#But pretzels are a bread so they do probably count as Dry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

enhyupn · 3 years

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enhypen helping you bake!

ot7!enhypen x gn!reader

fluff, mentions of food + no other warnings i think of!

word count: 1.2k

a/n i wanted to try and change how i lay these out but i still kinda feel like it’s unnatural for me 🙏

ʚ heeseung

i have no idea why but i feel like heeseung is a tart type of baker

OH and muffins

like specifically strawberry??? or apple tarts??? and blueberry muffins

will only help you with like the mixing

you could be freaking out because something’s burning but heeseung’s like 🧍‍♂️cause he doesn’t know what to do

nevertheless he is VERY helpful

you will always reassure him that

complains when you share with the rest of the enhypen members because he wants them all to himself

will probably beg for you to bake with him again

and you will because you would do anything for him

probably asks if you could decorate the muffins with frosting

you end up trying to explain to him that muffins don’t usually have frosting

but in the end you give up put frosting on them because it looks pretty

“can i help you bake again” “who am i to say no to you?”

rest of the members under the cut!

ʚ jay

you two would probably bake something like pretzels

he thinks it’d be a challenge because he thought the tasty video he watched about it looker hard

jay would 100% do anything you ask him to do

you could ask him to do like three things at once because you were busy and he’d just. Do it

you two take turns kneading the dough because jay said it’d be mean if you just did it yourself

you two also probably end up bickering in the middle of baking

“it says a teaspoon of salt jay” “i have a teaspoon of salt though?” “that’s a tablespoon in your hand”

i feel like jay’s a more savoury person instead of sweet

so he would definitely beg you to make them like rock salt flavour

idk pretzel flavours sadly

you two use rock paper scissors to decide everything

it probably took a while to finish </3 like five hours just for them to be done baking

jay would probably take a lot of pictures and put them up everywhere

by the time you finish cleaning up, you have like twenty notifications from jay tagging you on three different apps

ʚ jake

jake is a cookie person. i don’t care what any of you say he is a Cookie Person.

he is way too excited and giddy about helping you bake

he helps you weigh out the ingredients with like a huge smile

he holds the bowl for you when you mix things </3

he’s a little scared you’re gonna make a mess but it’s still cute

will take pictures of your progress and send them to his enhypen gc

they don’t really care but have no choice to reply cheerily since jake’s excited about it

jake’s the type to playfully throw flour at you to get your attention

you scold him but you think it’s kinda adorable

he makes shapes with the dough and gets confused when it looks completely different when out of the oven

“why does my heart look so ugly”

he just ends up laughing about it for a while

it’s all over his ig and sc story

decorates them specially for the enhypen members as presents <3

ʚ sunghoon

i have no idea why but. he would probably help you bake bread

not anything hard like sourdough probably just some ten minute bread tutorial you found while scrolling through tiktok

he is very confused when you don’t add yeast

like he’ll just constantly be asking where the yeast is

“why is there no yeast” “i’m using baking powder, it’s the same... i think”

he doesn’t understand but it’s okay because you don’t either

he probably makes disgusted noises when you mix the ingredients together

he’s very confused about why you decided to follow a bread recipe from tiktok

“this looks so gross” “i don’t think i asked for your opinion”

he doesn’t even end up helping because he’s too busy being fascinated by your creation

he jokes by telling you that you’re breads burning when they’re in the oven

when it comes out he tells you he’ll never eat it

he ends up eating it, spoiler alert

ʚ sunoo

will instantly help you when you mention you’re baking a cake

i feel like he likes sifting the dry ingredients out

he probably hates the feeling of butter when it gets on his fingers or hands

he likes whipping the egg whites and you probably get anxious because you think he’ll end up over whipping them

he wants to help you with everything. And i Mean everything

thinks you’re gonna spill the batter everywhere when you pour it into the mould

is very. Concerned about if the cake’s gonna burn in the oven

you try and tell him it won’t but he still ends up standing in front of the oven with you

obviously helps you with decorating

let’s you do the frosting because it seems the least fun

will go crazy with the sprinkles

will definitely ask if he can help you again

tells riki about the cake

ends up probably talking about how he helped you bake a cake for the rest of the day

ʚ jungwon

sees you baking something like cheesecake and just joins in

like he probably comes out of nowhere and asks you when he should add the vanilla extract

“when do i put in the—” “oh my god you scared me”

you just let him help you because the more the merrier

you want to stay on trend so you make it mint choco

he hates. Mint chocolate

will definitely fight you about it for a while

“why would you choose mint chocolate? why?” “i didn’t know this was your cheesecake”

he loses because you had a better argument against his

makes side comments when you put them into their moulds probably

you end up just laughing them off because you know he’s just teasing you

he ends up telling his gc if they agree with mint chocolate

he shows you everyone that says no </3

by the time you’ve finished it’s probably late at night

you try once again for him to just at least try it

it doesn’t work

ʚ ni-ki

would ni-ki really be baking with you if it wasn’t bungeoppang 🤨

even though he cooks it everyday he will always!!! help!!! you!!! with!!! it!!!

will whip out the mould thing he has for it

if it burns he will quietly blame it on you because he knows someone’s gonna complain about it

will make so many to show it off to the enhypen members <3

will constantly ask you if you’re okay or if you need help

i feel like he’d be so excited to be cooking bungeoppang that something just goes wrong

the batter would probably spill all over the stove and you two have to clean it up before jay starts scolding the two of you

will eat it as he watched you make more

plates them prettily so he can take videos and pictures to remember the moment

shows them off to everyone

after helping you he definitely mentions you every time he makes bungeoppang

“i remember i helped y/n with—” “we know... we know...”

#enhypenwriters #prism.nw #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen timestamps #enhypen headcanons #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff

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raendown · 3 years

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The next of my follower milestone gift fics is for @kaiyaru with the prompt word obdurate!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 1092 Rated: T+ Summary: It had nothing to do with not trusting his husband and everything to do with 'fuck you, that's why'.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Feeling Is Believing

“Madara I swear to the sage and anyone else who might be listening, if you put your hand on that door I will cut it off with a butter knife.”

“I’m just checking to make sure it’s locked!” Regardless of warnings, Madara continued reaching out his arm with every intention of twisting the door handle, the pout on his lips turning rapidly to a scowl when his limb was caught in the air halfway.

“You just watched me lock it,” Tobirama growled. “I will never understand; you do this every time we leave the house!”

A huff escaped him but he did nothing to snatch his hand back. The two of them stood there glaring at each other for several long seconds until there came the slightest tightening of muscles at the corners of Madara’s eyes. A damning tell he’d tried and failed many times to get rid of. When he lunged for the door Tobirama lunged with him and the two of them went down on the front stoop, grappling like a pair of civilians fighting over a crust of bread. Several people went strolling by as they rolled through the dirt but the Uchiha clan had been used to their leader’s ways long before he married a man just as ornery as himself. Those that bothered to look gave indulgent smiles and continued on their way, unbothered.

“I told you it’s already locked!” Tobirama growled, winding his fingers between the ones that tried to reach over his head just to pull them away.

“Damn it, this is my house too! If I want to check then I’m gonna check!”

Madara bent his spine and kicked off one of the porch steps to roll their bodies in an attempt to find himself on top. It didn’t exactly work, not with the way his husband rolled bonelessly with him, but it did get him away from that bit of wood that was digging in to his spine. Unfortunately it also brought Tobirama’s full weight over top of him and while normally that wasn’t something he would exactly protest against it was definitely counter to what he was trying to do at the moment.

“When I say I’ve locked it that means I’ve locked it!” Tobirama kicked out with one foot, bodily shoving them both another meter or so from the door. “Why can you never just let it go?”

“Fuck you!”

“Not for a month if you keep this up!”

“Oh, is that what we are now? Children who take away each other’s toys?”

Tobirama’s head cracked in to his nose with a vicious jerk. “Call me a toy one more time, I dare you.”

“Just let me check the door!”

“No!”

“Get off me!”

“Also no!”

Snapping his teeth did nothing more than earn him a mouthful of fur. Madara spluttered and spat and plotted to throw out that blasted fur collar the next time it was his turn to take out the garbage. It would only serve Tobirama right. Just because it looked good on him would not save him from his fate of cold necks from this day forward.

The world spun in a blur of colors and suddenly Madara found himself face down in the dirt but he wasn’t a clan head for nothing. Few could keep up with the god of shinobi himself and Madara was one of those few; wrestling out of a simple hold was not beyond the realms of his ability. That being said, his husband was also one of those few and known as the fastest shinobi of their generation to boot, a worthy opponent on any battlefield. Despite the intimate knowledge of exactly how silly they must look rolling about in front of their own home both of them continued to employ every dirty trick they had just to gain a second’s advantage over the other. Clouds of dust from an abnormally dry summer rose around them until Madara called a pause so he could cough it all back up.

It occurred to him, panting where he lay with all four limbs twisted in to a mockery of a pretzel, that this was probably why his brother had started asking him to meet an hour before they ever actually needed to. And that he could probably cut out the necessity of that if they could just avoid these fights altogether. His eyes narrowed. Obviously that meant they would need to leave the house at different times, there really was no other solution.

“Are you going to act like a decent human being if I let you up?” Tobirama asked.

“Hn. Let me up. I’m the one that has you pinned.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. You didn’t answer my question.”

Madara sniffed. “I’ll play nice if you do, is that what you wanted to hear?”

His answer was a grunt as the hand that had managed to keep a grip on his own loosened to fall away. Then it was a matter of untangling themselves, a process that took several minutes with how badly they’d twisted around each other in their useless efforts to come out on top. It wasn’t anything their bodies didn’t know, however, so eventually they found their feet and stood up to beat the patches of brown dust from their clothes. What a right mess they looked. And in their festival best, too. Hashirama was definitely going to have some words to say about their appearance.

Or worse, Mito. Madara resolved to avoid his best friend and that harpy he called a wife for as long as possible that evening.

“Right.” Tobirama cleared his throat, pulling his clothing in to something resembling order. “Let’s not be any more late than we already are.”

“Not my fault,” Madara grumbled. His husband shot him a venomous look but did not rise to the bait.

“I promised my students that I would attend this ridiculous affair; they should be waiting for us near that restaurant you took me to last week. Shall we?”

“Yeah, I’m right behind you.”

With a nod Tobirama stepped on to the road, moving with the same purpose he did everything with. Madara watched him, admiring the same lines he’d been admiring for years, and the moment those red eyes were off of him he turned to reach for their front door, giving the handle a light jiggle. Locked. That was good. He really just had to be sure.

Just as he really should have expected the flying tackle that took him down a heartbeat later.

#rae writes #follower milestone #madatobi #madara #tobirama #fanfiction

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bevioletskies · 3 years

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how sweet it is (to be loved by you)

summary: Although he would never admit it, Apollo really wants to impress Klavier by making dessert from scratch for their first date at his apartment, despite his complete lack of baking experience. With the help of his overenthusiastic sister (and no help from his mischievous cat), Apollo thinks he just might be able to pull it off.

word count: 4.8k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day four of seven (prompt: "cooking"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

This fic takes place at some distant point in time after Spirit of Justice where Apollo and Trucy have learned that they’re siblings, but doesn’t reference any specific plotlines otherwise. Fic title is from the song How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You) by Marvin Gaye.

“Don’t look at me like that, okay? I can feel you judging me, and I don’t appreciate it. I swear, I-I know what I’m doing! But it doesn’t help with you staring at me like you just know I’m gonna screw up!”

Mikeko blinked. “Mreow.”

“Polly, are you talking to your cat again?” Apollo turned to see Trucy walking towards him with huge bags of flour and sugar in her arms.

“Just a reminder - his name is Mikeko, and he’s an asshole,” Apollo grouched, hurrying over to help before she could drop everything on the floor. The last thing he needed was to get white powder stuck in his kitchen tile grout, again. There was a reason Ema wasn’t allowed to bring her forensics kit to his place anymore. “He peed on my rug the other day. I thought he was sick so I took him to the vet, and nothing. He’s an asshole.”

“You talk about your cat like you talk about your boyfriend, and I dunno which one’s worse,” Trucy mused, elbowing him playfully. “Though obviously, you love ‘em both, since that cat tree over there looks like it costs more than your TV. And, y’know, the fact that you asked me to help you bake for him! Er, your boyfriend, not your cat.”

“You don’t say,” Apollo said dryly, hoisting the bags onto the kitchen counter. “Klavier has an insatiable sweet tooth for a guy with a six-pack. I blame his parents and their baking habits.”

“C’mon, you love his parents,” Trucy giggled. She hopped onto the counter, nearly knocking the flour over in the process. Apollo shot her a dirty look that she blatantly ignored. “So, what’re we making? I’m surprised you asked me to help and then didn’t tell me what we were gonna do!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Apollo sighed, smoothing out the wrinkles in his apron. “We’re making, uh...bienenstich, or bee sting cake. It’s one of his childhood favorites, apparently; it’s got vanilla cream and…” He paused to glance down at the recipe on his phone. “...‘a crunchy caramelized almond topping’.”

“Sounds yummy!” Trucy replied, idly swinging her legs back and forth. Mikeko seemed very interested in chasing her untied shoelaces. “Seriously, though, why did you ask me? I mean, when I first started living with Daddy, I learned how to cook pretty fast, but I never really learned how to bake.”

Apollo softened. “I just wanted to hang out with you, Truce. That’s all.”

Trucy folded her hands over her heart. “Aww, Polly!” She then grinned devilishly. “Of course you did.”

“Now you’re an asshole, too,” Apollo informed her, kissing her cheek before turning back to the other side of the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Mikeko, sitting in his sink, lounging lazily across every last mixing bowl he’d just washed. “Mik, what the hell - you were just on the floor a second ago, you - ”

“Meow,” Mikeko interrupted, his tail swishing nonchalantly through the air.

“...cool, cool.” Apollo wiped his hands, then proceeded to lift Mikeko right out of the sink and deposit him onto his cat tree. His paws were still damp; he mewled in protest. “Well, this is going about as well as I expected.”

“I’m excited,” Trucy offered, still beaming. “Let’s go!”

_____

Once Trucy found the appropriate playlist to blast on her phone (“Any performer worth their salt knows they need good background music, Polly!” “But...this isn’t a performance. Also, this is more Maroon 5 than I’m comfortable with.”), she got to work on re-washing the dishes Mikeko had ruined while Apollo shuffled around the kitchen, grabbing the rest of the ingredients. He’d bought quite a few items he didn’t usually have in stock, having next to no experience with baking. The recipe claimed bienenstich was easy to make, though he had his doubts when it came to his abilities - and his luck.

“So, how’ve you and Klavier been?” Trucy asked, drying the last of the spatulas. “Things must be pretty good if you’re baking for him.”

“Good, definitely good,” Apollo replied. “We’ve had a couple of hiccups, but nothing we’ve had to worry about, y’know?”

“Gee, how romantic,” Trucy drawled. “I was hoping for something juicier than that, Polly! Have you had any fun dates lately? Cute moments? Nice gifts? It sure was nice of his mom to send more apple strudels to the agency the other day!”

“Are you my sister, or a tabloid reporter?” Apollo flicked a spray of flour onto the front of her apron, ducking before she could retaliate. “Well, we had a good time at his parents’ house the other day. I made pretzels with his mom, and his dad had a ton of podcast recommendations for like, nerd stuff. We, uh...we even talked about Mom for a bit. They wanna meet her someday.”

Trucy’s eyes widened. “Really? When’s that gonna happen?”

“Not sure,” Apollo admitted. “But hey, do you wanna join us when it does? They’ve been dying to meet you, too.”

“Like you have to ask!” Trucy said brightly. She took a moment to methodically spread out all of their equipment across the kitchen counter, smiling in satisfaction when she was done. “There - we’re ready to go. What’s the actual first step?”

“The dough, it says,” Apollo said, turning back to the recipe. “We’re s’posed to mix the dry ingredients and wet ingredients separately. Although I guess the actual actual first step is measuring the ingredients.”

“I’ll do dry, you do wet,” Trucy replied, passing him one of the mixing bowls. “Y’know…‘cos you're such a wet blanket and all.”

Apollo blinked. “...okay, wow. We’re here to bake a cake, not roast me.” Trucy giggled mischievously, then got to work on measuring out the flour, sugar, yeast, and salt. Apollo, meanwhile, started with pouring the milk - easy enough - then stared at the egg carton and sticks of butter sitting in front of him. He’d never been intimidated by either before, but right now, he found them oddly daunting.

“Polly, are you trying to perceive the ingredients or somethin’?” Trucy asked, rapping her knuckles against the side of his head a little too sharply for his liking. “The cake isn’t a lie, you know.”

Once again, Apollo found himself looking at her incredulously. “Wha - th-that joke is older than you are!” Then, a brief swish of movement over Trucy’s shoulder caught his eye. “Wait…” Sitting on the opposite counter was Mikeko, who was innocently sniffing the bag of sliced almonds. “Mik - ”

“Mrrh,” Mikeko purred, his tail perking up at the sound of his name. He then flopped onto his side, rolling over to present his belly. “Mrrh?”

“Don’t ‘mrrh’ me, get away from there,” Apollo huffed, flapping his hands in Mikeko’s direction. He seemed unmoved. “Do you want me to lock you in my bedroom? Really? Is that what we have to do?” Sighing, Mikeko got up and hopped down from the counter, sauntering off to the living room with a sulky grimace. “Thank you.”

“You really do act like he’s human,” Trucy commented, watching Mikeko go. “Mr. Edgeworth’s like that with Pess, only he’s way nicer to her than you are to Mikeko.”

“Probably because Pess doesn’t sit on his chest in the middle of the night while he's sleeping and make him think he’s having a heart attack,” Apollo said wryly, reaching for the sticks of butter. If he let them sit out for too long, they were going to start melting. “How’s that whole...thing going, anyway? I feel like Mr. Edgeworth’s been visiting the agency a lot lately...only, nothing ever seems to happen.”

“Story of their lives, according to Ema and Aunt Maya,” Trucy said, rolling her eyes exasperatedly. “At this rate, I’m gonna get married before Daddy does!” She then smirked. “Or should I say, you’re gonna get - ”

“Hey, l-let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Apollo protested, his cheeks reddening. “How’s it going with the dry ingredients?”

“All done!” Trucy chirped, tilting her bowl slightly so he could see. “Wait, you still haven’t done the butter or eggs yet? Apollo!”

“Yeah, yeah, I was kinda busy dealing with that jerk over there.” Trucy glanced across the way to the living room; she could’ve sworn Mikeko was sticking his tongue out at them. Apollo then pushed the butter towards her. “Here - you do the butter, I’ll take care of the eggs.” The two of them worked in silence for a minute or so, the only sounds in the apartment being the crinkle of the butter’s parchment paper and the tap-tap of the eggs against the mixing bowl. It didn’t take long before their silence was broken. “...shit.”

“Eggshell?” Trucy guessed without looking up. “Sheesh, you really did need help. Here, give it to me!”

Apollo nudged the bowl in her direction, defeated, then wiped the sweat off his brow. “Damn, I didn’t think I was gonna be this bad! I made bread and pretzels with Klavier’s mom, and that went pretty well.”

“I bet it’s ‘cos she did most of the work,” Trucy teased. “Wait - Apollo, there’s more eggshell in here than actual egg!”

“I…” Apollo paused. “...have no excuses.” He then groaned. “Ugh, we still have so much left to do! This cake better be worth it.”

“It’s more like if you think your boyfriend’s worth it, and he is, isn’t he?” Trucy finished fishing out the last of the eggshells, then poked Apollo’s side with her yolk-covered finger. “So c’mon, let’s keep going. We mix them together, right?”

Apollo smiled softly. “Yeah. And hey, I’m...I’m really glad you’re here, Trucy. Thanks for helping me out.”

“It’s just baking, Polly, you don’t hafta be so dramatic,” Trucy said, though she was beaming regardless. “Now move it, or this cake’s still gonna be in the oven when he gets here!”

_____

A little over two hours later, Apollo jumped up from his couch at the sound of his doorbell. His face brightened when he saw Klavier on the other side of the door, dressed casually in an oversized hoodie and joggers. Klavier had been so particular about how he’d dressed for their first few dates that Apollo was always happy to see him in more relaxed attire. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Klavier raised an eyebrow. “You always greet me in the strangest ways, schatz. Did something happen, are you okay?”

Apollo let out an internal sigh of relief; Klavier had yet to notice anything off-putting at all. “No, no, I-I’m fine, just - i-it’s been a long day, and it’s good to see you. I mean, it’s always good to see you - usually good to see you, depending on what’s going on, ‘cos not gonna lie, you still pull the most inane crap in the courtroom, but, uh. It’s good that you’re here. Hi.”

Klavier’s eyebrows remained raised. “...hi. Anyway, I brought dinner and dessert.” He lifted the two bags he was carrying so Apollo could see. “As it turns out, our favorite Taiwanese place was having a promotion. Spend thirty dollars or more, we get free tofu pudding. Achtung, I love a good deal!”

“That’s not what your bank account says,” Apollo teased. “And, er, that’s great, and we should definitely eat it while it’s fresh, but I actually made dessert for us, too.”

“Really?” Apollo was starting to think Klavier’s eyebrows were never going to come back down. “What did you make?”

“No spoilers,” Apollo said, tugging on Klavier’s sleeve. “C’mon, get in here before my neighbors spot you. I swear, I heard one of them blasting Love With No Chance Of Parole the other night. If they find out you’re my boyfriend, I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”

“Finally starting to recognize my songs, are you?” Klavier chuckled, stepping into Apollo’s apartment. “I’ll make a Gavinners fan out of you yet, baby.” He then looked around, curious, as he took off his shoes. “Your place doesn’t look nearly as bad as you made it sound. It’s...charming.”

“Real diplomatic way of saying it looks like crap,” Apollo said wryly, closing the door behind him. He was well aware of his peeling wallpaper and cat-scratched furniture, his dusty windows and his water-damaged ceiling. “Wait until you have to use my bathroom. I swear the sink is haunted.”

“How comforting.” Klavier’s eyes lit up at the sound of tiny little feet padding over in his direction; he crouched down so he could be at eye level, one hand outstretched to beckon him closer. “Why, guten tag, kätzchen! I’m so glad I finally get to meet you.” Mikeko stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing Klavier up and down warily. Then, without another sound, he turned and walked away, tail swishing pointedly in the air. Klavier looked up at Apollo dejectedly. “Ach, what did I do?”

“Mikeko only likes me and tolerates Trucy,” Apollo shrugged, trying not to laugh at Klavier’s miserable expression. “I wouldn’t take it personally. C’mon, let’s eat!”

“I’m going to take it a little personally,” Klavier muttered under his breath, following Apollo across the open living space. It wasn’t long before they were set up at the dining table, working their way through their Taiwanese beef noodles, fried chicken, and scallion pancakes. Apollo hummed happily as he ate; he hadn’t realized how hungry he was or how difficult baking could be until now. “So, how was your day?”

“Didn’t do much,” Apollo said, shrugging. “Since it’s my day off, I just kinda - y’know, played video games, watched some TV. Re-organized my bookshelf for the millionth time. I still haven’t decided if my brain likes it organized by author, title, genre, or color.”

“You also made dessert, apparently,” Klavier replied. “Are you really not going to tell me what it is?”

“Curiosity killed the cat, and even though my cat’s an asshole, I prefer him alive,” Apollo said, playfully nudging Klavier’s leg with his foot. “You can wait thirty minutes, can’t you?”

“Ach, the suspense,” Klavier laughed. “Fine, fine. Can I at least ask why you decided to bake for us?”

“It’s the first time you’ve been to my place, so I figured I’d do something nice,” Apollo said, sniffing very slightly. The smell of burnt sugar was starting to waft into his nose; he crossed his fingers underneath the table in the hopes that Klavier couldn’t smell it, too.

“Er - are you okay, Apollo?” Klavier asked, lowering his chopsticks. “You’re...sniffling. I didn’t accidentally bring some pollen in here, did I?”

“Sniffing, not sniffling,” Apollo corrected. “There’s a difference. And nah, it’s nothing. Just wasn’t sure if Mik might’ve peed somewhere...as he does.”

“Ah, cats,” Klavier said, nodding sagely. “Don’t tell your kätzchen I’m more of a dog person, bitte. We’re already off to a bad start as it is.”

“Brave of you, saying that out loud,” Apollo remarked. “If Mik comes after you in your sleep tonight, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Klavier turned to look at Mikeko, who was currently on the kitchen counter, scarfing down his dinner. He lifted his head to make direct eye contact, chewing menacingly all the while. Klavier shuddered. “How about you, what were you up to today?”

“The most boring prosecutor’s office meeting ever, not that that’s anything new,” Klavier sighed, turning back to face Apollo. “And I had no cases to prosecute, so I spent my day wishing I was here instead. Even if you and Mikeko weren’t around, I’d rather watch your wallpaper die a slow death than listen to Herr Payne whine about his life while we’re all waiting for the coffee maker. I don’t see how it’s my or Herr Blackquill’s fault that he hasn’t had a raise in over ten years. If all he can brag about is making new defense attorneys cry instead of actually doing his job, then he should be grateful he still has a career to begin with, ach.”

Apollo blinked. “...huh. I guess I never really thought about the kind of office politics you have to deal with. Meanwhile, the only thing I’ve had to deal with lately is Athena nearly breaking Trucy’s finger during an arm-wrestling match.”

Klavier winced, popping a piece of chicken in his mouth. “Is that something that happens often?”

“More often than it should,” Apollo replied sagely. Klavier wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or slightly terrified.

After they finished dinner, Klavier insisted on helping Apollo with the dishes, seeing as how there was a huge pile of them in the sink, almost none of them from their dinner. Some were splattered with cake batter, others with vanilla cream. Thankfully, Apollo had already rinsed all the pans and utensils he’d used to make the topping, or else the sliced almonds would’ve given him away entirely.

“No peeking in the fridge or you’re not getting any,” Apollo warned, waving a spatula in his face.

“Are we talking about dessert, or...something else?” Klavier blinked innocently when Apollo continued to glare. “Ja, ja, I hear you.” He then paused. “Can I at least speculate? I have an educated guess.”

“You have zero patience sometimes,” Apollo complained, knocking his hip against Klavier’s, though with their height difference, it was more like his hip against Klavier’s thigh. “Let’s finish up here so you have nothing to complain about, alright?”

As they puttered around the kitchen together, Apollo had to subtly, but constantly direct Klavier away from the oven before he could see the remnants of a burnt pan still left on one of the stovetop elements; he hadn’t had enough time to completely scrub them away, though he had gotten rid of the worst of it. For once, he was grateful Klavier favored heavy scents, which seemed to be masking the smell for him.

“Mrrp.” Just as Klavier was drying the last of the plates, he felt something weaving between his ankles. “Mreow?”

“Have you changed your mind about me, kätzchen?” he asked, delighted. Mikeko aggressively smushed his face against Klavier’s calf in response. Apollo watched them both in amazement. “Is that a ja or a nein?”

“Mrrh,” Mikeko rumbled.

“Oh, this is definitely a trap,” Apollo warned. “He probably wants something from you, so don’t fall for it, Klav.”

“You talk about him like he’s an unruly witness on the witness stand,” Klavier said, amused. “He’s just a sweet little kätzchen, what could he possibly - ” Mikeko sneezed, violently.

“There it is,” Apollo sighed.

Klavier winced at the wet spot Mikeko had left behind on his sweatpants. “Achtung, gesundheit!” He then chuckled, shaking his head as Mikeko wandered off, clearly pretending nothing had happened. Either that, or he was embarrassed, though Apollo suspected it was more the former than the latter. “Like human, like cat, I see; it’s allergy season all around. Is it my cologne, do you think?”

“Might be,” Apollo shrugged, wiping his hands. “Okay, you big baby, are you ready for dessert now?”

“You’re acting like I’ve talked about nothing else,” Klavier protested, wrapping his arms around Apollo from behind and burying his face against Apollo’s neck. He then began pressing slow, deliberate kisses along the length of Apollo’s throat. His nose was momentarily filled with the scent of Klavier’s aforementioned cologne, the scent of sandalwood instead of burnt sugar. “I would love to have dessert, baby.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Then we can eat what you made after.”

“Why am I dating you,” Apollo groaned, lightly shoving him away. Klavier snickered, hopping up onto the kitchen counter. “Sheesh, you’re like a cheap Hallmark card and a bad pick-up artist at the same time.”

“Is there such a thing as a good pick-up artist?” Klavier mused, still grinning. “Anyway, I’m serious. Let’s see what you made for us, liebe.” Apollo felt oddly nervous as he opened his refrigerator and carefully pulled out the covered tray from the top shelf. He set it down on the counter, right beside Klavier, then went to grab plates, forks, and a decent-sized knife. “Ah, a knife! Was my prediction correct?”

“Can you let me live for two seconds, please?” Apollo grumbled, softening when Klavier leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. “Okay, okay, careful around the guy with the knife in his hand. I-I’m gonna take off the cover now.”

They both held their breaths just as Apollo lifted the tray cover, as overly dramatic as it sounded. The sensation was stupidly similar to how they felt during a particularly stressful trial. Klavier’s eyes widened at the sight before him. “...bienenstich?”

“Wait…” Apollo leaned closer. “...what happened?!”

The state of his bienenstich was...questionable, to say the least. To start, the caramelized almond topping, which had hardened nicely in the refrigerator earlier, now looked like it had been through an earthquake, full of little holes and fissures. The thick layer of vanilla cream between the two layers of cake was oozing out the sides, having somehow melted since Apollo put it in the fridge over an hour ago. Finally, most of the bottom layer of cake was soggy and crumbling apart, clearly thanks to the melting cream.

“You gotta be kidding me!” Apollo exclaimed, setting the knife aside and hurriedly digging his phone out of his pocket. “Here, I took a picture earlier, i-it - it looked perfect, I-I made sure of it - ”

“I’m sure it did, Apollo,” Klavier said gently, rubbing his shoulders in sympathy. “Let’s see your picture, then.”

Groaning, Apollo held his phone up to Klavier’s face. “Seriously, look. I took so many photos, I was gonna send ‘em to your parents and thank them for teaching me the basics...I even made the topping three times ‘cos I burnt the first two attempts!”

“Is that what that smell was?” Klavier shrunk at Apollo’s venomous expression. “Sorry, baby, I just - I didn’t want to say anything in case it was, you know, a weird apartment smell.” He then perked up. “But if you ask me...looks have nothing to do with taste. That goes for both food and people, apropos, though I consider myself blessed that you’re the very best of both.”

“Har, har...also, ew,” Apollo added, wrinkling his nose. “Well, let’s hope you’re right.” With renewed vigor, he picked up the knife once more and carefully cut two modest-sized pieces, transferring them to their respective plates. He passed one plate to Klavier, then, after they exchanged nervous looks, they both took their first tentative bites. “...oh.”

“See? It’s just as I said!” Klavier declared, grinning victoriously. “I’m not going to pretend it’s the most perfect bienenstich I’ve ever had, but - it’s good, Apollo. It’s really, really good. I wouldn’t have known it was your first attempt if I hadn’t seen it. Even then, it’s hardly a disaster. Just a bit, ah, lopsided.”

Apollo was quiet for another moment or so, letting the taste linger on his tongue. The texture was a bit odd, thanks to the half-melted cream and the soggy cake, but it was just as sweet and satisfying as he’d been hoping it would be. “...huh. So I guess we didn’t accidentally swap the salt and sugar like I thought we might’ve done.”

“We?” Klavier echoed as he took another bite, more generous in size this time.

“Yeah, Trucy came over to help me. Guess I forgot to mention that,” Apollo added. “We haven’t had much time to hang out outside of work stuff lately, so...I thought it’d be a fun afternoon thing. Kinda turned into a nightmare instead? Like, the smell of burnt sugar is everywhere for a reason. Don’t look inside my oven, please.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Klavier laughed, delighted. “I can only imagine what went on before I got here, achtung.” It wasn’t long before he was scraping his plate clean; he was still eyeing the rest of the cake hungrily. He turned when Apollo made a mild noise of disgust. “Ah - what happened?”

“What always happens around here.” Apollo plucked a tiny, but obvious cat hair from the end of his fork. “At least I didn’t eat this one. I think I’ve consumed more cat hairs than I’ve had paying clients.” He then looked at Klavier with raised eyebrows. “You’re not expecting another piece right now, are you?”

“I like bienenstich, okay?” Klavier said defensively, though he finally got down from the kitchen counter so he could put his fork and plate in the sink, dropping a sticky-sweet kiss on Apollo’s cheek on his way over. “Danke, baby, that was really good. Can I take some back with me, bitte?”

“Of course, babe. I’m certainly not eating the rest of it by myself,” Apollo snorted, finishing off his own piece. He put his dishes in the sink, taking a moment to rinse off his and Klavier’s plates, then let out a relieved sigh. “Well, at least it tasted good, even if it looked like crap.”

“I know it’s pointless, saying this to you, but - don’t worry so much, hm?” Klavier wrapped his arms around Apollo’s midsection; before Apollo knew it, he was being lifted and set down onto the counter, right where Klavier had been. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, bringing his hands to rest on Klavier’s shoulders, his legs wrapped loosely around Klavier’s waist. “I’m impressed, liebling, I mean it. I know Mama’s been teaching you how to bake, but for you to do it on your own time for us to enjoy...I should really step up my game here, don’t you think?”

“Hardly,” Apollo said, dropping his head to Klavier’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to Klavier’s neck. “Thanks, Klav. Glad you liked it.”

“Bitte schön,” Klavier replied, gently lifting Apollo’s chin so he could kiss him properly. They both tasted like vanilla and honey; Apollo pushed Klavier’s hair out of his face so it wouldn't run the risk of getting sticky. Mere seconds later, they were interrupted by a tiny, impudent meow. Sighing, Klavier reluctantly broke away so he could stare down at the culprit by his feet. “Can I help you, kätzchen? I thought we were cool...until you used my sweatpants as a tissue, that is. These are Moncler, I’ll have you know.”

“Mreow,” Mikeko trilled, tail thrashing violently against Klavier’s leg. Shaking his head in amusement, Apollo got down from the counter so he could pick him up and cradle him, rocking him back and forth like a baby. “Mrrp.”

“I’m kinda curious to see if he’ll let you pet him,” Apollo said. “You wanna try?” Klavier lifted a cautious hand, then slowly began petting Mikeko, taking care not to disturb the sleekness of his long, thick fur. Klavier let out a soft laugh when Mikeko began to purr, his eyes closing contentedly as he smushed his face against Klavier’s hand, just like he’d done to his leg earlier. “Hey, would you look at that - it’s a not-Christmas miracle!”

“I feel as if I’ve been blessed,” Klavier chuckled, rubbing Mikeko’s ears for good measure. “Have I passed your secret test somehow, kätzchen? Am I a good partner for your papa?” Mikeko mewled happily.

“I can’t believe you didn’t even do anything and he already likes you,” Apollo sighed. “Mik, I thought you were smarter than this.”

“I can’t tell if you want him to like me or not,” Klavier said dryly, dropping a kiss to the top of Mikeko’s forehead. Mikeko’s purr only seemed to intensify. Apollo rolled his eyes; now Klavier was just showing off. “So now that all of our bienenstich excitement is over, should we put a movie on, maybe try a small bite of that tofu pudding? I have a desperate need to cuddle after the day I’ve had.”

“Day you had?” Apollo echoed, neatly depositing Mikeko back onto his cat tree. “You said you had a boring meeting and no trials. How bad could it have been?”

“I had to listen to Herr Payne gush about his wife that definitely exists,” Klavier bemoaned, lifting the back of his hand to his forehead as if he were about to faint. Apollo was sure if he rolled his eyes any harder, he would sprain something. “Herr Debeste kept asking to borrow a pencil for some reason. I’m serious, baby, don’t laugh at me, he kept knocking on my door every thirty minutes - ”

“The only baby I see around here is you, baby,” Apollo teased, prodding Klavier in the chest. “But fine, fine, I hear you. You go sulk on the couch and pick out a movie while you wait. I'm gonna put the bienenstich back in the fridge and send your mom my pre-disaster pictures. Maybe she’ll have some advice for my next attempt.”

Klavier perked up. “Next attempt? You mean you’re going to make it again? Ah, ich liebe dich, mein schatz, mein süßer, mein - ”

“Oh my god,” Apollo groaned, sighing. “Maybe, okay? Maybe. I’m not making any promises, I don’t want my apartment to permanently smell like burnt sugar hell.” Still, Apollo found himself biting back a smile, kissing Klavier briefly before lightly nudging him in the direction of his living room. “...and I love you, too. Dork.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my fourth entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the sixth of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. Mikeko being a jerk who only likes maybe three people at a time is one of my favorite random headcanons! I know I set a lot of my fics in Apollo's apartment (or Klavier's), but one of the main reasons that I do is for Mikeko and Mikeko alone. If you're looking for a Mikeko-centric fic (kind of), if you could read my mind is one of my favorite short-ish fics that I've ever written.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you’re all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

#KlapolloWeek2021 #klapollo #kyodoroki #klapollo fic #ace attorney #ace attorney fic #myfic #long post #almost forgot to post this oops lmao #also my day two fic hasn't been archived! guess i'll send y'all a quick ask later #i think i'd tagged something incorrectly so that's my bad

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mangohealth · 6 years

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My 13 Favorite Low-Carb Foods (and 3 to Avoid)

Finding low-carb foods that actually taste good and aren’t chock full of fake, chemical-laden ingredients is a tough pursuit—one I’ve been on since I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes nearly twenty years ago. But I never gave up! And now I’m going to share a few of my favorite products and recipes that will help you keep your carb intake low, keep your tastebuds happy, and fill your body with mostly whole, real delicious food!

Soft & Fluffy Bread Rolls from The Diet Doctor (recipe)

These are a staple in my house. I eat two or to three small rolls every day and let me tell you, not only do I not need insulin for them (unless I melt some chocolate chips on top in the microwave), they also make your digestive tract sing thanks to all that fiber. While you may have to do a little shopping around to get the right ingredients (I highly recommend ordering Anthony’s almond flour and psyllium husk on Amazon for a good price), once you make them the first time, they become really easy. I make a double batch every few weeks and store them in the fridge and freezer so I can eat them every day!

Edamame Fettuccine Pasta from Seapoint Farms (product)

I’ve tried a lot of low-carb pastas. And there are a few good ones out there, but...this one is the best. First of all, you could eat half the box and only consume 22 grams of non-starchy carbs after subtracting the dietary fiber. The texture, the taste, the fact that you can’t over-cook it and accidentally turn it into mush—it’s just so good. Even my stubborn father-in-law ate it and loved it! Honestly, I won’t bother buying any of my former low-carb pasta choices because this one is so exceptional.

Edible Cookie Dough from Lions Pack (product)

This peanut butter based “dough” is scary delicious. And sure, if you eat the whole jar, the carb count isn’t low anymore, but if you keep this tucked in the fridge for a spoonful (or two) after dinner each night as your “dessert,” the carb content is wonderfully low for something that tastes like a strawberry poptart or a s’more or a cinnamon roll or...Oreos!! Every flavor is gluten-free and vegan, and the flavor options are endless. It’s not cheap, but if it helps you stay on track and avoid the real Oreos, it might become a worthwhile staple in your home.

Bread, Bagels and More...from The Great Low-Carb Bread Company (product)

I love everything this company makes, but am especially impressed by the bagels -- which even my husband liked. Their breads are soft, fluffy, and look and taste like bread. Their low-carb recipe secrets focus primarily on a highly effective combination of oat fiber, almond flour, flax meal, and stevia. Did I mention many of their products are also gluten-free? Their hamburger buns and pastas won’t take away from enjoying those classic meals. They even have low-carb soft-pretzels. You’ve gotta check these out. Delicious, I promise!

Discover Chocolate from Discover Confectionery (product)

Oh, this stuff is good. Many of their flavors are deliciously unique (probably because this is a UK-based product), and it tastes and feels and looks like real chocolate! An entire bar will deliver about 13 grams of low-impact carbs, and is filled with real food ingredients--not chemicals and fake junk. The only flaw of this product is the price.

Flaxseed Muffin in a Mug from a variety of sources (recipe)

This muffin is one of my morning go-to recipes. It takes less than 5 minutes to make a single serving. It’s full of real ingredients, super healthy fats, lots of fiber, and sometimes...chocolate chips! Mix ingredients in a dry coffee mug. Microwave for 70 seconds. Pop it out onto a plate. Cut into 3 slices and add a little butter or...whatever! My favorite version of this includes a tablespoon of chocolate chips to get my chocolate fix without breaking the “carb bank.”

Quest Protein Bars from Quest Nutrition (product)

While I wouldn’t want to encourage using protein bars as a meal replacement (‘cause let’s be honest, they are definitely not made of “whole” food ingredients), these are a great go-to if you’re trying to avoid real desserts, or when you need on-the-go “Oh, my gosh, I’m starving” kind of food from the bottom of your bag. They come in a billion flavors, including birthday cake, cookies ‘n cream, and cinnamon roll. After subtracting the fiber, the remaining carbs are pretty low-impact, and they’re plenty satisfying.

Spiralized Veggies from a variety of sources (product)

Even if you don’t have the “as seen on TV” veggie spiralizer, you can buy pre-spiralized zucchini and carrots to make a your own low-carb “pasta.” (Yes, carrots contain some carbs, but hose carbs are coming from a source that’s a whole food, high in fiber, and packed with essential vitamins.) You can find them in the fresh produce aisle at your grocery store, or in the freezer section at Trader Joe’s, along with frozen cauliflower rice. Simply throw them in a large saute pan with a little oil, add some herbs or sauce, and you have a low-carb and super healthy “pasta” dish.

Really, Really Easy Breadsticks from Kirbies Cravings (recipe)

Ditch the starchy breadsticks and even the pizza crust and make this effortless zero-carb flatbread instead. Literally, you just toss eggs, cheese and herbs into a food processor. Zap zap zap. Pour that batter onto parchment paper in a cookie pan. Bake. Voila!

Chia Seeds from a variety of sources (product)

Chia seeds are definitely trendy these days, but for a good reason: you can make delicious breakfast or dessert pudding with this little seed from Mexico. Soak in just a couple tablespoons overnight in your milk of choice (low-carb milks like coconut or almond would be ideal), and by morning you’ll find you have a thick cup full of chia seed pudding that only contains about 1 gram of carb after subtracting the fiber. You can make it sweeter with your preferred alternative sweetener, or jazz it up with a little peanut butter and a tablespoon of real chocolate chips. Checkout more easy recipe ideas from GnomGnom.

Zucchini Pizza Bites from LowCarbYum (recipe)

Honestly, you don’t even need to know how to read to make these. It’s so easy, and so customizable, too! Chop zucchini into medium-thickness slices and top with a little pasta sauce (check your label closely to avoid buying a high-sugar sauce), a little cheese and 1 slice of pepperoni per slice of zucchini. Pop them in the oven until the cheese is fully melted—delicious low-carb pizza night. Kids will like them. Picky husbands who don’t care about their carb intake will like them. I haven’t offered them to my father-in-law yet, but I bet he might even enjoy them, too!

Romaine Lettuce! No...seriously! Swap it for all bread....

The easiest way to cut the processed, starchy carbs from a sandwich or tacos or even a hamburger is to simply keep a giant stash of romaine lettuce in your fridge at all times. Lay strips of bacon with chopped tomatoes and mayo on romaine for a low-carb BLT. Ditch those corn-laden taco shells and turn Mexican night into a fresh crunchy salad by filling a bowl with fresh crunchy romaine lettuce. Add a little salsa, a little hot sauce, maybe a little more cheese...taco night never tasted so good! (And did you know, romaine lettuce is just as loaded with awesome nutrients as spinach and kale? )

3 “LOW CARB” FOODS TO AVOID

Shirataki Noodles

Okay, some people must love these, but I’m not one of those people. While they don’t contain carbs, these “noodles” are also void of basically any nutrition whatsoever and come in smelly liquid with an unpleasant taste that takes a lot of rinsing and a lot of sauce to cover up. They also have a texture that makes me feel like I might be accidentally chewing on someone’s ear cartilage. If you’ve never tired, you should...at least once. But don’t surprised if you find yourself needing to make something else for dinner after the first bite.

Julian’s Bakery Breads from Julians Bakery (product)

These seem like a dream come true...before you’ve actually tasted them. I’m sorry to say that these extremely low-carb bread varieties are not only not tasty but even hard to even swallow. I choked on the first bite, to be honest. They are dry, weirdly textured, and void of any real flavor (at least a flavor you’d enjoy eating). There must be diehard fans out there, because this company has been around for a while...but I’ve never met them.

Diet Soda

Many people will disagree with me on this one, but at least hear me out. A diet soda here and there--let’s say, once a week--is no big deal. But if diet soda has become your go-to source of hydration every day of the week, not only are you consuming a heck of a lot of chemicals, you’re also only going to make your sweet tooth crave more and more sweet things. When I finally quit drinking diet soda, things with no sugar in them at all started tasting deliciously sweet--like flavored seltzer with a dash of apple cider vinegar. There’s also a great deal of conflicting research on the safety of many artificial sweeteners, and on whether or not they may be increasing a person’s insulin resistance, because their bodies to need more insulin, not less.

About the author:

Ginger Vieira has lived with Type 1 diabetes and Celiac disease since 1999, and fibromyalgia since 2014. She is the author of Pregnancy with Type 1 Diabetes, Dealing with Diabetes Burnout, Emotional Eating with Diabetes, and Your Diabetes Science Experiment. Her background includes a B.S. in professional writing, certifications in cognitive coaching, Ashtanga yoga, and personal training, with several records in drug-free powerlifting. She lives in Vermont with her husband, their two daughters, and their dog, Pedro.

If you liked this post, you may also like:

• 5 Healthy Kitchen Shortcuts You Need to Know

• Diagnosis: New Diabetes Doctor Needed

• The Beginner’s Commercial Break Workout

The posts on this blog are for information only. They are neither intended to substitute for a relationship with your doctor or other healthcare provider, nor do they constitute medical or healthcare advice of any kind. Any information in these posts should not be acted upon without consideration of primary source material and professional input from one’s own healthcare providers.

#lowcarb #diabetes #type 1 diabetes #type1 #healthysnacks #healthysnack #lowcarbliving #dietadvice #insulin #chronicillness #digitalhealth

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bpellerin · 5 years

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The stool of my life

It happens naturally when you make big changes in life that you start thinking about, or more likely that you start to rethink, stuff you used to take for granted.

Such as, to take an easy and light-weight example, your purpose in life. The essence of who you are as a person gifted with a handful of talents and, one hopes, the ability to reason through difficulties instead of resorting to gratuitous violence.

Who are you, really?

Me? I'm a stool. And like all respectable stools, I have three legs. One leg is fitness. One leg is writing. One leg is love. I trust you have some passing experience with this kind of seat. If you do, you'll know that while no leg is any more important than the others, they are all equally necessary. Feel free to test that proposition if you enjoy crashing on floors.

Leg 1

I'm a very active kind of bunny. Some might even say hyperactive. But it's not really my fault. If I don't move, my blood turns to mud and my mood turns real ugly. Especially now that I'm in my late 40s, with Impeding Changes afoot about which you may have heard nasty rumours (all true, by the way) and a metabolism that for no good reason has decided that all the good things in life but especially fresh bread, fries and beer weren't going to be processed like they used to, well, I gotta keep ye old carcass ticking hard.

So I train. Jogging, swimming, conditioning, weights, cycling, etc. For 17 years I did karate and kickboxing pretty intensely. Seven-days-a-week kind of intense. Now I do the other stuff, every single day. Too cold for running? No problem. Hit the pool. Don't feel like getting into that bathing suit? Fine. Go do weights for an hour. Do at least one workout every day. Ideally do ten workouts (or in the summer, a dozen) a week.

Do I always feel like it? Hahaha. Show me someone who positively gleams at the prospect of getting out there in the cold and dark winter morning to go rattle their bones in a somewhat violent manner, and who prefers that to shadow-boxing with the snooze button and I'll show you a psychopath, pure and simple. Of course I don't always feel like it. Duh. But like I enjoy repeating, it's always when you don't wanna that you should. So I go, reminding myself that while I rarely feel like exercising I always, without fail, feel better afterwards.

It's very necessary to keep the unduly ugly away. And it makes my morning coffee taste more virtuous.

Leg 2

Writing. I've made many compromises in my life that resulted in me not writing very much because I thought this was what was expected of me as a responsible grown-up. I worked in real jobs. Jobs that paid well and made me look good. But I never lasted more than two years at any one of them. I went to law school (not at my own urging), studied hard and got a degree that would allow me to make piles of dough and earn me ambiguous respectability in the process. Wouldn't you just love to be hated yet indispensable simultaneously? Me neither. But I got the degree and even a job at this prestigious firm in Montreal... which I quit before spending even one minute in their employ. What was the point, if I didn't want to be a lawyer, hum?

Since then I bounced around various jobs I wasn't especially well-suited for, including wifery and motherhood. Finally I would find my spot, right?

Wrong.

It occurs to me, which is not a very comfortable feeling, that maybe I was too scared of writing and used other people's expectations (real or imagined) of what a responsible grown-up should be doing to run away from my art should it be able to catch me anyway.

Well, as they say, shit. Nobody said re-examining your life's purpose was ever going to be easy, especially for the already battered ego. You know, the one that's already pretty unhappy from all the years of not writing.

In any event, it didn't work. I guess the inescapable truth is that responsible adulting isn't for me. When I finally emerged from trying so hard to pretend I could fit in, not too long ago, I resolved never ever to put my writing behind anything else, not even the other two stool legs. I was going to write, every single day of the year (yes, all 365 of them; haven't decided whether or not to take the odd Feb. 29 off but leaning against it) and suffer absolutely zero excuse. Travelling? So? Busy with kids? And? In the hospital with one arm cut off? Mmmm. There's got to be a way to use the other one.

Point is, well, you get it of course. You're pretty swift. I don't need to explain any more, not even as a somewhat transparent attempt at increasing my word count for today. Because yes, I now set myself writing goals (benchmarks, markers, and any other synonym I can find to populate this paragraph) and must absolutely no failing allowed write that many words every single day the sun rises even if it means being anti-social or - gasp - irresponsible like a teenager.

It's a good thing my body still metabolizes red wine pretty well.

Leg 3

Love. Boy, do we ever get frantic about that one. And no wonder. It's a necessary drug. Just ask those who feel deprived of it.

I used to feel that way. Deprived, I mean. Like a junkie in search of a fix.

I didn't feel loved growing up. Was it my fault or that of the humans around me? I have my opinions on that, and they're probably fairly accurate, but it doesn't matter. For I grew up feeling like my heart was dry. I got accused of if early and often so it was probably true.

I became alternatively very harsh (never more so than when it came to my own person; I almost redefined self-criticism all by myself) and so desperate that I would bend over backwards in three different pretzel shapes just to get someone (anyone, very much including an eclectic and disparate collection of Mr. Real Wrong) to say those words I ached to hear.

I am not entirely rid of that unfortunate predicament, even though now I find myself in the enviable position of being loved beyond what words can describe by a handful of wonderful souls, including three I made from scratch. Still, insecurity nags. Am I really worth it? Is there a trap? Am I about to lose them and will Mr. Finally At Long Last Right disappear in a puff of glittery smoke like in those cheesy friendly-witch programs?

(Research note: Was the puff of smoke really glittery? Is it worth checking?)

Anyway. Maybe insecurity is part of love. Because it makes us feel vulnerable and doesn't let us take anything for granted. Maybe that's how you keep the right kind of love around. Not with constant reminders, but with just enough of an insecure edge that we remember to be nice, say please and thank you, and occasionally remind the objects of our devotion how much they mean to us. Because who knows, maybe they're a little insecure too sometimes.

It's all good.

****

This is my stool, and those are my legs. I used to neglect them like crazy and as a result spent a lot of time wobbling or crashing to the ground. But once I was able to stop trying to fit in so much with the responsible adults around me, I was able to sit down properly and keep working, allowing me fully to engage with life like never before, while elegantly avoiding those awful split infinitives. And yes, that feels good.

#life #purpose #introspection

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