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ladylynse · 4 years ago

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Chapter 6 [FFN | AO3] of Forewarning

All Dipper knew was that there was something buried in some special thermos behind the shack; all Danny knew was that he had no idea how he'd gotten here.

Based off this artwork by @hashtag-art. Happy birthday, @bibliophilea!

(beginning | previous)

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Once safely back at the Mystery Shack, Wendy turned off the golf cart and grabbed her supplies from the rack in the back. It had been a bumpy ride, but she’d only needed to sacrifice one bag of marshmallows to the forest. That wasn’t bad, considering how many creatures she was fairly sure lived there.

And, fine, maybe it made her a little paranoid to think that some of the bumps she’d hit had been deliberate, a growth of tree roots just so or deep holes suspiciously covered with leaf litter, but it wasn’t like she voiced her thoughts to anyone else.

Besides, whatever lived in the forest seemed happy with the occasional sacrifice of candy. At the very least, she’d never been stopped by something yet, and she took a lot of shortcuts through here by herself. That wasn’t exactly recommended, even for those who knew the territory well. When her family went out for apocalypse training, they were supposed to pair off. They didn’t always, but they did more often than not.

It’s easier to survive if there’s someone you trust around to watch your back, but you have to know how to fight if there isn’t.

Whatever had stopped by the Mystery Shack wasn’t bringing the apocalypse with it—she was pretty sure about that—but she didn’t want this to turn into that. Taking the twins to see the haunted grocery store? Sure. She still hadn’t been sure they’d actually see ghosts despite the stories—no one had been until it had happened—but that was different. That was contained. That was very much not in the Mystery Shack. Where the kids slept. With only the oblivious skeptic Stan around to fight the things that went bump in the night.

Now, if those things were corporeal, she wouldn’t be concerned. The man knew how to punch, and he’d punch before asking questions. But whatever had turned up this time clearly had the option to not be corporeal. Like a ghost.

She remembered the footprints appearing in the scattered baking soda a split second before the boy who’d visited earlier appeared. The same boy who had flashed a careless grin and flipped through postcards and keychains and magnets in the gift shop before taking a tour with Mabel.

Whatever he was, he wasn’t a ghost, but he was entirely too much like a ghost for comfort.

There was no sign of Stan yet—not a surprise; she hadn’t heard his car—but chances were good he wasn’t far behind her.

She saw Soos walking in from the lane and raised her hand in a wave. He spotted her and held a finger to his lips before pointing, and something cold and heavy settled in her gut as she spotted three figures by the woodshed: Mabel, Dipper, and the not-a-ghost boy who’d called himself Danny.

She cursed under her breath as she hurried to meet Soos. “That’s him,” she hissed. “We need to get him away from the twins.”

“Did you find anything in town that we can use?”

“I bought a couple more boxes of salt.” Silver was expensive—too expensive for her, anyway—and she wasn’t exactly guaranteed to find holy water even if she tried breaking into a church, mostly because she didn’t know where she’d look for it. She could’ve bought a cast iron frying pan, but she might as well grab one from the kitchen. The ideas of what they might be able to do had quickly fallen apart when she’d realized what was actually feasible. “It’s better than nothing.”

“What about garlic?”

“For a ghost?”

“You said he wasn’t a ghost.”

“Close enough to a ghost. And, anyway, there should be some in the kitchen. We can always chop up a couple of cloves and see if it does anything.” If it didn’t, and they didn’t waste it, they could always throw it into hamburger meat or make garlic bread. “How long has he been here? The kid?”

“Just a couple of minutes,” Soos allowed, “but this isn’t the first time the kids have met him.”

Wendy closed her eyes. “I know, I just…. I’d hoped they wouldn’t realize he wasn’t normal.” More to the point, she’d hoped that he wouldn’t come back. What the hell did he want, anyway? Sure, he’d said something about fixing whatever was wrong, but their ideas about what needed fixing weren’t likely the same.

“They might not. He was pretending to be normal when he talked to me.”

“He talked to you?”

“Just to ask after Dipper and Mabel.”

Wendy frowned. Soos didn’t sound too optimistic that Mabel and Dipper wouldn’t realize there was something weird about the kid, and frankly, she thought he was right. Mabel might be more forgiving, but Dipper…. “We’ll play it cool. Keep doing whatever you were doing. Try to keep an eye on them without being too obvious about it. I’ll prepare the fire pit.”

“The wood, campfire forks, hot dogs, marshmallows—?”

His gaze had wandered pointedly down to the box of salt pressing against the white plastic bag she carried, its blue label clearly visible. “Yeah. I won’t ring it thickly enough that it’s noticeable, especially since it’ll have to be in the gravel where nothing’s growing anyway, but if he’s going to pretend to be normal, then we’ll see how long he can keep that up.”

“And if he’s not affected by the salt?”

“We cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“And if we’re wrong and he is normal after all?”

Wendy snorted. “If he’s normal, he’s only normal for here.” She saw Soos shift uncomfortably and added, “If Stan comes back before I’m finished, give him the pitch about taking measures to ghost-proof the Mystery Shack and advertising doing that because it’s haunted. He’ll know how to get more of what we need, even if he doesn’t think it’ll do anything.”

“What if he’s not bad? The kid, I mean. Not everything is bad. Not everyone is bad.”

The kid had claimed he wasn’t a threat. He’d said he was stuck, that he just wanted to go home, that he had to fix something, not break it. What if it hadn’t been a lie? She didn’t see how his sneaking around could mean his intentions were honourable, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t missing something.

On the other hand, if he were simply determined to show a friendly face to the twins to get them to lower their guard, only to strike once he’d fooled them—

Wendy wasn’t sure if she wanted to take that risk. Having a healthy amount of suspicion now and apologizing later sounded much better to her than being overly trusting and being burned—especially if she wouldn’t be the only one caught in that fire. She and Soos had lived their entire lives here. Mabel and Dipper had not. They might not yet appreciate the degree to which not everything was as it appeared.

“You don’t need to be ready to attack,” Wendy finally said. “You just need to be ready to defend.” Soos nodded, maybe thinking her words were for both of them, but they weren’t. She had no intentions of simply being ready to defend. She wasn’t about to attack unprovoked, but if this kid did anything that set off alarm bells for her, she’d act on her gut. She trusted her gut more than her head. It was reliable in these sorts of situations.

The trouble was, her gut should have made a call on this already. Instead, she was still conflicted, and more time to mull it over on her trip into town hadn’t helped. Part of her still wanted to take the kid’s words at face value, but the little she’d seen of what he could do backed up the part of her that insisted he was far too dangerous to blindly trust. Soos wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but there was so much that could seem innocuous at first….

The knowledge that Soos was right and they had no idea if salt would actually help defend them didn’t make this any easier—especially when Danny was clearly interested in Mabel and Dipper. Soos had mentioned Dipper having a book, and she remembered seeing glimpses of it before. If that’s what the kid was interested in, how was she supposed to help Dipper and Mabel protect it while still protecting them?

Salt first. Purifying fire and questions later, if the kid decided to stick around for it. As long as he wasn’t hurting her friends, she was willing to give him a shovel and see how deep he dug.

XXXXXXX

Danny didn’t see the journal around, but Dipper apparently didn’t need it to draw his magic circle thing in the dirt. To be fair, Danny didn’t know if it was the same one as before, but he also didn’t want to find out. Which meant taking the initiative and trying to explain before they decided to pull more magic stuff on him.

“Please don’t do whatever you’re planning on doing,” he said, keeping his voice low in the hope that the guy he’d been talking to earlier wouldn’t hear it. “I just want to talk, I swear.”

“Are you ready to explain now?”

That was Dipper, with a bite in his voice that reminded Danny a bit of Valerie. Dipper might not sound even half as malicious as Valerie could when she was spitting curses at Phantom, but he was appropriately wary. “Yeah. But you have to promise you won’t try any magic stuff.”

“No. You’re not defenseless, and I’m not swearing away my ability to protect anyone.”

Oh. Right. He might think that particular promise carried more weight than a regular promise. He seemed to think giving his word would make it impossible to break. Danny didn’t know of any ghosts with that power, and frankly he didn’t want to meet one who had it. “You don’t have to. I just…. I promise I’m not here to hurt you or anyone else. I only want to talk. And not, y’know, risk being exorcised if you don’t believe me.”

Mabel looked from Danny to her brother and raised an eyebrow. He scowled at her but said, “Fine. If you don’t do anything except tell us the truth right now, I won’t try to exorcise you.”

Not ideal, but it wasn’t like Danny was planning on lying through his teeth to them, anyway—or that he couldn’t still attempt a lie if he felt he needed to. He had a feeling it wouldn’t work, though. He hadn’t had a whole lot of luck earlier. Maybe seeing through that thing was a kind of survival instinct around here, just like Secret Lab Guy had said.

Come to that, though— How had he had an entire conversation with someone, spilled half his life story to that someone, and not actually gotten their name?

Whatever. He’d ask later if he didn’t figure it out before then. It just proved the point, though. These people were good. Sharper than he was used to, unless almost everyone in Amity Park had already figured out his secret and was just being nice and waiting for him to make some kind of grand announcement.

Yeah, right. If Amity Park’s continued obliviousness wasn’t natural, then Vlad had done something. Not something Danny would thank him for, exactly, but something he wouldn’t fault him for, either.

“Thanks. Can I sit?” There weren’t chairs. There weren’t even logs. Dipper would be able to tell that he was staring at the circle drawn in the dirt, though, and know the question for what it was.

Mabel reached out one foot and drew a line through it with the toe of her shoe. “Yup!” she said, dropping down in place. “Pull up some grass.”

Dipper glared at her as Danny sat down on a patch that was more gravel than grass, but the other boy didn’t say anything; he just settled down and looked like he’d be ready to grab the axe beside him at a moment’s notice. Danny didn’t really want to find out if he knew how to use it. Then again, going by the assorted sizes of split logs nearby, he wasn’t overly skilled; even if it wasn’t a normal axe that Danny could avoid with intangibility, there was a good chance that Dipper was clumsy enough with it that he’d be easy enough to avoid.

“I’m sorry about not being entirely straight with you earlier when I said I would be.” Danny didn’t know where to begin, but an apology seemed smart when he still wanted their help.

“Which time, Phantom?”

Well, at least there wasn’t any lingering doubt. Danny sucked in a breath and let it out slowly to give himself a bit of time to think. Mabel looked ready to listen, but Dipper…. He still wasn’t sure about Dipper. “This isn’t exactly something I tend to tell strangers,” Danny said slowly, “but you’re right. I’m Phantom. I’m the one you let out of the thermos.”

Dipper was still practicing his glare, but Mabel asked, “So what are you? You’re not a ghost. We’ve seen ghosts.”

“I’m still a ghost,” Danny said, since as far as he knew, that was true. “Just…part ghost. Part human.” He rubbed the back of his neck and offered them a smile. “Remember when I joked about being the poster boy for interdimensional safety?”

“You expect us to believe you were in some sort of accident,” Dipper said flatly.

They didn’t need to know all the details, but— “Yeah. Lab accident. It didn’t kill me, or at least I don’t think it did, but I did get ghost powers, so that’s cool. Not something I’d recommend to anyone, but cool.”

Okay, Dipper definitely didn’t believe that, but Mabel nodded as if Danny had said something normal and not what probably sounded insane. “Why were you in the thermos?”

“Clockwork, I think. He’s the one who gave me the message to warn you in the first place, remember? Also the one who likes to pretend he doesn’t interfere but interferes like this. I thought it was Vlad, until I…until I realized how long it had been. And, no, before you ask, I don’t know who wrote that journal. I wasn’t lying about that. The only important bit I lied about was ‘Danny Fenton’ being a friend.”

“Why fess up now?” Dipper’s question was a challenge, sure, but Danny could hear the genuine curiosity behind it. Chance were, he wasn’t a great liar, either.

“Because I might need your help to get home. Especially if that help involves you trusting me enough to let me help you and you not trying to kill me first.”

“What were you looking for earlier?” Danny blinked, trying to figure out what that meant, and Dipper must have read that confusion on his face because he elaborated, “Mabel heard you. We know you were back before you showed yourself now.”

Right. She had been in the gift shop area, hadn’t she? “I was trying to find some clue about what else I’m supposed to do here.”

“And?”

That meant did you find it? Danny might’ve promised them the truth, but he’d also promised the other guy that he wouldn’t blow that secret, either. More or less. Hopefully that wasn’t what he was supposed to do here? “There’s something weird about this place,” he said instead. “It’s got this…feeling. I don’t know how to describe it.” It was something unnerving, like the feeling the Fright Knight could give you, but with more…. More I’m-watching-you vibes. Vlad times a hundred. If he didn’t need to stick around to get home, he’d be gone by now. Whatever Clockwork was trying to warn these guys away from, it felt like a danger on par with Pariah Dark.

Not that he’d be able to explain that to them.

Mabel reached over to poke Dipper in the arm. “Show him the journal.”

That would make things a lot easier for him. “I could tell you what it has wrong about ghosts. Or at least about me,” he offered. He wanted to do that regardless, but if he could give them more reason to show him, well….

“It seems to be right about you,” Dipper said, “unless you want to pretend that you’ve never been affected by anything we’ve done.”

Danny blew out a breath. “Look. Being part ghost doesn’t mean I’m exempt from everything that works on ghosts. It also means that I need to be careful around hunters, including you guys. But I’m not here to fight you or steal something or whatever your book says about me. I’m the good guy, I swear.”

“The good guy. Who needs his own little dedicated section in the journal.”

“Dedicated section?” That sounded worrisome. How much info did these guys have on him? Some of it had to be accurate, but if it was just full of things he’d done as a ghost with no context, like the stealing—

“More like a paragraph,” Mabel interrupted, “and it’s not even in the same language as the rest of it.”

Wait.

“Not the same language? What language is it?”

“See for yourself,” Mabel said. She elbowed Dipper when he didn’t immediately produce the journal and offer it up and then hissed a few things in his ear for good measure, which finally seemed to convince him. He pulled the journal out from beneath the vest he’d been wearing earlier, flipped through to the right page, and turned it around to show Danny.

Danny leaned closer, but he didn’t recognize the language, either. If it was something ghosts spoke, he’d never seen it written down, but aside from Wulf, most of the ghosts he’d met spoke English. He didn’t know how many other languages they spoke, though. He’d never asked. If this was some common language he had yet to learn….

“It might be the way it’s coded,” Dipper admitted, “instead of actually being in a different language. Some passages in the journal are coded, but they’re all the same code, except for this. I haven’t had any luck cracking it.”

Danny frowned, reading the page over before Dipper could take it away. He couldn’t see anything about a thermos or anything else that would have led them to him in the first place, but there was a bit of gibberish above that section written in green ink that might be the first code—

Wait. Green ink? Everything else in here was black or blue or some kind of brown that Danny really hoped wasn’t blood. “What else is written in this colour?” he asked, pointing to the passage.

“That’s it.”

“In the entire book?” That didn’t make sense. “But…why?”

“When I find the author of the journals,” Dipper said bluntly, “that won’t be one of the first questions I ask.”

“It won’t even be one of the first hundred,” Mabel added. “Dipper’s never understood the importance of colour.”

To be fair, it wasn’t typically high on Danny’s list of priorities, either, but this colour thing was definitely strange. How many other weird things were in that book if this didn’t make the list?

“Does it mean something to you?” Mabel asked.

Danny hesitated. The fact that it happened to be the same colour as his eyes—or his ectoplasm—in ghost mode could be a coincidence, but things tended to be a lot less coincidental when Clockwork was involved. Danny wasn’t really ready to bet that whoever had written this journal had simply run out of every other colour of pen that day. “Maybe,” he admitted, “but only in that it might point toward me.” Or another ghost like him. Hopefully not Danielle.

“So do you know who wrote it?” she prompted.

He shook his head. “I don’t know the handwriting. That’s not saying much, though. There are a lot of people—and ghosts—I know whose handwriting I’d never recognize.” He wasn’t even sure he’d recognize the Ghost Writer’s handwriting. “What does the other part say about me?”

“That something was stuck in a thermos behind the shack,” Mabel answered immediately, ignoring her brother’s glare. “Which it was.”

“It’s a Fenton Thermos, something specifically designed to contain ghosts. My parents build them.” If he wasn’t trying to keep his secret anymore, there was no harm in admitting that. “They’re paranormal scientists and inventors.”

“Like the author of the journal is,” Mabel said, shooting Dipper a pointed look. “That must be why the bit about the thermos is in there.”

“Not— I mean, I’m not thirty years old. Seriously. Do I look that old to you? I just turned fifteen last week.” Well. Last week for him. Not for whenever this was, five years in his future. “Me being in the thermos is Clockwork’s fault.” Probably. Except Clockwork wouldn’t have needed to catch him in a thermos to force him back here; he could’ve simply asked and called in a favour if Danny had complained, which he would’ve. More likely, Clockwork had merely taken advantage of someone else capturing him in a thermos, and that list of possibilities was long—and included more than one ally, even when the capturing was intentional.

“I don’t know all the details, okay? I just…. I haven’t met a ghost besides Clockwork that messes with time.” His evil future self didn’t count, not when Clockwork’s power had still been the vehicle for everything he’d done.

…Danny really hoped this had nothing to do with him. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t appreciate the thermos parallels.

Of course, now that he thought about it, the fact that he’d been stuck in a thermos had to be deliberate. Sure, it was a way to skirt the notice of the Observants, but Clockwork had messed with the timeline before without doing anything sneaky like that. If the thermos was important…. Coupled with the fact that there was a portal being built beneath a place called the Mystery Shack….

“That’s why I’m here.”

“You care to share with the class?” Dipper asked.

“The thermos, the portal—”

“What portal?”

Oops. “The, y’know, whatever, it doesn’t matter, the point is, you said the author of the journals was a paranormal scientist? Maybe an inventor, too?”

“No, no, don’t change the subject. What portal?”

“Like a portal to another dimension?” Mabel queried. “Is that why you talked about interdimensional safety earlier?”

Oh, crud. They weren’t going to let his slip about the portal go. So much for that secret. “Just…never mind that right now. Paranormal scientist. Inventor. Like my parents. He probably didn’t know them, it would’ve been too early on for them to have made a name for themselves, they might not even have been together yet, but…. Okay. This is gonna sound crazy—”

“Crazier than everything else you’ve said?” Dipper asked dryly.

“—but just go with me on this. Please. I know what happened when my parents messed stuff up, and—”

“And you’re warning us so we’re prepared and more careful,” Mabel finished. “So I don’t get impatient and Dipper doesn’t get complacent.”

Danny frowned. “What?”

“Your warning,” she repeated. “You’re not trying to get us to stop what we’re doing. It’s a terrible warning for that. That kind of thing just makes you wanna do it more, whatever it is. So you’re actually warning us to be more careful than you think we would be otherwise.”

Danny opened his mouth to tell her that warning someone not to do something obviously meant they shouldn’t do it, and then he remembered all the times his parents had warned him not to touch stuff in the lab.

Right.

Maybe she wasn’t wrong.

Just because that was what a warning meant, didn’t mean it would always have the desired effect.

Moreover, Clockwork would know exactly what to have Danny say to get the desired effect.

He’d thought he’d come to help with the portal, but he still didn’t know the blueprints of his parents’ portal as well as Tucker did. If this were just about helping them build or fix the portal in the basement without bad consequences, Tucker was a better choice than he was, and Clockwork could most definitely have arranged that.

But Danny had joked about being the poster boy for interdimensional safety, and he could still disassemble and reassemble most of his parents’ weapons in order to tweak them, even if he wasn’t as good at it as Tucker, and he’d be an idiot to keep ignoring the fact that Clockwork had made sure he had a thermos here.

The thermos wasn’t for him. It had never been for him. It had contained him, sure, but Clockwork must’ve made sure he was stuck in one so that he’d think of this. So that he’d think of what they’d done with his evil future self. And so he’d have it when he needed it.

There was a portal in a secret lab in the basement of the Mystery Shack, and the thermos written about in Dipper’s journal was for whatever was coming out of it.

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#gravity falls #danny phantom #phantom falls #crossover #fanfiction #gf fanfiction #dp fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet #gf snippet #dp snippet

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tiny-maus-boots · 5 years ago

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Queen of Hearts - pt 8

A/N: thank you to everyone still reading. thank you so much to my bestie for do the thing always @chloes-yellow-cup

08. Bad Beat

“Cassidy will you grab the rest of the breads and take them into the pantry? Thanks.”

Stacie hefted a study cardboard box full of frozen chicken cutlets and hamburger patties. She placed it on top of a stack of boxes similarly filled on the waiting dolly before the tall brunette glanced at her clipboard to confirm the last of the supplies had been accounted for. She tossed the plastic board on top of the box and tipped back the over laden hand truck to get it rolling. She navigated through the heavy steel back door and down the hall to the storeroom, content in the work she was doing.

It wasn’t by any means heroic or anything. It was just the daily business of running the shelter, errands, chores, stocking the pantry…the usual. But it made her feel good to have such a hands-on approach to her community work. The shelter hadn’t just been a home for women that had to leave dangerous situations. It had been her own safe haven from the world her husband and parents lived in. Despite the fact that work was hard, the hours long, and the circumstances almost always heartbreaking, this place brought her peace.

Voices down the hall rose and she frowned slightly, easing the dolly down before following the commotion to its source. It wasn’t normal to hear people arguing, the shelter was a sanctuary and shouting just didn’t happen that often. A familiar strident tone threaded through the sound and her eyes narrowed. She could tell it was a man, of course by the deepness of the voice but she didn’t know him personally. She didn’t really have to. It was a husband or boyfriend or even sometimes a pimp. She knew it by the entitled bluster that loudly demanded entry.

There was a time when just the tone of that kind of aggression from any man, made her tremble in reflexive anxiety. Although those days were gone, they weren’t that far past and she could feel that sliver of fear want to take over. The ugly reminder of it made her push forward with anger of her own that quickly drowned out the scared echo in the back of her mind.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re trespa-“

“I KNOW she’s in there! You bring me my wife and my boy or I swear I’ll call the cops.”

Emotion slid off her face as she opened the inner door to the reception area and let it click closed behind her. Cassidy turned and gave her a relieved look that she smiled understandingly at. It wasn’t the girl’s fault and she knew that. A thick meaty fist banged on the thick plexi glass wall that separated them making her young friend jump.

“Why don’t you go grab a coffee and a quick snack, I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure? Should I call…someone?”

Cassidy had lowered her voice to barely a whisper but Stacie gave her credit for trying to back her up even though she was clearly uncomfortable. Though she was sure the someone Cassidy was referring to was Aubrey. She gave the girl a slight shake of her head squeezed her shoulder gently.

“It’s okay Cass, go on.”

Cassidy didn’t question it further, she just escaped out the door without a backward glance. Stacie didn’t blame her one bit. She took a calming breath before turning and offering a bland, mechanical smile to the man pacing with agitation in front of her window. He was big in that he was heavy but not that tall. Certainly not taller than her. And she could tell by the way he stretched his spine and neck that he didn’t like it one bit.

“How can I help you, sir?”

“And who the hell are you supposed to be? I want to talk to someone in charge not some fucking desk bunny.”

Usually Stacie didn’t mind when people thought of her as hot and dumb. She’d played to it often enough when it suited her needs. This time, however, it irritated her rather than just mildly amusing her. The glass front doors opened behind him as someone came in, the bright sunlight slicing through what she was realizing now was kind of a dim and dreary interior. She made a mental note to have some improvements overall and offered him a smile. First things first.

“If you’re looking for someone in charge you found her. Is there something wrong?”

“Lady you got some fucking balls. Is there something wrong? I’ve only been screaming about it for twenty fucking minutes!” His fist came up again to bang on the plexi in exclamation of his point. “I know my wife and son are in there and you better go get them now. Olivia! OLIVIA, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE YOU BITCH!”

Movement behind him drew her eye and she saw Happy peek around the side of the man, her brow raised in silent question. Did Stacie want her to deal with him? The corner of her lips twitched and she had to fight to keep her face from betraying her thoughts. A shake of her head was enough for Happy to ease back silently to let her handle things. It was still nice knowing there was backup at hand just in case. She wasn’t even surprised to see the woman. Life with Aubrey had come with the perk of personal security.

“Okay that’s about enough of that. I don’t know who your wife is or why you think she’s here but I suggest you lower your voice and you leave.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, bitch! I’m not leaving here without them. If you don’t bring them out, I swear I’ll call-“

“The cops? Sure. Let’s do that.” Stacie picked up the phone and started to dial the non-emergency phone line for the West L.A. Police Department. He banged on the glass again but she didn’t flinch, she had expected it the second she’d called his bluff. The line clicked open with a dispatcher as he stared at her furiously. He wanted to hurt her; she could tell. She’d faced that same black look a thousand times before but she wasn’t afraid of it. Not because Happy stood a few feet behind him, or the fact that there were two inches of impact glass between them. Something had shifted in her when Weston had died. Something profound that she hadn’t yet come to understand but was learning to appreciate. “Hi yes this is Stacie Conrad down at New Hope on Sepulveda…”

“Fuck you! Stupid bitch.”

He turned on a heel, practically pushing Happy and the slender woman in line behind her out of the way. Stacie let out a breath she didn’t realize that she was holding and thanked the dispatch operator before hanging up. He could be as mad as he wanted to be, as long as it was somewhere else. She shook her head and smiled at Happy who bounced a little with her thumbs up. The encouragement was appreciated, especially when the curly blonde-haired woman shifted slightly to the side and Stacie really took in the woman behind her observing everything with a keen and critical eye.

“Mother.”

It was unexpected, taking the wind out of her sails and she wondered how her mother had even found the place. She certainly had never been inclined to visit before. Helene waited a moment, carefully smoothing the skirt of her latest Dior suit set to buy her some time before speaking. Happy glanced back and forth between the two of them giving Stacie a questioning look before easing back out the front door to give them some privacy. Her mother offered a blank smile and took one step forward as if she were a bit afraid that poverty was contagious.

“Well, things are certainly livelier south of the country club, aren’t they?”

It was just this side of bitchy, her mother unable to keep herself from reminding Stacie that she was bred above this place and these people. Of course, Helene would never consider it a slight, just a gentle reminder. In a way, she supposed, her mother was attempting to meet her in the middle. A soft, tired smile tugged at her lips and she gestured for the older woman to wait.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew her mother was there because Aubrey had visited her parents. Not that her fiancée had said anything about it, but she didn’t have to. Stacie had known something had happened the second she’d gotten a text from Aubrey letting her know that they were having a family dinner. It wasn’t uncommon really, she had learned that when Aubrey wanted to show love she cooked, and she cooked a lot. But the timing was so random and spontaneous, so weighted by whatever knowledge Aubrey had learned that afternoon.

Stacie had suspected that it had to do with her parents when Aubrey had caught her in the kitchen and pulled her into a hug, strong arms wrapping around her protectively. It was the type of love she hadn’t known really existed before. So, she hadn’t questioned it, hadn’t thought harder on it because it didn’t really matter what her life was like before the blonde or what Aubrey had found out. All that mattered was how deeply loved she felt now.

Her footsteps brought her through the office and around to the heavy steel door that separated her from the lobby. Stacie took a breath to center herself but pushed back against the urge to close herself off and wall up her emotions so she could present a camera-ready visage at any moment. She rested her palm flat on the door and pushed it open wide enough to admit her mother to the back.

“I wasn’t sure you knew the map extended past the country club, mother.”

They could trade politely smiled barbs at each other all day but she was getting really tired of that song and dance. Maybe they both were. They eyed each other for a long second before she jerked her head in invitation. Helene seemed to think it good enough and stepped past the threshold to the rest of the shelter. Stacie let the door shut and gave it push to be sure it was locked shut before gesturing for her mother to walk with her.

“I’m surprised to see you, mom. Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. I just…to be quite honest Anastacia, I don’t know. I just.” She stopped short unable to articulate what had brought her. “I found myself needing to see…”

The tall brunette dipped her head in a nod of acknowledgement, absolving her mother of further explanation. Stacie stopped at the pantry and waved a hand to gesture Helene into the room. She picked up her clipboard and hung it on the hook on the wall before starting to dig through the boxes still patiently stacked on the dolly awaiting attention. Her mother watched it all with curiosity bubbling behind her hazel green eyes. She was sure she knew what her mother was trying to say, or at least she hoped she did.

“Just give me a second to get this sorted out, maybe we could…have lunch?”

It was tentatively asked because it wouldn’t be the first time her lunch invitation had been declined. She almost expected to hear that there weren’t any decent places to eat in that part of town or some other snobby slight. Stacie was so sure her mother would decline that she looked away from the older woman and started stacking the frozen items in the big commercial freezer the shelter had just purchased at a significant discount from one of Aubrey’s suppliers.

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

A box of cube steaks slipped between her fingers and clattered to the ground. She blinked and looked back at her mother before grabbing the box and stacking it neatly in the freezer. Okay. It was unexpected but it was a start. Maybe.

“Great. Let me just finish putting these away and we can go.”

Helene shifted her weight and Stacie could feel the tension under the surface. She raised a brow in question and her mother gestured to the boxes with a graceful wave of her hand.

“Don’t you have people to do the grunt work?”

Stacie chuckled softly as she finished emptying one box and started on another with canned goods. She moved around the pantry, stocking the shelves, and taking note of what was needed still. Her mother hadn’t meant an insult by it, she was a woman used to giving orders and expecting them to be followed. It was the type of life that led to soft hands and hard hearts and it was exactly what Stacie never wanted to be.

“Well. The shelter budget only includes 3 full time employees, so we maintain the ship on the kindness of volunteers and we all lend a hand where we can.”

“Three??? That is insanity. You can’t run a business on three solid employees!” She smiled in mild amusement and shook her head. Her mother’s outrage and disbelief seemed so out of place when she’d been running the place on less for almost a decade. Stacie emptied the last box and pulled a bag of fresh grapes from the fridge to wash off in the large stainless sink along one wall. “That’s not a sustainable model.”

“Well, most of our funding covers the overhead of the building. Insurance of course, and the electricity bill here is ridiculous. But…we’ve been managing. Like I said, we have a lot of volunteers staffed and I’m grateful for each and every one of them.”

She dried the grapes, depositing them in a bowl and grabbed her clipboard before gesturing for Helene to follow her. They had only made it about 4 steps down the hall when Cass called out from her spot back at the front desk.

“Stace, the plumber emailed over the quote. It’s on your desk and you’re not gonna like it!”

“Thanks, Cass! I’ll call them back today!”

Shouting down the hall would been frowned upon at home when she was growing but she didn’t have the time to walk to the front just for that bit of info. Stacie pushed open the double doors to room they had recently designated as the playroom. It was large and brightly painted with books and games stacked neatly on shelves along the walls and thick spongey mats on the floor. Nearly a dozen kids made a beeline straight for her making her laugh in delight.

“Okay okay, easy guys. More than enough grapes for everyone. Hey Tanner.” A teenaged boy pushed off from the wall and waded through the kids to grab a some of the sweet fruit. She smiled at him and he blushed, glancing away nervously. It was adorable. Stacie turned back to her mother and gestured to the teen at her side as she handed him the bowl of grapes. “Tanner is one of our superstars, he helps out in the afternoons with the kids while the AA meeting convenes in the multipurpose room. We’re pretty self sufficient here, we look after our own.”

“We’re a family. Like a real one.”

Both women turned to look at the shy young man that looked like he wished he’d never spoken. Stacie winked at him and patted his shoulder as she stepped back toward the door. Tanner and his mother Linda had been some of the first families to stay at New Hope and she was glad to see them doing well.

“Do all the guests do work here?”

“It’s not required but some do, yes. Tanner doesn’t live here anymore but he and his mom make it a point to help out as often as they can.”

“Yo! Stacie, we need you to review that grant proposal before we submit it. The deadline is tonight, it’s on your desk!”

Stacie and her mom parted as a small determined body buzzed down the hall. Her mother looked a little flustered at the abruptness of the comment even as the speaker disappeared back up the hall and into a small office.

“Don’t mind Elena. She’s ‘eh’ on people skills but she’s a whiz at writing grants.”

They had finally made it to the smallest office at the back of the building. It was windowless and dark but she’d worked hard to make it cozy and comfortable. Her wide worktable took up most of one side and she settled behind it with a gesture to the seat across from her.

“I hadn’t realized how busy you were here…”

There was something in her tone that made Stacie look up from her computer screen with a frown. It was thoughtful and quiet, more like Helene was speaking to herself rather than to her daughter. The silence between them stretched, neither party sure what to say or how to close the gap that had been growing since as far back as Stacie could remember. Despite the fact that they were family, mother and daughter, they were really just two strangers to each other.

She opened her mouth to say anything to break the odd tableau when a casual knock on the door drew their attention and saved her from an inarticulate flounder. The tiny woman leaned against the frame with a grin and a plastic container full of food she could smell from there. Her stomach gave a growl of anticipation and Stacie beamed. Happy’s girlfriend laughed at the entirely scandalized look on her mother’s face and stepped into the office.

“Hey…I didn’t mean to interrupt…”

“Not at all, come in. Flo this is my mom Helene Conrad, mother this is Florencia Fuentes. She has a local catering business in town and donates a lot of prepared food to us. She’s a saint. Wha’cha got in the box?”

“Nice to meet you Mrs. Conrad.” The small woman offered Helene a smile and placed the container in front of Stacie. “I was just dropping off something for tonight. And Happy told me you skipped lunch again. So, I brought your favorite to tempt you into eating.”

Stacie’s eyes went right to the container, her mouth watering already. Over the last six months she and Florencia had gotten close, bonding over the amazing food the caterer had been donating almost weekly. And in that time she’d grown more than a little fond of Cuban cuisine.

“Tempt me? You couldn’t convince me to eat anything else.” Well. Almost anything else. Stacie kept her face perfectly schooled as the errant thought ran through her head. She reminded herself that her mother was marginally fine with sitting in a cramped closet of an office in a less than great part of town, scandalizing her now wouldn’t do their relationship any favors. The thought of her mother just sitting there staring at her salivating over the as yet unopened container brought Stacie back to herself. “Oh…mom…I promised lunch…”

“That’s quite alright, Anastacia. It would be a shame to let such a thoughtful gesture go to waste. It smells delicious.”

Flo beamed at the praise, and she should have. Helene didn’t give outright compliments unless she felt they were deserved. Stacie glanced at her mother, her mind quickly processing every twitch of muscle and softly sighed breath. Her mom’s eyes dipped to the container the curiosity and hunger obvious only to Stacie who knew her mother better than anyone else on the planet. Flo gestured to the hallway just outside the open door and tipped her head to the side as she watched the delicate dance between Stacie and her mother.

“I can get plates and silverware from the kitchen for you guys…”

Stacie nodded even though her mother was wavering on the edge of accepting the offer. She was sure that she would have declined with a sneer if her friends had been around. The younger Conrad woman lifted the lid to let the aroma waft up and out. Her mother’s eyes closed briefly as she inhaled the exotic combination of savory and sweet scents.

“Oh, my goodness…”

“Mouthwatering isn’t it?”

Helene nodded dazedly, not even noticing Flo come back with dishes. Her friend gave her a grin as she handed the plates and forks over and Stacie mouthed a thank you before starting to divvy up the rice and beans and seasoned meat.

“I’d better go, I have pastor’s 85th birthday event to cater in South Gate. Buen provecho and it was really nice to meet you Mrs. Conrad.”

“You too, dear. Thank you for the food if it tastes as delicious as it smells I’ll be in heaven.”

Stacie got up and gave Flo a tight hug before she could leave. Most of her adult life she’d only ever had one true friend in Cynthia Rose. But now things were different and she counted herself lucky to have found other amazing women that she could trust and that understood the life she had. It was helping she find who the real Stacie Conrad was under the carefully held up façade she was forced to build for herself.

“Thank you and hey, you, me, Ashley and the Doc for a girl’s day, yeah?”

“Count me in. Besos.”

“Bye.” Stacie watched Flo leave before settling back into her chair. She had been aware of her mother watching her carefully as she said her goodbyes. It was probably the first time that Helene had ever seen a real friendship up close in her life. “Sorry, okay. We’ve got a little of everything here.”

“Sizeable portions, nice presentation, it doesn’t even have to be good and she could make a decent living with a small café style store front in the art district.”

“Give it a try.” Stacie grinned and slid a plate across the desk to her mother. Helene gave her a dubious look and speared some of the steak on the end of her fork. The older woman gave an exasperated sigh before popping it in her mouth. She knew the moment Helene actually tasted the food she’d be hooked and she wasn’t surprised by the approving hum from the older woman. “It’s good right?”

“This is amazing. Oh, she could make a killing. What is this dish? I simply must know.”

“It’s called ropa vieja.” She waited a beat for her mom to take another, bigger bite of the food before continuing. “It literally means old clothes.”

Helene stopped chewing and looked at her fork then Stacie. The look on her face was too much for her and Stacie tipped her head back in a laugh.

“Oh God, your face. It’s fine, it’s just flank steak in a tomato sauce with white rice and black beans. And those are maduros. Um. Fried plantains.”

The other woman looked at the plate as her daughter pointed out all the components of the meal. She looked up and smiled in soft amusement at Stacie and for the life of her she couldn’t remember when that had happened before. Stacie’s own lips curled in a smile to match and for the first time felt like maybe there really was common ground between them. Maybe they just had to try a little harder to reach out to each other.

“This is…this is really nice, Stacie. I’m glad I came.”

She opened her mouth to comment that it was the first time her mother had used her nickname but her phone gave a petulant sounding buzz from somewhere under the stack of papers on her desk. She shifted the plate and files over until she found it and answered with a brief smile of apology for her mom.

“This is Stacie Conrad.”

“Hey mom.”

The voice was unmistakably Detective Mitchell but the greeting was strange. Stacie frowned slightly and looked at the clock on the wall. It was late afternoon and she was reasonably certain that the cop hadn’t yet started drinking but Beca was unpredictable and could be three sheets to the wind already. She lowered her voice and sat back in her chair, a knot already twisting her gut as she pondered all the reasons that Beca would be trying to reach her.

“Should I be worried you’re calling me?”

“Yeah, I know, I don’t call enough. I figure no news is good news, right?”

“Does that mean you have news and it’s not good?”

“Listen, how’s Daddy doing? Last time I saw him he had his hands tied.”

Stacie froze. A part of her was amused that Beca was referring to Aubrey as Daddy but that was quickly swallowed by the sick feeling of realization that Detective Mitchell was trying to tell her that Aubrey had been arrested. At least that was what she assumed based on what was said.

“Jesus Christ. They arrested her, didn’t they?”

“You’re always right, Mom. Listen I just wanted to check in. I got a big fish on the hook and I have to check some things out. I’ll see you and Daddy later, okay?”

“You know she’s going to murder you if you call her Daddy to her face, right?”

The line clicked abruptly on Beca’s amused and utterly unconcerned laughter. Stacie looked at her phone then dragged her eyes up to meet her mother’s bright-eyed stare. Disapproval etched a deep furrow in her brow and the very thin, shaky ground between them crumbled away with each word she spoke.

“I have to go downtown.”

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keyofjetwolf · 5 years ago

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The Naming of Pockets

I’ve technically gone through our time today, but I know answers to these two questions have been nibbling at some of you for a surprisingly long time, so I’ll go a bit over today to slake your thirst for knowledge. Come then, friends, come and hear the first of two tales that have nothing at all to do with each other.

~~~

The Naming Of Pockets

What’s most hilarious to me about this is that I actually thought I’d already answered it months ago, but either I did in such a boring ass way that nobody remembered it, or I only thought I had in a fever dream brought on by intense kitty love and bread-loss madness. Still, it’s a very good and valid question, and so on this fine February day, I shall tell you!

You already know how we met Master Pocket. His naming wasn’t really a consideration at first, since we rescued him from the tree and then very nearly after went out of town. What we didn’t realize, as we were bopping along to Yellowstone, was that this little void man had already decided that we were his.

It was hours later when we got the texts from Doc’s mum, Cindy. Cindy lives with Doc, and had been minding her own business when who should trot around the corner from the front of the house but our future Hot Pocket. He greeted her with his adorably soft little meows and his pleas for love and attention, and how can one have both a heart and the power to resist, I ask you? The temperature in Montana was going to plummet that night, and so Cindy was texting both Doc and I to inquire about Future Master Pocket. I’d been very much wanting to add a cat to our family, and, Cindy posited, she had perhaps found a solution to that problem.

A quick discussion between Hubby and I cemented that we’d give it a try. “Go ahead and bring him inside,” Doc told Cindy. “Okay!” Cindy replied, in a way that made it clear she already had.

Well now we had a whole new thing to talk about, while touring Yellowstone and appreciating its motherfucking splendor, and that thing was What Shall We Name him?

Doc was focused on his little Hamburger Helper paws, and in fairness, THOSE ARE VERY FOCUSABLE. “I’m not naming my cat Hamburger Helper,” I said, with all the affront such an undignified suggestion could provoke which, it turns out, is quite a lot.

But that sent my brain down a path. An inescapable path. A very strange, inescapable path.

“HOT POCKET!”

Once I’d proclaimed it, it was clearly the best of all possible choices. Then, shortly after,we got an update from Cindy. The kitten was doing well! He was a little snugglebug, and never stopped purring. The name she had given him, she said, was “Howie”.

Oh no no. No, this would not do.

My protests, of course, only made Holligay use the name MORE. I just as stubbornly insisted on his natural naming choice of “Hot Pocket”, but as the trip wore on, to my frustration, his name has mutated into “Howie Hot Pocket”, AND IT STUCK.

“Howie Hot Pocket” is how he is officially listed in his veterinary records. “HHP” is an oft-heard nickname. When he’s in trouble, he’s “HOWARD!!” In formal occasions, we know him as Howard H Pocket, Thritten the Third. (”Thritten” being the third family cat, after Casa Holligay’s Kitten and Witten.)

AND THUS A LEGEND WAS BORN

#THE GIFTENING 2019 #THE GIFTENING 2019 day 3 #storytime with jet wolf #life with jet wolf #howard h pocket thritten the third

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iheardarumorxxx · 5 years ago

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Midnight Sun, Chapter 9 - Port Angeles

Right. I remember this chapter from Twilight. I also have heard quite a bit about this chapter. This is gonna be a ride.

Eddie starts off this chapter saying that he used to be the ‘responsible’ one. I would like to remind everyone that Edward Anthony Masen Cullen spent a few years eating people he percieved to be horrible criminals because he didn’t like animal blood and was being a whiny baby. But go off, Eddie.

SM is still trying to paint Jessica as a rude bitch and I still don’t buy it. It is extremely clear to anyone with eyeballs that Mike has a thing for Bella, and it is pretty obvious that this date he’s going on with Jessica is because Bella said no. So her thoughts come off as insecure. She’s a teenage girl, so I think insecure is a pretty standard thing. Not always, but SM has painted these kids as the stereotypical teens, so.

Basically, I still don’t buy the attempt to make Jessica seem evil.

Bella has wandered off to go get that book she wanted, and Eddie is simply freaking out because he let his daughter out of his sight for one minute and she wandered off. He’s about half a second away from considering getting a leash to put on her. Seriously, though, that’s how this reads. A parent frantic because they lost their child in a crowded store or park. We all know she’s gonna get a serious scolding for this one. Maybe even grounded.

a volly of snarls erupted from my throat

Okay, we’re still not to the big rant about vampire instincts in this universe, yet, but I want you guys to remember this for later. It absolutely aides in the point I plan to make there. Also a ‘volly’ of snarls. That sounds so forced and I genuinely laughed out loud when I read it. Anyway, Eddie has found Bella and she is with the Evil Bad Guys Who Have Ill Intentions.

I would see how he enjoyed the hunt when he was the pray. I would see what he thought of my style of hunting.

Technically a spoiler because it hasn’t happened yet in this book, but not because we’ve seen it in Twilight. Eddie literally does not do anything to this Lanny guy or his friends. He gets out of the car, makes a mean face at them, and then gets back in the car and drives off. Maybe SM has Eddie go back out and hunt them later after he drops Bella off, but that doesn’t fit in with his squeaky clean good boy persona that Daddy Carlisle puts on him, so I doubt it. The scene as we know it comes off as very ‘man, if my girlfriend wasn’t here I’d kick your ass’. Because Eddie is a lot of bloated, puffed up talk.

When SM uses dialogue tags like ‘ordered’ to describe how Eddie says things, it just really hammers home that point I’ve been making about red flags. Even if it’s practical, like him telling Bella to put on a seat belt, especially since Pires bend the will of cars to their inane and idotic physics.

We went on a tangent about one of Eddie’s kills from his Vampire Batman days, and like honestly? I watch a lot of Criminal Minds. I see a lot of this kind of stuff, and it is absolutely awful that people like that exist in the world. I’m not saying that they shouldn’t be stopped. HOWEVER, this idea Eddie has that he was playing a good guy by taking justice into his own hands, I don’t jive with that. Now, I am aware of how faulty the criminal justice system is, especially with victims of sexual assault and domestic violence. I’ve lived that, myself. But if Eddie is so comfortable taking another life, no matter how he tries to justify it, he is no better than the people who he’s deciding to kill for their crimes.

a highly justifiable murder

See, this. This is why I don’t buy that SM’s Cullens are the paragons of good that she is constantly trying to say they are. There is no such thing as a justifiable murder, no matter what. Solving heinous acts with heinous acts simply perpetuates a cycle of heinous acts.

I wasn’t giving her a chance to say no.

This is a trend that will continue throughout the entire series. I will point you to all of the times that Edward never gave Bella a choice in a matter, including leaving her in New Moon, and DISMANTLING HER CAR ENGINE IN ECLIPSE SO THAT SHE COULDN’T GO SEE HER FRIEND. That one in particular rubs me the wrong way for reasons, but we won’t do that here. Just know that Edward never actually lets Bella make a choice in this series, and even when he pretends to, he does everything in his power to make the outcome go his way.

And now we’re at the restaruant. I’ve heard some stuff about this scene and god, can I not WAIT, but for now, let’s just talk about the one off waitress character. She is clearly only here to be a rival to Bella for this scene. Brief, unimportant, underdeveloped. And honestly? One off characters don’t actually need that development, not really, but what I can’t stand about this one is that she is literally only here, both in this book and in Twilight, so that SM can puff up how clearly Bella is so much better than she is. Because, you see, Eddie doesn’t find the pretty hostess attractive, he only has eyes for Bella. Her entire point is so that Edward can look at Bella, and therefore, the audience as Bella is their SI for this world, and go on about how much better and prettier and more perfect she is than this woman. It’s just gross.

“Do I dazzle you?”

This is still, in my personal opinion, the best and most iconic line in a series full of iconic lines. Eddie the Dazzle Machine. Charming the pants off people when he’s trying to scare the shit out of them. It’s hilarious, and so fuckin’ romance novel cliche, and I love it.

This restaurant is apparently a real place in the real Port Angeles. And from what I understand, at least when the Twilight craze was in full swing back in 2008, they got a lot of extra business and a lot more people ordering the mushroom ravioli. Even put something about Twilight on their menu. Good for them, taking advantage of that free marketing. I have never been to Port Angeles, and am allergic to mushrooms, so I can’t say I’ve experienced the dish, but if any of you have, please let me know if it’s worth the hype.

Its so funny that right now, Eddie is worried about Bella being cold and going into shock, while Bella is over there huffing the fumes off his jacket like it’s a paint can, and he can’t even tell that that’s what she’s doing. The girl is doing everything short of just shoving her whole face in it and inhaling, but he’s too thick to get it.

And here we are folks. The meat and potatoes of this chapter. The big comparison. The reason the cover has a pomegranete on it. Edward Anthony Masen Cullen has the absolute GALL to compare Bella, the boring, walking video game avatar to Persephone. Lets break down Persephone for a second here. There’s a lot to break down, but let’s stick to the basics, for fear that this rant gets wickedly out of hand before I can stop it. Persephone radiates optimism and hope. Persephone is soft, sweet, but has a temper that could kill a man. Persephone is sympathetic. When in the ever loving FUCK has Isabella Swan ever shown any of those characteristics? She is NEVER optimistic about anything. She fucking exists in a constant cloud of negative thought and assuming the worst. She isn’t hopeful about ANYTHING, not even her future with her PRECIOUS Eddie because she’s always questioning his intentions and feelings for her. She is not sympathetic in the slightest, no matter what SM tries to shove down my throat. She treats her friends like shit, she manipulates and lies her way through conversations so she doesn’t have to deal with them, she compares Mike to a FUCKING DOG. Bella is not comparable to Persephone, and it’s fucking beyond ham-fisted, it’s fucking EGREGIOUS to try to make that comparison.

I could see more of an argument for comparing Eddie to Hades, since, ya know, Hades fucking stole Persephone to be his wife and most stories about Hades paint him as kind of a moody, brooding dickbag, but I’m still calling fucking foul on this attempt at comparison, SM. No dice.

Moving on.

Eddie describing Bella’s skin as ‘velvety’ gives me war flashbacks to those grocery store checkout novels with Fabio on the cover that my mom used to read. Eghhh.

So, Bella touches Eddie’s hand and it’s described in a way that gives me very G-rated sex vibes. Which just makes me wanna tell them to get a room because they’re in public right now, and also don’t do that in front of Bella’s salad ravioli.

Eddie is still being super controling and weird about Bella eating, and honestly, I super wish that Bella had had the good sense to get the hell out of there with Jess and Angela. Or that she would have the good sense now to excuse herself, find someone on staff, ask to borrow a phone, and call her dad. Because this guy is literally throwing out every red flag that exists. I know I say this a lot, but if Bella were a normal girl, she would not be charmed by this guy, she would be freaking creeped out and trying to get away from him. He isn’t even subtle about his creep factor or charming enough to play it off.

Edward thinking he has any edge at all is like white bread thinking it’s the right kind of bread for a hamburger.

Anyway, chapter ends with Eddie paying the bill and the pair getting in the car to head home. And the drama chord of the last sentence that’s supposed to play in your head when you read it falls flat. They’re on the way back to Forks and Eddie is chomping at the bit to hear Bella’s latest theory that we know from Twilight isn’t actually a theory so much as she heard a story from Jacob and then did some searching on some shitty Angelfire website. Or Geocities. Either way. And then she just went ahead and had a big old prophetic dream about it.

Next time, we get the awkward car ride home and more. Thanks for hanging around guys. As always, feel free to message me (though, please note to anyone who has sent me anon messages that are rude or angry because I’m making fun of this book, I’m gonna ignore you.), recommend what books I should put on my list for my next recap series, and feel free to buy me a snack using the CashApp tag in my bio.

See you next time, babes.

#sierra recaps stuff #midnight sun #midnight sun spoilers #midnight sun recap #twilight #ms chapter 9

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rochnariel · 5 years ago

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Critical Bakes - Nott/Veth Week

When @criticalbakes released this week’s prompt, I immediately reviewed what alcohol we had in the house (and what other supplies. quarantine is a bitch when no one has open delivery spots), and we came up with this spread: whiskey bacon hamburger (with homemade bread bun cause that’s what a tiny tavern would have. not because we have no hamburger buns in the house), bread pudding with a brandy sauce (and the leftover raspberry curd from last week), and a moonshine drink (because someone must be making their own alcohol in these tiny towns and nott would probably love it).

Yeah we apparently had a decent amount of alcohol in the house….

(and that’s not including the wine. maybe we’ll revisit that when beau week comes around)

Recipes, such as they are, under the cut. I did my best to give actual measurements because I never measure anything when I cook. Baking, especially finicky macarons, is different which is why last week had actual weights.

Whiskey Bacon Hamburger

1 lb of ground beef

Salt

Pepper

Garlic powder

Onion powder

Paprika

Cheddar cheese

4 strips of bacon cut in half

½ cup whiskey

1/8 cup brown sugar

1 tsp Worcestershire sauce

Buns

I know, I promise ingredient amounts and then I don’t give amounts for any of the burger spices. But I really have no idea.

Anyway, make your favorite hamburger recipe. I use ground beef and the spices listed above. Use your hands to mix the spices in making sure to now compress the ground beef too much. It can make the burgers tougher if you do. Form into patties. Since this was the only day we were eating this, I made ½ pound patties.

For the whiskey cause, cut the bacon in half and cook in a heavy skillet over medium high heat. Once bacon is done, remove from the pan and set aside on paper towel to drain.

Add brown sugar to the pan and cook for approximately 3 minutes. If you have onions at home (and like them), you can add onion before the brown sugar and cook those down before adding the brown sugar.

Add the whiskey, Worcestershire sauce and pepper. Cook down for another 2-3 minutes until it forms a thick sauce for your burgers.

Cook your hamburgers however you like to whatever doneness you like. Since it is actually snowing here again, I cook might in a skillet over medium high heat on the stovetop until they were medium-well. 150 degrees on the inside.

(if you cook meat and you don’t have an instant read thermometer, i suggest it. it’s an easy way to know for certain that whatever you’re cooking is done and done how you like. no worries about undercooked meat. no overcooking things because you’re afraid it isn’t done. no cutting into it and trying to see if it is done. and they’re pretty cheap)

Assemble your burger and eat. We’ve got bacon, whiskey sauce, and cheese on our rustic bread.

(if anyone is curious about the bread recipe, let me know. it’s a no knead baguette recipe that you make and toss in the fridge and then pull out and shape as needed. dough lasts about a week in the fridge)

Note: I made the sauce with way too much brown sugar. It was a new recipe and I didn’t trust my instincts. That’s why it looks funny in the picture. I changed the amount for this recipe.

Bread Pudding with a Brandy Sauce

Loaf of challah or other soft bread, cut into 1 inch-ish cubes and left to dry over the course of a few hours or two days….

8 eggs

4 cups milk

½ cup butter

½ cup brown sugar

1 tablespoon cinnamon

1 tsp nutmeg

¼ tsp ground cloves

¼ tsp all spice

2 tsp vanilla

1 cup brown sugar

½ cup butter

2 tablespoons cream (or milk if you still have no cream)

¼ cup brandy (or more if you want more alcohol)

Heat the milk and ¼ cup butter in a saucepan over medium heat until the butter is melted.

In another bowl mix the eggs, ½ cup brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, all spice, vanilla, and cloves (and raspberry curd if you happen to have some) until well combined. Add the hot milk mixture slowly mixing the whole time in order to not cook the eggs.

In a casserole dish, dump in the bread and spread into an even layer. Pour the milk and egg mixture over it. Cover tightly with aluminum foil.

Bake at 375 for 45 minutes or until a knife stabbed into the dish comes away mostly clean.

Remove from oven and set aside.

In a heavy saucepan, heat the 1 cup brown sugar, ½ cup butter, cream, and brandy until everything is dissolved and combined evenly.

Pour over the warm bread pudding.

Eat! (clearly the most important step)

Moonshine Cocktail

2 shots blackberry moonshine

1 ½ cups-ish chokecherrry tea (cold)

Pour together.

Mix.

Drink!

btw this is chokecherry tea. its apparently a north dakota thing. i think. i don’t know. my friend there sends it to me.

feel free to message me if you have questions. although i am out of quarantine and back on the road in a few days, so it might take me a bit to respond.

#critical role #critical bakes #nott/veth week #burgers #bread pudding

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clown-bait · 6 years ago

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A Very Monster Christmas (Monster Roommate AU) PT5

H-Hey everybody? This took me 5000 years to write. I have no excuse so I'm just gonna release both of the final chapters at once and then the first for part 3 so everyone is happy.

CH22 Babies Were a Mistake

“Don’t touch it!”

“Junior quit being a baby and hold still”

“No! Get away from me!” Hissed a very upset monster clown with a knife in his eye. His uncle threw up his hands in defeat returning to his chair. The giant seated next to him fidgeted nervously knowing that his landlord could get very violent when wounded. A soft hand landed on Bubba’s arm and the giant cannibal looked over to leech’s mom smiling sweetly at him. “Sweetheart will you hold him for me?”

The masked killer blinked clearly scared of the monster clown howling in pain on the floor. “Its ok big fella I’m going to make him stop.” the witch said calmly reaching into her bag. “You need to hold him for me though can you do that?”

“BABIES WERE A MISTAKE!” Penny roared and screamed still clutching his face.

“I am so glad to be awake to see this.” the elder Pennywise sighed happily resting his head on his hand with a toothy grin as he watched the younger clown sob in pain. Leatherface stood and cautiously approached the shrieking eldritch who’s other eye tore open solid red and black with anger. “DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH ME!” he snarled and snapped his enormous fangs wildly like a wounded animal. Leech’s mom slowly approached him from the front and held out a small bag of herbs which she poured into a small ashtray and set it on fire. “Shhh inhale the smoke.”

“NO! NO ONE APPROACH I WILL TEAR YOUR FLESH FROM YOUR BONES!”

“Sally doll, sit down and let em’ cry it out like the baby he is.” the elder clown suggested starting to grow worried for his date’s safety. His worry was quickly gone when Sally Smith snatched the roaring monster harshly by the ear and pulled hard motioning for Leatherface to grab his arms as the creature whined in pain.

“Inhale.” the woman said sternly and shoved the smoking embers to his red nose. Pennywise had no choice but to breathe in the smoke deep into his lungs exhaling it with a couple coughs as his body relaxed. The witch quickly removed the small knife from his eye earning a pained roar from the restrained eldritch who was released and immediately skittered into a corner slumped over in pain. Tiff who had been watching stared at the substance in the bowl with wonder. “What was that you gave him some sort of magic herbs?”

“Oh no sweetie just simple cannabis!”

The doll blinked a few times as the elder pennywise began to howl with laughter from his chair “Yeah you're Fangs’ mom alright.”

-------------------

A howl filled the air as a group of hunters made their way down the snowy streets of the town of Derry. The sound rattled the doll and put the vampires into a state of extreme alert their fourth companion simply groaned. Three figures appeared in front of them and two from behind. The hunter’s own arrogance had shifted their position to the role of prey. “Pen’s gonna kill me” Leech groaned as the bones in her hands snapped and reformed.

“Get in the middle of us apprentice. He will kill us before you if we return you with so much as a scratch.”

“I appreciate the gentlemanly gesture Dracula but I can handle myself. Besides you Fred's got no power here and Chucky has a bread knife. You boys really think you'd be more effective against fucking werewolves than a juiced up vampire?”

“Ouch Fangs.”

“If you want to fight fido alone be my guest Chuck.”

“She has a point, I really don't want to deal with going through another resurrection on the holidays. Phil gets weird during this time of year.”

“Holy shit I’ll say did you see him last week he freakin headbutted a nativity display and started eating the manger! Could have just been hungry though….could have also just been a regular goat.”

“Who the fuck else in this town has a giant ass black goat with a leggings fetish?”

“I don't know Fred goats are really popular right now they're all over Instagram!”

Dracula let out a long sigh and stepped backwards “Myers.” he tried to say over the arguing friends.

“What? What does Mikey have to do with goat yoga?” Freddy asked before suddenly being torn from his standing position and chucked into a wall.

“That.”

The masked killer casually kicked a shrieking Chucky into a trash can and both vampires found their necks being squeezed in the vice like grip of The Shape himself as a pack of women surrounded them from behind.

“Hello blood suckers!” Sandy the werewolf said cheerfully behind the tall slasher.

“You're dating Myers?” Leech wheezed and tried to claw her way out of the grip on her throat.

“I am! Thank you for finally asking!”

Dracula cursed loudly in Romanian as winds picking up strongly through the alleyway.

“Sandy have them put down, we need to have a little talk.” Laurie nudged her sisters arm who motioned for her boyfriend to release them.

“You!” Leech hissed “Couldn't settle for my familiar could you bitch!”

“Jim and I broke up vampire!” the she wolf snarled with obvious pain in her voice. Dracula took notice of the tear in her eye.

“Yeah it was very sad be nicer!” one of the other sisters chimed in and Leech slashed forward in warning holding up her injured hand.

“Your leader tried to kill me and cut off my fucking finger! I think we're past being nice!”

“Its just a finger bloodsucker.”

“She tortured me!”

“And you turned her into Hamburger Helper!”

“I think I had the right to!”

“Stop taking credit for that Fangs that was your damn demon spawn!” Freddy interrupted deciding to join the argument.

“I helped make them Fred I can claim credit!”

“You’re pregnant?” Laurie said in shock as Dracula continued to awkwardly stare.

“See me,” he whispered “See me now.” Laurie glanced over at him and gave an uncomfortable wave.

“Oh great now everyone knows.” Leech rolled her soulless eyes and retracted her fangs.

“How?” Sandy asked and then grimaced in disgust when she remembered what manner of beast the vampire was dating “On second thought maybe don't share that.”

“It was actually a pretty normal process surprisingly, what isnt normal is the eldritch horror morning sickness” Leech casually sheathed her claws and fixed her coat.

“Oh well um congratulations then?” Sandy said almost confused.

“Yeah uh thanks... I’m still kinda processing it all myself.” Leech laughed nervously.

“Well this is hella awkward. I’m not gonna fight a pregnant woman.” one of the girls said.

“Yeah you know we were gonna come and get our revenge and what not but to be honest it's just kinda weird now.” Laurie said side eyeing a still wide eyed Dracula.

“You guys uh….. you guys know where we can get something to eat?” the younger vampire asked. “Kids need some food you know.”

“Y-yeah there's a frat party down the street from us you can grab someone there.”

“Cool……...um so is this like a truce or….”

“Its christmas man just forget about it.” Sandy took her tall silent boyfriend by the arm signaling to leave.

“Yeah alright. Cool. See you at work then.”

“The fuck is going on?” Chucky shouted from the trash can.

“Weird ass women shit Chuck.” Freddy said as he tipped the can over.

-------------

Pennywise squatted in the corner of the decaying kitchen lapping at a bowl of eggnog like an extremely dangerous kitten. His good eye darted around defensively as he lapped the obnoxiously sweet drink. He didn't even notice the front door bursting open or the loud thud in the living room of his mate returning with a large meal.

Leech draped the muscled youth over the coffee table like a hunter proudly showing their family the prized turkey they caught for dinner. She even began placing her boot on his rear to show off even further.

“He's still passed out drac and I have been keeping him drained and Fred’s been keeping him scared in dreamland. It only took two of my special mix to get him falling on his ass not bad for a pregnant lady I'll say!” Leech beamed wide and knocked on the young man's skull. “Hey Fred you good in there?” the limp body jerked his arm up in a thumbs up position.

“Not bad?! All you did was flash the guy a little cleavage and hand him a couple shots. Where's the finesse?” Chucky complained carrying a large stolen pizza box with what looked like a bloody hand print on the sides. “You shoulda seen what I did to the pizza guy now that was art!”

“I'm not going for art I'm going for easy. My family was hungry and I provided.”

“Yeah yeah you're a strong woman Fangs, we're all very impressed now go clean up your idiot for us.” the elder clown called out to her casually sipping the sweet spiked eggnog that sat perched in his gloves. Leech groaned and put her hand to her face.

“Jesus the fuck did he do this time?”

Chucky looked up and snarled finally noticing the lack of twins in the room. “I said it once and I'll say it again blood sucker, I aint paying for therapy.”

The kitchen was much quieter than out there with all the noise and chatter and merryment. Pennywise wrinkled his nose in disgust and snarled still cradling his wound and purring in an attempt to heal himself. Babies were a mistake. Who was he kidding he was the eater of worlds and children. He hated children and here he was on his way to becoming a father. Oh the irony. The clown groaned and held his head tighter shutting his good eye to try to escape further.

“Mr. Pennywise?”

His eye flew back open.

“Mr. Pennywise I-Im sorry about Glenda. She takes after dad I think. Much better at the family business than I am.”

Pennywise’s breathing grew harder and his pained purring became an alarming growl as Chucky’s son bravely got closer.

“Mum says you’ll try to eat me if I came to talk to you but I don’t think you’re so bad.”

“You are quite the fool then boy.” He finally said giggling to himself a bit before wincing in pain. Glen stopped for a moment then continued forward.

“I-I just want to tell you that I thought your tricks were real neat that's all.”

The clown's growling softened and his molten yellow eye soothed. Maybe it won't be all bad, this one at least could appreciate perfection when he saw it.

“Um they have dinner out there if you want any.”

From a hole in the ceiling Leech watched her mate unfold himself and take his glove from his eye which was already beginning to heal. The boy bravely took the hand of his natural predator and led him out. He definitely had a long way to go but this was progress. She smiled to herself and felt the tug of exhaustion once again. “We'll get there together eventually.” she sighed and slipped away stepping back from the others and into the comfort the shadows.

#pennywise #pennywise x oc #pennywise fanfiction #slasher fanfiction #horror fiction #freddy krueger #chucky #Charles Lee Ray #tiffany valentine #bubba sawyer #monster roommate au #it fanfiction

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sittingoverheredreaming · 7 years ago

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Part three of HaruMichi BatB! See the masterpost for previous installments. And as always, comments are the best!

The sun was Haruka’s only hint at the time. The room she’d been given had two small windows, facing south, just large enough to stick her head out of. They bore heavy red velvet curtains that cast her into eternal night when closed. Open, though… she managed to pin one side to the wall with an understuffed armchair that had been in the corner.

It was morning, now. The sunlight glittered on the dew-wet tree tops. Haruka tried to see her truck through the leaves, but she could not even find the road. It wouldn’t matter if she could find her way to it, though. There was nothing but trees as far as she could see, and without gas she did not trust she’d make it back to civilization.

“It’s a bit too small if you’re trying to escape.”

Haruka jumped, banging her head on the top of the window. She bit her lip to keep from swearing. Behind her was… at first she saw nothing, but then it moved. A little ripple in the light, the faintest shadow of a human form… two human forms. The ghosts the mon- the ghosts Michiru had mentioned.

“Oh dear!” the shorter one said, scurrying to Haruka’s side, arms posed like she held up voluminous unseen skirts. “We didn’t mean to startle you! Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just a little bump.”

The little ghost stretched to reach Haruka’s head. Her fingers ruffled through her hair like a winter breeze. Haruka shivered, but the pain receded.

“I’m Usagi.” The ghost dipped into something like a curtsy. “And this is Makoto. Do you by chance know my daughter?”

The ghost did not have any discernible facial features, but Haruka could feel the eagerness radiate from her. She felt a tug of deep sadness. If the mansion was as old as it seemed, the ghost’s daughter was probably long gone.

“I’m not from around here, sorry.”

“That’s a pity, my daughter has probably grown into a wonderful lady you’d be lucky to know. Or…” the ghost spun excitedly. “It’s a good thing, because if my daughter is your age, you’d surely fall in love with her instead of--”

“Usagi.”

The small ghost made herself smaller. “Sorry.”

Makoto came forward, gliding rather than walking. “Our Lady Michiru believed you may need company.”

“Oh, no, I’m alright, you guys don’t need to—“

“But we want to!” Usagi butted in again. “We haven’t had a visitor in… in…” She froze, fading in and out of full color and clarity. She was round and blonde, with blue eyes wide in horror. “It’s been…” She rose a transparent hand to her opaque face. “We are…”

Makoto flashed into clarity and put a solid hand on Usagi’s shoulder. They both calmed back to shadows.

“Well,” Usagi said, as though nothing had happened, “it’s been several years, at least. So we could use the company as much as you could!”

Haruka forced a smile. “Alright then.” If she stayed here, would she face the same fate? Had the creature trapped these two women years ago, and now that they had died or done whatever had put them in this limbo, she’d decided she needed another?

“Do not be afraid,” Makoto said gently, as though sensing Haruka’s thoughts. “We are Michiru’s handmaidens, while she is trapped here so are we.” She turned to the door. “Would you allow us to give you a tour?”

“Um, sure.”

They took her through various sitting rooms, the kitchen, a library and even a wine cellar. Usagi advised her on the many nooks and crannies where you might— not that she had, that would be irresponsible as a lady’s maid, but still, you might— sneak a suitor in to have a moment alone. Makoto was more practical, she told Haruka where the entrance to the walled gardens was, if she would like to go outside, and all the staircases that led to the floor her bedroom was on.

They came upon a staircase that neither of them said a word about. Haruka stopped. “Is that where she told me not to go?”

Both ghosts froze. “Yes,” Makoto said. “And you’d best keep to that.”

“Why?”

“Haruka! Michiru is a lady.” Haruka had the keen sense that Usagi had her hands on her hips. “She can’t have someone like you in her chambers. It would be improper.”

Makoto hurried them both along. Haruka wondered if that was the whole story, or if it was true at all.

“What else can you tell me about her?”

“Generally,” Makoto said sternly, “if you want to know about someone, you should ask them directly.”

“Well, yeah, but…”

She softened. “You’re afraid.”

“No!” Haruka’s stubbornness got the better of her. “I would never, I just—“

“She was made to be frightening,” Usagi said quietly. “I was scared for a while, too.” Her shadow shrunk down smaller than ever. “It hurts our Lady. She could always be scary, but she got to choose when.”

“She was not nice, but nor was she cruel. Her family took care of the town, and employed many of its people, and she had no need to extend more kindness than that.”

“What happened, then?”

“Oh Haruka,” Usagi said. “You can’t expect us to spill all her secrets for her.”

Haruka could not help but smile a little. “I’m beginning to think you’re plotting something.”

“It would do Michiru good to have company aside from us.” Makoto sighed. “She does not like to admit to loneliness, but it’s clear she’s suffering.”

Part of Haruka wanted to shout that she, too, would suffer when kept as a prisoner, especially with something that, while they spoke highly of her, was still clearly a monster, but she thought better of it. “She did seem… sad, last night.”

Usagi nodded her shadowy head. “She wanted so badly to impress you!”

That, perhaps more than anything else, rang true to Haruka. The creature had tried so had to grasp the silverware, and Haruka had pretended not to see but all she could wonder was why she did not simply eat with her claws, if it was what she was accustomed to. She felt bad, now, for how she’d reacted. Michiru had been, it seemed, a person. Still was, probably, despite how she looked. Haruka’s cheeks flushed with shame. She knew what it was like, to be treated as less than you were.

She thought for a long moment. “Could the two of you convince her to come to dinner again?”

“We can try.”

“And the kitchens will make anything I want? Even if it’s not a food that you guys would know?”

“It should, yes.”

“Haruka, are you plotting too?”

She laughed. “I think I just might be.”

****

Haruka made her way to the dining room that evening and was pleased to find exactly what she’d wanted. The table bore a large plate of hamburgers and a practical troph of fries. She deeply wished she could send a pic of it to Mina, it was a party dream come true.

She took a seat towards the middle, so that wherever Michiru sat there would not be so much distance between them.

The shadows from the windows grew longer. The food stayed magically warm, but Haruka still worried. Her misgivings about trying to befriend a monster, her captor, began to rise in her stomach again.

There was a rustle outside the door. Haruka caught a glimpse of a scaly tail in the crack it was open. Michiru was pacing outside. Haruka surprised herself by thinking there was something almost endearing in it.

“Please come in,” she said as steadily as she could.

Michiru came to the door, half hiding behind it. “What is this?”

“They’re hamburgers.” Haruka took one. “They’re good. You eat them like this.” She rose it to her mouth and took a bite.

“If all you seek is to poke fun—“

“No, no! I like them.” She took some fries, hoping to drive the point home. “I thought you might too.”

Michiru hesitated, but then slowly approached the table. She took a seat again at the end of the table and took a burger as gingerly as she might handle porcelain. Her claws strained the bun but did not pierce it.

She looked at it with suspicion, then glanced to Haruka. “What is the year?”

Haruka swallowed her bite quickly. “2018.”

“Ah.” She turned back to the food. “And people… eat with their hands now?”

“Sometimes, yeah. For burgers and pizza, and stuff. We don’t eat steak or whatever by picking it up like this.”

“Oh.” She looked at the meat. “Is this not a steak?”

“It’s beef, yeah, but if there’s bread like this, we use our hands.”

“Like with hors de’ouvers.”

“Sure.”

Haruka watched, hopefully not in ant way that was weird, as Michiru chanced a bite. Her gaunt face twisted the moment it was in her mouth. “Oh dear, it’s quite… well, I should hope I’m not being rude, but it’s absolutely disgusting.”

Haruka laughed. “Yeah, we probably have way worse taste than people did in your day.”

“I would say so.”

They made eye contact, smiling at each other for the first time.

“We’ll try something else tomorrow, I’ll try and figure out—“

“Tomorrow?”

“Well, yeah, you said it was proper to have dinner together every day. Or do you mean you want something else now?”

“Oh no, you don’t need to worry on my behalf.” She looked down at her plate, limp hair falling over her shoulder. For a moment, Haruka could see how the motion would look on a person, on a woman who might be called beautiful. “You have been very kind to me, and I have not repaid you as such.”

“You don’t gotta…”

“Do you wish to leave?”

Haruka shut her mouth, suspicious of a trick.

“I can’t keep you here, I know. I acted selfishly, and I want you to go freely.”

“Well, I can’t get far without gas for my truck, and I know you can’t give me any.”

“I apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it. Can we make a deal?” Michiru nodded. “My roommate will come looking for me. Can I stay here until she finds me? She’s tenacious, she’ll make it eventually.”

“That sounds fair.”

“And until then, we can always have dinner together. And maybe…” Haruka wracked her brains for a good gesture of faith. “Makoto told me about the gardens, but didn’t take me. Maybe tomorrow you could show me around?”

Michiru pushed her burger around her plate, a small smile breaking across her face. “I would like that, Haruka.”

Haruka stopped just short of saying “It’s a date.” Life had gotten very strange very fast.

#sam writes #harumichi batb #this is the critical moment I’ve never kept up with a fic series past three chapters #but chapter four excites me a lot so! I think I’ll make it!#harumichi

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hooliainprague-blog · 7 years ago

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family

26.4.2018

Today’s the day my family arrives in Prague, but they won’t be here until night. This makes it particularly difficult to wait around during my day of no classes. Sadie and I fed the birds like we usually do, but today the pigeons decided that they wanted to eat directly from our hands. Clearly, we weren’t mad.

After that, I just had a relaxing day in the dorm because I knew we’d have a lot to do this weekend.

I was supposed to meet my family at the hotel around 7:30, but it ended up being at 9:30 because the car company didn’t show up to get them because the flight was delayed. While I was waiting for them, I got a chance to see the projection of the Astronomical Clock for the first time, which is a lot more underwhelming than I expected.

When they finally arrived, I hugged them all and my mom gave me a giant box of Cheez-its. Yeah, I’m happy!!

We walked to a restaurant for dinner and then walked to the Charles Bridge so they could see at least a little bit of Prague upon their arrival.

27.4.2018

I slept in my dorm last night because I didn’t bring any clothes, and during breakfast, both my mom and my sister texted me that they think my dad got lost on his morning walk. Spoiler: he did. I also had breakfast in the hotel when I got there because I couldn’t resist. We started the morning by walking through Old Town Square and going to Vojanovy Sady, my favorite peacock park.

We went to the Lennon Wall, but unfortunately, the pictures were ruined by graphic graffiti. We saw the big baby statues on Kampa Island and went to my favorite souvenir shop.

We then headed to the Prague Castle on their first tram ride to see the changing of the guards and go through the main parts. There were a bunch of American flags on military vehicles, and my mom and I asked the only man who spoke English what it was about. He said it was some kind of celebration for WWII and 100 years since Czechoslovakia was proclaimed as a country. He gave us each a free pin for asking the question.

I took them to lunch at the cafe I go to alone sometimes. I got a backpack full of things to spend the night at the fancy hotel. We stopped to feed the birds, walked across the Charles Bridge, and went to Tesco for some drinks and snacks. My dad is so impressed that he can buy 8 beers, 6 cokes, and a giant water bottle for under 8 USD. We dropped that stuff off at the hotel and proceeded to Wenceslas Square to get some fried cheese sandwiches. We also saw the Kafka head.

I found the best juice ever at a grocery store, too.

28.4.2018

We all slept until almost 10 am and simultaneously almost missed breakfast at the hotel. Me, my mom, and my dad all got ready super fast and ran down to catch it while my sister kept sleeping. We then went to Petřin hill and almost died on the way up with my mom. We realized about halfway up that there was a stop for the funicular, so my mom, sister, and I jumped right on that while my dad continued to walk up. While we waited for dad to get to the top, we waited in the botanical garden up there and took some pretty pictures.

We then waited in line for the tower and did some climbing. I didn’t realize how much you can feel it swaying in the breeze from the top.

We got my sister a hamburger and my dad a beer and went back to the garden so dad could see it.

After that, we got on some public transportation to Vyšehrad because my family wanted to see something cool that didn’t have a lot of people. We walked around up there for a while.

My favorite part about this picture is that you can see my mom in the bottom, and it shows how big this cathedral is.

We tried to go to the raclette cheese restaurant for my sister, but it was closed. We went to Lokal instead, and I was thoroughly impressed.

We just walked around for a while after that, stopped back at the hotel, and went back out to see the sunset over the river.

29.4.2018

Today I ate breakfast in the hotel with just my mom. It was nice. We took the tram to Letna to see the metronome and hang out in the beer garden for a while. We drank some cider and beers and had a sausage and doner kebab.

We went souvenir shopping and then went back to the hotel so my mom and sister could nap. There was a man on the street playing music by running his finger over crystal glasses. That was fun to hear and see.

We continued on to get a glimpse of the dancing house and an island in the river. We ate some pasta at the Atmosphere Cafe/Pub for dinner, kept shopping some more, and got some gelato.

Then my mom, sister, and I all went on an evening walk down some pretty streets and fed the birds the slice of bread mom had in her purse. I showed them another little town square, we bought some paprika pringles, and we walked across the Charles Bridge before going back to the hotel.

30.4.2018

I had class this morning, and it started 30 minutes late at least because people didn’t know that we were in the other building today. I went to the hotel while my family checked out. We stood outside for a while waiting for their car to the airport, and my mom and I ran quickly to a cute little souvenir shop to buy some t-shirts that were on clearance. We said our goodbyes until the end of May, and I watched their car drive into the crowds of Old Town.

I sat in bed for a little while, and then I went to the bus station with Sadie and Erin so they could try to get their money back for a bus ticket that they cancelled. We went to the Vodafone store to sort out our data situation, and I only had to pay $10 to top up my plan. We then took a tram for 14 stops to Pražačka for Walpurgis Night, which is a Czech tradition of burning witches. They were singing on stage with kids and had bonfires to cook sausages.

Sadie and I then ate some Chinese food and watched some youtube.

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diaryofaninsanewriter · 5 years ago

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Look around and you will find that many elders who grew up in the tier-2 & 3 cities and rural areas are still healthy. We joke about it by saying, “Asli ghee ki paidaish”. What we really mean is that these elders grew up on organic food, near-zero chemicals and fresh air.

It’s a pathetically unhealthy life and

It is the lifestyle that reduces the immunity of a child.

As part of the population that lives in the metros, we are always exposed to harmful pollutants and chemical emissions.

We live in smart homes and use smart homes, all of which come with a significant amount of radiation.

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Chips, biscuits, bread, sauces, pizzas, hamburgers – most of the food we eat is processed. Most fruits and vegetables are genetically modified.

Most parents don’t exercise under the garb of busy schedules. Most parents buy expensive gadgets for kids and find that they sit continuously for many hours glued to a video or game.

In short, it’s a pathetically unhealthy life and it is the lifestyle that reduces the immunity of a child. Children are the future of our country and their health should be the topmost priority in our minds. Try as we may, it is tough to run away from modern gadgets, radiation and unhealthy food.

Low immunity causes multiple problems for a child. One of the results of this is the probability of catching the flu either from the air or from another child. Flu is dangerous and reduces the child’s overall defence against other diseases. It weakens the body and mind. Children remain absent from school and studies get affected. They also miss out on having fun with friends at school and at home. Not to mention that the entire house’s schedule clearly goes for a toss with a sick child at home.

Low immunity causes multiple problems for a child.

As a mother of two, I always ensure that my children get a yearly shot of the flu vaccine. It helps build their immunity against flu and reassures me that they will remain healthy throughout the year.

Flu vaccination can reduce the risk of flu-associated hospitalization for children, working-age adults, and older adults. Flu vaccine prevents tens of thousands of hospitalizations each year.

I ensure that my children get yearly flu shots so that their fun times continue.

Benefits of flu shots for children

They’re an annual part of good health

They can be given to very young children

They protect vulnerable populations

They are effective

They are extremely safe

They help avoid sick days

According to me, the number one reason that I ensure my children get the flu shot is to prevent unforeseen complications in their health. A 2017 study was the first of its kind to show that flu vaccination can significantly reduce a child’s risk of dying from flu.

Penned by:

Mayura Amarkant

Source: https://www.nfid.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/press-release-3.pdf

Why does my child need yearly shots of the flu vaccine? #DiaryOfAnInsaneWriter #IPromiseToStopFlu #FridayFeeling Look around and you will find that many elders who grew up in the tier-2 & 3 cities and rural areas are still healthy.

#Benefits of flu vaccine #low immunity in children #radiations in the home #Unhealthy lifestyle #why are flu vaccines important #why does my child need flu shot

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feynavaley · 8 years ago

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Hetalia Fanfiction – Overheated Ch 1

Summary: “America has noticed that Canada has been feeling down lately. Being the heroic big brother he is, he takes the matter in his hands and drags Canada out of the house for some brotherly bonding. In Texas. In the middle of summer. Too bad Canada, a northern nation, doesn't exactly have a good heat tolerance. Needless to say, things don't go as planned.”

This is the first part of a three-shot. The full chapter is under the cut, use your phone browser if you can’t see it from the app.

AO3 | FFN | Next | List

Chapter One

Matthew Williams’s day couldn’t possibly get any worse.

Actually, it wasn’t only that day – the whole month had been positively horrible for the poor representative of Canada.

First of all, it was summer. And Matthew didn’t exactly like summer.

Oh, it wasn’t like Canada never got any warm, nor even unbearably hot summers, unlike some idiot seemed to be firmly convinced of, but Matthew himself had never been fond of the heat.

There was no doubt in his mind that winter was a far better season: the crisp, cool air that seemed to cleanse his lungs at each breath, the way every exhalation condensed into a small, white puff, the slippery ice that forced people to carefully measure each step, the sensation of the soft, fresh snow under the soles of his boots – not to mention the fact that it was easy to cover up if it got too cold, but in the heat? The only option was to suck it up, take refuge in a building with air conditioning, and pray for the heatwave to pass soon.

That summer had been so far particularly taxing for Canada: it was far hotter than usual, and it was lasting a lot longer than it would have been possible to put up with. And, following the relentless heat, fires had started developing in the forests. Thankfully, none of them had managed to reach any town or city so far, but Canada was strongly connected to his land, and the devastation, while not unbearable, was taking its toll on his body, leaving him constantly tired and achy.

Then, there had been a row of World Conferences, which Canada was still wondering why he had even bothered to attend: as usual, he had been ignored most of the time, sat on by Russia, beaten up by Cuba because he had mistaken him for America (he had apologized afterwards, but the bruises hadn’t completely faded yet), and even England and France had managed to forget about him a few times. It wasn’t even like the conferences had been useful at something, like solving at least one of the issues they had been summoned for. No, all they had achieved had been arguing with each other and getting on everybody’s nerves. The only concrete result of that hellish week had been that Matthew had fallen dramatically behind with his own country’s paperwork, which was the reason he had barely gotten any sleep or food in the last ten days.

Then, that idiot brother of his had decided that he needed to get involved.

Oh, it had been quite nice at first: when Alfred had called to ask him if he wanted to hang out (more like demanded him to do it, actually), Matthew had been overjoyed. It wasn’t every day that America remembered he existed, let alone had some spare time for him. Which was why he had gladly pulled out an all-nighter to finish off his paperwork, then had headed towards the house they shared on the border after a quick shower, without even bothering with breakfast.

Things had started going downhill from there.

Matthew should have realized something was horribly wrong the second his brother had started dragging him to his private jet, without offering any explanation or even listening to his questions.

When they had finally landed in Texas, the nightmare had started.

The thing was: Texas wasn’t hot. Hot wasn’t strong enough to describe that kind of climate, the way the sun beat inclemently on Matthew’s skin, making rivulets of sweat run down his back, his forehead, basically any surface on his body, the way each breath he took was only a stagnant, heavy gasp of moisture that left him with the feeling of not getting enough air, the heat that made him feel dizzy and heavy. It was like stepping into the deepest pit of hell.

Of course, America felt nothing of that. Heedless of his brother’s complaints (“Come on, Mattie, stop being a wuss, it’s only a little hot!”) he had dragged him around under the scorching sun, apparently convinced that nothing could cheer up Matthew more than a ride in the prairies.

Now, there was nothing really wrong with that. Matthew loved riding, and the horses Alfred had rented were sweet and agreeable, but. Matthew loved riding, yes. In the woods. In places that were nicely shadowed by the trees, not in the middle of the. Freaking. Desert.

Clearly, Alfred hadn’t heard him when he had tried to complain, or suggest that they searched for less exposed paths. No, his wonderful older brother had just gone on with his plans with single-minded determination, all while enthusiastically blabbering about something (how great his politics were, how great his teams were… Matthew had tuned him out after a while, too focused on trying not to collapse while leading his horse).

Finally, Alfred had decided that he was hungry, so they had returned the horses and stopped for a late lunch. At that point, Matthew had been ready to throw himself at the asphalt – or better yet, the floor of a nice, cool café or burger joint or restaurant or whatever, honestly, as long as the air conditioning was on.

Pity that Alfred had decided that such a great sunny day would be wasted indoors, so he had elected to eat outside, dragging Matthew with him. The Canadian didn’t even have the strength to complain anymore.

Which was why he was now slumped against his chair, with his t-shirt damp with sweat and stuck to the seat, while Alfred slurped down his hamburgers, rambling on and on about something. Matthew hummed along, pretending he was listening.

A greasy hamburger sat untouched in the plate in front of him. Matthew hadn’t even tried a bite. His head was pounding along with his heartbeat, and his stomach churned with waves of nausea. Even the mere sight of food was enough to make the bile rise to the back of his throat.

Canada diverted his gaze from his plate, pressing a hand to his stomach as if it could somehow quell the uneasiness. It didn’t, but it was worth a try.

He had tried to tell Alfred he wasn’t feeling all right, he didn’t feel like eating, but his brother had ignored him, as usual.

‘Well, there is no way I’m going to eat this greasy stuff,’ Canada said to himself, surly. Normally, he would have at least tried to take a bite, to please Alfred if anything, but at that moment, he was one hundred percent sure that the action would have resulted in him throwing up.

(A part of his mind, growing with irritation, couldn’t help but think that America would have deserved him vomiting, preferably on his new, priced shoes. That would teach his brother to drag him around. But Matthew was also quite sure that throwing up wouldn’t have sat right with his headache, so it was probably better if he avoided it.)

Alfred took the last hamburger (the sixth? How on earth did he eat so much?) from his plate.

Matthew knew it was his chance.

Nonchalantly, grimacing a bit when his fingers touched a greasy drop of sauce, he took his brother’s plate and swapped it with his one.

Alfred didn’t realize it. Of course he didn’t.

Without stopping or slowing down for a second, some minutes later America grabbed his brother’s hamburger and tore a big chunk of greasy meat, making a few pieces of salad and sauce drop on his plate.

Matthew watched with sick fascination as the older nation wolfed down his meal, taking another bite before even swallowing the previous one. Small crumbles of bread, meat and salad rained down on his plate. Alfred’s face was smeared with grease and ketchup, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. Matthew was more keen to believe in the first option.

All the while, America kept talking, giving Canada a front view of the half-eaten food in his mouth. Another wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

Matthew wrapped his arms around his abdomen and curled on himself with a moan, tearing his eyes away from the disgusting display in front of him.

His gaze caught the blurry image of a young waitress coming toward their table. It was so hot that her form seemed to waver in front of his eyes, Matthew had to squint to get a decent look.

The young woman – now Canada could see her, she was the youngest of the waitresses, no older than twenty – stopped in front of their table, her face flushed from the heat. She still managed a weak smile as she placed a glass in front of him.

“Here is your drink,” she said.

Matthew stared quizzically at the glass. When had he… Oh, he remembered now. He had ordered a glass of icy coke, but in his haste to eat, Alfred had knocked it on the floor before Matthew could take a single sip.

Canada turned to thank the girl, but she was already gone, hurrying to get back to the air conditioning. He couldn’t blame her.

Sighing, Matthew idly spun the glass in his hands. The iced beverage felt blissfully cool to the contact, but actually drinking it? That had seemed nice when he had ordered it, he recalled being so horribly thirsty, but right then, with his head pounding and his stomach churning, Canada couldn’t bring himself to take a single sip.

The boy placed it back on the table and collapsed against the chair, groaning softly.

He was feeling awful. And God, why was it so hot? It was like he was about to catch fire, even breathing was a struggle. At least, Matthew realized dimly, he had stopped sweating buckets, but he didn’t actually feel any better.

“Hey, aren’t you going to drink that?”

Blinking to clear his vision from the black spots that had started claiming it, Canada slowly raised his head, but he wasn’t fast enough.

With a fluid motion, Alfred tore the glass from his weak hold and gulped down its content. Canada could only stare as his brother gave a loud belch and relaxed against the chair, patting his stomach with a satisfied, dumb smile painted on his face. He stayed still for a moment before grabbing a couple of tissues to wipe out the mess around his mouth, his expression never changing.

Matthew gritted his teeth as a wave of irritation threatened to overwhelm him. Yes, he hadn’t been intentioned to drink that coke, but America couldn’t just… Oh, who was he trying to fool? Of course Alfred could take the drink from him without bothering to wait for an answer. He was America, after all.

“Nice meal, wasn’t it?”

And there it was again. That dumb smile on his brother’s face.

No, it hadn’t been a nice meal. In fact, it had been outright awful, Matthew was feeling awful, but America wasn’t going to listen.

Patience. Just be patient, soon, you are going to be able to get home.

It was proving to be surprisingly difficult, with the way his head was throbbing.

“Well then!” Alfred went on, not even bothering to check if his brother was actually listening. “What should we do now?”

Matthew pecked up a little.

America was actually asking him?

“Al, I—”

“Mmh, let me think…”

Oh, of course he wasn’t. When were America’s questions not rhetorical?

“Oh, I know!”

Alfred’s face lit up with excitement.

Matthew tried to swallow, but his throat was parched.

“Al…” he croaked pitifully.

The soft sound was completely ignored.

“We should play baseball!”

Canada paled at his brother’s words.

Oh God, no. Not this. Everything but this.

Being dragged around under the sun, being forced to sit outside as America pigged down on his meal, was something he could deal with, but baseball? No, he couldn’t. There was no way he was going to able to endure a whole session of his brother basically using him as a punching bag. Hell, America had managed to break one of his ribs the last time! And Canada had been healthy back then, not barely able to stand.

“Al, that’s really—”

“Yes, that’s perfect! I know just the right place!”

“Al, I’m sorry, but—”

“Aren’t I the best big brother in the world?!”

No. No, enough was enough.

Alfred was still grinning goofily, ready to be showered with praises.

Ignoring an excruciating stab of pain that went through his skull, Matthew slammed his fist on the table. He wasn’t even feeling sorry anymore.

Only then Alfred’s expression changed, and he finally looked at his brother, not right through him.

“Mattie? What’s wrong?” he asked, blinking owlishly.

“I don’t want to play baseball, Al,” said Matthew, softly but firmly. At least, he hoped. He was far too exhausted to mind his words.

“Why not?” Alfred looked confused.

Matthew could feel the last tendrils of patience slipping away.

“Do you really think I wanted to play? That I wanted to do any of the things you forced me to do today, actually?” he hissed.

He tried to sit straighter, but his head spun and his body wavered. He had to place his hands flat on the table for balance.

Alfred’s expression shifted from confusion to annoyance.

“Oh come on, Mattie, that’s just rude. I did this for you, ya know? I could have easily stayed home to play video games or something, or actually get some work done… you could at least show some gratitude!”

Canada almost chocked at his brother’s words. His own annoyance was being swiftly replaced with cold fury. He could hardly think straight, with his head pounding and his stomach rolling, but there was something he knew with certainty.

“For me? You did this for me? Ha! Stop fooling yourself. You never do anything for somebody else, it’s just you and your giant ego, at least do me a favour and admit it!”

America’s eyes narrowed.

“You know what? Fuck this, you ungrateful little ass. What do you think, that I don’t have anything else to do? Do you even realize how much work goes into being such a great country as I am? I had to do tons of work in advance to get this free day! And I did it only for you! You looked so glum at the last World Conference… I only wanted to cheer you up! But if that’s how you answer to this… Then fine! You can just wallow in your misery, I was only trying to help!”

At that point, Matthew couldn’t restrain himself any longer.

Propping himself on his hands, he jerked to his feet, ignoring the way the world swayed and blinking away the black spots that completely filled his vision at the motion.

“I can’t believe you!” he hissed, “I can’t believe how self-centred you can be.” His voice grew in volume at each word. “To help me? Is this what you really think? Please, stop fooling yourself. You didn’t really want to help me, you only wanted to feel better about yourself. Did you even try to stop and think what could have actually made me happy? I’ll answer this for you: you didn’t. You would have at least tried if you were actually thinking about me, but you just decided to do what you liked, and deluded yourself into thinking I would have enjoyed it, too. Texas? Fucking Texas? You know I don’t like heat. Or at least, you should, but clearly you don’t because you never try to look any further than your own nose. Well, I’m not going to let you drag me around this time! I’m so fucking done with this. You aren’t a hero, Alfred, you are just an egocentric asshole. You never think about anybody but yourself! And I’m fucking tired of this. I’m going home, don’t bother trying to help me. Thank you for nothing, you hoser!”

Without sparing another glance at his brother’s petrified face, Matthew turned around and stomped away.

Sometimes, he really couldn’t believe America. He was his brother and Canada loved him, most of the time, but this time he had really crossed the line. Matthew had already been having an awful time, he didn’t need Alfred to get involved.

The pain in his head had grown to the point where each breath was agonizing, piercing his skull like a blade. Matthew didn’t know how it was possible, but it was what he was feeling at that moment. Even breathing had gotten increasingly difficult, he dimly realized that he wasn’t getting enough air, he couldn’t breathe in deep enough.

The boy stumbled. His stomach was rolling, the growing nausea tugging at his last restraints, and when he tried to swallow, he realized his mouth was dry.

And who had turned on that radio? It was only statics, why didn’t they change the station, the noise was making it so hard to concentrate, to think…

Canada stopped as the world teetered on its axis.

He tried to blink, but that did nothing to improve his blurry vision, nor did it send away the grey edges that were swallowing it.

Suddenly, his legs buckled under him. Matthew briefly marvelled at why he wasn’t standing anymore but kneeling, then he realized he was falling, his vision going completely black.

He didn’t feel his body hit the ground, nor the panicked shouts that soon followed.

(word count: 2,905)

Note: English isn’t my first language, and this is the first story I wrote without translating it from Italian. Feel free to correct any mistake!

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coconutseaways · 8 years ago

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July 10, 2017. Back in Horta. Crazy party weekend!

Sorry it's been a little while! Ok July 5... It was another great Airbnb experience. We had a lovely Italian couple, Cristina and Andréa, who are campers and hikers. They have spent a few days in the Azores already, camping for a couple days and then finding an Airbnb to take a break. We picked them up in Horta and took them across to Madalena, Pico. We anchored and had a nice sleep except the church bells ringing every hour. And then the ferry first thing in the morning blaring his horn quite unnecessarily haha. But they said they had a great sleep. They brought sardines to bbq for supper and they were delicious. I made a salad and we had some coleslaw left. Add a bottle of wine and we had a lovely meal. The next morning we just had jam and fresh bread rolls for breakfast with a a glass of orange juice...after our coffees first of course lol. They just wanted something light because they had another busy day of hiking and camping ahead of them. We took them to shore and said our goodbyes. They were awesome. Very sweet and intelligent. Mike and I went for a snorkel shortly after they left. I tried to get some footage but the water wasn't very clear. We did find a couple "Venus Ears" which have the mother of pearl inside and little holes that go around the edge. It's in the shape of an ear of you hadn't guessed. I will post a pic of our collection. Then we decided to sail out of Madalena and head for Velas. The guys in Horta port authority told us there was a race from Horta to Velas on Saturday (July 8) and that is was gonna be a big party. The weekend was the 30th annual cultural festival and was going to be a huge celebration. We had a great sail over, perfect wind strength and a beautiful sunny day. My heat rash has finally cleared!!! I can actually be in the sun without feeling like I'm going to scratch my skin off. Now I am still dealing with about 8 mosquito bites on my feet which are lasting longer than I would have hoped. But still yay! We arrived in Velas and checked in. I really like the harbour master here in Velas. He's a cheerful guy, very nice and speaks very good English. He's always smiling and helpful. It makes our experience so much more enjoyable. I think It's my favourite place so far. Anyways he reiterated the festivities that we heard about and we went out that evening. Thy were doing a cultural song and dance performance in traditional clothing. It reminded me of folklorama. But folklorama is pg rated. These guys know how to party. A row of beer shacks, selling sangria, beer and shots for €1. Everyone has a drink in their hand as they wander through the streets. We went to the "Bamboo Bar" and I had a real caipirinha, not the watered down stuff I've had at folklorama. This drink tasted like tequila and was strong. I only needed one haha. As we were walking around we saw all these pieces of paper scattering the road. They were little blank white squares. We came upon a Dutch woman who explained that you buy 50 rolled up papers for 1€ and then unroll them hoping to win a prize. They do it as a fundraiser for local groups like the church choir and other things like that. Such a cool idea, although I'm not big on the littering. Like everyone throws their garbage on the ground and in the water. It actually kills me to see it. Even in the harbour, they are throwing cigarette butts left right and centre. And smoking is so popular here, so there's a lot of butts. But It was still a great night. We retired early compared to everyone else who i could hear still going around 3 AM when I woke up. Friday we went for an awesome hike up the island. Sao Jorge is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. We walked up the steep roads and got the best views down toward the water. Wow. I took a picture of Mike and I and couldn't believe how tanned my face was. I posted a comparison of us from 2 months ago almost exactly...wow! My face is so brown. I love it. I wear 60 on my face all day but that sun is strong. Anyways we made it up to the big grocery store that we didn't know was there. They had a lot better fruit selection then we were able to get in Horta before we left. I got more peaches and my red plums. And huge red peppers. Like 2-3 times the size of the ones we have at home. And they are so cheap. It's so cheap I love it. I just want to have a fridge full of fruit and veggies. Yum yum. We made our way down back to Velas, down the steepest road I've ever seen. A road that cars actually go up and down. It was bloody steep as Mike would say. That night we got to see some live music. A group of about 5 guys and they all sang. They were great. Again we called it a night before everyone else. I guess we are not partyers like the Portuguese. Saturday July 8. We see the start of the SUP race that is from Sao Jorge to Pico Island. Probably about 10 miles. What a crazy distance. They had a couple escorts in motor boats in case anyone needed help. The wind was crazy gusty and our anchor had dragged a bit. Then some guys came out and told us they were setting up for a jet ski race and we needed to move the boat for a few hours. Mike and I probably lifted anchor like 6 times on Saturday. We had a hell of a time getting a good bite in a spot that was out of the way with the crazy wind. It was a pretty exhausting day and we weren't able to get on land all day. Finally after the competition was over we moved into our final spot and dropped anchor for the last time that day. Then I remembered that they were doing a bull run at 6 PM. it was now 7:30. I felt bad that we missed it because I knew Mike really wanted to see it. That was the whole reason we were coming to Velas this weekend in the first place, before we found out it was a festival weekend. We went to the centre of the festivities and watched a parade of nice old cars, and then motorcycles and then quads. It was loud but good. Then a marching band came through and we chomped down hamburgers from one of the food trucks. Oh it was so good. We came back to the boat and I heard the party going all night. Today was another sunny hot day. The wind wasn't as bad thank goodness. We went for a nice walk to the beach area and got a few nice pics. We came back to the boat pretty soon and hung out. Mike went to spear us a fish because we had yet to catch a fish for us to eat. Even though we ran a line all the way across the ocean and I fished in Nova Scotia. I did catch a tiny thing in Horta about a week ago but we threw it back and stopped fishing because we were just catching the same little guys. He did spear us a nice junk of a fish, and he put it on the rocks for a minute while he went back into the water. Well not two seconds later a bird came and stole his catch. Haha bad luck. I picked Mike up in the dinghy and rowed is back to the boat. Then we had cucumber, cheese and mayo sandwiches, since we had no fish haha. We were just hanging out when I noticed a lot of people were gathered on the pier. It wasn't the bull run, but it was a bull fight. Mike and I rowed over and had a great view from the water, along with a bunch of other boats. 4 bulls in total. The first and the last one were the best. They would chase people toward the edge and the people would jump off the pier into the water to dodge the horns. The more people that had to jump the louder the crowd cheered. They were trying to get the bull to run in the water and they almost got one of them, but it managed to keep its footing on the edge. I'm glad none of them ended up in the water. I felt bad for the bulls already and that would have been worse. But the crowd enjoyed the show and it was nice to partake in the festivities. Although, I really don't get the point. Clearly a macho guy thing haha. We enjoyed seeing the bulls nonetheless and I was happy Mike got to see his bulls lol. This evening we have had major progress! We caught our first meal! Haha. Mike pried off a few limpids off the rocks and we used heir meat as bait. We ran our two fishing lines off the dinghy while one of us rowed. I caught one of the cute blue and yellow fish and we let him go right away. They are small skinny fish. Then Mike caught a flat bony fish and we let that go too. I figured we would just end up catching and releasing because we were having no luck. Mike caught a small silver fish and let it go. Then he caught a nice size brown fish. This was a keeper! I was getting no bites while Mike kept getting strikes. He caught another silver fish and this time we kept him. I'm glad we did because I think the silver one had more flavour then the brown one. But the brown one had a lot more meat. Before we finished I had caught 2 brown and one silver and mike had 1 of each. We had 5 fish for supper. Mike gutted them while I prepared a sauce to coat them in before BBQing. I started the rice and we finally had our first free meal! It was delicious! Like I said I enjoyed the smaller silver fish more. But the brown guys had a nice chunk of meat on them. I think we both feel very accomplished and satisfied. The more fish we can catch and eat the better. Meat is cheap here but it's not free compared to the fish. Anyways it's the wind down of the festival and we are heading back to Horta tomorrow to pick up our next guest. A family of 4 from Belgium. These guys were our second booking and I think we are going to have a great time with them. They want to do some sailing which means a little extra cash in the pocket. I might even be able to sell a couple keychains or bracelets since there are two kids 11 and 13. It all adds up. We have had our hot chocolate night cap and are off to bed. Loving these islands more and more everyday. The more familiar we become with them the more I enjoy it. Knowing where the best fruit or baked goods are. It's a nice insider feeling. It's been a month since we've left Nova Scotia and I'm not looking back haha. I'm staying with the sunshine as long as possible. Don't forget to follow our Facebook Page at Coconut Seaways and our Instagram @coconut_seaways.

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lydiayu-posts-blog · 7 years ago

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Inquiry-Based Research Essay

What Are the Differences Between American and Chinese Cuisine?

Introduction

People could not live without food. In spite of the fact that people eat every day, seldom do they ponder how the food they consume is related to the cultural background of where they come from. How does the food in a specific area taste differently currently from before? What processes have been gone through before a dish is served on the dining table? Seeking answers to these questions would make the action of eating not just consuming some food, which is indispensable because it supports people’s life, but it allows people to get a deeper and more thorough understanding on their own culture. According to Yang (2017), “Food dish is the sum of material wealth and spiritual wealth by the Chinese people in the long term dietary practice activities, but also an important window for foreign guests understanding China.” Similarly, McWilliams (2014) claims, “In many respects, the culture wars that we wage over what food means in America today come down to how our diet might mature into something dignified, authentic, and readily identifiable.” These two statements indicate that despite the fact that people usually refer food and the action of eating to simple enjoyment rather than things with profound and extensive cultural implication, such as art works, architectures etc., food might unexpectedly be something that could guide people to a journey which is rich in historical and cultural meanings of different parts of the world.

As a student studying abroad, I’ve found that the food in America is hugely different from that in my hometown, Taiwan. The differences range from the taste and smell to the ingredient contents and cooking methods and processes. Even though I usually see Chinese restaurants in America, the food which is sold here tastes significantly different from that is sold in my hometown’s restaurants. For example, the Chinese food in America tastes much sweeter and oily than that in Taiwan. It is made by sauce which people in Taiwan or China don’t use. Moreover, many items in the Chinese restaurants here couldn’t be found in the restaurants in Taiwan or China. Many of the Americanized Chinese dishes served in restaurants are adapted versions of authentic Chinese foods, and some are complete inventions. One of the most notable Americanized Chinese dishes is Chop Suey, which is composed of leftovers and a thick sauce. Though this is a beloved American dish, it is not traditional Chinese food – not even an adjusted version (“Chinese Home”). Asakawa (n. p.) also mentions in her article, “All Asian cultures seem to serve a form of egg rolls --- small tubes of meat or vegetables rolled in a wrapper. Chinese spring rolls are light and small and come in translucent wrappers. The concept of bigger egg rolls deep-fried in a thicker skin was invented in America.” Both statements have demonstrated the fact that although both called “Chinese food”, the one that is created in the U. S. is almost in no way resembled what people eat in Taiwan or China. On the other hand, the authentic American food I’ve had in the U. S. is significantly different from the American food I’ve had in Taiwan. There are some items which I could always find in Taiwan’s McDonald’s while they just don’t exist in the McDonald’s in America. For example, corn soup or hamburgers with bread of cuttlefish and beetroot flavors.

Noticing these phenomena has intrigued me to dive deep into the topic of the differences between American and Chinese cuisine, which is my research topic. I would like to conduct research on why these differences exist, the cultural background behind them, and how do people from America, China, Taiwan, and other countries view these differences. By researching based on these subtitles, I hope to give my audience a glance into the stories behind American and Chinese cuisine.

Methods

I’ve chosen mixed method to conduct this research, which means that both quantitative and descriptive data would be collected through the process. I conduct the research in three ways, which are survey, interview, and observation. For the survey, I create 11 questions related to the tastes, cooking methods, and nutritious values of Chinese and American cuisine. By asking these questions, I could get a clear idea about how people from different parts of the world think about American and Chinese cuisine. Are they healthy? How do they taste? Which of them do people prefer more and why?

For the interview, I created five questions to discuss with my interviewees. I interview two people, Paula Flynn, a graduate piano pedagogy student at Lamont; she is originally from Wyoming, and Ashley Chou, a Taiwanese housewife who has been living in America since 2009. I choose to interview these two people because they are both a mother of a household and have the habit of preparing meals for their family. There’s one of my interview questions which is: Have you tried authentic Chinese/American cuisine before? Do you prefer authentic American/Chinese cuisine or Americanized Chinese/Asian-American cuisine? For this question, I asked Mrs. Chou if she has tried authentic American cuisine before and whether she prefer authentic American cuisine or Asian-American cuisine because she is a Taiwanese. On the other hand, I asked Mrs. Flynn if she has tried authentic Chinese cuisine before and whether she prefer authentic Chinese cuisine or Americanized Chinese cuisine because she is an American.

For the observations, I went to several American-Chinese and authentic American restaurants in Denver. For the American-Chinese restaurants, I went to Panda Express at Cherry Creek Mall and Yum Yum Spice on University Blvd. near DU. For the authentic American restaurants, I went to Park Burger and Snarf’s Sandwiches. I took notes of how the food tasted and smelled in these restaurants. I also rely on the experiences when I went to authentic Chinese and Asian-American restaurants in Taiwan. I choose to record the experiences when I went to Lao Dong Beef Noodle in Taipei because this is the restaurant I visited most frequently when I was at home. As for the Asian-American restaurant in Taipei, I write based on the experiences when I went to Mos Burger in Taipei since this is there’s one just down by my house; therefore, I usually have its breakfast. Finally, I watched One Hundred Tastes in Taiwan, which is a TV series introducing delicious food in Taiwan. Every episode features a certain restaurant. These restaurants are often not restaurant chains which are on a big scale; therefore, the manager of the restaurant often has to double as the chef of it. By watching this TV program, not only could I go through the process and internal struggle of running a restaurant with the people who open the restaurant, but I could also view the whole process of how its most popular dish is produced from scratch. Watching cooking competitions is also a part of my observation. MasterChef is my favorite U. S. TV series. The program clearly records the cooking methods and processes every competitor used and went through to create the dish. Moreover, by listening to the comments of the judges, I also learn some vocabularies of describing the flavor of the food and gain some knowledge of how to make every element in a dish taste delicious.

Results and Discussions

Preference

According to my survey result, there are 78.1% of Americans taking the survey, which is the majority of my respondents; there are 19.1% of Chinese people or Taiwanese take the survey and about 3% of my respondents are from the countries other than America, Taiwan, or China. Surprisingly, despite the great disparity of the number of Chinese people or Taiwanese and Americans who have taken my survey, the data of the preference to these two cuisines is relatively even. There are 42.9% of my respondents who like Chinese cuisine better, and 57.1% of them like American cuisine better. My last survey question is a short description question in which I ask my respondents why they like American/ Chinese cuisine more? Among 157 responds I get, most of my respondents indicate that they like certain kind of food because this is what they grow up with so that they’re used to it. This kind of respond could also be inferred from the content of my secondary research. Lv. and Brown (2010) have records in the journal that one of the participants of their experiment has said, “Our kids like Western dishes better than Chinese dishes. But we have already formed our dietary habits. It is hard to change. We can eat Western dishes once or twice a week. We can’t eat it often.” The second common respond which is found in my survey is that many of the respondents think that Chinese cuisine has a lot more variety than American cuisine does. Therefore, they like Chinese cuisine better. Same discovery could also be found in my interview. Mrs. Flynn has said that she prefers Americanized Chinese cuisine to the authentic Chinese cuisine since she is used to the American flavor. Differently, Mrs. Chou says that she loves authentic American cuisine better than Asian-American cuisine. The reason she gives is that she likes to experience the true flavor of a certain kind of cuisine. She thinks that the Asian-American cuisine has been altered too deliberately to meet what Chinese people are used to. What she has said could be observed clearly when I dined at Mos Burger in Taiwan. There are various flavors of rice burger, which is a hamburger whose bread is replaced by rice, sold in Mos Burger. This happens because people in my country are used to having rice as staple.

Cooking Methods

In general, most of the respondents think that American cuisine is produced by grilling (92.1%), roasting (70.2%), and baking (82%). I’ve gained basically the same respond from my American interviewee, Paula Flynn. She has mentioned that she often uses cooking methods like baking, roasting, and smoking to prepare her meals. Similar discoveries have been found in my observations. When I was watching MasterChef U. S. series, the desserts the competitors have made are often gone the process of baking. For example, they’ve made a lot of cakes, pies, and tarts. As for the protein portion of the meal, the meat is often roasted, for example, roasted chicken or lamb. On the other hand, the majority of the respondents think that the most common cooking methods used in Chinese cuisine are stir-frying (90.5%) and steaming (79.9%). I’ve found this result correlates to what I’ve seen during my observations. When I was watching the TV series, One Hundred Tastes of Taiwan, the chef stir-fries almost every dish.

Nutrition Contents

The most significant discovery in this section is that people generally think that American cuisine is lack of fiber (73.2%). On the other hand, what people think is lack of and rich in the Chinese cuisine is relatively even; however, it could still be inferred from the result that people tend to think that Chinese cuisine is lack of fat. In my survey, there aren’t many of the respondents think that Chinese cuisine is rich in fiber (23.3%). However, both of my interviewees have said that the reason they think Chinese cuisine is healthier than American cuisine is because Chinese cuisine contains more vegetables. There are about half of the respondents in my survey think that American cuisine is rich in carbohydrate, which kind of correlates to what Mrs. Flynn has said in my interview, “My father usually eats only breads and meat for dinner.” “When our family dine out, even though in a Chinese restaurant, my husband and sons all order dishes with bread.” An interesting finding is that there are only 8.9% of the respondents in my survey think that American cuisine is rich in protein; however, when I did my observation by watching MasterChef U. S. series, the dishes the competitors make often contain a large portion of meat.

Flavor

The majority of the respondents think that American cuisine tastes strong and heavy, while there are only about half of the respondents think that Chinese cuisine tastes strong and heavy, and the other half think that it tastes light and mild. The addition discovery is that there are a few respondents stick to the answer which indicates that how heavy the flavor is depends on how the food is cooked. This discovery implies that it is sometimes really hard to describe definitely whether a kind of cuisine tastes heavy or light. No matter the general impression of the American cuisine is that it tastes heavy, one could still modify the flavor by altering the cooking methods. The result correlates to what I’ve found in my secondary research. According to Bernstein (2017), “The flavors and textures resulting from each cooking technique vary – as do the wines that best pair with the final dish.” Adainoo (2018) also mentions in his post, “So, we use one cooking method or another on it to change its appearance, flavor, taste or even to make it last longer than it would without cooking.”

Additionally, Mrs. Chou has mentioned in the interview that the flavor of Chinese cuisine in American is often enhanced by using sweet and sour sauce which doesn’t exist in traditional Chinese cuisine at all. What she has said is totally same as what I’ve discovered in both my observations and secondary research. When I went to Panda Express, there were many items on the menu like orange chicken, sweet fire chicken breast, broccoli beef, and honey walnut shrimp etc.

Broccoli Beef

Orange Chicken

These are all dishes that I’ve never saw in the restaurants in my hometown. Since I don’t like sweet food, I chose broccoli beef, which I think might not be as sweet as the other dishes. However, when the dish is served, I could see sauce all over the beef. It is really different from what I’ve thought before since I only think that this dish is beef and broccoli stir-fried with oil and salt. The taste is also much sweeter than the similar cuisine I’ve tried in my hometown. The second generation of a Chinese family in American in my secondary research has also discovered the fact that the Chinese food in the U. S. contains many ingredients which doesn’t exist in traditional Chinese cuisine so that the flavor is also significantly altered. Asakawa (n. d.) records what New York Timesreporter, Jennifer Lee, has said, “The food we were eating in China in some ways resembled what my mom cooked, but in no way resembled what we ate in American Chinese restaurants.”

Influence

In the interview, Mrs. Flynn has mentioned that the deep-fried culture in the U. S. has influenced the Chinese cuisine in America a lot. In America, she found that the meat in many Chinese dishes are deep-fried. I’ve found what she has said is true when I was doing my observation. When dining at Panda Express, I could taste the crispy texture in the meat, which indicates that it has already been deep-fried before being stir-fried with vegetables and sauce. Not only does the Chinese cuisine in America is influenced by the U. S. dining culture, but how and what people dine in my hometown are also influenced by westernization. According to my secondary research, Banna, Gilliland, Keefe, & Zheng (2016) have pointed out that traditional Chinese diet which is characterized by high intake of plant-source foods has been influenced by Westernization, “This global trend has transferred the traditional Chinese diet which are eaten following certain meal times and food with high nutritious value to a dietary habit that people eat between meals at any time of day or night and consume food that is high in refined carbohydrate, added sugars, and fats.”

Producing Process

In this section, Mrs. Flynn thinks that it takes more time to prepare American cuisine than Chinese cuisine. She elaborates her thought by saying that people cook every element in the American cuisine in separate pots while people just stir-fry everything in one big pan when preparing Chinese cuisine. This answer is similar to what I’ve discovered in MasterChef U. S. series. In the TV show, every competitor has multiple pans and pots on their desk. They cook the broth or gravy on a pot, prepare other raw materials in different containers, and baked or roasted the meat in the oven. On the other hand, Mrs. Chou gives the opposite answer. In her opinion, Chinese cuisine requires a relatively longer time to prepare than American cuisine does. She elaborates her thinking by saying that in traditional Chinese cuisine, people eat rice with many side dishes. Every person on the dining table has one bowl of rice and there are many plates of sides on the table for people to take the amount of food they want to their own bowl. For this reason, Mrs. Chou says that although one could stir-fry many materials at once, there are so many plates of sides. Therefore, she needs to spend a large amount of time in the kitchen to cook plates and plates of food. The situation Mrs. Chou describes completely matches what I’ve seen in the TV series, One Hundred Tastes of Taiwan. The chef of a restaurant has to stir-fry so many different dishes in a short amount of time, especially when there’s a national holiday. For example, different generations of a whole large family usually dine together on Chinese Lunar New Year, which makes restaurants be filled with people. In the show, every table has about ten to twenty people, and they order ten or more plates of food.

Limitations

I have to admit that the results I present is not objective and accurate enough since there are some limitations I’ve encountered during the process of conducting the research. First of all, the time limitation of a quarter, which is only ten weeks, has made me feel really difficult and stressed to conduct a whole and thorough research like this. I think that my understandings on my subject aren’t thorough and complete enough for me to conduct a research. Therefore, it has taken me a long time to set up all of my survey and interview questions. Even though, I still feel that the aspects my questions have covered aren’t comprehensive enough. Second, since how food tastes could be a really subjective topic, I already have my own bias and so do my interviewees and respondents. For example, I always have an expected answer in my mind when I’m interviewing people. Also, my American interviewee, Mrs. Flynn, seldom tastes Chinese cuisine. Even though she tastes it, it’s hard to find an authentic Chinese restaurant in the U. S. Therefore, she doesn’t know quite clearly about how traditional Chinese cuisine tastes like, and it becomes a little hard for her to compare between authentic Chinese cuisine and Americanized Chinese cuisine. Third, my survey has resulted in having 78.1% of Americans while only 19.1% of Chinese people or Taiwanese respond. This would also affect the accuracy of my research results since the number of Americans responding exceeds that of Chinese people or Taiwanese, the whole view of point of my survey might be lean mainly toward how Americans think about these two cuisines.

Appendix A

Survey Questions:

· Where are you from?

America

China or Taiwan

Other

· What kind of cuisine do you like more?

American cuisine

Chinese cuisine

· Which of the following do you think are common cooking methods in American cuisine?

Grilling

Simmering

Stir-frying

Roasting

Steaming

Marinating

Baking

Braising

Other

· Which of the following do you think are common cooking methods in Chinese cuisine?

Grilling

Simmering

Stir-frying

Roasting

Steaming

Marinating

Baking

Braising

Other

· Which of the nutrient contents do you think American cuisine is rich in?

Protein

Fat

Carbohydrate

Fiber

· Which of the nutrient contents do you think American cuisine is lack of?

Protein

Fat

Carbohydrate

Fiber

· Which of the nutrient contents do you think Chinese cuisine is rich in?

Protein

Fat

Carbohydrate

Fiber

· Which of the nutrient contents do you think Chinese cuisine is lack of?

Protein

Fat

Carbohydrate

Fiber

· In general, do you think American cuisine tastes strong and heavy or light and mild?

Strong and heavy

Light and mild

Other

· In general, do you think Chinese cuisine tastes strong and heavy or light and mild?

Strong and heavy

Light and mild

Other

· Based on your answer to Question 2, why do you like American/Chinese cuisine more?

Appendix B

Interview Questions:

· Do you like Chinese or American cuisine better? Why?

· Which of these two cuisines do you think is healthier? Why?

· In the U. S., in what way do you think Chinese cuisine is affected by the culture of America?

· According to Question 3, have you tried authentic Chinese/American cuisine before? Do you prefer authentic Chinese/American cuisine or Americanized Chinese/Asian-American cuisine?

· Whose producing process of these two cuisines do you think would require more time? Please elaborate your thinking.

References

Banna, J. C., Gilliland, B., Keefe, M., & Zheng, D. (2016). Cross-cultural comparison of perspectives on healthy eating among Chinese and American undergraduate students. Journal of BMC Public Health. doi: 10.1186/s12889-016-3680-y

Chen, Lindsey N. H. (2017). Of authenticity and assimilation: Names of American Chinese restaurants. A Journal of Onomastics, 66, 3-13. doi: 10.1080/00277738.2017.1344458

Chinese food not from China. (n. d). American Association of Retired Persons. Retrieved May 16, 2018, from https://www.aarp.org/food/recipes/info-2014/american-chinese-food.html

Chinese home cooking vs restaurant cooking. (n. d). What’s Cookin’ in NYC. Retrieved May 16, 2018, from https://macaulay.cuny.edu/eportfolios/rosenberg14/chinese-home-cooking-vs-restaurant-cooking/

Engler-Stringer, R. (2010). Food, cooking skills, and health: A literature review. Canadian Journal of Dietetic Practice and Research, 71(3): 141-5. doi: 10.3148/71.3.2010.141

How common cooking methods affect your food and how to fix the bad? (2018). Stay Well Now. Retrieved May 16, 2018, from https://www.staywellnow.com/post/how-common-cooking-methods-affect-your-food-and-how-to-fix-the-bad

How different cooking methods change the taste of food? (2017). Wine Enthusiast. Retrieved May 16, 2018, from https://www.winemag.com/2017/08/25/how-different-cooking-methods-change-the-taste-of-food/

Lv, N., & Brown, J. L. (2010). Chinese American family food systems: Impact of western influences. Journal of Nutrition Education and Behavior, 42, 106-114. doi: 10.1016/j.jneb.2009.04.005

What makes American cuisine American? (2014). Pacific Standard. Retrieved May 16, 2018, from https://psmag.com/social-justice/makes-american-cuisine-american-72942

Xiao, M. W. (2014). Ecocriticism and national image in 舌尖上的中國(A bite of China). CLCWeb: Comparative Literature and Culture, 16.4. Retrieved from https://docs.lib.purdue.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?referer=https://www.google.com/&httpsredir=1&article=2417&context=clcweb

Yang, X. L. (2017). Study on translation of Chinese food dishes. Open Journal of Modern Linguistics, 7(1), 1-7. doi: 10.4236/ojml.2017.71001

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trendingnewsb · 7 years ago

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7 strange but scrumptious facts about the history of the hamburger.

It’s something so simple, yet something so good — two tasty buns around mouthwatering meat.

Yes, it’s true: Hamburgers are wonderful. But what exactly makes them so wonderful? With so many parts and so many variations, it’s hard to know precisely why this dietary delight has become such an iconic part of our culture.

Over the centuries — yes, centuries — the hamburger has evolved from an umami underdog to a ubiquitous food staple all across the globe. And at the center of that strange journey is some surprising insight into humanity itself (and also a tasty meat patty). Here are seven fascinating facts from across the years and continents that will make you appreciate the burger for more than just its taste.

1. The hamburger was invented in New Haven, Connecticut.

It was 1900 when Danish immigrant Louis Lassen first took the trimmings from his trademark steak sandwiches (which he also helped pioneer), packed them into patties, and placed them between two slices of toast from his sandwich wagon. The family still runs Louis’ Lunch Shop on Crown Street today and still serves the sandwiches on toast with no option for ketchup.

As someone who was born and raised in New Haven, I can assure you that this is 100% unequivocal truth. Even the U.S. Library of Congress has it on record!

Photo by Adam Jones/Flickr.

2. Unless it was not invented in New Haven at all.

Perhaps it was Fletcher Davis of Athens, Texas, that actually invented it. He supposedly started cookin’ up those patties in the late 1880s, then brought his treat to the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis, where it gained global attention.

Or it could have been Charles and Frank Menches of Hamburg, New York, who ran out of sausage at a fair in 1885, so they packed together ground beef with coffee, brown sugar, and other brown spices to mask what was otherwise considered “lower class” meat.

Some people even give credit to Charlie Nagreen of Seymour, Wisconsin, who began serving flattened meatballs on bread in 1885, even though that’s pretty clearly a “meatball sandwich” and not a “hamburger.”

Maybe it all began at root beer-maker Oscar Weber Bilby’s Fourth of July party in 1891, right in Oklahoma — the heartland of America.

As you can see, there’s some question as to which of the 50 states can actually claim credit for this distinctly American delicacy. Unfortunately, people didn’t keep very clear records of these things back then, so it’s kind of hard to determine which one was the real pioneer.

“Hamburger Charlie” even has his own statue even though he clearly made a meatball sandwich. Photo by WIMHARTER/Wikimedia Commons.

3. But we do know that the first record of a hamburger-like recipe was from 1758.

“The Art of Cookery made Plain and Easy” by Hannah Glasse — the most popular cookbook in England for more than a century — was well-known in the American colonies too.

The cookbook was updated many times after its initial publication in 1747, but it was the 1758 edition that first made mention of a “hamburg sausage” — a combination of ground beef and spices that was cured and then served roasted on a single piece of toast.

Image via W. Wangford/Wikimedia Commons.

4. The hamburg sausage wan’t quite a sandwich. But neither was the “hamburg steak,” another cousin of the burger.

Obviously, the question of “what defines a sandwich” has resulted in much debate. But one thing we can all agree on is that it requires some kind of casing in order to qualify as a “sandwich” … right?

While Glasse’s hamburg sausage could have arguably been an open-faced sandwich, the popular hamburg steak was definitely not a sandwich. The German dish gained popularity in the 18th century and comprised of, um, well, a patty of ground beef packed together — sometimes with spices or onions or egg — and then cooked and served. Which, come to think of it, does sound a lot like a hamburger without the bun.

(Some would argue that a hamburger without a bun is not technically a hamburger, but that’s a philosophical discussion for another time.)

A variation on the Hamburg Steak. Photo by 1971Marcus/Wikimedia Commons.

5. Come to think of it, no one’s really sure who invented the sandwich either.

This may not sound like an important part of hamburger history, but bear with me. You’ll see how it connects.

Credit often goes to John Montagu, the fourth Earl of Sandwich, who allegedly needed some way to contain his food so that he could continue playing cards with his friends without making a mess or needing utensils.

But he was hardly the first to think of such a thing — Hillel the Elder was known for eating flatbread sandwiches as far back as the first century, and of course, many Middle Eastern and Eurasian cultures made use of the pita to contain all kinds of tasty treats, including — wait for it — minced meats.

Now do you see where this is going?

Gyro sandwich: not a burger but also kind of maybe it is — in its own way? Photo by JeffreyW/Flickr.

6. That’s right: The hamburger goes all the way back to Genghis Khan. (Sort of.)

Look, there’s a lot of world to conquer, OK? And when you were part of Khan’s Golden Horde, you didn’t have a lot of time to stop and eat between invading 2/3 of the planet. Khan’s soldiers would sometimes stay on horseback for days at a time, which wasn’t really conducive to eating soup either.

They found a way around the problem by thinly slicing meat and packing it together into portable patties that could be taken on the road and eaten as needed. Sometimes they were boiled, sometimes cured ahead of time, and more often than not, they were just eaten raw (but, contrary to popular belief, they were not placed under their saddles and cooked by butt-heat friction).

“Genghis Khan demands his burger rare!” Photo by Sebacalka/Wikimedia Commons.

In one part of the world, this minced meat may have evolved into kebabs, which of course were then contained in the aforementioned pitas. Genghis’s grandson Kublai Khan is believed to have passed this raw meaty snack on to the Russians, who called it “steak tartare,” reportedly after their name for the Turco-Mongol peoples.

It would only be a matter of time before Russians shared the recipe with Germans, who gave it a twist of their own and turned it into hamburg steaks.

7. But the absolute oldest reference to a burger-like food comes from fourth-century Rome.

The ancient Roman Empire contributed a great many things to the modern world — including, believe it or not, fast food in the form of the ready-to-go thermopholia markets (literally “a place where something hot is sold”). According to a fourth-century cookbook, some of these thermopholia sold a packed patty known as Isica Omentata, which was made from minced meat, pine nuts, fish sauce, wine, and other spices. You can even find some modernized recipes and make your own Roman patties the next time you’re in the mood for a gladiator match!

The ancient Roman Colosseum: curiously hamburger-shaped. Photo by Alex Proimos/Flickr.

The hamburger’s globe-trotting history shows us exactly why people around the world love those meaty buns.

(Besides the fact they’re delicious, I mean.)

The real power of the burger is much more primal than that. Bread and meat are dietary staples of every culture since pretty much the dawn of civilization as we know it. It only makes sense to bring them together in such a simple way. And as technologies continued to evolve, of course we’d use them to perfect this quintessential combination, which would, in turn, give rise to the modern burger as we know it.

Photo via PX Here.

That’s why the hamburger’s winding journey from Rome to Mongolia to Russia to Germany and, finally, to the United States is such a telling story: It shows how separate cultures have so much in common across time and space. In that regard, it almost doesn’t matter who was first to slap that patty on a bun or what inspired them do it — because the impulse was intrinsically human. Which means, yes, the hamburger has the power to unite us all, no matter where we come from, like one big global barbecue.

But also, they’re delicious.

Read more: http://www.upworthy.com/7-strange-but-scrumptious-facts-about-the-history-of-the-hamburger

from Viral News HQ https://ift.tt/2IVnTo1 via Viral News HQ

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mellowbananacollection-thin-blog · 7 years ago

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Best Spa For Sipping Champagne In A Sizzling Tub

Finest Spa For Sipping Champagne In A Hot Tub

I wrote a @PopeyesChicken review from a visit on 19 October, and STILL haven't gotten any response back. #Popeyes near Philly airport SUCKS!

— Jacquelene (@jroesch89) October 31, 2017

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