#made this in five minutes forgive the crunchiness

[ema-sahdmadhi]

I want to make this an adapted meme format

[weirdprophetess]

been seeing people talk about Ethel Cain a lot and had chills the entire time i watched her perform Morning Elvis with Florence so I'm playing Preacher's Daughter for the first time and writing notes as I go

fair warning this is an incredibly long post

first of all i have to say i love this album cover the dark warm browns are gorgeous and really give off that rural small town vibe and i read a few articles about her so i know she grew up in a place like that and the album title is describing her because her dad was a deacon of the church her and her family grew up in

the basssss the bass starting family tree ooooooohhhhh i love that

these crosses all over my body remind me of who i used to be and christ forgive these bones im hiding from no one successfully jesus can always reject his father but he cannot escape his mothers blood W H A T

THE BEATSSS THEYRE SO DARK AND DRAMATIC AND ATMOSPHERIC IM SCREAMING IM ONE MINUTE IN AND THIS IS MAYBE THE BEST ALBUM INTRO IVE EVER HEARD

my brain chemistry has already been altered i instantly need this on vinyl

loveee the guitar starting off american teenagerrrrrr

the suspended vocalization tooooooo)(U*U@PIHF@

i love love love her voice its so rich and she does deep and high notes both so amazingly welllllllll screaming

the melody the flow of the lyrics the beat the synthy floaty sounds im deadddd i love thissss i want to rip it apart like soft hot bread and eat ittttt

SAY WHAT YOU WANT BUT SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT WITH YOU F I S T S FOR ONCE

MAIN CHARACTER TYPE SONG I LOVE THE IRONY I LOVE TEH SADNESS IM GOING TO WALK AROUND TO THIS SO MUCH THAT IS ONE OF THE HIGHEST HONORS I CAN GIVE A SONG @mothercain YOUR HAND IN MARRIAGE BITCHHHH

I HAVE FINISHED TWO SONGS AND ITS ALREADY MY NEW PERSONALITY TIME TO HYPERFIXATE FOR MONTHS AND LET IT TAKE OVER THIS WHOLE FUCKING BLOG

THE SUSPENDED PIANO NOTES FOR HOUSE IN NEBRASKA???? Y E S

THE ECHOEY VOCALS MAKE ME INSANE IM CLAWING AT THE WALLS RENDING MY GARMENTS GNASHING MY TEETH OH MY GODDDDDD

I STILL CALL HOME THAT HOUSE IN NEBRASKA WHERE WE FOUND EACH OTHER IN A DIRTY MATTRESS ON THE SECOND FLOOR WHERE THE WORLD WAS EMPTY SAVE YOU AND I WHERE YOU CAME AND I LAUGHED AND YOU LEFT AND I CRIED WHERE YOU TOLD ME EVEN IF WE DIED TONIGHT THAT ID DIE YOURS

YOU KNOW I STILL WAIT AT THE EDGE OF TOWN PRAYING STRAIGHT TO GOD THAT MAYBE YOULL COME BACK AROUND I HAVE FULL BODY CHILLSSSSSS

THE ROCK GUITAR SMASHING IN AND BEING SO CRUNCHY GODDDDDDDDD

He's never looked more beautiful on his Harley in the parking lot breaking into the ATMs sleeping naked when it gets too hot from what ive heard people say about Lana Del Rey's music this sounds like she might've been an influence

show me how much i mean to you while im lying in these sheets undressed id hold the gun if you ask me to but if you love me like you say you do would you ask me to troubles always gonna find you baby but so will i crying only because im happy hold me across every state line im never gonna leave you baby even if you lose whats left of your mind cause you know ill be right there beside you riding through those western nights

ooh there's another song called family tree the first one was family tree (intro) but there's track five without (intro) delicious

oohhhhhooohohoho same first two lines but then new lyrics

give myself up to him in offering let him make a woman out of me ooooh hoo hoo hooooo

so family tree is a banger

i immediately thought emo cowboy on hearing those lyrics and google actually gave me that so thank you whoever made this image because its truly the essence of this album

the next one is hard times and the first thing i thought of was paramore ive been obsessed with that song lately

nine going on eightaayynn lay it on meeeeeeheeeeheeeee yessssss

im tiiiiired of you too tiiiiired to leave im tiiiired of you still tiiiiied to meeeee

I MET YOU THERE IN TEXAS

MY ASS WHO LIVES IN TEXAS👀👀👀

i met you there in texas somewhere on the thoroughfare on the side of the road with a pistol in my pocket i didnt trust no one but you said baby dont run ill take you anywhere

AND YOU SAID HEY DO YOU WANNA SEE THE WEST WITH MEEEHEEEEEE CAUSE LOVES OUT THERE AND I CANT LEAVE IT BEEEEEE AND I SAID HONEY LOVES NEVER MEANT MUCH TO ME BUT ILL COME WITH YOU IF YOURE SURE ITS WHAT YOU NEED

love love lovvveeeeee the beat that comes in a bit before that part

sad cowgirl winter lets go girls

i am halfway through this album and ive made more notes than i have for some albums twice the length thats how good 13 track albums always are

its not a real cowboy album if youre not spending the last two minutes of a nine and a half minute song just vocalizing

oh the nexts songs called gibson girl ive heard of that but i forgot what it is hang on

a type of drawing by a man named Charles Gibson of the ideal woman of the 1890s ooh should be interesting

the intro for this songgggg

the production is the fucking besttttt

the echoes for this one too yesss i love this shitttt

i dont even know what image to put this over but just youre all the same black leather and dark glasses pourin another while i shake my ass hes cold blooded so it takes more time to bleed obsession with the money addicted to the drugs says hes in love with my body thats why hes fucking it up

the guitar breakkkkkkk:PO(*&^%$^;l;pqokpiaw

next ones name is ptolemaea so lemme go look that up too

oh yeahhh that greek astrologer dude okay

ooh the distortion in the beginningggg

the intensity building is so horror-like i love it

the screech on the last stop made me jump a lil goodbye

I am the face of loves rage what the fuck

the guitar and drums all getting more intense after that line remind of of the end of I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers ill take ten million more songs with that please

the entire ending um???

its a good thing i decided to listen to this album around noon and not the middle of the night because i love demonic speaking parts but not when my eyes arent adjusted to the dark girl

ooh august underground is an instrumental i went to look up the lyrics and apparently its named after a horror film trilogy so ill probably check that out soon

televangelism is also purely instrumental and genius says its ethels ascent to heaven as music god this sounds gorgeous

what i wouldnt give to be in church this sunday listening to the choir so heartfelt all singing god loves you but not enough to save you so good luck on your own baby so i said fine cause thats how my daddy raised if they strike one once then you just hit em twice as hard but in the end the fire bent under the weight they gave me and this heart would break and fall twice as far eating these lyrics

WE ALL KNOW HOW IT GOES THE MORE IT HURTS THE LESS IT SHOWS BUT I STILL FEEL LIKE THEY ALL KNOW AND THATS WHY I COULD NEVER G O BACK HOME E T H E L THERE IS NO NEED TO EXPOSE ME LIKE THIS???

SO I MET HIM THERE AND TOLD HIM I BELIEVE SINGING IF ITS MEANT TO BE THEN IT WILL BE AND I FORGIVE IT ALL AS IT COMES BACK TO ME IM STILL PRAYING FOR THAT HOUSE IN NEBRASKA BY THE HIGHWAY OUT ON THE EDGE OF TOWN DANCING WITH THE WINDOWS OPEN I CANT LET GO WHEN SOMETHINGS BROKEN ITS ALL I KNOW AND ITS ALL I WANNA KNOW

one more song i have no idea what to say

freezer bride, your sweet divine look i have been obsessed with the locked tomb for over a year im not going to NOT think of Alecto when i see this

when my mother sees me on the side of a carton in winn-dixie's dairy aisle like the one promo picture for this right

and arlington's in texas👀👀👀

f.inisheddd thea lbum(*&#!OHPI#!HFo

wow what the hell was that im going to obsess over it forever

if there is not a colored vinyl of this i am going to fucking murder someone this deserves something gorgeous for me to stare at while its playing

in conclusion i cannot in any way let my religious mother know im trying to get this album so im going to work with my friend who helps me get explicit/gay music my mom wont let me because spotifys alright but i need to listen to this on my little portable cd player with headphones on full blast on the floor in the middle of the night because truly every album experience is better that way but especially shit like this

ethel if youre reading this how the everloving FUCK is this your debut album this literally deserves a grammy we all know they havent been shit for a while but if you dont get one for this im going to maul the entire Academy for real. keep doing weird shit i literally heard about you from Morning Elvis with Florence, my number one weird music woman and her taste has not failed me yet, especially not after an hour of being immersed in this

[liliallowed]

tasting colors

(short symbiot au fanfic)

-flirting

-weirdass alien biology

-magic food

-benifits of sharing a body

-fluff

-slice of life ig???

premise: players are symbiots from space! vessels are hosts! sym killed the other one behind the loop and ate it to gain the reset, but then threw it away latching onto dust. sym also took him to the surface because it already had eaten a half digested human soul. after passing the barrier sym fully shattered the soul.

some time has past and these two have become very close! kinda skipped all the slow burn and angst lol. sym doesn't really have much history with dust to repent or seek forgiveness.

sym is just best boy/girl/thing. there for suppert.

"wake up sleepy head." it gently nudged his skull with it's head.

"mmmhm... five more minutes..."

he muttered furrowing his bone brows.

"want me to make breakfast?" it smiled enthusiastically.

"no humans ... taste gross" he frowned at last nights memory.

"oh stars no!" it gasped, slightly offended.

"you know I'm a cannibal with high standards. I wouldn't dare eat HUMANS or monsters~ not without your consent. wouldn't wanna upset your soul stomach. besides I didn't hunt today. you good with pancakes?" it grinned as sans could faintly feel himself being lifted from bed.

he instinctively pulled the blanket on himself only for it to turn into soft mushy matter.

he would have been taken aback but instead he insistently continued to fake his snoring stubbornly.

some time passed and he drifted back to sleep... how long had he been out?

he opened his eyes after the scent of sweet food brushed against his nasal cavity.

he was sitting in the kitchen with a neatly stack of fresh pancakes Infront of him... and ... ketchup instead of syrup.

"aw you made my favorite" he grinned lazily pouring the ketchup on the pancake.

sym let out an audible sigh shaking it's head. "rest in peace you sweet treat."

"hey, rude. my body, my food." he picked up another piece and took a bite of it.

"your taste buds are broken. your pallet is horrible." it retorted.

"how would you know? is it cuz you've borrowed my tongue?"

he smirked licking the fork.

it squeaked in surprise staring at him in silence, a red glow appearing on it's heart shaped eyes.

"... my tongue is better at detecting any physical flavor. magic food CAN'T taste THAT good."

it huffed in annoyance, trying to direct the conversation towards a more... scientific approved topic.

"should we maybe swap our taste buds?"

he chuckled..

"oh FUCK OFF."

its heart shaped eyes vanished as it hid it's face inside itself glowing bright red underneath the black mass.

he grinned playfully poking it with gentil taps as he muched on the food.

"aren't you curious? I know I am."

he teased, making it sound like he was eating the best thing known to man.

it perked it's face out, blowing a childish raspberry.

"yes but I'm not going to!"

it frowned while glancing at the corner of his mouth.

it really wondered if magic food would taste any different with using HIS mouth-

"want some?"

he smiled smugly.

it nodded timidly, shaking it's head from those thoughts.

he let it eat some of the sliced off parts where it wasn't DEFILED by ketchup stains.

it's eyes lit up like a small pup as it enthusiastically swallowed it.

"see? it's better without KETCHUP."

it beamed.

"nah." he replied lazily finishing his last bite but taking his SWEET time swallowing.

it could not resist anymore is HAD to know to satisfy it's curiosity.

a small tap to his soul and it felt... buzzy?

it tasted like tomato sauce but sweeter. a bit like the taste of the color green... no, redorange... wait colors weren't a taste? it could feel small tidbits of energetic particles around being absorbed into a nice blend of sweet and slightly sour fruity mix. felt actually refreshing. ice cold yet warm... electric yet awfully... crunchy groundyyyy. sweet mud after rain.

such a vague fascinating aftertaste...

"you finished the entire bottle. guess you like my pallet after all" he grinned.

it opened it's eyes to find it's head stuck in the ketchup bottle, chugging it like plain water.

"... "

it refused to pull it's head out, filled with embarrassment. this was it's life now. it was the hat of shame.

he snorted a small laugh pulling the tip off it's head.

"you like magic food huh?"

his smug grin sharpened.

sym let out a small annoyed huff.

"of COURSE I'd like anything your soul would like when I'm linked to it. that's not a fair argument."

it paused.

"but... yeah. it was... good."

"better than greasy human food even?"

he raised a bone brow.

"hrgnnnn" it let out a weird growling sound of refusal to affirm the question.

he rolled his eyes at it and sighed.

"you eat people, rocks, metal, and even your own kind but you're this picky? "

it looked back at him with a smirk.

"it's your body not mine. I wanna take care of it! of us! you rarely eat... and you're-"

he looked at it suspiciously crossing his arms, his playful grin widening even further.

"aw, getting sift in me now?"

"I mean ME! I want ME to be healthy so I'm making sure not to eat anything your body can't absorb. monsters have weak physical forms."

it glanced away the same red blush appearing on it's face.

"sounds awfully cheesy don't it? "

he wore the iconic shit eating grin as he held a flat piece of cheese on his hand.

"uuugghhhhh..."

sym face planted on his arm softly.

he patted it as he sat up stretching his arms.

"so what's the plan for today. any new targets?"

sym, now resting on his shoulder shook it's head.

"no. I don't sense any other anomalies. not yet that is. still! might want to keep an eye on the guy in the basement I think he lost his determination and the reset got passed to another random human."

"oh for fucks sake."

he grunted pinching his nasal ridge.

"it's okay. we'll find it!" it chirped as it disappeared from his side and proceeded to cover sans's eye.

"wanna go look for them?"

its red heart shaped eye flashed red in place of sans's right eyelight.

he chuckled as he infused magic into his socket. the blackness spread across his face charged with his own will.

a heart on his face slpit in two then both sides in three.

six mismatched eyes glistening with excitement.

"let's make this quick. it's risky in broad daylight." they muttered, disappearing in a flash.

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: the forest is your only escape from the everyday troubles with your family until you find danger lurking behind the trees. or rather, danger finds you. your fateful encounter with the vampire ravn leaves you wishing for a different life. you strike an unexpected deal with the stranger that will soon turn into something more…

pairing: vampire!ravn x reader

genre: vampire!au, angst, humour, romance, smut

warnings: stalking, eating out, handjob, vampire jokes

word count: 2.2k

part one 🌙 part two 🌙 part three 🌙 part four 🌙 part five 🌙 part seven 🌙 part eight 🌙 part nine 🌙 part ten🌙 part eleven  🌙 part twelve 🌙 epilogue

You were running in the forest aimlessly, tears streaming down your face. You had a fight with Ravn. It was about something so stupid, now that you thought about it. You were certain that you’d never want to see your abusive parents ever again and that you’d rather spend the rest of your life with Ravn. However, there was one problem that kept bugging you. You were going to die eventually.

Which meant that you’d lose him and he’d lose you. And you couldn’t accept that. Not when you knew there was an alternative. So you asked Ravn to turn you into a vampire. And he got so angry with you for even thinking of it. He said that he wouldn’t wish such a fate on his worst enemy, so he would certainly never do this to you. 

You told Ravn that you couldn��t imagine life without him and that you’d rather be like him than be without him. Which made him even angrier. He said that you had no idea what you were asking for and that you were just a silly little girl who was deluding herself into thinking she was fond of him. Ravn also told you that nature had made predators appealing on purpose in order to lure their victims more easily. Which in turn, made you angry. 

Who was he to question whether your feelings for him were genuine or not? He had no clue…You yelled at him and said some things you didn’t mean and eventually ran out of his castle and into the ever so familiar forest that had once been your escape and in a way, it still was. You were so upset you couldn’t think straight and just kept walking. 

You had told Ravn you never wanted to see him again. That if he didn’t want to share immortality with you, you’d find someone else to do the job. Which was obviously a lie. Immortality meant nothing to you if you had to face it alone. Ravn was all you cared about. You had only said that because you knew it would hurt him the most. And now you regretted it immensely. 

You wanted to take the words back and beg him for forgiveness. Immortality be damned, you just wished you could be in his arms again. You sighed in frustration and kicked the autumn leaves beneath your feet. You heard a crunchy sound behind you and turned around hopefully, thinking maybe Ravn had come after you. What you saw was far more unexpected. 

A large, grey wolf was staring right into you, baring its huge teeth and glowing yellow eyes. You couldn’t scream, couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. The huge animal approached you slowly, as if intending to take its sweet time. It was apparently in no rush of eating you. You panicked and ran for your life. Even though you loved spending time there, this forest was seriously cursed. First, vampires. Now, this? 

You couldn’t tell if the forest was at fault or you just had some pretty bad luck. You could hear the animal looming behind you and even though you were running pretty fast, you had a bad feeling you wouldn’t make it. Your legs were starting to give out and you could sense your heart beating rapidly. 

Suddenly, just when you were about to give up and face your inevitable demise, you felt someone grabbing you harshly and pulling you towards them by force. Before you could make out what was happening, you were somehow being dragged into climbing a tree. You were completely deprived of your senses because it was too dark already. You felt a cold hand being pressed against your lips, as if to silence your already loud breathing.

“Don’t breathe,” Ravn��s familiar voice whispered in your ear, making you relax this instant. And despite your earlier fight, in that moment you were so grateful for him that you would have sighed in relief had he not warned you against it. 

From this different vantage point, you could see the wolf a couple of metres down, sniffing and looking around in confusion. The animal had lost its prey so quickly it couldn’t register how it had happened. It continued to growl for a couple more minutes but you were safely hidden in the tree’s leaves and the darkness was also serving as your protector. 

Eventually, the wolf gave up and crept away with its tail between its legs. When it was at a safe distance, Ravn finally removed his hand from your mouth. You took a deep breath of fresh air and looked up at the moon, completely disoriented.

“I thought I told you not to go too far away,” he hissed angrily.

“I’m s-sorry,” you suddenly felt ashamed. You hated being scolded but most of all, you hated when Ravn used that disappointed voice on you.

“Do you have any idea what could have happened if I hadn’t followed you?”

“You followed me?” you asked him in surprise. You couldn’t tell how you felt about it. On one hand, it made you somewhat uncomfortable. On the other, you were so thankful he’d saved your life that you couldn’t find it in you to be mad at him.

“I-I…didn’t want you to get lost,” Ravn explained nervously, almost apologetically.

“Thank you,” you murmured dumbly. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Ravn scoffed darkly.

“I just admitted to stalking you and you thank me? Seriously, Y/N, you need help.”

You chuckled lightly.

“I really do. It’s a good thing, then, you were closeby to help me out, don’t you think?”

“Unbelievable.”

“Will you just please take me home?” you begged Ravn.

“Home?” he laughed mockingly. “And where would that be? You made yourself abundantly clear earlier that you never wanted to see me again. Do you want me to take you back to the village?”

“N-no, please!” you stuttered helplessly, tears of frustration and fear clouding your vision. “Listen…I’m so sorry about earlier, Ravn! Truly am. I didn’t mean any of it. Please, please, don’t kick me out.”

“You stormed out on your own accord, remember?” he reminded you. “I didn’t kick you out.”

You nodded, letting the tears fall down your cheeks freely. Ravn simply sighed and pulled you into a hug. The next moment, you could feel him running towards his castle with you in his arms. Once you were back inside your room, you could feel a large weight being lifted off your chest.

“You just saved my life,” you were suddenly hit with the realization that now you owed him far more than before. “That wolf could have killed me and you saved me,” you repeated, feeling a little stupid but you had to say it out loud in order to process everything that just took place. “You saved my life even after I was behaving so rudely and recklessly. You must think I’m the most pathetic, ungrateful human in the world.”

Ravn smiled softly at you and took hold of your hands.

“Trust me, Y/N, I haven’t thought that for a second.”

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by his kindness.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re right,” Ravn agreed easily only to disprove you. “You deserve so much better. You deserve someone else, someone warm, someone human who wouldn’t drink blood from you, who wouldn’t follow you like a creep in the forest,” he laughed at that last part.

You shook your head.

“I don’t want someone else, I only want you,” you looked into his black eyes and pressed your hand against his cheek. “Ravn, I was a fool earlier. I don’t give a damn about immortality and-“

“Y/N, don’t-“ he interrupted you, his voice full of so much pain your heart couldn’t handle.

“No, you have to know this. I don’t care if I die tonight or tomorrow or after a couple of years, I really don’t. What matters to me is being by your side.”

A single tear smeared Ravn’s cheek as you told him that. You traced your finger alongside his cold skin and he tilted his head slightly, leaning into your gentle touch. You wished you could take away all his agonizing memories. And you tried your best, you really did. 

You kissed the top of his forehead softly and you could almost hear him gasp, even though he had previously told you he doesn’t need air like humans do. Then, your lips touched his closed eyelids ever so fondly. Next was the very tip of his nose. He gulped nervously at the unexpected contact. 

When you finally reached his mouth, he was already falling apart. There was a strange kind of power to it. Ravn was perhaps the single-most dangerous creature this world has ever seen. And here he was, on the verge of shaking because of a simple caress.

“Y/N,” he groaned into your mouth. A warning. “Don’t start something unless you’re ready to play till the end.”

“Who said I wasn’t ready to play?” you spoke boldly. A challenge.

“But I don’t want to h-hurt you,” Ravn admitted with great effort to restrain himself.

“I know you won’t,” you reassured him with another kiss. “Look at me.”

He opened his eyes and stared directly into yours.

“I want to be with you,” you said. “Do you?”

Ravn didn’t give you a verbal response and simply wrapped his arms around your lower back, pulling you closer. It was never enough, never too close for your liking. You snuck your hand beneath his shirt, eager to touch him. He seemed surprised when you didn’t jump away because of his even colder skin.

You decided you could be warm enough for two and continued unbuttoning his clothes. Ravn appeared intent on letting you do all the work for fear of rushing you into something you didn’t want to do. A small part of you was grateful for him trusting you enough to be in charge, but the bigger, more impatient part of you kept wondering what it would feel like if he took control completely. 

You wanted to be completely under his power, but you were afraid he would get mad at you for being so impulsive. Once his clothes were completely off, you realized you were still fully dressed, because Ravn had not taken initiative. You felt somewhat awkward, towering over the naked vampire.

“Will you undress me?” you asked him sheepishly and when he didn’t respond immediately, you took hold of his hand and placed it on your dress’s ties. He looked up at you hesitantly and you gave him an encouraging nod. It was too late to turn back now. Ravn untied it slowly, almost aggravatingly so, and when your dress was finally off, you couldn’t help but sigh in relief at the newfound freedom.

“What now?” you giggled, feeling silly and a bit scared. Not of him, no, never, but because you were faced with an unfamiliar situation that seemed so daunting, making you feel out of your depth.

Ravn smirked mysteriously and ran a hand through your falling hair. Then, he swiftly flipped you around, laying you down on the bed. He slowly kissed his way downwards, similarly to the way you’d kissed all over his face. When his head finally ended up between your legs, Ravn gently pulled them apart with his long fingers.

“Relax. I won’t bite,” he joked inappropriately and you let out a half laugh.

“As if.”

He granted with you a gentle, almost impalpable lick that made your legs quiver slightly. Stirred by your reaction, Ravn did that thing with his tongue once more, this time more purposefully and confidently. You found yourself gripping his hair in desperation, hoping he wouldn’t mind the added pressure. You just had to hold onto something for support or you would have passed out. 

Ravn was a very considerate lover and put all his attention on you and your pleasure. Soon enough, you were attacked by a sudden wave of enjoyment that had your legs trembling and your lips murmuring incomprehensible words. You were beginning to see little stars in front of you and your chest heaved as you struggled to breathe.

“That good, huh?” Ravn smiled proudly.

When you had finally gathered enough air to help you through this, you lifted yourself up to kiss him again.

“Can you taste yourself, love?” he asked you. “Delicious.”

You laughed.

“Not as delicious as my blood, I imagine.”

“Better, even,” Ravn complimented you.

“Teach me how to…return the favour,” you begged him self-consciously.

“You don’t have to,” he explained.

“I want to. Please.”

Ravn took hold of your hand and wrapped it around his length. You looked up at him shyly, blinking curiously as he motioned for you to move your hand. You were a quick study and did as he asked. You stared at his face, cautiously controlling your actions in accordance to his reactions. 

When you realized he was enjoying himself, your movements grew more confident and speedier. A couple more strokes and he released himself into your palm. You gave him a hesitant smile.

“Was that okay?”

“Okay?” Ravn chuckled in disbelief. “You were spectacular.”

“Really?”

“I’m always honest with you, am I not?”

You nodded, not doubting him for a second. Though perhaps you should have.

To be continued…

[technicolor--dreams]

the object of her affection chapter 18 (FINAL CHAPTER)

Hello, Idk if anyone is still reading (i did post this for the 3 people who were kind enought to relpy they were interested, after all ) but if you read this all the way through:

thank you

PLEASE feel free to let me know if you liked it, or if you didn’t, or any other thoughts about it, really, i would be delighted!

I’ll be back by christmastime with another story, this time based on jugenea (not them irl but their movies) - i would post it now but it’s set on xmas, so i’ll wait - but again, feel free to let me know if that is somehting you would like to read :)

enjoy the last chapter, finger crossed it won’t let you down!

The next morning, Susan stood by the airport gate, Oscar secured into his doggy carrier next to the rest of her luggage.  Her mother, father Joseph and Connor watched over her, some more misty eyed than others, but all quite emotional in their own way.

"Do you have everything?" Mrs. Holbrook asked.

Susan nodded, but her mother didn't listen and fished out a packet of ritz crackers and seltzer water out of her giant purse. "Here. Don't believe what they say. Airplane food is still airplane food, no matter what class you're travelling. This will help you with hunger and the altitude, in case you get sick."

"Darling, she's moving out, not shipping off to war!" her husband exclaimed, before addressing his daughter. "You know I'm not good at this sentimental stuff, but I'm proud of you, and I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble.  Now, go out there and prove me right."

"Thank you. I will." Susan replied, hugging her father on an impetus. In turn, he patted her on the back.

Mrs. Holbrook, at this sight, couldn't help but burst into tears, sobbing into her embroider handkerchief.

"My baby!" she jumped into her daughter's arms. "Re-member to - call. Don't forget - about your poor folks!" she blabbed through sobs, refusing to let go.

“You’re wetting her suit!” her husband said, dragging her away gently and circling his arms around her shoulders. “Come here.”

When it came his turn to say goodbye, Joseph stepped forward, a nervous smile plastered on his face.

“So ...” he began. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I do.” Susan replied. “Thank you for calling Connor.”

“I didn’t know how else to get him here. I hope you’ll forgive my unorthodox methods.”

“You’re speaking to the queen of unorthodox methods. In fact, you don’t even know the half of it.”

Joseph furrowed his brows. “Always been a woman of mystery, uh?”

“It’s part of my charm.” Susan shrugged.

“So, friends?” he extended his hand.

“Yes. Friends.” she shook his hand back, and he dragged her into a quick half-hug.

Hug over, she took the chance to change the subject. “Have you talked to Helen, by chance? I saw her at the party last night.”

“We spoke briefly.”

“Make things right with her. I think she misses you, even if it’s hard for her to admit it. She’s a swell girl, you know? I like her very much.”

“Me too.”

“Good.” she poked him playfully on the shoulder blade. “Then prove it.”

“I hope you’re right.” Joseph replied, looking wistfully into the distance.

“Was I ever wrong?”

“Some things will never change.” Joseph laughed, and Susan joined him. “Have a safe trip.” he then said, said, before kissing her on the cheek and stepping away.

When it came Connor’s turn to say goodbye, the other three decided to give the two lovers some privacy, and sat on a bench a few feet away.

“I wish you could come there with me now.” Susan sighed.

“Me too. But It’s only a couple of weeks. As soon as I sort things out with work and find a place to stay, I’ll be there. What’s that compared to three months, after all?”

“That’s different.” Susan replied. “Before, I thought you’d never come back. Now I’ll count every minute until you do.”

“I’ll call every day. And as soon as I get my ticket, I’ll give you the details.”

Susan nodded, a slight pout on her ruby lips.

“Come here.” Connor said, holding her tight and pressing a kiss on top of her head.

Their interlude didn’t last long, for it was soon interrupted by a feminine voice, announcing final boarding for Susan’s flight.

“That’s me.” Susan said, gathering her bags.

“Alright. So ...” Connor said morosely. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Two weeks” she replied, a little misty eyed.

Then, before Connor could blink, she was already at the boarding door, waving in his direction. He waved back weakly, before she disappeared altogether from his sight.

4 years later …

"Gordon Hewitt ..." the Dean of faculty called in a resounding voice, and Susan tapped her shoes impatiently, watching the fair young man in front of her stepping on the stage, before accepting his diploma and turning the tassel on his left side as per tradition.

"Susan Holbrook ..." she finally heard her name being called, and all she could hear was the pounding of her heart and her heels clacking on the wood.

After she turned took her diploma and turned her tassel, she turned around to face the crowd. Connor and her parents stood by the middle row, slighly off to the left, applauding and smiling proud. Joseph couldn't be there as much as he wish he could've come, but to be fair, he had a pretty good excuse, so she didn't hold it against him. As usual, her mother was wiping tears from her face.

Susan smiled and waved, before winking in Connor's direction, who in turn shook his head, and laughed. Until she got married, or had children, this would be the best day of her life.

* * *

After the ceremony, her parents insisted to treat her and Connor to a british style five o’clock tea in one of the best (and most expensive) tearooms in San Francisco.

"I know this isn't exactly your scene." Susan whispered to Connor as they sat down in the ornate, Victorian style room. "I told them not to go to any trouble, but you know how they are."

"It's alright." He patted her hand under the table. "It's your day."

A waiter soon arrived, and after everyone made their orders, the group fell into an easy conversation.

“So, tell me everything about the baby.” Susan told her mother. “I’m so curious.”

“Joseph didn’t tell me much, he was quite frazzled himself. All I know is, her name is Daisy, she was born yesterday at noon, and she weighs six pounds.”

“How’s Helen?”

“Good. Tough, you can imagine, with two children under the age of four, she won’t sleep for a while.”

“Oh, I must ask her to send us a picture of the children together.” she told Connor. “We haven’t seen little Joey since Christmas.”

“He’s already three feet and half. He’s gonna be tall.” Mr. Holbrook said, as though that was somehow a point of pride.

Finally, their desserts arrived – lemon tart for Connor, chocolate pudding for Susan, coconut cream pie for Mrs. Holbrook, and scones for her husband.

“How’s the pudding?” Connor asked, beginning to dig into his tart.

“Uhm, Are nuts supposed to be in this?”she replied, after a couple of spoonfuls.

“I don’t think so. Why?” her mother asked.

“There’s something crunchy down there.” she wrinkled her nose.

“Dig it up, maybe it’s a cherry.” Connor told her.

Susan inserted her spoon into the glass once again, and lifting it up she couldn’t hide her surprise. “… I don’t think cherries are supposed to sparkle.”

“Well, how did that get in there?” Connor feigned innocence, as Susan picked out the Ruby red ring and cleaned it with a napkin.

“You tell me.” she replied back.

“You said you would think about getting married only after you graduated. So, let’s do it, before you start law school.”

“But – how did you know we would come here … “ she asked before turning towards her parents. “You guys were in on this, weren’t you?”

Her parents merely shrugged, smiling from ear to ear at their cleverness.

“I have to say, mother’s poker face game has seriously improved.”

“So?” Connor asked, quite impatient. “What do you say about a summer wedding?

“Summer’s perfect.” Susan replied, putting the ring on her left finger.

And it really was.

[grimelords]

My November playlist is finished and I've done something slightly different by actually ordering the songs into a cohesive playlist rather than leaving them in the order I added them. Listen in for everyone's favourite genre, acoustic guitar instrumentals, followed by old fashioned cowboy country, comedy and ridiculous songs, 80s and modern dance, out-there piano instrumentals, rocks and rolls, oddball rap, christian rock buried where nobody will find it, noise rock of all flavours and Mirror Reaper in full. I guarantee there'll be at least something in four hours of music that you'll like. listen here!

Deixa - Toquinho: I love how much happens in this song even before it even kicks off at about a minute in. It cycles through so many different feelings before it really powers up and the drums come on. The rhythm from then on is just mesmerizing, it's just so busy and never dwells on any section for too long, the interplay between the melody, bassline and chord rhythm is amazing. And then at about 2:20 it powers up again! Bossa Nova Strong. Also I'm feeling very disrespected because I just did some research on this song only to find out it was sampled by Nujabes on one of his bad anime youtube hip hop songs.

Just A Closer Walk With Thee - Marisa Anderson: Traditional And Public Domain Songs is Marisa Anderson's weakest album, which is a shame because I love Traditional and Public Domain songs. Her playing is on point as always, but the tremolo and distortion she's using overwhelms the recording more often than not. This song is the best on the album purely because she's playing so quietly that it only shows up when she gets loud so it works perfectly near the end as it crescendos.

The Three Deaths Of Red Spectre - Gwenifer Raymond: Gwenifer Raymond has a new 'non-holiday specific single for a cold climate' in her words and I absolutely love it. The sheer velocity of the middle section is flooring, before it breaks apart totally and reforms into a sort of shanty before metamorphosing again into a heightening mania. I love the constantly shifting structure of this, it barely stops to give you room to breathe all the way through before the very end where it almost feels like it's going to collapse entirely.

Mister Sandman - Chet Atkins: Happy to report that I've had Mr Sandman stuck in my head for three weeks now and still don't really know the words because of tumblr posts. It alternates between 'mr email / e me a mail / make the attachment a pic of a snail' and 'mr sandman / sand me a man / make him the cutest man car door hook hand'.

Do I Ever Cross Your Mind - Chet Atkins & Dolly Parton: I've never gone much on Chet Atkins but my girlfriend showed my this song and it has completely reversed my opinion and it's mostly due to Dolly Parton. She is just so lovely on this it makes me tear up - the song itself is so nice and the playing is perfect but her personality just shines through so brightly it's an absolute delight.

There's A Man Going Around Taking Names - Lead Belly: I've been doing research to try to find out what this song is referring to, or its origin but I cannot find anything concrete. A few people are saying it inspired Johnny Cash for The Man Comes Around, which is plausible and adds a mystic bent to it. It seems incomplete, like it's missing the turn at the end that reveals who exactly he is or what's happening so the whole song just ends up feeling very mysterious and ominous.

When Mussolini Laid His Pistol Down - Merle Travis: This song is from 1943, which is sort of amazing because that means it's not a song about history particularly but rather current events. A great paragraph from wikipedia: "On 24 June Mussolini gave his last important speech as prime minister. It went down in history as the "boot topping" speech, with the Duce promising that the only part of Italy that the Anglo-Americans would be able to occupy (but forever and horizontally, i.e. as corpses) was the shore-line (for which he used a wrong word to define it). For many Italians, that confused and incoherent speech was the final proof that something was wrong with Mussolini." Mussolini, truly history's greatest moron.

The Master's Call - Marty Robbins: As a result of Red Dead 2 and my own natural instincts, I've been having a bigger than usual moment with cowboy music this month which of course includes Marty Robbins' Gunfighter Ballads And Trail Songs. In my mind this song is both the true ending and end credits music of Red Dead 2. Arthur sees the face of Christ in a lightning bolt and abandons his life of crime and sin, pleading with the lord to forgive him and then God kills a hundred cows with another lightning bolt just to make damn sure Arthur knows He's serious.

Saga Of The Ponderosa - Lorne Green: I was hanging out with my old housemate a few weeks ago and it turns out we were both having concurrent Marty Robbins cowboy music phases which was great news because then he turned me onto this album by Lorne Green who was on Bonanza and apparently took it upon himself to expand the Bonanaza Cinematic Universe in the 60s with a few albums. This song is apparently an origin story of Bonanza which I have never seen. It's extremely good, very powerful music. Great story of this godlike man striding across the country and overriding his wife's decision by naming his son HOSS.

Hard Sun - Eddie Vedder: I think it's interesting in A Star Is Born that Jackson Maine doesn't seem to be a real life equivalent of any actual musician. He's not obviously an archetype of any real person and so it's hard to place how exactly famous he is in the world of the movie. He's washed up enough to be playing pharmaceutical conferences but still has enough industry respect to be playing a tribute at the Grammys. The closest I could think of was Eddie Vedder oddly enough, and this song from the Into The Wild soundtrack really does sound like a Jackson Maine original.

For Chan - Tim Heideker: I'm having a real thing with comedy music recently and I can't tell if it means I've got a brain parasite or comedy music is good to me now. I think what I like about this song is the bluntness. There's no two ways about these people, and after years of hearing about the alt right as mysterious political genius computer brains it's a nice break to just hear them called greasy fat basement guys like we used to.

That's Right I'm Five - Don't Stop Or We'll Die: More good comedy music! They played this song on Comedy Bang Bang without announcing what it was called first, so the chorus really surprised me and made me laugh a lot. "They're selling the stocks so buy them, launch the torpedoes, tell my wife I love her, and send my son to college, bury me in the desert in my osh kosh b'gosh - that's right I'm five!" might be my favourite lyric of the year.

Future Brain - Den Harrow: Den Harrow is very good. He's like a beautiful moron American man that some italian scientists built in a lab in order to conquer America from the inside. Here are some good highlights from his wiki article: "The name Den Harrow was conceived by producers Roberto Turatti and Miki Chieregato, who based it on the Italian word denaro(money)." "After years of fame and popularity, it was revealed by frontman Stefano Zandri and his producers that Zandri did not actually sing the Den Harrow songs; he was essentially a character who lip-synched to vocals recorded by a number of other singers. Furthermore, since they did not consider Zandri's name and origin to be "trendy" enough, the producers R. Turatti and M. Chieregato concealed Zandri's Italian origin, marketing him as having been born Manuel Stefano Carry in Boston. This was done so Polydor Records could market him more easily in the English-speaking world, where Italian-produced music was, at the time, viewed with skepticism"

Love A Girl Right - Little Mix: Check out this rewrite of the Thong Song they did for the new Little Mix album. It's beyond belief. My girlfriend loves Little Mix and she's right to because they're the only girl/boy band that actually takes advantage of the form and does harmonies instead of just having them all sing in turn or all at once. They've got good vocal arrangements but they have the worst fucking songwriters working for them. Songwriters that pitch 'what if the Thong Song had a crunchy nu-metal guitar in it'.

This City Made Us - The Protomen: It's interesting to hear a band change styles - most other Protomen songs are a sort of Springsteen pastiche but this one from their newer single is more like Iron Maiden or Thin Lizzy. Approaching the 80s from a different angle. It's impressive to switch so radically and still have enough of a unifying sound that it feels like the same band. 80s throwback rock is a generally pallid genre populated by freaks who can't move on but Protomen put so much heart into it it's hard to write them off.

Teardrops - Womack & Womack: I love this song because it has two choruses. The drums stay the same throughout, the chords stay the same through the verse and chorus and only change for the second chorus/bridge part ("the music don't feel like it did when I felt it with you"), which just gives the whole song this feeling of beautiful endlessness. It goes and goes and goes and you're always already living in the best part of the song.

Boys Will Be Boys - The Duncan Sisters: Very very good piece of disco with a very nice piece of country picking guitar near the start for some reason. I quit like that the chorus of 'boys, oh boys, will be boys - they can really hurt you!' goes from a lighthearted thing about relationships until the bridge near the end where it sounds more like a dire warning. She's staring straight into your eyes and saying 'they can hurt you. boys can hurt you. they can really hurt you.' while motioning toward the exit with her eyes. 

Ayaya - Bicep: I've been trying to train my ear a bit better so I got a piano app on my phone and I just try to pick out the melodies of songs now when I'm bored. It turns out this is a very satisfying song to play. The melody is very simple, but the constant build and the couple of other melodies that come in around it make you feel like a super genius for just playing the same thing over and over.

The Call - David Mayer: I completely forget how I came across this song but I'm in love with the vocals on it. The effect reminds me of the one on Problem With The Sun by Nicolas Jaar, sort of pitched down and layered over itself. Outside of the vocals it's a pretty straightforward euro house chunk but damn sometimes a song just has a really good sound in it that you can't deny.

Problem With The Sun - Nicolas Jaar: My girlfriend's brother was telling me he was riding his bike the other day and had some kind of mental break where he was riding north in the afternoon but the sun was on his right, in the east - and for some reason his first instinct wasn't that he was wrong or disoriented, it was that there was a problem with the sun and it was in the wrong place. That boy ain't right but this song is good. I love that Nicolas Jaar uses this weird down pitched voice on a few songs and I really wish he'd bring it back, it sounds great and also funny to me.

Ensaslayi - Cecil Taylor: I don't have the brain power to comprehend any of Cecil Taylor's ensemble work that I've heard, free jazz in a band setting is simply too much for me it turns out -but I've really been getting a lot out of this solo album of his called Fly! Fly! Fly! Fly! Fly!. This song in particular is one of the longer ones on the album, where another is only 53 seconds long and a few last around ten minutes. This is a nice midpoint, where he gives himself so much room to get lost in different directions without losing the thread entirely. I said it last time I was talking about him but I've really never heard anyone play piano like this and I absolutely love it. A lot of reviewers describe it as him playing the piano like it's a drumkit, which I think is accurate to a degree - but I think looking back from here this music makes a lot more sense within the context of black midi and things like that. The extreme edges of what a piano can theoretically do, but with a decisive and beautiful human edge and human brain that's responsible for and making sense of the chaos.

The Homeless Wanderer - Emahoy Tsegué-Maryam Guèbrou: I found out about this album cause Benjamin Booker was posting about her on his instagram story and it's just incredible. The TL;DR of her story is she's an Ethiopian nun that studied music in Switzerland and Cairo and wrote this beautiful piano music based on traditional Ethiopian pentatonic music. I love the rhythm of it, every note in the right hand get swirled around and around before it's settled on while the left hand moves so smoothly and delicately. Unfortunately-ish she's obviously in that genre of Searching For Sugarman secret blog music evidenced by her spotify similar artists being Karen Dalton, Alice Coltrane and Connie Converse. That's not a bad thing exactly, at least people are hearing about her, but her music is unique and amazing enough on its own without needing much mythologizing.

Carnival Of The Animals: No 12 - Fossils - Camille Saint-Saëns: My girlfriend was showing me Saint-Saëns' The Swan and then we were going through the whole rest of the Carnival Of The Animals and I'm happy to report that he not only did he do one for fossils but also centered it around the idea of a bone xylophone. I'm going to write an article for Vulture tracing the origin of the cartoon bone xylophone and my thesis is it starts here.

Perth - Bon Iver: Just thinking about how good Bon Iver is. I love how massive this song can feel, the drums combined with the big brass. It's small and soft on the grand scale, but on an album that gets as quiet and soft as songs like Holocene this song blows up like an atom bomb.

Yet Again - Grizzly Bear: This really is one of the best songs of all time I've decided. It feels like I get into a thing of listening to it on repeat almost every month now. I don't know what it is exactly - I guess it's every part of it. The lyrics are impenetrable (check) the riff is simple and powerful (check) the drums are doing a lot and keeping it simple at the same time. The the way the harmony vocals all intertwine in the prechorus part is amazing. The way the whole song blows up into a big radio static solo at the end. Every part of this song is great, I just love it.

Fuckin N' Rollin - Phantastic Ferniture: I found out that Julia Jacklin has a side project with a very shit name and they make very good music. I love when people have a whole other band for another side of their self. This is just Julia Jacklin if the lyrics were just first draft whatevers instead of incredibly poignant and beautiful and the music was just rockin and rollin with your friends. It's great!

Soft - Kings Of Leon: Number one best song ever about havin a bad dick!! I'd love to hang out lady but my dick! I'm passed out in your garden, I'm in I can't get off I'm so soft! I'd pop myself in you body, I'd come into your party but I'm soft!

Soft Serve - Soul Coughing: I played this while I was driving with my girlfriend and she said 'what the fuck is this' and she's right, as usual. It's Soul Coughing baby! The 90s 'slacker jazz' band! They sound dated as fuck, a real product of their time but I think they've still got a lot to offer. I had the chorus of this stuck in my head for a couple days which made me listen to this album more than usual when I mostly prefer their first one Ruby Vroom. Irresistible Bliss might have the worst album cover of all time though, so it's got that going for it. Google it.

Ya Mama - Wuf Ticket: There wiki article for this band says they had two songs in 1982 and that was it. Then it has a section titled Greaseman and then the article ends. Here's the Greaseman section in its entirety: "Wuf Ticket's “Ya Mama” achieved its greatest notoriety, and airplay, as a music bed for bits by shock jock The Greaseman on WWDC-FM in Washington, D.C. and later his nationally syndicated radio show where Greaseman would argue with a surly service industry worker." Anyway this is more of that very good early hip hop shit where everyone assumed songs should go for 8 minutes. It's just extremely weak sauce Ya Mama jokes for a very long time before they change tack completely and start talking about how Every Woman Is An Angel And Without Mothers We Would Never Have Been Born So Think About That Next Time.

Gon Be Okay - Lil B: I had the part of this song where he sings 'things are never gonna be the same again' along with the piano in my head the other day and spent fully an hour googling to try to find what song it was from before giving up. I woke up the next morning and suddenly remembered it was this song but was very shocked to find out that he actually never sings that line along with the piano melody, he says it once at the start and that's it. What's going on with my brain. Anyway in my searching I found out that the piano is sampled from the Spirited Away soundtrack so once more in my life I've been led to ruin by anime.

2 Minute Drills - Allblack & Kenny Beats: This whole EP is great. More sports themed rap please. Allblack is ferocious and Kenny's production throughout is great, the perfect mix of simple straighforward beats that still have a lot of space and energy in them, plus 'Woah Kenny!' has my award for Best New Producer Watermark.

Don't Gas Me - Dizzee Rascal: I don't know how he keeps doing it but somehow Dizzee Rascal continues to make extremely fun bangers without ever slowing down. The best line in this is when he says "no I don't drink Appletiser" (the sparkling apple juice) which is an extremely weird flex if there ever was one.

Acid King - Malibu Ken: It feels insane that a Tobacco and Aesop Rock collab sounds as good as this. I love that there's no drums the entire time he's rapping and I completely love the Mort Garson vibes in the instrumental which turns out to be a perfect soundtrack to the Ricky Kasso satan worship LSD murder story that Aesop's telling. Also in reading about Kasso I just discovered the very good stoner doom band also named Acid King, so expect to see them in next month's list.

Pirate Blues - As Cities Burn: As Cities Burn have reformed and put out a new single so I've been thinking about them a bit. On paper they don't sound good, over three albums they morphed from a christian metalcore band to a christian alt-rock band, and while they never reinvented the wheel I think they're a remarkable band who took a lot of risks in their own way and made a lot of rock solid music. They've got a lot of great songs but I think this is my favourite from their third album when it finally felt like they'd settled into a steady alt rock sound informed by their much heavier past.

This Is It, This Is It - As Cities Burn: The thing I like about As Cities Burn is that as much as they're a christian band (yuck) they're more of a band of guys who are christians (slightly less yuck) and the difference is huge. Rather than evangelising or preaching, their songs are about their own personal struggles with their faith (still slightly yuck). I like this song especially because the lyric feels close to gospel, 'we're all singing for our sins, unless grace be the wind' but with the added twist of being furious that you're trapped by the sin of your physical body.

Timothy - As Cities Burn: I think this song is just incredible. The lyrics are so strong and direct and heartbreaking, the vocal performance especially is amazing and it may be the only time in history that a 6 minute guitar solo has seemed good and necessary.

Face Tat - Zach Hill: There's an incredible video of the recording of this song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hGi9SOFX5rc that really looks exactly how it sounds and has a very similar energy to that video of 80 guys singing the halo theme in the boys bathroom. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wRG9KwvbVhk . This is what it sounds like when the boys are left alone. The biggest draw to Zach Hill's drumming is the intense primordial immediacy of it. He is just pounding away like a possessed animal and it's really on show here, especially combined with the occasional punctuating shout. Carson McWhirter's guitar is incredible too, the tone he's got where it sounds like three at once playing these incredible twisting riffs that turn on a dime. I think what I like most about this song is just how in sync they are - for such a chaotic, noisy song it sounds so rehearsed, somehow every single note is perfectly in time in the storm.

Betty's Worry Or The Slab - Hunters And Collectors: This is maybe the sweatiest song I've ever heard. It's a disgusting song about being incredibly sweaty and horny and I love the weird squeaky noise he makes after he says 'say it! say it!'. The bass sound in this is so fantastically meaty too, and combined with the brass at the end it's just great.

Worms Of The Senses / Faculties Of The Skull (live) - Refused: I cannot believe just how absolutely ferocious live Refused is. Insanely powerful without ever missing a beat in a song like this that requires incredible timing throughout. For some reason I've always thought Refused were an only ok live band after watching Refused Are Fucking Dead because all I remember of it is a clip where the guitarist accidentally hits the singer in the face with his headstock and they have to stop the show.

Mirror Reaper - Bell Witch: I got to see Bell Witch live a couple of weeks ago and it's one of the best shows I've ever seen. I can't really describe it other than it feels like the closest thing to a legitimate summoning ritual that I've ever seen. An invocation and an expelling of raw power and emotion between two people, it was really something. Also the best part was about two minutes in when they were really setting the scene with the sort of ambient beginning of Mirror Reaper and the whole crowd was dead silent and entranced as they built this mystic atmosphere and set the vibe a guy behind me said loudly to his friend 'hm pretty good so far!'

What's You Gonna Do When The World's On Fire - Lead Belly & Anne Graham: This is in my opinion the best genre of gospel song where they they just roast you for not being saved yet.​ 

listen here

[crowcialist]

Hiking “South Brother,” Olympic National Park: 6/20 (Part II)

We sit at the top and take in the view and after we realize it’s the wrong top, just west of the one we’d been aiming for all morning (or for well over a year, really, in my case--I’ve been yearning to sit atop South Brother ever since I learned you could do it without rope), we don’t say anything for a good long time. 

All the triumph and exultation I’d expected to feel is just...not there. I’ve been picturing this moment for so long and it’s the wrong moment, the wrong spot. All the rosy glow I thought I’d be flush with has made way for something else, a sinister chorus: You fucked up. You fucked up. You fucked up.

It’s beautiful up here and I start to kick myself for not making the most of it. Will and I talk it over: if we pick our way back down to the top of the Hourglass, we could almost certainly find the path to the true summit--we can see the damn trail from where we’re sitting. But there are no guarantees, and we’re completely spent, and the hour it would probably take us to get down and up and down again would be an hour of sun on the snow, meaning we’d be making the final descent that much more dangerous for ourselves. It’s hard enough to plant axes and kick in steps on steep slopes in crunchy snow; on slush you’re asking to eat it. 

With the decision not to try it, with the realization that there is very little we could possibly do, comes a modicum of closure. I take a moment and look around and try to breathe in the vast expanse of mountain and cloud and sky. I eat half a PBJ and we pass a plastic water bottle full of whiskey back and forth. I’d meant to drink it in celebration. Instead it’s half for the searing heat it brings to the gut and half to steel my nerves for the long, difficult trip down. 

Our leaving catches the attention of a family of goats--billy, nanny, and kid. Mountain goats are some mixture of formidable and hilarious and utterly captivating. Would that I could move so easily. We’d watched them come down off the true summit a few minutes earlier; stifling the feeling that I’d just had my ass kicked by a literal baby goat was no small feat. 

Still: no time for appreciation. Mostly they just want to drink your pee, but they can get territorial, and a fair few Washington hikers have been killed over the years by getting knocked off mountains by goats. 

The nagging feeling of failure (or maybe just the toll of five-plus hours of struggle) makes my legs heavy and my head starts to get thick and a little stupid. I used to get bogged down in anxiety spirals once in awhile on the PCT; this feels that way. Like I’ll never get where I’m going and that this was all a tremendously bad idea to begin with. It doesn’t help that I start to feel like dead weight--Will isn’t exactly breezing down the mountainside, but he’s still taking the lead across the snow and the rocks, spotting cairns and kicking steps and doing roughly 100% of the work. I’m reduced to a trailing call of “see a way down from here?”, a repetitious phrase I start to hate myself for. 

This is all to say that I’m not in a super great place, emotionally speaking (physically I���m in a stunning place, the most gorgeous place I’ve been in a long time), and there’s no end in sight. Following Will, I try to delay the inevitable while picking my way down the Hourglass, but there’s nothing to be done: we have to glissade. On the PCT a glissade was a godsend, a relief from walking; here, it’s a 50 or 55 degree pitch that requires a real short stop lest one smash into an ochre field of rock. 

A deep breath. I’m braking and steering with my axe, but it’s not enough--whether it’s my own fault or conditions I’ll never know. I don’t pull up quite fast enough, and I add a few bumps and scrapes to my total. Those are less of a concern than my general panicky attitude. 

Fortunately I get a chance at redemption a short while later, because we still have to go down the same narrow snow chute where I confronted my mortality on the way up. This time I’m a little more prepared, though the panic and hesitation are still nagging. (High speeds, high heights--I’ve always been something of a coward when it comes to such matters.) Will goes first--of course--and I’m beside him a minute later, laughing off the latest brush with my own anxiety. 

Below the trail becomes an endless series of rocky slopes that have to be scrambled and scooted down very carefully. The further we descend, the more I’m in awe of the fact we ever got up at all. It’s steep and treacherous and fuck, we somehow we walked all the way up it in a relatively short amount of time. Another layer of resentment about our false summit peels itself away to make room for that happier thought. 

The goats are still behind us and gaining speed. They’ve found four companions, including two more babies, and when we finally slide down the last bit of scree adjacent to long snowfield No. 1, we sit for a long while and watch them bucking and jumping and just generally loving the shit out of life. No hesitation, no sliding, no panic. Just the joy of being on the mountainside. 

I fill up my water bottle in the frigid runoff of the raging stream beneath the snowfield, whose division we can now see clearly open up into a set of ice caves that will probably be gone in a few weeks. I’m less furious at my own softness as I embrace the fact that the worst is over, the danger has passed. We still have a long way to go, but it’s all forested and we can ditch our microspikes and helmets for good. 

It strikes me that I’ve been terrified for I don’t know how long. Weeks, months, maybe, as this trip drew ever closer. I think I realized there was a non-zero chance I could ruin (or end) my life out here if I wasn’t both careful and lucky. On the way down I spent a lot of time thinking about all the people who would never forgive me if I had let that happen. Now that the possibility is gone, I don’t know exactly how to handle the release of that anxiety. It’s dizzying. 

The blowdowns and red dust of the forest are an uninteresting chore that my legs force themselves over and under until there’s nowhere left to descend, and I’m chasing Will back into camp, and all I have left in me to do is grab the rest of the whiskey and a salami and a wedge of cheese and set up my hammock, where I pass out cold for the next two hours. 

[beccaislearning]

Valbonne is trés bonne, and Nice is SO NICE.

I’m catching up on myself now, so forgive me the time lag between events and their corresponding blog posts. I’m a busy nomad at the moment. Places to see, busses to catch, vino to drink, pasta to eat. Werk, werk, werk, werk, werk. I know, your heart bleeds.

So in between the long mornings and slow afternoons at the beach in Antibes, I took myself on a couple of mini excursions.

In fact, the original plan included way more trips all over the south coast of France, potentials including St Tropez, Cannes, Monaco, Grasse, and maybe even Marseille. The problem was that faced with the reality of how lovely Antibes was, and also the reality of how likely it was to be able to do all these things well in five days and really enjoy myself, I narrowed my outings down to two: a morning in Valbonne at the beautiful Friday market and a day in Nice. With hindsight, I think I made GOOD DECISIONS.

Valbonne’s market was as vast and as beautiful as I hoped. I would say that it had a good ratio of chic classy French wares to tourist tat, say about 90:10. It’s not even that I think the tourist tat is always to be avoided, sometimes it’s worth a trip just for the tourist tat. My case home from China was building with some of the finest tourist tat that this world can offer and last year I spent a good fifteen minutes trying to take a good picture of a woman modelling her wares of dog baseball caps on her Yorkshire Terrier. I didn’t get a good picture, but by no means do I consider that time wasted.

However, Valbonne I kind of went to channeling my hopes to dive into the real life version of a book I recently read (A Pig in Provence, Georgeanne Brennan) that persuaded me that Provençal living is the finest kind of living, and that fresh goats cheese tastes more interesting than it actually does. So for me, Valbonne was a slice of French magical realism, and it hit that desire almost as well as any market could. To be fair, I just love markets as well. All it had to do to tick my boxes was sell any stuff from a trestle table under a plastic red canopy, with the potential of a haggling-type exchange.

I didn’t buy anything to take away with me, but I did eat some rather good Provençal street food: socca (a kind of chickpea pancake from the region that is crispy with good and black crunchy bits on the outside and tender like wet scrambled eggs on the inside) served with heaps of pepper and beignets of deep fried courgette flowers in batter. I loved Valbonne, but I did nearly die of melting away from the coast. I returned by a beautifully air conditioned bus that took me through some gorgeous villages, with a plan to jump straight into the sea. Feeling all adventurous, I nipped to the adjacent-to-Antibes Juan-les-Pins, but all that did was to satisfy my smugness at staying on the right side of the Cap d’Antibes. Too many private beaches, too much noise, and far too many crisp packets and floating plasters in the water.

Now Nice, if I’m honest, I kind of went to begrudgingly, reasoning with myself that I would just go back to Antibes if it proved disappointing and not worth wasting my last full day in France for. I was worried that it would just be too much of a city with less personality that a beautiful little town or village. I was wrong.

I hopped off of the train and walked towards the coast, through the city centre. Straight down the Avenue Jean Médecin, which is a generic (though not unpleasant) main shopping street, complete with packed trams zipping up and down. It wasn’t until I got to the bottom at the Place Masséna and Fontaine du Soleil that I was really impressed, and got to see a little of the Niçoise personality. It is paved with fabulous monochrome tiles, covered in plinths hoisting up crouching white statues, with public fountains-cum-water-parks to your left and right, one shooting up unpredictable and energetic spurts of water from the ground, the other steaming up cooling and calming mist that create iridescent little rainbows as the sun hits their clouds.

I moved further away from the city to the famous Promenade d’Anglais that I feel might be a little overrated (though in all fairness I was recommended to visit in the evening) and the packed out long-but-narrow strip of beach that runs along the promenade. The beach was heaving, with many private beaches, like Juan-les-Pins, and instead of sand there were piping hot pebbles that were being baked in the sun (alongside the many stretched out in glamorous swimwear on their glamorous towels). Though I can’t genuinely pooh-pooh the beach because, though packed and pebbly and a little sold-out, had a sea of the brightest aqua blue that impelled me to whip my clothes off right there and then (awkwardly shuffling around under my towel to be fair) and jump in (in my swimsuit). I believe that being in sea that beautiful makes you feel beautiful. It makes life feel beautiful and your soul shines. It’s just the science of the Mediterranean.

I hopped out and wandered up through the pretty Vieux Nice (the old town of Nice). I met Philippe who grabbed my arm and told me that he needed to show me the Cathedral. He kindly did, though sadly when we parted ways, I had to assure him that we would not be keeping in touch. Almost a holiday romance, but I find myself ok with missing what could have been. I marched my way up to the MAMAC (Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art).

MAMAC is a well regarded, though not one of the most famous art galleries to go to in Nice. Had I had more time I may have gone up to Cimiez that hosts the Chagall museum and the Matisse museum. But I didn’t so I went for contemporary art, as that is probably my favourite flavour. I bought a ticket at MAMAC and found out that actually I got a 24 hour ticket to many of Nice’s museums, so if I’d have planned better I may have taken an arty day in Nice, starting earlier. But you live and learn.

Anyway, MAMAC was wonderful. It was as surprising, shocking, inspiring and varied as any good contemporary art gallery. There was an exhibition on the theme of ‘Earth, Air, Fire and Water’, that for some reason spoke right to my soul. The whole gallery was laid out in an incredible building- amazing exhibition spaces, great and generous resting areas, and an amazing roof space made up of turrets, terraces, bridges and roof gardens that gave way to beautiful views across the city and coast.

After this I had a brief wander around the area known as the ‘Petit Marais’ for its elegant coffee shops, that is just next to the gallery. Then a final beer and socca (having got a taste for it), before hopping on the tram and heading back to the station for Antibes, and my final night in France...

[ravenqueensspecialboi]

Leaf It To Me

Rating: G Ship: DaiSuga Summary: The day after the Shiratorizawa match, Daichi and Koushi go on a date and run into a slight hiccup in their plans. AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12882039

For Jackie12 on AO3 as part of the Fandom Loves Puerto Rico Auction.  Thanks again for your support!

Fic under the cut!

It wasn’t often that Koushi got to sleep in.   Between school and volleyball practice, there was rarely a day where Koushi could just lay in bed past 7 and revel in the comfort of his many blankets and pillows.  That day, however was different.  The previous day, Saturday the 27th of October, Karasuno had beaten Shiratorizawa three sets to two.  After months of intensive training and practice matches, Karasuno had done it.  They were officially Miyagi's representatives for the National Spring Tournament.  And they officially had the day off from practice.  Koushi and Daichi had plans later, but for now, he could relax all he wanted.

Koushi's alarm officially went off at 9am, but he allowed himself to press snooze a few times.   The sun might have been out on that late October morning, but Koushi could hear the wind outside.  It was going to be a cold day that day, and his blankets were warm and soft.  Daichi would understand if Koushi was a little late to their designated meeting spot.   That was, until Koushi snoozed his way to 10:15, and woke to his ringtone rather than his alarm.  Speaking of Daichi….

"Mornin', handsome," Koushi slurred into the phone, his voice raspy from hours of disuse.

"Good morning to you too," Daichi replied.  "I take it you're still in bed."

"I will neither confirm nor deny it," Koushi said as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

"That's a 'yes', then," Daichi laughed.

"…Yeah."

"I figured as much," Daichi said.  "I'm on my way over now.  You don't have to be ready to go by the time I get there, but it would be nice if you were."

"Bossy as ever, Captain," Koushi teased.  "Are you bringing caffeine with you?"

"Of course I am," Daichi replied.  "What kind of lousy boyfriend do you take me for?"

"I love you so much."

"I know you do, see you in a bit."

After Daichi hung up, Koushi rolled out of bed with a long stretch and a yawn.  He glanced toward the window, watching the saffron yellow leaves of the ginkgo tree outside flutter in the wind.  Koushi inhaled, then exhaled.

"Guess I better get ready to head out in that," he grumbled.  "At least Daichi's bringing me tea."

***

To Koushi's credit, he was almost ready to go by the time Daichi made it to his house.  He had pants on.  And a sweater.  And one sock.  So really, he was ninety percent ready to go.  This fact apparently wasn't enough to keep Daichi from giving Koushi an unimpressed albeit amused look when the latter came pounding down stairs, then skidding to a halt in front of him.

"Hey, you did say that I didn't have to be ready to go," Koushi reminded him.

Daichi laughed, "You got me there.  I imagine caffeine would help move this along."

Daichi presented Koushi with a cup from one of the local cafes.  Koushi accepted it, bringing the cup to his lips and taking an appreciative sip.  He hummed in delight as the tea's warmth spread to his limbs.   Koushi leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Daichi's cheek.

"Best boyfriend ever," Koushi said before taking another sip of tea and sitting on the floor.

"I try," Daichi replied.

"Koushi, is that Daichi-kun?" Koushi's mom called from the kitchen.

"Yes, Mom," Koushi called back.  "We’re getting ready to leave."

Sugawara Nanako poked her head out of the kitchen, her silver hair tied back in a loose ponytail.  She gave Daichi a friendly wave, which he returned with a wide smile.

"Good morning, Sugawara-san," Daichi greeted.  "Sorry that I'm stealing your son from you today."

Nanako smiled the same wide grin that her son had and let out a loud laugh.   "I'll forgive you this once, Daichi-kun.  You boys deserve a nice day to yourselves after all of your hard work yesterday.  Congrats on the win, Captain," she added with a wink.

"Thank you, Sugawara-san," Daichi replied.

"So, where are you two off to?" Nanako asked.

"We're going to the movies.  And then we'll probably wander around for a bit."

"Sounds fun!  Will you two be back in time for dinner, or are you going to grab something while you're out?"

"We'll probably be back for dinner, but I'll text you and let you know," Koushi said as he finished tying his shoelaces.

"What a kind and thoughtful son I have," Nanako teased.  "I hope you two have a good time at the movies."

Koushi stood, pulled on his coat and scarf, then picked up the cup of tea.  "We will, Mom!  Text you later."

Nanako waved as Daichi and Koushi left the house.  Koushi closed the door behind them, then slipped his hand into Daichi's.  Daichi gave Koushi's hand a quick squeeze.  To Koushi's surprise, it wasn't as windy as he thought it would be.  The two set off down the street, talking about the events of the past few days.  By the time they made it to the park, they were reliving moments from the previous day's game and discussing what their teammates were doing on their day off.

"I'm almost positive that Hinata and Kageyama have broken into the gym by now," Koushi said.

Daichi laughed, "I wouldn't put it past them, but Ukai will kill them if he finds out that they're practicing on their day off."

"Don't you mean that you'll kill them?" Koushi asked.

"I wouldn't kill them for it, just very sternly tell them to go home.  They deserve a break."

"They don't know the meaning of the word 'break', and you know it," Koushi said.

"They really don't," Daichi agreed.

Koushi shook his head.  "I don't understand how they'd still have the energy to practice today.  I was only on the court a few times yesterday and I was exhausted.  I can't imagine what moving would feel like today after a full five sets."

"It was a bit of a struggle to get out of bed this morning," Daichi admitted.  "I imagine Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are at home today."

"I think the second years were meeting up to do homework together," Koushi supplied.

"That's surprising," Daichi said.  "I would have thought Tanaka and Noya would have joined Hinata and Kageyama in their hypothetical breaking and entering."

"I heard them talking about it at dinner last night.  Ennoshita was pretty insistent that they get their work done."

"That's fair," Daichi mused.  "What are the girls up to today?"

"Well, their work was probably done last week, so I imagine they're both getting some well deserved rest."

"So that just leaves our Glass-hearted Ace," Daichi said.  "What do you think he's doing today?"

Daichi waited for Koushi's reaction, but it never came.  He turned to look at his boyfriend, only to see Koushi eyeing a pile of multicolored maple leaves.

"No," Daichi said, immediately picking up on Koushi's new plan.

Koushi pouted, "Can't I jump in the leaf pile a little bit?"

"Not if you wanna get a good seat, no."

Koushi slowed to a halt, yanking Daichi back as the other kept walking.   Daichi frowned over his shoulder.  Koushi gave him a mischievous smile. Daichi went to tug Koushi down the path, but Koushi pulled his hand from Daichi's grip and took a step towards the pile of leaves.

"Koushi, come on, we're going to be late," Daichi groaned.  "It's just leaves."

"Yeah, but what's stronger?  My will to keep walking, or a pile of particularly crunchy looking leaves?" Koushi asked.

Daichi stared.  "What are you, five?"

"In this moment, yes.  And those are some extremely crunchy looking gentlemen."

Daichi sighed, "You know, the longer we stand here arguing about it, the more late we're gonna be."

"I'm just saying, the pile of leaves is doing a better job of convincing me to jump in it than you are of convincing me to walk away," Koushi said with a shrug.

Daichi looked back and forth between Koushi and the leaf pile.  Koushi could see his resolve breaking.  Any second now, and Koushi would win.

"The more I think about it, playing in that pile of leaves does sound more fun than sitting in a dark theater for two hours."

Score one for Koushi.

"Five minutes in the leaf pile?"

"Five minutes in the leaf pile."

With a gleeful whoop, Koushi grabbed Daichi's hand and dragged him towards the pile of leaves.  They missed the movie.  Neither really could really bring themselves to care.

After romping around in the leaves, the two decided to wander around until they found a spot for lunch.  Koushi tossed his empty cup into a garbage can, and they made their way through the park.  They eventually decided to grab something from a general store across the street and bring it back to the park.  As they walked hand-in-hand, Daichi spotted something bright red on the back of Koushi's head.

"Koushi, I don't want to alarm you, but you have a leaf in your hair."

"Where?" Koushi asked, patting his head.

"Here, I got it."

Daichi dropped Koushi's hand and plucked the brilliant red maple leaf out of Koushi's hair.  He held it up for Koushi to see.

"Thank you for saving me from a maple leaf," Koushi joked.

Daichi pressed the leaf into Koushi's hand.  "Please accept this dead leaf as proof of my eternal love and devotion to you."

Koushi's hand curled around the leaf, and he brought it up to his chest.  "Thank you, my brave knight," Koushi said.  "I shall cherish this gift forever."

Daichi snorted and nudged Koushi a little with his shoulder.  Koushi eyed Daichi, then nudged him back.  The two continued to nudge each other until Daichi pushed a little harder than he'd anticipated.  Koushi—dramatic as ever—took the opportunity to fall into another pile of leaves.  There was a soft whump as he hit the pile.  Leaves flew off of the ground before gently floating back down to the ground, partially covering Koushi in the process.

"I've been betrayed!" Koushi screeched from the leaf pile.  "Eternal love and devotion my a-!"

"Koushi, language, there are children nearby," Daichi said with a chuckle.

"You and I both know that's a dirty lie Sawamura," Koushi replied.

Daichi crouched down next to Koushi and grinned at him.  "Comfy down there?"

The twinkle in Koushi's eye should have been warning enough.  Koushi shot out a hand and wrapped it around Daichi's wrist.  With a mighty tug, he pulled Daichi forward into the leaf pile.

"Why don't you join me and find out?" Koushi asked as Daichi pitched forward.

Daichi caught himself on his elbows at the last second, just before he could land soundly on top of Koushi.  He let out a small sigh of relief at not having crushed his boyfriend.  Koushi gave Daichi a smirk, removing his hand from Daichi's wrist and wrapping his arms around Daichi's neck instead.

"Nice catch, Captain."

Daichi lowered himself enough to settle his forehead against Koushi's.  Koushi found himself flushing pink as his boyfriend closed his eyes and smiled a contented smile.  He closed his own eyes and let the moment sink into his memory. The chill air, the feel of the leaves tickling his neck and ears, the weight of Daichi on top of him, the distinct smell of sandalwood body wash that Koushi had come to associate with Daichi, the gentle puff of breath as Daichi's lips hovered over his own-

Naturally, Koushi's stomach had to rumble at that exact moment.  Naturally.

Daichi pulled back, alarmed at the sudden noise.  Koushi covered his face as it went from pink to red in under two seconds.

"I guess that's nature's way of telling us to hold off on the public displays of affection," Koushi said, dropping his arms to his sides.

"Yeah, I guess a pile of leaves in the middle of the park is not the best place to initiate smooches," Daichi admitted, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck.

"I will pay for your lunch if you never refer to kissing as 'smooches' ever again," Koushi said, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

"What's wrong with 'smooches'?"

"You know exactly what's wrong with 'smooches'."

Daichi stared at Koushi for a moment, and that's when Koushi noticed the gleam in Daichi's eye.  Before Koushi could squirm away, Daichi was back in Koushi's personal space.  He placed his hands on either side of Koushi, bracketing him in and keeping him from moving.

"Daichi, whatever you're about to do, you better not do it," Koushi warned.

Daichi just grinned and leaned in closer.

"Daichi, no."

"Smooooooooch."

"Daichi, I swear-!"

Daichi pressed a quick to Koushi's nose.  "Smooch."

"You're awful," Koushi groaned as he collapsed back into the pile of leaves.

"Yeah, but you love me," Daichi countered, standing and holding out a hand to Koushi.  "Let's go get some lunch."

They retrieved lunch from the store across the street, then returned to the park.  They sat underneath a tree close to the entrance, and leaned against each other as they ate.  After they finished, Koushi turned and pressed his lips to Daichi's cheek.

"Thanks for a great afternoon," Koushi said.

Daichi covered Koushi's hand with his own, then intertwined their fingers.  "You're welcome," he said with a smile.

They sat back against the tree, and watched the red and orange leaves wave in the wind.  Koushi rested his head on Daichi's shoulder and smiled to himself.  Today had been everything he had wanted it to be.  It was perfect.

[raimi]

You can substitute another nut butter if there's one you can eat :)

Pixel's Peanut Butter Cookies

Ingredients:

1 cup peanut butter

1 cup sugar (plus extra, see directions)

1 egg

Optional: 1-3 tablespoons of cocoa powder if you want to make a chocolate version

Tools:

Oven

Baking sheet

Mixing bowl

1/2 cup measure (full 1 cup measures are horrid and not useful for anything where you actually have to scoop)

Tablespoon

Fork

Oven mitt

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350° Fahrenheit.

Combine all ingredients in a bowl (I recommend measuring the sugar first as nut butters are sticky) and mix thoroughly. You can use the fork or your hands for this. If you use the fork, rinse it off afterwards. If you use your hands, you probably want to rinse and dry them too.

Pick up a bit of the dough and roll it between your hands. Does it roll into a ball, or does it stick? If it sticks, add a tablespoon of sugar and try again until you can roll it.

Take a tablespoon of the dough at a time between your hands, roll it into a ball, and set it on your baking sheet. You don't need to leave a huge amount of room between your balls as they don't spread a lot in the oven.

Take your fork and press each ball down with the tines to about the thickness you want the cookie to come out, then turn and push it down again at a ninety degree angle so you get a nice cross pattern on top of a round cookie. Do not skip this step or you will regret it.

Put your tray in the oven and cook for like... 7 to 15 minutes, depending on how crunchy you like your cookies. Longer times make crunchier cookies. This recipe is also really forgiving and you probably won't have issues with burning them by accident.

You probably made enough dough for another tray of cookies so put that in when you take the previous one out.

Let the cookies cool ON the tray. Do not touch them for at least five minutes or you WILL regret it. The structure solidifies as they cool, preventing them from crumbling when you try to pick them up.

Nom nom nom cookie

Thinking about cooking has made me want to share one of my favorite recipes again but also these interactions about cooking seem to have made it a bad time. Anyway do you like peanut butter cookies? I have an easy three ingredient recipe for them that I've gotten only good reception on.

we can't eat peanut butter but i'd like to hear it anyway!!

[securepain9-blog]

crispy rice and egg bowl with ginger-scallion vinaigrette

It’s really unfortunate timing, because we’ve got a long year to go and I at one point had many great and luminous cooking plans for it, but they’re all cancelled now because on the afternoon of January 4th, before 2019 had really even kicked in, I ate the best thing I had or will all year or maybe ever — because what would the internet be without some unnecessary melodrama — and I threw it together from a mess of leftovers in my fridge.

Don’t you hate it when those lifestyle guru-types tell you about the meals they threw together from their leftovers, which just happen to be in tip-top shape, chromatically balanced, and Instagram-perfect. In real life, or at least mine, leftovers are a lot of Let’s Never Speak About That Again, the best of intentions cut short by poor planning, the now shamed and guilt-ridden humans responsible for the disgrace vowing to do better by that murky bag of herbs and liquefied cucumber next time.

But not last week. Last week, on January 1st, I made David Chang’s Bo Ssam, something I do once a year or so when I want to make a jaw-dropping feast for a crowd with exactly three ingredients (pork shoulder, salt, sugar) even a person living through the aftereffects of an evening of daquiris can handle. Of course, because most three-ingredient recipes are a lie, there are a few other things you make to serve with it: a Ssam sauce (it’s like a vinaigrette), a ginger-scallion sauce (a riff on the classic Cantonese sauce), rice, and I always like to serve it with marinated julienned carrots and thinly sliced cucumbers so needless to say, these leftovers were well above-average. Bo Ssam makes a lot; we ate it on the 1st, the 2nd, and the 3rd before we were finally out of pork, but I still had a smidge left of everything else so for lunch on that 4th day of the year, I put it all in a bowl and topped it with a crispy fried egg.

But first, I crisped the rice. The world of crisped, stuck-pot, scorched, fried, and tahdig-ed rice is vast and nuanced and fascinating and I’m not going to even try to do it justice here, but what they all have in common, what they all know, is that cooked rice that’s been allowed to crisp is a glorious thing. My favorite — short-grain brown or white rice — is particularly good at this, starchy and thick enough to be both crackly edged and tender-centered in a single grain. (What a showoff.) It, apparently, smells like popcorn when you cook it.

I have told every single person I’ve seen or spoken to since about how amazing this lunch was (their eyes mostly glazed over, it’s fine, I understand) and now it’s your turn. I’ve tried to pare it down to just the most essential parts — crispy rice, a crispy egg, and a ginger-scallion-sauce-meets-vinaigrette — plus whatever crunchy or leftover vegetables you have around. I hope it becomes your new favorite 2019 meal, too.

Previously

One year ago: Boulevardier Two years ago: Crusty Baked Cauliflower and Farro Three years ago: Ugly-But-Good Cookies and Swiss Chard Pancakes Four years ago: Mushroom Marsala Pasta Bake Five years ago: Coconut Tapioca Pudding and Chicken Pho Six years ago: Ethereally Smooth Hummus and Gnocchi in Tomato Broth Seven years ago: Apple Sharlotka Eight years ago: Vanilla Bean Pudding and Pizza with Bacon, Onions, and Cream Nine years ago: Barley Risotto with Beans and Greens and Poppy Seed Lemon Cake Ten years ago: Almond-Vanilla Rice Pudding and Light Wheat Bread Eleven years ago: Lemon Bars and Crunchy Baked Pork Chops Twelve years ago: Balthazar’s Cream of Mushroom Soup and World Peace Cookies

And for the other side of the world: Six Months Ago: Bourbon Peach Smash 1.5 Years Ago: Confetti Party Cake 2.5 Years Ago: Peaches and Cream Bunny Cake 3.5 Years Ago: Green Beans with Almond Pesto 4.5 Years Ago: Sticky Sesame Chicken Wings

Crispy Rice and Egg Bowl with Ginger-Scallion Vinaigrette

Servings: 4

Time: 10 minutes

Source: Smitten Kitchen

Print

I make this with cucumbers and carrots because it’s what I have around most often, but I think this could be good with many other vegetables, even leftovers, so go ahead, clean out your fridge before it gets terrible. If you have extra time, I like to toss the carrots with 2 tablespoons each rice vinegar and water, 1/2 teaspoon sugar, 1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt to coat the strands. They begin to marinate/gently pickle while you do everything else. But the dressing is sufficient to flavor them if you’re in more of a rush.

While this is best with leftover rice, cold from the fridge, I made some fresh and cooled it to almost room temperature and it was, in fact, almost perfect (and it crisps faster). I really like the starchiness of short-grain white and brown rice here; I did not test this with long-grain rice but have crisped longer-grain rice in other recipes with success. This recipe presumes 3/4 cup cooked rice per person; adjust it to your preferred serving size, if this is not it.

This recipe has many things in common with dolcet bibimbap, which is served in a sizzling stone bowl that crisps the rice, nd is topped with a raw egg (which cooks in the hot rice) or meat, and fresh and pickled vegetables — although this is in no way intended as what would be a very poor imitation. But if you like the flavors of bimbimbap, you will definitely like what’s happening in this fridge-scavenged hybrid recipe.

1 1/4 cups minced scallions, both green and white parts (from a 4-ounce bundle)

2 tablespoons minced or finely grated fresh ginger

Neutral oil (such as grapeseed, safflower, or sunflower)

1/4 cup sherry or rice wine vinegar

Fine sea salt

About 1 heaped cup julienned or coarsely grated carrots (from about 8 ounces fresh)

8 ounces small (Persian-style, about 2) cucumbers, thinly sliced

3 cups cooked, cooled rice (my favorite here is short-grain brown or white)

4 eggs

Soy sauce or tamari (to serve)

Toasted sesame oil (to serve)

Sriracha, gochujang or another hot sauce of your choice (to serve)

Make the vinaigrette: Mix scallions, ginger, 1/4 cup oil and sherry or rice wine vinegar in a bowl. Season with salt (I use about 1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt). Set aside.

Crisp your rice: Heat a large frying pan over medium high. Add 1 to 2 tablespoons oil; you’ll want to coat the bottom with a thin layer of oil all over. Nonstick pan (as I used) are more forgiving here, so you can use the lower amount. Heat the oil until it’s hot, another minute, then scatter half the rice over the surface; it’s okay if small clusters remain. Season lightly with salt and do not touch it. In 3 to 5 minutes, the underside will become golden brown and crisp. Use a spatula to flip it in sections then fry on the other side until it is also crisp. Divide between two bowls and repeat with remaining rice, dividing it between two remaining bowls.

Crisp your egg: If there isn’t enough oil left in the pan (you want a thin layer), add another splash and heat this on high heat. Add eggs one at a time and season lightly with salt and pepper. Cook until brown, lacy, and crisp underneath, and the whites are opaque, bubbly and dramatic and the edges are brown. You can spoon some oil from the pan over the egg whites to help them cook faster. Place one egg on each bowl of rice.

Assemble bowls: Arrange some cucumbers and carrots to each bowl. Spoon 2 tablespoons vinaigrette onto each bowls. Drizzle each egg with a half-teaspoon of tamari and toasted sesame oil, letting it roll onto the other ingredients, plus hot sauce to taste. Eat immediately. Repeat frequently.

Do ahead: The dressing will keep for 5 to 6 days in the fridge; the chopped vegetables will keep for 3 to 4.

Source: https://smittenkitchen.com/2019/01/crispy-rice-and-egg-bowl-with-ginger-scallion-vinaigrette/

[lindseyluvsdrag]

Letters From My Glass Jar Ch. 10

Warning: Writing is not fundamental. Ignore the typos.

Raven tore into the wrapping paper that the small box was confined to. “This better be something worth my time and the risk of paper cuts, asshole,” she told her newest lover.

“Oh, I think it is,” Kurtis said smugly as he propped his feet on the girl's coffee table.

“Get your fucking feet off of my Christopher Guy! That shit is expensive.”

The boy scoffed. “It’s just a table.”

“And this is just a fist! Do it again and I'll show you what I can do with this.”

“Shove it up your ass,” he retorted.

“Probably,” the girl admitted as she finally made it to the box. Raven lifted the lid and found the chain link diamond bracelet. “Is this a joke?”

Kurtis sat up. “What? No, of course not.”

“Thank God I didn't let you fuck me before I opened this bullshit! This looks like something you'd buy on prison commissary! Ugh!” she groaned as she tossed the bracelet across the room.

“Are you kidding me?! That cost me five hundred dollars!”

“I’d wipe my ass with five hundred dollars! That ain't shit!” the dark haired girl fumed as a knocked sounded at the door. “Now, who the fuck is this?” she grumbled as she checked the peephole and saw nothing but crunchy purple hair. Raven rolled her eyes and assured that her gun was tucked into her garter belt underneath her robe prior to opening the door.

Sobbing, Alley threw her arms around the girl's neck the second she opened the door and Raven defensively shoved her back onto the porch.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Raven, I'm so sorry. So, so, so, so sorry!” she wailed.

“As you should be. My face will take a minute to heal.”

“Not only that, the baby. I destroyed it!”

Slight confused, the girl just went along with it. “I'm guessing Jake called you?”

“He did,” she sniffled.

“What's going on?” Kurtis asked.

“Kurtis get the fuck out of my house and take that shitty attempt at a gift with you.”

“You're such a bitch,” the boy hissed as he retrieved the bracelet and stormed out of the place.

Alley sank to her knees on the frosty cement porch. “Jake told me that you weren't pregnant anymore. Please. I'll do anything for your forgiveness.”

Raven thought about extorting from the girl, but quickly remembered that she didn't have anything so she settled on demolishing any amount of dignity she had left. “I'll never forgive you, you goddamn meth head. I lost my baby because of you! You're disgusting. You seriously make me want to vomit at the sight of pus infested face. You're revolting, bitch. Just stay away from me!”

“No, please-” Alley got out before the door was slammed in her face.

Raven groaned. “All of my fuck buddies are either pissed or with their spouses. I fucking hate Christmas,” she sighed prior to grabbing her favorite dildo and residing to her bedroom for the rest of the night.

---

“Oh my God!” Jason shouted at the top of his lungs as he sprinted down the Bellagio’s marble corridor. “Oh my God! Oh my Godddd!”

The boy rushed to the elevator and slammed the button. After a few seconds, he became impatient and quickly sprinted towards the stairs; taking the flight two steps at a time. He made it to the third level and dashed down the hall to his room, quickly unlocking the door and flinging it open to find the room empty.

“Matt?” he panted as he walked towards the bathroom. There was no response and when he open the door, there was no Matt.

---

“Fuck that,” Matt groaned two minutes after Jason, exited the room. He quickly got dressed and did the same. “I'm knocking on every fucking door in this place until I find her.” The boy stormed into the elevator and decided to start from the top, so he pressed the number fifteen and waited as the lift took him to the fifteenth floor. Once the steel doors slid open, he was immediately greeted by a hefty security guard.

“This is a private level,” the man growled.

“Okay, fine. But have you seen a blonde…” he grew quiet when he heard the faint yet familiar sobbing. Matt poked his head out of the elevator door and saw Lisa sprawled out on the cold marble tiles of the hallway, bawling. “What the fuck,” he said, fearing the worst. The boy instantly attempted to get to her side but was stopped by a stiff arm to the shoulder. “Get the fuck out of my way!” he snarled, shoving the man back. “That's my Mom!”

The guard relaxed his clenched jaw and allowed Matt to pass. The boy nearly rolled his ankle as he sprinted towards his mother. Once he reached her, he sank to his knees and cautiously lifted the weeping woman from her position. As he did, the strong scent of Bourbon hit his nose. “Mom, are you okay?” he frantically asked.

“Noooo,” she sobbed.

“Did..did that guy hurt you? Force himself on you or something?”

“No, nooo,” she sniffled as she sat up on her own. “Before we could even do anything, I asked for more liquor..and more liquor and more and more and more and more and I..couldn’t..stop...talking...about...David,” she said, bursting into fresh tears.

Matt pulled the woman close and cradled her against his chest. “But how did you end up on the floor?”

“I decided to left... I mean leave. He offered to walk me to my room but I was so embarrassedddd so I declined. I made it halfway down the hall, tripped and just stayed there.”

The boy shot the security guard a scowl over his shoulder. “And you just left her here?” he hissed.

“Hey, I tried to help but she told me to just leave her there to die. Periodically I'd ask 'yo, lady, you still alive?’ and she'd just cried louder as confirmation...or disappointment that she was still alive,” the man pondered.

“The second one,” Lisa sobbed.

“Mom, stop talking like that. Your happiness shouldn't be contingent on some stupid man, I mean, you still have me and Josh. And Lace and the baby.”

“I do, don't I?” she sniffled as she attempted to compose herself.

“Of course, Mom. Just imagine if they have a daughter. I know you've always wanted a little girl in your life, now you'll get to put her hair in pigtails and dress her in cute little outfits.”

“I could, couldn’t I?”

“You know the only dress Lace has worn in her life was her wedding dress so that baby will depend on you to teach her some femininity, so yes. Absofuckinglutely.”

“Matty, don't say absofuckinglutely.”

“Sorry, Mom.”

“It's okay, sweetheart,” Lisa groaned as her son helped her to her feet. “Ugh, I'm so dizzyyy.”

“Are you stable enough to make it to your room?”

“Ye-Yeah- no...yes. I think so.”

“Okay, well if you feel faint, just hold onto me.”

The woman obliged, firmly gripping her son's shoulder as he led her to the elevator.

The security guard pressed the down button for them. “Take care of yourself,” he said to Lisa.

“Thank you, Gustavo.”

The man rolled his eyes. “For the third time, that isn't my name.”

Matt gave his shoulder a grateful pat before easing his mother into the lift. The steel doors closed and the downward pull of the elevator made Lisa nauseous. Once the doors slid open, Matt helped the woman out and down the hallway to her room’s door, cringing when he had to rummage through tampons, condoms and birth control as he searched for the keys. When he found them, the boy opened the door. He managed to get his mother to the bed before the woman vomited all over the sheets and herself.

“Fuck my life,” Matt groaned.

---

When Jason realized that his boyfriend wasn't there to hear his good news, he quickly called the second person in his contact list.

“Hey, J,” Mr. Dardo answered.

“Hey, Dad! How's it going? How's Atlanta been?”

“Wow, you're chirpy today. Atlanta is good. I've been finding myself, ya know?”

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. Daddd.”

The man chuckled. “What's up, buddy?”

“I've been nominated for Grammys! Plural! I'm not sure how many or which categories but Oh my God, it doesn't even matter! Grammys, Dad! The fucking Grammys!”

“Oh my God. That's amazingggg!”

The boy frowned. “You already knew didn't you?”

“I did. I'm sorry, J. Lucian found out before it was officially released and said that Lady desperately wanted to tell you. You know I can't say no to that woman.”

“Well that makes sense...as long as you're proud of me,” he exhaled.

“Jason, of course I'm proud of you! I've been proud since the day you were born and I became even prouder when you had to man up and hold down the house while I was sick, and because of that, man to man, I have the utmost respect for you. I'm so fucking proud, like I have to contain myself and not brag to the world that you're my son because lesser parents would feel ashamed that their kids don't compare.”

Jason chuckled.

“Soooo fucking proud. And your mother would've been too.”

“Thanks, Dad,” the boy sniffled. “That means everything to me.”

“You’re welcome, buddy. So how does Matt feel about being your date to the Grammys?”

“Oh my God, he doesn't even know yet! I went to tell him but he was gone. You're the first person I told.”

“Oh wow. I'm shocked that you didn't at least call Ronis at first.”

“Ronis! Gotta go, Dad! Love you!” he rushed before hanging up the phone. The boy quickly FaceTimed the girl.

By the look on her face, he could tell that the girl was already bursting at the seams with excitement. “Jason...oh...my...Godddd!”

“Currently freaking the fuck outttt!”

“And reasonably sooooo! Ahhhhh!”

“Ahhhhhhh!”

The friends squealed at the top of their lungs as they bounced around their rooms.

“Tell him I said congratulations,” Oliver said from across the room.

“Oli, get your ass over here and scream with ussss!” Ronis demanded.

“I don't scream.”

The girl tackled her boyfriend and began to attack him with love bites.

“Oh my God, stopppp!”

“See, you do scream!”

“Congratulations, Jason! We know you'll win, wooo!” Oliver shouted.

“Not even,” Jason chuckled. “Unless I'm nominated for most likely to become irrelevant in the next five years.”

“Oh, shut up!” Ronis groaned. “With these nominations, you'll become more famous than ever!”

“Probably won't have time for us anymore,” Oliver mumbled.

“Whoa, what?” Jason asked. “Why do you think that? You guys are my friends, I'll always have time for you.”

“Yeah, he's the one who's nominated but he  called me. I thought he'd be busy so I just waited but he's the one who called, so what's your problem, Oliver?”

“I don't know,” he said with a shrug.

“Are you scared of losing Jason?”

“Pfft, it's not even-”

“Aww, Mr. Macho Man doesn't wanna talk about his feelingssss. He thinks his best buddy will get all famous and forget about himmm,” the girl teased as she tickled her boyfriend's neck.

“You're so mad,” Oliver got out between strained giggles.

“It's okay to admit you're scaredddd.”

“Fine,” the boy sighed. “I'm super happy for you Jason, but sometimes it feels like we have to schedule appointments just to call you. And now it's gonna be studio this and interview that, which is awesome. You really worked hard to earn that but...you were the first person I really opened up to and I don't wanna lose my friend.”

Ronis pouted. “Awww.”

“Dude, you're not losing me. You guys are my best friends, when I win, we all win. I couldn't imagine going to the Grammys without you.”

Ronis shrieked in excitement. “No fucking way!”

“Yes way!”

“Oh my Goddd. What are you gonna wear? What should I wear?! Do you think you'll make best dressed list? Do you think Aretha Franklin will be there?! Oh my God, I hope she is! I'd dieeee.”

Jason laughed. “Well if she is, don't embarrass yourself by snorting.”

“I do not-”

“Babe,” Oliver interjected before the girl could lie.

“Ugh, I can't help itttt. Let's just hope that she isn't really funny.”

“And no loosening your belt to eat more,” Jason slyly added just as someone knocked on the door. He wasn't sure if Matt had the second key to the room, so he became hopeful that his boyfriend had returned. “Hold on, guys.” Jason left his phone on the bed while he made his way to the door. He opened it and was greeted by his smiling manager.  The brunette was actually excited to see the man so he threw his arms around him.

“Oh, wow. I haven't had one of those in a long time,” Lucian laughed.

“Grammys, Lucian!”

“I knowww. This is my second time being nominated.”

Jason broke the embrace. “You’re nominated too?”

“Yeah. 'Producer of the Year' for Letters From My Glass Jar’.”

“Oh my Godddd,” the boy squealed. “Okay, okay, um, what am I nominated for?” he asked nervously.

“I’ll let Lady tell you since that fucking pig of a receptionist ruined the first part of the surprise.” The man quickly pulled out his phone and FaceTimed the woman.

“Oh, wait, Ronis and Oliver are still on the line.” Jason rushed and grabbed his phone.  "Guys, listen to this.”

“Hi, my love!” Lady chirped. “Although I didn't get to surprise you with the news, I wish you the best of luck and I know you'll win every single category.”

“Can you tell me what I'm nominated for?”

“Oh, of course. There are six and-”

“Shut the fuck up,” the boy let out before composing himself. “I'm so sorry for my language, Lady.”

“In this situation, 'Fuck’, is more than okay. I said way more when I found out I was nominated for Best Jazz Vocal Album and Best Instrumental Composition.”

“Yes! Do you think we could sit next to each other?”

She giggled. “I tell you you're nominated for six Grammys and you're worried about a seating chart?”

Jason blushed. “It's importantttt. I've sorta kinda always dreamed about this.”

“Who doesn't, honey?! Everyone wants to be you right now.”

The boy's ears began to burn. “Nahhh.”

“What are the categories he's been nominated for?” Ronis asked impatiently.

“Best Music Video, Best Pop Vocal Album, Best Pop Solo Performance, Record of the Year, Album of the Year and Best New Artist.”

“They're all important, but if you win any of the last three she mentioned, your net worth will triple,” Lucian said as his pupils practically turned into dollar signs.

“Fuckkk, move over Mariah,” Ronis giggled.

“Jason?” Lady asked.

“Hmm?”

“You okay? You look a little vacant.”

“Yeah, I'm just taking it all in...this is unreal. And Matt's not even here to enjoy this moment with me,” he sniffled.

“Aww, I'm sorry sweetheart. Where is he?” the woman asked, still trying to burn her mind of the earlier incident.

“I don't know.”  

---

When there was a knock on Lisa's hotel room door, her son rushed to open it.

“Oh, thank God you're here,” Matt told the housekeeper.

“Yes. You said you had a spill?”

“Um, yeah,” he stammered. “That way.”

The woman followed the direction he'd indicated, instantly jumping and instinctively covering her nose to fend off the offensive odor when she saw Lisa. “What the fuck! That's not a spill!”

“I knowww but if I would've told you that my mom has been projectile vomiting everywhere, you never would've come!”

“Of course not! She looks like the girl from the fucking Exorcist!”

“Oh, come on, it's not that bad. Besides, this is your job!”

“Not anymore! I quit!” the woman shouted before dashing out of the room.

“Ughhhh, this is not happeningggg! Why me?” he sighed.

“I'm sorry, Matty,” Lisa groaned.

“It’s okay, I'll call someone else. No worriesss. Hakuna Matata,” the boy said, trying to remain calm as he placed the room’s phone to his ear.

“Sorry that I wasn't a good enough mother to you,” she got out through broken sobs.

“What?”

“It took me so long to come around to seeing you for you a-a-and then I went and got engaged against your wishesss. I'm such a terrible mother,” the woman wept before she began to gag again.

Matt frowned, took a deep breath and hung up the phone. “Mom, you're not terrible. I think I've been the terrible one.” The boy made his way to the bathroom and turned on the shower. He adjusted the temperature before returning to his mother's side. “Are you able to stand?”

The woman nodded, pushed herself off of the bed and fell right to the floor. “Ow.”

The boy rolled up his sleeves and helped the woman to her feet before guiding her to the bathroom. “Um..are you able to...undress yourself?”

“Mhm.”

Unconvinced, the boy groaned as he said a silent prayer and eased the woman onto the toilet. “Mom, lift up your arms.” The woman obliged, allowing her son to remove her soiled shirt which only spread more vomit to her face and hair. “Ugh,” he groaned.

“I'm colddd,” the woman shivered in her puke soaked bra.

“Sorry. You'll be in the warm shower in a sec. Um, unbutton your pants.”

“I can'tttt.”

“Mom, please try. I'm trying to make this as least traumatic as possible.”

The woman sniffled as she stretched her arms behind her back to undo her bra.

“No, Mom, no!”

“Whaatttt?”

“Your pants.”

“But Matty, I'm so tireddd.”

The boy groaned in frustration before he took a deep breath and undid the button on his mother's jeans. He cringed as he pulled at the hem of the denim and quickly grabbed her waist at the top of her underwear to prevent them from coming off with her pants. When the left side became snagged on the panties, Lisa's hip skin was exposed and the boy nearly fainted when he saw the small skull and crossbones tattoo for the first time.

“What the fuck,” he whimpered. “When did you get a tattoo?”

“Before you were bornnn. It was actually the catalyst for you getting conceiveddd.”

“Mom! Just ugh! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fuck my lifeeee! Fuck this. I'm calling Josh. He's your first born, you belonged to him first, this is his responsibility!” The boy selected his brother's contact and placed the phone to his ear.

“I told you stop letting me win!” Lace screeched in the background.

“I'm not! Hel-Hello?” the man said into the receiver as he dodged the pillow that was lobbed at his head by his wife.

“Josh,” Matt snapped in aggravation.

“Yes you are!” the pink haired girl sobbed. “And now you're on the phone!”

“It's Matt. What's up, bro? Please make it quick.”

“Mom's drunk, she threw up all over the place, she's saying nasty shit and you need to come give her a shower!”

“Joshua Edmond Lent! You're ignoring meeeee! How about I just move back to London?! You probably wouldn't even miss me,” Lace cried hysterically. “The baby and I will join a convent and- ughhh! You just frustrate me so much!”

“Holy shit,” Matt sighed, almost sympathetic.

“Of  course, I'd miss you and the baby if you went to London and joined a convent. Um, you're just a teeny bit hormonal-”

“I'm not hormonal!” she exploded before bursting into new tears and rushing into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

“Damn it. The last time she did this I spent an hour baiting her out with chocolate cake. She had to negotiate extra frosting and ‘special’ sprinkles that I had to go to three different stores to get because hardly anyone sells that shit in America.”

“That's fucked up. I almost feel bad for you. Ughhh, I guess I'll deal with Mom, but if she says anything else about my conception, I'm dragging her to your room.”

He laughed. “Fine.”

“Are you laughing at me?!” Lace bawled as she opened the bathroom door and began to tossing the complimentary shampoos and conditioners at him.

Josh dived behind the couch. “No, sweetheart! Gotta go, bro,” he panted.

“You gonna be okay?”

"Yeah, I swear this is becoming foreplay for her.”

Matt cringed before hanging up.

“You know, when I put on theseee extra pounds, I actually thought I was pregnant. Even though I use protection, I feel like David is very, very potent. And the way he-”

“Ma, Stop! If David cared about you, you wouldn't be covered in puke right now!”

The woman's bottom lip began to quiver.

Matt sighed. “Mom, I'm sorry. Please don't cry.”

“You're right,” she sobbed.

“No, I'm not right. I'm a jerk but when know this about me so don't let anything I say hurt your feelings.” As she continued to bawl, the boy simply took a deep breath. “Come on, let's just get you in the shower.”

“But don't I need to take these offfff?” Lisa asked as she pointed between her bra and panties.

“No! Ugh, I mean. No. I'm sure the water will pass right through that..frilly stuff.”

“It's lace,” she said as she wiped her eyes.

“Good to know,” he grumbled. It's just like a swimsuit, it's just like a swimsuit, the boy repeated in his mind so that his lunch would stay down. “Give me your hands.”

Lisa extended her arms towards her son. He grabbed them and used them as leverage to guide her onto the floor of the shower after the woman nearly fell again when she tried to stand on her own.

“Matty, it's coldddd.”

The boy gave the temperature a slight adjustment.

“Still coldddd.”

Matt scoffed and turned the knob further.

“H-H-Hot!”

“Oh my God,” you're impossible,” the boy said as he scaled back.

“That's so perfecttttt, sweetheart, thank youuuu. Can I have some shampoo or something?”

Matt grabbed the small bottle of shampoo from the sink. He went to hand it to her before hesitating. “If I give this to you, you promise not to get it in your eyes?”

“Nope,” Lisa chirped. “Huh? I mean, yes.”

The boy gave her a look.

“Will you rephrase the questionnnn? I don't wanna plead the fifth.”

“My God, I miss getting that fucked up,” he sighed before retrieving the other small bottles of conditioner and body wash. Matt gave his mother the soap and a wash cloth. “Knock yourself out.”

“Under the seaaa, under the seaaa,” Lisa sang under the cascade of water as she dumped the contents of the body wash into her hands before slathering it on her arms, legs and torso while her son cautiously added the shampoo to her damp hair.

He worked up a lather from her roots to the tips with his fingers and found the act to be oddly calming. “Mom, turn around and tilt your head back so I can rinse this out.”

The woman obliged with a sloppy turn that she complained had given her a wedgie but Matt ignored the woman as he careful expelled the soap from her hair, making sure to eliminate every sud prior to adding the conditioner which he let stay in her tresses two minutes before it was rinsed out.

“Body all cleaned?”

“Yepppp.”

Matt turned off the water then handed the woman three towels and her robe.

“Mom, did you bring any hair care products?”

“Look in my suitcaseeee.”

The boy skipped out of the bathroom and dove into his mother's luggage where he found a treasure trove creams, lotions and potions for the hair. But he couldn't stop himself from unzipping her makeup bag and being disappointed that there was only mascara, tinted moisturizer and one shade of lipstick. The boy popped the lid off of the lipstick and swiped it onto his wrist like the girls at Sephora did when they wanted to test out a color. He loved the contrast of the bright red tint against his pale skin and tried to imagine what it'd look like on his lips.

“Mattyyy?”

The boy jumped when his mother called him. He quickly put the lipstick in its original spot and grabbed the hair products before returning to the bathroom.

“I took off my unmentionables while you weren't lookinggg,” Lisa giggled as she attempted to twirl in her robe but tripped. Matt caught her by the wrists and steadied her.

“Mom, sit down I wanna do your hair.”

“You do hairrr?”

“No, but I wanna try.”

“Okay,” she chirped as she returned to the toilet .

Matt removed the towel that held his mother's damp blonde waves in place, grabbed a comb and a bottle whose label promised healthy body and shine from her bag. He smoothed globs of the lemongrass scented cream into his mother's hair as he combed and blow dried it. After a few minutes, the woman's full luminous hair bounced around as she shook her head. “Very Farrah Fawcett,” he chuckled, pretty proud of his handy work.

“Awww, I love herrrr.”

“Can I flat iron your hair now?”

“But, but I like Farrahhh.”

“Same, but now I wanna go for Britney.”

“You are not shaving my head, Matthew!”

The boy cackled. “I want to see what it'd look like bone straight. You never wear it that way.”

Lisa exhaled loudly. “Fine.”

Matt grinned as he retrieved the flat iron from her bag and plugged it in. As soon as the tool was hot enough, he took it to his mother's hair, slowing feeding each piece through the hot ceramic plates. The end result was silky smooth, golden tresses that flowed pass the woman's shoulders in a way comparable to even the most famous shampoo ads. “Don't move,” the boy ordered as he rushed to his mother's suitcase, grabbed the mascara and lipstick before returning to his human canvas.

“Be still,” Matt said quietly as he carefully applied the mascara to his mother's already long lashes. “Have you ever thought about wearing false lashes?”

“Mhmm. I tried once and glued my eye shutttt.”

He cackled. “How about trying more than one shade of lipstick?”

“I was just a chapstick girl before the divorce and I found that red is so...spicy. Makes me look daringggg.”

“I like red on you.”

Lisa snorted. “Since when? Just a few weeks ago you didn't even want me wearing it.”

“I changed my mind. I'd like to see some nudes and pinks on you...you should buy them.”

“You think?”

“Yes. I'm sure peach tones would do wonders as well.”

“How do you knowww? Because of your artsy stuff?”

“I suppose so. Poke your lips out,” he advised. The woman obliged, allowing Matt to apply the lipstick with ease. “Gorgeousss,” the boy groaned in satisfaction over his masterpiece.

“Thank you, sweetheartttt.”

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you think of drag?”

“Like cigarettes?”

“No...um, like boys dressed as girls.”

“Ohhh, like that RuPaul?”

“Yes! Doesn't he look beautiful in drag?”

“Sure. I mean it's interesting from a distanceeee but I wouldn't know how to handle my boys becoming girlsss.”

“Oh...good to know.”

“It’s just like boys who live their life as girls but can't commit to going through with the surgeryyyy. Which is so confusing to meee. Like you were born the way you were for a reasonnn, so why change? It's like body shaming or somethingg. But if they choose to do it, hey more power to them. Like that little Oliver is so handsome, you'd never know but I just couldn't imagine calling you Mattina or Madeline or Maddie.”

“Mom, you're totally mixing drag and so much other stuff. But what about Oliver?”

“Oliver was born a little girllll but now he's a boyyyy.”

Matt squished his mother's cheeks between his hands. “Are you telling me that Oliver is transgender?” he asked intently.

“Yes,” she managed to get out.

The boy released her. “Oh my Goddddd,” Matt said, slightly amused. “Jason did all that sneaky shit for someone who can't even give him the special sauce.” He scoffed. “But I wonder if he knows that. Ugh, I wouldn't put anything past that kid.” The more he thought about it, the more annoyed he became with the boy.

“Matty, I'm tiredddd.”

“Alright, well... I have to clean the bed first. Hold on.”  Matt grabbed the two shower caps on the counter, placed them over his hands as faux gloves and proceeded to strip the mattress of its sheets. After calling housekeeping to request new blankets, the boy flipped the mattress. “Sorry, Bellagio,” he sighed. When the housekeeper arrived, he was grateful that the woman barely spoke a word of English as he swapped the vomit sheets for the clean ones. The boy then made the bed and returned to his mother. “What are you laughing at?”

“What kind of medicine did the bed take?”

“Um, I don't know.”

“Pill-O’s,” Lisa cackled.

Matt let out a light laugh as he shook his head. “Your Pill-O's are ready.”

The woman gripped onto the counter and then the wall as she made her way out of the bathroom.

“You got it?”

“Mmm hmmmm. I'm Britney, bitch.”

Matt suppressed his laughter as he made sure that the woman made it into bed without injury. He tucked her in. “Do you need anything else?”

“Nopeeeee. I just wanna sleeppp like Rapunzel.”

“Um, okay.”

“If I get hungry, I'll call you or the room people.”

“Okay. Love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Matty Patty.”

“You owe me.”

“I dooo. Even though I tore an inch giving birth to you, I still owe you and I'm willing to give you everything I cannn.”

The boy cringed. “Nevermind. Goodnight, Ma.”

“Goodnight, big head,” she cackled.

The boy exhaled in relief that he'd survive the ordeal but not before he made several mental notes to get fucked up himself so that he could suppress what had just happened. He then headed down the hallway to his room. Once he opened the door, the boy saw Jason  who'd clearly been crying on the couch but he scowled when he saw Lucian sitting next to him.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

“Matt, you have no right to come in here cursing at me,” Jason sniffled.

“And this motherfucker had no right to see my dick, but he did and yet you still let him in here!”

“I paid for this room, I can have whoever I want in here! Unlike you, Lucian was actually there for me during one of the most important moments of my life!”

Instead of responding with words, Matt channeled his anger into swinging at the first thing he saw, the crystal glass vase that had failed to help him earlier. It hit the ground and shattered into multiple pieces.

“Hm, it's not dick proof or anger proof,” Lucian commented.

“What the fuck, Matt!” Jason shouted but the boy turned and stormed out of the room.

“Jesus, what a tool,” Lucian said in disbelief.

“Shut up,” Jason groaned as he pushed himself off of the couch and followed his boyfriend out of the door. “Matt!”

“Jason, I really don't think you need to be around me right now!” the boy shouted but the brunette continued to chase close behind as Matt swung open the door to the stairway and entered.

Jason sprinted and managed to cut the boy off. But when he tried to turn around to escape, the brunette grabbed his arm to stop him but Matt snatched away.

“Don't touch me,” he hissed through a clenched jaw. “Jason, I really feel the need to hit something right now and I don't want it to be you.”

The brunette took a step back. “Wow,” he exhaled. “Thanks for the warning. I'll keep makeup handy in case I bruise.”

Matt took a few deep breaths. “I'm sorry.”

“What's up with you?”

“I just have a lot on my mind.”

Jason sat on the third step of the staircase and patted the spot next to him.

“You're not even wearing shoes,” Matt said as he took a seat.

“You didn't give me time to grab any! We were in the middle of fight and you got that look in your eyes before breaking that ugly vase that was probably a thousand bucks before storming out.”

“What look in my eyes?”

“When you're super mad, you get this blank stare and it's like you're not you. It scares me.”

“I don't mean to...like, even with my meds, in some situations I just have to step away from or it'll get ugly.”

“But we argue a lot. What made you so upset this time?”

“When you said that Lucian was there for you when I wasn't. It was really like a punch in the dick after all we've been through with him.”

“Babe, I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean that.”

Matt sighed. “It's just been a long day and I'm on edge. I found my mom on the floor of some random hallway, completely wasted. I got her to her room and she puked all over the place so I had to give her a shower and shit.”

“Oh God, why didn't you call me? You know my dad used to be the poster child for drunk parents.”

“Well, she's my mom so it was traumatic but I love her so I'll live... I hope.”

“I mean as long as you didn't see your birth entrance, you should be fine.”

Matt cringed. “Please don't even give me that visual. And of course I didn't see anything, I made her keep her bra and panties on.”

Jason laughed. “Of course you did. Poor Lisa.”

“Speaking of my mom, you won't believe what she told me about your little friend, Oliver.”

The boy frowned. “What'd she tell you?”

“He's transgender.”

“Oh...well, yeah.”

“Oh, so you did know?”

“Of course, he's one of my best friends.”

“Yeah, now.”

“Matt, I-”

“Did you know he was trans when you tried to hit on him?”

“No,” Jason said quietly.

“And you stopped your attempts before or after finding out?”

“Before. I was just craving a little attention, but when you came to visit me in London for the first time, you made love to me so good that I nearly forgot my own name, let alone Oliver's. And you remember I'd left my charger in the dorm, I went to get it and that's when he told me.”

The boy took a deep, slightly aggravated breath.

“Matt, why the hell does this bother you so much?”

“I feel stupid for worrying about Oliver and giving him such a hard time just because you suffered a moment of weakness. Like, I don't know,” he groaned.

“Clearly,” Jason mumbled.

“Pfft.”

The brunette playfully nudged the other boy in the side.

“Cut it out, I don't want to like you right now.”

He pouted. “Even if I'm nominated for six Grammys?”

The boy's eyes grew wide. “No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way! Google it.”

Matt threw his arms around Jason. “Congratulations, babe! You deserve it so much!”

“Thanks,” he said bashfully. “And that's the reason why Lucian was in my room, we were discussing how to handle the press after this...but mostly I just cried about you not being there to celebrate with me in that moment.”

“Aww, I'm sorry, baby. We can celebrate tonighttttt.”

“Promise?”

“Absolutely. And if you spot me for that thousand dollar vase now, I promise to pay you back thirty bucks a month until it's paid off.”

Jason rolled his eyes and kissed the boy before his alarm went off. “Time to get ready for the meet and greet,” he sighed.

“Can I go?”

“Sure, but you better behave yourself.”

Matt pushed himself off the step. “Don't I always?”

Jason scoffed.

“Will you do me a favor first.”

“What?”

“Let me see the bottom of your feet,” he chuckled.

Jason grabbed his ankle and lifted his right leg to get a glance at the bottom of his foot. Both he and Matt were surprised to see that it was dirt free.

“Wow, the Bellagio must have great housekeeping.”

“Oh my God, don't even get me started on the housekeeping,” he said as he extended his hand to help the brunette up.

Jason accepted the act of chivalry prior to noticing the bright red mark Matt's wrist. “What's this?”  

“Um, just a lipstick swatch,” he said nervously as he pulled his arm away.

“Why do you have a lipstick swatch?”

“Because.. I thought it looked...pretty.”

“Are you still dreaming about that drag shit?”

“No,” he quietly lied. “Well, maybe.”

“Babe, that's so weird. I never knew you were so into crossdressing.”

“I’m not. Well, I don't know, it just seems really cool to me. The transformation process is like art.”

“I guess. Should I buy you heels and panty hose for your birthday?” he teased. Matt's face lit up causing Jason to giggle.

“Don't laughhh. If I found heels in my size I'd definitely test them out.”

“You're so weirddd. But I love you anyway,” he said before stealing a kiss and leading the boy out of the stairway.

---

“Oh my Godddd,” Ronis squealed from her bed as she spoke to the boy who was still in the bathroom. “Can you believe it? The Grammys. I always knew I'd go one day, but so soon...incredible.”

Oliver emerged from the bathroom and Ronis raised an eyebrow at his appearance. The brown trousers, freshly shaved face and smoothed comb over hairstyle made the boy look more like a middle aged creep who drove around in a minivan, offering rides to college girls in the middle of the night as they left parties rather than his usual look that the girl had fallen in love with.

“Babe…what are you wearing?”

“Clothes,” he said sarcastically.

“Okay, but where do you plan on wearing these clothes? A comic con panel?”

Oliver sighed. “Is it really that bad?”

“I'm sure people will instantly accuse you of using your sweets to lure children to their deaths,” she chuckled. “Where are you going?”

“To my Mum's house,” he whispered so quietly that Ronis barely heard him. But to make sure she hadn't misunderstood what he'd said, she asked again. “My Mum,” he repeated. “I'm going to meet her.”

Ronis quickly pushed herself off of the bed and over to the boy. “Whoa, what? When did this come about? Why didn't you tell me?”

“When we were at my house the other day, while you and the kids were hiding in that round of hide and seek, I asked Jackie to speak to her. Ronis, I really want to meet her.”

“Are you sure, baby? That's a monumental step. I mean, what if she disappoints you or says something to hurt you? Then I'd have to hide out in the shrubs and attack her for upsetting you.”

Oliver laughed. “I don't know if I'm ready, but after what my Dad told me, I honestly think this is long overdue.”

Ronis sighed. “Jackie spoke to her?”

“Yes.”

“And she agreed?”

“Yes.”

“And you're trying to impress her with this look?”

The boy turned crimson. “Maybe.”

“Babe, you look like a serial killer. You don't have to change yourself to impress her,” Ronis said as she rustled the boy's hair, effectively ruining his perfectly sculpted dome.

“Hey! It took me ten minutes to do my hair!”

“Well it was a waste of time. You need to do your usual style and go as yourself.”

“And if I don't?” he challenged.

“Your Mum may mistake you for Jake the Ripper and run away!”

Oliver cackled. “Fine.”

“Wear your favorite hoodie and those dark stone washed jeans that I love. They make your ass look amazinggggg.”

“Should that be a priority when meeting your mother?”

“No, but it's a priority when I have to watch you leave,” she said before kissing himself.

After changing clothes and doing his hair in his in the usual tousled way, the boy exited his dorm and caught a cab to his sister's house. They then traveled to the outskirts of the city, pulling up to a quaint home surrounded by nothing but trees and a riverside bank.

“This is incredible,” Oliver exhaled.

“Yeah,” Jackie said as she climbed out out the car and waited for her brother to do the same. When he didn't, she opened his door for him. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” the boy replied nonchalantly but he still didn't move. There was a long pause before he looked up at her. “Oh! This is her house?”

“No, it's Buckingham palace,” Jackie said sarcastically. “Of course it's her house!”

Oliver quickly undid his seatbelt and jumped out of the car. He then followed his sister down the cobblestone path that lead to the porch before abruptly stopping and turning around. “I can't, I can't,” he muttered prior to stopping and turning to face the house again. “Ugh, just do it. Get this over with.”

As he talked to himself, his sister watched sympathetically. “Are you sure you want to do this today?”

Oliver hesitated but then nodded as he removed his inhaler from his pocket. He took two deep puffs and sighed. “I'm ready.” The boy took a few steps then groaned. “Fuck, do you think I should've gotten her flowers or something? Ugh, I'm so stupid.”

“Nooo, she doesn't need anymore flowers. Come on. You'll be fine and if you feel uncomfortable at any point we can leave.”

“Okay,” he exhaled before finally making his way to the porch. Jackie rang the doorbell and within seconds, a tall blonde man answered. Oliver recognized him as his mother's husband.

“Hey!” the man greeted.

“Hey, Gabe,” Jackie said as she hugged him. “This is my brother, Oliver.”

The blue eyed man stared intently at the boy, making him gulp. Gabe extended his hand. “Nice to finally meet you, Oliver.”

“F-Finally?” the boy asked as he returned the gesture.

Gabe gave his hand a firm shake. “Yeah, I've heard a lot about you.”

“Oh..”

“Come on in,” the man offered.

The two of them entered the warm abode and the smell of fresh chocolate chip cookies made Oliver  sick to his stomach. They weren't intended for him and neither were the novels, spots saved with colorful bookmarks or each toy thrown about until it could be returned to it's proper place or any other artifact that made this house into a home. Although he'd grown up with all of these items and everything that his father could afford to give him, it all just seemed so much more better knowing that a mother's love had been put into it. And none of it had been for him.

“We were just getting ready for lunch.”

“Yeah?” Jackie asked. “Where are the kids?”

“Upstairs. And Jen's out back.”

“Even in this weather?”

“Yeah, she's been waiting for you guys. And gardening helps her nerves.”

Oliver's stomach lurched. “She’s nervous?”

“Oh, like a hooker in church.”

“Hm.”

“Let's go,” Jackie told her brother.

The boy took a deep breath and followed his sister through the kitchen, then dining room before exiting out of the French doors that led to the backyard.

“Jackie, I feel like I'm having a fucking heart attack,” Oliver whispered as he began to drag his feet in the snow.

“You'll be fineeee,” she assured. “Mum's right over here.”

“I'm not calling her that.”

“Nobody expects you to,” Jackie sighed as they approached the small garden and the woman tending to it. “Hey, Mum.”

The dark haired woman stood and turned around. A weathered straw hat covered her shoulder length bob and her large brown eyes seemed to carry the wisdom of the world in them. And when she smiled, Oliver was immediately thrown into an internal battle. The years of the woman being solely known as the 'bitch who abandoned him’ conflicted with the instantaneous connection he felt with her.

“Hey, Jackie.”

Her musical voice triggered vague childhood memories that made a lump swell in the Oliver's throat. He contemplated running but the moment that he'd waited his entire life for wasn't over yet, she'd either call him by the proper name or demand to never see him again. He was prepared for either.

“Hello, Oliver,” the woman got out through a broken voice.  

“H-H-Hi...Mu-Je…”

“Jennifer or Jen is more than okay.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Jen.”

There was heartache behind her smile. “How are you?”

“I'm...I don't know. I guess I'm okay. You?”

“I’m not sure either. But I'm happy to see you.”

Butterflies filled the boy's stomach. “Y-You are?”

“Yes. Why don't we go inside? It's freezing out here.” They nodded and returned inside to the dining room. “I try to keep the vegetables alive even in the winter.”

“Because blankets keep them warm,” Jackie teasingly mocked.

“They do!” the woman assured as she removed her hat and hung it on the door on the hook next to the door. “Have a seat, have a seat.”

“I want to go say hi to the kids if that's okay,” Jackie said as an excuse.

Oliver shot her a look.

“Um, yeah, of course that's fine. They are your siblings after all.” The woman regretted the statement the moment the words left her lips. “Oliver I-”

“It's okay.”

“There's just so much I want to say to you and I don't ever know where to start.”

“The beginning is usually a good place to start.”

Jennifer nodded before sitting down and invited the boy to do the same as Jackie eased out of the room unnoticed.

“I'm sure the beginning of every side of this story starts the same. We were a young, happy, perfect family but then things changed. When you turned four years old, you began to show interest in stuff like superheros, bugs and other gross things that little boys generally like. I thought it was a phase but after a while you just kept going. I got tired of it and wanted my little princess back but your father,” she practically growled. “Your father just came up to me one day and said that you were transgender. I had no clue what that meant, but he told me that you were now a boy and that I had no choice but to accept it. I was shocked and utterly confused. David had always wanted a son and after a string of miscarriages, he wasn't disappointed that you were a girl, but the hope of having a son still stirred in the back of his mind. So when this phase of yours came about, I was convinced that he was using the power of persuasion to influence your decisions and as I mother, there's nothing more I want for my children than to be free thinkers and their own person which might sound like bullshit to you but it's true,” Jen sniffled as she did her best to suppress her tears. “I felt like David was being creepy and manipulative and he had me so stressed to a point where I hated him. I wanted to hurt him the way I felt that he was hurting me but I did the worst thing a mother could do. I used you to get to him. Calling you things like 'it’ or refusing to acknowledge the trans thing; you were just a casualty in the war and it makes me sick to my stomach. I never should’ve behaved that way and it hurts like hell that I can't take it back. But I tried, ohhh how I tried.”

“Dad told me about the court stuff,” Oliver said quietly.

Jennifer clenched her jaw in anger. “I'll be right back,” she said as she pushed herself away from the table, quickly returning with a large box. “In a fit of blind rage, I signed over my parental rights but I regretted that shit the very next day. I did everything I could to contact David but was completely ignored, so I did this.” She dumped the contents of the box onto the table.

“What's all this?” the boy asked.

“Every single document and record of every attempt I made to get back into your life.”

Oliver picked up one of the thick packets. It was a summon from the court, ordering David to appear so that the ‘pending case against him could be resolved’.

“Years of phone records, letters, court dates and even information from private investigators.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “Private investigators?”

“Yes! That man was able to avoid me like he was a fugitive and I was a bounty hunter. At one point, I thought he'd changed his identity, but nope, he was just willing to do any and everything to keep you hidden and it honestly made me believe my theory of him preying on you even more. I called the police multiple times but since I'd signed over my rights, there was nothing I could do.”

Oliver remained silent as he took in all of the information. “But...why did you stop? Even if you didn't think he'd relent, wouldn't it be the motherly thing to keep trying?”

“I did this for years...until I got sick.”

“Sick of trying?”

“Sick with breast cancer,” she said quietly.

Oliver's heart and stomach dropped. “Jackie never said anything about breast cancer..”

“She doesn't know,” Jennifer whispered. The look on the boy's face must've shown extreme confusion so the woman quickly explained as quietly as she could while still being clear. “She had just started her career, Jaz was just a baby and Jackie was so stressed that I didn't want to add to it by telling her unless I knew I was going to die. But I had hope in myself, I'm a fighter,” she said with a smile. “Years of chemo, a shaved head and wigs to convince everyone that everything was okay took a toll on me and I didn't have the strength to go to court every week in hopes that David would show.”

“Jen... I don't know what to say.”

“You don't have to say anything, Oliver. Just know that I've always loved you and I've always wanted to be in your life.” Jennifer quickly dug through the mound of papers and found what she was looking for. She handed it to the boy. “A copy of a letter that I wrote your father.”

Oliver quickly read the note.

David,

It's been two long years that I've been without my baby and there hasn't been a day that I haven't attempted to contact you. I'm so sorry for everything I did, but I just need my child in my life like I need air to breathe. Boy, girl, or anything in between, I don't care. I just want my precious little angel back…

“And here's evidence that he threw that very letter away,” Jennifer said as handed the boy a series of pictures that depicted of his father, twelve years earlier, collecting the mail, riffling through it and immediately tossing the bright pink envelope into the trash. “I always made sure to choose unique or distinct envelopes so that the private investigator would know what to look for.”

“That's brilliant,” Oliver admitted.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “But if only he'd read them.”

The pain that was evident in her voice made the boy want to cry, but he'd refused to give the stranger the satisfaction of that just yet.

“He never even gave me a second chance. Over the years, he and his entire family put me through hell, I at least deserve a second chance.”

“Well, you don't have to worry about him giving you a second chance. He's not your kid,” Oliver said sternly as he folded his arms.

“That's true. And I can't do much now but ask for your forgiveness.”

The boy pursed his lips and the woman burst into tears. “I'm sorry,” she sobbed. “People can accuse me of being a bitch or deadbeat but they can't say that I never tried. I've always kept an eye on your social media, I thought thirteen was a little young for things but I was grateful for the  opportunity to get to know things about you. You're doing so well, your music is amazing and Ronis is so stunning.”

Oliver was completely taken aback. “You follow me on social media?”

“Well, not officially... I didn't want you to realize that I was looking at your stuff. I was terrified that you'd make it private or block me.”

“I thought the exact...same...thing, as I stalked you,” the boy exhaled.

Jennifer wiped her eyes. “I’m glad I wasn't the only one.”

“No...so, you know about Ronis?”

“Yes! Oh my God, sorry for being creepy, but her tweets are so funny.”

“Yeah, she's incredible.”

“I was actually expecting you to bring her.”

“Nah, I was trying to be a big boy today,” he said sarcastically.

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to offend you.”

The boy took a deep breath. “No, I'm just being difficult.”

“You have that right.”

He nodded. “Besides, between Ronis and I, I'm the nice one. She probably wouldn't have been impressed by anything you had to say.”

Jennifer smiled. “That's good. You need a tough girl in your life.”

“Yeah, may as well have one supportive woman in my life.”

The woman cleared her throat at the dig before reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a Cadbury chocolate bar and Oliver's mouth immediately began to water.

“Y-You like ch-chocolate?” he stammered.

“Are you kidding me? I think I was Willy Wonka in a past life. Why? Do you?”

“I do,” he said, trying to keep cool. Somewhat embarrassed about his one true weakness, he never posted about candy so there was no way that the woman could've known.

“I also love gummies, sour stuff and absolutely anything with caramel. I'm damn near fifty years old and haven't grown out of stiff arming children in the sweets shop to get in line first,” she chuckled.

Oliver cackled. “That's amazing.”

Jennifer smiled and as she dug into her pocket again, her husband caught her. “Hey, no chocolate before you have your lunch.”

“Pfft, what are you the sweets police?”

“Yes. But I guess I'll let you off with a warning because it's a special occasion.”

“Thank you, honey,” Jennifer said, blowing him a kiss as he exited the room. “Fuck outta here with that nonsense,” she mumbled.

Oliver cackled.

Gabe turned on his heel. “What was that?”

“I love you so muchhhh,” the woman added with a smile.

“Mhmm,” the man hummed before returning to the kitchen.

“He's a chef so he thinks he can bust my ass over what I eat.”

“Oh, well that makes sense.”

“I suppose,” Jennifer sighed. “He means well but I've always been difficult. It's hard to love a woman who can't fully love herself...when she's trying to get her baby back. I turned him down constantly but once I got sick, he was still there and I was okay, I definitely have to give this guy a chance. When I shaved my head, he bought me a wig named the 'Tracy’ and it was a bob. I loved it so much that when my hair finally grew back, I began to wear it like this,” she chuckled. “Ta-Da.”

Oliver's laugh was light but then he went solemn. “And then you had two more children and lived happily ever after.”

Jennifer's face fell. “Anything you want, it's yours. I have to make things up to you and I don't know where to start. Just tell me what you want from me and I'll do it. Anything.”

The first thing that crossed Oliver's mind was to demand that she sign over the rights of her two children, but the boy quickly suppressed the evil thoughts and gave into his current burning desire. “I want the chocolate.”

“Th..This chocolate?” she asked to stall time, contemplating a run for it.

“Yes.”

The woman clenched her jaw. “I did say anything, didn't I?”

“You did indeed.” By the way she gripped the wrapper, Oliver was starting to think that she would've rathered given up the kids but before he knew it, the woman slid the chocolate bar across the table to him.

She then removed the contents of her pockets and began to hand him, various types of candy. “Anything. I have a small trunk of the stuff hidden in my closet,” she whispered. “You want that too?”

“No, this should be enough to last the rest of the day.”

Jennifer smiled in relief. “That was my stash for the next hour.”

The two of them shared a laugh just as Gabe returned to the room with a platter of turkey pita pockets served with a side of fresh green grapes. “And if you're good, you can have a cookie or two afterwards,” Gabe jokingly told his wife.

“You're so ridiculous,” she sighed.

“I love you too. Oliver, can I get you anything or do you like turkey pitas?”

“I've never had a turkey pita, but I guess it doesn't hurt to try new things.”

The man smiled. “It doesn't. Kids, lunchtime!”

The boy's heart skipped a beat. “Um, I-I-I don't know if they...should I go?”

“Of course not,” Jennifer assured as her face fell. “Unless, you want to.”

“I'm not sure..um, do they know about me?” he whispered.

The woman nodded. “They've always known about you. I never denied that they had two older siblings.”

Before the boy could respond, two blonde children rushed into the dining room.

“You're here, you're finally here!” The girl squealed.

“Hi,” Oliver said quietly. “Nice to meet you, Julie.” He turned to the boy. “Peter.”

Their small eyes grew wide. “You do know our names! Mum said you might not know about us but we know about youuu.”

“Nah, I did my fair share of stalking you guys.”

“He just wasn't able to see us because remember that he and Jackie have a different father, my first husband. Oliver has lived with him for all these years.”

“Well just because you live with someone else, doesn't mean you can't visit another house,” the small boy commented.

“Peter, it was more complicated than that. The important thing is that Oliver has joined us now and I hope that he's happy because I'm never letting him out of my sight again.”

“So are you a real boy?” the girl asked.

“Julie, go to your room!” Jennifer exploded.

“Whyyyyy?”

“Now!”

Oliver turned bright red; more embarrassed that the girl had gotten in trouble than the question itself.

“Peter, step out of the room, please,” the woman sighed as she fought back her tears. The boy obliged without protest. “Oh my God,” she whimpered as she wiped her eyes.

“Jen, calm down,” Gabe pleaded.

“No! I did not raise them that way! I taught them to respect everyone no matter what gender, race or color. She knows better than to ask questions like that. It's so inappropriate and now I'm-” she took a deep breath before  turning to Oliver. “Please don't be offended or leave and not want to come over anymore,” Jennifer sniffled. “Please. I don't think I could take losing you twice.”

“Mum, I-”

The woman burst into tears.

Panicking, Oliver glanced up at Gabe who was already rushing to the his wife's side. “Sweetheart, it'll be okay. Julie didn't mean it. She's only nine and-”

“You called me 'Mum’,” Jennifer sobbed. “I haven't heard you say that since you were four years old.”

Unsure how he felt about the woman's happy tears, he clenched his jaw.  “Well, it was a mistake.”

“I don't care. I'll cherish it forever.”

Oliver pushed himself away from the table before storming out of the room with Jennifer following quickly behind him.

“Oliver, please don't go,” she begged. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Yes! No- I don't know! I don't know what I expected out of this meeting, but you don't get to be happy!”

“I can't help that Oliver,” she sniffled. “Did you want me to call you by your birth name, tell you to fuck off and slam the door in your face?”

“That probably would've been easier to handle than this!” the boy shouted before storming out of the house, unintentionally slamming the door behind him.

The clash made Jennifer jump as fresh tears streamed down her face and before she ran up the stairs. Gabe groaned before following her, passing Jackie on his way up as she descended the steps.

“What happened?” she asked.

“It didn't go so well,” he sighed. “I'll see you later.”

Jackie collected her things and rushed out to her car where Oliver had barricaded himself. She climbed into the driver's seat. “What happened?”

The boy didn't respond as he stared out the window at the snow that had begun to fall.

“Great,” she sighed as she cranked the car, turned the heat to full blast and pulled out of the driveway.

---

“Since my right hand is busted and I can't sign autographs, how about I take pictures with everyone?” Jason asked his manager as they entered the venue.

“If they take pictures then they'll want hugs, and that'll take fucking forever,” Lucian groaned.

“So? It's the least I can do.”

“Fine,” the man sighed.

“I'm not sure if I'm okay with the hugging thing,” Matt objected.

“Babe,” the brunette said, tone reprimanding.

“No, it's not even a jealousy thing. What if they try to hurt you like that crazy 'Matt’? I mean, look at what happened to Christina Grimmie, oh God.”

“There's metal detectors at every entrance and security has tripled since the last incidence,” Bill assured.

“Good,” Matt replied as he tightened his grip on Jason's hand.

“I just wanna get in and get out. Since you're now a Grammy nominated artist, we have bigger fish to fry. This promo tour is really a waste of time, your album will be flying off the shelves on their own.”

Jason rolled his eyes and once the MC introduced him, he made his way to his table set up and waved at the legions of fans that'd showed up.

“Can I just stand next to Bill in case something happens?” Matt asked.

“No, “ Lucian replied.

Matt snarled but quickly composed himself just as a man tapped Lucian on the shoulder.

“What?”

“There's a girl at the door and she's saying that Jason himself told her to ask for you and that she'd get in for free.”

Lucian scoffed. “Tell that bitch to fuck off.”

The man nodded and turned on his heel.

“Was she really supposed to get in for free?” Matt asked.

“Jason wanted her to. But that's not how business works. He'll learn the harsh side of this industry soon enough. Besides, that bitch ruined his surprise.”

“You're a fucking shitty manager,” the boy hissed before boldly taking the stage and standing next to Bill.

“You shouldn't be up here,” the security guard told him.

“If you'd do your job properly, I wouldn't have to be,” he retorted as he watched his boyfriend hug the next fans, a hot guy and his sister.

“How are you guys?” Jason asked.

“Good,” the girl replied. “I just had to bring my brother here. He loves you.”

The boy nervously rubbed his arm as he spoke. “Thanks to your music, I-I-I was able to come out to my parents.”

Without another word, Jason hugged the boy again.

Matt was fine with the gesture until he noticed the boy sniff the brunette's hair. “That’s enough,” he hissed.

Jason glanced over his shoulder and wasn't surprised to see the boy. He simply shook his head. “That's literally amazing and it makes me happy that you were able to do that,” he told his fan before they posed for the picture.

Matt impatiently pursed his lips when the boy slung his arm low around Jason's waist. After the picture taken they had to pass Bill and Matt to exit the stage.

“Oh my God, he smells so good,” the boy squealed to his sister.

“Hey,” Matt whispered. “That was real fucking creepy. And I'd advise you not to sniff my man again.”

The startled boy simply nodded and rushed off of the stage leaving Matt to flash an innocent grin when his boyfriend approached him.

“What are you doing up here?” he demanded.

“I'm on protection duty.”

“No, you're on jerk duty.”

“I'm not a jerk, he was sniffing you and shit!”

“Sssh! Matt, just go back down there.”

“Do you really think it's a good idea for me to be around Lucian?”

The boy blew out a stiff column of air. “Fine. Just behave yourself,” he said before returning to his spot to greet the next fans, two curvy girls whose nude bodysuits seemingly left nothing to the imagination. With their full lips coated in matte lipstick, perfectly sculpted eyebrows and cheeks slathered which so much shimmery highlighter that that'd probably glow in the dark, the duo was stylish and beautiful.

Matt did a double take. “Hotlanta,” he exhaled.

“Hi, ladies,” Jason greeted. “Oh my God, you guys are stunning!”

“Aww, thank youuu,” they said in unison. “We're Instagram models slash makeup artists,” one of them added.

“Who isn't these days?” Bill scoffed under his breath. “Take all that gunk off their face and they won't look a damn thing like that. It's like false advertising.”

“Do I smell a case of sour grapes?” Matt teased.

“It's a national epidemic. I took a hot girl home one night and woke up the morning next to Gollum.”

“Hey, that's not fair. Makeup is a way to express your artistic side and you should appreciate that in itself instead of bringing home a girl you probably had no intentions with past breakfast anyways.”

“I'm not ready to settle down.”

“Then you have no right to judge what they chose to put on their faces.”

“Oh damn, I guess I have no right to carry around baby wipes either?”

Matt rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the girls. “This really is the city of sin.”

Bill shot him a look. “Should Jason be worried?”

“Jason knows that I'm very fond of the opposite sex.”

The man chuckled. “Seriously?”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I don't know, it's just interesting. I suppose.”

“Whatever,” he said as he turned his attention back to the girls who were already making their way towards the edge of the stage. The boy quickly smoothed his hair. “Those steps are pretty steep. Let me help you down.” Matt offered his hand.

The first girl accepted. “Aww, thank you,” she said as he guided her down the steps, then her friend.

“No problem. Chivalry is not dead and beautiful women should be catered to.”

They giggled.

“Have a good night ladies. Get home safely.”

“We will. Thank youuu. Goodnight.”

Matt winked and watched them walk away prior to smugly returning to Bill's side. “I still got it.”

“Pfft, yeah because 'those steps are pretty steep’ is such a good pick up line,” Bill sarcastically replied.

“Hey, it worked didn't it? I could've gotten the digits if I wanted but that'd be disrespectful to my man,” he said as he glanced over at Jason who shot him a scowl that let him know that he was in trouble. Matt gulped.

“I hope the frosting faces were worth it,” Bill laughed.

“I didn't do anything wrong. I'm just being nice to Jason's fans.”

“Good luck with that story,” he said as the next fan, a cute preppy girl approached.

“Oh my God,” she squealed when she saw Matt. “Can I have a picture with you?!”

“M-Me? Why would you want a picture with me?”

“You're so Tumblr famous! Jason fans love youuu. I mean, the ones who don't think you're...crazy. Most of us find it pretty sexy.”

“Um, thanks?”

“So can I get a picture?”

“Sure.”

The girl pulled out her phone and a few selfies were taken. “Thank you so muchhhh. The fandom will be so jealous.”

“Fandom?”

“Oh yeah, there's tons of pictures and fanfiction. Just search the hashtag: hotboyfriendmatt on tumblr!” she said, throwing her arms around him in an unsanctioned hug before skittering away.

“See it's wackos like that who we need to look out for,” Bill groaned.

Matt shrugged. “I don't know, Bill. I think she was the sweetest one yet.”

Bill rolled his eyes.

The rest of the meet and greet progressed with Matt and Jason shooting each other looks of either lust or another glare on the 'you're so in trouble after this’ scale.

The moment that they made it back to their hotel, Jason slammed his boyfriend against the wall. “You think flirting with my fans is cool?”

“I wasn't flirting, I was just being nice.”

“Yeah, being nice by staring at every girl's ass!” he snarled as he shoved the boy onto the bed. Jason slid out of his slacks and boxers prior to doing a little dance. “None of them have an ass like this now do they?”

Matt bit his bottom lip as he stared at the boy's perfect cheeks. “No,” he exhaled.

“But since you want to stare at those fake bitches with their botox and silicone booty shots, do you think you deserve my ass?” Jason asked as he straddled the couch across from the boy.

“I do because you're perfect and they don't compare.”

The brunette slowly removed his shirt. “What was it you told that blonde in the blue dress? 'If you were a casino, I'd hit your jackpot’?”

“Well yeah... I mean, I just got bored just standing there next to Bill so I thought it'd be funny to try out Vegas themed pickup lines. Babe, it wasn't a big deal, I didn’t even speak to most of them.”

“But you still stared.”

“Girls are pretty! Looking at them is harmless.”

“Then I guess...looking at me...will be harmless too,” Jason said seductively as he spread his legs and made himself comfortable on the couch. He wrapped his hand around his shaft and began to stroke himself. “Fuck,” the brunette moaned, looking back at the boy who stared at him through lust filled eyes.

“Damn, baby,” Matt exhaled.

Jason threw his head back in exaggerated pleasure because he knew it’d drive the other boy crazy. “Oh my God.”

Matt pushed himself off of the bed and reached for the brunette but he scowled. “Sit your ass down.” He quickly obeyed the order but the way that Jason moaned and curled his toes was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen in his life.

“Babe, you're killing me.”

“So why don't you go look for a girl to stare at?”

“Fuck girls,” Matt groaned as he rushed over and sank to his knees. He slapped Jason's hand away and took the boy's entire cock into his mouth.

“Shittt.”

He expertly worked his tongue up and down the brunette's shaft prior to taking the tip past the threshold of his throat.

“Matt, I'm gonna come,” Jason whimpered as he tangled his tingling fingers into the boy's already messy hair.

Matt hummed around his boyfriend's dick, effectively sending the boy over the edge. Jason shot his load of cum directly down the boy's throat who sucked up every drop before pulling away.

“You taste like watermelon,” he chuckled as he wiped his mouth.

Jason placed his lips against the other boy's and swirled his tongue around Matt's. “You're right,” he giggled.

“You're so perfect.”

“Get on the bed so I can take care of you.”

“Nah, I'm pretty tired. Let's snuggle.” Matt grabbed the boy's wrist and pulled him onto the bed where they cuddled until falling asleep. Early the next morning, Jason awoke to a flurry of texts  from his manager breaking down his itinerary. He'd be flying to Phoenix while Matt and his family would return to New York, but when the brunette bitched and moaned to his manager about his boyfriend being on the tour until he had to go back to school, he was forced to temporarily hire Matt as his assistant.

“You just love torturing me, don't you?” Lucian groaned as he boarded the bus and saw the boy who'd essentially became his nemesis.

“Lucian, you really need a boyfriend to occupy your goddamn time,” Jason replied. “You're like the Grinch.”

“Oh, so that was the Grinch's problem?” Matt laughed.

“He definitely just needed to be fucked.”

“You're both little turds,” the man sighed.

“You're a pathetic-” Matt got out before catching himself. “You're not worth it.”

“But that dick is.”

The brunette quickly pushed himself out of the chair and rushed towards the back of the bus. “Oh my God, Oh my God,” he panted breathlessly.

“I swear to God,” Matt snarled at Lucian. “If you mention my dick again, I will kill you. If you've upset him in any way, shape or form, I will literally smother you in your sleep. Do you understand?”

“Bill, are you hearing this?!”

“I’m off the clock,” the man said as he stifled a yawn. “I didn't hear anything.”

“Oh my God,” Jason sobbed as he sank to the floor at the back of the bus.

Matt shot Lucian a glare that made the man jump before rushing to Jason's side. “Babe, what’s wrong? If Lucian's commen-”

“Alley's dead.”

[stempisces83-blog]

focaccia sandwiches for a crowd

Last year, Alexandra Stafford published a very good book about bread. It sprang from a recipe for the peasant bread her mother made often when she was growing up. When she shared it on her site, it went viral, which is no surprise given that it’s no-knead, comes together in under five minutes, rises in about an hour, and after a brief second rise, you bake it in buttered bowls that form it into a blond, buttery crusted bread that she boasts is “the antithesis of artisan.” Because there are no hidden tricks; no steam ovens, special flours, lames to score the crust, or bannetons to shape the loaves. Her central tenet is that “good bread can be made without a starter, without a slow or cold fermentation, without an understanding of bakers’ percentages, without being fluent in the baking vernacular: hydration, fermentation, biga, poolish, soaker, autolyse, barm.” (None of those words appear in the book.) She knows that there are a lot of no-knead breads out there, but this is the only one that can be started at 4pm and be on the dinner table at 7.

I realize you’re thinking, as I briefly worried before I read it, how does one write an entire cookbook based on one recipe? But Stafford is a gifted recipe developer, and there isn’t a thing in this book — one part breads (with all types of flours, grains, and shapes, including pizzas, flatbreads, rolls and buns), one part toasts (including sandwiches, tartines, stratas, panzanellas, soups, summer puddings and so much more), and one part crumbs (a celebration of crunchy gratin toppings, stuffing, burgers, eggplant parmesan, fish sticks, meatballs, and brown bettys) — that I didn’t want to make. (I suspect that having four kids to feed ensures that these recipes were vetted by the most finicky of reviewer classes.) It’s also a gorgeous book, with a focus and format that my inner, long-surrendered organized person finds deeply pleasing.

My favorite thing in the book, and the one that I come back to again and again, is using the core bread recipe to make a focaccia that can be split and filled to make a sheet pan’s worth of sandwiches.* File this under things I never thought about pre-kids but obsess over now: Picking up sandwiches to go to the beach/park/pool/wherever your summer weekend takes you for a family or group of friends can be staggeringly expensive. I might even forgive the price if the sandwiches were usually better, but I’m sorry-not-sorry, they’re usually not. Either the bread is lousy and processed to the hilt, or they just don’t make them the way I want them, which is heavy on the vegetables and with a good mix of fresh, salty, crunchy, and pickle-like ingredients. Let’s fix this.

Below is the recipe for the simplest, quickest focaccia you’ll ever need to make and several sandwich filling suggestions (many vegan, too) I hope you’ll find good jumping off points.

* If you have Smitten Kitchen Every Day at home (do you? I bet you’d love it, I’m just saying) you probably already know about my slab-sized sandwich fixation. In the book, I use roasted tomatoes and more to stuff a focaccia *before* it is baked, inspired by a foccia ripiena we ate in Rome several years ago. This is concept is similar, but there’s no need to pre-commit to fillings.

Previously

One year ago: Blackberry Blueberry Crumb Pie Two years ago: Summer Squash Pizza and Peach Melba Popsicles Three years ago: Raspberry Crushed Ice Four years ago: Three-Ingredient Summertime Salsa and Blueberry Crumb Cake Five years ago: Charred Corn Crepes and Burst Tomato Galette with Corn and Zucchini Six years ago: Pink Lemonade Bars Seven years ago: Tomato Salad with Crushed Croutons Eight years ago: Nectarine Brown Butter Buckle and Sweet and Smoky Oven Spare Ribs Nine years ago: Best Birthday Cake, Arugula Potato and Green Bean Salad and Peach and Creme Fraiche Pie Ten years ago: Garlic Mustard Glazed Skewers and Huevos Rancheros Eleven years ago: Quick Zucchini Saute

And for the other side of the world: Six Months Ago: Chocolate Peanut Butter Cup Cookies and Slow-Roasted Sweet Potatoes 1.5 Years Ago: Broccoli Pizza 2.5 Years Ago: Spaghetti Pie with Pecorino and Black Pepper, Banana Puddings with Vanilla Bean Wafers, and Taco Torte 3.5 Years Ago: Caramelized Onion and Gruyere Biscuits and Charred Cauliflower Quesadillas 4.5 Years Ago: Garlicky Party Bread with Cheese and Herbs and Fennel and Blood Orange Salad

Focaccia Sandwiches for a Crowd

Servings: About 12 sandwiches

Time: 2 hours

Source: Bread Toast Crumbs

Print

Servings will vary by how you cut the focaccia, of course. Here I show 12 small/medium sandwiches. Depending on how hearty your fillings are, each person may eat 1 to 2 sandwiches.

You can choose your own schedule with this bread, by proving it for 1 to 1 1/2 hours at room temperature, overnight in fridge, or 10 hours at room temperature. For the last option, you want to make the bread with cold tap water.

To use active dry yeast instead of instant yeast, add it directly to the lukewarm water with a pinch of sugar to proof it for 10 minutes (it will get foamy) and then add it below where you will the water.

For more of a traditional focaccia flavor, you can sprinkle 1 tablespoon chopped or minced fresh rosemary over the top with the salt before baking it.

4 cups (520 grams) all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons kosher salt

1 teaspoon instant yeast

2 cups lukewarm water, made by mixing 1/2 cup boiling water with 1 1/2 cups cold water

4 tablespoons olive oil

Flaky sea salt

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, and instant yeast. Add the water. Using a rubber spatula, mix until the water is absorbed and the ingredients form a loose, sticky dough. Cover with a tea towel or plastic wrap and [choose your schedule]:

Quickest rise: Set aside in a warmish spot for 1 to 1 1/2 hours, until doubled.

Overnight in fridge: Set inside your refrigerator overnight, about 8 to 10 hours.

Overnight at room temperature: For this method, you will need to use only cold, no lukewarm, water. Leave the bowl on your counter at room temperature for 10 hours.

When you’re ready to make your focaccia: Pour 3 tablespoons oil onto a rimmed sheet pan (can use a 13×18, or half-sheet pan, but if you have something more 11×17-ish, as I use here, will make for slightly thicker loaf; you can line it first with parchment paper for maximum nonstick security).

Heat oven to 425°F.

Using two forks, deflate the dough by releasing it from the sides of the bowl and pulling it toward the center. Rotate the bowl in quarter turns as you deflate, turning the mass into a rough ball. Use the forks to lift the dough onto the prepared sheet pan. Roll the dough ball in the oil to coat it all over.

Let dough rest for 20 minutes (for Quickest rise or Overnight at room temperature) or 1 hour (if you used the Overnight in the fridge rise, so it warms up) without touching it. Then, drizzle last 1 tablespoon of olive oil over and use your fingertips to stretch and press the dough to the edges, leaving it intentionally dimply. If your dough resists being stretched all the way, get it as stretched as you can, wait 5 minutes, and return to stretch it the rest of the way, repeating this rest if needed.

Sprinkle with flaky sea salt all over and bake for 20 to 25 minutes, checking in on the earlier end, until lightly puffed on top and golden and crisp underneath. Remove from oven and let cool completely (this will go faster if you transfer the bread to a cooling rack) before assembling sandwiches.

To make sandwiches: If you’d like, you can trim off the very outer edges — this exposes the crumb and makes it a little easier to halve. (I didn’t do this because I like to make things hard, also I like edges.) Stafford recommends you begin the halving process by cutting through each corner, then running the serrated knife through the short end until you get to the midway point, then starting from the other short end until I get to the midway point. A sharp, serrated knife is helpful. Try to keep your knife as parallel to the bread as possible. She says she finds if she hugs the top layer as opposed to aiming for the center, she gets a more even cut.

Some ideas for sandwich fillings:

Avocado + Crispy Kale [Shown]: First, crisp your kale. I used a 5-ounce clamshell of curly kale leaves, tearing out and discarding any thick ribs. Rub/toss them with 1 tablespoon olive oil, spread them on a large baking sheet in one layer, seasoned them with salt and pepper, and baked them at 375&#176F for 10 to 15 minutes, until crispy and just barely brown at the edges (keep an eye on it). Then, scoop out and slice 4 avocados, fan the slices across the bread and mash/spread them smooth. Coat with olive oil, lemon juice, flaky salt, and red pepper flakes (like we do here). Spread crispy kale over avocado.

Hummus + Cucumber + Pickled Carrots [Shown]: First, coarsely grate 1 pound of carrots. Pour 1/2 cup apple cider vinegar, 1/2 cup cold water, 1 teaspoon kosher salt, and 1 to 2 teaspoons (to taste) of granulated sugar over it and stir to combine. (You could also add mustard or dill seeds or fresh chile peppers here.) Chill in the fridge for as long as you have — 30 minutes, an hour, and up to a few days. Carrots will get more pickled the longer it soaks. To make your sandwiches, schmear the bottom half of the bread with about 1 1/2 cups hummus (storebought or homemade). Squeeze out little handfuls of pickled carrot and sprinkle this on as your next layer. For you final layer, use a y-peeler to shave long ribbons off 1 large (1/2 to 3/4 pound) seedless cucumber. Tousel these on top; season them with salt and pepper.

Walnut pesto + grilled zucchini ribbons (skip the parmesan in the pesto to make it vegan)

This grilled pepper and torn mozzarella panzanella, minus the croutons

This crunchy asparagus and egg salad

Pickled vegetable sandwich slaw + anything else you love on sandwiches

This salsa verde + any grilled or roasted vegetables

This zucchini carpaccio salad, as a sandwich filling

Any of the sandwiches from the archives

Many of the salads from the archives, such as this egg salad, this chicken salad (not vegetarian, of course), that chicken salad, or even (I love this as a sandwich) this chicken caesar, with the dressing spread on both sides of the bread, the chicken thinly sliced, and the romaine cut into thin ribbons. I wouldn’t be sad to have a broccoli or cauliflower slaw between bread, either.

Or, of course, endless slices of peak-season tomatoes + mayo + salt, or the same plus sliced mozzarella + basil pesto

Source: https://smittenkitchen.com/2018/08/focaccia-sandwiches-for-a-crowd/

[quieteating]

New Post has been published on Quieteating

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Harwood Arms

Service.  Service… Service!!!

When sitting around an open kitchen, I had often heard this being hurled around with some abandonment.  It would inevitably seem to herald an amusing experience.  When this exclamation wasn’t acted upon quickly by the serving staff, it was flung around almost as an expletive.  Chefs, not the most patient of breeds, would at times lose it if the food wasn’t being served fast enough.  Interesting episodes could follow as when a dish was summarily deposited on the floor as part of a particular vehement tirade by the head chef to apprentice.

This was why I found this dining experience of particular note.  It was not what I was expecting.  To explain what I’m referring to, perhaps it might be best to start with explaining what I think makes a place worthy of a Michelin star. 

Although the Michelin scoring system is shrouded in mystery, I had thought from my experience that to achieve said acclaimed shining light, that a restaurant had to fulfil certain service standards, even if the food wasn’t that good.  Yet, as my personal experience provides a rather small sample size, it is perhaps best substantiated by turning to that most rigorous and scientifically sound source.  The movies.

In Burnt, a movie about food, the arrival of the Michelin inspectors seems to be subtly announced when a waiter notices that a guest places a fork on the floor, to test how fast it would be noticed.  Much frantic movement in the kitchen then ensures.  Personally, I think that is a good method of assessment and I might try it myself one day.  If the serving staff can’t spot a potential hazard in the floor what is to say something more untoward might happen to the food.  Like unwanted protein (e.g. a fly).

Yet this preamble has to lead somewhere and as you may have correctly guessed, it is about my experience in a Michelin eatery.  In this case, a pub.  Not a place you would usually associate with the pinnacles of waitering.  At first, I was not unduly worried as when we arrived, we were treated very well with attentive yet discreet service.  However, that was not to last.  After the first five minutes or so, the rest of the meal was soon to devolve to rather absent-minded pretence of attention.  If your eyes seem to skip over me even while I am doing a fist pump to attract your attention, there better be something far more distracting as an alternative.  Just to be clear, I’m not talking about my dining companions, that might be more understandable if not really forgivable either.

Guinness soda bread.  When we did manage to get some bread, I found it pleasantly squidgy in the middle, crusty on the outside with deep yeasty and earthy taste.  This was good.  With the freshly whipped butter, it was even better.  So much so that I had to ask for a second helping.  This bread definitely has to rank up there with some of the best.  So even with distracted service levels, I was content.

Cornish crab on English muffins with pickled lemon and coastal herbs.  Creamy and full crab, with a delightful zest brought upon by the lemon sauce, these were great.  The light muffins provided contrast to the more substantial crab.  Excellent.

Charred Cornish mackerel with laverbread mustard and pickled cucumber.  Meaty fish with a hint of fire from the mustard.  Set off by the clean and cool cucumber.  Great, if not as superlative as the crab.

Wye Valley asparagus with soft boiled quail’s egg, duck ham, juniper cream and hazelnut.  It is now asparagus season and it shows.  A collection of clean tastes with interesting counterpoint combined to make something great.  Strong asparagus, nutty hazelnut, creamy egg and flavourful cream.  Unfortunately, it was a rather small portion but perhaps an example of how good things can come in small packages.

Roast fallow deer with baked crapaudine beetroot, smoked bone marrow and walnut.  With what had gone before, I was excited.  Which made the disappointment even more dreadful.  The dear deer was not bad, just mediocre.  When trying a dish that Robin Hood would feast on in the forest, I expected more.  It was sadly rather bland.  The beetroot and nuts tried to bring things up but were not really up to the task.  Although, I do admit that perhaps this was just not up to my own (someone would say unique) tastes and others might find this superlative.  Just not me.

Potatoes.  The potatoes were ok, if nothing really that special as they were, to use the words of many a better food blogger than I, these were “well cooked”.  Such informative statement is all the descriptor the potatoes deserved.

Lemon curd doughnuts with Earl Grey cream.  Interesting and decent.  The hint of Earl Grey to add a touch of interest to the cream was a particularly inspired touch.  

Raspberry ripple pavlova.  Creamy, tart, sweet, crunchy.  A great combination and this was a good note to end with.  At this point, I wondered with an ending like this, what more could I ask for?

Actually, I do have the answer to that.  I would like service. 

Not decent or fawning waitering but just something less than sporadic.  By the end of my meal, I think I would have even settled for slightly intrusive.  I know I am sometimes accused of being “Mr Mayfair” but there are certain things which I have come to expect from a place with a shiny star and a high price.  Such as keeping glasses of water topped up (not great when in 15 minutes, you have to retort to dealing with things yourself).  Or perhaps when I was doing my own version of the fork test, leaving my chair with napkin left behind and strewed awkwardly on the table.  When returning after some time after engaging in rather prolonged business, I noted interestingly that nothing had been done.  It was exactly as I have left it.  Then again, it was not as if I was eating at some storied restaurant.  As I reminded myself that I was eating in a pub.

Yet perhaps the straw that broke the camel’s back was that they wouldn’t let us go.  Waving around trying to get the bill for 10 minutes or so is exhausting enough but if I can’t get your attention to pay the cheque, fuming remarks boil in my mind.  Yet, perhaps they are trying to make the place look full.  There was an ample amount of seating around.  Although, perhaps I am being too harsh here.  As at lunch time there was something far more important going on.  A royal wedding.  I guess at least that is some kind of a valid excuse.  I’ll need to keep that in the back pocket next time someone complains about something I haven’t done.  

  A quiet eating 6/10.

Lunch (3 courses) was GBP48 excluding drinks and service.

  Everyone deserves a second chance.  Well, when I was a little boy in school, that is what I would always say to my teachers.  Although in most cases I would be ignored, at least in the important situations my imploring worked and I should be offered the chance to try a second time if things did not turn out well.  Generally, things turned out for the better, except maybe for that one time in chemistry class, but moving swiftly on.

Following my above experience, the Harwood Arms kindly contacted me and asked if they could try again.  In the interest of providing objectivity, I had to accept.  It is what the little boy within me would want.  

A dear deer head.  Seated underneath this ornament, I couldn’t help but feel a bit of pressure as last time I had complained about the sibling that I ate.  Perhaps if I didn’t have a good time today, he would drop down in vengeful wrath and impale me…

  Our waiter pointed out something unusual that they did.  The Harwood Arms does a very interesting (and welcome) thing.  They cater for the teetotallers among us (me).  Most of the time, if you wish to avoid the alcohol, sodas are all you have to choose from are a few random juices.

In this case, the elixirs above are to be mixed with tonic water.  Been a while since I’ve had peas in my drink.  These were surprising.  The aromatic with a spicy kick, the herbal with vibrancy.  The tonic served to top it all of.  A welcome start to the meal.

Soda bread.  The unusual drink was accompanied by their house bread.  With deep earthly flavour and churned butter, simply a delight.

Hobnob with chicken liver, rosemary and jam.  It has been a while since I have been subject to a food surprise.  Sweet crumbly base, thick creamy pate set off with savoury herbs and topped with jam.  The combination was inspired.  I think the deer would have been proud.

Harwood Arms’ black pudding scotch egg.  An intriguing take on black pudding.  I know that many visitors (and myself) turn their nose up on eating pig blood but it didn’t taste as unappetising as that might sound.  It was meaty and rather pleasant with its crunchy exterior and soft boiled interior.

Summer vegetable salad with Yorkshire pecorino cream and mushroom crumble.  A startling moment here as clean and fresh mixed with cream and crunch.  The bounce of the vegetables was  enhanced by the mushroom crumble.  Something special.

Charred Cornish mackerel with Isle of Wight tomatoes and a herb pesto.  Flaky, succulent fish with light pesto and tomato accompaniment.  I remember a long time ago when I was an impoverished student, one of my housemates just loved to serve up smoked mackerel when it was his turn to cook.  That was my first real exposure to this fish and I hated it then.  Such hostility followed me for many years yet if mackerel continues to taste like the one served up at the Harwood Arms, I think I will be peeled away from my prejudices and might actually come to favour it.  Well, at least if it tastes like this.

Slow cooked short rib of Ruby Red beef with black garlic, stuffed potatoes and pickled girolles.  An excellent balance of beef and garlic with stuffed mushroom potatoes.  This made something great which was only heightened by the presentation.  The moist beef with crispy garlic, the firm potato stuffed with mushrooms, simply decedent. 

Mushrooms.  Just in case I didn’t have enough fungus in the main course.  A buttery, slick and flavourful addition.

Mash.  Here some mash to contrast with the delightful potato parcels.  Smooth and creamy.

  Buttermilk pudding with English berries and elderflower ice.  Pudding with tart and sweet berries set off with some shortbread cookies.  Setting off notes of tart, sweet, crunchy and smooth, life by contrast is a great thing.  A great finish.

Latte.  To polish it all of was an excellent latte on particuparti interesting chinaware.  I have to learn where that cup came from, I want some for my own home.

I often wondered if I would have been a better teacher than my teachers.  I have been told my turns that I am impatient, unruly, full of much disregard for rules and simply stupid.  Yet, perhaps that torrent of abuse served a purpose.  It taught me to grow a thicker skin and the fortitude to try again.  Sometimes all that is needed to put all things right is a second chance.  I’m glad that I gave the same to the Harwood Arms as they surprised me and showed me that I was a very lucky man.  Lucky in that I had managed to arrive on one of their worst occasions.  Lucky that I got to try what they really were like.  Lucky that I have contrasts to add spice to my life.  So next time someone doesn’t so well in something, perhaps it is worth giving them another try.  I’m glad I did for the Harwood Arms and learnt that this is why they are held in such high regard. 

Service was also excellent throughout the meal.  With attentive but unobtrusive service, my glass was always kept up, my every whim catered for and most telling of all, when I disappeared off to the bathroom for a short break, my napkin was neatly folded for my re-arrival.  A marked and welcome contrast with my earlier visit.  This is what service should be and in an additional plus, the deer let me leave unscathed.  Guess everyone was happy in the end.

  A quiet eating 8.5/10.

We were invited to review.  Estimated cost (4 courses) was GBP 60 excluding drinks and service.

  Harwood Arms

Walham Grove, Fulham, London SW6 1QP

[kewpieandco]

The Lord’s Day: Vol. 2

October 1, 2017

One of Kewpie’s favorite days of the week is Sunday.  It is almost as good as Wednesday when she gets to watch the garbage truck come and haul away our trash.  But not everyday can be as exciting as “trash day,” so “church day” takes a close second place.  It is a day when she gets to be praised and admired by all who witness her cuteness.  Women gush over her adorable clothes, men pretend to be impressed by her powerful high-fives, and children tickle her tummy and do funny faces to make her laugh.

I had high hopes for Kewpie’s behavior this Sunday.  She was in good spirits and was being extra generous with her smiles.  Even though it was communion day —which means longer sitting and listening time— I decided that it was safe to sit near the front of the church since I doubted we’d need to make a hasty exit during the service.  Kewpie has developed a lot over the last few months so I was sure she would be able to demonstrate proper church-going manners this time around.

When the service began I realized that we had unknowingly sat in a troublesome spot.  The young lad who sat down behind us after we had already claimed our seats has a disability and he is unable to control his bodily noises…from either end.  Those of us who are mature adults understand the social expectation to ignore his uncontrollable sounds and to not stare or make him feel uncomfortable.  Kewpie, on the other hand, is unaware of this unspoken social practice, and at the first sound that erupted from the seat directly behind me, Kewpie’s eyes grew wide, her nostrils flared, and her mouth gaped open in disgust.

“MOMMYYYY?!” She asked loudly, completely stunned that I could have dared to make the poo poo noise in church.

“No it wasn’t me,” I tried to explain in a whisper.  “It’s time to sing songs to Jesus now.”

My attempt to distract her failed miserably, and she continued her concentrated search of the faces of those around us to see who had produced such an offensive sound.  Again the noise behind me echoed throughout the church, and this time Kewpie zeroed in on the source.  She clamored up onto my shoulder and thankfully gave a charming smile to the fellow behind us.  He is one of her friends so she simply acknowledged his presence and then sat back down in my lap.  “Catastrophe avoided!” I thought to myself…Not quite.

Kewpie then launched into a boisterous speech, including hand gestures about the goings on in the seat behind us.

“PPPPBBBBB!  PPPBBBBBB!  PPPPBBBBBB!” Kewpie said, in imitation of the poo poo noise that she has so perfectly mastered over the last couple of months.  She pointed to my rear end with an accusing index finger and made the sound over and over.

“Yes, Kewpie,” I said, trying to keep her quiet as the service continued.  “Yes that’s the poo poo sound, but it’s ok.  We need to listen to the pastor read the Bible now.”

That prospect held Kewpie’s attention for about one and a half seconds until our tooting friend let out a burp.  Unfortunately, Kewpie loves burps and she practices them around the house all the time.  So as the service progressed, Kewpie unexpectedly let out imitation belches every few minutes.

For a brief juncture, Kewpie remained entertained by the music and she focused on worshiping the Lord, complete with hand raising and clapping.  But then it came time for communion, a time where one must sit still and remain quiet with an attitude of reverence.  However, my baby was neither in the mood for quiet nor reverence.  When the pastor asked us to take a moment of silence to ponder the gift of salvation that God has offered to us through Jesus, Kewpie, who was sitting in my lap,  sighed emphatically, threw her arms up in the air, arched her back, and slithered out of my grasp and onto the floor.  I made a grab for her, but she went limp at my touch and slumped to the ground in a heap of lifeless limbs.

At this point, Hubby picked Kewpie up and offered her a plastic container of Cheerios.  This kept her momentarily occupied.  Handful after handful, she shoveled the Cheerios into her mouth, crunching noisily just to make sure that all of the quietly praying people around us would know that she was no longer dying of hunger.  

Kewpie was so enthusiastic about eating her Cheerios that her mouth got too full to hold anymore.  She tried to stuff one more handful of crunchy treats into her mouth, but there was no more room.  Cheerios tumbled onto my chair.

“UH OOOOOOH!” Kewpie bellowed.  She tried to pick up her fallen goodies, but more cereal fell out of her container.  “UH OOOOOOOOOOH!”

I quickly scooped up the Cheerios and put them back into the container just as the tray containing the communion bread was passed my way.  I picked up two square-shaped crackers, one for me and one for Kewpie so that we could partake of the emblems after the pastor prayed.  Kewpie, however, was not keen on waiting to eat her cracker.  She grabbed my hand and tried to pry my fingers open one by one.  I resisted, but she is a persistent little glutton.  With her mouth still bursting with Cheerios she continued to wrestle the tiny cracker out of my grasp.  Luckily the pastor’s prayer ended just in time for her to devour her hard earned sacred element.

Communion continued as the pastor began to speak about the juice representing Jesus’ blood that was spilled for our forgiveness.  Kewpie lost interest again and turned her attention back to her Cheerios.  She adjusted her position on my lap, and all of a sudden I heard an object fall to the ground and a flood of tiny little pieces of something spill.

“UH OOOOOOOH!” Said Kewpie, pointing to her now empty Cheerio container that was upside down on the floor.

“Oh no,” I whispered.  “Pick up your Cheerios, Kewpie.”  I set her on the floor, expecting her to start putting the Cheerios back into the container like she does at home.

But Kewpie had other ideas.  She stared at the mess on the floor then raised her foot and stomped down on the cereal as hard as she could.

“No Kewpie!” I whispered and tried to snatch her up onto my lap.  She dodged my grab and continued to smash the Cheerios over and over again, reducing the cereal to a fine powder.

Finally I scooped up the squirming rebel and held her securely in my arms.  By this point the pastor was instructing us to drink our communion juice, which I did without inviting Kewpie to join me.  I downed my tiny little cup in one gulp and Kewpie looked at me with a hurt expression that said, “Why didn’t you share with me?”

But I didn’t answer her, I just held her tightly and bowed my head as the pastor began to pray for the close of our time of communion.

Regrettably, I held a little too tightly to Kewpie and just as the pastor began his prayer, “Dear Heavenly Father—-“  Kewpie let loose a series of deafening flatulence.

“WOOOOOOW! Ahehehe!” Said Kewpie, pointing to her diapered backside.

“Yes, Kewpie, you tooted,” I whispered, sliding down as low as I could in my chair, trying to disappear from sight.

Kewpie squirmed in my arms and positioned herself to face backwards.  She grinned at her gassy friend behind us.  He beamed back at her, both basking in the warmth of their camaraderie.