#peach’s rot prep

[purpleanimeturtle]

Tooth-rotting sweetness

Mitsuri x GN reader (KNY)

The love Hashira, Mitsuri Kanjori was well known for her immense beauty and tooth-rooting sweet personality. But those who spend more time with the girl would know about her impressive strength, and to some, even more impressive eating habits. 

To say Y/N didn’t fall head over heels in love with her would be nothing but a lie. The fear of working for One of the Hashirs, the strongest of the demon slayer corps, faded the instant they were tasked with finding the girl and serving her meal. Mitsuri was training by herself when Y/N found her, and couldn’t help but watch for a few moments at how her muscles flexed with each swing of her bendy sword, a truly mesmerizing sight to behold for their tired eyes that were used to the same strong men and weak girls. Mitsuri soon noticed their presence and after assuring her that they weren’t at all weirded out by her, she invited them to eat with her.

“Meals are best when shared with a friend.” 

She said, and from them on you ate together whenever possible, those were always their favorite meals. 

Time passed and what started as a crush, erupted into full love sickness. They would follow her around like a lost puppy, and when she needed anything, Y/N would be on it with no hesitation. Both retrieved and returned more attention from the other more than anyone else in their lives, and neither minded that fact.

Tonight however Mitsuri was coming back from a long mission and Y/N was going to make sure everything went perfect for their love. Without any hesitation the Hashira jumped into a big hug that the ladder wasn’t surprised by but also wasn’t quite ready for, hands hovering in the air awkwardly for a moment before returning to her embrace, feeling her comforting warmth for a hug that would have been too long if it were anyone else. 

Y/N then escorted her inside, trying to dodge as many people as possible before they made it to Mitsuris room, which Y/N made sure was prepped with a comfortable Yukata and plenty of her favorite snacks. After she changed, during which she was adamant that her arms were sore so she had Y/N assist her, they sat down on the mat on the floor, enjoying eachothers company as she talked about new food she tried and they talked about what needed to be done while she was gone. The snacks were long gone very shortly into the talk, and soon enough, it was time for dinner. Y/N started walking to retrieve the meal when Mitsuri stopped them.

“Come here for a second.” She said, voice stern but still incredibly sweet. Her face however had a hint of mischief that they didn’t quite trust, but nonetheless they still did as she commanded. The girl made grabby hands and her suspicious face made sense, without much fuss, they walked back in front of her. She started making grabby hands and as soon as they took hers, they were dragged back down, now on top of her. Y/N tried to express how startled they were but the sound got stuck in their throat, instead coming out as a gasp rather than something cooler. Mitsuri giggles and repositions them so they're sitting on her lap, legs wrapped around her waist as their arms just froze in the air yet again, helpless without their love's guidance.  The female on the other hand wasted no time with bringing them closer, running a finger down the other spine, causing a shiver, but no attempt to escape. So she continued, moving her hands with grace and gentle care to Y/Ns hair, feeling how soft it was.

Y/N finally relaxed, giving in and slowly migrating down resting just above their legs as they simultaneously nuzzled their face into the crook of her neck. She smelt like honey, peaches,  dango and everything sweet and good in the world. 

“I missed you a lot, I was worried we wouldn’t get to eat together anymore.”

Mitsuri breathed as though if she were too loud Y/N would run away like a scared kitten. Y/N could barely even manage a hum of acknowledgement, their brain short circuiting. The girl sighed with a mix of both sadness and love, pressing a soft kiss against the top of their head.

The two stayed in that position in silence for a long moment until Y/N seemingly regained their mental capability and tried to squirm away, a signal they had reached their limit. Mitsuri obliged, looking them in their eyes before releasing them from her hold. Shakily they stood up, the girl following their movements almost exactly except she wasn’t 1/8th as frazzled as them. 

“The, the-uh food. I'm going to get, for you.”

They managed out, quickly turning around and moving stiffly. 

“Uh-huh,” The Hashira giggled. “One last thing, honey.”

Grabbing them from behind she smoothly made her way to their neck, holding their waist as she pressed her lips to their neck. Y/N paused, not even breathing. Y/N could feel Mitsuri smirking against their skin, and a visible shiver took their whole body as they softly whined. Taking the hint and respecting her love, Mitsuri left one peck on their cheek and sat back down, proud of what she had accomplished without them completely disintegrating or something.

Y/N slid the door shut behind them, leaning against it for a moment to regain their composure before going out in front of the other people around them.

(Drops this here gives you a forehead kiss then goes back into my hole)

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer mitsuri #mitsuri kanroji #mitsuri x reader #nonbinary #fluff #kny fluff #kny x reader #kny x y/n #demon slayer x reader

[xgoldxnhour]

It was the first night in Alexandria—crickets chirping just outside the kitchen window. There was a funny sense of irony when the world that has succumbed to death and a twisted coil of immortality has but left its victims as w h i t e n o i s e. The moaning and groaning of insides recoiling and decaying in its own bile in the distance, preaching inevitable. And despite all its vain and all its nothingness of what’s left—it’s the crickets that leave her awake.

Eloise sits at the dining table with a mug of tea filled halfway. Her thumb presses against chestnut wood that used to be worn and calloused in their old kitchen. In their old house. Or what could’ve been called theirs when the pair first departed their hellscape cloaked in rotting wood and ash. The hole she scratched through wall when their captives dragged Sam away with his life in tow. Chips and splinters that burn within their fireplace when the winters grew too cold to sleep in their beds. And yet, this wood was pristine. As if it came right off the dock or plucked from a tree itself. The whole fucking house was pristine with newly coated paint and non-leaky faucets. No, just creaky floors and crickets.

Lost in thought and wide awake, there she sits and wonders how these people—this community—have survived this long. With a pantry full of cans and surplus of medical supplies. Kids running around like the world isn’t gnawing at the walls around them. Was this truly heaven on earth or merely a mirage. Just a couple of weeks. That’s what they promised each other—Sam and Eloise. Just a few weeks, months tops until this baby is born and they feel prepared enough to venture forward in search of their own safety once again. Just the three of them. Three already seemed so many when it’s only been two for so long and now here there amongst dozens.

She wishes she could see the look on their faces a year ago if they told them where they’d end up. Pregnant in a fucking gated community. Keeping up with Jones’s. The thought makes her chuckle softly with a shaken head. There’s movement that would’ve startled her if she hadn’t now gotten used to it as their little seed turned slightly with a kick.

“Nah, you’d like our other place better, little one. It was old but boy, did it have character.” Her hand rubs at the top of her stomach where she felt the kick. “We planted a peach tree just for you there. Maybe you’ll be able to climb it one day.” It would’ve been almost two years now, barely knee high if it survived this winter.

Eyes close as she feels a wave of tiredness wash as the noise subsides. The silence was premature at best as if the cricket was hosting a party now, louder than ever. “Damn crickets. They’re just prepping me for you, huh?” El huffs sarcastically with soft sigh. Though if it wasn’t the crickets, it was the nausea and it wasn’t the nausea, it was insomnia. But she longed for the day when her sleep and nightmares are awakened by soft cries of the life, the miracle, they created.

So—she sits, with her chin in her palm listening to the chirping chorus until the floorboard creaks. She’d recognize those footfalls in pitch darkness and a crowd full of people. And when she turns, there’s a tired smile swept across the her lips at the sight of messy red hair.

The fact that she couldn’t sleep didn’t even have to said by her presence. That and the secret language they shared with eyes alone. Instead, she merely offers the mug. “Tea?”

@mettleborn

#mettleborn #v: this is the way the world ends #samuel silas #tw pregnancy

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 379

My mom sometimes comments on how my dad likes to make the same kind of dishes over and over again. Like he doesn’t mind eating the same thing again and again, while mom does, though she will always eat what he makes. However, she often comments this in a way that suggests that dad sometimes just has trouble thinking outside the box.

Honesty, I think it’s really that dad doesn’t notice.

Because it’s probably genetic.

I do this too, but the only person who has to suffer through my cooking is me.

Being able to eat the same thing several times in a week (or very similar throughout a month) is how I survived feeding myself. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s what made meal prep easier back when I did it. It also ensured that if I bought something to eat for the week there is a 99% chance I will eat it.

I had a roommate who tried to eat healthier but accidentally let some of what she bought rot because she couldn’t bring herself to eat a serving of grapes several days in a row.

Meanwhile, five days in a row, I have had peaches, clementines and some sort of plum hybrid I found at the grocery store at the beginning of this week.

I will very much be buying individual servings of buttered corn, whole zucchini and large pre-cooked sausages this weekend despite the fact I’ve already had this meal twice this week. It’s easy, quick (six minutes tops) and yummy so I can’t complain.

Most days, I like eating like this, but this is also one of two reasons why I don’t cook for other people.

#cooking habits

[peachcitt]

pov you’re barbara lake and you get this text from your son

#peach’s rot prep #jim lake jr #barbara lake #trollhunters #WHY DID HE ADD THE WINKING SMILEY FACE WBDJFJWBBEEKJDJSK HE’S SO FUNNY AND FOR WHAT

[piscesparker]

Hey could you write one where y/a is just best friends with the Holland’s and Harrison and when someone breaks her heart they help her get through it 💕

Best friends

Warnings: language and tooth rotting fluff!

As warm tears and mascara streamed down your cheeks, you knocked on your best friends’ door. The minute Tom saw the black tears on your cheeks his face immediately dropped in fear, “Y/n, wha- what happened?” 

“He dumped me.” You sniffled. 

“He did what?!” Harrison chimed in from behind as Tom let you in, all the commotion brought the rest of the boys out of the room, “What’s going on?” Tuwaine asked. 

“That asshole dumped her!” Harrison bellowed, while Tom clenched his fist in anger and earned an angry ‘what?’ from the lads, you just sat there trying to process the event of the last few hours. Suddenly Tom left the room and headed out the door, “Tom where are you going?” You called back. 

“Going to teach him a lesson!” He growled, “Tom no!” You stopped his tracks, “Please it's not worth it.” you squeaked as a single tear rolled down your cheek which relaxed his clenched demeanor and engulfed you in a hug; the rest of the boys too joined in the hug. The warmth and homey feel they gave really comforted you, “Now how about we have a movie night and drown our sorrows with ice cream?” Sam chuckled. “I’ll just freshen up.” You gave a small smile and went on to take a shower while the boys prepped everything in the living room. 

As you were showering you heard a faint knock, “Uh, Y/n?” Tuwaine asked, “I just did the laundry today and I was wondering if you would like to borrow my hoodies? I’ve left them on your bed.” He smiled. After a somewhat relaxing shower and slipping on Tuwaine’s hoodie, you made your way down and was greeted by a little surprise, a small fort they tried to build really brightened up your spirits. Seeing you awe struck they yelled out a collective ‘surprise’ making you giggle. And after minutes of arguing which movie to put they finally decided on mean girls as all of them cuddled over one and other; the twins near your feet and Tom and Harrison had their arms wrapped around your shoulders and Tuwaine just made sure everyone had enough junk food. This feeling of your friends really made you feel better. 

General Taglist: @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @peaches-parker @veronica011sblog @hollanderfangirl @calltothewild @parkerpeter24 @whatthefuckimbisexual @musicalkeys @parker--peter @hollands-weasley @peterbenjiparker @ethereal-beauty-p @parker-hollandx @theonly1outof-a-billion @miraclesoflove @theliterarymess @osterfieldholland01

#tom holland #tom hollandxreader #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield oneshots #harrison osterfield fluff #haz osterfield #harry holland imagine #harry holland

[prof-peach]

hey professor peach! i saw you mention prepping for ghost types comin in on your putfit talk, but what kind of afflictions do ghost types get :Oc? i always assumed they couldnt get sick!

Ah they get all sorts. Usually they can become tired and run down, we see it with ghost types who have a dual typing the most. For example a Phantump is a ghost type who can get grass type afflictions such as rot, breakage and general lack of nutrients. It all depends on the Pokemon’s genetics and general typing and lifestyle. Plus we also examine Pokemon for psychological trauma, after hard battles, loss, or grief for example, so we take into concideration the issues of the mind, they are equally problematic for Pokemon as they are for humans.

pure ghost types do tend to be VERY resistant to illness, we often only get them in if they ate something they shouldn’t have or got really hurt.

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks

[snowdice]

And There is a Question (Part 7 of the Series “Is There Anything Left of Patton?”)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Virgil & Logan, Logan/Patton, Virgil & Patton

Characters: Logan, Virgil, Patton, Roman, Remy

Summary: Would you like to know the answer?

Notes: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Patton is a zombie, Guns, Angst.

I’m back with this one. The next two parts are written too and will be releasing in the next couple of weeks. 

Thanks to @kieraelieson for betaing

This is the seventh part of a series of one-shots called Is There Anything Left of Patton?

Previous parts:

“Something Left”

“Someone You’ll Never Meet”

“Food You’ll Never Eat”

“Things You’ll Never Do”

“There Are Things That Are Lost”

“There Are Things That Are Missing”

Logan opened the refrigerator and immediately felt the overwhelming urge to bash his head against it. “Virgil!” he called. “Would you just eat the macaroni!”

“I told you! It’s not any good after it’s been in the fridge!” he called back.

“Then why do you keep making it?” Logan practically sobbed to himself with his head against the refrigerator door; there were three Tupperware containers full of macaroni and cheese despite the fact that Logan had thrown out one yesterday and eaten another. “Dammit,” he whispered and grabbed one of the older containers out. He was going to have to hide the rest of the boxes of macaroni and cheese, wasn’t he? They’d found them on a recent scavenging trip. Virgil had been overjoyed that they’d been only about a year expired and Logan had been happy to have an easy source of dinner, but Virgil apparently had no self-control in this. Logan couldn’t keep living like this. At this point, he would be elated to never see the Kraft logo ever again.

Patton, having heard him shouting and being drawn to the sound, shuffled into the room. Logan still felt a twinge in his chest every time he walked through that doorway. Patton used to love this kitchen, and he’d been very good at using it. Perhaps if he were the one cooking, Logan wouldn’t have eaten only macaroni for every goddamned meal this week.

He placed said bowl of macaroni in the microwave before turning to the other man. “Hello dear,” Logan said softly, moving over to him. He carefully prodded at him until he stumbled over to one of the chairs and then pushed his shoulders down until he sat. “Would you like something to eat too?”

There was no response from Patton but to reach up and pat at Logan’s jaw briefly. Logan caught his hand with gentle fingers and pressed a soft kiss against his wrist. When he released the hand, it fell limply into Patton’s lap. Logan turned to the refrigerator and selected one of the pre-prepared sealed containers of raw meat. He took his own breakfast out of the microwave and set both containers on the table before getting two glasses of water from the reservoir.

Patton looked at the water with a certain level of interest. Though he did need water, he didn’t take to it with nearly as much gusto as he did food. Logan watched him lean forward to grab at it with both hands and pull it to himself. He stared at it for a long moment before tilting forward to poke his tongue into the cup briefly. Then, he sat back up and elected to ignore the drink.

“Not thirsty this morning?” Logan asked. “Or did you find and consume Virgil’s coffee once again?”

He titled his head at the sound of Logan’s voice, but didn’t quite look at him.

“Here,” Logan said. “Have some breakfast.” He reached over and quickly took off the lid of the meat container before sitting back. That got Patton’s attention. He zeroed in on the food immediately, grabbing for it and shoving it into his mouth as quickly as he could with a wet squelching sound. Virgil still complained about how ‘gross’ it was watching Patton eat, but Logan had grown numb to it over the past going on two years. Logan wasn’t sure why Virgil had trouble getting over it, but imagined it had something to do with the fact that Logan had watched fewer people being eaten alive by less tame zombies.

Logan twitched. ‘Tamed’ was not a word he was comfortable using for Patton he decided, an obstruction in his throat. Not an animal. Not a pet. Can’t.

He shoved a forkful of macaroni and cheese down his throat to distract himself. It somehow managed to be both dry and slimy at the same time. Why did Virgil do these things?

Logan looked up at Patton. “Honestly, yours looks more appetizing than mine this morning, dear.” Patton was finishing off his food. “I imagine I cannot negotiate a trade?” Patton started licking the blood off his fingers. “Fair enough.”

Logan continued to force more of his meal down as Patton grew more and more interested in his water cup, though he did not reach for it.

That interest was suddenly drawn away when Virgil came jogging into the room, hoodie in place despite the fact that it was in the upper 60s. He glanced into the refrigerator and hummed before grabbing out the container of orange juice they’d thawed for this week. “Nuh uh, Patton. This is my orange juice,” he said pushing the man who had gotten to his feet to follow him gently away before pouring himself a glass of juice.

“You’re energetic today,” Logan noted.

“I’ve got plans today. The first batch of lettuce should be grown enough to have fresh salads tonight, and I’m going to be planting the carrots. We’re finally going to have real food again soon!”

“Speaking of real food,” Logan said. “Is that all you’re going to have for breakfast?”

“If my only other choice is refrigerated mac and cheese then, yeah, absolutely.”

Logan ground his teeth in agitation, but decided a fight about it wasn’t worth it today.

“Fine, fine, Patton,” Virgil gave in as the man reached past the arm Virgil was using to block him. “You can have the rest.” He offered the cup with about an inch of orange juice still at the bottom and Patton snatched it away, tilting the cup up to drink the rest of it. Virgil turned to Logan while he did. “The corner’s wet again.”

“What?!” Patton jerked his head up at Logan’s voice, and Virgil had to snatch the glass away from him to keep it from shattering on the ground. Patton had lunged to jump on top of Logan; Logan’s chair almost toppled over backwards from the force. “Yes, hello Patton,” he said, unconcerned, pushing the fingers away from his mouth to speak. “How is there still a leak? I’ve fixed every shingle above it and replaced part of the wall.”

“Don’t ask me Lo. I’m not a carpenter. All I know is the carpet is soaked again.”

Logan pushed Patton’s hair out of his own face. “Mother fuck.”

Virgil nodded sagely. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.” He placed his orange juice cup in the dirty dish tub. “I can try to help you with it after lunch.”

“Sure,” Logan agreed with a groan. He got a palm pressed to his mouth for the sound.

“Welp, I’m going to the garden now. Stay still Lo,” Virgil requested. He walked to the kitchen doorway and gave a sharp, high-pitched whistle. “Come on, Pat!” Patton seemed conflicted for a moment before Virgil whistled again. Then, he lumbered clumsily off Logan to follow after Virgil.

Logan finished his breakfast alone and then went to the living room. Patton had apparently decided to go upstairs after Virgil escaped to the garden because he was nowhere in sight. Logan gave the corner of the living room by the rocking chair a glare. He should try to figure out where the leak was coming from again, but he didn’t have the patience at the moment, and Virgil had said he’d help after lunch anyway. So, instead he decided to grab one of his books and sat in the rocking chair. He had to admit the damned thing was comfy despite its hideous aesthetic. Logan might as well accept it. He knew he’d never be able to get rid of the thing for as long as he lived.

Logan read for a few hours before he decided it was time to make lunch. He decided to be nice and not force Virgil to only eat his sins for the meal. Instead, he closed the kitchen door and cooked some of the deer meat from his first hunt of the season a few days ago. He also opened a can of beets and a can of peaches. He did dish out a side of macaroni and cheese for the both of them. He doubted either of them would actually eat it, but it would be an excuse to throw it away.

Virgil came in with a small bowl full of lettuce from the garden and was careful to close the door behind him when he noticed Logan was finishing up cooking meat. He set the bowl on the counter to wash later and helped Logan finish prepping lunch. The two of them ate the meat and the beets at the kitchen table (as both were foods Patton would be inclined to eat if he caught sight of them) and then took the peaches into the living room to eat for dessert (leaving the macaroni to rot on the kitchen table).

“How’s the garden?” Logan asked.

“A lot better without you touching it,” Virgil answered, which was fair. “I put out the carrot-ay sign with the black belt carrot drawn on it.”

The comment sent something twisting in Logan’s gut, but he still let out a fond chuckle both for the man who had made the sign and the one who was still using it. “I’ll have to come see it.”

“Just no touching.”

Logan was letting out a soft laugh when there was a loud bang and the front door sprang open.

Both Logan and Virgil shot to their feet as a shotgun was pointing at them.

There was a moment's pause. “Can I help you?” asked Logan.

“Oh shit,” the man said eloquently, “You’re alive?”

“Yes,” Logan said, “and you just kicked in the door to my house.”

“…Sorry babe,” the man said as he lowered the gun so it was pointed at the floor. Logan bristled a bit at the nickname. “Hey, Ro, we’ve got live ones,” he called back out of the door. Virgil was strung tight at Logan’s side, saying nothing and curling into his hoodie. Logan nudged him slightly with his elbow as he took a sharp breath.

“Oh, really?” a voice asked. He poked his head inside. Logan and he blinked at each other for a few moments. “Hey! I know you!” he said excitedly.

And so he did. They were never the best of friends and the most they’d ever interacted was when they worked together on a group project for a gen ed college course, but that didn’t seem to stop Roman from getting excited and practically throwing himself at Logan to pull him into an embrace even as one hand still held a rifle.

“Yes, hello, Roman,” Logan said. He felt pleased for just a moment to see someone he had known before the world ended, but then, of course, a sound from the top of the stairs reminded him why this was not at all a good thing.

“Shit,” Virgil broke his silence to hiss.

Roman jumped away on high alert in the same moment Logan moved to stand in front of the staircase Patton was coming down.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Roman barked. “That’s a zombie.”

“No, it isn’t,” Logan lied, his voice somehow steady even as Patton collided with his back.

“Um, bitch, yes it is!” Roman said.

“Honestly, if he were a zombie, I would have been bitten already.”

“Oh, please Logan,” Roman said, his countenance startlingly different from the openly joyful one it had been only seconds before. “I thought you were the smart guy. I’ve been around the block. I started in fucking New York City and while most zombies will attack the second they see you, some don’t. Some of them are ambush predators that wait until you’re vulnerable, weak, or sleeping, but they’re still going to bite you eventually. I’ve seen a lot of fucking zombies. I know one when I see it, and that,” he pointed at Patton accusingly, “is a fucking zombie.”

“He is not,” Logan insisted. “Patton was not bitten. He just faced a traumatic event and had a psychotic break making him act erratic and confused. He is not dead.”

“Oh, is that so?” Roman scoffed. He whistled once, sharp and high pitched, and Patton predictably shoved past Logan and stumbled straight at him. Roman put up his rifle to nudge him into stopping. “See, I don’t exactly believe you,” Roman said. “So why don’t we hear it from Patton?”

“This is unnecessary,” Logan said, his voice cracking at the sight of Patton with the barrel of a gun pointed straight at his chest.

“Tell me, Patton,” Roman continued, a sneer on his face. “Is there anyone alive in there?” There was quiet for a moment and then, to Logan’s surprise Patton’s mouth twitched just barely. He blinked and suddenly there was something there that hadn’t been for almost two years.

“Yes.”

Thanks for reading!

Want to read more? The next part of this series is “Is There Anything Left of Patton?”

#sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logicality #roman sanders #remy sanders #platonic moxiety #platonic analogical #zombie au #angst #guns #patton is a zombie #italop #adriana writes

[anomander-dragnipurake]

Evil New Year’s Resolution

Happy New Year Eve everyone!

~

One would think given how often Peach had been the target of various evil schemes in the past her castle would have better security. To be fair, those schemes had been from people who were alive but there were ways to keep the dead out and E. Gadd, the expert and inventor for many such ways, was an ally of hers so one would think she’d cover all her bases just in case. But whatever, King Boo wasn’t going to question his good fortune.

Finding Peach’s room took almost no time at all; it was extravagant as expected from a princess’ room and very pink. Not the only colour in the room but its presence far outweighed any other to the point of being borderline annoying. At least it was neat and tidy so King Boo wouldn’t have to wait around whilst surrounded by a mess. Waiting at all sucked but he couldn’t risk having his ploy discovered especially so early. So with a sigh, he settled down to wait in the corner.

He was in luck though; it wasn’t even quite half an hour before Peach came into the room. “Yes, good night to you too Toadsworth,” she was saying over her shoulder as she stepped in. There was a reply but it was inaudible from King Boo’s position in the far corner.

After closing the door, Peach turned and flounced further into the room, completely oblivious to King Boo’s presence for now. She went straight to her vanity dresser. Standing before it, she should be able to see his reflection in the mirror as he slid into position behind her. … She let out a gasp. Before she could scream or even start to turn around to face him, he pulled on his magic and the magic he’d stored in his crown to force his soul into her body.

 -

After a few brief moments of mostly nothing he was suddenly quite uncomfortable. The floor was too solid beneath him as gravity pushed him down onto it. Peach’s heart beat in her chest rhythmically as her lungs instinctively worked to pull in air and then expel. He could stop both processes if he wanted to and he kind of did because it was a rather unpleasant sensation after going so long without experiencing it that he’d forgotten it but inhabiting a rotting corpse would render his plan nigh on impossible so he’d just have to deal with it.

Peach was confused, she had no idea what happened; he could feel her emotions and thoughts brush against him, stronger now that he was paying attention to her. A spike of fear ran through her as he sat up and pulled her hands into to look at them as he flexed them. He’d forgotten what having hands was like too – not that he needed them when he could use magic for everything.

Hello princess. He thought at her with a chuckle.

She gasped again as her fear spiked higher immediately followed by righteous anger. ‘King Boo! What do you want? And… what’s happening?’

You’re my meat puppet now and you’re going to help me get some vengeance.

Oh, she was very frightened now and even if she wasn’t his true target it was still quite nice. ‘Mario will save me.’ Some of her fear melted away at her confidence in that statement. That just couldn’t do.

Yeah, sure because he’s done such a good job defeating me before.

‘Luigi then. He’ll beat you up like he always does you dumb giant marshmallow!’

King Boo growled; how dare she call him a marshmallow? Not this time because I have you. Meaning nothing could be done to him without hurting Peach which neither Mario or Luigi would do willingly.

‘Fuck you!’

King Boo ignored her this time. Instead, he stood up. It proved to be harder than it seemed; he had to contend with gravity and legs were far more unstable than just being able to float was. He took one step and… lost his precarious balance, landing on Peach’s face.

‘Ha! You can’t even walk, how pathetic.’

He growled both internally and externally. You can’t fly, that’s far more pathetic. Legs were an inferior way of getting around and he hated them already. But he needed to get used to using them again before the New Year’s Eve party tomorrow night. So, determined to ensure his plan would be perfect, he stood up again. All he needed was a little practice walking and all would be good.

New Year’s Eve

King Boo looked into the mirror, ensuring the hair dye hadn’t been bleached away by his magic yet and that the contacts were still in place. Neither was an exact match for Peach hair and eye colour but it was close enough that the dim lighting of the party should obscure it enough to make it hard to notice. Disguising his crown had proven to be far harder so instead he’d rendered it invisible.

‘Mario’s not going to be fooled by you,” Peach cut in, more angry now than afraid. ‘Neither will…’

He growled at her, drowning out the rest of that thought. It had only been a day and he was already sick and tired of her. He could block out her thoughts and emotions fairly well but whenever she wanted to say something to him it was a lot harder to not hear it.

But at least he looked the part of the princess, mostly anyway. Her one pair of non-heeled shoes didn’t match the fancy gown – which like her normal dresses was too pink for his tastes – but there was no way he was wearing heels of any height. They made the whole balancing thing even more of a chore. So, doing his best to ignore Peach and her angry nagging, he left her room and started for the main hall.

“Everything’s all set and ready to go,” Toadsworth said as she strode in. And truly everything was set and ready to go; snack and drink tables flanked the hall, balloons covered the ceiling, and the big clock with the ‘Happy New Year’ banner had been centered against the wall on one side of the room.

“Thank you,” he said with a forced smile, doing his best to imitate Peach’s speech pattern. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year to you too Princess!” he replied seemingly totally fooled. Which frustrated Peach while making King Boo quite proud. Now all he had to do was fool Mario and Luigi, how hard could that be?

 -

As predicted Mario and Luigi were among the first guests to arrive – Gooigi for some reason wasn’t with them, basically sealing King Boo’s victory here because they were the only one who might be able to detect him. They both wore dresses; Mario red and Luigi green. Which was a surprise, he’d never seen them dress that way before, but honestly a pleasant one; it would make them look better once in their portraits.

The look Mario gave him as they exchanged New Year’s greetings and well wishes made him want to gag. But he was a decent actor when he really tried and showed no outward sign of disgust. Nor did he react to Peach’s anger and frantic futile attempts to wrest control back from him.

All he had to do was keep that act up for a handful of hours until midnight. Purely for the drama of it, he was going to make his move at the exact start of the new year.

***

Something had seemed off the moment Luigi had stepped into the main hall of Peach’s castle. What it might be, he couldn’t say to save his life but something wasn’t right. He’d been sure it was his imagination as there wasn’t anything visually off but as midnight crept ever closer he was more and more convinced that that wasn’t the case. But what was it?

If he didn’t know better, he’d say it was ghosts but last he’d checked the castle wasn’t haunted. If only he had Gooigi or Polterpup with him to know for sure though, but Polterpup didn’t do well at parties, especially fancy ones such this, and Gooigi was helping E. Gadd with an experiment; when asked they’d said they preferred to miss the party to continue with that.

“Peach is acting a bit off,” Mario said when Luigi finally broke down and asked him if he sensed anything strange.

“What do you mean?” Luigi asked because he hadn’t noticed that. To be fair, he didn’t know Peach nearly as well as Mario and wasn’t spending as much time with her tonight.

“I don’t know just… not quite right. She seems excited though, I think. Which is probably good, right?”

Hmmm… maybe she was finally thinking of making a move on Mario. It’d be about time if so, the way they danced around their feelings for each other had been going on for quite a while now and thus they needed to just get it over with already and talk about it. But then again maybe it had something to do with whatever Luigi was feeling. What could the correlation be though?

“But uh… why are you asking?” Mario continued. “Is something bothering you?”

“Uh… yeah. I don’t know what though just… something’s not right.” And he hated that he couldn’t articulate what.

“Well, last time you felt this way it was at the Last Resort Hotel and we brushed it off and that ended up being a mistake. So maybe it’s ghosts again?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Or maybe you’re just anxious about the new year?”

“Yeah, maybe. … Probably.” He’d certainly gotten that way about things before.

“Well if anything happens, I got your back. I’m going to go chat with Peach again, see if I can’t figure out what’s up with her. See you later.” He gave Luigi a slight tap on the shoulder with his fist before heading off.

***

As was standard for fancy New Year parties, people paid more and more attention to the clock as midnight approached. What they didn’t know was that more and more boos crept into the hall too, eager to witness the grand finale or to assist King Boo if he needed them. He didn’t think he would though.

At a minute to midnight, he had everyone living facing the clock. He stood behind them on a raised dais, ostensibly ready to lead the verbal countdown to the new year. What he was really doing though was prepping the portrait. It wasn’t a large party but there were still a substantial number of people, sucking that many people up into a portrait all at once would be a bit difficult but it could be done if the portrait was big enough and the pull of his magic into it was strong enough.

The countdown started soon after he’d magically stretched the portrait to the right size. “Ten… nine…” he said in unison with everyone else as he channeled his magic through the portrait, opening it up to suck people in. “…eight… seven… six…” If anyone noticed the soft purple glow coming the portrait and turned around to investigate, his plan might be in trouble. “…five… four…” Intoxicated and engrossed in the clock, no one did though. “… three… two…”

On “one,” Mario, standing a short distance away, glanced back. The fondness in his expression immediately morphed into fear and surprise. All he had time for was a gasp as the clock struck midnight a second later and King Boo snapped the giant portrait down onto everyone, sucking them all up into it.

Maniacal boo laughter filled the hall instead of the cheer that normally would’ve gone up. Trapped in his body, Peach cried and flung anger and despair at King Boo which only made him laugh harder. Ah, victory at last was so, so sweet.

With a chuckle, he levitated the portrait off the floor leaned it against the wall. With loud cheers and laughter, the boos gathered closer to admire it alongside him.

As was the way with such portraits, everyone trapped within it faced outwards, the expression on their face the same as the moment the painting had lowered onto the. It was mostly Toads, though several friends of the Mushroom Kingdom were here too, including a handful of Yoshis. And there was Mario, the only one with a scared expression which was wonderful. … But as King Boo’s eyes continued to rove the canvas, it became more and more obvious that something, no someone was missing.

“Where’s Luigi?” one of the boos pipped up because well, Luigi was nowhere to be seen on the canvas.

***

Cowering behind a pillar, Luigi flinched at the sound of his name. Overwhelmed by the feeling of something being wrong, he’d snuck out to get some fresh air. He’d returned just in time to see the portrait slam down on everyone, trapping them all within it.

“I don’t know.” It was physically Peach’s voice but the anger and hatred in it wasn’t Peach. Luigi had a not so sneaking suspicion as to who might actually be speaking. “Find him.”

Luigi clapped a hand over his mouth to prevent a fearful whimper from escaping. … He had to do something though. Mario had been captured again, alongside everyone else at the party and… poor Peach was possessed. So, before his hiding spot could be discovered, he gathered up the skirts of his dress in one hand so he wouldn’t trip and hurried back to the rear exit. It led out to the castle courtyard so he’d still be trapped but it was better than staying in here with no ghost hunting equipment.

Once outside, he hid behind a bush and pulled out his phone. … E. Gadd picked up on the third ring.

“Happy New Year sonny,” he said, jovial as ever as if he hadn’t let King Boo escape again. Unless he didn’t know but how likely was that?

“King Boo’s here!” Luigi spoke in a frantic whisper in case any boos had ventured into the courtyard.

“Oh! Hold on a sec… good news Gooigi, Luigi found King Boo.” If Gooigi replied, their answer wasn’t audible over the phone. “What’s the situation?” E. Gadd asked, speaking directly into the phone once more.

“He’s trapped Mario and everyone else in a big portrait and uh… he’s possessing Peach.”

“Oh! Hmmm… sounds like quite the predicament. Possessing Peach is definitely going to make dealing with him a bit harder, huh?”

“Yes but… why didn’t you tell me he’d escaped again?” Luigi had a right to know that kind of thing, didn’t he? He was King Boo’s primary target after all.

“Because I figured you’d probably be mad at me. Also, I thought with Gooigi’s help I could find and recapture him before he made another move. We’ve been looking all over for him.” Ah, so that was the secret ‘experiment’ they’d been working on. “Oh well, at least we found him. I’ll be over with Gooigi and the portable lab in no time. Oh also, I made some more improvements to the Poltergust, this’ll be the perfect opportunity to test them. Hang tight until I get there.” With that, he hung up, leaving Luigi on his own.

Assuming he was at his lab, it would take him about an hour to drive all the way down here. Meaning Luigi had to survive being hunted by a hoard of boos and King Boo himself for a whole hour before he could fight back. … He should’ve at least brought the Poltergust’s flashlight, huh? Too late now though, he’d just have to do his best and hope E. Gadd and Gooigi arrived before it was too late. … What an awful way to start the New Year. On the bright side, assuming they all got out of this, things could only get better from here, right?

#my writing #super mario bros #Luigi's Mansion #King Boo #Luigi #Mario #Peach #New Year eve #Crossdressing

[halforc-mercenary]

♬: Does your Muse do any kind of meal-prepping?

Not exactly Meal-prepping, but Mar usually will preserve her own food for her travels. Which means that she will use the one week in the month were she is due to her cycle not allowing herself to fight or work as a guard, to prepare food. Meat she would cut free of fat and rub in spices, then she would put the slices in a pot in layers of salt and let it soak in for a day and a night. After this she would free the meat of the salt and dry it in a oven for around four hours so themeat would be preserved for around two months, although the food would spoil if carried in rainy weather if the dampness would creep on the flesh. If she would have fish like hering Mar would  free it of its bones and guts, then   put the fish for a day and a night in salted water, if she is in the mood for more salty fish she will change the water more often. After the fish is soaked enough, she will clean the fish hard enough to pull the skin of the flesh. Then she would put the fish aside while cooking carrots, onions, honey, pepper and wine-vinegar up in a stew. The stew would need to cool down and she would pur the soup in another pot, while layering the heringpieces and the vegetables rotative in a claypot. Then she would add the soup bac, cook up the whole mass again and close the mug with a waxed cloth for preserving. 

Fruits like peaches, apples or pears Mar would either cook with honey and roasted nuts into puree and preserve it in a mug closed with a waxed cloth like the salted hering, or she would cut the fruits into slices and dry them in a oven to make them preserved. In the same manner Mar would collect herbs and hang them over a oven to dry them, before she would cut them small and put them into boundles she would put in her wooden  herbchest. 

Usually Mar will also use this time to bake bread, as on her travels she will only bake flatbread in a pan when she has time, but for bigger bread she needs more time as she needs to prepare yeast for at least a week (by putting water, honey and flour in a pot and putting it in the sun) before using the yeast to bake the bread. 

The Halforc had grown up in a  big Household and had been the moment she had been able to toddled around used to held in the Household, cooking, preserving food, sewing cloth, weaving, spinning or preparing herbs. Accordingly the young woman had been teached to properly prepare her own supplies for long travels.

#headcanon #oh btw here we have medieval ways of preserving food #Mar always works. either as a sellsword and when she is on her period she will use that pause for preparing her travels

[pirateheir]

everything about auradon prep is dizzying, from the soft beds to the way everyone seems to have a choice. (“you want to learn about the human body?” there’s a class for that. “you want to learn how to draw?” there’s a class for that, too.) it is too much, all these choices are dumped in her lap; they come at her all at once, and when she slips up - because eventually, she will - it is chad who catches her. 

whereas the isle of the lost is narrow cobblestone streets, professor ratigan’s crew manning rickshaws, rotten fruit and spoiled vegetables and nicking a bruised apple here and a bruised peach there from underneath tattered tents, auradon prep is sugar cookies, a voice like bells telling her to ‘leave it like you found it’ and even the air around her is sweet and fresh.

the coffee doesn’t taste like mud here and has whimsical names that are a far cry from black-like-your-soul and sour-milk latte.

still, it’s not easy to go from crusty barley oatmeal with a choice of mealy apple or mushy banana; and stale, mixed cereal to food that isn’t actually rotted through. it’s not an easy transition to make. and though harriet’s not a hoarder by nature (because the only thing she hoards would be treasure), the first few months, she eats fast and hoards her food for her crew members afterwards despite people telling her that she doesn’t have to do that anymore. not here. not in auradon.

(she doesn’t think she’ll ever stop eating like someone’s gonna snatch her plate away.)

(she’s also sure that she made that audrey girl cry when she talked about stinky cheese and withered grapes and deviled eggs and wings the other day, but that’s neither here nor there.)

“hey captain,” she hears chad’s voice somewhere to her left. “you’re not croaking on me, are you?”

“no,” harriet chokes out, fingers digging in her leather jacket, before moving to slide down her torn jeans as battered combat boots kicked up dust underneath the bleachers. “ah’m fine.”

“you don’t look fine.”

well neither do ye, she thinks, and wants to spit the words back out again but they stay where they are, lodged in her throat. she could go for a glass of spiced cider right now, harriet thinks aloud and chad raises an eyebrow. “---jus’ be glad ah dinnae mention toad’s blood shots, o’ th’ shite they sell at th’ slop shop.” she’s still curled up into herself but she imagines the face chad must make right now and it makes her smile, if only a little bit. 

“well,” the prince clears his throat. “we don’t have that stuff here, but if you’d come along, i’m sure we can find you a suitable replacement.”  “ah used tae use th’ posters o’ th’ former king fer target practice,” harriet makes a face after she takes a swig of the sweet, sweet, much too sweet drink that chad just pushed her way. “wha’ even is this?! ‘s ghastly!” almost as ghastly as the former king’s face on the posters, smiling that sticky sweet smile and telling the isle’s residents to ‘be good because it’s good for you!’. 

“juice,” chad responds, with a tone that clearly is supposed to mean duh! and harriet frowns. “where’s th’ tangy taste o’ it, then?” a quiet groan escapes her lips: “please, just drink.”

for a brief moment, she lets her mind whirl, lets herself think of the possibilities: what could she achieve with this sickly sweet juice that apparently is a delicacy over here? it’s like that one quote: who wanted to make lemonade from lemons, when you could make perfectly good lemon grenades? except she figures that lemon grenades would be too on the nose; maybe water balloons filled with this drink would do the trick, so she’d still have a way to defend herself, even if jane’s mum confiscated all her weaponry.

“are ye tryin’ tae get me drunk?” harriet decides to change the subject with a joke before he asks her questions she doesn’t want to answer and chad rolls his eyes, pretends to be annoyed, though the smile on his face says otherwise. “no, but i am trying to make you feel better.”

“y’ken wha’ would make me feel better?” harriet queried. “th’ bad apples.”

“we don’t have those here, either. i mean, not literally. figuratively, i know a bunch of ‘em.”

“nay, ah dinnae mean it like tha’. th’ bad apples are a band. diego devil’s th’ lead singer.”

“carlos has a cousin?!”

“he sure does.”

“sings outta tune but his aesthetic is o’ th’ hook; ah like his black an’ white mohawk.”

“please, if you hold any sort of love in your heart for me at all, don’t ever say that again in front of me.”

“wha’? ah cannae comment tha’ things o’ people are o’ th’ hook now? wha’ever shall ah do?” harriet gifted him a cautious smile as downed her drink at last. 

“take a walk with me,” chad says. “i can show you the short cuts and hiding places if you need ‘em.”

harriet makes a grandiose bow. “why, m’lord,” she drawls, “ah’d be honored.” chad nudges her. “oh, just shut up and walk with me already, captain.” and as they leave the kitchen, chad talking a mile a minute about his yacht, harriet’s laugh is lighter than it’s been in years.

#long post / #chrmiing #「drabbles」 #//its a mix of things taken from the book and my hcs lmao #//idk i needed to write something for this dynamic ;P

[traveling-couch-potato]

Japan Day 12

My two travel buddies left me today which means for the next 14 days I’ll be completely alone. I haven’t traveled alone since Puerto Rico and even that was for more than half this length so I’m a bit nervous. I took it extra easy today with only one main goal in mind: try funazushi.

I started off by walking north to the Higashiyama station. This led me to a different part of the Higashiyama district I didn’t get to explore. With the post-rain skies and fluffy clouds in the background of the little river and everyone at work, this was the most ideal spring-day I could picture. 

I continued onward into the Furukawacho Shopping Arcade which is lined with a zig zagging road of colorful paper lanterns. I eventually made my way to the train toward Otsu City with my first stop being the popular funazushi seller/producer Ganso Sakamotoya. Unfortunately you can’t eat at the shop, so I bought some pre-packaged goods from the very very kind shop owner and headed out to find something for lunch.

The two main display cases at Ganso Sakamotoya.

I ended up strolling through a random shopping arcade in Otsu City to look for some actual food. 

Random shopping arcade in Otsu City.

There were a few small restaurants but I ended up stumbling on a plain ole supermarket and decided to check that out instead. I picked up a few items then decided to walk towards Lake Biwa to have my lunch.

It's more or less the same as most of the Japanese markets back in the US except the prices for the raw fish was exponentially cheaper and there were so many more options when it came to prepped food in general. The lake area was almost completely empty. There seems to be a large sightseeing boat that goes around the lake and that attracted a few visitors but once that departed I basically had the entire region to myself.

It was a little windy but otherwise the weather was perfect for a pseudo picnic.

After slowly eating and relaxing by the lake I walked the area a little bit more before heading off to my dessert spot. A little confectionery store called Miidera Chikara-mochi Honke. Like everywhere else in town and I was the only one here. The shop workers didn't speak English but I was able to communicate that I wanted to order and eat there versus buy souvenirs to-go. One of the employees led me to a small room with a garden view toward the back end of the shop. I ordered one of the matcha sets. Once they brought it over, they left me alone so I could peacefully enjoy my snacks and the adorable garden view.

Some of the most amazingly soft yet bouncy mochi ever covered in a green kinako sweetened with honey. This was the best kinako I've ever had. And it paired so well with the matcha.

Got to enjoy this tranquil garden view as I ate and drank away. I meandered in the shop for a while because I didn't want to say bye to this quaint little town. But I needed to head back toward Kyoto.

Goodbye Otsu City. My time here was short but I enjoyed every second. Headed back into Kyoto and made a quick stop at Maruyama Park to catch a glimpse of it during the day. The weeping cherry blossom tree isn't nearly as gorgeous during the day but the small ponds positively twinkle in the sunlight.

It was still the early afternoon but I wanted to catch up on some work so I decided to retire a bit early. I picked up some sake, rice, and hot green tea so I could follow Ganso's shop owner's instructions for eating the funazushi. However as soon as I unwrapped the paper for the prepackaged fish I knew I had to run back to the Lawson's for a backup meal as well. According to the shop owner you should eat the carp over rice, pour hot tea over it, and enjoy with a bit of soy sauce. He also said it goes best with sake. So I picked up all the necessary ingredients and headed back to make the dish per his instructions.

I gave the dish an honest shot but the smell of sour rot mixed with clay was too much for me. I love sour things. Heck, I drink vinegar and eat lemons. But the pungency of the other aromas along with the tough texture meant I could only stomach a few nibbles. The sake did help mellow some of the flavors but not enough for me to be able to take more than a few bites. I defaulted to my combini food and finished off with some peach ice cream bites to finish off the night.

#Japan #Japan Trip #Food Blog #Food Blogger #Japan Blog #Japan Blogger #Vacation #Vacation Trip #Foodie #Food Blogging #Otsu City #Kyoto #Gion #Funazushi #Travel Blog #Travel Blogger #Travel Log #Travel Tips

[peachcitt]

eli really decorated his and steve’s flour baby combining traits from both himself and steve. he literally did not have to do that, but he did. fellas…….

#peach’s rot prep #eli pepperjack #steve palchuk #steli #trollhunters #THEYRE A LITTLE FRUITY…….

[waldenweave]

This past weekend was full of unexpected things. I did not know there were going to be house guests, but breakfast out was really nice! We went to a local café on a farm down the road from us. The building is a strawbale construction, a simple design, with rustic decor. The food is tasty and plentiful. And the owners know my friends (of course). During the course of chatting with the owners, I happened to look out one of the side windows and noticed a walnut tree laden with nuts, so at an appropriate moment in the conversation, I changed topics and asked about their tree. Would it be possible to collect some of the walnuts I had seen on the ground? I wanted to make a dye. Of course! was the answer. The one tree I had seen turned out to be part of four trees. I was given a small paper bag and after we’d finished, I went outside and around the corner to the walnuts. And lo! there I saw so many walnuts. In fact, I’d never seen so many walnuts, and I wanted all of them. However, not knowing how many I’d actually need to making dye, I happily filled my paper bag and asked if I could come back if I needed more. The owners were more than happy to oblige. I can come get as many as I like. Woohoo!

(Sadly, I did not get a picture of the trees.)

I counted them – about 60. But I had to toss a few that ended up being full of worms.

I must say, black walnuts smell delightful. The hulls have a sort of earthy citrusy fragrance that makes me so happy. I can’t quite adequately explain it.

The hulls will also stain your hands brown like crazy. We got home, and I put the rest of my day’s plans aside for a few hours so I could peel the hulls from the nuts – the hulls are used for making dye. The shells are too, but if I’m going to use the shells, I want to save the nutmeats, so I spent time separating everything into two buckets.

Nuts in the left bucket. Hulls in the right.

Most of the instructions I found online made it seem like getting the nut out of the hull was really hard and that I needed to drive over them, whack them with the claw of a hammer, or find a mallet and whack them until they yielded the nut. None of that was necessary. I got a steak knife and just ran the blade around each walnut, neatly dividing the hull into two hemispheres. Then a twist released one hemisphere, and if it didn’t, then one more cut to divide a hemisphere in two did the trick. It was a bit reminiscent of pitting all those peaches I canned a while ago.

So, the staining. Because black walnut hulls have so much tannin in them, they stain things pretty permanently – the tannin is the mordant. Cloth, skin, any natural fiber…brown. All the sources I found online told me to wear heavy rubber gloves. I didn’t have any, but I did have some disposable food service gloves at hand.

Yeah. So, all this brown? Still got through, and my forefinger and thumb are a bit brown.

I got them all hulled! But what to do with them then? Most instructions say to simmer them for an hour or so, but I do not want to have an accident in the house and stain the kitchen. It is not my kitchen after all. So, I’m trying what I think is a far more likely historical recipe (even though I have no proof at all): I’m soaking the hulls in that bucket in water for a couple of weeks. Then I’ll strain everything and maybe might see if I can find an outdoor cooking arrangement so I can simmer it and kill any mold that might have formed. Or not. Maybe I’ll put some in quart sized mason jars for later.

This dye is also apparently an excellent wood stain! I loves me a multitasking thing I can make! So, after a little experimentation with some wood scraps and some research, I may do any final prep and put some in jars for my woodworking friends. (And I am filing this knowledge away for later when I want to build bookcases for whatever house I end up with!)

I’ve got a couple of white skeins of two ply yarn I’ve spun – one skein I really have to run through the wheel again to give it some extra twist. And I have so much more white (Down breeds blend) that could be dyed with local black walnut dye handmade by me. The dyeing process itself is apparently super easy. You simply put the yarn or cloth in the dye and leave it there until it’s brown. If simmering it, I think you simmer for something like 30 mins to 1 hour. I will likely try just soaking it for a day and see what happens. (I do have to look into some sort of outdoor cooking equipment, though…)

I was also thinking of dyeing some bamboo rayon yarn and/or cotton yarn for weaving cloth or towels or something. Because why not?

But, don’t you need more walnuts for dyeing all that stuff? I hear you ask. It turns out, everyone seems to agree that you only need 12-15 walnuts per gallon of water. For just the hulls. So I have 4 gallons of the stuff. That’s a LOT of dye. Even 2 gallons is a lot if some of the water is supposed to be lost in cooking it. I am planning on also getting the shells, which apparently yield a darker brown. (Of course, that may not work, but I will try.)

I filled up the bucket with the hulls with water. I’ve set it in the garage with a piece of wood on top to soak for a while. The bucket with the nuts got filled with water, and I started scrubbing the remaining hull gunk off. I had read that the gunk could rot and mold and make a mess, but most importantly, it would dye your hands dark brown. I don’t feel like walking around with dark brown hands and having to explain that I have been playing with dye everywhere I go, so I elected to scrub. The two floaters were thrown away – I suspect if they float, there’s probably a problem with them.

I got about half scrubbed before I ran out of time and energy. So I drained out the water, put a tiny bit in so the ones that were left were only barely covered, and set those in the garage too to wait until I have some time to resume scrubbing. I’m hoping the soak will help to soften up the remaining gunk.

The real work to this project is going to be actually cracking the nuts. A quick read about black walnuts online seems to show that I’ll need to use a vice as a regular nut cracker will not do it at all. Woo.

Excuse the messy counter – my first attempt at waffle production!

I also found an as-yet-unused, brand-new-in-the-box, three-year-old electric waffle iron in the house! Of course I tried making waffles. This is the first time I’ve tried making waffles. It was an adventure.

I thought I’d double the recipe, because ultimately, I wanted waffles in the freezer that could be toasted in the toaster for near-instant waffle goodness. But then I accidentally put in twice the amount of butter for a doubled recipe, which meant I either had to throw everything away and start over, or end up with a quadrupled recipe. I went for the quadrupaling.

We have a LOT of waffles in the freezer. The house guests tried the waffles the next morning in the toaster, and declared them delicious. Successful experiment! I think the recipe needs tweaking – it needs a little sugar, and the optional cornmeal actually sounds good, so I might try that. And they were a little dense, probably because I didn’t whisk the egg whites nearly has much as the recipe said I ought, so maybe I’ll try that next, but with some cream of tartar to help things along a bit. So many tweaks. Or I could try another recipe.

In weaving news, I have a crazy idea involving 60/2 silk and some very fine baby alpaca and an overshot pattern. First, I want to make myself something beautiful, but it occurred to me that I could sell one, and the pricetag would be fairly high – this would be a very time-consuming project with excellent and expensive materials. The bulk of the cost would reflect the labor involved. I wonder if I could sell one or two (or three?), because then I could buy a cello. It looks like that experiment has been successful enough that I’m close to outgrowing the cello I rent. Do you guys have any thoughts on this? Advice? Suggestions? Is this an idea worth pursuing?

(I can rent a viola da gamba, it turns out, and it is affordable. I kind of hope that I don’t love it as much as I think I will, because there are almost not enough hours in the day for adequate practice…)

  This past weekend was full of unexpected things. I did not know there were going to be house guests, but breakfast out was really nice!

[peachcitt]

steve calling aja his warrior princess and, while strapped to a table about to get dissected, krel snorting and saying “that’s what he calls you?” peak shitty little brother energy

#peach’s rot prep #steve palchuk #aja tarron #staja #krel tarron #3below