#made the preserved cherries as well

[ithinkwehitametaphor]

[choerypetal]

Cherry Red / Coriolanus Snow

summary : Snow had always harbored a liking for you, and your awareness of the platonic relationship with Sejanus only fueled his obsession, eventually culminating in decisions like appointing you as the First Lady of Panem. Just two pretty bestfriends both in awe by your beauty.

I apologize for any grammar errors as English is not my first language. Additionally, please refrain from copying my work without proper credit, as it may result in being flagged. Thank you!

How does one begin to describe this innocent youth, who simply wished for Panem to thrive in tranquility? Fate thrust him into the shadows of the reaping ceremony or the role of a mentor due to his father's actions. Despite being fully aware that survival in the Games was improbable, he, like many of his peers, managed to mask his fear, a skill he lacked. It was on that fateful day that he first laid eyes on you. 

You served as his mentor, a role you assumed without the same coercion he experienced. Unlike him, you had the choice to either be a mentor or a regular student at the Academy. Yet, recognizing that being among the select few who would secure a favorable position in the university and potentially pave the way for a brighter future for your family, you saw it as the least profitable option you could contribute. Even if it meant overseeing the fate of a stranger, your assigned tribute, in a perilous game of cat and mouse. 

During the inaugural week of the Games, you found yourself alongside Sejanus as you met your assigned tributes. Despite Sejanus displaying a sense of conscience regarding the circumstances and grappling with the notion of witnessing another species confined in a cage, he observed closely as you tended to your tribute. From that pivotal moment onward, each day saw him adopting a similar approach—nurturing his tribute, attending to their well-being, and primarily focusing on their strengths, all while harboring his internal opposition to the entire ordeal. 

You were the one who comforted him in the aftermath of the accident following the memorial for Arachne. While he was paying tribute to his deceased classmate, Snow instructed you to remove Sejanus from the scene. He, too, attempted to cling to her in a desperate effort to preserve her life, but it was already too late. With your guidance, advising Sejanus to shift his focus away from the crime scene, he found solace when you encouraged him to breathe and exhale. You assured him that everything would be okay. 

After that initial encounter with him, he underwent a profound transformation, growing closer to you. Your attentive check-ins during rehearsals, reminiscent of his mother's caring presence, played a significant role in this connection. Even stolen glances in class became a source of solace for him, helping maintain his sanity amidst the chaos of the Hunger Games, a veritable freak show.

You were well aware of his strong opposition to the idea. Despite enduring his complaints, you consistently reassured him that the popularity was just a temporary phase until graduation, and the Capitol would soon move on and forget. However, it turns out you were terribly mistaken. Despite the misjudgment, you believed it was the best you could do at the time. 

Fortunately, your relationship gradually deepened over time, even though you hadn't experienced the concept of falling in love. In a world where survival was commonplace in Panem, the notion of allowing oneself to fall in love seemed as ironic as it was rare. Despite attempting to suppress any burgeoning emotions for Sejanus, his softened gaze upon seeing you and the way he spoke your name with such warmth made it increasingly challenging. This, in turn, fueled suspicion from his friend Snow, who seemed to resent him more, suspecting Sejanus's potential feelings for you. Eventually, it became inevitable that you acknowledged and accepted your emotions toward Sejanus, whether they remained platonic or evolved into something more; the signs were undeniably clear. And Snow hated every bit of it. 

Certainly, rumors circulated throughout the Academy, fueled by the idea that someone as intelligent as you could outsmart even the wealthiest family, such as the Plinth. However, it wasn't until a few days before the commencement of the 10th Hunger Games that the scrutiny from your classmates' watchful eyes compelled you to hide your relationship in shame. You outgrew the stares, until finally implied official a mark to the relationship, all by holding Sejanus's hand with pride. The poor boy, initially taken aback by your sudden display of affection, was well aware of your usual reluctance towards public displays of emotion. Despite this, he began to grasp that your actions spoke of genuine love. It became increasingly evident that the sentiment was more than mutual. 

The aftermath of the Hunger Games told a different tale. Sejanus's emotional breakdown during the games hinted that his involvement was driven by a sense of altruism. However, many of your classmates, including yourself, emerged from the ordeal seemingly unscathed. It was as if you all were like minions, compliant in a sick and twisted game, a game where refusal meant facing death the very next day. The turning point came when you witnessed Sejanus screaming helplessly, condemning the Capitol as "sick monsters." His tear-filled eyes and desperate plea were a stark warning. You felt his gaze fixed on you, but this time, it carried a profound sense of hatred—a gaze that lingered ever since that fateful day. In Sejanus's eyes, you had become a monster, and he was painfully right. 

When Lucy Gray Baird was declared the victor of the 10th Hunger Games, Snow couldn't help but notice the shift in the dynamics of the relationship you had once shared with Sejanus. Despite his previous disdain for Sejanus, Snow's animosity towards his District 2 classmate intensified as he observed the unwavering focus of your eyes on him. You managed to hold back your tears, unlike Sejanus, burst into a complete symphony of a manic episode. Snow recognized that upon his return as a Peacekeeper, that he would make it his priority to take care of you. To Sejanus’s request if he didn’t make it out. 

Sejanus was acutely aware of his impending fate, discerning the emotions in your eyes as you fought to contain your tears—an act you were often admonished for in the harsh realms of reality and sorrow. A palpable distance had grown between you, and he acknowledged that he deserved every bit of it. However, when the news broke that he, too, was joining the Peacekeepers, you couldn't resist bidding him a final farewell. As the departure approached, Snow spotted you, witnessing the emotional exchange with his own eyes. 

He observed you shedding tears for another man, a sight that must have stung his pride. Despite the limited display of affection, there were undeniable traces of your past love for Sejanus. "I'll be a good boy." Sejanus would assure, and as you cupped his face, a rare moment of genuine closeness enveloped you. It was one of the first times you truly felt connected to him, and you yearned to grant him a farewell kiss, recognizing that this might be the last time you'd see him. "I'll keep your picture close with me... Even if you hate me so—" Sejanus began, but you swiftly cut him off, desperately emphasizing that any perceived hatred was rooted in self-centeredness. "I never hated you, Sejanus. Remember that." 

"I will." Came Sejanus's response without a hint of hesitation, and just before he departed, he sought a final taste of your lips. This act served as the last straw for Snow, tempting him to announce that it was time for duty, that he too would soon be called to fulfill his responsibilities. However, he resisted the urge. Instead, he chose to observe what it felt like to be genuinely in love, watching the two lovebirds share their final goodbyes. Though deeply haunted by the realization that Snow wasn't your sole choice, the haunting thoughts accompanied him throughout the journey back to District 12. Snow yearned to make Sejanus prove to whom you truly belonged, finding some solace in the benefits of the situation—until Sejanus's impending death sentence, that is. 

You received word of Sejanus's death while in the Capitol. On that particular day, you joined Sejanus's mother for dinner, a comforting routine that helped alleviate the absence of her son, engaged in his duties away. Despite her earlier tendency to downplay her husband's concerns for their child, she now comprehended the profound emotions you were experiencing mere weeks after Sejanus's departure. It was a moment of revelation for her when she looked into the eyes of her own child, realizing that her husband had been the true villain all along. 

Later that same evening, you started clearing the table when you heard the official news. A Panem Peacekeeper had arrived at your apartment. For some inexplicable reason, an ominous feeling gripped you, signaling that something had happened to Sejanus. Questions swirled in your mind—was he injured, or had homesickness prompted his return? However, any hopeful optimism quickly turned to tears as Sejanus's mother's anguished scream echoed in your thoughts. The heartbreaking truth emerged: Sejanus had passed away. The official explanation cited him as a simple rebel, but you suspected a much darker reality. Sejanus wasn't merely a rebel; he was someone the Capitol despised, refusing any association with their ideologies. 

The Plinth family arranged a formal funeral for their son, and while you had hoped for an invitation, you only learned about it through consequential rumors. Thanks to Tigris, who had the opportunity to style Sejanus's mother for her new job as a stylist, you were surprised to discover the disgraceful rumors circulating about your family. It was suggested that you had manipulated Sejanus to bend to your will, driven by your ambitions in the Games and an unbridled willingness to perpetuate a sick and twisted narrative for another year. 

According to this narrative, you were deemed no different from the rest—a citizen with psychotic tendencies, adorned in the veneer of fake affluence. These rumors reached Snow as he returned calls to Tigris back home, he wanted some update about you. Know how you were doing, as Tigris before hand had your confirmation that she would tell what had happened. Which provided a simple yet substantial reasons for his disdain towards the Plinth family from the very beginning, not only due to their subjective opinions but also their newfound hatred towards you. 

Upon returning to his role as a Peacekeeper, Snow found greater delight in seeing you. As you had gradually gained acceptance to the university yourself, securing a personal apartment became a challenging endeavor. The recent imposition of a new tax by the Plinth family added to the financial strain, making it doubly difficult to cover your university expenses. Fortunately, Tigris stepped in to assist, swiftly helping you secure a job. A renowned cabaret in the Capitol was in need of entertainers, and although hesitant to showcase your body for money, you recognized it as a necessary option. Fortunately, your employer treated the dancers well, and as long as you were able to pay your bills, he harbored no objections. Over time, you even developed a group of favorite regular customers. 

The streets of the Capitol had changed since his arrival. Not only had his hair grown, but wearing his father's wealth, symbolized by a stupid coat, had also demonstrated a newfound influence. Snow made sure to flaunt this affluence. The prospect of returning to the university and seeing you again mattered most to him. However, it wasn't until that particular evening when he decided to stop by your apartment that he noticed your absence. Puzzled, he thought to himself, as it was typically your time to prepare dinner or watch local television. Surveying the surroundings for any clue to your whereabouts, he recalled that his cousin Tigris had briefly mentioned something about you being the talk of the town lately. This revelation prompted Snow to consider searching the deeper and less savory streets of Panem for answers. 

It didn't take him long; as soon as the sun set and the lights of Panem's stores illuminated the streets, he spotted a poster. There, your face stared back at him, unmistakably you. "Cherry Red this afternoon! 9 PM!" Proclaimed the bold red and gold font, showcasing your entire body. Snow couldn't believe it—let alone fathom the idea of other men being captivated by you. Nevertheless, he entered. 

True to the promise, only the least affluent men in Panem and fellow Peacekeepers populated the bar. It being a Friday evening meant people were there to unwind and prepare for the weekend. Snow found himself struck by the stark contrast between his own downfall and the impoverished part of the Capitol. Despite the surroundings, he couldn't help but marvel at the luxury and lifelike atmosphere of the cabaret. Soon, other dancers spotted him, offering drinks or suggesting a little show, but he declined, asserting that he was there only for you, using your stage name, Cherry Red. 

Fortunately, he arrived just in time for your performance. With a man who wore outfits reminiscent of Flickerman noticed Snow's arrival, sporting a somewhat absurd demeanor. Cheeks flushed, a clear sign of pre-show indulgence, he exclaimed each word of your name with awe and pride. "Ladies and Gentlemen! Tonight, we have someone we love so much right here at Pub Rouge. It is none other than our favorite, Cherry Red!" 

Snow uncomfortably fell in line with the predominantly male clientele. Hearing "Ladies and Gentlemen." Was just one of the few flaws in the cabaret that he would have corrected if given the chance. To avoid arousing suspicions, he simply followed along, clapping like everyone else. However, rather than voicing your name in a distasteful manner, Snow quietly waited for your performance. 

The room filled with the vibrant sounds of the band and trumpets as you gracefully took the stage. Your outfit perfectly mirrored your name—bold and red as cherries. For those observant enough, it seemed as if Snow intentionally coordinated his attire to match yours. You immersed yourself in the character, embodying the woman you intended to be. The men of your age exhibited a mix of pride and envy, further boosting your confidence. Your playful interactions, especially teasing one of the Peacekeepers, earned you considerable admiration, much to Snow's chagrin. He overheard some background chatter about you, with phrases like. "I'd be with her anytime. Have you seen her curves? If I were the lucky guy, I'd do everything to show her who she belongs to." 

That fueled Snow with an intense anger, a boiling rage that churned within him. Fortunately, he managed to contain himself, sitting just far enough away to avoid you spotting him in the moment. However, his composure shattered when another voice crossed the line. "With that beautiful pair of lips, I bet she'd be a nice little whore and can take my big ass dick!" Laughter erupted, and though you were accustomed to such comments in the typically crowded environment, Snow, unable to restrain himself, swiftly delivered a punch to the man's face. Snow had completely lost his composure. As the scuffle continued, with the brawl escalating to a level one out of five, you were being escorted away. It was then that you noticed Snow's figure amidst the chaos.

"Coryo..." You murmured softly, as one of your colleagues attempted to escort you backstage. You complied with the act and tried to move, but upon catching his gaze after you called out his name, it took only seconds for Snow to be brought in, obliging even to be outside the hub before long. As he was pushed outside, one of the onlookers cursed under his breath. "Well, I'll be damned! If I see that guy again, he'll surely get a punch from me!" With his friends trying to calm the angered Peacekeeper down, he observed as you were escorted back, remarking, "I sense that someone had a little vulnerability over Cherry's presence."

Snow hadn't left entirely. In fact, he made sure to stay until the bar was ready to close. As he observed the group of Peacekeepers, memories of his own time in that role surfaced. They reminded him of the Peacekeepers in the Districts—little pieces of trouble, he'd openly declare if given the chance. Fortunately, you didn't have any bruises; in fact, you were so distraught that your colleague helped clean your makeup and took care of you. "My god, Y/N. What could've possibly happened there if you had intervened?" She questioned. Even you hated the fact that she was right; who knew what might have occurred if you had tried to break up the fight and ended up taking the punch meant for the Peacekeeper. You were well aware that Snow wouldn't easily excuse himself after this incident. 

By patiently waiting at the backdoor of the cabaret, he caught sight of another escort he had noticed earlier, who swiftly disappeared inside. He wasn't trespassing; rather, he was trying to reunite with you. Explanations could wait; for now, he wanted you all to himself, to taste your lips and be the one to incite jealousy among the Peacekeepers. Skillfully, he found his way backstage, drawing uncertain glances from ladies younger than you. They hesitated, contemplating whether to alert their boss about the intruder. It wasn't until he spotted you from a distance that even your colleague, who had taken care of you, noticed his presence enough to understand that it was her cue. “I’ll see you later, darlin’.” She said with her typical southern accent, and as soon as she was about to leave stop herself next to Snow. “Sir.” And bowed before leaving. 

On the other hand, you hastily adjusted your robe to cover your skin. Quickly, you applied the remaining red lipstick, swiftly cleaning the messy edges, assuming it was your boss's presence prompting the need for an explanation or reassurance that you were okay. However, as soon as you turned your head to see who it truly was, your eyes widened in shock. It felt almost too surreal, as if you had seen a ghost. "Coryo?" was all you could say. 

How he had missed you calling him by his nickname. Even though you had been in a relationship with Sejanus before, it was all thanks to being close to Tigris that you adopted the habit of using his nickname, something he cherished every time it left your lips. Particularly because none of his classmates, let alone his closest friends, used it. "What is this?" He questioned, his eyes scanning everything—from the booth to you, with a hint of disgust, shame. "Why didn't you tell me—" He felt a sense of sorrow, realizing he hadn't provided you with enough wealth, let alone a clean lifestyle. Tonight, he vowed to make a change soon. 

"Blame the Plinth." You uttered, attempting to push aside memories of Sejanus and your first love, concealing them as best as you could. Snow couldn't help but let out a light chuckle at the irony, recognizing that he, too, intended to make them pay for it all—every little bit. And in this endeavor, he envisioned you by his side. "I've missed you, you know." You continued, and to Snow's relief, he admitted the same. Perhaps, just maybe, a little too much.

"You have no idea how much I missed you too, sweetheart." He expressed, closing the distance between you. He kneeled, and even his piercing blue eyes softened as he lifted his gaze to meet yours. His finger gently traced your blushed cheek, the heavy makeup unable to conceal your undying beauty. "How about we go home? Together."

"Home?" You tilted your head slightly, doing your best to restrain your tears at his request. Despite the history of your relationship—from being a stranger to a friend and now a soulmate. "How—?" He nervously gulped, appearing confident in his words yet afraid to witness you in that emotional state. A state where money and selling your body didn't align with the image he wanted to see. "Because I'll do my best to take care of you." He assured, keeping his words simple yet sincere. 

"Home. A place to finally be yourself. No trouble, no feeling of doubt within your own self." And with that, you simply dissolved into tears, nodding in response to his confession. "Please," You begged, yearning for him, longing to feel his lips like you did with Sejanus back in the days. But this time, it felt genuinely true. Was this what true love really felt like? "Kiss me." There was no hesitation as Snow's lips instantly met yours in a hungry and passionate kiss, an expression of love since the very beginning. 

And in that very moment, Snow realized all too well that you had become his Lady. Not any kind of lady but the First Lady of Panem. 

Y/N, Snow.

[simpforboys]

hey babe!!

i was thinking maybe protective!gf!reader x rafe, where they’re at the kegger together and a random girl starts clinging onto rafe, not knowing you’re his girlfriend and reader throws some punches

i live for protective reader oml🙇🏻‍♀️

learn your place

rafe cameron x fem!pogue!reader

summary: you teach a kook girl her place.

warnings: swearing, violence, fluff, rafe is proud af

sorry this took forever </3, also not proof read

the way your stomach turned over when you walked into the kegger with your long-term boyfriend, Rafe Cameron, was enough to shoot some red flags.

hundreds of kooks were on the Lighthouse Preserve, dozens of red solo cups littered onto the sand.

you were the only pogue who came to these parties, not really because you wanted to, but because Rafe had asked.

and unfortunately, whenever those baby-blue eyes looked pleadingly at you, you always seemed to cave.

“what’s up, Cameron?” Topper asked loudly, dapping up Rafe as you stood beside your tall boyfriend.

Kelce did the same to Rafe, before turning to give you a side-hug. “hey, future Mrs. Cameron.”

you playfully rolled your eyes at the nickname. “yeah yeah, shut up.”

you felt Rafe’s fingers interlock yours, pulling you into his side. more people came over to greet you, and the stares some of the kook girls were giving you were a nightmare.

you didn’t want to be one of them, and maybe that’s why they hated you so much. and maybe the fact you were dating the ‘Kook Prince’.

“let’s go get a drink.” Rafe said to you, holding you close to him as he walked over to the keg, supervised by some other guys you’ve never seen before.

as they pour you and Rafe a drink, you narrow your eyes at a short blonde who is drunkenly giggling at Rafe.

the sparkle in her blue eyes almost made you sick. you felt Rafe’s grip tighten around your waist, kissing your temple as he mumbled into your ear, “relax, baby. you look like you’re gonna kill someone.”

while you knew he was joking, you pressed your lips together and began to chug the beer.

➽───────────────────❥

a few hours later, you wandered around trying to find a bathroom. Rafe wanted to go with you, but you insisted that you were a big girl.

you finally found a little outhouse. after a couple moments, you walked back to the party, desperate to find hand sanitizer.

one of the only nice girls, Lizzie, happened to have cherry scented sanitizer. while you rubbed the liquid into your palms, your eyes looked around for your boyfriend.

the same blonde girl from earlier was holding onto his muscled bicep, trying to get his attention. the poor girl looked desperate, as Rafe wasn’t even acknowledging she was there.

Topper and Kelce looked uncomfortable, knowing all too well of your protectiveness of Rafe, and how badly you were going to kick the shit out of this chick.

“you can’t find any other guys to hang onto? or do you look for specifically taken ones?” your voice sent goosebumps down her tan skin as she drunkenly stared at you.

“excuse you?” she asked, trying to raise her voice, one that sounded almost babyish.

“i know my boyfriend is hot, but girl if you think holding onto him is going to catch his attention then you’re damn wrong.” you snapped, your blood boiling from her ‘pick me’ behavior.

“Rafey- this crazy girl is trying to fight me.” the girl looked up at Rafe, a forced pout on her face. you cringed at the nickname she gave your man.

Rafe just now seemed to be aware of the situation, as he tugged the girl off of him. “who the fuck is Rafey?” he laughed, his eyes shining as he turned his head to look at you.

you looked exactly like how he described earlier, like you were going to kill someone.

Topper and Kelce immediately downed their beers, knowing what was going to happen next. and while Rafe did too, he didn’t really care too much to stop it.

“you’re going to pick some… poor slut over me!” the girl whined, stomping her foot.

Rafe’s jaw dropped slightly, but before he could defend you, you had already shot your fist forward.

a loud crack was heard as your knuckles came in contact with her nose, shattering the bone. people from around moved into a circle, some recording as you moved forward again.

blood was gushing down from her nose, tears pouring from her eyes as you pushed her backwards.

rage filled your body, the alcohol pumping pure adrenaline through your system as you straddled her, throwing punch after punch onto her face.

your head was ringing, and you barely felt Rafe’s arms scoop you up. you kicked out, kicking the girl in the boob. you managed to get out of Rafe’s grasp.

“how’s that for a poor slut, huh? stay away from my man, bitch!” you shout, impulsively spitting on the girl as Rafe grabbed you once more.

“alright, baby. this isn’t Jersey Shore.” Rafe joked, pulling your body into his. your head rested against his chest, hearing his pounding heartbeat.

your own heartbeat matched his, the adrenaline beginning to wear off. you recognized the aching in your hands, your knuckles bruised and bloody.

Rafe helped you onto the little speedboat you two arrived in, turning the engine on. while Rafe was silent, you sat on the couch with your head in your hands.

your head ached with a migraine. the loud sound of the motor wasn’t exactly helpful, either.

the ride home was silent, except for the sound of the motor against the water. when Rafe pulled up to your dock, he tied off the boat.

“let’s get my girl cleaned up.”

Rafe said gently, walking in front of you. he opened the door to your run-down house, knowing where the first aid kit is.

there’s been multiple occasions of either you or Rafe getting into fights, so it became routine for the both of you.

as you put the toilet seat down, you sat on the lid as Rafe sat on the edge of the bathtub.

“damn, y/n. you might’ve broken a knuckle.”

Rafe comments, cleaning the blood up with rubbing alcohol. you hissed at the sting, shaking your leg. the motion caused his leg to shake too, before he trapped your legs between his thighs.

“stop moving, mama. let me take care of you.”

his words were gentle, soft. as he put gauze and bandages over your knuckles, you followed him into the kitchen where he grabbed two bags of frozen peas.

he placed them gingerly on your bones, careful not to hurt you.

“i’m sorry i hit her. so many fucking times…” you mumble.

Rafe lets out a soft chuckle, kissing your forehead.

“when will these kook girls learn their place?” he jokes, making you smile as you kissed his lips feverishly.

[coffee-and-tea-time]

KEEP PRETENDING TO SLEEP! KEEP PRETENDING TO SLEEP!!!

HEHEHEHEHEHE I WAS WAITING TO COOK THIS

Coffee insanely speaking! Thanks Dear, you gimme the perfect excuse to write a second part just in time although I expected the option of talking to him to come first. Not that I'm complaining lol

➤ first part

➤ here to see the other option

↪︎ ☾ I love to see you ....................................... .......................................☆ I love to hear you↩︎

TW: yandere behavior, delusions, murder of self-preservation, stalking, obssesion, somewhat willing reader, kinda denying of bad decisions

Of course, the best option is to stay still, not because you are enjoying this no no, of course not...

Despite his soft voice that sounds rather familiar, you can't really recall who or where. So the safest option is just giving in at the moment, you didn't know how he could react so the safer the better, isn't it?

A smile starts creeping on your face against your will, seems like you are a rather bad actor when it's required, huh? 

“Oh, I'm really glad, you seem like you're finally having a good dream… will it be too greedy if I want to be inside that little dream of yours? Well, if you find that greedy, you won't be able to handle me later”

Hearing a close mouthed giggle following the whisper makes your heart flutter softly, like this is some kind of really romantic scene in his mind. You were able to hear the faint sound of footsteps, he seems like he's doing a little room tour, making it a little hard to hear him.

“Oh Dear, you were researching that thing again?”

It seems like he found his way into your phone, what was he referring to?

“Why do you keep reading so much about romance? Are these words good enough to keep your focus?... Maybe I have to start practicing oral expression? It's been a while since I felt like that, last time was when you downloaded that stupid dating sim… This is truly irritating, the names they use, the way they ‘communicate’ to you; do no justice, I can express myself way better, my love, and how my eyes change when I see you walking by… just... please, I need only one chance, and I promise you won't have a room left for doubts”

Even though he made the effort to lower his voice in order to 'not wake you up', it's clear how his tone is changing with every word depending on the topic; First, a low hint of infatuation, then, what sounds closer to a plead and, finally,...was that...hopelessness?

Honestly, in a normal situation, you would be annoyed by someone searching through your phone but only an idiot would think this man would judge you even if you had pictures of dead people there, more like he's genuinely looking for more of you, despite the fact that it's really not the ‘proper’ way, you can't say it didn't work.

“My beloved Cherry, what can i do for you to talk to me? Those characters seem to steal your attention quickly… I would be lying if I sad I'm not a little hopeful because of them though, you seem to have quite the specific taste, Cherry, and I believe I fit perfectly on them... if only I could find the right moment to get into your routine, to be part of your life…”

Weird that he worries about getting to talk to you with an ideal scene but not worrying about stalking you, but maybe it's kind of understable? Since well, everyone likes to check on their crush on social media even if they take a while to actually talk, even if this guy took it a little too far, he sounds... harmless like his wish is just to win your affection…

wait a second…

Are you truly relaxed in this kind of situation? What is going on with you? Why? Why… well, can't say you didn't ask for this, even as a joke, you know this time is different because it's real, but… why does reality feel like a fantasy right now? Is it because of him?

“Huh, I come here as a routine by now, I still get the same queries, I’m dying to find the answers soon..”

Sensing that lightly sweet fragrance once more makes you know he’s approaching your ‘sleeping’ form once again, making it easy to hear him despite his constant whispering.

“Would you let me cuddle you? Would you let me kiss you? Would you mind if I were clingy? Would you mind if I get jealous? Would you mind if it seems like I already know more about you than I should? I want to hold you my dear, I can’t wait for the day I can just snuggle with you every time we want… I really can’t wait anymore, I need to be closer to you… I guess I have no option other than to talk to you out of the blue, I dislike to be so imprudent, but I promise I will make up for it once you accept me in your life, Love”

You feel a gentle hand slightly caress your cheek as a little peck is placed on your forehead, making you almost smile like a fool if it weren’t for the fact that pretending to sleep is your priority in this sweet moment, unexpected but called for moment.

“Sweet dreams Cherry, I have to prepare what I should say tomorrow, I will put all of my efforts to be my best self to make a good first impression, I hope I snatch enough of your interest to be on your mind even for a moment”

Oh, he is definitely gonna be stuck in your mind for a while, as you try your best to focus on the sounds, you catch his steps as he seems to walk away… but you keep up with your act just in case.

So, tomorrow, huh? Seems like once again you have important decisions in your hand, should you indulge in your fantasy and let him get near you? It also sounds fun to go to him first… But, maybe you should try to avoid him? It’s the safer choice, but do you really want that? He seems safe enough not to raise any of your flags, he seemed so caring for you…

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

images from pinterest

[genericpuff]

I wonder why christian misrepresentation are rarely talked about if compared to other religion misrepresentation. Like, I've seen people really vocal about Greek myths misrepresentation in LO and such (and it's valid because it's a culture and religion) but I rarely saw the same thing with christian even though there are many media who use christian religion innacurately, to the point where it comes off as using it as an aesthetic and not a proper religion.

Is it because of rampant religious trauma especially in western world? No ulterior motives on this question. I'm not a christian and yet I'm curious about this. I apologize if this sounds harsh.

I obviously don't have The Answer(tm) to this but personally speaking (and I'm about to get VERY personal here so take this with MOUNTAINS OF SALT), I think it's just the obvious - Christian mythology is one of the most well-documented and strongly protected out of virtually any other religion on the planet. Especially here in the West, it's commonplace for kids to go to Sunday school, for couples to have Christian weddings even if they're not practising Christians themselves, even the American anthem references the Christian God. It's simply not as easy to 'misrepresent' it because the representation is written into our very fabric of society. Even Greece itself is primarily made up of Orthodox Christians.

So anyone that does 'misrepresent' it are either completely mislead hardcore Christians, or people who are doing it intentionally, such as with the intent to make a parody of it or to deconstruct it through a different context or whatever have you. And of course, people will still get mad at those things, if you're implying that people aren't vocal about Christian misrepresentation then frankly IDK what to tell you there LOL If you want a contextual example in the realm of webtoons, Religiously Gay was dragged to hell and back during its launch for having a very crude and insulting depiction of St. Michael, and frankly, yeah I don't disagree because what the fuck is this-

(like at best it's just terrible character design lmao that said, there's also plenty else to criticize Religiously Gay for, including its fetishy representation of gay relationships and the fact that it's still just the "naive person who looks and acts like a child hooks up with mean person in a position of power" trope, blech, but the character design is definitely the first thing you notice)

There are even plenty of hardcore Christians who will deadass claim "misrepresentation" over things that ARE factually correct but they just haven't read the actual Bible and simply cherry pick what works for their own agenda. And of course those people are routinely called out by people like myself who know for a fact that Jesus wouldn't have promoted the war crimes that many modern day Christians are committing and justifying today. So it really depends on the definition of "misrepresentation" here.

The issue specifically with LO and Rachel that I personally call her out for (and many others) is that she's called herself a "folklorist" and claimed she's so much more knowledgeable on Greek myth than anyone else, while making a complete mockery of the original mythologies while not being honest about her intent as to whether LO is actually supposed to be a legitimate retelling OR a parody (because it sure acts like the latter more than the former, but she still seems to expect us to take it seriously and consider her knowledge of Greek myth superior?) Which leads to a lot of her teenage audience claiming shit like "Persephone went down to the underworld willingly" and "Apollo did assault Persephone in the original myths actually" and the classic "why would Lore Olympus lie or make up fake myths?"

You just can't pull off this extent of erasure with Christian mythology because we have a whole ass book of it that's been preserved, sold on shelves, and systematically integrated into society for thousands of years. Of course, there are people who will still try their damned best to twist the Bible to match their own bigotry with the whole "Jesus hates gays" bullshit (he would never), but it's met with equal amounts of 'misrepresentation' that are actually fully well-read and are intentionally subverting and changing things to either critique, parody, or restore the original intent of a lot of stories in the Bible without all the manufactured right-wing crap.

Greek myth, on the other hand, has some stories that are well preserved, and others, not so much. And in the modern day outside of the poems and hymns, you'll also rarely, if ever, see anyone use stories from Greek myth to ostracize, torture, and murder other people. "Misrepresenting Christianity" is more often done by actual Christians who are using the Bible to commit hate crimes than the people who have actually read the Bible and are just taking creative liberties with it for the sake of deconstructing / parodying / analyzing / subverting it. Veggie Tales "misrepresents" Christian stories because obviously Moses wasn't a fucking cucumber lmao but it still accomplishes its goal by retelling Christian stories in a way that's fun and educational for children.

By comparison (on the whole, I'm not comparing LO to Veggie Tales LMAO) LO just isn't clear in its intentions beyond Rachel's initial statements that she was trying to "deconstruct" the myths, while labelling herself as a folklorist. Therefore, I'm going to criticize how she does it because the way she's done it up until now has been very mishandled and has resulted in a lot of misinterpretations of the myths simply for the sake of fandom. And yes, these people exist in Christian media as well - they're called TV evangelists.

And that's my (very heavy) two cents.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

A Writer's Recipes George Orwell

Recipes (Christmas Pudding; Orange Marmalade; Plum Cake; Treacle Tart; Welsh Rarebit; Yorkshire Pudding)

Excerpts from the article, "British Cookery" commissioned by the British Council in 1946 but was unpublished

CHRISTMAS PUDDING

Ingredients:

1 lb each of currants, sultanas & raisins 2 ounces sweet almonds 1 ounces bitter almonds 4 ounces mixed peel ½ lb brown sugar ½ lb flour ¼ lb breadcrumbs ½ teaspoonful salt ½ teaspoonful grated nutmeg ¼ teaspoonful powdered cinnamon 6 ounces suet The rind and juice of 1 lemon 5 eggs A little milk 1/8 of a pint of brandy, or a little beer

Method. Wash the fruit. Chop the suet, shred and chop the peel, stone and chop the raisins, blanch and chop the almonds. Prepare the breadcrumbs. Sift the spices and salt into the flour. Mix all the dry ingredients into a basin. Heat the eggs, mix them with the lemon juice and the other liquids. Add to the dry ingredients and stir well. If the mixture is too stiff, add a little more milk. Allow the mixture to stand for a few hours in a covered basin. Then mix well again and place in well-greased basins of about 8 inches diameter. Cover with rounds of greased paper. Then tie the tops of the basins over the floured cloths if the puddings are to be boiled, or with thick greased paper if they are to be steamed. Boil or steam for 5 or 6 hours. On the day when the pudding is to be eaten, re-heat it by steaming it for 3 hours. When serving, pour a large spoonful of warm brandy over it and set fire to it.

In Britain it is usual to mix into each pudding one or two small coins, tiny china dolls or silver charms which are supposed to bring luck.

ORANGE MARMALADE (handwritten note – ‘Bad recipe!’ –‘too much sugar and water’)

Ingredients:

2 seville oranges 2 sweet oranges (no) 2 lemons (no) 8 lbs of preserving sugar 8 pints of water

Method. Wash and dry the fruit. Halve them and squeeze out the juice. Remove some of the pith, then shred the fruit finely. Tie the pips in a muslin bag. Put the strained juice, rind and pips into the water and soak for 48 hours. Place in a large pan and simmer for 1 1/2 hours until the rind is tender. Leave to stand overnight, then add the sugar and let it dissolve before bringing to the boil. Boil rapidly until a little of the mixture will set into a jelly when placed on a cold plate. Pour into jars which have been heated beforehand, and cover with paper covers.

PLUM CAKE

Ingredients:

¾ 1b butter ½ 1b sugar 4 eggs ¾ 1b flour ¼ lb crystallised cherries ¼ Ib raisins ¼ lb sultanas ¼ lb chopped almonds ¼ lb mixed candied peel The grated rind of 1 lemon and 1 orange ½ teaspoonful of mixed spice A pinch of salt 1 glass brandy

Method. Beat the butter and sugar to a cream; add each egg separately and beat until the mixture is stiff and uniform. Sift the flour with the mixed spice and the salt, stir well into the creamed mixture, add the raisins (stoned beforehand), the cherries cut in halves, and the sultanas, the candied peel cut into small pieces, the grated lemon and orange rind, add the brandy. Mix thoroughly, put into a round tin lined with greased paper, put into a hot oven for 10 to 15 minutes, then reduce the heat and bake slowly for 3 ½ hours.

TREACLE TART

Ingredients:

12 ounces short crust pastry Golden syrup 2 ounces breadcrumbs A pinch of ginger or a little lemon juice

Method. Make the pastry crust in the proportion of eight ounces of flour to five ounces of butter, with a pinch of salt, and mix with cold water. Line a flat metal dish with the pastry. Cover with a layer of bread crumbs, then pour in the golden syrup. Sprinkle lemon juice or ginger over the syrup and cover with the remainder of the crumbs. Bake for 30 minutes in a hot oven.

WELSH RAREBIT

Ingredients:

1 ounce butter 4 ounces cheese (coarsely grated) 1 tablespoonful milk or beer ½ teaspoonful made mustard Pepper and salt

Method. Melt the butter in a saucepan. Add the milk, salt, mustard and cheese. Heat and stir until the cheese has melted. Pour on to slices of hot buttered toast which have been prepared beforehand. Serve immediately.

YORKSHIRE PUDDING

Ingredients:

4 ounces flour 1 or 2 eggs ½ teaspoonful salt ½ pint milk (or milk and water)

Method. Put the flour into a basin with the salt. Make a well in the centre, break in the eggs; beat well, adding the milk to make a think batter; allow this to stand for 2 hours. Melt some dripping in a baking-tin and when quite hot pour in the batter. Make for half an hour in a hot oven.

More: George Orwell

[mementoshay]

I read in a document saying that you are longer going to be involved with anything to do with Hazbin ever again, is that correct? If so, why?

Hello there, I will answer with my own experience.

Keep in mind, however, that the fact that a friend died in the name of this show is already reason enough for me to not want to hear about it again, if only to preserve my own sanity.

For now, the only one who still somewhat engages with the fandom is Eden. I think the reason is that she made many friends along the way in the years she took an active part in the fandom (all the way from before the pilot I think, so many years), and can't quite cut the cord yet.

I, on the other hand, came along after the pilot and belonged to the HuskerDust "side" because of the Instagrams. I'm gonna admit I loved their banter and seeing Angel flirt with him with Husk acting like he didn't care, when he actually did. I found it cute. And also the way Angel blushed in the pilot when Husk was introduced.

I did know about the Hunicasts and about the interactions between Ed Bosco and Michael Kovach (Alastor and Angel's old VAs) on stream, and I found them amusing although not as endearing as the Instagram interactions between Angel and Husk.

I was fully aware though that these streams were the ground upon which the pilot (and fandom) was built, and the "RadioDust" ship carried the whole thing for years before anything was even produced. If you even typed "Hazbin Hotel" or "Alastor" or "Angel Dust", they were the thing that would come up on Google first.

What I liked about it all, however, was the passion and "camaraderie" this whole thing came with. There was passion from the VAs, there was passion from the writers, there was passion from the fans themselves. The fan created so much content it's insane. Every single fan awaited the arrival of the show for so long it was absolutely wonderful to see every character move when the show was announced.

We all believed in this project, it was amazing.

Yet, fast forward to the winter of 2023, my "side" of the fandom became increasingly aggressive. They wrote callout posts, leading to ship and content wars. They expected and almost demanded that the ship would be canon, because of an endless list of clues they collected over the years. And when the ship was confirmed to be 'endgame' the self-entitlement went from 0 to 100 in the blink of an eye. It was beyond insane.

Seeing the way my "side" could as much as maul people on other "sides" (may it be RadioDust, ValDust, RadioHusk, NifftyHusk, you name it, as long as there's either Angel or Husk in the equation) already made me grimace a little. When all that happened, I was taken aback.

Then, Shay died. And with all the names involved in the fact (which I won't name) that I really looked up to and followed for years, I felt sick to my stomach. I unfollowed them all and took a break from everything.

All I was hoping for was a show about redemption, with fun shenanigans between a bunch of misfits... instead we got drama after drama, ship war fuel directly from up above, and a dead fan.

I still watched the show when it came out, but I felt utterly disappointed by it. Extremely poor pacing, terrible writing with bits and pieces completely useless to the plot, characters that no longer feel like what they were advertised as (e.g Husk, Alastor or Cherri Bomb) and an overall waste of precious minutes for such a short runtime. I felt a bit betrayed as well, given the amount of time we all waited since we saw these characters on screen.

But worst of it all, the passion that fueled the original plan was completely gone, as well as the camaraderie we lived with for so long. And a friend, who dedicated time, money and passion is now dead for this.

There is to say that every community is made out of people that should be taken individually. I can name plenty that would never ever wish what has occurred to Shay and that still belong to what was my "side" of the fandom. But I can also name plenty that to this day still shout death threats over different ships and opinions.

Things change, of course. For me, they didn't change for the better. And neither did for Shay.

So you'll understand if I don't wish to be involved not hear about Hazbin Hotel (or HuskerDust for that matter) again.

Thanks for your question!

- Liv

[wongyuseokie]

The Best Day | l.c

Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day, and your boyfriend has everything perfectly planned. 

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕smut | ♥︎ completed

Word Count: 1589 words

Pairing: Lee Chan x Female Reader 

Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Smut, Fluff 

Content Warnings: Valentine’s Day fluff, silly dad jokes, funny banter (I think). Inaccurate but vague descriptions of Korea’s scenery. I googled images—kissing and Dino driving. 

Smut Warning: oral sex (fem receiving), food play (whipped cream)—ass slapping, spanking just once. I'm drooling over Chan, but that’s normal. Orgasms 

Authors Note 1: This is written for @svthub's Cupid for You collab and my lovely wife, @bitchlessdino 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷. I adore you so much, my darling. This was relatively last minute, but I hope you like it! I love you, my darling—Happy Belated Valentine’s Day. 

© wongyuseokie 2024. All rights reserved.

“Chan, I will fall!” You protested as your boyfriend insisted you wear a blindfold as he helped you out of the house. 

“Shh, trust the process, baby,” Chan cooed. 

“What process? You are kidnapping me with zero details,” you whined. 

“Three years, you have so little faith in me?” Chan asked, feigning hurt. 

“You’ve blindfolded me and told me to dress comfy and said all we’re doing is something fun,” you said. 

“Sorry baby, I need to be vague for our Valentine,” Chan declared. 

“Shit,” Chan mumbled as he helped you into the car. 

“That’s what we're doing?” You exclaimed as Chan mumbled a ‘yes.

“It was meant to be a surprise,” Chain complained as he got into the car and the driver's seat and you could hear the pout in his voice. 

You blindly reached out your hand over the console, placed it on Chan’s thigh,  and squeezed it slightly. 

“All you’ve told me is it’s for Valentine’s, nothing else. Don’t worry, you haven’t told me anything,” you said, attempting to comfort him. 

“Phew, then we’re good,” Chan said determinedly. 

“Okay, you can take the blindfold off,” Chan instructed. 

“Wait, you made me wear a blindfold just to walk from the house to the car?” You exclaimed dramatically as you ripped the blindfold off. 

“Yes, if you saw how handsome I looked, I was worried you’d just drag me back to bed,” Chan said with a wink. You rolled your eyes at his admission.

 “You are hot, and you’re right. I would have dragged you back to bed, but I do have self-control,” you joked. 

“Not that I’ve seen,” Chan said with a smirk. 

“Shut up.” 

As Chan drove, you both embarked on your road trip through Seoul. The landscape unfolded before you like a painting. As you both left the bustling cityscape behind, you found yourselves slowly cruising along the winding roads that led you to the lush green countryside.

The journey was picturesque as you both navigated through serene valleys adorned with vibrant cherry blossoms, and their delicate petals danced in the gentle breeze. You saw mountains that stood majestically in the distance, and their peaks shrouded in wisps of mist, creating a scene straight out of a postcard.

You pass by quaint villages, where you catch glimpses of traditional Korean architecture, that had been so well preserved. You observed lush, emerald coloured rice paddies, that created a patchwork of greenery.

As the drive continued, the road meandered along the coastline, allowing you to steal a breathtaking view of the sea, the way it sparkled with the sun. You saw the waves rise and crash, and you took a breath, as you soaked in the tranquility of the sea.

You saw cascading waterfalls tumbling down moss-covered rocks, serene temples nestled in verdant forests, and ancient fortresses perched atop rugged hills.

As day drew closer to an end, you saw the sun starting to dip below the horizon, watching as the sky turned into hues of pink and gold, and in that moment you found yourself overcome with joy, love and emotion.

“Chan, this is beautiful,” you sighed as you saw the sights. 

“Isn’t it? I wish I could do this more often, but time with you and the sights almost make up for the fact I’m not the best boyfriend,” Chan mumbled. 

“Hush, you are the best boyfriend ever, and yes, maybe we have to do things a little differently than most couples, but that doesn’t mean you’re not amazing,” you said, reaching over to run your hand through his hair. 

“I think Cupid shot me in the ass because I think I just fell even more head over heels for you,” Chan said smugly, making you roll your eyes. 

“You are so lucky. I love you,” you mumbled. 

“I am.”

“Holy shit,” you gasped as you walked into the beautiful house Chan had rented. 

“You rented this for us?” You asked as he led you into the house, holding your hand. 

“Yes, for the entire weekend. Notice that it's super isolated, too? So you can scream as much as you want,” Chan suggested flirty. 

“Why would I be screaming?” You asked. 

“Because baby, it’s Valentine’s Day, and I’m going to spend it showing you how much I love you multiple times, too,” Chan explained, making you giggle. 

“But first, we must set the mood. I am going to get the strawberries and cream,” Chan said. 

“Huh?”

“They’re aphrodisiacs,” Chan stated. 

“You just want to start fucking straight away, don’t you?” You teased. 

“Problem?” 

“Nope, but I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t prepare as much for today. I’ve been strapped for cash after online shopping, so do you want to unwrap me instead?” You teased. 

“Gladly, you’re the best present, plus I can eat you.” 

“Chan! Shut up!” 

“Can you please, for the love of god, get hard?” Chan yelled at the bowl of whipping cream that just would not seem to comply. 

“Babe, if getting hard is a problem, I hope you realise that it happens to many guys, and there is medication if it persists,” you said. You were peeling the stalks off strawberries, being Chan’s dutiful sous chef, and making smart-ass comments like the last one was high on your resume, and Chan turned around to glare at you. 

“Okay, one, don’t quote friends to me. Two shut up.”

“You look hot, by the way,” you complimented, focusing on your strawberries. 

“I know I am.” 

 “Baby, I’m serious. Come here for a second,” you said, motioning him to the kitchen counter where you were sitting. 

“Yes?” Chan said as he placed his arms by your legs. You pulled the hoodie of his zipper off and pushed the fabric off his toned body. Chan narrowed his eyes at you.

 “Seriously, how is it fair that I am shirtless and you aren’t?” You smiled, rolling your eyes at his comment. 

“I’m wearing a shirt. You, on the other hand, like a fucking idiot, wore a hoodie in a kitchen,” you quipped. 

“Why are you, my assistant again?” Chan asked. 

“Simple, you love me, and you’re a simp.”

“I am.” 

You had to bite your lip when you saw your boyfriend’s exposed back. His broad, tanned shoulders and muscles were enough to have you drooling. 

“How are the strawberries going?” Chan asked; you grinned as you hatched a plan. 

“They’re good,” you mumbled, a mouthful of strawberries, and Chan dropped his whisk into the bowl. 

“You’re not meant to be eating them,” he said as he turned around and glared as he saw you suck and bite into a strawberry. The fruit's juices coated your mouth, enough to make Chan snap. 

“Okay! That’s enough!” 

You looked at Chan innocently as you licked your lips.

“Baby? Is it sweet enough?” You asked, and Chan closed the gap between you as he pulled you in for a kiss. Chan’s hands went to the bottom of your shirt, pulling it off, groaning when he found you naked underneath it. 

“Sweet,” he said against your lips.

“Fucking sweet,” he praised as his hands moved to move the glass bowl of strawberries to the other counter. 

“Lie down,” Chan said. You nodded, gasping slightly at the cold marble hitting your back. 

You felt something cold on your stomach, and it moved its way down to your cunt. “Fuck, Chan, what is that?” You asked.

“Whipped cream, god, and it is going to make that sweet little cunt of yours even sweeter,�� Chan said as he lowered his head. You moaned as you felt the whipped cream trail further down. Chan pushed your legs apart as he leaned down to wrap his lips around your cunt.

 “Fuck, I was right. So sweet,” Chan praised, making you moan as you tangled your hands in his hair. You felt his lips and tongue move in such delicate yet thorough movements. He left no part of you untouched. It didn’t take long; with the way his full lips wrapped around your clit, and the way his tongue flicked at your clit you came pretty soon. 

“Fuck, you somehow taste sweeter than the cream,” Chan said as he helped you sit up on the counter. 

“Come on, let’s get you to the shower. I want you to cream for me,” you glared at him. 

“Do you ever think your jokes might be the biggest turn-off for me?” You joked, and Chan threw you over his shoulder and slapped your ass, making you moan. Chan smirked.

“Yeah, that moan proves otherwise.” 

[marsmarbles]

If you have the time, could you maybe do a scene with bigb teaching grian how to bake his famous cookies? Or maybe something a bit more angsty, like one of them getting to the other only to find their leftover items? Or whatever you want honestly! Thx for the secret soulmates food! :p

I had an idea for this request but it would be too much to draw so I’m actually gonna try and do some writing instead. Sorry for those who don’t like reading. It’s kinda long.

Golden Light to Silver Shadows

Grian nervously stood before the Food Crew’s bakery entrance, clamping his sweaty hands on a present he had spent all day preparing for BigB. Turning the knob of the door and pushing it open activated an alarm system set up by Fwhip. A bell rang and a few note blocks could be heard. It was a charming little jingle to welcome customers. The bakery was cozy with cherry plank walls and coffee colored spruce floors. A few circle tables were sprinkled in the center of the room with booths lining the walls. Lanterns, succulents, and baskets of flowery bushes hung from the ceiling. BigB was sat behind the counter. He was examining the creases in the floorboards with his head resting on his hand. He had been daydreaming. BigB loved his bakery, but it was admittedly boring to wait for customers. The door jingle alerted him to Grian’s presence.

“Grian!” BigB lit up in excitement, his antennae wiggled with joy. The genuine excitement to see Grian was more than enough to make Grian’s face flush. “Hey, BigB. I uhhh… made something for you.”

Grian slid a bag of cookies across the counter with shaky hands. They were neatly wrapped in a shimmery clear bag, tightly fastened with a blue ribbon with gold accents. “This was my first time ever making cookies, so sorry if they’re bad. Maybe you can show me your secret recipe,” Grian laughed nervously.

BigB gleefully loosened the blue ribbon holding the bag shut, took a cookie, and ate it whole. It was crunchy and thin and….hollow(?)…they weren’t bad by any means. For Grian’s first time, BigB appreciated the love and effort he put in. He had waited all day for someone to show up to the bakery. And the fact that it was Grian made it even better. He didn’t want him to leave just yet.

“How about we make some cookies together! The cocoa beans should be ready in the greenhouse,” BigB suggested, gesturing to the entrance to the greenhouse just behind him.

“I’d love to!” Grian quickly replied. The word ‘together’ was enough.

After BigB stashed away the cookies for later in the top cabinet, he and Grian made their way to the back door to the greenhouse. Grian had to do an awkward shuffle around the counter to keep up. The greenhouse was gorgeous. Golden light shone through the semi transparent overhang and broke through the flowers and leaves. Parrots chirped and bees buzzed. Luscious plants swayed in the gentle breeze. Glow berry vines slung from the ceiling as axolotls and frogs popped out from the ponds, curious of the new visitor. Grian stared in awe. This was more of a massive nature preserve than any greenhouse he’s ever been in.

“Grian?” BigB broke Grian out of his trance. “The cocoa bean farm is over here.”

“Uh right,” Grian said, adjusting his glasses and wiping his mouth and chin with his coat sleeve (just to make sure he didn’t drool while distracted).

BigB led him to a cluster of jungle trees. They reached high, popping out the top of through the ceiling. Podzol and bamboo were dotted around in clumps. Just past the cocoa bean farm was the end of the greenhouse. Through the transparent walls could be a seen an expansive jungle forest, stretching well beyond the world borders. BigB pulled off a ready cocoa bean plant and inspected it for abnormalities. After checking that it was good, he held it out for Grian. “Why don’t you try to break this one open?”

“Uhh I dunno,” Grian held his hands up, unsure.

In that moment, Grian took a pause. Actually, the whole world felt in slow motion. Something unseen had disturbed the peace. His Watcher senses were tingling, so to speak. Something was about to happen….. Suddenly, as the world picked back up in speed, BigB’s calming smile was shot down with an excruciating pain all throughout his body; every muscle, every ligament, every organ, each and every follicle of hair. The cocoa bean plant dropped and exploded on impact with the earth. A jolt went up his spine and his legs went out on him. He tumbled to the ground. He had no process time to scream or cry out in pain. He just fell.

“BIGB!!!!” Grian shrieked, dropping to his knees to assist him just as fast as BigB fell. “B-BIGB WHAT HAPPENED ARE YOU OKAY??”

“I-I…I think I’m going…J-Jimmy…he-”BigB managed to get out with a weak shaky breath.

“BigB! BigB! Please I need you to stay with me BigB,” Grian frantically cradled BigB in his arms. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He checked chat…

…Jimmy had fallen to his death…

Oh, fucking of course, Grian thought. Grian hadn’t considered Jimmy being in control of BigB’s lives, but with that confirmation he’d might as well think of this as his final moments with his secret soulmate.

“Grian….” BigB mustered the strength to caress Grian’s cheek and wipe away a tear. “…it’s ok….i’ll be right back….it’s just one life….”

“BigB….” Grian quietly whined, taking BigB’s hand, keeping it held to his cheek. He felt it go cold and his arm become heavy. Grian saw the last of the light in BigB’s dark eyes fade as his body became limp. Grian pulled his lifeless corpse into one final hug. And as BigB dissipated into smoke and billowed away…..Grian was left alone.

All the light and magic that the greenhouse had greeted him with was gone. The birds went silent, the bees hid back into their hives. The trees and flowers went grey and the golden light became silver shadows. Silently, Grian collected BigB’s fallen items, keeping his head down to hide his tearful look. And as he slowly closed the chest he stored BigB’s items in, he heard voices in the distance. It was a collection of people, most notably Scott, Martyn, Fwhip, and Joel, with a tomato faced Jimmy stomping ahead of them.

“Jimmy!!! We’re sorry!! We didn’t think you’d miss the water!” Scott cackled as he tried to explain himself to Jimmy.

“It was bad maths!! Bad maths!!” Martyn pleaded with a giggle.

“We didn’t think you’d die!!” Scott added, trying to breathe through his laughter.

“IM NOT HAVING ANY OF IT!!!!” Jimmy snapped back at them. “PLAYING BUNGEE JUMP WITH FISHING RODS IS THE LAST THING WE SHOULD BE THINKING ABOUT DOING IN A PLACE LIKE THIS!!! WHAT DO YOU THINK IMMA TELL BIGB, ‘THAT IT WAS JUST A PRANK’!!??”

Jimmy stormed into the bakery, and as he slammed the door, Fwhip’s voice was cut off; “but it was just a prank-“

Grian could here Jimmy stomp about in the bakery. He must’ve been looking for BigB. Jimmy ran out into the greenhouse and froze to find Grian and the aftermath of the incident. Grian stood there with a clenched fist and a chest by his feet. He gave Jimmy a stone cold glare with his dark eyes. Jimmy flinched at the sight of his expression.

“I put BigB’s stuff in this chest,” Grian said almost robotically, pointing to the box.

Jimmy desperately wanted to apologize, but Grian looked like he would accept nothing; not even a notch apple. Grian stiffly walked past him.

“I’m sorry….about BigB…” Jimmy made an attempt at an apology, hoping that Grian could find it in him somewhere to forgive him. Grian paused.

“It wasn’t your fault, Tim….” Grian said without turning back to him. “It was their’s….”

Grian continued walking, leaving Jimmy to wallow. He made his way to the bakery and took a seat at one of the circle tables. The room felt cold and desolate compared to before. Like it was a completely different place that the greenhouse had spat him back out into. He shuffled his chair forward and laid his head down, waiting for BigB’s return.

I actually had a lot of fun writing this, even though I wouldn’t consider myself a very skilled writer(and there’s most definitely a lot of mistakes I made lol). I felt like it was easier to depict a full scene compared to a comic(which would’ve probably taken me weeks). So I’ll do more writing like this in the future.

[statelysapphic]

Chessy and the Farmer

Chessy x Reader

Summary: Chessy has a farmer's market crush.

Warnings: None, just some fluff.

Notes: Lightly proofread. Feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy<3

It was a crisp September morning in the Napa Valley. Sun shining, fog looming, and a layer of dew painting the greenery. Chessy’s favorite farmers market weather. She smiles and pulls her coffee mug closer to her mouth, lips remaining curled. She began making a mental checklist of things she needed, but soon found her thoughts elsewhere. Hallie and Annie had agreed to accompany her, a rare occurrence and one Chessy looked forward to. She only needed one more thing for the day to be perfect: you. Her favorite local farmer.

You wouldn’t necessarily call yourself a farmer. You just grew various fruits, vegetables, and herbs in six raised beds out back. Sure, you grew way more than you needed, but the process was something you cherished, so you didn’t mind making more work for yourself. Tending to your garden was a therapeutic exercise for you. There wasn’t a problem in the world an hour in the garden couldn’t fix. Cool soil grounded you after a long day. Caring for your plants made you feel alive.

Some of what you grew was harvested and either eaten or preserved for yourself. Everything else was sold or preserved. The local farmers market was the only place you set up shop. After all, this was a hobby and not your career, and you didn’t want to overdo it. What you didn’t sell at the end of the day, you donated to the local soup kitchen. You didn’t want anything going to waste. 

—-

Packing up your old, beat-up pickup, the last box you grab curls your lips into a grin at the label, ‘Chessy.’ You’ve seen the redhead almost every Sunday morning for the last year and a half, though it only took a few months of her consistent patronage for you to be smitten.  Although her purchases each week varied, you noticed a couple of patterns. The second Sunday of every month, Chessy would buy a jar of your canned pickles. Today was the second Sunday of the month. Peaking into the box, you see the jar of pickles amongst small baskets of cherry tomatoes, brussel sprouts, green beans, and bell peppers, and bushels of chives, mint, sage, and dill. All for her. 

You hoist the box into the passenger seat of the truck, rather than letting it jostle around in the bed with the rest of the crops. You hesitate as you grip the truck door, looking back at the precious cargo. Without a second thought, you grabbed the seatbelt and buckled the box into the seat. “Safety first,” you whisper to yourself, shutting the door before hitting the road.

—-

“Ooh Lala, your woman is here, Chessy,” Hallie teased. The older woman chuckled slightly and pulled a ten dollar bill from the breast pocket of her denim jacket, handing it to the twins.

“Very funny. Here, go get yourselves some lemonade over there and I’ll catch up with you.” She nodded to the girls and watched them walk to the lemonade stand before making her way to your table. “Well, good morning,” she said as she approached, a smile on her face. Your favorite smile.

“There’s my favorite customer,” you said, a grin on your face, “I hope you don’t mind, but I put a little something together for you.” You turned away from her to retrieve her box from the truck, missing the way Chessy smirked and bowed her head in an attempt to hide the blush that painted her face. When she lifted her head again, she was met with a box in front of her. A box, she noted, meant just for her. Now, there was no hiding her blush, though she wore it with pride. 

Chessy admired the harvest chosen specially for her. “This all looks delicious, hun,” she pauses for a moment as she locks her eyes on the jar of pickles, “And you remembered my midnight snack.” Her eyes find yours, and heat rises to your face.

“Every second Sunday of the month,” you say casually. “They’re my go-to midnight snack as well. Good taste.” The older woman’s smile widens at your confession, as you push the imagine of you sitting on your kitchen counter with Chessy standing between your legs, hands loosely on your hips, as you feed her pickles as far out of your brain as you could. 

“Do you remember the snacking habits of all your customers?” The redhead asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Only the one that matters.” One. You play it off as if you didn’t just confess that she matters to you in some capacity. 

Chessy’s breath hitched in her throat at your words. She couldn’t take her eyes off of you, and she didn’t really want to. Her features softened as she released her breath. Her farmers market crush: reciprocated. Everything is quiet for a moment, as if it was just the two of you in this gravel lot. The familiar chuckle of certain twins pulled Chessy back to reality. “What’s the damage for a spread like this?” She asked you, reaching into her pants pocket.

Quickly, you raise your hand to stop her. “Nothin’. It’s on me this time.” You can tell she’s about to protest, so you don’t give her the chance. “Consider it a gift. For my favorite customer.” You notice that the twins are standing behind Chessy, though your eyes never leave her. 

“Then come over for dinner a night this week. Let me cook for you,” she says, “and I’m not taking no for an answer.” Her words sculpt a wide grin on your face and paint it red. Was this really happening? You finally break her gaze only to lock eyes with the twins, who are both nodding their heads fervently with large, toothy smiles. 

When your eyes are once again locked onto hers, you nod your head and reply, “Yeah, I think I’d like that. Thank you. I’m free Tuesday if that works for you?”

“Six o’clock. Don’t be late,” she said with a wink and a smirk that you’ll never forget, before grabbing her box and turning to leave. She’ll take the afternoon to convince Nick to make everyone scarce on Tuesday evening. Chessy walks past the twins, who are still giggling and whispering to each other, not bothering to acknowledge the sarcastic smile the older woman gives them. “Girls, let’s go!” She yells once she’s a few yards ahead of them.

You throw your head back in a small chuckle before hearing the twins sing, in unison, “Chessy and the farmer sitting in a tree…”

[nihonnojihifukainomajonoseiiki]

I made a dark chocolate and black cherry cake to honor Nyx.

This cake, with its rich chocolate flavor and mysterious black cherry filling, honors Nyx’s essence while the dark colors and gold accents create a 'night sky' look.

Ingredients

For the dark chocolate cake (makes three tiers):

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 ¾ cups granulated sugar

¾ cup unsweetened dark cocoa powder

2 tsp baking soda

1 tsp baking powder

1 tsp salt

2 large eggs, at room temperature

1 cup buttermilk, at room temperature

½ cup vegetable oil

2 tsp vanilla extract

1 cup strong brewed coffee (for added depth)

For the black cherry filling:

1 cup black cherry preserves

¼ cup cherry liqueur

½ cup frozen black cherries, chopped

For the dark chocolate ganache frosting:

1 ½ cups heavy cream

2 cups dark chocolate, chopped (70% cocoa or higher)

1 tbsp corn syrup (for shine)

For decoration:

Edible gold paint (for detailing)

Dark pink edible roses (for decoration)

1. Bake the dark chocolate cake:

Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease and flour three 8-inch round cake pans.

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.

Add buttermilk, vegetable oil, eggs, and vanilla extract. Beat on medium speed until smooth and well combined.

Gradually add the brewed coffee and mix until smooth. The batter will be thin.

Divide the batter evenly between the prepared pans.

Bake for 25-30 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean. Cool completely on wire racks.

2. Prepare the black cherry filling:

In a small saucepan, combine black cherry preserves and cherry liqueur. Stir over medium heat until smooth.

Add a cup of chopped frozen black cherries for texture.

Let cool to room temperature before using.

3. Make the dark chocolate ganache frosting:

Heat the heavy cream in a saucepan until it starts to simmer.

Pour the hot cream over the chopped dark chocolate in a heatproof bowl.

Let the hot cream and dark chocolate mixture sit for a minute, then whisk it until it's smooth and glossy.

Stir in some corn syrup for added shine.

Allow the ganache to cool slightly until it reaches a spreadable consistency.

4. Assemble the cake:

Place one layer of cake on a serving plate. Spread a layer of black cherry filling on top.

Repeat with the second layer of cake and filling, then top with the final cake layer.

Frost the entire cake with a thin layer of ganache as a 'crumb coat.' Chill for 15-20 minutes.

Apply a second, thicker layer of ganache, smoothing it out for a polished look.

5. Garnish:

Create delicate and jagged lines with edible gold paint for a cracked effect.

Arrange edible roses in dark pink tones on top of the cake to honor Nyx’s aesthetic.

6. Serve:

Cut the cake into slices and serve on dark plates to enhance the presentation. Consider pairing it with a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon to complement the flavors.

Dim the lights slightly when serving the cake to evoke a nighttime ambiance, reminiscent of Nyx’s domain.

[francesminos-tt]

i don't know if you've done anything like this but older joffron finally getting closer as a real couple? i mean i imagine they've been married for years and their kids are 10-5 but their relationship has always been more about duty than love 💕😘

This thing is going way too long than I expected.

Daeron came home later than usual that day. As the Financial Director in Hightower Corp, it was normal for him to work late from time to time, especially in tax season. It was already midnight when Daeron entered his family house. The house was dark, indicating that his husband and daughter were already sleeping.

Daeron went quietly towards the kitchen. He only had an energy bar for dinner, which meant he was starving now. Daeron would die for a hot meal right now.

The blonde rubbed his temples as he entered the kitchen. He had expected to see a dark and empty room like the rest of the house, but to Daeron’s surprise, there was someone there.

“Hey.” Joffrey lifted his eyes from the cell phone screen to Daeron, “You are late today.”

“Tax season.” Daeron shrugged, trying to hide his surprise, “Why aren’t you sleep?”

“Rhae and I had pizza for dinner today.” Joffrey said, yawning as he took a plate out of the oven, “You daughter saved you a piece. She made me swear that I would deliver the piece to you safely.”

Joffrey put the pizza plate down on the kitchen table. It was a simple pepperoni pizza with overflowing cheese. Daeron knew immediately that the pizza was not a takeout. It was too poorly made to be store-bought.

“Is it…?” Daeron didn’t have to finish his sentence, because Joffrey began nodding as soon as he opened his mouth, as if the brunette knew what Daeron was about to ask.

“Rhae made it.” Joffrey smiled, “I kept it in the oven, so it should still be warm. You probably didn’t eat much for dinner. Come, sit down. Do you want soda or tea?”

“Diet coke.” Daeron said, throwing him into the kitchen chair, “God, I am starving.”

“I am not surprised.” Joffrey took out a cherry diet coke from the top of the fridge and handed it to his husband, “You are always like that. Never remember to eat whenever work overflows.”

Daeron opened the can and took a huge gulp, the cool liquid like a balm to his burning throat. They didn’t keep many sodas in the house, trying to limit sugar intake of their 10-year-old daughter, but Joffrey always hid a couple of canned coke on the higher compartment of the fridge, for Daeron’s late night sugar cravings. They knew each other’s habits and preferences so well that sometimes they didn't even need to speak. A single nod, a raise of the eyebrow, or even a side-eye was enough for them to communicate.

“Do you need anything to go with your pizza? I think I have some leftover vegetable stir-fry.”

“No, I am good. Thanks.” Daeron said while chewing his pizza. Normally, Daeron had perfect table manners, growing up under his mother’s influence and all, but he had long gotten used to letting his guard down around Joffrey. It was impossible to keep up the appearance for 15 years, after all.

Daeron and Joffrey had been married for 15 years. Well, 14 years and 8 months to be precise. Daeron couldn't really count the days. He only knew that their anniversary was in June, and it was approaching February now. June wedding sounded romantic, but unfortunately, the reality was quite the opposite. Their marriage was one of duty and necessity. They married each other in order to preserve the family heritage. They didn't hate each other, per se, but they weren’t in love either. Neither of them were in a serious relationship when the marriage proposal was brought up, so there was no reason for them to fight back. Daeron remembered that he went through the whole wedding on autopilot. His mind was completely blank; he slipped into a fancy suit, let the stylist do his hair, got the ring, and walked down the aisle. Joffrey was standing at the end of the aisle, right in front of the altar, with a blank expression mirroring Daeron’s own. They exchanged the vows and kissed each other on the lips, and then it was done. They were married.

Joffrey leaned against the kitchen counter and watched Daeron eat his late dinner. If they were a normal couple, they probably would have kissed already. Yet all Joffrey did was watching Daeron eat, while sipping on his own nighttime tea.

“Can you make time this Friday? Rhae’s team is playing in little league. She’s making her debut.” Joffrey asked after Daeron had finished the pizza, “She will be happy if you can be there.”

“When is the kick off?”

“3PM. You don’t have to watch the whole match, but-”

“I’ll be there.” Daeron said before Joffrey could finish his sentence, “I won't miss our daughter’s first football match.”

Joffrey seemed a little taken aback by Daeron’s words. Don’t get him wrong. He knew Daeron was a good dad, highly devoted to their daughter and trying to make time for Rhaenys as much as possible, but Joffrey also knew how hectic the tax season could be. Joffrey wouldn't really blame Daeron for not showing up, but it surprised him how quickly the blonde made his decision.

“That…will be great.” Joffrey managed to find the right words, “Thank you. Rhae will be exhilarated.”

“You don't have to thank me.” Daeron shrugged as he put the plate in the dish washer, “Rhae is my daughter, too. It’s my responsibility to be part of her life.”

Daeron pressed the button on the dish washer before turning to face Joffrey. The brunette was still standing next to the counter, in a faded graphic T-shirt and baggy sweatpants, curls greasy and skin pale from staying up so late. It was not the most attractive picture Daeron had seen, to be honest, but somehow, the scene screamed home.

Joffrey had become the equivalent of home to Daeron at some point. When Daeron thought of home, Joffrey was the first thing that appeared in his mind. Though they hadn't shared a bed since their daughter’s birth 10 years ago, they functioned more like a family than Daeron could have ever imagined. They split house chores, took care of their daughter, showed up family gatherings together, even went on family trips twice a year. They were like a real couple, except for the sex part.

“Well, it’s remarkable of you to make the effort nonetheless.” Joffrey yawned before continuing, “I know how crazy the tax season can be.”

“Go to sleep, Joffrey.” Daeron said, “I am capable of keeping the kitchen clean, you know.”

“Right.” Joffrey chuckled, “Sorry. I must have spent too much time with Rhae. I am used to seeing everyone as a child, I guess.”

“I am not a 10-year-old.” Daeron said in feigned annoyance, “I can take care of myself, mommy.”

Joffrey laughed and bumped his shoulder against Daeron playfully.

“You look no better than me, Joff,” Daeron observed, noticing the dark circles under Joffrey’s eyes, “and I just come back from 12-hour work day. You should get some rest.”

“I will.” Joffrey’s laugh turned into a tender smile, “Good night then. I will see you tomorrow at the field, yeah?”

“Okay.” Daeron nodded, “Good night, Joffrey.”

If Daeron had known what fate awaited them then, he would have never let Joffrey take Rhaenys to the field alone.

The next day, when Daeron showed up at the football field, both Joffrey and Rhaenys were nowhere to be found. It was already 3:30, and the game had already begun. Daeron looked in the crowd, but still no trace of his husband and daughter. Daeron tried calling Joffrey, but the phone went straight into voice mail.

Daeron’s heart sunk into his stomach after he learned that no one on the team had heard anything from Joffrey either. It was unlike Joffrey to just disappear without warning, especially not in a big day like today. Something must have happened.

And then, Daeron got the call.

“Hello?” Daeron tried to keep his voice flat, but failed miserably.

“Do you know a Joffrey Velaryon Targaryen, sir?” A man’s voice came from the phone, but the background noises were so loud that Daeron had trouble hearing him clearly. Was that siren?

“What?” Daeron raised his voice as he ran to the parking lot to get his car. His instinct told him that the call didn't bear good news.

“Joffrey Velaryon Targaryen!” The man repeated, “He’s in a car accident. I am the paramedic, and we are on our way to King’s Landing Clinic. I found your number on Mr. Targaryen’s phone as speed dial.”

Daeron’s heart skipped a beat. He had trouble breathing, as if all the air had been punched out of his lungs. It took all his self-control not to have a panic attack now. No. Put yourself together. Panic would not help Joffrey.

“Yes, I am his husband.” Daeron finally managed as he practically fell into his car, “How… How is he?”

“He’s in a coma. A truck lost control and hit his car from the driver’s side. He probably has a concussion and some broken ribs, but I can’t say for sure without further inspection. Oh, and there’s a girl in the car with him as well.”

“My daughter,” Daeron murmured, “the girl is my daughter. Please tell me she’s okay.”

“She is. She only has some scratches on the face and legs-”

“PAPA!” A girl voice came from the phone. Rhaenys’s voice.

“Hey, Rhae, it’s me. Papa’s here.” Daeron tried to keep the tremble out of his voice, “Are you hurt, my girl?”

“No, I am fine.” Rhaenys answered, her voice muffled, as if she had been crying, “But mama is hurt really bad. He won’t wake up no matter how hard I called him.”

Daeron bit the inside of his cheeks to prevent his thoughts from going to the darkest place. The paramedic said Joffrey was in a coma, right? Probably just a mild concussion. Nothing too serious. So stop worrying and put yourself together, god damn it.

“I am sure the doctors will make him better once they get to the hospital.” Daeron said in the softest voice he could manage, “Can you put the phone on speaker, please, dear?”

“Can you go to KL clinic now, sir?” The paramedic asked, “We are about 10 minutes away.”

“I will meet you there.” Daeron said before stomping on the accelerator, “Rhae, be a good girl and wait for papa, okay?”

“Okay.” Rhaenys sniffed, “Hurry, please, papa. I am scared.”

Daeron’s heart shattered at his daughter’s shaking voice. He probably shouldn’t drive in this state, but Daeron couldn’t afford waiting for an Uber. He needed to get to his family, as fast as possible.

Daeron arrived at the ER 20 minutes later. It took him no time to reunite with his little girl because Rhaenys stubbornly kept her eyes on the entrance, and ran to him as soon as Daeron walked past the door.

“Papa!”

Daeron swept his daughter into a tight hug. Rhaenys looked a little worse for wear; her pink jacket was dusty, her little face too, and there were several scratches on her left cheek and one on her left brow. She was wearing a pair of football shorts, exposing her shin that was covered in bruises and bloody scratches as well. Daeron observed her closely for a long while. Fortunately, apart from the scratches, Rhaenys looked okay. All her limbs were intact and she had enough energy to cry. It was supposed to be good thing, right?

“Thank god you are okay.” Daeron let out a long sigh of relief as he kissed the girl’s forehead, “Sorry for coming so late, but you are safe now, Rhae. Everything will be okay.”

“They rushed mama to the operation room.” Rhaenys said against Daeron’s shoulder, unwilling to let go of her papa, “Will mama be okay, papa? He hurt his head pretty bad when the truck crushed on us. They are not opening his brain, are they?”

Daeron had no answer to that. He hoped with all his heart that Joffrey would be okay. He might not love Joffrey in a romantic way, but he definitely loved Joffrey as family.

A nurse found them and saved Daeron from the awkward silence.

“Mr. Targaryen, right? Follow me, please.”

Daeron carried Rhaenys in his arms as he followed the nurse to the operation room. There was already a resident doctor waiting to brief them.

“Your husband suffers from two broken ribs, a broken knee, and a strained wrist.” The doctor said, “We are able to deal with those wounds, but the concussion is a little bit tricky. He seems to be blooding into his brain, so we have to perform an emergency procedure to remove the blood clot. He’s stable now, but we can’t know how much damage the bleeding did to his brain function until he wakes up.”

Daeron covered Rhaenys’s ears for the later part. She didn’t need to know her mama was bleeding into his brain.

“He will recover, right?” Daeron asked, desperately in need of some good news.

“Most likely. We have seen situations like this before, and normally the patient will make a full recovery.” The young doctor smiled reassuringly, “Right now, all we can do is wait.”

The doctor had a point. Daeron needed to pull himself together, at least for Rhaenys’s sake. He should probably call his sister Helaena and ask her to look after Rhaenys while Daeron dealt with this mess.

“Papa…” Rhaenys whispered quietly in Daeron’s ear, as if she could read his mind, “I don't want to leave mama alone.”

“We are not leaving him alone, okay?” Daeron brushed some soft blonde strands from her face, “But you are injured, too. You need to rest. I promise I will let you know as soon as Joff is out of surgery.”

“No,” Rhaenys shook her head stubbornly, “I need to make sure mama is okay. You don't understand! The truck was heading my way and mama steered the car at the last minute so it crushed on him!”

Rhaenys’s cheeks were stained with tears again by the time she finished talking. She seemed out of breath from speaking too much, so Daeron had to pat her back so that she wouldn't suffer from hyperpnoea. Daeron didn't have time to process what the little girl had just said, or rather, he was reluctant to. He didn't want to dwell too much on Joffrey’s self-sacrificing act. He couldn't, or he would collapse with guilt.

“Your daughter needs to stay in the hospital for the night.” The doctor spoke up, “The surgery will finish soon. You can wait here if you want. Is there anyone you need to call?”

Daeron had a long list of people that he needed to call. Joffrey’s mother, his brothers, Daeron’s own mother and sister, Rhaenys’s school, the football team, etc. However, Daeron couldn't bring himself to do the job now. He might appear calm, but he was just as worried as Rhaenys, maybe more. He had never felt so scared that he might lose Joffrey. The mere thought was enough to make his blood freeze.

“I will just wait here for my husband.” Daeron said eventually, “I will make the calls after.”

Joffrey’s surgery was a success. The doctors were able to stop the bleeding and remove all the blood clots from his brain. According to the doctors, there was no permanent damage.

Daeron had been staring at Joffrey while sitting beside the brunette’s hospital bed for the last five hours. He hadn't even moved, and barely blinked, for fear that Joffrey might disappear if he looked away. Joffrey had half of his head shaved for the surgery, his skin ashen from the loss of blood, and his body was hooked into more monitors that Daeron had ever seen.

Daeron had never observed Joffrey’s face so closely, despite them being married for over a decade. He hadn't really paid attention to Joffrey as they grew up either. Daeron cared more about beating Jacaerys in both academics and sports. Joffrey was just a stranger to him, until his mother announced their marriage. Daeron fought against his mother at first, but his struggle proved pointless, as the duty to his family prevailed in the end. Daeron married Joffrey reluctantly, and their relationship remained cold in the first few years of their marriage.

Daeron remembered their fifth anniversary. They never celebrated it, since the day brought no joy to either of them, but that night, Joffrey came to him with a bottle of whiskey and a bag of homemade popcorn. They ended up finishing the whole bottle before they could eat half of the snack. The alcohol made Daeron’s head spin. He didn't know who initiated it, but somehow, they started kissing on the couch. Joffrey’s body was scorching hot, his breath stinking of alcohol, and his kiss was so sloppy that he missed Daeron’s lips multiple times. Daeron had to grab his face to kiss him properly. The alcohol must have corrupted their brain, making him more passionate than their wedding night. Before long, both of them were naked on the couch, Daeron on top of Joffrey, their groin pressed tightly together.

It was the night that Rhaenys was conceived. It was also the first and last time they had had sex. Rhaenys was an accidental child, though that did not make Daeron love her any less. Daeron and Joffrey warmed up to each other during the brunette’s pregnancy, and continued after the girl was born. Now, no one would have guessed that their marriage was a loveless one. Not even their daughter.

Daeron hadn’t realized how important Joffrey had become until today. The brunette had become a staple, a necessity in Daeron’s life. Like oxygen. Impossible to see, but could not live without.

“Rhae is worried about you so much that she ended up crying herself to sleep.” Daeron whispered, placing the back of his hand against Joffrey’s cheek, “And I am too. Wake up, please.”

Joffrey’s anesthetics should have worn off by now. He could wake up at any moment, and that was why Daeron hadn’t gone to sleep yet. He couldn’t let Joffrey wake up now.

Daeron squeezed Joffrey’s hand gently. To his surprise and relief, the brunette squeezed back.

“Joff! Are you awake? How do you feel?”

Joffrey let out some muffled moan before slowly opening his eyes. He seemed confused, as if he had no idea where he was. Daeron wouldn’t blame him. It was not hard to imagine how much Joffrey had gone through.

“My head hurts.” Joffrey murmured, frowning deeply and squinting his eyes, “The light. It hurts my eyes.”

Daeron rushed to dim the light. Thank God he insisted on taking a private room.

“Does it feel better now?” Daeron asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and using his own torso to block the light.

Joffrey tried to nod, but hissed in pain as soon as he tried to move his head.

“Hey, careful, don’t move just now. You just had a surgery.”

“Surgery?” Joffrey sounded even more confused than before, “Why do I need a surgery? Where am I anyway? Why are you here?”

“You were in a car accident.” Daeron replied gently, “You had a concussion and brain bleeding, but the doctors managed to repair the damage. You are in a hospital right now.”

“Oh.” Joffrey said, “No wonder my head feels like someone has drilled into it.”

Daeron actually chuckled, for the first time since he had learned the news. Joffrey always had the ability to make him laugh, even in situations like this.

“Stop joking. I almost had a heart attack when I got the call.” Daeron wiped some cold sweat from Joffrey’s forehead, “You also have several broken bones, so stay still, okay?”

“Why are you here, Uncle Daeron?”

Daeron’s heart skipped a beat. Why was Joffrey calling him uncle? Joffrey hadn’t called him uncle for 15 years now.

“Of course I will be here.” Daeron replied, trying to keep calm despite the bad feeling rising from his stomach, “I am your husband and Rhae’s father. I am your family.”

“Husband?” Joffrey’s eyes widened I surprise, “Since when? Have we hooked up or something?”

Now, Daeron was sure something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

“Your husband’s cognitive function is intact.” The doctor said after examining Joffrey, “The loss of memory is most likely psychological, not physical.”

“Is it permanent?” Daeron asked, “Will he remember? When?”

“I can’t say for sure. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps a couple of weeks, or…” The doctor trailed off, but Daeron didn’t need him to say the words anyway. It was clear that Joffrey might never remember their marriage.

“What should we do? Surely there is some meds that can help, right?” Daeron tried to cling to the last hope, like a drowning man holding onto a driftwood.

“I think it is best we hold back on the meds right now. I suggest taking him back to familiar places and try to stimulate his memory.”

Daeron knew it was the best solution, but the problem was, he couldn’t do it. Joffrey had lost the memory about their marriage and the fact that they had a daughter, which meant he also forgot about the truth of their marriage. Though he was surprised to be married to his uncle Daeron, Joffrey didn’t question the nature of their marriage. To him, the marriage was made of love, not duty.

How could Daeron tell him the truth? How could Daeron tell him that they had never loved each other in that way and they slept in separate rooms? How could Daeron tell him that their daughter was a drunken accident? How could Daeron be so cruel to Joffrey?

“I am sorry, Uncle Daeron.” Joffrey said after the doctor had left, “Or should I just call you Daeron? Do we have some specific nicknames? You called me Joff before.”

“Daeron is fine.” The blonde replied with a strained smile, “I normally call you Joff, or just Joffrey.”

“Sounds boring.” Joffrey scrunched his nose, “Are we a boring couple?”

We were not a couple at all, Daeron wanted to say, but he found himself unable to reveal the truth to Joffrey, not so soon, at least.

“I guess it’s just time.” Daeron mindlessly made an excuse, “We have been married for more than a decade. You know how people say. Time is the killer of passion.”

In hindsight, Daeron probably should not have blurted out the last part, because Joffrey’s face visibly dropped at his words.

“Is that why you haven’t kissed me since I woke up?” Joffrey asked in a low voice, “We don't get along so well, do we?”

“No!” Daeron denied instinctively, “Of course not! We have a daughter together, all right? If we don't get along, how could we manage to produce a kid?”

Joffrey chuckled, but this time, his smile didn't reach his eyes.

“You know better than me that having a kid together does not require any deeper feelings.” Joffrey murmured, more like a reminder to himself than Daeron, “Anyway, I will be glad if we do get along. I don't want my daughter to live a strained family, but I totally understand if we don't. From what I remember, we are practically strangers. When you told me about our marriage, I was half expecting the whole thing to be a bad prank.”

Daeron was genuinely surprised how sharp Joffrey could be. The brunette had already grasped the nature of their duty bounded marriage, even though he had just woken up from a coma and lost part of his memory. It would be a perfect opportunity for Daeron to reveal the truth to Joffrey, so that they could find a way to function until Joffrey got his memory back, but the blonde found himself reluctant to confirm Joffrey’s guess.

Why? Their marriage was more about duty than love, wasn’t it? They might lead a relatively comfortable life now, but that did not involve love. They didn't hug or kiss, let alone having sex. They were more like roommates who decided to raise a child together. Nothing more.

But why was Daeron hesitating?

“We…” Daeron spoke, his heart pounding, not caused by worry, but by the lie he was about to make, “we do love each other, Joffrey. The reason why I didn't kiss you is because I don't want to shock you with more information. Ask our daughter, or anyone else. They can prove what I just told you is true.”

Daeron was confident that no one would have noticed their loveless relationship. In fact, most of his colleagues would agree that Daeron was family man. He seldom went for drinks after work, always opting to spend time with his family. One of the office administrators even joked about how deeply in love Daeron was with his husband. Daeron had laughed it off then, but come to think of it now, that old lady might have a point. Daeron slowly began to value his time with Joffrey more and more as time passed, and by now, he could confidently say that Joffrey meant a lot to him.

“Okay.” Joffrey said, still a little skeptical, “You can kiss me now.”

“What?” Daeron expected a lot of things from Joffrey, but asking for a kiss was definitely not one of them.

“I say you can kiss me now. I won't be shocked.” Joffrey repeated, lifting his big doe eyes to look at Daeron, “Maybe I will heal a little faster with your kiss. Mental support and all that.”

Daeron had dug his own grave, and now he was about jump into it.

The blonde moved closer to Joffrey, gently cupping the brunette’s cheek and kissed him tenderly on the lips. It had been years since their last kiss. They would exchange kisses on the cheeks as a social etiquette, but never on the lips. Daeron inhaled sharply; He could smell Joffrey’s distinctive scent, and tasted the brunette on his tongue, despite the pungent smell of antiseptics. The kiss was tender and soft, with no intertwining of tongues or whatever, but Daeron was hit by a strong sense of nostalgia. He had forgotten how soft Joffrey’s lips were until now. He had forgotten how good it felt to kiss his husband, to press their body together, and to feel Joffrey’s heartbeat. How did he live without all this before?

“Never scare me like this again.” Daeron murmured against Joffrey’s lips.

Joffrey let out a heartfelt chuckle and sealed their lips together again. Daeron didn’t oppose the idea of continuing the kiss, at all.

“See? I told you. We are a happily married couple.” Daeron said as he let Joffrey in their house.

“Mama!” Rhaenys rushed to Joffrey and gave the brunette a huge bear hug, “Welcome home! I’ve missed you!”

Rhaenys had been released from the hospital a week ago. Daeron tried to keep the distance from Joffrey and the girl, to give Joffrey enough time to process, so it was the first time Rhaenys properly hugged her mother in over a week. Daeron decided not to tell Rhaenys about Joffrey’s memory loss, for it might make the girl even guiltier, since she already blamed herself for Joffrey’s injury. Instead, Daeron told his daughter that Joffrey needed time to heal, so it was better not to bother him too much.

“Hi, little girl.” Joffrey wrapped his arms around the girl instinctively, “I’ve missed you too.”

Daeron couldn't tell if Joffrey was lying or not, for the brunette sounded so genuine and sincere.

“Papa says you need to rest.” Rhaenys said, untangling herself from Joffrey after planting a small kiss on the man’s cheek, “I shouldn’t been bothering you too much.”

“Rhae.” Daeron sighed, sending an apologetic look to Joffrey. He had clearly underestimated Rhaenys’s clinginess to Joffrey.

“You are not a bother.” Joffrey assured her as he returned her kiss tentatively. Daeron was relieved that he had decided to brief Joffrey about how to deal with their daughter, and by the look of it, Joffrey clearly did a good job at pretending to remember.

“I made you a strawberry sandwich! It’s your favorite!” Rhaenys’s face lit up, “Let me fetch it for you!”

“Strawberry sandwich? Really?” Joffrey whispered to Daeron as the girl ran to the kitchen in her full footballer speed.

Daeron dared not to speak. Honestly, he had no idea what Joffrey’s favorite food was. He never paid any attention. He just vaguely remembered that Joffrey might have a sweet tooth, but that was all he knew.

Rhaenys came back with a plate of sandwiches. The strawberry sandwich was made from plain white bread, with strawberry puree mixed with fluffy cream as filling. The sandwich had a nice color combination, but the overflowing cream didn't make it too appetizing.

“Look! I did just as you taught me! I even cut off the edges of the bread!”

Joffrey laughed whole-heartedly. He picked up one piece and took a huge bite. Daeron wasn’t sure if he himself could do that. He was never one for sweets.

“It tastes amazing, Rhae.” Joffrey brushed some blonde curls from his daughter’s face. Though he couldn’t remember having a child, Joffrey still felt drawn to the girl. His heart warmed whenever Rhaenys smiled to him.

“Okay, you guys enjoy your strawberry sandwich.” Daeron couldn’t help but smile at his husband and daughter, “I’ll carry your things to your, uh, I mean, our room, Joff.”

The blonde picked up the duffle bag and practically escaped to the master bedroom. In order to keep his lie, Daeron had to pretend that he and Joffrey shared the same room (and bed), instead of sleeping in separate rooms. Daeron had already carried his own things from the guestroom to the master bedroom, trying his best to make the space look like it had been shared by two people instead of one. Fortunately, Joffrey kept the king-sized bed that Daeron’s mother had bought them as a wedding gift, or else Daeron would have to order a new bed.

By the time Daeron went back to the living room, Joffrey was sitting on the couch with Rhaenys pressed tightly against him, the plate of sandwiches on the coffee table, browsing through Joffrey’s phone.

“Let your mama rest, Rhae.” Daeron spoke, “He just had a brain surgery. He isn’t supposed to watch the screen for too long.”

Rhaenys pouted and made a face at her papa, but she obeyed Daeron’s words nonetheless.

Joffrey pouted when Daeron snatched the phone from him. His pout mirrored Rhaenys’s.

“I am fine.” The brunette complained, but Daeron wasn’t going to back down.

“No, staring at screens will put too much pressure on your brain.” Daeron put the phone in his own pocket, “Go back to your room, Rhaenys. Let your mama rest.”

“Okay.” Rhaenys jumped off the couch before giving Joffrey another hug, “I will see you at dinner, mama!”

“I can’t believe I gave birth to such a lovely girl.” Joffrey said after Rhaenys’s blonde ponytail had disappeared in her room.

“Come, let’s go to the room. You need to lie down.” Daeron wrapped his arm around Joffrey’s shoulder and gently led the brunette down the hall. He had gotten used to their intimacy in the past week. Now he would not blush whenever he felt Joffrey’s breath on his skin.

“I am not made of glass, Daeron.” Joffrey chuckled, but didn’t struggle. He seemed to enjoy Daeron’s overprotectiveness.

“I am your husband. It’s my duty to worry about you.” Daeron replied.

“Only duty?” Joffrey asked in a mocking tone when Daeron helped him lie down on the king-sized bed.

“And love.” Daeron bent down to kiss Joffrey’s strawberry and cream flavored lips, “Satisfied now?”

Joffrey laughed, tilting his head forward to deepen the kiss, and Daeron gladly let him. It was incredible how easy it was to play the loving husband. He learned to kiss Joffrey regularly so fast that as if he had been waiting for the opportunity for a long time. Daeron welcomed the intimacy, the tenderness, and the love, however fake it was, between them. He even anticipated more, such as sex and cuddle.

This thing of pretending to be in love with Joffrey had become too real at this point, but Daeron couldn’t stop now. Perhaps, just perhaps, he wasn’t pretending at all.

[midwestbramble]

Birch Folklore

Betula alleghaniensis

Ruled by ♀

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Contents:

Overview

Folklore

Uses in Witchcraft

Safety Notes

Conclusion

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Overview

A fast-growing deciduous hardwood that reaches 65 feet or more at maturity. Grows near lakes and streams and throughout urban landscapes. The bark of yellow birch is a pale yellow-bronze or gold color and is scored horizontally with lenticels (the bits that make it look like it has eyes). The outer layers often peel into thin, papery strips giving the trunk a shaggy appearance. In older trees the bark is gray and can develop ragged strips that curl or loosen along the edges.

The leaves are ovate and serrated, usually around 2 1/2 to 5 inches long. They are arranged alternately on the branches. Flowers (catkins) grow on both male and female trees and form in late winter before the leaves open. Male catkins are pendulous, and female catkins are erect.

The tree has a distinct winter green scent and flavor of tender new branches and leaves. Almond flavor tends to be a cherry tree which also has shiny bark with lenticels.

Also a good host for the chaga mushroom.

Bark and twigs should be taken from smaller saplings or from fallen branches. These should be taken in early spring when sap is flowing and wintergreen flavor is prominent. Use pruning shears or clippers to snip off tender spring growth, leaf buds, and leaves, and then dry. Store in airtight containers to preserve flavor (volatile oils are prone to evaporation).

Tap mature trees and harvest the tips of branches in moderation. Sap should be collected in late winter at the same time as maple. Seek out stands and select trees that are at least 6-8 inces in diameter. Need 20 gallons more sap for birch than maple to make 1 gallon of birch syrup.

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Folklore

-Evoking Leshii or Lieschi-

A Russian ritual calls for using birch to summon the Lieschi, a slavic tutelary forest spirit. Peasants would cut down very young birch trees, arranging them in a circle for protection before calling upon the spirit.

-Baba Yaga-

This Slavic witch of legend was said to make her home in a birch forest, surrounded by a fence made of birch posts topped with enchanted human skulls. It was also said she used a birch broom to sweep away her tracks while traveling in her mortar and pestle. In the story of "Vasilisa the Beautiful", Baba Yaga even instructs the birch tree not to harm the young girl, which tries to lash her and put out her eyes. When Vasilisa escaped the birch let her leave since she cared for it while staying with Baba Yaga.

-The Wife of Usher's Well-

In this old Scottish ballad describes three sons who have died returning to their mother in spirit wearing a birch hat. The ballad also describes the gates of Paradise being guarded by birch trees.

-The Lady in White-

A Czech tale tells of a young woman who dances in a birch forest with a lady in white. The lady in white gives the young woman a bunch of yellow birch leaves which turn to gold once she leaves the forest. Incidentally, the young woman had been spinning wool the first two times she danced with the lady in white, and upon the second time the lady had spun the finest thread for her in thanks.

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Uses in Witchcraft

Birch is a wonderful spirit to call on for protection. When treated right she will bestow upon you gifts and protect you from those who would harm you. Not to just be used as a shield, birch is a spirit that has no qualms about fighting back and thus may aid in curses aimed at those who have harmed you. But be warned, if treated without respect, she may turn on you.

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Safety Notes

No known safety issues.

⸙༄𓆤𓆩𓆪❁𓇢𓆸🏵

Conclusion

The birch is a wonderful guardian. Even before learning all the lore, there was a birch tree in a park near a town I used to live in that I worked with as a protector. She didn't put up with disrespect either. So remember to treat your birch tree with care. This isn't even all the lore out there, so much of it is little beliefs about how to work with her. What have your experiences with birch been?

References:

Midwest Foraging by Lisa M. Rose

Midwest Medicinal Plants by Lisa M. Rose

Vasalisa the Beautiful

The Wife of Usher's Well

The Lady in White

Images:

Title image made on Canva, birch photo from Nathan Anderson on Unsplash

An Illustration, 1906

Vasilisa at the Hut of Baba Yaga by Ivan Bilibin

The Wife of Usher's Well (found in the Allen Ginsberg Project)

From "Favorite Fairy Tales Told in Czechoslovakia" illustrated by Trina S. Hyman

[ripeteeth]

Hi!! First: congrats on becoming a sommelier! And relatedly, for the three q’s meme, in your opinion:

1) Best bottle of white and/or red under $50

2) best bottle of white and/or red under $30

3) the wine that’s tickling your fancy the most right now

Thanks! And god, it’s so hard to single it down to best, but here are some that I’m loving right now!

1. Under $50

2020 Au Bon Climat Sanford & Benedict Vineyard Pinot Noir, Sta. Rita Hills, California

As a general rule, I don’t think you can ever go wrong with Au Bon Climat. A truly iconic winery founded by the legendary Jim Clendenen, Au Bon Climat has been instrumental in influencing the style of California Pinot Noir away from the overly jammy and blowsy big fruity alcohol bombs to something a lot more refined and elegant, similar to those made in Burgundy. In fact, Au Bon Climat is the only winery where I belong to their wine club and get regular shipments, all because I’ve never had a wine I’ve disliked from them, but I have had many I love. They’re my go-to for introducing someone to getting more serious about wine, and this particular Pinot is a beautiful example from a famous vineyard in Sta. Rita Hills, Sanford & Benedict, and from a parcel of vines over 50 years old, imparting a ton of flavor and character. I get notes of cherries and rosemary from this.

2. Under $30

2022 Greywacke “Wild Sauvignon” Sauvignon Blanc, Marlborough, New Zealand

I’m a complete slut for New Zealand Sauvignon Blancs. Truly, they are just SO fucking good. Sauvignon Blanc is such a fun vibrant grape and the NZ climate brings out the best in it, with a moderately cool climate that preserves the acidity well, but also with a lot of sunlight that brings out notes of tropical fruit, green bell pepper, and jalapeño. (One of my favorite wine facts is that Sauvignon Blanc grapes have pyrazines, which are the same aromatic chemicals that give bell peppers and chili peppers like jalapeño that characteristic green vegetal flavor. So there’s a good reason you’re tasting these things in wine, even if the peppers have never been in the wine! Science, baby!)

My current favorite is 2022 Greywacke “Wild Sauvignon” Sauvignon Blanc, Marlborough, New Zealand. It’s vibrantly green and lush and tastes almost athletic to me. Lots of papaya and green mango, something grassy and herbal, this is a perfect summer wine. I like to bring it down to the beach near my dad’s place and just drink it all day at the lake. I think Total Wine frequently carries this, so it shouldn’t be hard to find.

3. Wine tickling my fancy most!

2019 Left Foot Charley, “Gitali” Blanc de Blancs, Old Mission Peninsula, Michigan

If there’s something to know about me, I’m deeply passionate about Michigan wines. Michigan is where I grew up, not far from the Fennville and Lake Michigan Shore AVAs (American Viticultural Areas) and all of this pursuit of wine knowledge is in the hope of starting my own vineyard and winery there. Michigan has always had some great sleeper wines that you can get for a goddamn steal, since many people aren’t aware of how good they can be (to be fair, there is also a lot of really really bad wine), and Left Foot Charley is one of my two top favorite producers in the state (the other being Mawby). These two producers are really serious winemakers and they fully believe that Michigan is ideally situated for becoming the sparkling wine capital of the U.S., something I fully agree with and support. That said! This is a really delicious dry sparkling wine made from Chardonnay and in the traditional method, which is the same method used in making Champagne. The bubbles are very delicate, small, and explosive, and it has beautiful notes of yellow apple, toasted brioche, and yellow cherry.

[elminx]

What I've Been Up To

In a word, super busy. (shhh...that's two words...I know...I KNOW!)

It's the busy season here in Southern New England; by that, I mean harvest season. My first real harvest of the year was sour cherries, which my partner and I picked last weekend.

These are from my friend's (now wild) cherry trees. I think that they are some cultivar of Prunus virginiana, though one can never be sure. S has been living in the house for about 8 years and has always "meant" to pick the cherries growing in his backyard. Now, we make it happen every year. I've been working with Wild Cherry Bark as part of my bitters projects, but I hadn't realized until now that this is the same plant. So neat!

My first project was to add some cherry to the ongoing lemonade experiments I have conducted weekly all summer. I added the cherries directly to the lemon peel phase (you can read more about lemonade making here), and it turned my lemonade into the most beautiful shades of orange and pink. I also made a wonderful cherry cake in a cast iron skillet and am in the process of experimenting with cherry syrup, cherry whipped cream, and a stone fruit vodka infusion - stay tuned for more on those as it evolves!

This cherry journey has been a pretty deep dive into herbalism (a long-time favorite), Chemistry, Ethnobotany, and even a little bit of Phytotoxilogy since the seeds of cherries (and other stone fruits) contain Amygdalin, which is poisonous to humans in high doses. I wanted to study medicine (I ended up with a minor in Biology because I legit qualified for it without having to do a thing), so this kind of shit is pretty up my alley.

I'm also deeply into continuing to work with these cherry pits because it is using all of the fruit which is something that I strongly believe in as a part of my craft.

I also picked (and froze) about 8 lbs. of blueberries yesterday afternoon. The time was right. My partner had the day off, and we don't celebrate Fireworks Day. I found the cutest local farm that does blueberries and raspberries that's only about 15 minutes from my house. Plus, picking under a giant bird netting made me feel like I was in Jurassic Park, so 10/10 on the place's vibes.

I'm not done with Cherry yet, though. I joked yesterday that I can't cross the streams, but it is so true. One of my more well-used preservation books has a whole section on cherries - both sweet and sour - and I want to make every single recipe. She even has a recipe for using your brandied cherries to make cornish hens and I am dying to try that (though probably with chicken). I don't think I can get any more sour cherries from S, but most of my local farms have pick-your-own or it for sale at their stands currently.

On the docket for today: set up my dehydrator for the summer season. (honestly, it is slightly past time)

I'm also still chugging away at my astrology commissions. I'm almost entirely caught up - I have an unusual transit report to write and one more natal birth chart to do, and things will return to normal.

I'm also looking at Mercury, who is going to retrograde on 8/5. I should have a transit report for the retrograde out soon and will offer a handful of commissions ($12 each) for anyone who wants a more personalized read on how the retrograde will interact with your chart. (Message me if you are interested or tip me $12 to save a spot if there's not already a commission offering for this when you read this).

I am still working my way through writing about violets and rose syrup. Watch for those—they are coming!

[trashcanplant]

Mob AU fun facts? Your characters (Specfially Grover) with Cherrys and Cloudys have such an interesting story

Oh my golly!!! Well, first of all, thank you. I’ll be using my neighborhood interactions format for this.

Marnie: Her vocal cords were entirely ripped out by Wally and have been preserved in his office. She is the replacement bartender and uses exclusively ASL to communicate. Marnie spends most of her time organizing the liquor and helping to manage funds. She was previously used as entertainment, but she kept trying to tell the police, so Wally had to fix her.

Grover: His Heart, the source of what makes Grover himself was removed as a test of loyalty to Wally, and its ashes are kept in his office. Grover is intimidation and torture with has the special task of feeding Vince’s crows bimonthly. He has one of the highest liquor tolerances of my characters in the Mob au. Grover has his own warehouse on the verge of the city, and is not allowed to go outside with express permission or an escort. He is often kept separated from the rest of the family and is left to his own devices.

Deirdre: Deirdre is not directly involved in the family, instead she is a member of the city council who has been blackmailed into exploiting her position to indirectly favor the family. She works most directly with Wally and Barnaby. It’s not been confirmed why she does this, though it’s been suspected that her hooves have been in someone else’s pockets.

Jonesy: Jonesy is now a vampire bat and his family runs a winery. He is being trained in diplomacy by his father, who has made a deal with the family. The deal between the Vampirebat family and the Darling family is simple, the winery will send 5 bottles of slightly aged wines (and a few made with blood) in exchange for free fertilizer for their vineyards and protection against attacks. Jonesy’s father plans to have him take over the company, and by extension, working with Wally as soon as possible. He’s only 11 years old.

Paulette: Paulette lost 3 of their 20 fingers due to outstanding debt to the Darling Family, and has since given up her study of astronomy in joining the family as a financial advisor. He mostly works alone and with Frank in the vaults and has a good head on their shoulders. Wally has preserved their fingers on a model of their hand in his office and plans to one day have the whole set.

Antoni: Antoni is a secondary intimidation and torturer along with Grover, whom he hates. He mostly deals in the finer things and acts like a true Italian gangster. His preferred weapon is the Tommy gun, and he’s arguably the best chef in the family. Antoni will go with Paulette to help negotiate with other gangs. While he lost nothing physically, he lost what was the most important thing to him. And he had to do it himself.

Minerva: Like Deirdre, Minerva is not directly involved in the family. She’s slightly older in this AU and lives alone in the city as a philanthropist. She owns an art gallery which acts as a holding space for any of her “charity cases”. Her nickname amongst the family is The Old Maid. Minerva uses a walking stick due to falling down a grand flight of stairs. She isn’t fully aware of what Wally does, but they will send a strong man or so to escort her to her parties and charity balls, so she won’t complain.

Doctor Topps: There’s a skull in Wally’s office, perfectly preserved.

I hope you had fun with that!!