”

“What?”

Now I was the one to stop and stare.

“Her name is Isabella,” he said. “She’s twelve. That’s what kicked off this whole thing, you know. After the incident at the quilting party, a few of the ladies went to the Thompsons’ to have a chat with Mrs. Thompson, and they found Isabella alone, sick in bed. Doctor wouldn't comment on it of course, but anyone could see it was a shameful case of neglect, hardly the work of a few days. She’s at the doctor’s house now, where she’ll be staying until her father returns. I understand they would have asked Ellen to take her, but they supposed with everything else going on, she had enough on her plate. And now—”

He shook his head. “Look, I don't know what sort of sob story Mrs. Thompson was feeding you, but they were only hoping to get through to her, to bring her to her senses, not kill her, which is what's likely to happen if you go running off into the woods in mid-November.”

For a while I didn’t say anything.

“I guess you think it’s my fault for letting her go,” I said at last. “And I guess Ellen told you I gave her food.”

His brow furrowed in confusion, and then he shook his head.

“I can’t blame you for that,” he said quietly.

I stared at him.

“She was your friend. You thought she’d been wronged, and you wanted to help. That’s not it.”

“Then what?” I snapped.

“I guess I just don't understand why you're so determined to make excuses for her.”

Because I understood her. Because we were the same. Because—

Just then, one of the older boys waved Sam over to a spot overlooking the bank of the river, where a small group had gathered to look at something. I took the opportunity to slip away in the opposite direction, toward the treeline.

I had hoped for at least a few minutes alone, but sure enough I soon heard footsteps behind me, and turned to see Jess following.

"You'll have to excuse Sam," she said apologetically. "He's been under a lot of pressure since Dad died. I guess we all have."

I gave a noncommittal nod.

"Still," she continued, "the neighbors have been a big help, and it is a comfort to know he's not in pain anymore."

Of course that was all well and good, but I couldn’t help asking, “But didn’t you ever think of trying to go back?”

“Back?” she echoed.

“I mean, they might have been able to help him, in the city, if you’d just—”

She gave a sharp, humorless laugh.

“Why do you think he was in a wheelchair to begin with?”

I stared at her in shock. She returned my gaze with a look of disbelief.

“What, you didn’t think we left just for the fun of it?”

Now that she mentioned it, I didn't recall the exact reason behind their disappearance coming up in our last conversation, but of course I had assumed they’d gone willingly.

"I suppose we might have tried, if we'd known. Dad always said we were bound to run into trouble someday, but I don't think anyone ever expected—"

She paused.

“They’ve done this before, you know. More than once. Sending people out here to— They told Zane Benson they wanted him to map out the area. They told Victoria Alley to report on the deer population after a bad storm. They didn’t even bother with pleasantries for us, just gathered us up, threw us in a van, and dumped us in the middle of a clearing some ways northwest from here, said if we hated the city so much, we could try our luck in the wilderness.”

“Why would they do that?”

She shrugged.

“Why not? They don’t exactly have a high regard for human life. That said, I don’t doubt they have some purpose behind it, besides an easy way to get rid of troublemakers.”

She looked at the sky. I looked up as well, trying not to look like I believed her. Not for the first time, I had the distinct feeling of being watched.

“It’s been a dry summer you know. We manage alright out here, but I imagine things are a bit hard when you’ve got a city with a million people in it that can’t get water.”

I felt my jaw drop. “You’re implying they’re sending people to die in the wilderness as some sort of sacrifice?”

For a minute she said nothing, and then—

"How did you end up here, anyway?"

"I got lost."

She raised her eyebrows. "Lost?"

"I was taking a walk through the preserve, stepped a little off the trail and got turned around. Then it got dark and I tried to orient myself by the moon and just...kept walking. I figured I'd have to hit the fence at some point, but..."

I shrugged.

"And this was Sunday? The twenty-third?"

I nodded.

"Oh."

There was a long silence before she looked out toward the house. We'd been walking just inside the treeline and were now coming to the back garden, where a number of younger children were playing. We parted ways without another word, as she went to check on them, and I walked deeper into the woods.

I found that the further I went, the easier it was to breathe. Here, away from everything and everyone, I could almost imagine that the past few weeks had been only a weird dream. Maybe I had simply had a bad fall in the woods, and Zay and Nikki and the rest were out looking for me. Maybe—

I closed my eyes and tried to center myself, breathing in and out and sensing my surroundings, the way Gina had taught us in the very beginning. After a few minutes, I tried calling out.

Hello? Is anyone there? Can anyone here me?

There was silence, but a different kind of silence than in town. I tried again, calling up every light thought I could think of, repeating the list of ideals I had always held dear.

Peace, safety, harmony.

I felt myself growing more and more relaxed.

Tolerance, acceptance, inclusion.

The wind began to blow.

Openness, authenticity, diversity.

I imagined myself as a full Lightbringer, a sworn defender of all light and truth, a guide to the blind, a light to those in darkness, and an instructor of the foolish.

We will not allow our lights to be dimmed.

The sky grew dark.

I opened my eyes to find that night had fallen without warning, and the winds had grown violent, freezing cold and wet and blinding with icy snow. On top of the wind was another sound I couldn't identify, a sort of howling, and then—

There were voices in the distance, their direction unclear.

"Inside! Inside! Let's go!"

Suddenly there was Jess's voice yelling my name, and the next moment, her hand grabbing hold of my arm and pulling me up and out of the woods.

Even less than fifty feet away, the building was barely visible in the storm, and yet when we finally reached the door and I looked back toward the woods, I could see a number of unmistakable black figures standing among the trees.

"What was that?" I gasped one Jess had finally pulled me inside.

"Freak blizzard," she panted. "They come up without warning sometimes."

"No, I mean—in the woods—didn't you see?"

"I can't see anything," she said, groping for the door to the stairs. "Oh! We should've lit the lamps already."

She opened it just in time to hear Sam calling roll.

"Jess!"

"We're here!" she shouted back.

We found everyone gathered in a large room at the top of the stairs. The lighthouse keeper offered us towels, blankets, and hot drinks, and directed us to sit and warm ourselves by the stove, where Jess joined his sister in comforting a few of the little ones who had started crying, and I was relieved to find James and Elizabeth among the rest.

"Alright, alright, now there's no need to fuss," Sam said. "These things happen sometimes, but the good news is that we're all safe here, and once the wind dies down a bit, Mr. Andrews will let your families know you're alright."

Everyone listened, and after a minute it seemed that it had grown quieter outside. Mr. Andrews nodded, took an odd sort of instrument out of a box,—"Bagpipes," Jess whispered in response to my inquiring look—and went up a second set of stairs, and a moment later we heard what sounded like two loud horn blasts, one short and one long, ring out directly overhead, followed by two short blasts that sounded like a question. There was a long pause, and then there came a response from further away, then another, and another, and another.

"All's well," he announced when he descended at last. "And the light's certainly doing its job now, though I pray no one's out on the water in this weather."

"Well now," said Sam, "I suppose we'll all be hungry, so why don't we have our dinner now, and then we'll have a few songs."

Now Jess, Miss Andrews, and a few of the older children went downstairs and returned with everyone's lunch boxes and baskets. Mr. Andrews offered a blessing and a prayer for protection from the storm, and we all sat down to eat as though we were having a picnic. James, Sarah, and I had butter and jam sandwiches, cheese, pears, and hardboiled eggs. When everyone was finished, Mr. Andrews brought out his bagpipes again.

I endured I Walk in Danger All the Way and A Mighty Fortress is our God well enough, but about halfway through Jesus Sinners Doth Receive, my light sensitivity, which had been lying dormant for most of the day, suddenly flared up again when the entire room seemed to be ablaze with unspeakable brilliance, and I quickly had to excuse myself.

I found my way down to the kitchen, then shut myself in the walk-in pantry, the only room without any windows. I don't know how long I sat there before I heard Jess calling.

"Bree?"

"Here."

"Are you alright?"

"Headache."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

There was an indistinct whisper, and then a moment later, she opened the pantry door, holding a lantern.

"Ah. One moment." She scanned the shelves and found a small bottle, took out what looked like a bunch of leaves, and handed them to me. "Chew on these. They'll help."

With that, she shut the pantry door, added some more wood to the stove, and went back upstairs.

About half an hour later, the sounds upstairs had died down and I felt safe enough to head back up. I found the lantern waiting for me on the table, and Sam waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

"You alright?" he asked.

I nodded. I knew I should have been grateful for his concern—he was being nice—but I couldn't get past our earlier conversation. Apparently he couldn't either, because after a long pause, he sighed and leaned back against the staircase.

“Look,” he began, “I don’t know exactly what she told you, but the fact is, we’ve all heard her talk. There’s hardly a soul in town that hasn’t helped her out in one way or another, and none that wouldn’t have done more if they’d thought it would make any difference, but it was never enough for her.

“Now, my family came here with nothing. My father was badly hurt. He couldn’t get out of bed, let alone work, for months. Still, they welcomed us, taught us, gave us a place to live, food, clothes, everything. The people here—they’re more than just nice; by God’s grace, they’re good. And you may think that’s all nonsense, but they really believe it, and so do I. So you’ll excuse me if I get just a little bit heated when some whining, gossiping busybody goes around slandering some of the best people I know because they wouldn’t bow to her every whim.”

I couldn’t very well argue with that. All the same, I couldn’t help saying, “You’re not the only one who’s had a hard time, you know. She told me. She lost her parents, her brother—”

“Everyone’s lost someone,” he said shortly. “We lost our father, the children lost their mother, Miss Hall lost her fiance, and you don’t see any of us—”

We heard a small gasp and looked up to see Sarah at the head of the stairs, evidently too shocked to be concerned about being caught eavesdropping.

“Aunt Ellen was engaged?” she whispered.

“What, didn’t you know?” asked an older boy standing behind her.

“Of course they wouldn’t remember it,” a girl answered. “They were practically babies when it happened. I remember.”

“Now,” said Jess, “I’m not sure we should…”

But it seemed useless to say anything, because now all the children were listening with rapt attention.

The girl continued, “Aunt Ellen was engaged to Aunt Julia’s brother Matthew. What did you think all that fuss over the ring was about? It was her engagement ring.”

James addressed the first boy who had spoken.

“Is that why you call her Aunt too?”

“Of course. I thought you all knew that, but I guess I can see why she wouldn’t like to talk about it.”

Again, Jess looked like she wanted to step in, but Sam seemed to be almost amused by the whole thing, at least until Elizabeth asked a question.

“How did he die?”

He instantly grew sober and looked around at all the children waiting wide-eyed for his answer.

“Smoke inhalation,” he said at last. “The Stewarts’ house caught fire, and…Bethany was inside.”

In an instant, the room erupted with a sound that rivaled the storm still raging outside, with shouts of how dare she and it’s absolutely monstrous. A few of the girls started openly sobbing, and even Jess was wiping away tears.

Amidst the chaos, Sam caught my eye.

“You didn’t hear?” he said flatly. “Bethany Stewart was missing. Three weeks ago. For nearly four hours. Seems Mrs. Thompson was having a bad morning and decided to vent her frustration by telling Bethany it was her fault her brother died. Poor girl started crying and ran off into the woods. Of course her parents were furious. If anything had happened to her, it would have been murder. Praise God nothing did happen.”

My mind flashed back to what I had seen.

“Are there—are there animals out there?”

“Mostly deer, and some smaller animals. The bears and other large animals generally don’t come too close. But Bethany also has some…challenges that make it more dangerous for her to be out alone. Anyway, that was the second thing.”

The scene might have gone on longer, but Sam finally decided to put an end to it.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough now,” he called. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed.”

It took a while longer to get everyone settled down, but eventually the boys were settled in one room and the girls in another. I slipped downstairs once more on the pretense of checking the doors while they had their prayers, then came up again when I thought the coast was clear.

“Good night,” Sam said from the door of the boys’ room.

“Good night.”

“Oh, by the way,” he added with faint smile, “the city’s a hundred miles from here, and the twenty-third was a new moon.”

[aestheticvoyage2024]

Day 294: Sunday October 20, 2024 - "Pumpkin Carving 2024"

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, quite literally the most perfect weather we've had alll year, and we spent it out on the back patio carving our pumpkins. Yes, Mr William, it is indeed, Fall time! We got the fall bin down out of the attic and Grandma helped decorate the house in decorations. And with that, we all had the permission to sharpen the knives and get the Finca ready for Halloween 2024. "Its really time?" Tell Alexa to play Spooky Wheels on The Bus, its time.

While William heard stories from me and Grandma about how special this was every year, because we grew our own pumpkins every year. Imagine having your eye on your pumpkin all fall long before getting to cut into it. The cleaning of our set of five was a breeze, as Grandma reveled in how hollow and clean our special Apple Annie Arizona Pumpkins were. Beautiful.

I was especially inspired this year to put a good showing together after Audrie accidentally smashed my effort last year. Something I saw in line checking at Sprouts inspired me to bust out power tools and a hot glue gun to come up with a simple wise owl. If the javelinas dont eat my birdie, the morning doves should enjoy my salty sunflower seeds.... I thought that lent a feathery effect for the eyes and features. But what really sets it apart as possibly the best pumpkin Ive ever done is the little chubby chicken feet. My favorite.

As inspired as I was to have the best pumpkin, Audrie had the same idea, and spent far longer on hers. A big wide faced pumpking that let her pull together the Nightmare Before Christmas, as it ironically played on the speaker. Yes indeed when we lined them all up - oh indeed and not even close. Audrie is still the clear winner and the clear creative in our partnership (as if there was ever a question). I love it.

William had picked out a simple scheme that Mama pulled together no problem but whats more is that William got in there and helped clean the pumpkins with his farm girl grandma Acton (who carved us a halloween kitty - fitting since Williams been pretending to be her kitty!). "Get your hands dirty" and I imagined her 40 years ago doing the EXACT same thing, at this exact same time (right after the Tigers won the World Series!) with me, with pumpkins out of her garden. Maybe if not that year, many years after just like, and likewise, many years since. So it was fun to share that old timey tradition with my parents before they had back to Michigan tomorrow. ( No Matter what William ever does with a pumpkin, it will never be as good or as cute as that first year. ) It really was a great family day at the Finca, that started with a family grocery store trip and ended with take out chinese. Coool Dips in the pool, a Lions win on TV, and Sausage and Onions over the fire. What more can the heart of a man want, if not just exactly this. How blessed am I. A great way to remember the vibe of Pumpkins 2024.

And I am always grateful this time of year, now, that my whole family is all together and able to do this. And as we sat around the table for both brunch and dinner, and I let them all know. I love them. This day was great. I am very blessed.

Song: Nicholas Jamerson & The Morning Jays - Linda James

Quote: "Nietzsche once remarked that marriage is a conversation, a long dialogue. If a person is not ready to engage in such a prolonged dialogue, they are not ready for long-term close relationships. Many long-married couples have long since exhausted all topics of conversation because each spouse has stopped developing their individuality. By focusing on individual growth, we each gain an interesting conversation partner. To halt one’s own development, even in the interest of another person, means admitting that your spouse will have to live with someone who feels anger and suffers from depression. Such marital relationships need to be radically reconsidered, or they will simply lose their meaning." — James Hollis, The Middle Passage

[tartrazeen]

Oh my God.

I think I just figured out DELTARUNE and the "Angel's Heaven."

Okay - work with me here.

Spamton keeps talking about going to heaven and such, right? And he calls Noelle an angel, right?

There is more than one angel.

I just realized that - I'm watching MatPat's theory and I'm like halfway through and it clicked.

Noelle has snow powers. She's the snow angel.

Onion-san keeps talking about hearing a song and there are lots of references to the ocean. Shyren's in this game too, right? Shyren's gonna be an angel fish.

What other kind of angels are there? Obvious puns that can get tied back to a possible world in Deltarune?

Well, immediately, my mind goes to angel investor. If there was ever a bank-related world, or a political world, that could come into play. Noelle's mom is a mayor and even the TV world could be all about funding the way Hollywood is. A stretch? Sure! But one of many possibilities now.

There's also guardian angel. I could see that being some sort of final boss, and maybe even Kris themselves since no 'angel' appears in the first chapter. That could be a grand reveal at the end of the story. But it could also be Undyne or Toriel or Asgore, given their roles in this story.

Fallen angel (or dark angel) could take on a whole host of meanings, especially when the prophecy is trying to "banish the angel's heaven." Maybe it'll be someone working against us, or someone who helps us more than anybody else. Who knows? Let's get crazy: maybe it's Sans! Maybe it's Papyrus!

I know about angels of mercy (or death), which would be very interesting given the focus so far on the hospital and the prominence of the church in this town.

It's not a term I personally hear used too often, but an "angel's advocate" exists. I don't know if that'd fit the theme though, since it doesn't necessitate having the advocate be an angel as well. There's also a "destroying angel" (aka "death angel") - which is a mushroom, and what could be a very clever nod to that dancing mushroom in Temmyville, along with that meme of "You cannot destroy me in a way that matters." That might be a bit too obscure, though. Just saying these two for the sake of it. I'm pretty sure there'd need to be seven types of angel to go along with the number of flowers/souls, which is why I want to leave those options there.

If we were to get real trippy about it, we could say no angel is an option. Like the phrase "you're no angel"? It could link to Kris not seeing their hand in the shadow crystal and their choices not mattering, or just as a quirky, meta way to get a seventh type for Kris to play. Hell, the fact that there's no angel in the first chapter could be the whole point: Kris is no angel. Whether that's heroic or even worse than ever, I'm not sure. It could definitely go either way.

The most fascinating connections, though, is with terms, like angel dust. Do I think Toby's gonna through drugs randomly into this? Probably not! But I do see the obvious fit between that term and the dust that monsters are supposed to crumble into, and how 'angel dust' could be used as a weapon somehow. Used a little less often but still with clear links that can be made is angel's tears, which is a type of flower. Then there's angel cake, which is something Ralsei has already cooked up out of pot! So, y'know, more connections there.

Yes, I know archangel is another term, but that doesn't quite fit the pattern of it being an [attribute] angel. I could see that as a boss name, maybe, but not one of several types in the story.

Anyway! :D That just struck me and I love the thought of it. Maybe "Angel's Heaven" refers to some sort of last-angel-standing battle royale? 🤔 Not sure. I don't think the grammar's wrong. But I think it's meant to be misleading.