#raisins water

[foodnutra]

Does raisin water clear skin?

Raisin water is a toner you can make at home that’s said to have a variety of skin benefits. Some people use it as a face wash or toner, while others soak raisins overnight in warm water and drink the water as an antioxidant-rich beverage. The benefits of raisin water for skin include softening wrinkles, reducing acne scarring and even bleaching your face. You can buy ready-made raisin water, but it’s usually more affordable to make on your own.

Raisin water is a toner you can make at home that’s said to have a variety of skin benefits.

Raisin water is a toner you can make at home that’s said to have a variety of skin benefits. It can be used as a toner or face wash, and it’s also said to help with acne and aging.

Ready-made raisin water is available online and in stores, but it’s usually more affordable to make on your own. Here’s how:

Place 1/2 cup of dried grapes in a jar (or use 2 tablespoons of fresh grapes). Cover with 2 cups of boiling water; let sit overnight in a cool place; strain out solids; store refrigerated for up to two weeks.

Some people use it as a face wash or toner, while others soak raisins overnight in warm water and drink the water as an antioxidant-rich beverage.

Raisin water is also a popular remedy for skin ailments. Some people use it as a face wash or toner, while others soak raisins overnight in warm water and drink the water as an antioxidant-rich beverage.

To make raisin water:

Soak about 1/4 cup of dried grapes (raisins) in warm water for at least 6 hours or overnight.

Strain out any solids and discard them before using your homemade infusion as you prefer–for example, pour over cereal or smoothies; add to lemonade; use as an eye mask or facial toner by steaming your face with hot vapor from this liquid until it cools down slightly then applying directly onto skin with fingertips; drink straight up!

The benefits of raisin water for skin include softening wrinkles, reducing acne scarring and even bleaching your face.

Raisin water can help with acne.

It can help with wrinkles and bleaching your face.

It can even whiten your skin, which is great for people who want to look younger!

You can buy ready-made raisin water, but it’s usually more affordable to make on your own.

You can buy ready-made raisin water, but it’s usually more affordable to make on your own. Raisin water is a toner or face wash that uses the antioxidant properties of raisins to help clear skin. You can also use this product as a soak for overnight use and/or as a facial cleanser for oily skin types.

Raisin water has potential positive effects on your skin if used correctly.

Raisin water is a natural product that can help with acne, skin whitening, and even wrinkles. It also has properties that are beneficial for treating scars caused by acne.

The main reason raisin water works so well on the skin is because of its high vitamin A content. Vitamin A is essential for healthy hair growth and proper functioning of the sebaceous glands (1). The sebaceous glands produce an oily substance called sebum which helps keep our skin moisturized while preventing it from drying out too much (2). However sometimes too much sebum production can cause clogged pores leading to blackheads or whiteheads (3). This leads us back to vitamin A again! Vitamin A helps reduce inflammation in our bodies which means less redness around those pesky blemishes we’ve been trying so hard not to pick at!

Skin is the largest organ in our bodies, so it makes sense that we would want to take care of it. There are many ways to do this, including using raisin water as a toner or face wash. The benefits of raisin water for skin include softening wrinkles, reducing acne scarring and even bleaching your face. You can buy ready-made raisin water, but it’s usually more affordable to make on your own.

For more visit: Does raisin water clear skin? — FoodNutra

[campusmundispain]

Recipe for Sultana Cake This butter cake is loaded with sultana raisins. 10 tablespoons butter diced, 2 cups sultana raisins, 2 cups white sugar, 3 eggs, water or as needed, 1.5 teaspoons baking powder, 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract, 3 cups all-purpose flour

[reneeandallison]

Sultana Cake This butter cake is loaded with sultana raisins.

[izzystizzys]

There is a scratch mark on the floor of the Council chambers that Mace has never noticed before. Not a deep one, mind, quite shallow. This matters because it’s making the white-hot pulse of agony stabbing through his eyeballs ebb momentarily. Then, he chances a glance upwards at the fidgeting Knight in front of them, and it returns in full force.

Huh, he’s never seen Oppo Rancisis’ face turn that colour before.

“Hmm”, Master Yoda hums, deep and scratchy. His expression is unreadable even to Mace beyond a baseline gremlinness, and the force with which he grips the edges of his seat is making his bones creak. Master of the Order you should become, they said. Follow the calling of the Force, you should. A fulfilling purpose, it will be. Mace is going to hunt the little goblin for sport when this is all over, and he’s going to laugh the whole time.

“Show us the livestream again, could you, Knight Parvo?” Yoda asks. Mace bursts a capillary, he’s pretty sure, and so does poor Knight Parvo, whose orange Mon Cala skin tips all the way into blood red with stress. “Most unusual, this is.”

“Absolutely not!”, Ki Adi intervenes before Mace has to, thank the Force for little mercies. Plo Koon’s tusks tremble slightly with either suppressed laughter or abject horror, maybe both, and Stass Allie has her head in her hands. “The holo stills should be enough”, Ki Adi proceeds to add, and Mace has to reconsider all feelings of grace he just felt towards his fellow Councillor.

He never wants to watch Yoda zoom in on someone’s abs again. Or Depa raise her eyebrows at the curve of thighs bent over the dripping front of a speeder.

“Speeder Wash For Our Troops”, his former padawan reads out loud from a still of what has to be hundreds of the things gathered in the public senate parking lot. “Fund Our Boys And Get A Wet Seeing-To!” The series of images features dozens of Coruscant Guard troopers in various stages of unkitted, gleaming and shining with soap suds and water. The fact that the whole thing is also massive shatterpoint after massive shatterpoint is, quite frankly, insulting.

“Well hello- oh dear”, Obi-Wan’s blue form crackles to life in his chair, followed by several sounds of choking that are definitely not him. Good, Mace thinks acidly. If he has to deal with this, then so does kriffing Skywalker. “I’m sorry, why am I looking at Commander Thorn using a washrag like a lasso on top of a speeder?”

“Oh, the Guard’s little fundraising project”, Bail Organa says, as he steps into the Council chambers. Normally, Mace likes the man well enough. Now, he just smiles and adds on, “I’ve already donated, in mine and Breha’s name. Remotely, of course.”

“The Guard’s fundraising speeder wash?”, Obi-Wan repeats, edges of his holo form flickering with what Mace suspects is Skywalker very unsubtly trying to edge in. Force, but the man really is horrible at any and all stealth, like kissing his secret wife in an open arena in front of his Master. “And they are fundraising for…?”

“GAR budget allocations have to come from somewhere”, Organa shrugs. “And with the tide of public opinion turning, they’ve been tending towards cuts. The Guard feels them more keenly than any other sector - they’ve been reduced from half to quarter rations, and medical supplies have not made more than a token appearance in the last draft. The Chancellor has cancelled three consecutive meetings on the matter, and thus it was agreed that a more hands-on approach was needed. Any surplus will go into the Army fund.”

“Surely it can’t be that dire”, Oppo protests, a slightly less concerning shade of purple now. Senator Organa shrugs again, jostling the smattering of cracks slowly building around his person in a way that makes Mace wince quietly. “It’s all publicly available data, Masters.”

It really can be that dire, as it turns out. And quarter rations is only scratching the surface of how dire, considering the Guard has apparently never had access to bacta in all their posting, and also includes requisitioning forms available to the Senate for reconditionings and decommissionings, two words Mace has only heard Ponds whispers amidst shuddering in the early days of the war before Shaak Ti went off and just about tore some throats out over it.

“Alright”, he concedes, rubbing at his temples. “Fair enough, we have failed to tackle a massive blind spot in the Guard’s well being. There is no Jedi assigned to Coruscant, and that’s an oversight on our behalf. But how in the everloving kriff did this get past the Chancellor and Commander Fox?!”

Who have both signed, black on white. Bail Organa smiles cryptically. “Well, if you scroll a bit past that one image, up to the industrial speeder in the back - Commander Fox is currently having credits stuffed into his codpiece in the back, I believe.”

“HE’S WHAT IN THE WHAT NOW”, Commander Cody screeches through the speaker of Obi-Wan’s holo image, and Mace has to summon every bit of Jedi-serenity he possesses in his body to keep from dropkicking a cackling Yoda through the chamber windows.

[waywardstation]

Out There Somewhere

Phione Akari AU

Akari is frustrated that she can't seem to communicate with Ingo, no matter how hard she tries.

I wrote this just to try and figure out Akari's frustration around communication barriers, and Ingo just not having important context in order to help figure it out (and being a little frustrated as well), but being able to sympathize enough to still be comforting through what little is actually understood.

OR read here on AO3!

AND check out the Phione Akari AU masterpost!

Enjoy!

————

Ingo set the bucket down on the ground, the water sloshing inside as he moved to set it under the nearby tree. But instead of sitting down against the trunk, he simply squinted against the sliver of sun peeking over the coastlands’ horizon and sighed, walking around it.

At the sound of shoes crunching against dirt, his portable, watery companion housed within said bucket peeked out over the rim to see where he was going.

Ah. Just as suspected, he was stretching again. Leaning against the tree with one arm, he was doing his best to relieve the sore spine that was clearly bothering him. A muffled yet audible crack freed a groan from the warden’s mouth as he pressed the heel of his palm into his lower side and twisted. 

“ Phi,” She flopped halfway over the side to continue watching him; it wouldn’t be bothering him so badly if he took more breaks from all the hiking he’d done today. Or the day before. Or the day before that. 

Ingo’s gaze settled on her as he continued to stretch, but otherwise he said nothing; comparatively, he had not been very responsive to her today. 

To his credit, she had not been very responsive with him lately either though, now frequently reserving any sounds she made and no longer using them conversationally. Ingo never correctly understood them anyways. 

Uncoiling the tight pain in his back as best as he believed he could, Ingo leaned down to pick the bucket back up and head into a patch of tall grass, holding it close to him. 

“Phi,” She squeaked quietly as the water sloshed with the jostling. Looking up, she met eyes with Ingo, who was already looking down at her.

She may have appeared more dejected than she assumed; his gaze wasn’t quite one of annoyance, but it just seemed… unappreciated. Blank? Perhaps jaded. “No need to worry, Passenger. I am still checking trees for any stalking murkrow before I set you down.”

Akari continued to slosh around quietly in time with Ingo’s steps as he resigned back to silence. A look up through the bucket’s top to the darkened purple sky above, and she was able to make out the weak speckles of stars, still somewhat hiding until the sun’s glow retracted its reach entirely. It would be a clear night – at least the coastlands were merciful enough not to pelt them with bad weather two nights in a row.

The sounds of shoes on grass gave way to smoothed dirt, and the top of a tent could be seen out of the bucket’s top. They must have reached one of the base camps.

At least Ingo would allow himself cover and a bed tonight, but she attributed that to his aching back now demanding it too loudly to ignore any longer.

Once again, Akari not-so-gently sloshed with the bucket’s contents as Ingo wearily set it down on top of the camp’s storage chest. She jumped up to grasp onto the edge and peek over the bucket’s side as he passed by.

The camp’s fire pit was unlit, and it seemed it would stay that way. Ingo went about in the darkness, pouring water into one of the camp’s bowls and washing his face with it. His hands lingered over his eyes with each splash, as if trying to massage the exhaustion out. Then he ventured out into the ring of darkness, dumping the water out onto the grass. Setting the bowl back, he gave the cold fire pit a passing glance before returning to the bucket. 

No proper dinner to be cooked, no flames to heat up the water in her bucket the way she liked at night, no heat to warm himself up, and no light to even see where he was going. 

Again.

“Here,” Akari glanced up as Ingo pulled a cheri berry out of his coat pocket and held it out to her. The thing was almost as big as her head.

“Phi,” Akari shook her head sternly and sank under the water. She’d learned a few days ago he’d keep offering and urging otherwise, and he needed that fruit more than her. She wasn’t hungry anyways. At least she didn’t think so. This strange body was so confusing. Maybe she was filter feeding and didn’t even realize it…

From under the sloshing skylight of water, Akari saw Ingo’s shoulders slump with an exasperated sigh before popping the berry in his mouth and turning away. 

The callous, self-directed frustration gave way to a hint of regret for a moment. She didn’t like seeing him like that. And she definitely didn’t like that she was contributing to it. But she was so nauseatingly, disgustingly sick of trying to communicate at this point when it never got anywhere.

The bucket sloshed around once again as Ingo picked it up and pulled back the canvas flap to carry it into the deeper darkness of the tent with him.

Setting the bucket in the corner and letting himself fall back into the tent with a not-so-quiet grunt, Ingo began to shrug off his coat, removing it with relative care. Folding it and setting it aside next to the tent’s provided pillow, Ingo topped it off by placing his hat down on it.

Aching legs pulled in as shaking hands ran through matted hair and tired eyes regarded the bucket in the corner briefly. Moving carefully on his poor back so as not to irritate it further, Ingo curled onto his side, puffing up before letting out one big, final sigh into the dark. 

“Goodnight, Passenger.” 

Fabric sheets ruffled briefly in the darkness as he made himself more comfortable, but then he was still, and the subtle night ambience replaced it. 

From the side of the lonely bucket, which Ingo had set down as far away from him as she felt he could, Akari regarded him with something not unlike pity before slipping back under the water. She sank to the bottom of the bucket, watching the bubbles that clung to her gradually let go and wander towards the surface.

Ingo was going to go to sleep upset tonight. And she was going to as well.

Why had things come to this?

She didn’t even know what had happened. The only things her memory had retained was uncovering what she assumed to be Manaphy within the dark, damp depths of a half-flooded cavern, then she had found herself adrift near the coastlands’ shore, like this.  

What had happened to her body? Her Pokémon? Her everything? If Manaphy had changed her, would she ever be able to revert her back to her human self? What if she couldn’t even find Manaphy again?

From the start, it had always been strange and uncomfortable and scary being like this. But whenever she stopped to really think about it and mull things over, she hated it. 

She hated being so small and fragile. She couldn’t walk, only crawl with flat, fingerless flippers that couldn’t grasp anything without significant focus. Her voice had left her and functional commutation of any kind was largely stripped with both people and Pokémon. No one recognized her. She didn’t understand anything about this body that seemed to be as structurally sound as a water balloon. And she couldn’t even protect herself, unable to figure out how to utilize any Pokémon moves. 

So many horrible, easy ways this could end terribly. What if she could never find Manaphy? Or what if Manaphy couldn’t change her back? What if she was stuck like this, forever isolated from her friends and family and pathetically clinging to someone who thought she was dead, and only kept her around out of pity and misunderstanding?

The gripping loneliness of the bucket shoved aside into the back corner clamped down much deeper without warning. She was so far away from Ingo. Why had the bucket been crammed so far away? Suddenly, Akari felt like she couldn’t get any air. She needed out of this bucket.

No, she couldn’t take this isolation. She couldn’t move this bucket, but Ingo could. Just a little closer to him. That’s all she wanted.

She hated the idea of trying any more right now, but she’d try just one more time to communicate with him.

–––––

…Sleep was not coming easily to Ingo, but he was still trying his best. He’d need to get up early tomorrow, after all. 

Lying on his side, a sound blipped in the background of hazy exhaustion that was already beginning to shut down his senses. Weary eyes opened halfway before his mind processed that the sound was a splash from back in the corner of the tent. 

A delay to process, and Ingo jolted out of the hazy murk into sitting upright — how long had he been drifting? Thirty seconds? Ten minutes? Half an hour? Something wild had surely stuck its head in through the tent flap for a drink from the bucket and had snatched Passenger — but a familiar squeak and a cold sensation near his foot alerted him that they were still here. 

A glance down in the dark, and Ingo could make out that the small Pokémon was grasping onto the end of his pant leg, sprawled across his ankle as if bracing for more sudden movements.

“Oh- oh Passenger,” Ingo smoothed down and reached for her, letting her flop onto his outstretched hand. “I apologize, I thought that something had… never mind, is something wrong?”

No squeaks. Just cold, wet flippers wrapped around his thumb for support as she slouched in his hand.

“Did you want that cheri berry after all? I’m sorry, I don’t… have it anymore.” An awkward guess as to what she wanted after a stretch of silence. Just another misunderstanding. Akari shook her head no, and pointed to the bucket.

Please bring it a little closer.

“Your bucket has sufficient water? I checked.” 

Another incorrect guess, another head shake.

“Did you, perhaps… want to stay in here again tonight?” Ingo plucked his cap up and held it up for her. “You can if you’d like.”

Not quite. Akari shook her head no and pointed at him with a flipper. “Phi,”

“Me?” Ingo pointed at his chest.

“Phi!” A head shake yes, another annoyingly repetitive motion of pointing a flipper at him, then back at the bucket.

“You want me… to..?” Ingo’s sentence died off. He didn’t understand, and was starting to sound like he was losing his grip on the agency of the situation.

“Phi phi!” Another desperate, pointed jab at the bucket, then back at him. A moving motion with her useless, unhelpful, and entirely unindicative flippers.

Please just bring it closer to you. That’s all I want.

A simple request that would have normally taken not longer than eight words and three seconds between them. Can you please move the bucket over here? Actually no, a request that wouldn’t have even needed to exist, because Akari would have simply picked up the bucket herself if she could have.

Regardless, it was all unintelligible, tangled static now. A basic request, now an impossible cipher.

“Oh, I forgot, didn’t I? I apologize.”

Akari looked up at Ingo, hopeful as he got up on a knee, carefully still cupping her in his hands and moving back towards the bucket. Did he finally get it?

“I know I forgot to heat the water the way you like at night. I just… I do not have the steam to start and manage a fire, simply to warm up some water tonight. Please understand.”

Ingo yawned as he placed her back into the bucket. He looked so exhausted. His hands came out dripping, leaving a tiny, insignificant, heartbroken Akari alone to drift in the container once again.

Another attempt to communicate had fizzled out tremendously. She wanted to cry.

A part of her had not wanted to try her hardest to communicate with Ingo. Because if she tried her hardest and it still wasn’t enough, all that would do is prove the terrifying hypothetical that there was no hope of ever replicating any connection or relationship the way it used to be again.

Well, it appeared that had been proven.

“I apologize, but please, endure it until morning.” Ingo covered his mouth as he yawned again. Returning back to the tent’s bed, he then slumped back down and began making himself comfortable on his side again. “I promise when I wake up tomorrow I will do so, but for now, I need sleep. Please.”

Closing his eyes, it only took a few moments before he once again heard a splash, and subsequent wet movements drawing near to his side, which culminated in a damp flipper bapping his hand.

“Passenger.” Ingo rolled onto his back. He was actively moving away from her now. “Not tonight. Please.”

“Phi!” Akari wailed. She didn’t even care about the bucket anymore. She’d rather just stay next to him on his pillow. She didn’t care if she woke up all dried out. It was better than being alone with her thoughts in that confined container, pushed aside in the dark corner.

“It’s on tomorrow’s schedule.”

And with that, Ingo turned onto his other side, his back to her. He was done with this.

He’d never understand. 

Blurry eyes stared back at the new, tall barrier that was Ingo’s back. Akari sat slumped amongst the sheets in grief before dragging herself onto the pillow and over to Ingo. She leaned against him, inconspicuously blinking back a couple sad, frustrated, tired tears.

Nothing worked when she tried to get through to him. She understood him and everyone else as clearly as before, but could no longer speak human dialect with these limited, foreign vocal cords (if that’s what she even had anymore). And understanding or communicating with other Pokémon was useless when the knowledge of the language obviously didn’t come with the body.

Over these last six days, all her efforts had done was convince Ingo that she was a clingy wild Pokémon that couldn’t stand to be separated from him, but was also perpetually upset at him. And she could see with time it had made him start to close himself off to her.

Was she frustrated? With the situation, absolutely. Upset? Of course. But at Ingo? No. 

It was just hard to do anything when one was stripped of their voice, their legs, their hands, most of their structural systems, and over ninety percent of their body mass. And as upset as she was that it seemed Ingo would never understand, she couldn’t expect him to independently entertain the thought that she was this little phione. People just did not turn into Pokémon. That did not happen. 

…Well, except for in this one case maybe. But it didn’t happen enough for people to just realistically wonder if someone turned into a Pokémon when they went missing. That was so silly.

It just did not happen.

So of course Ingo would never realize, unless she somehow found a method to express it to him in a way he could understand.

But for now, it seemed that all that had done was make him annoyed with her.

A frustrated tear finally slipped out, and Akari’s flipper collected it as she wiped it away. With a whimper, another tear followed. She sniffed.

The darkness let her cry for only a few moments before her support shifted under her. Akari did her best to stop the tears and looked up to see Ingo glancing back over his shoulder at her.

Just one grey eye, loose and clouded with exhaustion, but now observing her with the novel extent of commiseration.

“Oh,” Ingo breathed. He sounded hesitant now. “Oh- dear.” 

He shifted again, now turning on his side to face towards Akari, but she simply curled forward into her flippers — it only made her feel scrutinized right now.

“…Passenger, it was not about warming the water, was it?”

Maybe it was the careful tone that had replaced all his previous, built-up annoyance, or his concerned look. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was trying to listen to her and understand again. Whatever it was, that sentence opened everything up. Akari sobbed and flopped forward into his front, soaking all over the fabric of his tunic.

“I’m- I apologize,” One of Ingo’s hands cupped around near her, but he did not touch her, perhaps careful to still give her space. “It was… not my explicit intent to make you upset.” He didn’t even sound like he believed himself when he said it. “I believe I’ve overlooked something, haven’t I?”

He had, in a massive way, yes. But if Akari couldn’t get him to understand when she simply wanted a bucket moved, how could she possibly explain her frustrations to him? So she shook her head no despite her feelings, but the continued tears and the clinging contradicted her.

Things went on like that for a while. Ingo did not know what was wrong, and Akari didn’t even attempt to tell him as she was tired of trying. So she was grateful he didn’t push and just let her cry. But eventually her shelter, Ingo’s tear-stained tunic, pulled away as the warden shifted back over onto his back. He brought her with him, letting her rest in his hands as an offer of continued consolation and comfort.

“...I remember what the professor said in his office the other day about, you know… you.” Ingo spoke quietly up at the tent’s ceiling. “About how his many coastal observations suggested you are a very, ah, group oriented species. How you consist of large families that drift with each other from one destination to the next. Always together.”

Akari remembered Laventon saying that as well. Much more verbose and detailed of course, but that summed it up well. She made a quiet sound of acknowledgement and shuffled in his fingers to curl up near his shoulder, and Ingo moved his now-empty hands to clasp them loosely over his belly instead.

“I understand from what the professor surmised about what happened to you, that you miss your group very much.” Ingo continued. “And separation is all the more difficult when one feels lost.”

That came from a very personal place. He did not bring light to it (and why would he with what he assumed to be a Pokémon who still did not know him well?), but Akari knew he was pulling from the clingy, frantic behavior she found herself apt to express whenever separation from him seemed imminent. Had he felt like that when he first fell to Hisui?

“And you’ve felt very lost today haven’t you, Passenger?”

Tears welled up again as Akari nodded. Again, not in the way Ingo had meant, but it still hit the target right in the center. “Phi.”

“I understand the feeling.” Ingo lingered on the sentence for a moment. “Which is why I want to apologize if I have seemed quite distant or distracted today, or yesterday, and contributed to that. I did not intend to neglect you, and lead you to feel even more alone or lost than you already do. I truly did not mean for that. I am just-” 

Hands still clasped, Ingo began tapping his thumbs together.

“I am sure you are well aware that I am looking for a lost friend of mine as well. I am worried about her too.”

Akari stayed quiet, waiting to see if he’d say anything more. Ingo had rarely ever brought her up with, well, herself , throughout this entire situation, and why would he? Why would he share his stressors with what he probably currently believed to be the equivalent of a frustrated blue pop pod? 

But he was talking about her now. Maybe he was using her relative silence as a catalyst for a self-sorting introspection, because the conversation was certainly going one way with no indication that responses were expected. 

But Akari did not mind.

“She is formidable against many, many challenges, but the more time goes by with her absence, the more I fear that something has happened that cannot be taken back.” Ingo’s words slowed down now, carefully thought over and treading with trepidation. “I wonder if she is alright or not. And I also wonder if she is still here. Either in the ah, expected sense of the word, or if… perhaps she received a ticket back home, and I was not there to join her, or bid her goodbye when her line departed.”

Now that was new information to Akari. She had no idea that all of this time, Ingo had been considering the horrific possibility that she had perhaps left Hisui to go back to her own time. He had never once verbalized anything like that over this entire time.

She would never. Never. She’d never even let him say goodbye in a scenario like that, because she would never ever leave without him if she got a chance like that. She’d grab his arm and pull him along with her and fight anything that would have tried to stop her from doing it. And if she would ever be taken suddenly without a choice, she’d fight her way back to grab Ingo and make sure he’d be included. Somehow, she’d find a way.

The thought that he was worrying over something like that, and had been doing so for so long broke her heart. 

“But, I also believe that unfortunately I’ve allowed these concerns to outgrow me and derail my priorities. I’ve been trying very hard to find her again, just as I’m sure your group is trying to find you. Though while searching for her, I’m afraid I’ve left you in the dark, and I apologize for that. I am conducting you, after all; I should not be leaving passengers unattended when they require assistance.”

Ingo stopped tapping his thumbs together. Akari rose and fell with Ingo’s chest as he took a deep, distressed breath and let the anxiety out through his nose.

“Tomorrow will not be like today. In the morning, I plan to traverse the cliff sides near the water. I’ll be searching for my own, but I’d like you to know I will be just as diligent with keeping an eye out for any members of your group who may be looking for you along the surf.”

“Phi,” Akari muttered, hoping he took that as a ‘thank you’, or a ‘I’m sorry too’, or even just a simple acknowledgement of the vulnerable moment. She appreciated the sentiment, despite his offer basically being useless to her.

“You know, I believe she would take a liking to you if you were to meet her. I’d like you to, if possible. I also think you’d probably get along with her much better than you do with me.” Ingo continued after another long stretch of silence. He seemed to be trying to relax himself now; fabric shifted in the dark hopefully for the last time. “In some ways, you remind me of her very much.”

Two days ago, or maybe even yesterday, she would have spit a stream of water at him, or smacked him with her useless flipper for saying something that would be so retrospectively obvious. 

But he was so exhausted. And so was she. And it, along with any other form of indication she had tried, never got the intended message across. It would have only ruined the nice moment they had managed to dredge up in all of this stress.

So instead, Akari simply flopped over and settled herself into Ingo’s shoulder, clasping onto it securely. It would be a rather loud place when he would inevitably start snoring, but the hood of his tunic was warm, and the proximity was comforting at the moment – much better than all the isolating nights she had spent in that dark bucket.

It must have surprised Ingo, as fabric rustled once again as he turned to look at her as best he could.

“You are stationing yourself there? I am afraid that you will be dried out by sunrise if you stay there.” He warned. “What about your bucket?”

“Phi,” Akari shook her head no, wiggling further into his hood to emphasize she was staying there. She didn’t care. The coastlands were cool enough at night to keep it from becoming too unbearable anyways.

“Alright.” Ingo closed his eyes, and let his muscles finally slack as he settled into the bed. “Goodnight, Passenger. Thank you for listening.”

[morethansalad]

Vegan Baked Apple Tiramisu

[glitter-alienz]

I keep doing this. I keep being so shocked why this dry piece of bread tastes so heavenly and then remembering I didn't eat anything for a day and a half and my body is literally begging me to feed it and making me feel like this old probably moldy bread is the best thing ever

[darthraydor]

predator vs. prey

[canines-crown]

Feeling very deer right now so I made myself a little snack :333

So euphoric aaa

[mokeonn]

if yall ever wanna make a bomb ass book accurate Frankenstein's Creature design just stick whatever sexyman design you have in a dehydrator and it'll look sick as fuck

[artist-issues]

Okay, hey, I have something to say about Avatar.  Because the haters love to talk about how nobody’s talking about it. But do you know why nobody’s talking about it? It’s not because it’s a flop. It’s not because it’s predictable, or lazy, or nobody cared, or anything like that.

Nobody’s talking about it because Avatar 2: The Way of Water is (beyond all the hype and the Disney and the animation pioneering and the meme of it all) a good, old-fashioned story about classic family roles. And we’ve lost the ability to let that impact us.

We’re more interested in movies about family that glorify our Teen Angst when we’re pushing 30 years old. Give us Encanto, where the parents aren’t doing enough and the Grandma is the villain and the children are martyrs of the older generation. Give us Stranger Things, where the adults are either evil or straight-up useless, but the kids have more insight into reality. That’s what we crave. A story that strokes our egos and reminds us that our parents were wrong about us. Doesn’t matter about what, exactly, but yeah, the parents are the dummies and the kids are the saviors.

We have no taste buds cultivated for a movie like Avatar 2, where the Dad and Mom just spend the entire movie learning what protection really means. We have no taste buds cultivated for a film where, yes, the kids are innovators and save parts of the day, but they also get into incredible danger thanks to disobedience, and one of them even dies because that is what happens when you’re a kid and you try to be an adult in a war zone.  I mean, gosh, please name me another film in 2022 that was as big and bold about A Father’s Job as Avatar 2: The Way of Water. Our culture doesn’t even want to say “father” anymore, because that would imply that male leaders of a family are actually something that should exist. But Avatar 2: The Way of Water really just said “A father’s role is to protect. That doesn’t mean saving my family by running from trouble.”

Jake goes from making decisions out of fear for his family to trusting in a higher power and leading his family in protecting their home. Proactively, not reactively.  Now, let me be clear, I hate that the higher power is a mashed-up ripoff of various religions, most prominently slapping the rearranged letters of God’s holy name on an amalgamation of Hindu and New Age ideology. And I’m very not cool with the messianic birth trope. But truly, that’s a subject for another time.

Right now, the point I’m making is, you can hate on Avatar 2: The Way of Water for not making a social media splash all you want. But the truth is, the film was made by real, solid filmmakers who have been writing screenplays for things like Armageddon and Titanic. They’re not some hyper-woke scrubs. They know what they’re doing. 

We’ve just lost the ability to talk about stories that are built on traditional values. Avatar 2: The Way of Water isn’t making a splash on social media, not because it wasn’t good, but because the only things that make a splash on social media these days are woke, controversial, political, or pandering. Timeless tales about a family learning to come of age in adversity with the father leading just don’t hit the spot anymore.

[covrettcreative]

Spectral

Seen in Dundee, Michigan.

[lilyflxwers]

this is your daily reminder to drink water, take your meds, make a tasty snack

[nehswritesstuffs]

Visiting Home

Sometimes you just have to write something super-fcking depressing and, well, this is what I came up with this time.

4348 words; I might rework this sort of a situation into something else later, but for now, this is a version of said events; gotta love these comfort characters that have never experienced any comfort in their lives; very strong content warning for death, referenced genocide, and an abandoned war zone, with descriptors of what one might find there; I actually cried while writing this so please forgive me if there’s more than the usual amount of mistakes (I’m okay, just, damn); set when Law is 17, Shachi is 18, Penguin is 19, and Bepo is 13

Visiting Home; Law wants to go back to Flevance to run some tests on the remaining Amber Lead, though the excursion turns into another sort of thing entirely. [canon compliant]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“You want us to go where?!”

Law casually glanced up from his book and looked at Shachi, who was staring at him with his jaw dropped open. Penguin wasn’t too far away with two plates of food in his hands, while Bepo was attempting to cower behind him.

“Flevance,” Law repeated. “I want to test the area.”

“I thought you said that the entire country was a mess of poison,” Penguin said. He put the plates down on the table and raised an eyebrow at his captain. “You want us to go into that?”

“Not all of you—someone has to stay with the Tang—but I would like at least one other to come along and help with the tests.” He accepted his plate from Penguin and looked at his crew with a raised eyebrow. “What…?”

“Cap, we know it’s the land that…” Shachi hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Listen, we know what happened there. How can you be so sure we’ll be alright?”

“I now know how to scan our bodies for Amber Lead. Any buildup, no matter how minute, will get scraped out of us upon our return to the Tang. At least my aim’s better now than when we first met.” Law took a bite of food—Penguin was getting really good at this cooking business—before continuing. “We are uniquely situated to be able to run scientific experiments without any lasting due harm that others might acquire.”

“…and why do you want to go in the first place?” Penguin asked. “I feel like it wasn’t that long ago you said that you never wanted to go back.”

“I want to see what seven years of dormancy has done to the area, and what that could have on a potential cleanup campaign.” Law then shrugged awkwardly. “I want to see what’s left.”

“If there’s anything at all,” Penguin reminded him. He saw his friend’s—no, his captain’s—gaze unfocus as they ate and something deep in him hurt. “Will you be alright doing that?”

No reply.

“I have the course set already,” Bepo offered quietly. He pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and flattened it out on the table. “It won’t be too far removed from any other populated places, so we can stock up before we go so that we have enough supplies to quarantine properly.” Law shot him a glare and he cringed. “Sorry; I know it’s not contagious, but it’s essentially a quarantine while we figure everything out. We could be idle in port for ages.”

“That’s true,” Shachi shrugged. “Though we can’t tell anyone else where we’re going. You got an alternate we can tell nosy shits in the meantime?”

“We’re coming from Spider Miles, but are headed to Reverse Mountain,” Bepo offered. “There’s an island close to Reverse Mountain that we could supposedly use as our only stop if we go that route. It’s the best option no matter where we stop at.”

“Then we’ll do it,” Penguin agreed, “only if you promise us you’re really okay with this. Don’t make yourself suffer because of this.”

Law nodded into his food and his crew knew it was a bald-faced lie.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Slowly, carefully, the Polar Tang made her way through the fjord that gave the White City access to the sea. Shachi and Bepo both took turns steering, doing their best to maneuver in the wreck-filled waters. Everything was covered in a sheen of Amber Lead, making it nearly impossible to tell what was a shipwreck or garbage or a natural port feature.

“I don’t want to look at anything white for a whole month after we’re done with this,” Penguin scowled. He looked at his friend sitting in the captain’s chair, seeing how intense his stare was on the monitors. “You sure it’s alright to do this?”

“It is—just trust me.”

“You might be the captain, but you know I am the oldest and I will beat your ass if I think it’s what’s best.”

Law did not answer, his gaze unbroken.

“’Kay… right…” Penguin looked over Shachi’s shoulder and looked at the varying blips on the radar. “At least we’re nearly at the shore. Captain, do you want me to get the coveralls ready?”

Law grunted in response, which Penguin took as an affirmative. He stalked out of the control room and went to the topmost internal room, where there was a box that had been thrown haphazardly by the door. Pulling out the contents, he inspected the coveralls for any tears and the boots for any cracks. They all had gasmasks and gloves as well, which he finished checking as the Polar Tang broke the surface, a world of white opening up before him.

Growing up, Penguin had grown up hearing about the glistening White City and the horrors that had taken place there. Shachi’s aunt and uncle used the place as a threat if they didn’t get what they wanted; the idea that they could have been tied up at night and dumped in the disease-infested city to die was not only a solid motivator to kids that didn’t know any better, but also a great way to create a light sleeper. Nothing could really prepare him for the sight, however, even with Law’s whispered stories and watching him tear the Amber Lead from his body.

The entire city was a charred ruin—it didn’t look like it had been a Buster Call, from what he could imagine, but it was close. There was evidence of a grand port that the ship inched ever closer towards, yet everything felt hollow, felt haunted. The Tang went close to the wharf as it could and stopped, idling gently as the rest of the crew made an appearance.

“So this is it, huh?” Shachi marveled. He and Penguin both began to pull blue coveralls over their clothes despite the fact they were unable to take their eyes off of Flevance. “It’s… the stories don’t do it justice.”

“Nothing does anymore,” Law said, staring out the window. He bit his bottom lip and exhaled heavily before looking away—this wasn’t something he could avoid for much longer. “Once we open this door, we’ll have exactly three hours, got that? I don’t want to base my findings on any additional exposure until we know precisely what’s still going on out there.”

“Don’t push yourselves,” Bepo insisted. He was chosen to stay by the other three, based on the fact he both could steer the ship should the rest of them fall out of commission, as well as the fact he was still technically a kid—a very tall kid with three adoptive overprotective brothers. “I’ll have the snail on; call me if anything happens!”

“We shall,” Law promised. He accepted a set of coveralls from Penguin and began to suit up, trying his best to not continue looking at the ruins on the shore. “Let’s be ready to go in five minutes—time to do a supply check.”

“Aye, aye,” Shachi saluted, checking the packs. By the time he made certain all the equipment was secured, the others were ready. They pulled on their gas masks and shooed out a tearful Bepo before opening the door and stepping out into the world of char and white.

The three teens made landfall easily, tying their dinghy up on the remnants of the most solid-looking of the piers. Neglect and the elements made the wharf precarious and suddenly they were really glad they left the heaviest of their number on the ship. They made it to solid ground and began to wander about the eerily empty streets—the timer was already ticking.

“So, any idea on where you want to first gather data?” Shachi asked. He and Penguin were following Law as the young captain carefully went through the streets. “I know it’s been a bit, but…?”

“Right now I want to see if there are any victims’ remains,” Law stated. His voice was muffled through the rubber of his gas mask and their covered ears, but he couldn’t stop them from hearing the waver in his voice. “To do that, we need to find the most intact buildings or areas where there might be hiding places. I doubt there’s much left, but anything that is shall be valuable.”

“What about stuff made with Amber Lead?” Penguin wondered. “What do you want to take?”

“Probably things like paint chips, teaspoons—things that are light and easy to transport. Depending on the compositions we might be able to come back for more later.”

“Do you really think there’s going to be another round of this?”

“There might be—who knows?”

As Law led his crew through the city, the two older teens grew increasingly uncomfortable with their surroundings. Their captain would often head into a house without warning, going past doors marked with crosses in chalk and paint and finding the chaos surrounding an interrupted wake. Bodies petrified by poison were popping up everywhere and it was beginning to make Penguin and Shachi sick to their stomachs; it might have been seven years, but the smell was still there.

Suddenly, Law stopped walking and stared down the street.

“What’s the matter?” Penguin wondered. He tapped at his wristwatch. “We’ve got to get back to Bepo soon and get to work on these analyses.”

“Not to mention the fact I really got to take a piss,” Shachi grimaced. Law didn’t answer, instead feeling a gentle tug near his navel, something wanting him to head down the street…

“You’re right—we spent too much time spreading out to keep going,” he said eventually, shaking the sensation from him. “Next time we need to go further… there’s some place I need to go.”

“…your house…?” Penguin wondered cautiously.

“No. The hospital.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

In the infirmary, Law sheathed the knife and dropped the Room, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He looked at his two friends sitting before him and offered them a wan smile.

“Nothing—not even a trace.”

“Really…?” Shachi marveled. “Not a lick of anything?”

“Are we safe?” Bepo asked from the door. Law rolled his eyes and went to the counter, where some of the items they took were already going through experiments to extract the Amber Lead.

“There’s no evidence of Amber Lead buildup in our bodies,” Law replied idly. “Next time I think we can stay for longer and with less protective equipment.”

“Why the fuck would we want to do that?” Penguin snorted. “I feel like we just chanced luck and survived beyond the odds.”

“Maneuverability, comfort, ease in communication—gas masks aren’t like surgical masks and require much of the face to be blocked and constrained. We should be able to ditch them and function like normal, just in coveralls and boots.”

‘…and look less like them,’ Law thought privately, his memory quickly going to when the White City fell. He would never tell them, but there had been a couple times he had seen Shachi and Penguin while they were out and he nearly thought he was a child again and they were there to kill.

“Will we still need at least the surgical masks?” Penguin wondered.

“That depends on what I find in the gas masks’ respirators; I have reason to believe that there might be active and latent poisoning phases to the Amber Lead. The buildup in my body was due to generations-long active poisoning, where it was newly-mined and the chemical activation was still fresh. Now, however, it could be that the chemical reaction with the air has been ongoing so long that it’s stale and only leeches poison once in a great while. Enough latent poisoning could be as dangerous as active poisoning in large enough concentrations, but the rate of chemical decay is what has me curious.”

“So… like burrito farts,” Shachi decided. Law glared at him, unimpressed. “Hear me out: there’s an active phase, where we’re all farting because the burritos were that good, but as time goes on, they get less and less, but they still smell like burrito farts.” The young captain did not dignify that with an answer and went back to the experiment. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

He wasn’t right, but he wasn’t wrong either.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Soon as his foot touched land the next day, something was calling to him.

Law didn’t entirely understand the sensation; it was the same as the day prior, pulling him inland in the direction of the hospital. He frowned and looked over at Penguin and Shachi, all three teens foregoing the masks this time.

“We’re going further in this time,” he explained before adjusting the pack on his shoulder. “There’s something I want to look for.”

“You said the hospital, right?” Shachi asked. Law nodded. “Is it far?”

“Not very… I don’t think.” He began to walk along the disused boulevard, not waiting to see if the other two were following. “My legs were a lot shorter last time I walked from the port to the hospital.”

“This place still gives me the creeps,” Penguin shivered. “I’m obviously here, but I will not be sad when we get out of here for good.”

“More walking, less sass,” Law warned. They walked past all the businesses and residences that they wandered around in the day before, heading deep into the heart of the city. Penguin and Shachi stayed silent, instead exchanging looks between bouts of watching their captain, wondering what exactly was coming next.

The hospital, or what was left of it, looked like anything but a place of healing. Parts were completely hollowed out by fire and the elements, left to rot like the rest of the city. The pull Law was experiencing was stronger now—he wasn’t sure now if he wanted to see what it was. He had to, however; he needed to know.

Stepping across the threshold of the front door, Law took a deep, shuddering breath as he tried to remember the way through his childhood home. Half-decomposed bodies and bones with clothes littered the corridors, remaining where they fell after being killed so mercilessly. Bullets were lodged in bones and walls, showing the mercilessness of the soldiers despite the years that had passed.

“You alright?” Penguin asked, clapping his hand on Law’s shoulder. The younger teen nodded slightly.

“Yeah. Let’s… uh… turn down here…”

“Was this the wing where they held advanced cases?”

“Kind of.”

Silently, Penguin and Shachi followed Law as he went up a flight of stairs and navigated a labyrinthine corridor without so much as pausing to look at the wall plaques. Fire had not touched this part of the hospital as severely as the others, making it so that it seemed relatively safe in comparison. The interior lights flickered above—never turned off and never disconnected from the hydro generator—and poorly illuminated the doorway the young captain stopped by.

“Oh, fuck…” Shachi grimaced, looking at the name plaque next to the ajar door. “Your parents’ office…?”

“No,” Law said. He took a step forward, stopping only when Penguin grabbed his upper arm.

“You don’t have to do this. We can still turn around and get the fuck out of here. Pretend there was nothing here…”

Law walked out of Penguin’s grip and through the door, entering the familiar reception office. Everything seemed frozen in time—the calendars, décor, the dated newspapers and magazines—nearly as though they had walked into his memories. The only evidence that there was anything wrong was the open doorways into the inner rooms.

With the first step into the internal corridor, the wooden flooring creaked under his weight, sending a surge of nostalgia through Law. He could almost hear his sister laughing, nearly see their parents down by their lab… it was chilling, in a way, knowing that had there been nothing wrong—no Amber Lead poisoning—this would more than likely be where he was still living.

“This doesn’t feel right,” Shachi shivered. He followed Law as he went into one of the rooms, seeing that it was a child’s bedroom. “Did you… did you live here…?”

“I did,” Law confirmed. It was eerie seeing his old room, like stepping into a dream. He picked a textbook up off the desk and flipped through it—fuck, it had seemed like such difficult material back then…

“Why did you live in the hospital?” Penguin wondered. “Were any of you sick… you know… before…?”

“No; that’s just what the hospital did,” Law said. “It was an incentive to keep talent employed and at the ready. We not only lived here, but if we wanted, there could have been someone from the janitorial staff to come in and clean for us, and my parents would have not had to cook if they didn’t want to… some nights they didn’t and we ate at the cafeteria instead. Food was decent, if you’ll believe it.”

“So, you were fucking rich.”

“We all were rich—doctors, janitors, food service, secretaries, management—everyone at first benefited from the riches that Amber Lead brought. People in Flevance worked because they enjoyed working—we did what we were talented at… what we loved to do…” Law pulled an old stuffed animal from a shelf and held it close—it almost smelled like it did before. “We knew it too—people came from all over the North just to live and work here…”

“…which is why the poisoning was as scary as it was, I imagine,” Penguin frowned. “Fuck… how many people around here didn’t show any symptoms? Do you remember?”

“Few; the reason they were all non-native Flevench gave my parents the first hint it was possibly an environmental factor.” Law then left his room for the time being and went into another, this one clearly a medical lab. He looked at the notes that were half-finished on a countertop, analyzing what progress had been made. A choked laugh escaped him as he realized what he had in his hand. “Shit—they were so close too.”

“Cap, let’s get out of here,” Penguin said, refusing to go past the lab doorway. “I don’t like it here—it feels wrong.”

“I’m sure it’s psychosomatic, considering what has been drilled into you all these years,” Law replied. Penguin knew it wasn’t a condemnation, but a fact his captain had learned to live with. Everyone was creeped out by Flevance because of the horrors that were told over and over and over, with little mention of the good they did, and a societal-level brainwashing was a very difficult thing to counteract.

“Law, this is a hospital full of corpses and we’re the only living people in the entire fucking country… it’s a little more apparent than a bit of mental shit.” Penguin watched as his eyebrows furrowed in thought. “What now…?”

“I thought they were in here,” he said. He looked around the floor; there was blood and broken medical equipment, but not his parents. “Everything was such a blur, but I thought they were in here when they were killed.”

A weight dropped in Penguin’s stomach. “They were…?”

“I think it’s a little more complicated than that,” Shachi sniffled. Penguin looked down the corridor to see their third standing by another door, tears streaming down his face. Law popped his head out and looked at Shachi, his face going white.

Lami.

Pushing past Penguin, Law ran down to the other end of the corridor and stumbled into his little sister’s room. All his breath left him as his eyes were drawn to Lami’s bed, which was occupied by three figures. He didn’t need to tell his crewmates who they were—it was apparent as it was gut-churning. Law’s legs gave out and he fell to his knees as he heard Penguin finally vomit in the corridor.

“Law…?” Shachi’s voice seemed so far away as he tried to shake the younger teen into paying attention. “Law…? Captain…?” Law shook as he snapped from his daze, nearly falling over as he stood. “Hey, come on man… it’s okay. They at least went together.”

It was true. Based on the position of the corpses and the amount of dried blood in the clothes and bedding, it looked like the adults knew there was no ambiguity to their situation. They wanted to be together as they died and now all that remained was bones and hair and the calcified lesions that would have killed them had the bullets not. His parents chose their last moments to comfort his sister, his mother holding Lami while his father held her. One arm was at an awkward angle—he must have stroked her hair as they went, just as Law remembered him doing to him and Lami whenever he held them.

«I made it,» he blurted out in a language he never spoke around others. «I’m still alive, and I’m fighting, and I’m going to make sure the world knows! It might only be me left, but as long as I’m still here, Flevance lives!»

Silence.

Everything came crashing down on Law all at once. His homeland, his parents, his sister… they were all gone. Emotions he hadn’t felt in years flooded him and he started to sob hysterically. Penguin and Shachi looked at one another, unsure what to do; it wasn’t like one of his nightmares where all he needed was to be woken up. No, it was much worse than that. Eventually, Penguin let him cry into his shoulder, while Shachi gently rubbed circles on his back.

“Hey,” Shachi whispered, “let’s take care of them. We can at least do that.”

Unable to reply verbally, Law nodded as he rubbed his eyes and nose with a blue coverall sleeve. His face was contorted into a painful grimace and the best sound he could make was a couple squeaks. Penguin went and began carefully taking Law’s father and arranging him to be carried in his lab coat, Shachi did the same with Law’s mother, and Law himself wrapped his sister up, carrying Lami as they made their way back through the hospital into the central courtyard, which was open and filled with grass and young tree shoots. Law was left alone to say goodbye as his crewmates found some shovels and began to dig. They returned to his side when they had three holes, having dug them side by side.

“Do you want to put them all in, or…?” Penguin asked cautiously. Law nodded, still clutching Lami’s bundle close to his chest.

“Yeah,” he croaked out. “It’s my duty as… as the one who survived.”

The two elder teens stepped aside and knelt respectfully in the grass while Law placed the remains in their new resting places. He placed his sister in the middle and his parents on either side, like they were in her room, muttering words his crew could only figure were Flevench prayers the entire time. From his sister, he took her bracelet; from his mother, the pendant around her neck; from his father, his eyeglasses; and from both parents, their wedding rings. He held the items in his hands and cried in more of the alien language, trembling furiously by the time Shachi and Penguin came over to fill the dirt back over the bones.

“Let’s go get some stuff,” Penguin decided. He was not envious of Law’s pain, but still wondered what it would have been like to have a family that cared about him to draw out that reaction. “You know: pictures, trinkets, books, things of theirs you want to keep. Then we can leave… and leave for good.”

“She’s Bepo’s age, you know,” Law replied, staring at the middle mound. “She should be a teenager like us…”

“Come on, Cap,” Shachi replied, gently tugging at Law’s elbow. “Let’s go.”

His head too filled with cotton fluff to think, Law allowed himself to be pulled back through the hospital by his crew, the trio heading back to the family quarters so they could search through the Family Trafalgar’s things and figure out what to bring along. By the time they were leaving, they had a few albums’ worth of photos, some additional small items, his father’s spare lab coat, and books that contained snippets of research done by both of Law’s parents. Penguin and Shachi knew they were going to sneak back later to bring some more books along—especially the volumes of Sora translated into Flevench—and so concentrated on getting their captain out of there.

They were nearly out, however, when something began to pull at Law’s senses again, causing him to go off on his own in the hospital corridors. Shachi and Penguin followed him, too scared to even protest as he found their way to the hospital director’s office.

“What’s in here?” Penguin asked. “Were you here often?”

“No, never,” Law admitted. Whatever it was that pulled at him drew him towards the wall where a sword sat in a stand. The weapon was long, with crosses on the scabbard and what nearly looked like fur covering the guard.

Take me with you.

Law blinked.

You wish to make what is wrong with the world burn. Let me help you.

Take me with you.

Free me.

The sword radiated malice as he lifted the weapon from its stand and eased it from its sheath. It glinted in the late afternoon sun, humming with pleasure.

My name is Kikoku—use me well child and your ends will be met with satisfaction, for I too crave the death of those who harmed our caretakers.

“Hey… can we get back to the ship now?” Penguin wondered. “Bep’s got to be worried sick.”

“Yeah,” Law said. He sheathed Kikoku and slung it over his shoulder, putting it at an angle so it did not drag. “Let’s get back.”

Trafalgar D. Water Law stepped out of his childhood home for the final time and silently swore to whatever listened that he was going to have his revenge.

[morethansalad]

Vegan Gundel Palacsinta (Hungarian Crepes Filled with Walnuts, Rum-Infused Raisins, and Chocolate)