#am i some kind of kitchen expert? also not
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Once Upon a Time in 1996... 7/7
IceMav TimeLoop. Maverick wakes up to a great day. Then it all turns to shit. Explicit.
ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
Pete rolls out of bed, doesn’t bother dwelling on the now over-powering sense of muscle memory wanting to find Tom and sink into the space beside him. He’s used to his day starting apart from him, has come to enjoy the anticipation of seeing him again soon. Has forced himself to learn to enjoy the anticipation, knows he needs to start his day with Carole and Bradley before giving in to his desire to see Tom. He doesn’t know how long it’s been now, he stopped keeping count after one hundred, but he’s got a rough idea that it’s been months. Many months. He’s learnt so much about Bradley and Carole and Tom, but also himself. The monotony and routine of day-to-day life with a family that always terrified him before is now his new normal.
He gets dressed quickly, knows he will be showering before lunch for other reasons if he gets his way. He quickly heads into the kitchen, starts the coffee machine and makes toast for Bradley, puts the bottle of wine away and puts the tissues within easy reach. Then he goes back upstairs and walks down the hall, knocks on Bradley’s door and pushes it open. Bradley is up and dressed but busy reading a book and he looks up guiltily at being caught out. Pete can’t help but smile, wondering what kind of kid feels guilty for being caught reading.
“Hey Bradley. Brought you some breakfast. I need to talk to you…”
He knows now that Bradley has seen letters from the hospital, knows that his mom is sick. He knows it’s cancer. They’ve had the following conversation dozens of times, Bradley isn’t unaware of what his mom is doing today but is definitely an expert in hiding the fact. He is such a risk-averse kid, doesn’t want to rock the boat or upset the adults in his life and he knows he probably worries about being left behind but he knows he can allay those fears almost immediately.
“Hey Mav…”
He sits down on the edge of Bradley’s bed, rubs his hands together and smiles softly, sadly.
“Hey. Wanted to talk to you about something pretty important.”
“Okay. What?”
“Well, you know how your mom is sick, well, I wanted to ask you how you would feel about me adopting you, incase anything happens to her.”
“Oh. She’s really sick huh?”
Pete nods.
“Yeah, she is. I don’t know all the details, but she has an appointment this morning. I know you saw a letter from the hospital and have been waiting for your mom to tell you. But she’s been wanting to protect you from having to worry about all of this.”
“I’m not a kid! She can tell me stuff!”
“Oh Bradley, she knows she can. She just loves you and wants to protect you. But she can’t against this, and that hurts her more than anything else in the world.”
“I just want to be there for her like she’s always been there for me…”
“Yeah, that’s amazing of you Bradley. But I’m pretty sure that’s a hard idea for your mom to accept. I think you wanting to be there for her is amazing though, so even if she says no, I am still so proud of you okay?”
“Oh… thanks Mav.”
“You’re welcome kiddo.”
“And it’s yes by the way. About wanting to be adopted by you. I’d like that. A lot.”
“So would I. I love you kiddo.”
“Love you too Mav…”
He pulls Bradley into a hug and holds him for a good minute or so before loosening his grip and pulling away a bit.
“Right, so she has this hospital appointment and I’m going to try and convince her to take you with her okay? So you can be there for her like you want to be. Afterwards go for a walk along the pier and get an ice-cream. Here, here’s a twenty. You treat your mom okay?”
Bradley nods, and Pete can tell he’s close to tears, wants to tell him it’s okay to cry, because they’ve cried together a lot, and he knows they will in the future if they ever get a tomorrow, but he’s done enough for today, knows Bradley will be okay, feels reassured that things might suck, but he’ll be okay.
“Just… stay in here until I’ve talked to your mom okay?”
“Okay.”
“Read your book.”
That gets him a grin and he ruffles his hair, laughs as Bradley tries to bat his hand away and he closes the door behind him, quickly going and turning the coffee machine on, because this is definitely a conversation that relies heavily on the consumption of coffee. He has his conversation with Carole down to a fine art, a script that runs almost automatically through his head without him even thinking about it. Her response, her easy acceptance of his weird living-hell, it’s both the hardest and easiest conversation of the day.
He goes back upstairs and knocks on her door, knows not to just open it, that she doesn’t want to be caught crying, not yet, not if she’s going to agree to Bradley going with her. She needs to have coffee first. To feel more settled and to have already heard the bad news from him. The fact that he can prepare her, that she can begin to process it and then face the inevitable of telling Bradley.
“Hey Carole, I need to talk to you. I’ll make you a coffee… ”
“I’ll be right there.”
“No rush…”
He knows she’ll rush a little anyway, her mind already thinking about where she needs to go, and he knows it’s partly due to not knowing for certain that she’s hating right now. They’ve talked about it extensively and right now he probably knows how she’s feeling better than she does. She enters the kitchen and he passes her coffee, made perfectly after fuck knows how many days of practice and she takes a sip, clearly waiting for him to talk, seeing as he’s the one who told her not ever ten minutes ago that he wanted to talk. However he waits for her to be halfway through the first cup, glances at the time and he’s ahead of schedule.
“You okay Maverick?”
He laughs under his breath but nods, because despite everything her attentiveness still makes him feel incredibly lucky to count her as one of his closest friends.
“Yeah. I’m… I’m okay. Mostly. Right. So this might sound crazy, but I’ve told you this well over three hundred times now and in none of those have you ever not believed me,” Pete starts, and sure enough her eyes are wide, eyebrows hidden by her fringe but he’s used to this expression now.
“I’m stuck in a time loop. You have a hospital appointment about your cancer and the news is not good. Really not good. Six months, maybe a year. But I think you know that already. We skipped the appointment a good chunk of days. Got drunk a few others. I went with you to the appointment about a hundred times. We’ve discussed how much it sucks every single day…”
She’s finished the cup and he silently pours her a second one, adding the creamer and sugar before handing it back.
“It does suck,” she says, voice catching wetly and he nods silently, leaves her a few beats to think, to let the tears trickle silently, and this is why he has Bradley stay in his room. There had been yelling the one time, Bradley angry and Carole upset. It had only happened the once. He doesn’t like them yelling at each other.
“It does. I wish I could tell you something different.”
She wipes at her eyes, sniffs and he slides in close and wraps his arms around her and hugs her tightly.
“What I can tell you is that you can stop worrying about telling Bradley. He already knows. He saw a letter you’d left out. For a little while now Bradley has been going to the appointment with you.”
“What?”
“He already knows you’re sick,” Pete repeats, continuing to hold her. “He’s been waiting for you to tell him.”
He remembers the first time he’d figured out that Bradley already knew, it had assuaged his guilt immediately. He knew Bradley was smart. It had also reminded him that as much as he considered Carole and Bradley his, when he’s away on deployment, they’re a little duo, happily going about their day-to-day lives, always there for each other. It feels right that they’re together through this as well.
“He has a lot of questions, questions the doctor can answer. He’s been reading up. He wants to be there for you like you’re there for him all those times while he was growing up.”
“He’s still growing up Maverick.”
“Yeah, he is and he’s turning out to be this amazing caring young man who wants to be there for his mom when she receives this terrible news. You’ve raised such an amazing person Carole…”
“We’ve raised an amazing person you mean…”
“I don’t feel like I can take the credit, but I won’t argue with you. He wants to be there with you. For you.”
She starts crying again and this is fine, this is how it’s gone before, when she realizes that Bradley is mature enough to make his own decisions and agrees to let him go with her. He just needs to tell her one more thing.
“Also, I asked him if he’d mind if I adopted him. He said yes. We’ll sort out a lawyer if we ever get out of this time loop. Wasn’t a fan of the one time we actually made it to a lawyer.”
“Are you sure it’s okay that he comes with me?” Carole asks, and he’s glad that today that is her question, rather than what happened with the lawyer.
“More than okay. He already knows and it’s going to be scary for him, but it’ll be scary for you too and you’ll be there together. It always works out well at the end of the day…”
“What about you though, you don’t want to come with us as well?”
Pete licks his lips and pulls away, because this is always the kicker, the bit that makes her tip over into knowing he’s actually in a time loop and he’s come to enjoy her delighted surprise rather than be insulted by it. He was a little blind before, he can admit it now.
“No. I have another conversation I need to go have. This last thing, which I think is always what makes you realize I’m serious. I know Ice is in love with me. That he’s been in love with me for years. And god, I love him so much it’s ridiculous.”
“Oh my god! You’re going to go and talk to him?”
Like every single other day Carole is overjoyed that he’s realized he’s in love with Tom. That his happiness ranks above her own issues tells him how much she loves him and he grabs her and hugs her, his grin wild as he just lets happiness wash through him.
“Hey Carole, I love you.”
“Love you too Maverick… of my god. Iceman is going to be blindsided. Does he know how you feel? Of course not, you haven’t told him. Oh my god I wish I could be a fly on the wall when you tell him!”
“Uh… you wouldn’t want to be a fly on the wall.”
“Why not?”
“You want a show with your declarations of love?”
“Oh really now? How many times has that happened?”
Pete blushes, because he’s had plenty of sex, nearly daily, sometimes multiple times a day, and Carole is laughing so much she has tears in her eyes but they’re tears of happiness and Pete doesn’t care if she’s laughing at him.
“Oh Maverick, that’s amazing. I needed some good news. How does he take it? Well obviously, if there’s a show.”
“Took a few times to get there, learnt about his secret stash of vodka. Drank his bottle of vodka. He… he’s surprised but happy,” Pete decides on, because that’s a pretty tidy summary of his repeated days with Tom. They haven’t progressed past that honeymoon realization, even if he has, his own emotions settling into a bone-deep assuredness that he loves Tom with every fiber of himself.
“So, Bradley and I go to the hospital and you go off and have sex with Iceman. I know what I’d rather be doing…”
Pete coughs, coffee catching in his mouth and Carole is laughing again, eyes crinkled shut and he can’t help but join in.
“We’ll come around this afternoon.”
“Don’t drag yourselves out of bed on my part,” Carole says, still sniggering with amusement and Pete shakes his head.
“He’ll want to see you and Bradley.”
“Okay, well then. I guess I better get going. Has Bradley had breakfast?”
“I took him toast.”
“Of course you did.”
“He’s reading, told him to stay in his room until I came and got him.”
“Thanks Maverick.”
He shrugs, because he feels like he’s only getting everything right because he’s had so much practice at it.
“I’ll see you later.”
“Of course.”
He leaves them to it then, doesn’t need to hang around to watch them leave. He eyes the grass as he walks to his bike and he knows it’s not any longer than it was yesterday but it still annoys him. He can’t rush to Tom’s, he’s out running and he’s learnt to time talking with Ice for after his morning run. Tom has too much nervous energy that tips over into annoyance if he hasn’t gone for a run, although there were a couple of times when Pete managed to distract him with sex, but the best days are the ones where he’s waiting for Tom and gets to see him run toward him dripping sweat. He’s quite a fan of the sight.
Sure enough there’s no answer at the front door, which he knew would be the case but he also can’t stop the habit of checking just in case. He settles on the porch stairs, stretches out his legs and leans back, knows that the pose is a little provocative which is exactly why he does it, times it for just as he spies Ice running toward him and he tips his head back, eyes closed and soaks up the warmth from the early morning sun. He hears the rhythm of Tom’s pace falter as he sees him and he cracks an eye open, smiles slowly and resists the urge to just go over and rub himself all over him.
“Hey Tom…”
He loves the surprised delight on his face when he hears Pete call him Tom.
“Maverick… what are you doing here?”
“Well, I need to talk to you,” Pete starts, because he’s learnt after all the times of doing this, that fast and to the point are best. Ripping off a band aid. In all the times he’s done this Ice has never reacted violently, sometimes he’s gotten angry, thinking Pete was making fun of him, but he’s learnt exactly how to do this now. He stands up, the one step giving him the height advantage and with it he can see the way Tom’s eyes track over his facial features, dipping to his mouth and he licks his lips automatically.
“What do you need to talk about so urgently that it couldn’t wait until tonight?”
“Well, I want to spend more of today with you than just tonight. Also, what I really need to tell you is that I love you. So much. And for a long time. I don’t even know how long any more,” Pete says, because he knows he’s over three hundred days, but has given up trying to keep track for his own sanity. “I know you’ve been making yourself sick, smoking too many cigarettes, thinking about telling me. How I might react. Well. It’s better than your best-case scenario, because I love you, and I want to be with you, and I know it’s not going to be easy. Sometimes you’re going to want to kill me. I’m going to drive you crazy. But I’ll always love you…”
He holds his breath then, because there’s four different ways that Tom usually reacts. Disbelief; have you been drinking? Shock; oh my god, you can’t be serious. Anger; don’t make fun of me Pete. I think you should leave. And his personal favorite, terrified hope, which is never words but actions, trembling hands reaching out to touch him. He takes one in his hand now, tugs him up the steps and nods toward the door and watches as Tom’s hand shakes a little as he slides the key in.
“Come on, let’s talk some more…”
Of course, once the door is shut he doesn’t let a single moment pass, simply lets himself give in and presses himself against Tom and leans up to kiss him, lets his hands rest on his waist, but he doesn’t make any effort to hide his attraction or the fact that he very clearly wants to be there, here, with him. He also knows it stops Tom from doubting him, from overthinking his declaration.
“Maverick… what…”
“Today has been a very long day…”
“It’s not even nine-thirty.”
He laughs, kisses him again, doesn’t want to ruin this time with Tom yet, knows he can and will tell him later about Carole, but they have plenty of time and he also knows that Tom is going to want a shower, wants to wash off the sweat of his run and Pete wants to help him. The talk about the time loop goes a whole lot better when Ice is one orgasm in, like he takes Pete’s declaration of being in love with him much better after he’s been for a run. It’s been a lot of trial and error, but he’s learnt these things now.
“Come on… shower.”
“What?”
“You want a shower but are feeling like a bad host because you don’t want to leave me alone. Solution is to have me shower with you…”
Every.
Single.
Time.
He grins at the expression on Tom’s face, like Pete has spoken a foreign language that he feels like he should know but still can’t understand. He helps the translation by walking toward the shower and stripping off his clothes as he goes, looking over his shoulder with an expectant look and sure enough Tom catches on and scrambles to follow. He leaves a trail of clothes, can sense when Tom enters his personal space because he can feel the heat of his body, still elevated from his run. He turns the shower on and grabs towels, before turning to face Tom who is still standing there, fully dressed and watching him silently.
“I know this seems fast for you… just, trust me?”
He knows Tom trusts him with his life, but every day he gets to watch this decision as Tom trusts him with something more. His heart, his vulnerability, his fears… Pete will do his utmost to never make that trust falter, not in this. In them. He waits for the short sharp nod of Tom’s head and then tugs at his t-shirt. Tom gets the message and immediately strips it off over his head, his hands hesitating briefly at the band of his shorts but Pete knows this now, strips off his own underwear, unafraid of going first.
He lets his fingers ghost over Tom’s skin, damp with sweat and the raising humidity of the bathroom and he pushes him toward the shower, but not before placing a soft kiss to the edge of his mouth, pleased when he feels the twitch of a smile and he gives him a few seconds, just enjoys the view before Tom realizes he’s being watched and reaches for him, hand still trembling slightly and Pete squeezes it reassuringly. Then he’s under the spray of water and he sinks to his knees, smirks at the expression on Tom’s face which is sheer wonder and disbelief. He knows that this is one of Tom’s fantasies, and okay, it’s not the locker room, but he’s still on his knees in the shower.
“Oh my god… Pete.”
He bites his lip as he grins, meeting Tom’s eyes. He runs his hands over Tom’s thighs, coarse hair under the pads of his fingers tips and he runs his fingers over the swelling flesh of Tom’s cock before he places a gentle kiss to the head. Smirks when he feels Tom’s hips jerk with little to no control and he knows better than to wish to be able to do this every day for the rest of his life, considering his current issues, but god he has hopes for his future.
He knows this is going to be over quickly. He knows exactly how to get Tom off as quickly and efficiently as possible, and while he’s not aiming for a personal best today, he’s not going to waste time either. Round two is always much more enjoyable. He licks his lips and lets a little of the shower water gather in his mouth before he then sucks Tom’s cock into his mouth, three small sucks in quick succession, head bobbing as he feels Tom getting harder, feels the muscles under his fingers flex in an effort to not buck wildly.
He massages his thighs, imitates a rolling motion and Tom latches on, his body slowly rocking forward and back and Pete relaxes, lets him slowly and shallowly fuck his mouth, lets one of his hands drift to Tom’s balls, savors the muffled groan Tom makes around the fleshy part of his hand that he’s shoved in his mouth. He’ll have time to make Tom loud later, make him forget to hold himself back. He presses a knuckle to his perinium, massages it, gently, sucks at Tom’s cock as he rocks into his mouth and Pete moans, his own erection heavy between his thighs but so far neglected. He can wait. His body might not think he’s gotten off, but his mind knows and if he can holdout it will be amazing. There’s nothing but the sound of water, gasp-y breaths and skin moving slickly on skin, moan and groans echoing around the confined space, his own name punched out of Tom every so often and then he feels every muscle under his hands tense up and then he’s swallowing, Tom coming with a shudder and a painful sounding whine, his fingers resting softly on Pete’s head before pulling back.
Pete stands, his knees and jaw both aching but in the best ways and he swallows a mouthful of shower water and then pulls Tom down into a kiss, knows Tom’s brain is still throwing up disbelief with every second thought.
“Love you,” Pete says, knowing Tom needs to hear it again, needs to know that this isn’t just something sexual.
“I… I love you too. I. You… you’re really good at that.”
“Mmm. Come on. Finish washing yourself. I need to get clean as well, then I want to get you into bed.”
He watches as Tom’s Adam’s apple works soundlessly and he wraps his arms around Tom’s waist, presses a kiss to his bicep and presses his erection against his thigh. Tom’s hand goes to it, wraps around it tentatively and Pete’s reminded of how inexperienced Tom is now, compared to him with his hundreds of days’ worth of experience.
“No rush, but I want you to fuck me.”
Tom makes an inarticulate sound and Pete ducks his face to hide a grin, because he knows what he wants and he knows now how easy Tom is for him, that he doesn’t even have to really ask before Tom will give him anything within his power. He can’t believe he missed it for so many years. They make out, slow and exploratory and he let’s Tom take his time, savors the sensations the gentle finger elicit and wonders if he’ll get to have Tom fuck him with familiarity, be a little rough with him, not be so gentle like Pete is a gentle precious gift. Not that he’s complaining, but he wants that. Wants everything.
They move to the bedroom and he makes Tom lie down in the middle of the bed, pretty much lies on top of him like a weird body-shaped blanket and continues to run his hands over him, rocks his body against him and lets him feel how turned on he is, knows he finds it reassuring and he’ll tell him later that it’s all because of him. That Pete wouldn’t be like this with anyone else, not anymore.
“How are you feeling?” Pete asks, because there’s a couple of variable answers to this question as well, none of them bad though, nothing he can’t course-correct.
“Good… so good.”
“Good. Want to tell you something. It’s not as important as me telling you I love you, but there are a couple of things which are pretty significant, and one is definitely tied to the fact that I know you love me and have done for a long time. And that you keep a bottle of vodka in your freezer for when you just can’t bear it anymore…”
“What are you talking about?”
“This is where I need you to trust me. I’m in a time loop and am stuck in this day and have been for a very long time.”
He’s straddling Tom’s thighs, hands resting on his chest, staring down at him and Pete knows his expression is deadly serious, has to be if Tom is going to believe him.
“A long day. You said it had been a very long day.”
“Yeah. The first few days were a bit messy, I was dealing with something else and didn’t take your coming out with quite the grace I would have liked. Plus you never knew about me sleeping with men as well as women.”
“Maverick…”
“Sorry, I’m usually better at this part. I’m in a time loop and every day I come over here and get to tell you that I love you, that I feel the same way about you. I’m sorry I didn’t see it before, but I see it now…”
“A time loop…”
“Yep.”
“Why should I believe you?”
Pete grins then, because this is one of his favorite bits and he slides his body against Tom’s, quirks an eyebrow.
“Because you’ve told me all your fantasies. Wasn’t a coincidence that I gave you a blowjob in the shower. And I know you want to spank me next time I do something stupid. I know who you’ve had sex with… hundreds of days with you and I want hundreds more.”
He would of course like hundreds of different ones, but he’s not going to bring that into their conversation right now, wants Tom to hear and realize the truth of what he’s saying.
“Is that why you’re…”
“So good in bed? Well, I probably know your body better than I know my own now.”
“How…”
“I have no idea. But one time I said I felt bad that I got to remember all our firsts and you just said I was racking up the flight hours and could show you all the tricks…”
Tom quirks an eyebrow.
“That does sound like me.”
Pete grins and leans down to kiss him, feels one of Tom’s hands grasp an ass cheek and squeeze and he knows they’re going to be alright. For today.
In the beginning he’d mixed it up every time they had sex, knowing that he’d get to start afresh, just making sure it was always good for both of them in case tomorrow did arrive. There have been some truly hilarious moments together, and some not great awkward moments because sex is messy and bodies can be inconvenient things. However his favorite is riding Tom, watching his face as he pushes into Pete for the first time.
“Oh my god you feel good… Gorgeous.”
“Lots of practice. With you.”
“Think that’s a good thing, don’t like the idea of you with anyone else.”
Pete smirks, because that isn’t a surprise either, Tom wanting to lay claim and ensure Pete knows it. Tom’s hands won’t stop moving, touching everywhere they can reach and Pete leans down so they can kiss easily and enjoys the shift of Tom’s body under him, cock in him and he groans appreciatively. Rocks his hips a little to repeat the motion and yeah, feels good.
“You like this?”
“Yeah. Yeah I like it. So do you by the way…”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You look beautiful stretched around my dick.”
Tom’s hips jerk then, and he presses into it, can’t help the grin, nips at the sensitive skin of Tom’s throat and kisses him again before sitting back up and raising off Tom’s cock before sinking back down, feeling smug at the broken sounds Tom makes.
“Fuck… Pete.”
“Yeah, come on. Want to hear you…”
He’s been hard or semi-hard for over an hour, his body reaching a level of arousal where it just simmers away while he waits for Tom. His delayed gratification is worth waiting for every time, something he’d never thought was worthwhile before. Now the anticipation just winds him tighter and higher and the sounds their bodies are making, adding to it all. Tom is panting, his eyes not leaving Pete’s body, tracking his facial expressions, but sliding down his body to his cock. His hands are scrambling for the lube, then a cool slick hand is wrapped around his own dick, and he lets out a shout.
“Pete… come on Pete.”
His thighs are burning, knees tender from kneeling on the hard tiles, his stomach tense with curled-tight pleasure aching to be released. His entire body feels electrified, alight with energy but tinged with a side of pain which he knows how to ignore. Their bodies are shifting against each other, both chasing their own release and he wraps his hand around Tom’s, encourages his hand to go harder, faster and then he’s coming, breath punched out of him and his eyes squeeze shut despite him willing himself to keep them open so he can watch Tom.
He can watch him now though, mouth fallen open, eyes almost black with how wide his pupils are blown and he doesn’t even resist the urge to reach for his mouth with a couple of his fingers, a little come on them and then Tom is sucking them into his mouth, fingers of both hands suddenly gripping so tightly to Pete’s thighs he’s going to have bruises tomorrow. If he gets tomorrow. He pushes the thought away and enjoys the moment, leans down again for a kiss, ignores the cooling come now being smeared between them, swallows Tom’s whimper with his own mouth as his body tightens and Tom comes, body shaking.
Pete lets him enjoy the afterglow for a few minutes, but reaches for the condom as Tom’s cock softens and slips out and he kisses him through it all, doesn’t let the body contact break. Then he bullies Tom into having another shower, ignores his grumbling about wasting water and Pete grumbles back that showering together will actually save water, which always makes him flush with pleasure and Pete knows he’s thinking about the blowjob.
He still has to tell Tom about Carole, and he doesn’t want to tell him in bed, or in the shower, not with the memories he wants those places to have for them, so he tells Tom he wants a coffee, maybe a snack to keep his energy up which gets him an eyeroll but it’s affectionate and when he kisses Tom on the cheek he delights in the shy surprise. Once they’re seated at the table, no romantic dinner evidence in sight he rests his feet alongside Tom’s.
“So there’s still something else I need to tell you.”
“Something else?” Tom asks, expression on his face disbelieving and he wishes he didn’t have to do this part, but the few times he’s not told Tom he’d simply felt physically sick about keeping it from him.
“Yeah. Not good news this time. Carole is sick. Cancer. She has six months, maybe a year.”
“What? Where is she?”
“At the hospital.”
“You let her go alone?”
“She’s not alone. Bradley is with her. They’re… she knows about the time loop as well. I told her what the doctor is going to say, so she’s prepared for it. Bradley has lots of questions though, and he so desperately wants to be there with her. They’re okay. Trust me. She knows where I am.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I’m here with her blessing. She wants us to be happy…” Pete says, remembering her chortling laughter from that morning. “Also I’m going to adopt Bradley.”
“Oh my god… is there anything else?”
Pete huffs then, realizing adopting Bradley is probably another piece of news he should maybe break a bit softer, although Tom doesn’t seem too surprised by it.
“No. Nothing else. Just…” he glances at his watch. “Come on, we have an ice cream date…”
“We do?”
“Yeah…”
He hasn’t done this before, not with Tom as well, but he knows Carole and Bradley go for a walk along the pier and get ice cream after they visit the hospital. Some days after his morning with Tom he’d joined them, leaving Tom to process everything. Today though he wants Tom to come with him, not ready to say goodbye. Hopefully they can catch them and the four of them can do something together, rather than just the usual dinner which has happened so many nights instead.
He lets Tom drive them, spies Carole’s little Honda Civic and points it out, Tom parking not far away. They don’t hold hands as they walk, he learnt the hard way that is a step too far for Tom, too much considering he isn’t in this loop with the sure feeling that there are no consequences to his actions out in public. But he whispers in his ear that he wishes they could and the shy smile he gets back makes him feel warm all over, and the drag of warm fingers over the back of his hand add to that.
Bradley sees them first, his happy yell at seeing Tom after getting back from his deployment reminding Pete that he’s actually been away for months, even if Pete feels like Tom’s been back longer. Bradley tries to convince them he should be allowed more ice cream, but Carole refuses. She’s smiling, even though her eyes are a little red. Tom gives her a bone-crushing hug and Pete distracts Bradley with some boat watching while Carole and Tom quietly murmur to each other, no doubt discussing either the time loop, cancer or the fact that they collectively think he’s finally lost his mind.
Most days he’s either stayed with Tom, or just gone home and waited for Carole and Bradley. For a very long time the days have ended with the four of them having dinner together, although what they eat changes. Tom has always sought him out when he’s left him alone, although some days it’s only an hour while other days it is several hours before he turns up on Pete’s doorstep. Today though he doesn’t want their time together to end and they’re almost back at their cars, so he suggests they get a late lunch before heading to the zoo. Bradley is enthusiastic, suggesting a whole list of potential lunch places.
“The zoo?” Tom asks, leaning against his car.
“Maybe I don’t want our date to end.”
“Our first date has Carole and Bradley tagging along?”
“Our first date today does, but don’t worry, you’ll have me all to yourself later.”
“Mmm. Good to know,” Tom says, tone soft but expression completely serious and Pete lets the wash of anticipation flow through him.
Lunch is easy, a diner half-way to the zoo which apparently does great milkshakes and Bradley is talking animatedly about his plans for summer and the conversation between them all is comfortable and relaxed. Tom lets his ankles rest against Pete’s, lets their hands brush and thighs press against each other in the booth. It’s not holding hands and screaming from the rooftops but it’s more than enough compared to the nothing he had.
They spend over three hours at the zoo. Pete buys four disposable cameras, gives one to each of them and keeps one for himself. Informs them they’re documenting everything from then on and he gives Carole a kiss on the cheek as she smiles at him, eyes almost brimming over with tears and he tries to be positive; the idea that taking photos that won’t even exist on the negatives in twenty-four hours isn’t a heart-breaking thought.
They get back to the house and it’s been an amazing afternoon, full of laughter and love and he thinks he will try and do this again tomorrow, the novelty of it still there, the feeling of rightness even more so. Still wishes he could get the photos developed and keep them, knows they’ll be gone by the time he wakes up tomorrow. Carole and Tom are discussing making dinner and he eyes the grass. Remembers his first couple of days, when he cut the grass and it’s been bugging him today, more than it has other days so he decides to give in and cut it, muttering under his breath about needing to cut the grass and Tom simply shrugs.
“Getting to watch you get all hot and sweaty while you carry out yard work. Hard life but I think I’ll manage…”
Pete wasn’t expecting that and he laughs.
“God I love you.”
Tom blushes and Pete gives him a quick kiss, grips his hand before he pulls away to go and fetch the lawn mower from the garden shed. It’s not a large lawn by any stretch, but if he’s going to do the job, he’s going to do it properly so he does the edges with the trimmer as well. Doing it late afternoon is definitely hotter work than it is first thing in the morning. He tidies everything away and goes back inside and he’s definitely hot and sticky and now in need of a third shower and says as much, excusing himself for the upstairs bathroom and ignoring Carole’s snort. He doesn’t expect Tom to follow him, but he does and he’s being pushed against the bathroom door, the shower not even running warm yet and Tom is stripping his clothes off.
“My turn to clean the sweat off you hmm?”
“Pretty sure I didn’t lick you clean…”
“Don’t ruin my fun.”
He mimes zipping his mouth shut, although the effect is likely ruined when his mouth immediately drops open as Tom curls a hand around his cock and he jerks into it, his breath punching out of him in surprise.
“God you’re gorgeous…” Tom says, voice quiet and whispered into his ear and Pete can’t help the high-pitched whine he lets out. “Got to be quiet.”
… … …
Carole generously gives them an hour before she’s yelling for them, telling them dinner’s ready and as she places food on the table she raises an eyebrow.
“You’re on dinner tomorrow night. Regardless of how that tomorrow shapes up. I’ll know.”
Pete snorts, because neither Carole or Tom have remembered anything from any previous days, but he nods and promises to make dinner tomorrow night. He usually orders pizza on the nights he’s meant to cook, but he has to admit to himself that he’s a bit sick of pizza. They sit and eat, similar to lunch, feet and ankles touching beneath the table, although in the privacy of home Tom lets his hand rest right beside his. They listen to Bradley talk about the book he’s reading, Tom’s deployment, things Carole wants to do, which is bittersweet, but it also feels right.
He and Carole are doing the dishes together, Tom and Bradley now discussing something else related to the relative speed of land mammals versus aquatic mammals and he’s not worried about being a solo-parent to Bradley, because he won’t be. He’s going to have Tom there if it ever does happen.
“Good day?” Carole asks, bumping her hip against his and he smiles.
“Yeah, definitely one of the best.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. You seem happy.”
“Yeah. Yeah I am,” Pete says, accepting the truth of it. He’s had good days before, some of them better than this one, many a lot worse. But today is definitely in the top ten
… … …
“Is it okay if I stay?” Tom asks, his hand resting softly on his hip and Pete presses into it, needs to feel the warmth and strength of his hands on him.
“I’d love to wake up with you tomorrow morning. Of course you can stay.”
It’s not the first time Tom has stayed over, and while he usually sleeps in his underwear and a t-shirt because he gets cold alone he knows he will be plenty warm enough with Tom in bed with him. He doesn’t even have to worry about waking up cold, because he’ll wake up and magically be dressed again. They kiss softly, mouths cool and minty-tasting and he relaxes into it.
“That will never get old…”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
He feels the soft kiss to his forehead as he drifts off to sleep.
… … ..
He wakes up.
Alone.
Tom isn’t there and yesterday had felt… right.
Not perfect, because no day can ever be that, but it had felt right, and good, and okay, if he can make today feel like that again then he’ll count it as a win.
He rolls over, kicks the blankets off and stops, looks down at his chest, his thighs.
He’s still naked.
There are bruises on his thighs.
He’s never woken up naked before.
He sucks in a sudden panicked breath and stumbles to standing, then his bedroom door is opening and Tom is stepping inside, closing it quietly behind him and Pete reaches a hand for him.
“You’re here.”
“I’m here… where did you think I was? Do you not want me here?”
“You’re here,” Pete repeats, and his breath catches, eyes sting and then he’s crying, unable to breathe in deep enough and Tom has scooped him up into his arms, is rocking him back and forth while Pete is pretty sure he’s going to pass out and they both ease down into the bed. Tom is running his fingers through his hair, mouth near his ear, voice quiet.
“Yeah… I’m here. It’s Saturday.”
He curls his fingers into the cloth of Tom’s t-shirt, unwilling to let go for fear of him going somewhere else, of not having this anchor to this new day. He is in his bed, in his bedroom, in his home with Carole and Bradley but it’s the next day. His brain can’t compute it, that he is somehow no longer trapped repeating the same day over and over again. He doesn’t know what he can do that might help convince himself that it is indeed the next day.
“The photos… can you get the photos developed?”
“Sure we can Pete, just… it’s not even seven. Nothing will be open yet. But I’ll find a place that can do them in an hour.”
“We’ll go together,” Pete says, gripping Tom’s hand and he nods.
“Together. Jesus Pete… are you okay?”
“No… I… do you remember yesterday?”
He feels shaky and knows it’s the shock of it being over, that he is finally getting all his tomorrows handed back to him and he can’t believe he gets to have them all, that he gets to spend them with Tom, watch Bradley grow up, make as many happy memories as possible with Carole before they have to say goodbye. But also if they don’t remember yesterday he’s certain his heart is going to break.
“Yeah… I remember yesterday. Every amazing, unbelievable, crazy second of it.”
He lets out a wet sob, the relief almost unbearable and then Tom is kissing him, sweet and gentle and Pete feels himself melt into it, knowing that Tom remembers, and is here, is kissing him. He pulls back.
“I love you.”
“I remember. I love you too. I’m not going anywhere. Was planning on spending the entire weekend with you anyway.”
“There will be a lot more sex then you planned.”
“I’m okay with that.”
… … …
He’s scared, he realizes. Doesn’t want to fall asleep in case he once again wakes up repeating the day. Stuck in a different time loop.
“It’s okay Pete. I’ll be here when you wake up regardless.”
… … …
It’s another tomorrow.
He gets his happily ever after, after all.
THE END
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I was wondering if you had any analyses on yosuke's dances in P4D, especially his partner dances wrt his character/personality... or even just generally what you thought of his moves. I think atlus/p-studio enjoy putting more than meets the eye into the choreography for the dances, but i wondered what the account that does really good yosuke analyses thinks. >:) Cheers
Oh wow you're very kind!! but this is also a very high level ask as I am not at all a dance expert and I'm still working my way through all of the dances, but I will do my best! o7
Long post incoming!
I remember reading an interview which said that Yosuke's dance style is very much inspired by male idols with a hip-hop flair, and I can definitely see it in his dance? iirc there was a pretty strong influence of hip-hop in jpop of that era - I'm thinking about Johnny's entertainment boybands which I think pretty much dominated the jpop male idol scene around 2010 - just look at Arashi's Monster dance routine, which imo is a super quintessential dance of that time. Like Jun's breakdance around 0:45, but also more generally, the sort of precise, rapid-pace footwork and moves that is also very evident in both Backside of the TV and Your Affection. I think it really suits him for a few reasons
Yosuke generally has the highest agility stat and tends to be the fastest char (for me at least? but i've also seen enough fics that reference how quick he moves), so it makes sense that this sort of high-pace dance suits him. Obviously Yosuke has a very good sense of beat listening to music all the time in combat and moving with it, so despite his real world clumsiness, he's well equipped to take on the kind of rigorous idol dance style that's typically very demanding to learn and perfect.
At the same time, it also matches his narrative - Yosuke in canon is very familiar with idol culture, both with Risette and Kanamin Kitchen, so it's not too surprising? But what I thought was kind of interesting was that there aren't really any references to male idol groups in world, and even his bedroom in p4au only shows female idol posters and some mainstream American albums. However, in the interview scene at the end of p4d, he mentions to Yukiko that he's tried to copy moves from stuff he's seen. But his dance style is more similar to boy idol bands - with the hip hop influence especially - as opposed to being similar to female idol bands - which tend to be preppier in dance style (see AKB48 for example). (Or just compare Rise's dance with Yosuke's.) So idk if this is a random oversight on Atlus/P-Studio's part, or if Yosuke is a closet male idol enjoyer (which would be very funny but also on brand for him, especially if he's still in the closet).
The other thing about idol music and group idol dance styles more generally is how much emphasis there is on harmony. If you look at the Arashi video again, there's kind of the expectation that all members are dancing in sync with each other. The thing about that sort of group dance is that you don't really have "leads" and "backup" dances, because no one member is really supposed to stand out or take centre stage since they're all equals. And I think that's a fun thing to think about because, you know, Yosuke Rank 10. But it's also in his partner dances with the others - I feel like Yosuke tends to harmonise with the others and their dance styles the most, maybe he's second to Yu? But Yosuke tends to match his dancing to the style of the other person when he joins them in Fever, like in Naoto's or Chie's (caveat, maybe I'm just Yosuke-biased LMAO). I think there's a lot to say about it because on the one hand, his captain ressentiment attitude means he sees his friends as better but he also wants to catch up to them and be their equals! but also, on the other hand, Yosuke doesn't want to stand out? And him keeping his head down is very much in character for him throughout most of the game, so :')
(but also souyo lens time his partner dances with yu is SO GOOD they mirror one another so well and it makes me so weak)
I think my final point is on how idol dancing is kind of on brand for him as well? Yosuke is kind of a vain person - he likes fashionable clothes! He likes to look cool! (and we love him for it!!) - and I think one thing that kind of marks idol dancing compared to, idk, interpretive dancing as an extreme example, is how idol dances tend to emphasize... looking good? The whole point of idols is to sell them on their aesthetics, after all, and good looks are kind of a minimum criteria to being in an idol group. The dances are choreographed to maximise the dancer's appeal, so it's all smooth moves that present them in the best light.
Those are my extremely long thoughts!! but yeah tldr I think his dance style really suits him on every level I can't imagine anything better for him ngl. Anyone with more expert knowledge feel free to pitch in though
#asks#sillyjazzy69420#thank you for this ask this was actually super fun to think about!! even if i'm not sure i've done a good job haha#“chai everyone dances well together in their partner dance” “chai your yosuke bias is showing” I'M DOING MY BEST#also is it just me or does anyone else also think yosuke is one of the best dancers in the group apart from rise?#i mean yosuke and naoto are my fav. i love yu but he dances like it's 80s disco so unfortunately he's in second#“chai did you have a secret idol watching era?” i neither confirm nor deny
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Okay I love when either hero or villain just straight up insult each other as a stupid idiot (in a light-hearted joking way)
A, struggling to type the report of increasing villain-caused accidents around the city on computer because Google Docs isn't always so easy for them: Ughhhhhh...
B, sipping hot chocolate as they stop mid-way of their path: Whatcha doing A? Need help?
A: Yeah, can you help me, B? Surely your little villain gadget creating skills have some kind of correlation with you being a tech nerd.
B: Okay, I am not sure if that's a compliment or not but sure...
*B leans in to A's shoulder level before intertwining their fingers with A's one on the mouse. A blushed from the warmth*
A: S, so, what's first?
B, perfectly pokerface but dead laughing inside: So first, we call this a mouse...Mouse can move a thing called cursor across the monitor screen. Screen, in which case, is this square-shaped light that portrays the online world...
A:
B: Also, this is called a keyboard...
A, their blushing shyness long gone: B. I know this.
B: No, no, listen A. Basic is the building blocks of expert.
A: B I SWEAR TO GOD JUST TELL ME HOW TO MAKE AN INDENT ON GOOGLE DOCS
B: Oh, you do that with the tab button.
A, pressing tab key: Thank you so much B, now go back to your depressingly ugly room.
B: But A, don't you get it? If you knew the basics of the keyboard, you wouldn't have had to ask me. See, I proved my point. Basic is the building blocks of experts.
A: Damn you, B. Just go feed Mr. Peanut Butter. He seemed lonely last time I checked.
B, laughing hysterically: Okay, fine.
*As B leaves A's desk to go to the kitchen, A calls out to B*
A: B! Don't forget! Cats are the ones with pointy ears and long tails! Not the one with round ears on the side of the face like yours!
#otp#hero and villain#writing prompt#otp prompts#enemies to lovers#hero x supervillain#hero x villain#oc inspiration#roommate prompts#superhero x villain#superhero x supervillain
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Ohh I've always wanted to start mealprepping but I get so demotivated finding what I want to eat for a whole week, do you maybe have any tips on how to get into it?
you, my friend, have just opened pandora's fridge
soooo i started meal prepping in march of this year at the same time as switching to an office job from retail and starting to go the gym. these decisions were for weight loss reasons (and have been very successful! i look and feel so good!) but i am immediately going to emphasize that there are a lot of benefits to meal prepping besides intentional weight loss. so much of what i've been doing would be the same if you were not trying to lose weight, you just wouldn't be thinking about like calorie deficits when choosing recipes (and if you're interested in weight loss, calories in calories out is your friend. set a reasonable number per day and pay attention to your body. if you're hungry, you're lowballing it. slow progress that sticks is better than fast progress that doesn't).
meal prepping can be really advantageous financially (and could be done less expensively than i do it tbh, i'm a sucker for the farmer's market), and as someone with adhd who lives alone it's incredible for my mental health. the way i meal prep is very structured around 1) my 8-4 weekday job and 2) the gym, so you'll need to figure out how to tailor that based on your schedule and interests.
all that aside, i'm super passionate about this and i've been learning so much these past months! i'm no expert and i was awful at cooking before (only ate frozen meals, snacks, and takeout honestly) but i feel like my relationship with food is the best it's even been in my life. food is GOOD. food that you've made with your own hands, that you've invested your time and effort in, is sosososo special. and if it sucks, at least you're learning what NOT to do! i have like a 85% success rate, and maybe 50-60% recipes are good enough to repeat.
i really treasure this entire ritual, even though it may seem overwhelming to do every single week. in terms of weight loss, i was never going to be someone who got healthy from heavy restriction or prescribed diets that are meant to distance a person from food. and it's funny because like, i would binge, but also HATE food so much for the hold it had over my body and mind. if you have a shitty relationship with food this might really help. i feel obligated to say that i do see a nutritionist, but she's not doing the cooking or recipe hunting or working out for me.
so my weekly meal prep calendar looks like this:
sunday - cooking day. like, for hours. i don't have a dishwasher so i'm doing a full sink of dishes at least three times. i sometimes have plans and can work around them, but i prefer to keep the day free. i imagine this would be trickier if you live with people, but then again i manage in a studio apartment with a kitchen the size of a grocery store checkout line, soooo
tuesday-thursday - research and making the shopping list! can be done on any or all of these days. i use justtherecipe and recommend it highly. it saves recipes from websites while cutting out ads and, like, blogging. you can also edit the recipes and add notes--i always add the calories and maybe nutrition information. if those are not provided and you care, you can use a nutrition calculator to figure it out. if you get nervous about calories i ENCOURAGE you to try this. a lot of recipes that you might shy away from can totally be goal-supportive. pasta can be your friend, i promise.
so what i do during the week is find recipes i want to cook or repeat (using pinterest or websites of previously enjoyed recipes) and add them to justtherecipe. every week i choose a breakfast, a lunch to eat at work, a pre-gym snack, and dinner. if you don't have a lot of physical activity you don't need the same kind of protein-heavy snack, but you could always prep something so you don't snack mindlessly. some weeks i also just cook something sweet for fun, especially if the calories for the whole day are a little low. this could be half-homemade apple cider, baked goods, purchased popsicles, etc. this is most often where i'll just buy something and pre-portion it, rather than prepare it myself. no shame in that at all, in fact, sometimes it would be stupid not to go with the easier/cheaper solution.
so yeah. i figure out what i'm cooking for each "meal," add the recipes to the cookbook in justtherecipe, and then scale the recipes as needed. i usually make 6 servings for a week, which is convenient because most recipes are written in multiples of 2. this is a great recipe converter you can use to resize recipes. justtherecipe devs are also planning to add a feature that does this on the site eventually.
last thing i do during the week is take the recipes, resized as needed, and make a shopping list. if there are things i know already have i leave them out, and if i'm unsure i put a question mark and check my kitchen whenever i'm home. i will say while this sounds kindaaaaaaa expensive at first, the more you repeat this weekly process the more nonperishable things you'll already have stocked, especially if you tend to cook with similar spices and types of oil/flour/etc. at this point, sixish months in, i rarely need to buy nonperishable stuff, unless i've literally run out. and you can find affordable ways to buy perishables, and if you compare what you're spending to frozen meals, snacks, and takeout, i think it's likely it would be at the worst equal, if that makes sense. i know this is a sweeping generalization and i'm sorry. this might not work for some people but i can only share what i'm fortunate enough to be able to do.
friday - this is the day i go shopping, after work! with my list that i already made! i know the layout of the supermarket super well at this point so i order the items accordingly. it goes pretty fast and people have asked me several times if i was doing instacart which i took as a huge compliment.
so that's my schedule, but you can switch it around based on what your work week looks like. i would definitely say that you should try to shop no more than 3 days before cooking, and maybe freeze certain ingredients in the meantime. freezing is HUGE in meal prep.
speaking of storage, storage!
depending on the kinds of meals, you have to be smart about storage if you want them to last 5-6 days. pay attention to what the recipe says about fridge vs. freezer life (justtherecipe does NOT save this, so make sure you check the website). for most meals, i freeze some or all on sunday and defrost in the fridge a day ahead as the week goes by. obviously you might need to split up more complex things (for a salad freeze the chicken but not the greens, for a soup freeze the broth and noodles but not the veggies, etc.). the highest-maintenance thing i've done so far is an udon soup with frozen broth and chicken but fresh prepped ingredients, which i needed to actually combine and boil on the stove every night (also did an egg drop because i think it's funny. like that egg really did just drop). still, pretty easy and low maintenance! the soup in question (oh god i hope my food isn't ugly and i'm actually delusional) will be pictured at the bottom of this post!!
plastic meal prep containers are less expensive, but glass are far superior especially if you're really into chilis, soups, and very garlicky-oniony foods. and especially ESPECIALLY if you're like me and you don't have a dishwasher. plastic tends to not do great with hot liquids and it holds onto strong smells.
i started out with plastic for the first few months, but asked for glass for my birthday. now i have 10 glass containers, 5 for lunch and 5 for dinner, and supplement with plastic during weeks where i make 6 servings. i think these are the glass ones i use, or at least made by the same company, and for plastic you can't beat target's price for what it includes. most supermarkets and big stores tend to sell both glass and plastic, if you don't want to commit to glass financially, plastic is still great. you'll definitely find a use for them if you upgrade eventually!
for the breakfast and pre-gym snacks, i use disposable stuff like baggies or the tinier plastic containers that often come in sets. i'm sorry, planet :( there's just a point where i know i can't create too many dishes, especially with no dishwasher. the whole point of this entire ritual is to create a process i have no problem repeating indefinitely, so sometimes i have accept that i'm not going to be able to do it perfectly.
in terms of breakfasts, i personally don't like savory flavors early in the morning. i'm a big fan of the frozen smoothie bag and baked goods like muffins and bread.
there is a kitchen in my office with a toaster oven and microwave, so i have some flexibility with what i can bring in and eat. lots of soups and salads!
pre-gym snacks are always about protein. protein muffins, hummus and veggies, peanut butter.
dinner can be a lot of things, but for me personally the focus is on making it hearty so i am FULL when i go to sleep. the overall rule of thumb with all of this is to make food you're EXCITED to eat, so you don't feel like you're unsatisfied or missing out. especially when starting out, i benefitted from learning how to prepare meat in appealing ways. i hate handling raw meat and there are some shortcuts you can take to avoid it, like making patties or meatballs with ground chicken or turkey. personally i only eat chicken and sometimes turkey, every once in a while turkey bacon. so no steak recipes here i'm afraid :( i'm a big fan of my grill pan but also have to be very careful with stovetop pan-cooking because my postage stamp of an apartment has no kitchen fan and i don't keep windows open. if you're in a similar situation and hate the idea of straight up baked chicken, you can bake it in the oven and then pan-fry or grill for a few minutes just to get that exterior texture without worrying about undercooking. oh yeah, also get a meat thermometer. a great part of acquiring recipes like pokemon is that you'll start adding kitchen items to your collection as needed just like your spices.
other misc. meal prep tips include: ALWAYS buy more broth than the recipe requires (like, twice as much); try to buy exact portions of perishable ingredients because unfortunately food waste can be a problem when you're alone; and cooking for several hours is a really good time to listen to audiobooks or video essays.
also i do want to point out that i occasionally eat food i didn't prepare. i just typically plan ahead and get SUPER excited to do so. i'm never eating takeout or restaurant food or frozen meals because i don't have it in me to make something; it's because i like the special food or i'm somewhere cool with people i care about. it's a treat, but so is all the food i make.
okay, last thing, here are some recipes i've repeated and really enjoy! notice that they're not all like spinach salads, i love when recipes find clever ways to emulate "unhealthy" food while having nutritious ingredients. the website skinnytaste is my favorite for stuff like that and she has a massive backlog of free recipes with nutrition info. also i very obviously favor certain ingredients (feta cheese my love), these are just things i like, there is so much out there for you to find for yourself! even if the recipe isn't your thing, these blogs and websites are great places to start!
breakfast:
- https://kristineskitchenblog.com/healthy-apple-muffins/
- a smoothie with 1/2 frozen banana, ~10 frozen strawberries, handful frozen spinach, 3/4 tbsp peanut butter (you can get a little scooper to make this easier), 3/4 tbsp strawberry preserves, and as much soy milk as it takes to smoothify it (around 1.25 cups)
- lunch and/or dinner:
- https://www.mealswithmaggie.com/chicken-corn-chowder/
- https://easychickenrecipes.com/chicken-tortellini-soup-recipe/
- https://www.mamagourmand.com/braised-butternut-squash-bacon-penne-bake/
- https://www.skinnytaste.com/baked-chicken-parmesan/
- https://www.skinnytaste.com/coconut-chicken-salad-with-warm-honey/
- https://www.lecremedelacrumb.com/farmers-market-veggie-pasta/
- https://healthylittlepeach.com/feta-and-spinach-chicken-patties/
- https://www.lecremedelacrumb.com/grilled-bruschetta-chicken/
- https://pinchofyum.com/honey-chicken-salad-with-grapes-and-feta
- https://www.skinnytaste.com/turkey-pumpkin-chili/
- pre-gym:
- https://thehonoursystem.com/maple-vanilla-protein-fudge/
- various protein muffins. they're not as fluffy as normal ones but can still be good!
- other:
- https://ifoodreal.com/healthy-key-lime-pie-bars/
- https://www.asweetpeachef.com/hot-apple-cider/
aaaaaand i'll close with food photos. because i'm proud. even if they don't look gorgeous, each is special to me, and i just think that's neat
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What are your lgbtq headcanons for nello and for near? To you what do they identify as?
unless the characters themselves are preoccupied with identity politics i usually don’t find it interesting to assign them labels – HOWYEVER, (borrowing from resident mello expert @firebuggg PhD, some excerpts of her lovely writing below) i love the idea that while mello was out in the world making a name for himself he was taken in and taken care of by all kinds of communities on the outskirts; sex workers, drag queens, queer bars, leather daddies, kink groups, etc. etc. all of which influenced his own self identification and gave him a strong sense of belonging in queer spaces :’)
Clubs and hostels and drag shows and winking red lights: Mello had been quick to discover that he was likely to find friends, shelter, a temporary landing place among them with few questions asked.
(...)
There were always people who were welcoming, especially the people already on the outskirts: Mello has slept backstage at drag shows and comedy clubs, has found shelter and companionship in dark alleys and clubs and amidst leather and small kitchens and hot, crowded rooms.
but labels wise, classic ol’ salt-of-the-earth slutty bisexual – i believe this may be an unpopular opinion? we all know he's gay asf but i think he’d also be into assertive older women (see: halle, minora. *whip noise*) this bad boy can fit SOO many mommy issues in him (specially in @firebuggg's and i’s headcanons/writing where he spent the first five-ish years of his life with his mother during the 90s yugoslav wars, but that's a whole other topic.)(i also think he’d be into mean switch4switch girls his age that are basically himself but girl gender. for obvious reasons.)
that said he'd drop the slut life in a heartbeat for near. like i can't explain this and i almost always write ships with semi-open relationships but. mello wants to be monogamous with the bug-eyed kid SOOO bad it makes him look STUPID
near likes. uuuuuuuuuh, mello. you can make any argument for any identity in a vacuum but in any universe where he grows up alongside mello his entire sexual awakening and formative puberty experiences are mortifyingly rewritten by years of getting bullied by what is essentially a mean but occasionally caring older brother figure. sorry. you fucked up a perfectly good teenage boy is what you did. look at him. he’s got a choking kink
i cannot imagine near caring for sexuality or gender labels (there's a whole other digression here about near's alienation from community/having no past/being racially ambiguous/john silver quote "i am no one. from nowhere. belonging to nothing." HURGH. but we don't have time to get into that)
BUT i do like to think that mello does his damnedest to take him out to gay bars in chelsea and the west village to experience ~the queer community~ but what actually happens is near starts philosophical discussions in a corner that keep going long after he slips out and often end in insane bar fights. (he also gets progressively freakier as he gets older) (long haired near is a public indecency arrest waiting to happen)(possibly the one to suggest experimenting with other people, together)(mello does not take this well)
adasdjasdjkasjksajkfdsjkfjksd this got long for someone who started with i don’t care about identity politics. and i don’t
#death note#meronia#unbelievably enbarrassing but mello and daisy would have THEE freakiest one night stand#this is not something i'm happy about and i don't care for canon/oc ships but some truths just simply have to be acknowledged#brothercrush.txt#inbox.txt
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I've been thinking about indoor plants soooo much since I read Code Verde (which was still so good!) And now I want to know what sort of plants you think would suit each of the Tracy boys under the assumption that they're a great plant dad 😄💕 (if you are so inclined 💕💕)
Buckle up, let's go!
Assuming plant dad is a shared Tracy trait, I think Tracy villa would be quite the nursery! Now I will admit, houseplants are a hobby of mine, and I do love foliage and greenery. But I am in no ways an expert. So here are some possible headcanons for plantdad!Tracys. In truth, they probably have so much outside their windows…
I was indecisive on some of these, so I may have talked about both the plant I think they'd actually grow and the plant that matches their personalities symbolically.
Scott -
Pothos is a common name for a plant that is not a pothos species at all, but rather an epipremnum. These are a vining plant and quite common, but there is a gorgeous species called cebu blue that I think is spot on for Scott. They do have a blue green color that's just chef's kiss Symbolically, I think these match the kind of person that is a constant dreamer because of the way they will continue to grow and endure, creating lush waterfalls of color. They can be relentless. I think they are perfect for someone who reaches for the sky, because in the wild, they will climb up trees.
Also, they can develop fenestrations as they grow. I am not sure if this is true, but I have heard the theory that plant leaves develop those splits or holes in order to make sure the leaves below it still gets the light it needs, and if that doesn't sound like Scott to you, I don't know what does.
I think the practical side of him would enjoy plants that also have a use - so, he's got the basil, and rosemary and sage in sweet little pots by the kitchen windowsills… (did we just enter the cottagecore of TSOF? We might have).
Virgil - Virgil to me is a creature of the big leaves, the Aroid Connoisseur. I stand by what I originally wrote in Verde, which is that he'd be the one with the massive monstera (for which the same fenestration story applies). But in addition to monsteras … I also think he'd be into those large anthuriums, the upright philodendrons. He'd be into leaf shape, and the patterns created by the veining, and the fun textures created by the structures and diverse stems.
But since Virgil is passionate about so many things - lifting but also the precision of art, and engineering but also the release of music, and so on … I see him also have orchids, with a variety of flowers. He sees the beauty in so many things, so I think he'd appreciate the delicate nature of orchids too.
John - I have all over my fics that John's the hoya guy. It's in Verde, but I also have a little mini one shot called Inflorescence here. The hoyas are the ones I can keep alive, so they are the ones I think would do best with John's time away. By nature of the humidity, they would love Tracy Island since many hoya species are from Australia, tropical areas of Asia, and the Pacific Islands. You'll see hoya at vining species either trailing or climbing, often epiphytic hanging off branches of trees. For those not familiar with hoyas, they are sometimes called wax plants and they flower in little clusters (as you might have seen in some of my pictures). They are hardy and durable.
I'll admit, now that I've seen it a lot too, I can't quite separate him from being the one who likes cacti and succulents too, which matches his brand of chaos. He's a busy guy, so any plants he has would need to be able to handle a bit of distraction while he works on his 10 other passions and learns his siblings' too for the hell of it.
Gordon - He's our little naturalist, so I think Gordon in reality would be more a follower of aquaponics, and the types of plants that would do well in his aquariums. Some of these may overlap with his brothers', but his plants would be the ones that would help with his water purification. I think he'd have peace lilies and sygoniums and dracaenas and a PROLIFIC money plant, and probably so many propagations of his brothers' plants. He probably has a spider plant that looks like chaos incarnate with a ton of offsets that really should be separated, but she's his shaggy girl and he loves her.
Alan - I see Alan liking structural plants, the tenacious kind, like himself. Tall ones that grow vertically and baby plants that stay small. Palms and snake plants and aloe and jade, and plants with cool names like the 'samurai sansevieria', but his favorite is the one that looks like Shrek's ears.
I see Kayo being into dark foliage; there's a gorgeous alocasia she probably heard about from Virgil, called "Black Velvet" that feels soooo up her alley. There's a part of me that wants Brains to be into begonia and the many cultivars of. If plants were one of his passions, it just feels like something that would keep him interested since there's always so much happening in that side of the hobby. You know - why not? He's done an entire thesis on the Fibonacci sequence on his begonia escargot. And Grandma feels like calathea - color and patterns that are all about movement. <3
Okay I've rambled enough.
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A(n Anachronistic) Round-Up of Historical Women's Clothing Items I've Mentioned in The Prince of Thieves
I'm not an expert. At all. I am just bit of a nerd! (I've literally worn all of above items before. Well, like...not those exact ones. But like...ok you get what I mean.)
It simply occurred to me that not everyone will know what I mean when I say "short gown," "petticoat," or "whites," etc. So here you go.
Short Gown - A blouse worn like a shirt, over a chemise (and maybe stays/a corset). I believe this is more of a peasant-y, low-class fashion example. Also, pretty sure women weren't wearing short gowns & coloured petticoats in the same time period as the dress pictured above, but whatever. It's my universe and I can do what I want.
Coloured Petticoats - Two coloured skirts, both tied around the waist. No need for them to be the same colour or even match. Worn with a short gown, which also doesn't need to match. The hem of the top skirt might be tucked up into the waistband so both skirts are visible.
Dress / Frock - I know you all know what a dress is. The image above is from the late 1820s. Long sleeves and pretty patterns!
Petticoat / Underskirt - A plain, layered or ruffled skirt meant to be worn underneath a dress. It adds shape and volume and swish. Considered to be underwear.
Chemise / Shift - Actual historians and experts might differentiate between these two terms. For this story, I'm not, and I didn't google it either. This is a long, wide-necked undershirt worn beneath the outer layers of clothing. It kind of looks like an old-timey nightgown. If the person is wearing stays or a corset, it also goes under that. The chemise is the layer closest to the skin. It shouldn't be visible to others.
Whites - chemise + petticoat ( + stays/corset + socks + any other underwear being worn), also known as underclothes or underwear. Called "whites" because of the white fabric used to make them. It would be very unseemly indeed to be caught running around in your whites. It's like one step away from being naked!
Neck Kerchief - A triangular or square (folded into a triangle) shaped cloth meant for modesty and, I don't know, maybe warmth? Wearing your neck kerchief prevents anyone from seeing the scandalous skin around your neck, shoulders, and chest. You can tuck it into your dress or wear it on the outside. As long as you're wearing it, you hussy.
Pocket - A literal tie-on bag. You tie it around your waist, and put stuff in your pocket through a nice opening in the front. Wear under your apron for added security (it'll be invisible). Very useful indeed. Good for keeping secret messages or stolen goods.
Either not pictured or mentioned in the story:
Socks / Stockings. Make sure they go up to your knees!
Apron. Good for wiping your hands, carrying items that won't fit in your pocket, fanning fires, putting out fires, wiping your face, cleaning the kitchen table....the list goes on and on.
Day cap. It's a little cloth hat thing to cover your hair. I didn't bother writing day caps into The Prince of Thieves because I like the aesthetic of hair blowing in the wind, swinging in front of someone's face, or occasionally getting grabbed by a bad guy.
Corset / Stays. These two terms do NOT mean the same thing, but for the purposes of this post, it's fine. They add structure underneath the dress. Here's a link to a website that explains the difference. I forgot stays existed so Bree and Colette, uh, don't wear them because....because they don't own any stays, and anyway, there's no one to tell them they should wear them.
Links for Images! They do not belong to me.
#lps the prince of thieves#I don't have a tag for this#I'm not tagging anything else in case the historians come yell at me for being wrong about things#lps-research
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OKAY SO when i said my thoughts around carmy and bradley werent coherent at all I meant that quite literally 😭 i havent thought about it in detail aside from the rough idea BUT if i have to expand on it i’d say it could be something along the lines of denim through the decades? or taking into account what you said about james dean/marlo brando i think it would be fun to see a campaign centered around iconic moments of denim in pop culture too. Maybe recreating some movie sets and outfits and such.
BUT im also thinking something a lot more chill bc ik recreating movie sets n stuff can be 1) a hassle and 2) a lil cheesy, so considering that the people involved in the campaign would be people with an interest in vintage denim n such i was thinking about levis incorporating some vintage pieces from personal collections. Picture one of the countless denims carmy stores inside his oven (sob) or one of bradley’s staples too. Mix that with a limited edition line of ‘brought from the past’ jeans, jackets, etc. and i think itd be golden.
By no means am I a denim expert, I’m talking out of my ass here after a few minutes of research LMFAO but its fun to think about it.
I’m sure carmy would be WAYYY more hesitant to participate than bradley. The latter is probably ecstatic and doesnt let his manager (im guessing levis would be in contact with his manager) finish. As soon as the words levis and collab leave his mouth, Bradley's sold.
I think carmy would be interested in working with levis, a little flattered that they considered him. Maybe taken aback too bc im guessing he’s a very private person and doesnt talk much about his denim collection and such so levi’s def did their research lol. Still, i think he was going to turn them down and then Sugar and Syd found out and tried to convince him bc ‘its levis, u gotta say yes’ but it didnt exactly work and in the end it was Richie who replied to the email with something along the lines ‘id be honoured to be a part of the campaign’ or smth weird in his attempt to impersonate carmen.
With the two of them on set, i quite frankly don’t know if they would interact or how that interaction would go. Think carmy might be too nervous to properly interact bc its a hectic environment. Maybe bradley saw him all closed up and semi alone and decided to strike a conversation with him, talking about denim and such. What do you think?
BTW im so sorry about the typos i keep making, i only notice after you respond LMFAO i swear my english is good, promise.
I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS!!! thank you so much for indulging me 😭😭 and no worries, i feel like we’re speaking in a language beyond english where we’re just throwing concepts at each other and we actually understand it. it’s beautiful.
i totally get it that recreating movie sets is a lot. what they can do is recreate looks inspired by these iconic movies (like james dean in rebel without a cause—carmy would look great in that!) they can do a studio shoot or an outdoor city shoot like JAW’s CK campaign (still not over that btw skshsjdhsj)
ok hear me out: carmy is reserved in his private life but i feel like deep down he likes being the golden boy. remember his monologue abt smoking ppl out wherever he works? and just the way he steps up to lead and plays up to people who wanna hear what he wants to say. i feel like with the restaurant on the rise, he’s bound to have done some interviews, and on one of them he went on a hyperfixation-fueled tangent abt vintage denim like the first episode.
and you’re so right, it still would take him a lot of nudging and jostling to say yes. i loooove the idea of richie very eloquently replying to the email and making carmy sound very eager and cordial 🤭 (i imagine he would be a very short emailer/texter if he ever does reply)
with carmy, i feel like it’s not so much that he dislikes hectic environments (how much more hectic can his kitchen get, right?) but it’s the kind of hectic that he can’t control. and it drives him nuts, and he’d take smoke breaks often and eventually, bradley goes with him although he doesn’t smoke. he’d say that he has been to noma a few times and he enjoyed it and they bonded over restaurants and food and all. he’d love to visit the bear some time, to which carmy is like “of course let me know anytime you’re in town”
(Bradley thinks carmy is one of the coolest people he’s ever met. Carmy thinks for someone who’s that famous, Bradley is super chill.)
#this is an unlikely duo that i am INTO#bradley bradshaw#carmy berzatto#carmy & bradley crossover#fx the bear#top gun maverick#footballer!bradley#ask ava
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can I rag on this influencer I found. I immediately disliked her because of my extreme hatred of danish people but besides that, she did have this atrocious "wealthy person praising living naturally when she does absolutely nothing but enforce some weird colonial bullshit" energy about her
AND I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING. this place they live in- "la ecovilla"- is literally like a rich person commune. not a town, not a city in costa rica. it's a closed off space full of other rich international families. for whatever reason they do not list prices on their site, but I found this elsewhere:
ONE MILLION ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS. AND THIS IS ONE OF THE SMALLER ONES!
she's also stated that they live on one income and the provider exclusively works online... okay
this place has a huge pool, yoga classes, sports areas, etc. they get local produce delivered weekly. these are megamansions with wifi and full kitchens. you are not living "off the grid" or "with nature" and you're definitely not integrating with the local culture. YOU LIVE IN A RESORT. IT'S A RESORT. you are the most privileged person on planet earth.
I really liked this comment:
cause yeah let's be real, people who were actually born in costa rica are likely not affording million dollar mansions that are cut off from life outside their little jonestown operation.
anyway this isn't a callout. idc. but it bothers me. it's got such a weird colonizer edge to it, which I obviously don't know the full scope of because I'm a white person living in the united states and writing this in a language that is not native to this place. but I also think it's pretty well agreed upon that most non-natives living in america do not have the choice to leave. most of us live in poverty, do not have passports, or are ineligible to work or live overseas. we cannot leave here, even if we wanted to.
THESE PEOPLE DO. these rich people from foreign countries can live literally anywhere they want to.
and moving to places that you're not from is not inherently bad but gloating about "escaping the matrix" or whatever the fuck while you live on a resort that's completely cut off from the real world is not escaping anything. baby you ARE the matrix. especially in a country that's seen rising poverty and inequality in the past few years as the cost of living increases.
obviously this is not the case for everyone. I am no expert on this, and I'm not saying this from a place of self-righteousness cause the US deals with similar ignorance of poverty (do not even get me started on the narrative around big cities right now).
the point of this is more that I hate rich people. I hate it when people go to a place that is struggling, no matter where it is, and use the same kind of dumb ass "wahh I'm one with nature now!!!" bullshit while living in a gated community. I would bet that the people living there do minimal amounts of labor to grow their food. they are literally on vacation.
again, one million dollars. ONE MILLION DOLLARS.
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So I read a lot of fic lol and one of the things I find so funny is that authors either write that Liv still can’t cook a thing and still gets takeout for everything or they’ll say she had to learn for Noah’s sake and now she’s actually a decent cook. (And as someone who now lives alone and had to grow up and figure some shit out and has actually gotten pretty good at cooking now if I do say so myself it really isn’t that hard so I’m usually team liv figured out how to use her kitchen for Noah’s sake)
Anyways I always have this head canon (that I’ve never wrote out but maybe I should) that when liv got Noah she got a phone call from Nick’s abuelita who was like “my Nicky tells me you have a baby and you cannot cook anything” 😂 and then Liv goes to her house and learns how to cook. And probably Barba’s mom and Mrs. Carisi teach her some things too cuz I want to believe they shared more time together than could be shown on screen.
Anyways I’m thinking about this mainly because there’s been some fics from Mrs. McCann’s POV and obvs she’s an excellent cook. And that’s not to say liv doesn’t get takeout often I’m sure she still does but I mean she’s also an adult with a child I’m sure she learned how to make some meals😂
You mention food a lot regarding svu and how it was nice in 1.0 when the characters sat down to meals together and how it made them very human which I totally agree with so I was wondering if u had any thoughts?
Have a great day!! Happy L&O Thursday!! ❤️
I love this so much thank you friend!!
So the thing is like. 1.0 Liv doesn't ever cook, it's established there's no food in her fridge, she's always getting delivery. There's a scene early in s13-14 where she is actively trying to cook at home when Nick brings her bad news and she throws her half cooked dinner in the sink, as if she no longer has the strength to keep trying (or as if she no longer thinks she deserves it, but that's another post). By s15 she is throwing dinner parties, of the manic kind (@calliopecantaloupes being of course the expert on the trauma response dinner parties). When Noah is going thru his particularly unbearable phase we see Olivia actually making dinner for him and trying to get him to eat his vegetables.
So my theory is that Liv always knew how to cook in theory, but never spent the time on it in practice. When you're just cooking for one delivery is so fucking easy, and she's barely ever home, why bother? I live alone and I love to cook and I'm pretty good at it and I know a lot about it and I cook once a week on Sundays and heat up leftovers or order in every other night of the week. It's not lack of knowledge that held her back, it was lack of need. She just didn't have to.
Now we know Cassidy cooks, at least a little, and cooking with someone is a special kind of intimacy, and I like to think he taught her some recipes. But then he's gone. But then she has a baby.
And Olivia is devoted to being a Good Mom. She sings to Noah she's working with him on his speech she's buying him all the little toys and outfits and trying so fucking hard. I absolutely think Liv started to cook more - not learn to, bc she already knew how, but started to actually do it - bc she had a child and feeding her child is important emotionally and practically.
But she took the boy to get shake shack this season, she is not above a return to her old ways lol
But I love your thought bc I love the idea of all these older women who are tangentially connected to Liv - Nick's mom even looks after Noah! - taking her under their wing and I love the idea of Noah growing up in this rich and varied quasi family with influences from multiple cultures/traditions, not being any one thing but being deeply loved.
But I do think Elliot can't really cook (beyond one or two set meals like spaghetti or whatever) and if I see one more fic that treats cacio e pepe like it's a fancy complex dish that Elliot "learned" how to cook while he was in Italy I am going to start biting people
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Wait, there's actually people weighing their gear for backpacking? I always thought it was a joke or something. I used to do a lot more backpacking myself, and the average weight for everyone in my troop was 55 pounds. It's really no issue
I mean... I'm mostly doing it because I have cabin fever and am trying to avoid seasonally appropriate work lol.
But maybe I should clarify why my gear weighs so freaking much.
I don't leave the house without a -10 sleeping bag. I live in the north, there's no guarantee you won't hit freezing in July, and I hate being cold.
Lightweight silnylon just doesn't work around here. Even the day hike trails will snag your gear on black spruce or devil's club and rip holes in it. The few truly lightweight items I have are as much gear tape as original material.
I'm also not going out overnight without my Whisperlight stove, fuel, and Spot beacon. Just no.
Ditto a proper tent. The bugs out here will suck you dry without screens, and the summer storms will find their way under, around, or through any kind of tarp and don't announce themselves more than 10 minutes in advance.
I have a pathological aversion to synthetic hiking clothes. I'll bring some in case I get rained out and need them, but my everyday clothes will mostly be natural fibers tough enough to stand up to the brush that don't feel like crap (do not tell me I'm wrong, I already know every expert says not to do this. Too bad. If I can't hike comfortable, why hike at all?)
My solar panel, backup battery, and book may be labelled luxuries on published packing lists, but they're non-negotiable. Again, what's the point backpacking if I'm bored?
Water bottles. A hydration insert has too much potential to get punctured, and is too limited in what you can use the water for without great difficulty. At least 2 full Contigo bottles go everywhere I go. Plus a filter as backup.
This bag has everything I need except a toothbrush, clothes, and food. It weighs 31 pounds.
Most recommendations for someone my size say don't go over 35 pounds, but this doesn't actually feel too bad. Depending on terrain, weather, and trip length, I could easily add another 10 pounds without worrying. There's still lots of room in the bag if I needed it.
And I don't usually head out for multiple days on my own. If I was hiking with T one of us would take the tent and the other would take the kitchen stuff to break up weight a bit.
So the numbers are a lot better than I'd hoped when I started this morning. Not that it's going to matter for the next 6 months.
#thanks for indulging my shenanigans guys#nothing like a perfectly good Sunday when things could get done to daydream about trips i can't do in this weather#it helps that the day pack i take everywhere with me is already almost 20 pounds#with flares bear spray plb gps compass tarp emergency blankets first aid kit a couple jackets water bottles water filter headlamp#spare batteries a couple knives 300 feet of cord dog stuff and whatever rocks i forgot to take out between hikes#also most of my gear was used or thrifted#thats the case for my big pack some of my pots my solar panels and both jackets#i justified buying the tent and bag as school supplies for my outdoor rec classes#and the stove was non-negotiable#it runs on bike gas and kerosene as well as naphtha and might be the nicest piece of gear i own
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Okay, right now i am having a fixation for the Kitchener essences (not the kibbe body types i would NEVER understand those) i am barely learning about it (you can google it until you get the result that does it for you but this is one of the many sites that talk about it THIS, is the answer. The 7 Style Essences { face types} - YouTube )
And it made me figure out a theory why we are often so dissapointed or at least weirded out for some character casting on adaptations. Like, the character and actor are not too far appart on appareance but you just say "i don't see it"
Sure there is the fact that tumblr people have very high (and suspiciously eurocentric in some cases) beauty standards, but on the other hand i don't want to act like this feeling doesn't happen to me, unfortunately we all have bias and relate certain physical traits with personality traits , sometimes it can have bad implications but sometimes these are harmless and are about things we (i use this word a lot) call "the vibes" and unless there are hints on the book itself, is very hard to guess a character´s physical vibe from their description.
i think most of us are inclined to think on fictional characters, specially those called "pretty" as having an ethereal essence , something that can't exist in real life because , unless is told , people don't always imagine characters with facial imperfections or traits so subtly common you wouldn't take in count unless studying a picture. Or lets say you didn't imagine ethereal essence exactly , but someone (which happens to me a lot) unconsiously you imagine with a certain essence and their actor plays them perfectly but there is something that feels "this is not the same character"
I am mostly rambling with myself, this is pretty much me trying to understand some of my feelings in certain cases and figure out why some things happen and share it so people would tell me "hey, that makes sense" or "Lili, get some sleep"
Also another reason is that maybe, just maybe some of my moots are also interested (or maybe, are experts that can shut me up) on these because i kind of , would love to make polls about this and some fictional characters and actors (you know this is grishaverse related) but would be kind of awkward if i was the only one into that.
#personal post#kitchener essences#lili rambling as always#of course no one is expected to interact#but i would love if someone has an opinion
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Matchmaker
@ohtokki Laura I am so sorry this took me so long. Been having days full of terrible migraines. But here it is, finally! I hope you like what I’ve written for you.
Miya Osamu
The other Miya (or as Bokuto calls them Miyans)
The better mannered, not as loud, talented at more than just volleyball brother
It’s still buy one get one free 👯♂️
Osamu is a chef 🧑🍳 with his own restaurant, lucky you gets to taste all the new delicacies before they’re offered
You don’t have to pay for your meals ✅
Another benefit is you get to look at Kita’s 🥵 pretty face when he delivers rice 🌾
Usually seen as the quiet brother with a neutral expression, that definitely doesn’t matter when he’s with you
The two people who can bring out his inner emotions, excitement and annoyance are you and Atsumu 🥰
He also has a sense of humor seen when he teases Tsumu for screwing up, be ready for witty commentary from your personal peanut gallery
Everyone talks about Atsumu’s thighs🦵but GUESS WHAT they’re twins - Samu’s got them nice thighs too 😏
You also know how competitive they are about everything, including their physique, obviously Samu keeps his drool worthy body, 💪 no chance Tsumu will one-up him there if he has any say in it
Creating a series of rapid taps with your knuckles, you straightened your outfit waiting for Osamu. It wasn’t your first visit to his apartment, but you knew he was home and didn’t feel like digging for your key.
Barely a moment later the Miya chef answered the door, a giant smile across his face. Ushering you inside, Samu instantly grabbed your hand pulling you into the kitchen.
“What do ya think?” The raven haired man puffed out his chest, showing off the exhibit he put together.
Sitting on his kitchen island were seedlings of different types and a few small brightly colored pots. A brief glance at the plastic wrapping informed you they were vegetables. Leaning against the cabinet was a bag of potting topsoil.
“I thought we could pot them together,” his grey eyes darted away and pink tinted his cheeks, “I know these aren’t the kind ya have at yer place but I thought they’d be useful. Fresh ingredients and all.”
Beaming up and him, you had his flush darkening with your cute smile. “This is great, Samu! I’d love to plant these with you.”
Your fingers danced over the soft baby leaves of the tomato plant. Inspecting the pots he had purchased, you didn’t notice that Osamu was still staring at you. Sorting out which pots fit which plants, you set the pairs together then turned to him.
“I think these combinations would be best for the ones you bought. We have to make sure there is enough room for the roots to spread out. Tomatoes and peppers can get heavy once they bear fruit.”
“Y-yeah,” Osamu, wrapped his arm around your waist, “yer the expert. Ya decide and then we can get our hands dirty.”
“I’m glad you decided to finally get some plants in here even if they are vegetables. But you’re absolutely right, they will be useful. I look forward to tasting what you make with them.”
Turning away from your boyfriend, you started pulling the wrapping from around the seedlings. Nothing that he hadn’t moved, you craned your neck back to look at him.
Slipping his large hands around your own, he pulled you to face him. Lovingly his gaze flittered across your features. He took a deep breath.
“I hadn’t wanted to get my own plants because I didn’t want too many duplicates after ya added yers.”
“Added mine?” You raised a brow, “as in you want me to move my plants here?”
“I want ya to move all of ya here.”
After a couple rapid blinks you squealed jumping into his arms, “YES YES YES!”
Toothy white grin stretched across Osamu’s face, “that makes me so happy, baby. I love ya so much.”
“I love you too, Samu.”
“I’ll never leaf ya.”
“You were waiting to make that pun weren’t you.”
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3D
Photo Drabble Meme | Anon
3D - the eggplant (I see what you did there. 😏)
Recipe Here
Billy didn’t have a whole lot of experience with cooking. He’d learned a few things from his mother before she left, but never had much of an opportunity to put any of it to good use. Susan did all the cooking when his father wasn’t wining and dining her at some fancy restaurant or another, and he couldn’t say that he’d ever been inclined to help her out in the kitchen. Until tonight, when ulterior motives plagued his mind. He’d stupidly told a girl at school that he was an excellent cook after she mentioned that she loved homemade Italian food, and even more stupidly offered to make her something over the weekend.
Lo and behold, tonight’s dinner was Susan’s delectable eggplant parmigiana, which definitely wasn’t his first choice, but it was an Italian dish, and as he watched her prepare it, he couldn’t help the flood of questions that came out.
“Do the slices always have to be that thin…? And how do you cut the eggplants like that without shredding your fingers?” He was cautious and quiet about it at first, and judging by the way she turned to stare back at him, it was clear that Billy had caught his stepmother off guard. After an awkward moment of silence between them, she finally answered.
“Yes, they do if you want to make good use of what you have. They also bake more quickly the thinner you cut them, although any thinner than a quarter of an inch is probably overkill. I usually slice them to about half an inch. Carefully! Very carefully.” Billy kept his eyes locked on her as she got back to slicing the ugly purple vegetables into strips, memorizing her technique as if his life depended on it. Only when she was done did he notice all the other ingredients that were already laid out on the counter: a bowl of already beaten eggs, a bowl of bread crumbs, and a greased baking sheet.
“Is it a good idea to have all this stuff just…sitting out?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him again.
This time Susan actually let out a little laugh, and Billy realized that it was probably the first time he’d ever gotten one from her. Something pleasant stirred in his stomach at the sound of it. “You sure are inquisitive tonight,” she remarked, and he knew from her amused tone that she didn’t mind it, which put him a little more at ease. “And yes. Having everything prepped before you start slicing the eggplant certainly helps the breading process go faster, at least in my experience. Sitting at room temperature for a short time isn’t going to hurt anything.” She made to start dipping a slice of eggplant into the eggs, but stopped, turning to face Billy with a wry smile instead. “Is there any particular reason why you’re suddenly so interested in how I make a dish that I know you don’t really like? I’m not annoyed by it, just pleasantly surprised and curious.”
Billy faltered, flustered by her genuine interest in his motives. Susan was a mystery to him, honestly. She seemed far too kind to have ever hit it off with someone like Neil Hargrove, which was why he struggled to come up with a lie to tell her. “Alright…first of all, I don’t hate it when you make it. I mean, the texture still isn’t my favorite thing in the world, but you do make it taste good. As for why…there’s this girl that I’m kind of talking to…”
“And you want to try and impress her with a home cooked meal, but don’t know how?”
“Am I that obvious?”
Susan chuckled again and waved him into the kitchen properly. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Most teenagers aren’t exactly culinary experts. If you want to learn, all you have to do is ask, Billy.” She smiled up at him, and he could tell that for once, it wasn’t forced or nervous. He found himself smiling bashfully back down at her.
“Can you teach me how to do all of this, then? And maybe write down the recipe for me so I don’t forget?”
“I would be more than happy to,” Susan answered, virtually lighting up the room with her enthusiasm. “Now, breading the eggplant strips is really the easiest part. You just dip a strip in the egg like so, making sure you get it fully coated. Don’t be afraid of getting your fingers dirty, either. Oh, but make sure you wash your hands before you do anything!” She continued to direct him as he worked along side her, showing him exactly how to do it and explaining things more thoroughly while the strips were baking. It was actually a lot more fun than he’d thought it would be, and it was easily the longest conversation he’d ever had with his stepmother. She wasn’t half bad after all, he thought.
#🏀 here i am 🚬 v; main#I didn’t bother doing a word count on this lol#have a cute thing about Billy getting to know Susan via cooking lessons!#and also an eggplant parmigiana recipe that I found
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Summer of ‘93
To Amy Bowman and Paddrick O'Riley for being such a beautiful double rainbow in my life after a dark cloud continually appears in my peripheral vision. You both listen when very few would, and I will forever be in your debt to the kind words and support you have provided me in which guides me along every second of every day. Thank you, thank you, and thank you.
My memory was a little fuzzy after all these years, so I can’t say for sure if this actually happened in the exact order of the transpired events. But this all did happen, I think, as hard as it is to digest the believability of it. I am sure you may think I am crazy once we reach the end, friends. Maybe I am. All writers have a small case of crazy-itis in them. When it comes to this fantastical fairy tale I am about to share, I assure you that I haven’t been sure about anything else in my life.
Except that you cannot expect the unexpected if you are expecting something that is unexpected. But it is most certainly expected to unexpectedly expect the unexpected. I am no expert on the expected, except when the expected is accepted. I am, however, experienced in the non-exempt unacceptable unexpected…which pertains to this yarn.
It started out like any other day in the summer of ’93. The sun came out to play. The heatwave started to pick up. Lawnmowers added to the backdrop of the ‘burbs of Detroit, MI.
Around lunchtime, my dad took me to see Jurassic Park at the old Showcase theater. It was a movie everyone talked about for the last two weeks (and had talked about the entire summer, year, decade, century, and was now considered a classic). In the context of the summer of ’93, TV commercials kept advertising about the movie. McDonald’s sold collectible cups. There were toys and books and shirts, and so much buzz.
And it was right up my alley – live-action dinosaurs running amuck. Who doesn’t love some dinos?!?
I wasn’t expecting what I had experienced. And in the summer of ’93, watching Jurassic Park on the big screen for the first time was an experience like never before. Kids today can have their marvelous Marvel ‘verse or Jurassic Globe all they want. Nothing would ever top seeing the T-Rex stomp its way out of the electric fence for the first time with that gorgeous roar at the top of its’ gorgeous lungs. Of course, from an eight-year-old’s perspective (how old I was when I saw the film for the first time) – that was the most thrilling, exciting, and terrifying moment in one young lad’s life. I kept hiding into my dad’s arm. I didn’t want to look away, but it was all too real on the celluloid screen.
When I got out of the theater with my dad, I was a changed person. Jurassic Park not only transformed me into a Steven Spielberg fan-boy and movie buff overnight, but it also kindled the fire of creative writing. I was so impressionable with what you could do with the imagination, and all the wonders you could explore along the way.
When I got to the house and asked my parents if I could ride my bike for a bit. My mom glanced at the time on the clock in the kitchen. It was six after four P.M. She told me to be home by six for dinner. I walked through the house to the sunroom and approached my bike. I walked my black beat-up Huffy Striker 2000 I had received as a birthday gift a couple of years earlier and walked around the backyard to the front yard.
I straddled on my bike and raced as fast as I could on the sidewalk. I closed my eyes and pretended I was being chased by a pissed-off T-Rex. I could hear his thunderous stomping pounding footsteps in my head. Gorgeous ear-piercing roaring from the T-Rex’s gorgeous lungs filled my ears of imagination. I then imagined sly hungry raptors racing me to catch up. I could see them leap up toward me and cut right through, eating me head first.
As I was imagining gruesome deaths done by dinosaurs, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was peddling my bike off to. I had exited my neighborhood by making a sharp right at the end of New Bradford along 17-Mile Rd. I was approaching the small incline bridge over the Clinton River. I stopped peddling and leaned my bike against the ledge. I looked over the peaceful water underneath me. Though the stream was attached to the Clinton River, the stream under the bridge was more like a creek.
I stood there for quite some time. It wasn’t until a LOUD thunderclap woke me up from me zoning out. I looked above me and noticed a dark, black cloud with a silver outline from the sun rays above the cloud. More clouds followed the one I was staring at as if it was in a march of clouds. Lightning ignited the sky, followed by another LOUD thunderclap.
I was about to head home when it started raining very heavily. I had gotten off my bike and ran from the bridge, racing over to the grass hill past the bridge. My destination in mind: under the bridge for shelter. I was completely drenched.
I kicked the kickstand of my Huffy, so my bike was in place. I then was observing underneath the bridge. A couple of chairs, fishing poles, and a handful of empty beer bottles were near the edge of the water. I then looked up to the graffiti on the walls. There was a logo with the letters OV. Behind me, there was the word HELLPLEX in cursive. Under that was a faded phrase that read: ‘…there’s more joy at EYS.’ Next to that was ‘WASTIN’ AWAY AT KEY WEST 4 EVER.’ I walked further in and saw a quote I would later recognize in life from J.R.R. Tolkien about wanderers finding themselves without getting lost.
I could hear the hard rain hitting
[TAP
TAP
TAP
TAP
TAP
TAP]
the bridge above me.
The sound of the cars passing by on the road above my head was amplified underneath the bridge. For a while, I just stood there, listening to the soundtrack of cars, rain, and thunder (oh my!)
The heavy rain slowed down to short raindrops [drop-drop-drop-drop]
d
r
o
p
p
i n
g
above.
I then heard a loud THUMP, CRASH, and BOOM (oh, my!)
I kicked the kickstand of my bike back up and headed back from underneath the bridge to the real world. The dark black clouds in the sky had passed by. There was one white cloud above the bridge. A beginning to a rainbow appeared on the walkway. I had never seen a rainbow up close before. I don’t think anyone has.
The rainbow colors were vibrant. The red, orange, yellow, green, purple in the rainbow looked so bright in its shiny, pristine state; I had to do a double-take just to make sure what I was looking at was real.
I walked up to the rainbow on the bridge with my bike, listening to the wheels rotate. As I got closer to the rainbow, I noticed there was a man standing below the rainbow. He spotted me and blurted out:
“Holy diver! I’ve been waiting for you sir.”
“You have?” I hesitantly asked.
“Yes sir. Been waiting for you for approximately…”
The strange man looked at his watch.
“…2.2 seconds ago. You are late.”
I had a puzzled look on my face, which the strange man must’ve noticed, for he continued to say.
“Excuse me. Where are my manners, Keith…?”
“Wait, how do you know my name?” I interrupted him.
“We shall get to that later, sir. As for me…I am a wizard of sorts. But you can call me simply: the Man on the Silver Mountain.”
I was all kinds of confused at that moment. The strange Man on the Silver Mountain then asked me:
“Well, good sir, are you ready?”
“Ready?” I asked. I then thought for a second and added, “I am not even supposed to talk to strangers.”
The strange Man on the Silver Mountain smiled. He wasn’t that tall for a man, but slightly taller than an elf. He had a black jacket with a coattail, despite how warm it was outside. Underneath the coat, he wore a faded Carolina County Ball ’74-75 tour shirt. On top of his head was a magician hat.
While I was eye-balling the man’s appearance, a chairlift with a tiger face in front slid down the rainbow. It had then stopped where the Man on the Silver Mountain stood. The chairlift looked like it was attached from a ski lift. Inside the chairlift was two uncomfortable (but comfortable enough) lookin’ seats.
The strange man that called himself the Man on the Silver Mountain didn’t seem to notice. He still had a smile on his face. He then said:
“Under normal circumstances, you would be right, good sir. Don’t talk to strangers. But…I am no stranger, Keith. I know all about you, young sir.”
A door on the side of the chairlift opened by itself. The Man on the Silver Mountain pointed both his hands to the chairlift and said:
“Now, young sir…are you ready to catch the rainbow? It is hell, not heaven to ride the tiger on the rainbow in the dark. We need to get through the gates of Babylon before it is too late.”
“Rainbow in the Dark? Gates of Babylon?” I asked myself. They sound like names of songs from the ‘70s and ‘80s.
Against my better judgment (does eight-year-olds have developed judgment anyways?!?), I walked up to the chairlift and sat in the seat to the right (my left). The Man on the Silver Mountain followed me in the chairlift, sitting in the seat to the left (my right). The door closed on its own. At this point, I didn’t know if I was dreaming or if this was actually happening. But I went along with it – fantasy and surrealism and realism butting-heads together. The chairlift had begun to vibrate. I was getting nervous and started to think of excuses to back out. I was also thinking how dumb I was for getting into a chairlift with a tiger in the front, attached to a solid rainbow, accompanying a strange man that called himself the Man on the Silver Mountain.
The vibration continued to intensify to a synchronized drum solo. Later on in life, I would recognize the vibration as the drum intro to the song ‘Stargazer,’ by Rainbow.
Before I could even process what occurred next, we skyrocketed up into the sky along the rainbow, leaving Sterling Heights behind. A few birds chirped loudly as they got out of our way. We approached and passed an airplane in a matter of a couple of milliseconds. We were going so fast and so high, I think this was the moment in my life in which I will forever be scared of massive sized roller coasters.
We slowed down a little near the curve of the rainbow. Right before my very eyes, there was a gate that had a sign on top that read: Babylon. The Man on the Silver Mountain was not lying. Beyond the gate was a castle that resembled a castle at a Magical Kingdom somewhere in Florida.
“Before the gate was in place – the Magica’s wanted to live for the king. It was a happier time on the rainbow. Dragons lived in harmony with the wolves. Now we must lock up the wolves, for they want to go on killing the dragon. Unfortunately, there is only one left, the last in line, the sacred heart.”
The Man on the Silver Mountain chuckled, and then continued to say while we were passing on through the gate on an incline and was riding along the rainbow on the surface of the archway:
“I am sure none of this makes much sense to you, young Keith. Just know that the Magica’s want nothing more than to kill the king. And along these parts – the mob rules. That’s why I wanted to get to the gate before it closes. It’s the end of the world once the gate closes, and the rainbow in the dark neverwhere.”
The Man on the Silver Mountain was right once again. None of what he was saying made much sense at all. To be perfectly honest, friends – I wasn’t really listening to what he was saying. He could’ve been rambling about how kick-butt Nickelodeon was and all its awesome shows and I still would be completely lost with what he was saying. My observation was attuned to everything around me. I was high up in the sky on a rainbow. I could see not only cities from Michigan; I could see states close by and far away.
“Perception is a lot different up a rainbow, young Keith.”
The Man on the Silver Mountain knew to answer anytime I had some puzzling question in my head. He then added:
“Please don’t fall off the edge of the world. I don’t wish for you to die young, sir Keith.”
The chairlift stopped about halfway up the center of the rainbow. The door opened by itself. The Man on the Silver Mountain got up and walked out of the chairlift. I followed him. He walked a few yards away from the chairlift and stopped.
I felt a breeze on top of the rainbow. I could hear a distant noise from the world below me.
The Man on the Silver Mountain reached into his coat pocket to the right and got out a bell with the initial JDH written on the side. He rang it. The noise coming from the world below had gone silent. He placed the bell back in his right coat pocket. He reached in his left coat pocket and got out a stick of some kind. Wasn’t until many years later, as I am writing out this story from memory, the stick was none other than a wand you could purchase at The Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Universal Studios. He waved the wand at some clouds nearby the rainbow. The clouds magically disappeared. The Man on the Silver Mountain did say he was a wizard of sorts. Maybe he was.
He placed the wand back into his left pocket. He reached into his right inside coat pocket and held a pair of glasses. He put the glasses on his face. He reached into his left inside coat pocket and retrieved a beat-up old looking journal.
The front of the journal was lightly tanned, with a glued-on picture of the globe (North and South America) as the centerpiece.
“Now, young sir…” the Man on the Silver Mountain smiled, and continued, “…this here…” he waved the journal in his right hand, “…is your life.”
Once again, I was baffled, and it must have shown on my face as the Man on the Silver Mountain explained:
“Some time from now, you will receive a journal…just like this one,” he kept waving the journal around.
“…by a person you will fall madly in love with. It will not work out, unfortunately, as life often gets in the way of fairy tale love stories. The journal will sit in your possession for many years. You will use it as inspiration for a handful of stories you will write..”
“Me? Write?” I interrupted.
The Man on the Silver Mountain smile widens.
“Oh yes, young Keith. You are a writer. And you will write so many wonderful and not so wonderful pieces. Essays, movie reviews, short stories, and novels. It all started today when you went to see Jurassic Park with your dad. You will possess so many dreams from that moment in the darkened auditorium at Showcase Cinema. In fact, if you fast forward six years from now…you will work there young Keith.”
My eyes widened, knowing the strange day just got better and better. Not only will I be a writer. I will also work at a movie theater!
The Man on the Silver Mountain noticed how perked up I was all of a sudden. He then coughed a little and said:
“I am getting way ahead of myself. I don’t want to derail too much here with too much detail. You will dream big, and you will dream evil. You will want to be the next Steven Spielberg, or the next Roger Ebert, or the next Stephen King. I can’t persuade you from not dreamin’ evil. And you will. As a matter of fact, at the moment you get off this rainbow, you will forget all about this journey, and about me. That is until you pull out this here journal…”
He waved the journal once more.
“…and handwrite this story you had experienced and everything I am telling you now.”
I tried to digest all of this, but I was ever so confused…by…you know…E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G-!
The Man on the Silver Mountain took a pause to reflect what he was saying and then pointed to the sky.
By now, the sky had a shade of dark pink mixed with light purple. The sun was setting. I was pretty sure I was late for dinner, but none of that phased me any. I took in the beautiful sight before me. When you took in a breathtaking sky from a distance, you sensed the awe-inspiring sight, but you never quite felt it in your very soul. Seeing it surround your every which way was a completely different experience.
I was in a trance. The Man on a Silver Mountain woke me up from that trance by stating nonchalantly:
“You are a wizard, young Keith. Just like me.”
I was flabbergasted. “Huh?” I thought. I then said with hesitation in my voice:
“Me? Wizard? I am no…”
“I am going to interrupt you right there. We are not going to reenact The Philosopher’s Stone.”
Once more, I was utterly confused. The Man on the Silver Mountain chuckled, and then continued to say:
“That’s right. We are still in the early ‘90s. My timing has always been a little off. She hasn’t published it yet. In fact, at this moment in time – she is still mapping out the series in her head. Her Horcrux is her mind. And once she frees, it will be…”
The Man in the Silver Mountain struggled to search for the right words, and finally settled with:
“…magical beyond imagination. She too is a wizardess. Isn’t it great that so much from the imagination is often locked in a wizard’s head? And yes, young Keith, you are a wizard. Anyone gifted (or cursed) with a creative mind is a sorcerer clothed with immense power. All wizards in the creative arts have the sheer will, guts, brains, and magical wits to tap into the eye of this here rainbow, forging all of its beauty into an idea, and convey that idea into poetic prose, or a drawing, or a song. Rainbows are nothing more than infested dreams coming to life before your very eyes. With each nightmare, the bad storm that wreaks havoc, the glimmer of hope shines mighty and bright from the sky above to the ground below.”
The Man on the Silver Mountain stopped talking for a moment. He glanced at the sky. The dark pink dissolved into a dark deep purple. I looked down and noticed the rainbow colors turned to a shade of silver. The outline of the silver rainbow looked like a silver mountain. The strange man that referred to himself as a wizard truly was a man on a silver mountain.
He thumbed through the pages of the journal. I tried to steal a peek. The only thing I got a chance to spot real quick was a drawing of a beautiful lady with a green dress on. She winked at me through her oversized sunglasses on her beautiful face. A voice in the back of my mind all of a sudden whispered the words, “the wanderer keeps wandering …now write, hon…”
Alice in Wonderland was always curiouser and curiouser. Well – on top of the rainbow, I was confused(er) and confused(er)!
The Man on the Silver Mountain closed the journal and sighed. He suddenly looked at me with grave concern.
“This is your life. Your then, there, that, those, the. Your why, when, how, where, what. Your past, present, and future. Your now. You will dream big and, sadly, dream evil. You will inspire and feel inspired. You will gain some friends, and lose lots of friends. You will cheat and be cheated. You will break a lot of hearts, and have your heart broken a million times. Wizards of all kinds of trades feel feelings the most, sense their emotions harder, and sometimes – it will be unbearable. Your feelings will ignite raw emotions, creativity, bitterness, anger, and love. Oh, yes, you will love hard time and time again. Each time, stronger than the last time. Crushes, unrequited love, and disturbing obsessions will creep up time and time again. I wish I could instruct you: ignore it. But nobody will be able to snap you out of stupid dumb love. Not to say, love is dumb. Far from it.”
I listened attentively.
“Love feeds into creative art. So does hate. And you will write your heart out, for your heart beats differently for each experience you will go through. You will get married, and it will be beautiful. You will divorce, and it will rip open an emotion that will cut you off guard and fill your brain (and heart) with a lot of darkness. That darkness will motivate you to pick up everything and leave your world that you know all too well behind. You will make mistakes along the way. And you will love again and again. You will make a fool out of yourself, more than once. You will feel pain more than once. You will suffer and be spoiled. You will feel rejected and reject others in the process. The be-all, end-all love is right around the corner, but you have to wait for her. Even when you feel that you are ready for her – you are not. Even when you finally have the courage to write out this story, you aren’t ready for her yet, for she is not ready for you either. But when you two meet, it will be the love of legends. She too is a wizard. A powerful one. Her smile will ignite a new emotion in you altogether. You both will feed each other’s imagination – and inspire many others’ years to come. You must remember young Keith. Even if you inspire just one soul – you inspired enough to inspire the world. That influence is a powerful spell no evil could ever counteract with.”
The Man on the Silver Mountain stopped talking for a second, catching his breath, and then added:
“Through it all, I encourage you to write. I encourage you to write with truth. I encourage you to live your truth. I encourage you to rip open your soul that you had buried all of your feelings and pour everything out.”
By now, the sky darkened, the moon was starting to take shape, and the stars synchronized their twinkling.
Exhaustion had hit me full force. A yawn appeared on my face. The Man on the Silver Mountain glanced at his watch, placed the journal in his inside left coat pocket.
“Yes, sir Keith, it is getting late. And as I said before…as soon as you drop down off this rainbow, you will forget this whole experience until many years later when you dust off the special journal from that special someone and start writing. The words will flow from your head to the paper as you move the pencil like a wizard’s wand. This story will take shape, and you will remember the day you saw Jurassic Park. That was also the day you met me and caught the rainbow in the summer of ’93. Of course, the summer is not over yet. But this moment was the forgotten highlight you will remember many years from now. Everyone has their moment in which their life is forever changed. You seeing Jurassic Park at the very moment and location you saw it, designed a path you will take.”
I nodded my head, catching every word he threw at me like a sponge.
“You will forget this conversation, young Keith. You will forget it until you will remember it. But I will leave you with one important summary in a nutshell. This is the gist to why I summoned you up the rainbow. Life is like a carousel. You MUST ride the wheel, no matter where it spins you or how fast you go. Keep ridin’, keep writing’, and keep creatin’ magic sir wizard Keith.”
The chairlift’s door opened up. The Man on the Silver Mountain tipped his hat to me and bided me farewell. I walked into the chairlift and sat. The door closed.
The Man on the Silver Mountain got out the bell. He rang it once. The echoing world below slowly entered into my ears. I could also hear a faint wind. But it didn’t sound like the type of wind I heard before. Later on in life, I would recognize the wind sounding identical to the keyboard intro to Rainbow ‘Tarot Woman.’
The Man on the Silver Mountain put away the bell and got out his wand. He waved it to the silvery rainbow. It magically changed to a bright, vibrant rainbow of vivid colors that blinded my eyelids.
And just like that, I shot down from the sky on the rainbow, zooming and falling faster and faster below. Before I could feel all of my senses, I was back at the very spot my bike was residing at on the bridge above Clinton River that was more like a creek. I could smell the rain off the asphalt on the ground. The potent musky scent of wet grass filled my nostrils.
I looked up, and a slight resemblance of a rainbow with faded colors disappeared in the sky. I don’t remember why I was standing in the current position I was in. I got on my bike and peddled my way back home. I approached my street: ‘the Shire,’ (short for Warwickshire).
A double rainbow magically appeared over the horizon around my house down the street.
“I’m coming home, I’m coming home!” I shouted to the world before me.
Many years later, I would piece together this tall tale, only to forget it entirely soon after.
The Man on the Silver Mountain, whoever or whatever he was, was right about everything in my life, including receiving the journal exactly ten years ago as a birthday gift from someone special. The inspiration came in all shapes and sizes, including a journal meant to/for writing. Instead, I was preserving it like an artifact in a museum. I had written about it in previous stories, used it as a plot device and Macguffin. I never thought or considered writing in it…until on my 34th birthday.
As the Man on the Silver Mountain said to me in the summer of ’93 in exact detail what I would be doing at some point in my life; I had dusted off the journal, opened the pages, held my pencil down on the blank page, and uncovered a long-distant memory. But did it really happen precisely the same way I had written it out?
I don’t know.
I don’t even know if I believe it myself. But I will say this, friends…
Anytime I watch Jurassic Park
[over and over and over and over]
over the years.
Anytime I spot a beautiful rainbow
[and have the urge to catch it]
in the sky.
Anytime I hear Ronnie James Dio singing an
[Elf, Rainbow, Black Sabbath, Dio, Heaven & Hell]
song…
My mind wanders back to the time when it was decided in the summer of ’93: I was going to be a writer…
Long live creatin’, long live writin’, long live art, long live rock ‘n’ roll, and long live Ronnie James Dio.
\m/
K.H.; July 13-24, 2018.
#summer of '93#black clouds & silver linings#ronnie james dio#jurassic park#writing#short stories#original piece
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