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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 1 year ago

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𝑭𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑳 𝑾𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵 ║ Chapter 2 - Not Yet Corpses, But Still We Rot

Please read with caution if you have difficulties with works concerning: SA, physical violence, torture, captivity, trauma, and similar topics as they are discussed throughout the series. All highly sensitive portions WILL BE MARKED with my sensitive material banner if you wish to skip the more challenging portions. The sensitive material banner looks like this:

║ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳ ║⋄── •✧• ──⋄║ ＮＥＸＴ ║

Maria felt comfortable to be around. At least, she felt more comfortable to be around than anyone else you had encountered so far. You wondered if she was the only woman in this entire place as you had only seen man after man after man. You found yourself seated across from her in a small room near the front gates.

It was chilly, but it paled in comparison to the hours you spent locked in the shed. The small bowl of soup and Tommy’s jacket that still engulfed you certainly helped you hold onto some warmth. You had tried to give his jacket back, but he insisted you keep it until they could get you one of your own. You can hear him pacing out in the hallway.

He was kind, but he was still unsure of leaving you with Maria alone. She catches your attention by calling your name – the fake one you had given when you were still too afraid to be honest about such a personal detail. And now you were too afraid to correct your lie, so you answer to your alias, although a bit too slowly still. You would need to work on that.

“I’m not going to ask what you’ve been through,” she started with a level tone and gaze. She leaned back in her chair and adjusted her legs to accommodate her belly. She studied you with a placid expression, taking time to carefully choose her words. “I don’t need to ask what you’ve been through because it’s clear that, whatever it was, was a lot.”

You make no measure to agree or disagree. You were still weighing your current predicament. You had refused medical attention upon entrance, and you tried to ignore the way Maria’s eyes zipped every now and

then to the injuries on your face and neck. After a few moments of silence, you decided you’re already in this deep and might as well return what kindness you could to these people.

You tell Maria there are no more in your group other than the party that had left this morning. You give her a rundown of Sam’s movements over the past 6 months. It’s to the best of your knowledge, but it’s limited information considering you were purposefully kept in the dark most of the time. “And, are there . . others, like you?” she carefully probed. You shake your head and focus on a dent in the tabletop. “No. They’re all gone now.” The memories of Mae, Sam’s sometimes secondary pet and sometimes group consolation prize, flooded your mind. You wished she could’ve held on a little longer. She could’ve been here with you right now. Instead you were alone, arguably safer, but that didn’t guarantee the safety would last. If your past experiences taught you anything, it was that things can get very bad, very quickly and with little to no warning. It was never wise to trust things would stay okay just because they happened to be at the moment.

“You know, your group was sizing up our settlement earlier today. Made the mistake of assuming we don’t have outposts and watchtowers to catch that sort of thing,” she revealed. Your eyes widened as they met hers.

“How do you know it was my group?” you challenged in a weak voice. Of course you had wondered what Sam had done when they made it back to the cabin and discovered you were missing. If it was truly Sam and his men that had been spotted by Maria’s people, you wondered who out of anyone had made it back to the cabin at all.

“All it takes is one rider to be lazy with their tracks. Makes short work of following their entire trek. That’s how we were able to locate that cabin out in the middle of nowhere. How we found you.” Maria explained this all in such a velvety way that you wanted it to make sense, but you were struggling to piece together all the new bits of information she was feeding you.

“Are they … are they here? Did you bring them back here?” you questioned, the last few words inching up an octave with fear.

“What do you mean? After the ambush? Did we bring any of their party back to Jackson? As prisoners?” she amended. You nod your head with a stiff jerk as you feel the sick creep of panic slip into your bones. There weren’t enough metal bars and locks in the world to confine Sam in a way that could make you feel safe, not if he was still alive. You would never be safe from him.

“Pointless to keep dead men as prisoners, don’t you think?” she posed with a weary smile.

“Dead?” you repeated. The word sounded hollow and unreal. “They’re dead?”

“Would’ve been a lot harder to pick them off if they hadn’t so quickly gone into ‘every man for himself’ mode,” she mused. “Caught them by surprise from the left flank, and they didn’t stand a chance with our vantage points and manpower.”

You cough in a choke, unable to lodge the thick lump in your throat. Maria pushes some water across the table to you, and you numbly take a few sips before looking at her again.

“How do you know it was them? How do you know they’re really dead? How do you know somebody didn’t get away?” The questions spilled from your mouth before you could stop yourself.

You didn’t want Maria to be offended, getting the impression that you didn’t find her or her group up for the task of handling Sam and his men. They seemed very organized and established, but you knew what Sam was capable of.

“Like I said, we have our own patrol and watch groups to stop this sort of thing before it can even start. Each body matched with the headcount our first watch post clocked, about an hour before we ambushed them on the mountainside,” she clarified.

“You got Sam?” you pressed. Your lips were tingling and joining with the static haze in your ears.

“I’m not sure which one was Sam, but, yes, he’s dead. They’re all dead,” she confirmed.

Your mind was racing trying to remember what he was wearing this morning. “He had– There was a-a green jacket. Yes, gr-green. And, and his pocket! His pock-pocket has a m-missing button?” you said in a frenzy.

Maria sat for a moment, absorbing your uncharacteristically animated reaction. “Can’t say I was looking for any missing buttons on green jackets.”

Of course not. It was ridiculous to even consider she would’ve been focused on such a trivial thing while clearing an entire group of armed men.

“Can you take me to them? Can I see them? Can I see if it’s really him?” you begged. You had to see for yourself that Sam was gone. You had to know he couldn’t get you anymore. You needed to see the body. His body. Lifeless. You needed to see he couldn’t hurt you anymore.

“Look, I understand if you maybe had some sort of… ‘attachment’ to some of these guys, but–” Maria started gently.

Your incredulous bark of a laugh hit the air so abruptly that Maria’s eyebrows rose straight to her hairline. “Attachment?” you echoed with revulsion. “No. They are going to come back for me. You, you don’t understand! Sam is not going to-to just let me go. He’s not going to just let s-someone else have me.”

You shook your head with a humorless laugh as you hugged yourself tightly. Your heartbeat was thrashing against your ribcage like a hummingbird was trapped in your chest.

“Stay here,” Maria ordered calmly as she stood and exited the room. You were preoccupied with the gripping possibility that Sam was still alive and was certain to come after you. He wouldn’t stop until you were his again. He would blame you for the deaths of the crew. You just knew it would be your fault, somehow.

You try to stop the shaking of your hands, but it only travels up your arms and rocked your chest as it made its way through the rest of your body.

Your teeth were chattering with fear when Maria, Tommy, and another man you recognized from the patrol group entered the room.

“This is Jason. He was head of the watch group that first spotted your old group. He said he saw a few green jackets out there today, and he is willing to describe the men to the best of his memory,” Maria explained.

Jason gave a quick nod in greeting and began recalling the first sighting. “First green jacket was on the guy we think was head of the group. Calling out orders and seemed to be making the decisions.”

You listened with rapt attention, desperate for any undeniable identifiers. Jason gave a physical description of the man that was eerily accurate to that of Sam, but you couldn’t let yourself believe it was really him, that he was really dead.

“He was easiest to remember ‘cause he was the leader, we think. That and he had a brown and white spotted horse. Rest of ‘em were all solid color or looked that way.” Your stomach bottomed out. Of course. Sam never let anyone else ride his horse, and you were all too familiar with the pattern of their coat.

“Oh my god,” you whisper hoarsely. Your eyes felt hot and wet, and you scrunched them shut.

“If that’s Sam, I’m the one that took him out. Wanted to clear leadership first. I’m sorry if you were, uh, close to him,” Tommy confessed. He had no way of knowing he was offering up condolences for killing the man who had kept you prisoner and subjected you to absolute torment for the past two years.

“You? You killed him?” you repeated, locking onto Tommy’s eyes with fierce concentration. You didn’t feel lightheaded, but your body was rocking back and forth in a small circuit. It felt like electricity was shooting through your veins.

“I did, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” he apologized again.

The surge of relief exploded out of you in a loud sob and propelled you into Tommy. Your legs gave out, and you grabbed haphazardly at his lower legs and boots as you tried to remember how to embrace someone.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” you chanted in a strangled sob against his laces.

Tommy was rigid under your touch, unsure if he should react or return your gesture. Jason cleared his throat at the uncomfortable shift in the room, but Maria’s hand found its way to your back with a gentle pat.

“You don’t have to worry about Sam or anybody else. Not while you’re here,” she said firmly.

She and Tommy both helped you to your feet, and all you could do was mutter apologies for your outburst and try to pace your breaths. You shoved your hands at your face to wipe away the tears and winced when you hit a particularly tender area you had already forgotten about.

“Let’s get you to the clinic before I take you to meet your new roommate,” Maria encouraged.

You sniffled and shot her a confused look. “My what?”

Susan seemed pleasant enough, considering you had shown up to her doorstep at nearly 9 o’clock at night, looking like fresh hell and as skittish as a cat with a long tail under a rocking chair. She seemed thrilled to have your company for some reason, but you could’ve just been reading the situation wrong. It had been a long time since you had been around other people like this.

Susan was probably in her early 70s if you had to guess, although the state of the world tended to make everyone look older than their age. You were surprised when she shared that she had lost a daughter that would be around your age.

She had been a single mother and lived only a few hours from the settlement, which she identified as the only reason she had made it here alive in the first place after she and her daughter fled their QZ. As for how she survived and her daughter didn’t, Susan only offered a sad smile and a “wrong place, wrong time.” You didn’t press her for any further detail, and she was kind enough to not ask you a single thing about yourself.

“Susan lives alone but has been looking for a housemate for quite some time now. So long as the right candidate came along,” Maria explained. “It’s harder for her to get out some days when the snow picks up, so having a young set of helping hands will be appreciated, no doubt.”

Susan nodded in agreement, and her eyes sparkled with excitement when she caught your gaze.

“Don’t worry, though, about getting to work just yet. We’ll give you plenty of time to rest and settle. I’ll see to that.”

Susan spoke with such unyielding affection that it was hard to feel hesitant about anything. You nervously fidget with the cup of tea she made you. “Sleepy time tea” as she called it. All of this unsolicited goodwill still had you on edge if you stopped to think about it for more than 3 seconds.

“Tommy and I are just a few doors down. His brother and niece are right next door, too,” Maria informed you as she stood slowly and stretched her lower back against her hands. “There’s not much going on at this end, so you’ll be away from the busier parts of town. I know it will be a big adjustment.”

“You want some fruit leather for the walk home, dear?” Susan offered.

“That sounds great, Susan,” Maria replied. Susan shuffled off to the kitchen, leaving you and Maria alone once more. “Listen, I know it’s a lot to take in, but you’re in good hands with Susan,” Maria uttered in a low tone so your new roommate couldn’t hear. “It’d be nice if you were able to find a way to let her indulge in some of those mother instincts. She lost her daughter, and she’ll be the first to tell you that she’s been sort of … ‘lost at sea’ ever since. Losing a child doesn’t mean you’re not a mother anymore. You’re always going to be a mother.” Something sad flashed for just a moment across her face when she spoke.

You nodded in understanding. The idea that you could fulfill someone’s emotional needs was just another outlandish concept that had turned out to be true today.

Susan sauntered back into the dining room with a small brown bag for Maria, and she placed a few pieces of dark burgundy squares on your saucer. You looked up to find her giving you a small wink and a quick squeeze on your shoulder. You must have been completely flummoxed by the day’s events because you didn’t even flinch at her touch.

“I’ll be by in the morning to check on you. Head to ours if you need anything overnight,” Maria instructed. Susan saw her out and then focused her attention squarely on you.

“Eat up, Lovebug. You’ve got a ways to go before I say you’re fit for duty,” she chuckled warmly, rubbing a swift path between your shoulder blades before clearing the rest of the dishes from the table. You were grateful for the first moment of real solitude since you had been discovered in the shed earlier today. The strange hum of electricity filled your ears, punctuated by the crackle and hiss of the fire in the living room. The cascade of water from the kitchen faucet was a white noise, just like the whip of the wind outside.

You nibble at the square of fruit leather Susan had left you, and it took all your remaining fortitude to not burst into tears at the heavenly sweet flavor of strawberries and apples.

Maria was right. This was going to be a lot for you to comprehend.

You tossed and turned for most of the night. The warm shower Susan got running for you had been an intense experience. The feeling of hot, soothing water running over your sore, damaged body was a foreign sensation, and your body didn’t know how to respond to such a pleasant thing. You lied and told Susan yes when she asked if the shower had calmed your nerves any.

The soft, warm clothes Maria found for you were a little baggy, but beggars can’t be choosers. You squirmed at the sensation of fuzzy, cozy fabric against your clean, soft skin. You felt like a different person, but your mind wandered back to your reflection from earlier.

The shower was heating up while you disrobed, and you caught sight of yourself in the vanity. You didn’t come across mirrors very often, and you tended to avoid them whenever you did. The frail, battered woman looking back at you in the crystal clear vanity mirror was unrecognizable. Was that you? Surely not. Why were your eyes so blank and flat? Was the mirror dirty? Were you so exhausted your eyes were playing tricks on you? Was it a trick of the lightning? But it was you. You’d recognize that heaping mess of curls anywhere, twirling and twisting every which way over your shoulders. It looked like a dark cloud around your head. Your fingertips grazed the muddled blues and greens across your cheek, a complimentary palette to the hues on your neck, chest, shoulder, wrists, backside, legs … You shut your eyes and turned away from the mirror.

You rushed through your shower, and Susan had somehow set up the spare bedroom in the time it took for you to get a shower and get dressed. She made no effort to hide her enthusiasm for tending to you, and after an hour or so of it you had gotten a little more comfortable with it. After all, you were doing this for Susan’s benefit, just like Maria had asked. Who were you to begrudge this hospitable, gracious woman, who hadn’t blinked twice at the notion of you living with her? She didn’t even know you. None of them did. Why were they so trusting? You knew you weren’t exactly in peak physical condition, but you were still much younger and wilier than Susan. You could overpower her if you really wanted to.

When she kept calling you “Lovebug” or “Bug” for short, you tried your best to hide the curious confusion at the nickname. Susan seemed to notice because she asked, “Do you mind me calling you that? Sorry. I have such a terrible habit with little nicknames. I can stop if it’s bothering you.” She was earnest, and you appreciated her willingness to address you by your own choice of name. “I don’t mind it at all, Susan. It’s really nice,” you promised, only partially embellishing the truth.

You had given them all a fake name, so neither one was even your actual one anyway. Maybe in the coming days you could work up the courage to introduce yourself properly. The last thing you wanted was for everyone to think you were a liar. If you weren’t trustworthy, you’d probably no longer be welcomed here, and you had nowhere else to go.

The twin size mattress in your room hugged every rigid curve and poke of your body. So much open, uncramped space was unsettling. You stretched your legs out, but it felt too strange, so you curled them back up into your chest. You silently counted the number of stars you could see from your window.

You jerk awake, and realize in a groggy haze that you must’ve fallen asleep after all. The stars you’d been counting had faded into the pale morning sky. You still and listen for any movement. Your new living arrangement slowly came back to your memory. You didn’t hear Susan. You didn’t hear anything at all. The silence was deafening and claustrophobic. There wasn’t a warning from your body before your breath began quickening in the quietude of your room. Your room. Another distressing pleasantry to add to the pile, right on top of hushed, peaceful house. The warmth of the quilt and your new clothes suddenly felt stifling. You shimmied Tommy’s jacket off you, but the oppressive heat only grew.

Locks of your unruly, kinked hair stuck to the sheen of sweat on your brow. You licked your lips, faintly aware of the chapped but not as dry as usual feel to them. You scanned the room for the glass of water Susan had left you last night. It sat empty on the nightstand. You must have drank it sometime during the night, forgetting about it just as you had forgotten drifting off entirely. A shaky leg hit the carpet followed by a firmer second leg. You tried to get your bearings through rapid, shaky inhales. The combination of plush fabric and cushy carpet on your feet was too much all at once, so you ripped your socks off.

Your new, light blue t-shirt hung loosely around your frame, but it didn’t offer reprieve from the creeping blaze spreading through your body. You gather your pants tighter, tying the drawstring in a snug knot, before prowling into the hallway and down the stairs. The walls feel like they’re closing in on you. A suffocating sensation grips your throat.

You fumble with the lock on the front door before wrenching it open and stumbling onto the porch. The icy wind that stung your face felt like a mollifying fog surrounding you, but your breaths are still coming in jolts and tremors. You clamor for the open area past the porch steps. The freezing bite of freshly fallen snow riddled your bare feet like glacial needles, and it instantly brought steadied breathing. The whip of a wintry, harsh wind collided into your body, wrapping you in a grounding clutch.

The crushing feeling of impending doom was subsiding, and you had enough of your senses to notice the dry, itchy thirst in your mouth and throat.

You surveyed your surroundings, an entirely new environment with the slow sunrise leaking faint light across everything. A large snowdrift against the side of the house caught your eye, and you trudged to it with devout focus. You were starting to lose feeling in your feet, but you managed to drop close enough to the pile of fresh snow to reach out and cram a handful of it into your desperate mouth.

Your eyes flutter closed at the quenching drip of ice across your tongue. You didn’t care that you were on your hands and knees in the snow – an oversized pair of flannel pajama pants that were getting more saturated by the second, a short sleeved cotton t-shirt, no shoes, no socks, no jacket.

You actually feel invigorated being able to flee the overstimulating house and sate your own needs. The corners of your lips turn up from all the excitement, and you hastily shovel more handfuls of snow into your mouth. You hum with satisfaction at the tranquility settling over you. The trees in your line of sight swayed gently with the gusts of cold air that make you feel present for once. For the first time, you lucidly contemplate your new situation. You’re not confined to the house anymore because you simply got up and left. You aren’t a prisoner to anyone or any place.

You push yourself back onto your knees, the tops of your feet planted firmly onto the ground on either side of your thighs. Your eyes flutter close one more, just briefly for the moment of peace that found you.

“Uhhh, you alright?”

You whip your head around to locate the voice. A teenage girl, no more than 15 or 16 at most, is eyeing you curiously from the neighboring house’s porch.

“You fall or something?” she called out, grinning despite herself at the strange scene she’d stumbled upon so early in the morning. Her face fell when you scrambled to stand and face her direction straight on, revealing your battered face and numerous bruises. Your hands ball into fists reflexively. This was the first person you had run into alone.

“Hey, whoa. You okay?” the girl asked in earnest. She kept her eyes trained on you as she took a few steps back, heading towards her front steps to make her way to you. It’s then that you see the large silhouette of a man coming from their front door. Your entire body goes rigid. Your feet feel like they’re cast in concrete, anchoring you in your spot. You can feel the tremble moving through your legs and up your body.

“Everythin’ alright over there?” His deep, booming voice sounds like thunder after hearing the small girl’s.

Your stone hold breaks with a frightened jerk at his question. He reached the banister at the edge of the porch, and the massive entirety of him seems to be looming over it to get a better view of you. His large, hulking frame wasn’t just a trick of the eye from your ground level view. He really was that broad and imposing.

Your gaze burns into him as his eyes travel to your arms, neck, wrists, cheek … You realize you must look incredibly unwell and probably in need of help. Your stomach clamps at the thought. If you were in a bad enough situation that you needed help, that only ever meant someone was waiting in the wings to take advantage of you.

Your lip quivered uncontrollably, and your teeth chattered now from fright more than frost.

“You from Canada or somethin’?” the girl playfully bids in a self-soothing tease. She’s clearly trying to downplay her bewilderment and tension at this injured, mute woman before her - outside, disheveled, and underdressed.

You hadn’t noticed the girl had already bounded down the steps and made her way right next to you. Your eyes dart between her and the man, who remained in his same place on the porch. You manage a shaky step backwards and raise your hands in front of you, palms out and waist high, in a motion of retreat.

Your brain is in overdrive. How quickly can you move before the man is able to close the gap between you? It’s stupid to even entertain the thought you could escape him. There was no doubt he could outpace you many times over. Your labored breathing is accented with errant, nervous whimpers, and you know it only serves to make you look like weaker prey.

The man on the porch gripped the railing under his incredibly large hands as he watched you closely, taking in your wary and terrified disposition. He could see the primitive terror in your eyes and face.

“Give her space, Ellie,” he commanded sternly to the girl. You jump again at the sound of his deep voice. He has an unfriendly face, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s something more gentle there. Not gentle enough for you to let your guard down, however.

“So, you got a name or . . .?” Ellie pressed, fascinated with her new wild woman neighbor.

Your cognition was on the fritz. You offered your name -your real name, not the made up one you had been giving. Your eyes felt like they were going to snap out of your head from zipping between Ellie and the man on the porch so fast.

Ellie didn’t seem put off by you whatsoever as she introduced herself.

“I’m Joel,” the broad, intimidating man informed you as he raised one of his hands from the railing to send a single, jerky wave. You recoiled at the small movement despite the fact that he was several feet away from you. His hand returned to the railing within seconds of your jumpy reaction. You had to stall for a moment, just long enough to buy yourself enough time to build up the courage to make a break for it. “Huh-Hi. Ellie. An-And Joel,” you grunted so quietly it’s a wonder how either of them heard you at all.

The sound of your name - the fake one you had given Tommy, Maria, and Susan - turned everyone’s heads to your front porch where Susan stood, looking very concerned.

“Oh dear, my little Lovebug, come inside!” she beckoned, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders tighter as she made to come into the yard to gather you.

“I-I’m coming, Susan. S-Sorry,” you croak. Your throat is back to feeling dry and scratchy again. Your steps are heavy and wobbly, but you cower away from Ellie who had kindly tried to steady you. “Jesus, sorry,” she muttered, unsure of what she did to make you so nervous. You walked faster now towards Susan, just in case Ellie - or worse, Joel - decided to try to help you walk.

“I’wa - Jus thought’a - Thought I heard s-something. Came ta’see the n-noise,” you lied through chattering teeth, making the short trip to meet Susan on your front steps.

“Bug, you’re safe here. It’s alright. You don’t have to go looking for noises. It’s not that kind of place,” she reassured you, rubbing a hand against your shoulder.

You felt safer next to Susan even though she was even less capable of defending herself or you from Ellie and Joel if she had to. You fidget nervously with your shirt and wish your feet weren’t numb from the cold so the freezing sensation could still be a distraction to you.

“Besides, if there’s any noise, sweet Joel here will come to our rescue. He and his sweet little daughter Ellie. Tommy is Joel’s brother, you know,” she added as extra encouragement, sensing your tense mood.

It was clear Susan was fond of both Miller brothers as well as Ellie. You glanced over to Joel to find him still studying you. His searching gaze made you uncomfortable, so you dropped it and looked the other way.

“Yeah, I th-think Maria had, uh, h-had said that,” you mumbled.

“Oh my word, you are out here with hardly a thing on! You don’t even have any shoes on! Bug, come inside this instant!” Susan scolded with no real malice behind her words. She ushered you up the steps with a wide arm.

“Nice to meet you,” Ellie called out in what sounded almost like a question.

You peeked back over to her and then to Joel, who nodded once in acknowledgement that he shared the sentiment. You snapped your head forward and headed inside with Susan.

Thank you everyone who read ch1 and have come back for this next one. It means a lot, and it really does make me happy that people seem to have a connection with it.

A quote I think fits really well with this chapter is from Sylvia Plath: "Is there no way out of the mind?"

Catch ya later,

♥Puddles♥

#fic: feral woman #fw #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction

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mitamicah · 7 months ago

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Oh telling things, just talking like 👀👀👀👀.

Oh i once ripped my pants from sitting in the snow too long, had a big hole in my pants and had to walk home like that (was only a five minutes walk and i was seven)

I once fell off a pony and no one noticed 😃, i just sat there and waited until they came back, greeted me and then were completely surprised, because they had not noticed. The pony was sweet :3☺️☺️☺️

I went into haunted house as a child and afterwards it took two adults and almost twenty minutes to get me off my neighbour, i held onto that poor boy for dear life while screaming and crying. He wore a vampire costume and i was a witch or cat.

I used go be obsessed with wearing a dinosaur costume 😃😃. I also used to have a hat with cat ears and eye holes but grew out of it 😔.

I have a horrible sense of orientation, its almost criminal. I once drank half a bottle of sleeping medicine (sleep issues due to other meds) and slept for 18 hours.

Oh and i got hit by cars a few times but never something bad, sturdy bones and strong kitty.

My twin (my most beloved) and I usually plan multiple movies days, our record is three movies in one day, nine hours in the cinema.

My twin and I once "attacked" each other with stamps and had to walk through the entire building to wash our stained faces because there was only one working sink.

I am terrible on skates, i once fell and managed to land in the only puddle, my entire back and thighs and butt were soaking wet. And cold.

I went to school in a hospital for some time and that was interesting, smallest school i ever went to. I think i still have the clay bowl I made somewhere. And i will never forgive the nurse in another hospital for just turning the tv off i was watching a movie and have to this day not been able to find it again and it was almost 13 years ago, was very uncool.

I once slept through fireworks going off right next to my room, and through a pillow thrown at my face to check if I was still alive, i also once rolled on top of someone and slept through the other person pushing me back on my side.

Hopefully your day will turn better 💛💛💛

Wait ... how is that even possible OVO oh no I am so sorry that sounds horrible but also hilarious at the same time :'D xD

Another incidence on 'how did that even happen' x'D that is a cute story tho - just a silly little time with a pony x'D

Awww sweet summer child (litterally) :'3 <333 sounds like the neighbour was somewhat patient with you tho, that's nice :'D

Ngl dinosaur costumes are cool :D!!! oh no I hate when that happens :'3 would we just stay the right size for our comfort clothes forever :'D

I can relate to the bad location skills x'D

Oh wow that is a long ass nap OVO I have tried something similar (20 hours but not because of sleep medicine but just pure old exhaustion) and it is very disorienting :'D

I am not sure if I should say that you are very lucky or unlucky for that one :'D this cat definitely have nine lives x'D

Awwwn I love that - normalize sibling dates :'D <3

Hahahahaah that sounds like a lovely and silly memory x'D

Oh nooooo :'D whelp you have more experience on skates than I do it seems which is not hard since I never trusted myself on skates x'D hahaha

I agree, not cool of the nurse :'3 must've been a movie you were quite into as well if you still remember so far after the fact OVO

Wait .... how OVO? I would've been acting like a scared/angsty cat or dog if that happened to me :'D

Thank you for sharing all these fun little facts and stories Jay ^V^ I hope it is alright I submit this :'D? otherwise let me know and I'll take it down <33

#a wall of silly facts and stories #gotta love it!!#replies

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ceasarslegion · 2 years ago

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Alright I just watched a disastrous date go down at the restaurant I was in (woman getting the cold shoulder from the wait staff after asking if her date left while she was in the restroom) so now I gotta know your ramen story, pretty please ☕️ ☕️

LMAO???

Alright so uh, sit down for this one I guess.

Picture me a few months ago. It was still warm out, I was a bit lonely, I go on tinder. I end up striking up a nice conversation with someone who seemed very similar to me. Third culture kids have very unique lifestyles so when we find each other we tend to cling, especially when that person grew up in the same general area you did and came from the same general parent culture. This was what got us talking in the first place.

The guy seemed nice, okay? Articulate, funny, approachable, and easy to keep a conversation with (which is rarer than the diamond itself for the tinder population, who communicate so little it makes me wonder if I missed a telepathy patch somewhere). So I thought hey, why the hell not, right? Let's go to dinner.

I'm a really big meat-eater who can and has eaten everything from chicken hearts to beef tongue and I enjoyed both of them. My dad's side of the family are cattle ranchers in a province only known for two things: oil and beef. I grew up in the part of the middle east that consumes some form of spiced meat in every damn meal, snack, and candy. I was doomed from the start, bro. No part of me could even be vegetarian. I order my steak blue rare at the places that let me. I drink tall glasses of milk with every dinner. I buy family sizes of meat cuts at the grocery store for myself.

No word of a fucking lie, my mom kept this baby book writing down milestones and personality quirks with me, and under the section that says "my favourite food is..." it just says "MEAT: ALL" underlined 3 times. I was meant to be some kind of obligate carnivore but god decided to curse me for my hubris by placing my soul in the body of an omnivorous ape.

Anyway. I suggest ramen for dinner because it's a good crowd pleaser thats really hard to fuck up for a first date. I mean, who doesn't like noodle soups? I usually order it with pork belly, but I was really craving beef that night so I ordered beef ramen with extra beef and a fried egg on top with a cup of green tea

Apparently, this was an issue.

I thank the waiter and he heads off with our orders. I am greeted by a facial expression i can only describe as "moral fury disguised as vague disappointment."

I immediately start getting an earful about how disgusting it is to eat animal flesh and how I should be ashamed of myself for promoting "speciesism" while calling myself an anti-racist. "Speciesism" was a term I have never heard before that day, and I still think it's fucking stupid to compare eating meat to full-blown racism.

I start pointing out that I have no issue with how he decides to eat, but it's a massive overstep of personal boundaries and a very presumptive and self-righteous move to act like he had any right to tell someone else how to eat. Plus, the shit he was spouting about livestock rearing and byproduct sourcing were straight up untrue and made up by PETA. Plus, I hate to break it to him, but cows are not humans. They aren't. They just aren't, and if he can't understand that then he shouldn't be taking care of them and he definitely shouldn't be acting like he should.

I am not the most held back individual when it comes to these things. I have a big blunt mouth and I don't have much of a concept of a filter. I acknowledge that about myself and try my hardest to only argue things i have immediate credible evidence for, because I know that I always come off as emotionally-charged because of my big blunt mouth. But oh, oh boy. Oh man did he not like that.

The argument keeps escalating and escalating until our food gets served. He decides to make a very exaggerated barf gesture at the beef and egg in my bowl. C'mon, bro. But you wanna be petty? Alright, I can be petty too. I looked him dead in the eye while I picked out chunks of only egg and beef with my chopsticks and ate it. I made constant comments on how good the meat was and how much I loved the texture and juiciness of it. He gave me a very charged silent treatment the whole time.

We mutually ghosted each other after that night.

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just-barrow · 1 year ago

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day 26 of @almost-a-class-act's War Is Helloween prompts!

SAS: Rogue Heroes - David Stirling/Doctor Gamal

Someone dropped the ball on buying Halloween candy or costumes and now they have to get creative.

They had put real effort into the decorations around their front door this year, carving pumpkins and putting up little bats that fluttered in the lamplight. There was even a full-size skeleton sitting on a rocking chair. The neighbors' cat had taken up residence in its bony lap. Everything looked perfect.

It wouldn't be long before the first trick or treaters would appear on their doorstep, all dressed up and ready to collect as much candy as they could carry.

David was putting out the bowls of carefully selected mini chocolate bars, lollipops, and other sweets when he realized.

"We forgot our own bloody costumes!"

Asim appeared in the doorway with another bowl full of mini KitKats. "Shit!"

"Do we have something? Anything?" David was quickly trying to think if there was an old costume they might have hidden somewhere in the back of a wardrobe.

"No?" Mild panic taking over, Asim helped himself to a snack and chewed nervously. "Kids will be here any minute," he said, waving about one half of a KitKat as he frantically looked around the room.

"Wait here." David bounded up the stairs and into their spare room. He knew it had to be somewhere… With a triumphant 'ha!' he pulled one of Asim's old lab coats out of a drawer. "Put this on," he said as he returned downstairs, not waiting for an answer and forcing his boyfriend's arms into the sleeves.

"A doctor's costume," Asim deadpanned once the lab coat was on, standing in the middle of their living room with his hands on his hips. "Really."

David made a face at him before grabbing a bottle from the fridge. "At least I'm taking initiative. Hold still."

With an impish grin he squirted ketchup all over Asim's lab coat, using both of his hands to create big red smears and handprints all over his pristine white outfit. Large blobs of ketchup dripped onto the floor.

Asim looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

The first trick or treaters were already on the other side of the street, and David was still dressed in his regular clothes. "Help me with these," he said, yanking open the first aid kit and taking out all of the bandages.

When their doorbell rang, they had just finished wrapping the final roll of bandages around David's body, covering most of his shirt and trousers. Asim, now starting to see the vision, enthusiastically squirted a few generous dollops of ketchup onto David.

They looked appalling. So did their living room floor.

Hurriedly grabbing a bowl of candy each–leaving bloody ketchup handprints everywhere–they opened the door and put on their friendliest smiles.

A small group of children was on their doorstep, all decked out in their little costumes. They stood frozen and stared at the two men before them, who looked like they had just walked straight out of a very gruesome horror movie.

The kids screamed in unison and ran off.

"Too much?" David said sheepishly, a glob of ketchup running down the side of his face.

Asim thumbed it away and almost licked it off his finger before grimacing and wiping the excess ketchup onto his lab coat. "Too much."

They spent a good hour cleaning up both themselves and the floor; it seemed like the group of children had told all their friends not to bother with their house, because the doorbell remained silent.

Their ketchuped clothes tumbled gently in the washer. Now in his underpants, David sucked on a lollipop and sat down on the sofa next to Asim, who was in a similar state of undress. "Shame about all that leftover candy."

"Yes. Terrible shame." Asim ate another KitKat and absentmindedly ran a hand along David's bare thigh. "By the way, I think we're out of ketchup."

"And bandages."

"Hm. I'll steal some from the hospital."

David gave his lollipop another suck before leaning in to mouth at his boyfriend's neck. "You're so sexy when you talk about committing theft."

Asim snorted, tilting his head back and pulling David into his lap.

With a smirk, David discarded his lollipop.

There were far more fun things for him to suck.

#war is helloween #my fic #sas rogue heroes #david stirling #doctor gamal

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spooniechef · 2 years ago

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Chicken Broccoli Pasta Bake (1-2 spoons)

Batch cooking is a great thing for those of us who have to budget our spoons vey tightly. It means that on good days, we can cook something really tasty that will last for several meals, easily reheated on the bad days ... including the one that might come from cooking something overly ambitious. This particular chicken broccoli pasta bake recipe started as a two-spoon recipe, but can be made a little easier with a couple of tricks and exclusions. The recipe originates from the BBC Good Food website (which is a shame because I have Issues with the BBC right now), but I’ve made a few changes, so I guess it’s mine now. When you make your own changes, it’ll be yours.

Here’s what you need:

250g or so pasta (anything from penne to farfalle to fusilli to macaroni will work)

350g or so chicken, sliced

200g or so broccoli florets, chopped small

175g or so chestnut mushrooms, quartered

About 1 and a quarter cups single cream

Half an average-sized container of soft cheese with herbs (Philadelphia etc)

4 tablespoons sun-dried tomato paste or similar (see notes)

Cheddar or other hard cheese, grated (for topping)

A lot of these measurements are given pretty abstractly, I admit; I’ve been making this for awhile and while the website gives exact measurements, bringing out the scale or measuring cups is a bit much for a recipe that’s this forgiving. It does say to use chicken breasts, but thighs are just as good and often less expensive. Also, if you’re not much on sun-dried tomato, plain tomato paste or just a good dollop of pesto sauce will do just fine. (I’m making it today - it’s baking as I type - and I split the difference and used two big spoonfuls of pesto with sun-dried tomatoes, so that should be interesting.)

Here’s what you do:

Preheat the oven to 190C / 375F

While the oven’s preheating, start boiling your pasta; when it hits the al dente stage, add your broccoli and cook just a little more until the pasta’s just about done; drain and set aside

Cook your chicken bits with whatever spices you feel like using; then add the mushrooms and cook for a couple of minutes

Add the cream, soft cheese, and sun-dried tomato paste (or whatever other flavouring you’ve chosen to use); heat on medium heat, stirring gently, until the paste is blended in and the soft cheese is melted

Add the broccoli and pasta to the pan; stir until the pasta is coated in the sauce

Add the entire thing to a baking dish; top with cheese

Bake for 20 minutes or until the cheese is nicely browned

Obviously, with a pan, a pot, and a baking dish involved, and a fair few chopped things, this one can be a lot of work, especially on a bad day. Also, given dietary restrictions, it can be a little tricky with the amount of things that normally contain lactose and gluten. I figured out a few tricks that make it easier:

If you can, cook the chicken ahead of time. The chicken is meant to be cooked when the other ingredients go in, so all you need to do is throw it back in the pan and let it reheat while you’re cooking the mushrooms. That eliminates the entire “slicing and cooking the chicken” part of the equation, and honestly, little bags of cooked chicken living in the freezer isn’t a bad thing; depending on spicing, it can be used anywhere from fried rice to a way of jazzing up macaroni and cheese from a box.

Chop up the broccoli first too, if you can. Earlier in the day or even the day before; just put it in a bowl with a little tiny bit of water and cover it with tin foil. It just means there’s less to chop up at the time. (I wouldn’t recommend doing that with the mushrooms, though.)

This one isn’t entirely great from the lactose-intolerant point of view. The single cream can be replaced with a dairy-free version, but I’ve yet to find a dairy-free soft cheese that melts well enough to be the kind of sauce-thickener it’s supposed to be here. It’s not too bad with dairy-free soft cheese, but honestly, I get by on Lactaid with this one, since it’s only a half-cup or so.

On the topic of dairy-free options, I’ve found that dairy-free hard cheese doesn’t brown quite the same way the regular stuff does. If you’re using dairy-free cheese, keep an eye on your bake and if the cheese hasn’t browned after 20-25 minutes, don’t panic; just take it out anyway. If you’re worried, tap the cheese on top to see if it’s reasonably hard, but either way it’ll be fine.

Gluten-free pasta actually works fairly well with this one. Since you want it to be nearly done but not quite done when the baking dish goes into the oven, the problem where gluten-free pasta has a very small window between “undercooked” and “overcooked” pretty much goes away. Baking it also means that the pasta gets more of the sauce, since I’ve noticed the gluten-free variety doesn’t soak up sauce as well as the regular kind.

Clean up as you go if possible, because this generates a fair few dishes and if you don’t have a dishwasher, the pile of things used can be disheartening if cleaning isn’t done along the way. If you already do that, then you’re one up on me, but a few tips to make it easier. If you cooked the chicken ahead of time and so don’t have a package on hand to use as an interim garbage can, keep a bowl on hand for the detritus and a separate one for ferrying the mushrooms into the pan when the time comes. Scraping them off the cutting board into the pan is also an option, but requires care and fanangling, whereas dumping the contents of a bowl into the pan is a lot easier. It’s just one more dish to wipe down.

This should be enough for 4-6 servings, depending on how hungry you are. It’s tasty, not quite as hearty and filling as a lasagne but fills the same basic niche.

Also, thanks to everyone who’s put their own tips and advice in the tags. I recommend reading through the notes on these posts, because several people have had great ideas and pieces of advice, and I personally have found them really helpful. Please, if you have tips, keep them coming.

#The Spoonie Chef #Recipes #meals #pasta

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ihavetoomuchhomeworkforthis · 1 year ago

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I don't actually know if many people have the resources to do this, especially if they normally rely on fast food, but what my family (5 people) does for most dinners is this:

(I have done this before and it isn't difficult. The process takes maybe 40 minutes if I had to estimate. I hope this helps!)

Things you need: big pot/pan/wok, another big metal pot, a colander (pot with small holes), a big spoon, noodles, many vegetables, cooking oil (olive oil, coconut oil, vegetable oil, grapefruit seed oil, really doesn't matter much) and ideally some tomato/marinara sauce

Large wok/pot

Put some oil in it (don't turn on the heat yet)

Chop up an onion into relatively small bits (and toss it in the oil, now you can turn on the heat)

Get a big wooden spoon and use it to occasionally stir the onions

If you have spices (oregano, basil, cumin, things listed on the back of a tomato sauce container) you can put that in too

Get another big (tall, metal) pot, fill it 3/4 of the way with water (tap water from your kitchen sink) and put that on a second burner. It'll take a while to start boiling.

Chop up various other vegetables, whatever you have (we get them from the local farmer's market) and toss them into the onions

You might need to add more oil and/or turn down the heat at this point

Carrots, broccoli, other "hard" vegetables go in first, while cucumber, zucchini, spinach, leafy green things similar to spinach (lettuce), peppers, other "soft" vegetables go in later

Stir often, don't let things stick to the bottom, and if it sizzles too violently, add oil, turn down the heat, maybe even add a little water (which will evaporate)

If you have canned tomatoes, tomato/marinara sauce, or canned beans, you can put those in last (this adds a significant amount of liquid, cooling things down, and effectively ending the cooking process)

About halfway through putting vegetables in, maybe a bit later depending on how fast you chop vegetables, the water should be boiling (constant medium sized bubbles across the whole surface) and you can put in a whole box of noodles, whatever kind you like. Follow the instructions on the back and set a timer accordingly. (Should be 7-12 minutes)

Stir the noodles gently until they've softened enough to be fully underwater, and then just stir them occasionally so they don't stick to the bottom (the big vegetable stirring spoon is fine)

Once you're done with the vegetables, you can turn the heat to low, just to keep it hot while you wait for the noodles, or while you wait for people to show up, whatever

When your noodle timer goes off, use a big spoon (again, the one you used to stir the vegetables is fine) to lift one or two noodles out of the pot (this is a little difficult, it helps to have a specific noodle grabber spoon, but that's not really necessary) and try to eat them (maybe let the noodles hang in the air a few seconds first, they're hot, they were just in boiling water)

If the noodles were too hard/chewy for your liking, keep the rest in the boiling water for maybe 2 more minutes, or estimate how much longer will be necessary, and try again

When you've tried the noodles and they're how you want them to be, turn off the heat

Grab a big colander (round pot with small holes everywhere), put it in the kitchen sink

CAREFULLY grab the pot by the safe plastic handles on either side, with your palms facing upwards, and carry it to the sink

Tilt it AWAY from yourself, above the colander, and pour all the noodles (and water) into the colander, then put the pot back on the stove

There are probably some noodles left over in the pot, you can fish them out (carefully) with any utensil and eat them.

Put some cool water into the colander with noodles, pick it up, shake the noodles around a little (get the water out), and then put the colander on top of the pot

All the heat should be off at this point, and you're ready to serve the food

Put the noodles in your bowls (or plates) first, and then heap the vegetable sauce on top of them. You can use the vegetable spoon for the vegetables, but for the noodles at this point, it's helpful to have tongs or something. Whatever works.

(Depending on how much veggies you use, and whether you add a second box of noodles) This should feed 5 people, with enough leftovers for several people to have seconds, one person to eat the leftovers as lunch the next day, or to be recycled into the next night's meal

i am not joking we need to force teach cooking in schools. like. it is an essential thing for survival. do you know how easy it is to make things if you know even the bare bones shit about how cooking works. we need to teach teenagers how far you can take an onion and some other veggies it''s sad that people grow up not knowing how to prepare literally anything. and i'm not talking about oh this home ed class taught me how to make chicken nuggets at home i'm talking about learning the balancing of sweetness and acidity and saltiness and bitterness and shit like that and techniques and oil temperatures and how meats cook. it needs to be taught because it's literally not even that difficult and it matters so much

#cooking #recipe #(kind of)#cooking advice #food

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dickens-daily · 3 days ago

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CHAPTER XIV—VAUXHALL-GARDENS BY DAY

There was a time when if a man ventured to wonder how Vauxhall-gardens would look by day, he was hailed with a shout of derision at the absurdity of the idea. Vauxhall by daylight! A porter-pot without porter, the House of Commons without the Speaker, a gas-lamp without the gas—pooh, nonsense, the thing was not to be thought of. It was rumoured, too, in those times, that Vauxhall-gardens by day, were the scene of secret and hidden experiments; that there, carvers were exercised in the mystic art of cutting a moderate-sized ham into slices thin enough to pave the whole of the grounds; that beneath the shade of the tall trees, studious men were constantly engaged in chemical experiments, with the view of discovering how much water a bowl of negus could possibly bear; and that in some retired nooks, appropriated to the study of ornithology, other sage and learned men were, by a process known only to themselves, incessantly employed in reducing fowls to a mere combination of skin and bone.

Vague rumours of this kind, together with many others of a similar nature, cast over Vauxhall-gardens an air of deep mystery; and as there is a great deal in the mysterious, there is no doubt that to a good many people, at all events, the pleasure they afforded was not a little enhanced by this very circumstance.

Of this class of people we confess to having made one. We loved to wander among these illuminated groves, thinking of the patient and laborious researches which had been carried on there during the day, and witnessing their results in the suppers which were served up beneath the light of lamps and to the sound of music at night. The temples and saloons and cosmoramas and fountains glittered and sparkled before our eyes; the beauty of the lady singers and the elegant deportment of the gentlemen, captivated our hearts; a few hundred thousand of additional lamps dazzled our senses; a bowl or two of punch bewildered our brains; and we were happy.

In an evil hour, the proprietors of Vauxhall-gardens took to opening them by day. We regretted this, as rudely and harshly disturbing that veil of mystery which had hung about the property for many years, and which none but the noonday sun, and the late Mr. Simpson, had ever penetrated. We shrunk from going; at this moment we scarcely know why. Perhaps a morbid consciousness of approaching disappointment—perhaps a fatal presentiment—perhaps the weather; whatever it was, we did not go until the second or third announcement of a race between two balloons tempted us, and we went.

We paid our shilling at the gate, and then we saw for the first time, that the entrance, if there had been any magic about it at all, was now decidedly disenchanted, being, in fact, nothing more nor less than a combination of very roughly-painted boards and sawdust. We glanced at the orchestra and supper-room as we hurried past—we just recognised them, and that was all. We bent our steps to the firework-ground; there, at least, we should not be disappointed. We reached it, and stood rooted to the spot with mortification and astonishment. That the Moorish tower—that wooden shed with a door in the centre, and daubs of crimson and yellow all round, like a gigantic watch-case! That the place where night after night we had beheld the undaunted Mr. Blackmore make his terrific ascent, surrounded by flames of fire, and peals of artillery, and where the white garments of Madame Somebody (we forget even her name now), who nobly devoted her life to the manufacture of fireworks, had so often been seen fluttering in the wind, as she called up a red, blue, or party-coloured light to illumine her temple! That the—but at this moment the bell rung; the people scampered away, pell-mell, to the spot from whence the sound proceeded; and we, from the mere force of habit, found ourself running among the first, as if for very life.

It was for the concert in the orchestra. A small party of dismal men in cocked hats were ‘executing’ the overture to Tancredi, and a numerous assemblage of ladies and gentlemen, with their families, had rushed from their half-emptied stout mugs in the supper boxes, and crowded to the spot. Intense was the low murmur of admiration when a particularly small gentleman, in a dress coat, led on a particularly tall lady in a blue sarcenet pelisse and bonnet of the same, ornamented with large white feathers, and forthwith commenced a plaintive duet.

We knew the small gentleman well; we had seen a lithographed semblance of him, on many a piece of music, with his mouth wide open as if in the act of singing; a wine-glass in his hand; and a table with two decanters and four pine-apples on it in the background. The tall lady, too, we had gazed on, lost in raptures of admiration, many and many a time—how different people do look by daylight, and without punch, to be sure! It was a beautiful duet: first the small gentleman asked a question, and then the tall lady answered it; then the small gentleman and the tall lady sang together most melodiously; then the small gentleman went through a little piece of vehemence by himself, and got very tenor indeed, in the excitement of his feelings, to which the tall lady responded in a similar manner; then the small gentleman had a shake or two, after which the tall lady had the same, and then they both merged imperceptibly into the original air: and the band wound themselves up to a pitch of fury, and the small gentleman handed the tall lady out, and the applause was rapturous.

The comic singer, however, was the especial favourite; we really thought that a gentleman, with his dinner in a pocket-handkerchief, who stood near us, would have fainted with excess of joy. A marvellously facetious gentleman that comic singer is; his distinguishing characteristics are, a wig approaching to the flaxen, and an aged countenance, and he bears the name of one of the English counties, if we recollect right. He sang a very good song about the seven ages, the first half-hour of which afforded the assembly the purest delight; of the rest we can make no report, as we did not stay to hear any more.

We walked about, and met with a disappointment at every turn; our favourite views were mere patches of paint; the fountain that had sparkled so showily by lamp-light, presented very much the appearance of a water-pipe that had burst; all the ornaments were dingy, and all the walks gloomy. There was a spectral attempt at rope-dancing in the little open theatre. The sun shone upon the spangled dresses of the performers, and their evolutions were about as inspiriting and appropriate as a country-dance in a family vault. So we retraced our steps to the firework-ground, and mingled with the little crowd of people who were contemplating Mr. Green.

Some half-dozen men were restraining the impetuosity of one of the balloons, which was completely filled, and had the car already attached; and as rumours had gone abroad that a Lord was ‘going up,’ the crowd were more than usually anxious and talkative. There was one little man in faded black, with a dirty face and a rusty black neckerchief with a red border, tied in a narrow wisp round his neck, who entered into conversation with everybody, and had something to say upon every remark that was made within his hearing. He was standing with his arms folded, staring up at the balloon, and every now and then vented his feelings of reverence for the aëronaut, by saying, as he looked round to catch somebody’s eye, ‘He’s a rum ’un is Green; think o’ this here being up’ards of his two hundredth ascent; ecod, the man as is ekal to Green never had the toothache yet, nor won’t have within this hundred year, and that’s all about it. When you meets with real talent, and native, too, encourage it, that’s what I say;’ and when he had delivered himself to this effect, he would fold his arms with more determination than ever, and stare at the balloon with a sort of admiring defiance of any other man alive, beyond himself and Green, that impressed the crowd with the opinion that he was an oracle.

‘Ah, you’re very right, sir,’ said another gentleman, with his wife, and children, and mother, and wife’s sister, and a host of female friends, in all the gentility of white pocket-handkerchiefs, frills, and spencers, ‘Mr. Green is a steady hand, sir, and there’s no fear about him.’

‘Fear!’ said the little man: ‘isn’t it a lovely thing to see him and his wife a going up in one balloon, and his own son and his wife a jostling up against them in another, and all of them going twenty or thirty mile in three hours or so, and then coming back in pochayses? I don’t know where this here science is to stop, mind you; that’s what bothers me.’

Here there was a considerable talking among the females in the spencers.

‘What’s the ladies a laughing at, sir?’ inquired the little man, condescendingly.

‘It’s only my sister Mary,’ said one of the girls, ‘as says she hopes his lordship won’t be frightened when he’s in the car, and want to come out again.’

‘Make yourself easy about that there, my dear,’ replied the little man. ‘If he was so much as to move a inch without leave, Green would jist fetch him a crack over the head with the telescope, as would send him into the bottom of the basket in no time, and stun him till they come down again.’

‘Would he, though?’ inquired the other man.

‘Yes, would he,’ replied the little one, ‘and think nothing of it, neither, if he was the king himself. Green’s presence of mind is wonderful.’

Just at this moment all eyes were directed to the preparations which were being made for starting. The car was attached to the second balloon, the two were brought pretty close together, and a military band commenced playing, with a zeal and fervour which would render the most timid man in existence but too happy to accept any means of quitting that particular spot of earth on which they were stationed. Then Mr. Green, sen., and his noble companion entered one car, and Mr. Green, jun., and his companion the other; and then the balloons went up, and the aërial travellers stood up, and the crowd outside roared with delight, and the two gentlemen who had never ascended before, tried to wave their flags, as if they were not nervous, but held on very fast all the while; and the balloons were wafted gently away, our little friend solemnly protesting, long after they were reduced to mere specks in the air, that he could still distinguish the white hat of Mr. Green. The gardens disgorged their multitudes, boys ran up and down screaming ‘bal-loon;’ and in all the crowded thoroughfares people rushed out of their shops into the middle of the road, and having stared up in the air at two little black objects till they almost dislocated their necks, walked slowly in again, perfectly satisfied.

The next day there was a grand account of the ascent in the morning papers, and the public were informed how it was the finest day but four in Mr. Green’s remembrance; how they retained sight of the earth till they lost it behind the clouds; and how the reflection of the balloon on the undulating masses of vapour was gorgeously picturesque; together with a little science about the refraction of the sun’s rays, and some mysterious hints respecting atmospheric heat and eddying currents of air.

There was also an interesting account how a man in a boat was distinctly heard by Mr. Green, jun., to exclaim, ‘My eye!’ which Mr. Green, jun., attributed to his voice rising to the balloon, and the sound being thrown back from its surface into the car; and the whole concluded with a slight allusion to another ascent next Wednesday, all of which was very instructive and very amusing, as our readers will see if they look to the papers. If we have forgotten to mention the date, they have only to wait till next summer, and take the account of the first ascent, and it will answer the purpose equally well.

_____

Title | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter |

#sketches by boz #sbb #charles dickens

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shwetanadda · 3 months ago

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“Most Important Thing You Need To Know About BOONDI LADDU RECIPE”

INTRODUCTION

Boondi laddu is one of the most popular sweets all over India because of its unique taste and flavor.it is a spherical shape ball made with gram flour boondis, ghee, cardamom, and goodness of sugar syrup. It is also known as also known as Boondi ke laddu or Tirupati laddu. In this post, I share a detailed step-by-step recipe for making boondi laddu.

BOONDI LADDU

Boondi laddu is a very popular variety of laddu loved by all, made by combining little balls of fried boondi with sugar syrup and garnished with diced nuts and aromatic spices that enhance the flavor of laddu.

The word Boondi comes from the Hindi word Boond which means droplet. So, boondi is made from droplets of gram flour batter which are fried in oil

It is made of similar ingredients as that of motichur laddu, but the difference between them is the size of the ball of besan. Boondi laddu has a bigger sized ball as compared with motichur laddu. Boondi laddu is made up of bigger size round shaped balls of gram flour, deep fried till crispy. Later mix with sugar syrup and shape into round balls.

TIRUPATI LADDU

Boondi laddu that are offered as Naivedhyam to lord Venkateswara at Trumala Venkateswara Temple in Tirupati , Andhra Pradesh, India known as Tirupati laddu or Srivari laddu .The laddu is given as prasadam to devotees after having the darshan in the temple.The laddu prasadam is prepared within the temple kitchen known as ‘Potu’. The boondi for thes laddu is fried in pure ghee not in oil which is the speciality of these tirupati laddu.

INGREDIENTS FOR BOONDI LADDU RECIPE

2 cup Besan flour/chickpea flour

Few drops of Food color, saffron

2 tablespoon ghee

Melon seeds

1/2 tsp Cardamom powder

Oil/ghee for frying

Pinch of baking soda

Nuts & Seeds

2 tbsp Cashew nuts diced

2 Pistachios diced

To make sugar syrup:

3/4 mug sugar

1/2 mug water

2 drops of rose essence

1/4 tablespoon of lemon juice

RECIPE OF BOONDI LADDU

MAKE BATTER

To make batter in a large bowl take 2 cup besan, add pinch of saffron food colour and little water.Whisk and mix well so that no lumps remain in the batter.

Further, add water slowly, and make smooth flowing consistency batter, also, add pinch or ¼ tsp baking soda and mix well.

Make batter consistency smooth flowing,if the batter is thin, watery, then the boondi will turn flat, and if it is too thick, then the boondi will be formed with a tail.

While you make batter, heat up the oil or ghee, if you used oil add 2 table spoon of ghee in it to enhance the flavor.

MAKING BOONDI

Check the oil/ghee it is hot enough not hot smoked. Firstly we check the batter consistency it is important to check, to make perfect boondi laddu.

Tap wired whisk into the hot oil to make some boondis, if it become flat, the batter is thin and soaked more oil so, add little bit of gram flour(besan),mix well and again check.

If the boondi will be formed with a tail, it means batter is thick add some water to it and check again. Boondis should have a round shape.

Boondi can be prepared using a flat round holes perforated spoon/ jhara (ladle), and place it above the hot oil, use a spoon to add batter on it and spread it once you spread all batter wipe or clean the jhara properly for next turn.

Fry the boondi until they are cooked golden. Once they almost crisp and the oil stops sizzling, remove the boondi.

This step is also important because if boondi becomes too crispy they won’t be able to absorb the sugar syrup.

Do not overcrowd the boondi as they stick to each other, stir gently. Fry boondi in small batches and keep them aside.

MAKING SUGAR SYRUP

Take 1 mug of sugar in a large thick-bottomed kadai or saucepan.

Add ½ mug of water to it and heat it to dissolve sugar.

Add a few drops of orange/saffron food color, stirring frequently.

Cook the sugar syrup or saccharine till you get thread-like thickness in it, and turn off the flame. Now add cardamom powder and rose essence to the syrup.

Eventually, add some drops of lemon juice to prevent sugar syrup from crystallizing.

CHECK SUGAR SYRUP CONSISTENCY

MAKING BOONDI LADDUS

In hot sugar syrup, transfer the prepared boondi, and add melon seeds (magaz) to it. Mix it well and make sure to coat all the boondi with sugar syrup.

Add 2 tbsp diced cashew and 2 tbsp of diced pistachios in it and mix well.

Cover it and keep away for 10 minutes, at least for all the syrup to be absorbed.

When you see, that all the sugar syrup has been absorbed, mix it well, apply some oil or ghee on your palms, and shape the laddu.

The mixture would be warm when preparing the laddu. On cooling they become firm.

Finally, Boondi laddu is ready to be served or refrigerated for 5-6 days.

STORAGE OF BOONDI LADDU

You can store laddu in air tight container and enjoy for up to 7 days when refrigerated.

You can order Boondi Laddu from our website shimlasweetshouse.co.in, and customize it according to your taste and needs, and enjoy high-quality delicious sweets from Shimla Sweets House.

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crystal-in-nagasaki · 4 months ago

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roll cake workshop

In April I had the opportunity to take part in a workshop making strawberry roll cakes at a popular local shop and farm called Chou Chou (pronounced shu-shu). This farm grows various fruits like strawberries, grapes, and pears where you can partake in fruit-picking during the on-season. They also have a small shop selling local fruits, vegetables, artisan goods, and crafts, as well as a very popular ice cream shop and bakery, which I visited after my hike in this post. In the bakery, you can participate in community workshops to make things like bread, pizza, cake, sausages, and yes of course, roll cake!

Since it was still strawberry season, we got to head to the greenhouse together to harvest a few strawberries for our roll cakes. We were instructed to pick five strawberries of a similar size and put them in a small cup to carry back to the kitchen. I grabbed some medium-sized, aesthetically pleasing strawberries, but realized my friends and everyone else were grabbing the biggest strawberries they could find, so mine were a bit small, haha.

After collecting our strawberries, we returned to the kitchen to watch a demonstration by the workshop teacher. She showed us how to cut the strawberries each for a particular purpose, how to spread the icing, and of course how to roll the cake. We were each provided with a pre-made sheet of cake and bowls of icing, so we got to work cutting up our strawberries and spreading icing on our cakes.

After icing what would be the inside of the cake and sprinkling pieces of strawberries in with the icing, it was time to roll the cake using the wax paper. It was difficult because if you put too much pressure, you could crack it, but I managed to do it passably.

After rolling the cake, we spread more icing on the outside and added more strawberries for decoration. The instructor showed us how to cut the strawberries into little hearts, which was cute.

My friend and I had some leftover icing and took turns trying to eat it when no one was looking. There were many kids at the workshop and we didn't want to set a bad example, but of course the icing was very tasty and we didn't want it to go to waste!

After we finished rolling and decorating the outside of our cakes, the instructor gave us each little boxes to put them in and an ice pack to keep them cold while we took them home.

Once everyone had finished and packed their cakes in a box, we all cleaned up the kitchen together, doing dishes and wiping down the tables. I think if this had been in America, it would have been normal to leave the mess for the workers to clean up after finishing, but I appreciate that Japanese people instill the value of tidying up after enjoying an experience. I'm not the most tidy person, so having small opportunities like this to value the space I'm in and clean up after myself teaches me a useful skill too.

The best part of making something special is sharing it with other people. So after the workshop I brought my cute little cake home to my partner and we enjoyed eating it together <3 As expected, it was very delicious!

I always enjoy finding opportunities participate in my community, even in the smallest of ways. This workshop was really cool and I got a fun experience and a tasty treat out of it! I look forward to finding more enjoyable experiences in my community.

Thanks for reading :)

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tesria · 1 year ago

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I also love doing this, and IKEA is the easiest flat pack furniture of a few different kinds I've done. Tips I find help with flat pack building: (this got longer than planned, sorry about that)

Before you start building, separate all the parts into piles. Only put pieces together if they're truly identical, sides of drawers for example might look the same but have holes drilled in different places. IKEA is better than other brands at not making things 99% identical and difficult to see the difference, but it can happen. Other brands can be worse for this.

Check each item against the instructions and count to be sure you have everything.

Next the screws and dowels etc. Definitely shut any pets or small kids out at this stage, where possible. If you have a tray, bowls, ramekins, or whatever, use them here. Empty all the little bags into separate piles.

Again count and check against the instructions. Counting and checking are vital steps, both so you're not frustratingly unable to continue when you've already halfway built a wardrobe because you're missing the screws for the door or one of the sides, and to familiarise yourself with everything to make it easy to find and grab. (IKEA in particular often gives 1 or 2 extra dowels or screws, this is fine, just as long as you have the minimum of each type! Don't panic about having a couple of extras!)

If you think you'll have trouble identifying either similar furniture pieces, or screws or whatever during the build, don't be afraid to get some scrap paper and label pieces or piles that look similar with their ID number/letter from the instructions before you start. This might seem like extra work, but if you know you get confused between sizes of screw when you're holding panels in place, two minutes prep now will save you 20 minutes of pulling apart and rebuilding later.

Look through the instructions before you start and try to see how it all goes together. You're not trying to learn how to do it blindfolded here, just get a feel for what you're about to do. Understanding helps confidence in my experience.

Make sure you have the tools you need, with IKEA they'll usually give you any hex keys you need, but you might need a screwdriver (or two, or interchangable heads) or a hammer.

When you start building, don't be afraid to take it slow, double check fixings are the right way around, and check each step as you finish it against the instructions and any in progress pictures or diagrams. Oh, and never try to make a piece fit that doesn't seem to work well without double and triple checking it's the right way around or that you didn't already use the piece you needed in the wrong place. It can happen to the best of us. If you're very sure it's just not well made (very unlikely with IKEA, but something from Wayfair might have this issue) do the best you can, ask for help from someone who might know, or if it's really bad don't be afraid to return it as a faulty item. (IKEA has a helpline you can call for advice too.)

None of this is secret skill or magic, but I suspect I find flat pack easy because the first few times I built stuff it was with other people who found it easy and saw how they did it and absorbed their relaxed confidence. When we try to learn entirely from scratch or from other people who find it hard, sometimes we're just not aware of something that seems obvious once we do know it. That's not our fault! Things are only obvious based on experience and understanding.

Also, things get a lot harder when we expect them to be hard and lack confidence, so this post is also permission to go at your own pace, to check your work, and let yourself get more comfortable with it.

Lastly, even when you're good at it, building with someone else requires a lot of patience and good communication. If you build with someone else and find it a stressful nightmare, it might be that your frustrations and anxiety are creating a feedback loop. Sometimes you need a second person, but in my experience most things can be done with one. I did need a second pair of hands to help hold things in place with a large wardrobe, but I've made big sets of drawers and sideboards by myself with no issue. Two people can make it faster, but only if you're not arguing constantly. Having one person directing and one following can help, or working on different parts (eg one making drawers, one building the frame), but again, both people need patience and good communication.

Seeing people say it's easy when you don't think it is can be a reassurance to try again, or sometimes be more off-putting because you have no idea how it's so easy for them and you feel worse. I hope this helps some of the people who see an IKEA box and get a sense of panic or dread, because it doesn't have to be terrible! It can even be relaxing, I promise, just don't pressure yourself and give yourself at least as much time to do it as the instructions suggest (many have a time estimate!).

rip to you guys but i love assembling ikea furniture its so fun its like legos

#flat pack is like lego for adults for your home #but not everything is easy for everyone

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trash-monkey · 7 months ago

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Sunkissed Days

Chapter 8

I study the Cats hunters as we rode through the forest at the edge of the border and noticed their clothes are similar to our own but the cloth hanging from their loincloth are longer while they also have thin but tight cloth around both arms starting at their wrist before stopping at their bicep and like us they to wear their tribes colors, red and white. Suddenly we pass through the tree line and into open space.

"This is just a small part of the Matasile plains that runs into the Cats land while the rest runs into The Hunters territory." Takeda whispers to me as we pass through the plains while the Head Hunter of the Cats tribe lead us onto a path through another forest on the other side of the plains, after a few minutes of traveling down the path we finally see the large Ichtys River Takeda talked about with different sizes of huts sitting on the left side of rivers bank while the Chiefs hut sit on the right side by itself with a wooden bridge connecting both side together. I straightened my back while holding my head high when people notices us arrive and started to gather to get a look at us, Kuroo hops off his horse once he got us over the bridge to the Chiefs hut and the rest of us did the same. We all move into the front room of the hut to see an old man with a large bone necklace sitting in front of a fire that sits in the middle of the room, he gesture for us to take a seat which we did and we're handed bowls of water before he started speaking.

"Welcome to my tribe, I'm Chief Nekomata." He smiles and we all say our thanks for having us as we continue to drink from our bowls.

"So who did Ukai pick?" He asked after a few seconds of silence, Takeda gestures to me.

"This is (Y/N)." I smiled at the old Chief before slightly bowing to him from my seat before the two started talking about business while I carefully listen, the rest of today I'll get settled into my hut I'll be sharing with the rest and I'll be introduced at tonight's fest before Chief Nekomata shows me the ones that are ready to marry in the morning. Then I'll choose someone to show me around the tribe while I spend the next two weeks to get to know everyone once the two weeks are up I'll do the Cats ceremony and once I pick someone we'll have the wedding ceremony before sharing a hut together until we leave for the Hunters tribe to find my next husband. Once the discussion is over for the time being Kuroo leads us back over the bridge and to a large hut on the outer edge of the tribe, Kuroo takes his leave while we using the rest of the daylight to settle in and started talking.

"Hello?" Half an hour after sunset a voice called out but we saw the light of a torch first.

"Yes?" Suga pull the flap open to see two dudes waiting.

"My name is Kenma, Kuroo's husband. We're here to show you to dinner." The shorter duo colored one speaks while gesturing us to follow which Daichi and Tuskishima quickly lite the spare torches in our hut to light our way a little more, once at the bonfire I quickly smelled the cooked food before Takeda takes me over to Chief Nekomata which he stand from his seat and hold both arms out causing everyone to quit.

"My people! You maybe wondering of the purpose of the Crows tribe people visiting and I will tell you why now! We, all Chiefs at the meeting, have agreed upon an action to keep the peace between us for many generations to come! That this young man here shall take a husband from each tribe to signify the peace between us! Now let us celebrate for peace!" Immediately everyone started howling, dancing, and singing in happiness while feasting, quickly I return to my people's side.

"Here" I thanks Suga after he hands me a food and water bowl once he returns to my side again with his own.

"Eat, I can see someone wishing to dance with you." I said with a smile as I leaned closer to Suga after glance around the bonfire only to see Daichi staring at Suga from where the food and water is being handed out.

"Stop it" He joked with a small laugh and a blush after also glancing around himself to also see Daichi glancing at him.

"Go after him, he's to shy to run after you." I said to Suga when noticing he's to busy thinking then eating.

"What?" He questions after looking up from his bowel.

"Although I don't know Daichi well but I can tell he's too insecure to go after you, he gives you loving eyes when you don't look or notice." Suga blushes at my word as I take his bowels.

"Go after him before it's to late and you'll regret it for the rest your life." He sighs as he gives in and gives a small nod with a smile before standing up and walking over to where Daichi is sitting, I pull my eyes from them as Takeda comes to my side from talking to Chief Nekomata and his advisors.

"You should have fun too, (Y/N)." He urges me to go dance before the bonfire like many others are.

"Show them why we picked you." I rolled my eyes with a smile and stand from my seat on the log as music of drums and stringed instruments continues to fill the air with rhythms and vibrations that gets people moving with it, with a deep breath I close my eyes and let the music guide how my body should move. My feet glide over the soft dirt around the bonfire as I twirl causing my skirt fan out and I can feel eyes watching which slides over my skin but unknown to me they belong to guys I will be seeing tomorrow morning, hoping I'll pick them by the end of the week and be their wife. My hips shake to the drums as they get faster and although I don't know who's watching but one of them feels so right, I try to glance around to see who it is but there's too many people for me to see.

The night continues on until the bonfire is only just embers and by that time my small group has already returned to our temporary hut, I changed out of my outfit which I sit aside to wear again tomorrow and into my usual loincloth.

"Out, everyone out now!" The next morning Suga awakes everyone up to make them get dressed in a hurry before urging them out of the hut except for Takeda as he got a hot bath ready for me and Suga pulls me from my bed roll, I gasped in shock when Suga basically throws half asleep me into the portable tub of hot water and without waiting for the shock to fade from me Suga start washing me.

"You nervous?" Suga asked as he washes my long hair after undoing my braids while also removing all the the feathers and beads I have in it, after giving me the rude awaking.

"Truly, yes and how did it went with Daichi last night?" I teased as I turn my head to him with a mischief glint in my eyes as I changed the subject to last night and causing him to blush bright red in the face, I playfully wiggle my eyebrows at him.

"(Y/N)!!" He scolded me while playfully hitting me in the head with some hot water and begin to roughly wash me down, I give a laugh.

"We talked and nothing more, you hear?" Suga narrowed his eyes at me after giving a sigh and finally tell me about his night.

"I hear, what you two talked about?" I asked curiously as I step out of the fast cooling water and begin to dry myself off with a fur towel.

"Just the usual small talk, (Y/N)."

"Oh, too awkward to about about anything else." I teased again only to get my clothes thrown into my face by Suga.

"(Y/N), leave the poor man alone! He wouldn't do that if it is you!" Takeda scolded me as he guides me to seat down on a stool so he can brush and fix my hair like I usually have it.

"Sorry Suga..." I apologize to him for my behavior.

"Don't worry about it as I know you was just playing around." Suga quickly reassured me that I don't have to actually apologize for it.

"I know but......."

"No buts and you were just curious, that's all! Yes, at first it was awkward between me and Daichi but we got over it after some time." Suga specks as he looks over my clothes to make sure their clean as Takeda put the finishing touches on my hair.

_______________________________________________

#fanfic #male y/n #male reader #anime #anime au #au #haikyū!!#haikyuu!!#male reader x male character

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raspberryconverse · 1 year ago

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In the doghouse (technically craft room) once again.

So the Container Store is having a big Black Friday sale and I ordered some things. Mostly for my stuff, but a few for other things we discussed getting.

My spouse has a set of drawers similar to this

only they're blue with some red and the handles are yellow. Basically, they're for a child. They bought it for $2.99 at Goodwill.

I bought some clear drawers to replace them and they lost their shit about it. I also bought a storage bin that they specifically said they were looking for ("the same size as this wire basket you have under the sink, but with taller sides"), a little drawer organizer bin for these bowl covers I recently purchased because they're getting all over the kitchen drawer, another jewelry thing for organizing my jewelry, one other storage bin for hot chocolate packets (whenever Amazon finally ships the ones I bought) and 3 bins that fit perfectly in the dresser drawer that has been sitting empty because they said that the reason they haven't put their socks and underwear in there is because they wanted to be able to separate things and they wanted bins instead of drawer dividers because "the inside of those drawers are gross."

They've been using another set of similar drawers (these are black and for some reason have what looks like Christmas wrapping paper on the sides) since before we met (6 years ago). I asked them last weekend what it would take to get them to put the items in that drawer somewhere else and they said the bins. So I got the bins. There are literally no other ones that will fit in the drawers without wasting space, so there's no reason to complain about those.

On Wednesday we went on a date to the Adler Planetarium and while we were waiting for the El, they told me that if we get divorced, they're keeping the house. I can't help but take that now as a definite possibility. We are looking to start couples therapy (because apparently 2 therapists and a psychiatrist aren't enough for all my problems) but I know I'm the one who has to make all the changes because they're autistic. And I don't think that's fair. I know it's how things are going to have to be, but I still don't think it's fair that I have to make all the changes.

#is this what marriage is?#i'm gonna fuck it all up #i just know it #because I don't deserve this #i don't deserve to be happy #nobody should be willing to put up with me #autism problems #autistic spouse #neurodivergent struggles #neurodivergent problems

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masschase · 1 year ago

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20 and 22 for asks 🐈

This was going to get done tomorrow but I can't sleep.

I've checked with the asker and these are for Matt.

Character ask meme.

20. What-ifs/Alternate Timelines

I feel like the possibilities are limitless to be honest. I've only explored a handful with my writing and those ones are only really if he ends up in 'my' hc universe in the first place so let's stick with *some* of those.

Spoiler warning for this pic:

The whole Matt taking over the Syndicate AU is more complicated than I had to write it but is basically: A world where Casey and Pierce actually listen to Kinzie and don't steal the tank. The Deckers keep the learning computer. One-upping the Saints goes straight to Matt's ego (which we already know is overinflated) and he uses the sheer amount of Deckers at his disposal to capture Killbane and put him in the simulation. With Killbane's brain fried (and possibly subsequently being beat to death with a keyboard by an angry teenager) Matt is pretty much the only one left to take over the Syndicate, so they begrudgingly accept his leadership.

He then pulls a similar trick on Casey, managing to kidnap her and force her into the simulation without Kinzie's help. He was still essentially feeling threatened by the Saints though so he still made a deal with her, but he had much greater leverage as the one in control of the situation. They each agreed to take half of Steelport.

She still becomes President but they remain fierce rivals. But when he's a little older and learned a few things about her he finds his ways of attracting her attention.

“Oh please, messing with Stilwater? I might as well shine a giant fleur-de-lis into the sky.”

They meet in private on multiple occasions. He insists she get rid of her backup. She insists he cuts his surveillance. I can't be held responsible for what happens after that. Because while I technically wrote this AU... I also wrote that they wrote this AU.

22. People who’ve influenced them greatly

Everyone involved in the making of Tron: Legacy, all the members of Simple Plan (O maintain everyone has a gateway pop punk band, mine was Bowling For Soup btw) everyone involved in the making of Nyte Blayde. 🤣

For real people though, it would be: His mum. Seems a given but like... the whole fact he grows up to be sweet and sensitive underneath it all comes from her, the fact that he can cook and clean and all that shit comes from her. Equally she spoiled him more than his dad did. I feel like he has this huge but ultimately very fragile ego because his parents were so overly supportive, whereas his secretly very insecure side comes more from his reactions from his peers.

Speaking of which, he was incredibly unpopular throughout primary and secondary school but the first time he really found friends was when he hit sixth form college (usually started at 16 but he was 14 having skipped two years). There was this area of college where all the alt people hang out and he just sort of wandered in there one day and all these 16/17/18 year old goths thought he was kind of adorable especially since he was probably already wearing a Nyte Blayde t-shirt by then so they became his friends. They took him to Camden and when he saw the neon lights of Cyber Dog (bearing in mind he had already been through his Tron obsession and spent his preteens in Trocadero) his whole cyber goth aesthetic was basically formed. This probably branched him out into using the internet more and learning leet speak and stuff which I always maintain he's a little young for, as well as being able to gain followers to build the Deckers a year later.

All the other Syndicate leaders heavily influenced him too as he was so young when he came across them. Philipe recruited him and brought him to the US in the first place, Viola and Kiki were the first people who took that older sibling role for him, and Killbane basically terrified him but in a way that really brought him down to size and reminded him he was essentially just a child.

Out of the Saints the two that most influenced him are Casey and Johnny. The bond between Johnny and Matt is everything to me. I mean I've written about it before but the essence is that Johnny is a pretty good big brother figure for Matt but honestly he's practically old enough to be Matt's dad so there are shades of that as well. Matt's own dad was a lot older than him so Johnny fills some of those gaps, is too confident in his masculinity and his own un-nerdiness to really make fun of Matt, and perhaps influences him to be a little braver and a little more sociable. Trains him at the gym, with a gun, with that sword Matt didn't *really* know how to use despite his whole gang having them. And the fact that when Matt gets his fleur-de-lis tattoo Johnny's the one who's with him, holding his hand when he cries is the perfect symbolism for how Johnny helps shape him into a true Saint.

Leaving aside the romantic aspects of his and Casey's relationship here, just as a leader and a friend she's influenced him heavily. The way she let him walk away with his life in exchange for keeping his promise was his drip feed into becoming incredibly loyal to her, and indeed, observing the way she rules with loyalty and friendship rather than fear like Killbane is what allows him to become a viable lieutenant. After she first calls him Matty he admits no-one's called him that since Killbane. She says she won't use it again but he says he likes it. "It’s... kind of curative. You’re like the anti-Killbane.”.

In terms of their friendship, having someone to enjoy what he's passionate about with is a major thing that he's not really had in years. She's a very mirror-type person too. When he snaps at her (in the early weeks on the ship) she snaps back. When he teases her, she teases back, much like more or less all of the Saints with each other. But he's the only one who quickly picks up that if he's sweet to her, she can be sweet back.

That unlocks a side of her I doubt even she knew she had, but with how sincere it makes her with him, it stops him being scared and weak and useless anymore. Because she's scared and weak and useless when it comes to tech and cooking and being affectionate.

Matt's good at those things. It makes him realise that maybe, in a way... he's strong too.

#sorry if these make no sense but they are 2am ramblings #and with that... goodnight i hope #matt miller #saints row headcanon #ask meme #everyone else who rbed this i will try to send you questions tomorrow when my brain can process that.

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