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lon3lystarr · 4 days ago

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honey…don’t feed it, it will come back.

•paring: remmick x fem!reader

•summary: the pale moon light shined brightly, illuminating the shadows hidden deep within the tall corn fields, the hot air of mississippi was uncontrollable and uncomfortable but nothing felt more uneasy than the three firm knocks that cut through the still night.

•warning(s): vampirism, blood, manipulation,physical affection, setting is around the 1930s, cursing, the use of y/n, y/n is in her early 20’s, y/n lives alone, hints to dead mom, y/n is a little stupid but this is fiction so it’s whatever, a lot of flirty name calling from remmick, remmick might be a little soft in this <3, just a little smutty;))

•a/n: yeah i needed to write about remmick, he’s just so hot and my new hyper fixation. writing this while listening to “it will come back” by hozier :)).

likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! <3

the sunday morning sun was unbearable. there wasn’t any wind, there wasn’t any shade, there wasn’t any clouds in the vibrant blue sky to provide any shelter from the scolding hot rays the sun kissed upon mississippi. this wasn’t new to y/n, the slow hot suffocating heat embracing her sweat covered form while she did her daily routine, sweeping and mopping the house from the inside then out to the front porch, washing her soiled clothes and hanging them to dry on the thin laundry line, tending to the tall corn fields her mama left her making sure the field was healthy and ripe enough to sell for the folks in town, then preparing dinner all alone in her old creaky home. y/n’s days were selfsame, doing the chores she has done since her early years of living then winding down for the night, humming the old lullabies her mama used to sing to her throughout the quiet nights.

until something in the air shifted

something felt different today

y/n felt uneasy when she woke, the thick morning air was the same as yesterday and the day before that but something deep within y/n’s bones told her today wasn’t the same as all the time, maybe it was the lack of the birds singing and chirping, maybe it was the disgustingly hot air she breathed in or maybe it was the exhaustion that ate away at her every passing day, either way y/n knew if she didn’t attend her chores then no one will. she pushed off her thick wool bed as the wooden bed frame groaned under her weight and walked to the bucket of clean water to wash away the sleep from her sluggish face then she started her day.

sweeping and mopping, washing her clothes that were soiled from the amount of sweat and dirt clinging onto them, pinning those clothes on the laundry line behind the chipped painted house, tending to the towering corn fields as her hands cramped up from the heavy labor, then by sunset she headed back to the empty lifeless home to finally fill her empty stomach. the sun still shined casting purple-pink hues in the sky as y/n made a fire big enough to cook all the food at once, cornbread, sweet potatoes, and field peas was the meal she decided to cook for the night. the sound of crickets rang out and filled the quietness which helped drown out y/n’s intrusive �� thoughts, the thoughts that she wouldn’t dare say out loud, the growing despair she felt in her heart was becoming intolerable, she never thought this was the life she would be living, the same tired routine over and over again, the silence in this empty lonely house, her years withering away, happiness and enthusiasm drained from her once lively soul, the lack of passion in her life caused all these feelings to bubble to the surface, it was miserable.

by sundown y/n finished her meal and got ready for bed, she peeled off her dirt covered clothes and replaced them with her lightweight flowy white nightgown that was a hand-me-down it only reached just over her knees, she brushed and wrapped her frizzy hair then headed to her room she left earlier today, her aching limbs cracked and popped when she stretched them out then throwing her limp body onto the mattress and waited for the tiredness to hug around her, finally getting the rest she so desperately needed.

but rest didn’t come, y/n stared at the ceiling with her eyebrows pulled together in discomfort, the same feeling from before came back, the unsettling and uncomfortable tension heavy in the night air, the crickets stopped singing, the moonlight dimmed and the air still sticky and hot. y/n tossed and turned in her bed and shut her eyes tightly, hoping sleep will catch her like prey to predator but that was unsuccessful so she sat up and stared out of her window to watch the night sky, the night sky was the only thing giving her peace, giving her tranquility, giving her harmony-

knock. knock. knock

three firm knocks cut through the air, the moment of calmness and silence immediately vanished, now the same uncertainty and uncomfortable feeling returned. who would be knocking on her door at this time of night? y/n stayed seated on her bed, unmoving, maybe the person outside of her door would assume she was asleep and leave but that wasn’t a good plan. three more firm knocks rang out followed by a masculine voice “hello? is anyone home? please help me i’ve been hurt” the desperation muffled behind the door “please i won’t be much of a bother! i just need a little of ya assistance” the voice said as y/n got closer to the door, wary and uncertain “how are you hurt?” y/n asked, her palm pressed against the door, adding a little more security and support to the old door “i was walking from the pub and i wasn’t lookin’ at my surroundings, i ended up cuttin’ my arm on a nasty ole poll..” the voice explained, sounding a little closer, a little more quieter “well sir i won’t be much help, i wasn’t gifted with the ability to heal anyone back to health” y/n replied, the feeling of uneasy growing bigger in her chest “well darlin’ i promise ya a place to rest my head would be more than enough” the tenderness in the male’s voice outside pulled at the heartstrings of y/n softly, feeling needed was something y/n didn’t know she was able to feel in a long time it was a little selfish to feel this way or even stupid but fuck, did it feel nice. y/n slowly turned the cold metal doorknob making the old door squeak open revealing the male in front of it, standing on y/n’s porch was a handsome, muscular man with brown short sweaty hair, his dark eyes connected to her’s immediately“well aren’t ya a beauty, didn’t expect that face” said the taller male in front of her, making a new emotionto erupt, it felt like heat in her stomach and her heart skipped a little from his words “i’m remmick, what’s your name dolly?” asked remmick, a smirk painted on his chapped pink lips as his accent seemed more thicker now that there wasn’t a barrier between them “i’m y/n” she replied in a hushed manner “hmmm y/n, just rolls off the tongue. leaves a little sweet taste” remmick said, husky and sly leaning against the door frame, he lifted up his left arm and the nasty cut showed, the skin around it was red and raw while the blood dried up and crusted over “that sure does look painful, washing that wound would be best” y/n said, still focused on the long cut on his pale white skin “why don’t ya let me in and we can get this taken care of” remmick smiled a reassuring smile, y/n stood there thinking of the situation she’s now in, this attractive stranger needed help and a place to stay in the middle of the night…this wasn’t good…the choice she was about to make wasn’t the smartest at all but maybe doing a good deed for someone in need could break the curse of feeling unwanted, unneeded, useless every waking hour “alright, come in” y/n said, moving a little to the right to allow remmick to past by and enter into the candle lit house, the aroma that slapped y/n as the male walk by was intoxicating, the smell of sweetness like a ripe juicy berry mixed with the tangy smell of his sweat that covered his firm frame

“what a beautiful house, are you livin’ all alone here?” he asked, his eyes glued to her face, scanning her features that shined with the yellow-orange candle light “yes, my mama passed away a couple of years ago. leaving me to take care of the house and the corn fields” y/n stated, her voice still low and airy “my condolences dolly. you’ve done a fine job maintaining everything. must be stressful on a sweet little thing like you huh?” remmick said, his voice sweet and kind “time to time, being on my lonesome is quite the hassle but i manage” y/n replied truthfully walking to the same bucket she used to wash away her tiredness this morning, sitting across him in a shorter chair “sweet thing like you shouldn’t manage. you should be taken care of, loved upon, cherished and protected from the evil in this world.” remmick stated, stern and serious as he sat on the old dusty wooden rocking chair “well some of us aren’t as lucky” y/n said, softly tending to the wound on his arm. while she carefully rinsed off the dried up blood she noticed something..strange…the cut wasn’t as big as before, actually it seemed like there wasn’t a cut there at all, the only evidence was the blood that was now tinted the water red “i can free you. i can free your poor soul from the long lonely days you live, finally feelin’ freedom that’s the thing you wanted to feel since ya mama passed on, isn’t it?” remmick whispered, softly pulling her in like a siren to a fisherman “don’t ya want want to break free from all that baggage?” remmick egged on, his powdery white hand gently caressing y/n’s cheek, soothing her from any doubt or fear “how? i can’t be free…i ain’t never gonna be…i’ve been trapped in a loop for years” y/n shook her head, defeat heavy on her heart “no no honey, don’t say that, don’t give up on me now. i promise i can make ya feel better, i can make all those nasty feelings disappear in a blink of an eye” remmick said, his hot palms on each sides of her face, brushing his thumb against her soft lashes.

remmick and y/n gazed at one another, time was still and the tension was heavy. both didn’t speak another word nor didn’t move a muscle, too scared to ruin this moment. seconds ticked by with them still so close to one another, breathing in each other’s aroma, feeling the body heat of each other “this may be ill mannered but i wanna steal a kiss for you sweetheart” remmick said, his eyes still gazing into y/n’s, a smirk on his appetizing lips “why just one? steal as many as ya want” y/n said, a groan deep in her throat “hmmm careful dolly, you might not handle what you let in” remmick moaned out, softly caressing y/n’s hot cheek and his lips kissing against the soft skin of her neck, sensually kissing and licking the exposed skin, tasting and savoring the flavorful flesh gradually kissing up to her impatient lips, their lips danced against each other in sync, it was slow and sensual “honey i gotta taste more, wanna give me more baby?” asked remmick, gripping y/n’s hips firmly and strongly, y/n nodded obediently “yeah i know you wanna give me more” remmick teased, his deep voice made y/n’s heart jump with excitement, this was such a new and addictive feeling.

remmick kissed her neck and the spot he once abused down to her exposed chest then to her soft stomach “god, baby i can’t wait to taste ya, need to clench my thirst” remmick groaned out, squeezing and squishing y/n’s thighs like he was needing bread, greedy and hungry “remmick please” y/n begged impatiently “please? fuck, i love a pretty lady with manners” remmick’s husky voice became muffled from kissing y/n’s soft plush thighs, his knees thumping against the wooden floor,the brown haired male slowly kissing closer to the area that ached the most for his attention.

his soft lips finally latching onto her achy pearl, y/n gasped at the feelings, her hand immediately flying to his short soft hair, guiding his head to where she wanted him most, moaning and crying out as remmick licking and slurping up all the tangy slick that seeped and gushed out “mmmhmm just like that sweetheart, keep cryin’ out for me” remmick groaned, wrapping his masculine hands on y/n’s hips “remmick please! oh god please, right there” y/n cried out, bumping her hips against his eager hot wet lips “i want ya to be with me, if i make you cum, you’re mine dolly” remmick moaned out, gently grazing his teeth against y/n’s soft pearl, y/n jumped a little with a sharp gasp “yes! yes! i’m yours! please remmick!” y/n begged and pleaded, mind mushy and in the clouds with pleasure “that’s what i like to hear, give me what i deserve baby” remmick grinned up at the ruined woman above him then diving back down to his savory meal. his skillful tongue drawing circles around her sensitive and pulsating button while his middle finger gently rubbed her entrance slowly inserting his meaty finger inside, the slippery essence dripped onto his finger and his lips. loud ecstasy, lustful moans bounced off the walls of the old candle lit house, the lewd sounds coming from the slick wet flower remmick was pumping in and out of “hmmm yeah give it to me baby, make me proud, give me what i deserve” remmick’s husky words rang in y/n’s ears, the heat building up in her lower stomach, getting closer and closer to release “re-remmick! oh fuck! mmm please! right there” y/n yelled out with pleasure, dizzy head spinning with thick sin, y/n legs shook aggressively and her frame slumped against the slippery white painted chair, moaning uncontrollable as remmick ruined her. he drank all the nectar that flowed out overstimulating y/n’s abused pearl, y/n whined out and weakly pushed the male from her, still shaking from her release “sorry baby, i had to get every drop outta you” remmick snickered out while caressing her soft flesh, the ripe heated flesh giving off a sweet scent that remmick couldn’t help but take in a deep breath of “fuck you smell sweet…just wanna take a bite” remmick moaned out, gripping y/n’s chin, forcing her to look at him, to look at his glowing red eyes, those red haunting eyes looking deep into her soul “i made you cum honey, you’re mine now” remmick smirked, his sharp knife-like teeth showing, his head dropping to her sweat covered neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her flowing blood “we’d be beautiful together my love. this might pinch a little but it’s so worth it” remmick assured her with such a surgery sweet tone, giving her hope, giving her comfort and warmth, something her heart cried out for years.

everything happened so quickly, one moment the sensation of sharp needle like pain shot through the left side of her neck, hot burning sticky blood oozing out of the open wound then darkness encased her vision. the silence in the house was deafening but it didn’t last long until the loud, panicked gasp was heard from y/n, she felt muscular arms wrapped around her, protecting her, remmick didn’t leave her even when her heart stopped “and she’s awake. welcome back my love. you look as gorgeous as ever” remmick smiled brightly, placing a gentle kiss on the apple of y/n’s cheek, bloody lips leaving a red stain on her cheek “i think it’s my turn for a taste, don’t ya think?” y/n teased, her eyes now red and glowing in the dark room “looks like i created a minx” remmick teased back, biting the plush soft skin of y/n’s bottom lips, moaning in sync with one another quietly “you’re mine sweetheart.” remmick stated, no room for discussion “and you’re mine” y/n replied, her hands running through his soft hair “damn right dolly.” remmick proudly said, pulling her into his warm chest. embracing each other without any worry in the world, the way how it should be. finally at peace, finally feeling worthy and loved, all of remmick.

#my post #sinners 2025 #sinners #jack o'connell #remmick #remmick x reader #i need him #i want to marry this man

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sodapopcurtis-dx-asks · 13 days ago

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DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY DARRY*there's 86 dollars with like 60 cents next to a homemade meal labeled for darry there was chicken and corn and mashed potatoes made with cheese*

Out of the last few papers Two-Bit picked up whilst Soda was busy, this was one of them.

And with one, came three others. All about... rats.

Two-Bit just stared at all four papers confusedly.

“Uh, hey, Soda,” Two-Bit hollered across the DX, Soda had busied himself with sweeping.

“Hmm?” He replied, not glancing up from the floor.

“You didn't forget about later tomorrow morning about bringing Winnie back, right?”

Soda paused. “Well, no. But like– is it due by then or... do I bring her now?”

Two-Bit shrugs. “I remember some sorta meeting being described or whatever.”

“...I could leave and get her, then run to the dumpster maybe?” Soda stood there awkwardly with his broom.

“Uh.. you could give it a shot. Better than doin' it at the crack of dawn.” Two-Bit shrugged. “I'll pick up real fast for ya.” Two-Bit walked over and took the broom from Soda.

Soda wiped his hands off onto his pants and ran over to the counter, grabbing his keys. “Ooookay. Be back in a bit!”

And then there was one left, that being Two-Bit.

Two-Bit collected the items from behind the counter and placed them all down, separating them for each person so Soda could grab them earlier and remember who they all went to. There was... a lot.

#Darry'll be thankful. Looks great! :)#twobit notes bc soda just ran off to go get the rat #rat saga continues #they're goin craaazyyyy #and soda's panicked about the idea of being raided by... rats LMAO #he'll be back quick and fast trust #.. . . probably 💀#anyways

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tomorrowusa · 2 months ago

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Farmers who overwhelmingly supported Trump are now getting screwed by him. With Trump, loyalty is a one way street.

There are 444 counties in the United States classified by the United States Department of Agriculture (is that still around?) as “farming-dependent,” which is defined as counties where either 25% of its earnings come from agriculture, or 16% of the workforce works in farming. Donald Trump won 433 of those counties, with an average vote of 77.7%. Over 100 of them gave Trump 80% or more of their vote.

People who vote for a notorious pathological liar and think he is not lying to them are the biggest fools in politics.

Soybean and corn farmers stand to lose millions of dollars in climate-change-related grants helping them adapt their farms to environmentally friendly practices. In fact, the Inflation Reduction Act had allocated $3.05 billion to help farmers with conservation efforts, which is apparently all gone now. “One project provided assistance to Midwestern farmers to grow organic grains, while another focused on bolstering potato farm operations in Idaho, Washington and Oregon,” reported Reuters. Too bad they voted for “socialism is bad,” conveniently forgetting how dependent they were on socialism. “No one knows what funding will be available or if key programs will have the staff needed to operate,” National Farmers Union President Rob Larew testified at a Senate committee hearing. “Freezing spending and making sweeping decisions without congressional oversight just adds more uncertainty to an already tough farm economy.”

Trump thinks that destroying USAID only affects foreigners. US farmers are actually among the biggest beneficiaries.

Trump’s efforts to kill USAID, a foreign-aid program that feeds hungry people around the world, is costing American farmers billions. For example, the entire Kansas sorghum industry is screwed, which has led to the state’s two Republican senators to jump in support of this government spending, because this is valuable, unlike all the other government spending that doesn’t affect them directly. “The World Food Programme estimated $340 million in U.S. food aid was idled at domestic ports by order of the Trump administration,” reported the Kansas Reflector. “In total, $566 million in U.S.-grown commodities designated for humanitarian purposes was locked down in warehouses throughout the world.” The Food for Peace program bought $2 billion in farm products every year.

Democrats who live in farming regions have a special responsibility to get more politically active on a local level. We don't win elections by preaching to the choirs in deep blue neighborhoods or college towns. And economic issues tend to trump all others.

As Markos wrote...

Honestly, I do hope he and his people are learning from this experience. Most won’t, but all we need is 5-10% to see the light, and the electoral math looks significantly different.

We don't need a "blue wave" on the farms to win elections. All we need is to reduce those Trump percentages from the 75% to 80% level down to the 65% to 70% level.

Making economic sense while doing twice as much listening as talking is an excellent way to get that needle nudged in our direction. And people are still more likely to take seriously something they hear from patient and sensible neighbors than what they see on broligarch media. So what are you waiting for?

#agriculture #farm counties #donald trump #trump is screwing farmers #maga #republicans #usaid #election 2026 #markos moulitsas zúniga #kos

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exhausted-archivist · 2 years ago

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Cookbook Sample Preview...

I'm perfectly normal about this, totally calm. But I noticed on Sunday that the Dragon Age official cookbook had a preview/sample that it didn't have last time I checked. To summarize, it shows the Table of Contents and 7 new preview recipes along with 2 from an earlier sample release. It's basically previews the whole first section "Starters and Refreshments".

I will be putting things under cuts in case people don't wanna see things. From now on and after its release, the tag I will be using for the cookbook if you want to block is #tastes of thedas or #da: tot

I will also be silently combusting inside as I try not to let the excitement amp me up too much. I expect to fail this mission lol. (Spoiler I did fail and have been making my excitement everyone's problem.)

So, the cookbook sample. Amazon had a scrolling preview that wasn't as nice as the spreads so I made them into spreads like we got with the previous six recipes. You can see them here in this post.

But the following is the full spread of the sample from the cookbook. It gives us the cover, the two title pages, the table of contents, an introduction of a new character/narrator, the table of contents for the Starters and Refreshers section, and the 9 recipes within that section.

Beneath the images, I have transcribed the lore blurbs of the recipe as well as give an image description, but I didn't type out the recipes. That's for a later post (Also because it doesn't fit on this post. I hit the limit, sorry.) For a similar reason, I'm not adding my commentary to any of the recipes.

Contents

Introduction - 7

Starters & Refreshments

Eggs à la Val Foret - 11 Nevarran Blood Orange Salad - 13 Fried Young Giant Spider - 15 Stuffed Deep Mushrooms - 17 Rivaini Couscous Salad - 19 Crab Cakes from Kirkwall - 21 Fluffy Mackerel Pudding - 23 Snail & Watercress Salad - 25 Cave Beetles - 27

For the Road

Spiced Jerky - 31 Grey Warden Pastry Pockets - 33 Pickled Eggs - 35 Unidentified Meat - 37 Seheron Fish Pockets - 39 Crow Feed - 43 Black Lichen Bread - 45 Hearth Cakes - 47 Peasant Bread - 49

Soups & Stews

Merril's Blood Soup - 53 Fereldan Potato and Leek Soup - 55 The Hanged Man's Mystery Meat Stew - 57 Fish Chowder - 59 Sweet and Sour Cabbage Soup - 61 Lentil Soup - 63 Nettle Soup - 65 King Alistair's Lamb and Pea Soup - 67

Main Courses

Stuffed Cabbage - 71 Antivan Gnochi - 73 Antivan Paella - 75 Grilled Poussin - 77 Gurgut Roast with Lowlander Spices and Mushroom Sauce - 79 Nug Pancakes - 81 Fish in Salt Crust - 83 Roasted Wyvern - 85 Nug Bacon and Egg Pie - 87 Starkhaven Fish and Egg Pie - 89 Cacio e Pepe - 91 Turnip and Mutton Pie - 93 Smoked Ham from the Anderfels - 95 Roasted Turkey with Sides - 97

Sides

Sera's Yummy Corn - 103 Stuffed Vine Leaves - 105 Honey Carrots - 107 Nevarran Flat Bread and Yogurt Dip - 109

Sweet Delights

Blancmange - 113 Poison Stings - 115 Dalish Forest Fruit Cobbler - 117 Dwarven Plum Jam - 119 Sour Cherries in Cream - 121 Treviso Energy Balls - 123 Rice Pudding - 125 Goat Custard - 127

Baked Goods

Antivan Apple Grenade - 131 Found Cake - 133 Varric's Favorite Cinnamon Rolls - 135 Croissants - 137 Cherry Cupcakes - 139 Chocolate Cake - 141 Varric's Favorite Pastries - 143 Sugar Cake - 145 Lamprey Cake - 147 Tevinter Pumpkin Bread - 151

Drinks & Potions

Lichen Ale - 155 The Hissing Drake - 157 Hot Chocolate - 159 Antivan Sip-Sip - 161 Dragon Piss - 163 Rivaini Tea Blend - 165 The Golden Nug - 167 The Emerald Valley - 169 Chasind Sack Mead - 171

Conversion Charts - 173 About the Authors and Photographers - 174

Introduction

Dear Mum,

It's me, Devon! I'm all grown up now-- or, well, more grown up than before. You always said I was too much like a child for my own good, and given the number of times you caught me daydreaming about going off on some grand adventure instead of sweeping the floors, I will grudgingly admit that you probably - probably - had a point. But guess what? I finally went on an adventure! A big one! Just like the Hero of Ferelden!

Okay, well, maybe not exactly like the Hero of Ferelden. But I did travel across Thedas! From Ferelden to Orlais, to Rivain, and even Tevinter. Plus, everything in between. It was a long journey, Mum. Weeks and weeks on the road, with the occasional bandit or beast. You'd probably have hated it, but, by Andraste, I loved every second of it! The sights! The sounds! The food.

Oh yes, the food. The reason why I set out on this journey to begin with. I know that I wasn't particularly adept in the kitchen the last time we saw each other. And, yes, I do remember that I nearly set Castle Cousland aflame with my first attempt at a stew. But I am pleased to inform you that I have been practicing extensively, and I think that, if the position still existed, I could take up your mantle as the Cousland family's cook. Granted, I doubt I would be able to fill your shoes completely; no one could manage such an impossible task. But I like to tell myself that I still would be able to make you proud.

And that takes me back to this journey and the all-important question of why. Why did I spend the last year traveling from one end of Thedas to the other, sampling whatever local cuisine I could get my hands on, even dishes that were downright strange? You're probably thinking that it's because the Hero of Ferelden ate it at some point - yes, that's certainly part of it, though I'll have you know that I tracked down foods enjoyed by the Champion of Kirkwall and the Inquisitor as well! Not to mention all their companions. But the truth is, Mum, throughout all of this, you were right there with them at the forefront of my mind. Because when I thought of ways to honor you, I kept coming back to the most important lesson you taught me: Love through food.

Every time I left your kitchen with a warm, full belly, I felt your love for me. And though I can't do the same for you anymore, I can fill this book. I can stuff it full of different recipes, dishes you've probably never even heard of, and think of you with each new entry. Because, you see, Mum, underneath all that childlike excitement, the dreams of adventure and heroism, I'm still very much your child. And I always will be.

Thank you for everything, Mum. I can't wait to share this book and the lessons that inspired it with the rest of the world.

Love, Devon

Starters & Refreshments

Eggs à la Val Foret

Image Description: A pancake with ham and a sliced poached egg with paprika and herbs on top sit on a silver platter.

Recipe Blurb: Ah, yes. Tons of cream! Exactly what I've come to expect from Orlesian cuisine. Do I have any tips for creating the perfect poached egg? Well, ever since I heard that Solas's bald head was once likened to an egg, I simply try to make my eggs just as round and shiny! So far, it's worked wonderfully and never ceases to put a smile on my face.

Nevarran Blood Orange Salad

Image Description: A wooden bowl rests on a rock, it holds a colourful salad with blood orange slices resting on top.

Recipe Blurb: Although I knew that Divine Victoria left behind a life of wealth and privilege to join the Seekers of Truth, it wasn't until I was in Nevarra, seeing exactly what she'd given up, that I truly gained an appreciation for the path she'd chosen. The best way to describe my first glimpse of the gardens of Nevarra is that it was like seeing a painting come to life. For a long moment, I could only stand there, so dazzled by the richness and vibrancy of it all that I was half-convinced I was actually still napping in the carriage. Surely, there was no way such beauty could be found outside of a dream. And yet the beauty before me was very much real.

So, too, was the picturesque tableau that arrived later that day on a plate: perfectly cut slices of blood orange artfully arranged on a lush pillow of bitter greens. Was this a meal or a still life, I wondered. In truth, the answer was both. For Nevarrans, food is as much a feast for the eyes as for the mouth. But even if your arrangement isn't quite worthy of being displayed in a museum, this salad will sing a symphony on your tastebuds.

Fried Young Giant Spiders

Image Description: A metal bowl filled with salad greens and fried crab legs arranged on top. Plate sits on a wooden table with a metal item and a smoking pot in the background.

Recipe Blurb: Just as people on the surface raise cows and goats, the dwarves underground raise spiders. Yes, to eat. The legs are fried and served with a sauce, which, true to dwarven fashion, is made with some type of alcohol. The precise kind depends on the establishment where you're eating your spider legs. Unfortunately, I couldn't get an exact recipe from any of the chefs I spoke to. These sauces are apparently closely guarded secrets and have spurred many a nefarious plot to acquire them-the competiontion to be crowned Orzammar's Best Sauce is fierce. But I've been assured that lichen ale is generally not used.

I've therefore come up with my own recipe, based on the many varieties I sampled while in Orzammar. Given that sourcing the requisite spider legs above ground is not nearly so easy, and the demand for such exports is minimal, I've subsituted them with crab legs. It's not a perfect match, but it's close enough to satisfy me.

Stuffed Deep Mushrooms

Image Description: Three mushroom caps fulled with a green, cheesy blend topped with chives. Placed on a platter that looks like a cut of wood, red capped mushrooms with white spots in the right hand corner in the foreground.

Recipe Blurb: Though the mushrooms growing underground in caves and in many parts of the Deep Roads are all called "deep mushrooms," there is no singular variety. In fact, there are several! Some mushrooms are squat, with broad, flat caps, while others are long and spindly, reaching toward the sky like an old man's gnarled fingers. They also have a multitude of applications, used in the creation of everything from restorative potions to deadly poisons. But in Orzammar, mushrooms are farmed for eating!

I was able to sample some of these dwarven delicacies, prized for their unique flavor and intoxicating scent. After only a few bites, I was struck with inspiration. How delicious would one of these mushrooms be when stuffed with cheese and spinach? The answer is: very. Rest assured that I selected this particular variety of deep mushroom not only for its shape, which is ideal for holding the maximum amount of cheese (and spinach), but also for the fact that it does not carry the darkspawn taint. While certain dwarves will insist that a deep mushroom's proximity to lyrium and darkspawn can only improve its flavor, I am quite content to leave that particular question a mystery, especially where lyrium is concerned. Although I'm hardly and expert on the stuff, I can't help but think about Fenris and how much suffering he endured as a result of his lyrium-infused markings. It seems to me that, barring any natural resistance, lyrium and the body are two things that probably shouldn't mix.

Rivaini Couscous Salad

Image Description: A copper bowl filled with couscous, mixed with various veggies and a mint leaf on top. A letter with an amulet from Alistair in the bottom left corner - merch from the BioWare store.

Recipe Blurb: When I first encountered couscous, I mistakenly believed it to be a grain, like rice or the more familiar Fereldan barley. I was swiftly corrected. In fact, couscous is a sort of pasta, made with semolina flour and water, although it's far smaller than your typical Antivan pasta. Couscous has a very mild flavor on its own--maybe slightly nutty. But where it excels is in its ability to soak up surrounding flavors, making it a perfect base for any salad. I'd love to experiment further, but so far, this particular combination of red bell pepper and mint has proven to be incredibly pleasing.

Crab Cakes from Kirkwall

Image Description: A caste iron pan over a bed of coals and flames, filled with battered soft shelled crabs, red peppers, and lemon slices.

Recipe Blurb: I love it when recipes add a dash of whimsy into the mix. Food shoulf be fun. I, therefore, took it upon myself to put this into practice with a classic Kirkwall dish. After all, who hasn't looked at their crab cakes and wished they looked a little more like crabs? Okay, maybe I'm the only one who's thought this. But now that I've brought this possibility to your attention, I'm certain you're interested as well! Best of all, these extra-crabby crab cakes stay true to the original recipe's flavors, so nothig is lost--only gained!

Fluffy Mackerel Pudding

Image Description: Two red small bowls with baked masked potatoes and a slice of hard boiled egg on top sit on a net with a starfish in the background.

Recipe Blurb: Can it really be Feast Day without fluffy mackerel pudding? No! In fact, there's no dish I associate more strongly with the holiday than this unique combination of mackerel, onion, celery, and eggs. Granted, I've heard stories that, several decades ago, someone once attempted a diet consisting entirely of fluffy mackerel pudding. Now, that I certainly wouldn't recommend. It stops being Feast Day Fish if you eat it every day, no?

Snail & Watercress Salad

Image Description: A wooden bowl resting on a river rock, filled with a salad comprised of mixed greens, radishes, and cooked snails.

Recipe Blurb: When the Avvar can't get their hands on a gurgut or a wyvern, they turn their attention to smaller prey. Much smaller prey. Snails are found on many a hillside boulder, making them an abundant source of food for the Avvar. Now, while some would wrinkle their noses or cry out in disgust at the prospect of eating a snail, I am pleased to report that, when prepared correctly, the texture. and flavor are actually good! I could happily eat a plate full of snails dressed in butter and oil, but those still on the fence about a snail's place

Cave Beetles

Image Description: A carved bowl holding cooked whole prawns, lemon slices and herbs sit on a rock with fake beetles and a black rock with blue glowing lines in the background.

Recipe Blurb: You think that, after snails, I'd balk at beetles? Never! In fact, I greatly enjoyed this dwarven dish, which involves roasting cave beetles in their shells. However, I recognize that many may not have a palate that's nearly so adventurous. If that's the case, the cave beetles can be replaced with whole prawns while keeping the rest of the recipe the same. That being said, if you do enjoy the variation with prawns, I really recommend giving the cave beetles a try. They're quite similar in both texture and flavor. If you were to blindfold yourself, I doubt you could tell the difference!

#dragon age #dragon age cookbook #da: tot #da: tastes of thedas #tastes of thedas #long post #I am so excited this is just so good so far #I almost have bingo #archi is yelling into the void #I see that it mentioned it taking a year to traverse Thedas and we will all ignore that. Thank you.#I have feelings and observations which is for another post lol

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quietwingsinthesky · 2 years ago

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In spirit of all your posting about Cain today, I request Lucifer/Cain content please 👀 my evil disaster duo

Yeah sure I’m insane enough about them. Although, note, but I’m not sure how well this reads as shippy? It’s definitely. There’s something here. There is something between them. Ah well. You’ll see, you’ll get it.

~1700 words

The devil is on Cain’s doorstep.

He’s imagined this meeting happening a thousand different times in a thousand years. None of which looked like this. The screen door is a sheer barrier between the angel that unmade him and his last refuge. Lucifer doesn’t open it and let himself in. He lingers on the threshold like a vampire, not one from the real world, the kind Cain has met and had meals with and killed, but one from a romantic myth, gentle-voiced and waiting for an invitation. He looks Cain over, one slow sweep up and down, like he’s surprised this is the body Cain remains in.

He never tried to take another. It was a fitting casket for a damned soul. The curse he carried could not be tricked into being left behind.

“Can I come in?” Lucifer asks. He looks tired.

That may just be what immortality does.

Cain stays silent, one hand on the door handle. He has a stew coming to a boil in the kitchen. He has a fire to feed in the living room. The wind outside rattles the screen door but doesn’t dislodge it. Lucifer has melting snow in his hair and collar, like he walked all the way here.

“How did you find me?” Cain questions, needlessly. In answer, Lucifer lifts his own arm and touches exactly where the Mark scars Cain. He leaves his fingers there, his eyes not dropping from Cain’s face.

They are not Lucifer’s eyes. It is not Lucifer’s face. In Abel’s voice, Lucifer told him that his brother was screaming for Cain to put the jawbone down, and that he would spare him hearing that but only if he struck quickly. It had never seemed like mercy, only a way to keep Cain from saying goodbye. He left Cain alone with a body already going cold and Hell to pay.

Cain’s fingers tighten on the doorknob. He has never tried to kill an archangel.

Lucifer tilts his head. “Something’s burning,” he says. His eyes leave Cain’s for only a moment to look at the home behind him, and then they’re fixed on his again. Neither of them need to blink. Cain can smell the acrid warning coming from the kitchen as well as Lucifer can. With one movement, he shoves the screen door open an inch and turns his back on Lucifer to go back to his pot. He sees the tips of Lucifer’s fingers curl around the side of the door, and that’s all.

He grew up eating pomegranates and apples and lamb. It seems too recent that he learned to cook with corn and potatoes. He reserves no chopping board for meat in his kitchen.

The stew is piping hot. He flavors it to the dulled pleasures of a demon, too strong for most humans to handle. Colette used to-

He ladles the stew into a bowl for himself. All of her is his alone to know.

He doesn’t bring Lucifer a bowl.

The devil sits on his sofa comfortably, watching the snow fall outside. His shoulders are damp with it. He hasn’t bothered to dry them with whatever power he has. He looks up at Cain’s approach, down at the bowl, and then frowns, as though he expected to be treated like a guest. Cain ignores him. He sets his bowl down to poke at the logs in the fireplace, crackling with heat, laced through with veins of burning wood. The flame-light dances across the living room, more wild than the electric lights but just as well contained.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here?” he asks Lucifer. He takes his time the same as the devil does, waiting, but someone has to make the first move and Lucifer seems content to watch him eat.

“Atonement,” Lucifer answers. Cain sets down his bowl and wipes his mouth.

“No.” Lucifer frowns.

“Not forgiveness.” He repeats, “Atonement.”

“And I said no.”

“You don’t know what I’m offering to do.” Cain drinks. The stew burns the roof of his mouth, and it heals, and it burns, and it heals.

“We’ve made one deal. That was enough for me. I will never escape it.” For the first time, Lucifer can’t look him in the eye. His gaze drops to Cain’s arm and remains there. It feels like having his skin peeled off to reveal what’s beneath. Cain bears it with a clenched jaw. The Mark growls against his bones like a hibernating bear, glutted, but at any moment, ready to wake hungry for more blood.

“I can’t give you your brother back,” Lucifer says, apologetic, like he understands the loss. He never sounded anything like that the first time they met. Absently, his hand rises to his chest, fingers sweeping across his heart and then falling to a tight fist in his lap.

The devil is good at appearing like a broken man.

“I don’t want my brother back,” Cain tells him. There’s another thing that surprises Lucifer; Cain can see it in his eyes. All angels are poor liars. They don’t have a demon’s intuition when it comes to handling meat. Cain doesn’t owe him an explanation, but he has no one else to tell. No one who would understand what he means. If nothing else, they share the same curse. “I’m not the man I was when I picked up the blade. I’m the monster I became when I chose to wield it after. I wouldn’t want my brother to see me now, and I wouldn’t want to know what I made him when I cut my love out of him.” Souls in Hell are torn apart. Souls on Earth linger and decay. Cain never thinks about souls in Heaven because he’s not sure they have it any better.

“What about her?” Lucifer asks. He tips his head towards Colette’s picture. Cain sets his bowl down loudly enough for the sound to echo. A few drops spill. There are no cracks in it. He doesn’t let that happen.

“If you talk about her again, I-“ Lucifer nods. Cain falls silent before he finishes the threat. That feels like mercy. He’s not sure whose. “What are you here for if all you do is tell me what’s impossible to have?” A half-empty bowl lies on the table between them. The wind howls. The fire draws shadows in the folds of Lucifer’s clothing like wounds.

“I came to take it back.”

Cain stares at him a minute, then bows his head and finishes his stew.

“The cost?”

“None,” Lucifer answers, then frowns, “that I know of. I can’t guarantee you would survive the exchange, if I uproot every tendril of it from your veins.” Cain’s expression asks plainly if Lucifer thinks this is something that would matter to him. Lucifer’s answers with understanding. “It was meant to be my curse.”

“And if you take it, it will devour you the same way it did me.” It’s not a question. It’s a fact. Cain has lived with the Mark longer than a hundred repeats of his life without put together. He knows it. He has heard the scratching behind the door that only death silences, for heartbeats of time.

“That isn’t your problem.”

“You made it my problem.” A rise to his voice he hasn’t allowed in a century or more. Lucifer is unfazed. Anyone else who knew what he was would be begging by now.

“I’m sorry.” The bowl is empty. Cain breathes out heavily through his nose.

“It isn’t enough.”

“I know,” Lucifer says. He looks towards the fire. It doesn’t reflect in his eyes. They are too bright from within. “I know,” he repeats, softer.

“Why now?” Cain asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer before going back into the kitchen and leaving his bowl in the sink. Lucifer stands to follow him. He inches too close to the unwashed dishes, staring at them like their presence irritates him. Cain is off-put for the first time by his behavior, by the devil standing over his sink like his hands are itching to reach in and scrape the crud off the silverware and douse the ceramics in dish soap. Lucifer finally looks at him again.

“Because I’m here."

“You have something good, and you want to ruin it.” He makes an archangel flinch.

“No,” he lies, “I want to fix what I broke.” He leans against Cain’s counter.

“If you love them, you’ll leave,” Cain says. Colette is watching them from the other room, forever frozen in a memory. “Let me be. The damage is done.”

He doesn’t want Lucifer to be happy. It’s not something he deserves.

He steps out of the way of the kitchen door. Lucifer doesn’t move. He won’t leave.

Cain knew he wouldn’t.

Bearers of the same curse and all.

“Give me the Mark, Cain,” Lucifer says. Cain rolls up his sleeve. He does it slowly, dragged inch by dragged inch of fabric, until the sharp slice of the scar shows itself. Lucifer looks at it like an old friend with a gun to his head. Cain extends his arm.

Lucifer’s palm is cold where he wraps it over Cain’s arm. He covers the whole of the Mark with one hand. It wakes up suddenly, furious as it is cut out like a cancer. Cain can feel it fight Lucifer as he brings it back into himself. Lucifer makes a pained noise in the back of his throat, his grip on Cain’s arm tightening. He shakes. Cain feels nothing, no pain, no relief. There’s an empty hollow in his being that once soaked the ground with poison. Nothing will ever grow there, but the ring of dead grass won’t grow wider. Lucifer lets go of Cain.

The Mark is gone, scar and whispering and urges and all.

The Mark of Cain no longer belongs to Cain.

Lucifer bears it on his own body’s arm now, and deeper, where it will begin to rot him from the inside. It’s an angry, throbbing red now like an infection. Cain spent all that time lulling it to sleep and now… Now, it’s not his problem.

Lucifer breathes heavily.

Cain crosses him, their shoulders barely brushing. The stew is still warm as he ladles another bowl and brings it to Lucifer. Lucifer cups his hands around it like it will bring him any comfort. Cain stares at him.

“I hope you never know peace,” Cain tells him. Lucifer shuts his eyes in acceptance.

#this is the hot girl shit btw #im insane abotu them so much you have no idea #caitlyn my beloved bringer of prompt. thank u.#fic: spn #fanfiction #fic: cain spn #fic: lucifer spn #prompt fic #ask

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commanderdazzle · 9 months ago

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Unordinary Type (Ch06)

Sometimes a life change comes about not as a sweeping whirlwind, but as a slow wave on the beach.

When you first meet Cee and Ezra, they look like they've just passed through a whirlwind themselves, but what will that end up meaning to you?

Post Movie Ezra x Fem!Reader.

(A/N; This chapter contains the idea that sparked this story in the first place, feeding Cee and Ezra a thick and chunky stew.

But one of my possibly controversial opinions is that I can't read x reader fics without a long as hell Meet-Cute. My brain literally cannot engage with established relationships, and I don't know why.

As usual, some sentences are wacky because Tumblr hates my paragraphs.)

Nearly two hours later, you were at Cee and Ezra's door, awkwardly kicking with your knee while you held a stew pot by both handles, a bag of bowls and utensils hanging from your wrist. You heard the chattering inside cease as someone walks to the door, then the beep of a key card unlocking before the door slid open to reveal Cee standing there. "Sorry if I'm intruding, but I couldn't help it, I had to bring something!" Cee smiles, probably the biggest one you've seen so far, and waves you in, saying, "we were just talking about how to get food that wasn't the slop at the public cafeterias." "Lucky me, huh?" You laughed, inwardly cringing at the idea that they haven't had a home-cooked meal in however long they were off-planet. "Lucky us, I'd say," Ezra added from his spot on the floor, jacket off and pack open. The appartment was exactly the same as yours, but entirely unfurnished.

The front door opened into a wide sitting area, with a kitchen along the back wall, an island dividing the two. Two doors on either side went into two equal sized rooms, and one of those rooms had a private bath, the apartments other bath being a door to the left of the kitchen area. It was a nice place, all things considered, and you could afford the rent, since being a nurse on a space station paid just enough for the landlord.

With that out of the way, your other essentials were covered by the teaching job. But what are they were doing to afford the same place? You think to yourself. Returning your attention to Ezra, you noticed him slipping something back into his pack, the contents of which were strewn across the floor. A few feet away, Cee had been doing the same to her pack, but she wasn't at all bothered by you seeing the things she had out. The two of them cleared a space for you to put the pot down on the floor, and as you removed the utensils from the bag, Ezra clears his throat. "You didn't have to go through the trouble," this time, when he says your name, something about his tone makes you feel warm. "Eh, I haven't eaten dinner yet anyway, it's no problem at all to cook for three," you assured him, them offered the first bowl you scooped to Cee. She took it gratefully, asking "what's in this?" as you handed the next to Ezra. You were glad you picked the deep bowls; it probably helped Ezra settle the bowl in the middle of his crossed legs, so he could hold the spoon with his free hand. Scooping a bowl for yourself, you answered, "carrots, celery, corn, peas, potatoes, and beef, in a beef broth, all allegedly the real thing, according to the market folks," you grinned. "Incredible," Ezra murmured, "far better than hospital or cafeteria fare." The both of them were clearly enjoying it, so much that they both asked if there was enough for more. "Can't let these precious ingredients go to waste," Ezra said, and you felt he meant it genuinely. "It's no problem, anything left over can be put in the chiller at my place," you try to assure him.

But he takes you by surprise when he fixes you with a stern expression. "You sure say that pretty often," he says quietly, and you don't move, even when Cee flicks her eyes between the two of you. He goes on, "do you have a 'problem' with anythin', or is it in your nature to be so compassionate you let yourself get walked over?" You flinch, even though you know he has a point. It's something you've struggled with all your life, the anxiety and social pressure, the need to be helpful and well-liked. Well, I guess there's one thing I really don't like... You're not sure if this really counts, but after a seconds hesitation, you answer, "I really hate that space station." Ezra's eyes widen, but he doesn't interrupt, "I hate the feeling being so far from solid ground gives me, it's only six months out of the year, but I feel like I'm suffocating the entire time." You aren't ready yet to share anything deeper than that, and you look Ezra right in the eyes, wildly hoping that he'll understand. In the overly bright light of the apartments default fixtures, his brown eyes take on a different tone, no longer dead and in pain like they seemed under the hospital lights. They're now filled with warmth, sparkling and alive, and you swallow a lump in your throat. He's looking into your eyes just as intently, and whatever he sees in them, he's smiling now, and you feel your cheeks warm again as he speaks up. "That's entirely fair," he finishes his second bowl before passing it back to you, "not everyone has to be space-worthy; after all, that's what us prospectors are for." The warmth you were feeling drains from you, the idea that he would go back out there fills you with dread instead, but you don't argue. He isn't mine to argue with about this, you think suddenly, but it still hurts, bringing back the same fear you felt whenever your father left on his excursions. One of which he never came back from. But still, would Ezra do that to Cee, if she decided she wasn't going back out there? If she wanted to settle, live in an actual home, would he stay? You remembered the day they arrived at the station, when Ezra was being carted off to surgery, and he had desperately asked you not to leave Cee alone in that stagnant white room. Was that enough to trust him?

You remember asking yourself the same thing, after he woke up from his surgery and your fears that they had been prospecting were confirmed. It feels terrible to judge him on just one thing, but I've known men like him. The clinking of a spoon in a bowl brought you out of your reverie as Cee handed hers to you, and you realized you had been thinking for far too long. Ezra apparently thought he knew what you were thinking, because his posture softened.

"Hey, don't turn your mind towards the station a moment more. You're down here now, this'll be good for ya," he said gently. You nodded, grateful for an excuse to shove your thoughts away. When Cee asked if you needed help carrying your things home, you let her hold the stew pot so you could carry the bag of utensils and unlock your front door. "Mighty grateful for the meal, aren't we?" Ezra prompted Cee, who nodded and said, "yeah, thank you!" "You're welcome, I'm glad you both enjoyed it," you replied, then you turned to wave at Ezra, "goodnight!" He returned your wave with a soft smile, and you wondered why that made you feel like cheering. Once safely in your appartment, Cee helped do the dishes while you stored what stew was left in your chiller. When the dishes were done, you noticed Cee looking around at your furniture.

Her eyes went from the couch that faced right when you entered from the front door, the glass coffee table in front of it, to the thickly carpeted floor. "Gathering ideas for your own place?" You asked her quietly. "Oh yeah," she grinned, then looked back at you, "if you're cool with it, would you come with us tomorrow, show us the best places to shop?" "Absolutely! I have to buy supplies for my students anyway, since I just finally received the list of what I need from the school," you groaned, lamenting the administration's lack of haste. "Okay, cool," she reached out a hand, and you shook on it, "uh, just as a reminder, don't ask Ezra about the money." Wondering briefly why she felt the need to tell you again, you nod your head and say, "understood." Smiling before saying goodnight, Cee heads down the hall to their door, and you watch her until she's inside safely before locking your own door. Sighing wistfully, you shut off the lights in the main room and pass through your bedroom, gathering your usual sleep clothes. Leaving them on the dresser beside the door to your private bath, you grab a towel from the top drawer. When the hot water of the shower hits you, you allow your mind to wander, tracing the path of the day through your memories. You weren't expecting the strangest of your patients to show up at your door, wearing matching clothes and smiling like nothing was wrong. You were already so fond of them, you could tell, but you just weren't sure whether getting attached was advisable. Just two nomads, a pair of vagabonds, you thought, not people to stay in one place, and even if Cee chooses to, what will Ezra do? You couldn't bear to think of it a moment more, so you forced your mind into silence. Finishing your wash, you shut off the water and dried with your towel until you felt clean enough to dress. Then you grabbed your current journal from the table next to your reading chair, and sat down heavily.

Sagging into the cushion, you began to record the events of the day, as usual when you relax before bed. You didn't note your true feelings on the matter, only the facts, but inside, you knew something was happening. What that something was, you had no clue, but you did know one thing.

This had everything to do with the strange realm of prospecting, and the people who went in and out of it at will. But can I will someone to stay who doesn't want to? You startled yourself with the thought and quickly finished writing your entry, so you could sleep the idea away.

#kachi writes #fanfiction #x reader #prospect 2018 #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x f!reader #cee prospect

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mysmestranscripts · 2 years ago

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00:18 Strange alarm (Non-Participant)

Seven Route, Day 5

[Background: Early morning]

[Music: Mysterious Clues]

Yoosung: Anyone here?

Yoosung: I was just playing LOLOL

Yoosung: but my phone rang so l came in,

Yoosung:

Yoosung: but nothing seems to be out of the ordinary.

Yoosung: It must be a bug…

Yoosung: Seven, I think

Yoosung: [Cloud box with stars] you need to check my messenger later lol

Yoosung: I need to get it checked so not only I can continue with this messenger

Yoosung: but with my games too!

Yoosung: Then,

Yoosung: Imma go back

Yoosung: to LOLOL.

[Yoosung has left the chatroom.]

Story Mode: Seven

[Background: Seven's bunker]

[Music: Mysterious Clues]

???: Hello. How can you sleep right now?

???: Don't make me say wake up again. Where did I put my taser… Oh, here it is!

Seven: Huh? Aarrgh!! Ms. Vanderwood!

Seven: Madam! Please put that taser away! That's for torture.

Vanderwood: Don't scream… You're hurting my ears.

Vanderwood: And quit calling me madam.

Seven: Then Sir Vanderwood!

Vanderwood: …Stop joking around.

Seven: No.

Vanderwood: Do you want me to hit you?

Seven: No!

Vanderwood: Did you finish work?

Seven: No!

Vanderwood: Are you doing that on purpose?

Seven: No. But when did you come in? The gate question changes at midnight… You managed to come in!?

Vanderwood: I carry around an Arabic dictionary because of you… And don't change the subject.

Seven: No.

Vanderwood: Oh, I guess you're not afraid of my taser gun then.

Seven: Alright alright. You're the boss and I'm the servant, right?

Vanderwood: Just answer my question. Why haven't you finished work?

Seven: Because I didn't work.

Vanderwood: …

Vanderwood: My arm is having a very hard time trying not to take out the taser gun.

Seven: Oh my god! I can't believe I didn't finish work! Oh no! What should I do??

Vanderwood: Is it because you got paid with potato chips last time? Your performances have been really bad after that.

Vanderwood: The boss told me that you haven't been doing very well lately.

Seven: I said I don't care since I like those chips. So the Honey Buddha Chips have nothing to do with my recent performances.

Seven: But… I do have a prediction report saying that I'll do really well if I get compensated with cars. Do you want to see it?

Vanderwood: Cars? If you get anything from an intelligence agency, you're just going to be traced. I wouldn't take it for the world.

Seven: Oh, right. Cancel that.

Vanderwood: Why don't you ask them to give you a maid instead? Why is your house like this all the time? Empty soda cans, potato chip bags...

Vanderwood: And why did you shred up all that paper? Do you have ADHD or something...? I can't believe you manage to get work done here.

Seven: I was just about to say. My house is so dirty that I'm always distracted… The boss will understand once we give him a picture of my house.

Vanderwood: Yeah yeah, what a great excuse. He'll totally understand… Ugh! Your sofa smells like soda.

Seven: It's the lovely scent of Ph.D. Pepper. I get really focused once I drink it, but once I'm finished, it just makes my house more dirty.

Seven: Since my house is like this, I can't help but imagine decoding all the dust particles that fly around here… Huh...!? Decoding it in my imagination is making me hallucinate all the palm oil particles from the Honey Buddha Chips multiplying exponentially!

Seven: I want to eat them…! Oh god… I see corn starch and honey particles floating around over there…!

Vanderwood: What the hell are you talking about, you weirdo...? Alright, I'll clean up the house so just get back to work! You idiot.

Seven: An idiot...? Aren't you being too harsh to a genius secret agent right now?

Vanderwood: I barely stopped myself from calling you a cockroach. Since your house is always like this, I don't know if I come here to keep an eye on you or be your maid.

Seven: Alright, Vanderwood the 3rd… Sorry I treat you like a maid all the time. But will you first sweep the floor?

Vanderwood: Are you kidding me?

Seven: No. If you're not going to clean, then I need to play a round of LOLOL. I'm serious.

Vanderwood: What? God, seriously…

[Background: Seven Album 3]

Seven: Huh? What? But why did my screen freeze...?

[Music stops]

Vanderwood: How can you play games right now!?

Seven: Vanderwood... Come see this.

[Music: Dark Secret]

Vanderwood: …Hey, I think you got hacked.

Seven: Me...? Hacked? This is… this is the RFA Messenger server…

Vanderwood: Turn on the log. Hurry!

#Seven Route #Deep Story #Original Story #Yoosung #Yoosung Kim #Transcripts #Chat: Strange alarm #Chat: Strange alarm (non participant)#Mystic Messenger

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dadjokestop · 8 months ago

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Looking for a good laugh? You’ve come to the right place! These mom jokes are the perfect blend of humor and warmth, guaranteed to get everyone chuckling. Whether you’re sharing them with your friends or saving them for family gatherings, these jokes will remind you of the funny, lovable quirks that come with being a mom. So, without further ado, let’s dive into some lighthearted humor! 1. Why did the mom sit on the clock? Because she wanted to be on time! 2. What did the mother broom say to the baby broom? It’s time to go to sweep! 3. Why did the computer go to therapy? Because it had too many “bytes” from mom! 4. How do moms organize a party? They “plan-it”! 5. Why did the mother tomato sit down? Because she couldn’t ketchup with her kids! 6. What did one mom say to the other at the bakery? “Donut worry, be happy!” 7. Why don’t moms ever tell secrets on a farm? Because the potatoes have eyes and the corn has ears! 8. Why did the mom bring a ladder to the bar? Because she heard the drinks were on the house! 9. What did the mom say when she couldn’t find her son’s homework? “Looks like it’s ‘missing in action!’” 10. Why did the mom go to school with a ladder? Because she wanted to go to high school! These mom jokes are sure to bring smiles and giggles to any gathering. They capture the essence of mom life with a funny twist, making them relatable and entertaining. Share them with your friends or save them for when you need a quick laugh!

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quietwings-fics · 11 months ago

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Such Soft Decay

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Gen (Cain & Lucifer) Additional Tags: Mark of Cain (Supernatural), Angst, domestic angst, Past Cain/Colette Mullen, Regret, Alternate Universe Wordcount: 1749 Summary:

The devil is on Cain’s doorstep.

Prompt:

"In spirit of all your posting about Cain today, I request Lucifer/Cain content please 👀 my evil disaster duo"

The devil is on Cain’s doorstep.

He never tried to take another. It was a fitting casket for a damned soul. The curse he carried could not be tricked into being left behind.

“Can I come in?” Lucifer asks. He looks tired.

That may just be what immortality does.

Cain’s fingers tighten on the doorknob. He has never tried to kill an archangel.

He grew up eating pomegranates and apples and lamb. It seems too recent that he learned to cook with corn and potatoes. He reserves no chopping board for meat in his kitchen.

The stew is piping hot. He flavors it to the dulled pleasures of a demon, too strong for most humans to handle. Colette used to-

He ladles the stew into a bowl for himself. All of her is his alone to know.

He doesn’t bring Lucifer a bowl.

“Atonement,” Lucifer answers. Cain sets down his bowl and wipes his mouth.

“No.” Lucifer frowns.

“Not forgiveness.” He repeats, “Atonement.”

“And I said no.”

“You don’t know what I’m offering to do.” Cain drinks. The stew burns the roof of his mouth, and it heals, and it burns, and it heals.

The devil is good at appearing like a broken man.

“I came to take it back.”

Cain stares at him a minute, then bows his head and finishes his stew.

“The cost?”

“That isn’t your problem.”

“You made it my problem.” A rise to his voice he hasn’t allowed in a century or more. Lucifer is unfazed. Anyone else who knew what he was would be begging by now.

“I’m sorry.” The bowl is empty. Cain breathes out heavily through his nose.

“It isn’t enough.”

“I know,” Lucifer says. He looks towards the fire. It doesn’t reflect in his eyes. They are too bright from within. “I know,” he repeats, softer.

“Because I’m here."

“You have something good, and you want to ruin it.” He makes an archangel flinch.

“No,” he lies, “I want to fix what I broke.” He leans against Cain’s counter.

“If you love them, you’ll leave,” Cain says. Colette is watching them from the other room, forever frozen in a memory. “Let me be. The damage is done.”

He doesn’t want Lucifer to be happy. It’s not something he deserves.

He steps out of the way of the kitchen door. Lucifer doesn’t move. He won’t leave.

Cain knew he wouldn’t.

Bearers of the same curse and all.

The Mark is gone, scar and whispering and urges and all.

The Mark of Cain no longer belongs to Cain.

Lucifer breathes heavily.

“I hope you never know peace,” Cain tells him. Lucifer shuts his eyes in acceptance.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

#fanfiction #1001-5000 #teen and up audiences #spn #genfic #cain & lucifer #cain spn #lucifer spn #mark of cain #angst #domestic

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newstfionline · 11 months ago

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Wednesday, June 5, 2024

Biden rolls out migration order that aims to shut down asylum requests (AP) President Joe Biden on Tuesday unveiled plans to enact immediate significant restrictions on migrants seeking asylum at the U.S.-Mexico border as the White House tries to neutralize immigration as a political liability ahead of the November elections. The order will go into effect when the number of border encounters between ports of entry hits 2,500 per day, according to senior administration officials. That means Biden’s order should go into effect immediately, because that figure is higher than the daily averages now. The restrictions would be in effect until two weeks after the daily encounter numbers are at or below 1,500 per day between ports of entry, under a seven-day average. Once this order is in effect, migrants who arrive at the border but do not express fear of returning to their home countries will be subject to immediate removal from the United States, within a matter of days or even hours. Those migrants would face punishments that could include a five-year bar from reentering the U.S., as well as potential criminal prosecution.

CEOs made nearly 200 times what their workers got paid last year (AP) The typical compensation package for chief executives who run companies in the S&P 500 jumped nearly 13% last year, easily surpassing the gains for workers at a time when inflation was putting considerable pressure on Americans’ budgets. The median pay package for CEOs rose to $16.3 million, up 12.6%, according to data analyzed for The Associated Press by Equilar. Meanwhile, wages and benefits netted by private-sector workers rose 4.1% through 2023. At half the companies in this year’s pay survey, it would take the worker at the middle of the company’s pay scale almost 200 years to make what their CEO did.

Mexico’s next president faces 3 pressing challenges: money, dialogue and the US election (AP) Mexico’s newly elected president, the first woman to win the job, faces a long list of challenges, including persistent cartel violence, a deeply divided country, cash-straitened social programs and the long shadow of her mentor, outgoing President Andrés Manuel López Obrador. But for some analysts it mostly comes down to three things: money, dialogue and the outcome of the U.S. presidential election. Claudia Sheinbaum, who begins her six-year presidential term Oct. 1, has four months ahead of her to define her administration’s agenda. During this time, López Obrador is expected to continue delivering his daily morning press briefings as he tries to solidify his legacy. The coexistence might be far from easy: He has divided society; she says she wants to unite it. He is a leader of the masses; she is an academic and a scientist.

Tractors rumble in streets again ahead of EU polls (AP) The far-right Flemish Interest party had set up the demonstration in the picture-pretty rolling fields south of Brussels, ahead of the four-day European Union elections which start Thursday. The goal was clear: Decrying how farmers would lose fertile land to what they see as overbearing environmentalists trying to turn it into a chain of woods, killing off a traditional way of life. In a final push on Tuesday, militant agricultural groups from more than a half dozen nations were converging on EU headquarters in a show of force that they hoped would sweep the progressive Green Deal climate pact off the table in the wake of the elections and give farmers the leeway they had for so long in deciding how to till the land. “As a farmer, you have just been turned into a number,” growled Eduard Van Overstraeten, who said that of the 60 hectares he used to farm for wheat, corn and potatoes, he now was forced to sell a quarter of it--including his farmhouse--to help make a string of distinct woods around Brussels become one continuous nature zone to improve biodiversity and fight pollution.

What Europe fears (The Atlantic) “We’re in a very precarious place,” one senior NATO official told me. He wasn’t supposed to talk about such things on the record, but it was hardly a secret. The largest armed conflict in Europe since World War II was grinding into its third year. The Ukrainian counteroffensive had failed, and Russia was gaining momentum. Sixty billion dollars in desperately needed military aid for Ukraine had been stalled for months in the dysfunctional U.S. Congress. And, perhaps most ominous, America--the country with by far the biggest military in NATO--appeared on the verge of reelecting a president who has repeatedly threatened to withdraw the U.S. from the alliance. Fear of losing Europe’s most powerful ally has translated into a pathologically intense fixation on the U.S. presidential race. European officials can explain the Electoral College in granular detail and cite polling data from battleground states. Thomas Bagger, the state secretary in the German foreign ministry, told me that in a year when billions of people in dozens of countries around the world will get the chance to vote, ‘the only election all Europeans are interested in is the American election.’

Marinka (NYT) Imagine your hometown being wiped off the map. This is what happened to Marinka, a small town in Ukraine’s east with nearly 200 years of history. Photos of it look like those of Hiroshima. It’s hardly the only Ukrainian town like this. More buildings have been wrecked in Ukraine than if every building in Manhattan were leveled four times over. In some places, like Marinka, not a single resident is left. The Russians took control of the city last year. But there wasn’t much left. As one soldier put it, “Whatever could burn, burned.”

What does the death of a jailed Jesuit priest say about India’s democracy under Modi? (NPR) Two days before police finally came to arrest him, the Rev. Stan Swamy recorded a video of himself speaking directly into the camera. “They want to put me out of the way,” the ailing 83-year-old Jesuit priest said. The government of Prime Minister Narendra Modi, he said, was targeting him in retaliation for his advocacy on behalf of Indigenous people in Indian jails. A sociologist as well as a Roman Catholic clergyman, Swamy had recently published a study of 3,000 people jailed for being members of banned Maoist groups. He found that 97% of them had no such affiliation and that many of their trials were held without lawyers, in a language they didn’t understand. He’d filed a case on their behalf in the state court of Jharkhand, where he lived. All of this had embarrassed the government, he said. Swamy’s office had since been raided several times. Police hauled away a loaner laptop he’d recently started using and then came back for his old desktop computer. They interrogated him for 15 hours over five days, he said, about a terrorism plot he knew nothing about. “Let us hope that some human sense will prevail,” he said. “And if it does not, I am ready.” That video was recorded on Oct. 6, 2020. Two days later, Swamy was arrested, then imprisoned and repeatedly denied bail. Less than a year later, he was dead.

Modi won, but with a slimmer margin than expected (NYT) India’s prime minister, Narendra Modi, claimed a third term in office today—a feat that only one other Indian leader has accomplished. But early results showed a margin of victory that was far narrower than expected. The outcome was a surprising setback for Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party, also known as the B.J.P. While it will still hold a plurality of Parliament, the B.J.P. appeared likely to lose dozens of seats. As a result, Modi will be forced to rely on coalition partners that don’t share his Hindu nationalist agenda.

Craft unfurls China’s flag on the far side of the moon and lifts off with lunar rocks to bring home (AP) China said its lunar spacecraft unfurled the country’s red and gold flag for the first time on the far side of the moon before part of the vehicle blasted off early Tuesday with rock and soil samples to bring back to Earth. The mission was hailed as a success in China, which has made significant advances in a space program that aims to put a person on the moon before the end of this decade.

Young Chinese love American ‘praise culture.’ (Washington Post) American culture has lost its appeal in China in recent years. But one aspect of American culture is making inroads in some circles: Flowery compliments. Across China, groups are forming--both online and in real life--to seek and offer praise and encouragement and appreciation, often to and from total strangers. That’s a practice common across the United States but completely foreign in China and other parts of East Asia, where showing humbleness by deflecting compliments is considered a virtue. The burgeoning phenomenon even has a name: “praise culture.” “Compliments should not be reserved for special occasions, but should be an everyday experience,” says Chloe Sheng, a Shanghai-based fashion and travel blogger better known to her 1.6 million social media followers as the “Dare Girl.” She was blown away by the positive remarks she received on the streets of New York City when she went out in a red coat one day in 2016. “I was originally was not feeling that great, but after hearing all those compliments, I thought, oh my god, aren’t I awesome?!”

Returning to 'horrifying' destruction (BBC) Palestinians who have returned to Jabalia refugee camp in northern Gaza in recent days have expressed shock at the level of destruction following a three-week Israeli military operation there against Hamas and other Palestinian armed groups. One displaced man who was among the more than 60,000 people who fled last month said he had witnessed “horrifying scenes”. “Even the sand beneath our feet is scorched; it’s unbearable to walk on,” he said. “The streets are strewn with rubble and demolished buildings. Words fail to describe the devastation.” The man (who asked not to be named) also said he had seen injured and dead people “lying on the ground”. “There is no electricity or water. There are no clinics or medicines,” he added. “Wells have been destroyed, shops and supermarkets demolished, and there is a shortage of food.”

Condemnations mount over Israeli proposal to label UN aid agency a terrorist group (AP) Qatar and Saudi Arabia on Sunday condemned an Israeli parliamentary bill that seeks to label UNRWA, the main provider of aid for Palestinians in Gaza, a terrorist group, joining a growing number of nations opposed to the proposal. The bill, which passed a preliminary vote in parliament last week, is the product of increasingly tense relations between Israel and the United Nations agency for Palestinian refugees. Israel has accused the agency of militant links, claiming that hundreds of its employees are members of militant groups, including some who allegedly participated in the Oct. 7 attacks on southern Israel. Those allegations led to a freeze in funding by many donors to the agency at a time when Gaza has been buckling under a humanitarian crisis triggered by the war. UNRWA says it took swift action against those accused and an independent review of the agency’s neutrality found that Israel did not previously raise concerns about the workers and did not provide evidence backing its claims.

Audiobooks (Publishers Weekly) Audiobooks saw sales increase 9 percent in 2023 to $2 billion, a boom time for the format that saw 38 percent of adults listen to an audiobook last year. Audiobooks are growing fastest in the history/biography/memoir genre, up 22 percent year over year, followed by health and fitness (20 percent growth), religion (17 percent growth) and romance (14 percent growth).

#headlines #news

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highplanes456 · 1 year ago

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reidio-silence · 3 years ago

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Women worked hard to supplement a diet that consisted largely of bread and potatoes, corn and peas, beans and cabbage, and milk from cows fed on “swill”—byproducts of the city’s distilleries. In good times, they might add salt meat and cheese, a little butter, some sugar, coffee, and tea. But meat and poultry, though widely available in city markets, were expensive, even when purchased for a reduced price at the end of the market day. Many working-class wives therefore kept their own animals, notably pigs; lacking the space to board them, they let the hogs run free to scavenge for themselves. New York had long been infamous for its thousands of porcine prowlers, and when city fathers once again tried to sweep them from the streets, they touched off a raucous confrontation with poor mothers.

In 1818 Mayor Cadwallader Colden regretted that “our wives and daughters cannot walk abroad through the streets of the city without encountering the most disgusting spectacles of these animals indulging the propensities of nature.” Copulating and defecating porkers were a decidedly ungenteel sight, and their “grunting ferocity” could be dangerous to children. Colden empaneled a grand jury, which indicted a butcher, Christian Harriet, as a public nuisance for keeping hogs on the streets. He hired a lawyer, who contended that customary social practices, especially those “of immemorial duration,” could not be declared a public nuisance unless they violated standards held in common by the entire population. Pigs might offend ladies and dandies, “who are too delicate to endure the sight, or even the idea of so odious a creature.” But “many poor families might experience far different sensations, and be driven to beggary or the Alms House,” if deprived of this source of sustenance. Mayor Colden, in charging the jury, ruled the food factor irrelevant, and Harriet was convicted, establishing the absence of a legal right to keep pigs in the street. In 1821 the Common Council ordered a roundup of the swinish multitudes, but when pig-owning Irish and African-American women discovered city officials seizing their property, they mobilized, hundreds strong, and forcibly liberated the animals. Further hog riots broke out in 1825, 1826, 1830, and 1832, invariably ending with the women saving their bacon.

— Mike Wallace and Edwin G. Burrows, Gotham: A History of New York City to 1898 (1998)

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desertdollranch · 4 years ago

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Antonia’s Farmer’s Market Stand

The latter half of October brings the last days of the growing season, and Antonia is so excited to have a stand at the local farmer’s market. Her family helps operate a community garden that grows healthy fruits and vegetables to distribute to families in need, free of charge. Most years, there is not only enough for everyone, but even some surplus crops. Those are sold to raise money for people who need financial help in other ways besides food, such as college tuition, home improvement, or utility bills.

Antonia’s historical year is 1978. She is growing up in the founding years of the American Indian Movement sweeping the United States and Canada, when long-standing discriminatory practices and cultural oppression were being challenged. Antonia felt inspired to do her part at the community level, and that’s why she and her family began their community garden: to teach self-sufficiency, to promote healthy eating, and to strengthen generational, family, and tribal bonds.

This year’s harvest was abundant and diverse! Antonia is proud to show off all of the colorful crops she helped to raise, as well as a few of her other handmade goods. You might remember her setup last year, which wasn’t nearly as big as it is now! She brought in quite a few new things to sell.

She also wanted an excuse to wear this new mix-print maxi dress that I made for her. I based it off of a similar dress in Julie Albright’s collection. Maxi dresses and calico were popular in the 1970′s as a nod to the United States’ bicentennial celebration. Her platform sandals are also a trend of that decade.

Over here are the juicy red strawberries, tomatoes, and orchard fruits: apples, apricots, peaches, and plums.

Below the orchard fruits are some of the larger crops. Melons over on the right, colorful corn in the middle, heirloom squash in the baskets, and a whole crate of red chiles.

Next to that are the cauliflowers, yellow squash, and lettuce, and four colors of potatoes: red, brown, yellow, and purple!

On the left side of the tablecloth are bagged blue corn and yellow corn tortillas, fresh eggs by the dozen, and piñon nuts.

The eggs come from Antonia’s flock of three plucky little hens.

Keep reading below the cut to see the rest!

Piñon trees, common in the mountain west states, bear a nutritious and delicious nut that people and animals love.

Blue corn tortillas are another New Mexican specialty. After grinding the blue corn and mixing it with lime (the mineral, not the fruit), Antonia flattens the dough into a small circle, then cooks each one on a hot skillet.

Antonia was very pleased with how big her pumpkins grew this year! In front of them are bags of green chile tamales and freshly-baked oven bread.

Oven bread is another traditional food you’ll only find in New Mexico. It’s a round, soft loaf that’s cooked in an outdoor oven called an horno (the h is silent in Spanish words, so say it like or-no). You might have seen that big, beehive-shaped oven in Josefina Montoya’s stories. Those are still very commonly seen in yards in front of homes on any pueblo even nowadays. (This article shares a lot more about the fascinating story behind oven bread!)

Tamales are sort of like dumplings made with a ground corn dough mixed with lard or shortening, as well as fillings like meat, cheese, and chiles. Then it’s wrapped in a cornhusk and steamed for a few hours until the dough is firm. They’re eaten year-round, but especially in the Christmas season.

On the counter next to the pumpkins are fresh flowers, jams, soaps, bundles of herbs, dyed yarn....

....honey, apple cider, and goat cheese! The apple cider came from apples grown in Antonia’s orchards, and the cactus flower honey was made by the bees that live on her farm.

In the jam jars are pumpkin butter, prickly pear fruit jelly, apricot jam, and strawberry jam. Prickly pear cactus fruits grow wild in brushy or sandy areas. They have a bright red or magenta color when the juice is squeezed out.

Antonia spun the yarn from wool given by her lambs. She then dyed them with flowers and other plant materials. To the left of the yarn are bundles of sagebrush and lavender. Both of these plants have a delightful scent, and can be tucked into linen drawers to keep them smelling nice.

The soaps are made with milk given by Antonia’s goats, and mixed with sagebrush and piñon needles. The pink soaps on display are made with lavender and wild rose petals.

Sagebrush grows wild in open, sandy areas all around New Mexico, most commonly at higher elevations. It’s often burned in religious rituals; you might have heard about sage smudging, or filling a space with sage smoke to cleanse it of negativity and bad feelings. It also has medicinal uses.

The fresh flowers also came from Antonia’s garden. They’re her favorite thing she’s selling today. They’re so bright and cheerful-looking! She’s so happy when customers notice them and want to buy them.

Now that you’ve had a look at everything, what’s your favorite thing here? Antonia will be happy to bag it up for you.

She thanks you for shopping here and supporting her small business!

#historicaloc #1978 #doll food #doll crafts #antonia snow-flores

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83bpm · 2 years ago

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NO POTATO SWEEP it wouldnt be a fair race. im just curious to see if my favorite is everyone elses favorite

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crumbsideration · 2 years ago

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♡ I love you this much!

As little mice, everything seems quite big for siblings Bramble and Brimble, and that certainly includes the concept of love. While picking berries for their dinner in the forest, they argue over who loves one another more.

Characters • Bramble Acorn and Brimble Acorn ♡

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Brimble and Bramble were two very small mice, a little bigger than a pinch of rice. You see, they weren’t very big but their love for one another was enormous! Bigger than the pumpkins they grew in their gardens, taller than the stalks of corn Grandpa mouse grew in his corn fields. Much bigger than any and everything combined and any and everything all at once. That’s just how it was.

Constantly they argued about who loved one another more, and Bramble was sure it was her love for the speckled mouse that shined the brightest, but to this Brimble denied, knowing his love was the shiniest of them all.

“My love beats any star!” He yelled, hallowing out the birds of nearby trees.

“I’ve never seen a star before,” Bramble pondered on. She’s only seen them when Mama mouse read their bed time stories, and they didn’t seem all that big on the silken pages of the books.

“Then you should trust me that it’s quite large indeed” Brimble spoke, so sure of himself, but Bramble didn’t really agree to such a claim. If anything, the book Mama used was a much bigger measurement of love than a single tiny star!

“They don’t seem all that big really.” She said, climbing up a nearby tree, and balancing on the edge of its branches confidently. “But the sun is much larger, this I know.” She puts a steady paw up to cusp the sun into her feeble little claws, yet it doesn’t quite fit. Nodding to her younger brother, she feels she made her point indefinitely.

Brimble shook his head. “My love is much bigger than that, very much so.”

“No..” Bramble spoke with a hint of disbelief. Nothing can be bigger than that *but* her love for the little white mouse. That’s a given. So she wondered and she wondered, tapping against her chin with the tip of her nail.

“We should have a contest then shouldn’t we?

To see who loves one another more!” To this, Brimble willingly agreed.

So bramble perched herself onto a tree and raised up her arms towards the sky.

“See this Brimble? This is how much I love you!”

The sky was so vast and so grand. How can a mouse argue with such a thing? So blue and so wide! But he just knew he loved his sister so much more than how far the skies stretched. So he climbed the tree she perched on, and turned her head to look at the sweeping and rolling hills of the horizon. “My love for you is further than the sky ever dares to go, this you have to know.”

Though impressive, this Bramble just couldn’t believe was more than she felt in her heart. Surely there’s something else much taller, bigger, pointier, and prouder, than the outstretched hills south of their little farm. So she huffed, before turning Brimble's little head to the direction north. Where the mountains spanned for what seemed more than a hundred whisker lengths. “My love for you is grander than these mountains ahead!”

“Ha! Though big and though quite tall, it isn’t nearly as much as I love you, Bramble!”

So they fought on like this for a while now. Hopping from tree to tree, jumping from log to log, each finding something bigger, better, further, brighter, shinier and taller than the last. And so, with a great sprint towards the crops of fruits and vegetables that resided in their farm, and with little more to say, each mouse hopped giddily towards comparing their love to the things they knew were big but not quite big enough.

“Bigger than this watermelon!” Brimble spoke.

“Much bigger than this potato!”Bramble shouted.

“Oh but this is bigger!” Brimble caught hold of Great Granpa Mouse's foot, only letting go when the old mouse laughed heartily.

“Grandpa is big indeed, Brimble, but not as big as a pumpkin!” Bramble squeaked, scurrying towards where her brother sat.

“What are you two on about?” Grandpa asked, gently taking his foot away from the little mouse's paws.

“Brimble thinks he loves me more! But grandpa tell him my love is greater than he’ll ever know!

“Well maybe that’s just it,” Grandpa started. The two mice scooted closer next to him, tilting their head questioningly. “What is?” Bramble asked.

“Maybe there isn’t anything in this good world that can measure how much you two love one another.”

“Nonsense!” Brimble spoke. “There has to be something.”

“You…” Grandpa mouse said, patting the two heads of his little mice comfortably. “Have to trust that love is something that can’t be put much into words, but can be put very well into do.”

“Into do?” Brimble asked. He didn’t quite understand. He thought about all the things that he did do. For Mama, for Grandpa, and for Bramble especially. But how were those things big enough to measure such love?

“Into do!” Grandpa reassured, sensing Brimble's inner conflict. “You show your love with hugs, kisses, planting flowers, bedtime stories, good food and cuddling, washing Grandpa's feet, those types of things.”

“Hmm..” both mice hummed. “I’ll never ever stop giving you kisses!” Bramble told Brimble, holding him close. Only solidifying the do grandpa mouse was going on about.

“And I’ll ever never stop giving you half of my soup” Brimble hugged even tighter.

If love can’t possibly be measured, then surely they’ll have to cuddle one another even harder to show it.

“If I don’t wash your stinky feet, can I still love you more than pumpkins?” Brimble softly said, earning a long hard laugh from Grandpa Mouse and Bramble.

He scooped his mice up in his arms and hugged them ever so tight. He hugged and squeezed and kissed and coddled. Snuggled smooched and loved and loved!

“I love you both so much!” He squeaked with glee.

“How much?” They both asked. To this grandpa wondered and wondered, tapping his scruffly chin with the tip of his nail. “As big as this peanut”

#Bramble and Brimble #mouse story #children's stories #mice #Mai stories

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