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taynuz · 5 years

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Pretty Boy (One Shot)

Sandor x reader

T+ (vulgar language, light groping)

Joffrey holds a tourney on his nameday and a traveling knight tries to court you much to Sandor’s displeasure.

Gif from google.

You arrived at the arena later than everyone else. Joffrey demanded a tournament on his nameday every year. There weren't any seats left so you stood next to Sandor Clegane, otherwise known as the Hound. He was Joffrey’s personal guard, without Sandor you were sure the people of King’s Landing would have tried to assassinate the prince, he was a vile young man.

“Not competing this year?” You asked Sandor, never taking your eyes off of the competitors down below. You made eye contact with a knight who was traveling through King’s Landing when he heard about the tourney. You overheard Varys and Littlefinger talking about him with the whores, they all hoped that he would pay for a night with them. Personally, you couldn’t figure out what they saw in him. You were never one to like a pretty boy, you prefer masculine men.

“Joffrey pissed off half the Keep preparing for taday. Betta stay close.” Sandor grunted back.

Before you could respond, a horn blew to signify the beginning of the joust. You recognized some of the knights from the Kingsguard. It was Pretty Boy’s turn when he rode up to the stands with a rose in hand. You caught his eye as he leaned on the side of the gate, motioning the rose in your direction. You ran forward and accepted the rose as not to be rude. When you retook your place next to Sandor he gave an arrogant snort.

“What?” You were annoyed by his reaction. “It’s bad luck to deny a knight.” You put on your best arrogant face but the Hound saw right through.

“Aye, ‘tis. Didn’t think you were one to bear false witness.” He looked up at the joust.

“What do you mean, false witness?” Now he offended you.

Instead of answering, Sandor continued to watch the match. Pretty Boy had defeated one of the newest knights on the King’s Guard and approached mid-field to hear the reward for his valiant efforts.

“Ser Eyan of house Waynwood, is it?” King Robert bellowed from the top of the stands.

“Indeed, Your Grace.” Ser Eyan responded, bowing his head. His voice was higher than you expected, that sealed it. You loved when a man had a deep bass tone. You tried to poke fun of the knight to Sandor but when you turned to face him, he was gone. Looking out into the rest of the stands you realize he left. The audience was starting to disperse. You left the arena as quickly as possible, hoping to run into the Hound on the way. Your attention was caught by the sound of armor clanging behind you when you realized Eyan Waynwood was prancing towards you.

“M’lady.” He bowed his head respectfully. He was out of breath with a light gleam of sweat across his brow. Up close he wasn’t so bad to look at but you still weren’t attracted to him. You curtsied.

“Congratulations on your victory, my lord.” He did put on a good show and you always give credit where credit was due. “I pray you enjoy yourself at the feast.” You turned to go find Sandor, when you felt his hand lightly grab your elbow.

“Actually, m’lady, I was hoping you would accompany me to the feast. I will be seated at the head table with my fellow victors. I would be honored to have you by my side.” Shit, he was chivalrous. How could you turn him down now? Eyan will be gone by the morrow and forget all about the fair maiden of King’s Landing.

“I would be honored, my lord.” With that, he continued past you into the Keep.

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Night had fallen over King’s Landing and the Great Hall was booming with cheers and drunken carryings on. The meal, as always, had been grandiose. Seated at the head table with you and Ser Waynwood were the four other victors, King Robert, Queen Cersei, Prince Joffrey, Princess Myrcella, and Prince Tommen. King Robert had given a slurred speech about chivalry and honor, you were busy scanning the room for the Hound. You felt Ser Eyan’s eyes on you as you searched. You finally found him in the back corner of the hall when Eyan stepped in your line of vision.

‘M’lady.” He extended his hand, requesting a dance. You hadn’t noticed the bards enter and soon the room was filled with music and every man, woman and child was up and cascading around gleefully. You weren’t much of a dancer and weren’t a fan of making a mockery of yourself.

“Unfortunately, you would find I have no grace on the dance floor, my lord.” Trying your hardest to refuse his request politely. He scowled at your rejection.

“Drink. I’m off to piss. When I return, we shall dance. Do you think the boy prince would be happy if I told him you disrespected his jousting champion?” The stench of ale on his breath was nauseating. He filled your goblet with wine and left for the loo. The corner that once held Sandor was now vacant. You drank from your goblet and figured you’d try to make the best of the night.

You wandered around the perimeter of the Great Hall still looking for Clegane. You already knew what you were going to say. You were going to demand an explanation for his rudeness earlier and hear his excuses as to why he was actively avoiding you. You poured yourself another goblet of wine when a surly voice behind you made you jump, spilling some wine on yourself in the process.

“Where’s that womanly knight of yers?” Sandor had a large mug in one hand and a pitcher in the other. He was pouring himself another helping of ale when he noticed your spill. “Betta change that and soak it.” You could tell he was a little drunk but there was something else there. Melancholy, perhaps?

“Why have you been avoiding me?” The wine gave you a new level of confidence.

“I ‘aven’t been avoidin’ ya! I’ve-”

“Oh, you have been! I went looking for you after the tourney and all before supper.” You cut him off.

“Shouldn’t you be entertainin’ that champion of yours, little bear?”

“Little bear?” You didn’t appreciate the arrogance in his tone.

“M’lady! I ‘ave returned to you.” Pretty Boy had found his way back from the toilet and was barely coherent at this point. His voice was even higher pitch than usual and he was shouting for all the hall to hear. He was carrying a wineskin and forced you to drink. You tried to refuse and ended up sputtering more wine on yourself. “You’ve spilled wine on your dress, daft woman, I will assist you in discarding your garment. Come! Lead me to your bed, m’lady! I won you.” Eyan reached forward and took your arm rather aggressively. You heard Sandor drop his mug and pitcher as he quickly stood up behind you.

“Take yer hands off ‘er, ya drunken cunt.” Sandor grabbed his wrist, you noticed his grip tighten when Eyan refused to let go. “Alright then.” With that, the Hound headbutted Ser Eyan Waynwood, knocking him unconscious. He immediately picked you up and left the Great Hall.

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The sound of the celebration was fading behind you as Sandor made his way through the Keep. His silence was broken when he finally set you down in front of a door.

“In.” He demanded as he pushed the door open. The room was a decent size, bigger than yours. The only furniture was a bed, a chest and table set. The Hound sat himself at the end of the bed. You now realized he brought you to his chambers.

“Why?” His voice had startled you once again as he broke your focus of surveying his room.

“Why, what?” You responded. The somber look in his eyes was back but this time there was another underlying emotion.

“Why ‘im? Why did ya accept ‘is rose? Why did ya go with ‘im tonight?” Anger rose along with the volume of his voice. He got up and headed over to pour himself a drink from the table where another pitcher and mug were sitting.

“It’s bad luck to deny-”

“Oh, piss off!” He shouted at you.

“Why little bear?” You asked after a few moments. He chuckled and turned to face you.

“Yer worried about the name I gave ya and not the fucking knight that damn near tried ta rape ya? Maybe I should call ya little ass.” He said with a chuckle.

“I was handling myself just fine! You didn’t-” You tried to defend.

“Yeah, ya were just fine, though he nearly drowned ya with wine.” Now you were annoyed that he kept interrupting you.

“Why do you care?!” You shouted. The Hound brought himself up to full height before he approached you.

“You really are daft, ain’tcha?” That one hurt. Sandor was so close at this point you could feel the heat of his breath on your forehead and smell the ale on it as well. “It hurt ta see ya accept that rose, it damn near killed me ta see ya seated next ta him like some prized bitch. But when he laid his hands on ya, I swore I could ‘ave killed ‘im.” You had never heard Sandor speak that much and with such a quiet, gravelly tone. The way he spoke sent a shiver down your spine. You turned your eyes up to meet his.

“Why?” You looked from his eyes to his lips. He noticed your stare and smirked.

“Why do you care?” He said mockingly. You huffed annoyed and turned to leave. For Sandor’s size, he was quick. He slammed the door shut again before you could even open it half way. He left his hand on the door and hovered over you.

“Tell me why.” The last goblet of wine had kicked in and amplified your courage ten fold. Sandor couldn’t take his eyes off your lips. You grabbed at the edge of his armor and pulled yourself towards him.

“Say it.” You said in almost a whisper before his lips crashed into yours. You seized the back of his neck and pulled yourself closer into him as his hands found your waist. The dance your mouths made was synchronized yet erratic, soft yet intense. A heat began to fill your core and a daze began to fill your head. You tugged at his armor, hinting to remove it. Sandor complied, breaking the seal that you had made with your lips. After his chest plate and shoulder armor was removed, he looked into your eyes and lovingly wrapped you in his arms placing his forehead softly against yours.

“I want ya all to myself, little bear.” You rested your head against his chest and could hear his heart pounding rapidly. After listening to it drum for a few moments you caught his gaze once more.

“Then take me.” His deep brown eyes dilated in response and Sandor had a feral gleam in his eye. He reconnected your kiss just as passionately as before. He grabbed the back of your thighs and hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. The light squeeze he gave your ass made you moan slightly. He chuckled and moved his kisses across your face to your neck.

“Are ya sure about this, lass? Once yer in my bed you belong to me.” He asked breathily into your ear. His scruff tickled your neck and only adding to the arousal.

“I want you, Sandor Clegane. Make me yours.”

A/N: Willing to do a part 2+ with this! By request

Part 2 here!

#sandor clegane #sandor the hound clegane #xreader #sandor x reader #game of thrones #fanfiction #imagine #sandor clegane imagine #the hound #agnst #jealousy

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readingontheedge · 4 years

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Dawnflight

The Dragon's Dove Chronicles Book 1

by Kim Iverson Headlee

Genre: Historical Fantasy

Print Length: 415 pages

Publisher: Lucky Bat Books

Publication Date: February 25, 2013

What if King Arthur’s queen was every bit as heroic as he was? Find out by immersing yourself in this epic story of the power couple whose courage and conviction would shape the destiny of a nation. Gyan is a Caledonian chieftainess by birth, a warrior and leader of warriors by training, and she is betrothed to Urien, a son of her clan’s deadliest enemy, by right of Arthur the Pendragon’s conquest of her people. For the sake of peace, Gyan is willing to sacrifice everything...perhaps even her very life, if her foreboding about Urien proves true. Roman by his father, Brytoni by his mother, and denied hereditary rulership of his mother's clan because of his mixed blood, Arthur has followed his father's path to become Dux Britanniarum, the Pendragon: supreme commander of the northern Brytoni army. The Caledonians, Scots, Saxons, and Angles keep him too busy to dwell upon his loneliness...most of the time. When Gyan and Arthur meet, each recognize within the other their soul’s mate. The treaty has preserved Gyan’s ancient right to marry any man, providing he is a Brytoni nobleman—but Arthur does not qualify. And the ambitious Urien, Arthur’s greatest political rival, shall not be so easily denied. If Gyan and Arthur cannot prevent Urien from plunging the Caledonians and Brytons back into war, their love will be doomed to remain unfulfilled forever. But there is an even greater threat looming. The Laird of the Scots wants their land and will kill all who stand in his way. Gyan, Arthur, and Urien must unite to defeat this merciless enemy who threatens everyone they hold dear.

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Arthur said, “I advise caution.”

“Caution, indeed.” Urien’s look adopted a hard edge as he ground fist to palm. “I don’t trust these Picts. In fact, I don’t understand why you didn’t obliterate them with Caledfwlch when I”—he stabbed a thumb at his chest—“gave you the chance.”

With effort, Arthur resisted the impulse to touch his sword’s ruby-pommeled hilt, the smith’s inspiration for naming it Caleberyllus, Latin for “Burning Jewel.” After Abar-Gleann, Cai had coined a Brytoni name for Wyllan’s finest creation: Caledfwlch, “Caledonia’s Bane.” It was perfectly apt, and it had almost caused a diplomatic disaster.

He spared a glance for his friends and was thankful they were too far away—and too engrossed with flirting with two more serving women—to have overheard the exchange. Two months was enough time to heal flesh wounds but not enough time to salve Cai’s pride for having to endure Arthur’s public rebuke in order to preserve the fragile peace. He returned his attention to Urien. “Do not forget that your charge was carried out under my orders.”

Urien glared but let the remark pass. “The Picts have been a menace to our borders for time out of mind. Why didn’t you—”

“The same can be said about the Saxons, Angles, and Scots.” These last two Arthur spat like the curses they were to him. The Angli had killed his father. And the Scots… he banished a grisly memory with a long blink. “None of them have demonstrated a willingness to negotiate with us for peace. The Caledonians were willing, and Brydein will be getting a much stronger cavalry as a result.” Arthur grinned. “You should thank them for your promotion.”

Video Trailer: https://youtu.be/mHOESkv-R_c

The Dragon's Dove Chronicles Book 2

Print Length: 439 pages

Publisher: Lucky Bat Books

Publication Date: June 11, 2013

“Magnificent.” ~ Kathleen Foley, author of the Faith in Uniform series In a violent age when enemies besiege Brydein and alliances shift as swiftly as the wind, stand two remarkable leaders: the Caledonian warrior-queen Gyanhumara and her consort, Arthur the Pendragon. Their fiery love is tempered only by their conviction to forge unity between their disparate peoples. Arthur and Gyan must create an impenetrable front to protect Brydein and Caledonia from land-lusting Saxons and the marauding Angli raiders who may be massing forces in the east, near Arthur’s sister and those he has sworn to protect. But their biggest threat is an enemy within: Urien, Arthur’s rival and the man Gyan was treaty-bound to marry until she broke that promise for Arthur’s love. When Urien becomes chieftain of his clan, his increase in wealth and power is matched only by the magnitude of his hatred of Arthur and Gyan—and his threat to their infant son. Morning’s Journey, sequel to the critically acclaimed Dawnflight, propels the reader from the heights of triumph to the depths of despair, through the struggles of some of the most fascinating characters in all of Arthurian literature. Those struggles are exacerbated by the characters’ own flawed choices. Gyan and Arthur must learn that while extending forgiveness to others may be difficult, forgiveness of self is the most excruciating—yet ultimately the most healing—step of the entire journey.

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THE CLASH OF arms resounds in the torchlit corridor. Blood oozes where leather has yielded to the bite of steel, yet both sweating, panting warriors refuse to relent.

Her heart thundering, Gyan grips her sword’s hilt, desperate to help the man she loves. Caledonach law forbids it.

Urien makes a low lunge. As Arthur tries to whirl clear, the blade tears a gash in his shield-side thigh. The injured leg collapses, and Arthur drops to one knee. Crowing triumphantly, Urien raises his sword for the deathblow.

Devil take the law!

Gyan springs to block the stroke. Its force jars her arms and twists the hilt in her grasp. She barely holds on through the searing pain.

Urien slips past her guard to slice at her brooch. The gold dragon clatters to the floor. Her cloak slithers to her ankles, fouling her stance. As she tries to kick free, Urien grabs her braid, jerks up her head, and kisses her, hard. Shock loosens her grip. Her sword falls. She thrashes and writhes, but he holds her fast, smirking lewdly.

“You are mine, Pictish whore.”

Urien’s breath reeks of ale and evil promises. She spits in his face. He slaps her. She reels backward, her cheek burning. He grabs her forearms and yanks her close.

“Artyr, help me!”

No response.

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Video Trailer:

https://youtu.be/Bk0uPDfq7TY

The Dragon's Dove Chronicles Book 3

Print Length: 415 pages

Publisher: Pendragon Cove Press

Publication Date: March 11, 2019

Outcast, clanless, and but a junior officer in Arthur the Pendragon’s army, Angusel struggles to rebuild the life stolen from him through betrayal by the person he had held most dear. His legion allegiance thrusts him onto the campaign trail as one of Arthur’s forward scouts, stalking Angli troops and being among the first to clash with these vicious enemies at every turn. But the odds loom high against him and his sword-brothers, and they will need a miracle just to survive. Pressured to make the best choice to ensure her clan’s future leadership, Eileann struggles with her feelings for Angusel, whose outcast status makes him forbidden to her as a mate. When Angli treachery threatens everyone she loves, she vows to thwart their violent plan to conquer her clan. But she is no warrior, she has no soldiers to command, and she will need a miracle just to survive. How can one soldier make a difference? How can one woman save her kin and clan? In the crucible of combat, Angusel must surrender to the will of the gods, and Eileann must invoke divine power to forge the most dangerous warrior the world has ever known.

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“Where is the brush?” Eileann asked, as much to forestall the inevitable as to seek an answer.

A heartbeat later, she chided her fear. Outcast or not, Clan Tarsuinn needed him.

Them.

“No brush. The anointing is as much about the connection between the anointer and the anointed as it is about the connection between the anointed and the gods. Use your finger, like this.”

Neoinean dipped Eileann’s index finger into the dye, tapped the excess on the rim, and guided it to sketch the shape of a salmon on Angusel’s forehead, near the hairline. Eileann felt a wee tingle as she completed the fish. His surprised expression told her he had felt it too.

“Now state to the anointed the god-mark you have drawn and its purpose.” Neoinean stepped away and regarded Eileann, cocking an eyebrow as the silence stretched.

Eileann cleared her throat and gazed at Angusel. “The salmon of Clota. For wisdom.” She wasn’t sure how a warrior fighting in the throes of battle frenzy could exercise wisdom, but she was not going to cast doubt upon her teacher’s example or the purpose the goddess had revealed.

Angusel bobbed his head, his curly black hair obscuring the fish.

Palms angled upward, Fioruisge changed the chant to echo Eileann’s words and embellish them, begging for the goddess’s gift to be bestowed upon the anointed.

“Use what you know of the gods and their abilities, my lady,” said Neoinean, “to draw their marks upon the anointed where you believe those divine gifts will benefit him the most.”

“Please draw the god-marks so that my armor hides them.” Angusel glanced at Neoinean, uncertainty creasing the salmon. “Does the anointing permit this?”

“It does,” stated the apothecary.

“They are meant to be seen!” Eileann itched to shake sense into him, but touching the anointed was forbidden save to craft the god-marks. “How will the gods find you if you hide the marks?”

“The anointed does not wish to offend those who have rejected him, and that is a worthy consideration.” Her teacher, apparently exempt from the touching stricture, patted Eileann’s shoulder. To her surprise, Fioruisge wove Neoinean’s words into the chant. “Fear not, child. The gods will see the marks as you draw them, and they shall not forget. Priests and warriors may choose to make their god-marks permanent, but the rite does not require it.”

Eileann inclined her head at Angusel. “As you will, then.”

Behind shuttered eyelids, she cast about for an image to draw and received a double blessing. Upon opening her eyes, she asked Angusel to lift his arms so she could anoint his biceps. The sketches looked crude, childish, and incomplete. She prayed for them to work; she hoped that the longer and stronger tingling was a sign that they would. “The bull of Lugh on your sword arm for strength, and the stag of Cernunnos on your shield arm for cunning.”

Fioruisge added Eileann’s pronouncements, raising her arms higher with each new verse.

Whatever concoction Neoinean had given Eileann must have taken full effect. In swift succession she drew the spear and rod of Nemetona on Angusel’s right thigh for fierceness, the mare of Epona on his left thigh for speed, and the sun of Lord Annaomh over his heart.

“For hope,” she told him about the sun, and wondered at the word choice the god had inspired. The sun of Annaomh represented justice, leadership, and truth. Lord Annaomh was revered for those traits, as were the warriors who honored him. And yet hope was appropriate, since the strengthening sun delivered salvation from winter’s grip, and the Lord of Light embodied salvation from the eternal ravages of his twin brother, Annàm, and the evil Samhraidhean.

Angusel beamed without touching her, as was proper for this phase of an tùs. The time for their touching would come, but not soon enough for Eileann’s liking.

The final image burned into her brain and killed her swelling excitement.

She gasped, fist to mouth.

“What is it, child?” asked Neoinean.

“A mark I dare not draw upon the anointed,” Eileann whispered. That the image was unlike any she had seen for this god represented the least of her worries. “I fear what it may do to him—to us both.”

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Kim Headlee lives on a farm in southwestern Virginia with her family, cats, goats, Great Pyrenees goat guards, and assorted wildlife. People and creatures come and go, but the cave and the 250-year-old house ruins--the latter having been occupied as recently as the mid-twentieth century--seem to be sticking around for a while yet. Kim has been a published novelist since 1999 with the first edition of Dawnflight (Sonnet Books, Simon & Schuster) and has been studying the Arthurian legends for nigh on half a century.

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Open Internationally: $20 Amazon, Gift codes for e-books (several titles, including some not being toured); and audiobooks of Dawnflight, and related novellas The Color of Vengeance and The Challenge.

US only: Print copies of The Color of Vengeance, The Challenge, another related novella titled Twins, and The Challenge comic book (one winner each)

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

https://www.silverdaggertours.com/sdsxx-tours/the-dragons-dove-chronicles-book-tour-and-giveaway

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starchild--27 · 5 years

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Get to know me tag

I was tagged by @nichts-als-sternenstaub <33

Nickname // my family and people that now me from my childhood days call me Selmi from time to time. but my friends and i usually call each other our real names and if not we go more with pet names like “squishy” and all that stuff along those lines- even though we have this thing where we gave each other animal names which fit our personalities (i am a squirrel ^^). and since we are a group of three we call ourselves “sun, moon and stars” in which i resemble the stars :D

Gender // female

Zodiac // taurus sun, capricorn moon, cancer ascendant, aquarius mc

Height // 5′10′’ or 178 cm

Age // 17 years, 1 month and 14 days :)

Time // 11:47 pm

Favorite bands or solo artists // oh oh... i hate this question because I never know what to answer. for kpop it’s obviously EXO and my favourite asian solo artist is Kris Wu (who would have thought), but outside of kpop i really enjoy bands like Nirvana, Metallica, Linkin Park, Evanescence and similar groups (it’s impossible to name them all). i also like Ed Sheeran pretty much and Cecile Corbel - god i feel like i forgot someone very important and i will feel so bad when i remember them...

Song stuck in my head // Three Ravens by Cecile Corbel

Last movie I saw // Coraline (i just finished watching it)

Last thing I googled // “wallpaper hd” because i am looking for a new wallpaper xD

Other blogs // i am one of the admins of @wolveswithblackpearls, the EXO fanblog of my friends and me

Do I get asks // when i am bored and reblog ask games then i do, other than that very rarely.

Why I chose my username // i love the stars. 27 is a number i like. here i go xD

Following // too many to keep up with. most of them are pure aesthetic blogs for different topics which i see every now and then on my dash. there are actually only a few blogs i follow actively

Average amount of sleep // maybe 6-7 hours ? i don’t really know but i know it could be more if i didn’t have trouble with fiding rest at night

Lucky Number // 27, i think

What am I wearing // my pyjamas: a Game Of Thrones t-shirt (print: “the dragon and the wolf” and the symbols of house stark and targaryen) and Harry Potter shorts (with the hogwarts crest on them)

Dream job // ultimate dream job is musician but i would also enjoy working as a psychologist or maybe a translator

Dream trip // around the world - there are so many places my heart aches for, it’s impossible to tell where i want to be the most

Favorite food // i don’t know. i love so many kinds of food. lately i ate sweet potato fries quite often so i’ll say sweet potato fries.

Play any instruments // i attend lessons for guitar and flute and i teach myself how to play the piano (or at least some pieces i really want to be able to play). i also know the basics of playing the ukulele (well it’s pretty similar to playing the guitar) and does singing count? because i do that too quite often.

Favorite song // i will not answer this. this is too hard. i have favourite songs for every mood, from a variety of artists. so i really can’t tell

Played any sports // i did some horseback riding in my childhood but i am such an unsporty person. i literally hate every kind of movement xDD

Hair color // naturally brown, dyed it ginger-red tho

Eye color // a weird mix between blue, green and grey with yellow/golden sprinkles. i looked it up and it seems to be called “glasz”. anyway, my ID says bluegreygreen

Most iconic song // ..i will just ignore this. too many songs are iconic to me.

Language you speak // german (native language), english (very very fluently), spanish (on a level that would hopefully give me the ability to survive in spanish speaking countries)

Random fact // My cat just hopped onto my bed and is now begging for cuddles from me. I love him.

Describe yourself as an aesthetic // i dunno. i am so bad at such things since i don’t really have a good self-perception. but hopefully something with stars and guitars xD

I tag @kafkascupcake and @jongin-be-my-jagi to do this if they want to and didn’t do this already :D

#tag game #get to know me tag

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chilly-me-softly · 5 years

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20 questions tags ☆彡

thanks @iwlytte for tagging me!

rules: answer 20 questions and then tag 20 people you want to get to know better.

nicknames: Vale, it’s my name’s contraction noone gave me a nickname xD

zodiac sign: Aquarius

height: 1.60 cm more or less

hogwarts house: I’ve never watched Harry Potter sorry

last thing i googled: how to write some words correctly

favourite musicians: One Direction, Jonas Brothers, Olly Murs, 5 Seconds of Summer, Take That, Little Mix, Nathan Sykes, Charlie Puth

song stuck in my head: it changes everyday, at the moment I don’t have one though

following: 138

followers: 121

do you get asks: yes! And I love receiving them so send send send

amount of sleep: well usually I won’t sleep till midnight but since I still got classes I force myself to do it and sleep at least 6/7 hours for night

lucky number: I don’t have one but lately some number obsessed me 66, 20 and 5... they’re everywhere!!

what i’m wearing: pants and black t-shirt (some sort of uni clothes)

dream jobs: something including translation and science

instruments: nope

languages: italian as my first language, english and I’m trying to learn Spanish on Duolinguo

10 favourite songs currently (not in order):

Someone You Loved - Lewis Capaldi

Only Human - Jonas Brothers (just to write one, their new album is amazing!)

Naked - James Arthur

Rondini Al Guinzaglio - Ultimo

Easier - 5 Seconds of Summer

Stick round - Rak-su

mama’s house - push baby

Better Man - Westlife

Patience - Take That

Somebody New - Olly Murs

random fact: I used to collect the paper in which you can follow the ceremony when I went on church on Sunday, like every Sunday. Did it for years so I had many of it

aesthetic: can’t picture anything right now but probably something relaxing

clubs i support: Spurs and Leicester

people i’m tagging: @rivercloak @lfcbvb @dream-alive789 @neckarinselstrand @benchillys @sancho-arnold

#tag game

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commonalex · 5 years

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Gasoline

I know. I can see it in Mrs. Stella's eyes, in the pakistani guy's eyes while he scratches the gyro instead of cutting it, even the new guy's eyes that he keeps on smiling only because they didn't tell him the gas for the bike is on him. I turn my head for one single moment and I can almost hear the eyeballs rolling on my neck. "What's on Maxim's mind right now" or "will he or will he not talk about it" and "why is Maxim even here in the first place". To be honest, Maxim's not feeling quite self-explanatory right now but he is quite sure that teeth are going to go places if the weird stares keep on popping up.

-Wanna go a bit earlier tonight? You can fill in another day, no biggie, kiddo. If you ain't feeling hundred percent, better let it go and pop up when the time's rig..

Mrs. Stella's mole, upper right from her mouth, kind of trips me out every time. I can't quite make out what she tries to say by whispering with this cigarette-ducked voice of hers. Not that I'm really invested hearing her in the first place, she looks like she could really afford a convo. The pakistani guy over there looks at me kinda frightened and I return to normal mode though. Maybe I really am freaking them out and they're right for being concerned when I'm acting like this, but…

-I'm not going home. My shift's till 3, right? It's not even midnight yet.

-That's not what I said, Maxim. Don't go just because I say it, do it for Victor if you please. You understand?

-That's a topic for another time, Mrs. Stella. Gotta deliver these as long as they're still edible.

I'm pressing the water bottle on my neck for an extra second and throw it back at the fridge. The new guy tries for some chit chat to me, like real smooth and all, just so he can ride to get the delivery himself. He says that the bottle was his, I say I'm a bit sort of fucks at the moment. I'm taking the kebabs and storm outside, straight in hell.

My arms and legs are burning up on the bike and I'm still not far for the plaza. Helmet's our of the question of course, except if you're fond of third degree burns. Only this small hint of wind that drags the sweat off my face makes the ride bearable. Up and down, down and up again, steep uphills and downhills turn my brains upside down on the road and I'm trying as hard as I can to chill until my veins are back beneath my skin. I see the nightlights showering the complexes with a cold shade of yellow and I'm fantasise about the people inside them. Like they're getting melted by the heat like me, even though they are watching tv or porn while eating a bunch of fucking junk as I can hardly swallow water at this point.

I turn the key and spend a minute to look at the name. The label's "Vann", the bell's "Vann" too, all good so far. Been here to get him this stuff a hundred times, he's nothing but a divorced loner and kind of a prick on the first floor that is always up for some conversation. I ring, the entrance opens, I storm upstairs and voilà.

Here we go again. It's not him. Full dark hair, small nose, tall, green-brown eyes, fucked up teeth and short shorts with a wide ass white tee like a curtain. Like taking a look in the fucking mirror. And it's like the tenth delivery this night? Tenth time I see his ass, looking just like me but not really like me. Last nine times I froze and didn't have the courage to think about it out of fear and cringe, let alone not having the money of the delivery to return back at the tavern. But this went too far. If I'm returning for the tenth time only with some cheap coins and excuses Mrs. Stella will have her reason to nag about me. Like what could you say about this shit in the first place? That you saw a dude that kinda looked like you and got the chills?

-Got the card thingy with you?

I barely nod no. He exhales in frustration and asks for change from a ten. He could flip me upside down and wouldn't find enough to even buy a lollie. I nod again. Again with the exhales. He stressfully throws these dirty ass coins in my hand until I have the 4,40. I'm making my move.

-What a coincidence, right? Makes you crazy. It's like a mirror even.

He just stares at me like I just fucked his day up just by talking to him.

-Are these enough, bro?

-Is Mr. Vann gone from here? You heard where he went or something?

-Oh fuck me, you in for a chit chat man? Really? God.

What the hell.

-I only asked.

-So what? Are we like best friends and I didn't know or something?

The door slams my face with the apartment's awful smell as I'm stuck at picking up the coins that fell to the carpet and battling sweat in a hurry just so I can get back outside and stop myself from thinking about how this fucking clone knows my name.

The route back to the tavern seems stretched in my eyes. I feel the bike like it's sliding backwards and I'm trying to catch up with the lost road in front of me. I take turns in weird streets and stop to look if anything is wrong with my wheels; all good though. Could it be me? Dunno. It just looks so strange to me that each and every one that opens his door before me is that same asshole imitating me and shit. Could it be this cheap expired beer I dared to chugg? Nah, must be the heat. A little bit of inside/outside and you're seeing stars for sure. I mean my fingers keep sticking at the handles for God's sake.

I'm circling the plaza to get the sweat out of me and slip through the back door to bypass the lava coming from the gyro; in vain, of course. Even the boomers that were eating like crazy along with their toddlers on the tables outside have gone with their faces looking like a red traffic light, as the pakistani guy said to me. Just by studying his face I can see that as much as he got scared before, he has nothing but pity for me. I mean look at me. I'm nothing but panda eyes, crazy hair and arms and legs really stick-looking. All that plus the fact that I also have rivers of sweat on my neck right now. Why am I like this?

-Why are you like this?

Mrs. Stella spawns behind the fan only to fuck with me again. It must be a pleasure for her to annoy people jsut so we can see her mole dance and feel the rust in her voice to the bone marrow.

-Again with the coins, what can I do? They all want to swipe their cards now.

-Go home, kiddo, take a shower and lay down. We have much more things to worry than you. Do you think we are wanna check on you?

-Yeah man, she's right, Maxim.

Someone remind me when I deliver the next patch to make a call at the missing persons line because for hours we can't find who the fuck gave the new guy the right to get in my shit. I did has my chance with him in private though and explained him crystal clear to stay out of my shit. You know, with logical thinking and maybe threats. Mostly threats I think. Maybe at some point I might have said I have Russian mob ties, gambling on the fact that he might didn't find out that I'm really Ukrainian yet.

-I only need some air. It's like an oven in here.

I really tried to follow Mrs. Stella this time. But because of the mole and the new guy tag teaming on busying my balls I got knocked out. I could listen more enjoyably and clearly the fan spinning around above me than her and her sidekick. I only made out a small chunk of what she spilled.

-And please, take off what you're wearing. Put your own clothes again please.

-Ain't those mine too?

-No. They're Victor's.

Times like this I wish I wasn't so socially incapable to be so shy about asking again the pakistani guy's name again. It would make things so less awkward when I was trying to ask him for the next order. Maybe even less awkward if I hadn't had Mrs. Stella reaching New heights with her raspy voice while I was leaving again.

Of course this all storming out shit caught up to me. I've never seen this street in my life. Could be Mrs. Stella have her pathetic tavern on the Internet order sites to get deliveries across the fucking milky way? But now that I'm thinking about it she's answering the phone every time she gets a text message.

Google maps says 12 kilometers and I'm cursing every saint in existence. All the money that didn't get down the drain thanks to that imposter dude will get down the drain for gasoline. I'm steering and get through streets I normally wouldn't cross even with a bloody tank just to save 2 or so minutes from the route. I pick my head up and feel the breeze cuddling my neck and chest. Finally. Traffic's at an all time low and I really can step in the gas a bit but the heatwave growing arms and legs and all runs behind me. When I get off and go to the apartment building's entrance, heat already caught up to me.

I'm pausing. Name on the bell Al-Jirarddlosomething, the same at the order; and no I won't even begin to try to pronounce this thing. I ring, the entrance opens in 3 secs and enough roaches storm out for a 5 on 5 basketball game, bench included.

I'm hearing traction and voices behind the door, something like that, but I really wanna stick my ear to hear what's going on. Of course this is the time the guy opens up. Or the girl, you don't know.

-So now you found the house, vro? Now that I'm showering?

But you do know.

Same outfit minus the sweatiness, same face, same attitude, same me for up to like 90% percent. And I don't want to be that guy, but I really don't think this is the Al-Jiriarlasomethjng guy. Maybe for a prick.

-9,60.

-What about the coke?

-It's in there, ain't it?

-Take a wild guess.

-Didn't you ask for a bottle?

-Can. I asked for a can. Why would I want a bottle? Where could I put it?

Take a wild guess.

No, I'm joking. I paid for the bottle thing. It wasn't his fault. He asks me full offended why would I pay for him.

-Well, you don't find your long lost twin every day, ha ha. Maxim, and yours?

-All fucking around and saying shit, ah Maxim? Aren't you bored of this already? Good lord.

I think I need to learn how to make friends again.

Gasoline’s is nearly gone, the route I took got lost inside my head as I zig zagging between the buildings and the road is nothing but tar right now with me boiling in it. Still no cars around, though. It's only July and the neighborhood got deserted. It's now so quiet the noise from the engine hits the buildings and bounces back to my eardrums. I'm dizzy as hell right now.

I'm swimming back at the plaza. Outside there are only two tables stuck together with broke and boozed up Airbnb tourists that share fucking french fries and kebabs as two old folks take their dog out for a walk, right beside them. How miserable. Like I know the neighborhood is dead, little by little each day, but tonight you car really feel the death and rotting right up your nostrils. As if something so tragic happened that no one has the courage to address it loudly. Like they're all busy trying to catch a unicorn or something, just to keep their heads off the despair.

-You're not getting it, do you?

I don't have the energy to do this conversation again. Nothing new will be said. If I could I would just stare at Mrs. Stella until she can finally take a fucking hint that I could not care less about what she's been trying to talk about all night with me.

-Forgive me for doing the job you're paying me to do. Not gonna happen again.

-Believe it or not, but as long as you are here you're like my son to me. Even if you're Ukrainian, doesn't matter.

I'm looking sideways like a shark at the pakistani guy that plays with his phone and I want to burst laughing. Dunno exactly why. Maybe because I can't picture her talking the same thing to him. I'm not saying she's racist, I'm saying that she's really focused with me right now that is getting ridiculous. And that she is kind of racist.

-I don't get where this conversation goes. All I know is that I don't wanna do it.

-I do.

Isn't democracy great.

-Where's the new guy at?

-Gone. He wanted to bounce and I just let him go. Maybe cause that's a shit job, maybe cause you were acting like an asshole. Who knows?

-What can I say. I'm sorry.

-You are not sorry. That's exactly what you wanted.

-I don't get it.

-Oh you get it alright. Tell me, you really believe that something bad is going to happen if someone takes Victor's work? As if something bad is going to happen.

I don't want this. I don't need this.

-This is way over the line.

-What can I do to help you? People look at you and you just look back at them like they just called you a hoe. "It will pass" I though, "he's going to rest his head a bit and get right back at his feet". But nothing. It's like you enjoy all this. Being kinda like sick. Just like today, damn; you keep on popping back in there with a different color on your face.

-Ok..

-And then I get the new guy I here and you turn to a complete ass of yourself. As if no one's gets to Victor's place equals that nothing have ever happened. Do you seriously believe that? Answer me, because it seems like I can't make you go home.

-You're right.

And her mole rides a bitter smile of assurance. It was kind of spectacular. Too bad it didn't last long when she saw me catching the last order on my way out. I'm outside and still can feel her cigarette breath on my back.

I'm rolling to the gas station two blocks away and spill my last money for three drops. Worth it, though, if this means getting away from my boss's lecture again. I'm rolling my last cig waiting for a car or something to cross the boulevard. Something that indicates that there's still life and pulse here. I'm waiting until my fingers get toasted, no one. I'm turn the key and fly away. I can't just stand doing nothing; doing nothing makes me think of this kind of shit and nothing good comes out of that.

Distance? A fuck lot. Buildings get unfamiliar quite fast and I'm down this straight line for god know how much time but the gas indicator is still stuck a 1/3. Complexes seven to eight floors high, gardens, yards and a scent of sea salt coming from somewhere near. Did I really get that far south?

Τhe street has the name of an ancient guy with so many syllables even his momma had a hard time calling him, while the number of the address was at a large concrete war crime of nine floors. The fluorescent Bell had one of those weird new female names like Mirtianna or Christian the and that shit with an "astrology" sticked at the end. Of course I got ringed instantly. I getting to the elevator for the ninth floor and try to pick my words for him. I know he's gonna be there, I just need some answers. But how do you start a convo about that? Well, I'm lucky I didn't start it.

-What kind of bullshit is this you're telling her? Did she do you wrong?

I'm trying to read his face. There's not much emotion there, only a small frustration and some eagerness to shut the door right up my face again.

-Well, you could say that.

-Nonsense. You’re just being Maxim again. Spoiled and dumb Maxim. As always.

-Alright. It’s 7,90.

-She’s right, you know. You kinda into all of this. As far as it goes your way, at least. After that you just continue where you left.

-Ok. 7,90. I need to return back money, right?

-Stop wasting time trying to catch unicorns, bro. It’s fine, it’ll pass, you don’t need to follow me around all the time. I mean I’m gone.

What. Is. Happening.

-Oh I’m following you? You just keep popping up in front of me.

-That’s not how it works, Maxim. You feel alone, I get that. But that doesn’t make it ok acting like a dumbass.

-7,90.

-If there’s a problem, at least try to tackle it. Don’t wait for it to go away with your eyes closed.

-Nice to see you, Victor.

I almost tripped on my way down. I got vertigo and chills on my spine for no real reason whilst the scent of the sea from here burns my lungs. I got to get out of here. I got to go back.

With the dizziness in my head I have everything around me move and vibrate the same time the bike barely slides down the road. I can actually catch up with my eyes the buildings rotate around themselves like bolts, the balconies of the apartments wide open with the blueish light of a tv on shining like a projector outside, the yellow stars above me getting bigger and bigger until they turn to street lights. It’s like the world is running down my feet.

I’m processing the things he said to me tonight. I don’t care if he is or isn’t Victor, I only want to understand why is all this happening. I knew that it wouldn’t make much sense for everyone else at the beginning but now I have a difficult time making some of it too. The only thing I seem to achieved tonight was to turn my brains to mush and make things actually harder for me just cause I wanted to get involved to this. All night went to the trash bin because I had the curiosity fucking up my head about understanding what’s happening when in reality nothing matters to me anymore. Why? I don’t know. Because I might really love being like this after all and fucking up my head all on my own like a psycho.

I have no idea how to end all this. Maybe this isn’t as important, though. Like maybe I might be back home right now watching nickelodeon shows until I doze off. Or maybe I have some sort of something and have to go to the doctor; any doctor. Whatever it needs, I don’t care, I’ll go first thing tomorrow. If there’s a problem I’ll try to tackle it. I can’t wait for it to go way with my eyes clo-

Dunno how it happened. I can make out the branches of the trees on the plaza and a silver jeep beast blinding me with its lights. Gasoline is raining on my head I can feel the clatter of people into my ear. They shout and yell above me with their throats clogged in tar; don’t understand a word of them. I’m thirty meters at worst from the tavern and Mrs. Stella is looking me shocked with her mole chilling over the big O that she forms with her mouth. The pakistani guy drags me beside yelling “HEY HEY MAXIM HEY, ZAMEER”. I don’t know if I can feel anything belloc my neck but I’m definitely happy with myself for finding out his name again at last so I wouldn't have to hold that grudge. It’s something. Something small that maybe make me look less ridiculous, stupid and useless that I got hit by a car and going to die at the same exact spot my twin brother died, only a week later.

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ryqoshay · 6 years

Text

I was tagged by @lonelypond : Answer the questions below before tagging a fairly random number followers you want to get to know better.

I’ve never done one of these before, so what the heck, why not. First time for everything, right?

► Nicknames: In real life, mostly childish variations of my name, used by family and long-term friends. Here on the net, I’ve gained “Grandpa Ryqo” on Sukutomo, which I find amusing as all get out, so I’ve just gone with it.

► Gender: Meh…

► Sign: Not sure, honestly. And I’m too lazy to Google it atm. The only time I remember caring about astrological signs was when a friend got me into playing a modded version of Final Fantasy Tactics. Oh, and rolling my eyes at jokes about Nico being a Cancer.

► Height: A bit taller than average here in the U.S… I think? At least that’s been my observation

► Time: 14:07 CST at the time that I began filling this out… as of posting this, 16:55… I may have gotten distracted a few… oh look, another NicoMaki post!

► Birthday: In the third month of the year, probably

► Favorite Band/Artists: µ’s (They have maintained their top position for quite a while and likely will continue to do so for a while yet), Aqours, Hatsune Miku, Pentatonix, The Pillows, Queen, Benny Goodman, IOSYS, The Three Tenors, OK Go, Gorillaz, Peter Hollens, 2Cellos, The Supremes, The Beatles, Weird Al Yankovic, Lindsey Sterling, Johnny Cash, 403 Forbiddena, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, The Ink Spots, Buddy Holly, … how many pages are you willing to read?

► Song Stuck in My Head: Dancing stars on me (Probably because it was the last song that was playing as I pulled into the garage a while ago)

► Last Movie I Watched: … Is it wrong that I honest don’t remember? My former roommate’s family owned a theater, so I used to keep fairly current. But ever since I moved, I’ve kinda fallen out of the loop. I mean, I watched just the musical numbers of several movies; Love Live (as if that should surprise anyone who might read this), Oliver, Sound of Music, Camelot, The King and I, etc, etc, etc, over the past however long, but I couldn’t even tell you which one of those was most recent. And on writing this, I realize I haven’t seen a movie in the theater since TLJ… Geez, almost halfway through the year and I don’t think I’ve watched a single move from start to finish. I should probably look into fixing that soon.

► Last TV Show I Watched: Shooter (Not sure what episode of the second season, as it was simply where my mom and stepdad had left off. Can’t say I’m entirely sold on the show, but it’s free on Netflix so maybe I’ll watch the first episode someday)

► What Do I Post: NicoMaki (Currently just my own fic and reblogs of pics I like. However, I really should start reblogging some of the other amazing fics out there.), YohaRiko (Again, my own fic and the occasional reblog of pics I like), and more NicoMaki.

I’m not big on getting into politics or religion or the like on the net, so while I may occasionally hit the Like button, I pretty much never reblog; though I might someday make a sideblog for such things. Also, since it seems some people like my writing style, perhaps someday I might start posting some of my other, non-LL stuff.

I actually started this blog posting non-LL stuff (or rather, not-immediately-obvious-LL, or only-LL-if-you-squint stuff) and honestly didn’t expect it to go anywhere. (14 posts with a grand total of 1 Like among them) Heck, even my first two posts for HtHaN didn’t even reach double digits in Notes. But here I am, almost two years later, posting away, and loving it.

Oh, did I mention that I post NicoMaki?

► Do I Get Asks: Yes. Which reminds me, I need to respond to the last few… I have a bad habit of checking my Inbox while I am on break at work and not having time to reply right away, and then forgetting about it when I get home because the notification is gone. (Sorry for delays in responses)

► URL Meaning: Despite my obvious bias towards NicoMaki stuff, and some YohaRiko as well, my screenname, Ryqoshay came from elsewhere. When I first started playing video games, I often named my character (or one of my characters) Ricochet, if they were a ranged character, as a joke referencing a favored sound effect from movies. However, as I entered the world of MMO’s, that name was often already taken, so in the case of City of Heroes, I added -chan to the end and gave her some Japanese ancestry. Also, as part of her bio, it became a nickname granted to an energetic girl who was “always bouncing off the walls.”

Then came City of Villains and once again, Ricochet was taken so I decided to take a different route with the character name by intentionally misspelling it. But, as I fancy myself a writer, I couldn’t leave it at that and had to give her an in-universe reason. And as she was a villain, I was more than happy to take a romp down the well-worn “tragic backstory” road. Thus, her parents finally got names, Yuri and Quentin, and were sacrificed to the deities of drama. After the tragedy, Rico augmented the spelling of her existing nickname to include the first letters of their names. Through my time with CoV, Ryqo gained a mercenary guild as every character I created thereafter became a member, with bios that expanded my new lore.

Things ended up taking a turn for the medieval when what was supposed to be a two paragraph bio for a D&D game turned into dozens of pages and the entire guild being translated over to the new genre. Strangely, it wasn’t even Ryqo that I was going to be playing, rather a member of her guild that had been hired out. This is the story I mentioned earlier that I am still considering posting someday, either here or on AO3, maybe both. Also, more recently, Ryqo found herself translated yet again, into a modern, LL-style world, as an aspiring idol. These are what ended up as the first posts I ever made on this blog, as I had been inspired by an idea that came up on my other digital haunt, Sukutomo.

TL;DR version: Ryqoshay is an intentional misspelling of Ricochet and actually has little to do with my current obsession with NicoMaki and Love Live in general, but I like the name and see little reason to change it now.

► Average Hours of Sleep: You’re going to make me do math…? Hrm… 4 hours there… 6 there… 3 for those nights (days, since I work nights)… I, uhm… dunno. I work nights over the week and shift to a different schedule when I want to spend time with my day-dwelling family or friends. I haven’t had a regular sleep schedule probably since high school.

► Nationality: North American mutt with lineages tracing back to all parts of Europe.

Alright, so I’m supposed to tag a few of my own followers... ... when the heck did I get over 300? Uhm... as this is my first time making one of these, I’m going to take the easy route and stick with names I recognize from the notes on my posts. Let’s go with: @nicoismywaifu, @nocturnal-one8, @sayowo, @kurotheyamineko, @cupcakedesuwa and @thelegend31 for now. I tried tagging spiritpandora and westomaki as I look forward to seeing them show up in the notes of my fics, but Tumblr won’t let me for some reason.

#I guess I ended up doing one of these question list meme things after all #Was kinda fun #Might do another someday

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organized-chaos-85 · 6 years

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I was tagged by @potterheadqueenie (sends you a virtual hug)

Rules: Answer 30 questions and tag 10 blogs

Nicknames: May

Gender/Pronouns: cisfem, she/her

Star Sign: Leo

Height: About 5'4"

Time: 12:04 am

Birthday: July 24

Favourite Bands: Linkin Park, Disturbed, Halestorm, Green Day, Against Me!, MCR, Queen, The Beatles, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones

Favourite Solo Artist: Michael Jackson

Song Stuck In Your Head: All the XMas music playing at my job

Last Movie You Watched: The Lego Batman Movie

Last Show You Watched: Ride Along feat. Breezango/Rusev & Lana

Why Did You Create Your Blog: went on this website a lot as I got back into wrestling years ago I just decided to creat my own page

What Do You Post/Reblog: mostly wrestling related stuff especially Breezango but will also reblog posts that I believe in whether in regards to politics or life in general

Last Thing I Googled: Tom Morello

Other Blogs: none

Do You Get Asks: once in a while

How Did You Get The Idea For Your URL: Was a fan of Breezango since they formed last year and was frustrated they were hardly ever on tv except when WWE needed a jobber tag team, come 2017 they finally were put in a storyline with The Usos & Fashion Files happened in the same time which finally got them over as a team. They gave me something to look forward to in 2017 & considering what kind of year we had overall, they were the only saving grace.

I Follow: 623

Followers: 620

Average Hours of Sleep: It depends, sometimes I get bad insomnia

Lucky number: Don’t have one

Instruments: Does drumming my dashboard count?

What Are You Wearing: pajama bottoms & an oversized Dean Ambrose shirt

Dream Job: either nutritionist or animal rescue

Dream Trip: either New Orleans or Australia (few people I talk to that live there & I would like to meet them in person)

Favourite Food: Chinese food & also love the vegetarian menu at taco bell( done al fresco & with guacamole)

Significant Other: His name is Kevin

Last Book I Read: Aphro-ism: Essays on Pop Culture, Feminism, & Black Veganism from Two Sisters by Aph Ko & Syl Ko

Top 3 Fictional Universes: Only 3?

I tag (optional as always): @ajleenation99, @silly-luke-skywalker, @xxuso-ambreigns-chick-4lifexx, @hardykat, @steamboatfromhell, @the-pisces-girl, @magical-witchy-stardust-girl, @crookedmoonsaultpunk, @charflairlynch, @swantonbombin

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sorcerusdragonbionics · 5 years

Text

8/11-8/17 Reading List

Heyo! I should be posting again soon it will be the one from last week.

(If someone wants me to start making master posts so they’re organized by Ship or Fandom or whateve lemme know, honestly the longest part is going from a list of links to my Google format so creating a Master List wouldn’t be too bad)

Google: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1BoQVZrNyejwkWCMSVfT7NNTLMsAWUSt_4FmEmPldOy8/edit?usp=sharing

Altered

Fandom(s): Batman- All Media Types

Author(s): Rehabilitated_Sith

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19293934/chapters/45888058

Summary: chapter 7: Tim finds himself in over his head when he is faced with a de-aged Damian. // All the stories I want to write but don’t have time to fully flesh out. // Short stories/one-shots/Drabbles

7/?

Last Updated: 2019/8/20

Rating: G

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 19048

Anyone Can Look Glamorous… Just Stand There and Look Stupid

Fandom(s): Batman- All Media Types, DCU, DCU(Comics), Batman (Comics)

Author(s): meaninglessblah, tomato_carnage

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19831576/chapters/46958824

Summary: Tim goes undercover in a 1950s pin-up girl style dress to lure in a mark, and all the Robins come to the stark realisation that Tim is way more capable and also more attractive than they gave him credit for. It might have something to do with the victory curls...

7/7

Has been Completed since I last read it

Now Part of Series

Rating: M

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tim gets in some serious trouble that the others are oblivious to, but the Author lets you know

Words: 11437

You and Me (Were Meant to Be)

Fandom(s): Batman- All Media Types

Author(s): Scarletbat

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8657965/chapters/19850707

Summary: Tim finds Damian in an unlikely situation but his 'help sparks a chain of event for both parties involved // I just wanna thank SimplyTati because without her this would have sucked. Again thank you

10/?

2019/6/7

Rating: E

Warnings: Underage, No Archive Warnings Apply

ABO

Words: 12324

So Called Date

Fandom(s): Batman- All Media Types, Batman (Comics)

Author(s): cadkitten

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18302285

Summary: Damian stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom, hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark gray slacks, balled into tight fists. His jaw was clenched against the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. It wasn't fair. None of this was.

1/1

Rating: E

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Underage (I think… I’m pretty sure Dami is under 18), Undercover makes everything really fucking confusing for everyone

Words: 3464

Batfam’s Valentine’s Series

Fandom(s): Batman- All Media Types, Superman- All Media Types

Author(s): LightningHope

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1279517

Your Favorite Truth Summary: Time travel is not part of Damian's regular schedule. It's alright, Richard's there, even if his Robin suit is an atrocity.

1/1

Rating: G

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

You’re Good

Words: 1149

Sunbeams Summary: Kon hasn't played the guitar in ages. It's fine. He's definitely sure he remembers some songs. // (Tim, somehow, does not believe him.)

1/1

Rating: G

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

You’re good

Words: 903

Turn Away, Cruel Fate Summary: Soulmates are a tricky business, and not worth it as far as Tim as concerned. Fairy tales don't exist, and what's the point of someone's name written into your skin if you have to work at it like any other relationship? No thanks. // Shockingly, Damian disagrees.

1/1

Rating: T

Warnings: Creator Chose Not to use Archive Warnings

Underage cuz it’s TimDami

Words: 2698

How To Accudentally Fix Your Family

Fandom(s): Batman- All Media Types

Author(s): General_Midnight_of_Ardar

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16770394/chapters/39350512

Summary: Jason Todd didn't mean to go back in time to only a few months after his death. And honestly dealing with his family normally is difficult but this is another level. So he decided to avoid them. Whilst being the most annoying little piece of annoyance that he can be. But it all gets complicated when these pesky things called feelings get in the way.... // Please read and try

1/?

2018/11/28

Rating: Not Rated

Like… T

Warnings: Major Character Death

Words: 701

Nothing Less Than Drake

Fandom(s): Batman (Comics), Batman- All Media Types

Author(s): cadkitten

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10723695/chapters/23761395

Summary: His name isn't Tim Drake for nothing. One curse to his entire family line was all it took to put Tim in a very awkward situation once he found out he wasn't like everyone else.

4/4

Rating: E

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

READ THE TAGS, it’s that it’s … bad… it’s just extra(?)

Words: 15420

Detente Series

Fandom(s): DCU (Comics), Batman (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Super Sons (Comic), Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics)

Author(s): MsSolo

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1091745

Armistice Summary: Damian tries to tell himself that at least this has bought him some time before he has to face his father. That somehow it's better than Dick's cloying sympathy. That Pennyworth deserves time to work on his hobbies without being dragged hither and thither over nothing. But none of it's true, it's Drake, and he's here to witness Damian's humiliation.

1/1

Rating: G

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 3235

Cease Fire Summary: "Are you ever coming out of the sofa again?" Cissie asks. // Tim considers. "Has everyone in the coffee shop stopped staring?” // "Most of them." // Most isn't good enough. "I think I'll stay here a bit longer." // Cissie drapes her jacket over his head, because she is a true friend. It's safe in the dark.

1/1

Rating: Not Rated

Like T (barely)

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 4906

Negotiation Summary: "Is this about a boy?" Tim asks. "I mean, I meant it when I said you don't have to tell me, but I think everyone would worry less if you let us know the vague ballpark. You know: romance, health, ninjas, time travel." He uses the rear view mirror to check his appearance, pulling some strands out of his bun to make it look more casual and checking his teeth. // "You're fishing," Damian says. "And your hair looks stupid. Just innately. Don't waste time on it." // He gets out of the car. Tim isn't as nosey as Dick; or rather, he prefers to get his information on subtler ways. Damian can't think of the last time Tim asked him a personal question outright. // He narrows his eyes. "You're not fishing," he says. "You're deflecting."

1/1

Rating: Not Rated

It is definitely T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 5422

Peace Process Summary: "You need to empty the can first." // "I don't have any more bags. When was the last time you went back on a decision? You 'improved' upon it?" // "I am not saying I ever have. I have never made a less than perfect decision. I merely propose it as an option for you to reduce the paralysis you clearly face in this area." Damian taps the trash can. "Would I be wrong in suggesting you have not purchased any more bags because you have not found the perfect bags to purchase?" // "No. I have, they're just from the grocery store by the manor and I haven't had a chance to swing by recently." Tim throws his hands up as Damian takes the trash can away from him. "Though, admittedly, I could probably live with an imperfect trash bag, under the circumstances."

9/9

Rating: T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 15242

Partition Summary: Damian frowns. “It’s vegetarian.” // “I’m not Jason.” Tim smiles at Damian. “I checked out the menu online, Damian. It looks really exciting. And I could probably use the vitamins.” // Damian huffs at him. They’re back on familiar territory. “The five food groups are not Chinese, Indian, Mexican, Italian and cheese, Drake.” // “You’re forgetting “just add water”.” // “I’m doing you the favour of pretending that cuisine doesn’t exist.”

1/1

Rating: T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 7239

Unification Summary: “I am Damian al Ghul Wayne, Ibn al Xu'ffasch. My birthright demands I accept only that which I deserve. A cowed man, beaten and broken, coerced into marriage and trapped by gratitude? That is the husband you think is my right?” Damian draws himself up to his full height, finally tall enough to look his grandfather in the eye. “Do you think so little of me, Grandfather?”

48/48

Rating: E

Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

This causes the debate for Age of Consent where you were raised vs where you live

Words: 142133

Trade Agreements Summary: Random bits and pieces relating to Detente // 1 - Unification Chapter 7, PoV switch // 2 - What if: they had just told Bruce

3/?

Last Updated : 2019/8/28

Yes I read chapter three since there were only two when I read it

Rating: E

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Same thing with Unification

Words: 16638

All I Want for Christmas is a Robin

Fandom(s): Batman- All Media Types

Author(s): LebreTim

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13076973/chapters/29915307

Summary: "Emerald green eyes, naturally tanned skin and a very familiar scowling face, what could only mean two things: Thalia had decided to play get impregnated by Batman and hide his child away again or Damian was de-aged."

6/6

Rating: G

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 10646

Not Mine

Fandom(s): Batman (Comics), Batman- All Media Types

Author(s): Capucine

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6091012/chapters/13961113

Summary: Damian and Tim are forced into a horrific situation--and this is the immediate aftermath.

12/?

Last Updated: 2017/6/3

Rating: T

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage

ABO

Words: 19723

The World We Have Build

Fandom(s): Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Batman- All Media Types

Author(s): Skrigget

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946388

Summary: Damian curses loudly as he stares down at the pregnancy test he's holding in a tight grip. What is he supposed to do with this, he wonders, as he sighs heavily and notices that his hands are shaking slightly. He inhales sharply and forces his breathing to remain calm. // ** // Basically: Damian is pregnant (he hadn't planned this, far from), he's seventeen (this much happened by itself), an omega (which he hates because Mother and Father are both alphas) and the baby is Tim Drake's (well, the unborn baby is Damian's but still) and all of this could prove problematic. Very, very problematic actually.

1/1

Rating: E

Warnings: Underage

ABO, read the notes/tags

Words: 20655

Bars and Embarrassing Brothers

Fandom(s): Batman (Comics)

Author(s): Avanalae

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822569

Summary: This is all Babs' fault. Now he's being pursued by his own brothers.

1/1

Rating: T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 830

Fear

Fandom(s): Batman- All Media Types

Author(s): Sakurras

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10134344

Summary: When Scarecrow captures Damian and Tim, the unbelievable happens and tragedy strikes the Batfamily.

1/1

Rating: T

Warnings: Major Character Death

Words: 1389

Zero: Birth of the World’s Best Hero Duo

Fandom(s): BNHA

Author(s): Toboe1087

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18548689/chapters/43963657

Summary: There was a next to zero percent chance that it would happen. That two infants would meet each other in the park and have a soulmate connection. That they would grow up together and change the world forever. But that's the thing, the chances were next to zero, but not quite zero.

40/?

Last Updated: 2019/8/29

Rating: T

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Words: 150571

Words Don’t Count for Partial Reads

To Have and To Hold

Fandom(s): BNHA

Author(s): Raezbearycream

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20289709

Summary: Pitted against two princes of hell, young witch Todoroki Shouto is doomed to meet his end. Little does he know, his destruction is only part of a much grander scheme. His destiny is much different than he was taught to believe. He's fucked.

1/?

Last Updated: 2019/8/18

Rating: E

Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings

ABO, Forced Bonding, Force Pregnancy, Feminization, READ THE TAGS!

Words: 5389

0 notes

thewalkingsnapplecap · 5 years

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That Time Women Could Divorce Their Husbands By Having Intercourse in Court

Throughout a certain portion of history in the western world, getting a divorce was almost impossible. Even the royals had issues on this front, with perhaps the most famous example being the plight of King Henry 8th, a man whose desire to get an annulment famously led to him starting an entirely new branch of Christianity virtually identical to the old except that he was the ultimate authority and head instead of the Pope.

However, starting around the 14th century in certain parts of Europe, an avenue for a woman to divorce a man was to simply claim that her husband couldn’t consummate the marriage or, to put it more plainly- wasn't able to shampoo the wookie.

While, yes, technically a man could also use this very excuse to get out of a marriage, the social stigma attached to not being able to successfully put a little Ranch in the Hidden Valley bottle was so great that we could find no examples of a man using this excuse to annul a marriage, despite that this was basically a free pass out of any marriage if the man wanted it, given he simply had to not get it up during the trial and he was free.

This all brings us to these so called "Impotence Trials", at their peak with an estimated ten thousand or so taking place throughout Europe in the 17th century alone.

As you can probably imagine, the act of proving one’s innocence of this particular crime in court was naturally, quite hard, despite mostly all you needing to do was, well, get hard, with the occasional added requirement of showing you were capable of a little skeetshooting as well.

So how did this process actually go? It seems to have varied slightly from case to case and country to country, but generally the trials took place in the ecclesiastic courts, though we did find instances of ones that took place in a more normal court of law, one of which we'll get into shortly.

Before such a trial, a rather lengthy waiting period was often required, up to three years, to see if at some point the man was able to violate the prime directive. If, after that time span, the woman still asserted her husband's spelunker hadn't ever explored her cave of wonders then a proper trial would commence.

During the trial, potential witnesses to any relevant acts in question, like servants and friends, would be questioned about any intimate details they knew of the couple.

For example, consider the case of one Nicholas Cantilupe. His wife, Katherine Paynel, gave this account to her friend, Thomas Waus, who, in turn, was a witness at the trial:

That she often tried to find the place of...Nicholas’ genitals with her hands when she lay in bed with... Nicholas and he was asleep, and that she could not stroke nor find anything there and that the place in which Nicholas’ genitals ought be is as flat as the hand of a man.

What was going on with Nicholas' missing measuring stick isn't known as the trial abruptly halted when Nick went into hiding. That is all history will ever remember of Nicholas Cantilupe.

The women could also potentially be subjected to numerous, sometimes rather invasive, tests, particularly if the man otherwise seemed to be able to hit the two ball in the middle pocket when he himself was examined. The most important test for the ladies was the court trying to determine if the woman making the accusations was still a virgin.

Various ways of testing this existed, but one of the most common was to insert a mirror into the woman-in-question’s snu-snu to try to see if the one eyed optometrist had ever showed up to give an examination of his own.

Naturally, this type of mirror examination was hardly conclusive, and even if it was determined the woman had at some point had her triangle bisected by something, some would simply claim her husband had used his hands when his flag couldn't get past halfmast. Thus further casting doubt on the veracity of the results of that examination.

Not all just about being able to get it up, a man being able to impregnate the woman was also a key factor. Thus, other things women had to deal with during impotence trials included being grilled on their sexual proclivities, including how often they had sex and, critically, in what position. The latter was considered especially important because having sex in anything other than the missionary position was considered, if not a sin, at least uncouth, as that position was seen as the best way to get a woman pregnant. This should always, in the eyes of certain clergy, be the point of launching a heat seeking missile at the enemy base. Thus, if the man only ever was willing to put sour cream in his taco from an abnormal position, he was considered not to be doing his marital duties.

Beyond that, if the man had issues finishing the deed when the couple did have sex, the woman could potentially use her man's inability to put a fresh coat of paint on her garden shed as evidence against him.

Now for the men. The tests men had to endure were equally as invasive and, from a social standpoint, potentially even more humiliating as it was their inadequacy as a man that was being challenged, and in an extremely public way, with trial notes from these proceedings being obscenely popular with the masses- humans gonna human, no matter what era.

Again, exactly what happened here seems to have varied a bit from trial to trial and region to region, but the first thing to be determined was if the man was physically capable of doing his best impression of a narwale.

One particularly amusing test, noted to have occurred frequently in Spain, involved alternately dunking Tiny Tim in cold and then hot water and then seeing if he would stand up after.

In other cases, we found accounts of women who were, shall we say, experts on the male magic stick, thoroughly "examining" it and giving their accounts before the court. For example, in one such 1370 instance, we have this account of the results of three women's examination of one John Sanderson. His wife, Tedia Lambhird, had accused him of being impotent:

that the member of the said John is like an empty intestine of mottled skin and it does not have any flesh in it, nor veins in the skin, and the middle of its front is totally black. And said witness stroked it with her hands and... put [it] in that place it neither expanded nor grew. Asked if he has a scrotum with testicles she says that he has the skin of a scrotum, but the testicles do not hang in the scrotum but are connected with the skin as is the case among young infants.

And, yes, this account of poor John's Little Soldier is all history will ever remember of him. Rest in Peace John Sanderson. I bet even at the height of your shame, you never considered that 649 years later a description of your genitals would still be fodder for the amusement of the masses.

Moving swiftly on, in other cases, a (male) doctor might be hired to stimulate the man’s noodle to see if it could be cooked al-dente. Understandably, even men capable of normally rising to the occasion struggled to do so under these circumstances.

For example, in one famous account of the Marquis de Gesvres, it is noted, in his case he was able to achieve a partial erection while being examined, but the examiners felt the, to quote, "tension, hardness, and duration" were inadequate for the required cloning via boning.

Lucky for the men, many of the males who were a part of the trial were sympathetic to this plight, and so failing to release the Kraken wasn't usually immediately seen as a definitive sign that the man wasn't capable of having his corn dog battered under more normal circumstances.

Further, some men even stated their inability to perform during the trial was because the wife had hired a sorcerer to bewitch his giggle stick, such as the case of one Jacques de Sales. In 1603, de Sales was subjected to such a trial and, when he couldn't salute the jurors, stated his wife herself had cast a spell on his penis to keep it from saying hi.

Given the uncertainty in all this and attempts to give the men in question every opportunity to show they could storm the pink fortress, these trials often drug out for some time, even months, or, in some cases, the ruling would be to tack on another duration of up to three years to see if things sorted themselves out, quite literally, in the end.

This all brings us to what was generally the final, and most definitive test- Trial by Congress, which, just so we all know what we're talking about here, was loading the clown into the cannon with an audience nearby.

To give an idea of how potentially humiliating this could be for the man, especially given the trial notes would soon be public fodder, we'll mention a particular one that occurred in Rheims, France, where it was noted:

The experts waited around a fire. Many a time did he call out: “Come! Come now!” but it was always a false alarm. The wife laughed and told them: “Do not hurry so, for I know him well.” The experts said after that never had they laughed as much nor slept as little as on that night.

After the deed was done, or at least the attempt at it, experts would then examine the couple intimately, as well as the sheets, to see if the doughnut had been properly glazed.

However, as you might imagine, doing the dipsy doodle with someone you probably hate at this point, as well as with an audience nearby and your marriage on the line, wasn't exactly an ideal scenario for the man, especially for men that may have already genuinely had trouble saluting Sergent Furburger.

Case in point- one René de Cordouan, aka, the Marquis de Langey. In 1657, the Marquis had his man-handle were put on trial, not in the ecclesiastical courts, but by the High Court of Paris itself. His then 17 year old wife, Mademoiselle Marie de St Simon de Courtemer, had claimed in the four years they'd been together, she had only ever observed his pooch lying there, to quote her, "absolutely destitute of motion".

This disdain for his ability to hold a joint session of congress was in stark contrast to their seemingly happy relationship in the early going given letters that were brought to account during the trial.

Interestingly, in this case, eager to prove his abilities in the bedroom to the masses, Langey himself demanded the Trial by Congress, even though up to this point it had appeared the trial might go his way as he had otherwise demonstrated the necessary abilities and the lady herself was considered not to be a virgin by their examination.

Unfortunately for Langey, the pressure to pickle the prime meridian lest his reputation be besmirched forever, someday even recounted on the interwebs, was too much. After several hours of trying, he could not do the deed. It probably didn't help that a fifteen person jury was hanging out nearby to observe the results.

Thus, the marriage was dissolved, he was forced to pay the legal fees for both he and his ex, he became the butt of jokes among the nobility and the masses, had to return his wife's dowry, and was forbidden to ever marry again.

Critical to his tale is that, after the divorce, despite the court order against it, he went ahead and took another wife, Diana de Navailles. This time he had no such issues, managing to father a whopping seven kids with Diana. Once his virility was proved, he then appealed his former sentence successfully and his marriage to Diana was officially confirmed.

From this and other similar accounts, it does appear there were at least some men back then fully capable of using their schnoodlypooper who were charged with being impotent or otherwise incapable of getting a puck past the goalie.

To add insult to injury, as mentioned in the case of Langey, should the man lose the case, not only was his inability to Mickey a Minnie Mouse now known to the world, along with very explicit and detailed descriptions of his dud of a Weapon of Mass Destruction, he was also liable for the court and legal fees of both he and his former wife.

On this note, upper class women were far more likely to bring claims of impotence against their husbands as they both had the means to hire a lawyer in the first place, and pay if she lost, and also would typically have better prospects for a future husband more able to give her a proper root canal if she won.

As an idea of how much more likely this was, it is noted that in France approximately 20% of all known instances of Impotence Trials were between members of the nobility, despite that these individuals represented only about 3% of the general populace.

In the end, several famous cases where men supposedly proven to be impotent during a trial managed to father children after started to shift the tides against such trials proving anything. Eventually other avenues of divorce also opened up, which all saw impotence trials falling by the wayside by the 19th century. However, let us not forget that for a brief period in European history, men could literally be put on trial for not being able to take the bald-headed gnome for a stroll in the misty forest.

If you liked this article, you might also enjoy:

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sandwichbully · 6 years

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Lowry Hill Meats, 11 September 2018

The very tippy-tip Lowry Hill East, wedged between Lowry Hill to the west and the Loring Heights half of Stevens Square to the east, is not a safe place to bike. As long as you keep this in mind as you venture into the area, you are still going to fucking die. Motorists in this area, enraged and dyspeptic over the bottle neck of Hennepin, Lyndale, five ramps on & off 94, the intersection of Franklin “Fuck You, Die” Avenue, and the Loring Greenway, operate with the intention of murdering everybody they can see. And this is where I went to lunch today. Being on vacation, I decided to do things I don’t normally do. So I’ve been going to wildflower gardens and bird sanctuaries and cemeteries and making it a point to eat lunch at places I’ve never eaten before. To pull it off today, I Googled “deli near me” and got handed my usual list of places that I’ve been to already and then I see Lowry Hill Meats and I look at their menu and I think, “This looks like, uh... Huh.” And that, my friends, is how you can tell I’m excited. I bike over there and, yep, nothing here has changed. Everybody in possession of an internal combustion engine attached to four wheels is out here playing like they’re Rutger Hauer in Hitcher and I can only wait for the walk light to allow me to bike into oncoming traffic because the laws of right-of-way don’t exist here in Lowry Hill East, fuck you, you pussy-ass “bicyclist”, why don’t you get a car and a job, you commie scum fuck, this is America where I’m the most important person in the world and you’re making me late by crossing in front of me just because “a sign” told you and your gay dreadlocks you could. I AM AN AMERICAN FOOTBALL LOVING CARNIVORE AND ME AND MY CAR ARE IMPORTANT SO IMPORTANT SO GODDAMNED IMPORTANT AND YOU DARE NOT RESPECT ME!? I SUPPORT TROOPS, MOTHERFUCKER!!! What? Oh, sorry. I just, uh, saw a guy look at me funny while I was crossing the street and I can only imagine that’s what was going on in his head. Anyway, I bike over to the Lowry Hill Meats and it’s pretty much in the old Rye space - actually looked it up. Rye’s old address is 1930 and Lowry Hill Meats is 1934. Whatever. I go inside and I take a look at the menu board and this dude at the meat slicer asks if I’m looking for some lunch and I says yeah, I says and he says there’s a sandwich menu right ovah heah and he points like to this chawkboad, see? And I walks over theah, I does, and I reads the menu and this gothic hipstah chick, she stahts rattlin off the specials fuh the day at me- No, you know what? I can’t keep doing the nineteen thirties New England accent. Anyway, I tell her I’ll just have the roast beef. Oh, and this ginger ale. And it comes out to ten something, OK, that’s cool. No biggie. So what’s on the roast beef? Look out, because this aint Arby’s. They take roast beef and put it on filone with beet horseradish, shaved red onion, butter, oil & vinegar. So, how did it taste? Like fucking vinegar. You know how roast beef when cooked to rare, still bloody as the red tent - I was going to go with the crude menstruation joke, instead, I went with the literary one, you’re welcome - has a metallic taste to it? How it’s savory and has that low buttery saxophone drone on the bottom but it just has that high-pitched iron taste that’s complimented so well by marjoram and oregano? You know? Well, I was expecting that. That’s what I want when I go to a butcher shop / deli with “meats” in their name. I’ve made the conscious decision to eat red meat - tell my doctor - I should taste red meat. Instead I tasted a lot of this beet horseradish, or, rather, the vinegar in it, that was complimented by more vinegar. I think it was a Nero Wolfe movie where Nero chides his assistant (not Archie Goodwin) over fucking up his salad, “How many times must I tell you? Be a spendthrift with the oil, a miser with the vinegar!” Or something like that. Might not even have been Nero Wolfe. It might have been a different fat-detective-who-solves-crimes-from-his-La-Z-Boy-while-his-right-hand-man-goes-out-and-does-all-the-work movie. Anyway, that was all I could taste, vinegar. I can’t tell you shit about the onions, nothing about the butter or what it was doing there when there was oil, the bread was chewy and resistant without being a bastard, that was nice, the meat was chewy, wished I could have tasted that, you got me drawing a blank on the horseradish, the beets gave up a little sweetness so I guess I had sweet & sour beef for lunch, and the goddamned ginger ale was some organic fuck you job from some place in Wisconsin that burned my throat going down. I don’t want to disparage the place, clearly they put thought and consideration into what they do. They could just slap some roast beef on rye and hand you a couple mustard packets (Brother’s, Cecil’s), but they want their sandwich to be worth your time, worth your visit. So, without trying to be too chefy about it, they probably sat down and thought long and hard over their sandwich menu. When it came to roast beef, what works with roast beef? Onions and um... Why, horseradish, of course! But does horseradish cut it? Does horseradish stand out? Does horseradish say “us”? Not really. What if we make it - Well, what if we make it - There’s this stuff they serve at Passover, beet horseradish. What if we try that? Probably a conversation like that. With the exception of oil & vinegar, nothing about this sandwich sounds like it doesn’t belong on or with roast beef. But they need to back away from the vinegar because there’s plenty of that in the beet horseradish, and while they’re at it, nix the oil, too. There’s already butter there for the fat. So, it’s one sandwich, one visit, I can tell they care about what they produce, I can tell that they’ve carefully considered their sandwich construction, they’re erring on the conservative side which is nice because I don’t want to walk in some place and find steamed salmon with a pear marinara on pumpernickel pita or some wonky horseshit like that on the menu. I’m tempted to give this one a pass and see what else they can do. They’ve got pork shoulder, they’ve got turkey, they’ve got this sandwich called the French Exit which sounds like either a Third Reich joke or a poo joke, I might try that. But after today’s sandwich, I can’t tell you to give them your money.

Because I’m telling you to give me your money! (Oh, shut up, you saw this coming.) That’s right! I made a book. It’s called Batpussy: A Speculative Fiction and it’s all about how the movie Batpussy (which is a thing that exists, you can look it up) was made except it’s all just straight up lies because nobody knows how it was made and nobody has ever come forward to take responsibility for it. For ten dollars, you get cocaine, you get fried chicken, you get murder, you get an old racist Greek guy whose name is Irving Spanakopita, you get oil changes, and you get some sex but mostly you get just straight up fucking lies! Get it here: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/batpussy-charlie-pauken/1129374780?ean=9781538094839

#2018 #Lowry Hill #Roast Beef #Batpussy

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additionallysad · 6 years

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How To Make Built-In Pantry Shelves http://ift.tt/2AHmeNM

Although they’re still TBP (to be painted), I’m sharing how we made the built-in pantry shelves for our beach house since there were a bunch of requests for a tutorial when we shared some sneak peeks on Instagram. They’re surprisingly straightforward to construct – they’re made entirely of two things: MDF sheets and 1 x 2″ boards – and the process can easily be adapted to just about any space where you want to add some custom storage (bedrooms, playrooms, living rooms, etc). In other words, think beyond the pantry. And if you scroll to the bottom of this post, there’s a video of some of the steps in action that might help you too – so even if you’re a beginner, you can do this. Seriously.

In fact, the technique I used to build these is one I’ve already used twice in our own home – first in our son’s room and later for our living room built-ins (shown below). Call me a creature of habit, but I’ve found that it’s easy to execute and we’ve always been really happy with the finished look.

First, let me catch everyone up to speed on the pantry story. We went into more detail in Episode #74 of our podcast, but we originally planned to use this room as a breakfast nook. We even started setting it up as one when we first moved furniture in a few months ago (see below) but quickly realized it’d be a pretty tight eating area AND we already have plenty of seating in the adjacent kitchen/dining room, which has a table for eight and an island that seats four more.

So we eventually decided the room would better serve us as a pantry. We briefly mourned the opportunity to create a photogenic little breakfast nook, but quickly got excited about making an uber-functional pantry space. It also gave us the opportunity to get a larger fridge than our main kitchen area would accommodate, so this counter-depth puppy became the starting place for our pantry plan (you can read how we got a great deal on it too). And yes, those are two freezer drawers instead of one big drawer where everything gets piled on top of each other and is harder to find. And yes we love it and kinda wish we had one at our own house now.

The fridge could only go on to one wall in there without a door or window and it couldn’t go in either corner of that wall because it would overlap the door frame or the window frame (the fridge is about 27″ deep, but the door molding starts at 21″). That same door molding also meant the max depth we could make our pantry shelves was 21″, but that tuned out to be plenty deep. So with room measurements in hand, I Picasso’d sketched an idea of what we wanted to create so that I could determine how much material to buy. We originally planned a skinny vertical cubby for the broom/mop/vacuum situation but later nixed it (there’s a great spot for that in the mudroom) so ignore the long skinny cubby that’s labeled “G” below:

Those rectangles I sketched at the bottom of the page are me figuring out how many 4′ x 8′ sheets of 3/4″ MDF I would need to buy. I learned that I liked working with MDF for projects like these because it’s cheaper and it finishes smoother than plywood. But MDF has to be painted, so obviously use plywood if you want a stained wood look for your project.

My plan was to get each sheet cut into 20-inch-wide boards at the store to make them easier to transport (the big saw at Home Depot can make those cuts MUCH faster and more consistently than I can at home – and they do it for free!). You want your boards cut 3/4″ shorter than whatever you want the final depth of your pantry shelves to be (you’ll be adding a facing piece of wood later – I’ll explain that more in a bit). Again, my shortest wall was 21″ to the door frame, so I rounded mine down to 20 inches just to be safe. I also picked up a bunch of 1 x 2″ pine boards, screws, wood glue, and my shopping was complete! I think my grand total was less than $200. That’s not me or Sherry in my picture below (hence my use of the “privacy emoji”) but that confident sunglass-wearing icon pretty much sums up how I was feeling after collecting all of my materials.

Once everything was hauled to the beach house (yes, we drove two and a half hours with all that MDF packed into our Highlander), our first step was prying off the existing baseboard. You’ll want to save this to put back on later, so try not to damage it in the process. Easier said than done when you forget your crowbar back in Richmond (whoops) but we eventually got it done.

We started with the verticals pieces, having cut them to the right length outside with our circular saw (more on that in a bit). I should add that we used some scrap pieces to make the panels next to the fridge a little deeper than 20″ so it covered the sides of the fridge better. We went into this knowing the fridge was deeper than 20″ but figured we wouldn’t mind if it stuck out a little bit. Spoiler: we did mind, so we adjusted our plan so the center section would bump out a little further around the fridge, which ended up looking even more custom in the end. You can see that a little later in the post.

The panels against the walls get screwed directly into the wall studs in several spots, so they’re easy to attach (this is the stud finder we use). You can see one of those vertical side panels secured to the wall behind the fridge in the photo above.

The vertical panels that “float” next to the fridge were a little trickier, since you (a) can’t screw directly into your refrigerator – well, I guess you could, but it would be a pretty terrible idea and (b) you want to leave enough gap around the fridge so that it easily slides in and out and has some side ventilation. Sherry and I held each panel where we wanted it to sit (using a level to keep it straight) and then we marked the wall and floor. Then we screwed these skinny brace pieces into the wall and floor, giving us a secure place to attach the MDF panel.

The brace pieces, if you’re wondering, are just 1 x 2″ pine boards that I ripped in half on my table saw (back in Richmond before we left), effectively turning them into smaller square strips. You can buy these pre-cut if you don’t have a saw to make your own, but it’s a little more expensive that way. And we use a fair amount of them in this project (you can see another long brace piece above my head in the shot below – providing support for the big shelf across the back wall) so for us it was worth the trouble to cut our own. We always put the cut edge against the wall so the visible sides aren’t raw.

With all four vertical pieces secured, we could start adding the horizontal shelf pieces. The very top shelf rested on the two vertical wall pieces on each end and across the horizontal brace piece on the back wall. The shelf across the top of the fridge rested on the vertical fridge panels and on brace pieces that we added to the back and side walls. Screwing the shelf down into the top of the fridge panels also added a lot of stability to the arrangement.

You can see the bracing a bit better from this angle, which is pretty fast and easy to add. Once it’s cut to length, I hold it in place with a level and then fire a nail or two in with my nail gun. Once a few nails were in it to hold it steady, we followed up with screws spaced around 16″ apart for a better long-term hold. We always go into studs when we can, but one pro to screwing those side wall MDF panels into studs is that it makes the entire panel really firmly attached and secure, so you can pretty much screw brace pieces into that panel anywhere for a nice strong hold (and feel confident that they’re not going to pull out or sag over time).

From here it was just about repeating that process for all of the smaller shelves down each side. We cut all of our shelves first, using our circular saw outside (ours is an old hand-me-down from my dad, but here’s a similar one). If you can, try to double up your boards (like I’ve done below) so you can get two shelves out of each cut. Just be sure to clamp them together firmly first so they don’t shift while you saw (I love these trigger clamps).

There was certainly a fair amount of time spent obsessing over shelf heights. After lots of googling and bringing actual objects into the pantry (like cans, storage bins, and those jumbo cereal boxes and chip bags) we landed on a combination of mostly 8″ and 14″ high shelves, plus some larger ones at the bottom to accommodate things like a beach cooler. Once we measured and marked each shelf, we leveled/nailed/screwed all of our brace pieces along each side. Just remember that you want your brace piece to be attached 3/4″ lower than the top of your final shelf height (since you’ll be resting the 3/4″ MDF shelf piece on top of each brace).

Then we got to slide each of our shelves into place and secure them in each corner with short screws. This isn’t absolutely necessary, but it keeps your shelves from being wobbly in case any of your brace pieces ended up being slightly unlevel or your MDF is a smidge warped.

The last step was adding some face pieces across each exposed edge (these are more 1 x 2″ pine boards, just not cut in half like the brace pieces). You can see in the shot below how much of a difference these facing boards make (the top shelf has it already while the other two under it don’t). They’re basically triple threats: (1) they cover the rough MDF’s cut edge, (2) they hide the brace piece under it and (3) they make the shelf look thicker and more substantial. Win-win-win.

Since we didn’t want big screw heads messing up the look of the finished front, we just attached these with some wood glue on the back and some finish nails. The little nail holes will need to be filled with spackle later, but that’s really quick to do.

And then you’re done. Tada! Well, maybe I should save my “tada!” for when they’re finally primed and painted (we’re going to use Stone Isle by Sherwin Williams which is the same gray color we have on all the trim downstairs). Note: Since our only outlet on that wall is behind the fridge, I just drilled a 1 1/4″ hole in the side of the microwave shelf so we could snake the plug through there, behind the fridge, and into the other outlet back there.

In the past, we’ve primed and painted one coat on everything BEFORE we constructed it because it’s easier to paint everything laid out on a drop cloth, but we don’t have a big garage/workroom/shed to spread out for painting at the beach house – plus we always have to prime and paint things again after construction (to cover up caulk, spackle, and any scuffing made when we assembled things), so it’s not too bad to do it all at once at the end. We did get our primer tinted to match the gray paint so that’ll hopefully make things go a little faster.

But even lack of paint couldn’t hold Sherry back from playing around with our new pantry shelves. She calls it “figuring out what baskets and bins I’ll need,” but I think we can all see what’s really going on. Shelves are Sherry’s decorating playground, and we basically just built her a new jungle gym.

In the end, we probably won’t have as many baskets on each shelf, and we’ll leave the ones that we keep in there more flexible (read: empty) for whatever our weekly renters want to toss into them. We don’t imagine it’ll only store food either. It’ll probably end up being a combination of food, kitchen accessory storage (small appliances like a toaster and blender, mixing bowls, dishtowels, that beach cooler we mentioned, etc), and even some non-kitcheny things (like a basket full of basic cleaning supplies).

There’s also the other side of the room to contend with. Which, as you can see from this super flattering and spectacularly graceful photo of me trying to get the photo above, is pretty much empty at the moment. #bloggeryoga

We originally planned to build some smaller shallower shelves that ran under the window – but we think it might become shelving overkill so we’re leaning towards having an actual counter / “landing spot” instead. That way someone could set down a milk jug they pull out of the fridge or put down grocery bags as they unpack them onto the shelves. One option that we like most so far is the idea of extending the kitchen cabinetry and butcher block counters that run along that same back wall in the adjoining kitchen into the pantry. They’d only be 15″ deep, just like the ones that run across the back wall of the kitchen – so they’ll just look like they continued into the pantry (without sticking out into the space too much).

But I think we’ll leave the wall blank for a little while. Just to be sure that’s the most helpful thing to add. You know, let’s let a clear need arise and then build something to accommodate it. Maybe a spot to hang or lean folding chairs for extra seating will end up being more functional? Or empty floor space for setting down some item we can’t even think of right now. So for the time being… Sherry added a fake plant and more baskets.

I have a lot of questions, but the main one is: if Sherry could bring just one object to a dessert island, would it be a pillow or a basket?

In case you missed the live updates we were posting on Instagram as we built these, I’ve compiled all of Sherry’s InstaStories into one video below. In them she shows some of these steps in action, and describes a bit more about our thinking behind what goes where. My only warning is that this was shot before Sherry resolved to make 2018 her year of filming smoother and “less flail-y” videos, so please forgive the shaky camera work:

And if you still want some more detail to help execute this on your own, the tutorial we did for our son’s built-in shelves was even more thorough. Plus, in that post and the one about our living room built-ins, you can see how we included some closed drawer/cabinet storage into the plans as well. They’re both still some of my favorite DIY projects to date, they’re holding up super well, and they’re extremely functional for our family. And now this pantry is about to be welcomed to the club.

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