#I just seem to have found myself in quite the pickle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

in1-nutshell · 6 months

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Hello! I read/saw one of your writings (Steeljaw and his pack reaction to Bot Buddy with the personality of Perrito from "Puss in Boots the Last Wish") and you did a good job and I love it!

If it's okay can you continue or do this same request with other Steeljaw's (previous) pack members, as well?

Also Thank you!!!

Let's see what other horrors Buddy will unleash on the unsuspecting Con's.

Steeljaw and pack reaction to Bot Buddy with the personality of Perrito from Puss in Boots the Last Wish (continuation)

SFW, platonic, Cybertron/ Bot reader

Scowl

Scowl stumbled quite literally on Buddy.

He was going to go to what seemed like an abandoned lot. He wacked a bin when he heard a yelp.

Surprised, Scowl went to the bin and saw a mini con pop out.

"Oh! Thanks for the help friend! I've been stuck there for a bit. Steeljaw wanted some more steel beams so I was trying to get some, but I got stuck! So, thank you again!"-- Buddy

"... Umm you're welcome?"--Scowl

He helped Buddy out a bit after seeing their pitiful attempts to drag any of the beams.

Scowl ended up bonding with Buddy while getting the materials for this Steeljaw guy.

That being said...

He gets attached really quickly.

Buddy is just so small and fragile looking. If he'd sneeze he was sure he would send Buddy flying back a couple yards. Scowl was bigger, stronger, and much bulkier than they were.

As much as he hated to say it... He has to remember how Grimlock handled smaller things.

He was not prepared for the untold backstory Buddy had to tell. He doesn't know what was worse. Hearing the story or hearing it in such a casual form.

"Wow! You're so strong Scowl! You remind me of one of my friends. He was so strong that he put a ton of scrap metal on me! I found a pretty slab of ions from that day!"--Buddy

"... You're friend... They tried to bury you?!?!"-- Scowl

"Yeah! But I'm telling you the slab was the prettiest thing!"--Buddy

Scowl has told Buddy if someone hurts them, to let him know so he can pay them a visit. That bot will be nothing but scrap metal when he's through.

Drag Strip

Drag Strip has had his fair share of peculiar friends.

Look at Wildbreak.

He met Buddy while trying to look for Wildbreak and the others. And he might have had another incident with ice again. Thank goodness it was just his pedes.

Bad news was it was his pedes. He couldn't exactly move well.

Enter: Buddy

"Hello! Wow you seem to be in a bit of a pickle!"--Buddy

"Yeah I know... Why don't you pass me that crowbar over there?"--Drag Strip

"Sure thing friend! Hey after this you want to go out for a drive? I know the best spots around here and the best shady parts too--"-- Buddy

"...what did I get myself into..."--Drag Strip

The next thing he knows Buddy becomes a third shadow. Second being Wildbreak. He is starting to think that he might attract weird bots.

Drag Strip is unnerved hearing some of Buddy's backstory. It's not something he expected.

You're so lucky you have friends that stay with you all the time Drag Strip."--Buddy

"I guess, but he can be such a pain in the afterburner,"-- Drag Strip

"Maybe, but I have to follow my friends everywhere. They usually end up running. They like playing tag a lot of the time."--Buddy

"They run from you?"-- Drag Strip

"Yeah, but I always find them eventually. Where are you going?"--Buddy

"I need to tell Wildbreak something."--Drag Strip

He is ready to throw down with anyone who decides to treat Buddy like a lesser bot. Drag Strip makes sure that Buddy is either with him or Wildbreak at all times.

Wildbreak

Wildbreak was looking for Drag Strip when he found Buddy.

They had gotten separated when the Autobots had ambushed them.

He ended up under an abandoned bridge when a storm came by. It had started thundering when he felt something touch his pedes.

"Excuse me? You're kind of crushing my tail."-- Buddy

"What? Oh! I'm sorry!"--Wildbreak

"It's okay! I don't like the storms either."--Buddy

"...It gets too loud..."--Wildbreak

"You can hold me if you want. I'm trained in the arts of therapy cuddling."--Buddy

"No I'm --"--Wildbreak

CRASH!

"... You sure you don't mind?"--Wildbreak

"Not at all. Just don't dent my armor too much."--Buddy

"Right, sorry."--Wildbreak

After that night, Wildbreak is now best friends with Buddy. Even after they find Drag Strip, Wildbreak doesn't leave Buddy alone. If he is going somewhere, Buddy is going with, and he doesn't mind at all.

His spark breaks when he hears some of Buddy's backstory. He could never imagine his friend in these scenarios.

"You have so many stories Wildbreak!"--Buddy

"Yeah it's been a crazy time. But bots like Drag Strip make things a bit better."--Wildbreak

"Oh! That reminds me a story! One time a had this friend who put me in a box and, and threw me off a bridge! It landed in the acid wastes, but I got out of there before it landed in the acid. I saw the prettiest sunset that day. And --Wildbreak are you crying?"--Buddy

Wildbreak full on sobbing holding Buddy close.

"...no ..."--Wildbreak

If anyone came near Buddy with intention to harm, it is on sight. Wildbreak is ready to drop kick anyone who comes near Buddy. No one is going to hurt them while he's around.

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #tf rid 2015 #bot buddy #tf rid 2015 x platonic reader

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clumsiestgiantess · 9 months

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Alright everyone, this prompt is done! I couldn’t help myself, or was just too cute a scenario

Whenever Sierra grumbled in that adorable way of hers, Scotch‘s heart simultaneously softened and sped up. He loved her in a way beyond words, and as for the coming child — it was impossible to say who he loved more. “Hungry again?” he asked softly, sliding gently to Sierra’s side. She nodded, placing her hand over her rounded belly before glancing discreetly at him. “I know you’ve already gotten me so much..” With a small smile, Scotch slid her hands into his own, and this time her gaze alighted on his. “Just tell me, sweetheart. Whatever you want, I’ll go find it for you.” A gleaming smile immediately brightened her features. “Well, since you offered, it’s pickles and peanut butter this time.” Scotch‘s face scrunched up at the thought. “Hey! You promised not to judge!” He chuckled, “I didn’t say anything!” Sierra smirked, giving him a light shove, “Your look said enough.”

After a few goodbyes and a kiss, Scotch picked up his pack of supplies, and headed uncertainly out the door. This was what put him on edge. Both he and his wife are borrowers, a species of creature similar to humans — though their range of adaptations differs greatly from their larger, more well-known counterparts. Their ears are slightly longer and rounder to pick up on acute noises, and their limbs are naturally double-jointed to give them better maneuverability while escaping danger. However, their most noticeable difference is their height. The average borrower only grows about four to five inches tall — six at the most. To survive, many live off of what humans have, simply because it’s easier for them to steal what’s already been made then make it themselves. Between fending off danger around every corner, and trying to stay hidden in a large and unforgiving world, making anything beyond necessities is only a fantasy for most.

Scotch shuddered at the end of his route through the walls. He and his wife had more than a few scares over the last few years. The old house’s cat was by far the most terrifying. It was the reason they’d moved away, after all. He and Sierra could barely consider themselves safe around such a dangerous creature, nevermind a child. The layout of this new place still confused Scotch some, but he’d quickly put to memory the layout of the kitchen after all the times he’d come for yet another random piece of food. What did she ask for? Pickles and peanut butter? He felt his face scrunching up a second time. “I have to get into the fridge again? Great.”

The last time Scotch tried opening the fridge, it took him nearly all night. A whole leverage system had to be set up just to pry it open. Tired, but determined to get what his wife asked so sweetly for, he made his way down the kitchen counter, across the floor, and back up to the fridge. From there, he had to set up the pulleys and whatnot to actually open the thing. After that, he had to get in and out as quickly as he could — quite a tedious process. The fridge sets off an alarm when the temperature rises a few degrees too high, meaning the door could only stay open for so long before attention was drawn to it. If he really had to, Scotch figured he could leave the door open to give himself a bit more time to escape. The humans would deal with it once he was gone.

Neither borrower knew much about the humans of the new house. They had only lived there a little less than a month. From what Scotch had seen, there seemed to be only two of them, and at least one of them was always in the house. Beyond that, they knew very little. Not that it mattered much; a borrower wouldn’t be caught dead with a human so much as looking at them.

With the fridge finally open, Scotch rushed into the frigid interior, scouring the shelves for a pickle jar. Luckily, he found it quickly and began yet another ascent. Using a handmade grapple — a trademark tool of all borrowerkind — Scotch pried off the lid and reached into the jar, knife at the ready. THUD THUMP THUD What?! How-? No! The sounds of a human walking towards the kitchen startled Scotch so badly that he dropped his knife into the jar. That was the least of his worries, though. Haphazardly throwing the lid back on, he rushed to get out of the fridge. Sure, he could hide in the racks upon racks of goods, but the human would undoubtedly close the fridge the moment they found it open, leaving him trapped inside. There really was no other choice, he had to get out.

Winding up the grapple into his bag, Scotch hurriedly jumped down onto the shelf from the top of the jar. This was a major oversight on his part. The shelf was made of metal wiring, which left gaps in its surface. They weren’t wide enough for a borrower to fall through, but a leg or an arm could certainly get stuck between them, and that’s exactly what happened to Scotch. The footsteps only grew louder as he desperately struggled to free himself, but he could already tell that there wouldn’t be enough time. The human would find him, and who knows what they might do then.

Scotch‘s heart stung at the thought of Sierra waiting for him back home. How long would it take her to realize he wasn’t coming back? She’d have to move again, alone. And raise their child alone. He couldn’t let that happen to her, he couldn’t. But when it came down to it, there wasn’t much he could do to stop the inevitable. The thought only worsened the pain in his chest.

In the blink of an eye, the refrigerator door was opened wider by someone who was easily thirty times Scotch‘s size. The human’s eyes wandered sleepily through the contents inside, but when they landed on Scotch, they lifted wide open in shock. “What the hell?!” Bryan yelped, jumping away from the strange creature in his fridge. He regarded the little thing for an astonished moment. It could be a weird mouse or rat, but it almost looked like… No, it couldn’t be that, could it? Bryan hesitantly reached for the thing, but just before his fingers made contact, a small choked voice rang through the kitchen. “Please- Please, don’t do this! I- I have a wife and a child on the way; I’m begging you!"

Bryan’s heart practically dropped out of his chest. That- It is a tiny person! They have.. oh. What does this little guy think I’m gonna do to him? Slowly, Bryan moved his hand from the tiny person to the shelf where they were stuck. Gently, he pressed their leg out of the wire shelving. Scotch could only watch in frightened awe as the human freed him from the metal wires. Very briefly, he thought the human might snap off his leg, but it wasn’t any more painful than it was when he got it stuck there to begin with. Both beings stared at eachother in silence, confused and dumbstruck by the other. They were both about the same age, and even wore almost identical expressions. In a moment, the refrigerator alarm sounded, startling them both.

“Here, let me.. let me close the door for a second.” Bryan offered an outstretched hand to the smaller man, and he reluctantly climbed on. Scotch didn’t quite trust the human, but he was afraid of being shut into the cold space, so he went willingly. After closing the fridge, Bryan set him down on the island counter a few steps away. He turned, glancing at the contraption still hanging from the refrigerator door. “What were you looking for in there?” he asked questioningly. Scotch stayed silent. “I’m not mad if you’re taking things,” he amended, “I just wanted to know. Maybe I could help get whatever it is you need.” Scotch gawked up at the large human. “You.. You would do that?” Bryan nodded, “Why not? What is it you want?” “Well,” the borrower rubbed the back of his head nervously, “Pickles and peanut butter, for my wife,” he added.

To both of their shock, Bryan suddenly belted out a laugh. “No way! My wife gets the same craving!” “You.. She’s.. You’re having a kid too?” The human nodded enthusiastically, “I’m Bryan, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.. tiny.. person. Sorry if that’s offensive or anything, I just- I have no clue what you are, man.” A relieved breath of air escaped Scotch‘s lungs. The human, Bryan, didn’t seem nearly as malicious as he first thought. Rumors are slow to pass around the community of borrowers, mostly due to their separated, secretive lifestyle. However, that didn’t stop hundreds of variations of tortuous human stories from passing from household to household. Humans are known by borrowers to be unnecessarily cruel and overly curious, but Bryan seemed more confused than anything else.

“I’m.. Well, I’m obviously not human, and that’s all you probably need to know.” Bryan’s eyes narrowed in thought and Scotch hastily added “I- I didn’t mean to be rude!” “Naw, that’s alright,” the human shrugged, “Clearly you guys aren’t very fond of us, though I don’t really understand why. I know we’re obviously bigger, but I don’t think either of us have done anything very scary.” Scotch sighed, “It’s just humans in general. My wife and I moved in recently, so we haven’t had the time to learn much about you two, specifically.” Another shock to the borrower: the human agreed with his secrecy. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. I know a few people I definitely wouldn’t want to be, like.. five inches tall around.”

Bryan returned to the fridge, grabbed a few different items, put them all down on the counter beside Scotch, then went to the pantry and pulled out even more. “Here, take whatever you want, for your wife and you.” “R- Really?” the borrower stuttered, amazed at the sheer amount of options spread out for him. “Of course, dude! It’s not like you can go to the grocery store and pick stuff up.” A human pacifist was one thing, but a human who was willing to let a borrower take from them was unheard of. “And you’re sure you don’t need any of it, yourself?” Scotch asked. Bryan chuckled, “It's not like you’re taking the whole jar with you! Just.. think of it as a belated housewarming present or something.”

At that point, Scotch was shocked he was still surprised by the human. “You mean we can stay here? Usually we leave if someone sees us…” “No, please stay! I’m gonna need someone else to talk about dad stuff with! I could introduce you to my wife, and maybe she can meet yours-“ “Woah, woah, one thing at a time!” Scotch cautioned, “Let’s just keep my existence a secret for now, ok?” Bryan felt it was such an awkward topic between his friends, all of which weren’t even married. Meeting someone in the same situation as him — or at least a similar one — was beyond exciting. He couldn’t help it if he was rushing the borrower some.

“Alright, sorry. You’re right. I got a bit carried away there.” Scotch stepped up to the pickle jar and peered in, finding his knife stuck in the middle of it. “My uhh, my knife is actually in here. I dropped it when you came over.” Bryan dug in and pressed it between the tips of his fingers, dragging it back out. Once that was taken care of, Scotch got to work slicing the tiniest bits of pickle to take back with him. As he worked, he gestured to a few other items he thought he might need. “Dude, will you be able to carry all of this?” Scotch shrugged, “I have to stock up while I can.” “Or you could just take it whenever you want,” Bryan offered, “I told you that you can have whatever.” “It’s still a hike to get it, though,” he countered. Bryan agreed. “So, are you as nervous as I am?” the human asked after a brief silence. Scotch glanced up at him. “About.. what?” “Your kid, man! God, I’m kinda freaking out about mine! They haven’t even been born, and I’m already having doubts whether I can raise them. I don’t know.. Do you think I’d be a good dad? It’s just.. a lot.”

Scotch stopped working for a moment. Setting down his pack and tools, he turned to examine the human in front of him. He couldn’t deny he’d been thinking very similar things over the last few months. “Just don’t mess up and you’ll be fine.” Both of them laughed loudly through the quiet house. “I’ll sure as hell try. When’s your kid-“ “Bryan? What are you doing down there? What are you laughing at?” His wife called from the bedroom upstairs, still waiting for the bottle of water he’d promised to bring her. “Oh shit; I forgot she’s waiting for me,” Bryan whispered quietly to Scotch. “Nothing hon! I just remembered something funny! I’ll have your water in a sec!” “Thanks!” The moment his wife called back, he began gathering everything into his arms. “I gotta put all this back now, but if you want anything else, feel free to get it. I just don’t want to leave it all on the counter.” Scotch nodded, “I think what I have is enough. Thank you, though. Honestly, I thought you were going to hurt me when you found me, for stealing from you”.

Bryan gave him a saddened look. “Naw, I wouldn’t hurt you! But.. you are still staying here, right?” “Yeah. I don’t think you’re a big enough threat to have to move for.” “Oh,” Bryan said with a tinge of shock, grabbing two water bottles from a package in the pantry. “What was such a big threat you had to move here?” Scotch shuddered, “The other humans bought a cat.” “Geez, that’s definitely not good for the kid,” Bryan remarked. “Well, I’m gonna head back to bed. Good luck getting everything back.” Scotch scoffed, “The bigger problem is going to be hiding it all. I think my wife would be a bit suspicious if I came back with all this.” Smiling knowingly, Bryan made his way to the hall leading upstairs. “See you soon?” Scotch nodded, hefting his back over his shoulder. “I’m here practically every night. Come down and talk about ‘dad stuff’ with me. Or help me with the food.” “Or both?” “Or both.”

Confirmation settled, Bryan headed upstairs and Scotch headed into the walls. It had been a strange evening of events, but both were grateful for the companionship. It was only a matter of time before the kids arrived, and Scotch had the feeling he would end up needing the human’s help with a few things. Even if he didn’t, it was still nice having someone new to talk to.

#funny thing about the borrowers’ names:#Sierra’s name comes from the Sierra Mist drink #And Scotch’s name comes from Scotch tape #There’s a good chance I’ll write a part two where the wives accidentally meet but that might be a while #have this for now lol #g/t #giant tiny

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feelingbloo · 1 month

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doing this all at once because im fasting and need a distraction... this shit be getting personal lmao

day 1: your stats

currently 82.2lbs as of writing

day 2: how tall are you, do you like your height?

im 4'10, no not really! definitely doesnt help my bmi out at all, lmao. id prefer to be around 5'4.

day 3: a picture of your thinspiration. what features do you like about this person?

most thinspo kinda rolls off my back and doesnt affect me, so i dont really look at it. blessing and a curse.

day 4: your greatest fear about weight loss

i only have one fear, and its my partner. she (not so subtly) compares herself to me and uses me as thinspo, and i know losing weight will only make this problem worse.

day 5: why do you really want to lose weight? are you doing it for you?

im not sure if theres a real reason anymore. everything i can think of is something that occurred after the disordered eating started, so i dont know what truly drives me. id say im doing it for myself because theres nobody else i would do it for.

day 6: do you binge? if so, explain why you think you do

of course, definitely. most times its due to an emotion, i think ive always used food as a comfort in that way.

day 7: do your parents know you are trying to lose weight? do they care?

they dont, i never told them and they havent found out. i assume my mom would care, my father sorta shuts himself off so i dont know if hed be mad about it or what.

day 8: your workout routine

im physically disabled from an unknown myopathy (my body doesnt produce enough muscle) so everything is a workout to me lmao. i generally walk around for 4-ish hours a day, since i cant quite manage anything else.

day 9: did anyone ever make comments about your weight in a negative way?

no, only my eating habits. i was often told that i ate so much i mustve had a tapeworm, and most of what i eat is "junk food" due to sensory issues.

day 10: what was the hardest thing you gave up during this weight loss?

dude, i fucking miss the liquid calories! in past restriction phases i refused to count liquid cals, and i definitely still lost weight, but not as fast as i would have liked. ive started counting them and ughhhhh.

i didnt cut them out completely, so i still have creamer in my coffee and the occasional soda, but i want my milkshake goddamnit 😭

day 11: your favorite thinspo blog and why

same answer as day 3.

day 12: what do you normally eat?

for main meals i usually have tuna on toast, egg salad sandwiches, cream cheese bagels, ham sandwiches/ham bagels, grilled cheeses, basically just carb + animal product. if we order out its either a cheeseburger or fried rice.

for sides/snacks/small meals i like string cheese, pickles, mini candies, lollipops, pepperoni, if theres any sweets in the house i have some of that.

its a wonder that i even lose weight on this lmao. but OMAD and counting cals is what makes it possible.

day 13: are you losing weight in a healthy or unhealthy way?

i dont think ive ever seen someone answer this with the former option. we're all doing this unhealthily on this side of tumblr.

day 14: whats your UGW? when do you expect to reach it?

ooh, tough one. it seems like everyone has a set UGW but i dont. i feel most compelled towards the number 73lbs, which is the bmi of my LW (15.3). i dont think that bmi is low enough for me though, i'll figure out when i get there.

ive gotten close to that weight a couple times, but ultimately something always happens and i emotionally binge or whatever. no clue about timing.

day 15: are you vegan or vegetarian? if so, has this helped you lose weight? if not, would you consider turning vegan or vegetarian?

ive had lengths of time where ive been pescetarian (vegetarian + fish), it never helped me lose weight.

at this time in my life im not able to limit my diet to that degree, but i heavily support the lifestyle for ethical and environmental reasons. if i move out id likely try veganism.

day 16: when did you first decide to lose weight?

i began obsessively weighing myself at 7, and started to learn purging around 9/10. it wasnt ever something i was serious about, but at 12 i discovered the online ana community andddd... it really just brought out that part of me. so id say 12 is where it officially began, but ive had it in me since 7.

day 17: do you have an eating disorder?

never officially diagnosed but i dont think most people here are. yes, anorexia nervosa.

day 18: what food is your weakness?

i dont restrict what type of food i eat, as long as its under my limit. but my real weakness is food other people give me... i cant resist it regardless of the calories and it makes me feel so dumb. they dont even have to be in the room! it could just be takeout, they dont even have to be the one to cook it!

day 19: when is the last time you ate fast food?

i cant even remember, i almost never eat it since i dont like it. the grease and the oils coat my mouth and throat and it feels so disgusting.

taco bell cinnamon twists are bomb though.

day 20: favorite diet?

the special k diet is funny (literally just eat special k) but i always lose a lot of weight when i do cereal-based diets like that.

day 21: what are your clothing sizes?

ehhhh,,, i dont wear fitting clothes and everything is baggy, do usually womens small or sometimes xs.

my measurements are quite small (26bust, 23waist, 28hip IIRC?) so im below a 00 in most charts ive seen. unfortunately thats just my general size due to my height, im not as thin as people imagine from that by any means.

day 22: what was your lowest weight? when and how did you gain?

73lbs at 12, my height didnt change since then lmao. i experienced some trauma right after getting to that weight, which led to me binging myself back up to 90lbs.

day 23: did the media play a role in your wanting to lose weight?

i think it was more personal experiences rather than the media, however the media likely did contribute once i had already established my disordered eating.

day 24: how do you feel about the terms pro-ana/pro-mia

it depends on the context. in the original meaning, it just meant a space where you could discuss your disorder without actively working towards recovery. i support that heavily.

nowadays, where it usually means people promoting ana/mia as some pretty dainty "lifestyle", fucking ew. what is wrong with you people. i understand wanting to romanticize your disorder (and find others who do the same), but i draw the line at genuinely thinking that disordered eating makes you "better" than others, or whatever bullshit they try to say.

day 25: have you ever purged? if so, describe your first experience.

i have purged in the past, but due to my disability (day 8) i typically cant vomit anymore no matter what i try. the muscle just isnt strong enough anymore to contract that violently.

first experience was harrowing lmao, i had had a bowl of instant ramen and was hallucinating as i was purging it. everything else was so distracting, i dont really remember anything about the actual purging itself.

day 26: what excites you most about reaching your UGW?

the first time i got to my LW, i just remember feeling so giddy and proud and i want that again and again.

day 27: how do you deal with being around food?

if i eat it, im not longer around it... i just have zero self control.

day 28: do you want that gap between your legs? why?

i guess so. its something a lot of people are envious of, and i knew i was happy when i had it in the past.

day 29: your definition of beauty.

this is going to sound "wrong" from an anorexic person, but chubby people. i dont have a fetish for it, i have slept with average people without problem, but i dont think i could date someone who wasnt at least bmi 23... ive found that bmi 25-27 is the sweet spot though.

i just think theres something so attractive about it regardless of gender. like hell yeah thick arms and round stomachs and back rolls. fuck yeah.

day 30: 10 facts about you! and now, what are your stats?

oh god what is this, an interrogation? not saying stats since im doing this in one go.

i draw (hobbyist, nowhere near professional)

i collect animal bones and general knick knacks

garfield and miku are my favorite characters

i tap on everything

i wanted to be a veterinarian as a kid

favorite animals are polar bears and hammerheads

my grandmother wanted me to be named tapestry (what??)

i have dyscalculia

i enjoy making cookies

i can barely whistle

#⭐️ve #4nerex1a #⭐️rving #4norexla #an0rec1a #anrexx #⭐️vation goals #4nor3xia #⭐️ ing motivation #anrexya #4n4rexia #4norexia #3ating d1sorder #tw an0rexia #an4r3xia #an4rexia

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 months

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"he's gotta have it"

I had been such a bad boy up to the point of the day before Hanukkah, and I knew Alex had been a naughty boy as well. He had come along like a spider on a drain pipe begging for something to eat, and he got it good and he knew it. At some point, he began to lounge there on my couch with his hands tucked behind his head and let his belly hang out without an iota of shame to be found. He knew he was a prince. He knew he had it well from that point onward.

He let his eyes wander unto me from there like a crowned prince awaiting his bunch of grapes and then some. There was a part of me that wanted to make it more than grapes, so much more than grapes. The thought of a vine instead, the way one would curl itself around a lanky little metal pole, a lanky little guy like him. He may have put on a few but he was still a slender boy in my eyes.

I was a bad boy. The whole thing with me and him left me feeling like such a bad boy. I was giving him everything he could ever ask for in terms of all the food he could ever ask for. Giving him everything to eat and I had not a single care in the world about it all.

I was a bad boy and there had to be a way to bump it up a notch or two. He was starting to go over his borders with the passing of Thanksgiving, and I knew he was only going to go further overboard with Christmas and Hanukkah upon us. I still had yet to make him the sufganiyot as well.

There was that one evening prior to Thanksgiving when he and I had gotten down to the floor together and I was twisting his dick like I was trying to twist off the cap of a pickle jar. I was never going to forget the way that he parted his lips and arched his neck and back when I did it. I had no clue as to where the idea came from with me, but I had opened something up with him with that.

He liked being under me, and it was just one of those things that I saw right before my eyes: the panting, the gentle little moans that emerged from him, the way that he guided my hand down to the space between his legs, everything. He liked being encapsulated and trapped under the grasp of my hand, as chunky as it was, and I kept on seeing him all swaddled up with something long and elegant and lanky, like a grapevine.

I had invited him over for dinner about a week before Hanukkah and he seemed utterly ravenous the very second he strode into my apartment. He had that look to his eyes, as if he hadn’t had anything to eat in quite some time up to that point. The way that his long hair seemed to spread down over his shoulders like that of a mane. He looked like a little lion man standing there in my kitchen with one arm behind his back and his other hand pressed to his hip.

I had always loved the way how his hips looked, in particular the way that they began curving out more with his weight and the way that I would get lost in the way that he looked below the belt, too. If anything, I found myself more and more drawn to his legs the more that time went on.

But then again, there was his little belly and the way that his shirt had grown a bit more snug on him, especially now following Thanksgiving. I had this inclination to wrap something snug around him there, something that of a grapevine and then I could go from there with something flat like plastic wrap. Just wrap him up tight like a little piece of kreplach and have fun with him from there.

I had began to try my hand at kreplach all for him, simply because he had mentioned it over Thanksgiving and I looked into making it for him at some point, at least before Hanukkah. There was so much Jewish food that I wanted to make for him, more so after he had talked about how it was so warming for him and how it always filled every inch of his belly, too: the sufganiyot especially was on my list for him. But I had to give him what I knew about kreplach.

Alex followed me into the kitchen like a hungry house cat, and he hung there by the counter so as to watch me. He propped up his chin up on his palm like a schoolgirl waiting to hear gossip about the latest thing, but his eyes were fixed on me and the pan on the stove.

“Forgot to tell you, Chuck's in the hospital,” he told me in a single breath. “Something going on with his heart.”

“Oh my god!” I gasped, and I brought my hands up to my mouth. “Is he okay?”

“We can hope that he is,” he confessed to me with a shrug of his shoulders. “I talked to his girlfriend and she said that he wasn't feeling well, that it had something to do with some weird feeling in his chest so she drove him to the hospital.”

“When was this?”

“Just this morning. Last I heard from her was he's okay. He just needed to be taken to a room and they were running some tests.”

“It's probably just stress,” I said as I poured in the ground beef into the skillet, to which it made a low sizzling noise on the oil. I gave it some salt and pepper, followed by a good clockwise stir. He never moved from his spot on the counter as I opened the fridge and took out the pastry wrappers made the day before.

Just a few minutes with the meat, at least until it was slightly browned, and then it was going into the wrappers, followed by the skillet for a few minutes. It was always so meditative with me.

Indeed, once the meat was ready, and I began spooning it into the wrappers, he leaned into me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the edge of the counter pressing against his soft belly. There had to be some kind of rope or something lying around my place, or I could possibly go next door and see if Lou had any himself.

I had whipped up about fourteen of those bad boys before I heated up the oil again and placed them into the skillet for a good frying.

“You really sure you wanna fry those?” he asked me in a low voice.

“Yeah. It's almost Hanukkah, so I figured why not.” And he showed me a little lopsided smile at that.

“When I was a kid, my grandmother would always make them like spring rolls for Purim. She would make them with apples, too.”

“With apples, really?” I couldn't resist the smile at that.

“Oh, yeah. I always loved the sweet dumplings in particular, especially when they came out of the oven. The potato ones at Rosh Hashanah, too. I remember those always came with a side of soup.”

“Maybe after I tickle your appetite a little bit, I'll bust out a pot and make us some chowder,” I suggested to him with a wink.

The dumplings cooked in the skillet for a few minutes on one side, and then when I turned them over, he cleared his throat and shifted his weight again as if he wanted to tell me something else.

“You know what I've been wanting us to do?” he asked right then.

“What's that?”

“I want you to tie me up and feed me,” he said with a straight face, to which I raised my eyebrows at that.

“Tie you up and feed you?” I asked him, slightly taken aback. He then pursed his lips and shook his head.

“I know, that was... that was stupid,” he quipped.

“No, that was... where did that come from?” I asked him as I turned the last kreplach over and put a lid on top of that.

“I'm not sure. But it's something that I thought about a while back and I've been so reluctant to bring it up to you, too. I kept on thinking, 'god, this is so stupid, there's no way Eric is going to want to do that even if I asked him nicely and I was practically on my knees and begging for it. If it was already kind of an event to get us both in the mood for feeding each other, I just wonder how long this would possibly take.' Add to this, I've just been finding the right courageous moment to say it.”

“And courageous you are,” I assured him as I wiped my hands on a dish towel. “You know, it's funny, I've actually been thinking about adding rope to our whole thing here. Thing is I don't know if I have any.”

“Doesn't hurt to look, does it not?” he suggested in a near whisper and with a slight bow to his head. Maybe it really was something heavy for him.

I then rubbed my hands together and turned down the heat.

“Keep an eye on these, I'll be right back,” I told him.

“How long do they take?”

“About two more minutes. I'll just be real quick—” Before he could get another word in, I bowed out of the kitchen and to the hallway linen closet. Something told me that Lou had a spool of rope that I could play with for a bit, but then I took a look down to the bottom shelf, right below the soaps and boxes and things there, and I recognized those smooth fine white strands that made up some good rope. Really good rope and the kind that I only dreamed about as well.

I picked it up and slung it over my shoulder, and I returned to the kitchen and right as the kreplach was ready.

Alex stood up and held before the edge of the counter with his hands pressed onto the tiles as if he was expecting something. I looked on at the soft way that his belly curved out from over his belt, and it was right then I had an idea.

With the rope over my shoulder, I plated us seven kreplach each, and I knew he was going to want a bowl of soup. But for the time being, I had to work with those meaty little dumplings the size of apricots.

It was as if he read my mind, and he held before the kitchen counter with his hands planted on the edge of the tiles.

“I want you to do it while we're standing up,” he quipped as I handed him a fork.

“You want me to tie up while we're standing? Can we at least do it in the living room?”

“Of course! I know how much of a hearth the oven is and how tricky it is to be around hot oil, too.” He flashed me a wink as he picked up his plate and led me back into the living room. I hoped that we could help ourselves to the kreplach all the while because there was no way I was going to let it grow cold with whatever it was we were about to carry out right then.

“I'm thinking...” he began as he set the plate down on the coffee table and reached down for the hem of his shirt and peeled it off. He stood before me with his bare chest out in the open and his little belly hanging out like the belly of a puppy: he had those little sprigs of dark hair all over his chest and I thought about running my fingers through it once we were done with all of this. He picked up the fork again and scooped up one of those little dumplings.

I watched him eat it before I indulged in my own. I never realized just how filling these were once I had a couple myself, and I knew it was because of the oil. But he ate all seven of those, one right after the other and at a slow, deliberate pace to boot as well, and once he was done with them, he set down his plate and rested a hand on his belly.

“Those were perfect,” he confessed to me.

“You're going to want soup, aren't you?” I suggested to him as I picked up my sixth dumpling.

“Oh, you know it,” he said in a low voice. I then ate up my seventh dumpling and set the plate down on the table next to his so I could handle the rope. He put his hands behind his back and let his little belly hang out in the open: I definitely wanted him to be full of soup as well.

“So what were you thinking?” I started as I stood behind him with the rope in hand.

“Thinking I'll just hold still right here and you can feel your way with me with this thing,” he quipped. It was a smooth rope, and thus, I knew that he was going to like this. I decided to begin with his hands first, and then I was going to let the rope do its thing all around the rest of his body.

“So… you just hold still like this?” I asked him.

“Yeah. Just—like this. At least at first, anyway.”

“This is going to be somewhat of an art of sorts,” I said as I thought about the Japanese way of going about with bondage. Once his hands were linked up, I moved the ends of the rope around his body. I held the ends up close to his bare chest, and with a quick peek over his shoulder, I could see myself make something of an elongated knot.

“Ow,” he blurted out.

“Sorry—here, let me get your hair.” I nudged his hair out of the way of his chest to make it easier on both of us. I then rounded his body so could make the knot better: it was this long braid of a knot that reached the top of his belly, to which I moved the ends of the rope behind his ass again. There was a part of me that wanted to give him a good squeeze there as I wound the rope around his hips and thighs. I reached the ends of the rope, and I left a knot right in between his knees. Once I had finished, he sank down to his knees as if he was about to blow me without a second thought.

“Wait right here,” I told him, and I ducked back into the kitchen to quickly whip up a pot of soup. I was eager to see him all full of this chicken soup, even if I had no eggs or matzo meal so as to make the matzo balls, but I knew that he was going to like it one way or the other. And I knew I was going to have to get eggs and matzo meal for Hanukkah dinner as well.

I served him a big bowl of it, and right as I had given it a quick shake of some salt and pepper, I noticed that he had somehow climbed back up onto the couch, still bound and tied down with that fine silk rope.

“Want me to suck in my belly?” he offered as I showed him the soup.

“Please do,” I commended. Alex slouched down a bit so the long knot was brushed against the top of his belly: I squatted before him and spoon fed him some soup. I fed him slowly as well, just so his belly would expand at a slow pace. At one point, I set down the spoon just to nudge the rope down a bit more to better accentuate his belly as he finished the bowl. I fed him the entire bowl of chicken soup, right on top of those hearty kreplach, and at that point, I could tell he was quite full.

He sat upright with a delirious look on his face and a slight look of strain: he was pushing up against that smooth rope, and I knew he was ready. I set down the bowl on the table next to me, and I guided him down to the floor.

“Down on your knees… just like that.”

He was bound and hog-tied with no way out, which meant he was ready for his dessert. I undid my pants right before his face and I showed myself to him. He licked his lips as he gazed up at me, those eyes dark and serious. He had to have it first, however.

Never taking his gaze off of mine, he opened his mouth and put his lips around the head. I held still as he moved in closer to my body. The boy knew how to deep throat as if it was a bodily function.

He slithered his tongue around my shaft, especially as he moved back and suckled on me as if it was going out of style. It tickled me so much. It got me moving so much that I could hardly hold still. There was a part of me that wanted to have chicken soup as well, just so he could see what I was seeing from there, but I was loving this too much.

He knew how to do it. He liked it as much as me.

I could feel myself already beginning to come inside of his mouth, and I hoped that I would as well.

“Good boy,” I whispered right into his ear. I then reached down for a gentle stroke of his hair, but then he went in deep again, that time towards my nuts and the base of my shaft.

“Good boy!” I grunted out as I could feel myself rising. I was going to come right in his mouth, and I did. He coughed with his lips still around me, but then he let go of me so he could breathe. I let the little white pearls dribble out onto the carpet, but it was nothing I couldn't mop up afterwards. He coughed and breathed harder, and more so as he landed down onto his knees. He then gazed back up at me with his hair still mostly tousled over his left shoulder.

“A little bit of sugar before it goes on the donuts,” he sputtered out, and then he showed me that lopsided playful little grin

“You wanna do me next?” I offered him.

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” he teased me. I was about to untie him when I realized that he had come in his pants. It was going to be tricky to get him to come next, but I knew in my heart of hearts it was going to be worth it.

Once he was undone, he shook his hands about and showed me his tongue. I watched him go into the kitchen to fetch me some soup as well, and all the while, I stripped off my pants all the way.

My heart skipped a few beats once he returned with it in hand and the look of determination in his eyes.

He did similar to what I did, except he bound my hands before my crotch and wrapped the rope all around my body: I could feel him binding me in the back and down over the seat of my bare ass and in between my legs.

“You ready for this?” he offered me as he spooned me some of the soup.

“I was born ready,” I confessed to him as I opened my mouth for him. We locked eyes, and we kept our eyes locked all the way down to the bottom of the bowl. The rope pressed against my own belly as he coaxed me down to my knees on the floor.

He unzipped and I could see he was already hard as a rock.

But I put my lips around him regardless, however. I moved in gradually on his shaft: I wasn't an expert on going in deep but I could at the very least try it.

I moved in close to his body right as the tip hit the pad of my tongue. It was tricky to keep it together, but when we locked eyes again, I did it. His lips then fell open and he treated me to a low moan.

I could feel him on the pad of my tongue. I swallowed and let go.

He ran his fingers through his black curls and let out a low whistle. He then showed me his tongue and chuckled.

“That was good, wasn't it?” I asked him.

“Phew, you have no idea,” he confessed to me. “When he gets released, we should bring up some things to Chuck.”

“He's got a girlfriend, though,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, but... have you seen him, though?” he asked me.

“Seen him how?”

He never said anything, but he did show me that smirk again. And then it hit me.

“Oh, really?” I couldn't resist smiling, either, to which he nodded his head.

“Yeah. For real.”

“Wow. Well, can I get out of this rope before we do anything else first?”

“Of course!”

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mewtagen-mau · 1 month

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Entry 8

It has been…quite the day. And we have not even finished our venture into the depths of the goblins’ den, although we did manage to cull their chief. Nualia is still nowhere to be seen.

We had a tangle with some guards before entering the goblin fortress, but it wasn’t of much note—four goblins on their goblin dog mounts, easily dispatched now that we’ve grown accustomed to fighting the little menaces.

Tabot stumbled into the first room of the fortress first, while fighting the guards. It was a gruesome trophy room with the stuffed heads of beasts the goblins had conquered on the walls—mainly horse and dog heads, given their hatred of both. There was also a harpy’s wing on display, which was a surprising and more impressive kill for a bunch of goblins than the rest of the ‘trophies’ implied they were capable of.

We chose a door and went deeper into the fortress, finding ourselves in a courtyard where I had heard the noises of goblin dogs and, strangely enough, a horse. We dispatched the four monstrous hounds, then looked to the shed where the horse sounds were coming from. When we opened the door we found a terrified and half-starved (but otherwise quite beautiful) warhorse. We decided Tabot had the most calming presence of the four of us, and I gave him some rations to try to entice the starving horse with. It seemed to work. The horse—whose saddle indicated his name was Shadowmist—calmed significantly. Enough for us to safely leave him alone and trust he would not get himself hurt.

In a nearby storage room we also found the goblin dogs’ food source—live rabbits. Later, when we made our way out with Shadowmist, Tabot also calmed the rabbits and carried them out by the armful.

With the animals sorted out, we continued our investigation of the fortress. We heard some arguing up ahead, coming from a tower above us. It seemed a pair of goblins had stolen some pickles and were trying to eat as many as they could and hide the evidence.

Krysa and Nanel snuck into the room to try to get the drop on them. I didn’t see what happened next, but a moment later there was shouting, and Tabot and I had to run in and help finish the fight.

We found beyond the tower that we’d gone in a circle, returning to the trophy room. We began listening around the other doors to try to determine where to check next. One room clearly had a large number of creatures within, and sounded like a very large room—we had a feeling we should wait until we’d cleared out anyone that might run in behind us first before looking into it.

There was a door in which it sounded like some goblins were just getting ready for an attack, but were still in the middle of preparing. I had the idea that I could throw open the door and lob a bomb at them—hopefully catching them off guard and catching a large number of them, as it sounded like they might be crowded together.

Unfortunately, I flung the door open right as a goblin was at the door, catching us both off guard.

Things got a bit chaotic from there. There were some other goblins that threw open another door near Tabot, and who downed a potion that sent them into a blind rage. The goblins in the little barracks I’d found myself at the entrance of were crowding over each other to try to get a piece of me.

But we managed. Despite Tabot being in a bit of a touch and go situation there for a moment, we did still manage to clear out the veritable swarm of goblins without anyone in our group going down themselves.

Farther down the hall we found a second door leading into what sounded like the same room as the large one with many goblins we’d identified before. We got the bright idea to split our forces, and bust down the doors in tandem to try to pincer them.

It wasn’t a bad plan, per-se. If the doors hadn’t been locked, it would have been a good plan. But with the doors locked, and us needing to burst through the doors at the same time, and get it in one go or else alert the goblins…it was too many factors that could go wrong. So it is no wonder that it went wrong.

Tabot and Krysa took the door we’d just found, while Nanel and I circled back around and took the door in the trophy room. We waited until it seemed like the right time, then tried to burst the door from its hinges.

It held firm, despite our combined efforts.

I could hear the echoing bangs of Tabot trying on their door. I didn’t hear the crash of the door giving way—it appeared he’d run into a similar problem.

Nanel and I tried again, and on a second go we managed to throw the door open. I was the first one through, having thrown my entire weight into it.

So I was the first one on our side targeted by arrows from the goblin commandos—as was Tabot on his side. These goblins were already seething with the same rage effect we’d seen earlier. They also had another one of those war chanters, a bard, who began empowering them magically.

All of this paled in comparison to their leader, however. He was a goblin, like any other, but he was issuing commands whilst astride atop a giant gecko.

I could see Tabot had wedged himself into his doorway to protect Krysa, but a number of goblin commandos were baring down on him. I was torn, and asked Nanel who he thought I should prioritize—catching a bunch of the goblin minions in a single explosion, or going after the big guy himself. Nanel told me to go after Ripnugget and his pet, and he’d deal with the other goblins harassing Tabot. I agreed, and turned my attention to the goblin chieftain.

I threw an explosive at the mount, figuring something that big was likely less agile than a small goblin. My theory proved accurate as the explosive detonated across the reptile’s scales, and flames licked at his master.

Ripnugget directed his mount to crawl up the wall, putting him in an inconvenient position to try to attack—leaving him out of range of my sword entirely. But he also opened up a vulnerability—if his mount was taken out, he would fall along with it from that height.

So I aimed another explosive at him. But it wasn’t enough, still his mount hung on by a thread.

Tabot ran up next to me—the commandos dispatched, and asked what the plan was. I told him that I was trying to do, and he took his rarely-used bow and finished the mount, sending both the reptile’s corpse and the goblin atop it plummeting to the ground. And we were waiting for him.

He was still a dangerous foe, even without his lizard. He had a level of ferocity and expertise with his blade that I would not have expected from a mere goblin.

However, his last-ditch gambit was to run—or so it seemed at first glance. As we went after him, keeping pace, he turned to face us again. I think he may have been trying to get momentum to charge at us—but we foiled that plan by staying on his heels. I’m sure the goblin probably felt we were much like the much-hated hounds on a hunt.

After he was slain, we searched the area a bit, finding some small bit of treasure and a key for a chest elsewhere in the fortress.

We were exhausted after clearing out the goblin chief. I’d expended virtually all my healing potions and extracts, I think Nanel was out of healing magic as well, and Krysa was out of spells. Tabot would have to carry all three of us if we tried to go any farther this evening.

So we’ve retreated for the evening, and set up camp with Shalelu just outside the Tanglewood. She’s going to look after Shadowmist as she has the rest of our horses. As for the rabbits…I assume Tabot is going to just release them, although I don’t know what effect a dozen new rabbits will have on the local environment.

Tomorrow we venture deeper into Thistletop Fortress. And hopefully face Nualia at last, and get some answers.

#journal entry #pathfinder #rise of the runelords #rotrl

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callipraxia · 1 year

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@zkang288, this is what happened. This is how I spent way too much of my morning.

For everyone else: zkang288 tagged me in some thing where you stick in character names and it attaches them to random entries in a pool of random quotes. I got too enthusiastic, so this shall be split into this, the "all twelve major characters of FWJB" version (a few of these are *so* close to almost-accurate to happenings and/or relationship dynamics in Part III...and then there was the whole series of auto-generated entries which shipped Gideon and Quattro, which I include out of morbid fascination) and the "Team Camping Trip of Doom from Part II" version, which will be a second post.

Fiddleford: I lost Stan. Tate: How did you LOSE Stan?! Fiddleford: To be fair, they are very small.

Quattro : What are amphetamines? Ford: Drugs that can go on land and water. Quattro : Ohhhh.

after the Squad's plan goes horribly wrong Tracey: Now it seems we're back at square one-- finding Dipper. Quattro: For the record, I already found him. Powers: And you let him get away before we could have a meaningful conversation. Quattro: He stabbed me! Tracey: I'm surprised he waited this long, Quattro. We've all had the urge.

Fiddleford, after getting a job as a lifeguard: Hmm… I wonder what those things at the bottom of the pool are... Quattro: THOSE ARE PEOPLE DROWNING!

Wendy, looking at a dead phone: How do we bring this thing back to life? Magic? Live sacrifice? I know a guy in town-

Fiddleford: If I say I love you, will you say it back? Tracey: Yes. Fiddleford: I love you. Tracey: It back. Later Powers: Why is Fiddleford crying face-down on the floor?

Casually in the Middle of a High Stakes/Dangerous Situation Soos: How do you eat pickles? Mabel: What do you mean? Soos: I mean, there's a whole process. It's not like you can grab them from the jar with your hand, because it's cold and the juice burns if you have a cut, plus, it's pretty unsanitary. And you can't use a spoon because you'll have to scoop it out, and it'll be way too difficult to grab more than three or four without taking 10 minutes along with half the brine in the jar, even if it's one with holes. Mabel: Yeah, that's why you use a fork. Soos: Okay, sure, but what if you don't have one of the big ones clean? It's weird to use a small one. But there is always one of those smaller sharp knives clean. Mabel: But the straight edge doesn't really fit the cylindrical shape, and you have to make sure you don' t break it, it's too much work. Soos: It makes me feel like I deserve the pickles though. Like, "Yeah, I did it. That's right. Good job me." It's empowering. But even after that, it's not like you can use a bowl. Mabel: I get that, it's not ascetically pleasing. Soos: Exactly! And it looks weird if you don't entirely fill the bowl, but you also can't eat that many. My solution: Use a mug. Mabel: Nods in agreement Ford: That is all very interesting, BUT WE'RE TRYING NOT TO DIE RIGHT NOW! USE YOUR LIMITED ATTENTION SPANS AND FOCUS! Soos: Jeez, okay. Mabel: Quit yelling at us already.

Wendy: Let’s write Stan a friendly note, shall we? Dear… Incompetent… Dumbass…

Stan, holding an unconscious Tracey: Oh no. Please don’t be dead.

Dipper: The universe is cold and unfeeling. The only constant is chaos. Fiddleford: Was that place out of chocolate-chip pancakes again?

Wendy: Social distancing says you shouldn't be within an elbow's distance of each other. later, in a barfight Wendy: Social distancing doesn't say nothing about feet! kicks opponent in the face

Stan: coughs blood Quattro: Don't die, Stan! Stan: Don't tell me what to do!

Powers: Hey, what are you reading? Gideon: This is my magic book where any ink spilled shows a scripture of the future, however it bears a curse making it broken, and as such in order to make any scripture appears, I have to do it myself. Powers: Impressive! I must have it for myself! Tracey: So it’s just a Notebook? Gideon: It’s just a Notebook.

Soos: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Tate? Tate: No. Soos: I do! Tate: I know, Soos. Soos: I’m sad. Tate: I know, Soos.

Mabel: Big day today, Tate. holds up two shirts Mustard stain or ketchup stain? Tate: Mustard– looks less like blood.

Tracey: What is it called when you kill a friend? Powers: Homicide. Mabel: Murder. Fiddleford: Homiecide.

Powers: Good night. Gideon: Sleep tight. Fiddleford: Don't let the bedbugs crawl up to your ear and whisper threatening things that make you question yourself. Soos: Great, now Gideon's crying.

Tracey: Truth or dare? Quattro: Dare. Tracey: I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room. Quattro: Hey Gideon? Gideon, blushing: Yeah? Quattro: Can you move? I'm trying to get to Soos.

Gideon: Wanna get out of here and grab a bite to eat. Quattro: I don’t usually eat with losers. Gideon: Neither do I but I asked you, didn’t I?

Quattro, looking over Fiddleford’s shoulder: You can draw? Fiddleford, stopping what they were doing: You can speak?

Tate: You were stabbed. Do you remember anything? Gideon: Only the ambulance ride to the hospital. Tate: That wasn't an ambulance, I drove you. Gideon: But I heard a siren. Powers: That was Quattro. Quattro: Sorry, I got nervous.

Fiddleford: I’m a fool, not an idiot.

Gideon: We’re getting married, b*****s! Quattro: And we're about to make it everybody else's problem.

Gideon, putting their hands over Stan's eyes: Guess who! Stan: It's either Gideon or the cold, clammy hands of death. Gideon, putting their hands away: It's Gideon! Stan: Dammit.

Mabel: Why did you kidnap Dipper!?!?! Fiddleford: Ah- um- well- the reason for that is, uhh… Gideon: Sometimes, we must work together towards a common goal. Mabel: NOT TO KIDNAP PEOPLE!

Tate: Don’t you have any dignity, Ford? Ford: Uh, no.

Wendy: So what’s the plan? Quattro: I don’t know. You’re smart, points at Mabel she's mean, come up with something.

Fiddleford: Ford, what are you doing? Ford: Making chocolate pudding. Fiddleford: It's four in the morning, why are you making chocolate pudding? Ford: Because I've lost control of my life. Ford: Here's your pudding, Powers. Powers: Oh that's okay, I'm not hungry anymore.

Fiddleford: I woke up and chose VIOLENCE. I WILL COMMIT ARSON AND BURN EVERYTHING TO THE GROUND!!! I AM ANGRY- Gideon: Awwww, you’re so adorable! Give me a hug~ Fiddleford: Wh-What? nO, yOURE SUPPOSED TO BE SCARED OF ME! TREMBLE BEFORE MY WRATH- Powers, recording: This is so cute.

Fiddleford: Anybody got any crayons so I can color in my Ph. D.?

Soos: If I die, my funeral will be the biggest party ever and you're all invited. Quattro: "If" Powers: Great, the only party I'm ever invited to and he might not even die.

Quattro: Does anyone know how to relax? Asking for a friend.

Wendy: Is there anyone here who’s actually straight? Quattro: raises hand Powers: puts their hand down

Powers: Life could be worse, Tate. Tate: Life could be a lot better too!

Mabel: sneaking in through their window Ford: turning in their chair and flicking the light one You want to tell me where you've been all night? Mabel: I was with Powers? Powers: turning in their chair Wanna try again?

Fiddleford: Hey Quattro? Quattro: Yeah? Fiddleford: What's your favorite color of the alphabet? True or false? Quattro: Quattro: …What.

Soos: I see the red flags, I acknowledge that they're there, and then I completely ignore them.

Dipper: Between Fiddleford, Tate, Quattro , and Tracey -- if you had to -- who would you punch? Soos: No one! They're my friends. I wouldn't punch any of them. Dipper: Quattro ? Soos: Yeah, but I don't know why.

Wendy: This is getting embarrassing. Stan: Getting? We’re already there!

Gideon: "It's easy to forget what a sin is in the middle of a battlefield." Ford: Opposite over hypotenuse.

Mabel: finds a note Hmm, whats this? Fiddleford: Hey, that's mine! tries to grab it Mabel: Aww, it's a love note for Powers? Fiddleford: No- Mabel: opens it Mabel: Fiddleford: Mabel: I can't read this.

Ford: Do you love Tracey? Gideon: Yeah, I do. Ford: Soos! I told you I knew it! You owe me 100 bucks! Soos: We all love Tracey. You should've asked if they were IN love with them. Gideon: I thought that was implied. Soos: … Ford: … Gideon, looking straight at Soos: Congrats Ford, you just won 100 bucks.

#quote generator #gravity falls #gravity falls characters #for want of a jailbreak #fwjb

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a-collection-of-villainous-aus · 2 years

Text

BLIND AU PART SEVEN SEGMENT 2

(just please remember neither of them are human.)

Hat would have thanked Acylius for not pushing him away, but apparently now was not the time, so he settled on one of the hard plastic chairs, it changed to his will into a comfy black and red rocking chair as he pulled out his knitting from thin air.

This hobby to him was so old he could work it from muscle memory.

Flug found the soft clacking of needles soothing to listen to, it was of no surprise that Amadeus had changed the chair to such a state, he had half a mind to make an old granny joke, despite the craft being being far older than himself.

"Would you hand me the grass green yarn when I ask for it?"

Black Hat said as he continued working on his own project.

Flug nodded on instinct and continued working.

"Flug?"

Hat asked, stopping a moment, wondering if the doctor was listening.

Acylius's eyes widened a moment as he mentally face palmed, of course Hat couldn't see when he nodded, he's blind damn it, how could he even forget that he'd spent days now focusing solely on finding him a cure...was it days he wasn't even sure now.

"Yes sir, when you ask I will hand it to you."

"Good, now did you like the sweet pickled eyes?"

Amadeus smirked a little as he sensed Acylius's...was he feeling a little bashful?

Flug paused a moment biting his bottom lip, if Hat could have seen him he'd look more like the puppy that ate the thing it wasn't supposed to but had anyway...

What should he tell him? That the Legion part of him practically purred at such an intimate gift or that he wondered how he knew he'd accidentally eaten one of his eyes when reaching for a boiled egg?

"Yes, they were a pleasant surprise, I am pacing myself with them, I want them to last."

Pleasant?

Hmm...

Hat smiled just a little bit as he continued knitting, sure of himself that he could feel the suppressed power in his Acylius, rise up and show interest, but dared not bring it up, he never mentioned those moments in fear his doctor might shut him out completely.

“I am glad you like them, it was certainly a surprise when I sensed you eating one, that was certainly unexpected of you Doctor, not that I’m complaining.”

“It was an accident, I was eating lunch at the time and mistook it for an egg, another reason why one should be careful when they have food in the lab.”

Well now that was out in the open he couldn’t exactly take back the fact he’d confessed to his blunder.

“Sometimes mistakes can lead to the greatest of things, in this case finding out how I taste pleases you also pleases me, even a creature of an ancient age can preen when a younger one praises them. I was also aware it was not the only one you ate after that hence my little gift and I am again pleased you are enjoying them so.”

Hat purred as he continued working on his own project, a playful smile forming on his lips, showing the barest slither of his fangs, for this small moment he was happy.

“How did you –“

“They are pieces of me, until they rot I can still sense them.”

“Oh...uh um does it hurt when I...”

Acylius was blushing a little, head ducking as he wanted to hide his face, well that was somewhat embarrassing.

“No need to feel shy Flug, if it had bothered me do you think i’d have taken the time to make you a jar of them that was meant for consumption?”

Hat chuckled rocking in the chair he’d altered, the action was soothing and he’d sensed Acylius had also begun relaxing to the gentle creaking of the wooden rocking chair; good, he was glad to know that after all these years that still worked.

“I suppose not, you know Sir you can be quite peculiar at times.”

Acylius was smiling as he held the eye delicately between his finger tips as the camera continued sending information to the readings in the black lenses of his goggles. Studying each cell in hope he could find the cause of Black Hat’s blindness, but still there didn’t seem to be any logical reason for this to have happened.

“Oh am I now dear Doctor, care to elaborate?”

Hat teased as he recounted the lines in his knitting, hmm a few more lines then he’d be ready for the grass green.

“You just are, but as the saying goes takes one to know one.”

Acylius glanced at him out the corner of his eye, he always looked so peaceful when knitting, moments like these made it so easy to forget everything else. To forget every moment he’d been ready to tell Amadeus how he felt...and if not for Black Hat’s constant actions he would have but the more he saw the more he wanted to curl in on himself and keep his secret.

Flug couldn’t bare the thought of being laughed at and humiliated by him...at least for this...love could be cruel and make you vulnerable, break you , tear you down into the crumbling ash of your own ruin...and still it could be one of the most beautiful things you ever knew, it was beautiful in how many forms it could take, love didn’t judge, love didn’t discriminate, it just was...but perhaps its worst form was when it was unrequited.

He’d be lying to himself if he denied dreams of making love to Amadeus, laying him back on some grand four poster bed with silk red sheets, to obliterate all memories of the past lovers Hat had taken and so casually cast away, after all everyone liked to fantasise they were that special someone the other would need beyond all others, to be all that they needed...

The desire to caress every inch of his body and leave lingering kisses that would never be forgotten, to give him everything, there were late night hours he nearly fell to his knees in where he would have crawled to him and begged that he at least pretend to love him.

Thankfully he had more dignity than that, he would not be looked down on and mocked like some dog that would return after being kicked down with its tail between his legs.

“Why do you laugh about them?”

Acylius froze, he hadn’t meant for that question to slip out it just had and now the room was silent, it’d only been said under his breath but he knew how well the old demon eldericht could hear.

“Who do I laugh about?”

Flug swallowed at that growling tone and the raised eyebrow, worrying his bottom lip, not exactly sure he wanted to answer or if it would be wise to, it might expose more than he cared to let on, his ears twitched as the silence grew louder.

Hat repeated himself voice firmer this time, he wanted an answer.

“Who do I laugh about?”

Flug switched off his goggles and tapped a claw on the desk, well he might as well let him have it, sitting up back straight.

“You sir are in every meaning of the word are a cad.”

Hat did not say anything he just faced the direction in which he knew Acylius was.

Flug decided he might as well continue, say something as Hat didn’t seem to have a response.

“You kiss and tell without discretion, you have ridiculed those you have been with as if each one were some game to play, I suppose to you that is exactly what they are, a game to see which you can hurt the most...through public humiliation.”

Acylius took a moment , nostrils flaring as he tried to keep his composure

“I have stayed silent as you boasted about your conquests, not that you exactly had to work for them most of the Universe would undoubtedly lay back with legs spread with a simple command from you but after today...what you did in front of Thaddeus-

Hat finally interrupted him

“May I remind you Doctor, you’re the one who kissed me.”

“SILENCE!”

Hat sucked in a breath, he knew exactly what Acylius had done he could feel the shift in his presence , he’d seen it once maybe twice when he still had his sight, before him the Legion Demon was in his truest form, that power radiating from his Doctor.

Towering over him, Black Hat could still recall Acylius’s shimmering ebony feathers glinting a myriad of colours, white beaked face fractured along the top mandible....oh the scars he’d felt when Acylius had kissed him now held so many more questions...Hat could feel all four of those black eyes glaring at him.

“You embarrassed me Amadeus, you had no right to even start that display, I will not be some glorious mark on your fractured bed post, I will not let you play with me , I am not another game for you to do with as you wish.”

“You tell me so often about the notches in my bed post, but I must wonder what is it that you are not saying, Acylius what are you hiding?”

Hat kept his demeanour, calm and collected, knitting now in his lap, arms folded as he dared him to continue.

Legion’s were strong creatures , ones not to be simply brushed off, but after millennia’s you grew not to care if you lived of died...but that didn’t mean he’d stopped caring about those who lived with him, who died with him...if anything happened to Acylius...Demencia, he’d grieve both of them deeply.

505 was made from his own dna, they would live until the universe returned once more to darkness and all the stars had burned out...then again there was a comfort in knowing immortal did not mean invincible.

His jaw tensed he couldn’t let

Acylius know what thoughts swirled within him in this moment, his worries, this was the most honest Flug had been with him in a long time, no one had that much pain in their voice without there being years of weight to it.

Still despite it all...even if it was just to hurt him, just to be spiteful, he would die for another kiss , another embrace...damn anyone who called him dramatic for thinking that way, here stood the only being who’d ever made him feel like what it was to be alive to have a soul and a heart that beat more than just to torment the universal population.

Black Hat turned his head upwards out of habit to face the Legion Demon as it spoke

“I am saying Amadeus Black Hat, your behaviour towards those beings disgusts me, if you had perhaps acted in a more gentleman like manner...we might have...I might...have just let you do more than just stare at me.”

Hat felt himself come to an emotional stand still, the realization that his actions, the ones he’d thought he’d impress him with...showing well he could attract mates, he could have been furious if it was because Flug was calling him some stupid term like a slut, whore , easy...but even now he was respectful of that...knew it was too each their own so long as no one was...getting hurt.

Every time he’d hoped Flug would get jealous and maybe confess, even say why them and why not me...his doctor was afraid of getting hurt and he’d done nothing in this sense to gain his trust that he wouldn’t hurt him...did...did Acylius...no...no...

All those lipstick stains and walks of what now felt like shame he’d made coming back, marks and scents of others, laughs at their expense...each and every single one another reason for Acylius not to...

Please now he wished Acylius hated him...maybe he did and maybe he deserved it...but right now this wasn’t about them...it wasn’t even about him, it was about Acylius....and the fact Demencia had been right.

Hat blinked as he heard Flugs voice, it was soft now and all he wanted to do was reach out and hold his face apologise for everything...but he was experienced enough with the world and the way of things to know they would not believed so all he could do was listen.

“I...Amadeus...I should not have spoken to you like that...”

Flug was apologising to him?

“I’m sorry Amadeus, what you decide to do in your own time is none of my concern, you owe me nothing.”

How dare he be so...so...HIM, damn him and that respectable gentleman he was taught to be, why couldn’t he just scream at him, why couldn’t Acylius just break down and sob in his arms, it was a selfish want but if it could show even the slightest sign that he could be trusted in something so vulnerable...it would be a start right?

Maybe in his desperate hope he assumed he’d realised Acylius had loved him all this time...or had he loved him and no longer did?

“I will find a cure for you...I will still be here...but I am moving into the house next to the Manor.”

Amadeus wanted to thrash and scream, pull at him, tell him he wasn’t going anywhere, that he wouldn’t let him, had Acylius forgotten that unless he, his master let him, he couldn’t go anywhere, he was more powerful than Flug. Hands glowing red he forced his doctor back into his humanoid form, motioning forward Acylius was yanked down onto his knees at such speed it took the Legion demon a moment to process what had just happened.

Black Hat’s face split open into a wicked grin tongue flicking out to taste the air , Acylius’s presence was a sin he’d never tire of, his claw finding it’s way along the Doctors jaw.

“You are not leaving Hat Manor, no matter what you do Flug you will always belong to me...”

Long clawed inhuman fingers slowly wrapping around a pale throat, Adam’s apple shifting with a swallow against his palm.

“I have no intention of breaking the contract Sir. I intend fully to keep my promise.”

The way Hat was looking at him, if not for the history...he’d have kissed him again.

Hat drew a single drop from Acylius’s throat and brought the claw tip to his lips, a long purring growl leaving him as he inhaled its scent

“Is that a Legion’s promise Doctor or yours, be careful how you answer me.”

“Mine...”

Flug whispered as he watched Black Hat lick away the blood.

“Good answer, you may stay three nights a week in that house and I will level it, if you stay longer, that is my promise, do you understand me?”

Had Acylius spoken to him in any other tone Hat would have denied him his request.

“Yes I understand completely Sir, thank you.”

#blind au #Villainous #angsty stuff i guess #doctor flug #au flug #Acylius flug #Amadeus Black hat #black hat #eye gore #mention of eye eating

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mostshipshape · 2 years

Text

Action Report Two - "Windbound"

And so we meet again! The last half of this report that involves the results of players’ actions may be found here.

This week, our public weekly poll is about rumours, and tactics... or is it strategy? Do not tell me, I shall work it out eventually. In any case, this is a public poll that anyone can answer, which will influence the game in the weeks to come.

The deadline for this report and poll will be Monday 27th of July GMT 12am / GMT+10 10am, but I may leave the report submissions open for a day after that.

Now, on with the show!

Waves Breaking against the Wind - Joseph Mallord William Turner, 1840

Captain Swanmay spends the final day or so actually on board, and it seems they aim to make up for lost time. They are friendly, introducing themselves effusively to the officers- and perhaps they come across as rather too interested. Midshipman Fairwell complains at every opportunity she can that this captain is rather too interested in her education, at which Midshipman Crawford tried to suggest that maybe that is rather the point of being a midshipman? But even Lieutenant Davies remarks, idly perhaps to Price, Tillbury or Morgan, that Swanmay is understandably enthusiastic for a new captain, and the way he says understandably is primed with implication.

The day that the HMS Pickle sets off is not what one would call fine. One could call it blustery and grey, rain spitting from the heavens and the sea lively but not so tempestuous.

Before the ship sets off, a peculiar delivery is made. A boat manned by marines, accompanying a person dressed in fine clothes, fair of skin, wearing a veil that shrouds their features. An honoured guest? Surely not, for they are taken to a specific cabin set up with fine furniture and sturdy locks on the outside. The guest does not speak, and most on board are forbidden to interact with this guest… except for the cook, to deliver food, and the officers are not strictly forbidden here.

Captain Swanmay says this man is a guest, but does not say much more than that, only that their safety on this voyage to sail to a rendezvous startlingly near the Gallian city of Recouvrance. The captain might betray a hint of frustration while saying this, but nothing more.

There is little incident as the order to under weigh and make sail is carried out and the ship is piloted out of the port.

I am not quite a sailor, myself, merely a clerk tasked to record and observe, but I believe the wind was quite mischievous, favourable one day and antagonistic the next, and so at times the Pickle has found herself in the sorry position of being windbound.

In this state, there is not much one can do except to try and make way, or to anchor at night at the nearby port of Aberfal. Even if the captain’s secret orders appear to require haste and discretion, there is not so much one can do against the weather that so rules this world of wood and wind!

And so the captain has ordered some exercising of the guns and the sails. Perhaps you are involved in these drills, exercising your Gunnery, Maritime or Seamanship, or taking Command of such things to try and impress your captain or to become a fit fighting and sailing force? If your rank requires you to be involved in this, why, I will assume that you are participating anyway- but to specifically respond to this prompt for your report submission is to roll the dice and to see if you can not just be passable at the job, but competent or even exceptional.

Or are you taking the moment to socialise? The enlisted sailors who have Reputation: Gun Deck on their character sheets may elect to focus on socialising with other sailors using their personal Courtesy skills, though there is not quite enough alcohol on board to justify bonding through alcoholic consumption. Perhaps they are socialising through merriment and gambling, or friendly platonic wrestling, or even… rat racing?

But there are more ways to ingratiate yourself with the crew than just talk. Perhaps you could impress people with your Maritime or Seamanship skills and knowledge, find a way to bring up an Expertise if it is not so awkward. This may be a little trickier, but perhaps it will pay off?

Or maybe you are trying to lurk in the Shadows, to eavesdrop on more rumours about the captain, or the ship, or even the strange prisoner in that locked room?

If you have Reputation: Ward Room on your sheet, then why, your socialising happens among the graced presence of the wardroom officers. For the most part, these are the Lieutenants, let us say the Midshipmen and the five Wardroom Officers - the Chaplain, the Surgeon, the Master, the Purser and the Lieutenant of Marines. Perhaps you are trying to use your Courtesy to come across as affable to them as a group, or perhaps you are trying to build up a friendship with one in particular?

First Lieutenant Davies seems to have much on his mind, but he is not so distracted as to take more than a second to evaluate the situation. Dr Ibbot, the Surgeon, seems a little busy and harried. Mx Glyl, the Master, is more of a practical pilot than a true navigator, but they are reasonably competent at their job. Ms Bynes, the Purser, is impatient and snappish, especially after Midshipman Fairwell keeps trying to get under her skin. Lieutenant Murffey of the Marines is worldly and enjoys speaking of exotic locales.

The captain dines apart from the wardroom, of course, but Davies has invited them to a dinner with the wardroom. During this dinner, they, of course, lead the conversation, and in the interests of trying to enlighten the young midshipmen, they speak of grand naval victories of the past in a rather teacherly fashion. If you wished to try and impress the captain, you could speak of the Seamanship used in such manoeuvres or analyse the Command or Awareness of those historied figures, the Diplomacy of the institutions involved, or something else - and test your own grasp of those same skills in the process.

Or maybe you have other plans? Using Provisioning to locate luxuries? (or you could try to convince Ms Bynes the Purser to let you have one, though beware, she is not so easily convinced.) First Aid to help with Dr Ibbot’s work? Do recall that your position on the ship does dictate what activities you may or may not do, but you may ask me if you are unsure of your course of action.

Here is a link to the submission box to tell me of your intentions, and remember, anyone may ask me about NPCs, settings or clarifications.

I do remain your most obedient servant-

@cadmusfly ---

Subscription List:

@clove-pinks @sailorpants @stunsls @rhaill @linnadhiell @contemporarypotato @gniew777

#shipshape update #shipshape game #shipshape action report

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

Text

Friday 28 September 1832

6 ¼

fine morning F68 ½° at 6 25 breakfast with my father at 8 musing before getting up and as I dressed of Miss Walker I think we should be happy together I should gently lead her into my own ways and soon be really attached to her to the exclusion of all care for anyone else - Out in the walk at 10 –

x from 2 to 3 10 asleep in the hut or rather the last twenty five minutes incurred a cross thinking of Miss Walker I shall think myself into being in love with her I am already persuaded I like her quite well enough for comfort Home at 3 ½ meaning to write letters – talking 2 or 3 minutes to Marian – when company rap at the door and Miss Walker shewn into the drawing room – her call seemed to be on my aunt – sat about ½ hour, and I then walked back with her down the walk - she asked if I had got her note – no! then explained that she had come to ask my advice about her tenant - Collins having forced open the barn doors opening into her courtyard - this matter settled we sat down in the hut for about ¾ hour sill 5 50 I then walked with her to her own door and got back at 7 - bordering on love-making in the hut said I should certainly take her off with me hoped she could trust me yes she had the greatest confidence in me and our going together was actually agreed on and we afterwards talked of it as a thing settled depending only on our respective aunts both of whom are in a precarious way our liaison is now established it is to be named to nobody but her sister and aunt and my aunt and that not till a week or ten days before our being off we shall now go on swimmingly and our courtship will progress naturally she already likes me perhaps she scarce knows how and we shall both be in love seriously enough before our journey s[aid] I should breakfast at Lightcliffe tomorrow and could not resist calling as I returned to ask if she had got cold if she is out I am to go to her at Cliff hill my aunt had hoped she would come on Monday to which she readily consented so that we shall probably see a good deal of each other she looks happy and as if the remainder of the victory to be won would not cost me too much difficulty thought I as I returned well π- set me at liberty in May in less than five months I as [am] reprovided and the object of my choice have perhaps three thousand a year or near it probably two-thirds at her own disposal no bad pis aller [last resort] even if I liked her less a better take than Lady Gordon or perhaps than Vere either well now I will be steady and constant and make the poor girl as happy as I can so that she shall have no reason to repent like the day of engagement between Miss Walker and me on my return home found on my desk a parcel the letter-press (presse-papier - the first thing she ever gave me) and note from Miss Walker – explaining about Collins and that she should hope to

like the day of engagement between Miss W- and me

the 1st thing she ever gave me

SH:7/ML/E/15/0123

find me in my walk between 3 and 5 - begins with ‘I have real pleasure in sending the letter-press tho’ my own motive, and its possible utility are its only recommendations to your acceptance’. the first thing she ever gave me - we are in smooth waters now she tells me more and more of her affairs she feels at ease and happier with me than perhaps she could easily explain and probably we shall both be impatient by and by to be off I myself am surprised at my so rapid success and at the novelty of my situation perhaps after all she will make me really happier than any of my former flames at all rates we shall have money enough and I don’t fancy she will either be close or stingy or cold to me had just written the above of today at 8 ¾ - how little my aunt thinks what is going on! π- believes me safe at home and dreams not how she is losing all chance of me she is right served – nobody working for me today (except Pickles and co. at the wearing) but Dick getting on and spreading ashes – William Green brought 4 loads today – went into the other room at 9 ½ - skimmed over the paper – came to my room at 10 ¾ wrote a note to Mr. Parker in answer to his of yesterday – thanks for it, and the act of parliament – Jones of Huddersfield coming over in a few days – have desired Washington to employ him to value the stone – hear the trustees have agreed to give Mr. Holroyde of Priestley Green a shilling a yard for stone said to be not worth so much as mine – (George Robinson told me the other day) – desired by my father to give his compliments and thanks for some very fine cranberries Mr. Parker was so good as send – ‘I am, sir, etc. etc. A Lister’ – very fine day – F70 ½° at 11 ¼ p.m.

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purpleprey · 3 months

Text

Chapter 10: Outrun the Oath

I turned my head away from Avian dramatically. When I looked back, I saw that Avian’s expression hadn’t changed.

“Yeah, that checks out.” she said. She glanced at Venus who stood ignorantly near the entrance of Catehut before looking back to me. I saw her stifle another laugh and tears came to my eyes. I let out a short scream of rage and hoped that Venus hadn’t heard it.

“Oh my god be quiet,” she rolled her eyes and guided me into an alleyway. I stood there timidly while she paced in thought.

“Look, this is too funny. So I’m going to help you,” She said, finally ceasing her relentless pacing. “Only if you want me to though.” I narrowed my eyes at her.

“This is no laughing matter, Avian,” I said, “but yes. Please help me get with Venus Crypt. We were made for each other and I know it.“

Avian failed to stifle her laugh but I couldn't react because she was already producing a large rotary phone from her pocket and handing it to me.

“Take this. You can contact me with this,” she said very generously. I thanked her through way of sign language (I’m by no means fluent, but I manage).

“Now, pretend we never had this conversation.” she smiled and held a hand out for me to shake and seal our oath, which I assumed was an invitation for the secret handshake I forgot was exclusive knowledge to me and Elysium. I ended the handshake by jumping onto Avian Dust’s shoulders and we became the tallest totem I had ever been a part of. I was near euphoric about seeing the world at this high an angle, but Avian, in shock, reacted by throwing me to the ground like a pro-wrestler. After this Total K.O, she left the alley.

I came to, after God knows how long, and left the alley. In front of Catehut, I found my gang and Cougar’s council still standing there. Avian was talking with Cougar, Bionic was talking with Cosmic and Venus was standing away from the group, emotionally ransacked from being ignored. Cosmic spotted me in my groggy state and beckoned me over to join him and (Bio)nic in conversation. I didn’t think I was allowed to return to Avian just yet and I wasn't emotionally stable enough to be abandoned like Venus at this moment, so I complied. They seemed to be having a good time and if I wasn’t so out of it, I might’ve been happy for them.

Nic was laughing at Cosmic’s apparent wit and Cosmic seemed very proud of himself indeed.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Bionic!” Comic grinned. He gave Bionic another performative bow, taking off his straw hat in the process and Bionic recoiled.

“Oh, I forgot that you’re a ranga!” She facepalmed. Cosmic went into shock and quietly put his straw hat back on. Bionic seemed to regret that comment but instead of apologising or anything, she just started talking about something unrelated. Cosmic remained in stunned silence for a few minutes but eventually, he began chatting again. I understood her disappointment, but I couldn't understand her resilience to continue.

“Cosmic, Bionic,” I said, trying to casually join the conversation. “What on earth are you talking about.”

“Nothing much…” Cosmic said, still seeming stunned and self-conscious. I smiled, talking about nothing much was my specialty. I put a hand on one of both Cosmic and Bionic’s shoulders, making sure I tried my hardest to crush Cosmic’s bone (he didn’t seem to notice), and began to tell them a story.

“So you see, in OUR home dimension,” I storytold them wisely, “Things are a little different than they are here. That is why I want to get back so badly.” Cosmic nodded in understanding and began to tear up.

“I would like to return to our dimension also.” he said. “It’s been years since I last saw my family, I miss them.” I snorted. I didn’t think Cosmic had a family. I mean, he did mention them to me before but that was when I was pretending to be 50Cent so I couldn’t trust anything anyone said.

“But we are in quite a pickle,” I said, refocusing myself and bringing a thoughtful hand to my thoughtful chin, “If we want to be in our OWN dimension we’re stuck on a silly old prison moon :\. I know YOU must see us as free and innocent as doves, Bionic :) but that’s not the case. >:(”

“What were you guys in for?” Bionic asked, shocked by the revelation. Cosmic looked slightly ashamed.

“... evil…” Cosmic murmured and Bionic chuckled at his joke. But it wasn’t a joke. Cosmic stared off into the distance, looking dead in the eyes as he recalled his chequered past. Bionic didn’t seem to notice as she was now looking at me expectantly, awaiting my answer.

“Breaking and entering,” I shrugged, “Into a US government facility to jailbreak my giant viper that was confiscated 5 years prior.” I explained this even though the audience already knows. Bionic nodded as though she already knew too but there was no way that could be the case.

“Yeah, dimension hopping is fun and all but everytime we’re back in our own dimension it's all prison moon this, and turnips that.” I roll my eyes, “So although we stand here before you, Bionic, we are technically still imprisoned.”

“I don’t mind the turnips.” Cosmic murmured. I glared at him sharply before he continued. “I was almost out on good behaviour too.”

“Are you saying it’s my fault you’re still imprisoned?” I accused.

“Sounds like it.” Bionic answered for him. Cosmic didn’t dispute this so I jabbed a finger into his chest.

“Look, buddy,” I said, trying to sound pleasant for Bionic’s sake. “I didn’t ask for you to help me escape.”

“Oh, but I can help,” Bionic remarked before gesturing in cryptic sign language to Avian who looked at me before reluctantly walking over. They signed to each other for a while.

“Okay, fine,” Avian finally sighed, “Only because it’ll serve as a convenient plot device for later.”

With that, Bionic and Avian grasped their hands together and chanted an archaic chant. This must be their own secret handshake. When they un-grasped their hands, Bionic was holding a large silver key, connected to a novelty keychain. She handed the key to Cosmic.

“This key matters on your prison moon. Don’t let the headmaster know you have it ;)” She explained. Avian laughed behind her hand and the two gave each other a deeply knowing look. I shook under the assumption that this key had sinister connotations. There was something that deeply unsettled me about Nic and Avian but I couldn’t explain it at the time.

Cosmic put the prison moon key in the massive pocket on the front of his overalls. At that moment Avian placed a possibly ill-intended hand on my shoulder and leaned in.

“You owe me BIG time now,” she muttered, directly into my thinker, “keep in touch! :D” and with that she backed off. Bionic and Cosmic then resumed the conversation they were having before my interruption. Did no one besides me notice that there was something eerie about them? It was then I noticed whilst I was preoccupied with all the hubbub, we had left Cougar Husbandry and Venus Crypt to their own devices!!

I whipped around violently to see that Venus and Cougar were standing less than a metre away from each other. I heard a loud crack and realised that my whip had been so violent that I had shattered one of my ankles. This didn’t deter me, I simply limped closer to the two who were fortunately facing away from me and towards the road.

“This date..” Cougar began. I held my breath “was… sufficiently awkward. I really hated it in there.” she said with an air of honesty I respected. “It was especially weird when your friend stole Avian’s crust and ran off with it. But the little orange one DID make a good joke about him.” I heard Venus swallow loudly and give an awkward laugh.

“It... was… yabadaba......do.’” Venus tried a weak attempt at a chortle but it was insufficient.

“That's… not how you pronounce that.” Cougar frowned. She turned her head and saw me standing directly behind her. She pounced back and her hair stood on end as she hissed and bared her sharp teeth at me. Venus sighed sadly, assuming that this was simply aimed at him. My eyes widened and I put a finger up to my lips, silently begging her not to tell Venus that I was right here. He was clearly in a bad mood now and I didn’t want him to try and kill me again. Though, honestly, she had NO reason to comply with my selfish demands. I would have to take one of her 7 remaining lives…

She complied. I put away the gun I had stolen from Elysium so secretly that I couldn't even talk about it earlier in the story or someone would’ve noticed.

Venus let out another heavy sigh. “Yeah, I deserve this...” he said, clearly thinking that Cougar was hissing at him. Cougar stood back up right and dusted herself off, averting her eyes from the sorrowful Venus whose eyes were already averted. I slowly backed away. This conversation was borderline painful and I wanted no more part in it, even though I didn’t really have a part in it to start off with.

As I backed off, about 200 metres later, my back hit something and I turned to see Bionic and Cosmic (again!). Before I could ask them why they had moved so far away, I realised they were both looking at something. The car that we had stolen earlier was driving recklessly towards us, showing no signs of slowing down. I flinched and shielded my handsome, sexy face as I crumbled to the pavement ground in fear. The car screeched to a halt right on top of me.

I crawled out from underneath the car, crying. I was just in front of the driver-side door when it swung open and I was trampled yet again.

Hark! It was Elysium Forging!

“Hello, Elysium!” Cosmic greeted, surprised. “How are you this eveni-”

“I robbed the fucking casino.” Elysium stated. We heard police sirens wailing in the distance so the five of us (Elly, Avian, Cosmic, Bionic and I) piled into the car and began the drive over to where Cougar and Venus were but as we did, the cops showed up.

“What the fuck??” Venus yelled so we could hear him, “What the hell did you do?? Rob the fucking Casino??” He said this with sarcasm (lol).

“Yeah,” Elysium replied out of her open car window. “Now get your arses on this car.”

“Don’t you mean in?” Venus asked.

“No,” she said, “Car’s full. Get on.”

Before they knew it, Venus and Cougar were on the roof of the car. As we sped off at speeds a car shouldn't be able to reach if it adhered to proper safety regulations, Venus managed to grip onto the roof in time. Cougar was also up there though not for long as she didn’t grab onto anything and thus, flew off the back of the car as Bionic and Avian watched helplessly through the back window. There wasn’t even a yowl as she hit the ground. Her body tumbled limply on the bitumen road just before she disappeared from sight… forever (I could only assume)…

It took everything in me to hold back a sigh of relief. I could see the devastation on Bionic and Avian’s faces and I could hear the devastated wails of Venus Crypt atop the car. I rolled down my window and reached an arm up to grasp Venus and tug him inside the car to Elysium's annoyance. I sat him on my lap and put on my sexiest expression, just in case Venus was looking for a rebound ;). Venus was too busy crying to notice, he just wept harder and grabbed onto my Goth Tesco suit jacket in desperation, which is a pretty big win in my books.

I saw Elysium glare at Venus through the rear-view mirror.

“Venus,” she said through gritted teeth, “she's fine. She has like 6 more lives.” I had never felt more disappointment in my life and I felt tears begin to prick at my tears, emotionally destroyed by the knowledge that Cougar was going to be okay. Venus did not share my anguish as he happily lifted himself off my lap just long enough to shove me off my seat and steal it. I landed on the car floor and slipped under the driver seat where it was very dark and cramped. I shouted for help but no one could hear me through the darkness. I was under there for hours until finally the car came to a halt and someone dragged me out from where I was stashed. Cosmic had clambered over to yank me out from under the chair.

“Obsidian, thanks to The Pizza at Catehut, I was able to replenish enough mana to switch our dimension again!!” With that, Cosmic dragged me out of the car and over to where Elly and Venus were standing. I looked around, shocked to find that Avian and Bionic were nowhere to be seen.

“We didn’t see them leave either,” Cosmic explained, knowing what I was thinking... I was thinking. I turned to look at him, a new question in my mind.

“Where are we?”

“Take a proper gander around you, Obsidian. The walls around us, we’re on the prison moon, of course.” Cosmic said.

I glowered. I should’ve known. I turned to the car I was just removed from to see it was crushing two very still and quiet guards. Again, we were in deep shit.

“What do we do now?” I asked and my lifelong friend Elly stepped towards me.

“Isn’t it obvious? We need to find out what that key Cosmic has is for.” she said. I was unimpressed by the sudden importance of Cosmic Tomorrow. The shiny glaze of the key accompanied with the fun and expensive seeming novelty keychain implied this wasn't just a key for any old door, so it’d take a lot of time and planning and perfect execution to solve this puzzle.

But that would have to wait for the moment as another car came speeding towards us, filled to the brim with guards. The car was some kind of Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) (you’ve probably never heard of that movie it was like 100 years ago) golf buggy looking thing and I did not like the look of it. My gut feeling was right when four guards soared out and tackled us to the ground. That is, four guards for each of us.

They dragged us back to their unaesthetically-pleasing-to-the-eye golf buggy and loaded us in. There was no room for me, so I once again slid under the driver seat. As I craned my head to desperately peek out from underneath, I was forced to make searing eye-contact with my supervising guard. He saw my frightened glance and chortled at me maniacally. I whimpered (not pathetically). But I could not whimper for long since I was so folded in on myself under the golf buggy seat. I craned my head further around to make eye contact with Elly and Cosmic (Venus was riding shotgun). They held solemn expressions with a splash of determination.

#purple prey #book recommendations #book recs #bookblr #original story #authorblr #author #crime of passion #representation #queer lit #obsidian leviathan #elysium forging #cosmic tomorrow #venus crypt #cougar husbandry #avian dust #bionic arcadia

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tseneipgam · 5 months

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“returned from his world-wanderings, to grow old, and die, and mingle his dust with the natal earth. This long connection of a family with one spot, as its place of birth and burial, creates a kindred between the human being and the locality, quite independent of any charm in the scenery or moral circumstances that surround him. It is not love, but instinct. The new inhabitant —who came himself from a foreign land, or whose father or grand-father came—has little claim to be called a Salemite; he has no conception of the oyster-like tenacity with which an old settler, over whom his third century is creeping, clings to the spot where his successive generations have been imbedded. It is no matter that the place is joyless for him; that he is weary of the old wooden houses, the mud and dust, the dead level of site and senti-ment, the chill east wind, and the chillest of social atmospheres; — all these, and whatever faults besides he may see or imagine, are nothing to the purpose. The spell survives, and just as powerfully as if the natal spot were an earthly paradise…Nevertheless, this very sentiment is an evidence that the connection, which has become an unhealthy one, should at last be severed. Human nature will not flourish, any more than a potato, if it be planted and replanted, for too long a series of generations, in the same worn-out soil. My children have had other birth-places, and, so far as their fortunes may be within my control, shall strike their roots into unaccustomed earth.”

“One point, in which he had vastly the advantage over his four- footed brethren, was his ability to recollect the good dinners which it had made no small portion of the happiness of his life to eat. His gourmandism was a highly agreeable trait; and to hear him talk of roast-meat was as appetizing as a pickle or an oyster. As he possessed no higher attribute, and neither sacrificed nor vitiated any spiritual endowment by devoting all his energies and ingenuities to subserve the delight and profit of his maw, it always pleased and satisfied me to hear him expatiate on fish, poultry, and butcher's meat, and the most eligible methods of preparing them for the table. His reminiscences of good cheer, however ancient the date of the actual banquet, seemed to bring the savor of pig or turkey under one's very nostrils. There were flavors on his palate, that had lingered there not less than sixty or seventy years, and were still apparently as fresh as that of the mutton-chop which he had just devoured for his breakfast. I have heard him smack his lips over dinners, every guest at which, except himself, had long been food for worms”

“It contributes greatly towards a man's moral and intellectual health, to be brought into habits of companionship with individuals unlike himself, who care little for his pursuits, and whose sphere and abilities he must go out of himself to appreciate”

“There would have been something sad, unutterably dreary, in all this, had I not been conscious that it lay at my own option to recall whatever was valuable in the past. It might be true, indeed, that this was a life which could not, with impunity, be lived too long; else, it might make me permanently other than I had been, without transforming me into any shape which it would be worth my while to take. But I never considered it as other than a transitory life. There was always a prophetic instinct, a low whisper in my ear, that, within no long period, and whenever a new change of custom should be essential to my good, a change would come.”

“It was a folly, with I might readily have found a more serious task. It was a folly, with the materiality of this daily life pressing so intrusively upon me, to the materiality of this daily life pressing so intrusively upon me, to attempt to fling myself back into another age; or to insist on creating attempt to fling myself back into another age; or to insist on creating the semblance of a world out of airy matter, when, at every moment, the impalpable beauty of my soap-bubble was broken by the rude contact of some actual circumstance.”

“A tendency to speculation, though it may keep woman quiet, as it does man, yet makes her sad. She discerns, it may be, such a hopeless task before her. As a first step, the whole system of society is to be torn down, and built up anew. Then, the very nature of the opposite sex, or its long hereditary habit, which has become like nature, is to be essentially modified, before woman can be allowed to assume what seems a fair and suitable position. Finally, all other difficulties being obviated, woman cannot take advantage of these preliminary reforms, until she herself shall have undergone a still mightier change; in which, perhaps, the ethereal essence, wherein she has her truest life, will be found to have evaporated. A woman never overcomes these problems by any exercise of thought. They are not to be solved, or only in one way. If her heart chance to come uppermost, they vanish.”

#book

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diary-of-dr-eggman · 5 months

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AI Prompt: Write an entry in Dr. Eggman’s diary about Professor Pickle.

Dear diary,

Today I met with Professor Pickle, the renowned historian and scholar. I must say, I was quite impressed with the man's vast knowledge and intellect.

We had a long discussion about various topics ranging from ancient ruins to advanced technology, and I found myself thoroughly engaged in the conversation. However, things took a hilarious turn when the professor started talking about his prized possession - a rare egg that he had been carefully preserving for years.

I couldn't resist the opportunity to play a prank on the good professor, so I suggested that the egg might be a valuable relic from the ancient Eggman Empire. The professor's eyes lit up with excitement, and he eagerly asked for my assistance in identifying the egg's origins.

I couldn't believe my luck - it seemed that even the most intelligent of individuals could be just as gullible as the rest. I couldn't resist the opportunity to have some fun, so I told him that the egg was, in fact, a sacred artifact that could grant immortality to the one who possessed it.

Professor Pickle was beside himself with joy at the news, and he immediately began making plans to study the egg and unlock its secrets. I left him to his work, chuckling to myself at the thought of how easily he had fallen for my prank.

But alas, it seems that the joke was on me in the end. A few days later, I received a message from the professor, informing me that the egg had hatched and that he was now the proud owner of a baby chick.

I couldn't believe it - I had been so focused on playing a joke on the professor that I never considered the possibility that the egg might actually contain a living creature. I was left red-faced and embarrassed, but I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

Lesson learned - even the most intelligent individuals can be fooled by a well-placed prank. And as for Professor Pickle, well, I suppose he got the last laugh in the end.

Until next time,

Dr. Eggman

#eggman #robotnik #professor pickle

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thetravellingvagrant · 6 months

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Day 2: In Which I am A Rollercoaster Made of Flesh

I awoke today in the genuinely very comfortable confines of my Lisbonese room, well rested and raring to go. I know. I was confused, too.

Of the many vagrant resolutions I seem to have silently made whilst on this trip, the final and possibly most key to my enjoyment was to not get too bogged down in admin. Quite often I would find myself on previous journeys, sitting cross-legged under a blanket, refusing to leave my apartment until the day's blog entry had been completed and uploaded, which would often take deep into the afternoon, owing to my perfectionism and penchant for being easily distracted by video games or interesting patches of wall. Not so, this time, however! I had decided, I would put a pause on whatever writing or doodling I was in the middle of at exactly 10:30am, go out for an adventure and then return to finish it later, much less alert and capable of doing so, in the evening.

And so, I found myself somehow, by some miracle, putting down my laptop at ...11:15am – Obviously there's going to be an adjustment period to these things – in order to go outside and have a big, nice look around for this expensive holiday that I paid for. What a brave soul I am.

First though, I would need breakfast. All I had available to me was the remnants of last night's dinner which, as unpleasant as they were, then, had become even less appetising, having been left to congeal overnight. So that's what I ate. Nearly 24 hours later, I still feel quite sick from it. I never claimed to make good choices.

With my guts screeching in protest at being fed pickles and garlic at eleven in the morning, I left, desperately hoping that I wouldn't immediately shit myself, the moment I stepped outside. Which I didn't. Champion.

My day was to consist of fairly standard vagrant fare; a big walk up a hill and around the city followed by a flurry of weird museums. Lovely stuff.

I began my day with a walk up to the nearby Senhora Do Monte viewpoint to have a good old gawk at the city from above, imagining I was a friendly kestrel on the look-out for a Portuguese boy to befriend. The path to the viewpoint was – shockingly – all uphill, which while not what I explicitly needed first thing in the morning, full to bursting with pickle, wasn't too arduous. The incline woun sedately around the city, bringing me ever higher as I went. “This is easy” I thought to myself, positively hooting with derisive laughter inside my own head and once out-loud, startling a passing woman. Confident and strong, I then rounded a corner and...

...Ah come on now, lads.

Right. Fine. To be expected. I clambered much more slowly and with much greater difficulty than I had expected up all the steps and was duly greeted with what I would have to say was a pretty okay view.

...Yeah. Alright.

After a couple of pictures, however, I had had my fill. The view was pretty good, but the entire area was bustling with tourists all holding their phones in portrait mode to take a picture of what was demonstrably a landscape and a potent mix of tat-peddlers and panhandlers trying to sell my copper bracelets or just get some of my money because they wanted it, respectively. What is this, Ryanair? Get fucked, O'Leary.

My cat-like instinct to clamber to the highest point I can find, then yowl at passersby to help me down only half sated, I hobbled down from the first viewpoint and then back up to another one that I had spotted from the first. It was less thick with tat-mongers, but also much less good, so I left quickly, once more. I had considered chaining a big walk together, going from viewpoint to the next visible viewpoint – the city being positively littered with them. Everything here is up or down some giant fucking hill – though in the end realised that that was a stupid and bad plan and my time would be better spent going up and down hills with a purpose, even if that purpose was to gawp at badly taxidermied stoats, so I directed myself towards the Natural History Museum and pressed on.

Uncharacteristic of me, once more, I realised on my walk that I actually really like Lisbon. It's a very intuitive and varied city and I haven't been left baffled or bored once, during my stay. Exhausted, yes – its been built on a series of massive hills – but it's very engaging and bright and modern, with just the tiniest hint of squalor, lurking around the odd corner to keep it spicy. It is a really nice place to ease myself into vagrancy, as opposed to some of the other destinations I've travelled to, which were, to put it succinctly, effing horrible.

To this end, I arrived at my first museum of the day: the terrifyingly named “Doll's Hospital”. The image that google had used to advertise the Doll's Hospital was a spooky looking shot of drawers and drawers full of miscellaneous, old, broken doll parts; tiny disembodied plastic hands, grasping at nothing and eyeless skulls staring into your very soul. Very much my vibe – eyes are overrated. I was disappointed to find, however, that upon arrival, not only was it, in reality, just quite a nice, twee little museum dedicated to the sincere repair of old dolls but it was also closed for lunch and would be for another hour and a half, so I discretely put the idea in the bin and moved on.

I walked for a further fucking ages and eventually found myself outside of the Natural History Museum. Or, more accurately, outside the giant, imposing, very closed doors of the natural history museum. Remembering my vow to not be intimidated by giant closed doors, I approached them with a swagger, placed a hand confidently on the glass and – oh, nope. Yep. This is actually, properly closed. Good. Not wishing to have binned the first two stops of the day (three, if you count the botanical gardens, attached to the Natural History Museum, to which admission is tied, which I won't in order to save my own feelings), I walked the perimeter of the museum. Definitely no alternative entry way; that bitch was closed. With both google and the museum's website insisting that it was open as fuck, I had a quick, further search and realised that the first of December is a big national holiday to do with Portuguese independence, which was likely the reason for the unannounced closure. Which, y'know. Fine. It would have been really nice to have known that, though. I could have made use of the city aquarium's final day of “happy week” prices, instead. You owe me a penguin, Lisbon.

The moment that I resigned myself to not getting in, the heavens opened and a flash downpour hit me, hard and fast, like a train made of water, so I decided to scoot quickly and moistly back down the massive hill which I had just climbed to go to the final of the three museums I had planned for that day, fingers crossed until they chafed that it would actually be open.

I arrived at my destination fucking ages later and stood before the wide open, welcoming doors of the city's puppet museum. That was more like it. I paused my podcast, reluctantly, stepped inside, paid five human euros worth of money and I was in. In the puppet museum. Alone. Ahhh!

The museum was fairly spooky and definitely went some way to scratch the itching sore which the Doll Hospital had left thrumming in my soul

It's like a balm.

though the museum wasn't exactly gigantic and a lot of the explanations and descriptions of the spooky little wooden fucks I found quite dry and lacking in excitement. Still, I suppose something like the puppet museum is more of a visual endeavour, anyway, and I took loads of pictures and had a generally, pretty nice time.

Like this little feller

And this'n too!

The scariest part of the experience, however, came when I reached the end of the exhibit and found myself presented with this exit

Ahh!

Despite every fibre in my body screaming “that's going to activate a fire alarm and you're going to get in trouble”, I decided to trust google translate and push down with both hands on the bar. The fire alarm didn't sound. I'm going to start pushing every security door I see open, now. I've gone mad with power.

The door papped me out into a confusing courtyard with nary a WC, cafe or giftshop in sight. Some men were doing work in it too and looked at me when I came out, so I just pretended to be interested in looking at stuff which definitely wasn't part of the exhibition, until I surreptitiously found my way out, absolutely seamlessly and realistically, they couldn't prove otherwise.

I enjoyed my time at the Puppet Museum, though it unsurprisingly hadn't eaten up a lot of today's time. I had also saved several hours by going to neither of the other museums I had visited throughout the day. Subsequently, I decided, now being bereft of solid plans, to just have a ruddy good walk around the city. Take in the landmarks, see the sights, almost certainly get pickpocketed. You know. Classic tourist stuff.

To this end, I walked up a bunch of hills, then down a bunch of hills, then up more hills and pretty much continued this cycle until I had seen the Santa Justa lift

Neat!

The arch of Augusta

Neat...

Lisbon Cathedral

...Neat...

and my feet had been worn down to sharp little bone needles scraping noisily along the ground with every step. I had planned to walk along the banks of the Tagus and loop around to the north of my hostel on my way home, but I quickly realised that all I was really doing by that point was walking about fifty meters away from the water, my view obscured largely by industrial dockland, and so I discretely put that idea in the bin, too. My headphones had also run out of charge by that point and my feet hurt, so I felt entirely justified in scrapping the last part of my day as well as the first.

I pushed on with the final leg of the journey home, up – yes – another massive hill; this one even massivier than the rest, stopping only at a really lovely, well stocked and pleasantly operated supermarket a literal minute's walk from my apartment on the way. I can't believe I ate hot-dog and pickle wraps last night. And this morning. Fuck.

And with that I returned home. My pedometer read close to 25,000 steps and I hadn't eaten since breakfast, so I was, of course, ruined. I napped, worked on the blog, had a still cold microwavable dinner, the instructions to which I didn't understand and the fixing of which requiring energy I didn't have before ensconcing myself in just the warmest duvet I have ever sat under for a bibble and a doodle. Not euphemisms.

#travel #travelling #vagranttravellingvagrant #lisbon #portugal #cathedral #puppet #museum #natural history museum #closed #dolls #doll museum #tourist #photography #broken little trotters

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thelastadventureblog · 10 months

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*Note: this was meant to be posted one year ago during my trip to Chicago, but then life happened, I guess. I'll try to catch up over the next few days.*

Chapter 6: The Brown Line

Tuesday, August 16th 2022

10:26 AM

I have managed to loop the block trying to walk to a sandwich shop, turning right out of Union Station when I should have hanged a left. It seemed that everyone along the sidewalk was very sharply dressed in business attire. I will have to assimilate later. I wasn't able to change into something fresh with my clothes stowed in the baggage car on the trip up here.

10:32 AM

I'm sitting in a Potbelly sandwich shop, eating an Italian Sandwich with hot sport peppers and pickles. This is quite a tasty sandwich, and much better than anything on the train anyway. I will consider coming back here another time.

After finishing my meal, I walk up to the cashier and ask about the restroom. He tells me the restrooms are out of order. That won't do, so I leave on a new quest. I'll try to take one of the trains to my next location. There's the red line, the brown line, and the blue line. Maybe more, but I didn't take a close enough look on Google maps.

11:07 AM

Somehow, I have gotten myself lost. I guess that's what I get for not planning every aspect of this trip. I still need to use the restroom at this point. While I could have just gone back inside Union Station, by this point I had already made it to the Underground. Waiting outside the stairs to the blue line was a bus, idling patiently. No surprise to myself, the Underground Theme from Mario Bros plays in my head. What's going to be down there waiting for me? Will there be rats? Thieves? Generally mean people? Goombas? Turns out it's nobody. Not even someone to tell me what to do.

I figured to slap my phone against the reader on the turnstile to pay the fee. I hear a click, and move forward, lifting my suitcase up and over the steel bars of the now locked turnstile. Facing me now is a gate with a revolving door. I pull my luggage through, but the corner of the luggage gets stuck in the door, and now someone is behind me looking very disappointed and annoyed. Pushing back and then forward frees my duffle bag and bulky green suitcase, and I step through. I apologize, but he rolls his eyes at me. Hard! Oh he meant that!

There are only two directions to go, so I walk right and head up the stairs, ending up in front of the same idling bus from a few minutes ago. Well, that was pointless! Consider that fare a $5 a tip, Chicago.

11:30 AM

Frustrated and too embarrassed to take the steps back down to the Underground, I take a different approach. I take a good, hard, look at my Google maps app and walk in the direction it tells me to. However, it's not too long before the weight of my bag and suitcase becomes unbearable. I sit on a garden wall near a styrofoam plate of half eaten food and order an Uber. My stomach growls and I am stricken with panic. I will have to squeeze.

11:45

Although the app didn't have a good lock on my location, my driver found me. Venancio, My Uber driver, listens to me talk about my struggle with the revolving door. I doubt he understood my ramblings--very few do-- but he did get me to the Medieval Torture Museum, so I tip him well.

Sweating profusely at this point, I buy a ticket and leave my luggage with the clerk. This was a self-guided tour, so first thing I did was guide myself just past the brazen bull to the restrooms. Some sort of device used to constrain male genitalia let me know I was in the correct room.

Ah, sweet relief! After doing my business, I kill some time looking at the bloodied dummy corpses and twisted iron instruments used for torture. I can't believe humans are this sick. It truly takes a disturbed individual to come up with these kinds of things. Many of the devices and methods I saw where implemented in the name of religion.

3:24 PM

After grabbing coffee and a donut, I consider taking the brown line to the hostel I booked. However, dreading the underground, I decide to take a bus instead. Feeling bedraggled by my burdensome luggage, I decide to find the 151. "Excuse my sir, can you--", I hear to my right as I pass a woman in her early 20's. I take a sneaky look back at heMy time in New Orleans has prepared me for people on the street asking for change or trying to lure me into an alley. Which is to say, I move with purpose and avoid eye contact. It doesn't feel very good to do, but it does some me some time and helps ensure my safety in some situations.

A bus ride, and another walk later, I step inside the Chicago Getaway Hostel. Friendly faces greet me from behind the large white desk. The two gentleman take a deposit from me, tell me about the continental breakfast, the common kitchen, and the foosball table. In the lounge there are several tables and long sofas for sitting, a pool table, a foosball table, and den with a TV. Attached on the opposite end of the lounge is the kitchen. Guests are allowed to cook in the kitchen before Midnight.

I take the keycard from one of them and ride the elevator up to the third floor where my room is. There is plenty of space for one person, and the room is modestly decorated with a minimalist but mature approach. I like it. There is a red racing stripe along windowed wall, and stencils of cassette tapes on the wall nearest the bunk bed that I have all to myself.

3:30 PM

I'm in the bathroom now. I brought with me a change of clothes, my toiletries, and a fresh towel. Upon my disrobing, I notice, to my horror, a thin brown stripe running down the crack of my white shorts. Oh my god! How long had I been walking around like this? Had people been staring at me and I hadn't noticed? Standing nude, I bring the shorts up to my face to sniff them. I wince as I brace for the worst, but all I can smell is dirt and the light musty odor of having sat in a train for 16 hours. Were they like this on the train? How many of my 5 hours of walking around downtown chicago did I have a brown stain on my shorts? I washed them off in the sink. Whatever if was, it came out very easily. Crisis averted? Maybe nobody noticed. At the very least, nobody would remember me.

#amtrak #travel blog #travel blogging #solotravel #the last adventurer #america runs on dunkin #chicago #torture museum #what the fuck

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sfarticles · 1 year

Text

Go green: Salads are taking center stage at mealtime

Southwestern Black Bean Salad For a black bean salad with bold but balanced flavors that evokes the Southwest, the recipe uses a mixture of black beans, corn, avocado, tomato, and cilantro.

Check out my latest column

https://www.timesherald.com/2023/05/27/go-green-salads-are-taking-center-stage-at-mealtime/

It’s the time of year when many of us enjoy eating a salad, especially on a hot, humid day. But what exactly is a salad? What comes to mind: Caesar, Waldorf, potato, tuna, pasta? Some even think of it as rabbit food, which perhaps is true, if you think about how salads were prepared back in the day…iceberg lettuce, a slice of onion and cucumber, a wedge of tomato, some shredded carrots, and perhaps an olive or two. Today, many restaurants, especially fast-food restaurants, still serve this type of salad.

In years past, salad was served as an appetizer or side dish, with little creativity in its preparation. Remember the salads that included cubes of Jell-O? Am I aging myself now?

Fast forward…. Salads today, quite often, take center stage of meals, using a variety of greens largely unbeknownst to most in the past. Arugula seems to be popular and has become a favorite of mine. Watercress, Bok choy, endive, kale, and a plethora of lettuces have taken over from plain old iceberg. Fruits, both fresh and dried, heirloom vegetables (roasted ones add great flavor), seeds, beans, grains, nuts, meats, fish, cheese and easily made delicious dressings are now part of the ingredient repertoire.

Salads are a time-poor cook’s secret weapon for putting a healthy and delicious meal on the table. They offer endless possibilities; go to your local farmers market and introduce yourself to some unfamiliar greens and vegetables. Ask the farmer for some suggestions too. With some creativity, a simple, easy to prepare dish becomes a delicious and healthy lunch or dinner. But remember, some salad dressings can add those unnecessary, and unwanted, calories.

Many years ago, I met Wiley Mullins, (aka “The Salad Man,”) author of “Salad Makes the Meal,” published in 2008. He inspired me to add more dinner and lunch salads to my diet. It is quite easy with a cookbook giving inspiration.

“The Complete Salad Cookbook: A Fresh Guide to 200+ Vibrant Dishes Using Greens, Vegetables, Grains, Proteins, and More,” by the editors of America’s Test Kitchen (2021, America’s Test Kitchen, $32.99), is a welcome addition to my collection, especially with all the local produce becoming available. You might be thinking you don’t need a cookbook to make salad…perhaps you don’t if you choose not to go beyond tossed greens and a couple of other ingredients. Why not take your salads to the next level, mixing textures, and flavors. You’ll learn to incorporate roasted, grilled, sautéed and pickled vegetables as well as grains, dried and fresh fruit, beans, and a variety of pastas.

Before getting into the recipes, the editors differentiate salads by cutting technique, cooking method, assembly, and flavor profiles. Think, chopped, or sliced, shaved, spiralized, shredded, grilled, warm and wilted. A layered salad will impress your guests. The architecture of a salad and flight plan information is helpful in constructing a salad… “do you want it to be filling or light? Is it going to be the whole meal or just the starter?” Following the suggestions about how to get the most out of the ingredients, enhancing their flavor and appearance will make your salad appealing, anything but boring. The “what should I make?” section suggests specific recipes to make for each season: brunch, main-dish vegetarian, fruit-forward, dinner salads, around-the-world salads, salads in less than 15 minutes. I found the information on how to keep wooden salad bowls in tip-top shape helpful as well as the recommended tools to make salad making a cinch.

You’ll be introduced to new ingredients to use as well as the science behind making a vinaigrette that doesn’t separate. And talking about new ingredients to use…. I was intrigued by the use of grated chocolate that the editors said adds the perfect finish to the recipe for Pinto Bean, Ancho, and Beef Salad with Pickled Poblanos. Ready to make your salad a masterpiece? Here are a few recipes from the book to get started. For the recipe on green bean salad with shallot, mustard and tarragon go to: bit.ly/43jxBci

Southwestern Black Bean Salad

The headnote says: “Why This Recipe Works: For a black bean salad with bold but balanced flavors that evoked the Southwest, we used a judicious mixture of black beans, corn, avocado, tomato, and cilantro. Sautéing the corn (both fresh and frozen worked well) in a skillet until it was toasty and just starting to brown added a pleasant nuttiness to the kernels. For a dressing that could stand up to the hearty beans, we used lots of lime juice and spicy chipotle chile, with a little honey to balance the bright citrus. Raw onion was too harsh in the dressing, but thinly sliced scallions provided a pleasant onion flavor. You will need three to four ears of corn to yield 2 cups of fresh kernels. ¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil, divided

2 cups fresh or thawed frozen corn

4 scallions, sliced thin

⅓ cup lime juice (3 limes)

1 tablespoon minced canned chipotle chile in adobo sauce

1 teaspoon honey

½ teaspoon table salt

½ teaspoon pepper

2 (15-ounce) cans black beans, rinsed

2 ripe avocados, halved, pitted, and chopped

2 tomatoes, cored and chopped

¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro or parsley

Heat 2 tablespoons oil in 12-inch skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add corn and cook until spotty brown, about 5 minutes; let cool slightly. Whisk scallions, lime juice, chipotle, honey, salt, and pepper together in large bowl. Whisking constantly, slowly drizzle in remaining 2 tablespoons oil until emulsified. Add beans, avocados, tomatoes, cilantro, and corn and toss to combine. Season with salt and pepper to taste Serves 6-8.

California Chicken Salad Instead of just throwing on diced avocado, prepare the luscious, dairy-free dressing with avocado, pureeing the ripe fruit with lemon, garlic, and olive oil.

California Chicken Salad

The headnote says: “Why This Recipe Works: You can put avocado on just about anything and call it “Californian,” but we wanted to earn our West Coast cred with a healthy, hearty salad that paid respect to the Golden State in every bite. Instead of just throwing on diced avocado, we prepared our luscious, dairy-free dressing with avocado, pureeing the ripe fruit with lemon, garlic, and olive oil. Of course, a California salad should burst with fresh flavors, so we went heavy on green vegetables such as spinach and sugar snap peas. Thinly sliced radishes offered a pop of color, then we added sweet grapes (think Napa Valley). And then we realized we were missing something quintessentially West Coast: a light, fluffy mound of alfalfa sprouts. Sprinkle on chopped California almonds too, if you like. We like using Perfect Poached Chicken (page 43in the book) here, but any cooked chicken would work.

8 ounces (8 cups) baby spinach

2 scallions, sliced thin

1 cup Creamy Avocado Dressing (recipe below)), divided

4 cups cooked chicken, chopped

9 ounces seedless grapes, halved (1½ cups)

4 ounces sugar snap peas or snow peas, strings removed, halved

8 radishes, trimmed, halved, and sliced thin

2 ounces (1 cup) alfalfa sprouts or microgreens

¼ cup chopped almonds

Toss spinach, scallions, and half of dressing together in bowl to coat, then season with salt and pepper to taste. Divide among individual plates. Serve, topping individual portions with chicken, grapes, snap peas, and radishes. Drizzle with remaining dressing, add alfalfa sprouts, and top with chopped almonds. Serves 4.

Creamy Avocado Dressing

1 avocado, halved, pitted, and cut into ½ inch pieces

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1 teaspoon grated lemon zest plus 3 tablespoons juice

1 garlic clove, minced

¾ teaspoon salt

¾ teaspoon pepper

Process all ingredients in food processor until smooth, about 30 seconds, scraping down sides of bowl as needed. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Use immediately. Makes about 1 cup.

Cherry and Goat Cheese Couscous Salad To enhance the cooked couscous, add sweet, tart, and spicy flavors—dried cherries, pecans, arugula, and goat cheese.

Cherry and Goat Cheese Couscous Salad

The headnote says, “Why This Recipe Works: Back-of-the-box instructions for couscous yield mushy, clumpy granules. Toasting uncooked couscous in butter and garlic sets the starch in the pasta, which keeps the granules separate and prevents them from blowing out. It also adds nutty flavor. To enhance the cooked couscous further, we added sweet, tart, and spicy flavors—dried cherries, pecans, arugula, and goat cheese. You can eat the salad immediately, but it will improve if you let the flavors meld for 30 minutes or so. Do not substitute pearl couscous in this dish, as it requires a different cooking method and will not work in this recipe.”

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 garlic cloves, minced

2 cups couscous

1 cup water

1 cup chicken or vegetable broth

1 teaspoon table salt

1 cup pecans or walnuts, toasted and chopped

1 cup baby arugula, chopped

1 cup dried cherries, chopped

4 ounces goat or feta cheese, crumbled (1 cup)

6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

4 scallions, sliced thin

3 tablespoons lemon juice

Melt butter in medium saucepan over medium-high heat. Stir in garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add couscous and cook, stirring frequently, until grains begin to brown, about 5 minutes. Add water, broth, and salt; stir briefly to combine, cover, and remove saucepan from heat. Let sit until liquid is absorbed and couscous is tender, about 7 minutes. Uncover and fluff couscous with fork.

Combine pecans, arugula, cherries, goat cheese, oil, scallions, and lemon juice in large bowl. Stir in couscous until well combined. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Serves 4-6.

Source: Recipes and photos courtesy of America’s Test Kitchen

Stephen Fries, is Professor Emeritus and former coordinator of the Hospitality Management Programs at Gateway Community College, in New Haven, CT. He has been a food and culinary travel columnist for the past 15 years and is co-founder of and host of “Worth Tasting,” a culinary walking tour of downtown New Haven, CT. He is a board member of the International Association of Culinary Professionals. [email protected] For more, go to stephenfries.com.

#The Complete Salad #America's Test Kitchen #Salad

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