#mans needs a recipe book for his chemistry

[powdermelonkeg]

Personal headcanons for Gale's tower layout:

5F: An astronomical observatory with an orrery in it. The stardome is enchanted to reflect whatever sky and weather Gale wishes; if he wants to see the stars in Kythorn, that's what it shows him. If he wants rainy weather to read to, guess what. The stars reflect whatever position the orrery's been set to. There's a walkable ledge around the exterior of the roof for Tara's pigeon-hunting.

4F: A portal room, surrounded by three guest bedrooms and a bathroom. The bedrooms are themed: one smells like a sea breeze and faces the harbor, colored with sunset shades with gold accents, one smells like rose potpourri and fresh grass, mostly pastel purple with brass, one smells faintly spiced, deep maroon and bronze. Morena prefers the rose one. Each one comes equipped with a vanity that has three (magic) mirrors, a wardrobe that removes wrinkles and stains of anything hung in it and repairs minor stitches, a set of candles that never burn down their wicks, and curtains that, when drawn, enact a silent barrier around the room. The floors are polished hardwood with plush, patterned carpets. The bathroom is self-cleaning, has running water on command, whatever temp you want it, warms towels for you, and has a magic mirror (magic mirrors in my headcanon show hairstyles and things you WANT to try before you actually try them out).

3F: Gale's floor. His bedroom, a walk-in closet, a room for Tara, and a personal bathroom. Gale's bedroom has silence-spelled drapes, glowing crystal sconces he can dim with a wave, a desk, a large canopy bed (the one he summons during his last night in Act II), a small bookshelf for whatever he's currently reading that doubles as his nightstand, and a plush window seat. The walk-in closet is neatly sorted, with everything from travel robes to finery to wear to the annual Blackstaff Ball, and has the same enchantments in it as the guest room wardrobes, with the added effect of making anything put in it inexplicably smell like a library. His bathroom is just like the guest ones, but larger. The bathtub inside, when activated, always assumes he wants his bath piping hot and lavender-scented. Tara's room is smaller, but fully designed for her little cat body. Scratching posts, cat-sized perches and comfy cat towers, and a little bookcase and window seat of her own. She keeps her space VERY neat, in contrast to Gale's "organized chaos" sort of living.

2F: This is the floor we see in Gale's Act II illusion. The packed library, the messy desk, the private study, the balcony... He sorts his books by topic, then by date rather than author. Tara is appalled by it. The balcony has a minor enchantment to keep weather, pigeons, and seagulls off of it. Tara is upset at the lack of birds; it's SUCH a cozy napping spot, and you're going to take away her free breakfast, too? Gale's compromise was the 5th floor's walkable ledge, which is a prime pigeon-hunting perch.

1F: The entry floor. It's got a sitting room to entertain guests with, and a large, well-kitted kitchen. The dishwashing basin does the washing for Gale. On the wall in the sitting room, there are two notable paintings: one is of young, 10-year-old Gale in a cape, standing proudly with both his parents and holding his first-ever proper wizard staff. He's TRYING to have Tara on his shoulders, he insisted, but she's just too big, so he's wound up leaning forward where she awkwardly perches on his back. He has a snaggle tooth. The other painting is of a much older Gale, dressed finely and standing with his mother, smiling. It was made before he got the beard, so he looks a decent bit younger than he is. Tara is wrapped around Morena's shoulders like one of those feather boas, but she's headbutting Gale's shoulder affectionately.

B1: Gale's wine cellar and well-stocked pantry. He collects all kinds of wines from all over Faerûn, usually getting them from merchants that pass through Waterdeep, but he's not opposed to cracking open an expensive vintage with the right company. There's a locked cabinet labeled "in case of Elminster" that contains some cheeses and wine to offer the older wizard, that way Elminster doesn't raid Gale's pantry when he's not looking. If you don't feed Elminster, he WILL feed himself at your expense.

B2: Gale's spell workshop, scroll storage, alchemy lab, and vault. Gale's not especially well-versed in alchemy (I think Wyll's got dibs on that, personally), but he DOES mix himself up some Arcane Cultivation elixirs from time to time. And if a potion recipe intrigues him enough, he likes to have a place on hand to try things out. The vault is well-guarded with spells, but, sadly, pretty empty; it just has his savings there now, where once it held all sorts of enchanted items he'd picked up through his studies and younger adventuring days.

An additional note: Tara has perches all throughout the house, on every floor, basically anywhere Gale spends a lot of time doing things. The cushions that are hers are magically heated and smell like tea and mint.

[muletia]

[tfp] optimus prime x human!reader

summary: you feel insecure about your boring life. optimus is quick to make you feel better about yourself

cw: angst, fluff, yapper (reader) x listener (optimus), optimus is fucking obsessed with you, bad writing, silliness

word count: 1033

The last thing you expected to see after leaving work was a massive red-and-blue truck parked perfectly at the curb, just a few meters from the entrance. You’d recognize that color scheme and vehicle type anywhere — someone had come to visit. You didn’t even try to hide the smile that crept onto your lips.

"Is that your boyfriend?"

Your coworker’s voice pulled you out of your brief trance. You’d completely forgotten she was even there, though just moments ago, the two of you had been making small talk.

"Yup."

"You never mentioned him."

Because he’s a damn alien, you almost blurted, but you bit your tongue in time.

"He’s a long-haul truck driver, so he’s rarely in Jasper. Hey, thanks for the recipe, but I’ve gotta go. See you tomorrow!"

After a quick hug, you headed briskly toward the truck. She’d surely grill you for details tomorrow, and you’d need to have your excuses ready, but that was a problem for later. You had far better things to do now.

You opened the passenger door to avoid drawing attention to an empty driver seat and climbed inside. The familiar interior immediately put you at ease, and when the owner of the truck spoke, butterflies that had been dormant in your stomach suddenly came to life. You’d known him for years, yet his voice alone still made you feel like a giddy teenager. The perfect man, as it turned out, was actually an extraterrestrial being.

"Greetings, my dearest."

"Hi, love. To what do I owe this visit?"

Optimus started the engine and took the route toward the base. You knew it by heart, having traveled it countless times with Bumblebee or Bulkhead when you needed an escort. Yet, despite being your partner, Optimus rarely had time for dates. You didn’t hold it against him; you fully understood the duties that came with being a leader. But there were moments, many intimate moments when Optimus wished he could spend more time with you. He wanted to be there for you through every good and bad moment, but he couldn’t, and it tore at his spark.

"Front lines have been quiet for now. I wanted to take the opportunity to see you."

You reached out and caressed the panel in front of you. You didn’t miss the momentary, louder hum of the engine. Adorable.

Out of habit, you started recounting all the work and life events that had happened during your time apart. You summarized the movies that had intrigued you, bored you, or changed your brain chemistry. You talked about books and poetry, focusing mostly on those he probably would enjoy as well. Optimus then offered his thoughts, sharing his perspective and making a mental list of works to study when he has the time, so he could discuss them with you in depth later. Maybe, if he got lucky, you’d agree to analyze them together, curled up against his neck.

After catching up on the past few weeks, you naturally transitioned to today’s events, animatedly describing how a certain Cameron had gotten on your nerves.

"I asked him a few times to fix my work computer because, you know, it’s his job, but no! Every time, he came up with some stupid excuse just to avoid—"

"Optimus," Ratchet’s voice broke in over the radio, interrupting your rant. "I hate to disturb your rendezvous, but your presence would be helpful at the base. No rush, though."

Oh, right. For a moment, you’d forgotten about your partner’s responsibilities, bombarding him with stories about work that didn’t even begin to compare with Optimus’s adventures. A pang of guilt hit you. The enthusiasm drained away, replaced by a sudden self-resentment. Instantly, the story that had been the highlight of your day shrank to the size of an atom, meaning absolutely nothing in the grander scale of beings you shared a relationship with. It wasn’t the first time these thoughts had interrupted your fun, but you’d never voiced them out loud, burying them deep within. Too bad they always found their way back to the surface.

You hoped Optimus hadn’t noticed your sudden change in body language, but deep down, you knew he had. He always did. Always perceptive and caring.

Trying to mask your discomfort, you gave a small smile.

"Hi, Ratchet!" you greeted.

The medic grumbled something under his breath.

"I am on my way to the base," Optimus reported, and the connection cut off.

"[Your Name]," he began, his tone changing. From the usual military formality, it softened into a gentle warmth. He’d seen right through you, as always. "Is everything alright?"

You didn’t want to perform tough. Not today, not in such a raw and tender moment.

"No. I don’t think so? It’s just… in your life, everything is so grand and significant; there’s always some action. My workday is interesting if a bird lands on the windowsill by my desk. Sometimes, I feel like my stories bore you because, let’s be honest, they’re boring. My job is boring."

"I understand. I am sorry you feel that way. It was never my intention to belittle you."

As always, he put all the blame on himself. You wished you could hug him, to take away at least a fraction of the guilt he carried every day on his shoulders.

"I know," you sighed. "You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry for getting all worked up."

"There is no need to apologize. I am grateful that you opened up to me. Personally, I do not think your life is uninteresting. It is yours and yours alone; no one else in the world experiences it in quite the same way. To me, your stories are unique, as they differ so drastically from the realities of my life. I wish you could think of them the same way—to be proud of who you are and what you represent."

"You always give me something to think about before bed," you laughed. "Thank you, love. I’ll try to work on myself."

"There are still a few Earth minutes before we reach the base," he informed you, and you raised an eyebrow. "Would you like to finish the story about Cameron?"

[xx-slug-xx]

Billford isn’t just silly “toxic old man yaoi” like people have been saying. Their relationship being implied something more really means nothing. Cuz it’s literally horrible. Bill was manipulative, abusive towards Ford for years. And then did the exact same to Dipper years later.

Neither Ford nor Dipper or the rest of the Pines need Bill, if anything Bill needs them and that say a lot about how pathetic Bill is.

Yes and that’s why Ford and Bills relationship is so interesting to me!

Bill, a being that has spent eons painting himself out to be this absolute monster, and he absolutely is based on all his actions, finding solace in some human freak? Something that Bill, being treated as a freak in his home dimension, can relate to? Bill, the demon who most likely accidentally destroyed his entire dimension, who then had to make himself out to be the monster he felt that he was? His ego wouldn’t allow himself to be anything but that monster, and he lies about enjoying all the destruction he causes until his lies are no longer lies to him.

He’d never admit that he wanted more from Ford than the portal and nothing more. He’s supposed to be selfish, only caring about what new planet to consume. Relating to a mortal flesh bag? That would defeat the image he’s created for himself.

Ford saw Bill as perfection in his youth, and Bill valued him for being a dreamer. Bill was the only thing that could efficiently stroke Fords ego, and Ford enjoyed every second at the time. He’s the smartest man on earth, not able to relate to anyone but a dream demon he thought was trying to help him. Ford practically worshiped Bill like he was a god. Little did Ford know that the creature he thought was light was actually a great darkness. The unimaginable feeling of betrayal he felt when he learned the truth.

Bill played the game with him, not only to keep up the facade, but surely for something more as well. Ford seeing him for what he really was and making it his life’s goal to destroy him absolutely ruined Bill. Bill didn’t know what he had until it was already gone.

In the Book of Bill, he’s a horribly unreliable narrator. But Ford is way more reliable, and so is viewing everything from a completely uninvolved perspective. Combine what we see from the show, Journal Three, and The Book of Bill? And oh baby we got a recipe for a disaster of a relationship

They are so horrible for each other, but that sort of chemistry is so fun to explore when it comes to character analysis! It makes both Bill and Fords dynamic, their motivations, and other character related things so much deeper!

Bill needs purpose, and his purpose was ruined by his own undoing. He can blame any of the Pines family for this, but really, he’s his own worst enemy. The man needs serious help lol. Fords moved on, he has better things to worry about. Bill just can’t see past the potential for what could have been. Unable to forget the past, no matter how hard he lies to himself

I would definitely not say that Bill did the same thing to Dipper. Yes, he manipulated the kid and made his and his sister’s lives hell. But their history is not at all equal when Dipper didn’t dedicate his life to a false god like Ford did

Sorry for the ramble, anon! I’m in autism mode lmao

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

The salt of life

Disclaimer: This makes no sense, it's just a list of Sydcarmy musings and analogies but I wanted to share it anyway.

In culinary metaphors

Syd is affecting Carmy like TABLE salt affects mixes in bakery. She enhances Carmy’s flavor, but does not change it. That’s not always a good thing. It all depends on finding the right balance and timing and ensuring the ingredients are correctly mixed because otherwise, the whole thing is ruined.

Salt is dangerous. As a matter of fact, it can kill you.

Salt is basically sodium. Sodium is poison when incorrectly used, but it also makes the ❤️ beat when its levels are balanced out with the potassium in our blood.

In medical terms

Syd is the heart.

Carmy is the circulatory system that would dry up and die unless the heart irrigates it.

The Bear, their place, is the blood. The family.

What makes the heart beat is electricity.

They generate this power. This spark. And it can get out of control, like all sparks, of course.

That’s the chemistry they create when they are together → Beating.

None make sense without the other, BECAUSE THEY FORM A SYSTEM, is you separate the veins and arteries from the heart and the blood, they are simply lifeless. Isolated they don't make much sense.

THEY ARE A SYSTEM. THE MAIN SYSTEM.

How that system works

She lit the spark in him and gave him a heart when he was used to being a robot who only worked and smoked the competition.

Sydney could definitely work without Carmy, but at this point, it wouldn't make sense for her. She would feel lifeless, even if she wins 100 stars elsewhere. Her place is The Bear, the restaurant and the chef. Because that's what she chose with her heart.

Carmy has worked and thrived without her and wouldn't do it again unless it's out of spite, just to show her.

However, I don't think it'll come to that like it once did with Michael, or his parents, he has learned that lesson the hard way by now.

Carmy works as a SYSTEM, as part of something bigger than him, if he becomes isolated, S3 Carmy takes the wheel. He doesn't work like that, he crashes and burns.

But during most of S3 the "spark" Syd ignited in him, the one that got the blood flowing again, gave him a heart, a purpose, where there was only a hurt man who felt so much pain that couldn't even express it and thus, sublimated it in the form of a work addiction and functional depression, and therefore couldn't overcome it either, got out of control.

The SYSTEM was broken, because the elements that formed it attempted to work separately. There was no synergy, just energy that was out of balance. Not completely, but mostly.

Back to the salt

I have already gone over the analogy between Carmy and onions, acid, etc. Most in the fandom have, but here's a reminder of what I think about that:

So, the result of mixing culinary purpose salt (table salt) with acid ingredients is a WEAKER ACID.

We can all agree on Carmy being "intense", right?

Well, when in contact with her he can calibrate himself better.

I emphasize "contact" because when they are OUT OF TOUCH, the effect is almost instantaneous and painfully obvious in Carmy, which has always been, and in S3 it started to become more apparent in her too, as you can see in these previous entries:

They belong together to balance each other out, when there's this distance between them, that we saw in S3, THEY ARE IMBALANCED.

Salt is the balancer ingredient in any recipe. It enhances what needs to be enhanced and neutralizes what needs to be neutralized if used correctly

But salt on its own is no good, it needs to work as part of a recipe, a dish, A SYSTEM.

She's the salt, his salt, the one that brought flavor back to his life, and that's why his story re-started the day she came into his life. Carmy and all that he represents, the restaurant he inherited, the family in it, the family business that Cicero keeps funding, the extended family now Syd found at The Bear, is the system. He is a system that needs to be balanced and sometimes neutralized. Salt is the main ingredient for him, because he lacks of it, he's acid.

Bonus track: Le Chatelier's principle

I have mentioned this before but it bears repeating→ When her dishes were out of balance it was always because of the "acid" ingredient, which means she's outta balance too. Carmy doesn't balance her, he doesn't have that effect on her. In chemistry, acids tend to dissolve salt BUT they can create NEW SALTS too (Le Chatelier's principle). She's fighting this because she knows that once she fully lets Carmy in, it's gonna be the end of the world as she knows it. She won't be able to fight it much longer after this breaking point ↓

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[vaultdamned]

[RECIPE] Reverse - Vincent showing Hancock a chem recipe @mayormentats

Fred Allen had moseyed over to the statehouse asking for the mayor. Big claims about discovering some new "shit."

Just trust me man, ya gotta see this.

Is what he told Hancock. He was skeptical. Hancock knew about Fred's work at the Rexford. Occasionally the man would provide a somewhat coherent report on all his findings. It was largely unnecessary for him to do that but Hancock never put a stop to it. Truthfully it was fun to read about his little science experiments while three jet canisters deep. And Hancock was just halfway down his third when Fred requested he take a visit to his lab.

Things started to clear up when Hancock made it to the Rexford. Of course Fred Allen wasn't responsible for some chem breakthrough, it was this... drifter?

Hancock leaned on the railing of the stairs, looking down at the situation from the bottom step. Fred came rushing ahead of him, gesturing loosely over to the man at the chemistry station.

"Show em what ya showed me," Fred said.

"Relax brother, have some decorum," Hancock spoke wryly. The mayor tips his hat and steps down from the stairs. "Got word there were some developments in our chem department. Assumin' you're the one responsible?"

LITTLE MAKES SENSE IN THIS WORLD, but to the Wasteland's credit, neither did the one before, having been merely a concept clouded in philosophies & old books from lifetimes detailing how the world should be lived. How one lives their life, as if through a cookie cutter vision. Vault Tec seized his loyalty, informed him his discoveries would change the world -- the new world, if only his mind & time gave donation to the cause.

In the end, time was his biggest gift, accepted and cradled in the hands of clever betrayal. Spineless administration playing God with its own angels.

Science, with the wrong morals, dooms even its greatest admirer, but he could never part from that what once made him.

Rumors across the Commonwealth spread like radiation, telling of a place called Good-neighbor; quite skeptical by the name, in all honesty, yet he'd stumbled upon an intriguing settlement. An uneasy air swarmed his welcome, but he managed to blend in with the rest of the scavengers, survivors, addicts, ghouls --

Fred Allen mentioned the mayor a few times. Vincent acknowledged, but never pried. Too preoccupied with the limitless potential of unregulated chem creation; a victory which led him to the presence of Good-Neighbor's face.

❝ Yes,❞ his reply comes out matter-of-factly. No colleagues here to take credit for his work, & shit, was this something else entirely.

❝ Under a microscope, Mutfruit has this chemical compound similar to that of day tripper. Comparatively, it's an incredibly mild high, except --- ❞ he closes the gap between them, retrieving the newfound chem from his pocket ❝ When mixed with the powder from crushed mentats. ❞ He displays the vial of powder between his index finger and thumb, presenting it gloriously to the leader of the town under the guise of an intellectual scientist, because in all aspects, he is the very definition.

He's yet to test his own product, but Fred Allen put all worries aside. The last thing he needed was a reputation for attempting to poison ... kill ... is the mayor capable of dying? Or in some seeded grotesque understanding, were they the same?

He offers this unnamed chem, a prominent gleam in his eyes.

❝ Here. ❞

[niktoes]

₊˚♡˚₊ word salad headcanons for könig as your best friend ₊˚♡˚₊

♡ just konig things. prematurely posted by accident last time, so if anyone saw that, no you didn't ♡

♡ on this blog, könig's name is otto ♡

Tags: headcanon, silly platonic friend stuff, best friend könig, reader insert

♡ Otto is a man who makes the best of friends. As an adult with a busy life, making friends is hard. Plus, he's acutely aware of the fact that he can be awkward when he's first meeting someone, and because of that he generally isn't the easiest man alive to make friends with. Most of his friendships happened because something just clicked, and everything worked from there. When it happens, the easy chemistry that lets conversation feel effortless and him feel understood? Yeah, cherished doesn't even begin to cover how close to his heart he holds your friendship. Any of hid close friendships, really, are things he values deeply. If what you need is a ride-or-die kind of guy, that is exactly what he is.

♡ This friendship looks like a relationship from the outside. Sometimes his being playful can come across as unintentionally flirtatious (wanna talk abt the 'they're dating' rumours every set of best friends has? yeah, it's like that. And he, for one, thinks its hilarious), but it's all just in good fun.

♡ There are several ways that he might approach you having a rough time in life, whether that's due to your work or issues in your personal life. Mans is spiteful. That's just a facet of himself that can't be removed or avoided if something really rots his fucking socks. And by spiteful, I mean he's the kind of guy that'll stop in the middle of a crosswalk to very carefully tie his shoelaces if a driver's impatient and pushing the boundary on the pedestrian crossing light. Malicious compliance is his cup of tea, too, if it applies. He's been alive nearly forty years, man, so no matter what problem you're dealing with, his plots for petty vengeance come naturally and he and is not shy about sharing them with you for the sake of justice (or catharsis- that too).

♡ This could just be a him thing, but if he's your friend- like, really good friend, he fully backs you no matter what. If you're out here being confidently incorrect about something debatably unimportant, he'll agree with you until he's blue in the face out of respect. It's in private that he'll let you know how much of a hilarious dumbass you were back there, arguing with so and so about 'insert topic here' when he knew- and for that matter, he's pretty sure you knew too, that you were HEINOUSLY incorrect. It's a perk of being friends with him, but also? It's kinda... just really funny to him, and his sense of humour is catered ENTIRELY towards himself.

♡ Your interests are, to some extent, his interests by proxy. He expects pretty much the same in return where your friendship is concerned. If he hears you going on about something you're pretty interested/invested in, he's gonna put in a bit of effort to learn about it so he can hold good conversations and support the things you like. That said, again, he's gonna expect the same outta you, and a lot of his hobbies are fairly active. If you can't participate, that's fine, but showing a bit of interest goes a long way. He likes reading and cooking, too, so listen to him word vomit over books he likes and be a guinea pig when he wants to try this daring new recipe he found somewhere online. If you can participate in his active hobbies? He's dragging you along when he decides to hit the slopes and go skiing- if you've never done it before, even better, because he'll get a laugh out of you fighting for your life on the bunny hill.

♡ Otto makes some decent money, and has spending money to throw around thanks to his decorated career. Because of that, and the fact that he likes to treat himself to nice things and fancy places when he feels the vibe for it, if you're cash poor and he wants to do something with you, he's gonna pay for you. He's gonna crack jokes about it, not unkindly, but he is a bit of a shithead when he's properly comfortable with someone- and as his best friend, he is very comfortable with you. So don't worry, Daddy Warbucks has you when your wallet doesn't. Time to get culturally enriched, 'cause he wants to check out a museum or attend a concert. No, he's not gonna let you feel guilty about it, because he really enjoys taking care of the people he values when he gets the chance. You can cover lunch or something next time he feels like a day out, or something.

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 5/5

Book Blurb:

A kitchen witch with a penchant for baking and a (literally) cursed love life meets someone who’s worth breaking a hex for in this enchanting romance debut written with a heap of spice and an equal measure of heart. “A spicy, spellbinding debut that is as swoony as it is sweet, this book is a cottagecore rom-com of magical proportions.”—Lana Ferguson, author of The Nanny “Pure magic.”—Jenna Levine, author of My Roommate Is a Vampire “A cozy delight!”—Lyla Sage, author of Done and Dusted

As a skilled kitchen witch, Dina Whitlock knows her way around a pastry recipe. In fact, she runs her very own London café, serving magic-infused treats to her loyal customers. She is not as much of an expert on romance, thanks to the hex hanging over her head. It’s hard to fall in love when your partner is cursed with a string of bad luck. But who needs love when your best friend is getting married, right?

Scott Mason has returned from global travels thrilled to embark on his new role as a curator at the British Museum. Having left London two years ago to recover from a devastating breakup, Scott has missed out on a lot. With his best friend’s wedding approaching, and Scott as best man, this is his chance to make up for lost time. Little does he expect to be enchanted by the magical maid of honor.

During a romantic weekend filled with a peculiar hedge maze, palm readings by candlelight, and a midnight Halloween ritual, there’s no denying the chemistry between them. But the hex still holds, and Dina knows that Scott is in danger of more than just bad luck—because she’s falling, hard. Will Dina be able to undo the hex before it’s too late?

Review:

A delightfully spicy witchy romance between a cooking witch who was cursed to have everyone she's ever love be harmed and the the museum curator who's stolen her heart. Dina Whitlock is a kitchen witch who has her own cafe in London. She serves up magical trats and has been careful to keep her heart at a distance despite wanting romance. Dina was cursed to have any partner she falls in love with be cursed with a string of bad luck and harm..... and then he walks into her cafe, Scott Mason. Scott is a museum curator who has returned from his global travels only to find out that his partner had cheated on him and now two years later he's still recovering from the breakup. Dina is attending as the maid of honor for her best friends wedding... and Scott just happens to be the best man for the groom. Dina knows she shouldn't let herself fall for Scott, but it's hard to be just friends when he's the sweetest and hottest man she's ever encountered. Can she make a relationship work without having him be harmed by her curse? This was the perfect witchy romance for my Practical Magic loving heart. it's equal parts cozy witchy vibes and spicy romance. I adored this book so much and will absolutely be reading anything else that the author comes out with. This is an absolute must read for the autumn season!

Release Date: October 1,2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and Random House Publishing Group - Ballantine | Dell for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[izzieg3987]

chapter 7

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Thankfully the group made it to class just in time. The Laboratory looked just like the ones Percy had seen Hex Maniacs have, with bubbling cauldrons, crystals, herbs, and colorful liquids in vials of all kinds of shapes.

Percy guessed potionology would be just like cooking, just follow the recipe, and you’d be fine. know what’s good for what, how one ingredient goes with another, and how much of it is needed, she did it all the time while making face masks, lotions, creams, and Pokemon food.

As she was thinking this the teacher walked in. He was young looking man with dark grey eyes and short white and black hair. He was wearing a fine suit and a faux fur coat over it. Fabulous, Percy thought as she saw him walking over to her.

“You must be Ms. Remmington. I’m your Potionology and homeroom teacher, Professor Divus Crewel. You may call me Master Crewel.” He introduced himself, and he had an accent too just like Percy. He then gestured to her lab coat and uniform with the pointer that was attached to a red collar, “I’m surprised that you got a uniform tailored this quickly, got to admit it fits you well. It’s a pleasure to finally have a puppy instead of these unruly mutts. If any of them get out of hand, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“Thank you, Master Crewel, I know an amazing seamstress,” she thanked him with a kind smile while petting Mimikyu, who was currently on her lap, “And don’t worry sir, I have a vast amount of experience disciplining wild animals myself.”

“Excellent, good girl.” He praised then turned to the rest of the class and smacked his pointer against his palm, silencing the entire class. Then introduce himself again. “My name is Divus Crewel. You may call me Master Crewel. Now, take your seats. Class is about to begin. We’re going to start with the basics. And by that, I mean beating the names and distinguishing characteristics of one hundred herbs and poisons into your tiny brains. The mycelia are another matter. But eventually, I’m hopeful you’ll be able to take a walk without putting anything poisonous into your gaping maws. For now, I realize you have all the self-control of voracious hounds. But I will not abide a single student failing this class. Expect to be drilled accordingly.”

“Huh. So…” Deuce whispered to them slowly, “does anyone know what a mycelia is?”

“The vegetative part of a fungus, consisting of a network of fine white filaments,” Percy answered as she took a look at the potionology book. Oh yeah, she was sure she was gonna excel at this class.

She might’ve not been an official student since she was five, but that doesn’t mean that she was stupid. Percy had a proclivity for analytical thinking and unofficially, she was academically brilliant. She is a fast learner and she was natural at subjects such as mathematics, physics, biology, science, and chemistry.  

“I’ve never been one for like,” Ace took one look at the textbook and grimaced, “Memorizing what things are, ya know?”

“All I care about is how to tell the yummy plants from the yucky ones,” Grim said with his paws on his hips.

“It’s important to know what’s poisonous and what’s not Grim, just like the Nightshade berries, just because it’s sweet doesn’t mean it can’t kill you.” Percy said without looking up from the book.

The next was History of Magic.

The old gentleman gave Percy a curt, yet polite greeting upon entering. He was a tall elderly man with small grey eyes and greying, neatly combed back hair, but the most interesting thing about him was the creature he held in his arms. It was a chubby Purugly-looking creature with long black fur, a white muzzle, and golden eyes.

“I am your History of Magic teacher, Mozus Trein.” He introduced himself then lifted the creature in his arms for all of them to see, “And this is my familiar, Lucius. You are here to learn the rich history of magic, and how it has sculpted the world that you now so easily take for granted. I grade based on classroom behavior as well as the quality of work. Don’t let me catch you sleeping. Now, let us open our books to page fifteen. This section concerns the magestones discovered in the Dwarfs’ Mine.”

Okay, that took Percy’s attention from the professor’s familiar and she quickly turned the page.

 “As knowledge and awareness of magical energy began to spread across the globe from this point, this year is considered Year One of the Magic Era.” The teacher started again putting his familiar down.

Who then slowly made its way to the blonde girl and rubbed up against her leg just like her Purugly did when she wanted attention. She put Mimikyu on her desk and leaned down to pick up the creature.

“Well hello, Lucius.” She quietly greeted him and scratched his chin just like her Purugly liked; it seemed to do the job for this feline too. Lucius purred in his arms as she listened to Professor Trein’s lecture.

Normally she wasn’t in history, but knowing the history of magic from a different reality might come in handy while she was here, so she listened closely.

But that cannot be said for the rest of her classmates, as most of them were already dosed off, including the two Heartslabyul boys beside her. Ace was yawning loudly, and while Deuce’s attempts to be interested were unsuccessful, he did at least tried.

“Fascinating… ‘Dwarfs’ Mine’…” the blue-haired boy mumbled in his sleep, “Mhm, mhm… ‘magical energy’…”

“Maaan…” Grim groaned, “When do we get to the classes where we blow stuff up with magic?”

“You can’t get to those classes without learning their basics, Grim.” Percy scolded him silently as she took notes with one hand to not bother Lucius on her lap.

The rest of the class went normally, save for one incident where Mimikyu and Lucius hissed at each other while fighting for her lap.

And up next was Physical Education which was taught by a very muscular, broad-shouldered man with a thick neck and thick chest. He had dark brown hair styled in a pompadour, small blue eyes, and a thin beard framing his face.    

“I’m Coach Vargas, and physically educating your feeble little bodies is my responsibility. Great sorcery begins with a great physique! Behold!” he exclaimed gesturing to his body, “The muscles you can build with a diet of raw eggs! A great mage needs a great physical constitution! So gimme twenty laps and a hundred push-ups!”

“Bleah.” Ace groaned as they walked to the running tracks. “The forced exercise is bad enough, but meatheads like this guy drive me nuts.”

“Finally!” Deuce boomed, “A subject I’m good at!”

“Explain to me the appeal of runnin’ around in circles! Do I look like a hamster?” Grim complained to his human counterpart.

“Let’s do our best!” Deuce yelled.

15 laps later…

Both boys and the feline monster were breathless. Even deuce who was confident in his abilities was panting.

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up.” Ace wheezed.

“Normally I like running,” Deuce agreed while running next to him, “But not for this long.”

“I can’t feel my paws!” Grim cried.

And then there was Percy, jogging to them with Mimikyu running next to her, who was cackling at the boys’ condition, without even breaking a sweat. And snickering at them

“You guys are so weak, it’s not even funny.” She taunted.

“How are you still not out of breath?” Ace asked, he didn’t have the energy to be angry.

“I have been walking the entire length of continents since I was 10, mate. This is nothing.” Percy bragged.

The boys didn’t have anything to say to that.

“See you at the finish line losers.” She said and suddenly bolted finishing her 20th lap and starting her push-ups.

“Very good, Very good, Remmington!” Coach Vargas praised her as he counted her push-ups.

“Thank you, Coach.”

“And may I ask why your uniform has a hood?” Coach asked curiously, it was warm outside and most people tend to shed their clothing as they worked out, but the blonde girl was covered head to toe.

“Because Coach,” *Push-up* “I’m allergic to sunlight,” *Push-up* “So you see,” *Push-up* “I need to wear,” *Push-up* “Covering clothes,” *Push-up* “When I’m out,” Percy answered him between push-ups.

“All right, I’ll accept it. Keep up the good work.” He said as he left.

“Let’s see, our next class is…” Deuce started but didn’t finish his sentence.

“This so-called magic Academy feels a lot like a lame, ordinary school,” Ace said while using the wall as a crutch, he stretched out the lingering tension in his legs from P.E. “It’s not what I expected, but at least this collar won’t be much of a problem after all.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Percy shrugged, she was now carrying Mimikyu in her arms like a doll, “I haven’t been to school since I was 5.”

“What?!” Deuce interceded.

“Well, some things happened when I was 5 and I couldn’t go to school anymore. That’s all I wish to say about it.” She said sternly as she hugged her Pokemon partner tightly to her chest, but then she loosened her grip on him, “Also things function differently in my reality. Kids go to school until they become eligible for a trainer’s license at 10. Then they usually go on Pokemon journeys, fighting in their region’s gym circuits, and then when they’re done, they go back for a few more years of school for jobs, unless they’re like me and they make a career in Pokemon battles.”

“Lucky.” Ace whined, “Can I go back with you to your reality? I wouldn’t mind traveling around the world with a bunch of powerful monsters, battling with other people for a living.”

“If I find a way to and back, why not? But I’m warning you, it’s not as easy as it sounds.” She warned.

“Still, it sounds so much fun,” Deuce said with admiration, “Don’t you think so Grim? Grim?”

Percy had a bad feeling about this…

They look around but the feline monster was nowhere to be seen. Mimikyu hissed, pointing toward the window with his extended black hand-like appendage to his trainer. Percy then saw a gray form running away in the courtyard.

“He’s cutting the class on the first day?!” she fumed at the insolence of the fiery feline.

“Boy, that guy is not a fast learner.” Deuce shook his head.

“Not a good look to lose your only student on your first day as Housewarden.” Ace smirked at the girl, making both her and her partner glare at him, “Want help catching him? I’ll do it if you buy me a chocolate croissant.”

“I’d do it for an iced latte at the cafeteria,” Deuce added with a smile.

“I will remember this,” Percy glared at them, then looked down the window to see how high it was, “To hell with you two!”

“Uh, Percy what are you doing?” the blue-haired boy asked as he looked at her worried when she sat on the window edge.

But Percy didn’t pay any mind to him, you see she guessed something like this could’ve happened, so she planned accordingly. Fool her once, shame on you. Fool her twice… there won’t be a second time.

She opened her parasol and jumped off the window with Mimikyu in her arms while yelling, “Mimikyu, Psychic!”

Mimikyu’s entire body started to glow light blue, then the glow spread to Percy too and he got them down slowly.

Percy then reached her belt for a Pokeball and pointed in Grim’s direction, “Fletchinder, Quick Attack!”

In a flash of light Fletchinder appeared, flew at Grim as fast as an arrow, and slammed into him. As he flew he left behind a white trail of energy with silver streaks inside it. Once Grim was on the ground Fletchinder grabbed him from behind of his collar with his talons and flew back to his trainer while the feline monster struggled to break free.

“Mrrah! I had it with these boring classes!” Grim screamed as Mimikyu grabbed him from Fletchinder by his tail from his spot on Percy’s shoulder as she dragged him back inside the building.

“Then you will never become a great mage!” she shouted back.

“UGH! When did you get all bossy?”

“I was always bossy, are you just noticing it now?”

“Wooo! Lunchtime at last!” To no one’s surprise on the way to the cafeteria Grim was on the lead, once he saw the buffet he was already drooling like a Snubbul, “Whoa! They got some good-lookin’ grub!”

“Hmm, a buffet. That’s unexpectedly fancy. Mimikyu,” As her partner handed her a tray, she checked out the choices. “Thank you, darling.”

Now, what to eat? Its lunch should keep it light, a tarragon chicken salad would do, lemon tea with a teaspoon of honey also meat buns for Mimikyu and Fletchinder. She calmly picked up her food, meanwhile…   

“Look how fluffy those omelets are!”

Her feline counterpart was drooling over everything on the buffet.

“Ooh, grilled chicken! And a bacon-and-egg tart!” Grim exclaimed with stars in his eyes.

“Shhh! Dude, inside voices!” Ace shushed him, shaking his head, “Where was this energy earlier today?”

“Percy, grab me the grilled chicken! There’s only one left! And an omelet too. and that jelly-filled bread. Just fill your whole tray with ‘em!” In his excitement, Grim bumped into another student. “Ow!”

“Hey! Watch where you’re goin’!” the boy then looked at his tray and stuttered, “M-my carbonara! You broke the yolk!”

 “Whoa, that’s messed up! Pokin’ the egg is the best part! You better make this right, pal!” his Buddy joined in.

“I’m gonna need that grilled chicken of yours as compensation.” The boy reached for the plate in the feline’s paws.

“Myah?! No way! Hands off the bird, chump!” Grim guarded his food,” I need my protein, because I am HANGRY!”

“Hey! That’s no way to speak to an upperclassman!” the Buddy shouted getting close to Grim, “Catch me outside and I’ll teach you some respect!”

“Hah, respect? Respect is for people with class. You two, however,” Percy ran to the feline’s aid, no one can bully her beasts when she was around, “not even worth the dirt to bury you in. So run along now little boys, while I’m still letting you,”

“Why, you—“

the boy tried to get in her face but Deuce got in between them. “Um, excuse me, sir, but it said in the handbook that fighting with magic was prohibited…”  

“Fighting? You got it all wrong. “ The assholes smirked, “ this is just me helpin’ an ignorant freshman know her place.”

“Now, let’s see just how many ways there are to skin a cat, heh!”

“Hmph, you two are not worth the effort,” Percy clicked her tongue, looking at them as if they were the mud on the bottom of her shoe, and turned to her partner with a sadistic glow in her eyes and a sharp grin, which reminded to those who were watching a certain Leech twin, “Mimikyu darling, can you please take out the trash?”

Que the two assholes hitting the wall behind the garbage cans.

“Thank you, love. Mangy little runts, not even fun to beat up.” She then turned and walked to an empty table.

“Pfft! I knew you were all talk! You better hope I never see you again!” Grim yelled at the knocked-out bullies and then walked toward his human.

The fight ended quickly. Like embarrassingly quick, but after seeing how easily the Disguise Pokemon kicked Cater’s ass this morning the boys weren’t that surprised. They were slowly getting used to how strong their otherworldly female friend and her familiars were.

“Can we just get some lunch already? I’m about to collapse.” The ginger boy whined and walked with the feline.

“I guess this is my life now.” Deuce sighed but followed them anyway. “I can’t believe this. Textbook bullies at an Academy that’s supposed to be famous for producing exceptional mages…”

The group was now all seated and happily eating their lunch.

“This omelet is as fluffy as a Cloud, and practically burstin’ with cheese!” Grim commented with his mouth full while munching on his food, ”So, I saw you guys’ dorm, but what are the other ones like?”

“Yes, I got to admit they pique my interest too.” Percy agreed, taking a sip of her tea.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the statues of the Great Seven?” A familiar voice asked behind them.

They turned to see Cater approaching them with an unknown male with glasses, green hair, and a club under his left eye next to him. Mimikyu hissed at the orange-haired boy and was just about to use Shadow Claw when Percy stopped him by raising a hand, she was interested in what the boy was saying.

“Night Raven College has a dorm themed after each one.” Cater continued.

“Bwah! You’re that guy from this morning!” Ace yelped.

“You tricked us into paintin’ those dumb roses!” Grim growled with his paws on his hips.

“’Tricked’ is such an ugly word. Do you think I wanted to spend MY morning painting roses?” the orange-haired boy pouted, scratching the back of his head, “It’s dorm policy! I was just following orders.”

“Fletch Fletch Fletchinder.” The Ember Pokemon, who was now out of his Pokeball, happily pecking his meat bun, chirped. (Then maybe don’t smile like a fiend while doing it.)

Percy smiled at the comment her Pokemon made for a moment then turned to Cater with a neutral expression, “Still doesn’t change the fact that you did trick them to do your work,”

“Now, now, Percy. Outside of the dorm, I don’t care what rules you follow.” The orange-haired boy said with a cheerful tone, “Here, I’m just a friendly mentor figure!”

“I don’t recall giving you permission to call me Percy,” the blonde trainer glared at him coldly, making his smile drop, “And you better be, unless you want to taste another round of Shadow Ball from Mimikyu.”

“Ah ha ha. That’s just how Cater shows he cares.” The green-haired boy laughed, then pointed at the empty seats at their table, “May we sit?”

“Fine,” Percy said after she took a second to contemplate, “I’ll allow it.”

“And who are you?” Ace asked the stranger slowly.

“Ah, I should introduce myself. The name’s Trey. Trey Clover. I’m a junior at Heartslabyul, like Cater here.” He introduced himself after they sat, then turned to Percy, “And you must be Persephone Remmington, the new Beast Master Housewarden of Ramshackle dorm. I heard the whole story from Cater. Thanks for looking out for our boys yesterday.”

“no harm, no foul,” Percy paid him no mind and got back to her salad.

“I’m sitting right here.” Ace pouted but his words were ignored.

“Hey now, we’re all from the same dorm, right? Let’s try to get along.” Cater teased then pulled out his phone and held it out, “Here, gimme your digits.”

“I can do that!”

Percy’s Rotomphone flew out of her backpack and up to Cater’s phone to type the number with a mischievous emoji on its screen, making him recoil in surprise.

“Wow, that’s unexpected,” Trey’s eyes widened.

“Rotom! Don’t do that!” Percy yelled sternly and quickly grabbed her Rotomphone from where it floated, “You know that I don’t like you to going up in people’s faces like that and don’t you think that I forgot about your stunt from this morning, we’re going to have a talk when we get home.”

“I’m sorry but I couldn’t help myself, my queen.” The emoji on Rotomphone’s screen pouted, “I just had to show the people of this world that you’re the most wonderful Pokemon Champion of all.”

“O-M-G!” Cater exclaimed before Percy could talk, his eyes were sparkling as he looked at the purple phone in awe, “That’s the most amazing phone I’ve ever seen in my life! What brand is it? Where can I find it?”

“I don’t think you can find anything like Rotom around here,” Percy tried to end the subject and put her Rotomphone on the table screen down but the next thing she knew, Cater’s face was right in front of her, uncomfortably so.

“Aww, come on don’t be like that. You and I can make it a phone-shopping date!” Cater winked, making Percy cringle her nose in disgust.

“Cater, you’re freaking out the freshmen.” Trey pulled back his friend, staring nervously at the hissing Disguise Pokemon, “Maybe take it down a notch?”

“Ha! Sorry! I can get a little extra sometimes. What were we talking about…  The dorms, yeah?” The orange-haired boy giggled as he sat back in his seat, “Ah, what fun to mentor new students! Go ahead, A-M-A.”

“Before you get into the other dorms, I wouldn’t mind learning a bit more about ours.” Ace spoke up, crossing his arms as he glared at the collar around his neck, “Like, what’s the deal with all this ‘Queen of Hearts’ rule number whatever’ junk?”

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the legendary Queen of Hearts already?” Trey asked making the freshmen group collectively nod, “She had to rule over a kingdom of weirdos, and did it by emphasizing order and making strict rules.”

“Our dorm, Heartslabyul, is an homage to her.” Cater added, “By tradition, we wear armbands with red and black of the Queen’s dress. And we live by the rules she created.”

Percy looked at her own armband, she just chose two of her favorite colors and didn’t think too much about the symbolism. Guess that was one of the perks of making a new dorm from the ashes of its former self. Now Ramshackle dorm was whatever Percy wanted it to be.

“Not as much as you, my queen, but she is indeed an impressive monarch with a list of rules longer than the Kalos Pokedex!” her Rotomphone spoke as Percy picked it up to see that, it was showing her all 810 rules of the Queen of Hearts.

“Huh,” Percy hummed as she took a sip of her tea.

She did hear from the ghosts around the school, how strict the red-headed boy she saw at the orientation was, but she didn’t expect him to be strict enough to hold teenagers accountable on 810 rules. That was just unnecessarily cruel and an unrealistic goal, teenagers don’t even follow the easiest rules let alone the ones as strict as these.

“Pfft.” Grim scoffed with a bored expression, “Can you make me any more bored?”

“Now, the degree to which we adhere to the rules depends on the sitting Housewarden.” The orange-haired boy explained with a sheepish look, “Past wardens have been much more lax.”

“Riddle though? He doesn’t mess around.” Trey continued for his friend, “Basically, you could say that we’re honoring that tradition to the utmost extent possible.”

“Bleah. Just my luck…” Ace groaned.

“Fletch Fletchinder,” The Ember Pokemon chirped as he perched on his trainer’s shoulder, who scratched his head, now that he finished his meat bun. (That’s rough Buddy.)

 “So what are the other dorms like, then?” Grim interceded.

“As Cater mentioned earlier, the dorms of this school are themed after the Great Seven. We have our dorm, Heartslabyul, modeled after the strictness of the Queen of Hearts. To run down the rest of them for you, we have…” Trey explained in order, ” Savanaclaw, based on the persistent spirit of the King of Beasts. Octavinelle, based on the benevolent heart of the Sea Witch. Scarabia, based on the mindful personality of the Sorcerer of the Sands. Pomefiore, based on the tenacity of the Fairest Queen. Ignihyde, based on the diligence of the King of the Underworld. And finally, Diasomnia, based on the noble spirit of the Thorn Fairy.”

Percy remembered the names from yesterday, she only liked the last two, the rest she didn’t care for. But her feline counterpart on the other hand was looking quite overwhelmed.

“all those names are way too long!” Grim cried, “How’s anyone supposed to remember ‘em?”

“Ah ha ha! Well, you get the idea.” Cater laughed, “Want to or not, you’ll learn them soon enough.”

“At orientation, the Dark Mirror picks a dorm for you based on the essence of your being.” Trey continued to explain, “As a result, each dorm ends up with a distinct sort of… flavor, we’ll call it.”

“That is sooo true. I totes see it.” Cater agreed.

“’Flavor,’ huh…?” Deuce asked with a confused look.

“For example, look at that guy,” Trey said as he pointed at a tan, muscular boy with a pair of cute fluffy Lycanroc ears. “That rough-and-tumble vibe he’s got has Savanaclaw House written all over it.”

“I can’t express how much I want to pet his ears,” Percy smiled as she pushed her finished tray aside and rested her chin on her palm.

“No doubt. That dorm is full of scrappy guys who are into, like, working out and fighting.” Cater nodded in agreement and then described the dorm, “How should I describe the vibe…? Macho dudes? Gruff big brothers? Something along those lines. The black and gold armband is another giveaway.”

“Huh. All right, so what about that guy with the grey and purple cord wrapped around his arm?”

Grim pointed to the silver-haired boy with glasses Percy saw at the orientation, who was looking in their direction too. Well, more like looking at her Pokemon, which made Percy glare at him. Once he noticed her glare he turned back to chat with a pair of twins that sit across him.

“He’s gotta be from Octavinelle House.” Trey answered the feline monster and then pointed to the table Kalim and Jamil were sitting at, “And the student at the table in front of him has a red and gold armband—“

“Scarabia’s colors.” Percy answered for him.

When the cute Oshawott in human form known as Kalim noticed Percy looking his way, he smiled widely and excitedly waved at her.

“Oh? You know them?” Trey asked surprised.

“You can say that,” the blonde trainer said as she waved back to the little Oshawott.

“Those dorms are for the smart students. They’re always neck-and-neck in the academic rankings.” Cater said with a grin, “Ah, but the current Housewarden of Scarabia doesn’t seem to be all that great of a student…”

“Cater if you insult my adorable little Oshawott again, we’re going to have a problem, you and I.” Percy threatened the orange-haired boy, who immediately raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay… Let’s get back on topic.” Trey intervened before things could get heated and pointed to the table where a large group of students with the best postures Percy had seen in this school sat, “You see the flashy ones with the purple and red armband? Those are Pomefiore colors.”

“Whoa!” Grim jumped out of his seat and pointed to a student with remarkable lavender locks, “The girl with the potion books, I really like her!”

“What’s SHE doing in a boys’ school?!” Deuce yelped.

“Mimikyu,”

*SMACK*

“OUCH!” both Deuce and Grim shouted as they rubbed their cheeks where the Disguise Pokemon slapped them with his black appendages.

“Thank you, love.” Percy then turned to the two of the idiots in their group, “One, I’m right here, and two, are you two blind? That’s a boy. I’m the only girl here.”

Yes, he had a very feminine face but he was obviously a boy.

“WHAAAT?!”

Mimikyu smacked them again but they already got the attention of the lavender-haired boy.

“Speaking of girls, there’s a portrait in the west hall who’s a real beauty. Name’s Rosaria.” Cater teased the boys with a cheeky grin, “If you’d like to meet her, I’d be happy to introduce you. Maybe we can set something up?”

“A painting? Hard pass!” Ace loudly declined, “I don’t care how cute she is if she’s two-dimensional!”

  “Come on, man. Who cares how many dimensions she’s got! Anyway, they take vanity pretty seriously at Pomefiore.” Cater explained, humming delightfully, “It’s basically a dorm full of models. Their Housewarden has 5,000,000 followers on Magica, but don’t worry Housewarden Remmington, I’m sure you’ll top him in no time with how quickly you reached 1mil already.”

5 million was not bad, not bad at all. But it was nothing next to her 47.5 million followers in Pokevision.

“Hey now, they’re not all just pretty faces.” Trey cut in, “The students at Pomefiore are among the best at potions and casting curses.”

“Heh heh. True dat,” Cater laughed, “Next, we have Ignihyde… Their armbands are blue and black, but I don’t see any around here. They tend not to be the most outgoing of students. Even I don’t have a single friend from that dorm. They’re kind of the polar opposite of us sunny, fun-loving Heartslabyuls.”

“So they’re gloomy and miserable?” Grim blurted out.

“Now, now Grim,” Percy scolded as she petted Mimikyu’s head, which made him purr with affection even though it came out as creepy cackles to the boys, “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying solitude in darkness.”

“Yeah,” Trey agreed, “They just have a reputation for being quiet and serious, is all. That dorm tends to attract magical-energy engineers and students who are good with tech.”

‘Tinkatuff would love that dorm, and they would love Magearna.’ Percy thought. ‘Maybe they can replicate Pokeballs, if more wild Pokemon appeared in this reality I might need them.’

“And that just leaves… Diahonyalara, was it?” Deuce muttered the last part silently and quickly hoping no one noticed that he totally butchered the name.

“You were off to a good start, and then you rammed right into the guardrails.” Ace facepalmed, “It’s ‘Diasomnia.’”

“I know that! I just misspoke, all right?” the blue-haired boy lied while he blushed with embarrassment.

“Diasomnia House is, hm…” Cater glanced around before his eyes fell on a few students, “Ah, look over there. Those guys are in the special seating area. You can tell from the neon green and black armbands. They’re basically campus celebrities. The vibe they give off makes it really hard for regular schmucks like us to even approach them. And their Housewarden is that times a thousand.”

Percy, for the life of her, couldn’t understand what Cater was talking about. She didn’t sense an unapproachable vibe from them, to her the only thing out of ordinary was one petit boy, who looked fairly young. His blazer was draped over his shoulders, probably because he was small and his cropped black hair with magenta-pink streaks looked like he deeply offended his hairdresser. His pointy ears and blood-red eyes were another subject.

Then again she never had a normal sense of approachability, her specializing in Ghost Pokemon was proof of that.

“There’s a little kid in that group!”

And apparently, he stood out to Ace too.

“Ah, we do get some child prodigies here. But that guy there is no kid. He’s a junior like us. Name’s—“

But Trey was cut off by that very person, who was now hanging upside down in front of them. From up close, he reminded Percy of a Noibat.

“Lilia. Lilia Vanrouge.”

BWAH?!

The whole table shrieked. Except for Percy, she was around Ghost Pokemon since she was 5, Jump scares didn’t phase her anymore.

“H-he just teleported!” Grim yelped.

Lilia then gracefully jumped to the floor, no longer floating, with a very amused grin. “I understand my apparent age interests you? As this bespectacled fellow accurately noted… Despite my fresh-faced, boyish good looks, it would be inaccurate to call me a ‘child.’”

“’ Fresh-faced’ he says…” Trey muttered in disbelief.

Lilia’s magenta eyes then looked into Percy’s emerald greens as he tilted his head with interest.

His father senses were tingling, he just knew that the blonde girl was an orphan. She had that look in her eyes, the look all orphans had, the look you get when you’ve been left alone. He just couldn’t stand seeing that look in children’s eyes. “Greetings, young miss.” He reached out a hand.

On Percy’s end, she could see in his eyes that he was much, much older than he seemed. His eyes were very old and she could tell that he had seen too much, “Greetings,” she shook his hand.

“You need not gawk at us from afar. You may feel free to speak with us directly. We are schoolmates, are we not? All of us at Diasomnia House welcome you without reservation,” Lilia bowed with all the poise of someone who’d been trained in it and extended his arm towards his table.

“And yet, those guys over there aren’t exactly Rolling out the red carpet in terms of approachability…” Deuce remarked.

Lilia glanced at the silver-haired young man and a taller boy with slick mint-green hair, who was glaring at them and chuckled before turning back to the group, “Forgive me for appearing above you during your meal. I do hope we can speak again.” On his way out, he grinned at Percy in particular.

“Their table has got to be over twenty yards away from ours.” Ace whispered to Trey, “And they overheard our conversation? That’s WAY creepy!”

“Well…” Trey readjusted his glasses, “Diasomnia House does have a bit of a reputation for having lots of special students. Some of them are extremely talented at magic. Their Housewarden, Malleus Draconia, is considered one of the five best mages in the world.”

“Malleus is reeeeeal bad news. Though I suppose the same could be said of our own dear Housewarden.” Cater winked.

“No kidding! He collared me for eating one slice of tart!” Ace ranted, “All of his rule obsession is outta control!”

‘There he goes again’ Percy thought, she had listened to him whine about his Housewarden all mourning. And as fun, as it may be to watch him be miserable at the beginning, it was starting to get old. But then Percy noticed the short red-haired boy approaching them hearing Ace complain, and She had to hold herself from breaking into a fit of laughter.

“My ‘rule obsession’ is ‘outta control,’ is it?” the red-haired Housewarden drawled out, deceptively calm.

“You bet it is.” Ace kept going, not noticing he was digging his grave deeper, “Riddle’s just a petty tyrant who leans into the whole ‘rules’ schtick as a pretext to keep everyone under his puny thumb!”

“You’re an Imbecile, gingernuts,” Percy mused, watching the comical scene, while Mimikyu and Fletchinder snickered at the ginger boy’s misfortune.

“Ace! Behind you!” Deuce harshly whispered as he kept pointing behind Ace.

“Bwah!” the ginger boy cried once he finally turned around, looking as pale as a ghost, “Housewarden!”

[cranberryvishnu]

Cranberry - Healthy Living

Now that I am in my 20's, I realized that it was time to take my health a little more seriously. I reflected on how fortunate I was to live in an enlightened age where modern medicine and health science has advanced so far and so fast.

The amazing work being done with mercury, electricity and iodine are really only the beginning of a long list of giant leaps forward in our compendium of medical knowledge.

When I visited the doctor in Blackwater, I was horrified to find that my body chemistry had (and I quote): "...alarmingly low levels of tar!"

Fortunately, we live in a time where a health crisis such as this can be averted by simply adopting new healthy habits.

I tried cigarettes and found them to be rather chic, although a bit harsh at first. But after multiple attempts and the support and urging of medical professionals, I was able to develop quite a fondness for them.

Although, I must say - I found cigars even more to my liking. It is true that they are less lady like, but to my surprise, I found the quality of the smoke to be much more agreeable.

Yes... yes... This is the civilized way for a modern member of society to get their tar levels back to where they should be.

Truly, a pause that refreshes...

I am so very grateful that there is a whole industry dedicated to providing such wonderful products to people who dearly need them.

Finally - I decided to go to the source!

And for that - I needed to look no further than the good folks at the heartland oil fields. After it went dark, I snuck over and waded out into the pool and when no one was looking, I stripped down and rolled around in the the viscous miasma allowing the healthful properties to soak in.

I don't remember much after that...

I woke up in Moon's camp. Apparently Titan had found me near death floating in the tar pit and was furious with me. He brewed me an herbal tea from Moon's recipe book, and I got a long lecture about the evils of the medical community's entanglements with the oil barons of the west.

I am beginning to wonder if the scientific research on tar is to be trusted... Maybe high tar levels in the bloodstream... aren't good?

I suppose I should listen to Titan on this matter. He has smoked every substance known to man that is capable of being burned - and he cares about me.

I decided that I would take his advice, and the advice of Moon who is very wise and cut back a bit on the smoking and give this whole matter a good long think.

[triviareads]

The beautiful Barringtons are great books

It's such a great series! Definitely my favorite by Kathleen Ayers. As far as *the ton's most scandalous family* goes in HR, these guys are doing the most, between the disaster baby sister who all the lords apparently bet on how she'll be ruined (and her brothers let them??), the multiple ruinations in the family, and the whole illegitimate brother and duke brother running a sex club together thing. And the family dynamics are really fun to read. My favorites are:

The Taming of the Scandal: I literally finishes this a few hours ago and it's my new favorite hands-down. The aforementioned disaster baby sister Phaedra finally got her book; she's arrogant and charming and intent on flouting convention but out of a genuine desire to follow her own interests (gambling hells, boxing saloons, swords, knives, etc.) so it's little wonder she captures the interest of the biggest baddest American with an extremely cutthroat past (and present) she could find. And it's So Hot. You want a morally grey hero? This is a good one, especially because it ends on a "listen I'm still not a good guy but I'll try. for you 💖" note.

The Design of Dukes: Sometimes a Regency house party setting hits; IHOA is one of my favorite HRs because Lillian and Westcliff's chemistry and an interesting cast of characters carry it through, and The Design of Dukes is very similar. Granby is this icy stern duke who's super attracted to Lady Andromeda "Romy" Barrington, a woman who's a great match for ANYBODY as a duke's daughter, but not Granby because he's suuuuch a high stickler for morality. But their chemistry is insane, off the charts and the man's kind of an animal in the sack.

A Recipe for a Rogue: Rosalind is trying to avoid Torrington, an older suitor (a silver fox!!!!) her mom is trying to throw at her, except she's super intrigued by his affinity for cooking, as well as a rare cookbook he owns that she wants recipes from. They enter into a bargain of sorts and she falls for him despite resisting her mom's matchmaking attempts and her own daddy issues. The food-related foreplay is super hot (ex: licking chocolate off of one's thighs), and the fat rep is lovely and very affirming (as in, she doesn't need to lose weight narratively for the hero to be attracted to her, he's all about her bod, and she's a baker and a foodie).

The Theory of Earls: I love a hero who's described as like.... unearthly attractive AND he has daddy issues and a will to NOT reproduce to end his line (lol), which is such a winning combination. Combine that with a heroine who plays the piano so well it borders on *wonton* for these stuffy aristos, and she asks him to help seduce his FRIEND in order to escape a shitty family situation..... only that doesn't end up going according to plan once the hero falls for her.

[greenlodgecypher]

Beyond Ciphers, Part Three

From Aivas

Additional mathoms I have not used:

-The Practical Distiller, by Samuel McHarry, 1809 and, in direct comparison, A Practical Handbook on the Distillation of Alcohol from Farm Products, F. B. Wright, 1907. These are, of course, educational, but I am enamored of the sheer scope of the range between them. Chemistry came a long way in the time between these works. The English language underwent some of its last great changes. Yet, they both consider themselves as remedying critical educational gaps in a trade which was apparently often secretive and unscientific. It's fascinating. -Shadowings, by Lafcadio Hearn. This guy naturalized to Japan, and in the middle of its invasion of China considered it as having 'got on its feet' as a people. I'm also not so sure about all his choices in translation. On the other hand, he credits his sources. He was writing from Japanese sources in an era when living Japanese people remembered the history depicted in some of the stories he tells. (He has, in another work, perhaps the most interesting of his interpretations; an explanation of Japanese religious practices meant to give a Western Christian reader some understanding and acceptance.) It's not usual for a cultural work to narrow down and discuss the insect and plant nomenclature of a region, alongside the cultural context a westerner would lack; nor an exhuastive catalog of women's names with grammar, structure, and context. (I've tried to find the book in which he publishes children's songs, and the cultural names and associations of various plants, which I would have included could I identify it. It is valuable for us, so used to a St. John's Wort, to find how another society values and names their plants!). -Russian Fairy Tales, by W.R.S. Ralston. Another folklore translation by a Brit. It is from Russian sources, but I don't know how the translations are. If you venture into it, you'll find some interesting material, if sometimes only good for looking up further context. Again, salt the comparisons lightly. There is even a story about a man performing a wake that sounds very much like that shadowy Soviet (Ukrainian?) horror novel and film, 'Viy'! -Our Knowledge Box, or, Old Secrets and New Discoveries. 1875. This is one of an innumerable number of similar tips, tricks, household advice, and cooking books that I could mention. I am putting it in this list, not because it describes safe practices, or fine morals, but because this sort of thing is a gold mine of myths, assumptions, cultural beliefs we no longer seem to have, and household needs we no longer address in these ways. It even includes a section on how to charm a prospective sweetheart, with mesmerism and one's religiously-pure taste! Some of its advice would be considered fraudulent or harmful now, and please, whatever you do, don't follow their recipe for Irish whiskey or the waterproof cloth! In other words, things change, and things stay the same. If this intrigues you at all, I highly recommend looking at cookbooks, household tips, "ways to make money" books, or other social aids of an era. I hope that this goes some way to remedy the shortfalls of my cryptography selections. Society is massive and ancient, and learning is unboundable and colorful. Thank you for listening.

[looye29]

With everything going online in the pandemic and post-pandemic world, the whole dating and relationship scene has completely changed. It's no longer about what to say when you meet; instead, it's all about what you text. Words have always been the most powerful tool – you need to know how to make that power work for you! If you've been struggling to get guys to text you back, welcome to Amy's world, ladies! You need help, and Amy North has devised a program called ‘Text Chemistry’ that just might be what you’ve been looking for. Let’s take a more detailed look into what the program is and what it can do for you in the dating world! The Product The whole concept of ‘Text Chemistry’ is based on effective communication through texts. In an actual meeting, a lot of the meaning comes across via our body language. In texts, that aspect is missing, and hence it can be misunderstood or be plain boring. This ultimately leads to failure and disinterest. To keep the conversation interesting, you need to grab the man's attention and keep it hooked. This is exactly what the program is all about – it guides you with tips and tricks on making sure that you have his full attention – he's attracted. He feels compelled to reply to stay closely connected. Being an experienced professional counselor and a published author, Amy North is an expert at relationships. With her unique skillset, she guides you on getting a man's attention with persuasive texts and how to turn it into a beautiful relationship of love. With a foundation of psychological science, the program will teach you how to use "attention hooks" to your advantage! The ebook has been divided into three main parts: The first part is all about texting rules. It covers mistakes to avoid when texting, perfect text recipes, appropriate wait times before replying to texts, using emojis, and so on. I found this part to be an exciting read as Amy really has wrapped her head around exactly the right way to say the right things, and at the right time! The second part deals with handling the early stages of dating, flirty texting, and how to keep the romance alive in the long run with 'e-glow' texts and the like. This section is quite detailed and tells you what to say to make sure you have the guy's attention! The final module deals with specific situations and what messages to send to tackle them. I found quite a few practical situations like – how to respond if he sends unsolicited nude photos, how to cancel plans, how to handle it when he's upset, and so on. Along with the main ebook and 13 videos, there are three bonus books: Whey men Leave – This book talks about relationship mistakes and how to avoid them. The Phone Game – This is all about enticing the man of your dreams using your voice. Tinder Success Secrets – This explains how you can find quality men on the Tinder app. To sum up, the program teaches you the art of exciting text conversation! The Positive Aspects The e-book is an extremely stimulating read. The first module especially shows you what guys think, what they expect and how you can use it all to get the right kind of attention. The program can be used at any stage of life and at any stage of a relationship. It covers aspects from pre-dating to long term relationship texts. It covers a lot of ground and hence can work as a handy guide for most women. Amy understands the male psychology well, and it shows in the texts she's created. Her reasoning is also well explained at each step. The program is a confidence booster. If you are low on self-esteem on the ability to attract men, just use the program and watch the change. When men respond positively to you, it's bound to make you more confident at this! The three bonuses are not a repeat of what the book covers. Some products out there simply use the "old wine in a new bottle" trick to represent the same information in a different format and offer it as a free bonus.

The three free e-books here actually deal with other topics which are all quite helpful. The Negative Aspects The texts Amy recommends may not be the kind of texts you would typically write. I found some of them to be too sugary or too cheeky. It may not always go with your personality. The whole concept of writing specific texts with attention-grabbing words can be construed as a tad manipulative. To avoid this, I feel you should use the texts which you think convey your emotions correctly. The program is purely a digital download, so there are no physical books that you get. There is only an online version. The price is a little on the higher side. It is backed by a 60-day money-back guarantee. Nonetheless, I would have been more comfortable with a lower price for a product that offers dating advice. Final Verdict The ‘Text Chemistry’ program is effective, but you need to use it wisely. It may be easy to get carried away with all the extra male attention! Amy North is a published author and a trained relationship expert; her program works, but it has its downside of you actually toying with a man’s mind and his emotions. Also, I was not fully convinced with the kind of language used in some texts as some of them weren’t things I would say and mean them, however credible they may sound. I looked at the program as a fun dating guide. So, buy the product if you need help attracting men but use the texts well – you will then have a beautiful relationship, just the kind you wished for!

[freshstartfromscratch]

The Great British Bake-Off AU!

Yes, this is happening. So a little while ago, I got inspired by this shitpost:

The OG question was sent to @kiatheinsomniac and then bounced to @asscrackcreed from whom I shamelessly have stolen this idea. So shoutout to them I guess.

It was the sign that I needed to write headcanons for the Great British Bake-Off AU. Ngl, I do have a soft spot for this show. It kept me sane when I had to spend a month bedridden during my illness.

Anyway, On your marks? Get, set, bake!:

Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad

Originally from Syria, he moved to the UK with his parents as a child. Altaïr learned to bake in the home economics class and took a liking to it. He lives in Leicester with his wife Maria and two sons, Darim and Sef. When he's not baking, he's a book illustrator and stay-at-home dad.

While baking, he likes to use earth-flavored spices like nutmeg, vanilla, cinnamon, cardamom, sumac, and mace. He enjoys using orange and lemon zest in his baking too.

Altaïr's strongest side is the technical challenge, and his weakest side is pastry construction. He can make beautiful patterns to decorate his bakes but can't do creative structures. It'll always end up as sth like a square. 

He is one of the calmest bakers on the show. Everything is perfectly planned and tried out multiple times before the challenge. Altaïr doesn't go into a panic mood while under pressure, or at least he doesn't show it.

His signature recipe is cinnamon walnut cake.

Ezio Auditore

Ezio learned how to bake from his mom, and cooking together was their bonding activity when he still lived in Italy. He's a banker living in Edinburgh. When he's not baking he participates in all free-to-air cooking game shows. 

Unsurprisingly Ezio is a master in the cream department (nothing sexual about this sentence.) He likes using cream, mascarpone, meringue, and egg whites. White, fluffy, and puffy!

Ezio likes deep and slightly bitter additions to his cakes, like coffee or chocolate. He always balances them out with the perfect amount of sugar. It's not too sweet, but you can still taste the deep flavors.

His signature bake is ricotta cheesecake with coffee. He does have more Italian classics in his repertoire, like Torta della Nonna and Torta Paradiso.

He's a very emotional contestant who would cry if something goes wrong (because it's NOT just a cake!) He's very harsh on himself and tends to exaggerate his mistakes. His baking has to be perfect. Otherwise, he'll be dissatisfied with it. He's loud and a show-off in front of the cameras, so the public loves him, and the producers love him.

Connor Kenway

Connor, though born in the USA, currently lives in London. He works as a home health nurse in Camden (I picked Camden because it's where the Kennway Mansion is ) for a man named Achilles. He bakes to relax after work, and his numerous friends are big fans of his goods.

Due to his job, Connor is good at all the physics and chemistry related to baking. He knows how to structure his bakes and what temperature of the chocolate is the best for the best glossy effect. Things like this.

He's the super competitive baker. He's in the show to win and won't accept anything less than the finale three. His determination is sometimes scary as if he wanted to murder someone who killed his family.

Connor's signature bake is something typically American with a twist. It is a recipe connected to his roots, but a look into the future too. I'd say it's pistachio, pecans, and pumpkin NY-Style cheesecake.

Connor likes to mix tradition with modern ideas but still keeps them quite conservative. There's a fine line between a modern twist and a  baking blasphemy to him, and he tries to balance it out. 

Edward Kenway

He is a single dad of two, living and working in Swansea as a shipwright. He's an ex-sailor who used to work in the British West Indies. Edward started to bake eight years ago as a pastime with his now teenage daughter Jeniffer after her mother died. When he's not baking he likes to sail with his children and friends. 

His specialty is in the West Indies bakes. Brown sugar and rum are his favorite ingredients, and his signature bake is a burnt sugar essence sponge cake. He likes to use juicy fruits like pineapple or mango in his cakes too.

Edward is the contestant who should add one tablespoon of rum according to the recipe but pours half of the bottle instead.

He's the chaotic baker. His section in the cooking tent always looks like something exploded there.

He's the "I don't want to be the first baker to leave the tent" kind of contestant. He didn't sign up because he believes he's the best, but:  "If I'm not the last, that's a victory to me" kind of guy.

Arno Dorian

Arno is from Paris but works and lives in London's most posh Royal Borough - Kensington and Chelsea. He's an actor and a ballet dancer. Arno is an artist and a perfectionist. He likes to express himself, and baking is yet another way to do it.

Arno is an expert on anything related to fruits. Jam, marmalade, or addition of fruits to cream or decoration. He likes to use flowers too.

His strong side is the visual aspect of his bakes. He can make the most creative, baked constructions, but they often lack stability. He can make a flying plane cake that looks real, but it'll fall apart way too soon.

Lavender and blueberry meringue cake is the staple recipe of this baker. However, his mother's recipe apfelstrudel is to die for, and it saved him from elimination.

He is a bit dramatic and a natural performer, but he's not as dramatic as Ezio. He still is dramatic.

Jacob Frye

He is the youngest baker in the tent. Jacob learned how to bake from his grandma in Crawley. Jacob lives in Whitechapel with his partner and a newborn son Emmett (Canon Jacob had to be a young parent if Lydia was born in 1893 when Jacob was 46. Emmett's name comes from the list of known British Assassins used by the Templar Isabelle Ardant and a fanbase theory that he's Jacob's son.) He works with at-risk youth in a Youth Centre as a Mentor/caretaker and is a football (soccer) coach of their team, "The Rooks."

He's the one who adds controversial ingredients like beetroots to his sponges to make them moister. He can come across as pretentious, but he's just an unconventional baker. 

Jacob is the kind of contestant who everyone thinks is going to be eliminated, but he manages to get by and wins the "star of the episode" title in the next episode. You never can tell how he's going to perform in the show.

His signature bake would be something random that nobody expects, like Medovnik cake.

He's the "started baking, had a breakdown, bon appétit!" kind of contestant.

[reidyoulikeabook]

B is for Blindfolds

Summary: The BAU Christmas party is held at the office. Penelope is full of terrible ideas, but somehow Emily’s are worse.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drunkenness, use of a blindfold (for a fun game, not anything sexy here), pining, idiots who don’t realise their love is reciprocated as HELL (they will, but not quite yet).

Word count: 3k

A/N: okay so i really had fun writing this one!!! i have a solid solid direction of where this is headed now and i’m EXCITED about it! as always, please let me know what you think :) this is technically Wednesday’s update, and there’ll be another on Friday!

This is the second chapter of the A-Z of Spencer Reid series, but can be read as a stand alone.

The team, yourself included, are more than ready to let off a little steam. There was no point trying to book anywhere in advance, not with the sporadic nature of festive serial killers, so you’d taken over the office. Penelope had, in eager anticipation of your return, decked it out like a winter wonderland.

“Seriously, it looks like someone robbed a grotto,” Emily had joked.

She wasn’t wrong. A seven-foot Christmas tree, God knows how she’d smuggled that into the building, obscured the hallway outside Hotch’s office. It was dripping in tinsel, baubles, you name it. It even had a nutcrucker man. Mistletoe was hung, obviously in a way she believed to be covert, and maybe it would have been if you weren’t all deeply familiar with the antics of Penelope I-Love-The-Holidays Garcia. You’re all careful to sidestep it as you walk in, knowing she’s a stickler for the rules. All equally reluctant to invoke her wrath before a glass of eggnog or two.

On the table, there’s a selection of alcohol laid out. Alongside a bunch of pink glittery cups.

“I got everything!” Penelope chirps.

“I can see that baby girl,” Morgan chimes in, greeting her with a hug.

She really has: there’s juice, fruit, almost every liquor you can think of (including the fancy whiskey that Rossi and Hotch like to get out at dinner), wine of varying colours, and what looks to be some fancy fruit cider. From the spread, and the mischevious twinkle in her eye, you’re sure she won’t be letting you escape unscathed.

At that thought, you can’t help but steal a glance to your right.

Spencer. The man is stood next to you with folded arms, surveying the options in a way that almost looks pensive.

Got to behave myself

I will behave myself

Will he be drinking?

That question is answered when he takes a step towards the table, stepping behind it. He picks up a plastic cup and, playing bartender, asks.

“So, what can I get you?”

***

“Mixology is pretty much the same as any other kind of chemistry,” Spencer explains, gesturing with the hand that’s holding his cup and swilling the liquid, “It’s about balancing the right components to get the combination you want. A lot of the recipes call for more alcohol than is strictly necessary for the flavour they provide. Usually the other elements of the drink are designed to bring out the flavour or mask it, depending on what alcohol you’re using. Almost always you want to mask the taste of vodka, but tequila you try to balance it out.”

Spencer is leant on the desk next to you, rambling, having been allowed to be in charge of making everybody’s drinks over the past couple of hours.

Sipping the concoction he’s made you, you have to admit he’s done a pretty good job.

He clearly agrees, since he’s consumed more than a couple himself. He’s just tipsy enough to push at the boundaries of affection, his shoulder pressing against yours, his happy eyes a little glassy. You listen, hanging on every word he says, watching him lick his lips before he continues speaking again.

“That’s why they serve tequila shots with lime and salt.”

“And here I was thinking they were just making it fun for body shots,” Emily cuts in, making Morgan and Penelope laugh.

You see the look on Penelope’s face and intercept her before she can start, “Don’t even think about it.”

“But!”

“No!” You shake your head, “You really think Hotch is going to go for body shots?”

Hotch laughs dryly, taking a sip of the whiskey he’s been nursing, “That’s one I think I’ll refrain from participating in.”

“Fine,” Penelope pouts, “But everybody’s doing pin the tail on the donkey!”

“Pin the tail on the donkey? What are we, 5 years old?” Emily laughs.

You lean in against Spencer, who has been quietly surveying the last few moments. Your fingers slip slightly beneath his buttoned sleeves, coming to rest on his forearm.

“Balance,” You whisper quietly.

He nods, shifting to allow you to lean more closely into him on the desk.

It’s hard not to get distracted by your proximity to him.

It’s only because you’re drunk.

Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good. If you squinted, you might just look like a couple. That’s certainly what it looks like to Dave, who gives you a cursory once over before training his gaze elsewhere. Your heads are almost touching, Spencer is slouching but keeps his neck just stiff enough to avoid resting atop of yours. You’re casually against his body, the two of you strewn across the desk. It looks comfortable, familiar.

It feels comfortable, familiar.

It’s only because you’re drunk.

***

After a singular round of pin the tail on the donkey, during which a blindfolded Emily decided to go rogue and try to pin the tail on the moving-very-quickly-out-of-dodge Hotch, it’s decided the blindfolds will be used for a different purpose.

Trust falls.

Well, not so much trust falls, as you’re each blindfolded and tasked with the challenge of walking across the bullpen without falling. 

“We’ll pair up!” Penelope announces, rubbing her hands together with glee, “Hotch you’re with Rossi, Emily you’re with me, Derek you’re with ____, and Spencer you’re with J.J!”

Oh

You will away the tinge of disappointment that flares in your chest at not having been paired with Spencer. Although, when you look up at him, you swear you can see a similar feeling sitting behind his eyes.

Probably reading too much into it

“Reid has an unfair advantage,” J.J argues, interrupting your thoughts.

“How do I have an unfair advantage?” Spencer asks.

“Eidetic memory,” She replies.

There are murmers of dissent, then Rossi pipes up.

“If you can’t make it across the bullpen you walk everyday without falling, I think you seriously need to consider whether you should be out in the field with a gun.”

Everybody laughs. They laugh more, though, when Rossi falls on his first attempt, crashing into Hotch. The two decide to resign from the game after that. Hotch plays the health and safety card, but privately you think it’s the double whiskeys that have betrayed him.

“You think you can do it?” You ask Spencer.

He smirks, “I could do it in my sleep.”

You shake your head, “Your legs are too long. You’re like Bambi at the best of times, let alone three mai tais in.”

“Two,” He objects, you quirk a brow and he relents, “Fine, three. And a whiskey Rossi gave me which was awful. I drank it fast and then he told me that one glass I’d had would cost $40. Who would pay $40 to drink that voluntarily?”

“Rossi, Hotch, Emily,” You smile, nudging him with your elbow, “And don’t think you’ve distracted me Spence, I’m still betting you fall.”

“You’re betting?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re that confident in my ability to mess up,” He teases.

“Something like that.”

He grins, “You’ll see.”

He takes the blindfold when it’s his turn, smirking at you as he adjusts it onto his face. It’s with a great degree of annoyance that you watch him clear the bullpen in five easy, and somehow very elegant, steps.

“Go Spence!” J.J cheers, her previous displeasure completely forgotten.

“Pretty boy!” Morgan cheers.

Without taking the blindfold off, Spencer tilts his head to exactly where you’re standing, smirking, “You wanna go next, ____?”

It’s hard not to visibly react to what his cockiness does to you.

You swallow, “Fine. Give it here.”

***

You move your feet confidently one in front of the other. After almost a year of walking the bullpen, you’re pretty certain you can get across it unscathed. You even remember to swing your hip to the right to miss the Santa gnome gone fishing currently hanging off Derek’s desk. In doing so, however, you manage to get yourself all caught up.

With a single step, you feel yourself slipping, arms flailing and managing to catch on to absolutely nothing. You panic.

"Spencer!"

"Spencer?!"

Spencer.

You recognise the feeling of his hands steadying you at your waist. He pulls you against his body, tucking your outstretched arm into him to steady you. You vaguely register Derek’s amused chuckle from behind you.

“I got you,” Spencer says, “Stay still, I’ll take the blindfold off.”

His hands gently slide up your cheeks, lifting it with care to avoid yanking on your hair. He pulls it up and away from your head smoothly.

The lights are dizzyingly bright. You blink rapidly, allowing your eyes to adjust on the face of the slightly concerned, slightly amused looking Spencer hovering above you. His left hand lingering against your cheek. You forget yourself entirely, lost in the intimacy of his touch, barely daring to blink in case it’s gone.

“Mistletoe!” Penelope cackles with glee, breaking your reverie.

“What?” You ask.

Spencer looks up. You follow his gaze, seeing the strategically placed mistletoe. In guiding you to safety, Spencer had walked right into Penelope’s trap.

Oh.

Derek teases something, underscored by a quip from Emily that has them both in hysterics. Neither you or Spencer are really listening.

He’s already so close to you. The pressure of his hand on your cheek starting to make you flush with warmth. His thumb strokes downwards, over your cheekbone. You tilt yourself a little towards him. Trying desperately to act casual, but ultimately failing miserably. His breath fans over your face, smelling faintly of rum and lime.

“Not like this,” He whispers, so quiet that only you can possibly hear him.

He presses a kiss to your cheek instead.

Fuck.

“Very exciting stuff guys,” Emily chirps.

Vaguely, you’re aware of J.J admonishing her, Rossi’s eyes studying you, Derek’s laughter, Penelope’s squeal of delight that someone had finally fallen into her trap.

Your heart thumps in your chest, and you wonder if it’s loud enough for Spencer to hear. From the way he swallows thickly, stepping back with a degree of caution and a look of a deer caught in the headlines, you think it probably was.

Fuck.

What did he mean not like this?

***

After the mistletoe debaccle, the party starts to die down a little. Hotch makes an excuse to leave, shortly followed by Rossi.

You stick around for a little while longer, devoting most of your time to the decidedly tipsy Penelope who’s hanging off Derek’s arm. The mood is nice, actually, a welcome change from the tense atmosphere that often clouds the bullpen, and its occupants wherever in the US they may be.

It’s a little after 1am when you decide to make your exit.

“Do you want to share an Uber?” You ask Spencer, gripping onto his elbow as he walks past.

“Yeah! I was planning on taking the metro but you’ll be safer in an Uber.”

“Are you...sharing it with me?” You ask, feeling a little awkward at having to repeat the request for clarification. The tipsiness you’d initially felt has started to wear off; it leaves both tiredness and an odd shyness in its place.

“Oh no! Of course!” He smiles, grabbing his satchel from where it’s slung over the back of his chair, “We’ll get them to drop you off first, then me.”

***

The wait for the Uber is silent, but not uncomfortable. You loll against Spencer, comfortable in the quiet. The only sounds to be heard of keys as various other agents leave the building. It’s easy to tell which are coming from the grind of the paperwork and which are coming from their own parties. You’d like to attribute it to a years worth of profiling experience but the tinsel around Jerry from White Collar Crimes’ neck is a tad on the nose.

You don’t speak until it arrives, climbing in and closing the door. Clicking your seatbelt into place.

“Sorry about embarassing us before,” You say, purposely being ambiguous.

He squints at you for a moment before opening his mouth, “You mean calling for me when you fell?”

“Yeah,” You say,

“You didn’t embarass me,” He says, quiet, “It was nice actually. Nobody’s ever called for me when they’ve been in trouble before.”

“What do you mean?”

“I uh, I guess I’m not the most athletic. People usually go to Morgan if they need some kind of physical help. It was nice. That you wanted me. Even if you are drunk.”

“I’d have asked for you sober,” You admit.

He squints in response, and you continue, “I trust you Spence. I trust you to always have my back in the field, to protect me. I’d trust you with my life. I mean, of course I’d trust any one of the others, the team wouldn’t work otherwise. But,” You trail off, a little embarassed.

“But it’s different.”

“Yeah. Like you’re the person I’m closest to I guess. In the almost year I’ve been here, we’ve worked together the most. I think I have the best working relationship with you. If ever there was a crisis, I’d want you. Even if the crisis is me tripping on my own shoelaces while blindfolded.”

You both laugh at that. It’d be easy to succumb to a comfortable silence again, let the moment fizzle out.

“I think the same about you,” He says, his voice cracks a little with the sincerity, “Whenever anything goes wrong. You’re the person I want to talk to.”

You move your hand forward to close the gap between you two, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it, “I’m really glad we have each other Spence.”

“Even when I beat you?” The playful glint in his eye is back.

“Even when you beat me.”

“If I remember correctly, and I usually do, you actually owe me for losing the bet.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you said ‘I’m still betting you fail.’“

You smile, “We never agreed what we were betting.”

“We didn’t.”

"So what do you want as your prize then, Rudolph?”

“Rudolph?” He laughs a little, incredulously.

“Well I called you Bambi before and obviously you’ve proved you’re more talented, I needed to pick a respectably agile deer.”

“Rudolph was known for his nose, not his agility.”

“The song says he guided the sleigh Spence, he couldn’t have done that if he wasn’t agile.”

He shakes his head at you, “He was just in charge of the lights.”

“Did they or did they not get around the world safely?”

“The song never clarifies that.”

“It’d be a little dark for them to kill off Rudolph.”

“Probably why they didn’t include it in the song.”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes, “Well anytime you decide to stop nitpicking my compliments and decide what you want as your prize is fine by me, honestly.”

He smiles, obviously having decided to answer you sincerely. You study him as he, presumably weighs up his options, his teeth momentarily catching his plush lower lip. You swear you see his eyes flicker to your mouth. But then you blink, and he’s studying you thoughtfully.

Just wishful thinking

"Caramel,” He settles on.

"Caramel?”

“Last year I went to this coffee shop and I got their festive caramel coffee. It was amazing. But they only did it that one year, they gave me the recipe for the syrup but...” He trails off, looking embarassed, and when he speaks again his voice is quieter, “I kept burning it. I had a thermometer but I couldn’t get the temperature quite right.”

"You want me to make you caramel syrup for coffee? Mixologist skills don’t extend quite that far?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead pressing his lips together in a thin line. Almost as if he’s worried for your reaction.

You're quick to follow yourself up, “Well I’d be happy to give it a try, but I think I’ll need somebody to taste test it. Make sure I’m getting it right.”

He grins, “I’m probably a better taste taster than maker.”

“Well, we’re off for a few days, assuming we don’t get any cases. You’re at Ethan’s for Christmas, right? When are you back?”

“The 27th. But I’m going to visit my mom over new years, so I’m leaving again on the 30th.”

You nod, “Well, how about the 28th?”

“The 28th sounds good.”

It’s impossibly good (bad) timing that the Uber pulls up outside your building.

“Well I’ll look forward to it,” You say, undoing your seatbelt.

“Me too.”

There’s a silence. Not uncomfortable, but definitely not like the one earlier.  Your eyes linger on one another, almost cautious. There’s a buzz in the air, one that can't quite be attributed to alcohol.

Ask him what he meant by not like this

No

Ask him

“This your place?” The Uber driver asks, clicking his tongue with a degree of impatience.

“Yeah,” You reply, nodding. Reluctantly, you push open the car door, turning your head over your shoulder to look at Spencer as you depart.

His mouth hangs open a little, words seeming to play across his lips. Not making them out of his mouth. The driver clears his throat, and you throw him an apologetic glance. Spencer’s Uber rating will be in the toilet after this.

Good job he takes the Metro.

"Have a good Christmas Spence,” You say, wondering if he can tell. Wondering if he can sense how badly you want to stay, to let this Uber drive you around the backstreets of Virginia. They’re not particularly pretty. But there isn’t much you wouldn’t do just to spend time with him. You’d even allow yourself to promise caramel syrup you know you’ll butcher.

If he knows, the wistful look in his eyes doesn’t betray it.

“Have a good Christmas, _____.”

---

Next part: C is for Caramel

Series tagslist: @altsvu @reidingmelodies @muffin-cup @reidscanehand @bvttercupbby @jessicarabbit09 @lukewearingbeanies @lady-anon-x @aperrywilliams @southsidemistress @a-broken-pact @jjongs-tae-and-biscuits @reidsnose

(message me/reply to this to be added or removed!)

[recurring-polynya]

Do you think Renji, Orihime, and Chad ever swap recipes? I can't decide if Renji is more like "oh man your tortilla soup is the best I could never do justice I don't even know where you get fresh limes" or "I spent fifty years of my life pursuing an impossible goal to hook up with Rukia and she REALLY likes this soup so ORA ORA ORA". I don't even know what an Orihime and Chad collab would look like and I crave your hot take on the matter.

Wow, okay, I hope you wanted a novel on my Six Hearts Gang Food Prep Headcanons, because that's what you're getting. .

Quick answer: Of course they swap recipes, the Karakura kids have an entire recipes channel on their Discord (or Line or whatever they use)

Here is a cut for the sake of everyone's dash:

So let us start off with an overview of everyone's cooking styles:

There are many hills I am willing to die on, and one of them is that Orihime is not a bad cook. There are two things that are very important to understand:

- Orihime loves flavors, the more flavors the better

- Orihime is not afraid to experiment

I am constantly reading fanfics where Orihime makes trash and feeds people trash, oblivious to their rude reactions and it makes me want to flip a table every time. In canon, mostly what we see is Orihime cooking for herself and occasionally offering someone a bite of her weird lunch, which they politely refuse. The one time I recall her cooking for others was the time she made Matsumoto and Hitsugaya dinner while they were staying with her. Matsumoto gushes over how good her cooking is (Hitsugaya doesn't have any, but he also refuses to come inside, so I'm not sure that's a judgment on Orihime's cooking) and Orihime laments that no one ever wants to eat what she cooks. Also, keep in mind that Orihime is a teen at this point, and it's highly doubtful she had anyone teach her to cook (Sora ran away from home himself at 18). I think Rukia and Renji will also eat literally anything happily, and they love Orihime's cooking, too. Over time, the other Karakura kids start eating her cooking out of their love for her and find that a) it's not actually bad, some of her wild combos are amazing actually, and b) she starts keeping track of what her friends like and dislike and starts tailoring her cooking to their preferences. Like, when Ichigo discusses the things they eat at home, it’s literally like he’s from another dimension, but he’s just used to it, it’s normal.

Chad was taught to cook by his grandfather, who I think Cooked Like a Bachelor. Chad has a small stable of classic Mexican dishes that he can make, and a lot of it is mix and match proteins and sauces, etc. He never measures anything. Every one of these meals is an absolute banger. He can also do some related cuisines, like he can make marinara sauce, but he just doesn’t vibe with Japanese cooking generally, the flavor profiles just don’t match his instincts. It’s fine, though, because that’s what Uryuu is most comfortable with (they are married in this headcanon, not-sorry). Uryuu owns a lot of books about the chemistry of cooking and talks a lot about umami and tenderizing connective tissue and stuff like that. They once took a French cooking class together for 🌹romance🌹 and had a lot of fun.

Ichigo is actually a reasonably competent cook! Orihime likes to do it, and it works out for their household, but he happily fills in when she’s busy or just needs a break. He’s not very fancy about it, but he can definitely throw together a decent meal; the family joke is that (boxed) curry is his specialty. He is also a very good sous chef, and is always willing to chop veggies or stir a thing on the stove, mostly because he’s just likes to hang out with his wife. 

Renji cooks like one of those dudes that you sometimes see videos of, slinging noodles in an Asian open-air market somewhere. He does everything extremely quickly, on some inner rhythm. Everyone except Rukia is always afraid to talk to him while he’s cooking out of the fear that he’ll chop off his own finger, but Renji’s brain and body operate entirely independently. Renji owns one cookbook, which he only consults when he is trying to make something he never has before. He does not use recipes. He has a bedraggled notebook that contains the most arcane and minimalistic notes possible, like an onion-to-meat ratio, or a single ominous statement like “if smoke comes out of it, start over”.

Rukia does not cook, unless you count the time she set Ichigo’s microwave on fire (he does not). If Renji is off on a mission or otherwise indisposed, Byakuya sends over care packages. It’s always enough food for about six people. Sometimes Renji has already cooked ahead for her. Rukia loves when this happens.

On to collaboration:

There is a small amount of recipe swapping: Chad’s mole sauce hits Orihime’s taste aesthetic perfectly, and Ichigo is gonzo for it, so he taught her how to make it. Chad will also straight up make gigantic batches of sauces and give some to the Kurosakis in exchange for bread-seconds. Orihime invented a surprisingly tasty, Ponyo-inspired concoction that’s sort of a clam chowder with ham enters the Sado-Ishida meal rotation in the winter months. Uryuu often puts “easy weeknight meals” in the Discord and everyone knows they’re for Ichigo.

Their real strength in invention and troubleshooting. Whenever someone is workshopping a new recipe or has a project start to go south, everyone will jump in to help. As I said earlier, Uryuu is very knowledgeable on the principles of cooking. Chad is extremely good at salvaging disasters with the proper application of condiments. Orihime has a vast reservoir of knowledge-gained-from-disaster. Her advice often sounds insane (you need to ADD a RAW EGG) but it works miracles. Orihime also knows a ton about baking. Ichigo may not have much to add, but he is extremely quick with a fire extinguisher. 

Now we come to the question of Renji. Renji’s entire culinary oeuvre is built around “things Rukia likes.” Of course, he is going to try to replicate his friends cooking, but as you say, the peculiarities of Soul Society make these things difficult. Many of the foodstuffs that the Karakura kids are used to buying come in convenient, packaged or frozen formats. Renji can sometimes find the equivalent, but then he has to figure out what to do with it. Soul Society vegetables sometimes taste radically different from the ones in the Living World, because they are different varietals. (Byakuya’s favorite bananas are probably Gros Michels, rather than Cavendish, for ex). Some things are just straight-up unavailable. Renji does his best, with feedback from Rukia. Sometimes he achieves Good Enough, sometimes he just has to give up. He has successfully replicated a large number of Living World condiments, which is honestly what Rukia cares about the most.

When the Karakura kids found out that he does this, though, they got extremely invested in trying to adapt their own recipes for the Soul Society grocery situation. For example, Chad didn’t used to bother making his own tortillas from scratch, but in the course of teaching Renji, he realized it wasn’t as bothersome as he remembered, and the results were worth the effort. At first, they were also very concerned about Renji’s lack of modern appliances, like a food processor or a mixer, but it turns out that Renji’s knife skills and bicep strength tend to make up for it. The real MVP of this effort is Uryuu, who got so into historic food that he started a YouTube channel about Edo Era cooking, that is half historical research and half stuff Renji tells him. Soul Society is not actually historic though, it’s just weird, so there have been a couple of episodes where Uryuu says something absolutely insane on camera. Many of his viewers suspect he is actually a time traveler from an alternate reality.

Renji is so grateful for the help, and he’s a little embarrassed because he can’t really reciprocate (no one wants to learn how to cook labor-intensive, bizarro Soul Society food), but he will mix up some pickles for anyone who wants them whenever he’s in the World of the Living. He considers this pretty basic kitchen stocking, but the Karakura kids are obsessed with Renji-pickles and will go crazy for them. He’s even gone to the trouble of writing down how to make them, but it’s not the same. Orihime insists this is because he is a ghost and is therefore somewhat preserved himself. Rukia says it’s because he probably doesn’t actually follow his own instructions.

[ystel]

To Be a Seccie: A short story set in tanlariewis

The year is 1910. In the corner of the room, a small bedroom in the Gfiewgjknsiorjgiostanian town of tanlariewis, an elderly man is sitting on the chair, hair white and hands wrinkled, looking out of the window. Aside from his chair and a simple bed made fom pine wood the room is full with books and clothes that were in fashion during imperial times, decades ago.

Downstairs, his family is celebrating the day of the republic, the revolution that overthrew royal tyranny in 1852, but he can't bring himself to join them. This day brings it all back, the memories, and much more. He sees it as a twisted way of practicing hak, honoring the memory of the past.

A teenager appears in the doorframe.

"Grandpa, why don't you come downstairs? Are you afraid the seccies will turn up again to complain? We will sing quietly, closed the curtains and my sister cashed in a favor with a town hall clerk. No department will bother us today."

His grandfather doesn't even turn to look to him, still sitting there, silently.

– "Well, at least it's not the imperial Security officials we have to worry about anymore. Those seccies seemed to have been really scary. So, are you coming?"

For a moment, not a sound is audible in the room, except for some birds singing outside. They are interrupted when the man finally speaks up.

"Sorry, young patriot. I would really want to spend time with you and everyone else, I just ... have some things to do. A few tasks to complete."

– "On our country's rebirth day? Even I got off today... and I work in the chemistry manufactory. We are never short of work. There's this new 'factory' they are building in Dillariewis and..."

"I promise you I could meet you next freeday."

– "But then I'm going to my meetup at the temple for people who hear voices... The old tradition of listening to the voices of spirits, you know. They are really nice there and I don't want to disappoint everyone waiting for me, so I can't just skip it. I recently learned it goes all the way back to the first king who founded the first temples!"

He pauses, the momentary bout of enthusiasm quickly disappearing when he saw his grandfather wasn't smiling as normally when hearing his grandson talk.

"The first king ..." the elderly man repeats and then mutters under his breath: "Darn Brotanoda, you caused this all. You thought you needed an army to control not just the land and the bodies of the people, but also their minds... When you believe your destiny is to be above all else it's no surprise you begin to see everyone as an enemy, with even the voices in your head becoming paranoid."

– "Grandfather, what are you murmuring there? At least tell me what's wrong. Is it because of your experiences with the Department during the revolution that you never seem happy on this day? Why have you never talked about them anyway? Is it because you don't trust–"

"No, no, it's just not a nice story to tell children, that's all. In fact, it's a rather depressing tale, as everything involving the so-called Department of Security. But I guess you're old enough now, and since you want to hear it so much..."

– "Can it really be worse than the things I already heard in temple school when I was small, or that co-workers sometimes tell me about?"

"It's just very personal and might make you feel ... conflicted. I'm sorry."

– "But why would you be sorry ... What would you have to be sorry about?"

The grandfather doesn't speak at first, instead answering with a hug. After a moment of hesitation, he speaks up again.

"Nothing. Just that I couldn't avoid telling you. And for what I'm about to show you. Let's go outside."

– "But the celebration–"

"It shouldn't take long."

A short trip down the memory lane

They leave the bedroom, move past the festive table with buckwheat pancake casserole ("an old royal recipe, too good to be just left to them" according to the grandmother in the house) decorated with tiny flagpoles and pots with seedlings in them, and enter their garden, surrounded on all sides by colorful walls as almost all gardens are in town. There are several flower and vegetable beds, but the dominating feature is a single fir tree in the middle. It is decorated with ribbons, family memorabilia and medallions with photos in them.

The man puts a hand on the shoulder of his grandson. "Our ancestor tree shows us the past as we like to remember it. Our proudest achievements and values. But you need to keep in mind it's not all there is to our past for every one of us. There's always a lot you'd like to not think about or forget." The grandson is silent, eyes drifting to various spots on the tree. Some show him as a small child, running around. He can't do that anymore, not since a few years.

"Now, since you wanted to see that past, too, let me show you it."

They walk through the creaking green portal connecting their home with the outside world. The street they're standing on now is small, a residential neighborhood. Walled gardens of various sizes and colors line it on both sides.

To the left, and the city would eventually give way to lush buckwheat fields, supplying the many watermills in the industrial part of town at the river.

To the right lays the way to the center of the city, with several high-rises looming in the distance, nearest of them the Department of Security headquarter building, a centuries-old impressive, tall structure made of brickstones with a large tower at one end and smaller domes at the other, surrounded by smaller houses and colorful walls shielding an extraordinary large yard that made the complex resemble a fortress.

Closer to the two, near a street crossing and a bus stop, is a graveyard. One the elderly man is walking to, holding the hand of his grandson tightly.

"It was on the day news reached the town, much smaller at the time, that the monarchy had been deposed and the king had fled the country. With no telegraph lines, road blockades all over the country and the Deparment putting the town under lockdown, it was delayed by almost a week." He takes a deep breath.

"The Department might not have been the official government, but everyone knew they were the ones pulling all the strings. It wasn't even a secret. Being a royal agency meant they only answered to the king, and some were convinced even that wasn't true, that it was more the other way round."

A moment of silence follows that the teenager does not dare to break, letting his grandfather continue.

A fight of fears

"I was your age then, working as a clerk in a seamstress store, your grandmother's. When the Department realized their source of legitimation was gone and their existence possibly threatened, they were suddenly scared for probably the first time in their history.

The lockdown was tightened, a curfew enacted and gunmen were put in front of the walls of their complex. Those weren't blue and white at the time, in fact almost none in town were. They were grey, and like the gunmen meant to protect the only security the Department really cared about: its own."

Standing in front of them is the portal to the local graveyard, large and imposing, painted black and with ornate depictions of the deity of chaos and misfortune, part of a duo that keeps the world in balance.

"The gunmen weren't just shielding their already nigh-impenetrable fortress. They tried to control the entire larger perimeter around it, and were so patroling the streets up until this crossing, even watching the sky in expectation of an attack from a balloon. Or maybe they expected celestial forces to strike them down and thought that they could take on those, too.

Hubris had always been their main source of power, whereas I like many other people in this town would want to say we preferred spite. In reality, it was often anxiety that kept us going.

We didn't even know who was all part of the department. All we knew that anyone could be pressed into 'service' at any point, and if that happened, you couldn't talk about it, or you wouldn't see daylight in this country again."

He pushes the portal open, which opens inaudibly. The entire area in front of and behind it is spotless, with the portal itself having recently gotten a new coat of paint. The city is clearly making sure this place is being kept in good shape.

"Many who could had started carrying weapons, if they hadn't already. I was among them. Mostly just simple, very old weapons, from past eras. We knew they were no match to the cutting-edge technology of the department, I guess we just didn't want to go down with no fight. All the old ideas of honor that for better or worse have disappeared now, like the blue skies of this town that vanished behind all the factory smoke." the elderly man continued after a moment.

– "Were you in a confrontation with the sekkies? And I thought my encounter was bad enough. I had a friend who liked to listen in to the telegraph wires of their headquarters, but one day we were busted and while tried to keep them from arresting her, they were too much for me and broke my legs.

I couldn't walk for so many months, but during my stay in the hospital I began to hear her voice in my head, she kept talking to me and building me up again every day, until I eventually had recovered and could go home." He smiled softly.

"I never saw her again, as she was apparently moved to a prison far away, but I know she's still keeping an eye on me with the help of a spirit. It's something I like to talk about at my meetup."

His grandfather put a hand on him, smiling back. “With young people as brave as you, there’s really some hope for this country.”

But the smile became a frown as soon as the man answered the question he had been asked.

"I was in a confrontation, yes. Having been a hunter in my free time, I had hoped it could prepare me a bit. But that was wrong. Very wrong. Nothing had ever been like walking outside that night, anxious, expecting the worst, wishing I could simply be in bed already."

They reach the graveyard market, mostly deserted aside from a lonely stand of an elderly lady selling flowers. It is evident she had no other place to go, even today.

The man bought some gorse and buckwheat flowers, not exchanging a single word with her in the process, and then moved on.

"Even walking with  a co-worker was terrifying. All the department officials on that day were armed. Their guns were the best in the country, not even the military had managed to obtain these newest expensive overseas models. What if it came to a confrontation? And then it did."

He pauses for a sigh.

"We were almost at the crossing, coming from the direction of the city center, when I spotted someone running to us from the right. He was armed, with a crossbow, and shouted something, still coming closer.

We tried to stop him, and he did freeze, but after a moment I realized he was preparing to shoot, but by then it was too late and he had already fired it twice in my direction. The person at my side must have noticed me being dazed for a split second and threw themselves in front of me. Two crossbow bolts hit her in the chest, one into her heart. She died almost immediately."

The man is shaking in his entire body now, reliving the scene in his head, turning silent and trying to focus just on walking, face distorted in pain.

– "Grandpa! Are you okay?

"Y-yes. Sorry, it's the age." It wasn't a total lie. If it weren't for his age, he wouldn't have lived through any of this.

"The sight was grisly. The blood. The death. The weapon. I had no emotion or thought left in me at the moment but rage. A burst of adrenaline made me fire at the man standing some feet away from me and my hunting experience finally seemed to come in useful. I shot him. He dropped dead on the spot."

Ways of remembering and ways of forgetting

They were entering a part of the graveyard dedicated to the victims of the 1852 revolution, with many plaques naming the people who had died at the hands of royal forces.

"But... but as soon as the adrenaline had dissipated I was simply horrified. At the same time, my mind immediately began to rationalize and justify this taking of a life. It was like I was stuck between the fronts in a war that took place entirely in my head.

And to be honest, it never really ended. There have been what I call armistices, when your father was born, when he married your mother, and then when you came into this world. It's all calmer then, but I still carry it with me and something can always bring it back fast."

His grandson just looked down.

– "So... that's why. Why you were sitting alone today." He hugs the man, eyes welling up, and just mutters "I'm sorry."

"Don't be" he answers. "This is my battle to fight. And I brought it upon myself."

A few more steps past blooming trees and they reach a small pavillon with a single grave altar in it.

"In living memory of the anonymous hero of tanlariewis, who held off Imperial Department officials trying to go to the city government fortress to prevent the state chancellor from signing the surrender document to the republican forces.

Died at the hand of a Department Street Patrol." the grandson read the writing on it.

The grandfather puts down the flowers on top of the altar.

"There. That's most of my tasks done."

– "Oh. Are you coming here every year to pay homage to the heroes of the revolution? Was this maybe the one that saved your life?"

"No. That's the person I shot."

The man looks at the altar and then into the distance, the clear sky.

"Now I just need to think of a way to honor the woman who I was on patrol duty with, since Department employees that never renounced their membership don't get burials here. Or anywhere."

(Image source: taken by the author)