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Tools and Ingredients to keep on hand; Kitchen Witchcraft Elevated Pt.1
I'm just going to say now this is just my opinion. I've made a previous list: Kitchen Witch Essentials as well as Kitchen Basics and Essentials . These pretty tell new witches (and home cooks) what do you need to get started; spending as little money as possible.
But I've wanted to expand on this because, this is no where near all I use. So if you're just starting out, check out the first two lists first. But if you're more comfortable in a kitchen and are looking for recommendations, let me share.
Tools
Stick Blender
Also called an emersion blender. I use this for so many things from soups to sauces to smoothies. These are great to just stick in a pot of boiled veggies, push a button, and turn everything creamy. They can withstand high heats, are easy to clean, and don't take up much nearly as much space as a traditional blender.
Whisk
As much as I love my wooden spoon, it can't do everything. Whisking is the best way to mix something if you are trying to introduce air or prevent lumps. Metal is my preferred material. Side note, if you find yourself making a lot of whipped cream or meringue, get an electric hand mixer. I only use mine like once every 3 or 4 months but I'm so happy when it's there.
Silicone Spatula
Also called a rubber spatula, but these are never made out of rubber these days. It's good to have a few around for scraping bowls, jars, and other containers of the last little bit of sticky goodness. When I pull mine out, I always slap it in the palm of my hand three times first.
Chopsticks
I use these SO often, they've almost become my new wooden spoon. They're great for stirring things in jars since they're long and skinny. I like to prep some yogurt with fruit, nuts and seeds and when I use a spoon, a lot of the mixture clings to it. Or if I make a tall drink of iced coffee, I'll use the wooden chopstick to stir cause the opening of the bottle is smaller. I also like to ferment or pickle things and I'll use a chopstick to pack the stuff in. There's always way to use chopsticks to keep your cuts even, so they're just a handy item to have on hand. Plus, it's the best way to eat ramen.
Cooking Scissors
These are Scissors you use just on food. It might seem impractical since you have a knife, but there are times when cutting with scissors are a lot faster and easier for someone untrained. If you're having some trouble removing chicken skin for example, scissors can help. I like to cut green onions.
But it's also good for a more ritualistic sense. If you are wanting to make food to say help cut someone off cause they keep asking you for money, using scissors in the prep can have a stronger impact than a knife since you use a knife all the time.
Cheese Cloth/Fine Mesh Strainers
Strainers are just helpful in general in general cooking. I grew up with a colander which helps you drain pasta. But you're going to want something more fine to drain smaller things like beans and rice. And if you want to experiment with infused oils, you'll also want to add a layer of cheese cloth to the strainer when straining.
Cheese cloth can also be handy for a few other things. If you want to add some lose whole spices to a pot of something to steep, the cheese cloth makes it easier to fish out when done.
Tea Pot with Infuser
A tea pot with a built in strainer is so helpful. It not only allows you to make lose leaf and herbal teas. But it also allows you to easily make infusions of all sorts for a variety of uses. Lemon peel steeped in hot water is my go to for a cleansing spray. Just make sure the infuser/strainer can be easily removed and cleaned.
Digital Scale
Even though I don't Bake a ton, I still use this a lot. See, Cup sizes actually vary from country to country. It's not standard world wide. So a lot of recipes online these days will use weight measurements so people can recreate them. If it's just one ingredient, yeah you can look up the conversion. But if it's all 12; it's easier to pull out the scale.
Okay, I don't wanna overload ya; and my squirrel brain is kicking in. I'll make a part 2 later.
art by @regal-bones - original post for above gif - Posted with permission
The Dimensional Pocket Knife
Need a screwdriver? a pen? Maybe a crowbar to open that locked chest? Say no more, the Dimensional Pocket Knife has all you need and more! Ā ...Well, most of the time.
The Dimensional Pocket Knife starts with 5 charges, and at the end of each day restores 1D4 +1 charges (to a max of 5). Upon use, a player can try to pull a tool of their choice from the pocket knife. They must roll a WIS saving throw, against the DPK's DC of 13. On a successful roll, the player draws the tool they desire. On a failure, the player instead rolls a D100, and draws the corresponding tool from the below list.
(NOTE: the DPK works using the rules of Hammerspace, and so can draw tools much bigger than itself from itās body, e.g, a spear, a crowbar, etc. The DPK itself is the size of a standard pocket knife)
Downloadable version of the below table
1 - Whatever tool the player desires, but a mimic
2 - Ladle
3 - Lockpick
4 - Telescope
5 - Knife
6 - Fork
7 - Spoon
8 - Scissors
9 - Crowbar
10 - Toothbrush
11 - Hairbrush
12 - Ink Pen (ink not included)
13 - Ink Pen (ink included)
14 - Wrench
15 - Hammer
16 - Flute
17 - Handsaw
18 - Pliers
19 - Chisel
20 - Ruler
21 - Trowel
22 - Shovel
23 - Allen Key
24 - Screwdriver - (Head type is randomly chosen by DM)
25 - Wire Cutters
26 - Paintbrush
27 - Toothpick
28 - Hatchet
29 - Nail File
30 - Lighter
31 - Hand Drill
32 - Salt Shaker
33 - Pepper Shaker
34 - Umbrella
35 - Whip
36 - Tuning Fork
37 - Baton
38 - Tree Branch
39 - Spatula
40 - Frying Pan
41 - Can Opener
42 - Bottle Opener
43 - Key - (roll a d10, on a nat10, the key opens the door it is inserted into. On a nat1, the key becomes jammed, and must be forcefully removed from the DPK. In this event, the key cannot be rolled again (i.e, cannot be drawn from the DPK). On any other roll, the key fails to open the door.)
44 - Handfan
45 - Longsword
46 - Dagger
47 - Bell
48 - Grappling Hook
49 - Magnifying Glass
50 - Pickaxe
51 - Fishing Rod (Bait not included)
52 - Whistle
53 - Broom
54 - Mop
55 - Tankard
56 - Bubble Wand
57 - White Flag
58 - Compass
59 - Mirror
60 - Teapot Spout - (The spout pours a random liquid of the DMs choice)
61 - Razor
62 - Whisk
63 - Bouquet of Flowers
64 - Bouquet of Dead Flowers
65 - Walking Cane
66 - 25ft of Rope
67 - Leash and Collar
68 - Binoculars
69 - Tentacle - (Tentacle moves of it's own accord, and does not respond to commands. It is neither hostile nor cooperative.)
70 - Feather Duster
71 - Wax Seal - (Seal is an emblem of the DMs choice (family crest, city flag, etc))
72 - Extending Grabber - (Has a max reach of 1D10ft)
73 - Sickle
74 - Rapier
75 - Slingshot
76 - Tweezers
77 - Adze
78 - Drawing Compass
79 - Awl
80 - Metal File
81 - Mallet
82 - Hole Punch
83 - Sextant
84 - Calipers
85 - Whetstone
- 86 - Tongs
87 - Gouge
88 - 2ft of Colourful Ribbon
89 - Icecream Scoop
90 - Meat Skewer
91 - Thermometer
92 - Small Sundial
93 - Fly Swatter
94 - Smoking Pipe
95 - Scalpel
96 - Spear
97 - Crab Claw - (Crab Claw moves of it's own accord, and does not respond to commands. It is neither hostile nor cooperative.)
98 - Vegetable Peeler
99 - Pinwheel
100 - Butchers Knife
I like the idea of giving Zirc random objects throughout the game (such as the Pie Crimper won from the Drywall Witch) but then I have to figure out things for them all to do; on the one hand I don't want the game to get too complicated, but on the other hand it might be too funny to pass up. So. Why should this man have access to a Pie Crimper, and what else should he have?
(and should he get a special outfit with each)
Mega Man could get away with a lot of items that each shoot bullets in different directions but Zirc can't shoot; besides a wider or longer blade or one that sticks out of different spots I'm not sure what different shapes and arrays. I mean I guess he could get a gun at some point. I guess.
Elemental damage types are a thing, but then you have to make all the enemies strong/weak to them each, and then since it's not turn based you have to make it clear when looking at them what type they are, and that sounds contradicts the messy aesthetic I want. Also it's complicated and I don't want to.
If there's gonna be puzzles anyway I guess there could be a full inventory screen where he's gotta save up objects and use them as needed. Like a point-and-click puzzle adventure except with the clever dialog and plot replaced by shmup space battling? I guess it's an option. You collect various objects through the course of the game and can equip them at any time but they're hardly ever useful? Can't tell if that would be funny or annoying
Funniest option: characters keep trying to give him items but he won't put the knife down
A few options: pie crimper, broadsword, poison dagger, chainsaw, scissors, safety razor, mug/cup for carrying liquid, pizza cutter, hammer, drumstick (for drums), drumstick (Ren Faire turkey leg), fork, fork with a hot pepper on it, spork, chopsticks / tongs to grab enemies, spatula, potato masher, cheese grater, lighter, taser, spray bottle of holy water, fishing rod, frying pan, whisk, ping-pong paddle to reflect attacks, flashlight, air horn, lemon wedge, cigarette, stapler, highlighter, evil eyeball, magic crystal, weird rock, candle snuffer, nunchucks, fan, video game controller, handful of cash, power drill, screwdriver, toilet brush, vegetable peeler, fly swatter, steam iron, feather duster, squeegee, lint roller, salt shaker, bottle opener, corkscrew, curling iron, toothbrush, citrus zester, those strainer things they have in cocktail kits that I don't know what they're called, am I seriously trying to make a list of all the objects you can hold in your hand while lying in bed at 2am again wondering why I never get enough sleep,
iām moving out in a couple months (ironically my roommate will be the person who got me into lifting lmao) so i took a trip to the swedish store and picked up some stuff. super easy because there are no cameras and at least at my location, hardly any workers in the marketplace area. i took two trips, changing outfits, hairstyles, masks, and put on winged eyeliner in between so i looked totally different. also had two different big purses to conceal items in. i need to go back to get glasses, silverware, knives and such but it was a successful and stress free day :)
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The Things He Left Unsaid--Pandora Hearts Fic for Phmonth Tragedy Trio Week,Ā Day 4: Breath (full fic!)
Title: The Things He Left UnsaidĀ
Synopsis: But he kept it all inside his head/ What he saw he left unsaid/ And though he wanted to/ He couldn't talk to you/ He couldn't find the way/ But he would always say/ If I could tell her/ Tell her everything I see/ If I could tell her/ How she's everything to me/ But we're a million worlds apart/ And I don't know how I would even start.
Oswald has never been much for words, but he does care about Lacieā¦Does he ever tell his sister how much he loves her?
Notes: This was written for @Phmonth19 Tragedy Trio Week, Prompt 4: Breath, as well as the song "If I Could Tell Her" from Dear Evan Hansen. And I hope you guys enjoy it too!! Let me know what you think!! This one goes out to @song-of-amethyst/Maisunadokei1856, who loves Oswald and the Tragedy Trio in general, and deserves more great fics for them, as well as for helping me come up with ideas for this fic, and to @gemini-in-tauro who loves Dear Evan Hansen and Pandora Hearts!! Please go check out their fics!!ā
Fic:Ā
āSorry, what did you say?ā
āOh, just that he thinks youāreā¦wonderful.ā
Lacieās eyes lidded. āThis is still my brother weāre talking about?ā
Jack laughed a little. āDefinitely.ā
āRemind me again, how long have you known him?ā
āFine, donāt believe me.ā He hugged his knees, āBut Iām pretty good at reading people. Heās justā¦not so much with the words,ā he said in a deep voice, imitating the one they were talking about. āBut I can tell he really cares about you.ā
Lacie looked at the ground, those red eyes flickering. āHow can you tell?ā
āWellā¦ā Jack looked up into the sky, thinking. āYour smile.ā He turned to her, as if appraising that smileā¦which was not currently present on her face.
āWhat about my smile?ā
āItās sort ofā¦ā he traced patterns in the ground, āsubtle, and perfect, and real.ā
She scoffed. āWhat does this have to do with my brother?ā
āSee, Iāve only been around that smile for a little while, but your brother, well ā¦heās been around it his whole life. I have trouble believing anyone could be around that smile so long and not fall in love with it.ā
āRiightā¦ā
āLetās seeā¦whenever you get bored you escape your tower to watch the stars, dragging innocent boys into your schemes,ā they both smirked, āand make up lyrics to his songsā¦Whatās not to love about that?ā
That coerced a smile onto her face. He noticed it, and sat up, continuing.
āHe told me about your cooking for him. Like that time you made him a birthday cake.ā
āSo what?ā
āHe said itā¦ā he swallowed like he didnāt want to say anything negative about her, ātasted horrible.ā
āAnd?ā
āHe still ate it, didnāt he?ā
She turned to the stream, considering it. āWhat else? What else did āmy brotherā notice about me?ā
āWellā¦ if nothing else, thereās one I know he notices:ā He pushed his hair back behind his ear as a breeze brushed by. āthe way you sing and dance. You know, without reserveā¦like the rest of the world isnāt there.ā
āAre you sure these arenāt all things a certain Vessalius boy thinks about me?ā
His face split into a grin. āQuite the mystery isnāt it?ā
She shoved his shoulder, knocking him, laughing, down into the grass.
āAlright so maybe I canāt know all that.ā He sat back up. āBut he does love you. I justā¦donāt think he knows how to tell you.ā He paused. āYou two are worlds apart, really. He, never straying from the rules. You, the unchanging free spirit.ā he looked at her, then at the ground, like he wasnāt supposed to speak the words aloud. āBut he does love you.ā
She watched an ant crawling in the grass.
āOr maybe he notices when you two are talking about him behind his back!ā they started as the object of their discussion spoke.
āO-Oswald!ā Jack stood up, brushing himself off. āW-we were just talking aboutā¦ā
His eyes lidded at him, then he turned to Lacie, who smiled sweetly, finishing Jackās attempt at a lie with a too-overt truth.
āHow much you looove me.ā
He rolled his eyes.
*****
To say sleep eluded him wouldnāt have done the scene justice. Instead of resting quietly on his eyelids, sleep pummeled Oswald, tossed and turned him over like dough, sent him to the ground beside his bed, until finally the restlessness of his mind spilled out as tears on his face.
āNii-sama?ā
The little boy hugged his knees, hiding his face.
Lacieās tiny feet pattered over to him. āAre you alright?ā
āIām fine.ā
āSure you are.ā
He hugged his knees tighter.
āItās nothing. Itās stupid anyways,ā he muttered.
She sat down next to him, pulling a blanket from his upturned bed around both their shoulders.
āYouāre right, it probably is.ā
He glared at her, revealing his tear-stained cheeks.
āBut itās keeping you upā¦so it canāt be completely stupid.ā
He turned his head to the side, looking away, wiping his nose.
āItās the ceremony tomorrow, isnāt it?ā She cocked her head further to the side, trying to make him see her.
He didnāt reply.
āWhat are you scared of? ā¦Is it the creepy door? Itās really not that scary once you go in!ā
āNoā¦And Master told you not to go in there without permission.ā
āYou donāt want to have a big ugly bird inside you?ā she continued as if she hasnāt heard him.
āNo itās not thatā¦Itās justā¦ā
āYou donāt want to drink its blood?ā
āNoā¦Ughā¦Thatās notā¦ā
Lacie cocked her head to the side, at last listening patiently.
At her patience, Oswald turned towards her. āMaster Glen keeps talking about how Iām gonna be his next bodily vessel, and Iām honored butā¦what does that mean?ā
She blinked, as if to say What do you mean āwhat does that meanā?
āWellā¦When he starts putting these āChainsā inside meā¦when I become Glenā¦Am Iā¦Am Iā¦Am I gonna stop beingā¦ me?ā he squeaked, like saying the words allowed made them scarier.
Lacie paused a moment, putting a finger to her chin as if contemplating it, then simply said, āYou think too much, Nii-sama.ā
He folded his arms and looked away.
āI canāt pretend I understand half of what Glen talks aboutāā
āMaster Glen.ā
āāso I donāt really have an answer butā¦whatās the use worrying about it?ā
He slowly turned towards her.
āIf you donāt want to be his next ābodily vesselāāwhatever that meansāthen why donāt you say something? Do something? Try to change it?ā
āNoā¦I-Iā¦doā¦I mean, at least, I know I shouldā¦itās justā¦ā
āThen why spend time making yourself miserable thinking about what could go wrong? If and when that happens, youāll be older, right? Youāll understand. You donāt need to keep yourself up thinking about it now.ā
āButāā
She put her finger on his lips, then took his face and turned it towards her to tell him she wasnāt finished. āAnd youāll always have me. Even if you become some creep, or monster, Iāll still be me. And Iāll be there to punch you if you do.ā
A smile crept up onto his face. He rubbed his nose.
That was the first time he felt like he could breathe the whole night.
āYou promise?ā
She smiled, holding up a fist. āOh, believe me, I will.ā
That smile. More irrefutable than any argument. Like she refused to let the sadness reach her. Just that smile was enough. Enough to push the darkness away, if only for a moment.
She pulled him into a hug, and they rested their heads on each otherās shoulders.
He wanted to tell her. To tell her how much that smile meant to him. How grateful he was that she had cheered him up. How grateful he was to have her. How much it meant to hear that she wasnāt going anywhere, and sheād make sure he wasnāt going anywhere either. How much hope she gave him.
He took a deep breath.
He wanted to use it to say āI love you, Lacie.ā
Instead he let it out.
*****
Lacie had always been atrocious in the kitchen.
Not just that she didnāt know how to cook, bake, or otherwise hold a whisk. She decimated the space. Even the simplest of recipes would end with the counters covered in sauce, batter, frosting, or other undisclosed semi-liquids; the bowls stacked around the room like sheād been trying to create a tower with them; spoons, spatulas, knives, and other utensils strewn about like theyād gotten lost on the way to the drawers. And that was nothing to say of the chef herself; her advancements in the field left her face and dress covered in ingredients. The servants always played rock-paper-scissors over who would have to clean her dresses after these endeavors (aprons, apparently, were too restrictingā¦ and her dress would get covered somehow, even if she wore them).
But it was Oswaldās birthday.
And she would be damned if she wasnāt going to bake him a cake.
The moment they learned of her plot, the servants, and any other people who didnāt want to end up in the splash zone, sectioned off the area as if it were a crime scene.
There was one, however, who didnāt mind insane situations, in fact quite enjoyed running straight into the daydreams of deranged little girls, and never missed a date with madness.
A few of the servants raised a finger as he walked by, as if to warn him, but thought better of it.
Glen opened the door, ducking as a spatula landed centimeters from his head, without a change in expression.
āThis stupid batter wonāt listen to me!ā the little girl slammed her fists on the counter as another spoon clattered to the ground.
He chuckled. āWell, what exactly have you be telling it? Maybe if you stopped insulting it and actually had a decent conversation itād be more prone to listen to you.ā
She scowled at him.
He strolled over to her, throwing a āLetās see what kind of mess weāre dealing with here,ā over his shoulder as he observed the mangled batter. He dipped his finger in and tasted the concoction from which getting salmonella was the least of his worries. āHave you tried adding sugar? It always helps spruce things up.ā
āHmm,ā Lacie grunted, pattering over to the opposite counter, stretching for the sugar container against the back wall. She glared at him when reached over and grabbed it with ease, dropping it in her hands, as if she wanted to do this all on her own.
āNow what?ā
āWell, Iād suggest you add it in and mix it, but thatās just me.ā
She proceeded to add it in in handfuls without measuring.
āThis might help,ā he slid a measuring cup over to her.
She used itā¦just not in the intended way; she didnāt pay attention to all those pesky little lines.
āCan we add chocolate?ā she asked when she had sufficiently smothered the batter in sugar.
āSure, add whatever you want,ā he sang, grinning as she found the cocoa powder and, once again, paid no regard for rules or recipes.
They proceeded to spend at least another hour like this, with Glen giving her vague instruction, Lacie pouting as she followed it with her own flair.
In the end two chocolate covered gremlins stared down at their droopy, half-frosted baby and grinnedā¦for very different reasons.
Glen went to retrieve Oswald, and once they finished dinner, they sang to him, presenting the monstrosity (which, if it was remotely edible, was only due to Glenās suggestions).
Oswald stared at the slowly wilting gift like it was an insurmountable mountain heād just been asked to climb.
He had some experience with Lacieās kitchen adventures. One time she tried to feed him something she called āThe Lacie specialā but he was sure was a frog she accidently set fire to (ā¦needless to say he did not finish). Another time sheād actually tried to make him a decent meal, and forced himself to eat enough of it that he spent the night puking it up. And now, apparently, he was supposed to eat thisā¦thing in front of him.
Glen cut him a too-large piece and slid it over to him with a grin, and the air of an executioner serving a criminal his doom.
Oswald swallowed, digging his fork in with determination, then brought it to his mouth, preparing himself for the assault that was about to happen.
It wasnātā¦good. Too sweet and too bitter at the same time, and the texture all wrong.
But it also wasnāt as bad as it could have been.
āWhat do you think, Nii-sama?ā
He wanted to tell her the truth.
āMmm hmmā he grunted, trying to sound satisfied.
She beamed proudly. āGood!ā she pushed the plate closer to him. āThereās plenty more where that came from!ā
Oswald looked to Glen for mercy, only to find he was trying to stifle his laughter.
He continued to shovel bites into his mouth, hoping this wouldnāt be the end of him.
He wanted to make up some excuse, wanted someone to rescue him.
But that would erase the smile from her face.
He wanted to tell her, regardless of how it actually tasted, how happy it made him that she would do this for him. He wanted to tell her how much it meant to him that she spent the day making this for him. He wanted to tell her that every birthday is happy as long as sheās in it.
He swallowed, taking a deep breath.
He wanted to say āI love youā.
Instead he kept eating the cake.
*****
When Oswald arrived at the top of the tower, his sister was nowhere to be found.
This wasnāt exactly a rarity. Lacie wasnāt the kind of person who liked to sit in towers quietly, talking to the birds and dreaming of a world out there. She went out and grabbed everything off the worldās shelves herself.
He picked up a few stray socks and ribbonsā(he always found himself cleaning up her messes)āand stepped up to the window to close the curtains for evening.
ā¦There she was, sprawled out on the grass outside.
He banged his head against the windowframe.
He knew well she was plagued by countless whims and impulses, and unburdened by a sense of discipline over themā¦still, why she would be out at this hour exactly was beyond him.
āShouldnāt you be in bed?ā He asked when her impulses had dragged him outside too.
āShouldnāt you be?ā she smirked.
He looked away, folding his arms, daring not to say youāre the reason Iām out here.
She patted the grass next to her as if sheās saved him a seat at the opera.
He rolled his eyes, but sat down all the same.
āWhat exactly are we doing out here?ā
āWhat does it look like? Stargazing.ā
His folded his arms, incensed there was a reasonable explanation for all this.
āWhat rhymes with āpurpleā?ā she asked after a moment.
He raised an eyebrow at her.
āThe color.ā
āI know what you meantā¦ Iām just having a difficult time connecting stargazing to rhymes with purple.ā
āTheyāre not connected, dummy.ā
She pushed him down into the grass, making sure he didnāt miss her favorite show.
āIām making up lyrics to one of your songs.ā
āOh.ā His eyes widened at both her actions and her responses, then he paused, staring up into the pockmarked sky, admiring the view, thinking. āā¦I donāt think there are any rhymes for purple.ā
āThere must beā¦ā she rested her head on his chest, staring up at the stars herself, āMaybe they just havenāt been invented.ā She traced patterns on the back of his hand.
āYouād like to invent a word for one of my songs?ā
āMaybe. Why? Are you against āshmurpleā being a word in one of your songs?ā
āIām not for it.ā
She laughed. āFine, Iāll pick a boring, real word.ā
He carded his free hand through her hair, trying not to smile.
This wasā¦ nice.
He wanted to tell her off for escaping her tower, especially at this hour, but she had a way of pulling people into her antics, even her law-abiding brother at times.
Now, laying out in the grass, golden lights keeping watch over them, their breath carried away by the breezeā¦he thought he might like to stay.
He wanted to tell her that. How grateful he was for moments like this. That he wished this star-struck moment could last forever. Just him and his little sister hiding away from the rest of the world. Just Oswald and Lacie, no ill omens, no Baskervilles, no trials nor Juries, nor cursed titles and the responsibilities that came with them.
He took a deep breath.
He wanted to use it to say āI love you.ā
Instead he let the stars have their moment.
*****
Another area in which Lacie had little to no expertise was, ironically, needlework. Plenty of girls in this day and age were prone to sitting on the couch quietly and embroidering, crocheting, sewing up a dress, knitting scarves, and other various projects that required needle and thread.
As established, Lacie, first of all, was not the type of girl who sat quietly on couches in general. Sheād always been a rather squirmy child, preferring to go outside and play tag to sitting inside and reading, so the activity didnāt fit her personality in the first place.
Second of all the details had always frustrated herātoo fiddly to keep her attention. All those tiny stitches, every one needed to be perfect, or it would throw off the balance of the whole ensembleā¦She liked when things were imperfect.
But she had to maintain appearances, and when she ripped her dress on one of her many adventures, it was her job to sew it back up again without anyone knowing.
āWithout anyone knowingā being the key issue here.
āWhatās that?ā Oswald asked at one of the many parties hosted by the Baskervilles.
āDonāt be rude, Nii-sama! Just because you donāt think sheās pretty doesnāt mean sheās a thing!ā
He tugged at the helter-skelter sewing job on her dress.
āHey! What business do you have grabbing a ladyās dress!ā she whisper-shoutedā(though a few people still heard, and stared their direction, inching away)āin mock outrage.
He glanced out at the people, then returned to the object of discord, running his fingers along the haphazard stitching. āWhat happened?ā
āIf you must knowā¦ā she explained, knowing he had every idea what actually happened, āI was sitting in my tower, like a good girl, and suddenly this bird flew in and ripped it.ā
Oswaldās eyes lidded.
āTerrible isnāt it?ā
He grabbed her arm, pulling her through the crowd.
āFirst grabbing my dress, then my arm?! My, sir! Youāre very forward.ā
He rolled his eyes, bringing her to one of the servantās rooms.
āTake that off.ā
āExcuse me?!ā she folded her arms over her chest.
āYou canāt go walking around at a party in a ripped dress.ā He rummaged in one of the drawers, picking out a needle and the correct color of thread. āIt reflects poorly on Baskerville name.ā
She puffed out her cheeks, like she didnāt really care about said name. āFine.ā
She slipped off her dress with barely a regard for modesty, revealing the petticoat underneath, dropping it unceremoniously into his outstretched hand.
He set it down on the desk, threading the needle and finding the blemish.
Always a source of embarrassment, his personality, on the other hand, always calm and calculated, following the rules and hating messes and imperfection, lent itself quite well to the delicate art of needlework.
Lacie stepped up to the windowā(ā¦where anyone could see herā¦)āobserving the courtyard and any guests meandering through it.
As Oswald took a closer look at her inexpert attempt, he realized that she hadnāt simply poorly executed the patchā¦she had actually tried to create a little design. It looked to be a crude outline of a rabbit. He tried not to smile upon seeing it, proceeding to undo her efforts and begin his own.
Lacie wandered about the room, picking up objects, putting them down, making jokes about the paintings, before standing quietly and watching over his shoulder. He easily dragged the needle through the fabric, and there was a mesmerizing quality to the ease with which he could accomplish perfectly what was an impossible undertaking for her.
āMy, Nii-sama,ā she rested her arms on his head, āif I didnāt know better Iād think you were an old lady.ā
He paused, eyes flickering to her resentfully, before resuming.
Once he finished, he held up the freshly repaired dress to examine it.
āTry to be more careful next time, alright?ā he advised as he held it out for her, staring intently at her, āWe wouldnāt want anymore birds swooping in and ripping it again, now would we?ā
āAnything for you, Nii-sama!ā she smiled too-sweetly and kissed his cheek, throwing it back on and rushing back into the soiree.
He stared after her.
Always so reckless, so quick to follow her desiresāand not instructionāwithout regard for the consequences. Whether it be rushing off on some self-appointed quest, back into the party, making improper jokes, or creating a little design instead of just fixing what sheād broken. Barely a warning, a āplease,ā or āthank youā along the way.
Still, he reasoned as he put the supplies away, even though it annoyed him at times, he admired her.
He never did anything without calculating the risks first, and always followed directions, sometimes too closely. He did things by the book, without flourishes. To speak of birdsā¦he was the bird that stayed in the cage like he was supposed to. She was the one who picked the lock and broke out into the sky, and drew pictures in the clouds with her wings. ā¦Sometimes he wished he had the guts to fly with her.
He wanted to tell her how he appreciated her at least attempting to fix what sheād brokenā¦he wanted to tell her how cute the little bunny she made was.
Instead of reprimanding herā¦sometimes he wanted to say āThank you. Thank you for the adventures, and the jokes, and the whimsy, and the messes. I donāt get enough of that.ā
He didnāt really want to tell her not to go on adventuresā¦he wanted to tell her to take him with her next time.
But he couldnāt. He couldnāt do that. Couldnāt allow it. Couldnāt tell her.
Oswaldās fingers darted from note to note on the piano like a bird, carried free by the notes, the melody coming from his soul rather than his body.
He wasnāt the only bird here; with every flourish of the keys came another twirl from the woman beside him, lyrics spilling from her soul too, as if she wasnāt tied to the ground.
His eyes flicked from the keys, to the music, to her.
This wasā¦beautiful. The song. Her lyrics. Her dance. This moment.
She was beautiful like this.
He never understood how she could dance and sing so freely, like it was just her and the music. If he ever tried to dance he tripped into something (more than likely another dancer), or else didnāt look very elegant. Whenever he sang he cared too much who heard him, who was watching, and if it sounded good, to get any true assessment of his abilities. Besides, he didnāt have the mind for lyrics. Words got all tangled up in his brain. Notes were simple, planned, and didnāt have all these meanings that could ram into each other, tie themselves up in knots, and get lost in translation. With notes he just had to put one after the other.
Yet from the first step she took, her whole life was a dance. So when she truly danced, it was something that transcended her own life; she was in another world, completely unaware of those around her, or even her own bodyā¦she was the song now.
The music closed off with an enchanting crescendo, the notes growing faster, her voice raising higher, until the song ended, and suddenly there was silence.
Slowly his fingers came to rest above the keys.
She walked up to him, smiling and panting for breath, leaning on the piano.
āThat was wonderful Nii-sama, wasnāt it?ā
He wanted to say Yes. Yes, it was wonderful, I loved your lyricsā(could do without the āshmurpleā)āand your dance. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked when sheās dancing, how wonderful her voice was, and how much he liked the lyrics she gave his song.
He wanted to ask her how she could dance like that, like the rest of the world wasnāt there, and she was alone in the room with the song. Like she was the song. He wanted to ask her what she saw, heard, felt in the music that he didnāt, how, why she looked so free when she was dancing. What the beautiful messes and imperfections were beneath the calculations.
He wanted to say you were wonderful.
āHow do youā¦do that?ā he asked at least.
āDo what?ā
āā¦Dance like that.ā
āWhatās that saying?ā she put a finger to her chin, āāEat, drink, be merry, for tomorrow we dieā?ā
His eyes widened.
Instead of noticing his shock, she smiled, continuing. āSomething like that.ā
His gaze, dropped, along with the bottom out of his stomach.
And his thoughts changed direction. Now he wanted to say he was sorry, that she shouldnāt have to die. He wanted to bang on Glenās door and demand that she live, that he not have to kill herāLacie, his little sister, who he loved. He should be the one to protect her from all things that dared hurt her. He wanted to say that thatās no good reason to dance so beautifully, that she should dance for tomorrow, not just today.
āIām starving!ā She took his hand and pulled him up. āLetās get something to eat! Maybe some meat?ā
He liked her alive. He liked the songs, and the dances, and their meals, and conversations, and adventures. All that would end when she died. He wanted to tell her just how much he wanted her to stay alive.
And that night, when sleep bullied him like it did all those years ago, he wanted to run to her room, to weep on her shoulder and say how much he was dreading the ceremony, how much he wished she didnāt have to die, how he didnāt want to kill her, that he was going to fight it after all. He wanted to beg her to take him off on one of her adventures, so they both stay aliveā¦stay the Oswald and Lacie they were all those years ago, beneath the stars.
He wanted to say āI love you.ā āI love you.ā āI love you so much.ā āDonāt leave me here alone.ā āPunch me in the face, Iāve become a monster, just donāt sit quietly and let it happen.ā
āI love you, Lacie.ā
But he stayed in bed.
*****
It was a lovely ceremony. Everyone thought so. Everything went flawlessly, each cue followed without a single hiccup.
The Baskervilles bowed profusely to him, and spoke of how honored they were to have such a decisive and devoted leader. Leviā(Levi now, not Master Glen anymore)āhad commended him for an impeccable performanceā
(it wasnāt a performance was it? They all treated like it was some glorious show, but this was real. This wasā¦this was blood and death andā)
There had been no tears when she died. This was not sad. This was not loss. This was justice. This was virtuous, and noble, and proper, and right. Everyone had told him so since they were children. Thatās all her death was, a period at the end of a sentence. The signing of a contract.
(A contract selling his soul.)
And he almost believed them. From the very beginning this whole becoming Glen thing was a great honor, a golden opportunity, and the margin for error, for what if theyāre, what if this is, wrong? was a small black spot in the corner on an otherwise spotless painting. He couldnāt, wouldnāt, didnāt dare let that spot consume this immaculate image, made by people who knew better than him.
Everything perfect. In its place. No hiccups. No spots. No broken rules, or uncalculated errors.
No messes.
Thatās all she was to them. A mess Glen made, that he needed to clean up.
Glen slipped into his quarters after the dinner, after shaking hands with all the friends and strangers who had come to watch, congratulating him for earning such a privilege as the name āGlen.ā
Glen did not retire early, did not tell them it wasnāt the honor they thought it was, did not show anything was amiss. For nothing was.
That day he was some sort of machine, an automaton sent and meant to follow othersā bidding, and he did so without a slip. He was built to be the master of the Baskervilles, and carry on their name properly, programmed to eradicate every distortion against this design, especially those anomalies created by him. If he made a single mistake, it meant something was wrong with his code, with the calculations he was made of. Glen held himself high, and breathed easy, guiltless and free.
However, when he arrived in his bedroom he did not hang his cloak up neatly in the wardrobe. He did not pour himself a nightcap and slip into his nightclothes, before sliding into bed and sleeping soundly, knowing heād received a great reward, and done his job well, as he was programmed to.
Nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong with what heād done. Nothing was wrong with him.
Glen was, as he should be, the picture of the Baskervilles. Glen had done everything right, and was marked with a name that said he would continue to do soā¦if not, the chains holding the world together might just fall apart.
Oswald hadnāt taken a single breath that day.
Try as he might to deny it, there was still something human left in Oswald.
When he clicked the door shut behind him, he stayed there a moment. He pulled off his red cloak, jacket, and cravat slowly, and threw them it onto a chair with a certain violence, tossing off his socks and not caring where they landed, before leaning his head back against the grain of the door.
Now, now that he was alone, out of the reach of those who programmed him, allowed to be flesh and blood, allowed to breathe againā¦ every breath he should have been taking that day slammed into his lungs at once, tumbling one after another, punching, dragging their nails along the back of his throat as they climbed onto his tongue, then fell from his lips like blood.
He was not metal and mandates. Not here. Here he wasā¦so very alive.
Oswald was becoming painfully aware of just how alive he was.
How many breaths had he taken in the last minute? Five? Twenty? Fifty? A hundred? A thousand? Stolen from the atmosphere. Stolen fromā¦
Had he had this many breaths before? Had his life been composed of this much air? Every second, every minute, every hour. Every day, every week, every year. A chain of breaths, each one a reminder he was still alive, he was still him.
All he needed was one. All he would have ever needed to use was one.
One to speak her name.
One to tell her. To tell her how much she meant to him.
One breath
āYou sin isā¦ā
Two breaths.
āThat you were born with these eyes of ill omenā¦ā
Three.
āā¦and that you are a threat to the peace of the Abyss.ā
Inhale
Your sin isā¦
Exhale.
Your very existence.
He put his face in his hand, his hair leaking between the cracks in his fingers.
All he needed was one.
But he could have used more. He could have taken five to say a sentence. Thirty to say a paragraph. He could have taken a couple hundred to make a speech or two. He had enough to spare. He could steal that many before getting caught.
Instead, they tuned his tongue into a weaponā¦and he let them.
All he needed was one. One to tell her.
To tell this girl that her smile was, at times, the only thing that kept him going. To tell this girl how much he appreciated how she spent her time baking for him, and sewing bunnies into her dresses. How much he loved those moments when he sat with this girl and watched the stars. How much he loved the lyrics she gave to his songs. How much he loved watching her run from her cage, and fate, and dance like sheād die tomorrow.
To tell this girl that her very existence was much more than a gift, rather at times the only thing that kept him alive, kept him sane, kept him him.
All he needed was one breath.
And he used his breath to tell her that her existence was a crime. To follow his program, the script set for him. Instead he chained this girl, wild and free, to the ground, and the ceiling. He used his breath to her to steal hers away.
In all those years he could have paid a single breath to make his thoughts reach her.
Right now heād pay all of them.
He slid down the door till he was sitting on the ground.
āSay something. Do Something.ā
He could have fought this. Long ago. He could have done something. Back then he could have said he didnāt want to be Glen after all. He could have run from the house with her and never come back. He could have run away all those years ago.
He could have run away yesterday.
Today he could have done something. He could have not stood before that door, and drank that blood. He could have said āI wonāt be Glen. Iād rather she lived.ā He could have stood up, the Jabberwockyās blood in his veins, and said āNo, no I wonāt do it. I wonāt kill her. Iām Glen now, and now I say she lives.ā
And even if he had kicked and screamed, and lost all the sameā¦ he could have told her. Told her how much he cared. He would have at least had that.
It seemed so simple.
Thank you.
Thank you for your smile. You never knew how wonderful it could make someone feel.
Thank you for the cake. I hated the taste, but I loved the look on your face.
Thank you for the starlit evenings, and the lyrics I couldnāt come up with.
Thank you for the whimsy, and the adventures, and the messes.
Thank you for the music, and dances.
Thank you forā¦existing.
It wasnāt that hard to say.
So why had the words died every time they rose to the surface? Why had he let those breaths out instead of taming them into words?
āI love you.ā
Three little words. One breath. Half a breath. Why had they seemed so big and unconquerable, and hard to get out all those years?
And he realized, that breath catching in his throat, that today, here, now, now that she was in the Abyss, now that she was gone, now that heād never be able to say those things to herā
He had said the words aloud.
All those years, thinking and waiting and wondering, them simmering beneath the surface, never able to reach the air.
Now he had spoken them without even taking a second to consider them, the breath, the words, falling from his lips without him knowing, calculating, or thinking.
And once they spilled out, they started to simmer and burn on his tongue, they started to bubble, like all those breaths hitting him at once; all those years of silence, crying out;
āI love you.ā He whispered into his fingers, like the words were the discordant notes to a broken music box, āI love you. I love you. I love youā¦Lacieā¦ā
And with her name, the name of the girl with red eyes and an untamable heart, he felt something burn in his own eyes.
This wasnāt just some girl. This was Lacie. The one who sat with her brother and comforted him when he was sad, who joked with her brother, and dragged him outside, and made a beautiful mess of things. Not a child of ill omen. Not a distortion to be eradicated. Not a mess herself. This was his sister, who he loved.
It always felt like they were in different dimensions, but now they really were worlds apart, divided by time and space andā
This was his sister. Who didnāt deserve to die.
Glen was an impeccable leader. Glen didnāt hesitate to kill that which posed a threat. Glen wasnāt sad. Glen did what needed to be done, and it didnāt matter who she was.
But Oswald felt the drops against his skin, his hands unable to dam up the stream, the image of his sister hanging from the ceiling, and his own voice putting her there burning in his memory.
All Oswald wanted was to hear his sisterās feet patter up to him. All he wanted was to see his sister smile again. All he wanted was to eat his sisterās horrible cakes again. All he wanted was to sit and watch the stars with his sister, and come up with rhymes for words that have none. All he wanted was to clean up his sisterās messy room, and fix her ripped dresses. All he wanted was to be able to tell his sister off for running off on some adventure. All he wanted was to hear his sister sing, watch her dance, again. All he wanted was to feel his sisterās hands on his head, and her breathe into his hair sweet words about how she loved the world that hated her.
How she loved the brother that killed her.
He tried to let out this breath, but it would only come out in pieces, letters, words, now, always the same ones, the words, unsaid, that would forever haunt his lips;
Hi guys! Here's a fic that I write for @lala-the-rebel because she gave me the prompt, but I hope you all enjoy this! Just a little silly and fluffy fic. Logicality. No warnings.
The alarm clock relentlessly chirped it's routine chirp letting Logan know that it was exactly seven in the morning and that it was time to start the day. With the flick of a wrist, the clock resumed its ticking as Logan rubbed his temples before reaching for his glasses on the table at his bedside.
With some slight stretching to figuratively get the thoughts flowing to start the day, Logan flicked his wrist once more to dress in his routine attire and sink down to the Commons.
As Logan popped up into his usual place as if they were recording a new video with Thomas, he headed for the kitchen to prepare breakfast, as per the norm. The door of the refrigerator opened sounded as he pulled out a half full cartoon of eggs to begin scrambling. Just as Logan were to begin whisking the eggs together, the familiar whooshing sound of a fellow Side was brought to his attention.
"Ah yes hello Prince Pocket Protecter!"
"Ah, yes, good morning Roman. You're up early, or earlier than usual, are you not?"
Glancing over to the stove's clock, Logan raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"It would seem I am. Alas, beauty sleep must be put on hold, for adventure awaits!" Roman said while draping a hand over his forehead as if in distress.
"Yes, well."
"That won't be a problem now, would it?"
"No, of course not."
Logan said with a slight cough.
"Wonderful!"
The romantic side exclaimed.
"Seeing as I won't be of much use to the Imagination with an empty stomach, would you like any help with breakfast?" Roman asked, leaving Logan to question the offer.
"Yes, I suppose some assistant could be of use, such as,"
"Oh that's wonderful to hear!" He interrupted, Logan simply left his words to figuratively fizzle.
"Yes, of course, as you can see, I was about to start preparing eggs for omelets."
"Delightful! Though, eggs sound so boring, we had scrambled eggs earlier this week."
"I'm not making scrambled eggs though, I'm making,"
"We should make pancakes!"
Leaving Logan speechless yet again, Roman proposed a new idea for breakfast, changing routine, or at least leaving Logan to reconfigure the entire morning.
"Yes, um, I suppose that would be adequate."
"Wonderful!" Roman said joyously, already taking the box of pancake powder out of the cabinet. Very well then, pancakes today.
Unsheathing a pair of scissors, Roman cut open the bag of pancake mix before narrowingly avoiding the counter, minus some powder aimlessly floating through the air and up onto Roman's royal garments.
"Uh!" Romain dramatically explained before brushing the residual powder aside and Logan adjusted his glasses as to avoid contact so he wouldn't snicker.
With everything now into the mix, Roman began mixing before putting away ingredients, and the griddle to heat up. When he turned around from putting everything back up in it's assigned place however, something cold and wet briefly made contact with the end of his nose, leaving him to go cross eyed momentarily. The princely trait laughed wholeheartedly, while holding the mixing spatula, where Logan could see a small imprint in the batter.
"Hey now!" Logan exclaimed and then he gave a small laugh, reaching one finger into the bowl of batter, swiping some and placing on Roman's nose and he gasped before they were both laughing.
"No fair, I simply bopped the tip of your nose, you gave mine a lot more batter!"
"You started it!"
A few more deeds were done, the batter will be avenged, before they finally got to cooking their breakfast. They were still giggling when Patton entered the Commons.
"Hi kiddos! What's all the laughing about?" The fatherly trait began to ask as he saw the table being set with a plate of pancakes in the middle.
"Oh! What a nice surprise! What a nice change of routine!"
Yes, Logan supposes, maybe sometimes it was, and he watched as Roman stood valiantly with the smallest bit of pancake residue on his cheek still.
A round table with multiple people sitting around it, and the leader pacing in front, papers are strewn across the table.
*Spoon kills fork heir* *laughs maniacally over the fork body*
1/4 Measuring Cup: *gasps audibly* No! Spoon has killed Archduke Franz Forkinand! He said that we're next!
1 Measuring Cup: He cannot vanquish us! For we have knife on our side!
2/3 Measuring Cup: *looking at clipboard* there's a new player in the field-Spork-he has the ability to make or break the world! *holds up picture*
1/2 Measuring Cup: I know him! He comes from the small town of Cutlery
Teaspoon: But I thought that when he was needed most he vanished?
1 Measuring Cup: He is the unknown heir of silver and ware.
Teaspoon: Hehe that rhymed.
1/4 Measuring Cup: He has a destiny to become something but has it rough because he isn't made of hero stuff
2/3 Measuring Cup: Not the glistening grey we know today but ofā¦.. The dull white plastich!
1/4 Measuring Cup: He may be flexible but he wasn't built for combat
1 Measuring Cup: *slams fist on table* WE CANNOT REST UNTIL SPORK IS FOUND AND THE FATE OF THE UNIVERSE IS DECIDED!
1/2 Measuring Cup: Well that escalated quickly
2/3 Measuring Cup: Until Spoon is dead, gone, or hopefully this doesn't happen, all-powerful, then and only then may we restā¦ Either in peace or PIECES.
Teaspoon: DEATH TO SPOON!
1/4 Measuring Cup: Knife will locate the threats while we locate Spork
1 Measuring Cup: What about Fork?
1/2 Measuring Cup: She's undecided at the momentā¦ *looks into distance* she could either help Spork or destroy him
2/3 Measuring Cup: Even after we find him how can we be sure he won't pull an Anakin?
1/2 Measuring Cup: We must contact Fork, but not just any forkā¦ The fork of three tines- The mighty provider of the sea god!
1/4 Measuring Cup: THE FORK?!
2/3 Measuring Cup: Yes. THE fork.
1/2 Measuring Cup: The only love of knife. He is the only one who can summon her, and even then she still may not comeā¦
Teaspoon: But she must helpā¦. She's our only hopeā¦
1 Measuring Cup: Well we have to have hope. How does this affect Spoon anyway? *nobody listen* w*listens to radio*
2/3 Measuring Cup: *talks to audience as hq workers talk amongst themselves* unknown to us ladle is secretly working with the enemy.
1/4 Measuring Cup: *gasps* LADLE IS WORKING WITH THE ENEMY!!! AS IS SCRAPER!!!
Teaspoon: I thought he was neutral!
1 Measuring Cup: I guess there is corruption in every corner of the Kitchen
1/2 Measuring Cup: WHAT ABOUT THE MEASURING CUPS?!
2/3 Measuring Cup: They together make up the council and are so far unpredictable.
1/4 Measuring Cup: SPATULA AND WHISK HAVE JOINED SPOON AND HIS ARMY!!
Teaspoon: Well if they've joined, grater can't be far behindā¦ Please tell me he hasn't joined yet?!
1/2 Measuring Cup: Hopefully he's stayed out of itā¦
1/4 Measuring Cup: Nope.
1/2 Measuring Cup: Dang it.
2/3 Measuring Cup: We need to send in troops to protect the weapons base: the Fridge
1 Measuring Cup: Well so far it seems that the land of Cupboardonthefarleft, one word- home of the gentle race of coffee mugs, is the first target.
1/4 Measuring Cup: NOT THE COFFEE MUGS!!! THEY'RE TOO YOUNG TO DIE!!
2/3 Measuring Cup: The Fridge is a pretty sketchy place guysā¦. Who knows what leftovers are in thereā¦
1/4 Measuring Cup: *talks over 2/3 Measuring Cup* Let's not forget to mention the innocent and yet the totally blamed culture standing in the way of everything, Tupperware. Ā
1 Measuring Cup: touchy subjectā¦ Have you been?
2/3 Measuring Cup: Not me but someone close to meā¦
1/2 Measuring Cup: Was it.. Was it pizza cutter?
1/4 Measuring Cup: It wasn't Fork was it?!
2/3 Measuring Cup: It was Saran Wrap! It didn't end wellā¦ He melted all over the rice!
1 Measuring Cup: Didn't tinfoil try to rescue him?
2/3 Measuring Cup: of course!
1/2 Measuring Cup: But it was too late wasn't it?
2/3 Measuring Cup: Together they were thrown into the Garbage Canā¦ The kitchen cemeteryā¦.
Teaspoon: Dark timesā¦ I mean how could Spoon do that? And to rice! One of the kinder foods!
1/4 Measuring Cup: We must avenge every death caused by Spoon!
1 Measuring Cup: We need Spork!
2/3 Measuring Cup: Knife we need you to call on Fork now!
Knife: I will tryā¦
Teaspoon: where is fork located?
1/2 Measuring Cup: *at the same time as Teaspoon* we need fork firstā¦ Only she can ensure Sporks destiny
1/4 Measuring Cup: it's difficult to tell but I believe I've made some contact with Fork though the signal is weak!
Knife: her location is classified only level impurity knows her location, and if they share it, war will break out.
1 Measuring Cup: Spoon started this war!! War has already begun!! She needs to come out and fight!!
Teaspoon: Knife is our only hope!
2/3 Measuring Cup: *gasp while holding pile of papers* I may have something!
(Other team members ask questions along the line of what's and whatcha find)
2/3 Measuring Cup: Yes of course! She is hiding in the faraway land of Bottom Drawer!
1/2 Measuring Cup: Wonderful! *clapping noises* as soon as you make a connection we can teleport her here in a flash!
2/3 Measuring Cup: Wait! There isn't a handle on the bottom drawer!
1/4 Measuring Cup: what?! We are done for!
Teaspoon: Knife can pry it open!
1/4 Measuring Cup: *desperately wails* It will take months to journey there!
1 Measuring Cup: Well we needed him thereā¦. Yesterday. Figure something out.
1/2 Measuring Cup: Knife should try to make it there but are there any trusted allies who are already near the Bottom Drawer who could open the Gate?
Teaspoon: Wellā¦. Mixer couldā¦ Butā¦.
1/2 Measuring Cup: There isn't an outlet near the Bottom Drawerā¦.
1 Measuring Cup: It's the only chance we have! Contact someone immediately and get that gate open!
All: Yes ma'am
1/4 Measuring Cup: Then we need to get power strip and extension cord, the most famous duo in Kitchen to help us
1 Measuring Cup: Well Extension Cord is in the dangerous land of Garage and we need to find him if Mixer is to have enough strength.
Teaspoon: Garage is too far ma'am.
1 Measuring Cup: Yes yes.. Maybe scissors will have connections?
1/4 Measuring Cup: Hopefully she hasn't severed them
1/4 Measuring Cup giggles *plays ba dum tiss sound* all glare at 1/4 Measuring Cup
1/2 Measuring Cup: Well knowing scissorsā¦. She's kinda well I can't say the word I want but knowing her she probably has
1 Measuring Cup: We need to act now or all the civilization of Kitchen will be lost!
2/3 Measuring Cup: Scissors needs to take her anger out at spoon. I know she stabbed her brother but she was forced by spoon
Teaspoon: Why isn't oven or stove helping? They have to be involved somehowā¦. *everyone ignore her*
1 Measuring Cup: How is knife's journey to Bottom Drawer going?
Teaspoon: Has Fork been found?
2/3 Measuring Cup: *reviewing papers**gasps**pulls out Star Wars meme from drawer* ITS A TRAP. Sorry I had toā¦ Couldn't resist. But seriously SPOON PUT HER THERE!!
1/4 Measuring Cup: Extension is the fastest traveler I know and will be to Bottom Drawer in a few hours time
Scissors: I suppose I could open the drawerā¦ But at a price.
2/3 Measuring Cup: WHY ARE NONE OF YOU LISTENING?? IT. IS. A. TRAP. SPOON HAS WHISK AND GRATER WAITING FOR MIXER!!
1 Measuring Cup: It's all over nowā¦
2/3 Measuring Cup: What happened? Did they make it? Please scissor what is your price? Please help us! You are our only hope!
Scissors: *seductively* what are you willing to pay for my services??
1 Measuring Cup: We have lost all communications with Knife, but all hope isn't lost. What are you willing to bargain for?
1/2 Measuring Cup: KNIFE IS GONE. Ā IT'S ALL OVER NOW.
Knife: DON'T LISTEN TO SCISSORSā¦ She's working for the enemyā¦ She injured me and killed Extension cord. Here's his head * 1/4 Measuring Cup holds like a telegram picture of extension cord head*
Ā 2/3 Measuring Cup: *reviewing papers* *wails* THE HORROR! The peace of the Coffee Mug people has been destroyed as we slept!
1/2 Measuring Cup: We must take action!
1/4 Measuring Cup: War is upon us!
1 Measuring Cup: We have no time to mourn! Who will be in our army?!
Teaspoon: I don't know ma'amā¦
1 Measuring Cup: WE NEED WARRIORS
2/3 Measuring Cup: *looks over stats* The Steak Knives!!
1/2 Measuring Cup: The wounded coffee mugs are also ready to fight ma'am!
1 Measuring Cup: The most cunning combined with the most strategic
1/2 Measuring Cup: They can rally the other races of cups as well!
1/4 Measuring Cup: YES!! Wine glasses, tumblers, and milk glasses have agreed to help the Resistance.
Teaspoon: Where do bowls stand in all of this?
1 Measuring Cup: Bowls are allies with Spoon! How could you forget? Plates, however, could be usefulā¦.
2/3 Measuring Cup: I think coffee maker is ready to avenge his people's deathsā¦
1 Measuring Cup: Yes of course, he has pledged his services to the Resistance and the Coffee Cup Nation
1/4 Measuring Cup: Coffee Maker is most useful guarding the lands to prevent further attack seeing as Extension Cordā¦ Isā¦ *sobs* no longer with us..
1/2 Measuring Cup: Alright time to ask what we're all thinkingā¦ How is Knife fairing?
1 Measuring Cup: We still don't know.. connection hasnāt been the best, and last we heard Scissors had just stabbed them, metaphorically, in the back.
2/3 Measuring Cup: *Looks at map where knife is located aka stabbed in board* I see no one close to him to rush to his aid and brave the trapā¦
Teaspoon: Coffee Maker could send his minions, coffee filters to save knifeā¦
1 Measuring Cup: Coffee Filters are weak and disposable!
2/3 Measuring Cup: Yes ma'am I understand but there are many of them and they are loyal to the Resistance 1 Measuring Cup: Exactly! *raspy noises show up* Knife?! How did you contact us?! Are you alright?!
1/4 Measuring Cup: Ma'am it might not be Knifeā¦ It could be scissorsā¦.
Knife: I cannot stay long as I am badly injured but not far from the Drawerā¦ With some help I should be able to get it open
Teaspoon: that was definitely Knifes voice
1/4 Measuring Cup: Alright alright after he said he was injured I knew it was him.
1 Measuring Cup: How did you fight off scissors?
Knife: Quick!.... Sendā¦. Coffā¦. tersā¦. osinā¦ Yā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ *raspy noises are continual. Someone turns off speaker*
1 Measuring Cup: Coffee filters are on their way to aid you, it should buy you enough time to break in and escape. Good Luck!
Teaspoon: I hope Knife succeedsā¦ The whole safety of Kitchen depends on it.
1 Measuring Cup: Well now that we know what's happening on that end of things, we can buy him more time if we advance our army here, *moves pieces into Spoons Homeland* Cabinet Hill, spoonās homeland
1/4 Measuring Cup: Ma'am we have Intel from the Coffee Mugs
1 Measuring Cup: Anything useful?
2/3 Measuring Cup: Isn't spoon located in the Top Drawerā¦. *reviews papers*
1/2 Measuring Cup: No that's where his army is located not necessarily Spoon himself though
1/4 Measuring Cup: But Coffee Mugs told us that his army recuperated at Top Drawer and now is planning on attacking Cutlery and killing Spork.
Teaspoon: Knife needs to hurry and free Spork
1 Measuring Cup: Definitely. We can slow them down with our ever growing army and buy knife more time to beat the army to Cutlery
Teaspoon: What are spoons plans himself?
2/3 Measuring Cup: He is planning on taking out anyone standing in his way of Cutlery. He wants Spork as bad as we do but for worse intentions. At least that's what the Intel saysā¦
Teaspoon: Ohhhā¦ Why have we heard nothing from fork!? She has to have some form of communicationā¦.
1/4 Measuring Cup: Why isn't Spork contacting us as well?
1 Measuring Cup: Spork has gone into hiding, he doesn't want to be disturbedā¦ He fears if he interacts with too many people he will turn to the darksideā¦.
1/4 Measuring Cup: *telegram from fork* FORK HAS BEEN FOUND!!!
1 Measuring Cup: YES! Spork can come out of hiding now!
2/3 Measuring Cup: Ma'am knife is trying to contact us again..
1 Measuring Cup: Excellent! How are you faring? Rolling pin is on his way to you to provide you with transportation.
Knife: I am doing much betterā¦ It was a tough battle to get into Bottom Drawer but as soon as the gate was open the enemy retreated. The coffee filters have covered my wounds and I will be healed soon. Fork is glad we found her and is willing to help.
1 Measuring Cup: Wonderful. Rolling pin is bringing you fresh supplies to aid you and will get you to Cutlery in half the timeā¦ Making it possible to beat spoons armyā¦
1/4 Measuring Cup: Spork must be the first one helped! I fear Spoon is slowly turning him darksideā¦.
2/3 Measuring Cup: Ma'am! Steak knives have announced their fighting status but have lost all men on the front lines! The enemy is breaking through the second defenses but are slowing down.
Knife: I can see rolling pin, my old pal, getting closer on the horizon. God bless his speedy little heart.
1 Measuring Cup: Great. I will inform Steak Knife Commander
1/2 Measuring Cup: *random scissor noises* I hear scissor noisesā¦ Is that scissors?!
Knife: it can't be she's dead!
1 Measuring Cup: You must beat her! Three Tine Fork is also very powerful! Her strength and yours combined is unbeatable!
Napkins: *static noises* Come in hq come in
1 Measuring Cup: I read you
Napkins: We have located Spork in the deepest cave in Cutlery! We don't have a twist tie long enough to reach him. All we can do is guard the cave.
Knife: ROLLING PIN HAS BEEN WOUNDED. Scissors is dead nowā¦ For real. You were right about Fork being powerful.
1/2 Measuring Cup: rolling pin will come through! He must!
2/3 Measuring Cup: Wait napkins are you saying he's in the Corner Bottom Cupboard? Isn't it a lazy Susan?
Teaspoon: Not the labyrinth that is the Lazy Susan!
Napkins: No this is worse! I wasn't even aware Cutlery had one of theseā¦.. A sink drainā¦. The only way to the bottom is to free fall and pray for a soft landingā¦.
1/2 Measuring Cup: Not the Sink Drain!!!! Please tell me there's no garbage disposal!?
1 Measuring Cup: If Spork made it down there alive he is facing the most horrifying thingsā¦ and thankfully there isn't a garbage disposal otherwise all hope would be lost and the sink would be broken
1/4 Measuring Cup: What about the chef ma'am?
1 Measuring Cup: he's on his own side and napkins can't go down the drain as they will get all soggy and dissolve. I'm willing to bet Spork knows how to escape...
2/3 Measuring Cup: I'm telling you ma'am-
Knife: Rolling pin has just Ā arrived and I need to know where to goā¦
2/3 Measuring Cup: *at the same time as 1 Measuring Cup* Lazy Susan *angry glares*
1 Measuring Cup: *at the same time as 2/3 Measuring Cup* Sink Drain! *angry glares*
1 Measuring Cup: *at 2/3 Measuring Cup* He willingly went into the drain for hiding! He knew no one would be dumb enough to follow him thereā¦
2/3 Measuring Cup: He still wouldn't fit! The curve alone and rate he was falling at would kill him!
1/2 Measuring Cup: The drain is the most obvious choiceā¦. Letters have confirmed his position in the fieldā¦
Teaspoon:*at 2/3 Measuring Cup* what's your source? *metaphorically snaps*
2/3 Measuring Cup: Letters can be tampered with and I don't have one!
Knife: Hold on! We have completely forgotten that fork has the strongest connection with him!
1 Measuring Cup: Yes, ask Forkā¦ She'll lead you to the Drain I'm sure of itā¦.
1/4 Measuring Cup: What if he's not in either?
Napkins: We can hear Spoons Army approaching!
Knife: I have consulted with Fork and he is not in either of those placesā¦ He's under the island!
Napkins: We need to retreat! Where is Headquarters?!
2/3 Measuring Cup: *looks at clipboard* Only Level Impurity can know our position given that it's classified but I've been told weāre near Thecupboardabovethefridgethatnobodyactuallyopens. All one word.
Knife: We will go to the Island and find Spork. If he is not there all will be lost! Weāll try to keep in contact.
Napkins: TELL MY CRUMBS I LOVE THEM!!! *napkin screeches* *static*
1/2 Measuring Cup: HOW WILL DISH TOWEL AND CRUMBS GET BY?!?! YOU CANNOT DIE!
1 Measuring Cup: What happened to napkin?
1/4 Measuring Cup: Napkinā¦ Isā¦ No moreā¦
1 Measuring Cup: No time to mourn! Knife get to the island! It won't take long for Spoon to search through napkins Intel and find Sporks location!
Teaspoon: Go knife go!!
Knife: Thanks to rolling pin we're already halfway there!
Teaspoon: Thank goodness
2/3 Measuring Cup: I'm afraid they've thrown the napkins down the drainā¦ There is no hope for survivalā¦
1 Measuring Cup: Dang it! *scatters papers off the table* *Teaspoon and 1/2 Measuring Cup panic and pick them up*
Knife: That's terrible! Now what do I do?
1 Measuring Cup: Stay the course- find Spork
Teaspoon: Spork will save us! I know it!
Knife: He's still at the island right?
1/4 Measuring Cup: yes I believe soā¦ We really have no way of knowing for sureā¦ We just have to hopeā¦
Knife: we've reached the island. It's a freaking war zone and spoons men are everywhere searching for Spork!
1/2 Measuring Cup: Have fork arrange a meeting place
Knife: Already done. We're going to meet with him now.
1 Measuring Cup: Great. Tell us whether he'll help or not
Knife: he has agreed to come with us. He has allied with the Tupperware that live under the island. They are surprisingly strong warriors and are determined to prove their loyalty to the Resistance. They will come back with us to strengthen our army.
Teaspoon: Excellent
Knife: we have fought our way out. Spoon has many men but they are weak. Where should we meet you?
1 Measuring Cup: We're at the stove.. Shouldn't be too long of a trip
1/2 Measuring Cup: Sending coordinates now
Knife: The stove it is! Fork, Spork, and I will be there shortly and the Tupperware are following close behind.
2/3 Measuring Cup: Oh Tupperwareā¦
1 Measuring Cup: It appears that this will be the last stand and whether we fall or rise it is in Sporkās nonexistent hands!
2/3 Measuring Cup: *battle cry voice* TO THE DEATH!!!!
Teaspoon: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!!!
Knife: We've just arrived
1/4 Measuring Cup: Spoon Just said to Spork: Spork you cannot hide from me! I'm your brother!
1/4 Measuring Cup: He also just said he won't stop until Sporks dead!!
*collective gasps* *one random sob*
1 Measuring Cup: knife tell Spork he must save us!
Teaspoon: Spork just said he didn't know how but he doesn't fear his brother!
1/2 Measuring Cup: I guess Spoon likes a fearless enemyā¦
2/3 Measuring Cup: Ma'am people are talkingā¦ Too many voicesā¦ Spork is randomly glowing!
1 Measuring Cup: *to audience* As Sporks glowing intensified- so we heard in later reports- Spoon froze on his spot, his non existent face contorted with pain as the metal that he was made of began to crackle and turn intoā¦.
2/3 Measuring Cup: PLASTICH!
1 Measuring Cup: That was my lineā¦
2/3 Measuring Cup: Sorry ma'amā¦.
Knife: Tupperware take him down!!!
Spoon: NO NOT ME *spoon breaks* maybe just break a plastich spoon??*
Knife: It's all over now. Stand down spoons army!!
1/2 Measuring Cup: *to audience* Spoons army began to surrender- as we heard later- but then at that moment the Burners of the land of Stove clicked onā¦
*random hissing and screams*
1 Measuring Cup: What is that noise?!
2/3 Measuring Cup: ma'am I getting reports that Spork has fallen! I repeat Spork has- HE'S MELTING!!!
1 Measuring Cup: *to audience* Everyone died. (Say as flat as possible)
1/2 Measuring Cup: There's more to it ma'amā¦ Tupperware as well as Spoons army perished in the land of stoveā¦
1/4 Measuring Cup: But knife and three tine fork survived!! But I hear they fled and went into hidingā¦.
Teaspoon: So we won't be hearing from them for a whileā¦
1/2 Measuring Cup: But there is a rumor floating amongst the ranks that knife and fork dragged a partially melted Spork with them as they fledā¦.
1 Measuring Cup: Thank goodness Spoon perishedā¦. All is wellā¦.
2/3 Measuring Cup: Peace rules the land of kitchenā¦ Finally. Until that fateful day when Chef decided to cook again.. Ā *looks into distance* But that's a story for another day.
The End
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā *measuring cups were friends and I and this was a school project born out of late night texts
@merry-lesbian @botanist-princess thought you might like this trip down memory lane
