#until we burned out at the ripe old age of 16

[black-rose-writings]

My mom, after spending an extended weekend with my dad's old college classmates and their families: It's so weird that all of these very weird, intelligent and structured men who got their masters in engineering in the late 1980s have sons that are all autistic and daughters who all have mood disorders.

Me: Yeah, very weird. Why could that be?

[hauntedkidpersona]

Once upon a time// Chapter-5

Pairing- Polybts x reader

Summary-Choosing a husband is not easy, but bring in the seven princes and your in a lot of trouble.

Warnings: Duality of humans, Mistress, Y/N is a badass, Detachment issues, Cold behaviour, Strangers to enemies, Nudity, sexual jokes, talks of orgasm (nothing we don't know)

Overview: Life isn't like fairytale. You knew it the moment you reached a ripe age of nineteen. Which meant, your now a women who is in a hurry to be wed and bring prosperity and fame to your Kingdom. For this, you have readily accepted the self-groom event which requires you to select your husband out of all the potential Kings and Princes alike. But what happens when you select, not one. Not two but seven grooms? Chaos.

Masterlist-

A/n- Taglist is open for now.

Tags- @singukieee @shadowyjellyfishfest @inlovewithallmusic @lachimolala22019

The laughter of your maids echoed across the inner quarters, it was a peaceful afternoon. Even though the place outside was burning through the onslaught of the summer, like hot coal it would burn anyone unlucky.

But inside here, you were enjoying the breeze near the kadamba trees that were in full bloom. Looking over the crystal clear pool whose stage was graced in lotuses of all colours- purple being the most dominant.

"She is cheating, Princess." A shrill noise had you turn into the commotion, watching as the maids that littered around for a small play of chausar break into an argument.

Anika glares, "I wasn't, the rules didn't say you could back away your dices."

You sigh, taking measured sips of the cool lemonade. The Sky Palace was breathtaking, made of white marbles. It stood in stark contrast to its name, resembling the sheer vastness of the benevolent King that reins the land you trudge in delight. He sure has taken a great deal out of the small request you had of him.

But who knew your peaceful days would end soon.

Young and naive. That's what your father calls you. But how can one expect a 16 year old to behave like some matured person. Your days were peaceful, passing with the vivid imagination of the books you read. You had no interest in anything, and so you were even described as a lazy wart. For except beauty you possessed no special qualities of a royal. You were pampered and spoiled rotten, throwing tantrums was second nature by now.

But all that changed when you fell for him, the sweet man who would bring all your imagination to life. But who knew he was just a vile human waiting for an opportunity. Which he got.

You shut your eyes tightly, fisting your palms wherein the warm water failed to match the intensity with which your heart burned. You hissed, inspecting the now bloody palm pierced by your nails. The blood swirled into the water, burning through and through. You imagine his blood pouring out as you ruthlessly kill him, without an ounce of mercy. You can't wait to be blessed by his screams of terror, him begging for his life while you get the upper hand. You can't wait until you meet him again.

They were right. When a woman decides to take revenge, even the devil sits down to take lessons.

You have a deal with the King of the Sun Kingdom. You keep the Princes from leaving their duties, while he in return gets you what you want.

Simple as that.

Getting out, you wrap yourself in a towel.

Not waiting to call out Anika to bring your clothes, you walk out. Face stoic and heart made of steel.

"Princess," you somewhat hear Anika gasping at your blatant disregard of modesty.

You look ahead, glaring at Jin who was now looking at you with a wide open mouth. Is that your book in his hand? Did he fucking read it?

The fuck.

Jin couldn't take his eyes off of you. Your wet hair, swirling and parted as it clung to your hips. Your curves being defined but he cursed that cloth that was in between. He can't admire the beauty in front of him. The book and revenge was long forgotten as he spluttered, cheeks flushing in embarassment while you glared at him.

Poisonous, that's what your looks are. Dangerous and deadly, it could kill a man if you chose that body as a weapon of seduction.

"Get. Out. Right. Now." You shouted, partly screamed so loud that he knew the palace guards would be coming to check. Scrambling out of the bed, he almost falls but nonetheless he stands up quickly. Coughing a bit, as he rushes out with prominent red cheeks that burns in shame and embarassment.

"Are you mad, you were almost naked in front of him. Have some shame Princess, what will he think of you?" Anika blabbers as you plop onto your bed, effortlessly hiding your book for which you became so defensive.

"Are you even listening-

You rolled your eyes, the next second, a cloth was strewn right at your face. Knocking you off from the train of thoughts you boarded long time ago. You sit up, furiously, "So what, He is my husband and moreover I don't care. I am confident on my body, whoever sees it will die for it."

Your tone drops, dripping in arrogance. Why not? History is proof of how men kill, die and wage war for beauty. Your a women who knows how to manipulate pathetic men with your charms. You don't shy away by them who eye you in lust, knowing they can't ever have you. Same goes for that Prince Jin. He can watch you but can never have you.

Giving you a solemn look, Anika helps you in dressing. The quiet that follows is suffocating, but your in no hurry to pause it.

Decked in gold, you shimmer at the red robes that make you look lethal. That's what you like to do, terrorize others so they don't overstep their boundaries. With power comes responsibilities and with that, you build walls; too high to climb.

"Princess—" Keeping a hand on your shoulders, Anika turns you around; "You should know that the fire that burns in you will one day burn you too. I know it demands and reckons you to be rude, mean, cold and rebellious. But someday, this fire will burn out and all you will be left with is loneliness. So please try to be nice to the Princes, so that in future you have someone to care for you."

Pushing her hands away, you smile at her. "Loneliness doesn't scare me, people do. For you know what to expect from being alone but you can never say the same for the other. I am not here to make friends, for I have far greater enemies to take care of."

Jin clears his throat, avoiding looking at anyone as he speeds up inside the common place where all of his brothers from another mother gather. Maybe he can find someone free from his duties.

Entering inside the room, he is met with Yoongi, Taehyung and Jungkook who seem to be busy in their own world. Taking a seat, Jin pours himself a drink and gulps it down in one go. Which did not go unnoticed by them.

"Brother, you look like you ran a marathon." It was Taehyung who takes a jab first, as Yoongi chuckles.

"I did, that witch." He groans, unable to get the image of her out of his mind. You had no shame, whatsoever. Walking like that in front of him. What were you upto? He now knows, why your beauty is praised by all. It was as if you were carved by the celestial beings, and no you weren't petite. You had curves in all the right places and damn that white cloth of yours hid nothing to his imagination. Hiding that body beneath all that robes should be illegal. As soon as that thought arises, he bites his lip upto the point of bleeding.

No way.

He can't fall in your trap. Your purposely seducing him, trying to seperate him from Irene and he won't let you do that. Never.

Sensing whom he was calling witch, Taehyung inquires, "Why, what happened?"

"I saw her naked." He shouts, mad at God knows whom. Him, you or the situation.

Taehyung gasps, as Yoongi who was in the process of enjoying his drink coughs violently. While Jungkook, the innocent lamb's eyes were as wide as saucers. Cheeks tinting a dark shade of red.

After gathering himself, Yoongi and the others bombards him with questions,

"Are you kidding me? How?"

"Damn, It should have been me."

"How-w, I mean did you two do it?"

"What about Irene then?"

Jin sighs, glaring at Taehyung who was accusing him of seeing you like that. It should have been him, not his elder brother.

"Guys, do you think we can do it. I had rather die and she had rather kill me than bed me. As for seeing her naked, she had a cloth wrapped around her. I saw her cause she might have thought nobody was there and came out of the bath in minimal clothing."

Yoongi hums, not interested in knowing anything. While Taehyung smirks, clearly amused.

Entering inside the royal library, you heave a sigh. But that quickly changes when you see no guards on sight, where are they? Lacking on their duties like this. Shameful. Going inside, you frown. You can feel it in your gut, something isn't right. The silence being far more merciless than you. You look around, the sun rays exuding rays across the large windows that keep it's brilliance intact. You keep walking, your footsteps being the only companion.

A rustle, snaps you as you strike; pulling the stranger hiding behind the shelves as your knife is freed from your robes and clutched against the intruder's throat in blatant disregard of their life. You press it, drawing blood that takes a coppery path along the pale skin of that women.

Irene.

She screams, flailing against your arms but it was futile. "Leave me, Prince- someone save me."

"Shh, damsel in distress. From when your allowed inside the royal library huh? Who gave you the permission and the audacity?" You push back the knife, grabbing her chin harshly. You bring her close, nails digging into her flesh.

Irene flails grabbing her hands to free herself, "Prince gave me permission."

You smirk, "But the King told you to stay far away then how dare you to have the courage to spread your whore legs inside my quarters and on my bed bitch. Tell me, from where this defiance comes. Let me end that for once and all." She hissed. You were so done with her. You push her away, as you continue; "Get this in your damn head. If you love Prince Jin so much than stay where your put. Don't try to meddle in affairs your not allowed to. Your just his mistress, so don't try to anger me otherwise I would have you thrown out of the Palace faster than you spread that damn legs of yours."

Irene glares at you, "That will only happen if you come out alive, Prince loves me and it's you who has to get out of here."

"Oh Finally, I was waiting for when you drop the act and now here we are." You laugh, her empty threats not stirring you in the slightest.

Having enough, Irene raises her hand to slap you but your reflexes ground her, holding her hand you attack her eyes, stopping mere inces away. Her eyes widen in fear, as she stands in absolute terror. "One wrong move, and I will kill you."

She trembles, "You call me a whore but the real slut is you who has seven men as her husband's."

"Atleast I am not running behind other's husband. Poor you, living as Mistress and already soiled and ruined. If in future the Prince leaves you-" You mock her, hitting a nerve when she grits her teeth.

"What's happening here?" A voice thunders, as you quickly back away. Bowing down to the King that strides in with his guards on tail. Beside you Irene defiantly falls on the ground, disregarding all your warnings. Such an actor.

"My King, Princess hurt me. She wants to kill me, please save me." She wails, as you cringe at her act. Wrong move women.

The King raises an eyebrow, looking at you who shakes her head. She is really looking for trouble. Testing your patience, all because she was the beloved of Jin. You internally smirk, you will let her know today who holds the real power. Enough of the drama.

Hearing the commotion, Prince Namjoon and Prince Hoseok also arrive at the scene.

"Is it true?" King looks at you, as you feel the gaze of others burning upon you.

"Why would I? She is Nobody. It's actually her who thought it would be nice to fuck my husband in front of me. My King, she was inside my inner quarters the other day and she dared to soil my bed alongside Prince Jin. I was just warning her not to push her luck. And lastly, I have to defend myself if someone tries to raise their hands on me." You speak, keeping your mind calm and tone strict.

You didn't want to bring their act up but she left you with no options. If in future, she wishes to harm you than its better if you steer clear of her. For proof you called for the maids and guards that were present while this happened. They gave the same reply, even revealing your act of burning the sheets and everything that had soiled your room.

Irene gasps, "No, she is lying My King. Believe me."

"And If you had a problem then why didn't you say it the moment it happened? Why wait for now?" Namjoon interjects, clearly supporting Irene. You scoff.

Another thorn on way. Very well.

You smile at him, "I wanted to have peace with the Mistress of my husband but she clearly doesn't want that. Instead she is showing her powers, acting on wimp just because Prince Jin supports her. No maid is allowed inside the royal library, unless they are cleaning it and yet here she was. I warned her to stay in her place and in return she threatened to unalive me. Just because Prince Jin loves her." You mock, eyes glaring down at the women who refuses to look up. But judging by how tightly she is fisting her hand, you know she is furious. What a sight to see.

Hoseok looks astonished, "You threatened to kill the Princess, Irene? Is that true?"

Irene shakes her head, but that all stops when the King speaks, "Enough, you crossed your limits today. Guards, throw her out for she dared to raise a hand on a royal and moreover she had the audacity to enter the inner quarters of the future Queen. Going as far as threatening her—" he paused, looking down at the women his son dares to love, "But not before whipping her 200 times."

Just then, you heard hurried footsteps. Looking up, your met with a furious Jin and behind him an equally mad Yoongi who is accompanied by other Princes. "Father, leave Irene. She did nothing." Rushing towards her, he is about to take her in his arms but is stopped abruptly by the King who shows him a hand that clearly indicates him to stay right where he is.

"My decision is final. She is nothing but a servant slash Mistress. As far as I know, the law doesn't allow servants to attack Royals which she did and you even brought her to your wife's chambers to—" he stops, taking a deep breath to calm down the fury which is eager to erupt on his elder son. "—Shameless. Your blinded by her, how would you know what she does huh? Guards take her out, and If the Prince does something behind my back then kill the cause. Once and for all."

It was as if ice cold water was smacked against Jin who stared at his father with a blank look. Irene is taken by guards, while you try hard not to fidget. You know Jin won't leave you for this. Never. And damn you for not stopping the punishment of Irene. Your mind berates you. Jin used to spend the night at Irene's and in return you had a peaceful sleep.

But now your doomed.

Tch. Gone was your peaceful sleep. Better keep an eye on this raging Bull who might kill you in sleep.

The commotion soon dies down, as the King is escorted out. You also join him, cause only a fool will stay inside with seven wolves who are waiting to rip you apart. Anika would have your head for this. She told you to befriend the Princes but here you are, already making more enemies.

It's night by the time your done with your royal duties. Your returning to your quarters, limbs aching for some relief. Anika has found you, and she is berating you for the chaos that you didn't cause. You ignore her.

A maid rushes to you, "Princess, please do something. Prince Jin has gone mad and is destroying everything inside the inner quarters. He is also very drunk."

You sigh, nodding at her as you step inside your chamber. Not before ordering others to stay outside. The door is closed behind you, as you walk towards the man who throws the jug of water across the room with a force that cracks it in half.

Sensing your presence, Jin grins like a maniac.

"I was waiting for you."

You frown, already hating the stench of alcohol that graces you the second he moves close. Backing away, you maintain a dignified distance for you know Jin is not in his right mind.

Getting hurt is the last thing in your mind, especially when your dead tired.

Looking down, you show respect for the Prince. "Sorry, but we will talk later."

"You—," Jin comes to grab you, but before that you attack his pressure point. Knocking him out cold.

Going limp, Jin tumbles down. But before he reaches the rock hard ground, you grab him and pull him up.

Daylight comes as a fresh ocean current carrying birdsong and the aroma of petals, her rays deep-soaked in the love and laughter of the ages. But to Jin, it was like a wake up call for the pounding headache that he feels. Groaning, he turns around the soft bed. Opening his eyes, he is met with the unfamiliar room. It suddenly clicks.

Getting up, he is furious to know that you knocked him out. The whole room is back to how it was- neat, elegant and serene. Unlike the destruction that he matted out in drunk stupor.

He will kill you today for sure.

[runnersnz]

“I ‘spose I’ve always run, but mostly for fitness for other sports. Sport has been a constant throughout my life. I started out as a swimmer at the ripe old age of nine, and swam competitively till I was 16 when I left school. I also played rugby in the winters and did a couple of years road cycling too while at school. My first running ‘race’ was the Wellington City Biathlon when I was about 12. That involved a run around Oriental Parade then up the back of Mt Vic and back down to the beach next to Freyberg Pool where we had to do a 500m (or something) swim in the sea. I remember doing pretty well.

I was in the Army for three years where I ran, but only when I was told to! I wanted to be a PTI (Personal Training Instructor) so staying fit was pretty important, and running was convenient. After the Army I worked as a gym instructor and got into multisport – more running. At 23 I moved to London for my OE, which was a little longer than anticipated... seven years actually. I continued to run there, even doing a couple of ‘adventure races’ and a KIMM (a two day mountain rogaine) but all in the name of staying fit, not because I was a runner.

I returned to New Zealand in 1998 chomping at the bit to get into some proper sport again. I jumped straight back into multisport and triathlon, doing Ironman and Coast to Coast and that led to some standalone running races. I even joined Christchurch Avon running club for a couple of years, but the short harrier type races weren’t my bag. I longed for longer distances. I started trail running then, doing lots of the Nelson Striders events. I loved the Loop the Lake so much I did it seven years in a row.

My Kepler @keplerchallengeofficial journey started way back in 1991 when I drove a mate down to Te Anau from Christchurch for him to run the Kepler. I returned in 1999 (again to drive) when my brother Ross was racing the Kepler. I ran the Luxmore Grunt that year. It took another 22 years for me to return again and finally run the Kepler myself.

In January this year all I wanted to do was beat Ross’s Kepler time of 7.18, but a combination of a very late entry, and a touch of arrogance, saw me blow my foo-foo and only manage 7.20. That fired me up, so when I got an entry into the 2022 event I was pretty focused to finally nab the family record. However this years race wasn’t looking like I’d get the record again when I was 10 minutes slower to Iris Burn, but that clearly didn’t tell the whole story. I managed to knock about 22 minutes off my January time and sneak in under 7 hours – job done. Ross was the first one to text congratulating me on taking the record!

Funny really as I had never considered myself a ‘runner’ until a few years ago. I think I will probably keep running now, I like it.”

Scott @multisportscott (Te Anau/Christchurch) - Portraits of Runners + their stories @RunnersNZ

[impala1967dwinchester]

Hello I just wanted to say ur amazing writer and I was wondering if I can request Winchester brother x sister reader where the reader is the youngest Winchester maybe around 16- 17 you can choose the fits but I was hoping u can do like where the reader is depressed and has ED (eating disorder ) and doesn’t tell the brothers and one day it gets worse and passed out the brothers are worried trying to help her out but it hard for her I hope this ok if not I can do different request it just I found comfort in angst topics with struggles I go through you know sorry if this doesn’t makes sense

It started years ago. To be exact it started when your father lost it, going mental on your oldest brother Dean. The three of you were thick as thieves and it physically hurt to see the complete and utter destruction your father left behind for Dean to clean up.

Living your life on the road was okay, you had two great older brothers that kept you up. Kept you in good spirits but it's hard when your whole world around you is crashing. You know it, your family knows but no one else.

How Dean and Sam ever dealt with the massive weight on their shoulders. It blew your mind. You. You weren't worth anything, especially not your mother burning on the ceiling. Your father resented you. You didn't need him to say it, because you could tell. Dean was his soldier, Sam was the disappointment, but the smartest out of the three of you. But you, you were the reason all four of you were in this mess. The reason why John was searching for that revenge every day.

Covering it up with the idea of saving people, but you were smart, so very smart. Sam had complimented you many times on your quickness, and sharpness when it came to the lore, but regarding your father, it was never the approval you were looking for.

Lots of things happened, to get you to the age of seventeen and drowning in the pit of your stomach all because you all no desire to be here anymore. You weren't helping your older brothers you were just in the way.

In the way of progress, a major setback to them. For them to prove to John that they would be like him, do like him. They'd have to leave you behind. It was for the best.

It started off as a way to conserve the little food the four of you had. At the ripe age of seven you learned quickly that offering your food to Sam was a better idea, or skipping off to lay in a shitty motel bed was better than eating. Yes your stomach would growl and the acid would burn, but anything to keep the weight of your brother off your shoulders.

As you grew up you learned that if you stayed at school as long as you could it was the best. Dean had just learned how to drive driving was his passion, reading was Sam. And yours... yours was to stay away, out of the way.

By the age of fifteen, you had your patterned packed down and tight. You leave with Sam since he drove you to school, and since he was a senior. You felt a wave of dizziness almost every morning. The night's dinner is still wrapped in its paper bag. Claiming to take it for lunch. Dean never argued with you. Kiss your forehead and hitting the pillow quicker than he hit on the girls that passed by the motel's door.

Your father was already starting to become absent. The shadow of what a perfect family no one ever talked about. You thrived in the school building though. Sam kissed your forehead his height greatly giving him the advantage before saying his goodbyes to you and running to meet with his senior friends.

You walked alone in the hallways. The bullying started almost immediately the second you stepped into the building. Near of my brothers were aware of the shit I went through on a daily basis. Years later they still weren't.

You had settled on never telling them about my dislike for eating, you hoped and prayed most night that they'd never find out. It was better without their acknowledgment of your weakness. Who knows they might be the same way everyone was at school.

The last year had been hard for you and your brothers, your father making less, and less of an effort with all three of you. Your relationship was already straining to stay alive, the burning and hurt in the bit of your stomach was something that was constant now, and from what you could tell it wasn't going to get any better.

Your brothers are now in their early 20's still taking care of their baby sister. Nights you guys sat down for dinner were odd, without John there. The quiet days where a now older Sam would drive you to school, along by yourself all day long. The teasing being relentless.

The whole idea, you were constantly dizzy, constantly on the verge of falling asleep no matter if you were in class, or at the crappy motel room with your brothers.

Tonight though, tonight your world fell apart as you walked in through the door, your final year of schooling was just starting your summer of staying inside and reading was over. The hot day of September had gotten to you more than you were willing to say. As you walked in through the motel door, the cool air hitting you in your face, and the hot air of the evening summer day kicking you in your ass.

It was too much, down you and your light bookbag went. Dean had been on one of the motels' beds when he heard you fall, Sam behind hadn't been able to catch you even with his long arms.

You don' remember much. You do remember hearing the sounds of your brothers frantically rushing around the room, one dropping his gun, and the other rushing over to your side.

"Dean what the hell just happened?" Sam asked in a frantically worried voice. "I don't know all I heard was the engine of Baby, and then her fall to the floor," Dean said rushing to your thin frame. Neither had noticed until now when they finally had time to pay attention to their baby sister that she was rather thinner than a normal seventeen-year-old.

Paler then normal, "Sam do you notice it?" Dean asked as Sam pulled the lightweight bookbag from your small shoulders. A small hum came from Sams's lips, maybe it was too much to say it. The words making truth when they leave his lips.

Sam picked you up feeling just how boney you were. "How did we let her get this bad Dean?" He questioned, Dean kept his head down grabbing her bag and following behind Sam to the bed's side.

When you woke up your two brothers were talking quietly in the tiny kitchen. Sam saw you try to get up their conversation stopped at a halt, and they both came over to help you.

Quiet overcame the room. Dean was the first to speak. "How are you feeling, Y/n?" He asked, you shrugged your shoulders, the ache in your body was strong, but not enough to make that your brother's problems.

"Y/n please be honest with us... Is this the first time something like this has happened?" Your brother Sam asked. Swallowing hard, before talking you answered Dean's question. "I feel fine guys really nothing to worry about." Answering Sams was going to be harder, you don't really remember the last time something like this happened, maybe last week in school, maybe a few years ago. "I don't remember Sam." That was all you said. Sad expression littered their coarse and worn faces.

"Y/n, how long have been like this?" Dean asked, furrowed brows as he asked the question. "Like what?" You replied. "Like how you don't eat at dinner and think we don't notice, how long Y/n? Just answer please." Dean said.

You tried opening your mouth, but the pressure of being truthful with your brothers was overbearing. Trying again and still, nothing slipped out. Sam ur interrupted your train of thought. "Since dad started on with his hunt for yellow eyes?" Simple questions always have a simple answer.

"If you want an honest answer I'd say seven or eight." You said, pushing yourself up from laying in the bed to sitting up against the headboard. The gasps for air were real between your two brothers. One hand came to rest on top of yours while the other paced around the motel room.

Your guess as to which was mad, and empathic wasn't hard for you. Dean pacing around the room meant he was angry, and Sam's empathic hand on top of yours meant he to wanted help. "Why didn't you tell us?" Dean questioned me, Sam turned to look at his older brother. "That won't help, we were talking remember. We need to help her, bot questions her about her actions or even her reason why." Sam said, Dean, calm down as he continued to pace.

Sam returned his attention to you. Hand still laying on top of yours, "Y/n why don't we, all the three of us help you yeah?" He said you laughed a little and Dean looked up from his pacing feet. "I don't think you guys could ever help me. I've been and felt this way for ten years now. This is just how I am now. Broken and worthless to this Winchester family." You said the strain of holding back was harder than you thought. Dean had paused his pacing staring at you and Sams's hand had engulfed yours.

Dean came over, putting his finger under your chin, grabbing your attention. "You listen here, to Sam and I. We care more about you than you'll ever know. We don't care what any person thinks, we don't care about Dad as much as we care about our little sister. Now believe me when we say that all we want to do is help you, helping you is what Sam and I are here for. Y/n you aren't alone, you aren't, worthless, and you most definitely aren't broken. We can help you all you have to do is let us in." Dean said sitting down next to you when he was down.

"We love you and don't wanna see so much potential be wasted especially when we knew we could have helped you," Sam added. You were having a hard time believing them, but nothing would stop you from trying especially when you had your brothers by your side.

[katsukikitten]

Part 2! Here is Part 1 f you have yet to read it! I hope you enjoy my little Walmart brand of summer wars as much as I am writing it! Let me know what you think!

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The two of you leave with a small bow before your grandmother answers the phone. 

The second you are out of the room Bakugou grabs you roughly by the wrist, pulling you down into the small dimly lit hallway to press you against the dark wooden wall, caging you in much like he did on the train. 

But this time with malintent. Small pops ring out from his forearms, one hand threatening to char the wood beside your head while the other grips your wrist harder. 

You could understand his anger, it's not as if you had been truthful to Bakugou. He detests liars and although you didn't necessarily lie to him you still told him a half truth. He was still figuring out which was worse. 

"Fucking fiance?!" He snarls close to your face, "Deal's off." 

You had planned to allow him to bitch and moan about the shitty situation you put him in without argument. 

But his refusal to act semi decent towards you for the sake of your grandmother's old heart had rage burning hot in your veins. 

It wasn't like you were asking him to fuck you. With a tick in your jaw you drop your precious Kimono. Grabbing onto his chin with your free hand, tilting his face closer to yours to have a better look at those stunning crimson eyes. They widen from both the force of your grip and the proximity of your lips. He swallows thickly, his glare slowly coming back. 

"Listen here Bakugou Katsuki. I'm asking you to pretend to be my fiance for two weeks. I'm asking for small shit like sitting close to me, maybe giving a small smile in my direction and at the most hand holding. I'm not asking you to fucking marry me or fuck me in front of my family. My grandmother is a bit old fashioned if you couldn't tell by the house or her demeanor, she has been hounding me about bringing a man to her for approval since I was 16. She wanted to make sure I had a man that deserved me, that I would be taken care of. So I've made up boyfriend after boyfriend since I've never really had time for more than a good fuck but my Uncle called me last winter to tell me her health was beginning to decline and rapidly at that. I called her immediately and told her I had just become engaged and she'd meet him on her birthday. So you've got two choices Katsuki." You let every syllable of his name soak in sugar coated venom, "Suck it up for two fucking weeks and be semi decent to me or break my grandmother's heart and earn a dangerous enemy." 

Bakugou's heart pounded in his chest the entire time you were ranting, unsure of why he was attracted to the hard set of your eyes and the ice in your voice. His stomach flips when you say his first name causing him to grind his teeth. He breaks away from your grip with his free hand, quickly pinning your arms above your head. Locking your delicate yet deadly wrists in one of his broad hands while the other presses against your hip bone. Thumb sliding through the loop of your too short shorts, bringing your pelvis to his.  The denim was barely able to contain your ass and thick thighs, he is surprised none of your elders have scolded you for such indecency if they were as old fashioned as you say. 

The faint blush on your cheeks and the defiant look in your eyes has his voice turn husky as he speaks.

"I should make you regret bringing me here. Maybe have you begging for something else." His lips a breath away as he presses his forehead to yours. Eyes molten with what you think is lust before he tilts his face. Amplifying the sudden magnetism between your plump lips and his own. Your chest tightens with mixed emotions as your eyes begin to flutter closed.

Suddenly he changes direction and gives you a harsh headbutt, hard enough your vision blurs at the edges causing you to growl in response. 

"This better not fucking bruise." 

He rolls his eyes, dropping your hands as he reaches down for the old Kimino. His heart racing from almost losing control of these odd feelings. 

Feelings that had never been aimed towards you until your grandmother stirred them up. 

"Would you die for my granddaughter?" 

The question drives him mad, mad enough that he places the kimono in your hands speaking the dark thought that he should have fucking kept to himself.

"Did you actually drag me along for your grandmother's sake or did you just want the kimono, Princess?" His voice is all bite, holding your gaze, your eyes widening. 

"Don't call me that." Your voice threatens to crack but he walks away before he can see the rest of your reaction to wander the house for his room until dinner. 

You're left standing there, eyes glued to the fabric, the deep navy blue and hand stitched cranes and lotus blur in your hands. Before fat droplets fall from your eyes. 

Why did you ever think Bakugou Katsuki would be a good partner, fake or not. 

You collect yourself quickly, angrily swiping at your eyes before you set to find your normal room. 

It doesn't take you long and you're honestly hoping Bakugou stays lost until dinner. His room should be on the opposite wing of the house. Opening the old tatami door to find Mei setting down your stuff and Bakugou's bag.  Mei follows your eyes to the well worn backpack with a skull pin on the strap. She knew exactly who it belonged to when she picked it up, having spotted the handsome devil from the hall. 

"Mei what's this you know he's supposed to be in the western wing!" You exclaim, trudging past her to hang your kimono on the old rack in the corner of the room. Mei scoffs, eyes glued to her phone as she speaks. 

"He was bound to sneak this way anyway. I'm doing you a favor." She rolls her eyes as if she knows everything at the ripe age of sixteen. 

You thought you knew everything then too. You sigh, rolling your own eyes. 

"What you call a favor I call a headache. Just take his bag to his room." You pass the straps to her, hating that it smells so much like him. Your stomach flips even as you look at the two person futon. 

"Just sleep with him tonight no one will know! Plus I hadn't cleaned his room. It's full of spider webs, the floor needs patching and his futon is gonna be dusty." She counters. 

"B..but one futon is not modest." 

"Wow please tell me you're not a virgin jushi. You're gonna get married anyway! I know I wouldn't have said no to a catch like that either!" 

Mei makes her way out of your room while you pinch the bridge or your nose. 

"Yea…. Why would I ever say no to such a great catch?" You fall backwards onto the futon hoping that that asshole was still lost for now. 

Someone would find him wandering and take him to the great dining room. 

×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×

Thankfully someone does end up showing Bakugou to the dining room but of course it would be Mei who also tells him where the SHARED room is. You bite your lip and choose to play dumb.  

"Oh good you found your way, babe." You smile sinking next to him on one of the many blue cushions. He grunts in response but pulls your cushion closer to his. Carefully pouring you some water before he yanks down your tank top that was riding up and trying to expose your midriff. His fingers feel like fire as they brush against your skin, igniting a dying ember in your stomach.

You quickly remind yourself of his nasty comment, as you're about to set him straight your cousin Haru walks into the room.  He sucks his teeth and sits further down the table across from his sister Mei as people slowly come in to sit or bring in food. 

"I don't know why you bothered to bring him here. Sobo is never going to approve of him." He cracks open his beer and drinks prematurely earning an eye roll from his sister. Bakugou and yourself both open your mouth to retort when Mei pipes up. Eyes still glued to her phone as her thumbs fly across the illuminated glass. 

"She already did stupid. She gave her the crane Kimono so get used to seeing his face." Mei rolls her eyes as your cheeks blush. 

Bakugou regrets his comment now more than ever but sucks his own teeth. An older gentleman sits to Bakugou's left commenting on the conversation as he does. 

"Wow the crane kimono! You know she's been holding onto that for quite some time. You must be very special. I'm Sozen, your lovely fiance's Uncle." He smiles, just as you're about pinch the blonde to make sure he answers he gives a small bow of his head. 

"Bakugou Katsuki." He introduces himself as aunt Mai rushes into the room.

"Wait, wait! I want to meet him!" She sinks next to your right, all smiles as her eyes are fixated on the young man, "Wow he is as handsome as you said on the phone last night." 

Fresh blush creeps onto your cheeks, remembering the phone conversation from when you were too nervous to sleep last night. Bakugou catches on and smirks in response. Everyone but Sobo takes their seats and you decide now is a good time as ever to get the formalities over with. 

"Let's just get through the introductions shall we?" You say as you run through the names of each family member on both sides of the three low tables shoved together. Introducing the hot head to well over 12 adults and their children and even children's children. For now Bakugou only makes an effort to remember the ones closest to him. 

Uncle Sozen who sits to his left and Aunt Mai who sits to your right. It's becoming quickly apparent that a lot of your family is either much older or much younger than yourself. He can understand why you could feel a little lonely at times. Being more of a black sheep than anything. Then he realises something very important.

"Wait, where are your parents?" He asks lowly to which you shrug. 

"They show up closer to grandma's birthday. They are both extremely busy and always have been. Soba more or less raised me." 

As if one cue grandmother comes in, looking over the table with the biggest and warmest smile she can muster. It reminds him of the summer sun lazily dancing across his skin in the late afternoon. 

And again it reminds him of you. He looks to you and sees you mirroring the exact same smile, happy for your grandmother's happiness causing his chest to tighten and butterflies to awaken in his stomach. He grinds his teeth in an attempt to calm them down. 

She sits at the head of the table, closest to Great Oba who he had the pleasure of meeting first thing, before grandmother holds up her small cup of sake. 

"To family." She announces, everyone lifts what cup they have, whether it was a kids small sippy cup, their o-choko, or even their cup of tea. 

"To family!" They roar back to her all taking a sip. 

"Let's eat." She says while the family cries out, "Itadakimasu!" 

The tables are loud and full of conversation. Although Katuski's family is not so big, the volume reminds him of his own family. A small smirk comes to his lips as he thinks of his mother and how she would fit in here. 

"So no Shoji?" Haru asks with a sneer, almost purposefully stirring the pot. 

"No surprise there." Someone else comments. 

"Shut. Up. Haru." You bite out, look fierce as if you were to devour him whole. He swallows thickly. 

"Great uncle Kodaka tell us about that battle we won here!" You change the subject and everyone groans as Kodaka starts the story they've heard thousands of times before.

"It was almost 150 years ago, when we were still a prosperous nation. Us samarai doing fine on our own. Hired by the wealthy or living by our own moral compass. It was like fish in a barrel…" 

The story continues on, mostly the children listen and your grandmother who smiles as she hears her youngest speak.

Sozen leans closer to Bakugou, as grey eyes hold onto scarlet. Bakugou remains quiet, glancing to you and then back to the uncle. Uncle Sozen takes this as an invitation to speak. 

"I guess since you're gonna be part of the family now I should tell you about Shoji. There was a time shortly before Grandpa died that he went down a dark path, gambling away majority of the family fortune and just when grams thought she had him under control then came Shoji.He was Grandpa's illegitimate child with a woman much younger than Sobo. But she loved Shoji fiercely anyway. She would take him through the field of wildflowers to the lake in the early mornings of summer. One hot day when he was small and the sun was rising, painting the sky in hues of red there was a crane. Our family's crest." Uncle Sozen points to the wooden crest above the door to the adjacent room that held the family's artifacts. A crane stands tall with a white lotus behind it in full bloom.

"It was the first time in decades that a crane had come to the lake and the lotus were in full bloom. He flew away, causing a gentle ripple in the lake and it was then Sobo knew that Shoji would bring fortune to our family." Sozen peeks your way to make sure you're not over hearing, he continues explaining softly as your loud laugh bellows out, "Everyone is so angry with him because he took the last of grandmother's savings and then ran away to America with no way to be contacted." 

"She is quick to defend him because she was too young to really remember how much it upset Sobo. That and she believed in him wholeheartedly. She looked up to him because despite his quirklessness he was exceptionally intelligent. She had faith that he would restore honor and fortune to our name." Sozen's chopsticks point to you as he speaks before he picks up a dumpling. Bakugou's eyes follow over you. 

"Hello Sobo." A deep voice calls from the engawa reducing the lively roar of dinner conversation to nothing more than the sad song of a lonely cricket.

"Uncle Shoji?!" You call excited, standing from your spot at the long table while the rest of the room holds animosity. 

Bakugou downs his sake to which Uncle Sozen silently refills. 

"I thought you were still abroad in the states!" You sink next to him and pull him into a crushing hug. He smiles, slowly separating the two of you. 

"What the hell do you want trash?!" Uncle Kodaka snarls, to which you produce a deadly glare his way.  

"Well yes I was in the states, thank you for asking Princess." He tucks a stay hair behind your ear before rising to speak with grandmother.

He does not address her properly nor does he bow. If anything he stands loosely with an arrogance about him that leaves majority of the room with a sour taste in their mouth. Bakugou watches Great Oba's chopsticks strain in her delicate hand, the distaste for him is becoming more and more obvious by the second.

And then he opens his mouth. 

"I made tenfold out of what you let me borrow, Soba." He pulls a stack of money and a check from his pocket as he speaks, "I made a drug to make people powerless and sold it to the highest bidder." 

Eyes around the room widen as news headlines flash in their heads about a new drug that made people quirkless. Villains shooting innocent bystanders and heroes in hopes of getting a leg up. 

Shoji tosses the money and the check onto grandmother's lap. Dark brown eyes stare into her lap for a long moment. 

Suddenly grandmother moves like an agile cat, jumping to her feet and grabbing for one of the divine naginata. She wields it masterfully before shoving the point towards him, fire burning in her eyes. 

"Mother!" Half the table shouts, as you begin to see red. You stand stepping next to Shoji, body shaking with rage as your heart drums in your ears. 

"I knew my Princess would save me." He says coyly to hide just how shaken he is, sweat dripping down his brow. Even ten years your senior he couldn't hide his fear of the fierce woman before him, shocked that a woman in her nineties could still brandish such a big and heavy weapon. 

Your hands land harshly on Shoji's chest as you give him a shove. Shocking the table into further silence. 

"YOU MADE THAT?!" Your voice echoes over the dining room, into the empty halls and out into the night but somehow the hurt in it does not reach Shoji. 

"Of course, it was going to be a hot seller. Governments offered me billions. Besides I made an anti...." But before he can finish you've got him by the collar. 

"HOW CAN YOU BE SO INTELLIGENT YET SO DAFT?!" Bakugou watches your knuckles turn white while your cheeks flush deep red. Shoji barely frees himself, his shirt crumpled but you press on. 

"Those were my friends!" A stomp of your foot has the dishes rattling on the table, Bakugou becomes more on edge, "You hurt my fucking friends!" 

You raise both of your fists above your head, ready to bring them down with all of your might. Too angry to control your gauge of power uncaring of the consequences. Katuski acts quickly, flicking his wrist to empty the shallow cup of sake high into the air. Igniting it into beautiful dancing fireworks, the kids oo and ah while he hopes to distract you if only for a moment. 

It works, slightly. You realize his plan as he jumps to his feet, running along the low tables as you try to beat him to the punch. 

Literally.

Bakugou barely makes it, shoving Shoji into the table, food and dishes fly into the air just to stain the freshly mopped wooden floors. The hot head holds out his other arm to take the brunt of your force. He let's off the smallest explosion to soften your blow but a small crack still rings out. 

Heated eyes watch as a black bruise blooms from the crease of his elbow to all the way to his wrist as the shock shakes the house behind him. Paintings and pictures fall from the walls in the wake of your force.

"Are you trying to bring down the house dumbass?!" He yells before his voice dips low, soft almost, "What if the roof had caved and Soba-san got hurt?" 

Your eyes widen at his words before they are locked with glistening scarlet pools. You look over Bakugou's toned arm, marred in angry shades of purplish black. Eyes darting over the family and the mess that lies beside you. Finally they fall on your grandmother behind your shoulder. Her own aged shoulders heave from the adrenaline, her graying white hair out of place with her lotus pin threatening to fall out. You spy Shoji, your once hero still squishing food beneath his torso and elbows, eyes filled with fear.

"Fuck this." You mutter storming off, leaving Bakugou to stand alone before your family. Shoji stands, rushing out of the house, moments later everyone can hear a car peeling down the gravel drive losing traction once or twice. 

After a few moments of silence grandmother fixes her hair and returns the naginata as she speaks. 

"This family cleans up their own messes. Now get to work!" 

And with that your family and Bakugou begin to pick up the shattered pieces of dishes, pride and family matters.

[oc-factoids]

Ight vibe

So Jasper Haynes is this small little goblin prince man who’s design was basically stolen from ezran of dragon prince but im working on fixing that because you can’t live in the woods hiding from your parents wearing a huge ass cape

But I’m getting ahead of myself so let’s start from the beginning *movie rewind sound effect*

Jasper Haynes is part of the royals family and lived a pretty ok ish life for like the first 10 years

I mean he was sheltered and as all get out and his dad never hugged him and he had no friends but like

Ok ish

Basically what you need to know is he and his sister Sophia were like super super close and they vibed together in the back gardens and also Sophia knew magic

So one day famine and plague falls upon the kingdom and all the villagers are getting uneasy and preparing to eat the rich but jaspers dad Digby (fun fact looked up pretentious names on google and made his name the first result) Digby is all like “Nono guys the plague and famine isn’t my fault it’s the fact that my DAUGHTER is SECRETLY a WITCH and has been CURSING US this whole time!!!” And like yeah she is a witch but you knew and she sure as hell isn’t cursing anyone beyond the f-bomb

So anyway Digby burns his own daughter at the stake to save his own ass and forces Jasper to watch because “he needs to be a strong leader” or whatever the fuck so Jasper is deeply traumatized at the age of 13 now

(Side note sophias last words were “do not ask for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee” because I like to feel smart by inserting quotes from classical literature Into my maladaptive daydreams stories)

So anyway for a couple of years he’s in that post truama apathy Dream state where your just going for the motions because I’m not projecting you are

But he’s also self-teaching himself magic on the side in secret to honnor his sister’s memory and keep a bit of her alive with him

So he keeps going through the motions for 3 years until one particularly hurtful conversation with his dad Jasper just snaps and has a midlife crisis at the ripe old age of 16 and packs up a bag full of stuff and runs away from home where he kinda awkwardly stumbles around in the woods for two weeks barely surviving because sheltered™️ until two lesbians( Lily and Julia) stumble upon him and take pity and are like “you will die if we don’t help you come here buddy” and then ✨found family ✨ and ✨healing✨ and ✨getting kidnapped by the fae✨

In the like “you are given infinite money and time and full creative freedom make your oc story into a tv show” senario its kinda episodic with the trio just hiding out in the woods and learning lessons and facing a new evil guy of the day with character growth being the driving force kinda like Steven universe

We will talk about lily and Julia later but this post is already super long so bye other Jasper I hope you like my oc Jasper see u later

Also Jasper is ace aro because *hits my favorite ocs with a beam that makes them my exact sexuality and gender*

Should I sign with an emoji?? Here ig-🐞

Aaaaa ok I LOVE this?? I'm just ❤❤❤

[softsillytwsted]

Study Time!

Two weeks into the school year and Crewel has decided to quiz the class on a quarter of the 100 medicines and poisons they are required to know.

Thus began an impromptu study session at the library with a freaked-out Deuce, a miserable Ace who would rather be anywhere but here, a delusional Grim who thinks he’s above studying, and of course you - who’s more worried about Grim tanking your grade than your own performance.

You all managed to find an empty study room to hole up in. This was rather fortunate, because the noises Deuce was making as he clutched his head and stared with wide, bloodshot eyes at the textbook were disruptive. 

“AaAAaaAaAa!” came his pterodactyl shriek.

“Oh Great Seven, shut the fuck up!” was heard, followed by Ace’s textbook hitting Deuce on the head.

“That was uncalled for Ace!” the textbook was flung back.

Irritated, Ace’s lips twisted into a mocking smirk before taking his deck of cards that he was playing with instead of studying and flipped the entire deck right in front of Deuce’s face. Caught off guard by the bridge of cards flying towards him, Deuce sputtered backwards before rising in his seat to tower over Ace. The ginger mirrored Deuce’s actions, ready to throw down.

On the other side of the table, you let out an exasperated sigh before taking Grim out of the study room. “Let’s go see if we can find any study guides.” You were doubtful, but you didn’t want to get yourself, and more importantly Grim, involved in an ADeuce squabble. 

The two of you headed towards the potions section first. 14 Potions to Steal a Heart, 666 Diabolical Potions, Potions for Dummies... You paused at the last book, but before you could take it out, you felt something heavy collapse on top of you. You fell painfully to the floor and the entire side of your body closest to the bookshelf was trapped under a mass of muscle.

What the fuck? Why does this always happen to you?

“Fgnnah!” Grim yelped and managed to squeeze out of the sandwich of shoulders you and the mystery person made. “Hey what gives? ...Huh? he’s sleeping!”

You tried to look at his face but could only see his silver hair. Faintly, you could hear him snoring. “It doesn’t matter,” you wheezed. “Help get him off of me!”

At first you both tried to shake him awake and hiss in his ear, but that didn’t work. Pulling yourself out from under him or pushing him away was also ineffective and earned you a smack of his temple to your cheek. 

“Huff huff... That’s it!” Grim was all but ready to shoot a fireball at him, but you managed to squeeze his mouth shut.

“Oh no you don’t! You could burn all the books here! Just go get Ace and Deuce!” you hissed.

Slightly disappointed that he can’t fry your captor into a crisp, Grim harrumphed before running away with a “You owe me one!”

Yeah sure. Already done with life at the ripe age of 16, you laid your head down and stared blankly at the library ceiling.

“Kyaaa! Y/n get a room!” was Ace’s response once he saw your predicament. You could tell from the crack in his voice that he was trying hard not to laugh.

Your free hand shot up like a rocket to give Ace the bird. “Like the one you and Deuce were in?”

“Ohoh? Was our little Prefect jealous? If you were lonely, Deuce and I are more than happy to mess with you. Right Deuce?” Ace shot back.

“Sh-shut up! Shut up both of you!” Deuce sputtered. The poor boy was flustered over not only the scandalous scene in front of him, but the things you and Ace were implying.

Impatient, Grim stood on his hind legs and put his front paws on his hips. “Just hurry up and get Y/n out of there you two!”

“Yeah yeah,” Ace drawled and positioned himself in front of you. “Chocolate croissant.” 

“Iced latte,” added Deuce who took a more strategic position to lift the man off of you.

“Tuna can,” chirped Grim, intending to not help at all.

“Alright fine! Now hurry up!” and with that, your Heartslabyul friends hoisted the silver haired man off of you and into a sitting position, leaning against the bookshelf.

“Fucking finally!” you huffed and scratched your head.

It was then, after all the trouble you went through, that the man woke up.

“Ah! ...Huh? Did I fall asleep again?” he asked while slowly looking around him. The four of you deadpanned at the man and you decided to lay out your grievances to him. His furrowed brows, which you quickly realized to be part of his default expression, slowly rose up in surprise. “Oh, I must have troubled you. Sorry.”

No shit!

“Well... Uh, we’ll be on our way now,” you muttered before grabbing the Potions for Dummies book and heading back to the study room. Once you were there, Grim takes a seat on a table next to his notebook while the rest of you occupy the remaining four chairs.

“...”

“Wait a minute why are you here!?” Ace exclaimed while wildly pointing at the silver haired man. You honestly would rather get back to studying, but Deuce, despite his genuine efforts to study, takes the distraction like a fish to bait.

He crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Do you need something from us... um?”

“My name is Silver. A second year from the Diasomnia dorm.” 

“Okay Silver-senpai, why are you here?” you sighed.

Silver nodded at you before explaining that he won’t feel right until he makes it up to you for crashing into you. “It’s strange. I sleep often, but I usually wake up easily. I wonder if it’s because of the old man’s cooking...”

“Um Silver-senpai,” began Deuce. “We’re actually studying for our first Potions quiz. Do you have any tips for us?” Despite their first meeting, Silver’s stern countenance, integrity, and most of all his athletic muscles made Deuce view his senior with respect. Silver glanced to the side and grabbed his chin in thought, causing Deuce to lean in closer.

“... ... ... Hmm...” The silver haired man straightened up and looked at you all. “Read the text book.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“NO SHIT!” Ace screamed and flipped his book in outrage.

Grim huffed and quirked an eyebrow at Silver. “If you’re gonna be a nuisance, you might as well leave!”

Surprised, Silver responded, “Was that not good enough?” He crossed his arms and looked down with a troubled frown on his lips. “Let me try again. I won’t leave until I make it up to you.”

Deuce, who was shaken from having his image of a manly senpai shattered, hesitantly asked, “Then do you remember the Potions quiz? Do you know what was on it?”

“Ah,” he nodded. “I do.” 

Everyone leaned in, hope filling their eyes. Silver straightened up again and took his time to stare at everyone in the eyes.

“Unfortunately, I fell asleep during the test. I don’t remember anything.”

Cue everyone falling face down on the table. After a beat, Deuce slumps in his chair, crestfallen and you’re trying your hardest to prevent Ace and Grim from jumping Silver. Before anyone can say anything, however, the door bursts open and in comes Sebek yelling, “Silver! There you are you lowly human! You’re late for guarding the Young Master!!”

“Oh, it’s that time already?” Silver responded and followed Sebek out of the study room. Before Silver fully exited the room, he turns around to face you. “If you need anymore help, you are welcome to find me in the Diasomnia dorm.”

The scene before him is one of carnage. You’re tightly holding Grim by the mouth, which was emitting gray smoke, and desperately putting out a fire with your free hand. Deuce has Ace in a headlock, before the ginger managed to flip Deuce over the table.

Silver takes one look around the room, before calmly leaving. His mind now focused on protecting his master.

[mrgan]

Neven’s Pan Pizza

Pan pizza is the best pizza you can make in a typical home oven. It’s also a style that’s tricky to find in restaurants (though it’s becoming more popular.) That means you should make it, and I’m here to help. This is my simple, flexible, delicious recipe.

(Before we begin, have you seen my thin-style pizza recipe? It’s a good idea to read it even if you’re here primarily for the pan pie.)

Neven’s Pan Pizza

Servings: one 9 x 13” (or 10 x 14”) pizza Time: 3.5 hours (mix and proof) + 1 to 3 days (fridge-ferment) + 6 hours (final proof) + 25 to 40 minutes (shape, top, and bake)

INGREDIENTS:

175 g all-purpose flour

75 g high-gluten or bread flour (or all-purpose flour)

5 g (2%) salt

50 g (20%) ripe sourdough starter, fed and doubled and ready

200 g (80%) water

~2 tbsp olive oil

DIRECTIONS:

Put all the dry ingredients into the bowl of a stand mixer outfitted with the dough hook and stir with a spatula to combine. Add the starter and about 2/3 of the water. Start the mixer on low speed and mix for 1 minute; add the rest of the water, and mix for 4 more minutes. Switch to medium speed and mix for another 5 minutes. If at any point the dough threatens to crawl out of the bowl, stop the mixer and scrape the mess back down into the bowl. The dough will be wet and sticky—not to worry, that’s what 80% hydration looks like.

Scoop the dough out into a new bowl (wider, shallowe, preferably non-metal.) Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let the dough rest in a warm spot for 3 hours. (70–74°F? An oven that was on for two minutes before being turned off is a good environment.) Every 30 minutes or so, fold the dough—just go around the edge of the dough with a flexible spatula and fold the outside in, like a scared starfish. You’re just trying to redistribute the dough to make it nice and smooth.

Grab a 9x13 nonstick sheet pan, with sides at least 1.5″ tall. (See below for a list of my preferred equipment.) Pour in 1.5 tbsp olive oil—about two glugs—and spread it around. (If your pan is truly nonstick, you don’t have to be thorough here; if it’s not, cover every damn millimeter with oil. Not a lot of oil, just complete coverage.) After the 3 hours have passed, move the dough into the pan. Gently scrape it into the middle of the pan, then flip the dough over so both sides are oiled. Flatten it just a tad and leave it alone. It won’t come close to filling the pan, and that’s ok. Now’s the time for it to go to sleep in the cold: cover your pan tightly and move it to a fridge shelf for 1-3 days.

6 hours before baking, remove the pan from the fridge and set it on the counter.  Feel free to sneak a peak at the dough: it looks about the same, yeah? Now watch it spread out and blow small bubbles in the coming hours, especially if you give it a nice, warm environment again. 

Preheat your oven at 500ºF for at least half an hour, with your rack somewhere around the lower middle; all ovens vary, so adjust as needed after you see your finished pie’s top and bottom bakes.

To stretch the dough: uncover the pan and oil your fingers with the olive oil pooled in the corners. Now gently dimple the dough and watch for bubbles—cool, yeah? Spread it softly from the middle, grabbing the dough corners and lifting them into the pan corners if needed. Your dough will be very soft and may seem uneven, but don’t sweat it; just patch any holes without massaging the dough too much. 

Topping time! Please place on your pizza whatever you like. Pan pies generally work better with cheese on the bottom. Also, try not to overtop it because that fluffy, fluffy dough needs to be able to rise—too much weight on top will prevent it from doing so. Remember that you can add a lot of stuff after baking—including tomato sauce!

So, line the dough with cheese. My preference is to use sliced mozzarella or provolone, though shredded or cubed will also work. Add extra cheese into the corners of the pan, so it bakes up into an irresistible cheese crust. Spoon cooked tomato sauce on top (in a hip diagonal pattern if you want to look fashionable on Instagram) and add any other toppings.

Bake for 12-16 minutes, rotating half way through. Watch the pie carefully in the last few minutes. Oh, did I mention—crank your vent hood because the cheese will burn and smoke, beautifully so.

When your pizza looks good enough to elope and start a new life in Mexico with, pull it out using decent oven mitts. Give it a minute to come to its senses, then go around the rim with a thin, non-scratchy tool—like a plastic knife or a small spatula—to release the cheese and sauce from the pan. It shouldn’t be much of a struggle if you used a good pan. Now dexterously slip an offset spatula or a burger flipper under one (narrow) side of the pizza and transfer it to a cooling rack.

If you’re feeling particularly naughty, shower the finished pie with finely grated parmesan cheese. I won’t tell anyone.

Give your pizza 5 minutes to rest—ok, ok, you have my permission to cut it after 2 minutes. Move to a cutting board and have at it with a large, sharp knife. 

- - - END OF RECIPE - - - - - -  ADDITIONAL INFORMATION AND ANECDOTES BELOW - - -

Just a reminder that my thin-style pizza recipe has more info about technique and ingredients and such, and I’m not going to repeat it all here like an aging musician running out of inspiration and covering their heyday hits to pander to the old fans.

Questions? Comments?

I don’t even have a sourdough, man.

It’s like, month three of quarantine—what have you been doing with your time?

Alright, alright. 

Neven’s Pan Pizza for Non-sourdough Folks Who Nevertheless Deserve Our Love and Respect

Servings: one 9 x 13 (or 10 x 14) pizza Time: 3.5 hours (mix and proof) + 1 day (fridge-ferment) + 2 hours (final proof) + 25 to 40 minutes (shape, top, and bake)

INGREDIENTS:

175 g all-purpose flour

75 g high-gluten or bread flour (or all-purpose flour)

5 g (2%) salt

3 g (~1%) instant yeast (half a package thingy)

200 g (80%) water

DIRECTIONS:

Stir all the dry ingredients well in a large bowl, then add the yeast and water and stir again, using a silicone or wood spatula. When it starts coming together, pour in the olive oil and work it in. No need to get it smooth; just mix until there’s no dry flour on the bottom. Cover tightly with plastic wrap.

Every 30 minutes in the next 2 hours, fold it: slide the spatula under one side and fold it over toward the middle. Do 4-6 folds like this in one session. No need to be picky about the 30-minute timing, just shoot for 2-4 fold sessions in the first few hours of proofing, to distribute everything well.

Cover and leave out at room temperature for 12-18 hours. Just go to bed, don’t worry about it. You’ve worked hard all day.

The next day, the dough should look huge and bubbly. Does it? Oh, good. Now proceed with the above recipe from the pan-oiling step: move it to a pan, give it 1-2 hours to relax, stretch it, etc.

But I don’t have a stand mixer.

(I couldn’t find a gif of Donald Pleasance in Wake in Fright (1971) so this still image will have to do.)

Look, it’s fine. Read the above no-sourdough steps. No mixer needed. You can just do that, even when using sourdough—maybe halve the amount of sourdough starter. (It’s potent stuff.)

And now, a chaser for that hot hot image above.

Shop Talk

My attorneys have advised me to disclose that the links below include my referral code, which will make me even filthier rich than I am currently. (How rich am I? I make my own pizza, that’s how rich.)

LloydPans Detroit Style Pizza Pan. These are just tremendous—wonderfully made, perfectly nonstick, stackable. Ideal for pan pizza, focaccia, and many other bakes.

Detroit Style Pizza Pan Lid. Not at all required, but if you get serious about this pan pizza business, the lids are great because they’re reusable and they let you stack several pans in the fridge. (Note that you can bake two of these pizzas side by side in a typical oven. That’s what I do. Yes, it’s because I eat one whole pizza myself.)

Cooling rack. I can’t stress enough the importance of cooling and resting your pizza—thin or thick, before it’s had a chance to release all that steam, it’s still kind of a wet mess of a casserole. 

The End

I realize some folks still think that thin vs. thick is an interesting pizza debate to be having in the 2020s, but I hope they can move on and get into all the pizza styles out there. Pan pies are so good. See for yourself.

[g00dberry]

this is me asking about your campaign

Anon, I am so fucking glad that you asked. Alight kiddies strap yourselves in and get ready to hear the story of Fortune’s Favor cause this is the hyper-fixation to end all hyper-fixations for me right now. (BTW, all art for the party members was done by @Tallinier on Twitter! She’s amazing and you all should go check her out right now!). Anyways:

See that? That’s Ar’De. The main continent that our D&D campaign takes place on. You might have noticed that huge white sprawl right in the middle there. That’s called The Conflict Zone. That also happens to be the name of our campaign itself, The Conflict Zone.

The Conflict Zone is an area of the continent that has existed since the dawn of recorded history. It has always contained things that do not make sense and is home to creatures not of the material plane. The topography of it is constantly shifting, changing, re-arranging. It is impossible to map out. Portals to thousands of other realms are constantly opening and closing within its borders, and creatures from these other realms have recently begun to take notice of these portals in larger numbers. The Orcs, Humans, Elves, and Dwarves have all made a pact to do their best to contain this threat on their shared borders, but something is happening... While the shared governments are trying to keep it under wraps, The Conflict Zone is expanding. More and more things are coming through those portals, and those who live closest to it have been facing grave dangers and strange occurrences more and more lately.

However, our story doesn’t begin with The Conflict Zone. It actually begins with a man. A man known only as Gaust. 20 years before the events of this campaign, a powerful man known as Gaust led a violent uprising centered in the human country of Empiria that killed many people. Gaust himself supposedly had powers that were evil and astounding. On top of his own abilities, he had the power to give other people arcane abilities. It was said that his mere presence was enough to make those around him just as bad as he was. However, nobody really knows for sure, as nobody ever claimed to have truly met the man in person. That is, until the current king of Empiria, Ryborn Hauzer -

(That guy) - slayed Gaust himself, and put an end to his 5 year reign of terror. Things were pretty okay for 20 years after that, and that’s where our heroes meet each other.

Why don’t we get to know our heroes? They’ve recently started to garner a reputation for themselves, and have decided to call their little group Fortune’s Favor (It’s a miracle none of us are dead yet, so we’ve gotta be somewhat lucky, right? Right?). They weren’t always a recognizable group of heroes though. In fact, they started out sleeping in the haymow of some guy’s barn, just outside the human capital of Union. With only a few coins to their name and a shared goal of joining the legendary Pathfinder’s Guild for various reasons, they decided to team up to try and earn some coin together, attempting to get past the nasty 500 GP application fee to even try out for the Pathfinders.

But enough about that, why don’t we finally talk about these lovable losers?

First up is Sarrali Farseer, a Tiefling Hunter Ranger 5 / Wild Magic Sorcerer 2:

Sarrali found herself designated as the leader of the group rather quickly which was really concerning for her (especially considering that she’s the youngest at the ripe age of 21!). She’s never seen herself as much of a people person. She grew up on the rugged streets of Vandis, Empiria’s military capital in the harsh North. With her human mother in mental institutions, her father completely unknown, and a childhood full of horribly unfortunate mishaps and distrust from others due to her Tiefling blood, Sarrali grew used to the idea that her father might actually have somehow been the god of shadow, twilight, misfortune, and chaos - Vayn. After deciding to ditch civilization entirely at the ripe age of 16 with only a pewter charm of a bird in flight left by her mother to her name, Sarrali fled South to the Northern forests of Empiria with no idea how to survive on her own. She was found and taken in by an old human bounty hunter, Mordecai Swift, who taught her everything he could before he met his untimely demise at the hands of some slaver pirates when Sarrali was 18. Out for vengeance, Sarrali made the unwise decision to try and take on an entire camp of slavers on her own after finding her master’s decapitated head not too far outside the camp. She managed to take down 7 of them all on her own before she was captured. She spent a horrific month in a Port Des’Sali warehouse run by the cruel leader of the slaver pirates, a wretched dragonborn named Bodac the Blue. Sarrali survived many horrible things, including torture and receiving a mysterious brand on her right shoulder blade before she and all of the other slaves were freed when a mysterious man entered the warehouse one day, the right half of his body glowing with red flames. He proceeded to torch the place, ripping Bodac’s head clear off his body, and burning right through the cages holding the slaves. Sarrali ran away from the others and spent the next 3 years working for a morally decent smuggling ring in Port Des’Sali, recovering and steeling herself for the future. She had heard that some people believed the gods themselves might reside within The Conflict Zone, and she finally wanted to confront Vayn. Unfortunately for her, the only ones allowed within The Conflict Zone were high ranking Pathfinder guild members and other decorated soldiers. So, she had no choice but to arm herself with her master’s hunting knife, her trusty bow, and head out to Union to achieve her goals. 6 months down the line and things are going arguably well for Sarrali. She’s got people who care about whether she gets out alive at the end of the day, she’s started learning some ritual magic (including how to cast Find Familiar). She returned to her supposed birthplace, a mountain town named Overlook, in search of her mother and discovered that she has an older sister, a tiefling named Brandia.

She also discovered that she was apparently human when she was born, as was her older sister. She learned that her father apparently wasn’t Vayn, but instead a human man known as Jaxon Farseer. Someone who’s family line is millenia old. Full of heroes, legendary dragon riders, and masterful archers. Her father disappeared shortly after her birth, and her mother apparently made a deal with a tall dark man who appeared in her dreams, allowing him to give her and her children his “blessing” to ensure that Jaxon would one day be rescued. Her mother accepted, and was immediately cast into madness as her daughters were changed in ways she couldn’t imagine. Odd, Sarrali’s been seeing a tall dark man in her dreams as well recently. In fact, he keeps telling her she’ll be the one to end the world someday, and he gifted her the use of Wild Magic... Hm.

Next up is Teael of house Arren, a Half-Elf Grassland Druid 5 / Hexblade Warlock 2:

Teael is the bastard daughter of Chancellor Arren, a noble High Elf who lives down river from the Spring of Len. Teael Is an incredibly caring person, though her childhood was very lonely. Her step mother was kind, teaching her druidic magic like any of her other children, but her step sister was cruel to her and her father was rather indifferent, refusing to tell Teael anything about her birth mother. Tired of spending her life being ignored and mistreated in what was essentially a gilded cage, Teael fled her father’s estate and headed North with something to prove. Through fate or misfortune, she ended up at the same barn as Sarrali and decided to stick close to the rugged tiefling girl who seemed to know her way around a weapon a little better than she herself did. 

6 months later and 24 year old Teael has sort of adopted Sarali as the little sister she never had. The two get along well and care for each other in ways they haven’t really had the chance to experience before. Teael finally has someone who will stand up for her, and Sarrali has someone who cares about how she’s really doing. Someone who wants to help her through the trauma she’s endured. Someone who cares. One of Teael’s main points of interest is that she somehow possesses the ability to summon 2 familiars at once. A grumpy large blue gecko named Nigel and a posh white Weasel named Eloise. On a rather.... improvised trip to the Shadowfell, Teael recovered the mangled body of a Drow servant who called her Lady Velodora (which also happens to be the name of the Goddess of Darkness, Death, Sleep, and the Moon... She’s also one of Vayn’s twin sisters!). After escaping the Shadowfell, Teael paid a good amount of money to have her new friend attended to by a revolutionary doctor and a high level cleric. The Drow has made a decent recovery, but is suffering from horrible amnesia. So, Teael gave him the name Vega. 

He later proved himself to be a rather accomplished wizard. He lives on a plot of land owned by Teael now, and he restored a broken down wizard tower there. His favorite pastimes include listening to Teael sing for him, reading, and studying new arcane affects. He isn’t the only friend Teael’s made recently though. On a mission into Orc territory, Teael recovered a strange black rod. After a dream that the party still doesn’t really know all the details of, Teael’s got a wicked looking new quarterstaff, and seems to have made some sort of deal with a woman (entity?) named Ebony. Before we set off on our latest adventure, Teael wrote to her father for the first time since leaving his estate to boast about how fine she’s doing on her own, and is eagerly waiting to hear back from him. She’s also a complete bi-sexual disaster, but the party loves her anyways. Oh, and one last thing. She also learned that if people found out who her mother was, she’d supposedly be killed on the spot. So that’s fun!

Third up is Rhak,  a Dragonborn Bear-Totem Barbarian 5 / Champion Fighter 2:

Teael and Sarrali met up with Rhak once they were already knee deep in a mission back in Union. They needed some extra muscle, and just happened to see a very stocky dragonborn writing something down in a book and petting a small kitten on their way into the sewers. His common wasn’t that good, but he seemed so happy that someone had offered him work without being mean that he decided to protect his new friends on the spot. He’s been with the group ever since. Rhak was the runt of his litter back in the Dragonborn territory of The Free Isles. Though he still exemplified the traits that the Platinum Dragon, Bahamut, tried to preach. Rhak had never really been one to turn to violence. He preferred to read and try talking through his issues with others. Unfortunately for him that meant that he was bullied mercilessly as a child. Though the kindness of a half elf woman named Lucia, a sorceress in the Free Isles seeking the wisdoms of the Platinum Dragon, inspired him to stick to his own ideals. One day, when he saw some bullies picking on a much younger runt, he accidentally let his anger get the better of him and ended up killing one of the bullies. Thus, he was exiled from his homeland at the age of 15. Forced to wander parts of the world that he was tragically unfamiliar with, places where he was seen as an oddity, and forced to live a cripplingly lonely life. Lucky for both him and us, we found each other though, and he’s finally got true friends that care deeply for him.

Though he had to leave his lovely kitten friend Steve at an orphanage in Union before we set out on a larger adventure, Rhak is going strong today. He has a bear spirit named Ursula that gives him the strength to protect his friends and keep pushing forward. After an untimely demise in the stomach of a Rhemorahz, Rahk was saved by a very close Revivify and brought back. Though, not before he got to have a nice chat with Bahamut himself. Bahamut explained to Rhak that he was Silver Prime, and that he needed to help usher in the era of The New King if the world was to be saved from calamity. We were already carrying a dragon egg with us (taken from a bunch of kobolds months ago in some old mine). But after breaking open an artifact from the Shadowfell, the egg was transformed. After reaching Sarrali’s hometown of Overlook, we learned that it was home to The Roost. The former breeding ground of Empiria’s human-allied dragons. However, The Roost had been destroyed years ago in Gaust’s uprising, and the only dragon left there now was a Silver Dragon named Orphyrah. She gave Rhak her blessing, explaining that she needed to sacrifice herself if he was supposed to reach his true potential as silver prime. She breathed all of her life essence into a single scale necklace, which Rhak now wears and can use to call upon her spirit in times of need. While at The Roost, we were able to hatch the new king of the dragons, a platinum hatchling named Justifax. Rhak has been tasked with protecting him and uniting the other primes, and he seems to be taking that duty very seriously. Only time will tell how Rhak’s destiny affects the fate of the world...

Last but certainly not least, we have Theren Greybend. A Human Knowledge Cleric 7:

Theren is the newest member of our group. We quite literally ran into him while fighting for our lives in the North recently, while on our way to Sarrali’s birthplace. Theren is a cleric of Magus, the God of Magic, Knowledge, and Secrets. The rest of the party doesn’t know too much about him yet, but we were in desperate need of a healer, and he got to witness the hatching of a new Dragon king with us, so he’s kind of stuck with us at the moment. Theren is a huge book nerd. He craves learning about any and all strange anomalies, and agreed to travel with the party on the pretense that we seem to run into stuff involving The Conflict Zone (his research specialty) a lot. We’ve basically become his latest research project, but that’s alright. He seems nice enough, and wants to help in any way that he can. Theren recently revealed that he possesses the odd ability to connect telepathically with a willing creature once a day, but who knows what else this guy can do? As far as we can tell, Theren is from one of the Western parts of Empiria, rather close to The Conflict Zone itself. 

Now finally, you might be wondering: Alright, but how did all that crazy stuff start?

Well, the intro arc was far too long to append on to this post, but let’s just say that in an unfortunate mix up involving Dynamite, Sewer Zombies, and a Burning Lighthouse. Our rag tag group was pinned as prime suspects, and then later were offered a deal by this shady motherfucker - 

Ekkard, the right hand man to the King of Empiria. If we could investigate those three issues for him on the down low, he wouldn’t just waive our Pathfinder application fee, he would ensure that we were accepted, and would become one of the King’s personally invested in teams. Of course, he didn’t give us much of a choice, since he told us we had a month to figure it out or face exile from Union as a cautionary action. 

So, on the job to clear our names and earn our stripes, we faced down more zombies, a flesh golem, an assassin, terrorist threats, bandits, exploding zombies, a re-kindled uprising of Gaust, and finally a huge bone serpent to save the city of Union and earn our freedom. 

Long story short - we succeed, and thus, Fortune’s Favor was born.

-I’m always down to talk about this campaign, so if anyone has any other questions, please don’t hesitate to send them.

@icarus-undying (Teael’s Player)

[taeken-my-heart]

The Boy Next Door

Summary: When a love confession goes wrong, things couldn’t possibly get worse, could they?

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2082

Warnings: Just plain angst that made me real sad to write. 

                                                  *****************

You cleared your throat, staring down at the bed in discomfort. You could feel the warmth of Hoseok’s arm right beside you, brushing against your arm.

“Sorry again, guys. Next time we’ll make sure to triple check the numbers.” You turned your head over your shoulder to glance at Lia who smiled sweetly, before letting the door close softly as she walked away.

It wasn’t such a big deal, sharing a room with Hoseok, he was your best friend after all. This felt different, though, because there was only one bed. And you’d made the unfortunate decision on the car ride up to profess your undying love to him…only for him to confess he was nursing a massive crush on your older sister. That was the most awkward two-hour journey of your life.

Now you couldn’t even have the room to yourself to cry about it.

“At least we have our own bathroom.” He offered lamely, as though that was somehow a consolation prize for being forced to not only share a room, but a bed with the best friend who’d just inadvertently broken your heart.

Your thumb nail scratched across the strap of your bag, hanging limply from your hand as you continued to stare blankly at the bed. This could not be happening. You felt like you couldn’t breath and the only room you had for escape was the bathroom.

You veered quickly to the right, avoiding Hoseok’s eyes as you walked into the bathroom, clicking the door softly into place behind you and turning the lock. It didn’t make much sense, but the actions of a heartbroken person never do, so you slipped off your keds and climbed into the empty tub, knees to your chest and your cheek planted against the edge of the tub, nothing but the solemn white wall to greet you.

You wished you could take back every stupid word you said in Hoseok’s stupid white 1984 mazda. He was so damn proud of that dumb car. Bought it and fixed it up himself when he’d turned 17. It was a piece of junk, but he loved it still and you learned to love it too, if for nothing more than that it was a byproduct of him; and you loved him.

You were embarrassed when a sob escaped and you quickly covered your mouth, hoping he hadn’t heard you. Life was not on your side today, though.

“Y/N,” you could hear him sigh from the other side of the door, “look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I really had no idea you felt that way. Can we just pretend none of this ever happened?” You could hear the pain in his voice and it hurt you even more.

“Leave me alone, Hoseok.” You cried, twisting on your side and away from the door. The porcelain of the tub was honestly too cold to lay on, but you didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to see his face.

“Ok.” He mumbled softly, before stepping away from the door and you listened for the click of the bedroom door before finally allowing yourself to wallow in your misery.

The two of you had been friends almost since you could remember. He was the neighbor boy, just recently moved with his family from Korea and into the house next door. You’d been thrilled. In all of your 7-year-old glory, you’d marched right on over to his house with a plate filled with cookies and wearing a bright yellow sun dress.

You’d been exceptionally disappointed to find that he could only speak Korean and you…well, that was not the language you could speak. But you’d still stayed at his house anyway and watched his favorite anime with him. At the time you hadn’t understood it at all, even the subtitles were in a different language, but Hobi laughed so loud and it was the happiest sound you’d ever heard. You decided right then and there that you were going to be the best friends ever.

Over time he learned your language and you even learned some words in Korean, though he was often too shy to try and teach you any himself. Mostly it was his mom or his older sister, Jiwoo. She was the one to first put the idea of love into your head. At the ripe age of 15, she’d gotten her first boyfriend, a boy named Mark that she said she loved and to an 11-year-old, that was a perfectly reasonable conclusion to come to. At the time you wondered, what does love even feel like?

They broke up two weeks later. After an adequate amount of “mourning time” as Jiwoo had called it, you asked her about love and about what it was like. She told you about the sweaty palms and racing heart, about how you’d look at them and they could never do anything wrong. They would be the most handsome person ever; to you at least.

Now you knew that, that was only part of it.  When you were 13 and suddenly realized your palms would sweat and your heart would race around Hoseok, you thought back on that conversation with his sister, your heart warm and fuzzy at the thought. Wow, love; and with your best friend too! But as time went on and your crush really did turn into love, you realized you’d never known what love was before.

There was no such thing as a man who could do no wrong; he could do so many things wrong, but you loved him despite that. He was kind and considerate, protective and at times unnecessarily stupid (like when he told you that glue could help get gum out of your hair, because the gum would ‘stick to it’, and you’d ended up needing to get a pixie cut to solve what he’d made so much worse. You’d cried for a week, but he was only 10, after all, and you’d been foolish enough to believe him.)

He’d been your first kiss when you were 11, not long after Jiwoo had explained to you what love was. You hadn’t taken it personally when he’d complained about how gross kissing was afterwards, because honestly, same. You’d promised never to do something so gross again. That promise lasted until the night of graduation when you’d both gotten drunk and made out at his best friend’s house party.

He was a much better kiss than when you were 11, though he was a little sloppy with alcohol. You were positive that he didn’t remember that night and really, you didn’t mind. That would be a special memory you could keep all for yourself.

All those years of friendship, washed down the drain because you couldn’t just get over it. You were only 23, what did you know about love anyway? Obviously, nothing. You slipped your phone and keys from your pocket, dumping them over the side of the tub and onto the floor before turning on the tub and pushing in the plug.

The water was warm. It felt good on your legs after sitting in the cold porcelain of the bath for longer than you cared to admit. It quickly filled the bottom of the tub, leaving your socks, shorts, and underwear muggy and uncomfortable. When the water got half way up your torso, you turned it off, leaning back and staring distantly at the stainless steel of the tap. Moving one socked toe up, you played idly with the plug at the top, biting your lip as a fresh wave of tears bubbled over your waterline and slipped into the bath water.

This sucked so much. So many years of pining, wasted, all to come burning down along with a 16-year friendship. You couldn’t even look Hoseok in the eye without feeling the bitter shame of your confession. What had you done?

After emptying the bath and leaving your wet clothing in the basin of the sink, you changed into a pair of panties and a big, baggy shirt, crawling under the covers of the bed. They were heavy with down feathers and you were weary with exhaustion. Just as you were feeling yourself drift into sleep, the key in the lock startled you awake and you forced your eyes closed once more.

You could feel the light of the hallway against your eyelids and hear the sound of laughter coming from down in the living room of the cabin your friends were all staying in for spring break. Graduation was just around the corner and then you’d be one bachelor’s degree richer, but a whole lot poorer.

Hoseok swore softly, closing the door quickly and you could tell from the lack of sound that he hadn’t moved from his spot by the door. “You awake?” He asked softly.

You didn’t say anything, but you were a terrible liar, even in body language, and you knew that he knew.

“I was gonna try and sleep on the couch tonight.” He murmured, “but they’re all taken. Can I please sleep in here tonight?”

You opened your eyes a sliver of the way. Enough that you could see, but in the darkness, he wouldn’t be able to tell. He stood by the door, gripping onto the edge of his shirt, a little too long over the edge of his cargo shorts, with one white sock pulled to the middle of his calf and the other hanging by the ridges of his ankle. Man, you loved him so much. 

“I-I can even sleep on the floor, if you need me to.” He continued gently.

“Do whatever you want, Hoseok.” You sighed. He stood frozen by the door a moment longer, before making his way to the other side of the bed and out of your vision.

You could hear him shuffling around with his clothes before feeling a dip in the bed, and you tried to inch closer to the edge of the mattress without being too obvious. After he’d settled, you tried to get your muscles to relax; but with the stress of your situation your back remained ramrod straight. You flexed your fingers in front of you, staring into the darkened room over by the bathroom where you’d left your phone and keys on the floor.

“I’m sorry.” He said again and you could tell he was facing your back as he said it.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut tight.

“What can I do to make things better?” He pleaded and you could feel the tears stinging at your eyes again.

“Just go to sleep.” You begged; throat scratchy with emotion.

His hand on your upper arm surprised you, but not as much as him using it as leverage to roll you over and into his arms. “Please,” he whispered into the crown of your head, “please forgive me. I’m so sorry I hurt you. Maybe-Maybe with time, I could feel the same.”

You laughed, a sad, choked little sound as you buried your face deeper in his chest. “We’ve been friends since we were 7 years old. If you don’t feel anything now, you never will.”

“Well…maybe my mind is just too clouded with Jasmine. Give me time.” He murmured and you quickly pulled your head away from him to look into his eyes, shadowed by the darkness of the room.

“I don’t want to be your backup plan, Hobi. I deserve better than that.” You frowned and he nodded, swallowing hard.

“You’re right. You deserve better than me.” He admitted.

You sighed, burying your face back into his chest. “Don’t say that, Hoseok. You’re the best, best friend anyone could ever ask for. I guess that’s just what you’re meant to be. It’s not your fault you don’t feel the same.”

“I wish I could.” He admitted, his fingers tracing tender against your back. “You’re the best person I know; my life would be infinitely better if I could.”

“Just forget about it, Hobi.” You whispered, eyelids heavy from tears and fatigue.

“Do you forgive me?” He breathed, soft into your hair.

“Yeah, Hobi, I forgive you.” You said, eyes blinking open in the darkness. You stared off at the window, clothed behind the mismatched, coral patterned curtains. “Now go to sleep.”

“I love you, Y/N. You’re my best friend.” He murmured, pulling you closer and you tried not to shrivel in his arms.

“Yeah,” you whispered, “love you too.”

                                                     *****************

I don’t know, I was just feeling really inspired! Independent chapter 13 is about 30 pages now and I’m kind of expecting it to be around 40 when I’m done. I work on it daily so we’re nearly there! I hope you enjoyed this drabble, even if it was just plain sad!

Copyright © 2019  by taeken-my-heart (Nora.) All rights reserved. 

[fainamarco]

Is Flat Belly Burn Safe?

What 18 foods should not be kept in the fridge?

 You do it the other way around, because you leave out products that need to be refrigerated and store cold what shouldn't be there. Attentive

You keep foods in the fridge that should not be put there, and leave out others that do. But, reader, don't worry: most of us do it the other way around because we don't have the correct information.

There are uses and customs that we repeat because we see them from an early age, and it happens often in the kitchen. For this reason, and because the thing is not to waste food or spend more on the shopping list because the food spoils us, we tell you what you should not keep in the refrigerator (and you do it often).

There are 18 foods:

1) Honey

There is no need to store the honey in the fridge as it will only thicken and crystallize. And we all know that this is quite tedious when we want to consume it.

Honey is completely natural, so it will last almost a lifetime in the pantry. In fact, a thousand-year-old jar of honey will be as fresh as the day it was put in the jar. Don't be afraid to leave the jars of honey out of the fridge.

2) Bananas

Cold temperatures can delay the ripening process of fruits. This is why bananas should be purchased before they are fully ripe, and should be left to ripen on the counter and not in the fridge. In fact, refrigerators can speed up the decay of bananas.

3) Avocados

Avocados should not be stored cold until ripe. Once ripe, you can put them in the fridge for a week.

If you are going to refrigerate them, it is best to keep them whole, not sliced, to prevent them from rusting. And if you're in a hurry and you want them to ripen faster, put them on the fridge and inside a paper bag.

4) Cucumbers

Yes, dear reader, cucumbers should never be kept in the fridge. It is best to leave them at room temperature. Otherwise, they can go bad very quickly or become watery.

5) Ground coffee or beans

The fridge (and freezer) affect the taste of ground coffee and the beans in it. Also, if you keep it in the fridge you run the risk that the coffee will absorb the smells from the fridge. Keep this product in an airtight container in the pantry.

6) Onions

You should never store onions cold - they will spoil faster. It is best to leave them in a cool, dry place and away from direct sunlight. Be careful, but never next to the potatoes, since you run the risk of both spoiling faster.

7) Potatoes

If you keep them cold, you will alter their flavor and texture, as they become harsh. His thing is that you put them in the pantry in paper bags, as they will trap moisture and decompose slower (but not next to the onions!).

8) Walnuts

While lower temperatures can help preserve nuts, cold can also affect their flavor. Store them in an airtight container in the pantry, where it is not too hot.

9) Mangoes

The handles should be stored at room temperature, because the cold slows ripening. They can be put in a plastic bag and refrigerated once they are very ripe.

10) Chocolate

The fridge is the worst place to store chocolate - the temperature and humidity in the fridge can alter everything from taste to color to texture.

Chocolate, and especially cocoa butter, also absorbs the odor of the surrounding food, so you should put it far away from products that give off a strong smell.

So where do I keep it? In a cool, dry place, and in an airtight container if you've already opened it.

11) Eggs

Although most refrigerators come equipped with a container in the door so that the eggs can be colored, the eggs will be better off elsewhere.

The most important thing when storing them is to maintain their temperature: if they are kept on the refrigerator door, the temperature will fluctuate each time it is opened.

It is best to leave them in their container and store it in a cool cupboard. If you insist yes or yes on putting it in the fridge, do it on the middle shelf and at the back.

12) Bread

Keeping bread in the fridge will only make it tougher and lose flavor. It is best to leave it out or in the freezer.

13) Tomatoes

The tomatoes lose their flavor in the fridge because cold stops the ripening process. In addition, it affects their texture: they become mealy and soft.

14) Melons and watermelons (whole)

If you've already opened the watermelon or cantaloupe, fine. But if not, you should never keep the whole piece in the fridge.

15) Garlic

You should store the garlic in a cool, dry and ventilated container to preserve its powerful flavor. Once your head is broken, use it for no more than ten days.

16) Oils

The oils should always be kept in the pantry. Otherwise, they will turn cloudy.

17) Eggplants

Eggplants don't need to be in the fridge, but be careful not to leave them in a place that is too warm, as they will go bad. Store them in a cool, dark place, out of direct sunlight.

18) Cakes or pies

Your cake will taste much better if it is not too cold. To keep it fresh, put it in an airtight container for a few days. Be careful: if the sweet has cream or cream, you should put it in the fridge.

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Indigo Addams is 32, bisexual and female. She was born on August 10th. She lives in Manhattan. She is from Ontario, Canada. She is a personal trainer working for vVgue magazine for a living, and often get told she looks like Olivia Wilde. We wish them the best of luck in the city that never sleeps!

Full Name: Indigo Niamh Addams Nickname(s): Indi Height: 5′7″ Education: (GED, high school grad, degree, etc): Masters from Colombia University. Tattoos / piercings: ‘rise up’ on her right rib. Three positive traits: Compassionate, Sensitive, Outgoing Three negative traits: Dependent, Easily Stressed, Insecure Hobbies: Smoking, running/exercise, sex, sleeping, keeping Aspen happy. Important relationships: @aspen-addams (wife), @stellaursharpg (close friend), @emi-matthews (close friend), @waverly-m (close friend)

Self Knowledge Questionnaire: Ambition, Independence, Sensitivity

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

BIO BELOW

Born in the late 80’s, Indigo is the daughter of the late Cedar Addams and Clover Addams, a couple that had met at a Woodstock festival in 1985, when her father was only 18 years old, and her mother 16. Instantly the couple had fallen in love during the rise of the War on Drugs, and found common interest of their use of marijuana. Cedar (formerly named Matthew) had come from a family of wealth from the city, while Clover had traveled in hippie vans and lived a nomadic lifestyle most of her life. A year later, Cedar had escaped his life in the city and joined Clover; the two were married months later and a year after that, gave birth to their first child, Indigo. In order to provide for their growing family (Indigo’s little brother Ziggy joining them only five years later), the couple began to cultivate their own hemp farm, eventually using it as a business tool to keep their bills paid when they decided to settle in a home in Ontario, Canada.

Growing up, Indigo would consider her childhood rather enjoyable. She grew to learn that the bloodshot eyes and genuine laughter of her parents were to be expected and not feared; and at the young age of twelve she began to smoke marijuana with the assistance of her parents. She attended music festivals and Woodstock with her parents, constantly being surrounded by good music and even better energy. By the age of thirteen, she could out-roll those more experienced than herself simply by watching them, getting used to the motions and beginning to make herself quite useful for her parents business. Despite the presence of drugs in her home, Indigo was very much in good hands with her parents and had one of the most loving childhoods a child could ask for. Once her little brother was born, Cedar and Clover bought a summer home in Washington, where the family would travel every summer in order to create memories that would last forever.

As the young girl matured, Indigo seemed to become rather popular among all genders at school. This wasn’t exactly an issue - her parents had always taught her that it wasn’t what was between a person’s legs, but rather between their ears and underneath their rib cage. Following this mentality, Indigo found herself romantically involved at the ripe young age of fourteen, and eventually losing her virginity to a girl at the age of fifteen. She’d maintained relationships throughout her life if she so desired, but Indigo much preferred to keep things casual between her partners. During her second year of University (she had been granted admission into Columbia, majoring in Psychology with a minor in History), Indigo had developed an emotional, as well as physical, connection with her Political Science professor; a man that ‘just seemed to have his life together.’ It took Indigo months to pursue him, and even longer for him to respond to her advances due to his devotion to his wife and family. Eventually, Indigo had cracked him - the two continued a romantic as well as sexual relationship up until the last few months of her sophomore year, when he abruptly ended the relationship and transferred schools. Indigo never heard from him again. She was devastated. Two months following her and Liam’s breakup, Indigo’s parents were hit at an intersection by a teenage boy who had run a red light because he was looking at his cell phone. At the age of twenty, Indigo and her brother had become orphans. The boy behind the wheel was sixteen, and was given a two year sentence in a juvenile detention center, then transported to a prison for a nine year sentence for vehicular homicide, with a required six months of parole.

Indigo didn’t know what to do. Her entire world came crashing down around her, all that was left was Ziggy; who was only fifteen at the time. Quickly and in a blur, Indigo fell into alcohols trap. She’d dropped out of Columbia soon after receiving the news, moving back home to be with Ziggy - legally she wasn’t allowed to leave him now that her parents were gone. Soon, it wasn’t a normal day unless Ziggy came home from school and found his older sister blacked out in the kitchen or bathroom, or in his parents old bed. He’d spend hours cleaning vomit rather than doing homework. The amount of alcohol bottles that stacked up in the garbage or around the house was enough to warrant Indigo’s rehabilitation when CPS showed up two months later to check on how she was doing raising her little brother. Ziggy fell into the foster care system, and Indigo was sent away to a facility. Or rather, four or five. Nothing could keep her sober as the ghosts of her parents constantly haunted her - she just wanted to get away. Once he was old enough to drive, Ziggy frequently visited Indigo while she was in care. During this time Indigo also learned that she was unable to have children; she had polycystic ovary syndrome.

present

Eventually, by the age of twenty-two, Indigo slowly but surely began to sober up. She returned to school, remaining sober for a year and half before she had spiraled out of control yet again, her relapse including her getting behind the wheel and crashing, landing herself in the hospital in critical condition. Remaining in rehab for the remainder of her college years, Indigo completed online courses for her degree and again left rehab to join society; returning to Columbia for one last year to complete her masters before taking up a position spirituality and sexuality professor at Washington University. There, she met her best friend and current lwife, Aspen Addams (nee Whitlock).

Indigo and Aspen had met by chance when Aspen had been a TA at the same school, and had been instructed to drop off a textbook in Indigo’s classroom. From there; their story wrote itself. They had agreed on something purely physical at first, but that agreement had burned into something much stronger that neither woman could explain, until those three little words fell from Indigo’s lips (and Aspen’s a few days later). Their relationship was taboo, as Aspen was a student at the time. That didn’t stop the pair from moving in together, settling in Indigo’s family’s old summer home in Washington, along with (now) their golden retriever puppy, Pinnacle. Two years into their relationship, Indigo proposed to Aspen, and was heartbroken when the blonde rejected her; though the couple remained together.

After her Visa had expired, Indigo and Aspen had spent a few months in Indigo’s original hometown, Mont Royal, in Canada as she awaited the renewal of her Visa. Upon getting it, the couple moved back to the states, and Indigo once again took up her position at Washington University, continuing her and Aspen’s life as if nothing had changed. Eventually Indigo missed the presence of her younger brother, and the couple made the journey to New York City and haven’t left since.

[the-record-columns]

Sept. 11, 2019: Columns

A forgotten father-in-law

The grave marker for Albert L. Hamby in the cemetery of Stony Hill Baptist Church in Purlear

By KEN WELBORN

Record Publisher

Anyone who reads this space knows I like to write about mother-in-laws.

For a guy who has managed to get married every time he turns around, I have lots to choose from. 

Father-in-laws, however, are another matter entirely. My relationship with them all was good to downright wonderful.  I have often written stories about my favorite father-in-law, Dr. William L. Bundy.  He is the one with whom, I by far, spent the most time, both during my stint with his daughter, and thereafter—when he would make me feel good by still introducing me as, "Kenneth, my son-in-law."

But today, I want to talk about my first father-in-law, Albert Hamby. Al for short.

Yes, the husband of my famous mother-in-law of the family reunion/burning hot dogs.

Albert was born in1916 in the Purlear area of Wilkes. While his education was very limited, Al had a talent for sizing up a stand of timber like no other, and made a good living doing just that. He was a World War II Army veteran who was on the beaches of Normandy on June 6, 1944.  While he was pretty closed mouth about the war, later on he did share one story with me.

And one only.

It was several days into the Normandy invasion and he was among thousands of troops fighting their way inland.  Al, like all his brothers, was a crack shot with his rifle, an ability borne of hunting the forests of Wilkes from his early childhood. He was proud, he said, that when he sighted in on a target, he knew it was going to be a deadly hit most every time.

To that end, his story begins. Again, his aim was deadly and as he approached a dead German soldier he had just killed, he thought about getting a souvenir or two. He said he had walked by several men he knew he had just shot, but never stopped and for the life of himself, he couldn't say why he stopped this time. A German Luger pistol was an oft taken prize and he took one off that soldier.

Then he saw a wallet in a coat pocket. He took it out, opened it up, and his life changed forever that day. Thinking about retrieving some German money, he instead was struck like a bolt of lightning by a photo of the soldier, his wife, and his three children staring up at him. Albert said he threw down the wallet and the gun and ran to another place for cover.  For seven days he didn't fire his rifle. When there was someone who might notice, he said he pretended to be on guard and prepared to fire, but never did.

All he could see was those five folks staring up at him in that wallet as if from a grave, and the realization that the soldier he killed was doing just what he was doing—as he was taught, and as he was told.

At some later point, as he basically went through the motions of being a soldier until an artillery round came so close to him that the sound of the explosion practically deafened him and killed several soldiers near him. From that moment on, he resigned himself that it was kill or be killed, and resumed being an active soldier for the duration of the war.

I don't know why Albert Hamby was on my mind this morning. Perhaps it was the fact that today is September 11, or that this year is the 75th anniversary of D-Day, but he is a good man to remember any day.

While I was still married to his daughter, Albert sold off his logging equipment and got all his affairs in order.  He then told his family he just didn't feel well, and it turned out he had a massive brain tumor that robbed him of his life in 1974.

He was just 57 years old.

He was the proverbial good old country boy.

His handshake was his bond.

He was proud of his service to his country.

He signed a note to help a scrawny son-in-law buy a car.

He died too soon.

                                                 Albert Lee Hamby

                                       May 29, 1916-March 24, 1974

                                                      Rest in Peace

Incentive to kill

By AMBASSADOR EARL COX and KATHLEEN COX

Special to The Record

Most would agree that crime doesn’t pay, and they would be right, unless the reference is to jailed Palestinian murderers and terrorists.  You see, if a Palestinian murders a Jew and is captured, tried, convicted and incarcerated by the fair and impartial Israeli judicial system, they and their families will receive hefty lifetime monthly payments from the Palestinian Authority. There’s something very wrong with this picture. 

As a reference point, almost 16 years ago, Palestinian terrorists from Gaza carried out two consecutive suicide attacks in Israel; one at a bus stop near a hospital and military base and the other at a cafe on a busy street in Jerusalem. A total of 75 Jewish people were injured, some losing limbs and eyes, and 16 others lost their lives. Since that time, the Palestinian Authority has paid 3,248,900 NIS (New Israeli Shekel) in financial rewards to those who carried out these two attacks.  In U.S. dollars, that equates to more than $800,000.  To put this in a context to which all can relate, that’s more than $32,000 per year for 25 years with no end in sight. Quite a nice retirement pension and this is in addition to the payments received by the families.

Among the victims of the cafe attack were Dr. David Applebaum and his daughter Nava, who was to be married the day after the attack. American-born Dr. Applebaum was chief of the emergency room and trauma services of Jerusalem's Shaare Zedek Medical Center and a specialist in emergency medicine. Before the attack he had just participated in a symposium where he taught terror-trauma procedures to medical professionals. It’s important to note that Israeli medical professionals treat the victims of suicide (homicide) attacks as well as the perpetrators, if they survive their evil deed.  Ironically, in the emergency room, the innocent victims may be receiving treatment right next door to the person who perpetrated the crime and Israeli doctors do not discriminate.  Their job is to save lives and they do it well.  Any judging is left to God and the justice system.  

Alon Mizrachi, the security guard at the café, was killed when he identified the suicide bomber and shoved him toward the door just as he exploded. While Mr. Mizrachi died, his quick actions saved many others. Alon Mizrachi was the uncle of Ziv Mizrachi, an IDF soldier who was murdered by a Palestinian terrorist in November 2015.  There is virtually no one in Israel who has not been impacted by Palestinian terrorists in some way yet the olive branch of peace is constantly extended only to have the Palestinians trample it underfoot.  

The PA has vowed to continue paying martyrs and terrorists and has even taken their “pay for slay” program to a higher level.  Those who manufacture the suicide belts used by the terrorists now also receive monthly salaries of 7000 NIS or approximately $1750.00 USD per month.  The average Palestinian could work a 60 hour work-week and not earn this much!  

So, back to the question of, “Does crime pay?”   The answer is yes, crime does pay if you happen to be a Palestinian who wants to kill Jews. 

Payments to terrorists are guaranteed by Chairman Mahmoud Abbas (a.k.a. Abu Mazen) and his Palestinian Authority (PA). In addition to guaranteeing terrorists in Israeli prisons a monthly salary, the PA passed the “Law of Prisoners and Released Prisoners” act which prohibits the PA from signing any peace agreement that does not include the release of all the Palestinian terrorists being held in Israeli prisons and this includes the murderers.

The world is insane to expect Israel to live side by side with such evil-minded people.   The days are long behind us when we could count on people, especially our elected officials,  to “do the right thing.”   Those who know the truth have a duty and an obligation to speak out in support of Israel by using our voices, our pens, and our votes.

 Pass the Pawpaw Please

By CARL WHITE

Life in the Carolinas

Carolina days in late summer provide us with humid warm weather, afternoon showers and the anticipation of a colorful fall season.

This time of the year also provides a forgotten or little know tasty treat.

As with all things, there are those “in the know” who are glad our largest native American fruit remains somewhat elusive. It means less competition in finding and consuming this vintage delicacy.  

In case you haven’t guessed, I’m talking about the Pawpaw fruit. While it is grown in about half the nation, due to its short harvest season, ease of bruising and short shelf life, the pawpaw is not found in common grocery stories. You may find them at local farmers markets and even then, only for a few weeks during the year.

I have had the opportunity to introduce the curious fruit to several people this year. Some have said that it will take some getting used to and others have proclaimed their profound gratitude for the introduction. To me, the Pawpaw has the blended flavor of a mango, banana and pineapple.

A few words of wisdom to those new to the Pawpaw: It’s a bit like a custard. It’s important to pick them when they are ripe. They are best when the flesh is yellow and soft, but not too dark and mushy, unless that’s the way you love them.

It’s flexible and can be used in just about anyway you like. It’s like anything else, you just need to experiment and see if you find something that works for you. Pawpaw ice cream is a favorite of many. A cup and half of mashed Pawpaw, two cups of cream, two cups milk, a cup of sugar, a teaspoon of vanilla extract and five egg yokes. Apply your ice cream making method and then you will have an amazing treat.

For those of a certain age, the Pawpaw Patch Song will bring back memories. The Pawpaw Patch Song has several regional versions. This is one of more common versions of the youthful folk song:

Where, oh where is pretty little Susie?

Where, oh where is pretty little Susie?

Where, oh where is pretty little Susie?

Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch.

Come on, boys [or girls, or kids], let’s go find her,

Come on, boys, let’s go find her,

Come on, boys, let’s go find her,

Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch.

Pickin’ up paw-paws, puttin’ ‘em in her pockets,

Pickin’ up paw-paws, puttin’ ‘em in her pockets,

Pickin’ up paw-paws, puttin’ ‘em in her pockets,

Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch.

It’s hard to say how many Pawpaws you can get in your pocket because they vary in sizes.

Dr. Greg Reighard, a Professor in the Department of Plant and Environmental Sciences at Clemson University, is conducting research on Pawpaws. Clemson Musser Fruit Research Center has a good size grove of Pawpaw Trees with a variety of cultivars. The fruit can be small or up to a pound or more. So, you might only get one of those in your pocket.

While the flesh is good to eat, you should not eat the skin or the seeds. A lot of research is being done on the tree leaves and bark as they seem to have anti-cancer properties.

Another note of nature wonderment; The beautiful Zebra Swallowtail Butterfly comes for the larvae that take its primary food source from the leaf of the Pawpaw tree.  

Please pass the Pawpaw; It’s warm outside and I need to make some ice cream.

 Carl White is the Executive Producer and Host of the award-winning syndicated TV show Carl White’s Life In The Carolinas. The weekly show is now in its 11th year of syndication and can be seen in the Charlotte market on WJZY Fox 46 Saturday’s at noon and My 12. The show also streams on Amazon Prime. For more information visit www.lifeinthecarolinas.com. You can email Carl at Carl@lifeinthecarolinas.com

[letterdrill08-blog]

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Matthew 13

A Harvest Story

1-3 At about that same time Jesus left the house and sat on the beach. In no time at all a crowd gathered along the shoreline, forcing him to get into a boat. Using the boat as a pulpit, he addressed his congregation, telling stories.

3-8 “What do you make of this? A farmer planted seed. As he scattered the seed, some of it fell on the road, and birds ate it. Some fell in the gravel; it sprouted quickly but didn’t put down roots, so when the sun came up it withered just as quickly. Some fell in the weeds; as it came up, it was strangled by the weeds. Some fell on good earth, and produced a harvest beyond his wildest dreams.

9 “Are you listening to this? Really listening?”

Why Tell Stories?

10 The disciples came up and asked, “Why do you tell stories?”

11-15 He replied, “You’ve been given insight into God’s kingdom. You know how it works. Not everybody has this gift, this insight; it hasn’t been given to them. Whenever someone has a ready heart for this, the insights and understandings flow freely. But if there is no readiness, any trace of receptivity soon disappears. That’s why I tell stories: to create readiness, to nudge the people toward receptive insight. In their present state they can stare till doomsday and not see it, listen till they’re blue in the face and not get it. I don’t want Isaiah’s forecast repeated all over again:

Your ears are open but you don’t hear a thing.    Your eyes are awake but you don’t see a thing. The people are blockheads! They stick their fingers in their ears    so they won’t have to listen; They screw their eyes shut    so they won’t have to look,    so they won’t have to deal with me face-to-face    and let me heal them.

16-17 “But you have God-blessed eyes—eyes that see! And God-blessed ears—ears that hear! A lot of people, prophets and humble believers among them, would have given anything to see what you are seeing, to hear what you are hearing, but never had the chance.

The Meaning of the Harvest Story

18-19 “Study this story of the farmer planting seed. When anyone hears news of the kingdom and doesn’t take it in, it just remains on the surface, and so the Evil One comes along and plucks it right out of that person’s heart. This is the seed the farmer scatters on the road.

20-21 “The seed cast in the gravel—this is the person who hears and instantly responds with enthusiasm. But there is no soil of character, and so when the emotions wear off and some difficulty arrives, there is nothing to show for it.

22 “The seed cast in the weeds is the person who hears the kingdom news, but weeds of worry and illusions about getting more and wanting everything under the sun strangle what was heard, and nothing comes of it.

23 “The seed cast on good earth is the person who hears and takes in the News, and then produces a harvest beyond his wildest dreams.”

24-26 He told another story. “God’s kingdom is like a farmer who planted good seed in his field. That night, while his hired men were asleep, his enemy sowed thistles all through the wheat and slipped away before dawn. When the first green shoots appeared and the grain began to form, the thistles showed up, too.

27 “The farmhands came to the farmer and said, ‘Master, that was clean seed you planted, wasn’t it? Where did these thistles come from?’

28 “He answered, ‘Some enemy did this.’

“The farmhands asked, ‘Should we weed out the thistles?’

29-30 “He said, ‘No, if you weed the thistles, you’ll pull up the wheat, too. Let them grow together until harvest time. Then I’ll instruct the harvesters to pull up the thistles and tie them in bundles for the fire, then gather the wheat and put it in the barn.’”

31-32 Another story. “God’s kingdom is like a pine nut that a farmer plants. It is quite small as seeds go, but in the course of years it grows into a huge pine tree, and eagles build nests in it.”

33 Another story. “God’s kingdom is like yeast that a woman works into the dough for dozens of loaves of barley bread—and waits while the dough rises.”

34-35 All Jesus did that day was tell stories—a long storytelling afternoon. His storytelling fulfilled the prophecy:

I will open my mouth and tell stories; I will bring out into the open    things hidden since the world’s first day.

The Curtain of History

36 Jesus dismissed the congregation and went into the house. His disciples came in and said, “Explain to us that story of the thistles in the field.”

37-39 So he explained. “The farmer who sows the pure seed is the Son of Man. The field is the world, the pure seeds are subjects of the kingdom, the thistles are subjects of the Devil, and the enemy who sows them is the Devil. The harvest is the end of the age, the curtain of history. The harvest hands are angels.

40-43 “The picture of thistles pulled up and burned is a scene from the final act. The Son of Man will send his angels, weed out the thistles from his kingdom, pitch them in the trash, and be done with them. They are going to complain to high heaven, but nobody is going to listen. At the same time, ripe, holy lives will mature and adorn the kingdom of their Father.

“Are you listening to this? Really listening?

44 “God’s kingdom is like a treasure hidden in a field for years and then accidentally found by a trespasser. The finder is ecstatic—what a find!—and proceeds to sell everything he owns to raise money and buy that field.

45-46 “Or, God’s kingdom is like a jewel merchant on the hunt for excellent pearls. Finding one that is flawless, he immediately sells everything and buys it.

47-50 “Or, God’s kingdom is like a fishnet cast into the sea, catching all kinds of fish. When it is full, it is hauled onto the beach. The good fish are picked out and put in a tub; those unfit to eat are thrown away. That’s how it will be when the curtain comes down on history. The angels will come and cull the bad fish and throw them in the garbage. There will be a lot of desperate complaining, but it won’t do any good.”

51 Jesus asked, “Are you starting to get a handle on all this?”

They answered, “Yes.”

52 He said, “Then you see how every student well-trained in God’s kingdom is like the owner of a general store who can put his hands on anything you need, old or new, exactly when you need it.”

53-57 When Jesus finished telling these stories, he left there, returned to his hometown, and gave a lecture in the meetinghouse. He made a real hit, impressing everyone. “We had no idea he was this good!” they said. “How did he get so wise, get such ability?” But in the next breath they were cutting him down: “We’ve known him since he was a kid; he’s the carpenter’s son. We know his mother, Mary. We know his brothers James and Joseph, Simon and Judas. All his sisters live here. Who does he think he is?” They got their noses all out of joint.

58 But Jesus said, “A prophet is taken for granted in his hometown and his family.” He didn’t do many miracles there because of their hostile indifference.

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Lawlessness Labels Ludicrous Leftist Losers

  By Gene Lawley Published on:

August 27, 2017

Without question there is a decided intention to do whatever seems necessary to destroy President Trump and his administration. The obvious fact that the 2016 election was ripped out of the hands of the left in such a surprising turn of events has left that side of the political spectrum in total dismay and extreme anger. The threads of anti-Trump hatred continually surface on both sides of the aisle in Congress and the Senate. The entrenched professional politicians in both camps are enflamed at the meaning, for them, that Donald Trump has vowed to “Drain the swamp” in Washington, D.C.

It is not hard to see how, over the years, there has been a tacit understanding that “they get to have their turn for eight years, then it is our time again.”

The promise of the Republicans about the Obamacare fiasco spells that out. “Give us control of the House, then the Senate, then the White House, and then…then…we will overturn that awful legislation, once and for all,” they promised. Along with that were the crashing sounds of silence for eight years about the efforts of President Obama to destroy the American sovereignty. He was so sure of having done most of that in his drive to “fundamentally transform America” that he confidently muttered, totally out of the context of his conversation, at the Correspondents’ Dinner on April 30, 2016, “The end of the Republic has never looked better!” It was like a word of reassurance to Henry Kissinger, who had rejoiced that he had been elected president in 2008, saying, “He has been primed to lead us into a New World Order.”  Hillary Clinton was set up to complete that long-standing goal of the globalist elite.

There are two words that have made the difference in the direction of history over the centuries:

“But God….”

A man named Donald J.  Trump, an outsider, not one of those anywhere in the swamp, one who could look into it and rub shoulders with its inhabitants as a builder of an empire in real estate without being a part of that inner circle of elite shakers and makers. He had no mission from God burning in his soul; he just saw the hypocrisy and deceitful duplicity that was underlying those whose combined intent was to create a New World Order for their own benefit.

It is no longer a hidden secret that a New World Order is the intension of the global elite. Anyone who wants to learn about it can easily find relevant information about who, what, where and when of that desired goal.  Put simply, it will not be pleasant for many people.

Following are some signs of the times that have been foretold in the Bible and are now being displayed before our eyes almost on a daily basis. And, there is no let-up but an exponential mushrooming of events that allude to end-time developments, if not directly pinpointing them.

When Jesus told us, in Luke 17:26 and following, how it would be when the Son of Man returns He said, “As it was in the days of Noah, so will it be then.” He gives us new insight that is not mentioned in the Genesis account of Noah, saying there would be booming activity in the economy and in social life. But in the Genesis account, we are told that “the Lord saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intent of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually” (Genesis 6:5). And then He instructed Noah to build an ark, (for the judgment of a flood was coming).

We can take Jesus at His Word with great confidence—as it was then, so will it be in the day of His coming. Paul writes that “evil men will become worse and worse” in those last days (2 Timothy 3:13). He told the Thessalonians that the “day of Christ” would not come until first there would come a falling away before the lawless one would appear and proclaim himself as God, demanding that all must worship him (2 Thessalonians 2:2-4).

For a long time I looked on that passage as a reference to believers turning away from the Lord, which is truthful, but it is in reference to the whole of mankind turning away from God and turning toward lawlessness and eventually, into the very arms of that one man of sin and total evil. He will eventually demand that everyone take a mark of solidarity to His purpose. Otherwise, they will be killed, as it is described in Revelation.

There is something different about the protester we see in news videos. Protesters seem to be more openly violent, hateful, threatening. And the mainline media seem to look the other way, especially in regard to the actions and attitudes of those on the left. I recall a time some years ago when I was at a traditional event and two young men got into a fight. It was vicious, mean and animal-like as they grappled and slugged it out. One of them went down and the other began kicking him viciously and with a killer instinct. Others then broke it up, but I was struck with how intentionally brutal their anger motivated them.

A news video of young people engaged in destroying a historical statue in a current event revealed a young man viciously kicking the downed statue with the same kind of anger, it seems, as those two men I told of above. He could not have been much over legal voting age, if that old. The question is obvious, I think. How did he come by that anger, and why did he exhibit such hatred? He was a white man, as well.

These generations of younger people are victims of the goal of dumbing down Americans, it seems, that is threaded in the fabric of plans the New World Order secretly holds. It is rather surprising who is on the list of membership in that organization. It is also surprising that a segment of the governmental body in Washington, D.C. was labeled “The Establishment” during this last election.  They, and the Democratic Party, apparently have a solitary goal of destroying the Trump presidency. For them, draining the swamp means oblivion. It does not matter if America is also destroyed in the process. So where does this make sense in regard to the “times and seasons” to which Bible prophecy is pointing?

In the prophetic words of John in Revelation 13 God essentially says, I will give you a one world government but it will be on My terms and timing, and it will look like the seventh head of a beast. You will have it only for a short time when an eighth head will take over in the hands of one person—the Satan indwelt Antichrist (Revelation 17:10-13).

He will give you much more than you planned for—turmoil, destruction and death. And his destination is that lake of fire that will burn forever and ever. Those who do not want that destiny must seriously consider the alternative offer that Jesus gives—“he who comes to Me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:37).

Think again on what Jesus said in Luke 17. “As it was in the days of Noah, so will it be in the day of the coming of the Son of Man.” God has pulled the nation and the world back from economic oblivion, as it was headed to under Obama’s administration.  The conditions are now ripe for His coming, not only for the economic rebirth, but also in regard to the obvious breakdown of society with nose-to-nose hateful confrontation, injustice and lawlessness.

One event that figures specifically in the timing when the Son of Man comes is the prophecy in Daniel 9:27 that predicts the confirmation of a covenant that would bring peace to Israel and that region for seven years. Paul wrote in 1 Thessalonians 5:2-3, “For you yourselves know perfectly that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night, for when they shall say, ‘Peace and safety,’ then sudden destruction will come upon them….”

Bring together the total context that includes 1 Thessalonians 4:16 to 5:4 with the Daniel passage and the details match with the Luke 17:26 and following passage and with current events, and it appears that we are on the brink of that coming of the Son of Man.

Quietly without fanfare, U.S. envoys from the Trump White House are visiting several Middle East nations with the mission of arranging a peace conference that would result in a covenant of peace. (The article appeared in the Jerusalem Post on August 13, but apparently is no longer available on line.) One of Donald Trump’s campaign promises was to see that accomplished. It may well be the greatest negotiating coup of the century. Its possibility bears watching closely for that cry of “Peace and safety.”

Anyone with an ounce of objectivity can see the blatant display of one-sided justice being played out in the “investigations of Russian collusion by the Trump campaign.” No such concern is evident regarding the very open transgressions of other groups and individuals. High level crime is overlooked, but a mere private citizen had better beware of the least offense. Evilness draws God’s attention; continuance in evil will certainly bring his judgment, and quickly.

How can there be any winners among those who only want to “steal, kill, and destroy?” (See John 10:10.) They are all losers. The winner is God. The losers are the anti-God left, the New World Order promoters and the radical terrorists, by whatever name they call themselves.

Contact email:  andwegetmercy@gmail.com