#the running theory as to why we salt boiling water is actually

[netscapenavigator-official]

It actually makes water boil slower, so there absolutely is some other reason we do it. Like, actually. Adding salt to water increases its boiling temperature. It’s the same chemical property that we exploit when salting roads in the winter. To over simplify, adding salt to water makes it want to stay water. It increases the boiling point and decreases the freezing point. We add salt to roads because doing so means it’s need to be a LOT colder before the roads start to freeze. That means that ice won’t form on the road until well below 0°C/32°F, giving us an extra safety buffer, which could make the difference. The same is true with boiling water. If you add salt, it’ll take longer to come to a boil because of boiling-point elevation. Salt water will not boil at 100°C/212°F. It’ll boil a few degrees higher than that.

My baseless theory is that the "adding salt makes water boil faster" was a clever ploy by Italians to make efficiency-obsessed protestants put the bare minimum of flavour into their cooking.

[laur-rants]

Schrodinger’s Game Theory: The Fate of Daud

Ever come up with a theory, and then halfway through creating it, the evidence changes and so you’re stuck with a lot of well-put-together ideas but nowhere to go with it?

Anyway, I did that with Daud. Lol.

I just rediscovered a whole ass rant in my drafts (which is now in the link above for private viewing and judgement PLS read it, if you’re missing some context to this post) that I clearly spent a lot of time and energy on, where I came to the conclusion that Daud in Death of the Outsider is actually a imposter/doppelganger, and it was because of the writing from the book contrasted the writing in DotO so poorly, that I came to believe this. I was like, VERY convinced prior to Billie’s book coming out that this was, in fact, a viable game theory. !00%. There was a chance that out there, somewhere, Daud was still stuck in his mind, and needed someone to come rescue him. Stranger things have happened to explain characters coming back from the dead in a video game, okay?

Somewhere along the line, though, it stopped being game theory and was more like, a fan idea. I had collected enough evidence to come to the conclusion that my theory wasn’t sound. That, and Billie’s book released, and there’s no way I could argue that. Instead, imposter!Daud moved to Fan Theory, something I could fictionally, write about, put into an AU.

But... Just because it’s probably not true in the scheme of the game doesn’t stop me from thinking about it, from wanting to talk and share those ideas with others. Even if, at the end of the day, they hold no water and it wouldn't matter because, well. If Billie’s book is to be considered post-DotO canon, then there’s no reason to believe my theory would hold weight. It wouldnt matter, because Daud well, he was left for dead either way. Nobody was coming to rescue him. I’m sure there’s plenty of questions people have in response to this, the most chief one being

“If its not Daud how is he in the Void talking to the Outsider and Billie at the end of DotO??”

And my usual response is: the end of Return of Daud saw Daud becoming trapped within his own mind, through a trap laid by witches from the very beginning of the book. That meant, even if his physical body was still, well, physical, he was trapped inside his mind.

I proposed that out of survival, well, a sliver of his mind would hole itself up in the Void, maybe even be stuck there (this is not so uncommon as it appears; think of what happened to Jessamine in the Heart). Once the spell on his mind and the Outsider were gone, the sliver could return back to his mind. And he’d still be alive.

From a gamer perspective, looking at the mechanics of the game, and everything else, it makes sense. I’m sure some people would say this theory would ‘cheapen Daud’s death’ and I would refute that by simply saying ‘all of DotO cheapened Daud’s death, and despite being a playable character in the franchise he dies unceremoniously off screen and we just take Billie’s word for his death to heart.’ Nothing cheapens a death faster in my head than ‘time to renege on this character’s entire past arch and have him die off-screen.’ His death was ruined far before they went into the Void. If anything, this would give Daud a change to explain himself. 

But I digress. I actually did do a stupid amount of research on this. And what it all really boils down to is that there was bad writing involved in DotO when it came to timeline consistency and quality checkers not checking for that, + the book having been rewritten like, twice, to keep up with what Arkane was changing in DotO in real time.

That’s post marked 9/25/18. I’ve had this theory sitting around for a long time. I enjoyed it. I find it compelling. But ultimately, it was me trying to save Daud, in my mind. Would it be cool for the witches to have stolen Daud, replaced him with a dummy body Eyeless/Envisioned, given that dummy body his memories, and then, when it had outlived it’s usefulness of sending Billie astray, the magic broke and it perished? Hell yeah it would have been cool. and honestly, according to the books, it was a viable option! They could do all those things. You can’t tell me that

Billie can steal faces,

Emily can create copies and

They witches had access to a gemstone that can make prisoners of their own mind/see the thoughts of others,

and NOT immediately think that they’d try and replicate one of the strongest Marked to ever live. The one that TRAPPED DELILAH, no less. And because the witches messed with Daud’s dreams at the beginning of the book (it’s subtle, but its there, its like, you see it on the reread sort of thing), that’s the whole reason he thinks the Outsider is supposed to die, so of course the double would fervently believe the singular obsession that brought Daud into a trap in the first place...

I’m digressing again. Anyway.

What does this mean for Dear old Daud?

It means Daud canonically died, and it was shitty and poorly written and I’ll be salty about that until the day I die because some schmuck on twitter wrote one singular essay and Harvey Smith decided ‘you. you’re the one who needs to write this story’ and then we got Corvosider fanfic in a Dishonored game and I wanted to die. It doesn’t help that this writer was notoriously pretentious and shit-stirring in the fandom at-large BEFORE their hiring-- anyway, this isn’t a salt piece on that. I AM SALTY ABOUT IT, but I’m not the person to discuss it at length. Just know that that’s why some of the narrative decisions in DotO are so out of fucking whack, and we all have to deal with it.

MOVING ON....

There is still... a very slim chance. To save Daud.

Realistically speaking, this chance will never occur. It’s clear and obvious that Arkane has no plans on returning to the Dishonored universe, so despite all these loose ends that Arkane left and all these pieces that need to be picked up and all this lore that’s been reneged on, there’s really not much of a chance that we’ll see, say, Billie, return in a game that is specifically designed to save the timelines. Which, honestly, would be fucking baller. I want a game where I play as Billie, where the shattered timespace of Dunwall is saved by her capable hand, and Emily is free to rule for decades without having to fear that the Isles will fall into the Void like it’s Deimos falling into Hell in DOOM. We KNOW the timelines are saved because we KNOW that Emily has a long and Just (or unjust, if you went high chaos lol) Rule over the kingdom. That can’t happen if, just three years down the line, Billy is running all over the place trying to make sure time doesn’t break at the seams.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Because of how Daud meets Billie in RoD, we know that a Billie three years into the future (’YOUR future,’ she tells him) is trying to save his life. There are other timelines she’s saved already, for sure. Including saving Daud in the past, saving Corvo and Emily in the past, saving Granny Rags in the past -- basically, saving all the Marked from coming to an untimely end. And then, after all that, she goes back in time and tries to save Daud, tries to save him from being poisoned by witch magic and falling into a trap that is triggered when he touches her Future version of the Twin-bladed Knife. She goes through a sort of Groundhog Day scenario, where she confesses that she’s tried hundreds of times to save him, and she couldn’t save that Daud.

But why show us Billie failing to save Daud, if she was destined for failure? Because, eventually, she must succeed.

And therein lies Daud’s (potential) salvation. Is it realizing the other Daud is an imposter? Well... let’s think of it this way. Is the Billie who regained her arm and eye an ‘imposter’ where the ‘real’ Billie is in a timeline where she lost those body parts? Is the Aramis Stilton who went mad in the basement of his mansion the imposter? Or is it the one that Emily saved and was able to keep lucid? These people aren’t ‘imposters’ to their timelines, but they kind of are to the timelines that are saved. Which means DotO could be an entirely separate ‘timeline’, one that we manage to play through and see the ending of. But the ‘true timeline’ may never be known. But at least, we know it happens, and we have Billie to thank for that.

FIN.

[cctinsleybaxter]

2020 in books

2020 was a year of changed reading habits; people reading more than ever or not at all, some changing their tastes and others turning to old comforts. While there weren’t any huge overhauls on my end, more free time did mean a total of 32 in a wider range of genres. In the past couple of years I found a lot of the things I read to be kind of middling and ranked them accordingly, but this year had some strong contenders in the mix. With college officially behind me I love nonfiction again, and I really need to stop being drawn in by novels with long titles that ‘sound interesting.’ A piece of advice to my future self: they will only make you angry.

The Good

The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky I loved the BBC radio play when I first listened to it back in 2017, but didn’t know if I could stomach the idea of actually reading the 700-page book, especially since I already knew the plot (spoiler alert: this had no effect and I gasped multiple times despite knowing what was going to happen; Fyodor’s just that good at atmosphere.) The story follows Prince Lev Myshkin, a goodhearted but troubled man entering 1860s Petersburg high society and meeting all of the wretched people therein as he navigates life, laughs, love, unanswerable questions of faith, and human suffering. I care about it in the same way I think other people care about reality TV shows and soap operas. I’m so personally invested in the drama and feel so many different emotions directed at these clowns that it’s like being a fan of Invitation to Love (with an ending equally upsetting to that of the show ITL is from, Twin Peaks.)

Salt: A World History by Mark Kurlanksy I adored this book. The first half reads a little like a Wikipedia article, and I was worried that it was leaning too clinical and would be disaffected with colonialism and indigenous peoples, but even that oversight is corrected for as the text goes on. It’s not going to be for everybody because it really is just the world’s longest encyclopedia entry on, well, salt, but it’s written with such excitement for the topic and is so well-researched and styled for commercial nonfiction that I think it deserves any and all praise it’s gotten. We have to talk about that time Cheshire was literally sinking into the ground, and companies who were over-pumping brine water to steal each other’s brine water said ‘no it’s okay it’s supposed to that’ so were legally dismissed as suspects.

Midnight Cowboy by James Leo Herlihy Cried. 10/10. The plot of Midnight Cowboy is very classic and actually has a lot in common with The Idiot, as 20-something Joe Buck moves from the American Southwest to NYC and meets myriad challenges as a sex worker. I’ve been obsessed with the movie for a few years now and the book made me appreciate it anew; I think it’s rare for an adaptation to take the risk of being so different from its source material while still capturing its spirit. The movie doesn’t include quieter moments like the full conversation with Towny or time spent in the X-flat, nor does it attempt to touch Joe’s internal monologue or his and Rico’s extensive backstories, but these things are essential to the book and are some of the best and most affecting writing I’ve ever read. Finally! The Great American Novel!

The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones I would firmly like to say that this is probably the best horror novel ever written. The setup is very traditional in that it’s about a group of friends facing supernatural comeuppance for a past mistake, but delivery on that premise is anything but familiar. A story about personal and cultural trauma that raises questions about what we owe to each other and what it means to be Blackfeet, with a cast that’s unbelievably real and sympathetic even at their absolute worst. Creepypasta writers trying to cash in on the cultural mythos of lumped-together tribes wish they were capable of writing something a tenth as gruesome and good as this. It could very well be a movie the visuals and writing style were so arresting, and I can’t wait to read whatever Jones writes next.

Found Footage Horror Films: Fear and the Appearance of Reality by Alexandra Heller-Nicholas This is the least accessible title on the list since it’s a college textbook for people with background in film, but it was so nice to read a woman unpacking film theory with the expertise and confidence it deserves that I have to rank it among the best. I had an absolute blast reading it and am going to have to stop myself from bringing up the horror of 1960s safety films as a cocktail icebreaker.

Blood in the Water: The Attica Prison Uprising of 1971 and Its Legacy by Heather Ann Thompson

The year’s toughest read by far, but also its most rewarding. Thompson uses mountains of documents, government-buried intel, and personal interviews to explain what happened at Attica from beginning to end, and does a fantastic job of balancing hard facts and ‘unbiased journalism’ with much-needed emotion and critical analysis. It’s more important reading in the 2020s than any kind of ‘why/how to not be racist’ book club book is going to be, and the historical context it provides is as interesting as it is invaluable. The second half drags a bit in going through lengthy trial processes with some assumed baseline knowledge of legalese (which I did not have. All that criminal minds in 2015… meaningless), but aside from that editing and prose are some of the best I’ve seen in nonfiction. 

The Bad

The Woman in the Window by A.J. Finn A friend and I decided to read this together because I’m obsessed with how insane the author is and wanted to know if he can actually write.

He cannot.

The Beautiful Thing That Awaits Us All by Laird Barron Barron is an indie darling of the horror fiction scene, so I was excited to finally read one of his collections but can now attest that I hate him. If you’re going to do Lovecraft please deconstruct Lovecraft in an interesting way. I had actually written a lot about the issues I have with how he develops characters and plots, but one of the only shorthand notes I took was “he won’t stop saying ‘bole’ instead of tree trunk” and I feel like that’s the only review we need.

Bats of the Republic by Zach Dodson Look up a photo of this author because if I had bothered to glance at the jacket bio I honest-to-god wouldn’t have even tried reading this.

This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone I went in with high expectations since this is an epistolary novella I’d seen praised on tumblr and youtube but oh my god was there a reason I was seeing it praised on tumblr and youtube. This is bad Steven Universe fanfiction. Both authors included ‘listening to the Steven Universe soundtrack throughout’ in the acknowledgements, and to add insult to injury there’s a plug from my nemesis Madeline Miller.

The 7½ Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton The premise of this one plays with so many tropes I like that I should have been more suspicious. It’s a dinner party with stock characters one would expect of Clue, and rather than our protagonist being the detective he’s a man with amnesia stuck in a 24-hour time loop. Body-hopping between guests, he must gather evidence using the skillsets of each ‘host’ until he either solves Evelyn Hardcastle’s murder or the limit of eight hosts runs out. I read a lot of not-very-good books, and it’s so, so much worse when they have potential to be fun. This is how you lose the most points, and how I abandon decorum and end up writing a list of grievances: • Our protagonist can only inhabit male hosts, which I think is a stupid writing decision not because I’m ‘woke’ but because wouldn’t it make sense for him to also be working with the maids, cooks, and women close to the murder victim? • Complaining about the limitations of hosts makes some sense (e.g- there’s a section where he thinks that it’s hard to be an old man because it’s difficult to get to the places he needs to be quickly), but one of his hosts is a rapist and one of his hosts is fat. Guess which one gets complained about more. • One of the later hosts is just straight-up a cop with cop knowledge that singlehandedly solves the case. We spend some time being like ‘wow I couldn’t have done it without the info all eight hosts helped gather’ but it was 100% the detective and he solves the murder using information he got off-screen. • The mystery itself is actually well-paced and I didn’t have a lot of issues with it (e.g, there’s a twist that I guessed only shortly before the end), which makes it all the worse that the metanarrative of this book is INSANE. No spoilers but the reveal as to why our unnamed protagonist is even in this situation is stupid. I just know they’re going to make it into a movie and I’m preemptively going to aaaaaaaaa!!!

Trust Exercise by Susan Choi The fact that this was the worst book I read all year, worse even than the bad Steven Universe fanfiction, and it won multiple awards makes my blood boil. I could rant about it for hours but just know that it’s a former theater kid’s take on perception and memory, and deals with sexual abuse in a way that’s handled both very badly and with a level of fake deepness that’s laughable. Select fake-deep quotes I copied down because at one point I said ‘oh barf’ aloud: -I’m filled with melancholy that’s almost compassion. It’s sad the same way. -[On a friendship ending] We almost never know what we know until after we know it. -Because we’re none of us alone in this world. We injure each other.

There are also bad sex scenes that I can’t quite make fun of because I think (HOPE?) they’re supposed to be a melodramatic take on how teenagers view sex, but I very much wanted to die. Flowers were alluded to. Nipples were compared to diamonds.

Honorable/Dishonorable Mentions (categorized as the same thing because, well,)

The Life and Death of Sophie Stark by Anna North This book was frustrating because the first third of it is fantastic. It’s set up to be a takedown of the manic pixie dream girl trope, jumping from person to person discussing their relationship with the titular Sophie, and indirectly revealing that she was just some girl and not the difficult and mysterious genius they all believed her to be. Then in the third act, BAM! She was that difficult and mysterious genius and she’s now indirectly brought all the people from her past together. I wanted to scream the plot beefed it so bad, but the good news is I really liked this octopus description.

It was the size of a three-year-old child, and it seemed awful to me that something could be so far from human and obviously want something as badly as it wanted to get out of the tank.

Radium Girls: The Dark Story of America’s Shining Women by Kate Moore Cool new nightmare speedrun strat is to hear a 2-second anecdote from a documentary that people used to get radium poisoning from painting watch faces, be curious enough that you buy a book to learn more, and be met with medical and legal horror beyond anything you could have imagined. This was almost one of my favorite books of the year! Almost.

Radium Girls is very lovingly crafted and incredibly well-researched; one of those things that’s hard to get through but that you want to read sections of again as soon as you’ve finished. The umbrage I take with it is that it’s very Catholic. The author and many of her subjects are Irish and their religion is important to them, but it casts a martyr-y narrative over the whole thing that I found uncomfortable. Seventeen-year-old girls taking a factory job they didn’t know was dangerous are framed as brave, working-class heroes, but there’s not a set moral lesson to be gained from this story. Sarah Maillefer didn’t make “a sacrifice” when she agreed to the first radium tests, she agreed because she was terrified. She didn’t think she was helping she was begging for help.

The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins by Anna Tsing Tsing is an incredibly skilled researcher and ethnographer; there are so many good ideas in this book that I’d almost consider it essential leftist text… if I could stand the way it was structured. Tsing posits that because nature is built on precariousness she will build her book the same way, allowing it to grow like a mushroom, and thus chapters don’t progress linearly and are written more like freeform poetry than a series of academic arguments. Some people are really going to love that, but I’m me and a mushroom is a mushroom and a book is a book. I don’t think in the way Tsing does, and while I tried to keep an open mind it’s hard to play along when something is this academically dense and makes so many ambitious claims. As if to prove how different our structuring methods are, I’ve made my own thoughts into a pros and cons list

Things I liked: • ‘Contamination’ as something inherent to diversity • ‘Scalability’ as a flawed way of thinking (Tsing has written whole essays about this that I find very compelling, but a main example here is that China and the US have come down on Japanese matsutake research for being too ‘site specific’ and not yielding enough empirical data) • Discussing how Americans were so invested in self-regulating systems in the 1950s we thought they could be applied to literally everything, including ecosystems • “The survivors of war remind us of the bodies they climbed over- or shot- to get to us. We don’t know whether to love or hate the survivors. Simple moral judgements don’t come to hand.” • Any and all fieldwork Tsing shares is amazing; I especially liked reading about the culture of mushroom pickers living in the Cascades and their contained market system

Things I didn’t like: • Statements that sound deep but aren’t, e.g- “help is always in the service of another.” (Yep. That’s what that means. Unless an organism is doing something to help itself which then nullifies your whole opening argument.) • A very debatable definition of utilitarianism • “Capitalism vs pre-capitalism,” which seems like an insanely black-and-white stance for a book all about finding hidden middle ground • A chapter I found really interesting about how intertwined Japanese and American economies are, but it tries to cover the entire history of US-Japan relations. Seriously, starting with Governor Perry and continuing through present day, this could have been a whole different book and it’s a good example of what I mean when I say arguments feel too scattered (the conclusion it reaches is that in the 80s the yen was finally able to hold its own against the dollar. Just explain that part.) • A chapter arguing that ‘true biological mutualism’ is rarely a focus of STEM and is a new sociological development/way of thinking which is just… flat-out not true

For all the comparisons art gets to ‘being on a drug trip’ this anthropology textbook has come the closest for me. Moments of profound human wisdom, intercut with things I had trouble understanding because I wasn’t on the same wavelength, intercut with even more things that felt false or irrelevant. I can’t put it on the nice list but I am glad I read it.

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 4

AO3

Beta reader for this chapter was @thesnadger. Go look at her stuff!

-

It's time for some field work.

Martin mentions the echoing problem.

Martin was already far enough down the cliff side that even if they’d noticed he’d gone, it would be too late to easily catch up to him.

The three researchers had gathered in a circle to view the distorted footage together, throwing out a mixture of theory and expletives as they stood on the sidewalk. Tim was running his fingers through his hair, enthusiasm quashing any signs of dizziness. Sasha had taken back the camcorder, looking for any details that might’ve escaped her. The irritation that had shrouded Jon’s features the whole day had left and been replaced by something looking like curiosity as he stared at the screen. This had left Martin, still standing at the end of the road, to see himself out quietly.

The further he went, the more the excitement of the moment gave way to a thick dread.

“You need this job. You need this job. You need this job,” Martin mumbled, rubbing his upper arms. The rain had left for a time, but he could feel his skin prickling in the cold and knew it would return soon. “So it’s a weird building. It was fine before, wasn’t it? Learning it was a weird thing the whole time doesn’t change anything. You can handle a bit more weirdness. It’s fine. And you have experts! People who know this stuff! They’ll take care of everything, and it’ll all be fine.”

About halfway down, a rush of vertigo hit Martin like a truck. He veered right, feet sliding in the mud, and grabbed hold of a tree until the wave passed. Sneering back at the path behind him, back at a lighthouse that was now hidden from view, Martin choked out, “What, up there isn’t enough now? I have to deal with it when I can’t even see it?” He scratched his head with both hands in frustration and started walking at his normal pace.

“It’s fine. You’ll get home on flat ground. You’ll eat something. You’ll get up tomorrow and only walk up to finish the list at the lighthouse and pick up groceries. Then you’ll do the list on Sunday and nothing else! Just the rest of the weekend off!”

His frantic personal reassurances continued all the way down, until he caught sight of home and forced his ramblings to a halt. “Just keep calm for Mum and get through the night. You can do that at least.”

Martin entered his home, keeping the door from creaking too much behind him. The TV was on and his mother’s eyes were closed. Walking over, he gently shook her shoulder, and as she opened her eyes, the complaint was already forming on her lips.

“You know I hate to be shaken awake.”

“Yes, Mum. I’m gonna make dinner if there’s anything you’d like.”

“I don’t have a preference. Just pick something and leave me be.”

“Okay, Mum.” So he did, scraping together what he could for omelettes. Nothing burnt, and it was tastier than the night before, so he let a small bit of pride slip into his demeanor. His mother said nothing and ate what was in front of her. Afterwards, Martin cleaned the dishes and left them on the rack, turning to help his mother up the stairs.

“I wish to go outside for a moment,” she said, still sitting at the dining room table. Martin could tell without looking out the window that the rain had picked back up again.

“Are you sure? I think the weather tomorrow-”

“Take me outside, Martin.” The quick clip to her voice silenced any argument, and Martin went to retrieve her coat. Keeping his arm out for her to take, Martin supported his mother out the front door, keeping them both under the porch overhang. She took her hand off his arm but left it hovering there for safety in the harsh evening wind.

Martin’s eyes began to water as soon as the sea breeze hit them, but he stood firm as his mother breathed in, held, and out. In, held, and out, again and again, until finally she said, with a weariness that betrayed her stony expression, “I’m ready.”

The walk was slow to her room, and after she was in her bed and he began to close the door, he heard her say, “Goodnight, Martin.”

Martin smiled and kept his face hidden behind the door. There was no shake in his voice as he responded, “Goodnight, Mum.”

Once he made it to his own room, he let out a large breath. He gently closed his bedroom door, changed into pyjamas, and climbed into bed, leaving his old notebook and lantern untouched. In his attempts to get comfortable, he tossed and twisted, the cold from outside still sticking to his feet, but his mind wouldn’t rest until all the day’s mistakes were accounted for.

He should’ve at least said goodbye.

-

The sun was still creeping over the horizon when Martin set out up the path to town. The fog settled in thick around him, and the ground was still muddy and hard to walk on. Nevertheless, he made it to the more solid road without incident, supernatural or otherwise. He went over the numbers in his head, counting the items he needed and comparing his budget for meals this week. It had been nice these last few months, having a constant salary rather than figuring out how many shifts he could reasonably take. The math at this point was more about what he’d like to save each day rather than figuring out what he could afford.

The trip to the store would be quick if he did his math right. But first, he made it to the stone steps of the lighthouse, looked up, and found that the lights were already on. He grimaced, wiped the look off his face, and went inside as casually as he could.

At the table was Jon, reading something intently on a clunky laptop. The sound of his tapping knuckles on the tabletop rang through the building, and just like the night before, Jon’s face wasn’t one of impatience. There was a light in his eyes as they scanned for something on the screen, and Martin, despite himself, stayed very still to look at Jon in mild fascination. He then shook his head and did his best to walk as if his heart weren’t pounding in his chest. Before he knew it, he had made it to the kitchen without any sign Jon had noticed.

He was in the kitchen. Shit. He had walked there out of habit.

Martin looked around a bit before rubbing his face at his own ridiculous behavior. This was his place of work, and he had come to do his job. What was the point of sneaking around? He walked to the stove, filled the kettle, and started making himself some tea, relaxing with the familiar motions. As he waited, he could hear the echoes of Jon’s typing. Was that also a weird thing? Did sound work like that?

The water began to boil and he prepared his cup, but before stepping out, his eye caught one of the mugs drying on the rack from yesterday. Tapping his foot, he took the mug and prepared a second cup of tea with what he thought was a good enough ratio. If his Mum liked it, it would probably work for anyone. With as much confidence as he could have, he carried both cups out and quietly set the second down on the table. Jon jumped and looked first at the mug and then up at Martin.

“How long have you been here?” Jon asked, confused.

“Just got here a bit ago. I still need to take care of upstairs on the weekends.”

Jon nodded. “I’m… surprised you’d still come in after yesterday,” he said slowly, not yet touching the mug. “Learning your workplace may be haunted or, well, something of that nature.”

“Yeah, well. It’s the same as it was before right? And the pay’s the same,” Martin said. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and continued, forcing the words out, “Anyway, I meant to ask, do you still need that print job from yesterday? Sorry about that, it completely slipped my mind!” Jon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“No, no, I took care of it. Tim reminded me that you are not in fact our assistant, so I won’t be asking you for anything else.”

“Oh. Good! Good. Sorry, again.” Martin willed himself to start moving toward the staircase but couldn’t move, letting an awkward silence fill the space between them. Before he could stop himself, Martin added, “Um, sorry, there’s one more thing.” Martin tapped his cup a few times, looking down into his tea. Jon glanced back at his computer for a moment, the irritation beginning to creep across his face.

“Okay, go on then.”

“Sure! Right. I wanted to tell you that, since you’re all doing what looks to be serious research with maybe, I dunno, confidentiality stuff, it would be good for you to know that, well,” Martin drummed his fingers on the cup. “Sound travels really easily, in here I mean. Even whispers make it all over the place. Could be another thing that’s up with the building, could just be the acoustics, but either way, figured it would be good information to share now that it’s confirmed this place is capital-s Strange.”

“I’ll keep it in-” Jon, who had been slowly turning his gaze back to his laptop during Martin’s short speech, froze. He closed his eyes, and his mouth stretched into a pained frown. “You heard what I said yesterday. After we came downstairs.”

“It’s not a big deal! You were right, about some things at least. I’m a forgetful person. It’s why I’m better at jobs like this.”

“Listen-”

“It’s really fine. Just, y’know, keep the acoustics in mind. I’m, um-” Martin’s feet finally got to moving under his command and he headed toward the stairs. “I gotta get my work done upstairs.” His pace was quick, rounding the steps past the point where he could no longer see the researcher fail to find words. Martin would’ve felt some satisfaction if the other man hadn’t looked so genuinely remorseful about the whole thing.

The trip up was quick and uneventful, relatively speaking, and Martin let himself look out the windows for a bit after his list was complete. For once, there was an actual view of the sea in the morning light. Now that Martin had been forced to think on it, he could tell the sea looked wrong, somehow. Further off, maybe? Against his better judgment, he pressed his face against the glass and looked down.

A moment later, he was looking up at the ceiling, the back of his skull throbbing in pain. He pressed into his eyes with the heel of his hands and took in a shaky breath. “It’s still good money. Just don’t look down when the sky looks like that. Maybe don’t look down or out at all. Simple enough, even for you.” For a moment he just lay there, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping that maybe he would wake up at home, having fallen out of bed.

No such luck. Standing up, Martin rubbed the back of his now aching head and started a careful, gradual walk down, his hand firmly gripping the rail. Yes, his place of work was strange. That didn’t mean it was looking to hurt anyone, right? Martin had worked there for months, and Peter never seemed to be bothered by it after all the years he’d owned the place. Perhaps, if he kept his head down, the lighthouse would just continue to function as it always had.

Making him so dizzy that he blacked out wasn’t a great sign, though. Even he could admit that.

Against what he had been hoping for, Jon had not left in the time it took for Martin to return downstairs. This time, Jon noticed him immediately as he came into view and waited for Martin to make it to the bottom before clearing his throat. “Martin, if you’ll wait a moment.”

Martin scratched his neck and continued walking toward the door. “Sorry, I really have to go. Lots of errands, that sort of thing.”

“It won’t take long-” Jon was interrupted by the sound of the front door swinging open.

“Hey boss! Grabbed some snacks for the workday since I figured you wouldn’t think of it beforehand. Martin! Where did you run off to yesterday?” Tim said, and he set a paper bag full of what looked like several bags of crisps and other convenient store grade junk food. “Left just as things got exciting.” Martin, happy for the distraction from whatever Jon was attempting to do, smiled and waved, still heading toward the door.

“Hi, Tim. Yeah, sorry about that. Wanted to get dinner started at home and your work is a bit over my head.”

“And all over your workplace, apparently.” Tim grinned and Martin forced what he hoped was a convincing laugh.

“Hey, if it pays the bills!” Martin winced at his own inane comment and tried to excuse himself, which was when Sasha came through the door, carrying her own set of bags. “Oh, sorry, didn’t-”

“Good timing!” Sasha ducked past him and dumped her things onto one of the chairs. “After reviewing some things last night, it looks like we’ll be wanting to go about town a bit and talk to some locals, get a feel for some of the history of this place.”

Tim chimed in, “Gotta check if anyone died mysteriously or placed a vengeful curse on the town fifty years ago, things like that.”

“You mentioned yesterday that you’d be able to point us in some good directions?” She looked up with expectation, she and Tim both, fixing Martin to the ground. From behind the table, Jon was clearly frustrated but seemed to have given up on his line of conversation.

“Sure, I’m free.” Martin wanted to slap himself. “What do you need?”

-

In no time at all, Martin somehow found himself walking the group through town, passing by the grocery store with a pang of regret. It was still mid-morning, but time seemed to be moving both much too slow and faster than he could handle.

“I think your best option would be Ms. Peterson, the florist. She’s lived here as long as I can remember and loves to talk about old times and all that.” Martin led the three researchers down the street, feeling more at ease. He could talk to old folks in town just fine, and they loved going on about weird old things. It all checked out. “I think I mentioned her when I talked about my incident? Anyway, a really lovely woman.”

Martin found himself chattering, fielding possible questions from Sasha and Tim that ranged from serious queries like “Has your family had close encounters with the Lukas family” to things like “How many undead have you seen at the local grocery store”, respectively. Jon lugged the tape recorder in a bag slung over his shoulder and elected to remain silent.

Ms. Peterson’s place was a standard flower shop, full of shelves with decorative pots and cutesy gardening supplies. When the group stepped inside, a little bell on the door summoned a woman in her mid-70s carrying an empty vase.

“Oh! Hello, Martin. How are you, dear?” Ms. Peterson asked, setting the vase down on the front counter. “And your mother? How has she been doing?”

“We’re both doing all right. The weather’s been bad for her joints, but nothing new, thankfully. The flowers you sent were very much appreciated.” Ms. Peterson smiled warmly and then looked behind him.

“Some friends of yours?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you could help them, Ms. Peterson. They’ve come from out of town to ask about some local history and I immediately thought of you.”

“Yes, of course, what would you like to know?’

Sasha took over from there, getting the necessary permissions while Jon set up the tape recorder. Martin heard some comment about how old the thing was, followed by an almost identical response from Jon as the day before. Martin held back any laughter at Jon’s dry expression, but he couldn’t stop his mouth from twitching.

The statement started off with familiar territory to Martin: the lighthouse had been there since Ms. Peterson had been a child. She had never been inside it, but like many people in town, her mother had worked for the Lukas family for a long time and had gone in once.

“She might’ve been dropping an order off? Oh, I don’t remember anymore, but anyway, she had gone to see one of the Lukas family for matters of business. I was young but I remember her coming home that night, shaking terribly. Stayed in bed for at least two days afterwards and kept either my sister or myself by her side the whole time. It passed, like most things, but it was terribly frightening for all of us.”

“Did she ever tell you what happened?” Jon asked, his tone much gentler than Martin had been accustomed to.

“No, though we never tried to ask her directly. And it wasn’t as if you could peek inside the building with just the tiny little window on the door. I have to say,” Ms. Peterson turned toward Martin. “I was a little concerned about you working there. I even told your mother so when you first started.” Martin felt the heat rush to his cheeks. He looked at Sasha, who just gave a sign to be quiet.

“Ms. Peterson, thank you so much for your statement. Is there anything else related that you think would be helpful to us?” Sasha adjusted herself, ready to give Jon the signal to end the recording.

“Hm, no, I don’t think so. And please excuse me for the last part. I know it’s not much related to history.” Sasha smiled at her and nodded to Jon.

“End recording.” The tape clicked off, and Ms. Peterson turned back to smile at Martin.

“Don’t do too much to make your mother worry, all right?”

“Of course.” Martin smiled back, and Ms. Peterson returned to her work. Once outside, Martin walked toward the next destination, blatantly ignoring any curious looks from his companions.

The next two people were unhelpful for a variety of reasons, including a much stronger questioning of the old tape recorder set up (“Martin, what kind of fringe bullshit are you bringing in here?”) and bad timing that would have to be made up for later. After running around town to find both of them, this left Martin with one more person on his mental list, and then he could finally get groceries before his mother was ready for lunch.

The lack of success in the next two individuals had put a damper on the spirits after Ms. Peterson’s interesting account, and he could feel it dragging on everyone, himself included. And as far as he was concerned, time was running short for his liking.

“I have other people in mind that I can tell you about, but I really need to run some errands today,” Martin said in a sorry tone.

“That’s fine. We can do it another day.” Sasha stretched her arms back to crack her shoulders. “Thanks for leading us around.”

“Yeah, love hearing about how our boss’ boss’ family strikes fear into the hearts of innocent florists,” Tim said, leaning an elbow on Sasha’s shoulder. “We’ll be seeing you tomorrow, then? More running around town, bothering the elderly?”

“Sure, sounds good.” Martin mentally kicked himself. There went his Sunday. “Have a good rest of your day, then.” He waved stiffly and escaped down the street toward the grocery store, where he finally let himself rest for a moment.

Checking his watch, he had just enough time to get his chore done before it would seem strange to his mother, who was accustomed to his being gone for at least part of the day. The actual task didn’t take long, as he had expected. It turned out some of his coupons had expired, costing him some time in juggling worthy expenses, but the trip had left him much more satisfied than he had been.

Even with the disappointment of some of his ideas, the morning hadn’t been bad. Besides the very beginning, it was nice to walk around with people and talk to some folks around town, and in regards to the beginning, it wasn’t so terrible. A bit awkward, yes, but it seemed like he and Jon would at least be able to work around each other for the next week. If Jon had some words to say, he now knew how to say them in a way where Martin didn’t have to hear them.

With the lighthouse behind him and an armful of groceries, Martin was feeling much better, and when he rounded the corner that would lead him on the road home, Jon stood at the edge, arms crossed and eyes darting around, and before Martin could backtrack, it was too late.

“Martin,” Jon said, as if he were letting go of a held breath. “Sorry for cornering you here. I just wanted to finish our earlier conversation and didn’t think waiting a whole day would be good for it.” Martin stared at the shorter man in shock. Cornered was one way to put it, Martin thought to himself, shifting the bag in his arm.

“It’s not really a good time? I need to get back and-”

“I just need you to listen. Please.” Martin felt pinned by Jon’s intense stare. He gaped for a bit as he searched for an excuse, and found none. So he nodded.

“I would like to apologize for yesterday. I was unprofessional and let my own stress and irritation affect my behavior.” Jon seemed to struggle with where to put his hands and settled for re-crossing them in front of his chest. “We were as surprised as you were at the situation. I think Elias may be the only person who actually knows what’s going on, but that’s beside the point. The truth is, we were sent here during a project I was very invested in, and I was being childish about the whole thing. I hope you can forgive me for it. You’ve been very helpful, and I hope we can all continue working to solve whatever it is that’s going on in your workplace and my boss’ head.”

Jon stopped and looked at Martin as if he had helped lift a weight off his shoulders. In strong contrast to the day before, he had a nervous and pointedly not sardonic smile on his face that Martin found incredibly endearing.

Between the obvious stress and the very nice smile, Martin faced the inevitable realization that Jon was, unfortunately, his type.

Feeling his tongue was now far too big for his mouth, Martin could only say, “Yeah, of course! Glad to be working with you.”

[suuniva]

Chicken Soup

Chapter One: Your a What?!

-

"Achoo!" "I told you you shouldn't have done that stupid dare." "But it was a dare! You have to do dares." I stared down at Arctic like I was looking at a child. For some backstory, Arctic dragged me off to this party one of her old high school friends were hosting. For the most part, the party wasn't too bad. I kinda enjoyed it. But of course, somebody thought we should play some Truth or Dare. Ah, Good Ol' Truth or Dare. The classic party game for high school and college parties. Except for the fact that we aren't high school/college students but actually grown adults. But of course, us drunk adults thought that it would be an amazing idea for us to play a game intended for tweens. And at first, it wasn't that bad. You know, the usual dares, "Kiss the person next to you, take off a piece of clothing". Then stuff started to get...weird. Kiss the person next to you turned into steal one of the neighbor's potted plants while wearing all black and singing the alphabet backward. And take off a piece of clothing became streak down the street naked in the pouring rain while scream-singing LA Devotee by Panic! At The Disco. And of course, this idiot of a friend I have when dared to streak down the street naked actually did it. "God forbid they think me too much a coward to streak down the street naked in the rain!" And that is why we are in the situation we are in right now. "Moonlight, please help I feel horrible!" Arctic groaned and sneezed again. "My head feels like it has been run over twice and my eyes feel like they're going to come out with all the pounding going on behind them. I can't hold any food down, and my body hurts all over." "I told you not to do the dare and warned you on your third drink that if you kept going you were going to be very hungover. But guess who ignored ALL my warnings. YOU said, "I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions. You aren't my mother". I hate to tell you I told you so, but I did tell you so!" Arctic dragged herself out of bed, crawled herself over to me, and wrapped her arm around my waist, despite my protests. "Please I'm so sorry for not listening to you even though you were right. I know I shouldn't have done the dare and I shouldn't have downed those two whiskey bottles and I shouldn't have- well you get the idea. I know I should have listened to you, and I made a mistake and-" I shushed her and looked down at her sweat and tear-stained face. I took a deep breath and sighed while rubbing the bridge of my nose. "Fine just get back in bed we can't have you getting any sicker than you already are. I need to call my conductor to tell him I'm going to have to miss today's rehearsal. Also, I need to call my mom and see if she knows any at-home remedies for the flu. Good thing you're on vacation right now or I'd have to call your boss too and you would have a lot of explaining to do." "What about my hangover?" Arctic sniffled. "I'll check the internet." ← ♫ → Arctic was sleeping peacefully in the other room. My mom, who used to be a nurse, turned out to know a lot of at-home remedies for the flu. She told me a few but it turns out I only needed one of them to get Arctic to feel good enough to go back to sleep. The conductor wasn't happy to hear that I wasn't going to go into rehearsal today since I'm the soloist but he agreed after I promised to have my solo down by tomorrow and be ready to play. "They're probably going to just work on the background and supporting parts and fix whatever problems they come across," I thought as I tuned my violin in preparation to practice. Just because I wasn't going to rehearsal today didn't mean I get to do nothing all day especially since I need to have my solo perfected by tomorrow. I lifted my bow to play the first notes of the solo in Violin Concerto No. 3 in G major, K. 216 by Mozart. While I played, I thought about some of the other remedies my mom had told me about. One of the very first ones she told me was, "Make her some chicken soup. A good, hearty, well-made chicken soup can help cure the flu any day. Also, it's light on the stomach and she'll need to eat something soon." "I'll make her some chicken soup when I'm finished practicing." I thought. About An Hour Later After I finished practicing, I carefully put my violin and sheet music away. After putting my violin out of reach of my German shepherd, Mint, I started looking for that cookbook my grandmother had given to me as a housewarming gift when I first moved in. I looked in the kitchen, my bedroom, both of the guest rooms, and my practice room. Hell, I even checked the bathrooms but it was nowhere to found. So I decided that the only other place it could be was the attic. As I pulled stairs down I wondered how it could've gotten up here since I remember putting it downstairs with the rest of the cookbooks I got as gifts and bought myself. "But then again it has been a while so maybe I'm wrong." Unlike some people, I clean my attic out once a month, so it wasn't that messy when I got up there. I looked through the books I had stored up here, but most of them were just old music theory notes and drawing notebooks from high school I had decided to keep. Now, I don't have that big of an attic and since I keep it neat for the most part I can usually find stuff up here but that cooking book has seemed to completely disappear off the face of the planet. I scratched the back of my head before putting everything back and preparing to head back downstairs. As I walked back to the stairs, I saw out of the corner of my eye a corner of the bight peeling background of the book. I ran over to it and picked it up. Sure enough, it was my grandmother's cookbook. This cookbook was written by my grandmother when she was only in her teens and she had intended it to be passed down to the eldest granddaughter in the family. Kinda weird but my grandmother was always a bit quirky especially in her younger days. Not that I knew her then but my grandfather always told me stories of the trouble he and grandma had gotten into when they were younger. When I got to the kitchen, I opened the cookbook to the table of contents and flip to the page that the chicken soup recipe was on. "Okay chicken, four carrots, four stalks of celery, 1 large onion, water, municipal, salt, pepper, bay leaf, and thyme," I said as I pulled the items out of the cabinets. After getting everything out I filled I large a put with water and set a timer for when the water would be done boiling. While the water came to a boil, I started cutting up the vegetables into sizable portions. When the water started to boil, I put everything into the pot including the bay leaves and thyme stalks. The recipe said to let the whole mix simmer until the meat started falling off the bone. While waiting, I looked through a couple of the other recipes in the book. In a few minutes, the chicken was falling off the bone, so I flipped back to the recipe to see what to do next. It said to strain the entire soup to remove the bones and thyme stalks. After I did that I cut the chicken into smaller, easier to eat pieces and added them back to the soup. Then I put everything back into the pot and returned it to the heat. While stirring to make sure it didn't burn, I thought about my grandmother. Soon after I moved to Sydney to join the orchestra here, my grandmother had moved back to her hometown in Korea, so I didn't see her very often much anymore. My parents weren't very supportive of my dream of becoming a musician when I was starting out. They're much more open to it now and started trying to attend some of my concerts even though it kinda hard since they still live in Korea and most of our concerts are here in Australia. But back then my grandmother was the only one who had helped me move out here. She had even stayed for a couple of months in my house to make sure I settled in nicely. Right before she left she gave me the cookbook I'm using now. Near the end of her visit, she started acting strangely. Sometimes I would hear her talking things that weren't there. Other times she would just leave certain rooms really quickly and refuse to go back into them for hours. I tried to ask her about it sometimes, but she would never tell me anything. Ignoring her sometimes strange behavior, my grandmother was the sweetest person I ever knew. During the time she was here, she almost always cooked. Whenever I came home from rehearsals, she was always so ready to listen to my entire day and all my problems. She even gave me my name 'Moonlight' against my parent's wishes, but they had already promised to let her. I mean, Moonlight' isn't exactly a traditional name. Not only that, she pretty much completely taught me how to cook. I remember she would always half hum half sing a specific tune whenever I was in the kitchen with her. She never taught me the song but I still manage to memorize it. Almost without thinking about it, I started to sing the song. Just hearing the lyrics brought back a million memories. I wish I had more time to visit her. I miss her. Suddenly, I heard a loud crash from behind me. I spun around, spoon in hand, only to see a random, rather large man standing in the middle of my living room. Now when I say large, I mean very large. I mean he would have towered over most people. The strangest part of him, though, was the fact that his eyes were glowing bright crimson. "Who the hell are you?!" I shouted at the stranger. Completely ignoring me, he shouted back, " How were you able to summon me?!" I faltered, "What?" He seemed to grow angrier at this, and I swear on my deathbed I heard a growl, "I said, how did you summon me?!" "Summon you?! All I was trying to do was make some chicken soup." He paused at this, "What are you talking about?" "See!" I said gesturing to the soup I was stirring. "Well, you must have summoned me! If you hadn't, I wouldn't be standing here," He sneered. "Why would I want to be anywhere in a 50-mile radius of you?!" "Why you little -," he said taking a step closer to me. In an act of pure ADHD impulsiveness and fight or flight response, I threw the spoon I was holding at his head. While he was distracted by a spoon hitting in the middle of his face, I ran to the kitchen. He recovered fast than I expected. Soon enough he was turning back to me madder than before. When I saw him, turn towards me I threw my cookbook at him too. Now this cookbook is a very thick book. Like I mean 600+ pages, thick. I didn't see him get hit by the book even though I would've like to because I yanked open the knives draw and grabbed the biggest one I could find and whirled around. When he got up, I expected him to rush at me again. But instead, he was staring at my grandmother's cookbook. He picked the book of the ground and started flipping through the pages. Every page he looked at, he seemed to get even more confused. I wasn't sure why he was looking through the pages of an elderly woman's recipes for meat pies and roast beef but I was sure that I wasn't about to put the knife in my hands down. Finally, he stopped and looked at me. Then he said, "Where did you get this from?" Why wasn't he trying to attack me anymore? I stayed quiet. "This is no game!" he shouted, "Where did you get this?!" "What are you talking about?! That was a gift from my grandmother! " I shouted back, kinda scared and worried. "Do not lie!" He growled, "Now tell me where you really got this from." "I'm not lying!" I yelled back, " And even if I was lying, why should I tell you anything?! You are a stranger! I know nothing about you. You are NOT allowed to barge into my house and start threatening me to tell you anything about my life!" He started walking towards me again, no doubt even angrier. When he was a few feet from me, I hefted the knife in front of me. He stopped and eyed the knife and me for a minute before coming closer. As much as my body was telling me to back up and away from him, I didn't do either because I didn't want him to think I was scared even though I was. Mainly though, I didn't want to get trapped anywhere. I hefted the knife a bit higher. He stopped again. Then, He laughed?! "Oh sweetie, that can't do anything to me." What is he talking about? It's a knife. Of course, it can hurt him. As confidently as I thought I still wasn't sure. "Of course it can. You would have to be immortal or invulnerable to survive a knife to the heart." "What you don't seem to be getting is that just what I am." he sneered, "Immortal and invulnerable." "Just w - what are you?" I stuttered out of fear. "Why sweetie," he said, "I'm a demon. And you summoned me." Then I blacked out.

-

There she is! This is my first proper story so I would really love to here feed back and advice on how to make it better. If you took the time to read this story of mine, thank you! I really do appreciate it. Chapter 2 will be done and up in a couple of days.

[dapaperbag]

My take on why and how Touya (Dabi) left the Todorokis and became a villain

We all love Dabi is a Todoroki theory and really enjoy reading a lot of theories you guys have. But most of them don't discuss the reason why is Dabi at the current state he is. And it's pretty understandable since we don't really have much canon information about what happened to Touya (actually before Pro Hero Arc we had none). So basing on how the characters, the Todoroki family, acted in that arc and behaviour of Dabi, Shoto and Endeavor earlier in the series, I tried to connect the dots. But take everything I say here with grain of salt since most of these are just assumptions, that try to fill the holes of the theory. The following is not a theory itself since it's supported by too little amount of evidence. But tried my best to stay down to earth, so every Todorokis' behaviour when it comes to Touya, as presented in Pro Hero Arc makes sense.

So, I imagine that Endeavor the entire time, up until Shoto's quirk manifested, was trying to train Touya. It made Touya, who was already weak physically (Rei's weak constitution as told in Joint Training Arc, which made his body not suited for his quirk, similar to Aoyama; besides his quirk not being compatible, i guess that the two opposite to each other quirks combined in the wrong way and that's why he ended up being generally weak, and it for example was showing in Touya being small), pretty unstable mentally. He was for this entire time being told how weak he is (which is why Dabi so often refers to how weak he is) made him really insecure about anything he does and his self esteem was really low. We'll get back to that later.

I imagine that he for a pretty long time thought that the abuse from Endeavor was "normal" – he was a son of a number two hero so it's okay for him to expect his children to be as good or better than him. But this thought's didn't make the pain caused by brutal training any less easier to handle. That's why he wished for his siblings not have any type of strong combination quirk, and he felt relief when Fuyumi and Natsuo's manifested and weren't the ones Endy was looking for. He kept saying to himself that he is able to handle it. He was also oblivious to his mother being abused. Also note that he had good relations with his siblings, especially Natsuo, but he was kind of a sociopath at school so he didn't have any friends. Natsuo was always concerned about his brother's well being and he always knew about Endy's abuse to his brother (to which Touya thought that Natsuo is exaggarating and it is how it should be, even if it hurts).

Touya's mind changed once Shoto's quirk manifested. Endy's focus turned completely to him, and that's when he understood what his brother meant. Watching his brother going through the same (or maybe even worse) shit made him as concerned as Natsuo was and he finally felt that what Endeavor was doing is wrong and shouldn't have a place. And Touya couldn't make himself to do anything to help his brother, he couldn't even talk to him because Endy made sure that they – the failures, won't have any contact with Shoto – his final, perfect creation. This made him sure in Endy's words, that he is weak, he's worthless 'causing these words/feelings to haunt him almost everyday. Situation with his mental state has been getting even worse, since he's belief in heroes got completely destroyed, and being the son of Endeavor, he often heard how he's father is "cool", "great", "heroic", making him hate the current society, which is "blinded by heroes" and made him wonder how many other heroes were corrupted. He was one thing – that nobody was going to safe him. People rely on heroes to safe other, but who will safe them from the hero himself?

The point when Touya just lost it all was when Rei poured the boiling water on Shoto. As much as blind Touya was on his mother's well being, he finally understood how broken his entire family was – it wasn't just him and Shoto being the victims, the entire family was. Having no one to rely one, Touya completely lost his mind and decided to oppose to his father just this once. One night, when Rei had been already put in the mental hospital and Shoto was also being hospitalized, Touya decided to encounter his father. The argument between them got really bad, and Endy being really on the verge of his nerves because of the recent events used violence on him. Touya fell into total madness and decided to use his power againts him. He covered himself on fire, but because of him losing control of himself the fire got even stronger (though it was already better than Endeavor's) and turned blue. This, along with Touya's body being not suited for his quirk caused his skin to burn and Touya suffering from great pain because of that. The pain made him faint which caused his quirk deactivate, stopping the fire. Natsuo was a witness of this situation and Fuyumi was sleeping.

Touya was sent to the hospital. Endeavor using his authority and influence, just like he did with Rei and Shoto's situation, made the hospital staff stay silent about it so it wouldn't reach the media nor the police. Once Touya got back his consciousness he just "surrendered". He stated that there is no way of helping it but he just can't stand this anymore. We accepted that he can't protect his family, and "being the weakling that he is" decided to run away (Note that he still had his bandages on so the family doesn't know how the scars look like; he also run away in the same clothes he had when he was first introduced, notice how they seem to be too small on him).

So here we are with the current state withing the Todoroki family: the public is unaware about any of those situations; Rei and Shoto have been told that Touya moved away, as he couldn't stand the situation and cut the contacts with the family; only Natsuo, Fuyumi and Endeavor know about the event, with the siblings not telling Rei and Shoto because they don't want their mental state to go worse, since it's already been bad (even though Natsuo really wants to tell them, opposite to Fuyumi who wants to keep it a secret as she thinks this may ruin the chance to become "normal family") while Endy just doesn't want this to go public and in fear of ruining his career he doesn't want to spread this info (of course I am talking about pre-redemption Endeavor, he may have changed his mind righ now). Note to the Shoto view on this: he is oblivious to the abuse that happened to Touya, he actually barely remembers him (he was only five when Touya run away), so it explains his "ignorance" on Touya's topic. Also why does Natsuo care so much about it and why Fuyumi doesn't want to talk about this. Dabi himself after living about ten years outside of the Todoroki family household, when he couldn't find his place to live, finally encountered the Stain's ideology (which got popular after his defeat). He got back his will to live and got a life goal – kill Endeavor as it's the only way to show the true face of the heroes and bring the justice to him and the currupted hero society.

But hey, that's just a theory, a Dabi is a Todoroki theory.

[burlybanner]

molecular gastronomy born from astronomy

Bruce is back from space - but is he whole? An angsty, science bros gainer fic answering complicated questions from Thor: Ragnarok. 

(Ignore the title - I just had fun with it. And yes, Thor:Ragnaork spoilers ahead).

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Tony/Bruce

Warnings: Weight gain, some kink related elements, stuffing and cooking elements.

Word count: 2035

***

Tony awoke and broke into a sleepy grin as absolutely heavenly, delectable scents wafted through the penthouse bedroom.  Bruce, he thought as a lazy grin spread across his lips. But Tony would’ve known without the mouth-watering smells anyway; their bed was uncomfortably cold without the big guy warming it up.

“Friday,” Tony yawned. “What’s the time?”

“Seven-oh-five, Boss.”

Tony’s brow wrinkled. 

“A.M.?”

**

He silently watched Bruce at work from the far left kitchen corner and it felt like old times, except today Bruce used the main kitchen for his creative outlets, instead of his cozy chem lab. He zoomed from pot to pot, clearly in the zone since he hadn’t noticed Tony’s watchful eye and careful grin.

Tony gentled his gaze while leaning casually against a doorjamb. He folded his arms as Bruce worked like a master chef, shuffling a plate here, turning off a burner there, grabbing some spices from a rack or a plucking a sprig from an actual plant and dumping it into a boiling pot. It made him think that somewhere, in an alternate universe, Bruce must’ve been a sous chef in a burgeoning restaurant. Imagining him as a fat-bellied chef with a staff of his own didn’t seem too far off the mark. Especially in recent days.

His eyes roamed over the physicist’s jiggling torso as he stirred the gravy, or sauce like a mad man - Bruce’s body had morphed considerably after returning from Sakaar, or Asgard, or wherever the hell they’d been, but Tony didn’t mind. He did have his own theories regarding Bruce’s creeping weight, stemming from the night he returned to New York, but he was waiting for the right time to discuss all of it.

“Two years?”

Tony’s breath had hitched the night Bruce explained, although it may have been the pounding he’d just received.  He was restless and sweaty and alive, because all night long they’d been jumping each other like alley cats in heat. Bruce’s sex drive had run off the charts, when before it’d been just a whenever the mood struck kind of thing.

“Uh, huh,” Bruce panted, licking his lips. His matted curls had fanned wildly across his brow, both from sweat and from Tony’s constant fingering, but he didn’t appear fazed. In fact he scanned Tony up and down like a piece of choice chuck, which Tony loved, and Bruce deserved.

“Kept me like a captive in a locked car trunk. Not again, though. Never again. He’s gonna goddamn listen now, whether he likes it or not.” He pawed Tony, covering his face with deep, sensual kisses, and Tony responded in kind. They took another hour reacquainting their bodies before Bruce honest to God rolled up and declared--

“Fuck, I’m starving. Are you?”

Bewildered, Tony flipped the covers off their bodies and shot Bruce a double-take “Now?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bruce slung a robe over his shoulders and tromped across the bedroom. “I’ll be...I’ll be right back. Promise.”

He was, but like forty minutes later, which - okay, fine - it took a while for Tony to relieve himself in the bathroom, and wipe up. But he glared at Bruce when he returned smelling of deep fried something and cake, apparently stuffed to the gills, and maybe, finally tuckered out.

“What’s gotten into you?” He demanded.

“Mm, nothin’,” Bruce mumbled, tumbling into the bed. He had mashed potatoes in his hair while crumbs flaked off into their bed. “Kinda tired.”

“Seriously--? So we’re just going to ignore the fact that you left me high and dry to grab a midnight snack? And - goddamn it, what the hell did you eat? It’s all over the bedsheets.”

“Asked if you were hungry, Tones.”

“That’s not the point, Banner...hey, are you listening to me?”

No, Bruce wasn’t, because a loud, honking snore erased his sentence.

“Son of a bitch...”

Although irked, he didn’t bring up Bruce’s weird reaction the following day, chalking it up to space-lag. Maybe he should’ve considered it more; he was as much a scientist in his own right, and the situation called for an answer. Each time he tried though, Bruce fucked him until he couldn’t remember his name.

And that’s how it went for the first few months - incredible fuck sessions, followed by Bruce’s insatiable need to stuff himself. Until Tony admitted they couldn’t keep it up forever - well, he couldn’t, Viagra be damned. He didn’t like explaining why to Bruce because it meant having to admit his virility had limits, but they discussed their sex life like rational adults, which honestly Tony never expected to see in his lifetime.

So, although Bruce agreed to tone down the sex, he swapped his ramped up sexual urges with even more food.

Tony wasn’t averse to it, though. Seeing Bruce’s body swell and soften was more pleasurable than expected; maybe, Tony thought distantly, Bruce/Hulk had experimented with carbo loading for gladiatorial fights on Sakaar. If he really tested those waters, Tony figured the answer lay somewhere between Bruce reorienting himself to his human body’s needs, and making peace with Hulk. You don’t just cut off a being like Hulk without some after effects. You can’t.

Bruce tapped a metal mixing bowl with a slotted spoon, waking Tony from his wandering thoughts. It was Thanksgiving and they could’ve ordered in, but Banner wanted to cook a Thanksgiving meal for the team so caterers be damned.

“You look hot in that chef’s apron,” Tony finally said, and Bruce jumped a foot.

“Dammit.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He couldn’t stop the chuckle tumbling from his lips, though Bruce looked angry enough to skewer him with his spoon.

“No worries,” Bruce muttered, grabbing a bowl. “Just...don’t do it again. And what are you doing up this early?”

“The delightful kitchen smells. And missing your warm, hot bod.”

Bruce hid a smirk in some cooking steam, but Tony saw it. Sighing, he came over and wrapped his arms beneath the apron to tease Bruce’s middle, feeling how much his partner’s gut had grown over the months; it wobbled seductively over his beltline and Tony couldn’t help prodding and pinching the doughy softness.

“Mm.” Bruce shook his head. “Can’t now. Gotta finish prepping.”

Tony didn’t let go. Instead he made a low noise in his throat and gently swayed back and forth with Bruce in his arms. Bruce swayed with him, allowing it for a few seconds, but then broke free.

At least he offered a deep kiss, as an apology.

“You taste like spice cake,” Tony murmured, licking his lips, and Bruce laughed while turning down a burner and checking the contents.

“Probably because I ate some.”

“That bundt cake from your cousin?”

“Uh, huh.” Bruce checked something else, and a sweet flavor wafted over. “I...ah. I finished it off an hour ago, though. Sorry.”

“That’s ok,” Tony smiled. “I had a slice yesterday, when you unwrapped it. It really was good.”

“Yeah.” He sighed softly and checked the oven. “I also had a full breakfast cooked for both of us, but--”

“You ate it,” Tony said, but he wasn’t mad. He searched for a Power Bar in one of the cabinets, and grabbed a coffee mug. “It’s no big deal.”

“Isn’t it?”

Bruce meant it as a throwaway mutter as he reached for the flour and sugar, but Tony refused to downplay it. “Not to me, it isn’t.” He filled his mug, added a few teaspoons of sugar, and unwrapped the energy bar. “I suspect being back in your old body after being out of it for two years is pretty disorienting.”

Bruce huffed and shook his head in that little self-deprecating way Tony had missed. “Oh, you don’t know the half.” Bruce violently dumped flour, salt, and vanilla into the bowl and kept his expression everywhere but Tony’s face. “He’s upset. He’s furious. He wants out all the time, and staying calm isn’t enough. But satisfying our physical needs pacifies him temporarily, food and sex especially. F...flooding my body with endorphins without overly kicking up my heart rate--I...I think the natural endorphins are helping.”

Tony swallowed and approached carefully as Bruce dumped cut up nuggets of butter into his mix and pounded the dough with a bit more strength than called for. “You know, Bruce,” Tony murmured. “You could try some of the newer drugs--”

The unexpected laugh bubbling from Bruce’s throat bordered on manic. “Oh, yeah, get addicted to drugs on top of everything else. Which ones? Pills? Or opioids? Or maybe your and dear old Dad’s favorite, bourbon--” He cut the remaining rant with a hiss between his teeth. “I...I’m sorry. I’m sorry. That was unconscionable and out of line. I...I--”

“Shh.” Tony wrapped him in his arms again, swaying as he did before, and Bruce relaxed in his arms. “Look. It took two years for you to come back, so it may take that long to renegotiate the boundaries. But we can, and we will. You restored balance before, and you have me now. We can do it together.”

“ ‘We,’ huh?” Bruce forgot his fingers were covered in flour and sugar as he thumbed Tony’s fingers. Then he briefly shook his head, nervously pawing at Tony’s arm. “I’m getting fat,” he finally sighed.

“You sure are,” Tony said, kissing Bruce’s cheek when he stiffened. “But so what? You’re still you. I still love you.”

And Tony froze, realizing those actual words had exited his lips. But Bruce heard, and he suddenly squeezed Tony’s hand. “Same,” he murmured. “Didn’t know how to say it.”

“Well, we’re both rotten in the ‘saying the right thing at the right time’ department.”

Bruce half-laughed, half-shuddered. “True. But I’m...I’m telling you, the only acceptable ‘drugs’ for me right now are food and sex. So I’ll probably become pretty massive before we reason out the solution. You...ah. Are you okay with that?”

Tony squeezed Bruce tight before relaxing. “I’m kinda digging it, to be honest. More of you to love, and all. What’s another hundred pounds here or there?”

Bruce nearly choked. “A hundred--?”

“Or whatever.” Tony’s hands snuck under Bruce’s apron, searching for the squishy gut he’d grown accustomed to. “It won’t matter to me. Even if I have to reinforce everything in the tower to accommodate you, I’d do it.”

“You’re an ass,” Bruce said, but Tony could hear the waiver in his voice.

“But you love me?”

“But I love you,” Bruce murmured back, and Tony released a held breath, knowing it was the truth.

“All right, then.” Tony rubbed his hands together. He made a face at the stickiness and ran his hands under the tap. “You need me to help with anything?”

“No, not yet.” He went back to the dough and began gently kneading instead of pounding. “The prep work is almost done, and the turkeys are cooking in the other ovens. The pies will be ready to cook in a few minutes, and once the sauces cool I’ll put them away until later. Then it’s waiting until around noon, to finish up the biscuits and potatoes and the rest. If anyone from the team starts bugging you, tell them dinner begins at three. On the dot.”

“Okay. Perfect.” Tony’s smile sharpened. “So when you’re done with this and waiting to begin the second round, let’s do some stuff.”

Bruce wasn’t watching, preferring to roll out his dough on cutting board. “Hm? Science stuff?”

“No, not science.”

“Wh...oh.” Bruce got it, and paused to blink up at him. “You sure? It’s not...not too much? We did a lot last night--”

Tony laughed. “I think my libido can handle it. Promise, I’ll let you know if it’s too much.”

“Oh. Okay then.” Bruce chewed his bottom lip, attempting not to grin like a schoolboy. “Ten minutes. I’ll be done in ten.”

“Sounds good. See you.”

“See you.”

Tony’s dark chuckle followed him down the hall. Talking had helped them both, and he felt lighter than air as he did an impromptu dance step back to their bedroom. He meant what he said; Bruce could double or even triple his weight, and he could suddenly become chief stockholder of Viagra, Inc. But whatever, because it didn’t matter and they’d figure it out. Together.

[cooperjones2020]

Second City, chp. 3

Summary: Sometimes she worries she’s settling — for a smaller job, a smaller city, a smaller life than she’d promised herself — but that was before she found out Jughead Jones lives in Chicago. That was before she found out the final secret of Jason Blossom’s murder.

A/N: As Juggie says, this chapter is a little bit meta. And pretty nerdy. I just have a lot of feelings about books, okay. Also I fudged with canon a little re: Jug’s writing style. So sue me.

ao3-->http://archiveofourown.org/works/11409360/chapters/25755798

Second City one / two

Nobodies Nobody Knows one / two (ao3)

In which Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones drink tequila

When the uber drops her off outside the bar Jughead selected, she buys herself some time by checking her email. She’s already spotted him inside but doesn’t know if he’s seen her, so the email-checking is a precautionary measure.

Though she wouldn’t be surprised if she had any last minutes notes from her boss.

The week thus far has not been kind to her. Cynthia found out she’d twisted the truth about her and Jug’s shared history. Turns out she once dated his agent. Cynthia also loves the idea that she’s the inspiration for Jughead’s heroine and is all over the plaster-Betty’s-picture-on-the-side-of-a-bus idea train.

Betty’s feeling that particularly potent mixture of nauseous because she’s disappointed someone, nervous about seeing Jughead, and migraine-y because she’s been staring at a computer screen all day. The farther the cab had gotten from the Loop, though, the more the nerves had emerged as the heavy favorite for emotion of the night.

She forces herself not to pace as she stares at her phone screen. Public spaces. She feels more comfortable about being around him in public spaces. They’d emailed about maybe doing the interview in either of their apartments, for sake of ease. She’s not ready to see his apartment. Being on the back of his motorcycle had been overwhelming enough. She isn’t ready to saturate herself with even more of him.

The prospect of her apartment is even more terrifying. She is afraid of what he would make of her life, what details and detritus he would weave into a narrative she couldn’t control.

A public space means no home field advantage. And it means an escape hatch, if she needs it.

She can see him inside, sitting in the far corner where the bar top meets the wall. He has his laptop out and a cup of coffee at his elbow, beanie covering his hair but for the one stray curl. If not for the wall of liquor she can see to the right of him, he could be in his booth at Pop’s.

Who drinks coffee at a bar at 8 pm?

Get a hold of yourself, Cooper. If you can’t feel brave, you can at least act like you do.

She goes in.

“Hey — sorry I’m late.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You’re not. And you know it.” Well she’s not early, which is the same thing. She busies herself setting her bag down and getting arranged on the bar stool while she keeps talking.

“How was Riverdale?”

“Great. Weird. They put my book in a special display in the library at Riverdale High. No matter that I didn’t graduate from there.”

“Well, I guess the story does take place there.”

“Yeah. Anyway, JB graduated and no one cried, so gold star for the weekend. I read your piece yesterday.”

His sudden change of topic gives her whiplash, but a sudden puff of warmth smokes in her stomach at his words.

“Oh thanks, you didn’t have to.”

“You know, I actually read it before I saw the byline and I wondered why the voice was so familiar. So which one was your favorite?”

She’s a little bit dazed by the compliment and doesn’t immediately put two and two together for the question.

“Favorite what?”

“Favorite bookstore.”

“Oh, right, duh. Um, Myopic, I think. Though Bookman’s Corner was a close second.”

His eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Good choices. Myopic is one of my favorites too. Did you go into the occult section? They have an armchair in the window in that room on the second floor that overlooks Milwaukee Ave. I wrote a good forty percent of the new book from that spot.”

“No I didn’t see it, I’ll have to go back.”

“You will.” She breaks eye contact when he doesn’t, and turns to the glass of water in front of her.

“Hey, Betts.” He reaches out and touches her hand briefly before retreating. “How about a drink?”

It is by far the least professional thing she’s ever done, but she truly, completely, 100% cross-her-heart-and-hope-to-die does not believe she will make it through this evening without alcohol. As if by magic, or the power of positive thinking, the bartender sets before her something bedecked with cherries and way too colorful to taste like anything other than cough syrup.

She looks at Jughead, wondering if he’d ordered something for her before she came in. But he’s frowning at the glass. The bartender nods to a table past the bar.

“Courtesy a that guy.” They both turn to look, and a man on the far side of room is raising his glass to her. She returns the gesture and, as usual, blushes, before turning her body more fully towards Jughead and crossing her legs. He puts a hand on the back of her chair.

“What a dick. Like he can’t see we’re together. Want me to go talk to him?”

“No, I’m a big girl. I can do it myself.”

“But—”

“No, Jug. I’m not going to let the two of you grunt over me like neanderthals arguing over a piece of meat. If you go over there, he’ll think you’re my boyfriend and that’s why he’ll back off. I don’t want it to be like that. I want him to back off because I say I’m not interested, not because you say so.”

She notices him exhale forcefully.

“Besides, what if he’s my one true love. If I don’t talk to him, I’ll never find out and then I’ll die alone surrounded by cats.”

“Why, Betty Cooper, are you being sarcastic?” An impish sort of mirth springs to his eyes and it makes something ache inside her.

“It’s not like you have the market cornered. I’ll be right back.” She takes her purse to the bathroom, with a pit stop to thank the man, and manages to get away without giving him her number. She’s not sure why—he is cute—but it feels like a betrayal somehow.

When she gets back, the bartender has replaced the frou frou drink with a shot of something clear. Tequila, she thinks, because it’s accompanied by a salt shaker and a wedge of lime resting on a napkin.

“You want to do tequila shots?”

“Liquid courage, Betts,” he says, in an echo of her thoughts from earlier. For a moment she feels guilty, but she’s glad he’s nervous too.

She squints at him and takes the shot, before delicately setting the lime rind back on the napkin. When she turns back, his grin could split his face.

“You’re a bad influence, Jones.”

“Always.”

When the bartender has cleared away the shot glasses in favor of a Goose Island for him and a glass of wine for her, he says, “So we should probably get started?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” She sets up the recorder, thankful it’s a Wednesday and the bar is quiet. He hits the ground running. More verbose that she remembers. Charmingly articulate. She almost wishes they were doing a podcast instead of an article.

“The sequel came as a bit of a surprise. At the end of The Final Fissure, you revealed the murderer. What story is left to tell?”

“I don’t really think of Sweetwater Subtext—that’s the title by the way, nailed down for sure today—Anyway, I don’t think of Sweetwater Subtext as a sequel, though technically it is because some of it takes place later than Final Fissure. I think of them more as companions, separated by genre but connected by story. The Final Fissure is more plot-driven—definitely commercial fiction. Sweetwater Subtext explores more of the motivations of the characters, I’d say it’s more literary.”

“Does that mean it will alienate some of your original readership?”

“I hope not. I don’t think the genre should have anything to do with whether a story is compelling, enjoyable. I think writers—well, more likely critics—tend to underestimate readers. Preferring genre fiction like crime or romance or sci-fi doesn’t say anything about a reader’s abilities, only their interests. Readers have already developed a relationship with these characters, hopefully they care enough about them to want to know more.”

“I was surprised when I first picked up Final Fissure and saw the genre. You gave up on your Philip Marlowe fantasies.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know how much hard boiled crime fiction you’ve read, but it usually doesn’t turn out well for the women. You get to college and take one theory course, and all of a sudden all you can see is the male gaze and the forced dichotomy between the ingenue and the femme fatale.

“Besides, you took over the story pretty early on and your voice—sorry, Betsy’s voice—was pretty insistent.”

Her mouth screws up at the mention of her fictional alter ego. “You just had to pick Betsy, didn’t you? Do you remember our third grade teacher called me that all year, no matter how many times me, or you, or Archie corrected her?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I tried to call her every variation of Elizabeth there is. Eliza stuck for a while but I kept writing ‘Betts’ in spite of myself so calling her Betsy saved me a ton of rewriting and annoyed calls from my editor. Though she found other things to latch onto. She thought ‘Betsy’ was ‘too mid-century, not enough millennial.’”

Betty laughs at his air quotes. “I’ve thought that myself more than once. But you withstood the pressure?”

“Never let it be said that I don’t suffer for my art.”

He pops the toothpick that previously held her frou frou drink cherries into his mouth, and she tries hard not to fixate on the tip of his tongue as it rolls the piece of wood from tooth to tooth. Focus, Cooper. What’s next in her notes?

“One of the big changes this time around must be your relationship to your readers. Have you felt the pressure of people waiting for this story, of what they might want to happen next? Has it affected you, either in your work or in your life?”

“Obviously the story starts in your head. But as soon as it’s printed, readers make it their own. It’s a dialogue in which they define the story—and me as the author, by default—as much as by who they are as by who I am. In the case of The Final Fissure, I was just trying to tell the story. Writing it was as much an act of therapy for me as it was a work of literature for everyone else. I wrote it as a teenager and then sat on it for many years, before I had the emotional distance I needed to edit it into a shape that would hold some broader appeal. This time around, it’s a little bit meta. Sweetwater Subtext is the same narrator coming back to a defining event of his life, trying to understand how it’s shaped him. Final Fissure was for me, but Sweetwater Subtext I did write with a specific audience in mind.”

“Not the audience who’s bought and loved it?”

“No, something a bit narrower than that.”

She doesn’t quite know how to follow-up without asking him who the audience is, but that feels too intimate. So she switches gears.

“If you wrote The Final Fissure in high school, and Sweetwater Subtext in the last couple of years, what did you do in the meantime?”

“I wrote a lot of short fiction. Creative writing at a university pretty much runs on the short story workshop.”

“So should we be looking for a short story collection next?”

“Haha, no. I think I subjected my workshop-mates to enough of the torture that was my short fiction. And it definitely overlapped with the world of The Final Fissure and Sweetwater Subtext.  Some of it got recycled into the two books. Maybe the story of Jason Blossom’s murder is the only story I have in me. Maybe I’ll be writing about it, who I was—who we were—then, for the rest of my life, in one way or another.”

Betty’s afraid to touch the subtext of that statement with a ten-foot pole. She presses the tip of her tongue against the back of her front teeth and wills herself not to flush. Or, if she does, hopes Jug will attribute it to the alcohol.

“Okay…so if the story is basically the same, how else was the writing experience different this time around?”

“In some ways, I think Sweetwater Subtext might have been harder to write — I’ve read The Final Fissure so many times but I also lived it. I’m not sure how to separate fact from fiction, I’m not sure if I know the difference. Sweetwater Subtext is much more internal, there’s much more room for error, interpretation.”

“Did your routine change? Anything in the physical process of how you wrote?”

“Definitely. Being an established author has conveyed a huge privilege on me. The Final Fissure was written in spare time at school or late nights at the diner. I’m still a nighttime writer. I still can’t write at home, I need people around me to observe. But writing gets to be the focus of my day now. I’ve also gotten better at letting other people see my writing. As a teenager, I was obsessive about making it perfect first.”

“Oh I remember.” They’re both facing ahead, so the recorder has a better angle, but she can see him smiling at her out of the corners of her eyes.

“But now, sometimes it’s just get it on the page and send it off, especially if I’m under a deadline. Still, though, I like some feedback if only to reaffirm my own conviction that I’m headed in the right direction. Actually, Archie looked at a few chapters of Sweetwater Subtext pretty early on.”

“Really? I can’t see him as a particularly dedicated editor.”

Jughead’s laugh is big, his head is thrown back and his shoulders shake. “No, definitely not. But it was more feedback on the content I was looking for, than the style. Whether I was crossing a line with anything.”

“Well, color me intrigued.”

“Good.”

She takes a risk. “I’m surprised Archie didn’t tell you I was moving here.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t exactly talk about you.”

It hurts. She knows it shouldn’t. She knows it makes sense. But it does. Because it sounds like ‘I don’t think about you.’

“Right, obviously. That was stupid of me.” Way to ruin it, Betty. “On a related note, what do you owe to the real people upon whom you base your characters?”

“That’s a question I’ve been wrestling with. The best answer I’ve been able to come up with, insufficient as it is, is honesty.”

[turbogrill]

In Home Of Original Sriracha Sauce, Thais Say Rooster Brand Is Nothing To Crow About

January 16, 20194:49 AM ETHeard on Morning Edition

MICHAEL SULLIVAN

Sriraja Panich is the brand name of one of two Sriracha sauces created by Saowanit Trikityanukul’s family. The family sold the brand to Thaitheparos, Thailand’s leading sauce company, in the 1980s. The brand has struggled to gain a foothold in the U.S., where the Huy Fong Rooster brand of Sriracha, created by Vietnamese-American David Tran, reigns supreme.Michael Sullivan/for NPR

Sriracha sauce. It’s everywhere. Even beer and donuts. The fiery chili paste concocted by Vietnamese-American immigrant David Tran has conquered the American market and imagination in the past decade.

But the original Sriracha is actually Thai — and comes from the seaside city of Si Racha, where most residents haven’t even heard of the U.S. brand, which is now being exported to Thailand.

I decided to go to the source to get the dirt on the sauce, and sat down with 71-year-old Saowanit Trikityanukul. Her grandmother was making Sriracha sauce when David Tran was still a baby, in what was then South Vietnam.

“If my grandmother was still alive today, she’d be 127 years old,” Saowanit says, sitting in her garden in Si Racha, (the preferred anglicized spelling of the city’s name) overlooking the Gulf of Thailand. She remembers helping her grandmother in the kitchen as an impatient 9-year-old.

“My job was to mix all the ingredients together. But I wasn’t very happy doing it and I didn’t really pay attention. I regret that now,” she says. “Because I could have learned a lot.”

Enlarge this image

Saowanit Trikityanukul, 71, remembers helping her grandmother make Sriracha sauce when she was a child.Michael Sullivan/for NPR

Her grandmother is widely credited with being the first to make and sell the sauce. But Saowanit says it was really her great–grandfather, Gimsua Timkrajang, who made it first. Family lore says he traveled a lot on business to neighboring Myanmar, Cambodia and Laos and noticed they all had different sauces — sweet, salty, sour — but nothing that combined all three.

“So, my great-grandfather got an idea that he wanted to make one sauce that went along with all Thai foods,” she says, “very creamy and different from other sauces.”

And he got it. Not that it was easy making it. Saowanit remembers one batch that took weeks, even months, to prepare.

“We had to prepare the ingredients like pickled garlic, so we had to peel the garlic to make sure it was good,” she says. “And the the chilis had to be perfectly red. And then the salt — my grandmother would only choose the big chunks and boil it, then filter and strain it … and leave it in the sun until it dried.”

The family originally made the sauce just for themselves and their friends. Then her grandmother’s sister and brother started selling their own versions in Si Racha, where its harmonious blend of chilis, garlic, salt and vinegar appeals to both locals and tourists from nearby Bangkok. But the family never patented the name.

“We didn’t want to keep it to ourselves,” she says, adding that it wasn’t much of a secret anyway — the ingredients were there on the side of the bottles for everyone to see. Soon there were dozens of imitators in Si Racha and beyond. Including, eventually, the Terminator of Srirachas, David Tran’s famous Rooster brand.

“He saw an opportunity and made his own business,” she says. She doesn’t begrudge him his success, but “why do they have to use our name? “Champagne is one kind of drink. Sriracha is one kind of sauce.”

And the American version is very different from what’s made here, she says. I’ve brought along a half-dozen local favorites for her to try, blindfolded, along with a bottle of the American interloper. She works her way through the Thai versions. Surprise! Her two favorites are the ones originally made by her grandmother’s siblings.

Gimsua Timkrajang, shown seated in this undated photo, was the first to make Sriracha sauce, according to his great-granddaughter. The sauce gets its name from Si Racha, the family’s seaside hometown in Thailand.Michael Sullivan/for NPR

I’m still impressed, though, that she can tell them apart blindfolded. They taste exactly the same to me. When it comes to the Rooster brand? After a tiny spoonful, she draws a sharp breath.

“It’s not tasty,” she says, taking a sip of water. “It’s not mixed together properly. There’s only one taste.” Saowanit says a proper Sriracha sauce needs to be what Thais call klom klom — the hotness, the sour, the sweet and the garlic all blending together seamlessly, none overpowering the other. The American version, she says, just brings heat.

I test her theory at a nearby restaurant where the lunchtime crowd is digging into their food. They seem surprised to learn there’s an American Sriracha. Tanpatha Punsawat is first on the spoon. “It’s hot,” she says carefully. “Very hot.”

But is it good, I ask?

“It’s OK,” she says politely. ( Loosely translated, her facial expression was “ugh.”) Her dining companion, Chuwet Kanja, tries next, rolling the Rooster around in his mouth. “No good,” he says, making a face. “When I first tasted it, I wanted to gag. Too bitter. It’s not klom klom.” I give him a spoonful of the leading Thai brand. He smiles and gives it a thumbs up. Order restored.

Reactions like these haven’t stopped importer Super Ting Tong from bringing the Rooster Brand to Thailand. And it’s showing up on more and more tables at upmarket eateries and on supermarket shelves in the capital, Bangkok.

“You know, it’s not an overnight success, but that’s OK, we’re working more on the slow and steady progression,” says Robert Booth, one of the founding partners of Super Ting Tong, who says the company has imported two container loads of the Rooster brand to Thailand in the past year and change. That’s about 60,000 bottles — enough to convince the company to order more. Super Ting Tong is a tongue-in-cheek name that roughly translates as “Super crazy” in Thai. And Booth admits the idea of importing Sriracha to Thailand has been met with some resistance.

“You occasionally run into some people who have very strong views about the Rooster brand not being the original Thai Sriracha, mostly the kind of angry Facebook trolls you would expect, ” Booth says. “But, given the love of spicy sauces and spicy foods in Thailand, I think there’s more than enough room to incorporate a new player in the market.”

Leading Thai manufacturer Thaitheparos, which bought the Sriraja Panich brand from Saowanit Trikityanukul’s family over 40 years ago, knows about slow starts. It has been exporting their Sriracha to the U.S. for more than a decade. It hasn’t been pretty.

“We try to tell people we’re the original Sriracha from Thailand,” says Varanya Winyarat, deputy managing director of Thaitheparos. “But when Americans try Sriracha sauce, they try the Vietnamese-American one first, so they think the taste should be like that.”

She’s frustrated and thinks maybe her father, who runs the company, should shell out more money for advertising and a new distributor. “Now we only sell in Asian supermarkets. We have to go mainstream,” she says.

“I think I have to educate them first what the sauce should taste like,” she says, adding, “you have to educate them about the basics of the taste first. Then I think they would understand. “

She’s not worried about the American Sriracha eating into market share here—”Thai people understand the real taste,” she says, almost dismissively.

But she admits David Tran’s Rooster brand has already crushed her hopes of conquering the U.S. market. But Varanya and export manager Paweena Kingpad say world Sriracha domination may still be in sight because of strong sales in another global Sriracha superpower: China.

“China is a big market for us — the biggest market, 100,000 bottles a month,” Paweena says.

When asked why their brand is doing so well in China, the two women look at each other and smile. “Because Asian people know how to eat,” Varanya says, giggling.

Game on, Rooster.

Try some the next time yougrill chicken on a TurboGrill™

In Home Of Original Sriracha Sauce, Thais Say Rooster Brand Is Nothing To Crow About published first on https://turbogrill.us/

[npeters16-blog]

Activity 1: part 3

Question:

Does salt water freeze faster or slower than regular water?

Hypothesis:

If a teaspoon of salt is mixed with ¼ cup of water, it will take faster to freeze than regular water.

Variables:

Independent- amount of salt in water

Dependent- how long it takes water to freeze

Controlled- amount of water, temperature of water, containers used

Materials:

Freezer

Water

Salt

2 glasses of equal size

Measuring cup

Timer

Notebook

Tape

Marker

Procedure:

1-      Fill two glasses with ¼ cup of water in each

2-      Record starting temperatures (should be the same)

3-      Mix 1 teaspoon of salt in one glass

4-      Label glasses

5-      Place glasses in freezer

6-      Start timer

7-      Wait for water to freeze, while checking temperatures along the way

8-      Repeat steps 1-7 two times

Observations:

Data:

Theory:

My hypothesis was correct. The salt water took longer to freeze than the regular water. Salt water can reach freezing temperature, but will not actually turn to ice until it reaches colder temperatures. This is because salt melts ice. So the regular water freezes faster and at normal temperatures.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Water Molecule 

Diagram of Water Molecules in 3 Stages

Video Link:

 https://youtu.be/wclY8F-UoTE

Paragraph Review:

In this activity, we were introduced to a few different science concepts. The first being how to create and run our own experiments. We learned how to develop a hypothesis, figure and gather materials, map out a procedure, make observations, and gather and analyze data. Along with learning how to conduct an experiment, we learned about the basics of the three stages of water. Solid, liquid, and gas. We looked at the different stages and their molecular makeups for each stage. Solids are slow and compact, liquids are more free flowing, and gases are active and freely moving. There were many concepts learned from this activity.

           For each of my three experiments, I had to first develop a hypothesis, gather appropriate materials, and create a procedure. For the freezing experiments, they procedure was very similar minus adding the salt and the water temperatures. After conducting the experiments, I was able to analyze my observations and data. The conclusions I came up with from my experiments were that hot water freezes faster than cold water, hot water boils faster than cold water, and regular water freezes faster than salt water.

           These concepts can be related to the real world in terms of cooking. If I need to boil something, I now know that by using hot water, I can boil the water faster. It will also be useful when making ice cubes or popsicles. By ensuring that the liquid is hot when put into the freezer, it will take less time to freeze. That will be useful in the summer time. And lastly, I already knew that spreading salt on ice helped melt it, due to living in Minnesota my whole life, but now I understand better why it has that affect.

[thisislizheather]

April Activities 2020

I’m really hoping that May is a more uplifting month than the last two months combined, I need it to be. We’re still staying at home and doing the best we can, but there have been so many things cancelled lately and I really just want to look forward to something. Here’s what went down this month.

I watched the first season of Dave on FX and wow. Just wow. It’s such a good show and I’m so glad I listened to my brother Robbie and watched it. Ten episodes. Each better than the last.

I also watched the new Mindy Kaling creation on Netflix, Never Have I Ever, and it was as good as I hoped it would be and more. Again, there are only ten episodes and I wish there were more. Also, the soundtrack is killer, see for yourself, bud.

I made this banana cake with coffee cream cheese frosting and it was heavenly.

If you are looking for an uncomplicated curry recipe to make, this is the perfect one (I used green beans instead of snap peas and it was still great).

My mom sent me this song for obvious reasons and now I can’t stop playing it.

So excited to hear that Shrill got confirmed for another season! Perfect show.

Do you know about Pluto? It’s a crazy good streaming platform and dare I say, better than Netflix (as long as you don’t care about the occasional ad).

You can see my favourite tweets of the month over here.

Tip: never get tomato sauce in a can. Tastes so tinny! Did everyone else already know this?

I tried Hal’s New York Seltzer water in the COLA flavour and HOLY CHRIST. Tastes exactly like Coke. It’s fucking wild. Shoulda bought ten of them but when I went back they were all gone. Like a mirage.

Is it abnormal to share a photo of a gorgeous woman? ‘Cause I saw this photo of Lili Reinhart (from Riverdale) and my jaw dropped, so gorgeous.

I finally finished this season of Curb and the last two episodes were probably the best. There were definitely cringey parts in a few episodes this season, but overall it was pretty good. I really think Larry David is probably just an asshole who happens to be funny sometimes, just my impression.

I’ve been burned so many times, but I’m never buying Barilla pasta again. Their no-boil lasagna sheets no-joke look like recycled sandpaper and taste like ASS. Never again. Also, I think I’m against no-boil lasagna sheets. Just boil some sheets! What’s the big deal! You’re not busy!

And speaking of lasagna, I’ve made this mushroom spinach lasagna three times this month and it’s heavenly. The only thing I do differently is that I use a food processor to grind up the mushrooms so they’re almost like a paste. Tastes incredible. It tastes better when it’s reheated the next day, too. Lasagna lunch? Get out of here, best day of the week.

These blueberry breakfast cookies are now officially in the recipe rotation since I’m about to make them for the third time. They taste better after being chilled, in my opinion. And not to be pornographic, but a blueberry bursting in your mouth? Yes, please.

I just tried this bath soak and it’s made me want to create a bath basket for myself, which is basically just a basket full of bath shit like Epsom salts, bath oils, bubble bath, bath bombs, etc. Future me is gonna be relaxed as fuck.

Love reading what people want to eat out when life is back on again. If you don’t think I already have a list going, THINK AGAIN. I’ll post it when better days are near.

We’ve entered the part of quarantine where Buzzfeed listicles are making me laugh. (Specifically #2 and #6.)

I made this cauliflower bolognese and look, it was good but I’ll never make it again because it took WAY too long for what you’re ultimately getting. It’s not a bolognese. Nothing meatless should be allowed to be called a bolognese, it’s unjust.

I watched The Phantom of the Opera for the 11th (??) time when it streamed for free a few weeks ago and it was, as always, magical. I maintain that Colm Wilkinson was the very best phantom there ever was. (P.S. I will always love these types of videos.)

Still in love with this egg salad recipe.

I didn’t know it was possible to do anything with stale bread other than make them into breadcrumbs or croutons: How to Revive Stale Bread

Can’t stop making these wildly easy smashed potatoes. When I’m feeling real fancy, I’ll make the sauce from this baked pickles recipe for dipping.

Yes, I have three books in my pile to be read right now, but I’m still really excited for this one. Already pre-ordered.

Really good article: Why Life During A Pandemic Feels So Surreal

Some of these quarantine tips about staying in touch with friends are actually good, not all but some.

I did a Zoom call with my whole family and we played games on jackbox.tv and it was actually really fun. Might become a standing Sunday morning activity.

When I’m not crying or drinking or taking a bath, I like to do beauty masks. But here’s the thing: I think all hair masks are a scam. How can you tell that they’ve DONE anything to your hair? Don’t you think that some charlatan could easily just put some basic-ass conditioner into a tiny disposable package and label it as some hair rejuvenating miracle? And while we’re here, it’s 100% likely that face masks are bullshit too. We’re being bamboozled and at this point I can’t even care about it because it’s genius. I’ll keep buying them and they’ll continue to do nothing.

Nathan started a Patreon! Check it!

This photo (below) from this nurse’s personal account of what’s going on right now is so good.

I tried a sample of Dr. Dennis Gross’s face serum and whoa. I love the idea of using a serum right after washing your face, so I just bought a reward-sized sample of this Drunk Elephant serum (it’s on its way) that’ll hopefully feel somewhat similar.

Loved the peachy smell of this Peter Roth cleanser from a sample I got.

I rewatched some of Master of None and it remains great.

Other still-great things that I also rewatched: Arlington Road & House of Sand and Fog.

I made the Dalgona coffee that everyone’s been making, but I didn’t put it on top of milk (that sounded gross). I put it on top of iced coffee for, like, some kind of super coffee. It was really good. I was jacked for hours. (And I haven’t tried it, but this Dalgona frosted chocolate cake looks nuts.)

Obviously loved hearing the Queen’s address.

I’ve been on almost all of Nathan’s podcasts this month, so just go on over there if you care (there are video clips too). Personal favourite is the bug mug one.

Little girl plays my favourite song.

I rewatched most of Community and I truly forgot what a great show that was. The first three seasons, I mean. MAYBE four. Best episodes: the missing pen one, the chaos theory one, love the Halloween ones, and the video game one is great. I will continue to hate musical episodes of any show, why do they do it? Who is it for? I’ve never heard one person say that they loved when a regular show did a musical episode. END THIS NONSENSE.

So I attempted to make the Asiago Chicken Bowtie Pasta from Jack Astor’s from this copycat recipe, and even though it reeeeally doesn’t taste the same, it’s still a decent recipe. It also tastes way better reheated the next day.

I made these chocolate chip cookies and they were very good. Not a super complicated recipe either, which is always a plus.

Tip: you shouldn’t just plop shampoo on the top of your head and then start rubbing it in (this leads to flat hair). You should rub it in right above the top of your neck and then work it in from there, it gets way more lathered up quicker this way. Please try it for yourself.

I finally tried the Canyon Creek caesar salad dressing recipe that I got from a waiter there years ago AND IT IS PERFECT. I feel weird posting it publicly, but if you love that salad and want to make it at home, I’ll absolutely send it to you if you ask.

Made this halloumi hummus bowl and it was really, really good. Love pearled couscous, love grilled halloumi.

Nathan and I watched Monkey Shine on Pluto and holy shit what a fun movie. Brief plot: It’s about a young athlete who becomes a paralyzed quadriplegic, and develops a bond with an intelligent service monkey named "Ella" who becomes homicidal after she is injected with an experimental serum of human brain tissue. HOW COULD THIS NOT BE AMAZING? It’s not going to sound funny now, but there’s this montage of the monkey doing all sorts of things for the man and then she puts this burrito-thing in the machine holder for him to eat and Nathan said something like, “Here… comes… PITA!” like she was gonna launch it to his mouth and I fucking died laughing. Truly just a fun movie.

Made these lemon ricotta cookies that were very light and lovely.

Some things that I’d like to do this month: make this burrata mushroom lasagna, I’d love to try this caesar recipe, I intend to finally review last month’s Ipsy bag that I’ve been putting off forever for no good reason, and I’ll likely rewatch the old Cannonball Run movies because I really want to. BIG PLANS.

Also, don’t forget about Mother’s Day on the 10th. Just a reminder. If you’ve got any interest in reading last month’s roundup, you can see what went down in March over here.

[anavoliselenu]

blood chapter 20

I lightly chopped the carrot on the cutting board and the boat swayed again, causing my head to do a little flip.

"Damn it." I steadied myself against the counter.

I had never really been subject to seasickness with Charlie basically living on fishing boats, but I was suddenly feeling every roll of each wave. This damned boat was going to be the death of me.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" Justin asked from the table.

"No, I'm fine." I continued with my chopping. When the carrots were done, I put them in the boiling pot on the stove.

"What are we having again?"

"Vegetable stew," I answered and stirred the soup that was bubbling away.

"Does it have flavor?" Justin grumbled.

"I don't know why you act like I don't season stuff. Everything doesn't need buttloads of salt."

"Yes it does. Salt makes everything better."

"So says the man who had a heart attack."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Speaking of which, have you taken your medicine today?"

"Yes."

I put the top on the pot and went to go sit next to him on the chaise lounge, which was on the deck outside.

Capriccio was docked and bobbing in the water, and the sun was beaming. Justin and I were the only ones here right now. Alice and Jasper went shopping, Rose and Emmett went to the beach, and Alec met up with Jane, who happened to live around here. He had been absent since the day we arrived. He called her, and that was the last we saw of him. I was hoping that he knew when we left, or he might just stay here. But that wasn't for another couple of days.

At first, I didn't know about this trip. Justin was still in remission, and I wanted to make sure that he was okay, but I was actually glad that he dragged us all here. We were pretty wound up. I had basically pushed spring break out of my mind, but this was surprisingly relaxing.

All we did was sit on the boat and read or… do nothing. Justin didn't like sand, so we never went to the beach, but I was alright with that as long as he was relaxing and having a good time. I tried to back off of him a little. I began to realize that I was acting like his mother and not his girlfriend. I kept a close eye, but didn't hound him as much when he didn't take his medicine or wasn't getting enough sleep.

Capriccio hadn't been out on the water yet because Justin wasn't up to it, but Emmett said he would take us out later. As for now, we stayed docked next to the hundreds of other boats that lived in Miami harbor.

"What are you doing?" I sat on the plush sofa next to him as he typed furiously on his laptop.

"Shopping." He turned it towards me.

"Armani, of course." I looked at the screen, which had posh looking suits and shiny shoes.

"I need new clothes."

"You always need new clothes." I rested my head on his shoulder.

"Well, I can't go out looking like a bum."

"I like you when you're bumming it," I laughed, "You're all scruffy and rugged."

"I have to look professional to get the job done."

"That won't be a problem since you won't be working for a very long time."

"But, I'm bored. All I ever do is sit."

"Do you want to run a marathon?"

"No, but I would settle for another good fuck," he said hopefully.

"That was a onetime thing. You took advantage of me," I sighed; images of skin against skin flashed through my head. I couldn't think like that, or I might jump him right here.

He chuckled deeply, "I don't recall you complaining."

"I was under the influence." I held fast to my theory that his eyes had hypnotized me.

"Yeah, yeah. Can we at least go swimming?"

"Yes, I think that's acceptable, but only after we eat. It's been too long since breakfast." I got up to check the soup.

"Isn't it too hot for that?"

"Soup is always good and good for you."

"Alright, Selena. Whatever you say," Justin sighed, continuing to type on his laptop, "You know, at some point, I would like my balls back."

"You can gladly have them in a month or two. Taking care of you is exhausting. I can't wait to go back to being a girlfriend."

He laughed, "One month and I'm back on top, Selena."

"Yes, sir."

I think it must be the waves or the sun, but he was very chilled. I had never seen him so relaxed. It might just be the drugs, but his stress level was considerably lower than normal, which was an extremely good thing. I guess he had just given up and decided to let me take care of him. That was the only option anyway since I wasn't going anywhere, although, I could still see how uncomfortable he was with being out of commission. I knew he was a "free spirit" or whatever you wanted to call it, but his health was in danger. And that was something I wasn't going to take lightly. Justin was finally accepting my help.

I filled two bowls with soup and brought them outside. Justin put the laptop away, and we ate together, talking and looking at the water.

"Do you want to go anywhere today?" he asked me.

"Not really. I at least want to see the beach once before we leave though."

Justin shuddered. "Okay, we can go."

"Not you. You might have a panic attack."

"I just don't understand why there has to be sand. It's filled with germs and gets everywhere."

I had no answer for him, so we went back to eating.

Five minutes later, the boat swayed again and this time, I felt it deep within the pit of my stomach. I shot up from the couch and leaned over the side of the railing, throwing up the soup that I had just ingested.

Justin was rubbing my back as I emptied my stomach; it took me a second to get my breathing back.

"Are you alright?" he asked in my ear.

I nodded. "I'm fine. I just haven't been on a boat in a while."

"Hold on, let me get you a seasickness patch." He left my side for a quick second and came back, placing the patch behind my ear. I didn't immediately feel better, but I could feel the effects of my sickness start to recede slightly.

"Thank you." I went to go sit back down and took a large gulp of water. My mouth was incredibly dry.

"I didn't know you got seasick. We've been on the boat before."

"I know. It's just been a long time. It's nothing." I gave him a tight smile so that he wouldn't worry.

Justin and I lied on the sofa while I waited for my stomach to settle. We changed the subject and started talking about Justin's experience with surfing. I had hinted that I might want to try it, but after hearing his story again, there was no way that I was getting on a board. I was stupid for even thinking it.

We were outside for about an hour and I was almost asleep when Emmett's loud voice boomed from inside.

"Hello, kiddies. Where are you two?"

"Emmett, stop talking so loud," Rose snapped. "This isn't a zoo."

"Selena! Justin!" he shouted.

"Just stay perfectly still and don't say anything," Justin whispered to me. I nodded, my eyes still trying to close.

"I know they're in here." Emmett's feet pounded around the boat.

Rose shut the door to the deck after sticking her head outside. "I guess they went on land."

"Then who made this soup?"

"Emmett, just leave it."

"Those two are no fun. All they do is sit and read."

I laughed quietly at that. Justin and I were fine with just sitting and reading. That would be heaven.

"Just let them have a relaxing break," Rose pleaded with him.

"We're in fucking Miami. You can't stay on a boat all day."

Edwards breathing had slowed and I could tell that he was starting to fall asleep, so I wanted Emmett to shut the fuck up.

The sliding door opened. "Oh, I found them," Emmett yelled.

Justin jerked awake, but I pushed him back down. "Go to sleep." I climbed off of him. He mumbled something I couldn't understand before his eyes closed.

I shoved Emmett inside. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What? I wanted to take you guys to the beach."

"You know you're brother needs his rest and you come thundering through here like this is a football game."

"I tried to tell him." Rose sat on the couch.

"Well, you two are boring as hell."

"What do you want?"

"Come to the beach with us. Alice, Jasper, and I found this amazing spot and there's barely anybody there. You have to see it."

"I can't leave Justin here by himself," I said.

"I'm staying." Rose flipped through a magazine. "I'll take care of the old fart."

"That makes me even more worried."

"He'll be fine, Selena," Emmett pleaded. "Get off of this fucking boat."

I didn't know if I felt right leaving Justin. This was a vacation, but I was supposed to be watching him. What he forgot his medicine? What if he slept through dinner? What if he fell off of the boat? There were too many horrible options to choose from.

"Selena, just go." Rosalie waved her hand. "He'll be fine."

"Alright, alright," I conceded. "Just for an hour though."

"Yeah, sure." Emmett nodded eagerly. "Just go get dressed."

I was pushed back into my room and I started searching through the large closet for something to wear. I don't know how he did it or how much time he had, but everything in all the rooms was stocked, thanks to Justin. He must have pulled a hell of a lot of strings to get things done so quickly. There were clothes and food ready to last us for more than the measly week we were here. Of course, all the clothes were fashionable and expensive, but I didn't bother arguing with anyone about it.

I found one of the least scary bathing suits, which happened to be a two piece. I couldn't find anything else. I just thanked God that it wasn't a piece of fabric and triangles. I wouldn't have gone anywhere in that. It was dark green and pretty simple for a bikini. I covered it was some jean shorts and a white t-shirt. I pulled on my shoes and grabbed Justin's sunglasses.

"Finally," Emmett hopped up when I came back from the room, "we were waiting forever."

By this time, Jasper and Alice were there as well. She was going off about this amazing spot on the beach that I just had to see because it was so peaceful and apparently secluded. I was still a little worried about leaving Justin. He was still asleep, but I was leaning more and more towards just saying here.

"…and we saw dolphins this morning." Alice bounced. "I got a lot of pictures. You have to come with us. Stop thinking that you aren't."

"But what if he gets hurt?" I asked.

"Selena, he's not an invalid. He can walk, use the bathroom, and he can breathe." Rose rolled her eyes.

"And you're supposed to be taking care of him?" My eyebrow shot up skeptically.

"For your information, I used to work in a hospital," she argued, still not getting up from the couch. "That bastard won't ever die."

"You're not really helping," Jasper said.

"Can we just go before I change my mind?" I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, writing a letter to Justin so that he knew where I went. Something told me that Rose wasn't going to take the time to tell him.

We left the boat and my feet hit solid ground for the first time since being here. I put on my sunglasses and followed Emmett towards a group of cars in the far parking lot. They were incredibly stylish and shiny.

"Do these belong to you guys?" I asked.

"Rented," Jasper answered, "although, I think Emmett's having a love affair with one of them."

"I will steal this one." Emmett laid his big body over the hood of a bright red Ferrari. "It's my baby."

"Boys and their toys," Alice whispered to me. I nodded.

I got in the passenger's seat of the Ferrari with Emmett driving and he sped out of the parking lot with a roar. I had to admit that it was very fast and incredibly smooth. I was impressed, although, I had no idea what Emmett was saying. He liked going over the stats of the vehicles, and he could have been speaking gibberish for all I knew.

The car ride was quick and Emmett masterfully navigated his way through the crowded streets. Everything was so bright and lively. I peered out of the window like a kid in a candy store. I had never been here before, so everything was so new to me.

"We're going to go out to a club or something before we leave. How can you spend all your time on a boat?" Emmett asked.

"I'm just trying to keep Justin relaxed."

"He'll be fine. That old geezer just needs to get over this heart thing."

"He's trying."

"Well, that doesn't mean we can't have fun."

Emmett upped the speed of the Ferrari, taking her over one hundred. I just shut my eyes until we stopped easily a couple of minutes later.

"Are we there?" I looked around at the secluded lot that didn't have any cars in it except Jasper's. There were a lot of palm tress through and it looked beautiful.

"It's just through there." Emmett pointed. "We have to walk to the beach and then we found this cave that's so cool."

He jumped out of the car, and I followed. Jasper and Alice were carrying baskets that I hoped were filled with food because I was suddenly hungry again.

I didn't question them as we went on the dirt path, through the thickets of tropical flowers and vegetation. It looked like we were going through a botanical garden of sorts.

The trees broke and suddenly, we entered another world.

I could see the shine from the crystal cerulean water a mile away. It was so different from a regular beach, and it was as almost if we were in a movie. The deep blue water in contrast with the pale, white sand was enough to make me almost jump out of my clothes to go swimming.

"I love this place." Jasper spread out a blanket when we got towards the water.

"Aren't you glad you came now?" Alice pulled her shirt over her head revealing a hot pink bikini top.

"It is kind of nice." I tried not to think about Justin back on the boat.

"This is more than nice." Emmett ripped off his shirt and bounded towards the water.

We all followed, and I was surprised at how warm it was. The ocean was so clear that I could see my feet at the bottom. Emmett thought it was unacceptable that I wasn't submerged so he pulled me out to the deep waves where they came up to my chest. I had to basically hold onto him for dear life, or I was going to be carried away.

We must have spent an hour in the water and Jasper tried to teach us how to boogie board. Emmett was too big, I was too clumsy, and Alice was too busy picking up seashells to care.

"I should have brought my camera," I sighed while floating on my back in the deep water.

"This is the fucking life," Emmett said. "Too bad we have to work."

"Work?"

"Duh, that's the whole reason we're here."

I stood up in the water. "Really?"

Emmett's face fell. "No, I was lying."

"You're backtracking. Did Justin drag us down here for work?"

"No."

"Tell me the truth." I jumped on his back. I didn't know what that would do, but at least he wasn't getting away from me.

"I can't. I didn't mean to say that. We're here to relax."

"I can't believe you guys. You know he's sick and you just feed into his stress."

"And you don't? Please. You didn't think you two were that quiet when you were fucking each other's brains out the other night," he laughed.

"Shut up. You're going to kill him."

"It takes a couple hours tops to get to Cuba, and then we're back like nothing ever happened."

"Cuba?" I almost shouted.

"We have some things to pick up. Don't get your panties in a bunch." Emmett started to paddle back to shore, carrying us over the waves.

"I knew there was a reason why we were here. I should have stayed in Chicago."

"You can't admit that you aren't having fun."

"Justin needs to relax."

"And he has been; he just has some work to do also."

I climbed off of his back and stomped back up the sand to where Jasper and Alice were sitting.

"What's wrong with you?" Alice asked me when I plopped down on the towel next to her.

"Did you know they were here for work?"

"Dude, you spilled?" Jasper asked Emmett.

"She forced it out of me," he said pathetically.

"Did you really expect anything else?" Alice said to me. "All they ever do is work."

I grabbed a book from the bag we had brought and propped it open.

I knew Justin was up to something. All that typing on the computer, he could only buy so many clothes. He was going to get his ass handed to him when I got back.

I guess I was being slightly hypocritical since Justin and I did break the rules earlier on in the trip, but… well, I needed some sexual release. He made me do it! That was the story I was sticking to.

I read a few chapters of my book and blew off some steam. I was still extremely hungry. Maybe it was from the waves, or the fact that I hadn't eaten in a while, but I ate two sandwiches from what Jasper had packed. After about three hours, I had calmed down slightly but was still mad at Emmett for even considering working on this trip.

"Come on, Selena. He made us come." He pouted playfully. "I didn't mean to get the beast all riled up."

"You're just trying to kill him." I shook my head, not lifting my head from my book.

"Just don't tell him I told you. Act like you don't even know."

"If I seem him getting to stressed, we're pulling right back around," I said firmly.

"Justin doesn't even have to leave the boat," Emmett promised.

"Does it even matter what I say? You guys would go anyway."

"True, but Cuba is the best. You'll see."

After that, I was kind of tired, as was everyone else, so we took a good nap in the sun. The beach was secluded enough that we weren't bothered. Emmett kept himself awake so that he could keep watch.

I stretched myself awake after what felt like months. My body was incredibly tired.

Everyone seemed to wake up at the same time that I did. Jasper rolled over with a loud groan, and Alice popped up with renewed energy.

"What are we going to do now?" Emmett asked, chewing on a candy bar.

"We can't just leave. This is probably the only time we'll get to come back here," Alice pouted.

"What about that cave you guys found?" I suggested.

"Oh, I'm not going." Alice sat back down. "That place gives me the creeps."

"But it's so cool." Jasper got excited. "Come on, Selena. I'll show you."

He quickly pulled me up off the ground and began tugging me away from the group. Emmett and Alice waved us away.

"Slow down," I said.

"Sorry, but we have to catch it while the tide is out."

"How far away is this place?" I asked as our run slowed to a brisk walk.

"A couple miles."

"A couple miles?" I repeated. "Do you think I'm some kind of marathon runner?"

"It doesn't seem that long. Stop complaining."

Jasper and I had a rare moment alone as we walked further down the isolated beach. We had never really been alone before, but I liked Jasper. He had this way about him that made you feel calm. I don't know how he did it, but he could talk melodically for hours about the Civil War or something boring like that, and you had to listen to him. You were drawn in and felt like understanding him more.

Like Jasper said, it didn't even feel like a couple of miles when we started walking. Before I knew it, he was getting more eager to show me this cave that was supposedly the best thing in the world.

"There it is." He pointed in the distance at a large mountain looking thing.

"Are we supposed to climb that?"

"No, there's a place where you can go inside. It glows at nighttime."

"Glows?"

"Yeah, it has something to do with the water and the light reflections. I don't know." He shrugged.

"Alright, then. Sounds cool to me."

We continued our walk for a couple of minutes, still talking. I was so wrapped up in his words that I almost forgot that Justin had dragged us all down here for work on the side. I bet he was back at the boat now typing away on that computer dealing with business. He was a grown man, so I wasn't going to lock him up. As long as he wasn't taxing himself too much, I guessed it was okay. I was just going to have to watch him.

"Alright, so we have lots of time before the tide comes back in, but watch the rocks. They can be kind of sharp," Jasper warned as we neared the cave, which I saw was a giant cutout in the walled ledge.

He helped me over the rocks, and my shoes got wet as we sunk into the low puddles left by the waves.

"Are you sure this is safe?" I asked.

"Yeah, we won't have a problem for another hour."

"If you say so." I crossed the threshold into the cavernous area. Even my steps echoed off of the damp walls.

It wasn't a place with stalactites or anything like that, but it was huge. The floor was made of soft sand; there were tidal pools that filled every time the waves rolled in. I could see small fish in them and was amazed that they could live their entire lives in a circle.

The ceiling must have been a couple stories up, and there were holes in it that let sunlight stream through. The cave could have gone back for miles, but there was no way in hell I was going that far. It looked too dark back there to be safe.

"Isn't it awesome?" Jasper walked around, his voice bouncing off of the walls.

"This is kind of cool. How did you find this place?"

"I was going for a run a couple days ago and came here for some reason. Alice must have taken thousands of pictures when I brought her here."

I walked around with wide eyes as I explored the new, fascinating scene. It wasn't dark at all, but still very mysterious at the same time.

"Selena, come over here and look at this." Jasper was standing ankle deep in a small pool near the entrance of the cave.

I ran over to him and stared at the clear water where small fishes were swimming around his feet. I stepped in the pool with him, and the seaweed tickled my skin as it swayed in the waves.

"There's a starfish," Jasper pointed out.

"Are those things really alive?"

"I guess so." He said. "I always wanted to be a marine biologist or something like that. I almost tried to live at SeaWorld when I was a kid."

"And how did that work out?"

"Esme and Carlisle took us a couple times. I snuck away from them and hid under a counter in one of the gift shack things."

"Are you serious?"

"I was going to wait there all day. I actually made it until closing. The sun was down and everything. Eventually, some guy found me, but I sure as hell was fighting to get back to Shamu."

"What did Esme do?"

"She was crying so hard; I don't think she really cared, but Carlisle beat my ass six ways from Sunday. He was pissed, and I don't think I sat down for at least a month after that."

"I'll just add that story to the list of horrifying adventures you guys put your mother through over the years."

"That wasn't even as bad as the time Justin beat up the kid at Six Flags in high school. The kid was in the hospital for three weeks. His parents sued and everything."

"So he's had a rage problem all his life?" I almost laughed.

"Basically,"

The tide started to roll in over our feet, which were still submerged in the pool.

"Should we be worried?" I asked as the waves continued to come in.

"No, but we'll have to pay attention to the current. We'll leave in a sec."

A particularly rough wave crashed into us, and I stumbled back a little bit. Something sharp cut my left shin. I didn't know what it was, but it felt like my whole leg was being sliced by a sharp knife.

I jumped out of the pool quickly and looked down at the now red mark that was on my skin. It was a raised abrasion that almost ran up my entire leg, towards my knee. The spot started out throbbing softly, but in seconds, erupted in pain.

"Ouch," I said under my breath and tried to walk out of the cave, but couldn't put any pressure on my leg.

"Where are you going?" Jasper jumped out of the pool and came over to me.

"I think something bit me." The ache was bearable, but getting worse.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I think it's just time to go." I tried to hobble away and made it out of the cave with Jasper carrying our shoes.

"Selena, maybe you need to sit down," he suggested.

"No, everything's alright," I lied. In actuality, my entire leg was stinging painfully.

Jasper stopped me from walking, and I gently sat in the sand away from the waves.

"What the hell happened?" I said through clenched teeth.

"I think a jellyfish got you." He examined my leg like he knew what he was doing.

"A jellyfish?"

"Yup, looks that way. Looks really painful, actually."

"No shit. I thought these weren't supposed to hurt that bad." I laid back, and I was suddenly tempted to scratch the skin off of my leg.

"Those are the small ones. Florida has big ass jellyfish."

"And you took me to the cave where they live?" I almost slapped him. It might have been the pain.

"Well, I didn't know they lived there. Stay still," he ordered.

"I can't. I want to fucking scratch it."

"No, don't touch it."

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," he admitted.

"Aren't you supposed to be some super marine biologist?" I was getting extremely agitated.

"When I was eight. Stop squirming."

"Let's just get back." I tried to stand up, but he had to help me.

I got about two steps before I started hopping on one leg.

"Selena, you can't go three miles like that." Jasper quickly followed after me.

"I'm fine," I challenged, knowing perfectly well that I was acting stupidly.

"If you say so."

I hopped for a full mile, even though it was exhausting. I'm sure I was doing more harm than good, but Jasper wasn't helping at all. He was suggesting stupid stuff about how I was supposed to get stung again and the first sting wouldn't hurt as much. I was tempted to believe him. Anything to help the burning would have been helpful.

When we reached the two-mile mark, I took a break.

"I think I have to pee on it." Jasper sat next to me.

"What?" I gave him a deadly look. There was no way he was peeing on me.

"That's what they say you have to do." He shrugged. "Pee on it."

"If you come anywhere near me…" I scooted away from him.

"Well, are you going to crawl back?"

"Yes."

At this point, the mark on my leg was looking very unhealthy. It had been about an hour and a half since that damned jellyfish had got me. I didn't know anything about this, so I hoped I wasn't being poisoned or anything.

"Selena, I know what to do. Just listen to me." Jasper was having way too much fun.

"Oh, really? A while ago, you didn't know what the hell was going on and you now suddenly have the cure?"

"It just took me a second to remember."

I crawled away from him in the direction of Emmett and Alice, praying that they came looking for us soon.

"You're never going to make it." Jasper's arms strongly lifted me up, and he started carrying me down the beach.

I grumbled for another mile, but he wouldn't put me down. The pain was radiating now and everything from my ankle to about my thigh was numb. I started to get scared that I was going to have to amputate something. Did they still do that? This relaxing beach day wasn't turning out well.

"Okay, that's it." Jasper set me down.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm peeing on you." Jasper started to adjust himself in his swim trunks.

"Whoa, wait!" I covered my eyes. "First of all, you're not peeing on me, and second, we're almost back."

"We're not going to make it the last mile. You might get infected or something."

"I can handle the pain. I'm sure Alice has something in her bag that I can take until we get back to the boat."

"Will you just shut up and let me handle this?"

"You aren't peeing on me," I repeated.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I'll tie you down if I have to."

"Jasper, please don't make me do this. We're in public."

"You think I care? I once had an orgy at a high school football game under the bleachers."

"As happy as I am for you, I'm not agreeing to this." I started to crawl away again and actually got a couple feet before Jasper caught up.

He stopped me, turned my leg over and whipped out his dick like it was nothing. He didn't even give me any warning, and I saw it all. He wasn't as big as Justin, but I could see how Alice would be pleased. I guess on the list of male genitalia that I had seen in my life, he ranked number two—after Justin but before Mike. It was nice.

Wait. Why am I comparing genitalia?

"Oh, my God." I almost cried at the embarrassment of it all. I was red everywhere from my blush, "Stop it."

"No, you're going to get an infection and die."

"Is this even proven to work?"

"Who knows? Stop talking; it's hard to pee when people talk."

"Put your dick away. There could be children around." I peeked through my fingers and saw that he was still swinging in the wind, trying to calm down enough to get going.

"If there are kids around, they'll just learn a little human anatomy."

"This isn't what I had in my mind for today."

"You're still talking. You're making me very nervous, Selena."

"I thought you were the big orgy guy?"

"Yeah, but performance anxiety is only a problem in the beginning. I have to at least get going. Stay still."

"I think I can make it back." I quickly tried to judge the distance and figured that there was only a mile left. "How about we…."

"Success," Jasper sighed, and I felt cringed as a warm stream of… whatever dripped onto my leg.

It dripped down my skin, and I was too grossed out to even think about the pain. My leg could have been blown off, and I wouldn't have known.

"Stop moving, you're making me miss," Jasper said.

"This is… just sick." I tried not to think about it, but the smell of urine was strong and unpleasant.

He was peeing on me.

I had to say it a couple of times before it really sank it.

Surprisingly, the sting subdued. It wasn't gone completely, but the pain kind of stopped.

"Are you done yet?" I almost begged.

He gave the obligatory man pee sigh. "Yup," he replied enthusiastically.

"Should I… wipe it off?"

"I don't know. How does it feel?"

"Better," I admitted.

"I guess we just leave it on there." Jasper said like it was nothing.

"Did you not just realize that you peed on me?"

"Hasn't been the first time I've peed on someone although that time, I was drunk and couldn't help it." He lifted me up again, and we began our walk back.

How boring can church get?

We had already been here for about an hour. I was hoping that if I closed my eyes, it would all just go away, but no such luck. Father was going on and on about how we needed to give more to our community and shit like that. It seemed like he forgot about how generous the Cullens had been in the past few years. This church was basically built with our money, so I think we were done in the gift giving for the next century or so.

Maybe it was the fact that the sun was actually shining today, but no one seemed to be fully here. We all wanted to be outside and enjoying our first day of good weather. It was also one of the first times that I had been allowed to be in normal society. A couple of days ago, the doctor gave me a thumbs-up at my appointment. My health was getting better; I guessed all of Selena's psychotic theories were working.

Unfortunately, I couldn't enjoy the day because of fucking church.

To make matters worse, there was this snot nosed kid sitting in front of us, who kept turning around and making faces at me. What happened to parental control? He must have been about four, but he should have known how to act normal. This was ridiculous. It was like his parents didn't even notice his bad behavior.

"Can we go?" I whispered to Selena, who was sitting next to me.

"I think Esme would kill us both."

"This kid won't leave me alone."

"Just ignore him. He'll stop if you don't react."

"I highly doubt that." I sat back in my seat.

The kid smirked at me and turned around, sticking out his tongue.

I ground my teeth together and just kept my eyes forward. He continued to make noises and wave his hand in front of my face, but I was trying to be a grown up about this. I should have just smacked the kid, but that might provide some issues with child abuse and things like that. I was pretty sure people would take my side when I told them the story of how this brat was messing with me. Maybe not.

As the minutes went on, the boy got more and more daring. He eventually started blowing spitballs in my direction. I was ducking them like bombs and probably making a fool of myself. Emmett and Jasper were laughing their asses off.

"He keeps bothering me," I told Selena.

She reached in her pursed and pulled out a piece of candy, handing it to the kid who took it with eager eyes. He sat back down and started munching on it.

"This is why I don't like children. If he messes with me again, I might snap."

She was fighting a laugh. "I wonder where Esme went wrong with you."

"I was a bad apple from the start," I teased.

I went back to not really paying attention to the stupid sermon. My mind started to drift off further, but was immediately brought back when a wad of spit landed on my forehead. This time, it was sticky, and I smelled grape.

"Son of a bitch." I took out my handkerchief and wiped the glob off of my face.

The boy was laughing under his breath and snorting like a pig at his new form of torture. He kept ducking down into the pew, trying to see if I was looking at him. I reached my limit and had to remind myself that I had a heart condition, or I might have just blown up right there.

He popped his head back up, and I snatched the straw from his grubby little fingers. He pouted and his lips went into a snarl.

"Go away," I said.

"No, give me back my straw," he replied. "I'll start screaming."

"Shut up you little pot licker or I'll put you in a microwave," I spat.

"You shut up." He puckered his face. "I don't have to listen to you."

"You're so annoying. Your parents don't love you." I said the first thing that came to mind just to make him feel bad.

Of course, his mother chose that exact second to turn around and had a horrified look on her face. She pulled her son towards her. She started whispering to her husband who peeked over his shoulder to look at me.

"What the hell are you looking at? Learn to control your kid or I'll do it for you." I whispered to her.

"This is just too funny. I have to get my camera." Rose started digging through her purse.

"I hate all of you," was my reply.

Finally, after what felt like another five hours, church was finished and people started to get out of the pews. Thankfully, the mother and her snotty brat bypassed me completely and rushed out of the church. The father followed after glaring at me for a couple seconds.

"At least you didn't punch him in the mouth." Selena took my hand.

"I was tempted to. Why don't people give spankings anymore?"

"Do you want to go to confessional?" she laughed. "I'm sure we can get all the evil out of you."

"I'll go if you go," I dared her, not actually thinking that she would go for it.

"Alright." She nodded, pulling me out of the sanctuary.

"No, Selena. I was just kidding."

"You said you would. We both need some religion."

"I hate going into that booth."

"How about I go first, and then you can just sit there if you don't want to talk to the priest."

"I like the sound of that."

"Okay, but you can't leave me here."

"I won't. Just go." I pushed her towards the confessional booth. She went inside, and I sat on a bench near the opposite wall.

I waited for about half an hour. All of this stuff wasn't really my style, but if Selena really wanted to get in touch with her religious side, I wasn't going to stop her. Maybe I did need some form of piety in my life. It couldn't hurt. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't going to start basing my actions on any type of moral code, but a prayer now and then might get me a good word upstairs with the big guy.

When Selena was done, per our agreement, I went inside of the booth.

"May the Lord be in our heart to help you make a good confession," the priest said.

I sighed heavily and crossed myself. "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was about two months ago."

"Hello, Justin. Nice to hear from you again," a deep, Irish accent replied.

"Wait, you're not Father Romana." I peeked through the mesh panel.

"No, I'm Father O'Hare. You were in my history class in high school."

"You're still alive?" I asked.

"I sure am. Actually, my birthday is next week," he chuckled, obviously enjoying my discomfort.

"I never liked you. Can I talk to Father Romana or at least an Italian?"

"You don't like the Irish?"

"If I recall correctly, you have a problem with Italians."

"It's not that I have a problem with them, but I've never met one that I like." His shoulders hitched. "Well, minus your mother of course."

I almost laughed at the irony of it all. She was part Irish, unbeknownst to him. The bastard could probably sense it; some kind of Irish code.

"How about we just stick to the topic," Father O'Hare suggested.

"I don't want to speak with you."

"Justin, let's be grownups."

I rolled my eyes. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

"Please recite your sins, my child."

"Uh, I have a lot of them."

"I'm listening."

I tried to think about what I could say that was actually legal or that I didn't have to explain.

"That many?" He grinned.

"I cursed this morning."

"I know you can do better than that."

"I wanted to smack a child in church."

"That…is interesting."

"Can I just get my blessing and go?"

"Your girlfriend had quite a lot to say."

"About what?"

"I can't tell you that, Justin. What we discuss in here is private."

"I think we're done." I pushed open the door of the booth and fixed myself up before going over to Selena.

"How did it go?" She jumped up from the bench.

"It was good. Got a lot off of my chest." I lied, in church no less.

We walked out into the bright sun, putting on our sunglasses and spotting the rest of the family in the parking lot across the street. Even though I was in better health, I still wasn't allowed to drive just yet. Carlisle wouldn't let me, no matter how much I protested.

Selena and I got in the back seat of Emmett's Hummer before we drove off towards the cemetery to change the flowers like we always did.

"Can you go a little faster?" I sighed in frustration.

"Some of us don't live our lives on the racetrack." Emmett looked at me in the rearview. "And for your information, I'm pushing ninety."

"That's still grandma slow."

"Just shut up and sit back. You can't drive anyway."

"When I get my cars back, we're drag racing and I'm going to kick your ass."

We argued all the way to the cemetery and, much to Esme's dismay, we kept it up when we got out of the car. She tried to tell us to calm down, but Emmett was being a bitch. Selena just pulled me away from him, and we went through our normal Sunday ritual.

When that was finished, we piled back into the cars, and our caravan pulled out towards the house. This was the first time in a long time when the schedule wasn't interrupted.

We got back from Miami two nights ago so it was time to get back to normal. Selena was going to be back in school tomorrow. I dreaded to think that I had to find something to do. Maybe I could convince Carlisle to let me work. Even if he didn't, I would probably sneak a look at the books or take a taxi down to the docks, where we had a shipment of coke coming in tomorrow. That would be fun.

The whole ride over to my parent's house, Selena held my hand, playing with my fingers.

"What are you doing?" I asked her.

"Tracing the lines of your hands," she said without lifting her head.

"Why?"

"Because I like them. They're perfect." Her small fingers laid on mine. "They're my favorite part of your body."

"The favorite?" I chuckled.

"Well, besides the obvious, and if it makes you feel any better, you're bigger than Jasper."

I still didn't like what had gone down in Miami. Jasper peed on Selena? My Selena? That was just disgusting. I got that it was necessary, but anything would have been better than that particular option.

When they got back and told be what had happened, I almost flipped my lid. Not only was Selena hurting from a jellyfish sting, but Jasper was laughing his ass off. He said that Selena now belonged to him since he had "marked her". Well, that didn't sit well with me, and I almost threw his ass overboard. I was thinking about peeing on her myself just to stake my own claim, but that just seemed a little too sick, even for me. That bastard could have done anything but give her a golden shower.

I was now grossed out every time I even looked at the both of them.

I calmed down enough to get Selena to the coast guard, who said that she actually had a pretty nasty rash. He put some cream on it that cleared the thing right up, but I was still pissed. I was further angered when he told me that urine doesn't really help jellyfish bites; at least not the ones down in Florida. That only made Jasper roll with more laughter. Selena stayed in a constant state of embarrassment for the rest of our trip, because Emmett was bringing it up every five seconds—I tried not to listen to him. And to finish our epic vacation, Selena got food poisoning in Miami, although, she tried to tell me if wasn't anything. She didn't have a fever, but she would throw up sporadically. Selena was a master at hiding things. I might have not even noticed when she slipped out of bed to vomit in the middle of the night if I wasn't a light sleeper.

One person, who became increasingly absent during our family vacation, was Alec. By pure coincidence, Jane from the Bahamas, lived in Miami. I was concerned that her cousin, Ginger the Stripper, might be with her, but Jane said she went to school in New York. I was glad that I wasn't going to have to dodge bullets the entire vacation. Alec and Jane were inseparable, always talking or laughing. When we left, Alec was in the worst mood ever. He was sulky and snapped at the littlest of things. Even today, he wasn't very happy to be back home.

"What's this?" Selena asked me and traced a scar on my wrist.

"I got stabbed," I said.

"Really?" Her eyes went wide.

"Yeah, it was a long time ago. Felix got frisky one day and decided to take a kitchen knife to me."

"I don't like that guy." Selena positioned herself so that she was closer to me. "He's so creepy."

"I'm trying to find him," I vowed.

"Are you going to kill him?"

"Probably," I answered truthfully.

"You're going to start a war over me?" she asked, but it was really more of a statement.

"They had no right to go after you like that. They know you're off limits. I've warned everyone on multiple occasions but it keeps happening. The only option is to eradicate the source of the problem."

"Just sit down with them again and have a talk." Selena's eyes were pleading. "I'm sure they would listen…"

"I'm over talking. I won't put up with their shit anymore."

"You can't kill people over me. What do you think that does to my conscience?"

"Do you understand how much you mean to me? I don't know what I would do without you; I've tried, and it's not a pretty picture, if you remember correctly. Just the thought of someone trying to hurt you gets me so furious…"

"Alright, calm down." She wrapped my hand in hers. "I know that. I just want you to be safe. I feel like you're always doing these dangerous things because of me, and it's almost killed you already."

"Well, Felix and Demetri have crossed a line. They know the punishment, and that's why they're hiding."

"What's going on back there?" Emmett shouted.

I had almost forgotten that we were still in the back of his car.

"Shut up," I snapped, "this doesn't concern you."

"Bitch," he muttered under his breath.

"Justin, just promise me that you'll be safe," Selena begged.

"I always am. Things will get a lot better once I take care of the problem."

"Won't Aro be mad?"

"What's he going to do?"

"He could come and kill you. He might come after you, Justin. I don't want that."

"I promise that everything's going to be alright. Trust me." I kissed her for reassurance. She seemed to melt into me, and my hands had a mind of their own as they started trailing up her legs. Unfortunately, they were covered in pantyhose under her dress, so I couldn't feel her skin.

I needed to take this further, because I wanted to get Selena's mind off of what was about to happen. Truthfully, what I had in mind for Demetri and Felix would certainly start a war. There was a lot of pent up anger between our families, and I was planning on ending that. Selena was right; if Demetri and Felix turned up dead, there would be an all-out battle. I planned on talking with my father soon about all of this. He would do the same thing in my position, and if he denied it, I would call his ass out.

Right now, Selena was thinking about this too much. I had to take her mind off of it.

"Justin, what are you doing?" She asked as our kisses got stronger and my hands went higher up her skirt. Rose and Emmett were arguing in the front. I hoped it stayed that way.

"Just go with it," I said.

It was getting very hot in the back seat of the Hummer, but I didn't care to take off my jacket.

My fingers danced up her thigh, taking their leisurely time as they examined each inch of her leg. She was one second from climbing into my lap, but I held her down.

"If we're going to do this, we need to do it right," she panted.

"You must have forgotten that we're in someone else's car."

"Oh." Her hands went into my hair, bolting my lips to hers.

"Oh?"

"Yeah… oh."

My hands went even higher, tickling her upper thighs. We were in dangerous territory now, but I wasn't going back. I didn't think I could. With one finger, I traced her opening. Even under the two layers of fabric that were created by her panties and stockings, I could tell that she was enjoying my ministrations. Her whole body shuddered with anticipation, and she gripped my hair tighter.

"Justin, you're starting to make me… hot." Selena's breath brushed over my lips. "Very hot."

"That's the plan."

I applied pressure to her clit; she almost yelped, but I bit her lip softly to keep her quiet. She enjoyed that, so I bit down again.

I couldn't proceed fully underneath her dress with both hands and realized that I wasn't going to get anywhere with all her clothes still being on. I don't know how I did it, but I ripped a hole in her stockings, right in between her legs.

"Alice is going to kill you." Selena continued her kisses.

"I'd like to see her try."

My fingers maneuvered their way through the fabric, and I eventually ripped a larger hole, big enough to fit my whole hand into her stockings. I nimbly pushed her panties to the side, and the wetness that was dripping from her pussy was so enticing. I ran my finger up her slit slowly, intentionally. When I made sure it was coated in her juices, I brought it to my mouth and tasted what she had to offer.

Selena watched me with an eager fascination. It was hungry and ravenous.

"Do I taste good?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Delicious." I brought my finger back to slip past her panties and fingered her opening gently.

Selena was unbuttoning my shirt, but only low enough to taste my chest. She placed kisses on my skin as my finger went deeper into her body. She started to move her hips in rhythm with my gentle thrusts, this time, holding my shirt tightly.

I made sure to listen for Emmett and Rose, who were still arguing about God knows what, but as occupied as they were, I wasn't going to stop. I inserted two fingers, stretching Selena to the limit, and her body was shuddering violently.

"Shit, Justin," Selena breathed harshly.

"Just keep quiet. We can't have those two yelling at us," I chuckled. "Are you close?"

She nodded, biting her lip, and I pushed deeper. I ran the pad of my thumb over her nerves and felt her insides quake with pleasure. Her eyes rolled back, and she almost collapsed towards me. I held her up so that we looked somewhat normal. Her cum face was just amazing. I had done that to her.

Selena didn't open her eyes for a full minute, savoring the sensations that were bouncing around in her body.

"Wow," she sighed.

"You're welcome." I kissed the side of her mouth.

"I think we're going to hell."

"I'll save you a seat next to me. I've been on that train since I was a teenager." I fixed her panties and pulled her dress back down.

"What's going on back there?" Rose turned around.

"Nothing." I moved back from Selena with a grin and fixed my jacket over my bulging erection.

The rest of the ride was silent for Selena and me. She was embarrassed—evident by her blush— and I was on a sexual high. Even though I hadn't gotten off like she had, just watching was almost enough.

When our convoy pulled into the massive driveway of my parent's, I could tell that Selena was trying to make herself look as normal as possible, but nothing could wipe the "I just came" face off. I wanted it there.

"Do you need help walking?" I teased and held the door open for her so that she could get out.

"You're trying to embarrass me, aren't you?"

"No, I just find this highly amusing."

"What if Emmett or Rose had turned around?" she whispered.

"Well then, they would have gotten a peek at my wonderful work."

I wrapped an arm around her waist and led her to the door behind everyone else.

As normal Sundays went, my mother immediately got into the kitchen, and Selena was adamant about helping as well. Since I had nothing better to do, I even tried to chop a carrot or something. It didn't go every well; I almost sliced my hand open, so I left that to Selena. Surprisingly, my father let me have a beer. I nursed it slowly because I didn't know when I was going to be able to enjoy this again.

Family started arriving later in the afternoon, and I kept Selena close to me so that I didn't have to really talk to anyone. She kept me occupied by telling stupid jokes that she had heard from Alec. That boy swore he was the next Jerry Seinfeld.

By the time we sat down for dinner, everyone was starving and rowdy, just like an Italian feast should be.

"Here you go," Selena handed me my plate, which was actually filled with small portions of delicious food.

"No cardboard chicken?"

"I thought you might enjoy a break."

"Thank you, Warden."

"Well, the doctor did say you were getting better, so we're on the road to recovery."

"I'm fully recovered," I argued, taking a large bite out of lasagna. "Oh, how I've missed you." I licked my lips.

"You're not fully recovered," Emmett said from across the table. "You're an old man who needs his wheelchair."

"He's not old," Selena snapped. "He's just fragile."

"You're not really helping my case," I said.

"No, he's an old bastard who needs to be stuck to an oxygen tank," Alec joked.

"If I could reach you, I would break your neck," I snarled down the table.

"Bring it, old man. I'm ready." He held up is fork.

"Boys, please. This is a nice dinner and you're ruining it," Esme scolded.

"He started it." Alec shrugged.

"I know he did, sweetheart," she cooed.

That boy was so spoiled; it was sickening. Carlisle and Esme doted on their prodigal son as if he was made of gold. It was laughable to me because that used to be me. I wasn't jealous because I was more than happy to hand him the torch. That being said, it still wasn't lost on me that I had to take over one day—not Alec. I was in training, and I figured Carlisle would be bringing that up when I got healthier.

My extended family, of course, had something to say about my physical condition. Half of them had already suffered through their heart attacks and bypass surgeries, so they all felt the need to give me advice. This was exactly what I was trying to avoid, because none of them knew what the hell they were talking about. One of my cousins tried to assure me that heart attacks were designed by doctors to get more money and they didn't really exist. I didn't respond to him.

"Would you like some wine?" I asked Selena when one of the bottles was passed around.

"Sure." She drained the water out of her glass and then held it out for me. I gave her a liberal amount, and then filled mine. She brought the glass to her lips, but didn't drink from it.

"Excuse me." Selena put her cup down and got up from the table.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She kept her head down and ran out of the room.

"What's wrong with her?" Emmett asked, his mouth full of pot roast.

I shrugged. "Maybe she's not over her food poisoning."

"I'll go check." Alice bounced away from the table and followed Selena.

They both came back five minutes later. Selena looked slightly pale, but not hurting.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Nothing. I'm still a little sick." She smiled tightly. "I told you I shouldn't have eaten that shrimp in Miami."

"No one else got sick."

"That's because no one has the bad luck I do. It always happens, even with Charlie. We could both eat fish from the same haul, and I'd be throwing up for days."

"You should have told me."

"I'm fine. Just give me a couple more days and it'll all go away."

By the time dessert came, everyone was stuffed, but Esme wouldn't let anyone leave until they ate at least two pieces of her chocolate cake. She gave me a pathetic sliver, but I didn't complain. It was better than nothing.

Everyone was done and had separated to do different things around the house. Since it was nice outside, a lot of people sat on the porch and played in the sun. I wanted to get away from the crowd and speak with my father. We had business to discuss.

I found him in the kitchen, diving into Esme's mouth with his tongue. I stood there for a couple of seconds, thinking that they would have at least heard me, but like the horny teenagers they were trying to be, my parents only got more heated.

I cleared my throat. "Excuse me."

"Oh, Justin." Esme pushed Carlisle off and blushed furiously, fixing her clothes. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"It's not like he hasn't seen worse." Carlisle leaned against the counter.

"Stop that. I don't want him to hear how dirty his father is." She slapped his chest. "We're supposed to be mature."

"Right, so you want me to just erase my brain of that scene of seeing you two going at it in the pool when I was fifteen."

Esme blushed again, looking almost as dark as Selena might get. "That was a onetime thing. Your father got me drunk."

Carlisle laughed heartily and just took a large sip of wine, not bothering to deny it.

"You two are so juvenile." Esme stomped out of the kitchen.

"Is there something I can help you with?" my father asked.

"I need to talk to you… privately."

"Alright." He nodded and walked out of the room. I followed, going up the stairs to his office.

He shut the door behind me and went over to his cigar cabinet. He perused his options and picked his favorite Albanian peppermint brand that caused him to smell constantly of spice. It was his scent.

"Would you like one?" Carlisle asked me, beheading the tip of the cigar.

"I don't think so. Selena might kill me."

"True." He lit it. "I like her. She's a ball buster."

"That she is." I sat in the chair on the other side of his desk. "She's worse than Esme."

"I highly doubt that. Your mother can be a very feisty woman if need be." Carlisle sat in his seat. I'm actually glad we're having some alone time because I need to talk to you as well."

"About?"

"About your future." He puffed on his cigar, trying to look intimidating. It wasn't working.

'About your future'?

I guess we were going to have that conversation sooner rather than later.

"I know my future. You remind me every day." I rolled my eyes.

"I was just wondering how you're feeling. Are you ready to get back to work?"

"Finally," I sighed, "I'm tired of sitting at home doing behind-the-scenes shit."

"Well, you'll be starting off slow. I don't want to put your health in jeopardy." He eyed me. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, good as new."

"Then I guess you can get back to work."

"Uh, well, before that, I was wondering if I could finish up some things I have on the side."

"Like?"

"Like… dealing with Felix and Demetri."

Carlisle groaned, running his free hand through his hair, "Justin, I don't think…"

"Dad, don't start." I stood up, feeling the need to pace. "I've thought about this and what they're trying to do is unforgivable. They're terrorizing Selena and they crossed the line when they sent that man into her room."

"So what do you plan on doing?" He kept his calm.

"Finding them and holding them accountable for their actions."

"By killing them both?"

"Yes. They know the rules and they broke them."

"I think we need to discuss this with everyone. This doesn't just affect you."

"No, just because Aro was your friend doesn't mean we can give them free passes anymore." I got angry. "You have let them slip by one too many times and someone's going to get hurt."

"I have not…"

"Yes, you have. Do you remember that bomb in Rose's car a couple years ago? You know it was them and don't try to deny it."

"There was no proof. We couldn't just jump the gun in that situation."

"Bullshit. You just wanted to keep your alliances intact. It's too late for that now."

"You know you're going to start a war."

"You would do the same thing."

"I have done the same thing. You forget that everything you're going through, I've done."

"Then why aren't you backing me on this?"

"I'm just making sure that you know what you're getting into." He put out his cigar. "You work on emotions, Justin. You need to use your head."

"What do you think I've been doing these past few weeks? All I do is sit and think about how I can rid Selena of all this shit."

"She will always be a part of this life as long as she's with you and you know that. I warned you about this."

"She doesn't need to be hunted. I won't let her be scared to live her life," I said adamantly.

"Have you told your brothers about your daring plans?"

"No, but they'll be the first ones in line. I just need your approval."

He exhaled through his nose. "Why are you doing this to me, Justin? I'm trying to be nicer to people."

"Fine, start after this."

He looked at me for a second, examining my every breath.

"Are you serious about this?" he asked.

"Just think about if they went after Esme. They'd already be dead. Don't try to tell me otherwise."

Carlisle nodded. There was no way he could argue with me on that. "Just Felix and Demetri. Don't even think about Aro."

"Thank you."

"It's not like either of them have any friends in this world anyway. You might even be able to get some other families involved if you wanted to make a scene."

"No, I have to be the one to handle them." My voice was deadly.

"Just make sure your brothers are in on this. I can't have you dealing with things alone in your condition. Any timeline for these plans of yours?"

"As soon as the fuckers show their faces."

"Do you need my help?"

"No." I shook my head.

"Well, like I said earlier, you're going to start a war over Selena. I hope you're ready for the consequences."

"I'll take them."

As long as she was protected, I would take whatever came my way.

Carlisle stood up and breathed deeply. "You're giving me gray hairs."

I shrugged as a reply.

"Are we done planning your massacre?" he asked me. "Because if so, we have some things to deal with today."

"I'm allowed to join in on the fun?" I said sarcastically.

"I figured you'd want to dip your toes back in the pool." Carlisle went to the bookcase on the far wall and pushed a shelf so that it twisted around. A gun vault, similar to mine at home, was revealed.

"Who are we dealing with today?" I asked and followed him inside. A whole army could be outfitted from the stuff in here. It made my measly collection look pointless. Carlisle's even had a second floor.

"Some of the men from the leg in Las Vegas. I don't like the way things are going on out there and it seems as if I'm losing more money than I'm making. That shouldn't be happening." He tapped his chin. "What to use today."

"Did they cough up the cash?"

"That's not the point, but yes. Although, I'm trying to change things out there. I could create a whole empire that goes bicoastal. That's the plan, at least, in the next couple of years."

"You already have domain over California."

"That's not the whole coast, though. Actually, your little stunt might help me out. With Aro controlling most of Seattle, his whole family will be diminished after his sons are gone. I guess we can both help each other."

"So now you're on board because you get something good out of all this?"

"You're my son; I was always on board." He handed me a couple guns and climbed the stairs for the more powerful artillery.

"You know, you're getting old. How much longer to you expect to keep being in this game?" I asked.

"Your great-grandfather is still working."

"And your father died at thirty-three."

"He was murdered. That's different."

"Still, you can't go on forever."

"Are you ready to take over?" He pulled a massive MI bazooka off of the shelf, walking back down the steps.

"Are you ready to let me lead?"

He laughed. "You have so much to learn first, but you're getting there."

"You're so kind." I rolled my eyes.

"Let's get this done."

We walked back downstairs, grabbing Emmett, Jasper, and Alec on the way. We tried to make it out of the door before Esme caught us, but she was sneaky.

"Hey, hey, hey." She called as we were almost out of the front door. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Ma, we have business to attend to," Emmett said.

"I think not." She took the pistol that I was carrying. "Can't we go one day without doing these horrible things? And on a Sunday, Carlisle? Really?"

"I can't help it. We have jobs to do," he said.

"This is why I don't allow guns in the house. You're always up to something fishy."

"I don't have time to argue about this right now," Carlisle sighed.

"Don't take that tone with me. I work hard to have somewhat of a normal life and you just…"

"Dear, blood waits for no one." My father walked out of the house.

"You can sleep on the couch tonight!" She shoved the gun back in my hand and pushed us out of the door, slamming it behind us.

"That's what she says now, but mark my words, they'll be going at it like jackrabbits before sundown." Alec nodded and followed Carlisle. "She gets hot off of watching him with his gun."

"They are so gross." Emmett shuddered.

We walked out of the gates and across the street to where the forest was enveloped us on all sides. We took the path that led deep into the woods and carried our guns like we were going off to war.

"So, who exactly are we killing today?" Emmett asked and hopped over a fallen log. "Furthermore, why is the old dude with us? Isn't he on restriction?"

"Your brother is here because he wants to get back to work. We're offing some Las Vegas nuts who think they can steal from me."

"Oh, fun. I call the bazooka." Alec raised his hand.

"Bullshit," Jasper pushed him out of the way, "that's for men only."

"I'm a man."

"You're fourteen; you barely have hair on your peaches." Emmett laughed.

"Shut up." Alec tripped over a rock and tried to make it look like nothing happened.

"If we can stop with the funny shit, I need to talk with you guys," I said.

"What is it now?" Jasper asked.

"I wanted to just warn you that I'll be taking care of Felix and Demetri soon."

"Finally," Emmett shouted, "I was going stir crazy. Those fuckers are goners. I'm so pumped. Where are they?"

"I don't know yet, but I'm working on it. I've tracked them to Boston. That's where they were last time I checked, although, that could have changed by now."

"Sweet, let's just take them all out." Jasper shrugged. "They've been after Selena for too long. To be honest, I'm surprised they aren't already dead."

"If I wasn't in fucking remission, they would have been," I growled.

"Selena's like Helen of Troy. We're starting a war over her," Alec commented.

"I guess she is."

We continued our walk behind a whistling Carlisle. Our mood had changed within a second, and we were now discussing football stats for the upcoming season.

"Hey, Justin," Jasper called from behind me. "Remember that time I peed on Selena?"

I didn't even bother letting my blood pressure rise as I snapped my elbow back, knocking him right in the nose. He let out a guttural moan and fell a few steps behind.

"You son of a bitch," he said through his cupped hands. "I'm bleeding and my nose is probably broken."

"Suck it up, fucker. Don't ever talk about that again."

"I wonder if Selena will let me pee on her?" Ememtt thought out loud. He was too quick for me to get, and I wasn't planning on running after him so he got away… for now.

We finally arrived at a cabin about a mile away from the house and Carlisle pulled out a set of keys, unlocking the door. He went inside while we surround the cabin, waiting for him to bring whomever out.

He came back a second later, shoving four guys outside. They were beaten, bruised and almost dead on their feet. One of them fell over, but Carlisle kicked him back up. I guess he had already gotten to them.

"There are about five more back there." Carlisle pointed over his shoulder at the cabin.

"Who are these dudes?" I asked.

"The ones I need to handle personally,"

"We didn't do anything wrong," one of the guys drawled out. "We never stole…"

Carlisle blew a hole through his forehead, not even bothering to let him finish his sentence. The silencer created an almost non-existent sound as the bullet ripped out of the barrel. I stepped back when the man collapsed on the ground and blood started to flow from his head.

Another guy got up and started running away from the group. He made it a couple feet away before I put a bullet through him as well. He ran into a tree and feel to the floor in a crumpled mess.

"I just need to take these men for a chat. You boys have fun." Carlisle herded the remaining men up and pushed them further into the forest.

"I say we just blow them the fuck up," Alec said.

"I like it. Give me the cannon." I held out my hand.

"Why do you get to do it?" Jasper asked.

"Because, I haven't been to work in months, I'm the best shot out of all you bitches, and my girlfriend was the one who got peed on. I think I'm owed something positive."

Jasper grumbled under his breath and went to sit down on a stump behind me. Emmett handed the bazooka over for me and I sighed, feeling the weight in my hand. I'd missed this.

The good thing about bazookas was that they provided a lot of power and boom—for lack of a better word. Good thing we were so far out because there was about to be a lot of noise.

I put my eye up to the scope of the cannon and grinned evilly. "It feels good to be back."

[gethealthy18-blog]

Sous Vide Egg Bites Recipe (Make Them at Home)

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Sous Vide Egg Bites Recipe (Make Them at Home)

A year or so ago, Starbucks announced a new menu offering: sous vide egg bites. They are one of their only gluten-free food options and I’ve seen several people raving about them on social media. I tried them while traveling when there were no other decent breakfast options and I’ll give it to Starbucks on the taste… they are good!

Unfortunately, they contain carrageenan and maltodextrin, ingredients I try to avoid. They also cost about $5 (or more in airports), which makes them much pricier than our normal breakfast options. In fact, for our whole family to eat them we’d have to spend almost $40.00!

Instead, I figured out how to make them at home with real-food ingredients. A whole batch costs about what one order costs in a coffee shop!

Why Sous Vide Rocks

I’ve been experimenting with sous vide cooking for about six months and it has become one of my go-to kitchen gadgets. If you aren’t familiar with it, sous vide cooking uses circulating water at a carefully controlled temperature to achieve incredible results. The best steaks, chicken, and eggs I’ve ever cooked were cooked in a sous vide.

In the past, this method required a big machine and was most often used in restaurants. Most methods also use plastic bags to submerge the food in water (so I’d never tried it because we avoid plastic if at all possible).

Sous Vide at Home!

Now, thanks to smaller and much less expensive home sous vide immersion machines (like this one that I have), sous vide is possible at home! It is still a pretty expensive kitchen gadget, but I asked for it as a gift for a big-ish birthday (me=getting old!) and have used it a lot!

After much experimentation, I’ve also found that this recipe is possible without a sous vide machine (although not quite as good). In fact you can do it three ways:

Mason jars in sous vide: The traditional way with a sous vide machine in a pot of water and small mason jars. This yields the best texture and result. I’ve found that 4-ounce mason jars and 8-ounce mason jars both work.

Silicone bags in sous vide: With silicone bags (like these) using a sous vide machine and a pot of water. The texture is amazing, but the presentation isn’t as pretty. This is the method I use to sous vide most other foods without using plastic. Since sous vide is low-temperature cooking, I don’t worry about using the silicone.

Egg-poaching cups: By poaching the eggs using egg-poaching cups in a skillet of water. This is the fastest method and also the least expensive if you don’t already have a sous vide machine.

Sous Vide Egg Bites

Once you’ve decided on one of the three cooking methods above, you’ll also need the ingredients and some patience!

Starbucks lists their ingredients online so the recipe was relatively easy to duplicate. I was surprised that the first ingredient was cottage cheese! I’ve actually been on a bit of a cottage cheese kick anyway since finding a grass-fed organic brand at the grocery store (ask for Good Culture cottage cheese at yours).

Other ingredients include eggs (obviously), cheese, cream, and optional ingredients like bacon, vegetables, or other add-ins.

Time-Saving Tips:

Make these with just eggs and cheese and add other flavors as toppings when you re-heat.

Make a double or triple batch of these while the sous vide is running and keep in the fridge until ready to use. I often make 16-24 to keep in the fridge for several days of breakfasts.

Use 4-ounce size mason jars for a small breakfast or 8-ounce jars and double the recipe for bigger kids or adults.

Sous Vide Egg Bites Recipe (Low-Carb, Keto, THM-S)

Prep 15 mins

Cook 50 mins

Total 1 hour, 5 mins

Author Katie Wells

Yield 10 4 oz jars

Make the popular sous vide egg bites at home with higher quality ingredients and save money over the expensive restaurant options. There are endless ways to mix up this recipe and it is a great one to make ahead for breakfasts. 

Ingredients

12 eggs

½ cup cottage cheese

½ cup heavy cream

½ tsp each of salt, pepper, garlic powder, and paprika, or any other spices you like

½ tsp hot sauce of choice (optional)

2 TBSP butter

10 slices of bacon, cooked (optional)

any cooked vegetables you like (optional)

1 cup gruyere or cheese of choice, grated

Instructions

Set the sous vide machine to 172°F. This is the common temperature for eggs and you can cook almost any egg recipe this way. 

Crack the eggs into a blender or food processor and add the cottage cheese, heavy cream, spices, and hot sauce. 

Blend on medium speed until just blended and smooth. You don’t want to add extra air by blending on high.

Use the butter to lightly grease ten 4-ounce mason jars (or five 8-ounce jars). You can also easily double or triple this recipe, just use more jars!

If using bacon and vegetables, place these in the bottoms of the jars.

Add the grated cheese to the jars.

Pour the egg mixture into the jars and hand tighten the lids (do not over tighten!). 

Cook for 50 minutes if you are planning to reheat or one hour if you are planning to eat right away.

Remove from heat and refrigerate right away if not consuming immediately. In theory, these should last at least a week in the refrigerator because they were cooked at over 140 for over half an hour, but we’ve never had them last that long without being eaten! 

Notes

If making in egg-poaching cups without a sous vide machine, follow the steps to mix the ingredients and assemble in egg poaching cups instead of mason jars. Add these to a skillet of boiling water until eggs are cooked. Do not attempt this method with mason jars, as they will crack!

This recipe is incredibly adaptable and can be made without cheese for those with dairy allergies or who are strict paleo. It is naturally low-carb and keto-friendly. Also, since I’ve had several readers ask about various recipes, this would be an “S” meal on the Trim Healthy Mama plan. 

Courses Breakfast

Cuisine American

Nutrition Facts

Serving Size 1 (4 oz.) jar

Amount Per Serving

Calories 259

% Daily Value

Total Fat 19.4 g

30%

Saturated Fat 7.9 g

40%

Cholesterol 261 mg

87%

Sodium 773 mg

32%

Total Carbohydrates 1.5 g

1%

Sugars 0.6 g

Protein 19 g

38%

* Percent Daily Values are based on a 2,000 calorie diet. Your daily values may be higher or lower depending on your calorie needs.

Ever tried sous vide? Ready to give it a try? Share below!

Source: https://wellnessmama.com/156155/sous-vide-egg-bites/