#less than 2 day old bread to me :/

[clovernment]

wow this Gin twist was super unexpected

i don't fault a story this old to be formulaic when it's one of things that made the Formula plus i had gotten quite a few spoilers already what with this show being decades old buttttt

wtf that was a well-crafted betrayal

[strongheartneteyam]

Realize where you belong.

Pairing: neteyam sully x female!human!reader/female!dreamwalker!reader

Chapter 3

CW: angst, reader is a loner, reader works her ass off every day at the lab, fluff, neteyam being cute towards reader (even tho it still has weird vibes lol), mad jealous neteyam, TRIGGER WARNING for depression symptoms (such as being moody n having less appetite than the usual), stalking, obsessive and toxic behavior, also TRIGGER WARNING for reader mentioning the word “suicidal” in an internal monologue (she IS NOT actually suicidal, she just feels really sad and mentions the word. if u read it, you'll know what I mean)

Not proofread. I'll do it as soon as I can ♡ I hope it's a good chapter 🥲 & thank u to everyone who's reading this fanfic, who left a comment in the last chapter and, of course, to everyone who asked to be in the taglist I LOVE Y'ALL 😘💕💕💕

Chapter 2

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Mother looking at me

Tell me, what do you see?

Yes, I've lost my mind

(...)

Will I ever be free?

Have I crossed the line?

All the things she said, running through my head

All the things she said (t.A.T.u)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You woke up feeling like crap that morning.

Your last shift had been so demanding. You had to cook just so much food that you started to wonder if there was anything left in the pantry. You had gone into that room just so many times yesterday to get ingredients and kitchen utensils, your legs felt heavy and sore now, as you stretched them in your small bed.

There were just too many people to eat in that damn laboratory.

Meanwhile you, the cook, barely had any time left to eat. There was always just so much work to do. So many dishes to wash, so many vegetables and meat to cut, bread to prepare from scratch... Your head hurt just thinking about it.

You felt so stressed out that you preferred to unwind a little instead of eating, sometimes. You would find a quiet place, sit somewhere, put your headphones on and press play on one of your many curated playlists or in one of your favorite songs. Listening to music seemed to work like a medicine to your wounds and, going to the cafeteria and having to socialize, to have people all around you felt too much, so, you just tried to avoid it. You even started to lose a little weight because of it. Nothing too much, though. You were only slightly thinner than you used to be. But in the back of your head, there was always a voice saying "Please, take better care of yourself...". Despite knowing that voice was right, you were too tired and apathetic to care.

Ever since you started to Dreamwalk, it was like your whole world had changed. That old life you led did not seem to be enough anymore. It never was, in the first place. It could never compare to the heightened senses you had when you were in your Avatar, helping you smell and hear everything better.

The first time you spent a whole afternoon running alone through the Pandoran forest next to Hell's Gate, you felt alive like you had not felt in years.

But nothing gold can ever stay. Way sooner than you expected, you had to be awakened from that magical dream. Everytime you came out of the technological machine you had to lay inside of to be able to drive your Avatar, you thought "Damn! Why wasn't I born a na'vi? They're so freaking lucky to have such an incredibly beautiful Planet to call their own. If only Earth was still as beautiful as it used to be..."

When you were not in one of your free days, you would always work until you felt exhausted and fed up with everything. It was not a walk in the park to be a cook. Even though you loved cooking since you were a teenager, when you used to always mix different ingredients and spices and create new recipes, this profession forced you to spend most of your time standing up and to have little time to sit and rest your poor fatigued legs. In some days, all you wanted was to sleep for 12 hours straight. And God knows you were capable of actually doing that.

Not a long time ago, you slept so much that, when you eventually woke up, it was 2 pm and you almost got fired from the lab when you finally showed up at the kitchen you were supposed to be in since 6 am.

You promised yourself you would never do that again. You just could not afford to lose that job. And you wanted to cry just thinking about not being able to Dreamwalk anymore. Exploring Pandora was the peak of your life, currently. It was when you felt high as a kite. As funny as it sounded, it was true. You felt euphoria run through your body everytime you got to have blue skin and be over 8 feet tall.

You liked to cook and was good at it, but, you were a smart, intelligent girl who knew much more than people thought you did. Unfortunately, you could not manage to get a higher position at the lab. Your forte was not sciencey stuff. It was subjects like Human History, Languages, Philosophy... At best, you got to use your language learning skills to learn basic na'vi fast and was able to get an Avatar from the lab. At least that was a good thing that your tiring job provided you. God knows that privilege was one of the few things keeping you alive. You goddamn hated you life, your job, everything... All your days seemed to be the same. Same chores, same annoying people... Most scientists did not try to hide that they did not see you as an equal. Even though they were always really polite to you, they would not let you in in their little groups, in their upbeat conversations through the laboratory corridors. You could count in one hand how many of them used to talk to you with genuine interest in hearing what you had to say.

You sat every day next to the less valued lab employees: janitors, cleaning ladies, other cooks just like you and so on. Your race had never been good at realizing the worth that these hardworking people had, anyway. Why would they do it now? You thought it to be so sad...

Those employees were nice regular people. Even thought some of them were idiots and treated you badly, there are people who behave like that anywhere. You were thankful that most of them were polite to you and treated you well enough. You also had a close friendship with one of the female employees, a cute, humble and really kind girl called Crystal. But she was your only actual friend. You did not remember the last time you had made an actual effort to make a friend, to be nice to someone in hopes you could get to know them better and they could become a part of your life. You had to admit you had been really grumpy lately.

You could easily blame such moodiness on your lack of will to keep living that life you currently had. It’s not that you were suicidal, it's just that you wished you could live a better life.

There was also Derek, the tall, cute boy you would make out with every now and then. You did not have a proper name for your relationship with him. He was always lovely towards you and you two would have really interesting conversations together and sneak around to kiss each other and do other types of heated stuff (though you never had sex with him) anytime you both felt like it. But it did not happen that often, anyway. You did not put much thought into it, to be honest. Derek was just a friend you would fool around with. You could not be farther from being in love with him or anything of sorts.

After another tiresome day, you walked fast towards your room. All you could think about was how nice and cozy your bed would feel when you would lay your body on it. Only five minutes after you finally laid down, you fell asleep. Slumber had been bugging you all day. Lately, it had always been like that.

They say you have to be careful what you wish for. That your words and thoughts have power over what happens to you. And you learned it the hard way.

In one of your infamous busy but boring afternoons, something unexpected happened to you.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a na'vi young man appeared outside of your glass window and tapped slightly on it. You almost choked on your own saliva when you saw that huge, blue creature staring at you with wide yellow eyes. A scream got stuck right in the middle of your throat, since you got so startled you could not get your vocal chords to obey the command your brain was sending them. What the hell was that na'vi doing in front of the laboratory? They did not use to come to Hell's Gate. And why was he looking at you through the kitchen window?

The na'vi boy just would not stop staring at you. His gaze was so intense it made you feel unbelievably uncomfortable. Suddenly, he pointed to the left. The big, ample door that led to the open area in front of the room you worked in was right at the same direction his four fingered hand was pointing to. You realized he was signaling to you that he wanted to see you outside of the lab.

You started to say, in your own mind: "What kind of weird situation is this?"

"Please?" You heard the alien plead in fluent English (he only had a typical na'vi accent), his voice coming through the narrow gap that existed between the glass and the window frame. His eyes reminded you of the eyes of a small kitten asking for food.

You got surprised by the fact that he was able to speak English. You wondered why he had learned it and who taught him the language.

You tried to reach for the door to try and inform someone that there was a na'vi around and ask if anybody knew who he was when you heard the alien say:

"Don't go, please! I just want to talk to you! I'm not gonna hurt you."

Your back was turned to him. When you turned around, he was smiling.

"It's incredible how you're even prettier up close."

"I'm sorry?!" You answered

"Oh, forgive me. My name is Neteyam. Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan. It's really nice to meet you." He was still smiling.

That name was familiar, Neteyam te Suli... Oh, of course! Neteyam was the son of the Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya clan, Jake Sully. He was very famous between the na'vi and the humans.

Neteyam Suli was one of the most feared na'vi warriors out there. A great archer and very skilled with the knives the Omatikayas made themselves, he fought fearlessly against the recoms, including Colonel Miles Quaritch, an old enemy of his father. Quaritch used to lead the RDA soldiers when he was human, before being "revived" and given an Avatar body. He died in battle against the na'vi. But that did not mean that there was finally peace between humans and the na'vi race.

But why in hell was Neteyam Suli trying to talk to you? It is not like the na'vi liked the humans. On the contrary, they despised your race.

"Uhmm... okay. Nice to meet you..." You tried to be polite and peaceful towards the na'vi boy, like you were advised to be by your teachers, back when you were studying and training to get your Avatar "But I'm sorry, what did you say? That I'm prettier up close?" Your brows were furrowing, your face full of confusion. Despite all, you were calmer now that you knew you could communicate with him in English. Your na'vi was not the best out there.

"Yes." Neteyam's big amber eyes shone when he looked at your face. You were beyond dazed. "I've seen you before. Many times actually. But only from far away. It doesn't compare to seeing you right next to me." His voice had a weird warm feeling in it, like he was already acquainted to you. But how could it be? You did not even know who he was before he revealed his identity to you.

"When did you see me...?" Your mouth was slightly opened, so bewildered you felt

"Don't you wanna come outside so we can talk better?" He said, seeming excited.

"Unfortunately, no. I'm good, thanks." Neteyam looked sad after you declined his offer.

"Why not? I told you, I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise." He smiled faintly. You could tell he was hurt by your blunt answer.

It pained you to act like that towards him. You admired the na'vi so much. Damn, you even would choose to be born a na'vi if you somehow could go back in time, before you were inside your mother's womb and you could talk to Eywa herself. But how were you gonna trust him? There were some na'vi out there, his mother, for example, that hated humans with such a boiling passion. What if he took after his mother? You would be in trouble if he tried to kill you. Even though the na'vi were a peaceful by nature race, everyone has a limit, so, you had to be careful when interacting with them. You learned about all the genocide your kind had committed against his kind while simultaneously destroying his Planet slowly, in a cruel, despicable way. You honestly understood the contempt the na'vi felt when it came to humans.

You looked at Neteyam with honesty in your eyes and said:

"Please don't take this the wrong way but I can't really trust you. I know you told me you're not gonna hurt me, but, I'm still human. How can I know you trust me, to begin with?"

"I trust you because you're different. You're nothing like the others from your kind. You're more like my people. And I love that about you." Neteyam said, smiling at you.

"Can you please just tell me how do you know me? Because I've never seen you before. I've only heard about you because you're the Olo'eyktan's eldest son and Olo'eyktan to be. But you talk to me like you somehow... know me. I'm really confused, Neteyam." He felt his heart race when he heard you pronounce his name. Your voice sounded so sweet to his sensitive na'vi ears, making him move them somewhat to the sides. It was the same voice he heard in the forest, when he watched you talk to yourself saying how beautiful you thought some yellow, bioluminescent flower that you saw in the grass was.

"You're a Dreamwalker. I've seen you around. I love how much you seem to appreciate and respect my Planet instead of destroying it like the others from your kind do. That's why I think you're more na'vi than human." He chuckled happily and you got confused by his last sentence.

You had to admit he looked cute when his fangs escaped from under his upper lip whenever he smiled or chuckled. But you felt so weird thinking that.

"I'm more na'vi than human?" You were intrigued "What do you mean?" You laughed a bit and he continued on staring at you in an intense manner.

Neteyam heard footsteps approaching, so, he started to move just so he could hide. He did not want any other human but you seeing him. He knew he could not trust them as he could trust you.

"Wait! Where are you -" before you could finish your words, he was already gone.

The brown wooden door behind you opened and Derek appeared carrying a pile of plates in his arms.

"Hey, cutie." He walked towards the sink, leaving the dirty dishes there to be washed by himself when he would be back in the kitchen.

"Hi, Derek." You smiled faintly. You were still recovering from that odd interaction you had with Neteyam Sully.

Derek came close to your ear and whispered:

"Feel like meeting me tonight? I miss you." You sighed

"I don't know... I'm not really in the mood, sorry." You answered, uninterested

He got a little surprised by your answer and moved his eyebrows up, making wrinkles appear in his forehead but quickly remembered he had much work to do outside, so, he walked towards the door and got out of the room without saying another word to you.

Neteyam was still out there, next to the window, leaning against the wall. He was listening to the conversation the whole time. He had to use all the self control he learned to have with the years to not hiss when he heard that human call you "cutie" and ask if you wanted to meet him tonight. Who was he, anyway? And why was he saying he missed you? Neteyam had never seen you show any sign that he was your mate before. He had to find out what was going on. Neteyam would not let anyone get between the both of you. It would not be a weak human male that would be the obstacle that would make him give up on his future mate. He was used to challenges and was not afraid of another one. That would probably even be fun. Neteyam could imagine that tiny mate of yours shivering in fear when he showed him his big, sharp fangs.

Neteyam decided he was gonna find out who the hell that mate of yours was. He was sure he was not better than him. That human male would never be as strong as he was. That human would never be able to hunt fresh food for you, walking through the forests of Pandora and confronting big, dangerous animals, like Neteyam would. He knew he outbraved that human. He could never be a good mate to you like Neteyam could be. You deserved better than him.

༊⁀➷

Taglist:

@xylianasblog @samistars @crazy4books1 @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @explosiongamora @lik0 @your-girl-mj @darktyrantwinner @xxunnie @sereisstuff @yeosxxx @die4niyahhh @henhouse-horrors @lala-1516 @iman-lu @manumanulau @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @hana-yuri

I tagged some of you that did not ask to be tagged but left really cute comments on the last chapter that made my heart feel warm 💓 if u don't wanna be tagged, just lemme know

Also, if someone wants to be added to the taglist too just leave a comment below saying that 🤍

[daydreamgoddess14]

Heatwave

Full Masterlist

Sydcarmy Masterlist

Syd, Carmy and a heatwave which threatens to tip things over the edge...

it's hot as balls basically everywhere I think atm? Anyway, it's hot in the UK so this popped into my head.

~~~~~

If you can't stand the heat, get outta the kitchen. 

If you can't stand the heat… Get. Out. Of. The. Kitchen. 

Get. Out. Of. The. Kitchen.

Sydney was at least 96.8% certain that she was going to die in this kitchen today. Which, coincidentally, was the temperature outside. Inside, it was a cool 104°F at least . She didn't dare look at the room thermometer Marcus had brought in with him for fear that she'd crawl into the walk-in in tears and never come out. They'd put a rule on breakdowns in the walk-in. Only 2 allowed per week, and Richie had bagged both of them already thanks to Tiffany's engagement party. She was bracing herself for the pomme puree and the steam, bicep work out, and overall exertion it would inflict on her, when she felt a cool hand sweep under her braids and leave a damp washcloth behind. She couldn't stop the low moan that tumbled from her mouth, or the breathy,

"Fuck me."

"Too damn hot." 

"It wasn't an offer, Carmen." She tutted, rolling her eyes. 

"Obviously not if you're full naming me, Sydney." He teased. 

"Behind," she called, lugging the steaming pan of potatoes over to the sink. He followed with a strainer and took over. 

"Here let me," steam billowed up between them, obscuring her favorite view of his arms. She had a running total of how many times he stepped in to lift something she or Tina would have struggled with. She wondered vaguely whether he was the one doing it on purpose. The helping, the little quips, the overall being better . The tension had been simmering gently beneath them since the day after the soft open, probably before that if she really cared to admit it. He'd called them all in, apologized until there wasn't a dry eye in the house, and made it clear he'd spend as long as necessary making amends to each and every one of them. 

 

She'd walked out. 

 

He'd followed her out back and stood perfectly still while she shouted, screamed and cussed him out. Words that she'd probably never said aloud before were hurled at him with ease, and he took it all. She shouted until she was hoarse and exhausted, eyes streaming with tears and head pounding like his fists on the metal door the night before. When she paused to catch her breath, he'd moved into her space and put his hands on her shoulders. All out of words, she hit out physically, and he took it as she rained fairly useless and ineffectual punches onto his chest. If she'd had a right hook like Richie, he probably would have been far less accepting. Eventually, she succumbed to silence, and still, he stood there. He'd wrapped those damn arms around her even as she still fought against him, pushing her hands on him to try and move backwards. She gave way to indifference, arms limp at her sides until he'd whispered a heartbroken beg for forgiveness into her ear, and her resolve crumbled like dry bread dough. She accepted the apology but made it abundantly clear that forgiveness would have to be earned. He became more present and dedicated than she'd ever seen. Their working relationship, firstly, had blossomed because of it, easily followed by their friendship and now… well. If suggestive banter or innocent touches were Olympic team events, they were gold medalists. 

 

"Get some air, Syd." He suggested as the steam died away. He looked as bad as she felt, hair damp, and what looked like a permanent sheen of sweat coated his skin. 

"Is it any cooler out there?"

"No, but there's air?" She nodded and took the offer. They'd carved out a few meters of shade by snagging one of the old tablecloths on some rusty hooks and had moved a couple chairs out of the sun. 

"Too damn hot." She repeated his words back to him as he approached, taking the seat next to her. 

"Yeah. What're you thinking?"

"Really?" She opened one eye to look at him, "what's the coldest I can get the shower to go later." 

"Not cold enough."

"Heard, Chef. You?"

"What's the maximum fine for a health code violation." She looked confused, "naked cooking." Came the explanation. 

"Ok, one - gross, and two - last time I did it, I burned myself, so it's a no from me."

"Where?"

"Where what?"

"Where'd you burn yourself?" He asked, turning the already considerable temperature up on their conversation once more. 

"Uhuh, you'll never know."

"Never? We'll see." She shook her head. She normally enjoyed the push and pull, the raising stakes of who gives in first and changes the subject when it gets too much. But this heatwave had been going on for days, and the combined heat is just too much. She's too damn hot to keep up a witty repartee and try to make him blush. Plus the heat only makes her think more of their sweat slicked bodies together. She found herself wondering more and more often how long they'd keep this up. What would be the thing that brought about change? Did it just disappear again as gradually as it arrived? Was it a simple one and done fuck it out of their system? Or did they carry on in this perpetual state of winding each other up and then, as she did now frequently (so, so frequently), bring herself back down. If she could do it without spontaneously combusting, she'd wonder if he also had to do that as often as she did. As if on command, an image of him with his hand on his cock pops into her brain before she can stop it, and she has to grit her teeth and press her thighs together to stop from making a sound. 

"It's too fucking hot." She grimaced and headed back inside before she could accidentally make eye contact and have him read her mind. 

 

The next day was just as bad. The sun was gone, but a sweaty, muggy heat remained and that was somehow worse. There was no breeze at all, no air, everything was hazy. They'd sent everyone home who didn’t need to be there, preferring to survive the evening on the bare minimum number of staff rather than have a packed out kitchen or front of house. Fak hovered, mumbling something about stressed pipework and expansion but Syd ignored him and refilled hers and Carmy's iced waters, hands brushing together as he eagerly took it from her. 

"Isn't there, like, a point where you can drink too much water and get ill?" She asked, downing half her cup in one go and leaving condensation drips to travel down her chin and neck. 

"Fuck knows. We need to 86 half the menu tonight."

"Heard, Chef. Already gone through it with Richie." She handed him the revised menu for the evening. 

"No swordfish?"

"Do you want to stand and sear it on the hotplate all night?" 

"Definitely not."

"I thought not. I swear it's so hot in here I think I could turn my back into a hotplate." She shook her head and mumbled, "fry a fucking egg on my ass." He laughed so hard he nearly threw his water across the room. 

"We should try that." He suggested once he'd recovered and received a glare in response. 

"I need air." She took her cup and refilled it again on the way out. In the tiny not-really-a-corridor between the pot wash and outside she heard a gurgling rumble near ground level. "The fuck?" She looked down to see a drip of water escaping from the pipe. "Fak?" There was no response initially, "yo, Neil, get your ass out here?" It happened just as Carmy comes to the door to ask what's wrong. The pipe groans and creaks, "hey, can you get Fak, I think there's -" water everywhere. Everywhere . It sprayed out from the pipe in a forceful gush and got her right in the face. "Holy fucking shit!" To his credit, Carmy shut the door behind him and grabbed at the coats on the hooks in front of them. Syd pulled off her apron and dropped to the floor, using it to press against the pipe to stem the flow of water while Carmy used the coats on the gap at the bottom of the door so it didn’t get into the kitchen. They were both soaked to the bone and the water just kept coming. 

"Fak, where the fuck are you?" Carmy shouted over the sound of the water, Syd tried to hold the gap in the pipe but it only made the water gush harder at odd angles. Finally, finally , Neil appeared by the back door, "shut the fucking water off, Fak!" He had to go round to the front and into the kitchen the long way to get to the stop tap. Syd let go of the pipe as soon as the water slowed to a trickle, and sat back on the wet floor with her back against the wall, trying to catch her breath, 

"Fuck. That was," there were no words, "... that was crazy. At least it was clean water." She lifted the edge of her soaked t-shirt to wipe her face. He wasn’t talking and she had no idea why - he wasn’t calling out for Fak or cursing the heat, the pipes, the pool of water they were literally sitting in. She looked up to see what was wrong and he just stared back at her. “What? What’s wrong - did you get hurt?” She moved forward on her knees quickly, half crawling towards him when Fak opened the kitchen door.

“I knew it, I knew the pipes wouldn’t take the heat,” he sighed, taking in the sight of both of them sitting in an inch of water and looking, presumably, like drowned vermin. “Woah, wet t-shirt competition!” He covered his eyes and turned away. Syd looked to find that her plain white t-shirt had clung to her body like a second skin, her non-padded black bra and dark pebbled nipples completely visible.

“Shit,” her arms covered her modesty but the damage was done. Fak left quickly, mumbling something about repairs before they opened and Syd stood as quickly as she could without moving her arms. Carmy cleared his throat,

“Sorry, that was really fucking inappropriate, I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t think… didn’t realize. It’s fine. Should have left my apron on.”

“Yeah. You’re dripping,” he started to say,

“Excuse me?” Her eyes were like saucers, her voice was barely a squeak,

“You’re uhh, you’re dripping. You should change? You wanna uhh… you should use the office? I’ll start clearing up, Manny will be here in a few, and then I’ll get changed. You got spare clothes?”

“Yeah, yeah I think I’ve got some stuff to get by with.”

“Let me know if you need a shirt, think I’ve got a couple.”

“Thanks,” She hesitated, his shirt was also plastered to his skin, the faint outlines of more tattoos just visible through the transparent fabric. She swallowed and looked back up to eye level and he moved aside to let her through. She waded to the lockers and office without a backwards glance. The second the door was closed behind her, she was able to let out a shaking breath. Fuuuck. Assessing the damage, she peeled off her t-shirt and bra, and slid her Dickies down her legs. There wasn’t a single dry item of clothing that she could put back on so all she had was a clean cami crop top and another pair of Dickies. No underwear, no bra. Not even socks. She was just about dressed again when there was a faint knock on the door,

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure.” She’d pulled her braids back into a high bun and reused her damp scarf to hold it up off her neck, the cami left her arms and shoulders exposed but she has her custom jacket hanging up to put on later to cover herself. The crop top left a line of her stomach uncovered. She wasn’t sure it had ever been seen in public before, and certainly not by Carmy. Learning from previous mistakes, she covered her breasts by crossing her arms - no bra meant she may as well still be wearing a soaked t-shirt for all the dignity it provided.

“You good?”

“Fine, not ideal but, y’know,” she shrugged. “Hey do you have any spare socks?”

“Yeah, think so. Shit, even your socks?”

“Literally every item of clothing I was wearing is just… fucking soaked.” The statement lingered in the air,

“You should hang them somewhere outside, let everything dry out.”

“Gonna do it now. Need some help with the clear up?”

“Nah, Manny’s got it and Fak’s repairing the pipe.”

“Will we have water for service?”

“He tells me so. We’ll see, it’s Fak.” She hummed in agreement and turned her back on him to grab her wet clothes from the floor. He stepped behind her and she felt a featherlight touch on her tattoo. “You have a tattoo?” He stated, tracing the outline and causing goosebumps to pick up across her shoulders and back. She tried to speak, but the words weren't forming. His other hand went to the bare skin on her back, knuckles grazing the dip of her spine. “You’ve cooled down.” She nodded, it’s all she can do. He was so close, she could feel the cool damp from his t-shirt and it was still so oppressively hot in the kitchen that she just wanted to lean back into him. Her breath was already ragged and he’d hardly laid a finger on her. The knuckles on her back turned to fingertips on her bare waist with the faintest, almost imperceptible grip. She felt his lips ghost over the back of her neck and then a tiny kiss directly on her tattoo. It felt like all of the heat from outside and from the kitchen had all pooled in her stomach. He held her a little tighter and her body flooded with longing, a sigh escaping from her mouth. The clothes dropped to the floor with a wet slap, and she turned in his arms. There was so little space between them, it was blindingly obvious that she didn’t have a bra on. “Fuck, Syd,” he rasped, his hand coming up to cup her breast over her t-shirt, the pad of his thumb skimmed her nipple. She arched into him, her hand was already bunching his t-shirt in her fist as he nudged her nose with his, their breath mingling. His eyes were locked on hers, waiting for her agreement,

“What the fuck happened, Fak! I thought you said the pipes would be good?” Richie’s voice boomed through the kitchen just as she’d leaned into him, and they sprang apart instantly.

“Yeah Richie, when it’s not plus 100, dude! Everything falls apart in that kinda heat.” Syd grabbed her clothes again and was out of the door before Carmy could say a word. She shoved her bare feet into her work crocs and darted outside, stepping over the rags thrown down to soak up some of the water. Manny had moved the coats they’d originally put down and hung them outside. Communal outerwear which had been there since spring turned to summer and people came to work in a coat but didn’t leave with one. She made a mental note to take them to get cleaned before anyone would need them again. 

“Any damage?” She asked Fak on her way past.

“Only the pipe, you guys managed to keep all the water to the pot wash. Nothing in the kitchen.”

“Great. We good for service?”

“Well see.”

“We gotta be, Fak.” She told him firmly.

“You got it Syd.” Outside, she flung her clothes over the back of one of the chairs and dragged a hand over her face. Everything falls apart in that kinda heat. She heard Fak’s words over and over. 

“Yo, you good?” Carmy asked as he stepped out and did the same thing with his clothes as she had. Of course the only sign of the mishap inside for him was his wet hair, while she looked like she’d gotten dressed in the dark and forgotten most of her clothes. 

“Yeah. Gotta get on with prep, we’re behind.”

“Heard, Chef. I’ll be right there.” He grabbed her wrist as she passed him and asked the question again without saying a word. She nodded and threw him a small smile.

“Later,” she assured him. “We’re all good, Chef.” She confirmed and headed inside.

 

It was a quiet night, for which Syd was eternally grateful. Just one full cover and turnaround on tables, the latest seated at 7.30pm and out by 9.30pm. The quiet night however, left plenty of room and time in the kitchen. Fewer people around had seemingly given Carmy a free pass to make his presence known around Syd. Any normal night and she’d barely have time to look at him other than when answering him. She’d suggested that she take the expo while he manned hers and Tina’s stations with Connor on his own and Daniela’s. 

“You sure?” He asked as she tied her apron,

“Yeah, I’m faster.” 

“No you’re not,” he scoffed.

“Yes, I am.”

“Not. What’s the real reason?” He asked quietly, looking around to see that they were as alone as they could be in the open kitchen.

“No reason.”

“Bullshit.” 

“You want the truth?” She asked.

“I do, say more please?”

“I need to not have your voice, like, talking me through it all fucking night. Ok?” He looked a little hurt and she realized how her comment had sounded, replaying it in her mind, “fuck, I didn’t mean…” she stepped closer and dropped her voice so that only he could hear her. “It can be distracting and I don’t need that distraction with half the kitchen staff out. Ok?” She’d moved over to the expo and started setting up while he was still processing her comment. 

“Distracting?” He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Shut up. We’re not talking about this, I said what I said and that’s it,” she waved her hand as if to brush the comment away and out of the conversation, “done.”

“We’re coming back to this conversation.”

“We’ll see about that. 10 minutes to open, Chefs. We good?”

“Yes, Chef.” came the slightly reduced chorus back. 

“Excellent, let’s get it done and get out of this furnace.” They moved quickly through the tables, Syd’s constant stream of information and requests flowed through the kitchen with ease. Hands were exactly where they needed to be, nothing needed to be refired and despite the heat, the atmosphere was calm and relaxed. Despite his voice not being as much of a distraction, he still found other ways. Small touches to her back as he passed behind her, brushes of her hand when he brought her plates and every time he caught her eye she was sure she could burst into flames.

“More hands please and thank you.” She called out as Carmy brought three plates forward along with a refilled cup of iced water, “thank you, Chef.” She murmured, stealing a glance at him.

“Y’welcome, Chef.”

“Chefs, stay hydrated please, and do not sweat into my plates.” She reminded them.

“Yes, Chef.”

“Carm, you good?”

“Yes, Chef. Just trying not to be a distraction.” He smirked. 

“If only that were possible.” She retorted,

“Maybe some pointers?” She fought the grin pulling at the corner of her mouth but ignored him,

“Connor, your station done?”

“Sure is, Chef.” 

“Gorgeous, thank you.” The young chef beamed at her. 

“Ok, last table are ready for desserts and then we’re done, lizards.” Richie confirmed, Connor left his stations to cover the final desserts over on Marcus’ empty section while Syd went through the night's tickets and Carmy started clearing up. 

“So back to my being a distraction -” he started, she continued counting while he continued talking, “can we get into that, please?”

“Right now?” She carried on counting,

“I mean, later works for me?” he saw her hands falter on her count, she paused to remember where she was up to and then carried on,

“Yep, sounds good, I’ll cook.” She finished and clipped the tickets together, adding a sticky note to the top with the totals as Connor brought the final desserts over,

“Hands please, Richie,” she called out, wiping the plates. 

“No smudges.” She and Carmy both told him as he collected them. “Outside?” She asked, reaching for her nearly empty cup. “Connor, we’ll be back in 5. Take a break if you want.” She collected Carmy’s cup on the way past and refilled both of them. Outside, the heat was still fierce even in the twilight. “How is it no fucking cooler yet?”

“Better than in there.” He slumped into one of the chairs and lit a cigarette. “Good service.”

“Not bad, considering. Heat’s supposed to break tonight.” She muttered, looking up at the sky.

“Maybe it will.” He replies, looking at her.

“Maybe. I’ll go finish clean up.” She leaves him with the sun nearly fully set behind him. Connor, bless him, had nearly finished the basic clean down. Leftovers boxed up and labeled ready to go in the lowboys, surfaces cleaned and sanitized and the floors swept. It’s about all she’s willing to do tonight, if the heat breaks she’d be there early in the morning anyway to go through everything properly. She thanked Connor and sent him on his way, hearing him say goodbye to Carmy as they crossed paths in the pot wash. 

“Don’t forget your stuff.” He handed over her clothes as she took off and folded her jacket carefully. She stuffed her sun dried clothes into her bag while he shut off the lights, and she followed him out to his car. They drove in a comfortable and easy silence that didn’t call out to be filled. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d say anyway, there was too much of a sense of inevitability in the air. “How’s the new apartment?” He asked. They'd all helped her move in the week before to a tiny ("It's bijou, Richie!", "It's fuckin' tiny, Syd.") studio apartment closer to the restaurant.

“S’good, yeah. Still a bit basic, but I’ll get there.” 

“You’re dad missing you?”

“He says so, but I think he’s just happy he can watch as much Jeopardy as he wants and eat potatoes for every meal again.”

“Living the life.”

“He’s loving it. Considering I was out of the house probably 15 hours a day, I think it’s a stretch to say I cramped his style, but that's the angle he's going for.” She pointed out a parking spot which she knew wouldn't get ticketed, and he followed her up to the fourth floor. She could already feel her heart pounding in her throat, the heady combination of nerves, anticipation and wanting, but he seemed so calm. For someone usually so weighed down by the expectations of others and the stresses of the restaurant, he was effortlessly laid-back. He was approaching her within seconds of walking through the door, stepping right back into the same space he'd occupied in the office earlier in the day. He placed one hand on her jaw which she covered with her own, and one on her hip, softly stroking the bare skin there. 

"This ok?" He asked, tentative but firm. She could hear in his voice that he had no reservations about the radical change they were about to make to their friendship and fuck, the confidence was definitely something. 

"Yeah," she replied, trying to sound composed. "Yes." She repeated firmly, "yes." He guided her a step backwards and held her against the small table in her kitchen. She waited for what felt like an eternity as he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone and across her bottom lip, taking his time to really look at her. His eyes never left hers until he finally looked at her mouth. The hand on her hip moved around to her back, she still felt sticky with sweat and the temperature was only increasing with their proximity. He didn't seem to notice or care at all as he captured her lips in a kiss. She hadn't known what to do with her hands but they moved unconsciously up his biceps, tracing the line of muscle. She worked her fingers over the knots in his shoulders and tangled them in his hair. He growled against her, deepening the kiss and sliding his hand up her back under her t-shirt so he could draw her closer with a firm hand between her shoulder blades. The heat of his palm against the bare skin of her back drew a low moan from her, she broke the kiss for air so he moved to the column of her neck. He sucked at the soft skin at the hollow of her throat and licked the sheen of sweat. "God, I feel gross," she breathed a laugh. He ground his hips against hers as if wanting to show her that he didn't agree. The length of him pressed into her thigh was enough for her to buck against him. She busied her hands in pulling his damp t-shirt off and his fingers brushed the underside of her breast as he went to do the same thing, 

"May I?" He asked,

"Please, yes." She sighed, lifting her arms. He dipped his head to catch a nipple lightly between his teeth, "Oh f-fuck, Carm,” she moaned, “please don’t stop.” His kisses moved back up her neck, 

"I'm not gonna stop," he murmured, palming her breast, "not ever going to stop, baby." Her hips bucked against his again in a frantic attempt to find pressure, fiction, anything . 

"Carmy -" She whined, 

"Tell me what you want?" She groaned in frustration, coherent sentences the furthest thing from her mind - or capabilities - her hand moving to his waistband instead. He took her hands in his own, "how long have you wanted this?" She wrestled her hands back and worked on her own waistband instead, pushing her Dickies down over the curve of her ass.

"Too long," she perched on the table and pulled him closer, 

"Zero patience." He teased, 

"Fuck you." She retorted, kissing him along his collarbone, running her tongue over the new-to-her tattoos and tasting the same sticky saltiness that covered her own body. 

"Gross?"

"I don't care, we match," she laughed, reaching again for the button of his pants. She popped the button and stopped, "sure about this?"

He took his hands from her hips and cupped her face, brushing his nose against hers, "Absolutely fucking sure." She pushed his pants down over his hips and wrapped a hand around him, his jaw tightened as he jerked into her. "Fuck, Syd," He rasped. He reached behind her to where he'd thrown his bag onto the table, and dug through blindly until he'd found a condom. "You're so good for me." He kissed her softly, pushing into her slowly. The table groaned dangerously as he fucked her, his pace increasing. She pushed back against each thrust, matching his hungry pace. Their sweat-slicked bodies worked in symphony and it felt like Carmy was adapting in the moment to every catch of her breath or garbled, breathless moan. "That's it baby, I've got you." He grunted, leaving a bite mark on the soft flesh of her shoulder. The table rattled and Syd gripped his shoulders,

"Don't break my fucking table," she warned. He brought a hand down between them in reply and worked his thumb in circles on her clit. His hips snapped against hers and she could feel her legs tremble as he brought her over the edge with him, her name positively reverent on his lips. She fell limp against him with a choked sob. She let her forehead rest in the crook of his neck while he rubbed her hips where his hands had gripped her so tightly she was sure to have bruises. "That was… god, why the fuck did we wait so long?" She asked, moving to look at him. He laughed, kissing her damp forehead and tucking a couple of stray braids behind her ear. He pulled out carefully and discarded the condom. She stepped down gingerly from the table, trying to work out who had the more stable legs of the two. She swayed on the spot a little and immediately decided the table was doing better than she was. He handed her his t-shirt and she put it on despite the heat. "Now I definitely feel disgusting."

"You shower, I'll cook." He told her, opening the fridge, "uhh filled pasta and tomato sauce? Wait, is this Mikey's?" He opened the plastic container and sniffed the contents. 

"Yeah. I was fucking around with a roasted tomato and basil filling for the pasta using his recipe but it's not there yet so this was the leftover sauce I had." 

"You made it here, at home, just because you wanted to?" She took the container from him and put it next to the stovetop so that she could loop her arms around his waist. 

"Yeah, it's the first thing I made when I moved in." She kissed him lightly, "so I'm going to shower because I currently feel more sweat than human, then you can do the same? We can skip the tour - bed's over there." She nodded in the direction of her bed which took up most of the space in the small room. He stopped her from leaving with a searing kiss that left her leaning into him once again. "Hmm, I'll be back," she murmured, gathering the clothes they hadn't put back on and throwing them into her laundry basket. The cool shower felt like bliss after the heat and grime of the day, followed by the sweaty sex. Stomach rumbling, she hurried to switch with Carmy and plated the food while he showered. 

"You didn't give me a real answer before, when I asked how long?" He said once they were sat on her sofa with her bare legs in his lap, 

"I was busy," she grinned. "Honestly? Maybe straight away but everything was too chaotic to know for sure? And then that day I came back and there was tomato juice on the walls and the floors and just fucking… everywhere and you didn't care, you just looked at me. That's when I knew I was totally screwed." She stopped to inhale more of the rich pasta, "you?" 

"The day I met you."

 

The heatwave broke overnight with rain and thunderstorms, but all Syd cared about was the delicious warmth of Carmy between her legs. 

 

FIN

[foundtherightwords]

As the Sun Will Rise - Chapter 11

Pairing: Grunauer (Overlord) x OFC, Beauty & the Beast retelling

Summary: After losing most of his unit in a disastrous D-Day mission, Derwin Grunauer returns to his hometown near Miami, body riddled with scars and heart heavy with guilt, only to find his neighbors shunning him due to his German name. He retreats into his family mansion and remains there, unwilling to rejoin the living, until the day Alba Reyes turns up at his door with a basket full of warm bread. As the daughter of a Cuban immigrant, Alba knows something of being an outsider, and when she offers to work for Derwin as his housekeeper, it is not only to pay off her father's debt to the Grunauers, but also because she feels some connection to the reclusive young man. When that connection develops into something more, they must overcome both the town's prejudice and their own doubts to find happiness.

Chapter warnings: racism

Chapter word count: 3.6k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10

Chapter 11

And try again they did. In the next several weeks, Derwin and Alba went on more outings, not just in Cypress Grove but further into the city as well, sometimes even venturing as far as downtown Miami. They went shopping for groceries and books and records, picked up packages from the post office, and ran other errands. Derwin managed to have whole conversations with clerks and cashiers without falling into a panic. He found it much easier to talk to people when they didn't know who he was, didn't turn cold or hostile when they heard his name.

The only time he felt awkward was when he and Alba were mistaken for a couple. It happened more than once, particularly when they went shopping for furnishings. Alba decided that the upholstery around the house was too faded and frayed, so she convinced Derwin to accompany her to several furniture stores and fabric shops to select the replacements. "After all, it is your house," she said.

The clerks at these stores, however, only saw a pair of newlyweds.

"How nice of you to come along with your missus," a saleswoman at a fabric store cooed at Derwin. "You must tell me your secret, dear," she went on, addressing Alba. "My husband can hardly tell a pillowcase from a throw rug, let alone shop for them with me!"

Both Derwin and Alba blushed to the roots of their hair and tried to explain themselves, stumbling over each other's words, "Oh no—we're not—she's not—he's just—" But the saleswoman had bustled off to find a book of fabric samples for them. They glanced at each other with helpless, embarrassed grins.

Occasionally these excursions would run late, and they would stop for a soda at a drugstore or a bite at a diner. Derwin was aware that anyone seeing them would think they were on a date, but Alba didn't seem to mind. She insisted on paying for herself and never acted any differently than when they had lunch at home, and Derwin tried to tear down his castle in the air. Of course she didn't think of him that way. He was her employer, nothing more.  

On a particularly hot day in late October, the sun seemingly working overtime to make up for an unusually wet season, Alba took Derwin to the VA hospital downtown for his monthly check-up. As they were leaving, Derwin's eyes caught the billboard outside a movie theater across the street, advertising big screens, comfy seats, and air conditioning. The thought of driving for forty minutes in the old tin bucket under that scorching sun became a lot less appealing, and he eyed the billboard longingly.

"What do you say?" he asked Alba, pointing at the theater. "We can kill a couple of hours in comfort and drive home later in the afternoon, when it's cooler."

"Sure!" Alba said eagerly. "I haven't been to the movies in ages."

They picked some costume romance called Forever Amber, simply because of the long runtime. Derwin bought popcorn and candy for them both, feeling proud that he had done it without any prompting or encouragement from Alba.

The movie was quite long, and at some point, Derwin completely lost the plot. It was just a bunch of people with big hair, big hats, and bigger lace collars—both men and women—talking and swooning dramatically at each other, and he had no idea what they had to swoon about. But he didn't care. In the cool, darkened theater, with its flickering screen and the smell of popcorn in the air, he could forget himself and his troubles.

And then another scent, sweeter and more familiar, replaced the smell of popcorn, and Derwin felt a slight pressure on his side. He glanced to his left and saw that Alba had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder. Poor thing. She must be so tired, waking up early to work in the bakery before coming to the house and working there all day. He sat still, not daring to move, listening to her quiet, steady breathing, wondering if she was dreaming and what she was dreaming of. On the screen, Linda Darnell was shrieking at Cornel Wilde, and Derwin almost shouted at her to be quiet, to let Alba sleep.

A curl had fallen over Alba's forehead. It tormented Derwin—he wanted to brush it away but was afraid of waking her. He looked and looked at it, and, unable to take it any longer, he reached out his right hand. Before his fingers touched her hair, Alba stirred and opened her eyes. Derwin quickly withdrew his hand like a pickpocket caught in the act, as Alba sat up straight and covered a yawn.

"You're right, this is a comfy theater," she said, blinking up at the screen. "Which husband is she on now?"

"Number three, I think."

"Won't be long before the end then. She can't have more husbands than Scarlett."

Derwin wondered if Scarlett was some infamous woman in Cypress Grove, but an old biddy was glaring at them across the aisle, so he kept quiet.

Later, as they emerged onto the pavement still warm with the day's heat, glowing orange under the setting sun, he said, apologetically, "I'm sorry the movie is so boring."

"Oh stop it, you're not the director." Alba grinned to show that she didn't mind. "But yeah, Amber is so annoying. What a Scarlett O'Hara rip-off!"

This time he had to ask. "Who?"

She stared at him. "You've never seen Gone with the Wind?"

He shook his head sheepishly. And then, just so she wouldn't think he had been living under a rock—though sometimes it did feel that way—he added, "I've heard of it though."

"OK, as soon as I find a place that still shows it, we have to see it," Alba said. "Now that's an epic romance. There's a drive-through theater near Cypress Grove that showed it all the time, back in '42. From the roof of the bakery, the screen is just about visible, and Beatriz and I climbed up there most nights, after Papi had gone to sleep..." Her eyes turned hazy with remembrance for a moment, before she snapped them back to the road. "Anyway, if we can't find Gone with the Wind, then we'll go see a Hitchcock movie next time. At least he's never boring."

They got into the car. Alba started the engine, and continued, "But even if the movie's a dud, I did have a nice nap and I can't remember the last time I ate so much Whoppers and popcorn, so thank you for that." She reached across the seat to pat Derwin's hand.

He longed to take that hand and bring it to his lips, but she had pulled back, and he squeezed his own hands in his lap. She'd said next time. There would be a next time. And his castle in the air, which he had tried so hard to tear down, started building itself back up again, stone by stone.

***

Alba glanced at Derwin across the aisle. They were at a used bookstore downtown, having driven all the way here to track down a specific copy of some German poetry collection. Derwin's translation of the Robert Frost poem had been enthusiastically received by his professor, and they were now collaborating on a bigger project to translate German poems into English and vice versa. Derwin wanted this collection for reference, but none of the local libraries carried it.

Alba had never seen him so excited. The translation project had rekindled something in him, and as he pored over his books, his whole face glowed with a passion that was entirely different from his usual scowling intensity. She imagined that before, Derwin read poetry to forget himself, but now he read to find himself again. Even his movements had changed. He still had to depend on the cane, but he walked around the house with brisker, more decisive steps, his back straight, instead of stooping and limping from shadow to shadow. And he was a lot more confident as well. After the incident at Olson's, she took care not to leave his side again whenever they went out, but he no longer needed her to hold his hand through a conversation. Well, not literally hold his hand, though she would've gladly done that.

It was amazing how a sense of purpose could transform a man. In fact, he had changed so much that Alba was sure he was ready for the next step. Claudia and her husband Marty were planning a trip to the beach, the last one before the winter season began and tourists descended on Miami, and they had invited Alba and Beatriz and Frank, along. With Claudia's permission, Alba had extended an invitation to Derwin as well, but to her disappointment, he'd turned her down. She wished she could persuade him to change his mind—it would do him a lot of good to form some real connections—but she didn't know how. After what happened with Mrs. McLeish, Alba didn't blame Derwin for wanting to steer clear of Cypress Grove and its people. She'd even asked Frank to fix the roof, afraid that a new person would cause a repeat of the scene at Olson's and jeopardize Derwin's precarious progress.

Still, she was proud of how much he'd changed and grown, strange as it was to feel proud of someone on whom she had no claim. As she watched Derwin between the dusty shelves full of books, Alba wondered, not for the first time, how best to describe who they were to each other. Technically, he was her employer, but he never treated her as such. If anything, she was the one that bossed him around. So what were they? Friends? She could be happy with that, except... except sometimes she would catch a glimpse of him like this, bent over a book, brow furrowed in concentration, while the sun shone through the shop's front window and brought out the gold in his hair, and a curl fell across his forehead, making her fingers itch to reach out and brush it away, and then she would realize that perhaps she wanted more.

But could there be more between them? And did Derwin feel the same? He was certainly very kind to her, but she couldn't tell if it was because he did have feelings for her but was too shy to let her know, or because he was simply being nice, or worse, because he needed her help.

As if he could feel her eyes on him, Derwin looked up and gave her one of his lopsided grins that made her stomach do a backflip. "Find anything interesting?" he asked.

"Just this." She held up a slightly moth-eaten copy of On the Origins of Species. Ever since Derwin brought up college, Alba had been trying to polish up on her science and biology, and was reading any biology book she could get her hands on. "You're ready to go?"

"I think I'll be a little longer," he said, scanning the shelf in front of him. "They have a really impressive selection of poetry. Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Take all the time you need."

Alba paid for her book and sat down on a bench by the door, intending to read while she waited for Derwin. However, her idle glance landed on something in the shop window opposite that chased all serious thoughts of biology and evolution from her mind. After a quick shout to let Derwin know where she was going, she nipped across the street for a closer look.

It was a dress. Not just any dress though. Made of yellow crepe so bright that it looked like it was woven from sunlight itself, it was a floor-length evening gown, with long sleeves slightly puffed at the shoulder, a gathered waist, and—her favorite part—a row of covered buttons that ran from the deep V of the neckline to the daring slit in the skirt just below the waist, showing an underskirt of gold organza underneath. Displayed next to it was a beaded handbag and a pair of gold dancing shoes to complete the look. It was the most glamorous thing she'd ever seen.

She was gazing at it like a kid outside a toy store on Christmas, when Derwin came up behind her. "Thinking of buying it?" he asked. 

Alba turned around with a sheepish smile. "No, only admiring."

"Why not? It looks pretty."

"Exactly. It looks pretty. But where on Earth would I wear it? There's no point." She sighed and turned back to look at the gown wistfully.

Behind her, Derwin was looking too, though at her or the dress, she couldn't tell. "Haven't you ever bought something impractical?" he asked. "Just to own something pretty, just so you can look at it?"

Alba shook her head. As a kid back in Cuba, she'd had a closet full of pretty dresses, with lace trims and velvet bows and satin sashes. The prettiest of them all was the one Mami had made for her First Communion, a tiered and ruffled confection of the smoothest, shiniest white satin. Most of those dresses had been left behind when they moved to America. She'd soon outgrown the ones they had managed to take with them, so those had been handed down to Beatriz, and Alba had gotten used to wearing Raf's old shirts and shorts. She wore dresses now occasionally, but they were practical cotton ones with big pockets and knee-length skirts that allowed her to move around easily. There was no place in her wardrobe—or her life, for that matter—for this dress. Yet she couldn't stop looking at it.

"I think you should buy it," Derwin continued. "It really suits you."

Alba looked at the little price tag tastefully hidden by the sleeve. It wasn't as expensive as she thought, but even then, the whole ensemble would cost her two weeks' worth of paychecks. "I can't afford it," she said flatly and started to walk away. To her surprise, Derwin grabbed her arm and held her back.

"May I buy it for you then?" he said. "Consider it an early Christmas bonus."

She stared at him, wondering why he was so dead-set on her owning the dress. To be fair, it was gorgeous, and she would be happy to have it just hung in her closet so she could look at it from time to time. But for some reason, she felt uneasy with the idea of Derwin buying her a dress. It was a familiar, intimate gesture, and it would only confuse her already confused feelings about him.

"No, thanks," she said. "If I wanted to, I would get it myself. But it'd just mold in my closet anyway," she added, not without some regret. To her relief, Derwin didn't push it.

On the way home, they stopped at a diner for some late lunch. While they were perusing the menu, Alba tried bringing up the beach trip again. "It's just the five of us and the baby," she said. "And Marty has found this really secluded place, so there won't be anybody around. We can bring Otto too. Has he ever been to the beach?"

"Listen, I appreciate it," Derwin said reluctantly, "but I don't think I can just yet. Sorry."

Alba tried not to show her disappointment. "It's OK," she said, reaching across the table. "You don't have to apologize."

The waitress came bustling up to their table, causing Alba to quickly withdraw her hand. "Hi!" the waitress said brightly. "Y'all ready to order?"

"Um, yes," Alba said, cursing inwardly. "I'll have the chili and a side of cornbread, please. Derwin?"

Before Derwin could give his order, the door of the diner opened again. A black couple, probably in their thirties, elegantly dressed, walked through. The waitress looked up. Her face went pale underneath all the freckles. "Excuse me for a minute," she said and ran toward the back.

A moment later, the manager, a bully of a man, came out and went stomping to the black couple. He towered over them.

"You can't come in here," he said to the couple, his voice low, almost like a growl.

"We're not looking to sit down," explained the husband.

"We're just going to order and go," the wife chimed in. From their clothes and their manner, it was clear they were out-of-towners, probably from up north.

"It doesn't matter," the manager said. "You can't come in."

"But—there's no sign," the wife protested.

"There's no need for a sign this side of town, is there?" the manager snapped. Then he swallowed and apparently tried to compose himself. "I can see that you're not from around here, so I'm going to let this slide. You people will be happier in Overtown or Lemon City." The way he said you people made the phrase sound like a horrible slur. "Go, before you disturb our customers."

The wife cast a glance around the diner, seemingly on the verge of tears. Alba didn't know where to look. She kept her head bent over her menu, like a kid trying to avoid getting called up in class, while a flush crept over her face, burning her, stinging her insides with shame. After staring at the manager for a moment or two, the husband took the wife's hand and walked out again, their chins raised, their backs straight. The door slammed shut behind them.

"Sorry about that," the waitress said, clearing her throat. "May I take your order?"

Alba looked at Derwin and was astonished at the change on his face. He was still looking at the receding figures of the black couple, his face pale, his jaws clenched, his fingers clutching at the menu as if wanting to crush it.

"I'm sorry, I've lost my appetite," he said abruptly, getting to his feet. "We're going." He took his cane from under the table and limped to the door as fast as he could, so Alba had to scramble to follow him, leaving the waitress to stare after them in bewilderment.

She caught up with him at the car. "What's wrong?" she asked. "You OK?"

"I'm fine. Can we just go home?"

She started the car without another word. When they were about halfway home, Derwin spoke up, "I'm sorry for making you skip lunch."

"We can have sandwiches at home." She glanced at him. "Want to tell me what happened?"

It took a while for him to answer. "I just realized how lucky I am," he said slowly. "When people turn their back on me, I can leave. I can go somewhere else, where they don't know my name. Hell, if worse comes to worst, I could even move to a new city and change my name. But there are people out there being treated horribly because of the skin they were born with. Something they cannot change. They have to live with it every day. Where's the justice in that?" His eyes were bleak as he looked out the window. "I thought we went to war to change the world for the better, but then I came home and nothing's changed at all. So what did we kill ourselves for? What was the point?"

"So people will know that things need to change. So people will keep fighting and changing things for the better." Raf had told her something similar before he left for the Pacific. She'd asked why he would fight for a country that never quite accepted them, and he'd said "So others will have a better chance of being accepted." Now she continued, "Because they will change, you see. They are changing. Little by little, and slowly, but it is happening."

He turned and stared at her for a long time. She could only see him out of the corner of her eye, but she could feel the warmth of his gaze on her. Then he reached out and took her free hand in his. He'd never done it before; usually, it was her that reached out to him.

"See, this is why I said that dress would suit you," he said. "Not in a sartorial sense, but in a personal sense."

"What do you mean?"

"That dress is like the sun. And so are you."

Something in his voice made her breath hitch. She turned to him, but before she could think of anything to say, a car swerved in front of them, and she had to wrench her hand out of his to grip the steering wheel.

They were silent for the rest of the way. As Alba pulled into the drive, Derwin suddenly said, "I'd love to go to the beach with you and your friends."

Her heart leaped. "Oh, I'm so glad!" she said, then added, "If I'm pushing you too much—"

"No, you're not. I just decided I needed the change as well." With those enigmatic words, he went into the house with his purchase from the bookstore under his arm. "Besides, I think it would do Otto good to get out of the house once in a while," he added, stopping to pet an ecstatic Otto, who always greeted them after every trip as though they had been away not for a mere few hours, but for months and years. "He's getting a little stir-crazy."

Chapter 12

A/N: I have a lot of opinions about "Forever Amber", can't you tell? :))

Also, this is the dress I have in mind for Alba - it's from "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society", and when I saw it, I just thought it would make the perfect late 1940s version of Belle's yellow dress.

Taglist: @kitkat80

[bentosandbox]

Ambience Synesthesia tutorial blog

rambled this out because I didn't have inflight wifi otw home and the turbulence was too crazy to draw

Buying the ticket

erm so they only dropped the tickets like slightly less than a month before lol kinda insane

The concert tickets were sold on Damai so you need a CN number or know/pay someone with one who'd buy it for you which is what I did by recommendation (A tier 1280 + 400 'service fee' [apparently it would have been cheaper if they only helped you half way or something but i wasnt gonna risk running into a payment hiccup so]) Iirc they sold it in two batches but I don't remember the ratio split between first and second wave…

I got a ticket for 5/5's afternoon show (so the second last performance), I DID meet an oomf who said they managed to snag a ticket for themselves on their own (without a Professional Ticket Snatcher) so its not too impossible to attain on your own I think??? (I didn't get a CN number until like 2 days before I flew back home soo)

Professional Ticket what?? Uhhh apparently there's a whole industry/scene for this you look for listings on xianyu/taobao etc for people to buy on your behalf, you have to give them your real name and identification number (so for foreigners it'd be your passport number) for verification purposes during entry so yknow yea

getting there

You could cab directly to the venue but my friend signed us up for the free shuttle bus (they had freebies last year but not this time) and before we boarded they gave us like free water and bread (apparently free raincoats too on rainy days) which was nice of them but also insane because. the venue doesn't allow you to bring food/drinks in so a lot of people were leaving A LOT of unopened bottles near the gate and I saw a venue staff just throwing them all into the bin (HOPEFULLY JUST TO CARRY THEM AWAY IN ONE GO AND NOT FOR STRAIGHT DISPOSAL….) They drop you off near the venue but you don't go in directly, there's a 'Doctor break room' where most people are seated waiting to be ushered in batches into the venue, but also a lot of people standing around on one side of the room swapping/offering merch

merch swap

ive been told this is a very concert culture thing but i feel like its kind of different because a lot of these are so high quality ike…you could sell them at Artist Alleys but here they are just distributing for free if you have a E2 60 blorbo lmao or whatever (there seems to be a tiny…? minority that prints official art but most of them seem to be handdrawn/made)

i was too unprepared for this lol i did exchange some of my old stickers (missed out on a collapsal plastic fan bc my brain lagged when the guy asked me and i went to my auto 'sorry i dont have any merch' response' :( regretted this bc the room got a little hot from the amount of people in there and i was wearing like 3 layers with that fan on my mind)

from people watching a lot of trades are arranged beforehand on weibo/other sites unless you're willing to yell WHO WANTS TO TRADEEE/anyone wants freebies (a lot of people were also wearing 'Feel Free to Swap Merch/Ask for Freebies' tags) which i was definitely not brave enough to do lol… met up with an oomf i got to know from last dec when i attended an arknights only and they gave me some birbs and charms (bottom of post), there was someone who got a free LGD zine and charm from me bc i posted on wb that id give a free copy to anyone with a Mod 3 swire/swummer LMFAO

I had 2 more people to meet but, uhhh so I bought an esim for mobile data and it would intermittently lose signal here and there which was a little annoying when getting coffee but it just died entirely when i reached the venue and it was kind of Dire because i was waiting for one more friend who was coming over from the fes and i couldn't contact them lmao. told the friend i came with to go in first because I thought if my food got confiscated at least my oomf could see it beforehand LOL

waited outside in a light drizzle for an hour trying to trouble shoot my data to no avail and ended up borrowing a staff's wifi hotspot to get my entry qr code (I actually bought a second data roaming plan on my local sim but i quite stupidly did not check the country coverage and only learned later that night that 'Asia' doesn't cover China kuxiao) she was so nice i was (bow emoji) so sorry to trouble you im a stupid gaijin and she was like no its ok enjoy shanghai!! pien

spent a good 30min next to this board praying for data to no avail

the show

erm anyway because of that clownery above i more or less missed the first piece (the one w the goated hoho) but at least i wasnt the guy next to me who went for a bathroom break right before starset came up

The live singing this year was definitely an improvement I think… I can't really remember the setlist off the top of my head but I'm sure someone else has already listed it out, there were a couple of new pieces that weren't related to the concert groups like a Babel/Kazdel?? one sung in Latin, a Victoria…? one (in victorian ofc) also an Amiya (? just remembering by the visuals they used lol) one in Japanese

ohh yeah so almost every track would start with like a faction logo transitioning in from 3d to 2d which was cool but also amusing because it was honestly bringing quite the 'I will Make Your Company Logo Into 3D Fiverr' vibes

Since I missed the first piece idk if any of The Dreamer(s) got 3D models but The Pilgrim(s why are they all singular) had Kaltsit playing on that piano (there was also a replica of that piano on stage the white one complete with 'Arknights' text on it lmao) and Siege being cool running around in 3D (and ofc Eureka during her denpa number) it was very cool but man... its a pity the other characters in the group just get their live2d png during the beginning and effectively get sidelined lool compared to say Phenomenal Agents idk if i like this tradeoff but that eureka bit was so good sheesh #NOVAFIVE⭐ULTRALIVESWEEP

The other stuff was really great too looking at you Lone Trail medley…!!!!! I might be wrong but I... assume... you're encouraged to karaoke bc they always show the lyrics on screen… I couldn't even hear myself anyway but it was very fun singing songs you can't get on joysound/etc with a whole crowd going at it too (even if most of them would only sing 1-2 lines of the chorus)

Mary Clare did Radiant (they had the lyrics scrolling on the sides very cool) and iirc the Throne group's song...? Radiant was so fun live

Starset did Monster > Telescope and when the latter ended they were like Bye! and we(?) started yelling ENCORE--awkwardly because idk how they do it here (I was half expecting it to be JP style 'an-call-roo' but a bunch of us just yelled en-core en-core here and there until they returned to perform Infected) speaking of yelling.. between every piece when they had to switch sets people would just yell memes or skill names (like Dage's) to pass the time or sth i barely caught half of whatever they were memeing about

did i forget to mention anything else uhhh originium rock turntable for Guide Ahead's boss theme/Dossoles Lobby and they had IS4 medley live throat singing very cool also the dancers they got for silbenherze's boss theme good stuff...

iirc after starset was like a behind the scenes video of how HG prepared for AS and a recorded lowlight video saying some stuff that i forgot LOL just some thank you message basically. 9.5/10 bc no missy/shu EP live

i just realised i forgot to display all the merch from the A tier ticket but w/e. light stick photo ft. merch swaps/gifts from friends and strangers 🥹 (the iffy lenticular card was literally dropped into my bag by an iffy coser (wearing the LT outfit..?!) while waiting for the cab LMAO)

[irkimatsu]

Sweet sweet angsty smut~

This is my third in a series of pieces about Husk being chained up and muzzled by Alastor as a punishment for... something. I've been vague about it, if we're being honest.

Part 1

Part 2

This piece is full on smut, with fem!Reader having sex with Husk while he's chained. Lots of angst; references to abuse, self-harm, substance abuse and withdrawal, all sorts of nasty stuff. But at least you get to comfort Husk through it in any way you can...

---

It’s been several weeks, and neither Husk nor Alastor are budging on their positions in whatever disagreement they’ve gotten into. Until someone gives in, Husk will remain here, leashed to his bed and muzzled, while you do all you can to make his isolation a little more comfortable.

Even with your best efforts, however, Husk’s deterioration has been steady. It’s hard for him to consume anything with the muzzle on, for one thing. You bring him food scraps and alcohol whenever you can, but it’s so hard for him to eat and drink with his mouth blocked like this, and in his weakened state he can only try for so long before his body gives up on the effort. At least he can splash some sink water into his mouth when you’re not there; Alastor gave his leash enough slack to let him use the bathroom, though that likely had less to do with compassion for Husk and more to do with not giving Niffty a disgusting mess to clean up. It’s difficult for him to do, but it’s one thing that saves him from feeling completely helpless. The alcohol and nicotine withdrawal hasn’t been easy on him, either; he’s still regularly self-harming to distract himself, clawing open new wounds over old scabs before they have a chance to heal. His fur is sparse and comes out in tufts when you touch it too much, and his wings and tail are only lined with a thin red fuzz rather than the handsome plumage you’d gotten used to on him. He’s never been a healthy weight due to him regularly replacing meals with alcohol, but he’s wasted away so much that you’re beginning to see the outlines of bones beneath his bare skin.

If he wasn’t already dead, you’d be terrified for his life.

Why is he being so stubborn about this? You’ve never seen him defying Alastor this intensely before. Sure, you’ve seen him talking back enough to receive a condescending scold; you’ve even caught Alastor striking him a few times when neither realized you could see, followed shortly by Husk going off to complete something particularly dangerous or demeaning. Husk had even told you about previous times when he’d been muzzled until the substance withdrawal had him begging his owner for mercy, willing to degrade himself however it took to receive just one bottle of precious, life-granting booze. But from what he’d said before, it usually took him days to break, not weeks.

He’s still not telling you what task he’s so desperate to avoid. “It’s better if you stay out of it,” he always says. It’s been a few days since you’ve asked about it, at his request; it was one of the only times he snapped at you while in this predicament.

“Fucking hell, I told you I don’t wanna talk about it! I spend enough fucking time thinking about it when I’m alone in here! Can’t you let me forget for a minute?!”

Despite your deep concern, you’ll grant his request; it’s part of the least you can do for him.

Neither of you have said a word since you arrived for that day’s visit. You brought him lunch, a bread roll and a miniature bottle of whiskey, and laid his head in your lap so you could feed him. He was able to finish the whiskey, and he weakly chewed some of the pieces of bread you broke off for him, but more than half of the roll sits on his bedside table for now as you gently stroke him between his ears, moving gently as to not dislodge what little fur he has left. His eyes are closed, and his breaths are heavy.

You know you need to stay strong for him, you can’t give him yet another thing to worry about, but it takes so much for you to not start sobbing at the sight of him like this.

“Hey… babe?” he asks, his eyes slowly creaking open, his voice hoarse from how little he’s been using it recently. “Could you do something for me…?” “Anything,” you promise as you continue petting him.

You can barely see his mouth behind his muzzle, but his slight smile is visible in his eyes. “I miss… making love with you.”

“Oh… oh, Husk…” That was the last request you expected when you offered him anything. “I miss it, too, but… not while you’re like this…”

“What? Am I not handsome enough for you anymore?” His eyes glimmer playfully as he speaks, somehow.

“You know it’s not that!” you insist. “I just don’t wanna overexert you. You’re having enough trouble eating.”

“Can’t I at least see you?” he asks. “It’s been way too long…”

Surely there’s no harm in that much? Besides, you do miss his skin against yours… “Of course.” You help him sit up and get settled across from you. He leans back on his hands, drooped ears and lidded eyes making him appear as if he’ll collapse any second, but his eyes stay glued to you for as long as you can.

You’re not exactly in the mood to give him a sexy display. You take off your clothes simply, as if you were only preparing to change them. Despite this, he’s still entranced, his breath growing more rapid as you expose more skin.

“Baby…” he breathes out as you throw your underwear aside and spread your legs, showing him the treasure he hasn’t seen for so long. “Can… can I…”

You nod without letting him finish, willing to accept any affection he can handle giving. He weakly leans forward until he flops down to the bed, his face settled perfectly between your legs.

“Fuck…” he whispers, before taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment. “I’m so thirsty, baby…” You can’t help but gasp as his cold nose rubs up your lips and settles against your clit. His nose may be cold against your skin, but it’s always so comforting, something living; it’s so different from the metal that’s now pressing between your legs, separating his mouth from what he so badly wants.

“I wish we could,” you tell him as you stroke between his ears again, warm breath exhaling from his nose and making you so needy. Normally you’d grab his fur and pull his face in closer, holding him in place while you grind yourself to an overstimulated mess against his hot, rough tongue… but you manage to catch yourself before you accidentally tear out even more of the weak fur that he can’t afford to lose.

An idea suddenly strikes you. “Back up a little?” you ask. Once he finally manages to peel himself off of you, you reach between your legs and sink a single finger into your opening. You gasp and buck at the sensation, teasing yourself as Husk enjoys the show. After you’ve sufficiently excited yourself, you pull your finger out, your slick now coating it, a string still connecting your fingertip to your entrance.

“Come here,” you say, holding your finger out to him. He catches on quickly. He moves closer to your hand and turns his head, allowing you to slip your finger through the side of the muzzle and into his mouth. He moans as he sucks your finger as best as he can from this angle, his tail waving as his teeth graze your skin. He doesn’t pull back until every drop of your cum on your finger has been replaced with his saliva.

“Delicious…” he moans, already drunker on you than he ever is on whiskey, as his tongue pokes out of the side of his mouth in a desperate search for more. Once he finally has to admit that there’s nothing more to be had, he climbs into your lap and buries his face in the side of your neck. His arms hold you tight and his knees squeeze your hips as he presses his muzzle into your skin; he’d be kissing you, at the very least, if there was any way for him to.. “Baby… want you bad, baby…” His words are slow and slurred, tinged with the emotions of a man who could start crying at any minute if he wasn’t so sick of it already. Yet, none of this is enough to drown out the pure need his voice always holds for you in moments like this.

“I want you too, Husk,” you say. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he responds as he weakly pushes against your body. He’s in no state to pin and ravish you like he has so many times before; it’s up to you to hold him and pull him down with you as you lay back. He spends a few more moments nuzzling against your neck, so desperate to kiss you, before slowly pushing himself up with his paws and staring down at you.

He whispers your name so sweetly as his body sways.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m… fine…” he says, still swaying. “I can…” He stops speaking to take a deep breath. “Please, just let me…”

“Don’t push yourself,” you urge him as you cup his cheeks, fingers threaded through the patchy fur.

“But I need this… please…”

“If you lay down, I’ll take care of you, okay?”

He nods slowly, and allows you to grab his hips and roll him over onto his back. Once he’s flat against the mattress, he spreads his nearly-bare wings out as he settles in, and looks up at you with eyes so tired, but so hungry. He’s still breathing heavily, as if just that much has him winded, but at least now you’re not worried about him falling and injuring himself further.

Looking at his body like this only emphasizes in your mind how much he does not need to injure himself further. He’s fully naked just like he has been on all of your previous visits, leaving no gash hidden from your worried eyes. Your eyes jump from gash to gash, allowing so much worry to build that you barely react when your eyes reach between his legs. You haven’t even been considering that sort of intimacy ever since this started, and this moment can’t get you to start thinking about it yet.

“Husk…” you whisper, trying your damnedest to stop any of your tears from dripping out onto his skin. You lower your face to his chest to kiss a particularly grisly wound; he groans in response. “Am I hurting you…?”

“No,” he says simply as he wraps his arms around you. “Keep going...”

You keep kissing him, showing every injury as much tenderness as your lips can give. The taste of his blood stings your tongue, reminding you further of the hell he’s been through, but you don’t let it stop you from showing the affection you have so many times before. As you kiss him, you trail your fingers over his concave stomach, lightly brushing his skin until your fingertips find his cock. Despite everything, he’s still able to stand at full attention, and he twitches the instant you touch him. You wrap your hand around him and gently squeeze, and he moans softly as his head tilts back, his hips so slightly jerking into your hand a couple times before giving up and lying still.

“Please,” he begs with a struggling exhale. “Please…”

Still stroking him, you move back up his body to press a series of kisses against his muzzle, continuing on no matter how much the cold steel tries to remind you how meaningless the gesture is. “Are you ready?” you ask.

“Please…” he repeats. “Please make love to me…”

You take your hand off his cock and brace yourself by placing both hands on either side of his head. “Anything for you, Husk…” You press one final kiss against his muzzle, letting it linger as you lower yourself onto his cock. You both share a moan, as close to each others’ mouths as you can both get, as you slowly sheath him inside you.

“God…” he murmurs as his claws lightly flex against your back. “I’ve missed you so fucking much…”

You slide up and down his cock, moving slowly and gently, trying so hard to not hurt him in his fragile state. His chain clatters against his headboard with every thrust, but you manage to block out the sound by focusing more on his breaths and moans. So many times before he’s had your brain screaming for you to take him fast and deep, to ride him rough like the wild animal he is… but that part of your mind is dead silent now.

He’s said it before. He’s not an animal, no matter what he looks like now or how Alastor treats him. And you’re determined to reassure him of that by letting him indulge in emotions and desires that are so deeply human.

You lay your body over him and gently curl your hands around the backs of his ears. “Is this okay?” you ask him.

He nods with a small grunt.

“Tell me if it hurts,” you say. “I don’t want to push you too far.”

Another grunt is all you get out of him before you resume moving, your chests sliding together as you rock back and forth. You wonder if this is bothering his wounds, but he’s not saying anything or making any noises to indicate anything like that. As you ride him, you kiss his forehead and cheeks, letting what’s still exposed of his face feel how much you adore him. He grips your hips and starts thrusting up to meet you, but after a few movements, he groans in pain and lets his waist collapse back onto the bed.

“...sorry…” he murmurs.

“You’re okay,” you assure him with another kiss to his forehead. They’re the last words you say for a while; all your focus now is on how you’re moving, making sure this is everything he needs it to be. Tonight, your pleasure is secondary. Both of you remain mostly quiet throughout the act. Not only is this not something that inspires the sorts of screams and filthy talk you love so much with him, but you absolutely cannot let Alastor hear an instant of this. You don’t even want to imagine what he’d do if he knew Husk wasn’t suffering his punishment, if only for a brief moment.

He still feels as amazing as ever inside you, his barbs greedily pulling at your tender walls with every upward thrust of your hips. And yet, you can’t focus on it as you usually do. His girth stretching you out, his throbs when you move at just the right angle, his tip finding your sweet spot and purposefully hammering it until you can no longer see or speak… none of it matters right now. All that matters are his eyes on you, brimming with gratitude and love.

You kiss away a tear before it can roll too far down his cheek.

“I’m getting close…” he whispers, his eyes not leaving you. In most circumstances, your current speed wouldn’t be enough. Hell, you’ve gone this slow to purposely tease him before, edging him on until he finally rolls you over and takes what he craves.

Given the circumstances, though, you can understand why it doesn’t take much this time.

“Go on,” you say, encouraging him with a small smile. “I know you need this.”

He smiles back before a shudder rolls through his body, sending his head rolling back again with another quiet moan. He pulls your hips down flush with his and holds you in place as he grinds up into you.

“Oh god-” He moans your name in between his pleas to the being that abandoned him so much. Soon it’s only your name that he’s saying, each repetition coming out with more urgent need.

You kiss his muzzle one last time, and his heavy breaths brush past your cheeks as he climaxes inside you. You don’t stop kissing him until you’re sure he’s done, determined to see the gesture through no matter how futile it is. He finishes and softens inside you, but doesn’t pull out right away as he struggles to catch his breath.

You’ll let him stay inside you as long as he wants. He deserves it.

“Lay next to me?” he finally asks. You sit up, hoping that your weight over him hasn’t caused him any further distress, and lift your waist off of him. He rolls over on his side, shifting his wings to a more comfortable position as he moves, and once he’s done moving, you settle into his arms. He nuzzles the top of his head under your chin and purrs weakly as he hugs you close. “Thank you…” he murmurs through his purrs.

It abruptly occurs to you that this is by far the longest time you’ve spent in his room over these past few weeks. “Husk? I’ve been in here for a while… should I le-”

“No,” he snaps as he squeezes you more tightly. “Don’t you dare leave…”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble with-”

“Get me in trouble. I don’t fucking care anymore.” His tail lashes as he speaks, not even weakness preventing his feline body from expressing its anger. “He can do whatever the fuck he wants. I’m still not letting you go.” His tail finally calms down as he settles against your body. “I don’t care if he kills me… as long as you’re with me… I won’t let him touch you, I’ll take the blame, I promise…”

No matter how afraid you are for him, you just can’t say no to his pleas. His first act of intimacy with you in weeks, and you were about to leave him in the lurch immediately after? What kind of monster would you be in that case? You already knew that he hates being left alone immediately after sex under the best of circumstances. Leaving him in a state like this could very well kill him via heartbreak.

Instead, you settle yourself into his embrace. His wing may not be able to keep you as warm as it usually does as he drapes it over your body, but you still feel so safe in its embrace.

You’ll do anything to make him feel just as safe.

“I love you,” you whisper, as you try your hardest not to think of this as the last time you ever get to hold him.

[imfeelingbad]

(As a ukrainian) I lost all hope in humanity forever ago and I'm pretty sure I won't change someone's opinion, but I just want to tell the truth that i cry about every time.

I didn't see my home for 2 years. When I was there all I heard was explosions, bombs and warplanes. I saw ruined houses. I saw my half-destroyed school near which a projectile fell. I saw fire, smoke, a lot of it. I was in there. I heard all this. I heard. I saw. with my own eyes and ears. And what did you see and heard in the west, saying "This is all just Ukrainian propaganda"?

I was in the metro and saw hundreds of my fellow citizens, that a few months ago were casually going in this metro to their jobs, schools, universities etc. Some were sitting on the floor, some on old crusty carpets, with no fresh air, no normal ability just to go pee, not even talking about washing. But they were there just to be safe. Just to not die. They didn't care about hygiene, warm food and bath, delicious drink in their favorite café, all they did care about was just surviving.

Then I heard about Bucha massacre (read about this, if you think "russian soldiers are just poor people who don't want war and against Putin!!"). I heard hundreds women, children, men being raped, killed, tortured and firstly I was shocked. Then I heard about Irpin, Mariupol', Izium, Bahmut, now Avdiivka and many other ukrainian cities, that were completely destroyed by russians. But the difference is now I'm not shocked or surprised. Because now I understand this is Russian world, Russian culture, whole Russia in general.

But no one cares. No one cares about genocide, if the victim is big country in the center of Europe (even though every country has many people of color, and the biggest country in the world terrorizes it).

I saw a girl in the tiktok that was telling about the film "20 days in Mariupol". I looked in the comments and started crying. Why am I, my family, my friends, all ukrainians supposed to suffer while some westerns and russians are just laughing and saying "slava russia"?

Many people were talking about Gaza and I agree, there is total hell in Gaza and I feel very sorry for Palestinian people. I know how it is. But what gives YOU, a person that is sitting in the safe place with all basical human needs and think a war is just some trend, the right to compare the DEATHS of people that DIED from GENOCIDE and say that one GENOCIDE is less bad than another.

I'm not saying that we are suffering more than Palestinians, I'm saying that it's just so cruel to normalize deaths of people.. any people. That DON'T HURT anybody. That just want to live in a free country.

If I say, boycott Israel, all people from Israel are terrorists, people will agree with me. But when I say Russia is the terrorist, people will say "No, you're just xenophobic!"... And the genocide of my people is NOT xenophobic?? And the hundreds of years of destruction of Ukrainian culture is not xenophobic??

"What about Gaza?"

Gaza needs help. Ukraine needs help. Congo needs help. Syria needs help. No one should suffer. THAT'S my point.

Did you hear something about Holodomor in Ukraine? About MILLIONS of Ukrainians that died because soviet government were taking LITERALLY EVERY FUCKING BREAD CRUMB?? around 3.9 million ukrainians died. And this is only according to official data. These are only people whose identities have been established. It does not take into account people who were missing, or who were just horribly maimed.

If you still think I'm an ukrainian propagandist and not some fucking random teen like you who's just sharing my thoughts, read about Holodomor in Kazakhstan, first Russian-Chechen war, SECOND Russian-Chechen war, Russian-Georgian war, Russia’s invasion of Syria, Illegal occupation of Crimea and Donbas or just anything that involves Russia and war crimes.

If you're still saying this is all propaganda, Photoshop, I'm not surprised. Of course, everything around is propaganda. But not your beautiful truthful swamp.

Sometimes I just wish I was in yours shoes. Not caring about anything.

I don't care what russia supporting bots will say, I don't care people will not believe me, I just want to feel alive again.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Russian_war_crimes

[rose-of-the-underworld]

What are your favorite shoujo shows? I just started watching anime and would love recommendations.

AAAAAAAAAAAA! First of all, I'm sorry that this took two months to write up, but I am honestly touched that you asked me! Okay, so disclaimer that I wasn't deep into the anime scene until a few years ago (I'm a late bloomer), but shoujo is my bread and butter so to speak, so I'm happy to give some reccs! Note that this isn't ranked in any particular order, it's just as they come to me! Will give a summary and my thoughts on each. Also, most of these anime don't cover the entirety of the story published in their corresponding manga, but they're all a good starting point if you want to dive into reading the rest!

Putting under a read more because I'm more long-winded than I thought I would be

1.) Sailor Moon: The magical action-adventures of a teenage girl who learns of her destiny as the legendary warrior Sailor Moon and must band together with the other Sailor Scouts to defend the Earth and Galaxy.

Had to start with the original!! Now my love for Sailor Moon goes back to before I knew what anime even was. I caught wind of it when I was five years old and it was airing on TV for the first time, but I adored the show and my Princess Serenity doll. Now, please note that I really did not absorb much outside of the aesthetics and the insane dialogue of the 90s English dub before it stopped airing on tv and I forgot about it for a while, always meaning to get back into it, but never quite managing. Then during 2020 lockdown, my good friend and Sailor Moon expert @pollyannaisms started streaming little watch parties of Sailor Moon Crystal and boy did I fall in love all over again. I'm so happy that it came back into my life when I needed it most, tbh. It really is such a hopeful and optimistic series with some of the most lovely female friendships, one of the most beautiful and romantic love stories I've ever seen, and wonderful messages about loving yourself.

If you want a more streamlined plot with less episodes, I recommend starting with Sailor Moon Crystal since it follows the manga very closely and it's relatively short. 39 episodes across three seasons and then four movies - Sailor Moon Eternal parts 1&2 and Sailor Moon Cosmos part 1&2. Cosmos is FINALLY being released internationally on August 24th and I can't wait to finally see it, I've been rotting for it.

Now, the original 90s anime is also fantastic, it is just incredibly long with I believe 200 episodes and a few movies. It was airing as Naoko Takeuchi was publishing the manga so there's a lot of filler and the monster of the week format can get a little monotonous if you're trying to binge. I would say to take your time with it, but I do believe it's worth the watch because you get some wonderful character development episodes that are absent from Crystal. It's not perfect and there are some....odd choices made, but I do love it. Please note, that if you watch it in English through official streaming services, you'll be seeing a re-dub that Viz did with the Crystal cast when they bought the rights. It's a good dub! But man, I wish I could watch the original 90s English dub more easily (pirating such a long series is kind of an ordeal) because it has some of the funniest dialogue I've ever heard. Lots of people hate it, but I love the nostalgia factor and I personally find it hilarious.

2.) Ouran High School Host Club: Haruhi Fujioka is a studious girl who has recently enrolled at the prestigious Ouran Academy. One day, while looking for a quiet and peaceful place to study, she stumbles across a seemingly unused music room. Upon entering, Haruhi is welcomed by the members of the well-known Host Club: a club in which attractive boys amuse girls from across the entire school. However, when Tamaki Suoh—the founder and president of the club—startles the bright scholarship student, she accidentally breaks an expensive vase.

With repayment looking difficult for Haruhi, the Host Club members come up with the perfect solution to the girl's problem: work for the club and ultimately become a Host herself! Mistaken for a boy by her peers, Haruhi has to entertain various female students while coping with her fellow Hosts' extravagant personalities.

Ouran was the first anime that I ever watched on purpose at age 17, and it is very near and dear to my heart. It does come with some caveats, though. While this was the perfect starter anime for me (the friend who recc'd it knows me very well), it's not a good starter anime for everyone. It is incredibly over the top and is also a parody anime of shoujo romances, so some of the jokes might not land if you're a newbie. While I loved it at first viewing, I found it MUCH funnier when I rewatched it ten years later after having seen much more shoujo anime. Also, please note that Ouran aired in 2006, and while it was very progressive for the early 2000s, there is a lot of outdated terminology when it comes to LGBT topics, so tread with care and know that its heart was in the right place and we've come a long way in the last 20 years.

That being said, this series will always be one of my favorites. Aside from being insanely hilarious (and wildly out of pocket), the show has a lot of heart and characters who all genuinely love each other. It touches on feminism and gender and I credit it with making me bisexual.

3.) Fruits Basket: After a family tragedy turns her life upside down, high schooler Tohru Honda takes matters into her own hands and moves out...into a tent. Unfortunately for her, she pitches her new home on private land belonging to the mysterious Sohma clan, and it isn't long before the owners discover her secret. But, as Tohru quickly finds out when the family offers to take her in, the Sohmas have a secret of their own--when hugged by the opposite sex, they turn into the animals of the Chinese Zodiac.

God. Fruits Basket is everything to me. This was the second anime I ever watched on purpose, recc'd by the same friend who showed me Ouran. She lent me her DVDs of the 2001 anime adaptation when I was 18 and it took me a few months to actually watch it but MAN. When I tell you that I was crying during the finale with my 8 week old kitten on my chest, and then when the 2019 reboot aired their version of the season finale, I was crying AGAIN with the same cat who was at that point 14 lbs and still snuggling on my chest. Full circle. It will never not be good. I would absolutely recommend that you watch the 2019 reboot over the 2001 version because it encompasses the whole story and has the budget for a much higher quality production. The animation is beautiful and I really like the music. The storytelling is phenomenal, thank you, Natsuki Takaya for my life.

Tohru Honda is truly one of my favorite characters of all time. There is so much depth to her, so much kindness and sadness and a heart full of love. She changes the lives of everyone she meets by just loving them unconditionally and has a legion of friends who would do anything for her. This is another story that features the struggle to love yourself, but it is also about the struggle to let others love you as well. The main romance is another top tier love story for me, and all of the side romances are compelling as well. I will warn you that the series deals heavily with familial abuse and with grief. For every laugh and heartwarming moment, there is a punch to the gut right around the corner. But god, it's worth it in the end. Fruits Basket is full of bittersweet moments of catharsis and it never fails to make me insane (affectionate). Fantastic characters and an excellent plot, it's one of the most compelling series I've ever seen.

4.) Kimi Ni Todoke: Sawako Kuronuma has had a difficult time fitting in, due to her shy nature and her similarity in name and appearance to Sadako from The Ring. On her first day of high school, Sawako meets the one boy who treats her like a normal girl-Shota Kazehaya. Through his selfless aid, Sawako slowly learns to come out of her shell and even begins to make friends for the first time in her life. However, with a new social life come social pressures. As she grows into her new identity, Sawako must learn to deal with such pressures as well as start to understand the unfamiliar feelings inside of her, especially in regards to the boy who made her new start possible.

This is probably THEEEEE sweetest thing I've ever seen. I watched it for the first time last year and I was legitimately crying happy tears in episode 1. If this is your first time watching, you're in luck! Season 3 just premiered after a 13 year hiatus! I've only watched an episode and a half so far, and I already love it so much. It has the exact same energy as the first two seasons. Sawako and Kazehaya are too adorable for words, and Sawako's two best friends are wonderful. This series does a great job of handling the real struggles of adolescents while also being full of optimism and love of all sorts.

5.) Kamisama Kiss: newly homeless teenager Nanami Momozono is trying to figure out her next move when she helps a stranger in need. Out of gratitude, he offers Nanami his home, a rundown shrine, and also his job as a land god. Now, Nanami must juggle high school along with the duties of a deity with the help of Tomoe, a reformed fox demon who reluctantly becomes her familiar in a contract sealed with a kiss. As the headstrong Tomoe tries to whip her into shape, Nanami finds that love just might have cute, pointed fox ears. With romance in the air, will the human deity be able to prove herself worthy of her new title?

This series made me CRAZY!!!!!!! Nanami and Tomoe are such a good nuisances to lovers story with a really interesting twist that I genuinely did not see coming! Nanami is adorable and Tomoe is the perfect house husband, I love them so much. This series is such a fun little romp through the supernatural world of gods, demons, and spirits, with an incredibly interesting cast of characters. The anime has two seasons and a few OVAs, but in order to see the latter, you're going to have to search the less than legal sites because they were never licensed internationally. Definitely worth it in my opinion to see the end of the story.

6.) Yona of the Dawn: Sheltered and spoiled Princess Yona is the only heir to the throne of Kouka. Yona's perfect world comes crashing down when a heinous act of treason threatens to erase all that she holds dear, including her birthright as the princess of Kouka. Left with no one to trust but her childhood friend and loyal bodyguard Son Hak, she is forced to flee the palace. Faced with the perils of surviving in the wild with a target on her back, Yona realizes that her kingdom is no longer the safe haven it once was.

Free from the shackles of naivety, Yona vows to do everything in her power to become strong enough to crush her enemies. With Hak by her side, she must piece together the remains of an ancient legend that might be the key to reclaiming her kingdom from those who conspired to steal it from her.

THIS SERIES MADE ME CRAZY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yona of the Dawn honestly ticks all of my boxes -- sheltered princess who needs to learn how to fight, political intrigue, betrayal, heartbreak, ancient magical legends, and a princess/bodyguard romance. The anime (and OVAs) are only a very small part of the story, but it was excellent regardless. The manga is incredibly long and actually just celebrated its 15th anniversary; it's regarded one of the greatest shoujo manga of all time. I had started reading the manga a few years back, and I REALLY need to get back into it, especially since it seems to be inching closer to the end. But if you love action packed fantasy adventures, this is the story for you!

7.) Inuyasha*: Suddenly finding herself in feudal Japan, schoolgirl Kagome teams up with half-demon Inuyasha to retrieve the scattered shards of a sacred jewel.

*Technically, a shounen, but has the vibes of a shoujo. I need you to know that last year when I had covid, I watched 50 episodes of this series and the first movie. And then I was compelled to make the following image:

Inuyasha is a long one so I suggest pacing yourself, but it is so so worth it! This is another action packed fantasy series with awesome characters, fantastic writing, and a heart stopping romance. The creator, Rumiko Takahashi was already an experienced mangaka when she made Inuyasha, and it shows. She's excellent at naturally weaving the romance into the overarching narrative and there's a maturity to her writing that makes this story about young people feel so intense and complex in the best way.

8.) Maid-Sama!: Misaki is class president of a formerly all-male school. A beacon of hope to the female students as well as teachers, she rules over the boys with an iron fist and a heart of ice. A popular male student stumbles on to her secret double life- working part-time as an upbeat and cheery waitress at a maid cafe! Misaki is forced to make a deal: spend some time with him, or have her hard earned reputation destroyed by revealing her embarrassing secret.

I will warn you, there are elements to this anime that have not aged well since its airing in 2010. A lot of it is very feminist in that early 2000s way! But it also includes that early 2000s brand of "problematic" possessive (and maybe a little too inappropriate) love interest and some outdated romance anime tropes. But all in all, I think it's worth a view. I really love Misaki as a character so much, and her relationship with Usui is fun and frustrating and very, very sweet.

9.) My Love Story!!: With his muscular build and tall stature, Takeo Gouda is no ordinary high school freshman. However, behind Takeo's intimidating appearance lies a pure heart of gold. Unfortunately for Takeo, his appearance does not bode well for his love life. As if his looks were not already enough to scare girls away, Takeo's cool, handsome best friend and constant companion Makoto Sunakawa easily, and unintentionally, steals the hearts of the female students—including every girl Takeo has ever liked.

One day, when Takeo saves cute Rinko Yamato from a creep on the train, he falls in love with her instantly. But with handsome Sunakawa around, does Takeo even stand a chance?

It's rare to see a shoujo series with a male protagonist, but Takeo is honestly perfect for the role and deserves everything good in the world. This is such an adorable anime with the sweetest couple on Earth and the best friend that anyone could ever ask for. Takeo and Rinko are both down so bad for each other and they're both adorable, awkward clowns. They were truly meant to be! Takeo's friendship with Sunakawa is also such a vital and lovely part of the series and shows that your platonic relationships are just as important as your romantic ones.

10.) My Little Monster: Shizuku Mizutani is apathetic toward her classmates, only caring about her grades. However, her cold view of life begins to change when she meets Haru Yoshida, a violent troublemaker who stopped attending class after getting into a fight early in the school year. He is not much different from her, though—he too understands little about human nature and does not have any friends. Much to Shizuku's surprise, he proclaims that she will be his friend and immediately confesses his feelings toward her upon meeting her.

Because of her lack of friends and social interaction, Shizuku has a hard time understanding her relationship with Haru. But slowly, their friendship begins to progress, and she discovers that there is more to Haru than violence. She begins to develop feelings for him, but is unsure what kind of emotions she is experiencing. Together, Shizuku and Haru explore the true nature of their relationship and emotions.

This is a story about a boy and a girl who struggle with love and friendship. Opening yourself up to other people forces you to be honest with yourself.

Here's another "problematique" anime that I fell head over heels in love with in spite of certain things that didn't age well. I'm a simple woman, give me a cold girl and a feral boy who are obsessed with each other and don't know how to function in society and I'm sold. While Shizuku and Haru's bizarre, never-on-the-same-page romance is the overarching narrative, an important part of the series is the two of them learning how to make friends and find community with other socially dysfunctional weirdos. The friends that they make are just as interesting as the two of them and are equally important to the story.

This is another series that I highly recommend reading the manga for, since the one season anime doesn't get far enough into the story for a satisfying ending. Shizuku's revelations about herself and her character development in the manga genuinely made me cry, and Haru gets some good development as well. Their relationship progresses in a very sweet way as they work to understand each other and respect boundaries and communicate.

11.) Monthly Girls' Nozaki-kun:

Chiyo Sakura is a cheerful high school girl who has fallen head over heels for the oblivious Umetarou Nozaki. Much to Chiyo's confusion, when she confesses to her beloved Nozaki, he hands her an unfamiliar autograph. As it turns out, the stoic teenage boy is actually a respected shoujo manga artist, publishing under a pen name. A series of misunderstandings leads to Chiyo becoming one of Nozaki's manga assistants and befriending many of her quirky schoolmates. This slice of life comedy follows Chiyo as she strives to help Nozaki with his manga and hopes that he will eventually notice her feelings.

I adore this series to the moon and back. Both adorable and absolutely HILARIOUS, Monthly Girls' Nozaki-kun, is a wild ride from start to finish. The slow burn to end all slow burns, this ongoing 4-panel, slice of life manga has been ongoing since 2011, yet remains hilarious and so does the one season anime. This is another parody shoujo anime where some jokes might go over your head if you're a beginner, but I think it's easier to digest than Ouran, and would be a fine starter anime. This is another clown4clown romance, but Chiyo and Nozaki aren't the only ones. Their friends are a vibrant cast of characters who tend to fall into classic shoujo manga tropes (though not always in the ways you'd expect) and all have their own incredibly silly and off the wall will-they-won't-they romances.

This is such a fun series that never fails to make me laugh, and often makes me swoon. It's both ridiculous and relatable and you can't help but root for every single character.

And I'll end it there! I have quite a few other series that are near and dear to my heart but these are probably the ones I talk about the most. If you've made it this far, thank you for reading. Anon, I hope that you enjoy your adventures in shoujo anime!

If anyone ever wants to talk about any of these series, my inbox is always open. Seriously, I am always dying to talk about all of these!

[trulyatessfan]

How eould you make s8 a good season? I've always felt curious abt that jshsbs

I am going to write this one, because I feel like it's gonna be too much text,,,, Before I start, this is how I envision it Season 8 should be rewritten completely in my opinion, but I am going to keep some elements! First, the main cast! I have been an Aro-Ace Carrie advocate since day 1, it would be cool to have the American coming to the city of love when she doesn't experience attraction to anyone and is just there to find her brother!

For Hugo, I would keep his current personality, but he definitely needs a reality check or two, same for Enzo. I feel like they get away with their comments pretty easily (literally Carrie told him off and then two seconds later, they are dating AND getting married???) Also I would NOT make Carrie and Enzo canon,,, It was the definition of rushed and not realistic :/

Émile needs more of a personality, like me and Katrina would joke about, he is the definition of a white bread (with a tinder account). I think that he needs just a little something to make him more interested (maybe a mix of Alex Turner and another person) I don't think Gauthier and JP needs much change, but please give more information about Gauthier's life, we barely know stuff about him! I would not change a single thing about JP.

Nadia needs to be tone down massively in terms of personality. Some of her comments are very,,, disgusting, especially when it comes to dead bodies. I am not saying to rewrite her entirely, but her sexual comments should not come each 2 seconds and make people uncomfortable around her. Maybe some could give her like a comment like "Hey, this is not the moment" or something.

Léa needs a bigger role for sure. I don't think she should have the same route as Mia, but maybe she would be a district killer or something along those lines. She has a lot of potentials of being different than Mia, but right now, she is more bland than Émile.

Now, for the number of cases, 17 cases was clearly not enough for sure, it was very obvious that they cut corners :/ I would give like 30-45 cases for season 8, 50-60 would be too much.

As for the rest, I'll make it into bullets points:

I think Jones appearing was a great idea, but really by the end of the season. Maybe other familiar faces appears in one case or the AI! Keep the moment when they all show up at the end, that was very adorable!

The fact that Martine doesn't recognize us???? If she appears, she should definitely recognize the player,,, Jones did, but not her?? Smh,,,

Make Eleonora more of a threat. I think they should give us false hope that Antoine is the main villain when in reality, it was always Eleonora.

Make Cody less bland and rewrite the entire Carrie and Cody plot. She found him like so easily,,, If only it was this easy irl,,,,,

A good balance of new characters and old suspects from other games!

Almost everyone needs a redesign, like look at Isabelle Picard, she looks HORRENDOUS D:

I think that's it for now,,,, I would love to hear if you guys have any suggestions to add to this list teehee

[pinkabrinka]

Mushrooms On Toast 2023

Breakfast and Brunch, Family Recipe, Mains, Simple Meals, Vegetarian

Difficulty: Easy | Servings: 1

Description:

My ever-so-slightly fancier take on a classic dish. (Only slightly—if you’re looking for a crab meat and bearnaise sauce-fancy version go find Marco Pierre White.) Suitable for brunch, lunch, or dinner. Serve with a simple salad.

Mushrooms on toast was always something I considered an easy dinner. It seemed like more of a legitmeal™️ than just making instant ramen or throwing something in the microwave, but not so complicated that I couldn’t manage it on my low energy/high pain days. As a bonus, most of the ingredients are staples in my kitchen.

I started with a fairly basic plan: “sauté sliced white mushrooms in butter with jarred minced garlic and worchestershire sauce. Serve on buttered toast. Top with poached or over-medium egg.” Over time, it evolved to sautéing a mushroom/green onion combo in butter with minced fresh garlic and thyme, then adding whole grain mustard and a bit of milk to make more of a sauce. Finally, one night I didn’t feel up to cooking eggs (because accidentally broken yolks are a freaking tragedy) so I decided to break the damned yolk on purpose and use the egg to make French toast as the base. ✨REVELATION.✨

My step-grandfather, Frank Otis (1932-1998), had worked as a country club chef for years and taught me to make French toast when I was maybe in junior high school. His version involved slices of a dense loaf topped with sesame seeds, dipped in a mix of one egg and just a splash of milk per slice, and shallow fried in a measurable depth of oil. Though I can’t quite remember the variety of bread he favored (maybe it was sold in a pre-sliced loaf as Texas toast?), I still rely on his egg+milk proportions.

Ingredients:

*All measurements given are approximations. Unlike baking, cooking isn’t always science. Some quantities, like garlic, you can only truly measure with your heart.

THE TOAST:

1 thick slice good quality bread (brioche if you can get it)

1 egg

1 tablespoon milk

Butter or oil for frying

THE MUSHROOMS:

2 large handfuls white mushrooms, cleaned and sliced

3 green onions, chopped and separated white/green (reserve some of the prettier green parts for a garnish)

2 cloves OR 1 tablespoon* minced garlic (fresh is great, but jarred is just fine. Conserve your energy as needed).

1 tablespoon dried thyme, crushed

Butter (or butter + olive oil) sufficient for sautéing

1 heaping tablespoon whole grain mustard (my favorite is Maille Old Style)

2 tablespoons whole milk or cream (adjust as desired)

Salt

Pepper

Finishing salt (like that jar of über-fancy fleur de sel your sister gave you a few years ago)

Directions:

For the toast:

Beat egg and milk in container large enough to fit the bread slice. Briefly soak bread in egg mixture. Cook in a sauté pan over medium heat, turning once, until golden brown on both sides. Pour any additional egg mixture in the pan and cook it, too. (Let it cool then give it to the cats—no sense wasting it!) Remove from heat; cover and keep warm in a wide, shallow bowl.

For the mushroom topping:

In the pan you cooked the toast in, add more butter. Add the garlic and thyme, then after that’s heated through and fragrant add the whites of the green onions. Cook for a few minutes. Add sliced mushrooms, salt**, pepper, and the remainder of the green onions (except the garnish bits), adding additional butter or oil if needed.

**Add a bit less salt than you think you need because you’re going to add the finishing salt later.

When the mushrooms are almost done cooking, add the mustard and milk and stir to incorporate.

Remove bread from the microwave (or wherever you’re keeping it warm). Spoon/pour mushroom mixture over the French toast. Add reserved green onions and finishing salt. Take a photo for Instagram as proof you cooked.

[astra-ella]

𝐙𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

fandom: haikyuu ship: nishinoya yuu x oc/reader status: complete ao3 link

"I think you're really pretty. Will you go out with me?" That was the first thing he's ever said to her. And needless to say, Amari Chiyo was not impressed. So as promised, Nishinoya Yuu will get to know her better and confess again. And again. And again. And again. It'll take 6 years and 9 confessions, but he'll get there. Eventually.

⌦ content: fluff, light angst, love at first sight, friends to lover, slice of life

⌦ note: you are free to insert yourself into Chiyo, just keep in mind she has her own character/backstory. i know some people don't like that, so just a heads-up.

story masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

The fifth time he confessed was a little less than a year later — a few months into their first year of high school.

After a few grueling months of study sessions and a little bit of luck, Nishinoya barely managed to scrape by on the entrance exams. They went to the results board together on that cold winter day, along with Hotaru and Kaito. Neither of the kids were surprised to see Chiyo’s number there, but when Kaito somehow caught Nishinoya’s exam number on the bottom right while perched on his shoulders, they celebrated with so much enthusiasm Kaito nearly lost his balance and fell off.

So when April rolled around, Nishinoya and Chiyo were once again attending the same school. Though with Chiyo’s better grades, she ended up in Class 1-4 – a college preparatory class – while Nishinoya was put in Class 1-2.

The day club applications began, Nishinoya immediately joined the volleyball club. He encouraged Chiyo to join a club of her own or even run to become a class rep again like she had in middle school, but she refused.

Instead, she put all her energy into applying for a part-time job. She was hired at a small media and repair store near school, run by a little old lady and her grumpy calico cat. They sold all kinds of electronics, from old VHS tapes to the newest gaming consoles. They also had a huge catalog of DVDs that the old lady often insisted Chiyo borrow for the week to watch on her own. 

Despite the two of them being in different classes and volleyball practice running longer than they did in middle school, Nishinoya’s visits never stopped. He’d drop by after a quick text, eat dinner, do homework, play some volleyball with Kaito, watch a movie then head home for the night. He became such a regular presence that even Chiyo’s father, who was rarely home due to his busy schedule, knew his name and often included his portion whenever he brought back desserts for the kids. 

Chiyo would scold him, telling Nishinoya to go home to rest and that his body must be tired after a long day of volleyball and school. To which Nishinoya would simply remind her that he had to return the lunch box she brought him. Something Chiyo started doing after she found out Nishinoya often only bought banana bread for lunch from the school store.

And that day, Chiyo was on her way to the gym as usual. She preferred to deliver his lunch in the mornings, right after she got to school. Like that, she wouldn’t have to spend her lunch time trying to track him down between the classroom, the gym, or the vending machine.

As she climbed the staircase, she could hear the sharp screeches of sneakers scraping against the gym floor. Despite not being a powerhouse school, Karasuno seemed to take volleyball pretty seriously. 

“Nishi-”

“Kiyoko-san!” Before she could call out to him, the sound of two boys’ boisterous voices interrupted her. She instinctively hid around the corner so as not to bother them. It took a second before it registered in her head that one of the two voices belonged to Nishinoya. 

“Kiyoko-san, do you need any help carrying anything?” Someone asked.

“Kiyoko-san, you look beautiful as always today!” Nishinoya shouted.

“No thanks.”

Chiyo felt her heart drop.

She snapped her head around in time to see Nishinoya and a boy with short, fuzzy blond hair run up to a girl just as she entered the gym from the back door. He wasn’t kidding. With shoulder-length black hair and large black eyes, the girl had an air of adult maturity to her, someone who was stoic and passionate yet aloof with their intentions.

Suddenly, the name Kiyoko jogged her memory. Nishinoya had mentioned her during dinner a few months back when he told her all about the club. Her name was Shimizu Kiyoko and she was their one and only manager. 

He spoke highly about her, going on and on about how pretty and responsible she was. But Chiyo had always sort of disregarded his comments. After all, Nishinoya did the same thing with a character in their old literature textbook. But seeing him fawn over another girl, a real one at that, made Chiyo’s heart clench with an emotion she couldn’t quite put her finger on. 

“Guys, stop bothering- Oh!” An upperclassman with short brown hair approached the gym from behind her. “Hey, are you looking for someone?”

Chiyo blinked. “Um, I’m looking for Nishinoya. I have his lunch.”

“Nishinoya!”

“What is it, Daichi-san, ah!” Nishinoya’s eyes lit up upon seeing her. “Amari!”

As he began to make his way over, Chiyo suddenly felt the urge to run. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and in the moment, she wanted to be anywhere but there. But she still had his lunch in hand, and there was a part of her that stubbornly wanted to complete the delivery.

“Here,” she shoved the neatly-packed boxed lunch in his hands, not even bothering to make eye contact. “It’s leftovers from last night, so don’t expect too much.”

“I’m sure it’s delicious,” Nishinoya took the box and grinned. “Thanks as always!”

“Noya-san, this girl’s always bringing lunch for you. What’s up with that?” At this point, the boy with blond hair began to approach them. His eyes then widened as an idea dawned on him. “Wait, don’t tell me she’s your girlfriend or something?!”

“She’s-”

“No, I’m not!” Before Nishinoya could respond, Chiyo cut him off perhaps a bit too loudly. “I’m just his middle school classmate. I’m only making him lunch 'cause if I don’t he’s just gonna end up buying banana bread for lunch and be short forever.”

“Excuse me?!” 

“You have your lunch now, right?” Meeting Nishinoya’s offended look with a sharp one of her own, Chiyo quickly turned on her heel. “I’m leaving. Bye!”

She walked briskly away, feeling more and more breathless the further away she got from the gym. She wanted to outrun it all, the sound of her beating heart, the emotions that bubbled in her chest and the hot tears that pricked at her eyes. When she saw Kiyoko, all she could think about was the day he first confessed to her under the cherry blossoms nearly three years ago. She had warned him that he would lose interest overtime. But when faced with reality, she felt like she was the one who lost something.

Her steps slowed as she reached her classroom. It then occurred to her that this wasn’t anything new. Nishinoya has been fawning over other girls for as long as she’s known him. And thinking back on it, the only reason he gave for confessing to her initially was because she was pretty, nothing more. 

A classmate opened the door, cocking her head curiously at Chiyo who stared up at their classroom tag in a daze.

“Amari-san? What’s wrong?”

Chiyo looked at her.

“Boys are stupid.”

After her shift at the media store that evening, Chiyo was surprised to find Nishinoya waiting outside with two soda-flavored popsicles.

She initially thought that he wouldn’t want to speak to her for at least a good while, after how strangely she behaved in front of his teammates. But to her surprise, he simply gave her his usual greeting and smile before tossing the extra popsicle in her direction. 

“Come on, let’s go home.”

“Oh, okay…”

As they set off, Nishinoya tore his popsicle packet open and began chomping down. Chiyo watched him, fidgeting at the sound of crinkling plastic.

“Hey, Nishinoya,” she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry about what I said today.”

He gave her a confused look. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I… I called you short in front of the entire volleyball team,” she murmured, still refusing to make eye contact. “I didn’t mean it. I was just in a bad mood and I… I’m just really sorry.”

"Oh, what, that?" Nishinoya scoffed. "Don't sweat it, it's whatever. Kaito's been calling me that for like a year."

“Kaito’s still young,” Chiyo shook her head. “But I… should’ve known better than to make petty remarks like that.”

“Like I said, don’t worry about it,” he waved a hand before quickly finishing his popsicle in two bites and checking the stick. “Dang, another dud.”

Chiyo’s lips quirked up a little before falling. “So Shimizu-senpai, huh?” She opened her popsicle packet. “She’s really pretty.”

“Wait, you know Kiyoko-san?!”

Nishinoya sounded so excited and Chiyo felt a lump forming in her throat. “I saw her when I dropped off lunch for you today.”

“That’s right, that’s right,” he tossed the wooden stick into a public trash can. “Yeah, she’s super pretty, isn’t she? A literal goddess. I heard she’s been the club manager since last year.”

Chiyo nodded before averting her eyes, pretending to admire the street view she’s seen more than a hundred times already. “Well, I better not hear any more of your random confessions from now on,” she said half-jokingly.

“Huh, what are you talking about?” Nishinoya stopped walking. “I still like you, Amari.”

Chiyo nearly dropped her popsicle. She turned to look him in the eye. 

He was dead serious.

“Why would you say something like that?” She snapped, immediately losing all composure. 

Nishinoya cocked his head to the side. “Because it’s true.”

“What do you mean ‘because it’s true’?” Chiyo’s eyes widened with exasperation. “You were literally just gushing about how pretty Shimizu-senpai is. Don’t tell me you’re like one of those sleaze bags in shoujo manga that’ll flirt with anyone you find even mildly pretty.”

“What? No! I mean yeah, Kiyoko-san is pretty and all. But,” he then thumped his chest with a confident smile. “In the end, my heart will always belong to you.”

Her lips parted slightly.

“Don’t say stuff like that, you idiot!” Those were the first words she found herself able to say. “You idiot. You’re such an idiot! The biggest idiot that’s ever existed in the history of idiots!”

“I’m not an idiot!”

“Yes, you are! You’re a shallow, stupid idiot!” Chiyo shouted back, trying to ignore the sore feeling in her nose. “You can’t tell me you don’t have even a little bit of a crush on her. I saw you and that blond kid trying to get all cozy with her. You even call her by her first name even though you’ve only known her for like, what? Two months?”

“Amari, I-”

“I’m completely fine with being friends with you, Nishinoya,” she cut him off, trying her best to avoid his pointed gaze. “I just… I don’t want to date someone who only wants to get to know me half-heartedly.”

Nishinoya rubbed his forehead, eyes flickering up to glance at the setting sun. Taking a deep breath, he then gingerly took her hand and pried her fingers off the hem of her jacket sleeve.

“Look, Amari,” he spoke as softly as he could. “Kiyoko-san to me is more like… a goddess. Someone you put on a pedestal and admire, but still way outta your reach. But when I’m around you, I feel… way more comfortable. Like when I get to see you at home cooking dinner, not giving a damn about your hair, and getting mad at us, I get really happy. Cause it feels like a side to you that only I get to see.”

He looked up to see Chiyo’s dark blue eyes glassy with what seemed to be tears.

He mentally cursed himself.

“I get what you mean though,” he gave an awkward chuckle. “I mean I literally asked you out the day we met without knowing anything about you. But I promised to get to know you better, and you know…” there was a faint tug at his lips. “The more I get to know you, the more I like you. So trust me. I’d never ask you out with anything other than pure intentions, m’kay?”

Chiyo felt her heart stop as he smiled at her. Her breath was caught in her throat, and when she reminded herself to breathe again, her heartbeat became so erratic she was sure the entire prefecture could hear it. 

“Y-You idiot!” Those were the only words that came out when she found her voice again.

“Wha-?” Nishinoya looked genuinely confused. “Why am I still an idiot?”

“Because you just are!” Chiyo turned away, biting down on her popsicle in a feeble attempt to stop the rising heat in her cheeks. She couldn’t understand how he could say something so cringey with a straight face. She then peeked over her shoulder, watching as Nishinoya became lost in thought, wondering exactly what he said that made him an idiot.

“But… Do what you want, I guess,” she murmured just loud enough for him to hear.

Nishinoya’s eyes lit up.

“You got it!”

After that little kerfuffle, the two of them continued on their way home under the setting sun when Nishinoya spoke again.

“But you know, if you wanted me to call you by your first name, you could’ve just asked.”

Chiyo averted her gaze. “When did I ever say that?” 

“You got all jealous over how I call Kiyoko-san by her name,” he reminded her with a mischievous grin. “Come on, I’ll start calling you by your first name too.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” she grumbled.

“Come on, Chiyo.” Ignoring her obviously false remark, Nishnoya poked her arm. “Say it. Yuu~”

Chiyo’s eyes wandered from their surroundings to Nishinoya to her feet. She pressed her lips together, struggling for a moment to find her voice.

“Y-Yuu…” Her voice was barely a whisper. 

Satisfied, Nishinoya smiled. “I like you, Chiyo.”

story masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

[acertainmoshke]

Redoing the Intro One More Time!

Updated 9/30/23

Call me Moshke Palmoni (they/them). I spend as much time as I can writing, but that is not as much as it might be because there's also a lot of life going on right now. I also like to read, knit, collect vintage ephemera, and play with my cat.

General WIP tag list: [your url here!]

Active WIPs:

7 Days for Fae

Coming October 2024

10-year-old Fae is isolated by her disabilities—autism and ataxia—that causes her communication and mobility issues. She doesn’t have any friends her age, and she’s accepted that. She reads a lot and plays pretend in the forest at the end of the street. Her family loves her for who she is and so far that’s been enough. Until, that is, she meets the new kid. His name is Brownie and for reasons Fae can’t imagine he wants to be her friend no matter how weird or awkward she is. When he still invites her over after a meltdown in class gets her suspended for a week, she decides to take a risk and accept. The ensuing adventures are marred only by the other sudden change in her life—an aunt Fae barely knows has moved in with her family. She doesn’t know how to talk to Fae and, worse, refuses to accept Fae’s nonbinary parent’s identity. But since no one else seems to know how to deal with the mess their home life has become, Fae tries—with Brownie’s encouragement—to sort the situation out herself.

Cold Iron

In 1956, Shakatra Zoawin is 40. Or they might be 20, depending on how you look at it. They are a changeling and their aging is kind of weird, but that doesn't matter to them because they have a good life in the subway tunnel with their brother, Kris. Both of them are changelings swapped as infants for human children and then rejected by their human families. Their wits and powerful magic have kept them alive this long, and Shaka is perfectly content to keep going. After they do one little thing to appease their guilt: find the 40-year-old they were swapped for and free her to have her own life in the human world free from servitude in the courts of the Fae. And so begins an adventure that will have repercussions neither of them could have imagined.

Intro posts for the books in this series: Cold Iron, City of Frost, Song on Repeat, and Future Not Found

Character Intro Posts: Shakatra, Kris, Lynn, Tatiana, Liliana, Harry, Doug, Beth, Aaron, Cassie, and Althea

Tag list: @pga-books

Blades of Ice

In the kingdom of Halara, orcs and elms and slimes and centaurs live peacefully side-by-side with humans. Less peaceful is the relationship between Halara and their neighboring kingdom of Eng. The generation-long conflict has drawn in other nearby kingdoms and stagnated artistic and social works. All Aryel ever wanted to do was be left alone to love who they want and practice sparring with their axe, but as a royal child they have responsibilities, namely leading the entire army. There's no talk of ending the war in any way but victory, just as Halara won its initial freedom from Eng 300 years ago, but this endless fighting is getting them nowhere but too many funerals and not enough bread. And then when a familial tragedy leads to Aryel leading both the army and the kingdom, they know they can't balance the tensions and demands of everyone at once and win this war. Something has to give, and they just hope it isn't the entire kingdom.

Backburnered and still-in-planning WIPs under the cut.

Time Traveling Anthropologists

(permanent title coming soon)

Set approximately 2 generations in the future. Esther Dahan has her dream job. She gets to time travel with her new team, and against all historical odds they are there to study ancient cultures rather than do anything violent. Their first assignment is 8 months in the 9th century Jewish kingdom of Khazaria. Everything is going great—illicit romance with a Khazarian blacksmith notwithstanding—until Esther finds a plate that doesn't belong in this time. Curious and suspicious but without enough evidence to involve her boss, she investigates on her own, discovering much more than she planned—and leading to far worse consequences than she could have imagined.

Tag list: @amielbjacobs @kingkendrick7 @moonluringfrost @another-white-hole

To Die Among the Stars:

20 people have been chosen to test the effects of faster-than-light space travel on human minds and bodies. They were taken from prisons, wellness centers, and other areas where near-certain death seemed like a reasonable chance to take. Each have their reasons for being there, and their secrets. Against all odds, the jump to FTL doesn't destroy the ship. But the further away from Earth they travel, the more strange things begin to happen that call the purpose of the experiment into question. And then the impossible: a human distress signal in deep space.

Told from 4 rotating perspectives: Pixel, a semiverbal illegal human modder; Ri, whose body and mind are overloaded with mods; Zippy, a young disabled woman desperate to support her family; and Peppermint, a genetic experiment combining human and cat DNA raised in an isolated lab.

Tag list: @hd-literature

Falling Petals

A multigenerational story about trauma, love, and disability set against the backdrop of one Jewish family. Beginning in the 1920's with Ira Katz, who is brilliant and charming with no understanding at all of tact or why the best way isn't always blunt observations and mean jokes. It follows him as he grows up, marries, and inherits his father's drugstore, and then moves on to following one of his sons, Daniel. Daniel grows up in the 1940's and is naturally gentle, kind, and sensitive, but is treated so harshly for these traits he learns to hide himself away inside and only show emotion in explosive bouts of anger. It follows him through adolescence, college, and marriage, before moving on to one of his daughters, Shoshana. Shoshana grows up in the 1960's and is colorful, young for her age, and full of social panic. None of them know how to relate to each other or survive in a world that each of them see the beauty in but aren't allowed to connect with in their own way. And yet through the pain and confusion, they are full of love. And then everything changes for them with Shoshana's niece, Naomi, growing up in the 1990's, who will not be allowed to see herself as broken.

[mh-and-celiac]

My recommendations for GF staples in Australia (likely available in NZ/Aotearoa & some are global brands).

I wrote this out the other day for a GF group I’m in but thought it’d help to share here too. After a year of trail & error, these are most of my favourite gluten free staples for main meals. I really wanted a list like this when I started out gluten free, so hope it helps someone else.

Pasta- San Remo, I really couldn’t stomach anything else. Look for pastas with corn/maize as a main ingredient & rice low in ingredients or not there.

Latina fresh is almost imperceptibly different to gluten too. Thats a fresh pasta. When I was struggling the most with the transition, Latina fresh helped when trying to make a meal made me cry.

Gnocchi- Simply wize.

Bread- buy from your local gluten free bakery. We try to convince ourselves that supermarket bread is fine when it’s not. The fact that no one will eat it not toasted says enough. It’s also safer to freeze as supermarket bread arrives to them frozen & it’s defrosted on the shelves. It also means they risk mould. So you save money that way.

Pizza base - Senza for proper pizza. Bfree mini pita for pita bread bases.

Tortillas- Old El Paso. These are the softest, most flexible & most resilient to tears. They tear less than gluten ones in my experience. They do have the weird gluten free/tapioca smell but when they’re piled with filling you won’t notice. If you’ve tried them before & didn’t like them, try them again. They’ve change their formula in the last year or so apparently.

Noodles- Mr. Chens vermicelli rice noodles, but I’m sure any rice noodle would be fine as they’re naturally gf. If you’re adventurous & want to make your own 2 minute noodles, these would be perfect too because they’re divided up into 5 ‘chunks’ in the packet.

Other bits & pieces;

Crackers - Orgran quinoa wafers. The Ob ones are great too but harder than the orgran ones & I get so fed up with gluten free food being so hard. Simply wise do lots of crackers.

Crumpets - liberate. Check for mould, the supermarket defrosting on the shelf is BS. But these can be refrozen. If you like soft, squishy crumpets with the the back a little crunchy, these are your crumpets. The genius ones as disgusting & hard & crumble. Some people like them, I don’t think we ate the same gluten ones tbh 😂.

Arnotts Tim tams couldn’t have turned out much more perfectly.

Choc chip biscuits is from the ultimate brand at Coles. Also the Coles ‘I’m free from’ bars.

Master foods sweat chilli sauce, the kids one in the orange squeeze bottle.

Aldi do gluten free wedges & bubble & squeak.

V2 meat alternatives are gluten free & great.

Everything from yumi (falafels, veggie balls, veggie burgers (though they need extra sauce, bit dry), dip) is gluten free & great.

Fry family meat free nuggets are gf & good, but nothing else from that brand is gf.

Cc’s & most corn chips (not Doritos), Cheezels, skittles, twirls & flakes are all GF & no ‘may contains’.

My biggest tip starting out is to use the Woolies app. They have a really good filter for gluten free foods. It makes shopping less overwhelming knowing things you can get without scouring every packet in the store. The coles app is rubbish for this, so even if you shop there, try the Woolies app. Each store stocks things the other doesn’t, but it’s a starting point.

Also trust labels. You don’t need to know what all the weird flavours, colours & preservatives are. They will state beside them, if they contain a gluten source. Keep an eye out for barley malt.

[wayfaringtrainers]

So I constantly joke about how Robin's cooking skills are comedically terrible, but this has always been exaggeration for comedic effect. It got me to thinking: "how capable is Robin in the kitchen? and it kinda snowballed to thinking about all my muses and their culinary capability, sooo, from worst to best:

Worst: Robin

Yeah no, he's a terrible chef, let's not get ahead of ourselves. But not as bad as we've made him out to be. Robin did spend 6-7 years alone on the road, and at least half of them were a hermetic, loner lifestyle so he had to be capable enough to cook for himself.

For the most part, Robin is fine with really basic things. He can butter some bread and slap meat between it, he can fling something into the oven for half an hour. Robin's main issue is impatience; he cannot stand hovering in the kitchen for an hour or two, doing all the prep-work required, his instinct is to just throw it all in at once, no matter how bad an idea that is: if the vegetables needs half an hour at 200 degrees to cook, but the meat takes two hours at 150? He throws them both in at 200 and walks away for 2 hours. It's probably why curries are the only thing he can reasonably cook (being very much a "throw everything in and cook it" kind of food), but even they are just... Mediocre.

Bad: Katrina

Anybody is a master chef in comparison to Robin, but that doesn't mean Katrina is a good chef, she just isn't a disaster. Unlike Robin, who is impatient, Katrina is inexperienced: she's never really done a lot of cooking, because it's never held her interest. She'll cook if she has to, but she doesn't really want to: so her cooking tends to be somewhat plain, bland and uninteresting.

Katrina is strictly a "follow the cooking guide" girl and if she's asked to cook something that doesn't have instructions? She's not even gonna try. What's more, while Robin and Amber will go out to eat because they travel a lot, Katrina will go out to eat regardless, even if she has access to cooking facilities. It just isn't something she cares for.

Average: Amber

Amber's only ahead of Katrina by necessity. Before she met Robin, Amber had a theoretical knowledge of how to cook, but due to her childhood illness, she was rarely allowed to cook for herself (her father and brother were obsessively over-protective). Plus, being Robin's travel companion means she can't rely on him to cook for them, so she has a better handle on it.

Good: Samantha

Being a single mother of two on a budget means Samantha had to be pretty good with her utensils to keep her kids well fed. Prior to her kids, she was already pretty good at campfire culinary, on account of her ranger training.

When times were tough and money short, she may have taken to some of her old-school foraging knowhow to keep food on the table, but Samantha has had years to get comfortable with the kitchen. Her only fault though, is her reluctance to get creative; like everybody else, cooking is a chore for Samantha and while she does it well and takes pride in her skills, she doesn't do it for pleasure, only because she has to.

Best: Dante

Dante is the only one on this blog who actually likes cooking. Dante always had a stressful life, being the favourite child of a perfectionist mother, he was always expected to excel, excel, excel and anything in his life that didn't contribute to accolades, achievements and ambition was something he was discouraged from.

(Yeah, neither of the Richards siblings had a good childhood, go figure)

Cooking was effectively an escape for Dante, it was something practical that his mother couldn't dismiss as a waste of time, but also something he could enjoy doing. He likes the whole process of forming a meal, considering it significantly less stressful than literally every other moment of his life (which includes: work as a nuclear physicist, being Amber's guardian during her sickly days, his whole grief-induced mad scientist arc and having to literally work with criminals). Even the most complex meal is a breeze compared to all that.

[dollsonmain]

My feet were absolutely killing me all day and on the walk home I could feel every little rock and bit of walnut shell I stepped on through the 1-inch thick soles so I think I might have to get some gel insoles or something. The memory foam wafer in there isn't doing a damn thing for me.

I have old milk on my knees.

I found a SECOND box of pre-cooked eggs that are supposed to be frozen and aren't frozen in the cooler.

... There was more than enough room for the box of eggs in the freezer after removing the giant box that had 2 whole pork rib patties in it.

I just don't even know anymore. Someone removed the box for the beef patties leaving them in an open bag in the freezer, and there's another box of ANGUS beef beef patties elsewhere, now, and my personal inventory sheet is not correct anymore and I'm stressed all over again.

All that old, expired bread is still in there taking up a large amount space.

We we we need we need things to have a designated space where nothing else can go. We need that.

Sigh.

That one customer didn't show up when I was walking home, so that's good at least.

Had another incident where a customer asked for gas on one pump but they were actually on another, and then someone was on the pump their gas money was actually on.

BUT this time, the person on the other pump apparently got frustrated that their card wouldn't take and left without pumping any gas, so the pump was trying to tell me there was a refund of the full amount on that pump that needed given out.

That was way less stressful than the LAST time that happened, because I was able to process the "refund" and then put it back on the pump she was actually on.

Whew.

Almost wish we didn't take prepay inside at all, goddamn. We already don't offer bathrooms or trash cans anymore why not take away cash payments, too, and be REAL inconvenient.

[beardeddetectivepaper]

€1,015/€33,000

I am Ola, a student living in Belgium and this message is from a Palestinian family that is dear to my heart to save their family from the horrific situation in Gaza. We can give them the opportunity to live again and a chance to escape the atrocities and horrors they are going through in Gaza.

With your help, we will be able to pay for transport, border crossing costs, and essential support to meet living expenses in Egypt for a few weeks thanks to you. We will gather for basic food needs, water and a shelf above their heads. In Gaza, the price of essential goods has accelerated and highly increased.

For example, toilet paper rolls are now 3–4 euros each, while flour costs 270 euros per kilogramme instead of 1-2 euros as well as salt costs 6 euros per kilogramme instead of less than 1 euro. Diapers for babies are now very expensive at over 80 euros per pack. The ability to get basics and guarantee the security and well-being of this lovely Palestinian family will be immediately impacted by your donations and the precious act of kindness.

Darwish wrote:

“To My Friends: I hope you are doing well as I write this. With a sorrowful and heavy heart, I'm writing to you now to seek your help for my family, who are going through a difficult and horrific times in Gaza. Since the beginning of the war on October 7th, 2023, it has been an endless nightmare for us in each second.

We have been living in continuous worry and fear for 155 long days and nights, and we have no idea what the future holds for us. My family is a little big, with 9 of us, and it's been incredibly hard. It’s me; Darwish, my lovely wife, my 6 children and the 7th my wife is pregnant with and my beloved mother. I am a vet who loves animals and takes care of them especially birds. With nobody expecting how long the war going to be, I decided to stay home, and then people came to my place to give me their birds and parrots to take care of them. However, this has been going for a long time to the point where I am not able to find any food to take care of them.

I have been raising rare kinds of birds and parrots and training them. Luckily, 2 weeks ago, I was given a second chance to live when the Israeli bombs have bombed my neighbour’s house and half of my house was demolished and most of the birds I took care of have died. Unfortuantely, my pregnant wife, my 6 kids, my 80 years old sick mother mother and I live in our demolished home where a small part of it still standing after the bombing.

I was going to move more to the north, but I was very worried about putting my children or wife or mother in danger since there were snipers hidden around, where 7 of my neighbours were killed in cold blood. I am waiting till the area is clear so I can go to Rafah; a city that is very close to the Egyptian borders that everyone who could leave their area went to, to seek refuge. It is still very dangerous and risky but I am willing to risk it all for the sake of my family. My heart is heavy writing this to you, but every day I feel helpless. I have 6 children who are under the age of 16, one of them is blind, and my pregnant wife who needs special care. My 80-year-old mother is suffering from diabetes and blood pressure, and she needs her special medications and insulin for her to live. I am ashamed to admit it, but I need your help. have been feeding my family and my birds once every 2 days.

I would mix the last bit of flour with bird’s seeds, so they do not starve to death. The last time I was able to feed my family normal bread was 2 weeks ago and it hurts my heart that my kids are living in this situation.

Any contribution, regardless of how big or small it is, has the potential to significantly impact my wife’s, my mother’s, mine, and my kids’ lives in particular. They are the ones who are most exposed to the psychological effects of war, and they struggle on a daily basis.

Please give my family a chance to move past the tragedies we've experienced and build a hopeful future. I appreciate your time in reading this and supporting my cause. Your kindness and generosity will change my family’s life.” Here is a breakdown we have calculated that will be just enough to be able to get them out of Gaza and most importantly how is your support going to be used? The support will be used to pay for special permits on the Egyptian borders. Unfortunately, the cost for that rises by the hour and shifts, starting at 3000 USD per person and ending up at 11,000 USD per person. Children under 18 years old need 1000 dollars per person to get permits to cross the border. For now, we know that the total cost for a Palestinian passport holder above the age of 18 costs around 7000-7500 USD just to pass from Gaza to Egypt. The rest of your support will be used to aid them in Egypt to rent a place for a couple of weeks until they find work. It is expected to be divided as follows: First: crossing the border requires 7000-7500 USD per person and 1000 for those who are below 18 years old. Second: Transportation costs from Rafah border to Cairo, Egypt. While cars that cross the Sini desert between the two cities control the prices and charges for passengers escaping the war, it should not cost more than 2,500 USD to 3,000 USD. Third: Upon arrival, the family searches for a place to stay because the family has nobody in Egypt, and they assume looking up on the internet that the average per month might cost 700 USD -1000 USD to rent a 3 bedroom, 1 toilet apartment. We are not sure how much it would cost to get insulin, necessary medicine, necessary food and water, as well as a hospital visit to check on the pregnant wife and sick mother, but we assume that 2,000-2500 USD will help them through the month.

The most important thing is getting them out of Gaza into a safe place to Egypt and that would be a total would range between 27,000 USD to 29000 for the passing of 9 people; 3 of them are above 18 and 6 under 18 years old. Add to that, 2,500 to 3000 USD for transportation, so the final total would be around 30,700 to 33,000 USD for getting a permit and transportation. This is the most important amount. If there is any extra, then we will use it to help them get up on their feet for some period.

The most important thing is getting them out of Gaza into a safe place to Egypt and that would be a total would range between 27,000 USD to 29000 for the passing of 9 people; 3 of them are above 18 and 6 under 18 years old. Add to that, 2,500 to 3000 USD for transportation, so the final total would be around 30,700 to 33,000 USD for getting a permit and transportation. This is the most important amount. If there is any extra, then we will use it to help them get up on their feet for some period.