#yes I did taste play doh as a kid just like everyone

[r-aindr0p]

We must know, what does the stinky bell man smell like?

There's very probably twst characters that stink, even so I don't think Rollo is part of them (even if it were the case I'm delusional enough to deny it)

But we will bash the mini ones, it's allowed

[agerestorybits]

Kids say the darnest things.

Remus regressed to about five alot. A loooooot. It had his favorite pastime. One the others liked him better regressed in his shape shifted down form. And two, it was just plain fun seeing what he could get away with. Kids are little chaos maker after all.

Remus woke up small. His room shifting to reflect the mental change. Every so often the animal theme of decor that covered his walls would change to the animal trait of whoever he wanted most. Today it was frogs. Cartoon frogs, graphically real frogs, dead frogs, cut open frogs, tadpoles. His bedsheets were covered in lilypad print. It was clear that Patton was going to have a bundle of crazy to look after today, not that he ever minded.

Remus got dressed in a green jumper and blue shorts. He grabbed his stuffed badger named Ricky and rushed from his room. He ran down the stairs to where everyone was already having breakfast.

"Hi!" He yelled at the top of his lungs.

Instead of being yelled at, there were amused looks and laughter at his antics. "Greetings. What adventures did you have planned today?" Roman asked as Remus climbed into his seat.

"I wanna hang out with Poppa." Remus said pointing to Patton. Patton beamed at that.

"That sounds fantastic Kiddo. You want some breakfast?" Patton asked.

Remus nodded, he was always hungry when he was little. He even settled for eating real foods because of that. He preferred them in little space, but her wasn't going to let the others know that. He got a plate of eggs with toast and jam and wolfed it down quickly.

"Don't choke." Logan warned as Remus shoved more food in before he finished his last bite.

"Like he'll listen." Virgil said drily, amused.

Janus rolled his eyes. Remus never choked. He could eat anything and be fine. He wasn't worried.

"Done!" Remus yelled pulling the plate away and grabbing Ricky who was in all honesty looking a bit beat up.

"Ricky's looking a little rough there." Roman commented.

"Would you like me to patch him up for you?" Janus offered. Remus hesitated. On the one hand he would like Ricky to be fixed up but... Then he would miss him while he was gone.

"Ok....but hurry?" Remus asked handing the toy over.

"Of course. I'll take good care of him." Janus promised before walking off with the toy.

Remus kicked his feet as he waited for everyone to get done eating... Well Patton to get done eating so they could play.

"What do you think eyeballs taste like?" He blurted out.

There were a couple winces but no one yelled. "I... Don't know." Patton said forcing a smile.

"Mmm. I bet it's gross." Remus said happily.

"It does sound gross." Virgil commented.

"Well I'm off." Roman said standing.

"I should get to work as well." Logan said standing and following Roman from the room.

Virgil gave a nod and a two fingered salute before he left as well. Patton cleaned up the dishes while Remus waited.

And waited

An waited.

"Poppa I'm bored!" He said slumping down in his chair.

"I'm almost done. Do you want to go pick out a board game for us to play?" Patton asked.

"No. I play with play-doh." Remus said.

"Do you know where it is?" Patton asked.

"Yes."

"Ok. Go get it out! I'll be there soon." Patton said.

----

Remus made play-doh dicks in rainbow colors. Patton laughed about it silently. He really shouldn't encourage this but..

"Dicks dicks dicks...." Remus sang while he made one.

Patton burst out laughing. "N-n-nooooo. Don-don't sing."

"Awww. But I wanna." Remus pouted.

"How about we play something else?" Patton asked.

"Ugh. Fiiiiine." Remus said smashing the play-doh back into the containers.

The clean up was easy, the picking out what to do next was not. "Knife juggling!"

"No."

"Pleease."

"No Remus."

Remus crossed his arms and huffed. "Didn't even need to use real knives."

Patton hadn't thought of that. Plastic or foam knives would have been perfectly safe... But he didn't want Remus to get in the habit of throwing things.

"How about we go to the park?" Patton asked.

"Can we get Ro to go too?" Remus asked excited.

"Roman's gotta work today Kiddo." Patton said.

Remus' face fell. Patton caved. "But maybe he can take a break for awhile."

Remus was ecstatic. Bouncing along behind Patton on the way to get his brother. Roman agreed easily, and Logan even decided to come along.

Logan sat with Patton on a bench and watched Roman push Remus on the swings. Then chasing him around in a game of tag. Then they played in the sandbox. Two hours later they had built a tiny sand city and Remus was leaning against Roman's side yawning.

"Naptime?" Roman asked picking Remus up.

"Mmm." Remus agreed too tired to keep his eyes open.

Roman handed Remus off to Patton so that he could get back to work. Patton managed to keep Remus awake long enough to get into clean clothing before tucking him in for his nap.

"Sleep well." Patton said giving Remus a kiss on the forehead.

Remus smiled as he dozed off. He hoped he would still be regressed when he woke up. He wanted to stay regressed forever.

----

Remus woke from his nap bigger and disappointed. There went his afternoon. He sighed heavily and resigned himself to a lonely afternoon.

Unless.

Well no one knew that he wasn't regressed anymore he just....shape shift down to a kid again. No one would be any the wiser... Except Janus of course... But he could just stay away from him.

He ran out of his room to find Patton. "Hi kiddo. Sleep well?"

"Yeah!" Remus said before climbing into Patton's lap and cuddling up against his chest.

"Is someone in a cuddle mood?" Patton asked hugging him.

"Mmm!" Remus said tucking his face against Patton's shoulder.

It would be so easy to bite him. Remus pushed the thought away. This is why no one like not regressed him he reminded himself.

He had to behave.

"You want to watch t.v?" Patton asked.

Remus barely managed to hold back from shouting out the name of a porno... Fuck... What the heck did he watch when he was little??

"Yeah!" Remus said forcing some pep in his tone.

"What do you want to watch?" Patton asked.

Shit shit shit! What does he watch?!?

"Remus?" Patton's voice was concerned.

Remus sniffed. When had he started crying? He couldn't do it! He couldn't keep this up.

He hopped off Patton's lap and ran off. "Wha- Remus!"

He got to his room and slammed the door shut before shifting back to normal.

Stupid. He shouldn't be crying over this. There was a knock at the door.

"Remus what's wrong?" Patton asked.

Remus opened the door and Patton's expression shifted from worry to confusion. "Remus you're..."

"I'm bigger so you don't have to bother with me anymore." Remus said before trying to shut the door. He did not expect Patton to push the door open and hug him.

"Oh kiddo." Patton said.

Remus cried harder. "No... You're not suppose to care!"

"Of course I care. Little or big. Did you think we didn't care about bigger you?"

Remus sobbed and nodded. Patton hugged him. "I'm sorry we made you feel like that. We should have been more clear."

Remus pulled away so he could look at Patton. "Can...can we still cuddle and watch t.v?"

Patton smiled at him. "Of course. I would love to."

[avengerscompound]

Bringing Home Kobik - 4

Bringing Home Kobik: A Winterhawk Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton

Word Count:  1827

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Smut on the series (M|M, oral, anal), the aftermath of torture, PTSD, mentions of child abuse

Synopsis:   When Bucky decides to try to get legal custody of Kobik he meets resistance due to him being a single man. Clint steps up as a co-parent to help with the process.

Art by @bexlie-draws

Chapter 4

Moving into the new apartment went about as well as to be expected.  Bucky and Clint’s tastes weren’t too drastically different. Bucky had more personal stuff considering he’d collected it over a smaller amount of time.  Clint had less new things. It was like Bucky had rebuilt his life recently and was trying to surround himself with things that reminded him how far he’d come, whereas Clint had a few personal items he had refused to let go off and had gotten nothing else since.

There had been arguments about which couch got kept.  Clint was adamant they keep his ugly flea bitten brown one.  Bucky had a much nicer, black leather three seater with matching recliners.  The argument that had ensued had attracted the attention of a couple of random agents as they walked past.  They’d ended up going to get Steve because they were worried about Bucky and Clint killing each other. In the end, the ugly brown couch was framed by two newer black recliners and Bucky’s couch ended up in his room.

Bucky and Clint’s wall decorations all blended pretty seamlessly.  Bucky liked Clint’s tendency to decorate with photos of the people he loved, so he’d just gone and reframed the photos and added some of his own.  They’d ended up with a wall with pictures all covering it and some random spaces for photos of Kobik when she arrived and started settling in.

Clint’s bow hung on the wall by the door.  There were bookshelves with a mixture of their books and knick-knacks though neither of them particularly owned that many of the latter.  Bucky’s X-Box sat on top of Clint’s PlayStation. They had both thought they should just round out the consoles and gone and bought a Nintendo Switch.  Their rooms were just how they wanted them. Bucky’s in dark colors and neat while Clint’s had somehow gotten that ‘lived in’ feel within a day of moving in.

There was a lot of talk about what should happen with Kobik’s room.  Should they wait until she got here? Should they have it ready so she had somewhere nice right away?  In the end, they’d settled on halfway between the two. Bucky knew her best so he had the room painted in a pale blue and bought wall stickers ranging from woodland creatures to space.  He put them aside for Kobik to put up how she wanted. He bought a lot of books. Kobik loved to be read to and he loved reading to her. He filled a bookshelf with kids books he’d bought at a second-hand bookstore.  He bought a quilt and sheet set in a similar pale blue as the walls but decorated in clouds and a white princess bed. He also bought toys. Not many. Just enough so she had things to do. A small table with art supplies like paper, crayons, paints, and Play-Doh.  A few plush toys. A box of Lego. He wanted to take her shopping again when she settled in, even though he knew she could just create the things she wanted. He was determined she knew she could rely on other people too.

Once everything was ready and they were settled into a slightly uneasy routine a social worker organized to come by and evaluate them.  She arrived at three in the afternoon with a briefcase and a clipboard wearing a sharply cut skirt suit and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun.

“Ms. Anders,”  Bucky said offering her his hand when he opened the door.  “I’m James Barnes and this is my… uh… partner… Clint Barton.”

“Partner?  You’re not married?”  Anders asked.

Bucky froze blinking.  He was sure they had known the exact situation this was and being faced with the fact that they thought he and Clint were an actual couple he didn’t know what to do.

Clint sidled up beside him and offered Anders his hand.  “Well, you know. We thought about it, but we aren’t really great at doing the whole ‘everyone staring at us’ thing.”

“Really?  But you’re Avengers”  Anders asked shaking his hand.

When she released his hand Clint moved his palm against Bucky’s and linked their fingers.  Bucky looked down at their hands and back up to Clint’s face still in a blank state of shock.  Clint nodded at him and Bucky closed his hand around Clint’s.

“Yeah, but Stark and Cap do all the talking.  We’re just background.” Clint added. “Isn’t that right, honey?”

Bucky blinked at him.  “Yeah. Uh - Right. I don’t love the limelight.”

“Come in,”  Clint said indicating into the apartment.  “Can I get you a drink? Coffee. Soda? We might have tea.”

“I’m fine, thank you,”  Anders replied coming into the apartment and looking around.  “I must say the whole raising a child at the Avengers compound is throwing me.”

“Well, I guess it’s like being raised on a military base, right?  Lots of kids do that.” Clint countered. “Only this is a little more stable because we don’t have to move every couple of years.”

Anders walked around the apartment ticking things off.  She paused at the wall of photos and looked them over. “You are confident this is a safe environment for such a small child?  The Avengers Tower seemed to attract danger.”

Bucky’s fingers tightened in Clint’s hand and Clint tapped out a random pattern on the back of his hand.  “Let me be honest with you,” Bucky said. “This world we live in, it’s a mess. But she’s also not a normal little girl.  She’s the most powerful being in the universe and she could rewrite the world to fit her exact desires. She needs to have as normal an upbringing as possible.  She needs to be a kid. To be able to learn and play and just be. But she also needs to be somewhere where people are best equipped to deal with her on the days that aren’t good.  And that’s here. With us. I love that little girl like she’s my own. I want to adopt her and give her a normal life. I’m also not deluded about what’s at stake here.”

Anders gave a small nod and scribbled something else on her clipboard.  “Do you have a room set up for her?”

“Yeah, right through here,”  Clint said, heading toward her bedroom.  Bucky and Clint showed her around the rest of the apartment.  Bucky’s room was explained away as a spare room. They showed her the yard they’d set up with a jungle gym and sandpit.  They walked her out to the edge of the forest with Lucky on their heels to see how much space she had to explore. They took her for a brief tour of the facility so she could see what happened there.  They talked about schools and parenting strategies. Moral philosophies and cooking. When they made their way back to their apartment Bucky was holding Clint’s hand so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

Anders sat at the kitchen table flicking through her notes as Clint stroked the back of Bucky’s hand in soothing circles.  “I’m going, to be honest with you Sergeant Barnes, Mister Barton…”

“Agent.”  Clint corrected her.

“Sorry what?”  Anders asked.

“Agent Barton.  I have a title too.”  Clint said.

She shook her head and tapped her pen on the clipboard while Bucky glared daggers at Clint.  “Right, sorry. Agent Barton.” She said. “I can see you care for each other and you do want what is best for Kobik,”

Bucky stopped breathing and the sound of his pulse in his ears seemed to drown everything else out.  His fingers tightened so hard on Clint’s fingers the archer made an involuntary whimpering sound.

“If it was any other child I’d be extremely hesitant about green-lighting this adoption.  You aren’t married. You both have dangerous careers. You are both ex-criminals.”

Bucky let go of Clint’s hand for the first time since he’d taken it and jumped to his feet and started pacing.  “Hey now, we… we’ve made right for that.” Clint protested.

“You are both ex-criminals.”  She repeated. “You live in a compound that attracts attack.  I would either reject it outright or at least visit several more times to makes sure you were taking the safety concerns seriously.”

Bucky turned to face the wall trying to keep himself together.  All he was hearing right now was it wasn’t happening. All the work they’d put in and that little girl was going to be for nothing.  Kobik was going to be raised in a government facility until they successfully reprogrammed her into the weapon they want her to be, they’d turned her back into the cubes or she’d torn the world apart to stop it from hurting her.

Clint reached up and took Bucky’s hand again.  He tapped his fingers on the back of Bucky’s hand and Bucky turned and looked down at him.  Their blue eyes met and Clint gave him a small smile and nodded in the direction of Anders.

Anders cleared her throat.  “But you’re right, Sergeant Barnes.  She’s not a normal little girl. Her physical safety isn’t the issue.  It’s her emotional one. She is most likely better off here with the two of you loving and guiding her given your pasts, than anyone else.  I am going to approve this.”

“Oh, thank god!”  Bucky sighed. Clint got to his feet and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s shoulders as the much larger man melted into him.  “She’s coming home.” He whispered.

Clint smiled leaning his cheek against Bucky’s head.  “Yeah, she is.”

Anders packed her papers into her briefcase and stood.  “We will check in regularly, particularly to begin with.  You understand that?”

“Yes, of course,”  Bucky said, letting Clint go and shaking Anders’ hand vigorously.  “We won’t let you down.”

“It’s not us you should be worried about.  It’s her.” She said.

“Right, yes,”  Bucky said, nodding and following her out to her car.

“I’ll send the paperwork through.  She should be here within the next couple of weeks.”  Anders said and got into her car.

When the woman pulled away Bucky turned to Clint grinning.  “We did it!” He said hugging the man again.

“We sure did, buddy,”  Clint said squeezing Bucky tightly.  “Think you might have broken my hand though.  And I use that. A lot.”

“Sorry,”  Bucky said quietly.  “I just -” He pulled back and looked down at Clint.

Clint shook his head smiling.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks, Clint.  You don’t know how much this means to me.”  Bucky said. The urge to kiss him had taken hold and he smothered it down.  “I - I think I might go work out.”

“Sure.  Maybe we can have a celebration later?  I’ll call Tony.” Clint offered.

Bucky nodded.  “Sounds good. I’ll see you there.”  He said striding away. Clint was definitely a problem.  Now he just needed to figure out how he was going to address it.

// NEXT

[zeno-obsessed]

Golden Children

The next part in Geun-tae and Yunho’s children. Enjoy!

Zeno was wandering around looking for berries that was not poisonous for the others to eat. Having to actually watched what he picked was a little hard but he could taste poison and it was just a process of elimination.

Then he heard a scream in the forest. The lad won’t like him getting his clothes ripped. Again. But he also could not stand by.

He ran and found a couple of soldiers with a small child who was putting up one heck of a fight. She looked to be about five and had dark skin golden hair and eyes. She was screaming and kicking them.

Zeno stepped into view and the men turned their eyes to him. He spotted swords at their hips, he concluded there must be a reason to want the girl alive.

“Do you know these men,” Zeno asked the little girl.

She looked up at him with tears running down her face, “No! They... they took me from my mommy!”

“Well that sums that up, please let go of the girl. Zeno doesn’t want to hurt anyone,” Zeno inched towards them slowly.

The men laughed, “You’re unarmed stupid boy.”

Then they went ridged and started screaming.

“A- a monster,” one of them screamed.

The little girl broke free and ran to Zeno. He turned to see shinha staring them down. Kija stood next to him, ready to catch shinha when he fell.

The men passed out and shinha slumped over.

Zeno sighed, “Why didn’t you let Hakuryuu fight them.”

Shinha shook his head, “Didn’t want them to hurt the girl.”

Zeno nodded. If I fight had broken out this girl would have been hurt. Zeno kneeled down and gave a sunny smile, “You’re safe now, missy, what’s your name,” Zeno asked.

She backed away, eyeing Kija’s hand. She was shaking and looked like she was about to cry. Kija looked discouraged and backed away with Shinha,”I’m headed back to camp.” 

The little girl kept backing up, “Where am I? Where’s my daddy? If-If you hurt me he’ll beat you up!” 

Zeno observed her, she was very dirty her blonde hair was caked in mud and what looked like a very expensive dress was torn and tattered from her fight with the men. 

The tension was broken when a angry growl came from her stomach. Zeno knew that sound anywhere, he had been subjected to it plenty of times. 

“Zeno will make you a deal, He’ll have someone make you something to eat if you tell Zeno your name,” of course Zeno would give her food regardless but he wanted her to trust him. 

“Hikari,” she relented. 

Zeno held out his hand, “Come on I’m sure the lad has started lunch by now.” 

Hikari took his hand as this strange man led him into the unknown. He didn’t feel like the other men who had grabbed her. All she wanted was some sweets for Jin-ho she had to go back to the doctor soon. She wasn’t supposed to eat many but daddy said some here and there wouldn’t hurt her. 

She reached a clearing with more bizarre people. A woman was there with bright red hair. She remembered her Daddy telling her stories of a red haired princess and her invincible warriors. Hikari smelled whatever the guy was cooking in the middle, and her stomach responded with another growl. 

The girl stood up, “Zeno, who is this?”

The white haired man from earlier perked up, “This is the child I was telling you about princess. The one that Zeno found in the woods with the a couple of suspicious looking men.” 

The blue haired man was laying down on a blanket. 

The princess had a look of worry on her face, the same face her momma makes when Jin-ho gets worse, “Zeno you didn’t get hurt did you?” 

Zeno shook his head, “I didn’t want to scare the missy.” 

Hikari yanked her hand away and stomped her foot, “I don’t get scared! I’m going to be the next general!” 

The princess and Zeno looked at her in surprise. The princess smiled, “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Kija told me you looked... startled when they saw you. What’s your name?”

“Hikari,” She said with her chest puffed out. 

A new voice chimed in, “Well, Hikari your stomach is growling louder than Zeno’s so I assume you’re hungry.” 

The man that had been hunched over the big pot handed her a bowl of something that smelled wonderful. She bowed and thanked him. Sitting next to the princess, she started to eat. Hikari did not remember how long she had been with those bad men but she knew they hadn’t fed her. 

The princess smiled, “I’m Yona. This is Yun, our wonderful chef. That’s Hak, Jeaha, Kija, Shinha, he’s a little tired, and Zeno.” 

A small squirrel jumped up and offered her an acorn. 

“Oh! And that’s Ao,” Yona giggled. 

Hikari took the acorn from Ao and smiled. She reached out to pet the squirrel and she rubbed her head against her finger. Hikari laughed, these people were nice. 

“So kid, where are you from,” Hak asked. 

Hikari tried to remember, “The earth tribe. The map I’m learning from is really big though.” 

Hak sighed, “Well we are headed to see Mundok maybe he’ll know something princess.” 

Hikari shot up, “You know Uncle Dok!” 

A smile crept up on Yona’s face, “Yes! He’s like a grandfather to us! You know him?” 

Hikari nodded, “Uncle Dok always gives me and my brother and sister treats and Tae-woo gives us piggyback rides and Joo-doh is secretly teaching me how to use swords, but it's not real swords it's just two sticks. Daddy said it’s not okay to beat up the other kids using Joo-doh’s super cool sword moves but they had it coming they made fun of Kuzon!” 

Hak smirked, “She must be Geun-tae’s oldest. Remember, we over heard the soldiers complaining about how Geun-tae isn’t fighting as much because he and Yunho had a couple of kids.” 

Yona nodded, “I see it! She even looks like Geun-tae! She has his eyes and his face.” 

“His cocky attitude,” Hak complained. 

Yona hit Hak on the head, “Be nice!” 

Kija smiled, “We can drop Hikari off at Elder Mundok’s and he can deliver her safely to her father.” 

Jeaha nodded, “As soon as Shinha’s able to move again. We’ll get started, Hak how long until we reach the wind tribe?”

Hak sighed, “A couple of hours.” 

Yona nodded. Walking over and crouching down next to Shinha she played with his hair. Hikari watched Yona carefully. 

She turned to Zeno, “My daddy told me stories of a red haired princess and her invincible warriors. He said they always helped out on the battlefield.” 

Zeno smiled and glanced at Yona, who was blushing. Kija laughed, “I wouldn’t say we are invincible but it does sound like us.” 

Hikari squealed, “You’re my hero! Did you really infiltrate an enemy fort to help Aunt Lili? Daddy says  you fought the entire country of Xing by yourself!” 

Everyone started to laugh as Yona got very flustered. They started packing up and Shinha leaned on Kija as they walked. Hikari ran from each person asking them all kinds of questions. Zeno scooped Hikari up and put her on his shoulders. 

They got to the cliffs and Hikari hid her face in his massive mane of hair. She hated heights. She felt something cool hit one of her hands and the most beautiful medallion was in front of her. 

“It makes Zeno happy when he’s sad, the missy seemed distressed,” Zeno explained. 

She reached out and grabbed it. Turning it over and over there was so much to look at, soon they reached the familiar gate of the wind tribe. Tae-woo and Mundok stood at the entrance. The elder’s eyes grew wide and a single tear came out his right eye, “Hikari! Everyone has been worried about you!” 

Zeno set the girl down off his shoulders and she ran to Mundok. The old man gave her the hug of a lifetime and Tae-woo messed up her hair even more. 

“Listen squirt your dad is tearing up heaven and earth to find you,” Tae-woo said. 

Hak huffed, “It’s not the kid’s fault. She was kidnapped. We ran into them in the woods. Zeno and Shinha kicked their butts.” 

Mundok smiled, “That’s my boy.” 

Mundok then tried to hug Hak who expertly dodged the fast old man. Hikari laughed until her sides hurt. Tae-woo set a hand on her back, “Come on, let's get you washed up and I’ll take you home.”

Hikari smiled and nodded. She had never felt so happy to have a bath. 

[viiiorica]

Shit Said @ Disney World Sentence Memes

• "Look at all the people on the road at two in the morning— wonder if they're drunk." • "That man is drunk— or maybe listening to Aerosmith, I can't tell the difference in the head bobs." • "You can practically smell the racism and cheap liquor!" • "You know, every voice recording you hear could be the voice of a dead person." • "Damn, 'It's a Small World' is proof that purgatory is worse than even the Catholics believed." • "Space mountain is the best diet plan— you go in hungry and come out feeling the need to vomit your equilibrium back." • "Wow, the wildlife here really hates you." • "Have you tried singing to the angry squirrels and birds that keep charging at you?" • "I like to try all the ethnic foods at Epcot— like at the Canadian pavilion." • "Just… put the trash over there, it's the saucer of shame." • "Ah, yes, Disney fireworks: the best way to trap a family of four in the pits of hell for only fifteen to thirty minutes." • "Your shirt has gotten more controversy than if you'd worn a Tennessee Vols jersey during the SEC Championships." • "I saw a droid pass by not too long ago— or it was a trash can. I can't tell the difference." • "I will, scouts honor… whatever that means." • "The lights are dimming— either the video before the ride is starting or we are all having a stroke at the same time." • "Control your thoughts, or I will control them for you." • "Sorry, [name], I'm a mom. That stuff hasn't scared me since I forced a small human out of me." • "My therapist has been trying to help me with that for three years now, she doesn't know how to help either." • "I like it when a sign says shit like "may contain alcohol" at Disney. It's like Russian roulette for drunkenness" • "Bitch, put your seatbelt on, this isn't spy kids 2." • "Wait, they have good Chinese food in San Francisco?" • "I mean, they have a slightly large area just for the Chinese— y'know, called Chinatown." • "Does Spanish sign language have certain signs for the little squiggly things so you don't confuse sons and assholes like when you speak it normally?" • "Did he just— fuck, did he just eat part of that apple core." • "Disney is so great, you can trade your bratty hellion out for a brand new, well-behaved child!" • "Ah, yes, stuck on splash mountain… or as I like to call it, surprise baptism." • "I don't think you're supposed tell the storm troopers no when they try to take you in for questioning." • "Oh god, that wine tastes rotted!" • "You know, I'm no lead scientist in alcohol, but I'm pretty sure that alcohol you bought in the spring wine and food festival will probably taste like alcohol." • "You should light his trashcan on fire— can't prove you did that shit!" • "You should light a trash can on fire and put it on top of his grave." • "Lighting trashcans on fire isn't the way to go every time someone slights you." • "I woke up at ten and took a nap at ten-thirty." • "I feel like I've been in a coma for this entire drive home." • "My foot is numb, and I can't tell if it's because of how I slept, or the spider bite on my toe." • "Listen, we already have too many anxiety issues in this house already— we can't have the cat acting out too." • "This brownie tastes like play-doh and sadness." • "You know, when something from a gas station doesn't have an expiration date, it's the first sign you shouldn't buy it." • "Y'all, I lost my glasses two states ago, I'm not the one you want reading the street signs." • "The fact that you thought you had a pimple on your fucking toe should have been the first hint that you had a spider bite, tbh." • "Not gonna lie, I think we accidentally went into the twilight zone halfway through rural Alabama… congrats everyone."

[flapperfromthefuture]

I have now taken two bread making classes thanks to whatever entrepreneurial genius is running things at the best deli and bakery in the area (and possibly the world).

Do I know anything about baking bread? Absolutely not.

Do I feel confident enough to attempt to bake bread on my own? Certainly not, which is not good because my sister is expecting an assortment of challah rolls that spell out her name for her birthday.

What did I learn instead? That baking bread is actually super fun, provided someone else measures out all the ingredients ahead of time, preheats the commercial oven for you, and cleans up afterwards. Trust me, whatever it costs to take these classes is worth it for that alone.

My first class was called “Hooray for Challah!”

The bakery provides everything, from an apron to a multi-page handout with all the recipes you’re about to learn, even a pen for taking notes. I had a name tag written in the official font of the entire business, and I may have shrieked a little bit.

We went around the room to introduce ourselves, and the very first lady in the class was a professional chef. She already knew how to bake bread, because that was part of her actual paying job, but she just liked good challah and wanted to learn a surefire recipe.

That was kind of intimidating. I can’t boil water without panicking.

But there was also a family with two young teenagers, and I knew for sure that I could bake a better loaf than those kids.

I didn’t understand algebra in ninth grade. I wore overalls in ninth grade. I could certainly make a loaf of bread better than any ninth grader.

The dad in this family very loudly proclaimed that he was missing a football game to be at this class, and ordered everyone not to spoil the score for him.

I rolled my eyes at the chick next to me in a silent “Oh masculinity, why so fragile?” exchange, but she didn’t notice, because she was transcribing her recipe handout into Mandarin.

Did you have to be that smart to learn how to bake bread? If so, I was in trouble (but the teenagers were in more trouble, so at least I had that).

We spent a good 45 minutes learning how to braid a challah loaf with these handy rope tools that the real actual bakers use. Since I have wasted many valuable minutes of my life wondering how challah braids work, it really freed up some good brain cells to learn that it’s a six braid strand, you need a diagram to figure it out, but the braiding won’t work unless you intone to yourself, “1 becomes 6 and 5 becomes 3 and 3 becomes 1” and so on until you have a loaf of bread. Or a loaf of rope.

We made two challah loaves: the braid, and the turban. Everyone got a tub of rum-soaked raisins to put in their challah turbans. The teenagers got chocolate chips. They were smug and awkward about it in the way that only ninth graders could be.

In ninth grade, I wore overalls because that’s what Julia Roberts wore in the movie Runaway Bride, and she was really into hardware projects and ambivalent about heteronormative marriage ideals, and I thought that was great . . . for reasons that would not become clear until many years later.

I should have asked for chocolate chips in my turban, but I wanted to seem cool in front of the professional chef.

The secret to a good challah is the egg wash. That’s what gives it that color. Most bakers are strapped for time and do one layer of egg wash, but if you want to do it right, you have to do two.

My two challah loaves were so well-received, even by my raisin-hating sister, that they were gone within a day. They were pretty delicious, but they were also baked in a professional oven and monitored for the correct internal temperature.

I have the correct internal temperature written in my notes. I think.

My second class was “Rockin’ Rye!”

This class was a higher degree of difficulty, and when everyone introduced themselves, I was the only one who wasn’t an experienced bread baker. One guy had come all the way from California to take this class, because there’s no good rye bread in California and he’d been having the rye from this very bakery shipped across the country to his home for years, so why not learn their recipe?

Other people had come from various parts of the state, driving two or three hours just to make rye bread. I felt kind of guilty because I only woke up an hour before the class started and I was still early.

During our four-hour class, we made three different loaves of rye bread: pumpernickel, onion rye, and vorterkaker. No, my keyboard did not just sneeze.

Vorterkaker (it’s so fun to say!) is a Scandinavian flatbread. You’re probably thinking, “I love flatbread! Naan, pita bread, tortillas, I’ve never met a flatbread I didn’t like!”

I ate a little piece of the demo vorterkaker (as in made by the professionals! They all have degrees in baking!) and it had the essence of a really good cardboard.

In fact, go bite off a corner of the nearest Amazon box, and you can say you’ve tasted vorterkaker.

Baking rye bread requires two things that my brain does not like—”old,” which is a term for crouton-sized chunks of stale rye bread soaked in water, and rye starter, which is mold. Or it’s essentially mold, it’s more like yeast, I guess?  Either way, it looks like this, and does any part of my brain like things that look like this?

This particular starter came from a culture that was 27 years old—older than our instructor. He seemed very excited about that. I was much less excited.

If a lifetime of watching evening news bumpers has taught me one thing, it’s that mold wants to kill us all.

I put my gloppy rye starter and gooey stale bread in the bowl and tried not to flashback to all the times in kindergarten that I came home crying from papier-mâché day. And I went to hippie school, we had a lot of papier-mâché days.

I took a deep breath and pressed on. The flour made quick work of drying things out, thank goodness, and I was ready to knead.

Kneading bread is super fun, but it requires a lot of muscles that I don’t use very often. There’s a very precise technique to it—you want stretch the top of the bread so it naturally forms a smooth skin that’s just tight enough to hold its shape, but not so tight that it’ll crack in the oven.

Between the three loaves of bread, I kneaded for two hours straight. I felt ready to open my own bakery. My muscles would catch up after a few days of non-stop kneading, right?  

The vorterkaker (it sounds like a swear word but it isn’t!) was pretty easy—more rye sour, some fennel and anise seeds, flour and water. The Scandinavians aren’t exactly working with an ecological bounty up there. The teacher explained that vorterkaker is a very old bread, always made in a disc shape with a hole in the middle, so that farmers could hang them up and eat them throughout the winter, and the Vikings would tie them to their boats and just rip off chunks with their teeth during a voyage.

The Vikings did not care about dental health.

After all that work of kneading and shaping and deciding whether or not to sprinkle poppy seeds on top of the onion rye, we got to relax . . . by making our own rye starter. Yes, this bakery is so hip and on top of it that they will even teach you how to make mold.

It’s just flour and water and onions and magic. Nature is horrifying.

We were given detailed instructions for how to care for our starters. People take this really seriously. A told me that in Denmark, there are bread starter boarding places that will take care of your starter while you’re on vacation.

You have to water your starter and feed it once a week with fresh flour, and then it grows exponentially. You know, like a monster.

The guy from California looked really sad to have to give his rye starter back to the instructor. “It’ll never get past the TSA,” he said.

These loaves came out huge. For scale, the vorterkaker is 16 inches in diameter.

I sent this picture to my parents, and my dad texted back, “I just bit into my iPhone.”

The next day, I took the two loaves and rolled the vorterkaker to my parents’ house for everyone to try (hoping to unload most of it). The vorterkaker got the most attention. My sister’s boyfriend, who will eat anything, loved it.

“Is there fennel in this? I can taste fennel,” he said.

“Me too!” said my mom, and they high-fived.

“Are you sure you like it?” I said. Maybe they were just being nice.

“It’s like hardtack! Like what the pioneers ate on long journeys,” said my mom. “Here, you eat some!”

I have played enough Oregon Trail that I sometimes hunt animated buffalo in my sleep to this day, and even that wasn’t enough to get me to eat this thing.

“How did you do the little dots?” asked my sister. I explained that we each got a special rolling tool covered with metal studs, like a massage roller, or a Play-Doh toy for adults. No wonder it was so satisfying.

So, even though it’s a ton of work and sometimes requires interacting with mold, I’m getting the itch to bake again. There’s a Danish pastry class coming up right after the holidays. Between that and my Scandinavian doorstop bread, we should survive the winter just fine.

  Dough! I have now taken two bread making classes thanks to whatever entrepreneurial genius is running things at the best deli and bakery in the area (and possibly the world).