#it will be nice to finally reap the fruits of my labor
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Today has been so much. The ren faire decimated me. We returned home, dehydrated, exhausted, and collapsed.
I wanted to just pass out but on the brink of sleep Korben made a sound unlike any I’ve heard from a cat. It was like a scream/sneeze/cough. He didn’t appear alarmed, but the sounded repeated several times last night. Usually right when I’d just dropped unconscious. While laying there I genuinely wondered if I’d wake up to him dead tomorrow.
But he was alive. Only now his horrible sound has diminished in volume then tapered to intermittent sneezes. I made a last minute vet appointment anyway and dragged myself through the day by my fingernails.
At work I tried to pummel information into my brain and I’m still trying to navigate getting a work accommodation from HR which is proving to be a huge pain in the ass.
Left work early to take Korben in to his impromptu appointment. He’s fine. Literally nothing perceptibly wrong with him and as the sound was reducing over time the vet opined that he’d gotten a single dose of something he shouldn’t.
I brought him home and was starving. I shambled my way to a little place that has Korean hot dogs and feasted on junk food to console myself about how long the day has been. Just need to get myself home and I can collapse. I’m so ready to be done. Thank god it’s my Friday.
#ramblies#I get paid tomorrow which is fucking euphoric as I’m starting to sweat my bank account again#it will be nice to finally reap the fruits of my labor
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I know you would have loved the home. It has carpet to help your joints and a great room for you to sunbathe…it has a large lawn for you run around on. I think you would have loved it.
My heart is both happy and sad.
It hurts. It aches with regret.
I know you’re so much happier and healthier now, but I can’t help but think that if we just had a little more time with you, you could’ve finally reaped what you’ve sown. You could have enjoyed the fruits of your labor. Won’t you forgive us for that? I’m sorry we couldn’t give that to you. I hope you found our home, your last home, good enough.
We love you and miss you always sweet boy. We may not have been able to give you a nice big home…but we never ran short on love in this household.
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CHAPTER 4
“Chapter Closed. The Beginning”
As time passes, the lessons are becoming harder.
So, I have to study more. Luckily, I now have my study buddy, Faith.
So, studying is getting way easier, and I’m having more fun.
We help each other a lot, so we’re able to perform better in class.
From being regular students in the previous semester, we’re now able to have the dean’s list award. We treat ourselves to different restaurants and travel a lot every time we pass the exams and have other awards.
What’s best is that Auntie also surprises us with gifts.
Despite being busy with my studies, with charitable activities, and with my friendship with Faith, I make sure that I also spend some time with my family and Bruce as well.
I visit home once a month, and I keep having dates with Bruce on some weekends. We tried to become more understanding of each other as we now have more responsibilities in our studies.
We kept giving presents every time there was an occasion.
And this has been my life for a couple of years.
[JULY 2011]
Tadaaa! ~
Here’s the day of graduation!
We’re reaping the fruits of our labor.
Thanks to my professors and friends, especially to my family, Bruce, Auntie, and Faith, for making this journey even more meaningful.
Most importantly, thanks to the Man from Above for the guidance and strength given to me all throughout. Chapter Closed.
---
[SEPTEMBER 2011]
And we are now working professionals.
Yap. That quick!
Welcome, Faith and self, to GT Blue Corporación. ~
We’re so lucky! It’s one of the best companies for finance graduates!
Here in Castellón de la Plana, Spain.
New apartment, new environment, and new people.
Again and again.
New experiences are approaching.
-
At first, I couldn’t find any satisfaction in my job.
But I tried to enjoy this new chapter of my life by traveling to different places, either alone or with my friends, such as parks, museums, libraries, malls, bars, and restaurants.
We even went to high class hotels just to take some pictures there.
A point in my life came when I felt too occupied.
I didn’t know what to do first.
I am finally earning my own money, but the work didn’t give me any satisfaction.
Since many people say that it’s really a good company for finance graduates, they recommended that I stay here, so I did.
Then, I felt so lost. I didn’t know what I really wanted in life.
So many problems arose. I realized and remembered a lot about my past...
There were pains still hiding, which again came out. There were things I couldn’t accept. Until a time came when I finally broke up with Bruce because I wanted to be alone this time.
E n d o f o u r l o v e s t o r y .
After almost a year of working here, a time came when I finally decided to resign.
I have my savings anyway.
[AUGUST 2012]
Then, I looked for some other companies to apply to.
I made sure that this time I would be liking the nature of the job.
It took me only two weeks to find this one.
Hola, ZTN Corporación! Just here again in Castellón.
What a lucky girl! The salary is just as good as the benefits.
I was doing well at work for a couple of months.
So, I got a lot of praise from my employer, managers, and a few coworkers.
---
One day, I’d received a message from Hernan, a schoolmate who’s also working here in Castellón.
HERNAN: Buenos días
ISLA: Buenos días también
HERNAN: Are you working at ZTN Corporación? I saw your stories.
ISLA: Yes.
HERNAN: Nice. It’s a good company.
ISLA: Hehe.
HERNAN: I’m also working here in Castellón.
ISLA: In what company?
HERNAN: Viola Corporación
ISLA: Nice.
HERNAN: Can we meet sometimes when you have time?
ISLA: Yeah.
---
After a couple of months, Hernan and I fell in love with each other.
So, he became my boyfriend.
We traveled a lot after work.
We usually go to coffee shops.
And we tried eating a variety of foods at different restaurants.
After a few months of dating Hernan,
he asked me if I could lend him money for his mother.
I didn’t hesitate to lend him.
Another week has passed, and he asked for more money.
He told me that there’s just an emergency.
Because I really care for him, I lent him money again.
I notice that he dates and updates me less often.
I thought he’d just been busy these past few days, but something is bothering me.
So, I decided to go near his office after work.
I saw him with another woman, so I followed them, and they ate at a restaurant.
I gave him the benefit of the doubt by asking him...
ISLA: Hi, love, can we meet today?
HERNAN: Hmm, let’s just meet tomorrow. I’m busy right now, so much work.
ISLA: Okay. Love you!
I didn’t even receive a response to that last message.
So, I guess something is wrong.
On the next day, I went again near his office. And guess what?
He’s with that woman again.
They even eat at a fine dining restaurant with so much sweetness, like a real couple.
Then I messaged him...
ISLA: I’m here now at Viola Park.
HERNAN: Wait, I’m still at work.
ISLA: Okay. I’ll just wait.
What a liar!
Let’s see what I can do.
ISLA: Love, where are you now?
HERNAN: I’m on my way.
-
Then here he is...
ISLA: I guess you’re doing great in your job.
HERNAN: Not really. What makes you say that?
ISLA: Because you seem busier now.
HERNAN: Oh. There’s just lots of work this period.
ISLA: Alright, let’s eat?
HERNAN: Yeah.
Hernan, the liar cheater!
But yeah, not my loss.
He’s not that handsome, lol.
----
[JUNE 2013]
And then here’s the weekend.
Due to boredom, I replied to random men on my dating app.
And here I met the libra man, Apollo Gray.
GRAY: Ughhhhhhhhhh!!!
.
.
.
ISLA: UGHHHHH UGHHHH UGHHHH!
GRAY: I’m c ü mm!nğg ... I’m c ü mm!n ğ g ...
ISLA: Boooooogshhhhhhhhh!
GRAY: My turn!
ISLA: Ughhh... Right there, right there...
GRAY: Yumyumyumyumyum...
ISLA: Yamete kudasaiii... Yamete kudasaiii... Yameteeeeeeee
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. This is it...
GRAY: Hi, I’m Gray.
ISLA: Is that your real name?
GRAY: Yeah. How about you, Miss Pisces?
ISLA: Yeah. I’m Isla.
GRAY: So, why don’t you have a boyfriend?
ISLA: I have.
GRAY: How many?
ISLA: Just one. And you?
GRAY: Just two. Can you be the third?
ISLA: HAHAHA. Cheater.
GRAY: If I’m a cheater, then what do you call yourself?
ISLA: I have a reason why I’m here.
GRAY: What?
ISLA: He’s the one who cheated first.
GRAY: So, that means you’re not looking for someone else. You just want a revenge.
ISLA: Hmm, maybe. But I’m also a bit bored.
GRAY: Alright. I’m actually a polyamorous person, that’s why I have two girlfriends.
ISLA: Really? Why?
GRAY: I’m tired of getting jealous.
ISLA: Me, too!
GRAY: Oh, you’re also a poly?
ISLA: Nope, I mean, I’m also tired of getting jealous... But I think it’s better to have a relationship with only one person.
GRAY: That’s how most people think about it.
ISLA: Maybe you’re just bothered by jealousy.
GRAY: Pros and cons of both, I don’t think one is inherently better than the other. In my opinion, it’s more on the people involved.
ISLA: Well, it depends on every person.
GRAY: Like if you’re with one person who abuses you, that’s bad. But if you’re with two people who actually love you, that’s good.
ISLA: It’s a matter of perspective and experience. But yeah, that makes sense.
GRAY: Mhmm!
ISLA: Are you happy with that?
GRAY: Of course! So, can I date you?
ISLA: Let’s try! You’re easy to talk to. A Sagittarius zodiac sign suits you better.
GRAY: How did you say?
ISLA: Straightforward! LOL.
GRAY: HAHA! When and where can we meet?
ISLA: You choose.
GRAY: Okay. Where do you live?
ISLA: Here in Castellón. And you?
GRAY: I’m here in Barcelona. Okay, let’s meet today, 3PM at Castellón Park.
ISLA: All right!
GRAY: Ughhhh. See you, honey!
#GoodbyeBruce
#LongTimeBoyfriend
#ThanksForEverything
#ChapterClosed
#IHopeThisFinallyHelpsAllOfUsMoveForward
#IWon’tBeEntertainingQuestionsRegardingThisAnymore
#ThankYouForUnderstanding
#ALifeWithoutAThrillAin’tLifeAtAll
#ThisIsTheBeginning
CHAPTER 5
“Victory”
While riding in public transportation, going to our meet-up place. I texted Faith...
ISLA: Hey, got a soon-to-be boyfriend!
FAITH: Again? When did you guys break up?
ISLA: I'm not breaking up with Hernan yet.
FAITH: Why?
ISLA: He cheated on me.
FAITH: Oh. That’s why you have another date?
ISLA: Yap. But it’s not a serious one.
FAITH: Just a play again?
ISLA: Mhmm! We’re going to meet today.
FAITH: Alright!
---
I honestly feel a little bit nervous. He’s quicker than me.
Then...
Here he is...
Relax, Isla... He’s just a person......
Yeah, so why would you be afraid, Isla?
He’s just a person, and you’re a demon. XD
-
GRAY: Honey!
ISLA: Hey!
GRAY: How are you?
ISLA: I’m good. How about you?
GRAY: I feel so good. So, where do you want to eat?
ISLA: Anywhere you want. No problem for me.
GRAY: Hmm. In the Victory Hotel?
ISLA: Oh!
GRAY: Don’t you want to eat there?
ISLA: What are we going to eat there?
GRAY: What do you want to eat?
ISLA: How about you?
GRAY: You answer first.
ISLA: Of course, food.
GRAY: Yeah, but what food?
ISLA: Hmm.
GRAY: A hotdog?
Then, our laughter just exploded.
Like wtf? The connection is just so strong XD
GRAY: Let’s go?
ISLA: Let’s go!
While going up to the floor where our room is... We’re still like...
holding our laughter while looking at each other.
We really have the same vibe.
Like yeah... This is it.
~
Then here we are, inside our room.
He ordered the food via phone...
“Hi.”
“Hi, sir. May I know your orders, please?”
Before making our orders, Gray looked at me with a smile on his face.
“Two jumbo hotdogs... two large eggs... two rice... and two beers”
“Anything else, sir?”
“Nothing,”
“Okay, sir. The waiting time is about 30 minutes.”
“Okay. Thanks!”
GRAY: Have you heard of that?
ISLA: What?
GRAY: The waiting time is about 30 minutes.
ISLA: Then?
GRAY: What can we do while waiting?
ISLA: Hmm. What do you want?
GRAY: Can I hug you?
ISLA: Sure.
Then, we hugged each other. It’s weird, but I really felt a kind of connection.
...
Then we e a t... e a t... and e a t...
... our ordered foods.
Then... We drink the beer while having long, deep talks about Hernan and his two girlfriends.
Yeah.
And...
We stared at each other for so long...
“Say sexy things.” Gray said
“Cum with me.” I answered.
“Ughhh...”
“Hmmmmmmm...”
He slowly kissed me on my cheeks...
...then on my lips.
I sucked his tongue...
... Then, he sucked mine.
Then...
I left a mark on his neck...
... and on his chest.
We slowly touched each other...
... from top...
....
.. to bottom.
And then...
.
.
I t h a p p e n e d .
.
.
.
.
.
Zzzzz~
.
.
.
.
.
Then, we woke up...
ISLA: I have not been like this before. I really am not. But pain really changes people.
GRAY: How’s our night to you?
ISLA: It’s wild. I will never forget that night.
GRAY: What comes to your mind? I thought we’re just joking about doing it?
ISLA: I don’t know. How about you?
GRAY: You don’t have to ask, of course I want it.
ISLA: That quick?
GRAY: Yeah. I already imagined that when I saw your profile.
ISLA: You seem used to having one-night stands.
GRAY: Yeah! Why not break up with your boyfriend? You’re done.
ISLA: I have something to do first.
GRAY: What?
ISLA: I want to get back my money first, plus double the interest. He owes me more.
GRAY: Did you lend him money?
ISLA: I cared for him, that’s why. He said that he just needs it for his mother.
GRAY: I will help you with your revenge.
ISLA: This is not revenge, only justice.
GRAY: Then I’ll help you get your justice. I want to be useful to you.
ISLA: Up to what extent?
GRAY: I will be an accessory to it. I will make you win... no matter what.
ISLA: How can I return the favor to you? How much do you want?
GRAY: Nothing, just you.
-
GRAY: So, what’s the plan?
ISLA: I feel like he has no plan of returning my money. We have to think of an idea of how I can get his money in his apartment.
GRAY: Yeah... Why not try to live with him?
ISLA: I can do that, but if he discovers that his money is missing, I’ll be the only one he will suspect because he’s the only one who has the key to his unit. The custodians don’t have it.
GRAY: You’re right... Hmm...
ISLA: But I can consider your idea.
GRAY: How?
ISLA: I’ll try to live with him, but I’m not the one who will steal his money.
GRAY: Then, who?
ISLA: Is there anyone else here?
GRAY: How can I?
ISLA: You have to pretend.
GRAY: As?
ISLA: Like a visitor... But you must cover your face because there are CCTVs outside his unit.
GRAY: A visitor?
ISLA: Not really a visitor. Like... We must make a scenario so you can enter his apartment with a purpose.
GRAY: I get it!
.
.
.
ISLA: I will act like I’m in a hurry to color my hair for the next day’s occasion at work. Then, you’ll act like a parlorist doing home services.
I will act like I have a cough, so you can wear a face mask without making you look suspicious.
GRAY: You’re wise, huh?
ISLA: Also, wear a volumized wig with a bang, eyeglasses, and girly clothes. Don’t forget gloves.
GRAY: When are we going to do that?
ISLA: It must be on a Friday night, after our work, so he would be tired. He told me that he’s just resting during the weekends, so he won’t need the money to buy anything. I just have to make sure that he has a lot of stock in his apartment, so he won’t buy groceries that coming weekend. And he just often watches TV every night, so he won’t be noticing you that much. Then, on the next day, after the made-up occasion, I will distract him more, so he won’t immediately find out that he lost his money.
GRAY: Alright.
ISLA: Don’t have your car on that day. Book a taxi, and don’t get off near his place. So, if he ever tried to detect where you came from, no vehicle would be reported. Come at around 8:30 PM, so the guard is not in there anymore. Then I’ll just open the main door for you.
GRAY: How about my record on your phone as a parlorist?
ISLA: I’ll just tell him that I only got your details through a printed ad I saw somewhere here in Castellón that day when my friends and I are roaming around after work. I’ll just tell him that I suddenly got an idea of coloring my hair when I saw that printed ad. Then, I’ll tell him that I saved only your number and then just read your other details, which I’d tell him I couldn’t remember anymore since I’m tired and in a hurry. Then, you just have to deactivate that number after, so if he calls, the number will be unattended. With that, you’re the one he will only suspect.
GRAY: You’ll also be a little bit suspicious with that.
ISLA: I know, but if ever he finds me suspicious, he won’t have any evidence that I’m guilty. To make me look less suspicious, I have to live with him for about a month before we do that. His savings are just inside a cabinet.
---
After a week, Gray introduced me to his two girlfriends, Raquel and Cherry.
They both look gorgeous and have so much resemblance.
Fast forward ~
[JULY 2013]
*The Day of Revenge*
ISLA: Love, a parlorist will be in here in a few minutes.
HERNAN: All right.
I opened the main door for Gray, then we went straight to Hernan’s unit...
I tried hard to hold my laughter after seeing Gray dressed like that. XD
Hernan was just so busy watching TV.
A few minutes later, he went inside his bedroom to sleep.
So, this is it...
Hernan, the stupid bch. Here we goooooo...
ISLA: It’s just there inside the cabinet.
GRAY: Gotcha!
After stealing the money, Gray immediately went outside.
Yap, that quick. ~
On the next few days, after the made-up occasion, I distracted Hernan.
And...
The enemy has been slayed XD
Victory! ~
---
That was a mission accomplished, tho
Then again, it’s Monday...
After work, we celebrated the victory.
We went to a resto bar. Danced.
Went to my apartment and slept together.
#GrayTheParlorist
#IslaTheMasterMind
#HernanTheF*ck*gIdi0t
#AStup!dWifeSuitsYouWell
#SoYouWillAlwaysFeelBetter
#EffectsOfChildhoodPsychologicalIssues
#I'mSorryButYouNeedAPsychiatrist
#ThankMeLater
CHAPTER 6
“Small World”
*5 missed calls* (from Hernan)
ISLA: Hey, why are you calling? I’m still at work, celebrating a coworker's birthday.
HERNAN: My money is missing.
ISLA: Just look around. It’s just there.
HERNAN: I did. But it must only be here in the cabinet.
ISLA: Wait. I’ll get there later.
-
ISLA: Hey, what now? Have you found it?
HERNAN: No. It must be stolen
ISLA: Ha? Maybe it’s just here in your bedroom
HERNAN: I already checked it there.
ISLA: Maybe an apartment’s cleaner went inside here
HERNAN: No, the custodians are cleaning just the outside, they don’t have the key.
ISLA: Oh.
HERNAN: Wait, it must have been the parlorist last week. Have you observed him the whole time when he’s here?
ISLA: Hmm. Yeah.
HERNAN: Haven’t you gone to the comfort room while he’s here?
ISLA: Just once, when I had to po*p.
HERNAN: It must be him.
ISLA: How much money have you lost?
HERNAN: Almost €3,000.00
ISLA: Oh, sht.
HERNAN: What’s his name? Can you show me his details?
ISLA: I only got his number.
HERNAN: How about his name? You must know it.
ISLA: I only got his details through a printed ad I saw somewhere here in Castellón on that day when my friends and I were roaming around. Then, I saved only his number. I just read his other details. I couldn’t remember it anymore since I’m tired and in a hurry on that day.
HERNAN: Try to remember his name
ISLA: Hmm... It’s like... Ra...
HERNAN: Ra... what?
ISLA: I really couldn’t remember because I wasn’t myself that day.
HERNAN: Wat da fvk, Isla?!
ISLA: I’m sorry.
HERNAN: Show me his number.
ISLA: Here.
*Dialing...
Trttt, trttt... Trttt, trttt... Trttt, trttt... Trttt, trttt... Trttt, trttt...Trtttt.
“The number you have dialed is now unattended. Please try your call later.”
HERNAN: Tsk, tsk, tsk. It must be him. Do you remember his face?
ISLA: He’s wearing a face mask since I told him I was coughing.
HERNAN: Tsk. I’ll check his face on the CCTV recording.
-
HERNAN: Tskkk. He was wearing it all along.
ISLA: Oh no. What if you try to see his car plate number on the CCTV record?
HERNAN: I checked the record outside the apartment. He was just walking when he was nearby. I’ll try to look at the other records on the other streets.
---
I texted Gray...
ISLA: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
GRAY: What? XD
ISLA: Hernan is now in so much distress
GRAY: Dasurv!
ISLA: Em0tional Damage!
GRAY: Double kill!
-
Two hours later...
HERNAN: I’ll check again tomorrow.
ISLA: But you have work.
HERNAN: This is more important. I’ll just be absent tomorrow.
ISLA: Okay. Let’s sleep now, I’m tired.
HERNAN: I’ll also try the DNA test.
ISLA: It costs a lot
HERNAN: Yeah, I know. But if there are no records of him that will show his face and where he came from, it will only be the last solution I can use to find him.
---
A few weeks later...
CCTV records failed...
No other fingerprints were detected...
So, Hernan finally gave up finding the culprit.
->>> First blood! <<<-
[AUGUST 2013]
Fast forward...
Gray and I were watching a movie at my apartment when Faith called...
Trttt, trttt... Trttt, trttt... Trttt, trttt... Trttt, trttt
FAITH: Hey, can we go outside?
ISLA: I’m with Gray right now.
FAITH: Where?
ISLA: Here at my apartment. Wait for us outside, then let’s eat somewhere.
FAITH: Alright!
-
GRAY: Who is Faith?
ISLA: My best friend since college. She’s the daughter of this apartment’s lessor, Auntie Mercedes. She’s working at GT Blue Corporación.
GRAY: Oh.
ISLA: Let’s go!
~
ISLA: Hi, Faith!
FAITH: Hi Isla! Is he the one you’re talking about?
ISLA: Yeah. He’s Gray, my boyfriend. And Gray, she’s Faith.
GRAY: Hi, Faith. Nice to meet you.
FAITH: Hi, Gray. It’s nice to meet you, too.
-
GRAY: So, where’s your province, Faith?
FAITH: At Toledo.
GRAY: Oh, we also lived there before.
FAITH: With whom?
GRAY: My family.
FAITH: Where are they now?
GRAY: My parents are now living in Seville. And my half-brother is in Córdoba.
FAITH: You only have one sibling? And just a half?
GRAY: I actually have an older half-sister on my mother’s side.
FAITH: Oh. Both are half siblings.
GRAY: Yap. But it’s fine.
FAITH: Where is your half-sister now?
GRAY: On my biological father. He and mom got separated when I was two, and my sister was fifteen at that time. So, yeah, I was raised by a stepfather.
FAITH: How about your real dad? Is he not visiting you?
GRAY: Mom said they were visiting me once a month when I was a child. But a year after they separated, he died of lung cancer.
FAITH: How about your half-sister?
GRAY: Hmm, she’s still young back then, so maybe she didn’t know how to get to our home.
FAITH: Have you asked your mom about your sister?
GRAY: She doesn’t want to talk about it. So, I couldn’t do anything. She didn’t even tell me their names. So, I hated mom for that.
FAITH: That is similar to mom’s case. She also has a half-brother on her father’s side. They were visiting him after her dad and stepmom got separated. But when her father died, she couldn’t see his half- brother since then. She couldn’t know where his half-brother now is. She couldn’t find it on social media either.
GRAY: What’s the name?
FAITH: Apollo?
GRAY: Apollo, what?
FAITH: Hmm.
.
.
.
As I remember, the surname sounds like a restaurant... Apollooo...
.
.
.
Mcdowney?
Then...
Gray and I were both in shock.
Like... We literally stared at each other for almost fifteen seconds...
FAITH: Hey!
Are you guys, okay?
GRAY: Where’s your mom?
FAITH: At home.
---
FAITH: Hey, what?!
ISLA: Wait!
FAITH: Why did you react like that?
---
When we arrived at their home...
Gray suddenly knocked at the door...
Then Auntie Mercedes opened it...
GRAY: Do you know Elizabeth Mcdowney?
AUNTIE: She was my stepmom before.
And Gray immediately hugged Auntie...
Faith seems to finally understand what’s happening.
Auntie seems really confused.
GRAY: I will explain everything
AUNTIE: What?
GRAY: You have a half-brother on your father’s side, right?
AUNTIE: Yeah!
GRAY: He was two and you were fifteen when your dad and stepmom got separated, right?
AUNTIE: Yeah. How did you know?
GRAY: Elizabeth Mcdowney is my mom. She told me I have a half-sister.
AUNTIE: Oh.
Then, Auntie just had a reaction that I couldn't explain.
Like... She’s confused but is laughing and has teary eyes.
AUNTIE: So, that means... You are my half-brother?
GRAY: Yeah. Mom didn’t tell me your names, that’s why I couldn’t find you on social media. And I hated mom for that. I did everything to convince her to tell me. But she just didn’t want to because they were not on good terms when they got separated.
AUNTIE: I also tried finding you on social media.
GRAY: I’m sorry, but I’m not a fan of it. I’m just using dating apps. So, yeah. That’s where I met Isla.
Then, we all just laughed.
And... They hugged again.
Gray also hugged Faith.
“My niece!”
“My uncle!”
I was so happy for all of you.
“Hey, were you just chatting random girls in dating app?” I asked.
“Nope. I’m choosing, of course.” Gray answered.
“So, why did you chat with me?”
“Well, I find you attractive, but there’s a deeper reason why I chat you.”
“What is it?”
“Your zodiac sign.”
“Oh. Why?”
“Well, I usually like Pisces people.”
#TheReunion
#ThanksIsla
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Critical Role: One Minute
(Read on AO3)
Rating: Gen
Summary: The third time that Jester’s Wand of Smiles fails on Caleb, she gives up on any pretense and just whines. “Cay-leb!” Jester is determined to see Caleb smile. Molly has an idea.
Wordcount: 2018
A/N: Hi, it’s been a while! I have a graduate degree and a new fandom and no idea how I got here... there’s a lot of stuff I need to clean out of my inbox/drafts, but I hope you’re all doing well!
The third time that Jester’s Wand of Smiles fails on Caleb, she gives up on any pretense and just whines. “Cay-leb!”
“Ja?” he replies, not even looking up from his book. He looks comfy, legs stretched out on his bed. Molly can’t help but snort at how unruffled he sounds - when plied with literature or magic, their wizard can ignore almost anything.
Which is good, because he’s been in a room with Jester and Molly as they make their way through Tusk Love for nearly two hours now. Jester insists on reading the novel out loud, voices and all, determined for Molly to enjoy the racy scenes along with her despite his own lack of reading ability. Unfortunately, her favor’s gotten them rousted from their own territory - Fjord is in their shared room, sharpening his falchion (and Molly’s scimitars, upon receiving a solemn promise that Molly will never tell him a single detail of the plot), and across the hall Beau and Nott are napping off the last of their celebratory hangovers, Beau grumpier than usual after Yasha disappeared again last night. In a begrudging concession to their team of boring people, the two of them have ended up cuddling on the spare bed in Caleb’s room, cackling over every other page as the writing reaches increasingly lurid and inept new heights. Emboldened by Caleb’s inattention to their antics, Jester appears to have taken on the additional goal of catching Caleb off guard with her smiling spell.
It’s not going well, but Molly is more than content to sit back and watch her try.
“Why doesn’t it work on you?” Jester demands. “Did you do something to it before you gave it to me?”
“Of course not,” Caleb says mildly, still fixed on his reading. Then he keeps going, because stoic as the man is he seems to have an innate talent for winding Jester up. “Although why would I tell you if I did?”
At Jester’s barely muffled scream of failed pranking frustration, he finally turns to look at them. “That was a joke. It’s not such a hard thing to resist, Jester.”
“Then stop resisting! I just want to see you smile one time! Just for one minute!” She’s serious in her demands, if not outright upset - Molly can feel her tail lashing around behind his back. “You don’t have to be embarrassed or anything if your teeth are dirty, you know, it’s just me and Molly and we won’t tell anyone!”
Caleb frowns a little. “You are oddly invested in this.”
“I’ve been trying so hard!” Jester cries, jabbing a finger in his direction. “For a whole hour! What if smiling will actually kill you, but we don’t know, and then we’re fighting someone, and they have a wand like mine or Nott’s laughter spell or maybe they just tell really good jokes and then you die? We have to know these things!”
Molly is appropriately amused by her rambling. Caleb just looks concerned. “Was - Jester, is this something you’re actually worried about?”
“Well, I am now,” Jester grumps. It’s endearing how much she cares about the group, even when her caring is intense and a little embarrassing and almost entirely nonsensical. Cuddled up against him as she is, Jester can feel him laughing and turns to pout at him instead. He pouts back and ruffles her hair, tugging lightly at one of her horns - he knows from experience that it feels a little weird and a little nice, and sure enough it’s not more than a couple seconds before she can’t keep a straight face anymore.
Which, now that he thinks of it...
Molly thinks it through like he does most things: not at all. Then he gets up with one last pat to Jester’s cheek, stalks across to Caleb’s bed, and shoves his legs over until there’s enough room for him to perch on the edge and get decidedly into Caleb’s personal space.
Caleb doesn’t hold his book up like a shield, but Molly suspects it’s only because he values the paper more than his own flesh. “Ah… Mr. Mollymauk?”
“Mr. Caleb,” Molly purrs. Gets an inch closer. “I have a question for you.”
Caleb’s eyes very pointedly fail to meet his. “... You could not have asked this question from back over there?”
“Nope, this is part of the plan.”
“And what,” Caleb asks, slow and steely, “are you planning?”
Molly sees his fingers twitch towards the Message wire wrapped around his wrist. “Nothing bad,” he soothes. Waits until the furrow in Caleb’s brow smooths out a little, and then springs his trap.
“Are you ticklish?”
Molly has determined from observation and a little practical experimentation that Caleb has two reactions when someone who isn’t Nott invades his personal space. The first is the stoic look of someone who figures they’re about to get a beating and is somewhat resigned to the fact. The second, infinitely more interesting, is the red-faced fluster of enjoying oneself despite oneself’s very best efforts.
He watches the red gather on Caleb’s cheeks and feels a thrill that runs all the way down his spine to a last sharp flick of his tail, chases it by leaning in just a bit closer and reaching out to play with the edges of Caleb’s coat.
“Ah,” Caleb stutters. “No?”
The blush intensifies, and Molly chuckles mock-ruefully. “Was that a yes? Jester, did you hear a yes?”
“Yes,” Jester practically shouts. “Get him, Molly!”
The coat doesn’t have any buttons, expected given its wear, but there are buttonholes and Molly loops his finger through one of them as he withdraws a little to catch Caleb’s eye. “I’ll be nice; I know we’re interrupting your reading. One minute.”
“One minute?”
He taps Caleb on the forehead. “You can keep track of time, right?”
Caleb is clearly playing catch-up. He nods jerkily. “Ah, Ja.”
“Great,” he says cheerfully. “One minute, count it out, let me know when to stop.”
“Wait, when to stop what-” And then Molly shoves his hands into Caleb’s coat and pokes a finger into each of his skinny sides and starts tickling. Caleb’s stutters morph into these little noises of protest that slip out every time Molly’s fingers so much as twitch, climbing rapidly higher-pitched and more giggly as the attack continues.
Molly offhandedly tells him exactly how cute those little noises are and earns himself even more of the same, along with a breathless little “Scheiße!” that delights him even further. Feet digging into the bed for purchase, Caleb twists away to the right, flopping sideways onto the mattress and jamming his arms against his torso to keep Molly’s hands from advancing further.
Molly chases him down, propping himself up with a knee so he can loom properly to watch his prey squirm. “Hiding in your coat?” he teases. He can barely see the red of Caleb’s cheeks above the upturned collar. “Maybe I’ll have to get you out of it. Tickle tickle!”
“N-nein!” Caleb squeaks and tries to duck his head even further. Eager to reap the fruits of his labor, Molly sacrifices one implement of torture to reach out and tug the collar down.
Caleb is - not laughing, really, he’s still doing a pretty impressive job of keeping it together and it’s a little offensive, but his face is scrunched up in the most enormous grin behind a curtain of lank hair and Molly feels his lips curling to match. “Alright, Jester,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure we can establish that smiling doesn’t kill him.”
“Wait! I want to see!” Hearing the scrambling noises of an approaching Jester, Caleb makes a sound like he’s dying and presses his hands over his face. Molly tuts disapprovingly and, taking advantage of Caleb’s torso being newly unprotected, proceeds to force his way under Caleb’s book holsters to pinch at the tops of his ribcage.
This, finally, gets Caleb to crack. “Ahaha-HA! Molly! Bit-bitte-!” He wheezes between peals of husky laughter, curling in even tighter on himself and swatting ineffectually at his coat as he tries to dislodge Molly’s hands through layers of cloth and leather.
Jester pops up behind him, squealing in delight as Caleb succumbs to mirth. “Aw, Caleb, you have such a pretty smile!” She reaches out to tilt his face at some predetermined angle, then giggles mischievously and tickles him under his chin to make him scrunch up all over again. “There, perfect! Now that I know what you look like when you’re smiling, I can draw it later!”
“You want to help?” Molly offers. “Honestly, I think he’s just getting more ticklish the longer this goes and I’m kind of curious to see how that’s going to end up.”
He stops tickling for the moment, giving Caleb a breather in case Jester does decide to jump in. Caleb takes this gracious opportunity to bury his face in the mattress and makes a tired little noise, now flushed bright red to the tips of his ears. He’s curled around Molly’s planted knee like a cat, and Molly can feel the press of his chest against his calf as Caleb catches his breath.
“We could do that,” Jester muses, hooking her chin over his shoulder. “Orrrr… Caleb can come read Tusk Love with us!”
Caleb goes still for a second. Molly’s honestly not sure if he’s breathing. Finally, he turns his head, one shining blue eye visible in the shadow of his face. “Those are the only two choices?” he asks, deadpan. “There can be no negotiations?”
“Nope!” Jester replies cheerfully.
Caleb sighs heavily. “Fine, I will read your smut with you.”
Jester cheers and flounces away, kneeling to drag the book out from where she chucked it under the bed in her excited dash. “Good choice! I am so good at tickling and you are very squishy, so you would die, probably.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, our cleric.” Molly tugs himself free of the holsters, waits for Caleb to uncurl and roll onto his back and start to sit up.
Then, sword-slash quick, he pins Caleb at the waist with both hands and leans over to speak lowly in his ear. “You didn’t tell me to stop.”
Caleb’s ear hits him in the side of the face - obviously, he doesn’t startle well. “What?”
“I told you to let me know when the minute was up.” He rubs a thumb gently over Caleb’s side, relishing in the flinch and startled huff of breath. “So.” Presses lightly, rolling on the ball of his thumb until Caleb can’t help but giggle. “Either that was a very long minute, or I’m going to have to start doing this more often.”
Caleb’s face is too blurred to make out, this close, but red is never that hard to see. “I… I forgot,” he blurts, a little too loud.
“You? Forgot?” Molly laughs despite himself, then straightens a little and plants a kiss on Caleb’s forehead just because the poor thing is pinned and he can. “Oh, dear.”
“What did you forget?” Jester interrupts, clearing her throat noisily. “That you two are supposed to be reading with me, and not whispering in each other’s ears?” She pauses. “Or you could keep going, I guess, but then you should probably tell me to leave if you’re going to -” She clicks her tongue suggestively.
Caleb sits up so fast that he knocks Molly over, then stumbles to his feet for good measure. “Nein! Jester, we aren’t going to - we’re not - you are reading too much smut.”
She shrugs, unashamed and grinning a very, very wide grin. Molly suffers no illusions that his face doesn’t look exactly the same. “And plenty of watching my mamma work before that! Now come read! Maybe it will give you i-de-as!” She sing-songs the last word, and Caleb looks about ready to fall right back down.
Molly gets up, clapping a hand on Caleb’s shoulder to keep him upright. “Well, can’t argue with that,” he says, and walks the both of them over.
Although, he thinks, looking over at Caleb, he’s got plenty of ideas already.
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Only Through Acceptance Will Love Find Us
A Tale as Old as Time (Prologue)
Word Count: 516
So this is the backburner project I mentioned in Clairvoyant Rain! This has been in the works for over a year now and I finally get to show you the fruits of my labor!
How did this come about? Well, in the midst of 2019 June, a personal tragic event happened and I wasn't doing great in terms of my mental health. I don't know what caused this to happen but I had a dream that involved Beauty and the Beast one night. Then Ven and Ferreth entered my mind and it was over from there. I wasn't serious about writing a Verreth BatB AU until I watched the movie again that September (Thank you, Disney marathon). That was when I decided to take on this massive undertaking.
Long story short, this was a nice bout of escapism that helped me get through last summer. I had fun planning out the different events that'd be taking place in this and I'm even taking a chance on throwing in some plot twists! I hope you all enjoy reading this and, if this does well, then that'll mean some other backburner projects will possibly see the light of day!
(What I mean by backburner project is that, because this is a big project for me to do, I won't be giving my full attention to writing this at one time. What this means is that chapters will be posted sporadically, meaning this is low on my priority list of what to write. If I have nothing else to write at the moment, then this will be worked on. Other than that, don't expect frequent updates.)
Read on AO3 | Read on DA | Support me on Ko-fi!
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a prince. He lived in a beautiful castle filled with all his heart desired yet he was cruel, spoiled, and selfish. One winter’s night, whilst out on the town, he was approached by an old beggar woman. She offered him a single rose in exchange for shelter from the bitter cold.
The prince, disgusted by her hideousness, refused her gift. Despite her warning to not be deceived by others’ appearance, he still turned her away. He realized his folly in doing so when she shed her disguise to reveal a gorgeous enchantress. He tried to apologize to her but it was too late. She had seen the lack of love in his heart and punished him for his misdeed.
She transformed him into an ugly beast and vanished into the night. Before he knew what had happened, the townspeople formed a mob around him. With pitchforks and torches in hand, they ran him out of town. It was only then he saw the form the enchantress cursed him with. Upon reaching the safety of his home, he realized just how far the spell’s effects reached.
All the castle’s inhabitants were transformed as well. Many had turned into furniture while others household ornaments and the like. He was given a hand mirror and a letter that held the now glowing rose the enchantress attempted to offer him. The letter, written in ornate cursive, read:
“The prince must learn to love another and earn their love by the time the last petal of the rose falls. If he accomplishes this, the spell will be broken. If not, he and all others will be doomed to remain the way they are for all time. The mirror shall serve as the prince’s window to the outside world and he need to take special care of the rose for it is enchanted. May the prince learn the lesson I wish to impart on him.”
The prince was enraged at this. He demanded his servants to go out and find any information on the enchantress so he may know where to search for her. He thought it an easy task; locate the witch and force her to break the curse through any means necessary. Unfortunately, she was nowhere to be found.
His only chance now was to do as she said. He sought far and wide for the most viable candidates, not caring for their status as commoner or royalty. All that mattered was if they could break the curse. Many contenders couldn’t meet his expectations and the few that did were driven to fear at the sight of him. His hope of becoming human again dwindled with each failure.
Years passed yet he was stubbornly determined. He was certain he could find someone who’d fall in love with him and break the spell. After all, someone could learn to love a beast if the benefits were good enough to reap. Even a beast such as him.
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A Chance Encounter (Part 2 & 3)
Here’s the second part of the fanfic that I’m posting for the third day of the Hetalia Extravaganza by @weekofhetalia !!!
AO3 LINK
AU: Futuristic Fantasy
Pairing: Romano x Canada
Summary: In a world where magic and technology are at odds with each other, Lovino is a fire faery that has escaped from an American laboratory that had been holding him captive in order to experiment on him. After escaping, he managed to flee across the border into Canada, where Matthew finds him nearly unconscious in the cold and carries him home in order for Lovino to heal.
Chapter 2
"Alright," Matthew murmured to himself, heading to the kitchen. The Canadian pulled on the apron that was placed on the counter before heading over to the cabinets and taking out ingredients to make pancakes.
Most people found it weird that he preferred to cook almost everything himself instead of letting machines do the cooking for him. However, to the Canadian, cooking was almost like a lost art. The food was more flavorful and didn't have that slightly metallic aftertaste that food made by the machines usually ended up having.
Humming quietly to himself while he worked, he ended up making two tall stacks of pancakes, carrying them to the table, along with a bottle of Canadian maple syrup, while the kitchen was being cleaned.
Lovino soaked in the bath a bit longer, scrubbing away the dirt and dunking himself completely under for a few seconds. He finally drained the water and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his waist as the scent of food wafted throughout the house. His mouth was watering as he pulled on the clothes that the Canadian had left for him. They were a bit baggy on him, but the length was about right.
He used some of the supplies in the first aid kit to wrap some bandages around his wrists and ankles where they were tender and a bit raw from his time in captivity. He then exited the bathroom, his hair still a bit damp and cautiously followed the sweet smell to Matthew's kitchen. He stayed in the doorway watching the blonde with a wary eye for a minute.
As Matthew placed the food on the table, he noticed Lovino standing in the doorway. He offered a reassuring smile to the Italian, wiping his hands off on the front of his apron. "You're welcome to come in, Lovino," the Canadian murmured, glad to see that he was looking a bit better after his bath. "May I get you something to drink?" he asked as he untied the apron, draping it over his arm as he looked at Lovino expectantly.
Lovino moved to the table and sat down in behind one of the stacks of pancakes. He tilted his head at Matthew's question before murmuring, "Just water..." He paused. "Or milk if you have it..." The Italian looked at the utensils that had been offered to eat with before rather hesitantly picking up the fork. He relaxed a bit as he realized that it was stainless steel. He could put up with it for a bit.
He didn't waste any time before taking a tentative bite of the stack of pancakes. As soon as he was sure they were safe, he rather enthusiastically dug into them. It had been a long time since he'd had something to eat that didn't taste like metal.
Matthew smiled as he watched the Italian for a moment before heading to the refrigerator, depositing the apron in a hamper on the way. Taking two glass cups from the cabinet, he poured milk into both of them before carrying them to the table, setting one in front of Lovino and the other in front of his own plate. Sitting down, he tucked a couple of strands of hair behind his ear before taking the jar of maple syrup and pouring the sweet golden liquid on top of his stack of pancakes.
Matthew took his fork and cut into the fluffy pancakes, putting a piece into his mouth as he hummed in satisfaction at the taste. "I'll never be able to understand why some people prefer machine-made food," he murmured, clucking his tongue slightly. Looking over at Lovino, he said quietly, "I hope this was alright."
Lovino looked at the milk before sipping it like it was a fine wine. He could never understand it, but milk was just something that helped calm him. It had a similar effect on most faeries. There was a reason that so many stories about fairies that stole milk used to be popular in the dark ages. More than likely, they were based on that fact. The Italian continued to eat his pancakes with a definite disregard of table manners.
As he swallowed a large bite, he nodded. "It's not half bad. You made it?" He was a bit amazed that there were humans that actually cooked for themselves. Most were completely satisfied with food that, in his opinion, tasted like poison from the iron residue the machines left behind.
Matthew smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Y-Yeah," he murmured, letting out a nervous chuckle. "I...like cooking my meals myself..." He looked down at his plate, taking another bite of pancakes. "I've never liked the taste of the food that machines make, even when I was younger. I mean, who can enjoy food when it has that god-awful metallic taste to it." He shook his head, taking a drink of his own milk. "Even a lot of the supposedly fresh produce is being tainted, which is why I've started growing a lot of it myself in the greenhouse that I have out back. Most people think that I'm crazy for doing stuff that's been so...outdated for decades now, but I find it enjoyable. You really only get one chance at life, and I want to spend mine not caught up in such a fast-paced society. Maybe I'm just old-fashioned, but I think it's more...rewarding to be able to work hard and be able to reap the benefits yourself and enjoy the...fruits of your labor, so to say, than to let everything be done for you. Or at least, that's my belief," he said with a smile. His eyes widened slightly as he looked up apologetically at the other male. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ramble on like that," he murmured, continuing to eat his pancakes, his cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment.
As the blonde rambled about how wonderful nature was, he couldn't help but be pleased that at least this human wasn't relying solely on the metal contraptions that so many were. By the time Matthew stopped talking, he was seeing the man in a bit of a new light. Lovino smirked slightly. "It's not outdated. There are still quite a few people in the world who live without those clanking, metal contraptions." He paused for a moment as another set of Matthew's words sank in. He looked a bit, awed, as he asked. "You actually have a greenhouse?"
"I wish I could meet some of them," Matthew mumbled quietly, staring at his plate while he ate. Lifting his fork to his mouth with another bite, he paused, looking at the Italian when he asked his question. "U-Umm, yeah. I built it myself based off of a design that I found in a book when I was a teenager. It's actually really nice and fairly big and always warm inside. I had to add a few changes from the original design to make it more effective. But since it gets pretty cold in this part of the country, especially during winter, I thought it would be a good idea to make a greenhouse. That way none of the plants die, and I don't have to actually go out and buy food from the stores," he murmured, wrinkling his nose slightly before looking over at Lovino. "I could show it to you sometime later once you've rested if you would like?"
Lovino nodded slowly. "That's not a bad idea." His mind was wandering slightly as he thought of the warmth that would be in a greenhouse. "There's nothing better than food thats never been touched by a machine..." He murmured. When the blonde mentioned rest, he looked up at the Canadian and tilted his head. "I'm not taking your bed, am I?" He didn't want to owe the Canadian more than he already did.
Matthew shook his head slowly as he finished the last bite of his pancakes. "I have a guest room that you can stay in. Normally my brother stays there when he visits but..." He trailed off before taking a sip of milk, his hand shaking slightly as he put the glass back down. "We had a falling out a few years ago whenever he got his...job," he air-quoted the word, a scowl on his face, "and so he's stopped visiting ever since. And I'm glad that he has. True, it gets lonely here, but it's not like I've ever really had any friends to begin with, so I'm...kind of used to it..." He took another sip of milk, looking out the window with a small frown on his face before turning to Lovino with an apologetic look. "There I go. Rambling again. Sorry," he said with a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Umm...if you're finished, I'll take your plate and silverware, if you'd like?"
Lovino glanced down. He knew about fights with family. Part of the reason he wound up in the lab was because he'd run away from the home he shared with his brother. "Dispiace... I didn't mean to bring up bad memories..." He pushed the plate across the table. He'd finished the pancakes several moments before. He continued to sip at the milk though.
Matthew stood up, taking the plates from the table. He smiled over at the Italian. "It's alright, Lovino. I mean, there's no way that you could have known, so please don't feel that you have to apologize." He smiled again, before going and placing the plates in the sink. The Canadian walked over to the window near the table, looking out at the sky with his hands in his pockets. Humming in thought, he murmured softly, "It looks like it's going to begin snowing soon..."
Lovino made his way over to look out the window. His frown deepened as he realized the Canuck was right. "Merda... I fucking hate snow." He shivered slightly just at the thought of the cold flakes. "I prefer somewhere warm where there's no chance of me freezing to death..." He mumbled the words more to himself than the blonde beside him.
Matthew turned to look at the Italian with a curious expression as he leaned against the wall. "You're welcome to stay here with me until the weather begins to warm." He blushed lightly as he looked down, twirling his fingers. "I mean, that is, if you don't have anywhere else to stay, and umm, if you want to. I won't force you to stay if you don't want to. I'm just saying that the offers there," he murmured, biting his lip as he pushed off the wall, beginning to head toward his bedroom.
Lovino stared out the window a second longer before nodding. "Alright. I'll take you up on the offer. It's not like I'm crazy about going out into the cold anyway." He folded his arms over his chest. " So, where's the guestroom you were talking about?"
Matthew turned his head to the Italian with a soft smile. "It's right across the hall from my room," he murmured. "And feel free to help yourself to anything in the house while you're staying here. Just be careful with the books that I have that are in the study if you choose to read them. They're really old and delicate. Other than that, you have free reign to the whole house and the greenhouse." Matthew glanced at the clock. "But it is getting kind of late, so I'm going to head off to bed. So...good night, Lovino," he murmured, lifting his hand in a wave before heading off down the hallway and into his bedroom.
Lovino tilted his head slightly as he listened to the blonde and, as Matthew left the room, he murmured, "Buonna notte." He stood by the window a little longer until he saw the snow start to fall. He then quickly made his way to the bedroom he'd been offered.
He had to admit that he was a bit surprised. There wasn't really that much technology in Matthew's home at all by the looks of it. As he curled up under the sheets, he sighed softly. He'd have to come up with some way to repay the man for saving his life. He didn't have a choice in the matter as it was a fae rule. He grumbled softly to himself before falling asleep.
Matthew was in the process of changing clothes when he heard the door to the guest room close, a small smile spreading across the Canadian's face. He was glad that Lovino had recovered so quickly since he had found him. However, Matthew was concerned about how the Italian had ended up in that state in the first place. Shaking his head with a sigh as he curled up under the blankets, he figured that Lovino would probably tell him once he became a bit more adjusted, but it was alright if he didn't want to tell. The Canadian wasn't going to force him or pry the information from him. With a soft sigh, the Canadian quickly fell into a deep slumber that seemed to end too soon as the first rays of morning peeked in between the curtains of the window in the Canadian's room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 3
Groaning quietly, Matthew rolled out of bed, popping his back as he stretched before heading to the closet. He pulled out a red t-shirt and some overalls that he switched into before pulling on a pair of knee-high socks. He quietly exited his room and headed to the kitchen, taking a bowl of fresh fruit out of the refrigerator and placing it on the counter. Taking an apple and a handful of grapes, he went to the window, a small smile on his face when he saw that it had indeed snowed last night. Quite a bit by the looks of it. The Canadian hummed quietly to himself as he popped a grape into his mouth, watching the sun rise, the light playing on the fresh powder outside.
Lovino slept quite well between the soft cotton sheets in the guest room. Around two hours after sunrise, he finally dragged himself out of bed. It was hunger that woke him. At some point during the night he had subconsciously tossed his shirt aside, something about the way the shirt fit made him uncomfortable. Without thinking twice in his groggy morning mindset, he made his way quietly down to the kitchen, not bothering to hide the marks on his back. They resembled an intricate deep red tattoo that abstractly looked like insect wings.
He walked into the room and spotted the fruit. He grabbed an apple and bit into it before making a strange face. It was still cold from being in the refrigerator and he had a natural dislike for cold things. He sighed and leaned down slightly, putting his hands on the counter and staring with distaste at the fruit.
Matthew turned around from watching the sunlight sparkle on the freshly fallen snow. He was holding a mug of freshly made hot chocolate in his hands that he had made after finishing off his apple and a couple more handfuls of grapes. The Canadian chuckled softly, a light flush on his face as he watched the shirtless Italian. He quietly sipped at the sweet beverage in his hands as he leaned against the wall. "You don't like anything that's cold, do you, eh?" he asked with a light laugh, a grin on his face.
Lovino grunted softly in reply. He was still half asleep on his feet. "...hate the fucking cold..." He muttered. He looked at the Canadian and his eyes seemed to finally focus on the steam that was rising from the mug in the blonde's hands. His gaze then darted around the kitchen to see if there just happened to be a spare serving of the warm liquid. He preferred coffee, but as long as it was warm, he would probably drink anything in the mornings.
Matthew giggled softly as he watched the still tired Italian look around the kitchen. "It sort of makes me wonder what you're doing in such a cold climate if you hate it that much, eh," he murmured to himself, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. He took another small sip of the beverage before nodding to the counter behind Lovino. "There's some more hot chocolate in the thermos right there by the sink. There's also some coffee made up in the coffee pot over there. I didn't know which you would prefer so I made both." He paused for a moment. "And good morning, by the way," he added softly, a grin on his face that he hid behind the rim of the mug he was holding.
Lovino immediately made a beeline for the coffee pot. After filling a mug full of the steaming black liquid he almost immediately took a long sip, not even flinching in the slightest at the heat. "Grazie al cielo..." He murmured as he held the mug in both hands and felt the warmth sink into the pit of his stomach. After giving the caffeine a moment to take its proper effect. He glanced up at the Canadian and mumbled. "Ah. Buongiorno..." He took another sip of his coffee before answering the blonde's question. "I didn't want to fucking come here. I just wound up here through coincidence..."
Matthew blinked at the Italian, his words taking a while to set in since the Canadian's mind was preoccupied with the sight he'd just seen as the brunette had made his way to the coffee pot. There were markings on his back...A tattoo probably, in the shape of... "Wings..." he murmured, absent-mindedly under his breath. Matthew shook his head, snapping himself out of his daze. "Oh, um, yes, of-- of course you wouldn't come here on purpose..." he murmured, tilting his head to the side before pushing off the wall and turning around, staring out the window with a slight frown on his face that he tried his best to hide as he continued to sip at his beverage.
Lovino tensed slightly at the word "wings". His mind finally registered that he wasn't wearing a shirt and had probably just broken his cover as a faery by letting the Canadian see his mark. He shifted a bit nervously at the blonde's next words. He interpreted them differently than they were meant and began worrying Matthew would try and return him to the lab he'd escaped from. He hastily finished his coffee before studying the Canadian's body language for any sign he might be thinking of attacking or betraying him. He waited a moment before breaking the silence. "Where the hell is this anyway?"
Matthew turned slightly, leaning his shoulder against the wall, raising a curious eyebrow. "You're in Canada, near the Canadian-American border in Quebec." He paused before continuing. "I assume that you're from Italy, since you speak the language and that." The blonde chewed on his lip in thought before speaking. "On your back...the tattoo...it's really pretty," he murmured with a gentle smile, tilting his head to the side and closing his eyes, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "It looks almost like...butterfly wings," he murmured with a wistful expression. "I have lots of butterflies in the greenhouse, since they're pollinators and help the plants. I wish I could get some hummingbirds, but...." he shrugged, a small sigh escaping his lips. "They don't really belong this far up north, and it would mess up their natural instincts and migration pattern and everything else." He stared out at the clear sky, the sun in full view, placing a hand on the window.
Lovino paled slightly. He hadn't thought he'd been brought this far. When he'd been kidnapped, he was actually in a small mage village in Sicily visiting a cousin. "Merda. Quebec?" He relaxed slightly as he realized the Canadian hadn't put two and two together about his species difference. Maybe his disguise was better than he thought. He blushed faintly as his mark was complimented though. Not many of the fae thought the same. Fire fae were a rarity and just seeing his red mark was enough to frighten away most of his own kind. Lovino raised an eyebrow as he heard Matthew actually show verbal concern for the birds. Most humans would have simply captured the birds regardless of how it affected them. "You're a strange hu- ah, person, you know that?" He managed to catch himself before he called Matthew human. It would have been a mistake that would raise questions. Humans said person to refer to each other. He knew that.
Matthew chuckled lightly. "Yes. I suppose I am. Everyone has their own eccentricities and quirks though. It's what makes us unique and different from everyone else. We weren't born as carbon copies, so why do people choose to live their lives that way?" he asked rhetorically with a small sigh, dropping his hand down to his side before placing it in his pocket as he finished off the last of his drink that had cooled considerably by the time it was finished.
Lovino shrugged. He'd decided the Candian wasn't too much of a threat. He decided to carry along the blonde's comments and ask a bit of a question of his own. "You really are odd. You're probably the type to be an activist in favor of the magical creature population having equal rights to humans, aren't you?" He knew he was risking a bit in asking that question. Rights for humanoid magical creatures was a rather hot debate topic world wide lately. But most humans turned a blind eye to the topic in favor of not being seen as someone that wanted to stir up trouble in what was, for humans, a very comfortable scenario. As long as they had their convenient machinery and technology, they couldn't care less about the beings that suffered because of it. Lovino set a cool gaze on Matthew as he waited to see how the human would answer.
Matthew blushed slightly, pushing a couple of locks of blonde hair behind his ear. "Umm, yeah, actually, I am. That's the whole reason why my brother and I had our falling out, actually," he murmured, looking at the empty mug in his hand. "He had gotten a job at one of the labs in a nearby city across the border in America. When he visited, he was telling me all about it and some of the different experiments that they were doing and it..." Matthew turned slightly green at the thought, shaking his head as he struggled to regain his composure. "It's not right... Magic and science are at two completely different ends of the spectrum. Science isn't the answer to everything, despite what many humans think. I mean, I've never met a magical creature personally, but they're living beings. They have just as much right to be free as humans do, perhaps more so because of all of the injustices done to them over the course of time. Even if they are different from humans, there are still some things that are the same. We're alive, we have emotions, we have families, and culture, and societies, and it's just..... I don't understand why humans have to act like they're superior to everyone when they aren't.... It's just stupid and petty and....I-I just wish humans would stop being so blinded by their own wants and selfish goals and realize the harm that they're causing to others around them....and I wish there was something that I could do about it.... I just don't know what I could do..." he trailed off, slumping his shoulders with a defeated sigh, his eyes dulling slightly as he stared at the floor.
Lovino blinked in shock. He hadn't thought the rather quite Canadian capable of a rant like that. He was silent for a moment. "If it fucking means anything to you, I agree with every damn thing you just said. You sound more like a mage than the average human. It's..." He thought for a moment how to word what he was trying to say. "It's refreshing to see humans thinking like that."
Matthew looked up at the Italian, his eyebrows raised. "Really?" he asked, a smile spreading across his face as he closed his eyes. "I'm glad I break the mold of what an 'average human' is." He brought his hand up to his mouth as he chuckled softly. "I mean, just think about it. The world would be a much nicer place if everyone between species would get along. A world where everyone can be happy and free and be at peace... That's my dream..." He blushed lightly. "Of course, I know it won't be achieved anytime during my lifetime, or even possibly ever, but...it's still a nice ideal to think about." He closed his eyes, rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes and back. "Hmm...A mage?...I don't know...Do you think I could be one, eh?" he asked, opening his eyes and locking his violet gaze to Lovino's.
Lovino snorted softly. "You're probably right about your dream. There just aren't enough people working towards equality." He tensed as he met Matthew's gaze with his hazel one. He tilted his head with a bit of a smirk. "You're probably not a mage unless you've already discovered it. Most mages figure it out by the time they're twelve years old...." He stared into Matthew's eyes a bit entranced by the shade of violet. "Then again, most mages have unusual eye color." He mused. "Have you ever used magic before?" He pried his gaze away from Matthew's.
Matthew blinked slightly, tilting his head to the side with a contemplative look on his face. Chewing on his lip, he walked over and placed his mug in the sink. "I'm...not sure. I don't think so. Unless having a green thumb and animals liking me is magic then I doubt it," he said with a small laugh, hopping up onto the counter, swinging his legs slightly. "I mean, I'm twenty-two right now, so that's quite a bit of an age difference from twelve." He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck before shrugging before looking at the Italian curiously. "You seem to know quite a lot about mages... Are you a mage yourself?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.
Lovino shrugged. " You might have a hint of natural magic in you then. Just not enough to wield it." He bit his lip a bit at Matthew's question. "No. I'm not a mage." He admitted. "I know some from back home in Italy though." He deliberated on telling the blonde he could still use magic though.
Matthew grinned, closing his eyes as he let out a soft hum. "Oh, that's cool. I bet you miss your home and family there..." he murmured, trailing off as he stared at the floor. The Canadian's gaze drifted to the counter behind the Italian that the partially eaten apple was still sitting on. His eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face as he hopped off the counter. "If you want I can take you to the greenhouse. You can get a warm apple there, seeing as how you hate cold food." The blonde chuckled softly. "Plus there's no better taste than an apple fresh picked off the tree."
Lovino looked down a bit. "Si. Mio fratellino probably thinks I'm not going to come back though... We had a fight before I left home...." He sighed and was quiet for a moment before nodding. "I'd like to see your greenhouse. It probably a lot warmer than anywhere else.”
Matthew hummed, contemplating his guest's predicament. Maybe I can help him get home somehow... he thought to himself. Turning to Lovino, he murmured, "You know, if you're cold then you can just turn the thermostat up. But sure," he murmured with a grin, pushing a couple of locks of blonde hair behind his ear. "I'll show you. The greenhouse covers about a...half acre of land, I believe, and there isn't just the different fruits and vegetables growing there. There's also lots of different types of flowers; those mainly grow along the perimeter near the walls," he explained as he led the Italian down the hallway.
"There's a fairly big pond in the center; the water's always nice and warm. Ummm, there's the apple and cherry trees that sort of circle the pond, along with the grapevines, strawberry, blueberry, and blackberry bushes that are sort of more concentrated towards the western side of the greenhouse, while the tomatoes, squash, green beans, potatoes, cabbages, cauliflower, and....ummm....there was something else, I think...." he paused, tapping his finger against his chin. "Ah, well, those are all on the eastern side, while the different herbs are located near the north, and the entrance that leads to the house is on the southern end, and that's mainly just grass and bushes and flowers," he finished explaining as they reached a door at the end of the hallway. Matthew opened the door, revealing a covered walkway that was surrounded by glass, snow piled up about two feet deep against the glass which was fogged over from the heat inside the walkway.
At the end of said walkway, there was another doorway. Tilting his head toward the door, Matthew turned toward Lovino, a smile on his face. "The greenhouse is just on the other side of that door."
Lovino's eyes widened in pure amazement at the way technology had been used to actually help nature. To be honest, he had been expecting to bundle up to extreme levels and trudge through the snow out to a tiny little glass house. He wasn't expecting anything near as large as the paradise the Canadian had just described. "Dio..." He murmured. " You really do like nature..." He tilted his head slightly, making sure it was okay before pushing open the door to the greenhouse. He froze in the doorway at the sight.
It was much grander than the way the blonde had described. He walked over to one of the plants and lightly brushed his fingers over the leaves. He had missed seeing actual green things growing. It had been almost a year since he'd been captured, after all. He walked through the garden, almost like he was in a trance. The warm air was invigorating to both his body and spirit. As he neared the tomato plants, he hesitantly reached out and plucked one of the plump, red fruits from the bush and brought it to his lips. The action caused several of the butterflies that had been perched on the plant to flutter into the air before settling on the Italian's hair and shoulders, although the brunette didn't seem fazed in the least.
Matthew smiled as he watched the Italian for a few moments before sitting down. He took off his socks, rolling up the legs of his overalls to about mid-calf. Standing up, he crossed his arms over his abdomen as he wiggled his toes around in the slightly damp grass, enjoying the feeling. Looking back over at the Italian, the Canadian giggled when he saw all of the butterflies perched on the brunette, a soft smile gracing his lips. The blonde's gaze was soon drawn to the intricate deep red tattoo that was on Lovino's back.
Matthew really did think that it was beautiful and somehow fit the Italian perfectly. Smiling, he was distracted from his thoughts as a group of butterflies fluttered around him. Several of the larger ones landed on his head and the back of his shirt while some of the smaller ones landed on his arms and the front of his shirt. Matthew giggled softly as he gently padded over to where Lovino was standing, careful not to disturb the butterflies that were residing on the both of them. "It's good, isn't it?" he whispered with a gentle smile when he saw that he was eating one of the tomatoes.
"Si. Its not bad for a greenhouse grown tomato." The Italian shook his head lightly, causing the butterflies on his head to lift in to the air. "Lazy little bastards. The ones back home are the same way." he looked at Matthew and smirked as some of the butterflies joined the ones already on the blonde. "You weren't joking when you said animals liked you." He gave a soft huff that could have almost been a laugh and reached up to shoo a few of them off. "They must think you're a damn flower or something. You shouldn't encourage them. They'll get spoiled."
A soft blush dusted across the Canadian's cheeks as he looked out over the greenhouse, letting the Italian shoo some of the butterflies away. A soft laugh left his lips. "I don't know. I think it might be a little too late for that. Every time I wake up from a nap, I'm nearly coated head to toe with butterflies." He let out another giggle before turning toward Lovino. "I don't mind at any rate," he murmured, reaching his hand up to a large butterfly that had settled on the Italian's shoulder. The tips of his fingers lightly brushed against the brunette's skin as Matthew coaxed the butterfly onto his finger before turning around to place the butterfly on the tomato plant, hiding his blush in the process. Once the Canadian had quelled his blush for the most part, he looked over at Lovino. "Umm...do you want to go sit by the pond?" he asked softly.
Lovino rolled his eyes. "You're definitely one of a damn kind. Hopelessly too kind for your own good" He huffed and lightly swatted at the returning butterflies. "You said the water in the pond was warm, right?" he thought that if the water was warm enough, he might just be tempted to take a dip sometime in the future. He made his way over to the pond and sat down in the grass, flopping back to stare at the lightly steamed over view of the sky overhead.
Matthew nodded as he followed Lovino over to the pond. The Canadian sat down near the water's edge, dipping his feet in the warm water. He sat in silence for a while, contemplating the Italian's words. "I don't know if I would say that I'm too kind..." he murmured. Looking over his shoulder at the brunette, he said, "I have a question for you..." He paused for a moment. "If I was able to find a way to get you back home...to Italy...would you like to go back?" Matthew returned his gaze to the water in front of him, looking at his reflection in the rippling surface.
#HetaliaExtravaganza2k19#APH Canada#aph romano#aph south italy#romacan#romanada#canmano#a chance encounter fanfic#hetalia#fanfic#fantasy#fairies#fiction#Magic
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Hi, darling I would like the New Year Package. I am a Virgo Sun with a Libra Moon. A fact about me is that I love video games! My favs are Dragon Age Inquisition and Fallout New Vegas. My question for the three card reading is: Will I obtain success through TV business? I have dreams about making movies and making my stories come to life, but I have some doubt about it. For the sigil request, how about 'I am connected to the Universe` ? Thank you so much! I hope you're doing good! 😙🐱✨🌌
Hello darling! Thank you, I’m doing well! A side note, you have a very shiny, Caribbean blue energy that is really pretty!
🔅Zodiac Spread
⚜️You: King of Wands, reversed
-This is a card of fiery energy and passion, sometimes to a harmful degree. Be careful in this coming year that you are taking the needs of others in consideration, and are not rushing through things that deserve greater care and attention to detail. You may be setting goals that are a little too high for the time frame of your choosing. Be patient, and remember to take a deep breath once in a while.
⚜️Resources: Page of Cups
-There is great potential for unique opportunities this year. Creative endeavors will present themselves and provide you with the means to further your goals and skills. Trust your intuition and it will lead you to abundance and prosperity.
⚜️Communication and Knowledge: Seven of Cups, reversed
-This card suggests that you will have a year full of difficult choices, where you are presented with many opportunities and must choose which causes to devote your time to. You will have chances to further your skills and knowledge, but there will also a temptation to neglect your responsibilities in favor of fun.
⚜️Home and Family: Six of Pentacles
-This card paints a picture of abundance and fulfillment. Everything has come together nicely, and the warmth that your family offers is more present than ever. While there is much love and affection to receive, this card reminds us to also be giving, and to allow ourselves to be as open as possible. It takes trust, but your good faith will pay off in the end.
⚜️Creativity and Children: Ace of Swords
-This year will be a time of breakthrough and success in your creative endeavors. Your long-term creative journey is only beginning, but you are ready to attack any obstacle in your path. This is a good time to begin any creative projects that you might have been considering.
⚜️Work and Service: Ten of Cups
-This year, a great deal of your life will feel like it is finally aligned. You have the resources and energy to spread love to everyone you see. This is a good year to begin new volunteering opportunities, or to give back to the community or your loved ones.
⚜️Relationships: Eight of Cups
-This card suggests that there is something specific in a relationship that you are looking for; something that you have not yet found. You may feel some disappointment in your seemingly bad luck, but you may be looking for the wrong things. Ask yourself what it is that you truly desire, what truly would make you happy, and allow yourself to experience things outside of what you have envisioned previously.
⚜️Tough Stuff: The High Priestess, reversed
-The cards suggest that the biggest obstacle that you will have in this coming year is learning to ignore the opinions of others and trusting your own intuition. Sometimes it seems like everyone in your life has an idea of what your goals should be and how you should do things. Take their advice for what it is, use what you think will help, and discard everything else.
⚜️Expansion and Beliefs: The Fool, reversed
-This card suggests that you are unsure about some of your ideals, and are not sure if you should take the risk to go against the status quo. You can be certain that your intuition is guiding you to the right path, so trust yourself. You are not meant to be like everyone else, so embrace what makes you unique.
⚜️Career: The Hanged Man
-This card advises you to look into new perspectives in your chosen path. Look into different ways of getting things done, and think your goals through before jumping into them. Don’t be afraid of taking a break here and there; it will revitalize you and help you figure out where the next step needs to be.
⚜️Friends and Community: Queen of Pentacles, reversed
-This card suggests that you have been giving a lot of yourself to your friends, and have not been giving yourself enough attention. Do not be afraid this year to give yourself time to relax. There will be a need to find a balance between your social life and professional life this year.
⚜️Secrets and Undoing: Knight of Pentacles
-This year will be filled with opportunities, but you must be willing to put in your half of the energy. You will have to go outside of your comfort zone in order to fully utilize your talents.
🔅Deity Identification/Reading
⚜️Hermes, Greek God of Travel, Trade, Thieves, Luck, Language, and Messenger of the Gods.
-His message: Justice, reversed
“Be honest with yourself and others. Days are shorter when you are open.”
⚜️Apollo, Greek God of the Sun, Music, Archery, Knowledge, Truth, Prophecy, Healing and Poetry
-His message: Eight of Wands, reversed
“Don’t become frustrated if everything does not go according to plan. There is a path that is approaching that will show you your worth.”
⚜️Horus, Egyptian God of the Sky
-His message: King of Pentacles
“You have great creative potential, and will soon begin to reap the rewards from what you have sewn.”
⚜️Frigg, Norse Goddess of the Aesir
-Her message: Page of Pentacles
“Manifestation is this years theme. Go forth with pride and you will find yourself wealthy with secrets.” (Not sure what was meant by the last part haha. It is probably metaphorical).
🔅Psychic Ability/Affinity
I sense that you have an affinity for:
⚜️Cosmic Witchcraft
⚜️Protection Magic (includes warding and shielding)
⚜️Talismanic Magic
Psychic abilities that I sense:
⚜️Empathy
⚜️Clairvoyance
⚜️Limited claircognizance
🔅Intuitive Reading
-I sense that you are very good with your words, and have a fox-like cleverness to you. You have a lot of love to give, and cherish things deeply. You are perceived as being soothing and a free spirit, and are someone that people can rely on.
🔅Three Card Reading
(Note, I pulled three Major Arcana cards for this, which is a pretty big deal and suggests that this path is a very powerful one.)
Career Potential:
⚜️The Hanged Man
-This card paints a picture of a career where you are able to put all of yourself into something you love. There are no restraints; you feel comfortable with showing the world your talents, and are not afraid of failure. It may at times become a bit of a waiting game, where you must be patient to see the fruits of your labors. Do not be afraid of the risk, as it is a necessary step to success in any field.
⚜️The Fool
-This card embodies that idea that a leap of faith must be taken in order to unlock your full potential. This path has so much power and potential, you must take the next step to see it through. New opportunities will present themselves, and bring with them immense joy. This card advises you to let go of doubt and reluctance, and approach your dreams with all of the fervor that you are capable of.
Advice:
⚜️Judgement
-This card suggests that this path is your true calling! You have a unique potential and a story to share with the world, and you can be sure that the Universe is on your side. You have something that humanity needs, and the time to share it is coming soon. Try finding people with similar interests as you, as it may make your path more clear to you.
🔅Sigil
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Fuck ‘em. Fuck every single one of those fucks who say you’re “too confident” or rubbing ND friends noses in it or whatever that guy was trying to say. You DESERVE to be happy and confident in your own skin! In my experience, when someone says that another person is “too confident” all that means is their confidence is unsettling to someone who doesn’t understand it.
A true friend, even if they are struggling with mental illness as well, is always rooting for you, however that looks and feels for them. It may make them a little more down on themselves for a time, but who among us HASN’T had SOME feeling of “man, why am I not as {insert adjective here} as Frankie is...”?! Everyone has been there, because we’re human.
Enjoy your path to health OP and reap the fruits of your labor my friend, because it is fucking hard, and true friends understand that. And they will be there with you during the lows, the middles, the highs to celebrate your success; even if that means the success was managing to get out of bed and put clean clothes on that day or that you finally feel love for yourself in a way you never even could think of a year or six ago. I never used to believe that there were people actually like that, or that I could BE one of those people for someone else.
I as well am finally getting to a place of real love with myself for the first time in a long long time after years of mental illness. @blarghala can attest to this, He’s been there thru the better part of it with me, even over 3,000 miles apart, Even when he was going thru low shit too, he told me every time we spoke that I should love myself to the fullest. He’s one of the rocks in my life I never could have imagined I deserved A few years ago. But I do. And so do you OP.
Those are the people to listen to. Listen to the helpers, the dreamers, the ones who celebrate YOU all of the rough edges included.
And then take the caveman club you’ve refined over the years of beating back the illness, polish it so it’s nice and shiny, and beat the fuck out of the other schmucks who say your confidence is ‘too much’.
what is it about me sitting in my little corner of the Internet and saying “I actually don’t hate myself as an adult now and I want to be nice to people and that’s my entire thing” that makes these anons start foaming at the mouth
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And for all the posts I see gloating about Teavana closing because "lol its too expensive, serves u right"...
The tea that we have, the REAL tea leaves, not the fruit juice (where it’s totally up to the consumer if they value it at $1/glass) come from tea farms and plantations from all over the world, mostly from the southern/southwestern Chinese provinces, with long traditions of hand-picking amazing teas. A lot of our top-shelf teas are prepared from leaves grown at the very tops of the trees, the ones with the most exposure to sunlight and therefore the most flavor and nutrients you’re going to find in loose-leaf teas. The individual care that goes into preparing all kinds of tea leaves at these locations isn’t something you can cut prices on by industrializing the process: that’s what bagged tea companies do that take inferior-quality leaves, many times with other twigs and tree detritus mixed in, and chop it up into sawdust, which destroys the process of how tea leaves chemically need to take on water and have room to expand in order to release their max flavor while steeping, and why a bag of Lipton tea will never taste as rich as say, a cup of Indonesian Gold loose-leaf black tea. And all that care is BEFORE the cost of shipping the product from these pro locations to stores all over the world.
This may be an unfamiliar concept to a lot of consumers where (here, American) corporations outsource their labor to other countries for no other reason than to underpay workers and reap the profits themselves while passing very little savings on to the American consumer, BUT: stuff costs money! NICE stuff costs a little MORE money! Yes, tea is a luxury item, and those often get prioritized accordingly in a struggling economy, but nobody is trying to mcfreaking cheat you! Not to mention, Teavana salespeople make it VERY clear that a cup of tea from leaves you take home and steep yourself will average out to about a mere .80-$1.40 per cup as opposed to $5.00 of whatever “popular” fruit juice drink is on tap in the store. (You can save even more money by re-steeping your tea, keeping it in your prep method and running more hot water through it to get multiple cups of tea out of one cup of leaves, which is a great value. Of course not many people HEAR us as we’re advising them of this, because they saw a $20 price tag for tea and their eyes glazed over or they’re already fleeing the store and subsequent math lesson.) But people still go for the $5 drink every time, because paying $20 for tea they can easily get 50-60 cups out of is somehow laughable to them.
Or Mom wouldn’t buy it for them and they’re bitter.
Additionally, for folks crowing merrily about the store closings because “an empwoyee took a bweak fwom kissing my ass there once and actuawwy twied to get me to BUY somefing and it huwt my feewings uwu” or “I used to work at Teavana and my shitty GM was toxic and therefore I hate ALL TEAVANA because this makes SENSE”: upwards of 3300 people are about to lose their fucking jobs, many of whom have been there for years, from “old Teavana” before the acquisition. Starbucks provides education and health care benefits to many of those employees who work over 30 hours a week, and not many other retail jobs they can find will provide those. My GM is a single mom with an abusive ex, one of the hardest workers I’ve ever seen in my LIFE, raising two teenage boys on her own, one of whom is autistic, and they are literally just moving into the new house they just bought. My AGM has worked at JC Penny’s for a DECADE and AGM at Soma for a few years after that, is also a single mom with a young daughter whose heart conditions make health care very expensive, and it’s been understood in the store that as soon as my GM snagged a (much-deserved and often-passed-over) DM position within the company, she would finally get to run her own store. I could go on. People are losing their JOBS. So you had a bad experience once? Don’t be naive, and don’t show your ass: just like in any industry, there are gonna be some mega jerks (who, guess what, their coworkers probably hate too!), there are going to be some of the best people you’ve ever met, and there’s going to be a ton of folks who are just trying to do their best at their job and get through the day at their understimulating retail establishment.
So how about showing a little human empathy for those soon-to-be-unemployed guys who never asked for any of this, huh? And remember who's behind all of this next time you're ponying up for a glass of iced milk and sugar with just a spritz of coffee at Starbucks.
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2020 Wellness Horoscopes to Guide the Year Ahead
Oh hey, 2020! To kick off the brand new 12 months, we determined to do one thing totally different this time round along with your wellness horoscopes. Instead of a month-to-month forecast, we’re wanting on the overarching themes in your 12 months forward (with new dreamy zodiac graphics as well).
Friendly reminder: I’m no clairvoyant, and ‘scopes are meant to be more handy guide than set-in-stone prediction. So, for instance, if your forecast anticipates a promotion at work, you still have to give it your all on the daily to have the best chances of riding that wave to victory. Also, if your sun sign ‘scope seems less relevant, always check your rising to see if that one’s extra in tune along with your vibes at current.
Without additional ado, right here’s your 2020 wellness horoscopes. Happy New Year and astrohacking to all!
2020 Wellness Horoscopes
CAPRICORN (DECEMBER 22-JANUARY 19)
First issues first: Happy Cap season! Now I’ll be sincere; I’m a bit jealous of you ATM. As if it weren’t sufficient that you just’re the pure boss babes and boys of the zodiac, as I discussed in December’s wellness horoscopes, you’re the cosmic favourite for 2020. This 12 months, you’ll construct the muse for a profound new period of your life that may’t be undone. If you are feeling the necessity to reinvent your self, make daring new strikes, or something of that ilk, now’s the time to take action. You’ll be in an ideal place to develop and flourish at warp pace. You can sensible small by studying learn how to break a nasty behavior, or by occurring a social media detox to hack your option to larger productiveness and a greater temper. Even additional, you may shoot for the celebrities by actualizing longed-for desires. In brief: Whatever you do, don’t maintain again. 2020 is yours for the taking!
AQUARIUS (JANUARY 20-FEBRUARY 18)
You may need been experiencing some rising pains over the previous few months, notably relating to your profession and residential. Come the primary week of January, nevertheless, issues are lastly wanting as if they’re falling into place. (If you’re nonetheless in flux, take into account strategizing with an motion plan by a life coach.) With that stated, it’s time to indicate your price and show what you may convey to the desk. In 2020, you’re prone to obtain due reward, although it’ll seemingly be through chatter behind the scenes than to your face. Not all gossip is dangerous, in spite of everything, and so they say phrase of mouth is the very best form of PR you may get. Additionally, you’ll begin to invoke duty in a extra usually Capricornian trend, which is able to solely increase your acclaim. In sum, 2020 shall be a pregame of types for the social gathering to come back in your emerald 12 months of 2021. Things are solely wanting up from right here!
PISCES (FEBRUARY 19-MARCH 20)
All work and no play makes you a Fish swimming upstream. If you’ve been grappling with low-vibing emotions of inadequacy, know that 2020 will convey you the reward and good cheer you deserve. You’ll lastly reap the fruits of 2019’s labor, whether or not within the type of a accomplished ardour venture, recognition, or development. Regardless, Pisces should do not forget that they don’t want exterior validation (although a lift from others gained’t harm). Instead, attempt to needless to say you’re sufficient in and of your self. Self-criticism begets nothing however defeat, whereas self-compassion results in resilience, much less stress, and even larger productiveness. Another development to observe for this 12 months? A supercharged social life. You’re set to make mates and precious connections in new locations. Spread your social butterfly wings greater than you’re used to—at area of interest meetups, networking occasions, and different settings through which you’ll discover new crowds. Doing so will make it easier to foster lasting, favorable, and in any other case sudden relationships.
ARIES (MARCH 21-APRIL 19)
Aries know what they need—and so they go after it full pace forward. I do know that you just’ve been jonesing for all-around work wins for no less than the previous few months. And when you won’t have hit the skilled Powerball simply but, so to talk, count on to see the profession success you’ve longed for come 2020. All of those astro themes will final by December, so don’t fizzle out or get discouraged early on. Sure—calm, cool, and picked up isn’t precisely your vibe, particularly for the archetypal headstrong, my-way-or-the-highway Ram. But by avoiding baser instincts and fiery tendencies, you’ll be in a greater place for that long-awaited payoff. Since Aries governs the top, soothe yours with a third-eye or temple therapeutic massage with important oils to stabilize your wits and senses. You can even decide up a garnet gemstone, a Ram-specific talisman, to advertise stability, centeredness, and knowledge.
TAURUS (APRIL 20-MAY 20)
Christmas 2019’s photo voltaic eclipse new moon will kickstart what’s positive to be a radical new 12 months charged with plenty of motion and newness. Bulls are anticipated to journey far and extensive early on, particularly to international lands. Don’t count on to gather passport stamps anytime quickly? Then maybe you’ll lastly act on any intense impulses which were marinating over the previous 12 months. The planets say that Taureans are prone to impart surprising information or endure main life modifications. Maybe you’ll give up your job, transfer overseas, or take one other threat that, on paper, is usually un-Taurean when it comes to your unshakeable requirements for stability and safety. But to cite a sure pop diva, you’ll really feel empowered to take a threat, take an opportunity, make a change, and break free. Since sluggish is regular is extra your fashion, you may nonetheless take your time to mull issues over strategically. Bulls usually benefit from the outside, so take a hike (bodily) earlier than doing so proverbially.
GEMINI (MAY 21-JUNE 20)
I gave you the tipoff in December, however it warrants a second shoutout: 2020 is the 12 months in your cash to multiply. Again, don’t it count on a windfall from a traditional supply (i.e., your wage), however as a substitute a number of payouts from secondary or tertiary sources. Think: freelance gigs, bonuses, an insurance coverage payout… even winnings from a contest or sweepstakes. Geminis all the time have a pulse on new tendencies and alternatives, so faucet into your know-it-all-ness to make these stretch. However, it’s important to maintain your wits about you the deeper your pockets get. Channel fellow Gem Kendrick Lamar (humble, acutely aware) versus Kanye West (debt-fighting, ego-driven) for inspo. There are additionally loads of alternatives to preemptively get the ball rolling for monetary wellness, whether or not that’s easy analysis by studying and YouTube movies or extra lively steps like opening a financial savings account or contributing extra to your 401Okay.
CANCER (JUNE 21-JULY 22)
Cancers have a pure inclination to hunker down inside their internal circle, and 2020 holds optimistic good points for precisely that. The planets counsel that paired-up Crabs are prone to marry, whereas these already with a hoop on it may possibly count on their companions to excel at work. These indicators all level to a contented, wholesome, ample dwelling, which comes as music to Cancerian ears. In issues other than love, you may anticipate that different partnerships will perform exceedingly nicely. Whether it’s with what you are promoting collaborator, writer, and so forth., your righthand (wo)man shall be there to take a load off your again and allow you to relaxation straightforward. It’s excessive time that you just get this benefic information; I do know that 2019 wasn’t your best 12 months on document, however rejoice that issues are beginning to lookup. Both till then and afterward, faucet into optimistic psychology through acutely aware gratitude to amplify your well-being and see the sunshine in what you have already got.
LEO (JULY 23-AUGUST 22)
Leos are aware about feeling a pure sense of entitlement. After all, we’re dominated by the Sun, aka the middle of the universe. But in 2020, the remainder of the planets will make sure that you’re incomes your preserve by arduous work and dedication across the clock. The excellent news given all these additional hours? You’ll love the assignments you obtain, and should you’re self-employed, you’ll get lots of them. Even higher, you’re nicely in your option to gaining elevated, long-term VIP standing. Now that sounds extra up your alley, proper fellow Lions? Just you should definitely keep away from burnout through boundary setting and strategic self-care. With the few off hours you do have, dedicate them to Lion-approved pursuits associated to the humanities, luxurious magnificence therapies, and anything to thrill and indulge your playful nature.
VIRGO (AUGUST 23-SEPTEMBER 22)
This 12 months, Virgos have the very best facets to fall in love. However, you’ll have to depart the home and your desk to make sure Cupid has ample alternative to strike his arrow. Even nonetheless, it’ll behoove you to refocus your consideration out of your analytical thoughts to the exterior world. (Rihanna might sing about love on the mind, however enable your self to actually really feel as a substitute of suppose.) In this similar vein, attempt to make room for extra pleasure and spontaneity in different areas of your life. It might be so simple as making an attempt out a distinct segment wellness development like laughter yoga, releasing stale power by screaming it out at a breathwork class, or invoking a extra childlike nature sometimes. In essence, experiment greater than you’re used to and get out of your consolation zone. By doing so, you’ll be pleasantly stunned by what awaits you on the opposite facet.
LIBRA (SEPTEMBER 23-OCTOBER 22)
The 12 months 2020 shall be all about your house. Whether you’re shopping for, renting, promoting, shifting, or fixing, your dwelling shall be on the forefront by December. Need to clear issues out? Take a KonMari method to ridding your house of stale extra. Rearranging your furnishings? Start along with your bed room, guided by the ideas of feng shui to create a lair you really love. To additional maximize good vibes at dwelling (and even in your particular person), take into account adorning with turquoise or blue topaz, particular Libran stones that invoke concord and therapeutic. All of those upgrades will do you nicely, as you’ll discover that you just’re extra prone to wish to camp out than hit the city because the 12 months begins. With ample alternatives to work out and follow luxurious self-care at dwelling, you’ll be in nice form to get again on the social scene when the time comes.
SCORPIO (OCTOBER 23-NOVEMBER 21)
All issues associated to communication will information 2020 for Scorpios. Be positive to sharpen your interpersonal abilities, as your phrases could make or break your path to success. However, it’s not simply one-on-one speech we’re speaking about. Publishing, broadcasting, and the like are all recreation this 12 months. If you’ve been sitting on a inventive written venture for a while, you’ll be sensible to ship it out to a wider viewers. Similarly, should you’re offered with the chance to provide extra shows at work or characterize your organization at offsite occasions, now shall be your time to shine. Since you’ll be fairly forward-facing in 2020, discover ways to enhance your confidence for optimum influence. Then guarantee your complexion radiates as a lot as your phrases do by taking vitamins for glowing pores and skin.
SAGITTARIUS (NOVEMBER 22-DECEMBER 21)
Sorry, Archers: It’s time to bid adieu to 2019, throughout which you had been the prized signal of the planets. But it doesn’t imply that your handing off of the baton to Caps will convey misfortune. Instead, you’ll be happy to know that 2020 carries optimistic facets for the purse. You have fortunate Jupiter, your ruling planet, to thank for this welcome information. Expect your cash to develop by both a long-awaited verify, or maybe a promotion or increase at work someday this calendar 12 months. My recommendation to have fun? Tap into particularly Sagittarian pursuits comparable to international journey, additional schooling, and cultural/non secular pursuits to get probably the most bang (and profit) in your buck. You can even take a wellness angle by studying about Ayurveda, Chinese Medicine, and different historical modalities from around the globe.
The post 2020 Wellness Horoscopes to Guide the Year Ahead appeared first on Weight Loss Fitness.
from Weight Loss Fitness https://weightlossfitnesss.info/2020-wellness-horoscopes-to-guide-the-year-ahead/
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G-LO: We are two lucky fellas! Every so often, the stars align perfectly and give us a stress-free and enjoyable day of watching history being made right before our eyes. We couldn’t have asked for more perfect weather, better driving conditions, or better company (it would have been nice to have Limpd join in the fun, but ayyyyyy, whattta ya gonna do?) as we watched Rosen Rye being reborn as a whiskey-making grain right before our eyes at Stoll & Wolfe Distillery in Lititz, Pennsylvania.
Sam Speers (SS): Rosen is Risen, ROSEN IS RISEN! Ok, now that I’ve gotten the whiskey blasphemy outta my system, I couldn’t agree more about the weather and the drive. And I gotta say, I’m glad your standards for company aren’t particularly high.
G-LO: Blasphemy? Bah. It’s all connected if you buy that whole creation story. Think of this Rosen Rye Resurrection thing as Six Degrees of The Almighty. And with regards to my standards, have you read this blog? They’ve never been very high. Happy that you were able to join me for the festivities!
Quite the whirlwind tour of Amish Country we undertook! I forgot how pretty it is out there. I also forgot how stubborn the Amish are when it comes to keeping it REALLY Old School. I believe my speeding on the backroads of Lancaster County as we drove to the distillery was interrupted by not one, not two, but THREE horse-drawn wagons. Ya gotta respect their stick-to-itiveness!
We have many a storyline to weave into this overarching Rosen Rye Resurrection story…
The Stoll & Wolfe Distillery Family
– New York City girl (Avianna Wolfe) falls in love with Lancaster County boy (Erik Wolfe) in NYC, gives up YUUUUUUUGE city living, moves to the country, and opens a distillery…
– Octogenarian distilling veteran (Dick Stoll), who just happened to be the last guy to use Rosen Rye as a whiskey ingredient, comes out of retirement to partner up with those two crazy, distillery-opening, lovebirds…
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– Woman (Laura Fields) starts a foundation, works hand-in-hand with the Delaware Valley agricultural community (farmers, producers, researchers, etc) and the public to promote sustainable small farming practices, and then through the SeedSpark project, works to revive lost heritage grains such as Rosen Rye.
Laura Fields, Founder of Delaware Valley Fields Foundation
Where do we begin? Or did I just do that?
SS: Let’s start at the very beginning. A very good place to start. When you read you begin with A-be-see. When you sing you begin with do-re-mi….
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Wait a minute! How did Julie Andrews work her way into this? We were in Lititz, PA, 2019, not Anschluss, Austria, circa 1938.
Speaking of dough…
The smells that greeted us when we entered the distillery room proper were just magnificent. Sweet, creamy, doughy. I’m swooning just recalling the aroma. But maybe I’m getting ahead of myself because our greeting when we first arrived at the Tasting Room is certainly worthy of mention. I credit the aforementioned NYC girl for the nice little nosh spread that was laid out for us. Bagels, muffins, and coffee, Oh My!
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Sorry! The voices in my head keep shouting out movie references and I only have so much control over them.
G-LO: No need for apologies. Again, have you read this blog or watched our YouTube videos? Movie references abound! It’s how we think. We are simpatico.
Start at the beginning! Good strategy. And yes, it was quite a lovely little spread and greeting when we first arrived, as I definitely needed some sustenance at 8:10 AM. Getting up at 5:40 AM ain’t my thing, but thankfully, this crew made the trip well worthwhile. It was great to get Avianna’s backstory, i.e. how an NYC girl with serious street cred in the restaurant business winds up in beautiful, rural, Lititz, PA. It was also great to finally meet Laura Fields after several years of back and forth emails about the American Whiskey Convention and several of her other endeavors. As I said at the beginning of this chat, the stars were perfectly aligned for us on #RosenRyeDistillationDay! Only one thing would have made it better (or worse, depending upon your perspective): 8 AM Welcome Cocktails! Too much?
SS: Too much? Too much?! There is never too much. There is only not enough! And besides, you can’t drink all day if you don’t start in the morning. But seriously, there’s a lot to this story to unpack…
Laura’s enthusiasm for this project is downright infectious. I mean, there was a sparkle in her eyes and a huge grin on her face every time she spoke about #SeedSpark, which most definitely needs to become a thing. She’s got the USDA Research Service, Penn State Agro folks, farmers like Bob McDonald (no Old McDonald jokes, please!) planting more #RosenRye for future distillation, and the team at Stoll and Wolfe working on this passion project of hers. Must seem like herding cats sometimes. Erik and Avianna returning to his roots with the crazy notion of opening a Distillery. Dick Stoll coming out of retirement. That’s a lot of moving parts!
G-LO: It most certainly is! But you know what? Based upon the delightful aromas that were coming from the distillery once we transitioned from “Meet and Greet” to “Distilling Time”, I’d say that all that effort and cat wrangling paid off. I’ve visited a couple of distilleries over the years, but never while they were actually performing a distillation run. It’s such a fascinating process! When Laura emailed me about this project and the possibility of seeing the Rosen Rye distillation take place, I immediately jumped at the chance to get us on the guest list. It’s pretty wild when you think about it. I mean, the stuff in the fermenter looked like runny, boozy oatmeal. How it goes from that mess to a crystal clear, high octane spirit is mind-boggling. It’s also pretty messy at times, especially when the lines get clogged with goop. Making whiskey is hard work!
SS: Much harder than drinking good whiskey, that’s for sure! And you were right, we are a couple of lucky fellas that reaped the benefit of the hard work that went before so that we could be present for the fun part, i.e. actually seeing the distillation occur, partaking of samples straight from the still, and best of all, meeting so many nice folks. We all talk about the whiskey community, but this was taking it to a whole different level. Why? Well, most of the folks in the #whiskyfabric that I’ve met over the years have been consumers, along with a few media types (bloggers, a couple of podcasters), brand ambassadors (all of whom have been aces), and a couple of distillers who were off-duty at the time. To meet folks growing the grain and distillers Lisa Wicker of Brooklyn’s Widow Jane and Steve Bashore, Miller and Distiller at Mount Vernon Distillery (yes, George Washington’s Mount Vernon… I’m a bit of a history geek, so talking with Steve was super cool for me) and to have the chance to interact with all of them was super cool. Many that I know think I have this encyclopedic knowledge about whiskey and its production. I figure my total knowledge is a net negative compared to the knowledge present at Stoll and Wolfe the day of our visit, meaning most of what I think I know is probably wrong.
G-LO: Well said, Sammy! We’ve been at this blogging business for well over eight years, and while reviewing booze is always good fun, it’s moments like this that keep the boozedancing boondoggle going. It really was a super enthusiastic crowd on hand for the distillation. Podcasters, distillers, farmers, journalists, agriculture researchers, and more than a few whiskey enthusiasts, all gathered on a beautiful Saturday morning in a wee Lititz distillery to experience the science and art of distillation.
And speaking of enthusiasm…
Per an email from Laura Fields a couple of days after the event, it seems that the resurrection of Rosen Rye is just the beginning of the SeedSpark Project! She mentioned that distillers she’s spoken with over the years are in search of “terroir”, i.e. they want the local flavors of the soil, landscape, and climate to come through in all that they create (think the flavors of the sea and peat in an Islay whiskey). In addition to replanting Rosen Rye in its original plot, they’re also growing this grain in three additional locations across Pennsylvania to see where it will grow best. And if all that weren’t enough, SeedSpark is also working with Penn State to recreate heritage corn that will one day be used to recreate a 6-generation-old farm distillery’s whiskey recipe.
I don’t know all that much about agriculture, but it sounds to me like SeedSpark is gonna keep Laura busy for many years to come! And if all of these projects are successful, imagine all of the fabulously diverse whiskey expressions that we’ll be sampling in the next few years. Fun times ahead, Bruh!
SS: I gotta tell you one last story about the day…
I was chatting in a general way with Dick Stoll and Steve Bashore about how cool this was as a perfect convergence of my geeky interest in process, whiskey, and history. During this chat, I may have mentioned that my taste runs more towards Scotch and Rye as opposed to Bourbon. Everyone was gracious, and no one called me out for anti-Americanism. Fast forward to the ‘goodbyes’ at the end of the day in the tasting room…
As I take my leave of Dick and his wife, Elaine, Dick leans in like your favorite rouge uncle at a family reunion (I know from rogue uncles, because I am one. Just ask my nephew), and with a little twinkle in his eye, he says softly, “Ditch the Scotch, drink more Bourbon”. I felt oddly like Steve Martin in The Jerk…
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When a legend busts your cajones, you’ve become ‘somebody’. SeedSpark indeed! I’m really grateful for the opportunity to have been present at the start of something that may well transform distilling in PA.
Dick Stoll of Stoll & Wolfe nosing the fruits of his labor of love.
G-LO: Yowza! Talk about a mic-drop…
How the hell did I miss that moment? I’d say that’s a fine way to end this blog post.
Once again, thanks for taking the ride out to Lititz, Sammy! And many thanks to the Delaware Valley Fields Foundation and Stoll & Wolfe Distillery for the hospitality. Cheers!
A chat with @speers56 about the time when we witnessed the resurrection of #RosenRye at @StollandWolfe Distillery. #whiskey #history G-LO: We are two lucky fellas! Every so often, the stars align perfectly and give us a stress-free and enjoyable day of watching history being made right before our eyes.
#Booze Banter#Delaware Valley Fields Foundation#Distillery Tour#Drinkwire#Rosen Rye#Rosen Rye is Risen#Stoll and Wolfe Distillery#Whiskey#Whisky
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Entertaining Ideas From Your Farmhouse Garden https://ift.tt/2zU3q0i
After planning, prepping, and tending to your Farmhouse Garden, it’s time to stop and smell the roses. Ashley of Heirloomed believes your garden should be designed to enjoy, so today she’s sharing her favorite tips for garden-inspired entertaining. Just getting started? Click here to view the rest of her series!
Entertaining From Your Farmhouse Garden
The last in our six-part series of creating your own Farmhouse Garden is here, and I’ve saved the best for last. It’s Ashley from Heirloomed and the whole concept for this garden-to-home project this season was inspired by being able to effortlessly entertain and host right from the comforts of your very own garden bed.
From the inspiration to the preparation, planning and creating our garden space, tending to it and finally reaping the benefits of the harvest it’s that special time of year that I savor every moment of.
Today I’m sharing a few ways we love to entertain straight from our own Farmhouse Garden in hopes of inspiring you to do the same.
TIP #1 : Use up as much as you can from your garden
This time of year when your garden is going crazy and at its absolute peak, it really is a rush to try to use it all up to it’s fullest potential. Right now my cherry tomatoes are going crazy and our herbs are literally bursting at the seams so I’m scouring all my recipe books and Pinterest to get fresh new ideas of things to make with my bounty.
In my last post I shared an easy + fresh recipe for Basil Pesto but there are so many ways you can incorporate your herbs, fruits + vegetables into seasonal fare. And, if you really just can’t keep up and hate to waste anything you can always deliver care packages to your neighbors or use preserving techniques like canning jams and sauces.
Staying on top of your picking will also help your plants to produce a maximum yield. Remember to keep your herbs pruned of flowers before they go bitter, and that (carefully) cutting your okra before it gets too large will keep it tender and not woody and ensure it continues to produce more and more throughout the season. And of course, picking before the critters get to my tomatoes, cucumbers and blueberries is always a top priority.
TIP #2: Enjoy your Entire Garden Space
We work so hard on our gardens that sometimes I think we forget to literally stop and smell the roses. When your garden is at its freshest is the perfect time to sit back and enjoy the fruits of your labor.
We set up a simple but beautiful little patio area right next to our Farmhouse Garden this year that is just perfect for hosting a crowd. And my handy husband even built this large table for our space (you can click here for the easy Farmhouse Table DIY to make one of your very own) using simple pieces of lumber right there at The Home Depot and affixed it to some vintage sawhorse table bases we sourced at a local antiques market. Having something simple that can be outdoors for effortless entertaining of a crowd makes it a no-brainer when you’re ready to host.
Everything is in bloom and so fresh and lush. The sweet smell of the fruits and flowers makes for a perfect aroma, and it’s pretty impressive to have a spread on the table for your guests to enjoy with the plants they grew from within eye sight. There’s nothing that is more fitting for the season than to be able to pick a sprig of herbs and add it to the table at a moments notice.
Now that they’re in full bloom I also love pulling in potted plants from my garden area to surround our dining and patio area, as well as to move around and fill in bare spots in the garden where some plants have come and gone throughout the season. Mixing mediums with our pots, like this mix of simple terracotta and galvanized metal will give you the perfect farmhouse, cottage look that only gets better and better as they patina with exposure to the elements.
TIP #3 : Go Beyond Just Recipes
While I am so proud of all our season ingredients for cooking, let’s not forget other ways in which we can entertain from the garden.
I love mixing in fresh flowers from our garden with fresh cuttings of fragrant herbs. Rosemary with hydrangeas is a beautiful, rustic mix and wandering Mint with white daisies, echinacea and tickseed makes for the perfect farmhouse floral arrangement that feels like you just wandered through a field of wild flowers.
Get creative, especially when you have mass quantities of things. A huge bundle of lavender or a bowl filled with a whole pile of fresh okra can make for a nice centerpiece on your table or kitchen island.
I hope you’ve enjoyed your garden this season and that you’ve found so many wonderful ways to care for, harvest and enjoy having so many fresh ingredients at your fingertips. I’m not sure who loved our garden more this year, me or the kids.
Just remember to have fun with it and get creative, you’ll get better year after year and carrying on the artful craft of gardening for another generation is a gift that keeps on giving.
Create a fresh farmhouse garden of your own with the help of Home Depot. Join the Home Depot’s Garden Club for ideas, inspiration, and tips for starting your own garden.
The post Entertaining Ideas From Your Farmhouse Garden appeared first on The Home Depot Blog.
Ashley Schoenith
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You Lied Your Way Into A Job As A Surgeon! Can You Avoid Killing Anyone Long Enough To Collect Your First Paycheck?
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Surgeons. The masters of the flesh. The gatekeepers of the organs. The doctors who get to shave patients.
These are the green-wearing gods who know that the human body is but a chessboard, and that the nipples are the king and queen, and the belly button is the opposing king or queen.
Today, finally, you are beginning your journey as one of them.
Sounds sweet.
You have already gone through the arduous process of becoming a surgeon. After calling the hospital over and over every day for three weeks straight and praising Tylenol in the deepest voice you could muster to whoever picked up, being hung up on by countless doctors and nurses, you finally hit the big time.
Yesterday, you managed to get the chief of medicine on the line, who offered you a job after a mere 50 minutes of you bellowing to her about the white-and-red pill. Congratulations!
Thank you. I am a surgeon.
If you eat eight Tylenol fast, that’s one rabies shot.
Eating any more than three Tylenols in church is a SIN unless you brought enough for EVERYONE.
Okay. Being a surgeon is sweet as hell. You get to wear patients’ clothes around a hospital once the chemicals put them to sleep, you can eat as many tortilla chips as you want, and you can hide all of your favorite DVDs and family heirlooms inside toxic waste bins, the one place thieving pricks are too grossed out by to steal from.
That all sounds great.
Skittles are to math what Tylenol is to alchemy.
Tossing Tylenol into an above-ground pool is basically the same idea as tossing Tylenol into an in-ground pool.
George Harrison wrote three songs about Tylenol in the days just before his passing that his estate will not release.
Cool. But the best part of being a surgeon, bar none, is that incredible surgeon paycheck.
It’s no secret that surgeons are paid well, as every single day at 8 p.m., hardworking surgeons all over the world reap the fruits of their labor: a plastic bag filled with $600, given to them by their chief of medicine on their way out the door, in addition to a goodnight kiss on the forehead.
Hell yeah.
Exactly. So now that you’re a surgeon, you better do everything in your power to make it your $600 payday, because there is one universal stipulation that could jam you up: If a surgeon kills someone, everything completely goes to shit.
1) For starters, once a surgeon kills someone, they are NEVER allowed back in a hospital, ever. Even if you just want to go to hang out or to meet new lovers.
2) Your professional reference completely goes out the window. If a new job calls to ask about you, instead of a recommendation, the HR department hands the phone off to the absolute sickest pervert patient they have, and lets them air out whatever they’ve got kickin’ around up in their minds.
3) Lastly—and this one is the worst of all—you don’t get paid a dime, which would mean all of your efforts to become a surgeon were for NOTHING.
So, if you want to get to that sweet paycheck, you’re going to have to make it through one entire day as a surgeon without killing someone.
I’m excited to be a surgeon who kills no one.
The hospital. The place where people come when they are bored to take off their pants and scream. This will be your new surgeon home, and today is your first day of work. As far as anyone inside is concerned, you are now a fully qualified surgeon, so if you want those 600 clams, you’re going to have to hold your own and stay off everyone’s radar.
Enter the hospital.
“Please give me a surgery.”
Ah, shit. A sick kid is waiting for you right inside the lobby, and he looks all kinds of fucked up.
“I need a surgery pronto. I am dying, and it feels like none of my bones are connected to my other bones. I also have a rash that comes and goes. Please do surgery to me with your other doctor friends.”
Quietly tell the kid that he’d be doing you a huge favor by asking another doctor for help on this one, and hope that he’ll be cool.
Piss your pants and bail to the bathroom.
“If you don’t give me a surgery right now, I will scream. I will scream so loud and for so long, and I will point at you the whole time. It will go on for so long that the rest of the doctors here will have no choice but to send you to jail.”
Piss your pants and bail to the bathroom.
That was close. You’ve pissed your pants real good, and now you’re in the bathroom splashing your pants with water, the best way to clean pants that you’ve urinated in.
I know that. My pants are now much wetter, but not as much with piss as with water, so they’re practically good as new.
“You sure know your way around cleaning a pair of pissed pants, sport. Not bad at all.”
You look over and see that it’s the hospital’s janitor talking to you. He somehow opened the door in perfect silence while you were inside splashing your pants, and has been watching you for upwards of 90 full seconds.
“I’ve been watching you for upwards of 90 full seconds, and I can tell just by looking at you, you’re no surgeon.”
Yes I am. I am a surgeon, you jackass.
Remove your shoelaces and begin choking the janitor until he dies so no one finds out about the bullshit he just said, or about your method of splashing water onto your pants.
“Easy, easy. I’m not gonna rat you out. I’m gonna help you.
I take it that you’re in here lying to be a surgeon, hoping to get ‘The $600 Bag Treatment,’ huh? Well, you’ve got a friend in me. I’ve seen it before, and I’ll see it again. All you gotta do is make it until 8 p.m. without killing a soul and you’re in the clear. So whadya say you come lay low with me for the rest of the day, spend some time hanging with a new bud so you don’t end up killin’ no one before you get that money?”
Why are you being so nice to me?
“I, uh, how do you mean?” he says, visibly becoming self-conscious about the entire interaction so far. “I’m just tired today, so if I’m acting weird, that’s what that’s about, probably. Allergies are being weird, too.”
Okay. Let’s hang out.
“Follow me!” the janitor says before sprinting down the hallway. You do your best to keep up with him as he weaves in and out of patients and doctors before you finally arrive at a huge metal door. He slides open the rusty door to reveal a set of long, winding stairs that lead to a dark, desolate basement, and turns to you with a half smile.
“It’s not delivery, it’s DiGiorno,” he says before letting out a quick, uncertain laugh, looking over his shoulder at you to kind of check in and see if you’re laughing or anything at what must have been some sort of joke.
Smile and nod politely.
Pretend you didn’t hear what he said.
What are you talking about? What?
“That was dumb, never mind,” the janitor says, shaking his head as his shoulders slump, trying to explain his joke before slowly progressing into full-blown self-deprecation. “I was thinking, like, how in the old commercials, I’d be the delivery guy and you’re the pizza—I don’t know, forget it. It was dumb. Sorry.”
Okay.
You follow the janitor down the stairs and into the basement of the hospital, and lo and behold, it’s a full-blown bachelor’s pad! The janitor has stocked the place with some of the best things: a ping-pong table, a “Forever 27” poster, an old-timey popcorn machine, and a bunch of orange pill bottles filled with Frosted Cheerios.
“This is my chill zone. I’m down here almost all the time, which is why the hospital is filthy and patients always seem to get sick immediately after they get better.”
“We got all day, brother, so we could either sit down and talk about that important-looking guitar I have mounted on the wall over there, or we could stand near the stairs and wonder if Slash has ever signed a guitar and sold it for $20,000 online before, or maybe we could lay down on the ground and trade stories about the most expensive thing we’ve ever mounted on a wall. Your call.”
Challenge the janitor to ping-pong.
“I can’t lift my arms above my waist because of a power-washer accident.”
Give in and ask the janitor about the guitar on his wall, since it seems like he really wants you to.
“You got a good eye, kid,” he says as though you brought it up completely unprompted, proudly looking up at the guitar he somehow mounted unnecessarily high on his wall.
“Believe it or not, Slash signed that guitar, and I was lucky enough to spend all of the money I have on it. I usually don’t do this for anyone, but for you, I’ll climb all the way up there and get it if you want to hold it.”
Seems dangerous to climb up there if you can’t lift your hands above your waist.
“I’d climb anywhere for one of my boys.”
And what about those wires? You’d have to step all over those wires to get over there?
“I’ll put a very wet towel over them. I’m sure that will be fine.”
This looks way too dangerous. Say you don’t need to see the guitar, bail on the weird janitor, and head back toward the lobby to kill time solo.
Ask the janitor to get the guitar for you.
You’ve killed! You’ve killed!
You put the janitor in grave danger by selfishly asking him to grab his Slash guitar off the wall. After the janitor put a soaking-wet towel on top of his countless basement wires in order to walk over to the wall and begin his climb, he was immediately electrocuted and fell crashing to the ground without the ability to raise his arms and break his fall. It’s unclear if it was the electricity surging through his body that did him in, or if it was the way his neck snapped on a nearby stool because of the horrible, unnatural way he fell. But either way, he is definitely dead, and it is your fault.
You’re no longer a surgeon, and you can kiss that bag of $600 goodbye.
Restart at checkpoint.
Start Over
As you go back up the stairs and start heading toward the lobby, you can hear that he starts to follow you, but then locks himself in the bathroom you were in earlier and begins screaming at himself in the mirror for messing up what could’ve been a nice day. His screaming gets louder and louder before it comes to a halt after you hear the sound of him snapping his mop over his knee in fury.
Run away from the janitor as fast as you can.
“I need you to give me a surgery right now.”
Ah, damn. It’s the sick kid from earlier.
“I feel like I’m on a boat at all hours of the day, and my elbows are dry. I need you to cut me open and drain me out, if that’s what it takes, and to please get me home by later today.”
Give the kid a surgery.
You pick the kid up, throw him over your shoulder, and walk through the hospital looking for a good room to cut him open in. After 20 minutes, you finally find the room with all of the surgeons in it, and you slam the kid down on the empty table they’re all staring at.
Now all eyes are on you. You’re going to have to step up and say something pretty incredible to get all of these surgeons on your side.
Found a kid I think would be perfect for surgery.
This is the only patient I’ve seen twice so far, so I think he should be next.
It’s not delivery. It’s DiGiorno.
You’ve killed! You’ve killed!
After you said that ridiculous, dumbass comment, every surgeon in the room became furious at you and began hammering you with questions about your qualifications. You tried mumbling through more Tylenol facts, which went much worse in person than it did on the phone, and somewhere during your 25-minute verbal beatdown from the other surgeons, the kid died on the table.
You are no longer a surgeon, and you will never get a plastic bag filled with $600.
Restart at checkpoint.
Start Over
Share Your Results
Everyone starts nodding and smiling and patting each other on the back. Good shit.
“Ha, nice,” a woman says, whose voice you recognize from the phone as the chief of medicine at the hospital. She quickly anesthetizes the patient to finally stop him from grabbing and clawing at everyone’s surgical masks, and within seconds the little spaz is sleeping.
At that moment, the tallest doctor you’ve ever seen walks into the door wearing a backwards hat and confidently drinking Barq’s Root Beer out of a 2-liter bottle.
“I’ve never seen you around here,” he says after putting the root beer down firmly into the lap of the unconscious kid and eyeing you up and down suspiciously. “Enlighten us, fresh meat. Now, what surgery are we performing on this little man, exactly?”
Ah, this guy is onto you. Need something big here to throw everyone off your tracks.
Fuck you, pal.
Sorry, rookie, but surgeries don’t have names.
Wink at him.
“Doctors, you two can be mean to each other in the parking lot all day long if you want to, but that’ll be enough fighting in my hospital,” says the chief of medicine after banging her fist down onto the kid’s chest like a gavel to get everyone’s attention.
“This little boy is in dire need of a heart transplant. We need to start immediately.”
Let’s get started.
Piss yourself and try to bail to the bathroom.
“Doctors, that’ll be enough talk about whether or not there are actually types of surgeries or not, because there simply is not a correct answer,” says the chief of medicine after banging her fist down onto the kid’s chest like a gavel to get everyone’s attention.
“This little boy is in dire need of a heart transplant. We need to start immediately.”
Let’s get started.
Piss yourself and try to bail to the bathroom.
“Doctors, please stop winking at each other,” says the chief of medicine after banging her fist down onto the kid’s chest like a gavel to get everyone’s attention.
“This little boy is in dire need of a heart transplant. We need to start immediately.”
Begin surgery.
Piss yourself and try to bail to the bathroom.
After noticing that no one is reacting to you pissing yourself, you look around and realize that every surgeon in the room has also already pissed themselves. Then you remember that surgeons are constantly pissing themselves during surgery, like bicyclists during races, for reasons completely unknown.
Ah, right. Now start the surgery.
The chief of medicine takes out a toolbox from underneath the surgery-room sink and hands each surgeon a tool. She takes each tool out one by one and starts passing them down the line. One doctor gets a small shovel, one gets a large knife, another gets a pickax, and on and on it goes, until you finally end up with the flashlight!
“Um, yeah, that’s my flashlight, pal. I’m always the flashlight man around here,” says the root-beer doctor.
“No,” interjects the chief. “New guy can hold the flashlight today. I have a good feeling about this.”
Your new rival is stunned. He shoots you a dirty look, threateningly crosses his thumb over his neck, and then does it again with his other thumb, but slower. Then he quietly mouths something that you didn’t really get a good read on, but from what you did see, your best guess is that he was saying something like “Fracking mountains,” or “Simply delicious.” Then he is handed the worst tool: the blood napkin, the tool that wipes up all the loose goo and pus.
Turn the flashlight on and shine it at the kid’s organs.
Shine the flashlight in your rival’s eyes to make him squint.
“Ah, c’mon, man. Quit it. What the hell.”
Nice. Shine the flashlight at the kid’s organs now.
The surgery is now well under way. The chief is slicing and dicing and moving parts around left and right. It’s pretty much a one-woman show.
Most of the other doctors are using their tools just to kind of scrape some bones and stuff when they feel like they should get in the mix, usually after not doing anything for a couple minutes straight and getting nervous that someone will notice how they’re not really that crucial to the operation.
You’re getting bored by the whole thing at this point, but at least you’re holding your own with these docs and, most importantly, haven’t killed anyone yet.
Keep shining the light in the organs.
Surgery still going. Getting kind of repetitive. A couple doctors shuffled out for a minute and came back with crackers, but the crackers are all gone now. You didn’t even notice they had crackers until there were only, like, four left in the sleeve, so at that point, asking for some really wouldn’t have been cool.
Surgery is getting boring.
Keep shining the flashlight.
Surgery is boring as hell.Your arms got tired from holding the flashlight up, so you put it down for a minute and no one seemed to notice. You’re back up now.
Keep shining the flashlight.
Kid woke up and started screaming LOUD, but now he’s sleeping again.
“You were scared!” “No, you were scared!” “I wasn’t scared, you were scared!” The surgeons are all ragging on each other and having fun again. Finally got some juice in the room. Whole crew got a good laugh out of that one.
Keep shining the flashlight.
Woah, wait a minute. Oh, man. You see something inside the kid’s body. Wedged deep in between his rib cage and his liver, there looks to be something shining and throbbing, and you’re pretty sure you’re the only one who sees it.
Two doctors broke away from the surgery about 15 minutes ago to arm wrestle on a nearby stool, and the rest of the surgeons have all one-by-one walked over to form a circle around them so they can gamble. Meanwhile, the chief is still hacking away at this kid’s organs with all of her might, and seems way too dialed-in to notice the game changer you’ve found.
Become a hero in front of your new boss by immediately and dramatically yanking out whatever the hell is sticking out of this kid’s guts.
Play it safe by simply alerting the chief of the mystery object and seeing what she thinks you should do.
Lean your flashlight up against the kid’s chin and go gamble with your new work friends.
You’ve killed! You’ve killed!
You thought you were being a hero by yanking out what you thought were some sort of wet, shining metals, but were actually the poor kid’s veins. You are no longer a surgeon, and can go ahead and kiss that sweet paycheck goodbye.
Restart at checkpoint.
Start Over
“Those are veins. They are not ‘evil copper and metals sticking out of this poor bastard’s guts.’ Do not call them that.”
Damn. Misread that one. The chief is totally onto you now.
“But I appreciate you speaking your mind when you think something is amiss,” she continues, looking up and making eye contact with you for the first time. “That takes a commitment to the job that some of my other doctors lack at times,” she says, motioning to the doctors across the room who are now attempting to disguise their arm-wrestling gambling ring by draping a hospital gown over the two meaty, dueling arms.
Hold eye contact without blinking, slowly nod your head, and say “good.”
The chief reciprocates your unblinking eye contact and begins nodding in perfect unison with your nodding. This goes on for a good 20 seconds or so, the grunts of the two arm wrestlers and the slaps of cold, hard cash hitting the tile becoming the only sounds in the room.
At that moment, you and the chief simultaneously feel a romantic charge between you, and it feels beautiful and right. But that romantic feeling is immediately followed by a simultaneous paternal feeling, but it’s unclear who is the parent and who is the child. Then the two feelings of physical attraction and familial protectiveness fuse together into one singular emotion, and it feels disgusting to both of you.
Pretend you hear one of the gambling surgeons call you over to ask you a quick question, and then walk over to them.
“Yeah, yeah, go catch up with them. I’ll hold it down over here, cool,” the chief kind of half-mutters to herself and to you while shaking her head and getting back to surgery.
Look back over your shoulder and smile and nod.
Pretend you didn’t hear her and walk faster toward the arm-wrestling scene.
You walk over to the gambling circle and see the two exhausted surgeons pulling and pushing as hard as they can to win. The two doctors are so evenly matched that their arms aren’t moving or shaking in the slightest. If it weren’t for the veins about to explode out of their temples and the tears streaming down their faces, you’d have no idea how intense the duel was.
All of the other surgeons are quietly going apeshit. Almost all of them are either gently pounding their chests, gingerly slapping the ground, or shaking their fists in the air, all the while whispering bad arm-wrestling advice like “Win the skin!” or “Make him smooth!”
It’s definitely a pretty sweet scene, and you decide that you want to get in the mix.
Ask the doctor on your left to borrow a couple bucks to gamble.
Ask the doctor on your right to borrow a couple bucks to gamble.
As you go to ask the doctor next to you, your rival doctor steps in front and interrupts:
“Looking to get in on the action but lacking the funds, newbie? Don’t worry, fresh meat. I got you covered. Also, we’re rival doctors, just in case that wasn’t clear.”
Whoa, pretty cool to get a rival doctor on your first day on the job. That probably usually takes years.
“That’s my coat over there,” he says, pointing to a white lab coat being worn by one of the arm-wrestling surgeons. “Go ahead and take my wallet out of the pocket and take out as much money as you want.”
He then lets out a weird little laugh and looks around to see if anyone else is laughing. One other doctor did laugh, but he’s in the middle of a conversation with another surgeon, so you’re pretty sure the laugh had nothing to do with your rival.
That’s weird. Seems like that coat belongs to the doctor wearing it. You lying, asshole?
“I have coats all over this hospital that you wouldn’t know a thing about,” he says, raising his fist up to your chin real quick, trying to get you to flinch. You stand your ground and don’t flinch at all, though, and he sheepishly brings his fist back down to his side.
Tell your rival that you would never borrow money from his shitty coat, and that he’s acting like a real weirdo.
Trust your rival’s suspicious story, reach into the coat being worn by the arm-wrestling doctor, and take out some money to gamble with.
You’ve killed! You’ve killed!
In a brilliantly executed scheme, your rival tricked you into reaching into the coat of one of the doctors who is arm wrestling. When the arm wrestler saw you trying to steal his wallet, his mix of adrenaline and dangerously high blood pressure caused his heart to explode.
Your misconduct has resulted in a death, meaning you can no longer be a surgeon, and you will never see that sweet, sweet bag o’ cash.
Restart at checkpoint.
Start Over
“I, uh, good then,” he stutters as h
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You Lied Your Way Into A Job As A Surgeon! Can You Avoid Killing Anyone Long Enough To Collect Your First Paycheck?
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Surgeons. The masters of the flesh. The gatekeepers of the organs. The doctors who get to shave patients.
These are the green-wearing gods who know that the human body is but a chessboard, and that the nipples are the king and queen, and the belly button is the opposing king or queen.
Today, finally, you are beginning your journey as one of them.
Sounds sweet.
You have already gone through the arduous process of becoming a surgeon. After calling the hospital over and over every day for three weeks straight and praising Tylenol in the deepest voice you could muster to whoever picked up, being hung up on by countless doctors and nurses, you finally hit the big time.
Yesterday, you managed to get the chief of medicine on the line, who offered you a job after a mere 50 minutes of you bellowing to her about the white-and-red pill. Congratulations!
Thank you. I am a surgeon.
If you eat eight Tylenol fast, that’s one rabies shot.
Eating any more than three Tylenols in church is a SIN unless you brought enough for EVERYONE.
Okay. Being a surgeon is sweet as hell. You get to wear patients’ clothes around a hospital once the chemicals put them to sleep, you can eat as many tortilla chips as you want, and you can hide all of your favorite DVDs and family heirlooms inside toxic waste bins, the one place thieving pricks are too grossed out by to steal from.
That all sounds great.
Skittles are to math what Tylenol is to alchemy.
Tossing Tylenol into an above-ground pool is basically the same idea as tossing Tylenol into an in-ground pool.
George Harrison wrote three songs about Tylenol in the days just before his passing that his estate will not release.
Cool. But the best part of being a surgeon, bar none, is that incredible surgeon paycheck.
It’s no secret that surgeons are paid well, as every single day at 8 p.m., hardworking surgeons all over the world reap the fruits of their labor: a plastic bag filled with $600, given to them by their chief of medicine on their way out the door, in addition to a goodnight kiss on the forehead.
Hell yeah.
Exactly. So now that you’re a surgeon, you better do everything in your power to make it your $600 payday, because there is one universal stipulation that could jam you up: If a surgeon kills someone, everything completely goes to shit.
1) For starters, once a surgeon kills someone, they are NEVER allowed back in a hospital, ever. Even if you just want to go to hang out or to meet new lovers.
2) Your professional reference completely goes out the window. If a new job calls to ask about you, instead of a recommendation, the HR department hands the phone off to the absolute sickest pervert patient they have, and lets them air out whatever they’ve got kickin’ around up in their minds.
3) Lastly—and this one is the worst of all—you don’t get paid a dime, which would mean all of your efforts to become a surgeon were for NOTHING.
So, if you want to get to that sweet paycheck, you’re going to have to make it through one entire day as a surgeon without killing someone.
I’m excited to be a surgeon who kills no one.
The hospital. The place where people come when they are bored to take off their pants and scream. This will be your new surgeon home, and today is your first day of work. As far as anyone inside is concerned, you are now a fully qualified surgeon, so if you want those 600 clams, you’re going to have to hold your own and stay off everyone’s radar.
Enter the hospital.
“Please give me a surgery.”
Ah, shit. A sick kid is waiting for you right inside the lobby, and he looks all kinds of fucked up.
“I need a surgery pronto. I am dying, and it feels like none of my bones are connected to my other bones. I also have a rash that comes and goes. Please do surgery to me with your other doctor friends.”
Quietly tell the kid that he’d be doing you a huge favor by asking another doctor for help on this one, and hope that he’ll be cool.
Piss your pants and bail to the bathroom.
“If you don’t give me a surgery right now, I will scream. I will scream so loud and for so long, and I will point at you the whole time. It will go on for so long that the rest of the doctors here will have no choice but to send you to jail.”
Piss your pants and bail to the bathroom.
That was close. You’ve pissed your pants real good, and now you’re in the bathroom splashing your pants with water, the best way to clean pants that you’ve urinated in.
I know that. My pants are now much wetter, but not as much with piss as with water, so they’re practically good as new.
“You sure know your way around cleaning a pair of pissed pants, sport. Not bad at all.”
You look over and see that it’s the hospital’s janitor talking to you. He somehow opened the door in perfect silence while you were inside splashing your pants, and has been watching you for upwards of 90 full seconds.
“I’ve been watching you for upwards of 90 full seconds, and I can tell just by looking at you, you’re no surgeon.”
Yes I am. I am a surgeon, you jackass.
Remove your shoelaces and begin choking the janitor until he dies so no one finds out about the bullshit he just said, or about your method of splashing water onto your pants.
“Easy, easy. I’m not gonna rat you out. I’m gonna help you.
I take it that you’re in here lying to be a surgeon, hoping to get ‘The $600 Bag Treatment,’ huh? Well, you’ve got a friend in me. I’ve seen it before, and I’ll see it again. All you gotta do is make it until 8 p.m. without killing a soul and you’re in the clear. So whadya say you come lay low with me for the rest of the day, spend some time hanging with a new bud so you don’t end up killin’ no one before you get that money?”
Why are you being so nice to me?
“I, uh, how do you mean?” he says, visibly becoming self-conscious about the entire interaction so far. “I’m just tired today, so if I’m acting weird, that’s what that’s about, probably. Allergies are being weird, too.”
Okay. Let’s hang out.
“Follow me!” the janitor says before sprinting down the hallway. You do your best to keep up with him as he weaves in and out of patients and doctors before you finally arrive at a huge metal door. He slides open the rusty door to reveal a set of long, winding stairs that lead to a dark, desolate basement, and turns to you with a half smile.
“It’s not delivery, it’s DiGiorno,” he says before letting out a quick, uncertain laugh, looking over his shoulder at you to kind of check in and see if you’re laughing or anything at what must have been some sort of joke.
Smile and nod politely.
Pretend you didn’t hear what he said.
What are you talking about? What?
“That was dumb, never mind,” the janitor says, shaking his head as his shoulders slump, trying to explain his joke before slowly progressing into full-blown self-deprecation. “I was thinking, like, how in the old commercials, I’d be the delivery guy and you’re the pizza—I don’t know, forget it. It was dumb. Sorry.”
Okay.
You follow the janitor down the stairs and into the basement of the hospital, and lo and behold, it’s a full-blown bachelor’s pad! The janitor has stocked the place with some of the best things: a ping-pong table, a “Forever 27” poster, an old-timey popcorn machine, and a bunch of orange pill bottles filled with Frosted Cheerios.
“This is my chill zone. I’m down here almost all the time, which is why the hospital is filthy and patients always seem to get sick immediately after they get better.”
“We got all day, brother, so we could either sit down and talk about that important-looking guitar I have mounted on the wall over there, or we could stand near the stairs and wonder if Slash has ever signed a guitar and sold it for $20,000 online before, or maybe we could lay down on the ground and trade stories about the most expensive thing we’ve ever mounted on a wall. Your call.”
Challenge the janitor to ping-pong.
“I can’t lift my arms above my waist because of a power-washer accident.”
Give in and ask the janitor about the guitar on his wall, since it seems like he really wants you to.
“You got a good eye, kid,” he says as though you brought it up completely unprompted, proudly looking up at the guitar he somehow mounted unnecessarily high on his wall.
“Believe it or not, Slash signed that guitar, and I was lucky enough to spend all of the money I have on it. I usually don’t do this for anyone, but for you, I’ll climb all the way up there and get it if you want to hold it.”
Seems dangerous to climb up there if you can’t lift your hands above your waist.
“I’d climb anywhere for one of my boys.”
And what about those wires? You’d have to step all over those wires to get over there?
“I’ll put a very wet towel over them. I’m sure that will be fine.”
This looks way too dangerous. Say you don’t need to see the guitar, bail on the weird janitor, and head back toward the lobby to kill time solo.
Ask the janitor to get the guitar for you.
You’ve killed! You’ve killed!
You put the janitor in grave danger by selfishly asking him to grab his Slash guitar off the wall. After the janitor put a soaking-wet towel on top of his countless basement wires in order to walk over to the wall and begin his climb, he was immediately electrocuted and fell crashing to the ground without the ability to raise his arms and break his fall. It’s unclear if it was the electricity surging through his body that did him in, or if it was the way his neck snapped on a nearby stool because of the horrible, unnatural way he fell. But either way, he is definitely dead, and it is your fault.
You’re no longer a surgeon, and you can kiss that bag of $600 goodbye.
Restart at checkpoint.
Start Over
As you go back up the stairs and start heading toward the lobby, you can hear that he starts to follow you, but then locks himself in the bathroom you were in earlier and begins screaming at himself in the mirror for messing up what could’ve been a nice day. His screaming gets louder and louder before it comes to a halt after you hear the sound of him snapping his mop over his knee in fury.
Run away from the janitor as fast as you can.
“I need you to give me a surgery right now.”
Ah, damn. It’s the sick kid from earlier.
“I feel like I’m on a boat at all hours of the day, and my elbows are dry. I need you to cut me open and drain me out, if that’s what it takes, and to please get me home by later today.”
Give the kid a surgery.
You pick the kid up, throw him over your shoulder, and walk through the hospital looking for a good room to cut him open in. After 20 minutes, you finally find the room with all of the surgeons in it, and you slam the kid down on the empty table they’re all staring at.
Now all eyes are on you. You’re going to have to step up and say something pretty incredible to get all of these surgeons on your side.
Found a kid I think would be perfect for surgery.
This is the only patient I’ve seen twice so far, so I think he should be next.
It’s not delivery. It’s DiGiorno.
You’ve killed! You’ve killed!
After you said that ridiculous, dumbass comment, every surgeon in the room became furious at you and began hammering you with questions about your qualifications. You tried mumbling through more Tylenol facts, which went much worse in person than it did on the phone, and somewhere during your 25-minute verbal beatdown from the other surgeons, the kid died on the table.
You are no longer a surgeon, and you will never get a plastic bag filled with $600.
Restart at checkpoint.
Start Over
Share Your Results
Everyone starts nodding and smiling and patting each other on the back. Good shit.
“Ha, nice,” a woman says, whose voice you recognize from the phone as the chief of medicine at the hospital. She quickly anesthetizes the patient to finally stop him from grabbing and clawing at everyone’s surgical masks, and within seconds the little spaz is sleeping.
At that moment, the tallest doctor you’ve ever seen walks into the door wearing a backwards hat and confidently drinking Barq’s Root Beer out of a 2-liter bottle.
“I’ve never seen you around here,” he says after putting the root beer down firmly into the lap of the unconscious kid and eyeing you up and down suspiciously. “Enlighten us, fresh meat. Now, what surgery are we performing on this little man, exactly?”
Ah, this guy is onto you. Need something big here to throw everyone off your tracks.
Fuck you, pal.
Sorry, rookie, but surgeries don’t have names.
Wink at him.
“Doctors, you two can be mean to each other in the parking lot all day long if you want to, but that’ll be enough fighting in my hospital,” says the chief of medicine after banging her fist down onto the kid’s chest like a gavel to get everyone’s attention.
“This little boy is in dire need of a heart transplant. We need to start immediately.”
Let’s get started.
Piss yourself and try to bail to the bathroom.
“Doctors, that’ll be enough talk about whether or not there are actually types of surgeries or not, because there simply is not a correct answer,” says the chief of medicine after banging her fist down onto the kid’s chest like a gavel to get everyone’s attention.
“This little boy is in dire need of a heart transplant. We need to start immediately.”
Let’s get started.
Piss yourself and try to bail to the bathroom.
“Doctors, please stop winking at each other,” says the chief of medicine after banging her fist down onto the kid’s chest like a gavel to get everyone’s attention.
“This little boy is in dire need of a heart transplant. We need to start immediately.”
Begin surgery.
Piss yourself and try to bail to the bathroom.
After noticing that no one is reacting to you pissing yourself, you look around and realize that every surgeon in the room has also already pissed themselves. Then you remember that surgeons are constantly pissing themselves during surgery, like bicyclists during races, for reasons completely unknown.
Ah, right. Now start the surgery.
The chief of medicine takes out a toolbox from underneath the surgery-room sink and hands each surgeon a tool. She takes each tool out one by one and starts passing them down the line. One doctor gets a small shovel, one gets a large knife, another gets a pickax, and on and on it goes, until you finally end up with the flashlight!
“Um, yeah, that’s my flashlight, pal. I’m always the flashlight man around here,” says the root-beer doctor.
“No,” interjects the chief. “New guy can hold the flashlight today. I have a good feeling about this.”
Your new rival is stunned. He shoots you a dirty look, threateningly crosses his thumb over his neck, and then does it again with his other thumb, but slower. Then he quietly mouths something that you didn’t really get a good read on, but from what you did see, your best guess is that he was saying something like “Fracking mountains,” or “Simply delicious.” Then he is handed the worst tool: the blood napkin, the tool that wipes up all the loose goo and pus.
Turn the flashlight on and shine it at the kid’s organs.
Shine the flashlight in your rival’s eyes to make him squint.
“Ah, c’mon, man. Quit it. What the hell.”
Nice. Shine the flashlight at the kid’s organs now.
The surgery is now well under way. The chief is slicing and dicing and moving parts around left and right. It’s pretty much a one-woman show.
Most of the other doctors are using their tools just to kind of scrape some bones and stuff when they feel like they should get in the mix, usually after not doing anything for a couple minutes straight and getting nervous that someone will notice how they’re not really that crucial to the operation.
You’re getting bored by the whole thing at this point, but at least you’re holding your own with these docs and, most importantly, haven’t killed anyone yet.
Keep shining the light in the organs.
Surgery still going. Getting kind of repetitive. A couple doctors shuffled out for a minute and came back with crackers, but the crackers are all gone now. You didn’t even notice they had crackers until there were only, like, four left in the sleeve, so at that point, asking for some really wouldn’t have been cool.
Surgery is getting boring.
Keep shining the flashlight.
Surgery is boring as hell.Your arms got tired from holding the flashlight up, so you put it down for a minute and no one seemed to notice. You’re back up now.
Keep shining the flashlight.
Kid woke up and started screaming LOUD, but now he’s sleeping again.
“You were scared!” “No, you were scared!” “I wasn’t scared, you were scared!” The surgeons are all ragging on each other and having fun again. Finally got some juice in the room. Whole crew got a good laugh out of that one.
Keep shining the flashlight.
Woah, wait a minute. Oh, man. You see something inside the kid’s body. Wedged deep in between his rib cage and his liver, there looks to be something shining and throbbing, and you’re pretty sure you’re the only one who sees it.
Two doctors broke away from the surgery about 15 minutes ago to arm wrestle on a nearby stool, and the rest of the surgeons have all one-by-one walked over to form a circle around them so they can gamble. Meanwhile, the chief is still hacking away at this kid’s organs with all of her might, and seems way too dialed-in to notice the game changer you’ve found.
Become a hero in front of your new boss by immediately and dramatically yanking out whatever the hell is sticking out of this kid’s guts.
Play it safe by simply alerting the chief of the mystery object and seeing what she thinks you should do.
Lean your flashlight up against the kid’s chin and go gamble with your new work friends.
You’ve killed! You’ve killed!
You thought you were being a hero by yanking out what you thought were some sort of wet, shining metals, but were actually the poor kid’s veins. You are no longer a surgeon, and can go ahead and kiss that sweet paycheck goodbye.
Restart at checkpoint.
Start Over
“Those are veins. They are not ‘evil copper and metals sticking out of this poor bastard’s guts.’ Do not call them that.”
Damn. Misread that one. The chief is totally onto you now.
“But I appreciate you speaking your mind when you think something is amiss,” she continues, looking up and making eye contact with you for the first time. “That takes a commitment to the job that some of my other doctors lack at times,” she says, motioning to the doctors across the room who are now attempting to disguise their arm-wrestling gambling ring by draping a hospital gown over the two meaty, dueling arms.
Hold eye contact without blinking, slowly nod your head, and say “good.”
The chief reciprocates your unblinking eye contact and begins nodding in perfect unison with your nodding. This goes on for a good 20 seconds or so, the grunts of the two arm wrestlers and the slaps of cold, hard cash hitting the tile becoming the only sounds in the room.
At that moment, you and the chief simultaneously feel a romantic charge between you, and it feels beautiful and right. But that romantic feeling is immediately followed by a simultaneous paternal feeling, but it’s unclear who is the parent and who is the child. Then the two feelings of physical attraction and familial protectiveness fuse together into one singular emotion, and it feels disgusting to both of you.
Pretend you hear one of the gambling surgeons call you over to ask you a quick question, and then walk over to them.
“Yeah, yeah, go catch up with them. I’ll hold it down over here, cool,” the chief kind of half-mutters to herself and to you while shaking her head and getting back to surgery.
Look back over your shoulder and smile and nod.
Pretend you didn’t hear her and walk faster toward the arm-wrestling scene.
You walk over to the gambling circle and see the two exhausted surgeons pulling and pushing as hard as they can to win. The two doctors are so evenly matched that their arms aren’t moving or shaking in the slightest. If it weren’t for the veins about to explode out of their temples and the tears streaming down their faces, you’d have no idea how intense the duel was.
All of the other surgeons are quietly going apeshit. Almost all of them are either gently pounding their chests, gingerly slapping the ground, or shaking their fists in the air, all the while whispering bad arm-wrestling advice like “Win the skin!” or “Make him smooth!”
It’s definitely a pretty sweet scene, and you decide that you want to get in the mix.
Ask the doctor on your left to borrow a couple bucks to gamble.
Ask the doctor on your right to borrow a couple bucks to gamble.
As you go to ask the doctor next to you, your rival doctor steps in front and interrupts:
“Looking to get in on the action but lacking the funds, newbie? Don’t worry, fresh meat. I got you covered. Also, we’re rival doctors, just in case that wasn’t clear.”
Whoa, pretty cool to get a rival doctor on your first day on the job. That probably usually takes years.
“That’s my coat over there,” he says, pointing to a white lab coat being worn by one of the arm-wrestling surgeons. “Go ahead and take my wallet out of the pocket and take out as much money as you want.”
He then lets out a weird little laugh and looks around to see if anyone else is laughing. One other doctor did laugh, but he’s in the middle of a conversation with another surgeon, so you’re pretty sure the laugh had nothing to do with your rival.
That’s weird. Seems like that coat belongs to the doctor wearing it. You lying, asshole?
“I have coats all over this hospital that you wouldn’t know a thing about,” he says, raising his fist up to your chin real quick, trying to get you to flinch. You stand your ground and don’t flinch at all, though, and he sheepishly brings his fist back down to his side.
Tell your rival that you would never borrow money from his shitty coat, and that he’s acting like a real weirdo.
Trust your rival’s suspicious story, reach into the coat being worn by the arm-wrestling doctor, and take out some money to gamble with.
You’ve killed! You’ve killed!
In a brilliantly executed scheme, your rival tricked you into reaching into the coat of one of the doctors who is arm wrestling. When the arm wrestler saw you trying to steal his wallet, his mix of adrenaline and dangerously high blood pressure caused his heart to explode.
Your misconduct has resulted in a death, meaning you can no longer be a surgeon, and you will never see that sweet, sweet bag o’ cash.
Restart at checkpoint.
Start Over
“I, uh, good then,” he stutters as h
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