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#i do not have a hot plate currently and thus no good way to cook any of my usual meals

tomorrcwz · 4 months

Note

can i request a fluff piece for darwin when he gets sick and reader takes care of him?

a/n : i'm currently sick, so this request had to be written 🩶

★ . . STUCK WITH YOU, DN9

As you slowly blinked away the sleepiness this morning, you felt the warmth of your boyfriend's chest radiating off of him, laced with slight stickiness on your cheek.

gently you laid your hand against his forehead, caressing his thick strands of hair behind his ears to feel the temperature — which to your worries didn't feel good at all, way too hot. his cheeks were tinted with red, and his forehead showed wrinkles, which most definitely were caused by the brewing sickness.

you decided to let him sleep in, pulling the blanket up to his chin and on silent feet you pushed open the door to go to the kitchen were you'd search for his mother's soup recipe, she had always cooked for him whenever he was sick as a child.

the first ingredient on the list was a whole chicken, which you didn't have on hand, so you used its legs, cleaned under water and then you tucked them in a pot filled with water. you continued to brush the vegetables, roasting the star anise and other spices, all while calling in sick at work for darwin and yourself — you didn't want to leave him alone whilst him being sick and you loved to care for him; also he didn't get sick often, thus you could allow yourself to do so.

putting on the kettle, you placed down fluffy pillows and blankets on the sofa as well as the medicine he'd have to take and two mugs for the tea.

you didn't notice darwin walking through the door nor you heard him blowing his nose, too far in your element.

It's only when his arms wrap around your waist and he leans much of his weight on you that you notice his presence.

"Ow you poor baby, catched a cold, hm?", you cooed at him, turning around in his embrace to face your gentle giant. fingertips gazed on his face, feeling the slight stumble of a beard and the heat. he looked sickly pale, nose runny and irritation had drawn around his nose and eyes.

darwin only closed his eyes, head resting on yours, letting you guide him to the kitchen table, where a buttered toast laid on a plate. you grabbed the plate and pulled him to the sofa, letting him down softly on his favourite spot. the man seemingly melted again the plush pillows.

reaching for the teapot, you filled the mugs with freshly made camomile tea and brought the toast wordlessly to darwins mouth. he took a bit, displeased with the food as he wasn't hungry at all.

"you have to eat, baby", you said, holding the toast in front of his mouth, "if you want to recover fast, you have to eat to take your medicine. hoop hoop."

he groaned but obliged. "You're a witch, y/n, a bad one", he grumbled after he ate the whole slice and took the small pill.

you rolled your eyes and pressed a kiss to his forehead. he was just a baby when sick.

#football imagine #football x reader #darwin nunez x reader #darwin nunez fanfic #darwin nunez

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aonogifreactions · 3 years

Text

Prompt 70: “You’re perfectly welcome to kiss whomever you wa–” and 28: “Where’s all of your holiday spirit, you Scrooge?”

┍━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┑

Requested: Yes, by anon. Prompts here -> click.

Pairing: Rin Okumura/Reader, Yukio Okumura/Reader; separately.

Word count: 1,1k+

SFW.

Warnings: none.

Beta-read by a special fren! Thank you! <3

a/n: i apologize for yukio’s part being so short! i told myself “ill write a drabble for both of them” so i set myself a specific word count but then i wrote rin after yukio and accidentally went overboard xD under “read more” due to length!

┕━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┙

Rin: [Prompt 70]

The loud noise of plates being moved left and right, then spatulas hitting the bowls was surely the indication that Rin was there, doing a lot of things at once.

Doing things last minute was not a good idea - even if Rin's cooking skills were excellent.

That's why you, being a good friend of his - decided to help him out a little. He appreciated it greatly, thanking you in a hurry.

"Rin," you called him quietly, "why are you making so much food?" you mixed something in the bowl, concluding in your mind that it was probably the base for another cake. "Well, today's the Christmas party, remember?" he reminded you, smiling at you quickly and opening the oven; he scrunched his face up as the heat hit his face. "Oh, right!" you said a little too loud, earning a chuckle from him. "Have you got a present for someone? I know it's supposed to be a secret, but I wanna know!" Rin asked excitedly, taking out a cake from the hot oven.

Oh god.

You gulped nervously, "Uhm, ye-yeah, I have!" you stuttered, "A-anyway, am I doing it well?" you scolded yourself internally afterwards, because how the heck could you mess up mixing? Nonetheless, Rin walked up behind you, peeked past your shoulder, and - unfortunately for you - decided to tease you a little. He pressed himself against you, placed his hands on top of yours, and started to guide your hands with his own. You could feel his smirk on your neck as he spoke, "I mean, there's no way to mess that up. So yeah, you're doing it correctly. I hope chief Rin helped you to understand the mixing theory!" he joked, retreating back to the already baked cake, grabbing a knife and cutting it horizontally.

You blushed wildly, feeling your cheeks starting to radiate warmth. As you put the bowl away, you placed your hands on your face, trying to calm yourself down and avoid embarrassing yourself further. You shook your head, but the rapid speed of your heart beating in your chest couldn't return to normal - that is, until Rin distracted you from your internal panic. "Hey, could you bring me a bigger knife? This one is tragic, I can't cut it evenly with this one…" he sighed in annoyance, putting his knife in the sink. "Okay, sure, hold on," you tried not to stutter again; coming up to the drawer, you opened it and got the longest knife you could find, then proceeded to head his way. "Actually," he started, "I'll get it myse—"

Due to an unfortunate turn of events, you slipped on the floor, thus Rin, who was trying to get the kitchen tool, caught you just in perfect time, preventing you from possibly impaling yourself on the sharp knife.

"Oh boy, that was close!" He laughed awkwardly, "are you okay? I have no idea what was there, I literally mopped the floor yesterday…" Rin started to ramble, and despite wanting to thank him, what caught your attention was a tiny, green plant hung above your head.

A mistletoe.

Half-demon noticed your silence, so he also looked up; his face became crimson, and on top of that, he was still holding you. "I swear, I didn't do that! I don't even know how it got here!" He started to mumble excuses, while you gathered all your courage to finally make a move.

"Do you want to—" you started, "to uh, you know—" you said awkwardly, watching him. His face became even redder, "YOU MEAN KISS? I— You don't have to kiss me, in fact, you’re perfectly welcome to kiss whomever you wa–"

Your lips collided together in a sweet, yet somewhat awkward kiss; Rin kissed back after a few seconds, realizing what just happened. His lips melted against yours, and just as he was beginning to enjoy it, you pulled away.

To say the least, Kuro was satisfied with the outcome of the situation. He didn't mean to accidentally pee on the floor, but the same can't be said about the mysterious mistletoe that appeared out of nowhere. Either way, he was glad that his owner confessed his feelings to the person he loved; what's more, he was even more proud of being the partial cause of that.

However, he was now preparing himself mentally to get scolded for his poor bladder malfunction.

Yukio: [Prompt 28]

Flashing lights, obnoxious songs, and even worse - people singing obnoxious songs and freaking out about buying presents.

Yukio is certainly not a fan of that.

This is why he was currently scrolling mindlessly through various social media sites.

You, on the other hand - were carrying boxes - although light - full of christmas decorations. Your christmas tree stood proudly on the floor, but quite naked - the christmas balls, tinsels, and other ornaments, such as tiny reindeers or angels were yet to be added. Placing the boxes on the table, you sighed in content, your hands finding themselves on your hips.

Yukio remained uninterested, eyeing the boxes, then moving his eyes on you, "You know, I could help you with it. I know those aren't heavy, but still." he declared, leaving his phone on the table and stood up; to his eyes appeared round, silver baubles, as well as those that were in the shape of wrapped gifts, golden bells, penguins with santa hats on and candy canes. He looked at them wearily, raising both of his brows. "I knew we needed more christmas decorations, but was THIS much needed?" he grumbled, going through the box and muttering silent complaints about having glitter on his hands.

You fake-huffed, crossing your arms and turning your back to him. "Where's all of your holiday spirit, you Scrooge?" you answered, "and yes, THIS much was needed." Much to his dismay, he wasn't sure if this was just as a joke or not - fearing he might've hurt you, he suggested his help in decorating the christmas tree, to which you agreed excitedly.

Despite his previous thoughts, he really enjoyed accompanying you; yet, no matter how many times he's tried to find the reason of his entertainment, he couldn't figure that out - was it your happiness? that sparkle in your eyes when you turned the lights on or put some of the ornaments on the tree? Or maybe the holiday spirit has, in fact, gotten to him? Yukio didn't know; though, he noticed that you remembered his favorite animals, which surprisingly, warmed his heart.

Bright colors twinkled on his face, as the christmas lights on the tree were the only light in the room. They blinded him a little, but he didn't care. In reality, he liked it - he liked how it all turned out; he liked the christmas tree, he liked the obnoxious songs that played quietly in the background, and most of all - he liked, no, loved the joyful expression on your face, that told more than a thousand words.

Maybe christmas wasn't that bad.

#Ao no Exorcist #ao no exorcist imagine #blue exorcist #blue exorcist imagines #blue exorcist imagine #rin okumura #Rin Okumura x reader #Yukio Okumura #yukio okumura x reader #christmas prompts #Pure

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jurassicsunsets · 4 years

Note

question: do you think there’s fossils underneath the deepest sea floor? Do you think we could ever get down there to dig them?

Totally there are! In fact, much of the seafloor is made of fossils.

To properly answer this question we first have to talk about hard-rock geology.

Part 1: Hard Rock Cafe

When I say hard rock I mean igneous rocks (rocks that formed by cooling of molten rock) and metamorphic rocks (rocks that formed when already-formed rocks were cooked and altered). This is to set it apart from soft rock (sedimentary rocks—rocks that formed from bits of stuff getting squished together) and prog rock (rock that formed when 1960s musicians took LSD). Hard rock is what forms the basement of the world, beneath all the other layers of rock, and so it’s what we have to start with here.

The ocean crust acts very differently from the continental crust, and that really deserves several long posts of its own. I’ll summarise it by saying this: Ocean crust is thinner, younger, and moves more than continental crust.

(Image: A gif of seafloor spreading. Oceanic crust moves away from the central plate boundary in both directions, like two conveyor belts going in opposite directions.)

Oceanic crust is formed at the boundaries between tectonic plates, and specifically where the plates are pulling apart from each other (AKA a divergent boundary). This exposes the mantle that is underneath the crust, causing lava to pour out.

Now we come to a very common misconception. It’s very common to think that the mantle is a liquid magma, a molten ocean upon which floats the Earth’s crust. But this isn’t actually true. The Earth’s mantle, despite being at very high temperature, is solid. This is because the enormous weight of the rocks above creates so much pressure that the mantle takes its most compact state—solid. (As a bonus fact, the minerals that make up the Earth’s mantle are lime green.)

(Image: A chunk of peridotite, the rock that makes up much of the Earth’s mantle. As promised, it is indeed lime green, and is made up primarily of olivine—the same mineral that makes up the gemstone peridot. There’s also some pyroxene in there, the same mineral that makes up asbestos! [Source])

Despite being solid, the mantle is still a fluid. That might take a bit to wrap your head around, so I’ll help you out. Think of silly putty; it’s a solid, but also can flow and deform in a ductile manner. Make that a lot thicker and that’s kind of how the mantle acts.

Back to the divergent boundary. The seafloor pulls apart by tectonic forces, exposing the mantle. Remember, the only thing keeping the mantle solid is the weight of the rock above it that compresses it. So, when that pressure is removed—pow! The mantle melts, and erupts as lava. This lava meets the cold ocean and “freezes” quickly into solid rock, schmamming onto the sides of the plates that are moving apart. And so new crust is born.

If you have taken any middle-school science you probably know that heat makes things expand. And if you haven’t, then you’re now getting a leg up on your classmates. And if you have taken middle-school science but didn’t learn this, I can’t blame you. The school system is a mess and it failing you is not your fault. The fact that you’re reading this is proof it didn’t manage to completely kill your curiosity, so good on you!

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Heat makes things expand. When things expand they became less dense, and so they float a little higher. This means that the brand-spanking-new ocean crust at the mid ocean ridge, which is still hot from being erupted, “floats” on the mantle higher than than the older, cooler crust.

(Image: A map of the world, with particular attention to the topography of the seafloor. It’s not all flat, but rather, has long mountain ranges down the centre of the ocean basins (shown in dark blue). [Source])

This causes the divergent zones in the middle of the ocean to form long ridges where the new crust floats higher than the older crust. Because the crust moves away from the middle ridge like a conveyor belt, the older crust gets pushed further and further away as new crust is created at the ridge.

We can take samples of these crust rocks using super deep rock-coring rigs, and then we can use these cores to conduct radiometric dating and find the age of rocks in different parts of the ocean. This is shown below:

(Image: A map of the world, showing the age of the oceanic crust. The youngest rock is shown in red and it right near the centre ridges of the oceans, while older rock is further away. [Source])

You can imagine “rolling back” the rocks progressively towards the mid-ocean ridge, until South America and Africa fit together right at the ridge—as they did about 100 million years ago.

When crust gets too old, it cools down and becomes more brittle. This can cause it to break and sink under continents, a process known as subduction. This is currently occurring on both sides of the Pacific ocean. The Atlantic, however, has not begun subducting away yet.

Part 2: Soft rock and smooth jazz

All the above was to give a necessary context to talking about fossils in the ocean. We now have a maximum age of fossils that we could possibly find in the ocean; any older than that, and the rocks would be subducted underneath continents and returned to the mantle. The fossils on top of the oceanic crust have to be younger than the crust itself.

So, how are these fossils preserved? This is where we get to sedimentary rocks. I mentioned above that sedimentary rocks form primarily by broken-up bits of other rocks getting schmammed together into a bigger rock. This happens in the ocean, too. Rivers carry sand, silt, and clay into the ocean, and deposit it.

However, these particles can only travel so far. Eventually, these tiny particles of rock will start to sink. The smaller the particle, the easier is is for currents to sweep it up and prevent it from sinking; therefore, the sediment size generally gets smaller the further from shore you get (because bigger particles settle out first).

(Image: A digram of sediment transport, showing that larger particles have a greater settling velocity and thus don’t get carried as far away from shore. [Source])

This isn’t the end-all/be-all, by the way. Submarine avalanches called turbidity currents can cause bigger sediment particles to be transported much further, as the underwater landslide can glide on a sheet of water with very little friction, and can thus travel far out onto the flat abyssal plain while moving really fast—like, 60-100km/hr.

(Image: Schematic view of a turbidity current, showing how they form from underwater landslides and travel across the flat ocean floor. [Source])

Both of the above mechanisms can bury the remains of organisms, but there’s an even more significant kind of rock in the deep ocean, and it’s made up of fossils.

See, in the deep, deep ocean, far from shore, it’s hard for sediment to be transported normally. So there’s not a crap-ton in the way of mud or sand. Rather, the sediment is formed largely of the shells of organisms that live above or on the seafloor.

The most common of these are single-celled organisms called foraminifera, or “forams”, which make calcite or aragonite shells. (Calcite is the stuff that makes up chalk, or antacids, or marble, and aragonite is just another form of calcite.) Most foram shells (or “tests”) are near-microscopic, and look like this:

(Image: Scanning electron microscope images of various shells, or “tests”, of foraminifera. Some look like coiled nautilus or snail shells; others are elongate tubes; others look like a bunch of spheres glues together. [Source])

Many of these foraminifera are part of the plankton, and float around by the surface. This is because sunlight makes it much easier to precipitate calcite out of the water. When they die, their skeletons sink to the bottom of the sea and pile up, creating what will eventually become limestone.

Since different parts of the ocean crust are different ages, there is different thickness of sediments in different parts of the ocean. Plankton don’t really care about what’s going on at the ocean floor—it’s 3km below them! So we can think of them as living at all parts of the ocean (though more live at warmer temperatures). Their skeletons sink to the floor of the ocean wherever they are. The oldest crust has been around for a much longer time than the brand-new stuff, so it’s had more time for forams and other sediments to accumulate on top of it. Brand new crust is rough and naked, but old crust is smooth due to being covered by a thick blanket of limestone.

Many other organisms may be preserved in limestone. Some of them, like molluscs, sea urchins, corals, sponges, and trilobites, have shells that are themselves made up of calcite. Others, like vertebrates, are made up of other materials, but can still get buried alongside other organisms with limestone.

Unfortunately, most of the limestones we’ve studied came from shallower seas that covered the continents in bygone ages when the sea level was much higher. Because oceanic crust is eventually returned to the mantle, it doesn’t enter the permanent record very often. Even if it did, there’s still the massive logistical hurdle of digging for something beneath kilometers of water and hundreds of metres of overlying younger sediment.

But that doesn’t stop me from dreaming of someone pulling up a deep-ocean limestone core with a complete plesiosaur skull inside.

#palaentology #paleontology #geology #palaeoblr #geoblr #fossils #plate tectonics #seafloor spreading #long post

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luxexhomines · 4 years

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An Explosive Concoction of Hope and Despair (v.3)

Finally, a Danganronpa-related post!

I was commissioned to make a revision/appendage to the first commission I had ever received, so I’ll drop the AO3 link (click here!) and put the fic under the cut! If you click on AO3, please be aware that I post some “problematic” content things on that account, but this fic does not contain that content!

It was supposed to be posted on the night of Tanabata, but due to declining mental health, I had to post it later than initially foreseen.

If you remember this fic, it’s the Junko and Makoto fic where Makoto gets chased around the festival with lots of explosives with hints of teasing/flirting from Junko (but now featuring more explosives & thrills!).

If you’re interested in commissioning me, please read my rules here! They’re not currently open, but if you seriously want to, I’ll make a tentative waiting list.

CW for explosives, fireworks, and dynamite!

If you were to wonder what the Ultimate Luckster Makoto Naegi was up to at this very moment... Well, the answer was that he was in a world of trouble.

“Gah! Why are you doing this to me?!”

Makoto just barely dodged an explosion as he dived toward the takoyaki stand to his left, rolled and got to his knees, and started running again.

If this sounded like a practiced movement, that was because it was. Makoto had been dodging explosions and running away from the Ultimate Despair sisters for the past half-hour: well, mostly Junko, because if Mukuro were chasing him, she already would have caught him, what with her military training and reflexes.

Makoto gritted his teeth and pushed through the crowd of people. It was the day of the Tanabata festival. He should have been out having fun with his classmates and friends, but instead, he was stuck entertaining Junko and her antics by running for his life tonight. He ditched the yukata for convenience and was wearing only a plain shirt and shorts. He was starting to get pretty tired. After all, he was only an average kid with average athletic ability and a tiny bit of luck. He was beginning to think getting into Hope’s Peak Academy was not good luck as he had initially thought after having to fight for his life on what seemed like a monthly basis.

He stopped to catch his breath and leaned against a tent.

“Hey, are you the guy coming in for the next shift?”

Makoto started to respond to the person coming out of the tent but gets interrupted before he could answer. Something like a hollow sphere plopped down on top of his sweaty face, and the inside did not smell great.

“That’s great because I’m tired of dealing with the kids. Go inside and put on the rest of the costume. I’m free for the rest of the night,” the guy said, and Makoto heard cheerful whistling as he struggled to stand to his feet. He stumbled inside the tent. He could barely see out of whatever heavy object the guy put on him, but he could see a mirror, and it looked like he was wearing...a teddy bear head? He sighed. It was just his luck.

Wait...just his luck?

He spotted the rest of the costume and put it on. Hopefully, Junko could not recognize him in this outfit. But it sure was hot in the costume, so it had better do its job.

Makoto toddled out of the tent. Might as well do his job while he was dressed for it. It would help disguise him.

Or so he thought, but he did not predict getting run over by children. Literally. He felt like he was being slowly stomped into dust on the ground by thousands of little kid feet, and he could hear whooping above him. He had pretty much given up until he saw a hand outstretched in front of him. He reached out, and the hand gripped his hand, pulling him out of the mess.

“Thank you so much,” he said. Makoto thought he was going to cry from relief. But that was when the hand that had helped him stretched out and tugged the ear of his mascot head. The head dropped to the floor.

It was Junko who had pulled him up, and she was smiling ecstatically, a fat, luxurious cigar wedged in between those pink lips of hers, the cigar drooping from its weight and sparkling in an excessively flamboyant manner. The sparks from the tip of the burning cigar were flying every which way, which served well as a more festive look for the night of Tanabata, but if Makoto knew Junko at all, the true reason for the constant stream of sparks had more to do with the excitement of possible danger by existing as a fire hazard and thus becoming an opportunity for further, greater despair. The cigar itself looked branded and expensive: as expected of a fashionista like Junko, Makoto supposed, but it was the largest, fanciest cigar he had ever seen—excepting perhaps the one Celeste regularly had on her when inviting him to gamble with her. When he took a closer look—well, as much of a look as he could while not getting any nearer to her, since it could prove explosive and deadly—the cigar had a black and white label with an image of...Monokuma? Makoto shook himself out of his thoughts; now was not the best time to be mulling over Junko’s questionably gaudy and abnormally large cigar, especially if he wanted to keep his body intact.

However, taken aback by Junko’s sudden and flashy reappearance, Makoto watched open-mouthed as she took a piece of dynamite from her hand purse and stuffed it in his mouth like feeding a carrot to a horse. She leaned in sultrily with the cigar still perched perfectly in her lips and touched the end of her glowing cigar to the now lit fuse of his dynamite.

Junko started walking backward, chuckling and watching as Makoto, with a red face, yanked the stick of dynamite out of his mouth frantically and chucked it as far as he could throw from civilization and ran in the opposite direction. He winced upon hearing the boom and took a look at Junko, who seemed unaffected.

Of course. She was wearing earplugs. And a rather pretty yukata, for that matter. For once, her hair was not in two ponytails, but one, and she had a single Monokuma pin adorning her hair.

Makoto sighed and stripped off the mascot outfit, which was sticky from his sweat and uncomfortable either way. It was no help disguising himself from her. She seemed to have a sixth sense just for finding him.

Even so, he managed to slip away in the crowd of people and purchase a large stick of fluffy, pink cotton candy. As he was about to take a bite, however, Junko popped into view once again. He internally sighed as he watched her stride closer with a scheming grin on her face.

“Makoto, I made something just for you. Why don’t you have a bite?”

She thrust a platter of takoyaki balls toward him, and he instinctively backstepped when he realized something was very, very wrong with the unassuming plate of food.

“No, thanks!”

Junko kept inching forward with slow steps as Makoto hastily retreated, and she smiled with gleaming, white teeth.

“Come now, Makoto. Don’t be shy,” she laughed, holding out the steaming, perfectly cooked takoyaki balls toward him, her arms outstretched trying to force him to take the suspicious plate of food. Makoto eyed it as she came closer and closer. His eyes widened in shock for what must have been the hundredth time that night.

“Are those sparklers? What are you trying to feed me, anyway?! Stop, don’t give that to me!” Junko simply smiled, like she expected Makoto would give in soon enough, the way cornered prey might give in to a powerful predator. As Junko’s advances became more aggressive, Makoto reached out impulsively and shoved the plate away from him. “I can’t eat that, I’ll die!”

“That’s the point-” Junko began to say, but the takoyaki balls drenched in thick, brown sauce, along with the lit sparklers and explosives wedged in between them, were thrown back toward her from the force of Makoto’s push, and they subsequently fell into her open mouth. Reflexively, Junko swallowed the contents of the platter whole.

Makoto and Junko stared at each other for a moment.

“Ah, uh-” Makoto stuttered. “S-Sorry?”

Why was he apologizing, anyway? Junko had just been trying to get him to swallow it only seconds ago. If there was nothing wrong with it, then it should not be a problem for her to eat it herself. Except that there was something wrong with it.

A muffled sizzling sound coming from Junko’s stomach caught her attention, and she ecstatically smiled as she dove forward and grabbed Makoto, hugging him as tightly as possible while he was caught off-guard.

“Oh, the despair!” she exclaimed gleefully. “We’ll be blasted to kingdom come in just a few more moments, even though I couldn’t get you to eat it properly.”

“And why would I eat it?! Let go of me-” Makoto protested, struggling violently in her grasp to no avail. Junko plopped a perfectly manicured hand over his mouth with a sharp look.

“Shut up, Makoto. I want to enjoy this moment, and you’re ruining it,” she cheerfully said, although her eyes were deadly. Makoto had nothing much to say anymore, anyway, since it was clear that Junko was not about to let him go—but that was not going to stop him from trying to getaway. He was never going to give in to despair; it was against his very nature. He continued to squirm in Junko’s bear hug, although escape was unlikely, and Junko began counting down to the explosion happily.

“3...2...1…!”

Makoto screwed his eyes shut nervously and braced himself. Not that it was going to make a difference in the face of dangerous explosives, but he could at least pretend he had an iota of control over the ridiculous situation.

Only, nothing happened, and he was still intact half a minute later. Junko let go of him, shrugging.

“Must’ve been a dud,” she nonchalantly said. “Too bad. I thought I’d gotten you that time.”

She brought her cigar to her lips, which was still ostensibly sparkling, and Makoto could not help but stare at it again. It was the kind of prop that drew attention wherever it went, even if you saw it before. As he was watching, mesmerized, a small, pale white moth fluttered toward it in looping movements. Makoto flinched when it landed on the burning tip of the cigar and smoldered into ashes.

Junko chuckled, unruffled, and seemingly amused.

“Ah, that’s the fourth one tonight.”

Makoto lifted his eyes to meet hers, which were burning like the end of her cigar despite their icy blue hue. She was smiling as usual, but Makoto couldn’t restrain the shiver that ran down his back.

“The fourth moth that burned to death on your cigar?”

She smirked.

“Yeah.” Her crystalline blue eyes bored into him. “Pity that I just can’t get you to join them,” she commented offhandedly. “After all,” she brought an elegant, white hand to his tan cheek, “you’re the one I want the most, Makoto.”

Another chill, not unlike her fiery, cold eyes, came over him like a douse of ice water. He stared back at her, his jaw set.

“I won’t join them. Not now, not ever.”

Junko laughed, the sound hollow and high-pitched.��

“I’ll get you one of these days.” She paused and put a hand to her chest, where she casually drew out a colorful stick of dynamite as if simply fishing her phone out of her pocket. “Maybe it’ll be today?”

With a swift movement that looked all too natural to her, she lit the dynamite, tossing it carelessly into a taiyaki stand—which was thankfully unattended and without any festival-goers nearby.

Makoto’s eyes were glued to the soaring arc of the dynamite as it dropped to the food stall, his jaw gaping.

“What are you doing?!”

Junko crossed her arms with a smug smile and took the cigar from her lip, tapping it delicately to get the ashes off.

“Oh, just going blast fishing.” Puzzled, Makoto gave her a bewildered look. “You’ll see soon enough,” she cackled.

The taiyaki stand blew up, bursting into a multitude of colors and a dazzling show of lights, becoming a kaleidoscopic display as the many taiyaki pastries flew out of the stall by the dozen and proceeded to rain from the sky like meteorites. Junko held out her hand and happened to catch one of the flaming taiyaki with a piece of apparently inflammable wax paper. She offered it to Makoto with a bright, almost innocent grin as if she had not just blown up a food stall like a maniac. Correction: she was a maniac.

“Here, want one? They’re perfectly cooked.”

Makoto shook his head adamantly, his eyes darting around as he watched the countless blazing taiyaki fall from the sky like blistering meteorites from space.

“I’m good.” Remembering the cotton candy he bought, clutched safely in his hand, he took a look and sighed in relief to see that it was still okay. “I’ll eat my cotton candy, thank you very much.”

Junko surveyed him as he took a bite, her face blank. Makoto tried to forget she was there, but it was hard, veering on impossible to ignore the presence of someone like Junko, who was the definition of presence.

He turned his back to her to ignore her, but Junko called out to him in a manner of seconds after Makoto started eating his cotton candy.

“Oh, Makoto!”

He turned to walk the opposite direction, away from Junko, but he took no more than a few steps before coming face-to-face with her once again.

“Junko?! Ah!”

He started backing away. With all that she had put him through tonight, he knew this would not end well for him if he stuck around.

“You scream at me like I’m a monster or something,” she said, feigning hurt. “You wound me.”

Makoto looked around for an escape as always, but the crowd was dense tonight, as it was each year.

“Why do you keep trying to set explosives off near me? You’re going to kill me,” he said exasperatedly.

Junko twisted a stray piece of blonde hair around her finger, looking bored.

“Uh, yeah, that’s kind of the point. What did you think I was trying to do?”

He shook his head. There was no point in trying to reason with her. It was a better idea to walk away. But before he knew it, he was stopped in his tracks. Something heavy was now attached to his back.

He turned to see Junko a few feet away, standing where she had been earlier. And she was slowly raising a string to her lit cigar. Makoto’s eyes followed the string. It was attached to whatever was on his back.

He did not have eyes on his back and could not know exactly what was on his back, but he had enough sense to know that whatever it was, a string attached to it getting lit did not bode well for him in the least.

He sprinted over to stop her, but it was too late. She winked, and within moments, he was racing into the sky on a bumpy ride. Makoto grabbed at the ropes attaching whatever it was to his back, and they surprisingly tore with ease. Huh. Okay, note to self to try that first instead of trying to stop a despair-crazed high school girl. And for some reason, fireworks were already going on, dangerously close to him. Were they not supposed to be at the end of the festival? And farther away from crowds of people, so no one was hurt?

But the problem now was that he was hurtling out of the night sky. Luckily, he had not flown too high before dismantling the ropes. He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact of the hard ground—but he felt nothing.

Makoto opened his eyes only to see Junko’s face inches from his.

“Whoa!”

She just caught him from the sky, and they were standing in a clearing at the festival’s entrance.

“You know, you’re heavier than you look,” she laughed and threw him aside, his tailbone hitting the hard ground. He groaned and slowly got up on his feet, rubbing his backside. Why did he feel like he already was an old man when he was just a high schooler?

“Thanks?”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” she smirked and lit a firework with her cigar, tossing it into the sky.

So it was her, after all, who had been setting off fireworks in the middle of the festival. He should have known. It was unsafe and untimely, after all. But, speaking of unsafe and untimely, a huge pile of explosives had just been carted over behind her, likely courtesy of Mukuro.

Junko did not even have to look behind her before she took a step back and plopped down onto the messy stacks of dynamite, a lazy smile on her lips as she puffed away at her cigar.

“W-What are you doing?!” Makoto stammered. “You’re going to blow yourself up like that! And it’ll probably hurt people at the festival too since there are so many explosives!”

Junko rolled her eyes.

“Again, that’s kind of the point of me sitting here. Way to state the obvious.”

Confused, Makoto rephrased his words.

“Weren’t you trying to blow me up?”

Junko laughed and shrugged.

“Yeah, but this is fun too. Just part of the excitement, you know?”

Something strange was swirling in those pale blue eyes of her, and Makoto had seen that look enough to know what it meant. She was enjoying the thrill of despair.

“Suit yourself, I guess,” Makoto said, backing away for what seemed like the umpteenth time of the night. “But keep me out of it.”

Junko pouted and pursed her lips.

“You’re no fun! Why don’t you come over here and sit next to me, Makoto?”

He shook his head, eyes wide, and started to turn and walk away. But before he knew it, he felt a hand on his shoulder forcefully stop him and turn him so that he faced its owner once again.

“Come on, don’t be lame,” Junko sighed. “Here, take this, and this,” she said. She took her cigar out of her mouth and popped it into Makoto’s mouth, who coughed slightly from the smoke but tried not to drop it on the ground. Then Junko promptly pushed an armful of dynamite and other varied explosives into Makoto’s arms, who automatically caught them. It was his nature to be a pushover helpful.

“Wait, what are you doing? Why are you giving me your cigar?”

Makoto tried not to drop anything, but then he realized he had a smoking cigar in his mouth, and if it happened to light any fuses, he would be dead.

“Blow some stuff up, dude! Don’t be a drag and rain on my parade,” Junko smirked. “All you gotta do is put the end of the cigar to the fuse!”

Makoto immediately dropped all of the explosives on the ground, and they clattered against each other noisily as they fell and rolled around.

“Why would I want to do that?!”

“It’s fun!” Junko cackled and scooped a few more sticks of dynamite back into Makoto’s arms, shoving them against his chest in a pushy manner.

Makoto threw them away from himself and took the cigar out of his mouth.

“I’m not you! I don’t enjoy blowing things up or near-death experiences,” he said exasperatedly. “Stop giving me explosives, and take your cigar back.”

Junko eyed him for a good few seconds before taking the cigar from Makoto’s fingers and putting the cigar back in her mouth.

“Ooh! Indirect kiss,” she squealed.

Makoto winced and wiped his mouth.

“That was so unnecessary,” he replied dryly, unamused.

“Unnecessary, but true!” she sings in his ear, and Junko swings an arm over his shoulder.

“Yo, take a look over there. I got it for my last birthday,” Junko said proudly and pointed to a large, shadowy figure in the distance, but still rather close to the festival.

He raised his head to look at what was over there. It was rather big and towering over the trees where it had been placed. A...Junko statue? Makoto started to sweat. It was giving him bad vibes.

Sure enough, the real Junko had separated from him and was standing a few feet away from him, holding a TNT plunger. He attempted to grab it from her, but he was still weak in the knees after getting tossed like a salad in the air from being an unwilling participant to his little fireworks adventure.

She pushed down on the TNT plunger triumphantly and cackled as the statue burst into pieces. Makoto breathed in sharply and watched as the festival descended into chaos.

People were running around screaming as rubble on fire fell from the skies and rained upon the festival booths, setting things on fire and destroying merchandise. Before this, no one had batted an eye at their explosives and fireworks, since it just seemed like a couple flirting weirdly, the explosives seemed fake, and fireworks were normal any way, but now that safety was severely compromised, everyone was turning to point fingers at Makoto and Junko.

But Junko could care less. She was hoping to see a piece of flaming rubble land on Makoto, who was still standing out in the open carelessly. It was then that she saw a figure grab his arm and pull him away, and she punched the booth nearby in anger, which collapsed under her force and a stray boulder, the plastic poles holding it snapping in half easily. She had been so close.

“Come on, Makoto. It’s not safe here,” said Kyouko.

Makoto let him get dragged away, and then took a second look at Kyouko, who had let go of him after he was now walking without her prompting.

“You’re here at the festival?”

She nodded.

“Yes, and I’ve been watching you run around like a trapped mouse.”

Makoto stopped walking in the middle of the road to gawk at her.

“You’ve been watching? And you didn’t say anything?”

Kyouko sighed.

“Yes. Can we keep walking? I’m not going to be lucky enough to avoid getting struck down with flaming rubble like you.”

Makoto started walking again but at a faster pace to accommodate Kyouko’s stride.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “But could you help me escape her? I just wanted to have a good time at the festival tonight, but I’m stuck trying to run away from her all night instead.”

“Runaway from who?” a voice said imperiously.

Makoto turned to see Junko sitting on a rocket barely a meter away.

“Junko!” He turned to ask Kyouko for help, but the detective had already disappeared into the night. He curled his hand into a fist in irritation. Sometimes she could be so...ugh!

“Come here, Makoto,” Junko beckoned.

Makoto was about to politely refuse before he felt something hard pressing at his back. He had never felt one pressed to his back before, but he was guessing this was a gun, probably operated by Mukuro. A chill ran down his back.

“Okay, okay, I get it! I’m coming.”

With little other choices, he walked over and climbed onto the rocket with Junko, taking a seat.

“Good boy,” Junko said, grinning and patting him on the head, ruffling his brown hair.

“I’m not a dog,” he sighed.

“You are if I say you are,” Junko said. She held up the fuse in one hand, and in her other hand, she momentarily pinched her cigar between elegantly manicured fingers and tapped it. Its glowing ashes fell onto the fuse, and within moments, the two were flying into the sky.

Makoto tried to hold on, but his hands were still sweaty, and with little grip to keep him ahold, he slid off of the rocket, falling, and watched as Junko continued, soaring through the night sky, the stars twinkling. The rocket exploded to reveal a firework image of Junko riding it, who winked—seemingly at Makoto himself—and then took a seductive drag on the firework cigar before she ostentatiously blew a firework smoke ring into the sky, gloriously lighting up the night. He could not help but smile a little at her fireworks, so utterly Junko-like—but such an endearing moment was quickly interrupted by the leftover bits of the fireworks dropping into a ring of fire around him into the ground.

He scooted away from the fire and sat in the dirt in the forest, beside the ruins of the festival. It was not his time to die yet. Or was it? He wondered when he saw what looked like a shooting star, heading straight for his face.

Something crashed into him, and Makoto fell over onto the ground, blinking blankly as he lay on the ground.

The something was Junko, and she was sitting on top of him—straddling him. She was a sight to see, and not because she was beautiful, though this too was true; she was covered in soot and parts of her yukata were smoldering, holes in the fabric ringed with singed black. She leaned down and took her cigar out of her mouth, tapping its ashes out centimeters away from Makoto’s head, smiling in the insane way she usually did when she was high off of despair.

“What a night, am I right?” she giggled.

Makoto gulped and looked away from her.

“No thanks to you,” he said, almost bitterly. But he was too nice to be sour about it.

Junko laughed dismissively.

“It’s a night you’ll remember forever, though. Immortalized in the history of Tanabata Festivals.”

“Is this why you did it? Chasing me around with explosives and blowing stuff up?” Makoto demanded.

Junko shook her head and took a drag from her cigar before answering.

“No, of course not, silly! I wanted to see you suffer, and I wanted to feel despair,” she responded happily. “You little nitwit.” She flicked him on the forehead, and he blinked reflexively. “Daww, did that hurt? Here, I’ll kiss it better.”

She bent down and placed a rather gentle kiss on Makoto’s forehead, and for a moment, just a moment, he thought it would not be too bad to date Junko Enoshima.

But then she stepped away from his body and aimed a gigantic rocket launcher at him, courtesy of her other half, Mukuro, and he was brought back to reality.

Makoto scrambled to his feet and began running in the opposite direction. He watched as a missile shot by Junko and meant for him tore through a tree less than a meter away from him. The missile soared upward and disappeared into the sky. He shuddered to think what would have happened to him if the poor tree looked this miserable.

As for Junko, she had been slightly put out at her newly failed attempt to kill Makoto, but not too put out—after all, there was still much more to come. However, she did notice the unfortunate lack of sparks coming from her cigar, which truly was put out. With a smirk, she looked in Makoto’s direction and started to walk over.

The sound of Junko’s footsteps alerted Makoto to her presence, and he turned and watched as she made her way over to him with swaying hips and a sultry smile.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the man of the hour.” She took the cigar from her mouth, the head of the cigar dragging sensually against her lips, which were glossy and moist. “Got a light?”

Before he could answer her, though, fate had decreed its will, and a bolt of lightning struck the earth just millimeters from Makoto and hit the tip of Junko’s cigar straight-on, relighting her cigar and blasting her into the air. Makoto watched with an open mouth as Junko went flying away and over the trees of the forest beside the festival grounds in what was a rather spectacular manner. At least, if not for how ridiculously perilous the situation was, even if it was just like the way cartoony villains got sent flying out of the panels in the comic books Makoto avidly read as a child.

When he realized he was holding his breath, he started taking sputtering breaths once again; the dynamic and chaotic nature of all that Junko involved him in seemed to have startled him into a moment of shock. Makoto took a seat against a tree close to where the festival was, one of the few that was thankfully still in one piece.

From here, he could see all of the festival grounds, and it appeared as though people were salvaging the remains of the festival and setting up to have fun again. Fires were put out, stands erected once again, and children were playing games at different stalls with bright smiles on their round faces. With a smile of his own, Makoto walked into the festival. At least Junko had not completely demolished the festival grounds. It appeared hope would prevail yet again.

Makoto walked to a booth and purchased a candied apple. He strolled and surveyed the area with a lenient eye, warmth fluttering inside as he watched the children play with yo-yos and run around. Finally, he could enjoy the festival a little bit and live like he was just 18 years old—or maybe not.

“Makoto! Maybe you should check your pocket.”

“What for?” he said, and looked at his back pocket, only to find a stick of dynamite lodged there snugly. “Gah!”

He grabbed it, avoiding the spark, and chucked it into the woods. ‘Sorry, trees,’ he apologized internally. ‘Crisis averted,’ he thought to himself and wiped the sweat off his brow. He was getting tired of the whole defying death deal and running away from explosions all night.

It was then that Makoto happened to notice out of the corner of his eye a hint of blond hair. The smell of a cigar wafted through the air and mingled with the scents of oil and sweets. Junko’s lustrous, long hair had become undone, her hairpin from before having been blown off when lightning struck her, and the tip of her cigar, sitting comfortably between her lips again, was crackling with electricity. Along with those details, he saw in her hands a gigantic, colorful, festive-looking mallet.

“Sweet dreams, Makoto!”

He barely had the time to panic or form any coherent thoughts before he found himself hammered with the mallet Junko was wielding. It would not be until later when he was conscious again that he would realize the mallet’s uncanny resemblance to the Mallet of Luck, Uchide-no-Kozuchi. It was an unfortunate coincidence—though knowing Junko, it probably was not a coincidence but another sick joke she had prepared for his torment and thus her amusement.

A burning sensation on his cheek forced Makoto out of his unwilling slumber. He reflexively jolted his body away from the source of the pain.

“Wakey-wakey, Makoto! Sleeping beauty’s got to wake up now unless he’d like another kiss to wake him up a little more thoroughly,” Junko chuckled, now holding the culprit of Makoto’s first, burning kiss—her cigar—between two slender fingers.

He woke up to the breezy night air and found himself perched on a ledge a little bit above the festival. It was an ideal place for viewing fireworks. Aside from there being Junko Enoshima nearby, that is. His cheek was stinging, and he could feel the ashes sticking to his sweaty skin unpleasantly from the tip of Junko’s cigar she had unceremoniously and firmly pressed to his face. He itched to rub them off and cool his burn, but he felt too sluggish to move. His head was pounding as if Junko had somehow hacked into his brain and managed to lit fireworks inside it. With her abilities, he would not doubt the possibility if he did not remember that he had been whacked over the head by the oversized mallet she had been holding.

“Makoto! You’re awake! I thought I’d have to kiss you again. Our main attraction is almost ready,” Junko cooed with delight.

Still woozy, Makoto looked around in a daze.

“Huh? Main attraction?”

Junko walked over to an enormous black cannon, which was swathed in bright, gaudy streamers and had strings of paper origami stars hanging off its sides like colorful, sparse bead curtains, and she laughed maniacally.

“Look, it’s a cannon! It fits a human—or two—inside! All I gotta do is light this baby, and you’ll go boom boom!” She took a nice, long drag on her cigar before pursing her lips and letting out a stream of smoke. “I borrowed the cannon and mallet from our adorable, tiny upperclassman, Hiyoko. Not that I asked her or anything, but never mind that—aren’t they simply magnificent?” She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered in delight, her face pink with excitement and her trembling lips pressed together. “Ooh, I just can’t wait!”

She sauntered over to him and leaned in close, the tip of her fat cigar brushing against his nose sootily.

“And you’ll be the guest of honor tonight, Makoto! Ooh, I’m so excited! I simply can’t wait!”

With that, she brought the humongous mallet that’d knocked Makoto unconscious to the end of her cigar, lighting the mallet on fire—it was easily flammable or perhaps coated in a flammable substance. With a single swing of her mallet, she hit Makoto into the air with a flourish, spinning in a crude and yet undeniably beautiful manner before sending the flaming mallet hurtling straight into the sky with a great throw. The eye-catching hammer spun just as Junko did, and it burst into an elaborate, magnificent display of fireworks. The firepower behind the mallet came from the excessive amount of firework powder tightly packed into its head, which had also made it a weighty and fearsome weapon for Junko to brandish before it exploded. Although Makoto was too preoccupied with soaring into the air and subsequently falling, the rest of the festival-goers were able to appreciate the large, colorful image created, which was a resplendent copy of the mallet before it had exploded.

Makoto dropped into the mouth of the cannon almost perfectly. The rest of the firework mallet fell out of sight.

“Hey! Get me out of here!” he banged his fists on the curved metal from inside the cannon, but it was useless.

“No way!” Junko snorted. “You’re live on television and streaming online. Be nice to my viewers! And of course, we’re close to the festival too, so they’re gonna have front and center seats to you getting shot outta that cannon!”

“I’m going to really die this time,” Makoto groaned and put his face in his hands, sitting in the darkness. Hopefully, Junko would set out some fireworks, and his death would not seem too grim.

“Of course you will, sweetie! Now it’s time to light this baby,” Junko shouted into a giant megaphone enthusiastically. People from the festival looked up at her to see what was going on, curious. “Once I light it, there’s no going back! This fuse can’t be put out. The cannon will be shot tonight, and the lucky rider is going to be Makoto! What a fine opportunity you have to see this special view tonight, folks! Happy Tanabata!”

Junko took the long fuse of the cannon, which was extended for dramatic suspense, and put the end of her cigar to the fuse, lighting it. She climbed onto the barrel of the cannon cheerfully and plugged her ears, a smile stretched from cheek to cheek on her face. But of course, shooting Makoto into the sky just wouldn’t be complete without a good jab at him before.

She scooted up the cannon and popped her head into the mouth of the cannon.

“Hey, Makoto-whoah!”

Junko tumbled inside in a surprising show of uncharacteristic clumsiness. With the shaking of the cannon from her falling inside, Makoto fell forward and dove face-first into her chest.

“Mmph!”

Somehow, Makoto managed to extract himself from her chest, but not without a lot of awkward shifting in their positions inside the cannon.

“You know, this would be the part where I punch you into space—except that the cannon’s going to do that for me,” Junko snickered.

“Gh! Sorry,” Makoto said, feeling his face grow hot.

“No harm done,” Junko said. “Except that you’re tarnishing a young girl’s purity,” she teased him.

Makoto sighed and shook his head in exasperation.

“Anyway, look at what you’ve done. Now we’re both stuck in here. This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t tried to shoot me out of this humongous cannon.”

“No,” Junko corrected him. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t avoided death earlier when I was setting off explosives.”

“What?” Makoto exclaimed. “So I’m just supposed to lay down and explode from a stick of dynamite?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “That’s what’s supposed to happen. Or you’re supposed to be unlucky and get hit by a piece of flaming debris.”

“And what’s the point in all that?” Makoto asked cynically.

“Because I like you,” Junko said rather abruptly. “That’s why I’ve been chasing after you all night and setting off explosives near you. I just wanted your attention all along.”

Makoto rolled his eyes.

“You’re joking, aren’t you.”

“No, I’m not,” she replied, and for once she sounded serious. “I like you, Makoto.”

He looked at her blue eyes, blond hair, and torn up yukata. Junko Enoshima was quite possibly one of the most beautiful girls he had ever met, not to mention one of the most insane girls he had ever met. And yet, was it possible? He stared at her, trying to decipher her, and then she burst into laughter.

“Bwahaha! You’re so naive, Makoto. How could I ever like an ordinary, non-despair-inducing guy like you?” she said cuttingly.

Yeah, she was the same Junko he had always known after all.

Makoto sighed, looking at the still-lit cigar in Junko’s mouth. Honestly, the nerve of this girl…

Wait. The cigar was glowing rather brightly, which let him see a little. It seemed like there was a chink in the cannon somewhere next to his butt. He felt around and pressed at it, and he suddenly fell through the walls of the cannon and onto the plain ground. A sense of relief coursed through him as he glanced up and saw the hatch close back up. Makoto stood and ran. The cannon had been elevated, so there was ample space under it to stand and walk. The fuse seemed to be running out as the spark traveled closer and closer to the butt of the cannon.

Meanwhile, Junko sat in the cannon comfortably.

“He got away again,” she sighed. “How despairful… But on the bright side, the cannon’s about to fire!”

She puffed at her cigar in excitement.

“This is gonna be a good show.”

She climbed out toward the mouth of the cannon and stuck her head out, looking around. There he was. Makoto had not gotten too far yet since it had only been a few seconds since he had escaped.

“Yoohoo, Makoto!”

The person in question momentarily stopped running away and looked over. Of course. Who else would be calling his name? She was waving at him, too.

“Wish you were here,” Junko winked at him and blew out a smokey heart ring before settling back inside the cannon, even though at that point, it would have been easy for her to simply climb out of the cannon.

Outside of the cannon, Makoto sprinted away, plugging his ears. He stood safely in the forest and watched as the cannon shot out one Junko Enoshima, who appeared a dazzling shooting star bursting forth. Accompanying her takeoff were relentless waves of flashy, chromatic fireworks, interspersed with showers of gold fire. Following the launching of the cannon, not a second passed without another booming firework to fill the darkness hanging above. Hot, bright sparks flew out from the display, and the ground rumbled, quaking with the vibrations and noise of the massive contraption exerting—no, unleashing—its force.

“Yes! Despair!” she shouted. “Woohoo!”

The distance made her voice seem faint, but it was miraculous Makoto could even still hear her at all amid all the noise. People were watching from the festival grounds, clapping and cheering for her. After all the trouble she caused, they were rather happy she had been shot out of a cannon to somewhere hopefully far away from the night’s festivities. Makoto himself was simply relieved that it was not him who was shot out of that cannon. Who knows what would have happened to him?

And with that, the night of the Tanabata Festival came to a close; it was a grand finale truly befitting of all that had preceded it. The shining Junko Enoshima disappeared into the night sky, brilliantly twinkling out of sight with a “ding!”

“A fitting end, don’t you think?”

Kyouko was standing next to Makoto, who startled at her words and glanced at her briefly before looking back at the beautiful night sky.

“Kyouko? When did you get here?”

“I was here all along,” she smiled. “You ran over here after I got here.”

“So you were going to just watch as Junko shot me out of that ridiculous cannon,” Makoto said in an accusing tone.

Kyouko shook her head.

“I knew it’d end up like this.”

Makoto turned his head to look at her. Kyouko’s pink eyes were shining slightly.

“Did you open the cannon hatch to help me escape?” he questioned.

Neither confirming nor denying his words, Kyouko just smiled mysteriously.

“I’ll just say it was lucky that you escaped her plans again. As expected of the Ultimate Lucky Student.”

It was then that Makoto felt something hit his head as it had simply dropped out of the sky—and it might as well have; when he caught it after it bounced off his noggin, the object in his grasp turned out to be Junko’s lighter, now safely in his possession. It must have fallen out of her pocket when she blasted out of the cannon.

Makoto turned his gaze back to the night sky where Junko twinkled out of sight, the sky no longer brilliantly lit up by the fireworks or Junko’s ride through it. Despite all that he had gone through tonight at Junko’s expense, with attempt after attempt to blow him up, he hoped that she was alright wherever she ended up landing. Though, it was not exactly his first time seeing Junko get caught up in these kinds of things: mishaps, or adventures if you will. That is if you liked for your adventures to constantly put your life at risk.

He glanced down at the lighter clutched in his hand, the smooth metal reflecting the pale moonlight that now shone forth in the absence of other flashy light displays. He sure hoped that Junko would maybe, just maybe, grow out of her extreme antics and unusual disposition for attracting—or, making—trouble someday.

Omake

Junko flew through the sky, her trusty cigar still in her mouth, and she protected the end from the wind as it burned vicariously. With no way to slow down her rocky flight—assuming she even would want to—and the multitudes of explosive power from gunpowder and other contraptions still on her person, Junko ignited most gloriously.

From far away, the scorching ball of fire she became seemed to be a shooting star soaring through the night sky. As she blazed through the sky in a fury of orange, the people down below gazed up in wonder and, thinking she was a shooting star, made wishes on her. If she had been cognizant of this, Junko would have fallen into despair from accidentally turning herself into a symbol of hope. It contradicted all that she aimed to be and for the most part, still was, if not for her current appearance that had temporarily elevated her into an unidentified flying object that could hypothetically grant wishes.

Thanks to all the power in the cannon that Junko fastidiously prepared, her flight through the sky travelled a great ways away from the festival. If she were to hazard a guess, she’d traveled hundreds of miles at the very least, and for a brief moment, she thought she might’ve lost consciousness as she reached space, where the air was thin and unforgiving. But luckily—or unluckily—Junko quickly started free-falling back to earth. The wind gave a great roar past her ears as it clawed at what was left of her already ripped and thoroughly burnt yukata. The air pressure adjusted with her great fall, allowing her to breathe, even if she was still dropping at a dangerously accelerating rate.

With a big splash, Junko plunked into the water by the shore of a deserted island, effectively extinguishing her cigar and herself. Being completely submerged in the water, she flailed until her head was out of the water again and sputtered slightly, though she kept a firm grip on her cigar. A trusty keepsake like her cigar should always be at her side, after all. It was custom-made, too.

When she made it to the sandy white shore, crawling and coughing, she clambered back onto her feet and attempted to dry herself off, wringing her hair and the rags of her clothes. She was alive and surprisingly well, aside from being thoroughly charred and bruised from her ride through space. But even escaping with that amount of injury seemed to be getting off lightly, considering all that she had gone through.

Junko chewed on her cigar, which now faintly tasted of saltwater from the ocean, though she didn’t need the cigar to taste the salt—her mouth was already tainted with the ocean water after she’d unceremoniously been dumped into the water and half-drowned, like a cube of sugar might be dropped into a cup of hot tea. At least she didn’t simply dissolve the way sugar did, though, and the water was lukewarm, being summer. She felt around herself for her lighter so she could relight her cigar, but it was nowhere to be found. All she came up with was the fine grains of sand sticking to her damp skin. Junko sighed. It must have dropped out of her pocket on her ride over here. Hopefully, it would set some trees on fire and bring despair somewhere, she thought to herself.

“Can’t a girl just smoke a cigar?” she complained.

But at least she did not have any more explosives or fireworks to set off anyway, she thought to herself. It had been a good night, though. It was despair-inducing that she ended up getting shot out of the cannon instead and that Makoto escaped a gruesome fate yet again.

“Makoto sure is one lucky bastard,” she reflected. “Well, I guess he hasn’t really got anything else going for him, though, so it’s his one saving grace. Everything else about him is the most average of the average.”

She looked out over the open waters and dark sky, watching some fireworks faintly go off in the distance. The myriad of colorful lights was beautiful as they sprinkled in and out of existence, even dimmed by how far away she was watching them from. They reminded her of all that’d happened during this one night, which inevitably led her thoughts to the past times she’d attempted to put Makoto in extreme danger in her usual despair-inducing manner.

Fondly, she remembered when she’d gently nudged Makoto toward the train tracks by swinging her school bag toward him—there wasn’t much in it, really, just a few bricks—only for him to trip and spin, falling in the opposite direction and comically face-planting on the train platform, whereas Junko had also tripped, but toward the actual train tracks. The oncoming train had barrelled straight into her, and she’d landed a good ten meters away from the train from the force of impact. They’d rushed her to the hospital, where she was put in an entire-body cast and stuck in the plain white room, bored to death for a few months. The only minimal comfort was that she had her other half, Mukuro, to be her hands and feet while she was immobilized.

There were a few other instances that Junko had tried to put Makoto in danger, from plain incidents like locking him in the freezer room in a warehouse, to movie-esque occurrences like following him on a crazy car chase with Mukuro behind the gun and shooting at his car. Each time, she had met her defeat in all kinds of different ways, shameful, odd, and painful—and yet, oh-so enjoyable.

As she watched the fireworks, it suddenly occurred to her that one of those so-called fireworks was actually the missile she’d fired off earlier, and it was hurtling straight in her direction at Mach speed.

“Uh-oh.”

Makoto was holding a teddy bear plushie and eating konpeito, candied stars, when he noticed a huge, billowing mushroom cloud in the distance. Along with it came a deafening, faraway kaboom that rumbled the ground and sent tingling vibrations up his legs. The top of the cloud had ears and the fluffy shapes had an uncanny resemblance to the head of Junko’s beloved Monokuma.

His phone vibrated with a notification, and he pulled it out only to see a message from Junko, which read:

“I’m alive!😁✌️ Bet you would be dead if you were me 💕💕I’ll get you next time 😜”

His phone vibrated again, and a photo appeared in the chat. Did he even want to look? He sighed. Better to know what was going on, after all.

He tapped on the photo to reveal Junko herself, covered in black ashes from head to toe. Her yukata was even more torn up than the last time he’d seen her—it was more shreds of scorched fabric than an article of clothing at this point—and the overbearing cigar was still snug between her lips and lit. It looked like the cigar had been relit by the explosion of the missile's remains, which he could see in the background of her photo, just next to her feet. As expected of Junko: not even a ride through space from a massive cannon and fall from grace could defeat her, and neither could a military-issue missile.

Makoto was not looking forward to the next time. He very much hoped there would not be a next time.

But the fact that Junko was alive ensured it, and he put his phone back in his pocket, accepting his fate. Hopefully, the next time, he would come out alive and safe again, if not a little ragged.

#junko enoshima #danganronpa #makoto naegi #danganronpa 1 #dr fanfiction #naeshima #fanfiction #writing #lux writes #luxexhomines #commission

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stinkyratshadowgod · 4 years

Text

Crazy Storyline Apex Theory

(P.s: I’m reposting because Tumblr F*CKING ate my first post)

Okay in the trailer for the new event “Lost Treasures”, we see at the end that in Mila (in some way) spoke to Crypto through his drone, saying “Tae, it’s me. Be carefull! they’re watching you”. Naturally i was going to joke “Haha Mila is going to be the next Apex Legends next season lmao”. But then i stopped and thought more about it, and instead of making a joke, i decided to write a theory about why is that plausible and it’s going to be the next storyline (or maybe...this storyline)

Okay what do we know about Mila? Not much actually, she and Tae found a prediction algorithm that is directly related to the Apex Games (but we don’t know who made that and the real purpose), and then she saves it in a pen drive, leaves and is found “dead” next morning, with her brother being blamed as the killer

I know that this isn’t a lot to work with, but i think it’s enough to cook something. The name of my plate (aka theory) is “Apex is going to pull up a Winter Soldier and make Mila a brainwashed soldier (or expert Hacker) from Hammond”. You better enjoy it while it is still hot

1-Mila is still alive

Ok so why do i believe that? It’s because i believe that Mila is actually alive (even tho it’s a schrodinger cat paradox situation because shes alive and dead at the same at, and we will only know the real result when Respawn pulls her out of the “box”).

My evidences is that 1-The new trailer (lol) and 2-Shes actually pretty usefull: Shes a hacker, a good one, she was the one (with the help of Tae) to unlock the prediction programm, and she developed the system that unlock it (or at least had the knowledge that the system she found online would help unlock the algorithm). And because shes connected to the biggest hacker of the outlands, so perhaps they are going to use her to blackmail Crypto to stop going after the truth.

Respawn never explained how the brothers found the algorithm, but whatever the case is, if the sindicate would go out of their way to “eliminate” Mila and then go after her brother (but we know that this time they wanted for real kill Crypto) that must mean that the prediction algorithm must be really important, and we know why:

2-Season 4 (and the Override event)

Hammond had great interest in the Apex Games in the start of Season 4, and so they made a deal with the AG, and so Hammod brought us 1-Revenant (the best decision ever i love him but i better stop or else i will write a full essay on why i love Rev); 2-The evo shield (at least i headcannon that the evo shields are a Hammond creation in order to please the Legends), but in return they would build the planet harvester and do some promotion...it’s just me that thinks that a big company especialized in robotics (and titans) would only bring a harvester and do a propaganda to show that their hip and cool?

Even the harvester is a little weird, because: 1-The Apex Games takes ages after Titanfall 2 campaign (10 years i belive), and the war is over, so the need of building Titans wouldn’t be very necessary, yeah they can be used as heavy machinery in hazardous jobs, but the main use of the titans was military, and they already use MRVNS units to replace humans. I know that building robots and guns requires a lot of materials, but the harvester seems like a little bit of a overkill, also are we even sure that they are collecting materials for the robots? (which brings me to my next point)

2-What the heck is the planet harvester even harvesting? By the looks of the big lazer, it looks like they are actually harvesting the core of the world edge’s planet (idk if it’s also sucking materials for robots and guns, but you never see pieces of scraps flying up with the lazer, and we don’t see a storage thing to store the minerals)

I believe the real reason that Hammond is so interested in the Apex Games is actually because of 2 mf’s: 1-Revenant (since he was killing all the Hammonds workers and those connected to the simulacrum project) and 2-Crypto, since hes the one going after their tail, and Hammond knows that Crypto has the actual powers to be a real problem to them, so they partner up with the Apex Games just to keep a closer eye to Tae Joon (and Revenant but who can blame them Rev is a real eye treat).

(Side point: While i was writting this theory, i remembered a critical point of the Override event...the rewards, the rewards you got when you gained points, and in the points reward’s menu, we see this:

At first we thought this was Rev doing, but when you think about, it doesn’t make a lot of sense since Revenant doesn’t give a crap about helping people, he just wants to kill (go you, you funky lil robot), and when you think more about it, hes couldn’t pull that off since hes not a computer specialist. The only character that could this is Crypto, but Tae A)Already knows that Hammond cannot be trusted or B)He coudn’t have predicted the partnership. My point is, Crypto also didn’t left the message (cuz it would be weird leaving a message about something that seems obivious to yourself). So the only one remaining is...Mila Mila is somewhere in the Outlands (maybe she escaped or she sneakily sended the message through the place she is being held) sending messages to Crypto.

2.5-The bunkers

You know whats weirder than The Planet Harvester? The underground holes (bunker? vaults? Its hard to use these words since they’re already taken) introduced in Season 5. In the trailer they looked like bunkers that you could open at any moment (like a trapdoor). In the release of season 5 the first thing i saw youtubers do is try to open the bunkers, they failed, and then they tried to use Loba (and they would usually fail and fall to their death, which was funny content). So i thought “Okay, maybe it’s going to be like Fortnite and with each week they are going to open one by one (and yes i play Fortnite casually, it’s actually a great and fun game), and nothing. So i ask “What is the purpose of those trapdoors?”

In the trailer of the new event, after Mila talked with Crypto through the Drone, it showed us a underground bunker opening, perhaps it’s Mila, or at least a secret base that Mila used to send Crypto the messages to warn him about Hammond. Whatever the case is, i strongly believe thats it’s going to be something related to Mila

3-The artifact and the “broken ghost”

The name “broken ghost” is actually a weird name for something that has something to with Loba, sure you can say “It actually refers to something that is going to be used against Revenant” or “It’s actually something that we are going to use to bring back Ash from the Titanfall 2 campaign” and while yes that can be the case (especially the Ash theory) i actually believe that what we’re building is a universal locator, a locator used to locate everything and everyone in the outlands. You may be asking “...okay...why?” And i tell you: “The legends don’t live together”

On what i mean by that: In a tweet sended by Tom Casiello, he told us that the legends don’t live in the dropship or in a big house like housemates (even tho i decided that in my heart they are one big family of friends living together in a mansion, with each one of them having a room with their themes). And in the Chapter 4 of the storyline, it’s revealed that Bangalore and Lifeline live in diferent houses.

Where i am going with this is: Crypto is still living like a nomad, always running (and he even says in one of the elimination lines [“Sometimes you get tired of running, I understand, but you can't ever stop."], thus showing that even in the Apex games, hes running from the sindicate, the people who got his sister and now is after him, but as we can see, they still didn’t got him. Hammond could be building a robot (since the artifact [currently] looks like a skull, which spookes me a lil bit) that could pinpoint the exact location of Crypto and finally capture him.

Now for the most bonker part of this theory: They brainwashed Mila and turned her into a winter soldier

As i already said, Mila is actually pretty useful, not only because of her smarts, but because of the advantage that using someone that Crypto is closely familiar with could bring his downfall. So heres what i concluding: Mila gets brainwashed by Hammond in order to have someone to be a strong match against the best hacker of all the outlands and get rid of a big threat.

You may be asking “How?” and for that, i call my favorite boy:

4-Revenant (also yes this is a excuse to talk more about my main)

Rev doesn’t need a introduction, but heres one anyway: He was a hitman that at some point has died, so Hammond used his still somewhat salvageable brain to put it in a Simulacrum (in which i headcannon that at the same time they were also experimenting with some supernatural elements, but thats a theory for another day). after 200 years, during a hitjob he found out about who he really was and now here we are...do i need to say more?...really? Okay then: Hammond showed that they can brainwash simulacrums for an extensive period of time (200+ years i believe) in order to make them believe that they are actually human (even tho climbing a 15 store building, turning into a shadow and stabbing people with hands isn’t very...human). So in Rev backstory (and in the simulacrum lore) Hammond shows that they have the capacity to brainwash brains since the simulacrums are in a way cyborgs, being 99% robot and 1% human (that would be the brain btw). So using these techniques on a human would be very easy (i think?, i don’t know a lot of Simulacrums cuz they’re not real)

5-”THE broken ghost”

I want to touch upon is the name “The Broken Ghost”, i know that people believe that it’s actually Ash from Titanfall 2 (because spoilers she died), but don’t you think it’s weird that even 10 years after the main campaign, they couldn’t bring Ash back? I know that Simulacrums are diferent from robots, but couldn’t they just repaired Ash? And to answer myself: No. You see Simulacrums have an internal brain that is used to datastore information, but Rev is a special boy cuz hes handsome and his storage system is external, so in another words, when she died in the explosion caused by when a Titan is destroyed (or worse if you did an execution on her), her brain was destroyed, thus meaning that there is absolutely no way to bring her back. And yes, i just debunked the theories about how Ash is actually the broken ghost. Speaking of ghosts, that brings me on another point

6-Revenants and Ghosts

I wanna talk briefly about real life urban legends. First the Revenant myth is that a phisical deceased person who returns from the dead with an eternal rage for revenge, they are strong, smart and imortal, only leaving the world of the living when his thirst of revenge is sated (which fits very well for our baby boy Rev from Apex Legends)

And the Ghost is a spiritual deceased person who starts haunting the world of the living, sending chills down the spines of those who looks at them.

While yes their backstories are similar, their main diferences is that Revenants are corporial, and ghosts are spiritual, aka, Ghosts have the ability to dissapear and make people wonder if what they saw was real or not. Sounds familiar? If not, let me spell out for you: Mila. In the Crypto’s backstory, she suddenly dissapeared from Tae’s life, even in a surreal way since his life suddenly came crashing down overnight. And even better: If she was truly the broken ghost and got introduced in the Apex Games next season, that would really mess with Crypto’s brain, cuz his paranoia would make him wonder if his sister was back for real or not.

7-”Hold up”

-Said the handsome reader, scratching their brain (and yes i write fanfics)-”What does that mean for the future of Apex Legends and the storyline?”. I look at them, with the fire of knowledge burning through my eyes-“Let me tell you about the Winter Soldier movie from Marvel”

One key element from the Winter Soldier is that he was being brainwashed by Hidra (a Marvel version of the Nazis) and Bucky Barnes would transform into a emotionless killing machine, ready to kill the next target or those who got in his/Hidra’s way. But one thing that would turn him back into a normal human is his best friend Captain America, that through his pursue and persistence, by the end of the movies he saves Bucky from the brainwash trance and later movies he becomes Captain’s ally (and my OTP don’t @ me)

So if everything i talked about here is correct, heres what i think it’s going to happen: By the end of the storyline, it’s going to be revealed that Mila is alive, but she has been brainwashed by Hammond to kill Crypto. Even tho hes the main target and it would go against his better judgement, hes going to try save Mila from the brainwash trance, and not only that, hes going to use the help of Mirage. “Mirage?”-Asked the reader-”What the heck does Mirage have to do with an complicated story about family reunion, betrayl, saving someone from brainwash and fighting against a evil corporation?” and for that, i call Tom Casiello yet again (and a piece of Tae’s past):

8-Mirage, Casiello and a letter

In a early Season 5 tweet, Casiello confirmed that Mirage and Crypto’s story is far from done, and they would have many misadventures together, and while everybody (myself included) read it as Cryptage fuel, now i can confirm that Crypto is going to need Mirage’s help to make Mila remember who she was. You ask again ”But why Mirage?”, well, while i was researching Crypto’s page on the wiki, i found a peculiar letter that he sent for someone: “[Mystik -- I survived my first match, with only two broken ribs. Being as safe as I can, and keeping my distance. Unfortunately, the others are already asking about the Tower. The one Legend you love confronted me on the dropship. I thought he had evidence, but it turns out he’s just an idiot.There are two others here who are BIG guys. Like your son. Very intimidating. I’m sure one’s a sociopath, but I may have judged the other too soon. His name is Makoa Gibraltar, and he’s here to help Legends survive. I always chalked the Games up to neanderthals trying to prove something. Turns out some of them have a strong code of ethics. Ironically, the only neanderthal I’ve met trying to prove something… is me. Burn this letter as soon as you receive it. Will write when I can. Family forever. --TJP]” (https://apexlegends.gamepedia.com/Crypto)

Now you’re wondering “what the heck is that letter? Who is “Mystik” ”, and according to the wiki, Mystik is Crypto and Mila’s former caretakers at Ticacek Orphanage in Suotamo, aka the closest person they had to a parent. And in the letter, Crypto knows that Mirage is Mystik’s favorite legends, showing that him, Mila and their caretaker watched the Apex Games together

Thats where Mirage comes in: Crypto is going to use Mirage’s handsome and familiar face to remind Winter Soldier Mila the past, and then try to deactivate the brainwash (and headcannon, we are going to visit Angel City (the place where Mila and Tae used to live together) and collect parts of Crypto’s past and then bring it back to try make Mila remember who she was, but the FBI and Hammond is going to stop the legends)

Oh, and before you leave, ask yourself this: “How can a ghost get broken?”, now, instead of trying to find an answer, i’ll be kind enough to respond it to you (you’re welcome ;) ): Mila is the ghost that Hammond broke and put it together into Winter Soldier Mila, and then Crypto is going to have to break the ghost again to put back the right pieces

(I wanna thank everybody that somehow read everything, i do apologize if broke my english in some parts, it’s not my first language, also i would appreciate if yall could share my theory. It’s because i worked so hard on it, and it’s probably only going to receive like 10 likes and 3 reblogs. Also if you have a piece of information that could be considered important for my theory, please do let me know)

part 2 here

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 4 years

Text

Reliving An Old Nightmare - Chapter 14

<= Chapter 13

Summary : Snatcher has a meaningful conversation with his ex-fiancee. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337299/chapters/57711178

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NEW CHAPTER, YOOOOO !!! Didn't see it coming, DID YOU ??? WELL HERE IT IS !! Sorry for the long wait, I hope you'll like it ! At least, I had the time to work on plenty of next chapters (I finished writing the 18th chapter today, YEAAH). That way, you won't have to wait so much for the next chapters, as most of them are already written.

ALSO, this chapter has FOUR DRAWINGS ! FOUR !!!!!! The first one is one I commissioned from my very good friend Puck ! SHE'S AN AMAZING ARTIST !! A big thanks for Krekka, for the correction !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 14

Snatcher found it extremely hard to find the courage to leave his room. After the doctor left, the ghost knew very well that he was expected on the ground floor. The very thought of having to deal with Vanessa and her accomplice when they fought the same day… it made him rightfully nervous. Furthermore, he had no idea what was waiting for him. If Vanessa was still angry at him (and she probably was), then there were chances that she would punish him in whatever way she could. Even though “Simeon” was apparently against it, for a reason he didn’t know yet, Snatcher couldn’t help but be wary. In his position, being prepared for anything was the best he could do. Maybe it was a trap. Who knew?

As the shade went down the stairs slowly, he remembered what happened in the bathroom. God, it had been terrifying. Snatcher wasn’t afraid of many things, but stuck in this fleshy body, that was a different story. For a moment, he had thought he was going to die, that the Time Rift was collapsing with him inside. Granted, it didn’t last long, and things seemed to have gotten back to normal. However, there was one thing that Snatcher couldn’t get out of his mind: his shadow, or, at least, what it had looked like.

It had looked like his spectral form. Why?

The question remained unanswered as he arrived on the ground floor, bracing up for whatever was going to happen. Maybe it would just be a simple dinner! Maybe he was just expecting the worst!

…who was he kidding? He knew Vanessa too well to try to reassure himself like this. There was no way his ex hadn’t prepared something in retaliation for his earlier outburst. She really was resentful. She was still mad at him for something he didn’t even do, even centuries later! Thus, he wasn’t really relaxed. How could he, when she had an even bigger reason to punish him?

The ghost soon arrived in front of the closed kitchen door. Vanessa was probably waiting for him there. Delicious smells seemed to pass through the door, one of them feeling more familiar than the others. Snatcher felt his mouth water at the thought of eating, but he knew better. While smells were enjoyable, and while his body did need to eat, chewing food was not a pleasant experience to the spirit. The tastes and the textures always felt weird on his tongue, and managing to swallow bits of food was often difficult. Then there was the whole digestion process, which felt absolutely disgusting to him. Humans were so gross. Feeling things moving inside of him, hearing weird gurgling sounds coming from his own body… this was definitely something he wouldn’t miss.

Snatcher forced his mind to focus on the current situation and took a deep breath. He had to do this. This was his last chance to convince her; if it didn’t work, he was still going to search for the Time Piece at night in the manor. He was determined to get out of there, whether his ex liked it or not. That’s when he managed to push the door open, revealing the kitchen, plunged into darkness. Well, it wasn’t completely pitch black. On the dinner table, a few candles were lit up, enlightening their surroundings. The dining table was covered with a white tablecloth. On top of it, two place settings were put out, each on opposite ends of the table. Between them, there were a few cloches, probably keeping the food hot. White and pink flower petals were scattered around on the surface, while a flower vase was in the middle of the table, containing a bouquet of the same flowers, apparently. As soon as the ghost’s eyes fixed upon them, he found them familiar.

And finally, at one end of the table was Vanessa, waiting for him. She was wearing a beautiful red and black dress, and she was smiling brightly at him, something which made Snatcher even more uneasy than what he already was.

-“Oh, there you are, my dear!” said the Queen as she pointed to the opposite seat. “Why don’t you sit down?”

She was clearly acting as nothing had ever happened between them. Her smile was obviously fake and there was this whole… staging. What was she trying to create, a romantic setting? What a joke! The ghost frowned at the thought, trying his best to remain as stoic as he could. He wanted nothing more than just turn around and go back to his room. What was the point of all this other than making him terribly uncomfortable? Though, when he saw Vanessa’s smile waver at his hesitation, he understood quite well that she wasn’t simply asking him to sit down. It was an order.

With extreme reluctance, the shade moved to the opposite end of the table and took a seat. The Queen’s smile widened at his compliance. It made him sick.

Snatcher pointed to the table, already annoyed with Vanessa’s attitude.

-“What’s all this?” he asked, glaring at her.

The woman ignored his hostility, resting her head on her joined hands, smiling mischievously.

-“What do you mean?” she retorted, faking ignorance. Oh, this was just making Snatcher angrier. Great. So that was the game she wanted to play? Pushing his patience until he lost It? He didn’t have his powers anymore, though the urge to retaliate physically was becoming stronger and stronger. Of course, he knew better. In this state, he had zero chance against her. Unfortunately.

-“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Vanessa,” countered the spirit, pronouncing her name as if it was poison on his lips. Well, it wasn’t that far from the truth, considering how much she poisoned his entire life and afterlife combined. Apparently, she disliked his tone, and her malicious expression wavered for a brief moment. If she wanted to play that game, Snatcher would as well. And oh, he was good at playing that kind of game. There was a pause, both of them looking at each other defiantly. Snatcher thought he was doing quite a good job at being intimidating, yet he had a moment of weakness when his ex snickered.

-“Oh, you’re so cute when you’re angry,” Vanessa teased.

-“What?”

The comment made Snatcher shudder with disgust and surprise. He could feel his whole body tensing up, confusion replacing most of his emotions. What did she just say? His disarray was soon intensified as Vanessa started laughing louder, covering her mouth, eyes shut.

-“You should have seen your face!”

The ghost remained shocked for a moment, not knowing how to react. Did she just… laugh at him? He frowned as his annoyance quickly came back full force. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, trying his best to stay calm despite her attempts to peeve him. The spirit was stronger than that. He had to deal with a brat for days! A child who had managed to hurt him when he was supposed to be invincible!

Vanessa was more dangerous, yes, but she was certainly less annoying than a certain hat-wearing kid he knew quite well.

The ghost took a long breath. He could do this. He would just have to ignore her until the diner was over. How hard could it be? And, once he would return to his room, he would just have to wait for the night to come to start looking for the Time Piece. It was easy! Or, at least, that was what he was thinking until he lifted up the closest cloche in front of him, revealing the food hidden inside. As soon as he did so, the familiar scent he had smelled earlier hit him suddenly, much stronger than before. Right in front of him was a plate full of bacon slices, cooked just how he loved it.

The spirit’s first reflex was to look at Vanessa, afraid of her reaction to it. Did one of the servants make a mistake again? Was it even possible to forget Vanessa’s outburst about it when it only had been one day? However, when the ghost couldn’t see any fury in the Queen’s eye, he couldn’t help but become confused once again. His eyes went from hers to the plate successively, as if he was demanding explanations silently. From her smug expression, he deduced that it couldn’t have been a mistake. She was the one who asked for this particular dish. But why, when she absolutely loathed it so much that she had even banished it from the entire manor? It didn’t make sense to the ghost.

And, as his mind was trying to think of any possible and logical justification for this, Vanessa’s smile widened as she clarified her intentions:

-“I thought that after our… disagreement, I would bury the hatchet,” she offered, sighing as she stared at him a bit too much to Snatcher’s taste. She sighed happily and finally looked away, her smile slowly disappearing. “I’m sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to shout at you.”

Snatcher froze the instant he heard her words. Vanessa, the immature and resentful Queen who had not hesitated to murder an entire village for a stupid misunderstanding, had just apologized to him? This couldn’t be possible. She had just yelled at him an hour ago about her not having done anything wrong! And now she was apologizing... for shouting at him? The ghost knew he wanted her to have regrets and remorses, but… it didn’t feel right. He had wanted her to realize what she had done in the past, stop acting like everything she had ever done was the right thing to do. Of course, it certainly didn’t mean he would forgive her with just apologies, but it was still something he wanted. For closure, perhaps? To feel better about what happened to Subcon? To make her pay? Probably a mix of all those things.

Now? Something was wrong and the spirit just knew it. The romantic setting? His favourite dish? Vanessa being nice to him? And especially apologizing? It was all so perfect and… fake. As a liar himself, Snatcher knew very well when he was lied to. This, right there, was the perfect example of a poisonous and dangerous lie.

The ghost frowned at the realization and glared at her. She was lying to him; she didn’t feel a single remorse for anything, whether it was about Subcon Village or what happened earlier. She was just pretending to. Her face was showing a fake sadness and the spirit knew her too well to fall in that trap. When Vanessa used to be sad about something, her lips trembled, she couldn’t bear to look at him and she had trouble to breathe calmly. But now… her lips were just sealed close, unmoving, and she was throwing glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. As for her breathing, it was just the same as before.

Snatcher knew it. He felt his anger growing stronger and stronger in consequence. How dare she? Was she only doing that because she had been told to? Did Simeon demand her to apologize to him? What was she even trying to do with this awful setting around them? Snatcher didn’t understand, yet he did know that Vanessa usually never did anything without a reason.

-“You don’t mean it,” muttered the ghost with a low voice. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do right now, but don’t ever lie to me about you regretting something. You never did.”

Vanessa’s fake sadness disappeared as soon as the words left his lips. Annoyance appeared on her features as if a mask had been taken off her face. She visibly wasn’t pleased about the current events and shifted her posture to reflect her irritation. Crossing her arms onto her chest, she sighed loudly.

-“I’m trying to be nice, this is what I’m doing,” she explained, frustrated. “I’m doing my best to be the better person to put the past behind us, but you’re not helping me.”

Snatcher couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This couldn’t be possible. No one could be that stupid or that entitled of themselves! But here she was, still talking about how she was the more mature of them!

-“I’m sorry?” retorted the shade, offended by her words. “You, the better person? Are you sure about that?” His tone was becoming louder and louder as his hatred for his ex was coming from him.

Vanessa remained silent, glaring at him. The temperature of the room was dropping while the Queen was breathing slowly, probably in order to control herself. She never changed and surely wouldn’t even in thousands of years.

The shade sneered, eventually laughing loudly, but it wasn’t completely sincere. He didn’t want to laugh because what was funny about all that? Yet, he couldn’t help it, completely ignoring the way his ex was looking at him. After what seemed like hours to him, he managed to stop, disregarding Vanessa’s exasperation simply because he didn’t care anymore.

There was absolutely no way he would be able to convince her. He had planned to mention the weird glitches in reality, the way he had sort of taken back his old form for a brief moment, but what was the point? She wouldn’t hear any of it and, even worse, it would come to “Simeon”’s ears. The immature Queen was stuck in an unreal world, not wanting to realize that she had been in denial all this time. The last thing Snatcher wanted was to ruin his chances to get out of here.

If Vanessa wanted to stay there and die with the dimension, that was her problem, not his. At least, it would take care of his problem of pest in Subcon Forest back to the present.

After making sure of sliding his chair noisily on the ground, the ghost stood up. He had much better things to do than whatever this farce was.

His action seemed to surprise Vanessa, as she straightened up, looking at him menacingly.

-“Where are you going?” she questioned before demanding with a more authoritative tone. “Sit back down this instant!”

Snatcher simply ignored her again, going towards the door. His body would have still liked to eat, but at the time, it wasn’t important to the spirit anymore. However, as he was about to reach the doorknob, he heard several things break behind him. He would have ignored it, if it wasn’t for the little voice telling him to turn around, just in case. He reluctantly obeyed his instincts, not without rolling his eyes in the process.

He wasn’t really surprised to see Vanessa, standing up next to the table, surrounded by cutlery and food on the floor. Apparently, she had been so furious and had thrown everything onto the floor. He gave her an unimpressed look, as he waited for whatever she wanted to tell him, crossing his arms. She probably didn’t react this way if it wasn’t to catch his attention back.

-“Why are you like this?” was came out of her mouth eventually, her voice weaker than before. The question took Snatcher aback, though he did his best not to show it.

-“You mean, reacting as I should in front of my murderer? Good question, let me think!” he retorted sarcastically.

-“Stop it! That’s exactly what I’m talking about!” His ex sat back on her chair, looking elsewhere. Somehow, her lips were trembling, and the spirit guessed that finally, he was able to see genuine sadness on her face. Too bad he didn’t care about her anymore and hadn’t been for a long time.

Silence fell between the two. The Queen rubbed her eyes while Snatcher leaned against the door, wanting nothing more than leave. However, he couldn’t deny that he felt a bit curious; if she really was sad, then maybe he could manipulate her into telling him things he needed to know. Emotions made people act without thinking, and now was the perfect opportunity to try that with her. At least, she wasn’t trying to freeze him to death at the moment, so he had his chance.

-“Why are we here, Vanessa?” He guessed that being direct was his best shot, considering how “Simeon” tended to interrupt their conversations each time he was about to learn something new. He kept going, with a nicer tone, hoping he could exploit her current weakness with it. “You can’t reproach me from being mean when I don’t even know why or how I’m here in the first place.”

Well, he knew the “how”, but he wasn’t going to reveal his means of getting out of this doomed dimension. He wasn’t that stupid.

His ex seemed to hesitate, as if she was debating with herself. She was surely trying to come up with the pros and cons of confessing whatever she was hiding from him. Now was his chance to tip the scales in favour of his situation.

-“Something is wrong with this dimension, and I know you’re aware of it. I have no idea how you managed to… recreate everything from scratch, and, look it’s impressive, but we can’t stay here. If we do, we’re going to die, Vanessa.” He paused and added, “Permanently.”

He did know how this dimension came to be, but he wasn’t supposed to know that she wasn’t the one who created it, neither that “Simeon” was her accomplice. He had to be careful with his choice of words.

-“It… it is real, Alistel,” she murmured, though Snatcher could tell she was unsure of her own words. She grabbed a fork on the ground and showed it to him, as it if was proving anything. “Look, I’m touching it! It’s… it’s here, in my hand, I can feel it!”

The shade tried not to wince when she called him by his old name, faking an expression of compassion instead. He needed her to understand. No matter how much he hated her, how much he wanted her to pay for what she had done to Subcon and all its inhabitants, it was better to have Vanessa on his side against an enemy he knew nothing about.

-“I know you don’t want to believe me, but, please, just once, trust me.”

“It would make a nice change for once…” he thought to himself, as he watched her resolve crumple little by little while she listened to him and to what he was insinuating. Her fists were clenching her dress strongly, her body shaking from the emotion. Tears were coming to her blue eyes. This was it. This was the moment he was waiting for.

-“I know your heart is in the right place,” he said, offering his hand to her right after. “Please help me get us out of here, Vanessa.”

He waited for her to accept his plan, to stand up and take his hand, telling him where was the Time Piece and especially who was the one impersonating Simeon. But she didn’t. All she did was sniff, wiping her tears with the back of her hands. When her eyes fixed upon him once again, they weren’t full of hope or sadness like Snatcher hoped. They were full of rage.

-“You just want to leave me again, don’t you?” she accused with a dark tone. Snatcher couldn’t help but grow pale when he realized that things were turning completely different than what he had expected. This was bad, he had to fix it before it turned worse!

-“No!” he replied, though it was a complete lie; leaving without his so-called soulmate, he absolutely didn’t mind doing so. But of course, saying that would be suicidal.

-“Liar!” screamed Vanessa, while the temperature dropped once again. Ice started to spread around her from her feet, engulfing whatever it met. “You’re lying so I can help you leave me once again!”

Well, she had completely seen right through him. He opened his mouth again, wanting to justify himself, try to defend his plan even if it was already too late, but she cut him short by another yell, louder than the first one:

-“Get out! Get out!” she shouted, putting her head into her hands as sobs could be heard through them. “I don’t want to see you anymore, get out of here!”

Her last sentence broke as she started to cry even more.

Snatcher stayed still a few seconds, staring at her. He didn’t feel guilty, not after everything that had happened. He hated her too much to feel anything positive about her, even if hundreds of years had passed since then. Seeing her crying should make him happy; however, it wasn’t the right time.

Snatcher had a Time Piece to find. If she couldn’t help him, then… she might die all alone and painfully, and he wouldn't even care the slightest. She deserved that. That was what he thought, as he finally grabbed the door handle, opening the door without saying anything.

This was a farewell then.

“Good,” thought Snatcher darkly as he left the room, listening to her cries like a pleasant melody he would remember for a long time, until he couldn’t hear them anymore, too far away.

The way back to his room was silent. He bumped into a few servants on the way to his room, ignoring them when they bowed to him. None of this was real. Why should he bother playing Vanessa’s game when he was so close to being saved?

He got back to his room quite fast, even if he couldn’t help but be paranoïd all the way. After his argument with Vanessa, he had all the reasons to believe something bad was going to happen to him. But nothing did, which was a bit too suspect for Snatcher’s taste. When he opened the door, he tried to be extremely careful, just in case “someone” was hidden in his bedroom. But, once again, nothing unusual.

This was too calm.

The ghost made a few steps inside and closed the door behind him. He sighed. Well, all he had to do now was to wait a few hours and leave his room to start the search for the time artefact. But, before he was even able to sit on the bed, the spirit heard something from behind him:

Click!

Someone had locked the door, trapping him inside the room.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

WELP. I'M GOOD WITH CLIFFHANGERS, AREN'T I ? Don't worry, you won't have to wait too long!

I hope you liked this chapter ! Thank you for your patience and all your support, it means so much to me !

See you on the next chapter and stay safe !

=> Chapter 15

#A Hat In Time #ahit #snatcher #vanessa #Reliving An Old Nightmare #RAON #my art #lazy #commission by lazy #AMAZING DRAWING AGAIN #fanfiction

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dyingthinroses · 5 years

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Tips and Tricks

DISCLAIMER I AM NOT PRO-ANA OR PRO ANYTHING FOR THAT MATTER, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

TRIGGER WARNING EATING DISORDER

1. RULES, RULES, RULES. This is important. You need to set rules for yourself, and if you are truly ana, you will have no problem sticking to them because you are STRONG! Rules are everything. Examples: Don’t eat anything white. Do not, under any circumstances, eat after 6:00. Don’t eat before 3:00. Cut each bite into x amount of pieces, chew x amount of times. Do not eat anything that has over 3 grams of fat. Make your own and keep adding to them.

Ana must be the center of your life.

Drink a full glass of water before you eat and then sip a full glass between bites, you’ll get full much faster. Remember it takes 20 minutes for the brain to realize the stomach is full.

Eat denser food because it feels like more. Light and fluffy foods compact in your digestive tract and you will feel hungry soon after.

Take out only the amount of food you plan to eat and don’t allow seconds.

Think before you eat. Don’t eat while distracted (TV, etc). Stop and consider if you really want to eat that then consciously give yourself permission.

100-calorie meals is better than one 400-calorie meal.

Never eat anything bigger than about a cup, your stomach will expand and you’ll get hungry more. If you need to, eat more frequently, not bigger amounts.

Slim-Fast and other “healthy” bars and shakes have more carbs and calories than in the meal they’re intended to replace. Stay away.

Drink at least a glass of water every hour. It’s better for weight loss to sip throughout the day than to chug a full glass (except before eating, in which case it can make you eat less, or make you slightly nauseous so you don’t want to eat at all). Try keeping a water bottle somewhere you’ll see it a lot, like every 10-20 minutes, and take a drink from it every time you see it/notice it.

Drink up to a shot of apple cider vinegar before eating, it’s supposed to minimize fat absorption. Also speeds metabolism and can help curb cravings. Drinking more than a shot causes vague nausea which helps suppress appetite.

Ice or gum are good food substitutes. Celery works too if you’re really hungry.

Use small, dark-colored plates. Dark blue or black makes you eat less, and smaller plates and utensils cause you to take smaller portions from the start.

Make a list of “bad” foods. Periodically, cross one of the lists and pledge to never, ever eat it again. Eventually, there will be none left.

Eat in front of a mirror, naked or in underwear if possible. If you can’t, carry a picture of yourself in a revealing outfit and look at it when you want to eat. When you have cravings pinch your fat and look at your problem areas, don’t add to them!

Eat a lot of fiber for digestive health and low calories.

Create a methodical routine for eating. Cut food into tiny pieces, count your bites and the number of times you chew, set your utensils down between bites, and sip water between bites. Add other rules or rituals of your own.

Eat higher-calorie items earlier in the day so you have more time to burn them off; if you eat late eat light or it will be more likely to be stored as fat due to inactivity. Try not to eat too late, sleep burns calories and is a good opportunity to burn fat with little effort. The body must burn through all digesting food before taking energy from stored food (fat).

When you go out, take very little money or only enough to buy whatever non-food item you plan on buying. This will make it harder to buy food on impulse.

Don’t take bites, either from others’ food or while cooking, as the calories add up surprisingly fast and you may not realize how much extra you’re taking in.

Write down everything you eat and its calories. This will make you think before eating and also make you more aware of how much food and calories you are actually consuming. You can also write down other things such as how you’re feeling, who you’re with, place, time, and why you chose to eat it, this will help you track patterns in your eating behavior.

Wear a rubber band around your wrist and snap it when you want to eat. Food = pain.

Set a time you cannot eat past. 6:00 or 7:00pm are good choices. This is especially helpful if you are prone to night binging. Then make a rule that you cannot eat before 6:00 or 7:00AM, this is like having a 12-hr fast every day.

You shouldn’t eat for at least 3 hours before going to bed. The extra hours will help burn off the calories. If you eat soon before sleeping, you absorb more calories due to inactivity and you put on weight.

Have a peppermint or peppermint tea. Peppermint decreases hunger.

Brush your teeth when you want to eat. The clean feeling and mint aftertaste will put you off food.

Press on your stomach when it grumbles. TUMS also stop stomach growling and have calcium.(5 calories a piece so be careful!)

Carry a list of all the reasons you want to be thin and avoid food. Look at it when you want to eat to remind yourself why you won’t. Or, write a new list every time you want to eat. It’ll distract you, postpone eating, and thinking of the reasons will inspire you.

Cut a ribbon the size you want your waist to be. wrap and tie it around your wrist like a bracelet. Every time you look at it you’ll be reminded of your goals. When you’re tempted, take it off and wrap it around your waist. See how close you are, or how far you have to go and resist the temptation.

Always leave at least one bite of food on your plate. This will help you to be able to stop eating and prevent binges. It will also stop you from compulsively finishing portions even when you have eaten enough.

Save $1 for every meal you don’t eat, then use the money to buy yourself a non-food present.

Friends will only get in the way. Avoid them until you reach your goals.

Never eat in secret. This is a terrible habit that leads to compulsive binging. If you wouldn’t eat it in front of all your friends you shouldn’t be eating it at all! Also if you only eat around other people they will know that you do eat and assume you eat alone as well, thus lessening suspicion that you have an ED.

Never eat out of a box or jar. Always eat from a plate or bowl. This will help you in several ways: You will see how much you are really eating; you can determine in advance how much you will eat and not go back for seconds; using a small plate or bowl will make you eat even less; you can count/measure out an exact serving and know the accurate amount of calories you are consuming.

Give clothes to Goodwill as they get too big for you. Don’t keep them around “just in case.”

If you live alone, put thinspo and/or reverse thinspo pictures on the pantry and refrigerator. A mirror works well too.

When you have hunger pangs, picture your stomach eating away your fat, and that what you feel is the feeling of thinness and your fat burning away.

Coffee is an appetite suppressant. Drink it black or with Splenda or another no-calorie sweetener.

Count your bites, and the number of times you chew them. Plan in advance how many bites you can have. Then make them smaller or use smaller utensils.

Paint your nails so you can’t eat until the polish dries. Teeth whitening strips are good too.

Drink water before eating. If you’re still hungry, drink green tea or broth. If you still need to eat, you’ll eat less than you would have.

Eat low-calorie foods with strong flavors. Sometimes you’re craving taste, not food. For bouillon, use less water than is recommended. Peppermints, pickles, peppers, and mustard are good choices.

Do not eat anything unless you know the exact amount of calories in it.

Chew gum while cooking. That way you can’t take bites while it is cooking, and you won’t want to eat it once it’s done.

Keep food out of sight, not sitting out, and stay away from food and the kitchen to keep your mind off it.

Keep a pocket thinspo in your wallet with your cash so you won’t spend money on food.

For sweet cravings, lick a chopstick and dip it into a diet Swiss Miss pack.

Write your current weight on one hand, and your goal weight on the other. When you go to eat, you’ll be reminded how fat you are, and how skinny you could be.

The Four D’s: Distance yourself from food. Distract yourself. Delay eating Decide what your goals really are.

Green tea raises metabolism and is very good for the skin and overall health. Drink it in the morning to increase metabolism for the day. Add lemon to make it more effective and to add a detoxifying aspect.

Hot water with lemon is another good morning drink.

Spicy foods raise metabolism, if you don’t like them you can take cayenne pepper capsules available in the supplement section of drugstores or health food stores.

Drinking apple cider vinegar is said to raise metabolism, have a few tablespoons, can also be mixed in water (with lemon would be best) or used as salad dressing.

Start the morning with stretching to wake up your muscles, the morning is also the best time to exercise because your body will use stored food (fat) as fuel instead of food you ate. It also processes food better throughout the day and gives you more energy if you exercise in the morning.

Get at least 6 hours of sleep each night, less than this can decrease metabolism by 10% and increase appetite by 15%. You look better and feel better when you have more sleep also if you’re sleeping then you’re not eating!

Keep good posture, it burns 10% more calories throughout the day. You also look better.

Vitamin B6 and B12 raise metabolism and give you energy.

Eating protein increases your metabolic rate by 14%.

#thinsp0 #skinny #ana

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keelywolfe · 5 years

Text

Fic: Any Other Wednesday

Summary: Wednesday nights Edge spends volunteering at the Y, which leaves Stretch on his own. Not that he can't handle it, thank you, he's an adult. Mostly.

Notes: Sorry, I’ll stop hurting them soon. Probably. I’m not even sure how to warn for this, um, implied troubled kids?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established relationship, Fluff, Angst.

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch had known that Edge had a thing for feeding people before they’d ever started dating. It was kinda hard to miss on movie nights when he had enough food laid out for another dozen alternate universe skeletons to show up on the doorstep.

Probably better to not even think about that, tempting fate and all.

Anyway, getting into a relationship only meant that Stretch understood the reason a little better. Plus, he got to reap the benefits a lot more often, it was a rare night that he didn’t have dinner waiting for him, tempting and delicious. Except on Wednesdays.

Wednesday was the day that Edge volunteered down at the Y and that meant Stretch had to get off his ass and play what Edge had dubbed his ‘Hazardous Leftover Extravaganza’ because Edge secretly thought he was fucking hilarious.

Stretch did, too, even if all he got were skeptical looks whenever he told people. There were worse things than having your own private comedian, for sure.

So yeah, Wednesdays. Unless he wanted to wait for Edge to get home, he had to make his own dinner. Truth be told, he kinda liked it, there was always plenty in the fridge to pick from, and he got to try some interesting combinations from time to time.

Leftover macaroni and cheese mixed with fried rice served up on tortillas was a taste sensation he would not soon forget.

Wednesdays were usually good for another reason, too. Edge had an incredible amount of stamina, a match to his HP, but spending a few hours with a bunch of kids wore out even him. When he got home, he was always more than ready to sprawl on the sofa and watch whatever Stretch had on the television.

Not that Edge wasn’t good for snuggling, he was, and if Stretch ever made him think his cuddle meter was running low, he was perfectly happy to help gas him up.

The thing was, he was so damn busy all the time. Sometimes working on Embassy stuff, not something Stretch liked to interrupt, sometimes cooking, which Stretch really didn’t like to interrupt since that came with other benefits, but also, it was relaxing for Edge to bake or sauté or whatever caught his fancy that day. He enjoyed playing Master Chef, and what, Stretch was going to drag him away from that because he was feeling needy? Not happening.

But Wednesday, ah, that was the day, Edge tipping over from merely tired into worn out and on those days there was no question; cuddles were imminent.

All he had to do first was survive dinner.

Today’s leftover haul was vegetable mostaccioli stuffed inside fresh pitas that had been smeared with hummus, weirdly delicious, and Stretch had a mouthful when the door opened. He chewed hastily, wanting to be ready to greet his hubby when he came in, only for his greeting to falter when Edge stepped inside.

He was always worn out on Wednesday nights, yeah, but that…that looked a few too many steps past tired. Stretch sat up straight, skipping concerned and taking a shortcut to worried because Edge had already been having a shit week. “babe? you okay?”

Edge toed off his shoes and stripped off his coat before asking, “What on earth are you eating?”

“okay, you’re not allowed to diss it when you haven’t even—” he trailed off as Edge scooped up one of the pitas off the plate and ate it in three bites, not even wincing when he hit the hummus pocket.

Um, okay, looked like they were sharing dinner? Not that Stretch minded but—

Edge’s expression didn’t change as he lay down on the sofa, not sprawling but drawing his knees up to his chest as he settled his skull into Stretch’s lap. Stretch was already wrapped up in most of the blanket but with a little judicious squirming, he got a corner loose, draping it over Edge.

“babe?” Stretch tried again, more than a little alarmed. Thus far Edge had missed out on at least three opportunities to bitch; about the food, about the way Stretch was eating it, and about the way he’d had his feet on the coffee table, and he’d taken none of them. The dark smudges under his sockets that had shown up earlier this week were vivid, stark against bone. Hesitantly, he draped an arm over Edge, squeezing softly when he wasn’t rebuffed. “are you all right?”

“Child protective services came and took one of my boys,” he said flatly, emotionless.

“…what?” Stretch whispered, stunned. “they can just…take them like that? what about his parents?”

“His father was arrested, I wasn’t told the details,” Edge didn’t look at him, his eye lights focused on the television. Tonelessly, he went on, “He was crying and begging me to not let them take him and there was nothing I could do. I assume he’ll be placed in foster care if he has no other family. The woman wasn’t able to give me any information on that.”

“they took him right in front of the other kids?” That seemed…it seemed cruel, it seemed wrong…

“They didn’t have much choice, we were all outside waiting for the bus,” Edge sighed heavily. “They didn’t want him to come home and see all the police cars, they were afraid he’d run away. They were trying to be kind, but all children see is police officers coming to take them.” And there was a crack in his composure, a faintest break in his voice. “The other children were upset and frightened. I can only imagine they were afraid the same thing may happen to them, unlikely as that might be.”

Edge closed his sockets. “I had to send them home with that as their last moment of the day. Jonathon is somewhere right now, frightened and with no one he knows, and there’s nothing I can do. I see these children once a week, I’m only a small part of their lives. And he was begging me to help him.”

From beneath the blanket, a gloved hand slipped out and caught Stretch’s, tangling their fingers together and squeezing hard. “I couldn’t have done anything. I couldn’t have stopped them, they were following the law but—”

Edge trailed off, his grip painfully tight.

Helplessly, Stretch looked down at his husband, tears burning hot in his sockets to see Edge hurting so much. He’d never even met these kids, but he could imagine their fear, watching one of their friends being taken away, could imagine the boy himself and how terrified he must be.

Ah, fuck, he couldn’t believe he was going to offer this. Stretch swallowed hard, and managed, “if…if he…the kid, jonathon. if he needs a place to stay. someone to stay with. i mean, we have a spare room—“

Edge went very still and Stretch trailed off. Slowly, Edge sat up, the blanket falling away as he shifted to slide both arms around Stretch and hugged him tightly. Stretch bit his tongue and hugged him back, clinging to him. It would be fine, it…he could do this, for a little while, right, he could do this for Edge and—

“Love,” Edge murmured against his skull, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “I understand how difficult it was for you to offer that, but under the current laws Monsters aren’t permitted to foster Human children.”

“oh.” He tried not to let his relief filter into his voice, stupid, selfish relief, yeah, but he’d meant it. He would have dealt with having a needy kid for a little while, for Edge. Meanwhile, Edge was holding him tightly enough that his ribs were starting to ache.

“Thank you,” Edge said, softly, fervently.

“i didn’t really do anything,” Stretch muttered, guilt at his own relief sour on the back of his tongue.

Edge made a soft, hushing sound, and set another kiss at his temple. “That you offered means a great deal to me.”

Yeah, that was about enough of that. Stretch squirmed, discomfited, and Edge loosened his grip. At this point Edge was less on his lap and more just…on him, but he moved enough settled a little more of his weight on the sofa, pulling the blanket back over them both.

“What are we watching?” Edge asked and if he didn’t sound completely himself, he sounded better than when he’d walked in the door.

“nailed it,” Stretch told him. As he spoke, the music swelled and the contestants revealed their attempts at a gingerbread house. ‘Attempt’ being the word of the day.

Edge groaned. “How can you stand to watch this incompetence?”

“it’s funny,” Stretch told him loftily, “plus it’s nice to see people that are worse cooks than i am.”

“Rus, you aren’t that bad a cook,” Edge shook his head in disgust. “You can at least bake.”

“rather let you be the head chef, babe,” Stretch teased, and for the rest of the show, they sat and watched, Stretch laughing and Edge groaning at every reveal. Stretch knew the ugliness of the day wasn’t forgotten and that Edge was going to have to deal with the fallout next Wednesday. He knew that.

But he could help Edge set it aside, for a little while.

-fin

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underswap papyrus #underfell papyrus #by any other name

44 notes · View notes

wateryourplance · 7 years

Text

Just Like Heaven (Lance/Pidge)

(Pidgance Month, Day 3: homesickness | I tried being different and also thank you guys for your support I appreciate you all aaaa and is it just me or are these getting longer and longer? Aged up Pidge and Lance, even in the memories.)

Lance smiled softly at his girlfriend. “You look amazing, Jessica.”

Jessica giggled as she did a little twirl, a nervous smile etched on her face. “You sure?” She examined the emerald green dress she was wearing in the mirror. “Green’s not my colour and I don’t really like it.”

That sentence made Lance’s smile falter, but it went unnoticed by Jessica. It wasn’t Jessica’s colour, yes, but it was definitely a certain someone else’s colour. His heart sped just thinking about Her. Not Jessica, Her. He shrugged those intrusive thoughts off, focusing on the now. “Well your boyfriend happens to like green, and I think you look amazing.” He teased, planting a kiss on her forehead. “So take it.”

“Whatever you say, Lancey-pie.” Jessica countered as she dimpled prettily at him, reentering the changing room. “I’ll j

Lance sighed deeply as he clasped a hand over his chest, trying to calm his rapid heartbeat.

He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about Her - he had to be thinking about Jessica, his current girlfriend. He had to be thinking about how hot Jessica looked in that tight, green dress of hers that hugged every curve on her body, but his thoughts always seemed to involuntarily just…move to Her. How painfully adorable She had looked wearing Her usual casual baggy clothes that had hung so loosely on Her body, hiding Her petite frame. She didn’t have the body that made most men , but She had Her intellect, Her quick tongue, Her adorable face, Her prowess and Her quirky personality.

And that.

That was the hottest thing Lance could ever imagine.

‘No. Stop it. What’re you doing? This is wrong. You should be ashamed.’ He mentally scolded, his hands balling into fists. ‘You’re horrible. You have a girlfriend. Think about Jessica, not Her. Stop it.’

Lance knew he needed to stop.

But he didn’t want to.

“Alright, let’s go pay!”

Jessica’s airy voice snapped him back into reality as she dragged him to the counter, paying for the dress and bragging to chatting up the teller about Lance.

Lance excused himself outside, exiting the store.

The wind brushed through his hair, ruffling it ever-so-slightly. He breathed the air in deeply as if he could to selfishly take everything in. He closed his eyes, receiving odd looks from people. But he didn’t care. Mainly because he couldn’t see their reactions.

He stood their for who knows how long, his eyes shut tight, the busy sounds of the city becoming like white noise. A wave of nostalgia washed over him, and a chill went down his spine. It was almost like he could see them again, wearing their armours with Shiro discussing their plan. Shiro, Allura, Hunk, Keith, Coran, Her - it felt so real.

Then someone tugged on his sleeve.

Lance opened one eye to see his girlfriend smiling in amusement at him. “What’s going on, babe?”

“Uh, nothing.” He chuckled nervously. “Tired, I guess.”

Jessica frowned. “Sorry, I couldn’t choose one.”

Lance almost felt himself frown as well. Not out of pity, but out of disappointment. She would’ve told him to ‘live through it’ or something. She would’ve laughed at his expense. She would’ve reacted so…differently.

But Lance knew it was so wrong and unfair of him to compare Her and Jessica. They weren’t the same. Never was, never will be. He couldn’t just ask Jessica to chop her hair off one day and dye her blonde hair into a light brown and to suddenly, magically be extremely smart and witty.

“It’s fine. Can we just head home now?” Lance fake-yawned, draping an arm on his girlfriend’s shoulders.

Jessica’s eyes widened. “We’re not eating anymore?”

“Nooo.” Lance whined as they began walking. “We’re still eating. What time is it anyways?”

“Time for lunch.” Jessica joked, snaking an arm around his waist. “Lemme guess, Italian?”

“You know me so well.”

“You’re Italian! It’s a sin to not know how to cook!” Lance gasped in horror as Pidge typed rapidly on her laptop like there was no tomorrow.

Pidge shrugged. “And you’re Cuban. Isn’t it a sin to be horrible at dancing?” She quipped without tearing her gaze from her screen.

“I dance well, excuse you!”

“Yeah, sure. Tell that to my left foot.”

“But Pidge!” Lance insisted, purposefully switching the subject. “Are you absolutely one hundred and one percent sure you can’t cook anything Italian? I freakin’ miss pasta and pizza and all that…”

Pidge finally slammed her laptop shut in irritation, glaring at Lance. “I’ve told you once and I’ll say it again: I can’t cook.”

“Fiiiine.”

“But.”

Lance perked up as he stared at her, the suspense giving him goosebumps. “But what?”

“But Matt can make a mean–”

“No thanks.”

Pidge pouted, crossing her arms. “I thought you were desperate! Matt can cook, you know!”

“I wanted it to be made by you.” Lance implored as he fell on his knees. “Pwease, Pidge?”

She scoffed, “Fine.”

“Yes!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

So Pidge did end up cooking Lance spaghetti (the only thing she could remember) as he watched her intently. He had offered to help whenever she’d release a profanity, but she always assured him that she had ‘everything under control’ (she didn’t).

When she finally finished, she looked like complete and utter shit. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were stained with red sauce. Her eye was twitching as she threw the plate in front of him. “Eat it!” She yelled, exasperated.

“Thanks, Pidge. Love you!” Lance giggled, blowing her a kiss. She rolled her eyes as she took a seat next to him, anticipating his reaction. He didn’t hesitate in taking a huge bite, hungrily chewing away.

Oh dear God.

It tasted horrible.

He tried his best not to make a face, but the spaghetti was just so atrocious. He gulped it all anyways, smiling awkwardly at Pidge. “Yuuum!” He lied.

“It’s horrible, I know.” She sighed. “You really should’ve asked Hunk or Matt instead.”

“No, it’s fine! It may be…uh, frankly, gross.”

Pidge rolled her eyes.

“But! But it was made out of love!” Lance defended. “It’s not the best, but you went out of your way to whip something up for me, and you put in so much effort. So your cooking’s a negative one over ten, but your wifey-ness is an infinity over ten for me.” He grinned.

Pidge blushed deeply, but smiled anyways. “You’re a huge dork, you know that?”

Lance nodded vigorously. “I know.” He took another bite, making him shudder. “Oh God, it gets worse and worse with each bite.”

But he ended up finishing everything.

Thus spending the night on the toilet.

“Enjoy your meal.”

“Thanks…” Lance muttered, glaring staring at the well-made spaghetti in front of him with a doubtful glint in his eyes. He knew for certain that this spaghetti wouldn’t taste as awful as Hers did.

Jessica cleared her throat, “Everything okay?”

“It looks…really good.” He murmured.

“It does. Why aren’t you eating yet?” Jessica asked before taking a bite of her own ordered meal, clearly confused. “Do you wanna order something else?”

Lance shook his head, feeling like he was a kid again with the tone his girlfriend was using. He picked up his fork, taking a measly amount of the spaghetti. He slowly brought it to his mouth, taking in the taste.

It wasn’t just ‘really good’.

It was absolutely divine.

Lance didn’t like it.

It didn’t taste disgusting like Hers.

“You don’t like it?” Jessica asked, frowning.

“Not my taste, but passable.” He lied as he continued stuffing his face with the pasta, trying to avoid a conversation.

The two continued their meal silently, exchanging very few words. Eventually, they had finished, Lance desperately begging Jessica to not chat the waitress up. They got themselves a taxi, cuddling up as the driver drove to their place. “Lance?” Jessica called.

“Yeah, Jess?”

“What do you miss the most from your days away from earth?”

Lance immediately felt uncomfortable as soon as the driver tried to look over his shoulder, surprised. “Oh, sir! You were one of the…what was it? Paladins of Voltron, right! My son’s a huge fan!” The cabbie announced. “If it isn’t too much, can I…can I get a picture when we arrive? It’s my son’s birthday in a week and I haven’t really though of anything to give him…”

Lance forced a grin. “No problem! Even a video of me greeting him’s totally fine.” He added kindly.

Don’t get him wrong, he was fine with the attention.

But his girlfriend always seemed to be announcing it to the world, but he didn’t want to think she had malicious intent (even though it had been happening too frequently).

“Hearing the adventures you went on’s just…it really amazes me. Like, wow you actually met aliens!” The cabbie continued. “It’s too bad you don’t do that anymore.”

Lance winced. “It is.”

It really was too bad.

He missed the thrill, the excitement, the injuries he sustained, the training, Voltron, his friends - he missed it all.

He even missed the feeling of longing to go home. He missed sneaking into Her room late at night, barging in without Her permission. He missed seeing Her sound asleep. Then he’d wake Her up (much to Her irritation), but She’d still let him stay and talk about what he missed about earth, snuggled up against each other. They talked about his past, his family and what he’d do once he returned to earth.

He was happy to say that he’d done most of what he planned on doing.

Except for one thing.

“When I return to earth…” Lance breathed, resting his chin on her head. “I’m gonna buy a mini-fridge.”

Pidge laughed softly, intertwining their fingers as she snuggled closer to him. “Why?”

“I dunno. I just really need one.” Lance buried his nose into her hair, inhaling her delicious scent. “Fine, that’s a lie. When I was like five I dreamt I befriended a mini-fridge. His name was Arnold.”

Pidge snorted. “Arnold?”

“You can’t judge people for their names.” He admonished jokingly. “Arnold was a really cool guy.”

“Pun intended?”

“Nope, but thanks for pointing that out.”

She giggled, closing her eyes. “Go on.”

“He’d take me to all these really weird places like under the sea, my older sister’s basement and Canada.” Lance smiled upon hearing his girlfriend stifle another laugh. “When I woke up, I cried so much my mum didn’t let me go to school that day. So I vowed to find Arnold.”

“That’s cute.” Pidge yawned. “Is that all?”

“Well…” Lance pondered. “There’s actually one more thing.”

“Mm?”

“When we return to earth, I’m gonna surprise you by asking you to marry me.”

Pidge chuckled. “That doesn’t make it a surprise anymore, smartass.”

“But you won’t know when I’ll be popping the question.” Lance rubbed circles on her hand with his thumb. “Question is: will you say yes?”

Pidge looked up at him, lovingly gazing at him with sleepy eyes. “Did you ever doubt it?”

Lance leaned forward, their lips brushing lightly against each other. “No, actually.”

“Then why’d you have to ask?” She quipped, finally letting their lips meet properly. It was a half-assed kiss, but it was sweet and pure. It didn’t last long either, but that was fine with them.

“I love you so much, Future-Mrs. McClain.”

“I know you do.”

“Well, mister, we’re here.” The cabbie announced. “Are we still game with that picture or video?”

Lance nodded as he paid the driver, smiling. “What’s your kid’s name, by the way?”

“Matthew.”

“Like Pidge’s brother.” He blurted before he could stop himself. He immediately recovered. “So, uh, how’re we doing this?”

Lance took off his used shirt and put on a clean one, throwing the used article into his laundry basket. He groaned loudly, causing Jessica to poke her head from their bathroom, a confused look on her face dripping.

“Jessica,” he began, “we…we went over this so many times.”

As Jessica dried her face, she sauntered clumsily towards him, taking the place next to him on the bed. “Went over what?”

“You know, talking about Voltron publicly.”

“Oh.” She lowered the face towel to her lap. “I didn’t think he’d hear. Plus, I thought you loved the attention.”

Lance sighed. “I do, but…I want it to come naturally, okay? I’m happy you’re proud of me but it makes me feel,” ‘like I’m just your accessory.’ “it makes me feel awkward.”

Jessica frowned. “Sorry, sweetie. I just thought–”

“Save it.”

Jessica’s eyes widened at his blunt remark. He looked visibly guilty about it, but he remained silent. “I’m going to bed.” She murmured, ending the short-lived conversation.

“Okay.” He croaked, standing up. “I’ll…watch something.”

“I thought you were tired.”

“Not anymore.”

And with that, he left their bedroom, finding himself in the kitchen. He leaned against the island and braced himself for another memory.

“Lance…” Pidge moaned as Lance peppered her neck with kisses. “What if someone hears us?”

“Their fault for listening.” He answered, too excited to worry about anyone walking into them.

“We should take this to the bedroom…” Pidge let out another mewl as Lance placed her on one of the islands of the Castle’s kitchen. “A kitchen,” she panted as Lance bit down on a sensitive spot, “isn’t exactly the best place to do this…! Mm, Lance…”

Lance chuckled deeply. “You kidding me? The kitchen’s one of the kinkiest places to do this in.”

“Everyone’ll– mm…h-hear…”

“So?”

“Lance…” she whined as he finally pulled away. “This is like Hunk’s sacred place.”

Lance rolled his eyes carelessly as he pressed their foreheads together, deep blue eyes meeting with light amber ones. “He won’t have to know. Come on, Pidge. We’ll do what we did last week in my room. I still got those c-shaped thingies on my back, y’know. More are always welcome to the collection.”

“So that’s why you haven’t been swimming.” Pidge said in realisation, kissing him lightly. “Fine. I guess no one’ll be in the kitchen this early.”

“Attagirl.” Lance humoured, roughly capturing her lips with his own fervently.

“Lance, Pidge? What are you guys doing up so early– AHH, MY EYES! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS IN MY SACRED TEMPLE?”

Lance chuckled fondly at the memory. He recalled Hunk frantically lecturing them about where to do the do (”THE KITCHEN. IS. NOT. A. MO-TEL!”). Poor Hunk slept in the kitchen that night to make sure it was safe from intruders.

She and Lance had vowed never to do it in the kitchen. Ever.

Lance felt as if Keith’s blade had struck his heart as a painful sensation invaded his chest. He gripped the edge of the counter until his knuckles turned white, hoping the pain would go away soon. This pain was all figurative, of course, but it didn’t mean it didn’t affect him at all.

At this point Lance was certain he couldn’t stop.

It wasn’t possible.

“Pidge…” Lance whispered, cupping her cheek. “What are you saying?”

“I can’t stay here, Lance.” Pidge choked up a sob as crystalline tears rolled down her face. Lance tenderly wiped them away, listening to her whimpers thought they pained him. “Earth isn’t…it’s not my home anymore.”

Lance felt tears of his own form, blurring his vision. “You need to think this through.” He croaked as he brought one of her hands to his lips, kissing it sweetly.

“I did think it over.” She retorted, her bottom lip quivering. Her eyes were firm, yet quite frankly, sceptical. And yet her voice was determined, unlike her betraying eyes. “The Galra may be defeated, but that doesn’t guarantee that the universe doesn’t need Voltron anymore.”

“But your parents! Y-you haven’t seen them in such a long time. Are you really leaving them?” Lance pressed, desperate to get her to stay.

Pidge’s eyes shot downwards; an act of guilt. “I’ve spoken to them about it and…” she breathed in deeply, “and they’re letting me go. Shiro, Keith, Hunk and I are leaving in three days. And Matt said he’ll catch up with us in three months.”

Lance couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe any of this.

He felt like his whole world was going up in flames, destroying all his hopes and dreams.

“Pidge, this…this is your home!” He cried as he took a step back from her. “Your family’s here! Your people are here! I’m here!”

Pidge slightly jerked upon hearing the last sentence, but she stood perfectly still. “I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked.

No.

No, no, no, no.

“Are you even listening to yourself?!” Lance demanded hoarsely as he grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him with bloodshot eyes. “What about us?! What’ll happen to us?!”

Pidge winced, her voice barely audible. “It’ll have to end then.”

Lance’s heart shattered into a million pieces as his grip on her shoulders loosened, his eyes wide. “Pidge,” he snickered timidly, “you…you don’t mean that. D-do you?”

“I love you, Lance.” Pidge declare shakily. “But this can’t work out.”

“It can and will work out.” Lance swore, trying to spark hope in such a helpless situation. “We worked things out in the middle of a space war, why can’t we work it out now?”

Pidge smiled sadly as he pulled him down by his collar, letting their lips collide. It was so raw and full of emotion, their heartaches becoming one through a single kiss.

For a moment, it was calm. He was in pure bliss. He was in heaven.

Then she pulled away.

Lance hadn’t noticed how soaked his shirt was with his tears.

That fateful day was still so vivid, the wound still fresh.

Almost every negative emotion overwhelmed him as he buried his face into his hands, sobbing bitterly.

He should’ve gone after Her.

He should’ve said more to let Her stay.

He should’ve gone with Her.

He should’ve done something instead of just gaping at Her, watching Her leave in front of his very eyes.

He should’ve at least showed up the day they left.

Lance felt horrible.

It was heavy. The weight of his guilt was heavy.

The guilt of letting her go. The guilt of letting his friends go. The guilt of letting his family go.

The guilt of letting his home go.

And it all finally made sense to him.

He wasn’t lost or confused anymore.

He had to go home and fulfil his promise to her.

“Come back, Lance…” Pidge whispered to herself, hugging her knees to her chest. “I miss you.”

She swore she felt His arms around her, His voice low and assuring. ‘I’m coming home.’

And for some strange reason, she knew that she needed to trust that.

#pidgancemonth2k17 #pidgancemonth2k17day3 #pidgance #plance #pance #pidge and lance #lidge #what did i do #lancexpidge #pidgexlance

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nurtureordrown · 7 years

Text

The thing where I write the thing and do the thing o(^w^)b

All and any mistakes are brought to you by Satan!

______________________________

Rain had been spending a lot of her free time at the stable. The horses intrigued her. Granted, she had come across them before and had seen plenty of them but this was the first time she was up close and personal with one. She stared at the creature in front of her with her book in hand as she finished sketching it. This was no doubt Rhoen's horse, she figured. The stallion was the largest one in the stable but also the most mild mannered.

Rain had sketches of the other horses but her pages filled mostly with this one. The color of the stallion had caught her eye. He was an all brown animal, a dark brown that could have been mistaken for black. The hair of the horse was a nice raven color and the creature had a long white patch on the top of it's head the went down to its snout. Many times did she reach out to pet the horse but every single time she would retreat her hand and would simply go back to sketching in her book. The size of the animal scared her some. He was noticably larger than the other horses and she wasn't too sure if she wanted to touch the animal that belonged to her captor. She had been able to reach out with a tentative hand to gently touched the others but the moment they moved she had pulled away, almost afraid she had done something to offend the magnificant creatures.

Today seemed to be different however. Rain had stopped by the stable just as she normally did and stood in front of the large horse that seemed to wait for an action of hers before returning to his natural business. Smiling some, Rain observed him feed. She was going to spend her time here like she normally did, watching them, sketching them, and even conversing with them. After all, a certain friend of hers seemed to enjoy playing the role of the little bird who passes on information. Rain of course knew it wasn't with bad intention but she did wonder why Rune would tell certain things to Rhoen about the words that left her own mouth. Perhaps some rephasing was needed because Rain had a slight idea on the possible answer but she never inquired it with Rune. She could admit that the answer would be one she wouldn't enjoy because, yes, she was starting to feel something towards the Raider.

Rain had sat and thought about it up until it would give her a headache or when Rune would start complaing on how she was able to practically hear Rain think. Truth was, it bothered the Border girl on how exactly it happened. She constantly reminded herself that the man had taken her and her father prisoner. It was fact! But one too many times did Rain argue with herself in stating that he didn't treat them as badly as he could have. One too many times did he threaten to lock her up and never did. Perhaps she was reading too much into it, or perhaps the lack of contact over the years made her thirst for something she kept denying herself. Either way she was left frustrated in many ways. For starters she fought her feelings for Rhoen and figured it was that story about Amielia that started everything. He had a kindness and compassion to him that no one seemed to know about. A loyalty that was unmatched, a fierce spirit, a big heart that remained in disguise, and a playful character with wit. A person she enjoyed a battle of words with and he always seemed up for a challenge despite his mood. The thought of it all caused for her to smile freely, no one was here after all.

"I haven't seen you smile like that in quite some time." That voice brought her back down to Earth and she could feel a heat rise up from her neck to settle on her cheeks. She glanced over to see Rhoen standing tall as he always did, a large saddle being held up by just one of his hands. His strength still had her wonderstruck and many times she had wanted to pester him as to how he got that way but she was able to figure out that it was because of where he had come from and to be honest, she had been more quiet since learning a bit more of his history. A fact that Rhoen noticed.

"I was thinking of home." She lied to him as her eyes reverted back to looking at his horse. She could feel his eyes on her and her face burned from it and she clutched the book in her hand harder. "What are you staring at?" She asked him loudly as she boldly turned her head to look at him, eyes foward in demand. At least she hoped that's how she looked thought judging by the growing smirk on Rhoen's face she probably looked like a child trying to act as if they were all grown up.

"You aren't skin and bones anymore." He noted, ignoring her blatant lie, as his eyes looked over her figure once more. It was true and with the clothes that Rune had given her, it showed. The top only covered her front and back, with ties on the side to keep the cloth in place and while Rain wasn't used to showing such skin, the heat called for it. Even so, she had made the attempt to tie the clothes as close together as possible but the lack of material didn't allow that. She was able to tie up one side but then the other would have been left more than bare.... For bottoms, Rune had insisted on a skirt. The top of it hugged her figure so would would sit on her hips in a snug fashion while the rest of the fabric flowed around to her ankles. Rain however had grabbed one of the sides to her skirt and stuffed into the top part of it so the fabric would sit on a slant on her body. She didn't want to risk getting the fabric that Rune so kindly gave her but the eariler action made her feel more naked in front of the man who had been invading her thoughts.

He watched as she seemed a bit taken back by his comment. She began to fidget nervously and moved some to try and hide as much skin possible with her arms. Rain knew she was always a little on the skinny side due to her lack of eating. It was always something that both Arso and Heimer scolded her for day in and day out but Rain refused to eat more than what she did to the day prior. She insisted that it was better that way because food would sometimes fall scarce between the three and the last thing she wanted was to get used to eating then go hungry. This was a life style that simply was not allowed here and not just because the food was spiced and delicious, but because people here took pride in their cooking, espcially Rune's family. She had learned quickly that not finishing her plate would cause a bit of ruckus and the person who prepared the meal for the day would be in despair and insist Rain didn't enjoy her meal. This normally lead to seconds so Rain could prove that she did in fact like it, thus her weight gain.

Rain continued to remain quiet, not sure what to say to those words of his. Did he mean them in a good way? He had made a comment before that she needed to eat more, a day that was brutally hot and she wore a wrap around her chest so she couldn't sufficate from the heat. He had stared at her torso a long time and had even broken boundaries as he grabbed her to touch the ribs that were peeking through her skin. She remembered the look of concern on his face. It hadn't lasted long but it was there and for a moment she believed that he actually cared for her, or at least her well being. So, perhaps Rhoen did mean that comment of his in a positive way... Or so she liked to believe so.

"What are you doing?" He asked suddenly, noting her sudden quiet nature. He worried for a moment that he had made her uncomfortable and decided to change the subject, seeing her face change with confusion as he did. His large form began to move towards her, his steps falling heavy against the ground. His face showed interest as his eyes landed on the book in her hands and he could only figure she was either working on something for his fortress or doodling the day away. His piercing eyes watched as she held the book closer to her chest and steped away from him to keep a distance between them. She didn't want him peeking into the book that she currently had in her hands, but her actions caused for Rhoen to became all the more interested.

The saddle that was in his hand had dropped with a loud thump and Rain looked down at the now clean leather before looking back to Rhoen, who was now closing in on her. With just two strides he stood in front of her and with a quick reflex, he froced the book out of the grip of her two hands with just three fingers.

"Give that back!" She ordered and reached for the book which he held high up in the air from her. He grinned as he watched her struggle to jump and couldn't help but make a quip at her, "Keep moving like that and I'll see more than you want me to." The comment made her flush even more and Rhoen wondered when was the last time he did something to make her face that particular shade. She once more began to fidget and stood there stubbornly, thinking. Jumping around would do no good, not unless she climbed something and then made that jump but the man would just move aside... Then it hit her. She jumped up to grab on to one of his raised upper arms, hanging off a moment before lifting her legs to circle his torso. If she couldn't jump to get her book, then she would climb him for it!

Her actions didn't shake him and he merely began to flip through the pages as she struggled to get her book back. His head had tilted up to get a better look inside her book as he came across some more recent drawings of hers. There were plenty of his horse, a fact that brought a smile to his face. Some plants from the Oasis, the view of the desert garden from different angles, more horses, him, horses... Wait. He paused and flipped back to see at least three pages worth of him. There were pictures of his hands, arms, how his back looked, a profile of him, his hair up and his hair down. "Rain?" His voice falling in a whisper but with a tone she could still hear. The way he had called her name said enough. He wanted to know why these drawings were in her little book, when she did them, and if there were more.

The sound of his voice made her stop to look at him and she noted his intense stare. It made her grow nervous. Two different kinds of nervous. The other kind made her want to groan in embarrasment. She wanted to question him as to why he called her name but it clicked far too quickly in her head. She was hoping she wasn't right about this. She was hoping he came across the drawings of Heimer, knowing that Rain was one to only draw the things that she saw. She peeled her eyes away from his to glance up and one of her fears were realized. He had seen her drawings. He had seen her drawings and she was currently grabbing on to him like some monkey. If it wasn't for the confusing and growing feelings for him, she would have found the situation hilarious.

"Um..." The dark haired girl found herself licking her lips, a sudden dryness overcoming them. What was she supposed to say? That she was secretly admiring him from afar? It was the truth after all. Would he buy a lie? Would he allow for her to say something that the two of them would know wouldn't be true? She didn't know how he did it, but he was always able to tell if she were fibbing or not and when he turned his head on something she said, it meant he was only allowing for her to get away with. However, there were only a handful of times that occurred. He would always press for the truth and when she took her time, his anger would rise. A situation like that normally left her stubbornly avoiding him, even in person. She would always just pretend he wasn't there until he apologized for losing his temper and when that didn't work, she took things to another level. He would threaten her with leaving her in a jail cell with no freedom and she would laugh sarcastically at his words. Her daring attitude would make her run to the closest ledge, where she would taunt him with jumping if he didn't clean up his act. One day, she did in fact jump. Rhoen had been able to catch her time, scolding her all the way to the healers so they could clean up her cuts where they eyed Rhoen, wondering if he was the cause. He explained the situation and Rain would only instigate, telling them he forced her into that position. That day ended with Rhoen giving her former apology, a win for Rain.

This however, she felt wouldn't end in some banter of wits and words. She wondered just what she could do and she figured she could start by untangling herself from him.

"I-" She stopped once her feet was on the ground again, backing away some. She need some distance to think. She was too close to him and for a moment she couldn't believe that she had been grabbing on to him the way she had been. Brown eyes watched the man lower his arms as he shut the book, glancing over the beaten cover before carefully moving closer to her, afraid she'd run like some frightened rabbit. He held the small book out to her, waiting for her to take it as his eyes bore into hers. Again, Rain licked her lips, this time out of nervousness. She watched the raider's eyes flicker down to her lips and noticed how the muscles in his upper body flex with the small action.

Rain reached out to hesitantly take the book from him, holding it close to her once more. Her eyes diverted from his face, feeling too shy now to stare up at him. "I've never met someone quite like you." She answered him, her tone falling soft as her brows furrowed at the thought. It wasn't a lie and it wasn't the truth, it was just vague. It was known that Rain had a habbit of sketching things she hadn't seen before and would sometimes poke at them to find out more about them that would sometimes lead to trouble, like with the raddle snake. Lucky for her, Rune had something for the price Rain paid for being curious.

She glanced back at Rhoen who seemed to be deciding how he should take her answer. The fact that she wasn't being completly honest bothered him but at the same time he knew that she wasn't in the most ideal predicament. He decided then not to press it. He wouldn't say anything else on the matter, mostly due to the fact that she looked so vulnerable now. Her little secret was out for the most part and a part of him had hoped it was because of what his brain nagged at him for. He then closed his eyes a moment, needing to collect himself. She was Arso's daughter. The bastard who ruined everything for him. Rain was nothing but his prisoner. No more, no less. The thought in his mind caused for him to breath in sharply before he looked back at the inquistive girl who looked as if her world had been crushed once more. She didn't seem to proud that he had found out. That firey nature he had come to admire seemed as though it had been put out. By her actions he could tell it wasn't meant to be known and he knew why. She saw him as the raider, her captive, the man who took everything away from her. She didn't want to see him as more and he felt a little at fault for that. He should have kept his distance from her but logic never won when it came to wanting to see her.

Rain shifted her weight before deciding she needed to make her leave. If she stayed, things would only grow more awkward. She didn't need that with him. She was able to hide her growing feelings for the most part, slipping up now and again but not anymore. Any pictures she had of him would burn in the fire she would build tonight. Any thought of him she was going to force out of her mind and remind her of their first meeting. She needed to save her father, get back home, see Heimer, get away...

"Rain." She snapped up to look at him as she slowly put away her book into a pouch that was attached to a belt that hung low on her hips. His voice was low, raspy almost and she felt a shiver run up her spine. It had to be the cooling air, it had to be. She insisted as she noted the multi-colored darkening sky. "Ride with me." It wasn't a question. An order like that from him would normally have her retorting some smart-ass comment but not this time. All she was able to do at this point was nod and watched as he released his horse from the confines of it's personal space. He mounted the saddle easily and strapped it in tight before moving to get everything ready with the horse.

His silence worried her some. Did he have nothing to say about what had transpired? He was going on about his business as if nothing had happened. That's what she wanted though, right? Right? A slight frown made her way to her lips as she glanced away in thought once more. If he was pretending nothing happened, he wouldn't have asked for her to ride with him. She was pretty sure he would ready a horse of her own and it then occurred to her that she had no experience with such thing, let alone touching a horse. The fact was quite an embarressment for her. It was just an animal, no need to fear it.

"Rain." His voice broke her out of her thinking and she looked over to him. He was waiting for her. He stood close to the animal, patting it's head some when he noticed something. Rain was looking at the massive creature with an expression he couldn't quite pin point. He then figured it out when she refused to move from her spot and chuckled softly. He stepped away from the horse to gently take hold of Rain's hand and began to guide her closer to the animal. She had hesitated some and Rhoen simply moved to stand behind her, pushing her forward with his body. She really couldn't have escaped even she wanted to, Rhoen would probably just grab a hold of her anyway.

"I don't-" She was then interruppted.

"Shhh..." He hushed her and held her fingers in between his as he guided their joint hands to the forehead of the animal so she could pet him. He kept his fingers alongside hers, guiding her so she could get over whatever fear she had. A few moments passed and he moved his hand from hers, smiling at the sight of her fully immersed in showing affection to his only steed. Both his hands dropped to settle on her hips, as if keeping her in place in case she decided to run. Rain didn't actually seem to notice considering she was now cooing to the animal which had only caused for him to roll his eyes. Why did all girls do that? He wondered. It was a nice moment he had to admit, having her close like this as she showed that softer side of her to him and vice versa.

He remained silent, allowing the girl in front of him to aqquaint herself with a horse for the first time as he watched her endearing actions, amused. His thumbs began to trace bank and forth against her skin slowly, not quite noticing his own actions. It wasn't until his hands moved forward to hug her some, one hand covering her lower belly. Rain had to admit that while it felt nice, it surprised her some and even more so when he pulled her closer to him so that her back was fully against his chest. Her actions slowed when he did this and she turned her neck to try and look at him. Her turning caused for him to loosen his grip and some of that fire that he knew was still in Rain showed. She turned fully, her back now to the horse as she gazed up at Rhoen with uncertainty. Just what was he doing? She wondered, her mouth parting some, wanting to say something but not sure what.

His eyes had fallen to her lips once more, remaining there as a roughed up hand reached up towards her face. His knuckled gently skimmed along her cheek before lowering so he could prop up her chin, his thumb now rubbing back and forth beneath her bottom lip.

"RHOEN!" The loud sound of someone calling his name caused for the two to back away some. Rain's face reddened as she stepped away from him and turned to hide her features as she made it look as if she was nuzzling the horse that was behind her. Rhoen grew stiff, more annoyed than anything at the voice and turned his head to glare at the person who made their way into the stable.

"The leader from the camp East of us is here to surrender." The news, while welcomed, couldn't be more annoying to the ears of Rhoen. Did they really have to do this now? The bastards couldn't wait until morning!? He let out a gruff sound as he flexed his fingers in thought. He needed to calm down before he went over then and crushed that damned leader's head for showing up and ruining what was going on just a few moments before.

He looked over at Rain, who was now watching the two curiously. Her brown ones spotted his blue ones and she bit her lip before quickly making her way out, avoiding eye contact with Rhoen's messanger, leaving the two behind with whatever matters they needed to attend to. She couldn't help but wonder if Rhoen had been just as flustered as she but that thought soon left her head at the sight of someone from the corner of her eye.

When she exited the stable, she had noticed a figure to her right and turned around to see just who was there. Her mouth dropped at the sight of the person before her and Rain began to try to come up with at least thirty ways to defend her behavior from just moments ago.

"Rune..." She started off, a nervous chuckle following as she ran a hand through her hair, her face red once more. She looked at her friend and mentally cursed at the sight of her knowing eyes and cat like grin. Rain knew that the look her friend wore only meant that whatever bull shit Rain would try to sell that night wouldn't fly.

"Let's go." Rune said simply. "It's time for dinner. Let's take the long way back, hm?" She suggested, linking arms with Rain. The chances of escaping were zero to none and now Rain would be forced to talk one way or another....

"Great." She thought to herself, more worried about how she would face Rhoen in the morning.

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kaseyhillaryindn241 · 4 years

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In-depth investigation into design classics:

From project 1 I identified what a good design is. This definition is very dependent on the product being created. For example, as we currently live in the ‘less is more’ age many people believe simplicity is what makes a good design as this way less material is used and the design looks sleek and effortless, this idea works well if designing a toothbrush or tissue box, however when designing a fancy metal watch for example, you wouldn't want the design to be overly simple as many people like to have complex patterns on the watch to give it style and stand out from the rest. With this in mind, to me a good design is something that, if the object is thought of primarily as simple/ mundane, then to keep it as such (usually the case for things which have a shorter lifespan), but if the object is thought of as more complex and intricate, to have a good level of designs, whether that be displayed by patterns or having multiple materials (usually the case for things which have a longer lifespan or are a central display (something lots of people will look at and take notice of. (large coffee table, watch)).

A good design, aside from aesthetics, is something that uses environmentally friendly materials, is reusable, and clearly displays, in one way or another, that they are trying to lessen their environmental impact. Also fits its function, has a really obvious user interface (how to use the product is obvious), is innovative, has a long lifespan (or if not then naturally breaks down really easily whilst still lasting the expected time), every detail has lots of thought into why it's there and has a purpose. Also to be adaptable, this will increase its life cycle whilst still being fashionable and gives the user a chance to slightly change the style of it.

When designing, in terms of the product being environmentally friendly, everything needs to be taken into considerations e.g. from cradle to cradle. The amount of chemicals and materials used to make the product and the carbon emissions being released from this process, the delivery of the product, life span and so on. Everything must be taken into consideration when trying to make a product environmentally friendly, not just the end life of it. In summary a good design is something of value. The best design is one of the greatest value compared to all its competitors.

With this definition in mind and the design classics I have chosen, I’m going to evaluate them starting with a toaster. Toaster was first made in 1893, being composed of a bent metal wire which the piece of bread would sit on, when heated up by electricity the wire would toasted the bread. When it comes to the classic toaster design, functionally it wasn’t the best design as it was open, letting the heat escape and taking up more energy to toast the bread, thereby making it less sustainable than modern day toasters. The design also relied on the user to flip the toast over to get an even cook on both sides and ment that the user had to stay watching over it and couldn’t do their own thing. Against my criteria for a good design, the classic toaster design doesn’t fit into any of my criteria, yes this design does technically fit its function as it does cook bread, however not to the standard that I have. Due to it not fitting my criteria I will no longer continue investigating this as a design classic.

Can opener was first made in 1858, making it older than the toaster. Made up of two materials, metal to open the can and wood for the handle. This design did fit its function and uses natural materials, however, the mining of these materials, especially metal isn’t the best environmentally. This design does use two materials and using less materials is best when it comes to the recycling/ end of life for the product so in this case, it's not as harmful. Also as this product only has two materials, they can be reused, extending the lifespan of the material and lessening the environmental impact. Aesthetically not the best looking model and not the safest as the user could easily cut themselves when trying to open the can however does have a long life span which is a positive and something that I considered makes up a good design. Comparing the classic, initial designed can opener to the modern one, the modern one is safer for the user to use but has more harmful materials and uses plastic for the handle. To make it better for the environment could use recycled plastic instead or other recycled materials.

Hot plate was invented in 1936, making even the classic the most modern design out of all the ones I am investigating. The lifespan of this design is very dependent on the user and how much care they take of it, however even if it's not cared for the best, it still has a very long lifespan due to the simplicity and amount of materials. Functionally this design works great, the only hazard being if someone touches the hot plate when it's hot and burns themselves, however this would be a hazard no matter what the design was when considering hot objects. Can be slightly adaptable as you could interchange the shell if you wanted a different colour and in a way, is timeless as it will always be usable as something someone could use to heat up their food. Moderner designs will mainly only improve this classic design by making it more sustainable e.g. sustainable materials or finding a way to heat up the metal plate faster which would result in less energy being spent on heating the plate, making it more economical and saving money for the consumer.

Colander/ veggie steamer was invented a long time ago in 1300 BC showing just how much of a design classic this is. As this classic design has been around for centuries designers have had time to adapt this design to improve it. The best adapted design I have found being the RMDLO colander which is collapsible, shrinking to 10 percent of its original size. This fits into all of my criteria and more for what I believe makes up a good design. It saves space and fits the function of all other colanders plus more as it can also squeeze the veggies inside. Limit materials have been used and to join the materials together, screws were used which is best for the recycling process as materials which have been stuck together with adhesives are no longer reusable as the adhesives have contaminated the material. Very aesthetic and simple design with clear user interface and materials can easily be recycled or reused for other products. To me this product is so exceptional that I feel they have already created the best possible version of the design classic. Thus I shall not continue with this design classic as one of my options as I feel I cannot improve the classic as much as these designers have done. Below is an image of their design and how it works.

The only thing I can add to it is to somehow find a way to have faces which get pressed onto the veggies as mentioned in the blog. I really like this idea for all the reasons already mentioned below when I initially looked into colanders however legalistically, I can’t think of how I could make this work without decreasing the taste as people want all their veggies to taste the same, not have some parts more cooked than others.

Tea cups were invented in the 17th century, being a design classic. With my design definition, tea cups fit most of the criteria I have set, being very aesthetic, reusable and fully fitting its function. The only thing this design classic doesn’t have is being made from recycled materials or having the ability to break down naturally, also tea and coffee often stain cups and once stained, they lose their value and often result in the user throwing it out. As already mentioned however, a designer found a way to extend its lifespan as she used these tea/ coffee stains as a design to increase its value. This is a very cool idea and changes consumer behavior as it encourages consumers keep the cups for longer.

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inthatstateofgrace · 5 years

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Practicing Gratifood: Five Steps to Eating Mindfully

Happiness cannot be traveled to, owned, earned, worn, or consumed. Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace, and gratitude.” -Denis Waitley

What people usually mean when they say “gratifood” is the process of applying gratitude to food. Infusing appreciation into what we eat, being mindful every step of the way, and practicing awareness that food is something to be thankful for.

Step 1: Get connected to each step of the process.

Gratifood begins before you start cooking. It begins before you decide what’s for dinner. It begins in your mind as a mental checklist of all the things that have to happen for you to be able to eat.

If you think for a moment about all the steps food takes before it ends up on your plate, you will instantly feel more connected to the process. Taking it a step further, if you specifically think about each step your food has taken to get to you, the more and more and more you will feelappreciation.

AJ Jacobs, author of “Thanks a Thousand,” realized how much he took for granted his morning cup of coffee. So, he set out on a journey to thank all the people that make his morning ritual possible. What he quickly realized is that the amount of people to thank is infinite: every person he thanked would not have been able to do what they do without the help of countless other people. Everyone from the cashier that rings him up at the grocery store, to the roaster, to the farmer, to the truck driver, to the workers who maintain the roads. He thanks a thousand people in the book, and the ultimate moral of the story is that there are far more people to thank than he possibly could in one lifetime. And that’s just for one small daily ritual–coffee.

Getting connected to the process starts by asking, “If I trace this food—say it’s peanut butter—back to where it began, where does that take me?” As AJ found out, there is an infinite number of components to thank, and there’s no need to do this process of thankfulness ad-nauseum. At some point during the process of cooking, remember to bring to mind the fact that it’s a series of small miracles that you have the variety and quality of food that you do.

When you become aware of the infinite level of thanks you can give for any given food item, and you begin to apply that level of gratitude to the many ingredients you use in any given meal, you can begin to feel an appropriate level of appreciation for the food you’re about to eat.

Step 2: Pour your heart’s loving energy into the food.

Even if it means taking longer to cook, allowing your day’s pent-up positive energy to overflow into the process of cooking can transform the way you make food. Cooking can be a structured outlet into which you can process those positive emotions. And yes, positive emotions need to be processed too! By creating a meal this way, you can transfer your positive emotions into a new form–food–and experience them all over again! One of the most powerful positive emotions you can use to enhance this effect is gratitude. It’s not necessarily about what you eat as much as it is about how you eat. Eating starts before you take the first bite. We all know this and if we need proof, all we have to do is conjure up the image of a brimming mug of hot chocolate and imagine touching it to our lips for the first foamy sip, tasting the sweet cocoa powder and cinnamon.

Step 3: Curate your dining environment.

At this point we’ve learned to put appreciation, love and thanks into the different steps of cooking in order to create a meal that’s infused with gratifood. Now it’s time to set the stage. It’s encouraged to create a space in which you feel comfortable eating. A place where you can complete the act of eating with full presence and little distraction. It’s important to consider everything from ambiance, lighting and decor to the types of utensils you eat with.

Did you ever consider you might appreciate your meal more simply by changing the dishware you’re using? It makes sense that you would enjoy your morning beverage more if you are drinking it from a mug that you bought specifically because looking at it brings you joy! You should be able to tell the story of everything you own, and especially the items you use to eat with. Because unlike a baseball glove or pair of pants, you are ingesting the energy of that plate or bowl every time you eat.

And just because the word energy is used, that doesn’t it make it woo-woo. Extending your mindfulness about eating to what you cook with and eat off of can have measurable health benefits. Did you know that changing the type of pan you cook with can help oxygenate your blood? Every time you cook with a cast iron pan you’re boosting your iron intake. Since iron is an essential nutrient that every cell in the body needs to transport oxygen in the blood and myoglobin in muscles, it’s safe to say that the type of pan you cook with has the power to make you a healthier person.

Step 4: Eat with others and if you are eating alone, eat alone.

Now that the meal is ready and the stage is set, it’s a good time to customize the gratifood experience based around who you are eating with.

If you are eating alone, make sure to commit fully to eating alone. Understand that you can experience gratifood just as much alone as you can at a communal meal. Make sure to eliminate distractions. There’s some gray area here and use your good judgment. If you are going to consume content while eating, make sure whatever music you are playing or podcast you are listening to contributes to the feelings of gratitude and appreciation you’ve cultivated thus far.

Remember, digestion starts before taking the first bite. Having content playing in the background, especially video can change your focus in way that inhibits proper digestion. Think about it. Ever watched a suspenseful movie and actually felt it in your body? You’re hanging on the edge of your seat with a pit in your stomach and breathing shallowly. You’ve experienced how the type of content you’re consuming can have real effects on your physiology. And if the content puts you in a fight or flight physiological response, you can see how it would disrupt digestion, which occurs optimally when the body is in a rest and relaxation state.

If you have nothing to distract yourself with, your food becomes your company. You will chew your food well, enjoy every bite to the maximum, and significantly slow the rate at which you eat. You will get to know your food like a close friend.

Did you know it can take up to twenty minutes for the body to send signals of satiety? Most people’s meals don’t even last that long! If you eat slowly, you will probably end up eating less, which in most cases is a good thing. Mindful eating allows you to more appropriately gauge when you should stop eating based off the body’s satiety versus the default gauge people usually use, which is stomach fullness.

Step 5: Dedicate the first 10 bites you take.

I’m going to step in to the first person here for a moment and tell you a little story. It takes place in a rural county in Virginia, at an off-the-beaten-path retreat center called Yogaville. I stayed there for one month during the summer of 2015. Everyone living at the facility and doing the work trade program ate communal meals together. The big meals would be served in a dining hall, and prior to taking the first bite, we would usually go around in a circle and everyone would dedicate the first bite of their meal. This was our version of gratifood. Sometimes we would go around in the circle and we’d do several of these very slow, grateful bites before we started eating at a normal pace. This allowed us to thoroughly infuse each bite with appreciation.

Know that if you take nothing else from this article, if you remember the 10 bites rule, you will be practicing gratitude. Before beginning to eat at your normal pace, eat ten bites mindfully and slowly. Between each bite, bring to mind someone or something you are grateful for and dedicate that bite accordingly.

The five steps to practicing gratifood are your friend. Start small, but make sure to start somewhere. A great place to start is by choosing one of the five steps that resonate most with you and apply it to one of your meals this week. When done on a regular basis, mindful eating has the power to change your thoughts, emotional state, and physical health.

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Editor’s note: This is a guest post by Tim Brogan. Tim is currently an Ithaca-based yogi and traveler whose motto is “step into your purpose and share it with clarity.”

Subscribe to his Living is Learning Podcast and YouTube channel: @timbrogan. Website: topselfdevelopment.com