*me slinging my arm around a vampire character and patting their face* this baby can fit so much projection of my teenage mental issues.

I’M GONNA TALK ABOUT BUGS FUCK YOU

So recently i've been adoring Phasmids a shit ton. Phasmids are groups of insects that look like sticks, leaves, etc. The Phasmatodea group is insects that are stick like, so stick bugs, etc! And the Phylliidae group is those little leaf bugs! They are mostly harmless to humans, but when they feel threatened they will throw whatever the hell they can at you. Some of these bugs will create a goo-like liquid around them so that they taste bad when predictors try and eat them, but others will reflex bleed to make a really gross smell, which makes it less likely for them to be attacked. If you get a stickbug as a pet, its really good to know that some stick insects will play dead, usually if being handled due to how large a human is compared to themselves. they see us as predictor for the most part. some species die suddenly for no apparent reason. Phasmids can surprisingly provide a lot of nourishment to a a plently abountl of different predators. (primates, spiders, rodents, reptiles, bats and birds) They are also nocturnal by nature, although they still need a day/night cycle to thrive! usually phamids live for a bout a year (12 months) the stick bug dance that turned into a meme not to long ago is actually a survival technique!! They sway like a stick in the wind to mimic whatever plant they are on!

anyways enjoy the rest of your evenings drink some water and take ur meds

Without Question (Epilogue)

Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Content: fluffy conclusion and maybe...mayyyyybe a future fic idea

Warnings: …none? Um...except for that one lady in there.

Word Count: Hot water does not quench my thirst no matter how good it might be for my body...which in itself is such a disaster of a thing.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

The life of a parasite is not that complex of an affair. It is born to live inside a host, gather its nutrients from the said host- more than often at the host's expense- live till it can breed more or find a better host. Its entire life is based on the expense of another creature; its survival in the flesh of someone who can contain it. Therefore, it is no wonder she does not like it when someone calls her a parasite. For she is not one. Her kind lives in codependency, finding a host it is compatible with and helping it flourish in return for nourishment.

Her species was known to have always gone for the living, looking for hosts they could control, be the dominant party of the two sitting in the conference room inside the mind of the body they inhabited, the foreboding controllers that they were. However, inhabiting a dead host- or someone near to it- was never talked about for carcasses were beneath them and their Titan-like ego.

But she isn't like them. She wants to be different. To finally have the freedom she has craved for her entire existence; she wants to live it. And so, she has decided to throw all the laws of the dead empire outside the window and try her theory of inhabiting a body nearly at its deathbed.

The woman- strolled into the emergency room with fatal blows to her body in some accident- is covered in blood and bruises when the doctors try to rush into the process of saving her, measuring her heart rate, blood pressure and respiration rate. It is pure chaos for her to watch it all from the ceiling. Humans. Such soft creatures. She can sense that woman's vitals weakening with every passing moment, something the machines tell the medical professionals by a few seconds' delay. No amount of effort is going to repair that internal bleeding and shock accelerating that human's chances of death slithering right by the corner. And just at that second, she knows that flesh is no longer the resident to the soul it has been harbouring since the beginning of its time, she jumps discreetly into the body when the doctors are focusing at the screen that shows the patient is flatlining. One shock to through the defibrillator is enough for her to let the chemicals be catalysed to become one with neurons; her presence gradually gelling with the body to become one with it. And before any other human in the room can debate on it being a medical miracle, a sign of higher power or simply the inadequacy of the machines, she opens her eyes in her new form, seeing the world through an independent pair of windows for the first time.

Free.

.

"You know, when we both silently agreed on staying together, I wasn't really expecting you to spoil my life like this."

Steve's chuckle reverberates through the kitchen and dining hall. His honey-laced laugh reaches you in the living room to make you smile as you gather the whiteboard, a few markers, the portable speaker, and a couple of other knick-knacks for the small gathering you are about to have.

"If making breakfast every day is spoiling you then I am not even halfway to showing you how much more I can spoil your life, doll," he announces over the sound of something sizzling over the stove.

You bite your lips to stop the overflow of these gushing emotions all inside you. "Oh, let's not forget giving Stace the freedom to do whatever she wants, okay?" You state, getting up and moving towards the hall, "And you making that entire front yard-"

"That's our back yard."

Our back yard.

...Fuck. Why is he like this?

"Making our entire back yard into this freaking perfect garden with all those fancy fairy lights and a freaking gazebo!"

"You liked it," he stresses. You peak in from the entrance of the kitchen, watching him carefully place the omelettes in two plates along with the toasts- yours extra crispy with thinly spread butter on them- before pouring orange juice in two glasses.

"That doesn't matter," you retort, watching him being caught off guard, your heart instantly melting when his eyes light up on seeing you stand there. "I'm not gonna maintain that luxurious green patch when the time comes."

He stands facing you, his hands on his hips and oh heavens! that customised blue apron with chibi Captain America blessing its front gives you all the right feels in your stomach. "No problem," he affirms, picking the plates and moving them to the tiny breakfast table by the French window before coming back for the juice, "I'll take care of it. I'm pretty sure all of these are positive spoil-"

"Oh I'm not done yet," you interject, sauntering towards a slightly confused and faintly excited Steve, "you have me utterly spoiled-" you move your hands around his waist, earning an arched brow from him- "with all-" your hands go beyond his back, moving lower till they land over his butt cheeks- "of that-" and give them a tight squeeze, forcing a delightful hum out of Steve as you push him closer to you- "sex!"

"Hmm," Steve growls, planting his one hand on your waist under your t-shirt, while the other goes up to tease your lower lip with his thumb. "If you don't like being spoiled," he whispers, bringing his lips closer to you but never close enough for you to get a taste of him, "we can always stop."

"Or," you begin to propose through a moan by letting your hands run along the hem of his track pants, creating a wave of disturbance wherever your fingers touch him before stopping at the trail of hair going down, "we could make it a healthy habit so it doesn't seem like I'm being spoiled." 

Your fingers run down that soft golden trail, stirring something inside the Captain, his light eyes feeling a dark edge of mischief being added to them. His finger traces a path down from your lips to your neck, going further down your chest. "Everyone'll arrive in an hour," Steve sighs, giving a light shrug.

"Oh," you turn to look at the clock and realise he's not wrong, letting go of the waistband of his track pants, "then we should-"

Your sentence ends up a light shriek from Steve lifting you by your ass, making your reflexes wrap your legs around him. "That means," he grunts, balancing you effortlessly in those buff arms while his lust-filled eyes have yours locked in place, his voice a shade huskier as he starts moving to the bedroom, "I have a lot of time to make you question all that I do for you. And to you. And more."

Oooh yes!

.

"How do I use this thing?"

Wasn't working with a human vessel not enough? Did they really have to invent these cheap electronic devices?

She looks down at the device that seems to keep buzzing with different messages for some reason as she tries to find her way through the street.

Getting out of the hospital had been easy (and so was getting a fresh set of clothes). Give the docs and nurses another pile of flesh and bones to worry about and they run like scared animals to help their flock. Now, she is out exploring, trying to work with this new suit, find out the perks and non-perks, questioning her idea of travelling solo when having another conscience to talk to and gnaw at would have been easier. Now it's just her with her voice speaking from some uncharted void walking down into a farmer's market, already having discovered how much of gross unwanted attention this sex of the human species is given on the street.

There is a huge variety of delectables lines up that the humans seemingly prefer. Different shapes, colours and sizes. Some smell sweet, some sour, and some smell like they would sting your tongue before leaving a sweetness behind. Strange edibles. She watches another human- a man as far as the scent of the hormones off him goes- politely asking for some fresh oranges while telling the man behind the counter the ones he is trying to pack do not smell fresh. The sweet nectar of curiosity seems to send a reaction to her brain, making her step towards the box of citrus fruits displayed for the customers. Quickly picking half a dozen from down the different boxes, she brings them forward to the man who is nearly losing his patience. "These are fresh."

The man turns to see her. And she gets a good look at him for the first time. Hypnotising blue eyes look at her in a flurry of confusion and gratuitous delight, the beard hiding pink lips and flushed cheeks.

After a short considerable second, he takes the oranges from her. "Thank you," he mentions without blinking, taking a little time to turn back to make the payment. And in that turn is a microscopic moment, he watches, from the corner of his eye, a stranger try to touch her ass for barely a second.

She, of course, feels it too well. The man turns to get hold of that pervert and kick some respect into him only to find her punching the daylights out of him.

And he just stands there, full body in pause, mind in awe of the woman who has knocked that excuse of a man out in one blow, looking at her once again- this time from his heart. She looks back at him too; though with visible shades of uncertainty before looking down at the guy.

"Was I not supposed to do that?" She asks the man who by now has his mouth agape, still looking at her.

He blinks. "Huh?" Looks down at the man and raises his brows and chuckles. "What? No. I mean yes. You are absolutely supposed to do that."

"Oh-" she nods, and he watches her beam and be proud of herself, "okay."

"Um," he tries to catch her attention.  "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

She looks down at the hand she used, feeling nothing more than minute tickles. "Yeah, I think I'm good." She turns her gaze back to him with a smile.

He melts inside.

"Do you know where is this place?" She asks him, taking out a card she found in her- the dead woman's- pocket.

"This," he hums, reading the card, "was a few blocks down the road the last I saw it."

"Oh," she scrunches her nose and feels a tired groan come out of her, "how far?"

"I can drop you there if you want," he blurts out, "I'm going that way myself."

She looks at him again. Watching him run his hands through his long lush hair, wondering if she'd seen him somewhere before shaking that thought off, knowing full well that she would remember a pretty face like this. "Yes, I'd like that."

"Great," he chirps. "Oh, I'm James," he addresses, drawing forward his hand, "my friends call me Bucky."

"Bucky," she tastes the name on her tongue and feels all the black mush inside her do a little dance for some unknown reason.

"And you are?"

She licks her lips and feels them stretch involuntary, drawing her own hand forward to meet his, saying her name to bring herself- her true self- into existence, letting the air carry her name for whatever future it is to bring for her.

Title: Death shall not rest on my doorstep

Summary: Bruce dies and suddenly Gotham, previously claimed by the Omega, is without a ruler. And Jason hadn’t planned to do anything about it, but-

AN: Written for @thursday-batfam-prompts ABO! Because I like non-traditional A/B/O AU’s so this is NOT CREEPY. I repeat: NOTHING CREEPY!

In-between all the vigilante occupied cities, Gotham had always been the odd one out. Not simply because none of its heroes were aliens or meta-humans of any kind, but because it was a claimed territory.

If you passed Gotham city borders, you entered the home of the Bat. It made outsiders vary. They weren’t used to the omnipresent feeling of darkness waiting to wrap them in its shadow. They thought of it as unnatural, gross, and downright frightening. For those who called Gotham home, the Bat’s presence was the sweet reassurance that someone would be there for you at the end of the day. Whether it was to welcome you to the gates of hell or heaven’s feather-light embrace, nobody knew. It was the reason nobody ever truly left Gotham. After years of living under someone’s protection, it was hard to move to another place.

During his training, Jason had spent a couple weeks in Bialya, first tracking down a teacher, then learning under them. While the country wasn’t a place Jason had wanted to spend more time in than necessary, Bialya was also one of the few claimed territories still left in the world. Its ruling Omega Queen Bee couldn’t be further from Bruce, but the weight that came from being in claimed lands had been comforting on Jason’s shoulder.

He had never known what it was like to live in free land. Jason had been a toddler still when Batman had started his crusade. He couldn’t even recall what the city’s scent had been before the Omega had torn through the streets, declaring it his city to nourish and cherish. In the course of one night Gotham’s fate had changed.

And now its direction had turned once more.

Jason knew that there was a difference between death and absence. He was the best example of what either did to you. Absence was breathing in and remembering the taste of something you were missing dearly. Death was defined by taking a breath, choking on glass, and wondering how you could ever lose something as precious as your heart.

Gotham was grieving, had been since Bruce had died - or disappeared if you were to believe the words of an equally destroyed teenager. Jason almost felt sorry for Tim. First, another little Beta disturbed the careful balance of Gotham’s vigilante pack, then their parent and guide died, and finally Dick proved incapable of putting his foot down properly, effectively pushing Tim out.

And meanwhile, Gotham was still in tears. Sure, there was a new Bat on the streets who could hit just as hard as the old one, but in the end, Dick was a Beta and couldn’t claim a territory. It was almost ironic that Crime Alley, Jason’s region, was the most stable one. Its people missed the Bat – How could they not when it had such a much more merciful chokehold than the Red Hood? – but at least its borders were still defined every night.

Jason stretched his arms above his head. It was time to get going, least of all some other second-rate Omega thought he could take what belonged to Jason. As he made his way across the rooftops, Jason stopped once in a while just to turn west and stare. The rest of Gotham whispered sweetly, begging for its Knight in shining armor or, perhaps as Jason used to dream so long ago, for a Robin who had spread his wings.

Bruce gave him a promise ages ago when the streets Jason walked hadn’t run red with his own blood yet.

Nightwing had made his home in Blüdhaven then, barely even a member of their pack, and Batgirl had sought new heights to explore. There had been no other children tearing at Bruce’s cape for attention, whether that was in form of an angry blonde Alpha, another silent Omega or two Beta Robins.

Jason had been a son then, the only other Omega. It had been logical that he’d become the next Bat and inherit Gotham. His eyes had been so wide when Bruce promised him this city, so full of disbelief.

The child that had died had been right to question it. Crime Alley was all of Gotham that ever should belong to Jason, to the Red Hood. The rest was the home of the Bat and a naïve, hopeful Robin dreaming of the future.

Red Hood couldn’t care for a city. His job was to keep it contained.

Jason’s attention spiked when he felt a disturbance two blocks further down. The Bat was halfway across the city, but he could tell that the newest Robin was interrupting on the edge of Jason’s territory. Jason wasn’t really able to pinpoint Damian’s scent. He was a child still, smelling more like a mix of his parents than himself. But Jason was more than familiar what Robin’s scent should be. Before they were even allowed outside, Bruce had taught them how to divide themselves.

This was who you were at home.

(Old books, oil, hot chocolate, lemonade tarts)

This was who the media got to see.

(Ink, money, gold, summer)

And this was who you will be on patrol.

(Hope, streets, laughter, the Bat)

Robin was supposed to be attuned to the Bat. Jason had buried that part of himself deep beneath the anger, blood, birth and decay of the Pit. Damian, however, still smelled like the Bat. Like a Bat who was out of his depth and should have stopped hanging onto Daddy’s legacy when he left this city the first time, but a Bat nevertheless.

What was the little brat doing here? There was no reason-

Oh.

Jason bit on his tongue until it bled. It was a bad habit he hadn’t been able to unlearn even after all the terrible lessons his silence had taught him already.

Someone was trying to lay claim on Gotham, or at least a part of Gotham.

Jason shouldn’t care.

He had his part of town, the rest was up for grabs since Jason distinctly hadn’t claimed it and yet-

It had been supposed to be his years ago. When he still recalled how to not only be the danger waiting to snap your neck but the person you ran to for help. The kids on the street came to him, they recognized his slang and knew he was one of their own – but therein laid the problem. Robin hadn’t been one of them. Robin was theirs, body, soul, mind. If you misbehaved, you’d get hurt, that was given. Batman and Robin wouldn’t be effective if they just gave stern talks. The reassurance that despite everything, you wouldn’t die on the cold and dirty asphalt though, was enough to trust Robin above Red Hood every day. As long as Batman had been there, Jason hadn’t needed anyone to trust him.

But now the difference of Bruce’s disappearance managed to tear a rift the size of the Grand Canyon in-between him and everyone else.

Jason hurried to his bike and raced to Damian. He wanted to see which idiot thought he could trouble the most lethal Robin to date yet and dare to claim his father’s city right in front of him. Jason was halfway there when he recognized the intruder.

Victor Zsasz.

Fuck. Jason hadn’t even known the serial killer had escaped from Arkham.

He was already driving way above the speed limit, the few miles more he pushed for shouldn’t matter. When he arrived at the scene, Jason first scanned the situation. Zsasz was armed, Robin didn’t have his belt, and a couple kids were standing behind Robin’s back. Oh great, civilians. Last thing Jason needed tonight. As soon as he jumped off his bike, even before feet touched the ground, Jason threw a smoke bomb in Zsasz’s direction.

“What the hell-?”

While Zsasz was distracted, Jason ran for Damian’s belt lying on the ground.

“Don’t let anyone ever take this from you,” he hissed as he threw it in Damian’s hands. “You lose the belt, battle’s already looking worse.”

Then Jason turned to the kids. “You, scramble. You don’t want to see this.”

They didn’t have to be told twice and rushed off in the opposite direction, disappearing into another street.

“I had it under control!” Damian lied, so Jason didn’t even bother with a reply.

The smoke cleared up and Zsasz didn’t wait for even a second to jump Jason. The serial killer was dangerous, but he had nothing on the teachers Jason had trained under. Jason grabbed Zsasz’s outstretched arm, breaking his wrist as he took the man’s knife away and used his speed against him to throw him on the ground. He crashed harshly against the asphalt, but that wasn’t enough to stop him from trying to kick Jason’s legs away.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jason could see Damian reaching for his batarangs and no. The last thing he needed was more knives in Zsasz’s reach. Instead, Jason let himself be caught and crashed onto the attacker’s back with his knees.

“So you get out of Arkham and the first thing you do is try to claim Gotham,” Jason said. “You’re not really that stupid, are you?”

Zsasz growled and tried to shake Jason off.

“Nobody’s taken Gotham yet!” Zsasz shouted. “The Bat is dead. Has been for weeks now. We all know it! I’m just the first to try to do something about it.”

“And you think you deserve Gotham? You think you’re strong enough to keep this city under your thumb? Don’t make me laugh.”

Zsasz’s face turned into a torn impression of a snarl and he tried to push himself up again, but Jason stopped him by putting pressure on his broken hand. Zsasz hissed and reached for Jason’s leg with his other hand, digging his nails into the armor.

“Don’t act so high and mighty now, little Red Riding Hood, you didn’t do anything either! You’re weak and scared. Barely brave enough to stick to Crime Alley like the trash you are- urgh.”

Jason dunked Zsasz’s face in the ground, but that didn’t stop him. He just kept talking and talking, cutting into Jason’s skin with his words just as well as he would with a knife.

“All dressed up with a Bat across your chest, but we all know you’re not really a part of their pack. You just take like the rest of us. Take, take, take and cut this city into pieces, but you don’t try to fix anything at all.”

“Shut up.”

He didn’t need to hear it, he didn’t want to listen to it anymore. All Zsasz should do now was keep silent and stay down like the scum he was.

“What? Little red afraid to hear the truth?”

“I said, shut up!”

Zsasz kept grinning despite lying on the ground defeated. Jason only had to put a bullet into his head and it would be all over. It would show him what happened when you messed with the Red Hood and tried to take what didn’t belong to you. Jason should claim Gotham to keep all the monsters away from ever touching this city again. Jason should let them rot in the same depth of anger and decay as him.

Them and the rest of the city.

He couldn’t do that to everyone. The rogues of this city, the ugly creatures of terrible massacres deserved to drown in the worst of Jason’s self. But the kids spraying Batman murals and Robin Rs should grow up in a better place.

“Speechless, Red?”

“You,” Jason said and injected Zsasz’s with a sedative. “Talk too much.”

Slowly he stood up. Tomorrow, maybe, Jason would regret it. The Pit would scream at him, and he’d wake up wondering how he could ever let the broken little Robin spread his wings again. But right now Jason was angry. Gotham was his city. The city they had sweat, bled and died for. The hell would he let anybody else take it from them.

No matter what you did, you couldn’t forget Robin. It was almost a little too easy to open up the cage he’d put the kid in and let hope, laughter and the Bat wash over him, effectively switching places with the scent of the Pit.

Zsasz’s eyes went wide, he looked up to Jason as if he saw a ghost. Jason licked his lips.

“Y-you’re dead!” The man screeched. “The Joker killed you! How is your scent like the dead second’s?”

Jason’s shoulders tremored. He wanted to cry, but instead, a pitiful laugh escaped him. He grinned, bright and just on the edge of unsettling.

“He did,” Jason said. “He took a crowbar to my head and didn’t stop until only heaven could have saved me, and it didn’t care. But do you know who cares? Do you know who wanted me back?”

Zsasz tried to push himself to his feet again, only to stumble and fall again in a fit of hysterics. Jason stepped on the man’s back, pushing him down.

“I said, do you know?”

The man sobbed and shook his head. With his hands, he tried to protect his face. Jason could feel Damian’s eyes on his back. He wondered if the kid had ever gotten to see Bruce like this.

“Gotham did. She called me back to keep this city from falling. So listen well and tell all your buddies: This city is mine. It always was, it always will. The Bat gave it to me and if you want it, feel free to knock on our signal and we will answer.”

“W-we?”

 “The Bat, Robin, me and all your worst nightmares.”

Before Zsasz could say another word or continue with his freak-out, Jason hit him at the back of his neck, knocking him out. Zsasz deserved death. All of Gotham would be better off with him dead in a ditch six-feet-under.

But murder was hardly the first thing Jason should do after taking Gotham, if it was something he could afford to do at all.

In the distance, Jason could already hear the police sirens.

“C’mon, Robin,” Jason told his Robin.

His.

It hadn’t even been minutes and Jason was already getting protective. He could already feel the headache coming. Was this how Bruce had always felt day in and day out? No wonder that Betas were usually the organizers in charge of keeping everything else running and Alphas were sent to defend their land. Jason had a hard time recalling a moment he had ever felt as cheerful and nauseous as right now.

But maybe his suffering would be short. Dick would kill him as soon as he got to them. Even if Jason would still have to walk Gotham’s borders at least once to finalize his claim, but Dick would be able to tell right away that this particular Robin had laid claim on the city.

He’d shout and accuse Jason of trying to be Batman, except Jason really wasn’t. The man he had grown up to be couldn’t be Batman.

But he still remembered how to be Robin. To look like he belonged in any street, crack a joke for the crying children and give them hope, and linger in the shadow of the Bat and support him.

Their city, their pack, didn’t need Red Hood to spread the fear right now. He could do this when their runaway Batgirl returned to be this pack’s Omega.

Right now, though, they only had Jason, and there was a particular responsibility that came from caring for a city. Mainly, that you had to love all of it. Every corner, every flaw.

And Jason could do it.

“Todd, what are you doing!? How dare you put your filthy scent on Father’s city!”

Damian had finally found his voice again it appeared.

“I’m putting a claim on our city. And I smell just like you, brat.”

“This isn’t yours-“

“Then whose is it?” Jason interrupted the squirt. “Zsasz is right. B is dead and everybody knows it. Unless this pack got another member with the ability to claim territory lying around, be my guest and let them take all of Gotham. Until then, Gotham will be dealing with me. Don’t worry, I’ll stick to your rules. Now, are you coming or not?”

Another second passed, then Damian got onto Jason’s bike.

“Did B ever take you ‘round the city and showed you how to do proper claiming?”

Jason could feel Damian shake his head.

“Then I’ll do it. The most important part is the visualization. If you don’t know how your home looks, you can’t draw proper borders. You know how Batman forces you to memorize maps before you go out? Imagine that but a hundred times worse. Every day he’d have me learn each street and then go about practicing it. I swear, the first time I managed to make a part of the Batcave mine, it was the most exhausting thing I’ve ever done.”

They covered all the bridges, kept driving until the sun was rising again and the newspapers began to shred each other apart trying to explain that it was their dear second Robin who had taken over for Batman. Jason enjoyed the silence of the drive. He and Dick would scream at each other long and loud enough once they returned to the Cave.

Como Agua Para Chocolate

*edit: an old blog post I made for a UNI class back in 2015, definitely would love more people to read* 

The only English Like Water for Chocolate contains is the name, but the good thing about food is that it is a language of its own. This film, filed with magical realism, was released in 1992 based on the popular novel that was first published in 1989 by Laura Esquivel. It became one of the highest grossing Spanish language film released in the United States during that time. From beginning to end the entire movie takes place in the kitchen, which becomes the highlight of the plot. It attracts the audience with warmth and color to make them feel as if they were in the same ambience as the protagonist.

This story takes place in the United States-Mexico border in 1910, narrating the life of Tita de la Garza. The story is narrated in third person omniscient by Tita’s great grandniece whose name remains unknown.  She sets the scene explaining the significance and annoyance of crying while chopping onions, stating that she inherits her Aunt’s sensitivity. The narrator explains the beginning of Tita’s life in which Mama Elena, Tita’s mother, gives birth to her in the middle of the kitchen. Tita comes out a crying baby, foreshadowing her fate. Being that she was the youngest of the three sisters, Tita could not have the fortune of marriage for the Mexican tradition states she must to take care of her mother until death.

Tita befriends a housemaid who teaches her all sorts of dishes. She grows up working in the kitchen loving it immensely, gaining control and talent to prepare the most delicious of foods. She serves the entire family and caters important events that are held in the ranch. At the age of 15 Tita meets a boy, Pedro, whom she falls in love with at first sight. As the years go on their secret love grows to the point where Pedro alongside his father asks Tita’s mother for her hand in marriage. Without consideration Mama Elena denies the offer but makes a compromise by giving up her eldest daughter Rosaura to wed. Pedro accepts this negotiation by explaining that he would marry only to be closer to Tita. Tita doesn’t see this as a solution and becomes heartbroken.

Tita is overwhelmed with pain because she must prepare the wedding cake causing her to cry. Tears spill over onto the batter, which give the guest an unsettling stomachache, the first of many times where Tita’s emotion pass over to whoever eats her food. By the end of the day Tita is distraught not only for the loss of her love but also because the housemaid had also died.

A year passes and Tita’s longing for Pedro grows immensely and because she is unable to touch him she infuses her emotions into the meal she prepares. This passion transfers onto her middle sister Gertrudis where she impulsively leaves the household and escapes with a revolutionary soldier. Rosaura gives birth to a baby boy whom Tita is the only one who can feed and nourish its needs. This brings Pedro closer to Tita, giving each other craving looks from across the room. Mama Elena sees through Tita’s innocence barking at her to stay far away from Pedro before she ruins the family name.

At a gathering Tita meets a young American doctor named John Brown. He is intrigued by her kindness and beauty asking her if she’d ever marry. She denies saying that that is not an option for her. During a storm Tita and Pedro run into each other, finally stealing kisses in the middle of the night. Mama Elena suspects her whereabouts and ships Rosaura and Pedro far into Texas. Months pass while Tita still takes abuse from her mother’s harsh words leading to a day where there is news that the baby boy has died from malnutrition. This is the final straw for Tita where she then retires to an attic for days and becomes crazy in grief. Doctor Brown is called upon to take care of her with his son, months passing and her well-being not changing. At last with a visit from a house friend and a well-cooked traditional meal her strength was regain. During this time John fell in love with Tita eventually asking for her hand. Tita agreed knowing that she would never return to the ranch.

As fate would have it, Mama Elena dies during an ambush making Tita return for her funeral where she reunites with Pedro and Rosaura once again. With all the grief Rosaura gives premature birth to a girl, but with all the blood loss she may never have a baby again. John must go for a few days leaving Tita to stay at the ranch. Pedro become jealous of her love for another and seduces her, taking away Tita’s virtue. For days ahead Tita feels guilty allowing her to interact with her dead mother, claiming that she is a shameful whore. Tita mistakes her anxious mind with a pregnancy, telling Pedro of a false hope and planning to run away. One night Mama Elena appears to disturb the peace making Tita fill with rage screaming at her mother that she has always hated her. With these words Mama Elena leaves but not without setting Pedro on fire. Pedro calls out for Tita and Rosaura become resentful. John returns and Tita is filled with fault and sadness, expressing what happened while he was away. He stated that he did not care what she’s done, all that matters is whether she wanted to continue on with the marriage, the choice was hers.

The ending scene leads with an ambiguous tone, not allowing the audience to know of her decision immediately. There are all kinds of preparations for a wedding to take place. John is seen sitting at a table in a suit, but Tita is dancing happily with Pedro. It is 22 years later and Pedro’s daughter, Esperanza, is being married to John’s son. As Esperanza leaves with her husband Pedro and Tita run off into the now empty ranch. As they enter Tita sees her old housemaid setting up candles for the both of them. Tita and Pedro are free to consummate their love but in doing so Pedro dies in her arms. Filled with confusion and distraught she sets the house on fire. The narrator explains that all that was left was Tita’s cookbook. She states that Tita’s life would never die throughout generations because of her love of food.

This story evokes that in the Spanish culture food is the best way to express feelings that cannot be said. Throughout the entire story the richness of flavors, colors, and knowledge brings all types of people together. In Spanish the quote “La vida sería mucho más agradable si uno pudiera llevarse a donde quiera que fuera, los sabores y olores de la casa maternal,” states that life would be sweeter if only the same richness of flavor from home could be taken anywhere. This expresses the desire and need of family that many traditions follow. Food is used as a way to remedy a broken heart or bring together a household.

Tita states frequently that food only tastes as good as how much love is put into the technique. It determines how well the dish will be accepted by everyone. Many times, throughout the movie, Tita pours love, anger, sadness, and joy into her dishes and each time the people would feel all her emotions. I believe the meaning of food is the expression of oneself because the result will only be as pleasurable as the passion poured into making something great.

Do you think Ichi's kinky enough to have a lactating kink i feel weird for asking this sorry

Don’t feel weird at all! There’s nothing wrong with a lactation kink in and of itself, I actually find it to be pretty hot, but when its presented in porn it usually goes hand in hand with impregnation. Which I don’t really see any of the boys being into as far as a fetishes goes. They would probably want to have kids at some point and they’d love being dads, but it wouldn’t be a matter of ‘oh god, the only way I can cum is if theres a chance you might get pregnant! You’re my breeding sow hurrrr’ which is a sentiment I’ve seen all too often within the online kink community. Like they’re not gonna’ sit there and poke holes in rubbers or mess with your birth control just to knock you up. So that being said the following head canons for all six brothers are within the context of a normal pregnancy and its completely divorced from the impreg fetish. (Note: I am aware that induced lactation is a thing but thats a lot of work and patience and I don’t see the boys caring enough to put forth that much effort)

Osomatsu - He’s totally on board for everything thats happening to your body. Even if he might feel a certain amount of trepidation at first, he’d charge in with a big grin on his face and eagerly learn the new ins and outs regarding these changes. He loves it though, especially when you go up almost two cup sizes and the increased sensitivity in your breasts would just delight him to no end. The initial fascination with the milk coming out of you would pass quickly enough and he’d be more interested in sucking on your aching, puffy nipples until you spontaneously orgasm from that alone. The milk would just be a bonus but I have a feeling he’d find it too sweet for his tastes so probably not a big fan of the flavor itself. 

Lactation kink? No, but he very much enjoys the side effects it brings and would definitely take advantage of them as long as you allowed him to.

Karamatsu: If you thought this man worshiped the female body before you got pregnant then hold onto your hats because he is going to double down on the attention he lavishes you with from head to toe. He’s definitely the type that would be just as excited, if not more so, than his partner to find out they were expecting and he would be completely hands on from day one. He’d feel immense joy watching your stomach round out and grow bigger, and he’d probably be more interested in that than your tits. However, we all know how horny pregnant women can get and he’s still a man with urges so he wouldn’t hesitate to map every inch of you with fluttering butterfly kisses while paying extra tender attention to your aching breasts. He might get a taste of the milk on occasion when he kisses your straining nipple or a droplet squirts out during sex and he laps it up but he’s not really going to have much interest in actually suckling. Thats nourishment for the baby, after all, and he would never dream of depriving them even one drop of your milk. 

Lactation kink? No, its a purely biological function and he doesn’t sexualize it in anyway. Best dad of the six tbqh.

Choromatsu - I can definitely see this boy watching the occasional lactation porn and getting off to it (Japan has some of the best imo because they usually don’t take it to the weird extreme that Western lactation sometimes does) but he wouldn’t really consider it a fetish. Until it was actually presented to him, that is. From the start of the pregnancy he would look at it from a logical standpoint much like the second eldest but the moment he realized that your tits were leaking, all of that careful consideration would go completely out the window. He’d squeeze and knead your breasts just to watch the milk squirt out and his knew favorite position is one where he can suck on your nipples while he carefully thrusts into you. He’d probably like to titty fuck you a lot more often just to watch the white liquid ooze out and coat his dick but he’d have to force himself to reel it back some when the baby was born for obvious reasons.

Lactation fetish: Yes, but he wouldn’t go overboard with it. He finds it extremely arousing and it makes his cock hard as diamonds but he’d know when it was time to slow down a bit. 

Ichimatsu: He’s a kinky boy and as such I’m quite certain that he’s seen his fair share of lactation porn. He enjoys it to a certain extent but what really gets him going is the humiliation aspect that can be and often is incorporated into the scene. I think the changes in your body would initially make him uneasy because he’d suddenly be looking at you as something fragile and he’d be scared of hurting you or the baby. But then one day when you’re distractedly talking to him about something before bed, he happens to glance down and sees a wet mark on your shirt. His mind would kind of hiccup in confusion but then he’d realize what it was, the two dots in the center of each breast is kind of a dead giveaway, and he’d immediately have flashbacks to the lactation porn. All of the pent up sexual frustration he’d been holding back since you announced that you were pregnant would come roaring to life inside of him and he’d spend long periods of time playing with your breasts just to watch the fluid ooze out. Massaging, kneading, pinching, licking, sucking - he would milk you dry while whispering filthy things in your ear the whole time and as a result he wouldn’t be so nervous about touching you anymore. 

Lactation fetish: Yes, mainly for the power dynamic scenarios he’d put together in his head and it would help him feel more comfortable in regards to the changes that come with pregnancy. His favorite position is having you on hand and knee while he milks your aching tits until you desperately beg for him to fuck you.

Jyushimatsu: I don’t think he’d look at mothers in that way until it was his own wife who was pregnant. He never understood what Ichimatsu’s fascination with that kind of porn was but when he sees you cradling your full breasts for the first time, it would suddenly make perfect sense to him. The new curves and roundness of your body would be amazingly tantalizing to him and he’d eagerly offer to help soothe your discomfort. He gives great massages by the way so forget about foot and back pain, you got it made girl. Anyway, he’d start off kind of hesitant because the last thing he wants to do is hurt you but when he realized your chest was just naturally sore, he’d get a bit more bold. Carefully squeezing and rubbing, trying to make you feel better, but the second he sees a droplet of milk come out he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He’d latch onto your puffy nipples one at a time and I think he’d really enjoy the bitter sweet taste. His ministrations would be gentle and slow as he worked on bringing you some comfort and the warmth that settles in his stomach is just a perk as far as he’s concerned. 

Lactation kink: Yes, he enjoys suckling on your tits but mostly he does it to make you feel better. He wouldn’t be sad when the time came for him to stop but he would occasionally jerk off to the memory when he’s in the shower. 

Todomatsu: I really can’t see him being interested in this much at all. He wouldn’t watch the porn and even when his wife started lactating I think he’d look at it with a disinterested eye. Its not that he thinks its gross or anything and he’s not surprised by it either, he expected this to happen when you got pregnant after all, but it doesn’t do anything for him. He’ll play with your tits and lick them the same as usual but the interest for the milk itself just isn’t there. He would however take great pleasure in watching you squirm with your increased sensitivity making you writhe under him after just a few, fleeting touches. He thinks its cute how receptive your body is now and he takes great advantage of that as he teases you to the breaking point before finally sliding his dick inside you.

Lactation fetish: No, doesn’t really give a shit either way. He’s entirely unaffected by the whole thing but he isn’t complaining about it either. Completely neutral on the topic.

Suuuper gaaaayyyyyy. Anyways, I wanted to say more on why Erina is a festering sack-of-shit garbage person. Firstly, her opinions on food are just objectively wrong. She turns up her nose at ‘common, peasant food’ which is weird on multiple levels: not only can any cook with a modicum of food history be able to explain the extent to which haute cuisine draws upon and is nourished by common peasant traditions (I mean fancy French cuisine itself is nothing but this particular interplay) but there has been a significant trend over the last decade in high cuisine towards rusticism - the locavore movement being perhaps its most visible influence that has bled into the mainstream: the tendency over the last decade-and-change towards deconstructionism of high food culture - both in molecular gastronomy and its diametric opposite in rusticism - is something she seems utterly ignorant of, as though her only experience with food is overpriced French restaurants that cater to the gullible by overloading every plate with a plethora of nonsense. It often seems that she has contempt for simplicity - which seems ridiculous given that her birth culture gave us the elegance of sashimi, a venerable culinary tradition whose masters attempt to perfect the art of serving a single ingredient. Her snobbery towards ‘common’ chefs becomes even more inexplicable given that we are to presume she has some kind of knowledge of great chefs who, as a body, living or dead, come as often from nowhere as from schools if not more so. Redzepi trained as an in-kitchen apprentice. Adrià started as a dishwasher. Keller never went to a school. Massimo trained as a lawyer. Blumenthal worked as a repo man and taught himself cooking at night. THESE ARE SOME OF THE TOP GODDAMN CHEFS IN THE WORLD AND ERINA SHOULD KNOW THIS. Erina’s snobbery is nauseatingly silly - the show needs a Tsundere ice princess because this is fucking anime so Erina is what we get, but contextually it makes no sense. ‘Oh, you cook in a small restaurant?’ SO DID MOST OF THE PEOPLE WITH MICHELIN STARS. I mean her whole goddamn deal is to deny reality based on the fact that this boy from this little kitchen can’t possible cook good food - but the best sushi restaurant in the world, the only one with three Michelin stars, seats ten people and is practically inside a goddamn subway station. If Erina’s argument is that 90s-style haute cuisine was the ne plus ultra of cooking - that any deviation from this was an anathema - then I could accept that as an element of her character, but instead we are given a so-called food ‘expert’ whose mastery is trapped in the 90s and no one else seems to realize this. SECOND: As a writer her otiose critiques make my blood boil. If she was attempting to be the Erik Satie of the culinary world I could give her a pass, but she’s not, so I won’t. We see a couple times that she is more than capable of giving a critique that is actually understandable, but most of the time she would rather speak in pseudo-koans that we’re supposed to take as a really deep understanding of food. But they’re not, because they’re nonsense. Criticism that cannot be comprehended is useless criticism. All Erina does is be cryptically insulting and then act like it’s a public service. Third: Perhaps to a greater degree than any other art form, food is subjective to the consumer. Erina passes judgement as though her word is law - and to be fair, to a certain extent this is true of food critics generally - but Erina’s nonsense of a ‘god tongue’ brings-in a whole new level of absolutism and absurdity. Take salt, for example - there is no way to perfectly salt a meal because everyone’s sodium levels are different. Someone who has spent all day swimming in an ocean is going to have a much higher need of sodium in their food than someone who hasn’t - the body will instinctively respond to the mild sodium deficiency (which is why beach cooks who spent the morning surfing before their shift need to be damn careful while seasoning their dish.) Somewhere around 10% of people find cilantro to taste like soap - always. There is no ‘correct’ amount of cilantro in a dish that won’t taste off to them - they have a fundamentally different palette than other people. Familiarity in youth can breed an appreciation for flavours that might be impossible to learn in adulthood - which is why North American doesn’t do a roaring trade in salmiakki and haute cuisine still hasn’t latched-on to lutefisk (man, what is it with Scandinavia?) That doesn’t even begin to get into shit like allergies - the God Tongue decrees that this is the right amount of peanuts in this dish, enjoy that anaphylactic shock. My point is that, unlike my opinions, there is nothing objectively right with flavours - more-or-less. The whole model of haute cuisine is predicated on certainly truths - quality ingredients, dedication to craft - that I don’t deny, but the idea of a ‘god tongue’ stretches my suspension of disbelief to the breaking point because it doesn’t mean anything. Why would any restaurant give a shit what this haughty supertaster thinks about anything - her gross mutant palette is so hilariously oversensitive it’s pointless to try and satisfy itand- besides: none of their customers will notice the alleged ‘flaws’ because they’re not garbage mutants like her. If she had a ‘God Eye’ and complained that your 100000x100000 pixel image had a single mis-aligned pixel, you probably wouldn’t give a shit because none of your customers are humanly capable of noticing the discrepancy so there’s zero point wasting time and money fixing it. Seeking Erina’s approval would be a waste of any company’s resources: just get a likeable celebrity to sing your praises. Fourth: Erina has fans in the school, which is weird because she’s such a  relentless horrible person who is rude and nasty to essentially everyone she meets, and holds shokugeki solely for her own personal enrichment. I would get it is people cheered her as a villain because hey - everyone loves a heel - but instead they hold her in awe... I guess because of her cooking prowess, but prowess didn’t stop people from hating Subaru, another nasty piece of work. People cheer Erina because the narrative needs her to have cachet, but she doesn’t even have ‘mean girl’ charm - the catty queen bee who rules the school even though she’s nasty. She’s not funny, has no sense of humour, no ability to talk to other people - absolutely nothing going for her other than her skills as a chef which, again, didn’t do much for Subaru. Everyone should be showing up to boo Erina - god, it would make her so much more effective if she fed off their hatred and negativity, her ego swelling as she ‘proved’ herself right again and again, spitting in the face of all the haters. Instead we get the super-popular charmless asshat who everyone is gaga for for no discernible reason. In conclusion, Erina Nakiri doesn’t know anything about food and lacks self-awareness of the echo-chamber of her own unjustified snobbery. She’s literal garbage.

End of July

i think i’ll be starting my period sometime in the next 24 hours. my friend who i am synced with just started hers this morning. tomorrow, i am using a sick day to go to to dentist. my dentist is in san gabriel- a 20 minute drive east of my home. in the past, i would only take a half day, but then i thought, why am i stressing and rushing myself to go to work when i have all these sick hours. even more so when there’s not much pending at work. so, i plan on going to the dentist in the morning, having lunch in the area, then coming home and painting my living room and kitchen. my dad asked one of his home depot contacts to come work for us lol. i’ll be taping and painting along with him tomorrow so the job gets done faster. just came back from home depot earlier and bought two gallons of shiny luster paint- the same shade and sheen as my room. i also bought a darker grey to paint the borders for contrast. hopefully it looks good. a few weeks ago, our gallon full of coins got topped off. my mom would sit and individually package the coins into the sleeves banks provide whenever we wanted to exchange the coins for cash- this would take her nearly half a day. not sure why we never used coinstar before, but we finally did it. i learned that its an 11% fee if you exchange the coins for cash, but there is no fee when you exchange for a gift card. so, with one gallon full of coins, we got about $350 total- i put about half on a home depot gift card, and half on an amazon gift card. it was funny/so coincidental today that our total came out to be exactly 2 dollars less of our home depot gift card (my dad also had things to buy and we weren’t computing the costs).

events this past weekend: friend’s going away party. she received a scholarship from fullbright- which is a prestigious academic award to represent the US in international affairs. i didn’t realize how honorable it was til today and previously saw it as another “teach english abroad” opportunity. we ate at roe seafood in long beach. i thought the food was pretty bomb- i’d give it a 7/10. however, the more i ate of my scallop porcini pasta- the more water i had to drink. taste wise it was definitely there, but the cheese/carb combo was so damn heavy. i liked the group and it felt easy/natural to socialize (also because i was sitting in between my good friends b and s). in my last blog, i was venting about b, but i realize in the grand scheme of things- the little things i get annoyed by don’t matter. she continued to do the things i got ticked off by over text, but instead of getting irritated, i tried to teach myself to be loving and forgiving and think- she’s not me, i’m not her, don’t think that what i think is the “right” way of doing things is actually right. we had a nice time together that night. good vibes throughout. 

watched lion king with my mom, grandma, bro and wife. i went into the movie having low expectations due to what everyone else was saying, but i enjoyed it. the fact that we got to live through seeing the cartoon version in 1994 to seeing it full in CGI in 2019 is incredible. i love the storyline of lion king. the scene where mufasa dies always gets me. i had to hold back tears during the emotional parts of the movie lol. 

matt’s free time is decreasing and decreasing. he now has to work 6 days a week. he’s at work before i wake up, and still at work after i’m off work. on a GOOD day, he’ll only be at the hospital for about 13 hours, on a bad day, maybe 16 :(. he also has to study outside of work as they have monthly exams. saturday was his one day off during the week and it was kinda sad lol. he has one day to catch up on sleep and he’s too tired to do anything else. he tells me that he doesn’t have time to drink water at work, let alone use the restroom. his lunch consists of downing a soylent. his hospital is severely understaffed and he is doing nurses’ duties (drawing blood, patient care taking). he normally calls me right after he gets off work. i get to talk to him for about an hour or so, while he’s prepping dinner and eating. he then goes shower and gets ready to sleep and i get to see him again for a few minutes before he sleeps. i feel lucky that i’m the one he wants to talk to and see every day. i hope i brighten up his day, as he keeps saying he’s “dying” lol. when he didn’t match into a residency program, he was depressed. now that he’s in residency, it’s also depressing (but at least there is an end in sight). apparently the second and third year residents are super jaded and negative. i wouldn’t be surprised if he became like that in a year lol. on saturday, he called me right before i was going to shower. so i told him that i’ll call him back afterwards. as i got out of the shower, i saw a message from him saying - take your time, i’m gonna go shower too. so i took my time and started getting ready for the going away dinner. he called me 10-15 later and was like “you didn’t call me back!” there was something so satisfying about him being needy and clingy LOL. he’s naturally an independent cerebral person so i love it when he is needy. 

saturday night at like 1am, i got a random text from L asking me about relationship stuff. coincidentally, i couldn’t sleep cus your girl would have been dead asleep by 11 any other day. i’m happy that she felt comfortable enough to reach out to me and share her feelings. i learned that we both are perfectionistic, have unrealistically high expectations, and are quite sensitive. she cares a lot about how others/her friends perceive her relationship. she shared with me an instance where her bf came off a bit rude to her in front of her friends and she felt “very disappointed” in him. if i place myself in her shoes, i can understand why she felt hurt. and if its an reoccurring thing, then i’m sure the pain is stronger. however, being “very disappointed” in your partner for being human is stressful for both you and them because you set unrealistic standards for the relationship. she wasn’t able to let it go and gave the incident more attention than it needed. from hearing her story, i basically saw my problems in someone else. it makes me realize how silly and crazy i am sometimes in making mountains out of molehills. i used to think that it was good to have high standards for your partner, and i often felt disappointed by my last partner. i think it reflected more on myself than him- my needs weren’t being met, i wasn’t happy in the relationship, i stayed with an incompatible partner, etc. having “high” standards is only valuable if the standards are attainable and something that can be worked towards. 

i feel very happy with my current partner. being away from him for almost two months now has allowed me time to reflect on us and myself. i’m way more forgiving with the distance, and considerate about his new schedule and circumstance. in my last relationship, i started seeing the flaws around 8/9 month mark. and if i was smart and experienced enough, i would have realized those were dealbreakers (because in the end, i broke up with him for the same reasons). coming up on 9 months with matt, i feel secure and that our issues are small issues. we’re able to get along and have similar values and ideals. 

his words can sometimes come off harsh but i’ve gotten used to it and actually really appreciate him being honest and constructive with me. a week or so before he left, i was hanging out in his room. i forgot what we were talking about before but he said, “you would be much much prettier if you worked out. not that you don’t look good now, but you would look better if you worked out.” i was a little bothered by that at first, but realized he is 100% correct. i never paid attention to my body much before- but skinny fat is not a good look or feel. my bikini pics in hawaii were meh lol i was flabby, weak and out of shape. i started working out recently with dumbbells and find it so fun- more efficient work out than without any equipment. working out also helps my face maintain its shape. i realized in the past months my face started looking more bloated and fat. i’ve even received comments from two of my older friends - “you got fatter. but just in your face.” i was never mindful of how my diet and exercise routine affected how i looked. which is really dumb as a human lol. i kinda wish i was more athletic when i was younger because i’m almost just starting from scratch now. however, i am grateful that i was at least somewhat active (hiking here and there, walking, leisurely workouts) in the last few years. so, he helped me gain weight to be at a normal range (this is the heaviest i’ve been my whole life). now it’s my job to tone myself. i’ve been saying this for some time, but i’m getting more cognizant about fitness which will help the consistency. 

throughout our time together, he’s only lost his patience/raised his voice a little twice during arguments. the last time he did actually helped so much in putting me in my place. he is very smart and makes pretty good arguments sometimes haha. the last time, it made me realize that it’s better to nourish my relationship rather than bring drama into it. since then, i’ve thought twice about bringing up small issues that i can learn to let go. i love that he pushes and inspires me to be better and to be hardworking. and i’m glad i’m pretty receptive to his ideas. 

i read old conversations with my past partner today. it was super cringy. i come off as cold, inquisitive, and serious and he comes off as immature, emotional and uninterested in my thoughts. even reading through our messages now i felt the frustration i felt when i was talking to him then. i felt i was always trying to change him into the person i wanted him to become. i saw the potential but i didnt see the person he was. to me, he was gross, trashy and had many insecurities. the more separated i am from it, the more i am disgusted with myself for choosing that lol. however, i am grateful for what he taught me, which was what attracted me to him in the first place- how to be intimate emotionally and physically, how to talk about feelings, how to communicate, how to talk about more difficult subjects, how to bring up issues, how to understand what i’m feeling, etc. 

A Summary of Maximum Ride Forever by Someone Who Never Read It

I’m attempting to work out the plot based on the spoilers I’ve seen on the internet and past works (like there’s any consistency). So, spoilers, I guess? 

BOOM! I’m assuming there are explosions at the beginning because a MR book always starts with action, and frankly there doesn’t seem to be much else to do on a post-apocalyptic island thingy than explode things for some reason. Because it’s apparently and island, I’m going to guess it’s volcanoes. So the Flock is out getting food or something for their small colony of mutants and three humans, and volcanoes interrupt, spewing lava and causing earthquakes that trigger tidal waves. The Flock escapes, but makes it back to the colony Cave to find the earthquake caused the tunnel to collapse. They spend like a day digging into the cave only to find it’s filled with water and everyone inside has drowned. There is sadness.

They want to memorialize everyone that died, so Fang and Dylan work together to build something artsy and noble or whatever (honestly this probably didn’t happen but I like it and it’s staying because bromance).

Moving on. The island at this point is covered in molten lava, so there’s not much vegetation. The Flock goes on Quest for food and shelter, (bonus points if they bother looking for any survivors of the Apocalypse (Fangs Gang comes to mind (coughcough))). Also, Max doesn’t vacillate as much between Dylan and Fang (fingers crossed here) because she chose Fang at the end of Nevermore, but Dylan kinda pines after her anyway. And he is a super cool big bro to the rest of the Flock. Like, overprotective, funny, ‘I would die for you,’ kinda big brother, you know? The Flock likes him because he’s like the only voice of reason.

Gazzy spots an unconscious Total stuck at the bottom of a large pit while looking for food with Iggy. Iggy wants to eat him; Gazzy’s worried Angel will figure it out, so they decide to save the dog. They can’t reach Total by themselves, though, so they get Dylan to help. It turns out the pit is, like, a super dangerous sinkhole. Dylan manages to save the dehydrated dog, but narrowly misses killing himself in the process in eerie foreshadowing of his future. It lifts the Flock’s moods slightly from the “everyone we know is dead” vibe. (Well, except Fang, who was getting used to long periods of silence for once). Dylan, the only one kind enough, carries Total around. 

I’m assuming it’s while the Flock is entertaining a recuperating Total, who has finally woken up and is recounting his tales in painstaking detail, that Max and Fang do the sexy. Under a tree, I guess? Why is this important? Probably because there are no other trees on the island. It’s a good thing the Flock is preoccupied with the talking dog, because there is literally nothing else hiding them from plain sight. Gross.

Because the island is essentially a wasteland, the Flock decides to fly or swim or walk back to the good ‘ole U S of A in search of food. Nudge said Twinkies can survive the apocalypse; Iggy hoped they mutated to taste better. Fang has a moment where he confesses he left his gang in a desert and never heard from them again. Much guilt. Not enough to go looking for them, though. Dylan tries to make him feel better with a hug. It doesn’t help. 

There are convenient, new islands located every couple miles because of the volcano eruptions everywhere, so the Flock can safely make their way to America by island-hopping and fishing on the way. At some point, Max starts getting sick every morning, throwing up whatever precious food she’s managed to salvage for herself and the Flock. (Total totally eats it because he’s a dog and he’s alive still presumably). When that passes, they’re all like “huh, that was weird,” and move on with their lives. Max continues to feel Gross however, but stoically ignores it. Fang sends her worried glances.

Then one night they’re all sitting around a fire being sad and apocalypticy and Angel says, “Who thought that?” Everyone is super confused and quiet. Then Angel drops her Apocalypse Food (Total eats it) and hugs Max, pressing her ear to Max’s stomach. Max blushes, then outright panics when she watches Angel’s smile spread. 

“Max! You’re pregnant!” And everyone spits out their food in surprise. (Total’s in heaven). This is followed by a long awkward rendition of The Talk by Max to Angel, Gazzy, and Nudge, in front of everyone around the campfire. It’s Awkward. Dylan’s a smidgen jealous. Fang is stoic but on the inside he’s an anxious marshmallow: “oh crap I’m gonna be a dad I don’t even know how to dad what is a dad.”

Two days later, Angel tells them it’s a girl.

So now it’s super important to make it to America and safe food and stuff. Everyone is overprotective of Max, who is super annoyed until she realizes how much harder it is to be a strong, independent young birdkid who don’t need no man while carrying and nourishing a fetus. Fang and Dylan are especially protective and careful, and although it makes them butt heads again, their relationship is still building in trust and stuff. And the entire Flock is treated to Max’s nesting phase, and her accidental gushing about how cute babies are even though she never really liked them before. Angel and Fang end up with crazy hairstyles as Nudge tries to teach Max how to braid and stuff.

The Flock is almost to America, like one island away, when there’s a freak SuperVolcano eruption. For some reason, they’re in a cave with only two exits. One has fire coming through it, and the other is tiny and impossible to reach by yourself. Naturally, Fang and Dylan boost everyone else out of the cave first. Then they realize they only have time for one more person to go. Their eyes meet, Dylan nods and says something tragic and beautiful and melodramatic. Then he boosts Fang out at the last second, and while Fang escapes, Dylan meets his firey demise. 

More sadness. They build another memorial for Dylan. They find America, but no survivors. But there’s grass growing in patches around the rubble. Their celebration in finding food is bittersweet with a touch of loss. But then Max’s water breaks. (Mass confusion. What the heck is this?!) Then contractions. (Oh. Oh.)

She gives birth in one of the few standing buildings. They name her Phoenix. 

She has wings.

11 shocking benefits of soy milk that facilitate your body nutrition

The vegan revolution had led many dairy lovers to hop on phyto alternatives to gain nutrition. Among all soy comes first in the list, some thought soy milk tastes gross. Seriously, I'm not anyone to say that better have it and experience on your own. Whereas as most of the people, Soy milk is very light, and quite tasty so that it can be efficiently used to prepare teas, coffees and even delicious desserts too. Besides its culinary benefits, Best soy milk in India is also packed with protein, calcium and other vital nutrients. There are numerous benefits apart from also some of them we have listed below-

Aids In Weight Loss:

Yes, it's true that soy milk procures a push to your regular weight loss regime. Nominal amounts of sugar are naturally present within soy milk that therefore formulate it as an efficient substitute over cow and buffalo milk. Cow’s milk has about 12 grams of sugar per cup as opposed to only 7 grams within the Best soy milk in India. The whole soy milk contains nearly 80 calories, which is far more equivalent of the skim milk.

Nourishes Your Hair Follicles:

High in protein content, therefore, nourishes your hair and skin pallet to grow and nourish them to have flawless and bouncy hairs. It flourishes your skin colour and contours it to glow.

Good Source Of Plant-Based Protein:

People who do not want to have any animal-based product and still need a good amount of protein to survive, soy milk is the best intake one can have. The Best soy milk in India is to be provided out of vegetables therefore, vegetable proteins have the advantage that they cause less loss of calcium through the kidneys.

Reduces Cholesterol Levels:

Soy protein can decrease cholesterol levels! As in cow’s milk, the saturated fats are unhealthy and increase your cholesterol. The protein in cow’s milk has no benefits for the cholesterol. Best soy milk in India has almost all the essential proteins power-packed which do not harm any of your internal workings.

Good Nutrition During Pregnancy:

Yes! You surely can also have the alluring taste of soy milk when you're expecting mother as it is fully packed out in minerals and calcium within. A pregnant woman needs a high amount of nutrients for good nourishment of her child soy milk is a very good source for the same.

Strengthens Bones:

Best soy milk in India is also quite rich in calcium content which is present in a greater amount than the regular milk. In order to utilize the calcium content properly, vitamin cofactors are required for proper body functioning.

Rich In Antioxidants:

Antioxidants present in a suitable amount within soy milk which helps to lower particular diseases. Soy milk helps to boost the antioxidants within our body which would combat against many incurable ailments quite well. The Best soy milk in India reduces the free radicals which cause cancer and also beneficial for liver-related issues.

Keeps Heart Healthy:

Many heart disorders and heart-related issues are to be easily managed by proteins and vitamins present within soy milk. Proteins are beneficial for growth and nutrition too.  

Relieves Post-Menopausal Issues:

A lot of women have been advised to switch to Soy milk for dealing with menopausal issues. It contains isoflavones which are said to mimic the effects of estrogen in the body. This helps in reducing the symptoms of menopause like vaginal dryness, mood swings, hot flashes and fatigue.

Cures Skin-Related Issues:

Best soy milk in India based powder benefits in treating the skin issues. It is rich in Vitamin E which renews and repairs the dead cells in the body. Along with drinking Soy milk, applying the powder as a face pack can clear your skin of pigmentation, dark spots and ageing signs.

Instant Energy Booster:

One of the key health benefits of the Best soy milk in India is its role in boosting your energy. Especially for those who suffer from fatigue or sudden loss of energy, drinking Soy milk can make a quick difference.

TOBIAS WADE – 51 SLEEPLESS NIGHTS – 2017

 Fifty-one does not have the ambition of one-thousand-and-one but in a way, it seems to be the same project except that the size of the stories may vary a lot from two pages to twenty. They all are united by some element of fear and horror, at times fright and terror, but the themes are changing a lot with some kind of a pattern. Let’s take some examples.

 These stories are centered on characters who have something negative going on with their family circle when they have one, with themselves all the time especially when they are alone, and they are often alone, with their inner self as opposed to their outer self, and often their inner self takes its own life in its own hands and then the character is doubled-up and each half is autonomous with the ex-inner self taking over and creating some kind of havoc.

 Don’t believe this author does not know his horror classics and particularly the rule Stephen King suggested a long time ago: a horror author has to try to horrify his audience at first. If he can’t then he can try to terrify his audience. And if he can’t even do that he can try to gross out his audience. The author here, like Stephen King, uses the three options in the book, but most of the time each story only has one dimension. Gross-out is common, terror is more difficult to reach and horror is a reward to the patient reader.

Gross-out is for me best represented by the story “Unborn Doll” in which a deranged teenage mother reveals her derangement is her pregnancy, and her family does not help who wants to get the child away, hence to abort it. The child has no father at all, never mentioned. The pregnant mother and later teenage mother has a mother and a father and both are absolutely hostile to her. The teenage mother will deliver a stillborn child that she will keep with her, dress up, pamper with makeup now and then perfume to cover up the rotting smell and the punchline is the most disgusting idea a mother can have: to sew up the mouth of this baby that cries at night. That punchline punches your good taste right in its stomach and down to its heels. But it reveals something. It seems to express the fright of society in front of such teenage pregnancies and at the same time their desire to solve the problem with stillborn babies for all of them, not abortion but a God-given or nature-provided form of abortion, but then all these mothers would get berserk and would have to be locked up sooner or later. That's the worst part of it. And that grosses you out completely and you are then terrified because in real politics some may actually think of that as a solution to teenage pregnancies: stillborn births and the commitment of the mothers after birth.

 In the same line, we could quote “Confessions of a Serial Killer” that explains how a father confessed, out of love for his daughter, having committed a long series of crimes perpetrated by his daughter. He is in prison probably under a death penalty sentence. He writes his confessions to his daughter and the letter is captured and confiscated when it was attempted to deliver it out of the prison. We learn from the cop taking care of the case that the daughter has disappeared. The crime of this daughter was a serial killing of young children. She captured them one by one and one after the other. She tortured them one after the other and one at a time and the main torture was to starve them to death or nearly so that the next one captured will have to eat what is still available on the body of the previous one who is not necessarily completely dead. Once again that is grossness more than terror. And that daughter is still running free.

 The story reveals once again there is a strange desire in girls, the future life giving mothers. They want to capture children and torture them to death through hunger and cannibalism to punish them for having been born and having become a burden to their mothers, to women enslaved by that phenomenon. You find this theme of the enslaved mother over and over again.

The story “Vicarious” deals with a father but this time in his relation to his son. The story has a pattern. The father is too harsh with his son; too ambitious as for what he wants his son to accomplish; too reckless about his son and letting him try anything he wants with his bike; too self-satisfied with the son he produces with his own attitude and the good result he gets in his competition. Until one day it goes berserk when the son fails to get a victory. The son will go back to training, even harder and more recklessly, until one day there will be an accident. A big bad great fall into a ravine and like Humpty Dumpty the son is killed and yet a supernatural doppelganger survives who will take the full control of the father by satisfying the father’s desire for the son to get victories.

 The pattern then is clear: to replace the "dead" son with some creature from hell who takes the son's body and deemed the son to be and stay in hell. Like that there is no hope and the father lives in terror since this fake son will be able to get from him anything for him not to be obliged to admit publicly that his son is dead, and how could he prove and explain it?

 Till, with no explanation, the sun comes back one day as a monster from hell and saves the situation: he expels the fake son and he himself goes back to hell to fight against these demons, Irosancts, who take over dead people to have a second life in the world. Their name is pure Latin, maybe, and may mean the saints born from angry greed if not greedy anger, stepping directly out from the medieval book of Christian exorcism.

 How many fathers do this mistake of projecting their dreams into their sons? It fails most of the time and then the sons are forced by this failure to do what they, the sons, want to do, or rather what the circumstances the sons are in make them do, and that is not always very nice. Though there is one gram of hope here since this son back from the dead saves the father he should hate to the last minute of his eternal damnation. That’s the softening touch: supernatural, like a famous TV series, but in a mild version. The Winchester brothers would have destroyed the real son too since he is a monster from hell too: two monster-killing brothers destroying two monstrous brothers. Whoa!

The last example I will consider is “Virtual Terror.” It is the story of two brothers. One went to Afghanistan where he did bad things in his military missions. One day he questioned a man and tortured him to get the information he wanted by torturing the man’s son in front of him of course. No details possible here. In the end, he will get some information, good or bad does not matter, and the man and his son will be of course executed, disposed of like some waste. Torturing is a game as is well-known, a game with humans who have to be alive and it is all the more joyful if they are reactive in that lively game of torture. But this soldier ends badly due to an accident and he is in a wheel chair paralyzed the waist up. God’s punishment if you want.

 His brother takes him to a Virtual Reality arcade and he has an adventure that ends badly, again. He has a fit of some epilepsy or whatever and he is taken back to his home by his brother. He tries to kill himself with some firearm but his brother intervenes and it is the brother who is killed. Then the paralyzed ex-soldier tries to kill himself again and only wounds his mouth and jaw without exploding his brain. He ends up in hospital with his father sneering at him with contempt and agony.

 We are in a dual world again (and this duality is a pattern). First the two brothers, then the father and the surviving paralyzed brother. Contempt from the father, self-contempt from the paralyzed brother, fatherly love agony for the father and self-hate agony for the paralyzed brother. And finally the realization that hope and fear are the same thing. One hopes for something and that something is the source of one's fear. Hope leads to fear, nourishes fear, nurtures fear, gives birth to fear. The story crystallizes the American drama. The post-Afghanistan-Iraq fear in 2008 brought hope to the White House, but this hope was partly dissatisfied, betrayed some say, and it gave birth to fear, nurtured that fear to the point of bringing the most fearful and fear-mongering nightmare to the same White House.

Is the world condemned to live in that dual vision? To be dismembered between oneself and a second "brother" or "virtual image" of ourselves? Between fear and hope? And yet the two are only one, the two sides of the same coin. God and his spirit on one side, and the absolutely unitary god on the other side. Judaism (Genesis 1:1-2) and Islam, with a vague Christian ternary pattern: father, son1, and son2, but either captured in a succession of two dualities or in a perverse ternary situation of torture.

 Torturer T torturing a man's son S to make the father F speak.

Binary couple: T – S

Binary couple: T – F

Binary couple: S – F

 Note how this situation makes the torturing soldier be the Holy Spirit to fulfill the Christian Trinity: The Father F, the son S and the holy spirit T. This perversion of this sanctified Trinity is speaking to the reader so much that it could even become a haunting element.

 This ternary pattern is always in the background, never central. The man and the devil speaking to the man in his head are the central elements. The man on the VR game-machine and the Japanese operator that more or less accompany him in his playing are central (Is the machine the ternary element? Then the Holy Spirit is not much if it is the machine, but if the machine is the Father, then the Japanese operator is the Holy Spirit, quite a surprising suggestion for a Buddhist and Zen character). The man and hope-fear concentrated in the VR helmet are the central elements. Are we condemned to live within this dual fake choice that leads to nothing except the perpetuity of the present survival instinct in which any ternary element is only one element used to pressurize another element in a triad because of the dual link between this element and the ternary element, the way I have explained for the torture situation?

To conclude I feel like saying this ternary torturing image of three binary relations that are the sides of a triangle of evil is the pattern of modern schizophrenia. We can just wonder if that is not a prediction about the future of the White House in the present more circumstantial than historical situation? Is Tobias Wade the prophet of a new age? We could believe that since Tobias-Tobit is a rather important (tough at times evanescent) character in the Old Testament as is clearly said in the following reference:

 “The Book of Tobias, as it is called in the Latin Vulgate, is also known in the Greek Septuagint as the Book of Tobit, and serves as part of the Historical Books in the Latin Vulgate and Greek Septuagint Bible. Both the Hebrew origin of the book and the name Tobiah which means "Yahweh is my good" have been appreciated since antiquity . . . The recent discovery of five scrolls of Tobit - 4QTob 196-200 in both Aramaic and Hebrew among the Dead Sea Scrolls in Cave IV of Qumran has given the book renewed attention. As with all ancient texts discovered in the Dead Sea Scrolls, Hebrew was in consonantal form only. The Book of Tobit is also extant in Arabic, Armenian, Coptic, Ethiopic, and Syriac.” (http://biblescripture.net/Tobias.html)

 And this Tobias Wade embodies the following prayer uttered by Tobias in his story:

 “3 And now, O Lord, think of me, and take not revenge of my sins, neither remember my offenses, nor those of my parents. 4 For we have not obeyed thy commandments, therefore are we delivered to spoil and to captivity, and death, and are made a fable, and a reproach to all nations, amongst which thou hast scattered us. 5 And now, O Lord, great are thy judgments, because we have not done according to thy precepts, and have not walked sincerely before thee: 6 And now, O Lord, do with me according to thy will, and command my spirit to be received in peace: for it is better for me to die, than to live.” (The Book of Tobit or Tobias, 3:3-6)

Hope is definitely not the main quality of this life. But fear is definitely the best element of this book.

 Dr. Jacques COULARDEAU