What to do if you suddenly find yourself homeless


  • Find your nearest food bank or mission, for food
  • grocery stores with free samples, bakeries + stores with day-old bread
  • different fast food outlets have cheaper food and will generally let you hang out for a while.
  • some dollar stores carry food like cans of beans or fruit


  • Sleeping at beaches during the day is a good way to avoid suspicion and harassment
  • sleep with your bag strapped to you, so someone can’t steal it
  • Some churches offer short term residence
  • Find your nearest homeless shelter
  • Look for places that are open to the public
  • A large dumpster near a wall can often be moved so that flipping up the lids creates an angled shelter to stay dry


  • A membership to the YMCA is usually only 10$, which has a shower, and sometimes laundry machines and lockers.
  • Public libraries have bathrooms you can use
  • Dollar stores carry low-end soaps and deodorant etc.
  • Wet wipes are all purpose and a life saver
  • Local beaches, go for a quick swim
  • Some truck stops have showers you can pay for
  • Staying clean is the best way to prevent disease, and potentially get a job to get back on your feet
  • Pack 7 pairs of socks/undies, 2 outfits, and one hooded rain jacket


  • first aid kit
  •  sunscreen
  •  a travel alarm clock or watch
  •  mylar emergency blanket
  •  a backpack is a must
  •  downgrade your cellphone to a pay as you go with top-up cards
  •  sleeping bag
  •  travel kit of toothbrush, hair brush/comb, mirror
  •  swiss army knife
  •  can opener

ICYMI: Angela Dimayuga is the queer executive chef of Mission Chinese Food. She recently received a request to be featured on IvankaTrump.com, a “non-political platform of empowerment for modern working women.” (Okay.)

Here’s the badass way she responded. Full text:

Hi Adi,

Thank you for thinking of me. I’m glad you are a fan of my work so much that you want to provide more visibility for my career to inspire “other working women.” However, I’m for women who actually empower other women.

I don’t believe that IvankaTrump.com is truly “a non-political platform of empowerment for [women]”. So long as the name Trump is involved, it is political and frankly, an option for the IvankaTrump.com business to make a profit.

I don’t see anything empowering about defunding Planned Parenthood, barring asylum from women refugees, rolling back safeguards for equal pay, and treating POC/LGBT and the communities that support these groups like second class citizens.

As a queer person of color and daughter of immigrant parents I am not interested in being profiled as an aspirational figure for those that support a brand and a President that slyly disparages female empowerment. Sharing my story with a brand and family that silences our same voices is futile.

Thank you for the consideration.

Oh, HELL yes. (via the Huffington Post)


Here’s a classic big city dilemma (sorry suburban folks): It’s late at night, the weather is bad, and you’re hungry. Your favorite restaurant is less than a mile away, but you don’t want to leave the house, and you don’t want to pay a $5 delivery fee — plus tip — for a $10 meal.

So, what do you do?

Back in the old days, you would have braved the elements — or learned to plan ahead. But those days are coming to an end, at least in Washington, D.C.

A fleet of about 20 autonomous, knee-high robots recently has appeared on the sidewalks of the nation’s capital, and they’re out to revolutionize hyper-local delivery in big cities. Their mission? Bring takeout food from restaurants to hungry customers at home — while keeping the delivery cost to around a dollar.

Hungry? Call Your Neighborhood Delivery Robot

Photos by Meg Kelly/NPR

kylux fic recs

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3









fic descriptions in alphabetical order below the cut - 

Keep reading

Son of Haggar part 3

Shiro watched his team with tired eyes. He haven’t had that much sleep. Lance wasn’t there. It felt lonely, and quiet. Without Lance, it was hard for the team to even relax. Lance only came out, for missions, to get food, and training. He wore sunglasses and a winter hat.

Lance just wanted to be alone. It hurt..

Shiro decide to head over to Lance’s room, hoping maybe if Lance talked to him. Maybe he’s homesick, or having his insecurities. Shiro took a deep breath as he stands infront of Lance’s door.

1 knock


2 knocks


Shiro though was determined to talk to Lance, Shiro was lucky enough to know how to unlock the biolock from Pidge. And walked into the dark room, only the pale blue light shine the room. Shiro spotted Lance, or Lance cover in his blanket. He could hear the slow and soft breathing patterns of sleep coming from Lance. Shiro couldn’t help but feel sadness wash over.

He walked over to the sleeping Lance, and slowly pulled the covers. His eyes widened as he stared at the peaceful sleeping Lance. His ears were longer, altean like. He had… he seen those altean marks before.. from Haggar. But they were a dark blue.

Lance slowly opened his eyes, they fluttered for a moment. As Lance looked up at Shiro, his eyes weren’t the same. The black pupil was replaced by a pale blue pupil.

Lance’s beach ocean eyes widened with fear, tears were crawling they’re way out. He quickly sat up as he pulled the blanket over himself, hiding himself.

“Don’t look!” He shouted. It was shaky, Shiro could hear him crying just by his voice. Shiro felt guilt wash over him, he must of given Lance the look of terror.

“Lance..” He slowly pulled the cover off of Lance. His ears were down and eyes shut, and tears were falling off. Shiro with his galra arm wiped away those beautiful tears. “Lance, look at me. Please.” Lance opened is eyes and looked up at him. Shiro couldn’t help smile at him softly, with those eyes. He couldn’t hate him, he loved him to much.

“I’m a monster… I’m ugly.. I don’t want to be like her!” He cried as he gripped the grey sheet. Shiro sadden as he pulled Lance into a warm hug. Lance cried harder onto Shiro, repeating those words over. Shiro couldn’t help but glare, thinking of what Haggar said or even done to him.

Shiro pulled Lance’s face to look at him, again with his galra hand wiped the tears away. Lance slowly calmed down as he looked into the grey stormy eyes.

“Your not a monster. Your still our paladin. My- Our heart of Voltron.” Shiro paused but went on.

“You beautiful Lance.”

Lance blushed and smile softly, “Thank you Shiro..” he looked down and whispered, as if it was a secret not to be told by anyone. “Will you stay with me?…” Shiro smiled softly and nodded, and laid down with Lance. Holding him close, Lance gripped his vest. Shiro closed his eyes, sleeping soundly with dreams of both him and Lance at the beach.

Shiro couldn’t help but wanting to protect Lance more, from her.

Part 1 -> https://bijellyfishy.tumblr.com/post/161494201907/the-son-of-haggar-part-1

Part 2 https://bijellyfishy.tumblr.com/post/161513357287/son-of-haggar-part-2

part 3 https://bijellyfishy.tumblr.com/post/161570670327/son-of-haggar-part-4

Concept: Mika used to leave things for the livestock children when he was in Sanguinem in between missions.

Not food, because he has no reason to eat, so being caught would incite suspicion. But other stuff- old clothes, blankets, colourful books, essential supplies. Maybe, to prevent vampires from thinking the kids stole stuff from them, he’d tear up some of the blankets then stitch them roughly back together so it looks like something they might have made. I mean, the vampires have way too much stuff anyways, right? He’d sneak out the backways of the castle and into the depths of the human district to hide them where people would find them, then he would work detours into his patrols to make sure that they took them. Maybe he’d get a few odd looks from vampires who saw him toting around some of the items, but they’d probably shrug it off, since Mika was always a bit of a weirdo.

Of course, none of the kids actually knew it was him, because he always made sure nobody saw him so he wouldn’t scare them, or so his old neighbors would reconize him and be horrified by what had happened to him. But maybe he would see some kids with fresher clothes and thicker blankets, and it would make his day a bit better, even if only a little.

Baby Makes Four

Imagine the boys learning that you are expecting.

Relationship: Lovers

Fandom: DC Comics

Character: Roy and Jason

You sat in an examining room waiting for the doctor to come back. You felt a buzz in your pocket and pulled out your cell to see you had gotten a text from Jason asking where you were. You told him the doctor and nothing more, as another text from Jason came through as the doctor walked into the room. You quickly shoved your phone in your pocket and as the doctor started to talk

The talk was short as he handed you the results of the medical test you had him take on you. You sigh as your folded the paper and put it in your purse before heading out of the office. You tried to rack your mind on how to tell both Jason and Roy. You had only gotten back into your hero work a few months again and this was most definitely going to stop all of it. As you got into the car you pulled out your phone to check your text. Both Jason and Roy had sent text after text asking if you were ok. You smiled lightly at the text as you sent back that you were fine and you were going to get takeout for dinner since there was no food in the house.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

sick shiro? hell yes. maybe hunk made some space food that actually tastes like something that Shiro really liked at earth so he stuffs his face with it and he realizes too late that this stuffs makes him really nauseous...end off the story Shiro is just really stuffed and nauseous because it really doesn't agree with him and hunk feeling bad tries to comfort and take care of him?

A/N: @bosstoaster for the Shiro hunger headcanons. Plus, I love this pairing, okay?

As the team’s unofficial chef, Hunk is very aware of everyone’s individual eating habits; likes, dislikes, specific allergies, and so forth.

For instance, he knows that Lance won’t touch anything that even remotely resembles a brussels sprout with a twelve-foot pole. He knows Pidge has a quirk about different foods interacting on the same plate; everything has to have its separate, designated space. Keith has to be coaxed, (sometimes forced), into eating even a little breakfast and he blatantly refuses food when he’s anxious before missions.

It took Hunk a little longer with Shiro. The night they had rescued him from the compound he hadn’t realized the extent of the damage; he’d assumed the poor guy was still suffering nasty side effects as a result of being drugged, not to mention starved for over a year.

Hunk had whipped up an impromptu dinner for everyone in Keith’s little shack, taking solace in the comforting sense of control the process of stirring, chopping, and searing had allotted, if only for a fleeting couple of hours.

Long after everyone else had cleaned their plates, Shiro had continued to eat. He’d mechanically shoveled food into his mouth like a ravenous robot, oblivious to his companion’s bafflement. At the time, Hunk hadn’t understood; hadn’t really thought anything of it. He’d seemed hungry, so Hunk had continued to feed him. And Shiro had kept eating. It was the grim concentration that had really freaked Hunk out. Shiro hadn’t enjoyed the food, either. In hindsight, Hunk realized his objective had been to inhale every scrap of nourishment as quickly as possible. He’d quite literally eaten himself sick.

Halfway through his fourth bowl of stew, Shiro had abruptly spun away from the table and vomited it all back up onto the floor, nearly giving Keith a heart attack.

Shiro never talked about his year in captivity. But Hunk was willing to bet his ass that food - if you could call it that - had been scarce and Shiro had been forced to fight for every morsel. He also guessed that prisoners were never fed regularly or sufficiently. Hunk had no idea if humans were even meant to ingest whatever the Galra considered food. It couldn’t have been especially pleasant. He couldn’t imagine forcing yourself to eat for the sole purpose of fighting to stay alive, not knowing when or if you’d ever be fed again. It made his chest ache when he thought about Shiro trapped in such a monstrous hell.

Shiro’s brain had undoubtedly been conditioned to consume every bite of whatever he was given, solely fueled by the most basic human instinct: survival.

Since they’d all been tossed together, Hunk’s taken it upon himself to meticulously monitor Shiro’s meals. The man has absolutely no concept of hunger or the parameters those triggers entail. Essentially, it boils down to making Shiro eat and then ensuring Shiro stops if he’s distracted. Hunk isn’t positive Shiro is ever going to be able to enjoy food like a normal person ever again. That realization makes him incredibly sad.

One of Hunk’s favorite pastimes is cooking for the team, (when Coran hasn’t beaten him to it). He’s grown exceptionally skilled at experimenting with the various foreign ingredients and creating dishes that taste nearly identical to some of his favorite foods back on Earth.

Still, he’s never seen Shiro actually enjoy a meal. Sure, their leader enjoys the company, the camaraderie and routine of sitting down to do something so mundane and familiar in the midst of their crazy lives. But from what Hunk can deduce, Shiro eats because he knows his body requires the nutrients and energy in order to function properly, not because he relishes the flavors or textures of whatever’s placed in front of him.

So the night he makes something vaguely similar to chicken spaghetti, (it’d been a rough mission; Hunk needed comfort food), and presents it to the group, he isn’t surprised when everyone digs in. What does surprise him is Shiro’s reaction after his first bite.

Oh,” Shiro pulls back for a moment, chewing slowly and giving a curious tilt of his head. He swallows, a strange smile playing at the corners of his lips. “This is…”

“Oh,” Hunk echoes, disappointment weighing heavily as his shoulders droop. “You don’t like it.”

Shiro shakes his head, “No, I…this is really good. It tastes like…I don’t know. Something my mom used to make, I think.”

Shiro’s never bothered mentioning his family. The comment sends Hunk sputtering while the other paladins gape at Shiro, noisy sounds of chewing abruptly halting as forks poise listlessly in the air.

“I, uh,” Hunk stammers, still taken aback by Shiro’s compliment. “I was going for chicken spaghetti?”

“Yeah,” Shiro hums after a thoughtful moment before digging into his meal with renewed enthusiasm. “That’s it. That’s what she used to make.”

Shiro moans around another mouthful, closing his eyes as he swallows. “Hunk, this is incredible. I don’t know how you do it.”

Hunk beams with the praise, smiling from ear-to-ear as he watches Shiro reach for the serving bowl to ladle out another helping. He’s eating with gusto, relishing every bite.

“Well, it’s not exactly spaghetti, but I guess it had the general shape,” Hunk chuckles, swirling a bite around his own fork. “So I figured I’d give it a try.”

“It’s awesome, Hunk,” Lance agrees, cheeks ballooning as he struggles to speak through an obscene amount of…space spaghetti?

Shiro nods, barely pausing to breathe as he practically inhales his second plate.

Pidge and Keith contribute their own compliments, quickly finishing their portions and heading to the showers to wash off the day’s grime. Lance lets out an unapologetic, thoroughly satisfied belch before announcing he’s wiped.

“You want some help?” Lance offers lazily, slurring around a sleepy yawn.

Hunk rolls his eyes, “No, no. I’ve got it. You’d only screw up my system, anyway. Yes, there is a system, Lance.” He begins gathering up the empty plates, feeling the grueling exhaustion beginning to take its toll. That’s when he notices that Shiro hasn’t moved. Come to think of it, he hasn’t moved for a good five minutes.

The older boy is hunched over the table, head bowed, arms braced against the surface and hands clenched into tight fists. His eyes are squeezed shut, upper body swaying gently as his throat works with convulsive swallows.

“Shiro?” Hunk frowns, crossing over to place a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Shiro jerks upright, blinking at Hunk with hazy, unfocused eyes as his throat bobs with another thick swallow. He’s alarmingly pale, skin clammy with sweat and hair matted to his forehead.

“Yeah,” he pants, tongue slowly licking over his upper lip. “‘M fine. Jus’…just tired.” His slurred words end with an audible shudder that visibly ripples down his spine. His hand strays to hover over his abdomen, lips parting to pant softly as he struggles to stand.

“You sure?” Hunk glares skeptically, keeping his hand on Shiro’s shoulder as he rises. “‘Cause you look kind of -“

Hunk is abruptly cut off by an odd gurgling sound. Shiro’s eyes widen as he frantically presses a fist to his mouth. A wet burp rumbles in his throat, causing his chest to jolt.

Hunk takes an involuntary step back as Shiro cringes, suppressing another deep belch. “Um, Shiro?”

“E-excuse me, I -” Shiro blushes furiously, hand rubbing over his stomach as he takes a few steps away from Hunk. “My stomach feels…sorry. I don’t know what’s -“ he cuts himself off with another gurgly burp, cupping a hand firmly over his mouth before stumbling away from the mess-hall, breaking into an awkward jog. “I’ve..gotta go.”

Baffled, Hunk really has no choice but to follow. Something is seriously wrong and he has the sinking suspicion that it’s his fault.

He catches up easily. Shiro’s hunched over in the hallway, one arm gripping abusively around his stomach and the other bracing his weight against the wall. He’s panting, broad frame jerking with sharp hiccups that he’s obviously desperate to stifle.

Hunk can’t help resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Shiro flinches, but doesn’t push him off, just curls in harder on himself.

“You’re sick,” Hunk says matter-of-factly, leaving little room for argument. “You should have said something.”

“I’m not -“ a muffled retch interrupts his protest. Shiro presses his fist against his mouth so hard Hunk’s afraid he’s going to crack his jawbone. “I’m just…so full. I can’t remember ever feeling so…oh, my stomach -“ Shiro’s voice catches on another hiccup and Hunk braces his palm against the other man’s chest, attempting to steady him.

“I know,” he says, voice gentle. “Don’t worry. You’re okay. It was just a little too much, I guess.”

Shiro grunts, trying to detangle himself from Hunk’s grip as another violent gag erupts from his throat. He staggers into the shared bathroom, knees bruising against the floor as he drapes himself over the toilet. He clenches the edges of the bowl, legs writhing as he struggles to regain control of his rebelling body.

“What the hell is - ulp - wrong with me?” Shiro demands, shoulders shuddering brutally as saliva drips over his bottom lip.

Despite his own mounting nausea, Hunk squats down behind the older boy, placing a warm hand against the center of his back. He begins rubbing slow, methodic circles, hoping to help in one way or another. He has no idea what he’s doing, but Shiro isn’t pulling away, so it must be all right.

“Your body isn’t used to so much,” Hunk reasons, wincing sympathetically as Shiro convulses wretchedly at the mention of food. It’s true; he hasn’t seen Shiro eat that much since their first encounter and he feels awful for allowing it to go so far. “I think you may have overdone it a little. I’m sorry. I should have -“

“Don’t be,” Shiro gags, spitting uselessly into the bowl. “Wasn’t your - urp - fault.”

Of course it wasn’t. Nothing is ever anyone’s fault but Shiro’s. Goddammit.

Hunk takes a deep breath through his nose, wrapping his arms in a sturdy embrace around Shiro’s waist as he muffles the shaky words, “Yes it was. Don’t be such a fucking hero.”

It’s angry and stupid and selfish but it gets Shiro’s attention.

Shiro glances up from the bowl, eyes momentarily softening as he regards his friend.

“Hunk,” Shiro barely manages to choke out the name before he’s curling forward with a full-bodied heave, burping up a stream of brown bile. Hunk winces, automatically increasing the pressure of his hand against Shiro’s back. His other unconsciously presses against Shiro’s contracting stomach.

“Don’t worry,” Hunk reassures, tightening his grip as he feels the other boy’s determination waver, muscles bunching and coiling in desperate anticipation. “I’ve got you.”

Hunk feels like his insides are disintegrating when Shiro’s self-control finally gives out, sending him lurching over the bowl with a belching gag that results in a flood of pre-digested liquid spewing from his mouth. Shiro coughs and wheezes, desperate for a breath of air as crippling waves of nausea threaten to suffocate him.

“Take it easy,” Hunk coaches. His nose brushes weakly against Shiro’s right shoulder blade as the older boy hiccups pitifully, grasping onto the supporting arm that Hunk’s encircled around his waist. “Breathe.”

Shiro tries to follow the order and ends up retching, another harsh belch ushering up a watery flood of sick. He slumps over the toilet, panting raggedly as the fit eventually wears off.

Hunk is kind of freaking out. It’s almost as bad as the first time it happened. Except this time, he knows it’s his fault.

Shiro coughs, tainted drool dribbling languidly over his bottom lip as he struggles to regain some semblance of control over his own body. Then his hand strays to Hunk’s, long fingers brushing against his skin.

“Hunk,” he slurs, voice breathless. “Wasn’t you. Stop…stop thinkin’ so hard.”

“W-what?” Hunk stammers, voice catching.

“I can hear you,” Shiro chuckles, a little deliriously as he slumps against Hunk’s chest. “So loud.”

“Well, stop it,” Hunk demands, readjusting Shiro’s weight against him. “It’s weird, okay? Reading people’s thoughts isn’t normal.”

Shiro simply nods, offering a woozy smile as he goes limp against Hunk’s chest, exhaustion sluicing through his body. He slides down onto Hunk’s thigh, nuzzling contentedly as his labored breathing evens out.

“Ah, geez,” Hunk groans. In spite of his initial irritation at being reduced to a human pillow, Hunk continues to drag his fingers over Shiro’s back, humming soothing sounds whenever he stirs.

“You’re all right,” he whispers when Shiro whimpers softly in his sleep. “You’re gonna be all right.”

anonymous asked:

What about Young Anakin and Obi-wan discovering that they're both half-starved, Anakin from slavery and Obi-Wan from thinking food isn't important

To be honest, he had expected it, it was only natural with Anakin coming from such a situation that the boy would be skinnier then the Healers appreciated and he’d get a stern lecture on the dietary needs a boy Anakin’s age should have once he was at a healthy weight.

But first a dietary need to actually gain weight at first was given, a chart of diet plans he would have to ensure Anakin ate with an even spacing of time and snacks were encouraged.

Obi-Wan honestly did not see a problem with getting Anakin to eat as long as he was reminded.

Anakin however had not expected it when the Healers were done with him to basically strong arm Obi-Wan into undressing to his leggings and get him on the scale too.

He had certainly not expected the poking ribs of the older Jedi despite the layers of muscle he could see in the others arms as Obi-Wan argued that he was eating just fine and would the healer please stop poking at him.

“You’re really thin.” He offered up from his seat on the examination bed, eyes wide in surprise even as he held the fruit leather he had been given as a form for reward.

That got Obi-Wan’s complaints silent as he looked to Anakin in surprise, his eyes equally wide. “I-I’m n-”

“Your ribs are poking out like moms did during bad periods.” Anakin pointed out. “And that only happened because she was making sure I went to bed fuller then her.”

Obi-Wan went a bit silent, shifting a bit on the scale as he allowed the Healer to finally do their job.

“Why are you so thin? Are all Jedi starved?” Anakin’s eyes were wide.

The Healer gave Obi-Wan a long look then stepped back and crossed his arms. “Well Kenobi?”

“…I’m not having this conversation in front of you.” He glared at the healer then looked at Anakin, softening his face. “We can talk about it back at our quarters Anakin, but to start off, no, not everyone is like me, its…we can speak about it in our quarters. I promise.”

The blond hesitated then gave a slow nod.

Obviously it wasn’t normal for Jedi to be like Obi-Wan was.

That was…worrying.

Was the other sick?

He was pale and thin but he didn’t seem sick beyond that.

And being pale seemed to be a natural state for Obi-Wan along with freckles covering him everywhere so Obi-Wan was…was…what?

He bit his lower lip and twisted his hands in his lap.

He’d have to wait and hear once they were in their quarters, it was clear Obi-Wan didn’t want to talk about it with the healer around, not that Anakin blamed him.

Eventually they got to go and Obi-Wan gave a relieved sigh and settled his hand on his padawans shoulder. “…I dislike being in the Healer halls, I once spent a full month here after I contracted Twi’lek mun fever. Couldn’t walk at all, needed help to…everything really because I couldn’t grip with my hands properly.” He offered.

Anakin stared up at him at that. “…That sounds horrible.”

“It was.” Obi-Wan gave him a crooked smile that drew out his dimples. “I’ve had a dislike of medical areas since then, I prefer dealing with my injuries myself if I can.” He breathed out as he guided Anakin along to their quarters.

He soon had Anakin in their quarters and making a pot of tea for both of them.

“…I think the best explanation is that I forget.” Obi-Wan started. “It sounds strange to you but…I forget because I don’t prioritize myself as I should.” He shifted the cup in his hands and glanced at Anakin.

He wasn’t sure how to explain to Anakin that the way he had been raised had contributed to a few deficiencies in his personality…nor how not to taint Qui-Gon’s memory.

“You…oh…that’s weird.” Anakin looked down at his half full cup then back up at Obi-Wan when the other chuckled. “What?”

“You’ve never been so hungry you eventually forgot you were?” The older man questioned gently.

“…Oh.” Anakin seemed to understand then leaned a bit. “But then you get really hungry after, right?”

“Yes but when I get hungry there’s sometimes no food on missions. I sometimes forget. Or I’ve lost my pack so I don’t have even ration bars.” He explained gently. “But don’t worry. I’ll make sure you gain the weight you’re suppose to do.”

“…I guess then I have to make sure you gain the weight you need.” Anakin said, tone firm. “Someone has to look after you too.” He smiled up at him.

That got a blink out of Obi-Wan. “Anak-”

“Someone has to look after you too Master. I guess that means me, we can look after each other.” The blond was beaming now.

A tiny breathless laugh escaped Obi-Wan. “…I guess it is. We’ll look after each other then.” He agreed gently, chucking faintly when Anakin basically bounced on the seat cushion.

Kuelap, Peru - The Ancient Cloud Fortress of the Amazonas

The fortress of Kuelap is a walled city associated with the Chachapoyas culture built in 6th century AD. It consists of more than four hundred buildings surrounded by massive exterior stone walls. The complex is situated on a ridge overlooking the Utcubamba Valley in northern Peru at 3000 metres above sea level, judging from its sheer size, Kuelap’s construction required considerable effort, rivaling or surpassing in size other archaeological structures in the Americas. The structure is almost 600 metres in length and its walls rise up to 19 metres in height. There are multiple levels or platforms within the complex. Because of its extension, these flat elevations support about 400 constructions, most of them cylindrical. It could have been built to defend against the Huari or others, but evidence of hostile groups at the site is minimal.
Radiocarbon dating samples show that construction of the structures started in the 6th century AD and the complex was occupied until the Early Colonial period (1532-1570). Through the pre-Columbian, conquest and colonial periods, there are only four brief written references to Kuelap.
It was rediscovered in 1843, when Juan Crisóstomo Nieto, a judge in Chachapoyas, made a survey of the area and took note of Kuelap’s great size; he was guided by villagers who had known of the site for generations. Subsequently, Kuelap gained the attention of explorers, historians and archaeologists.
Regarding the function of Kuelap, there is not a scholarly consensus. Popularly it is thought of as a “fortress”, because of its location and the high walls which support its primary level. Adolf Bandelier and especially Louis Langlois tried to demonstrate that Kuelap might have been a fortified place destined to serve as a refuge for the population in emergency situations. They attributed to it, probably by analogy, the same function as medieval European boroughs.
The high walls that cover the outer surfaces of the platform, and the tightness of the access to the citadel in its final stretch, suggest that the monument of Kuelap could be constructed as having a defensive character, or at least that it provided a refuge that was protected against intruders. It likely also had religious or sacred function.
This way, taking into consideration the function served by the monumental architecture in the Peruvian archaeological past in general, the same one that was related to the socioeconomic needs, it can be concluded that Kuelap could be basically a pre-Inca sanctuary. A powerful aristocracy lived in it, whose primary mission was to administer food production and provide religious leadership. [x]

The only acceptable use for chopped/powdered tea leaves (+bonus)

Q wakes, sore in the most gorgeous way.  His ear feels bent from resting on Bond’s shoulder all night; the fingerprint-shaped bruises on his hips call the press of his own against their shape.  Bond is snoring, and that in itself is flattering: Bond–James–sprawled like a starfish in the bed, so unconcerned for his own safety.  There are weapons within a hand’s range of the bed, he’s sure, but Bond’s palms lay curled where Q’s head had been, draped over the dent left by Q’s hip in the feather coverlet.  Q staggers on coltish legs just this side of achy–they burn in the pleasant memory of stretching just a bit past their limit as Bond held him open and–a delicious shiver works its way through him.

Bond’s kitchen is spartan.  There’s not a lot beyond the staples in the fridge–a little cream for coffee, cocktail onions–and the cabinets are nearly bare, as well.  A sad box of Twinings and sugar, some flour and the usual spices; there’s butter and eggs on the counter, and Q’s not surprised to find takeaway menus in the drawer by the fridge.  A thought occurs–grabbing the necessaries, it’s a matter of moments to whip up a treat, and scarcely ten minutes later he’s sneaking back into bed.  Cooking can happen later.

–The Recipe–

Tea Shortbreads

  • 4 tea bags or 2T tea, any flavour (Earl Grey is good, as are chais and other strongly-flavoured black teas)
  • 250g or 2 c plain flour
  • large pinch of salt
  • 60g or 1/3 c sugar
  • 225g or 1 c butter
  • orange zest, vanilla, or other flavourings to complement your tea, if desired
  1. Mix tea, flour, and salt with a whisk or sift together.
  2. Mix butter, sugar, and flavoring with a whisk or electric mixer until light and airy
  3. Add dry ingredients to wet and fold until just combined
  4. Portion dough into logs and wrap with baking paper or wax paper.  Freeze until firm.
  5. Preheat oven to 176 C or 350 F 
  6. Slice into disks .5 cm or ¼ in.
  7. Bake until just barely golden at the edges (about 12-15 minutes)
  8. Let cool completely before removing from the pan or they will crumble

The bed is still warm when Bond wakes, for all that he’s alone in it.  In the other room–probably the kitchen, Bond presumes–he can hear Q pottering about, humming tunelessly, and yes, the kettle Bond has more because he’s British than out of any particularly keen like for tea is burbling away.  There’s a rich, nutty smell in the air, and when he finally manages to get his pants on and wander out, the Waitrose bag on the counter belies the cheeky nymph wearing nothing but an apron.  There are tomatoes on the cutting board and sausages waiting patiently for frying, corners of toast standing dripping golden butter, and a veritable mountain of little biscuit coins that smell rich and buttery and sharp with bergamot.

“You’ve been busy this morning,” Bond says, and Q’s laugh is bright.

“Your cabinets looked like a uni student’s.  I was surprised not to find curry beanz and cup noodle,” Q scolds with sparkling eyes.

“Are you looking to fatten me up?”  Bond grins, snagging a tomato slice and popping it into his mouth before Q can threaten him with his paring knife.  Q snorts.

“Who says you’re getting any of it, you lieabed?  I’ve already been to the shops and back and you’re only now getting up at the crack of ten!”

Bond’s laugh stirs the curls at the nape of Q’s neck as he wraps himself around him.  Q is a lithe furnace against Bond’s front; he goes for another tomato and Q sighs, put upon.  “Let me spoil you, then–I’ll take it from here.”

It’s a favourite, something he always has at hand.  It’s after-mission food for when he’s looking for familiar, for cozy.  He’s never had someone over in the morning to make it for–a frission of something that hasn’t shaped itself yet dances up his spine and Bond coughs, fetching out the saucepan and turning on the hob before he can do something ridiculous like asking Q to stay for breakfast tomorrow, too.

He could do this in his sleep: a knob of butter, chilled from the fridge, and Bond casts a gimlet eye at Q for using the whole dish from the counter, though honestly it doesn’t matter whether it’s soft or not.  He drops the butter into the saucepan to melt and checks again the heat is set to low.  Then eggs: two for each of them, whole in the pot.  He beats them into the butter and when they’re starting to thicken, he pulls the pot from the stove to even out the lumps.  Back onto the hob, he stirs until it curdles, lumps of scrambled egg forming beneath his spatula.  Off the heat again, then when it’s even and creamy again, back on.  He does this again until the egg is cooked through, then just a splash of cream–back on the hob until the chill is off–and salt, pepper.  He dishes it up with a flair.

He ends up watching with bated breath as Q takes his first bite, grinning helplessly at the groan that follows.  It’s breakfast.  Just breakfast: eggs and tomatoes and toast and tea.

It’s still somehow more than breakfast.  Bond wipes a stray smear of egg from Q’s lip and Q smiles.


I recently watched ‘My Sisters Keeper’ for the second time and got inspired to create this imagine. I’m sorry I’ve been so inactive but I’ve just had no drive to write. It usually comes and goes. 

This happens all the time. I have these periods when I don’t want to write even though I have all these ideas, and then I have these periods when I just can’t wait to get home and start typing. But I’ll get back into it. 

I really need to begin on my request’s though. I have so many but I just haven’t been bothered to finish. I KNOW! I’m terrible :( And lazy….

But anyways, lets get to this imagine.

Originally posted by moan-s

Her eyes, dark, painful, and slowly fading of light, noticeably glared directly towards the glass of goodness in my hand. The liquid inside, dark and steaming with heat, sloshed about as my body stifled around, and I couldn’t help but feel slightly bad for the girl eyeing it down.

“Want a sip?” 

Without warning, Kennedy’s eyes trembled away from the cup gripped firmly between my fingers and right towards my face evident with amusement. The poor girl had become so embarrassed, her cheeks - once pale and scabby - seemingly flushed red as she hung her head low. 

I chuckled “What?” Her reaction was rather odd.

“You know mom doesn’t like me drinking that stuff.” She frowned. 

At the words, my eyes rolled back far behind my lids, a sigh of annoyance leaving my lips. My mother was becoming increasingly annoying with every day that passed by. 

Ever since Kennedy was sadly diagnosed with Leukemia, my mother has made it her mission to restrict any foods that weren’t nutritional or just fatty in general. Everything was organic, everything was fresh and nothing was enjoyable. 

You would think now that my sister is dying, she’d have a chance to enjoy the small things in life, but instead - it’s become her worst nightmare. And she’s been restricted to a strict, healthy diet.

“Oh C’mon Ken, It’s just a sip of wine.” I grinned. “Besides Mom Isn’t here to see anyways.”

But she still seemed unsure. And I sighed. “Kennedy, It’s not going to kill you. You’re allowed to drink.”

“I know.” She said. “But knowing mom, she’ll find out one way or another and then you’ll get in trouble. And I don’t want that.”

My eyes, just mere seconds ago hard and filled to the brim with annoyance, suddenly fell into one of sincere pain, a smile of sadness reaching the corners of my lips. 

The girl in front me really didn’t deserve the pain and suffering she’s gone through. So innocent and young. Only eighteen for Gods sake! And If I could change anything, I would gladly reverse roles with her in a heart beat. 

But here she was, slowly withering away on this hospital bed, glaring out the same window with no ability to physically get up. Multiple needles and hoses penetrated her body, all leading off onto some sourceful machine barely keeping her alive.

Oh kennedy. 

“Stop being so selfless Ken! You’re the one who should be sporting all the attention, not me. Just taste it.” My hand quickly extended out to her mouth and she eyed the glass cautiously.

“How do they even let you bring that in here?” She grimaced. 

I smirked. “Twelve years of hospitals and talking to the same nurses everyday, I  managed to pull some strings. It was true. It’d been twelve years since Kennedy was diagnosed which means twelve years seeing the nurses. They’ve come to like me after a while.

With one more glance my way, she slowly took the glass out of my hand and took a small sip, and I watched in amusement as her face twisted into one of delight.

“You like it?” 

“It’s kind of weird.” She replied. “But yeah. It’s bitter.” 

I chuckled. “Have more.” 

And she did, all until we heard the click of a door and heard soft murmurs slowly beginning to drown the room. My hand immediately shot out towards Kennedy and her’s did the same, handing me the glass with a speed so quick we had managed to spill a bit amongst the floor.

I sat back, quickly trying to compose myself as Kennedy proceeded to swallow the wine and wipe her mouth of any evidence. Just in time as well, for then, my mom and Aunt Nat forward into the room. 

“Hey girls.” Mom spoke with a quiet tone. “I’ve gotta go pick your brother up from school but Aunt Nat’ll be here. Be back soon.” 

With a nod, we both mumbled a chorus of “Bye mom”s, and soon she was gone. 

Aunt Nat smiled wide, strutting over to the couch besides me with a kick in her step. She wasn’t quite and Aunty to me - although she was the mother of my sister. She was merely only a few years older at 25 and almost like a second sister to us both. 

Chill and layback - that was her style.

“What are y’all up to?” She smirked. 

With a quick glance at Kennedy, her doing the same, we smiled cheekily to each other. “Nothing.” We both said. 

“Nothing?” Nat smirked. “Well the wine on your bedsheets don’t say nothing but then again, neither do I.”

 I smiled, of course she wouldn’t tell our mother. She always stuck up for us. 

“Alright Girls.” Aunt Nat yelled with the clap of her hand. “It’s gossip time!” 

And we chuckled. “What’s the news today?” She asked. 

Glancing over at my sister, I watched with sluggish eyes as she shrugged her shoulders, grimacing slightly at the likely pain caused from the simple action. It made me sad to see such a small gesture hurt someone so undeserving but other then sad, I was feeling quite nervous. 

Boy did I have some news, but I was not at all ready to share it.

“Y/N.” Nat spoke with a cautious tone, her voice questioning and suspicious. “Why are you nervous, hm?”

No reply.

“Y/N?” Nat raised a brow. 

“It probably has something to do with her boyfriend.” Kennedy smirked, throwing me a joyful face. 

Aunt Nat grinned. “You mean that hottie of a superstar she managed to pick up? Girl you better start talking!”

I chuckled at the two wemon in front of me, shaking my head with disbelief at my crazy excuse of a prying family. “Oh jeez.” I muttered. 

“You know, It’s probably nothing.” Kennedy shrugged, though I caught her sneakily sparing a glance in my direction. It was obvious she was trying to annoy me, or attempt to shame me enough into proving her wrong and spilling my news. 

But it wasn’t working. Not this time. 

“I mean, they’ve been going out for three months and the most they’ve done is swap spit.” She rolled her eyes. 

Aunt Nat gasped. “Wait, you’re still a virgin?!” 

Oh God. This is not going well. Once again, I stayed silent. 

“Yep!” Kennedy smirked. “She’s a twenty one year old virgin, right Y/N?.” 

It hadn’t bothered me much that she was making fun of me for it, and trying to get me to admit to the title. We did it often - her teasing me for having not popped my cherry yet. Though I don’t see what she was so snobby about, she hadn’t also.

Though this time, I said nothing. No joking along, no agreeing. Just silence and an innocent glance at the ground. 

Kennedy’s smile dropped. “Right Y/N?” 

Still nothing.

“Why aren’t you agreeing?” She frowned. 

“Wait!” Nat suddenly yelled. “Wait-wait-wait just a second!” She sang. “I know that look anywhere! It’s the same look I gave your mom years ago! Your not a virgin anymore!” 

My eyes widened. How did she-?

“Oh my GOD Y/n! When?” She continued. 

A slow but evident blush began creeping up my face, and with a shy and nervous gulp, I answered. “Last night.”

Kennedy gasped. “And you didn’t tell me?!”

“Tell us what happened!” Aunt nat yelled with excitment, I cringed. “No.” I exasperatedly replied. “I’m not telling you about my sex life.” 

But this time, it was Kennedy who spoke. “Please Y/N.” She begged. “I’m probably never gonna be able to experience it for myself. At least tell me what it’s like.” 

Ugh! Shes so good at guilt tripping! Damn her …

I was hesitant, all soughts of thoughts passing through my mind. Should I? “Ugh, fine. Only for you.”

Aunt Nat squealed “Give us all the details! How long was he?” 

At the thought my eyes widened. “Oh my god.” I sighed to myself. “H-He was… Wow. I didn’t think he was that big.” I answered. As representation, I raised my arms and spread my hands around 7 inches apart. “It was like - this big and-”

But Nat frantically shook her head and interrupted. “No Boo, I meant how long did he last. Not that. TMI.” She cringed.

I blushed. “Oh.” Then chuckled nervously. “Right, yeah - well. He lasted a pretty decent amount of time actually. I couldn’t keep up. I mean, I came first the first time. Then he came the second time. Then it was him again, then me-”

“There was more then one round?!” Nat gasped. 


“Shit! Good looking and lasts in bed? Get you a man that can do both.” She laughed.

“Alright ‘nough dirty stuff.” Kennedy shook her head with a chuckle. “Tell us - how was it?”

And that’s when I finally allowed myself to relax. Reminiscing on all the events of last night and the heavenly feelings Justin brought me. His touch, his body, everything was just so amazingly perfect. 

So sensual and gentle, but all to my desires. He made me feel like a queen - like I deserved every bit of love he had for me. And he showed me all that love last night in the many, many rounds of sex we encountered. 

I had never thought such a simple and casual thing could ever feel so amazing and desirable. Maybe is was just a result of my first, but I doubt that much desire and love for the man I had wouldn’t have an effect on the pleasure he brought.

“It was the best night of my life. He was so gentle. So loving. Everything was so perfect and Oh Jesus, it was the best feeling I’d ever had.”

I smiled at the memories “He surprised me with dinner then took me to a hotel afterwards. He got the staff to set the mood and asked me if I wanted to. And that if I didn’t he wouldn’t mind just cuddling with me. But I’m so happy I said yes. Everything was amazing. He made sure it was just how I liked it - my own pace.” 

J-Justin.” it escaped so breathy, so low and so lovingly. He lay on top of me, supported by nothing by his elbows on either side of my face. The pressure between my legs was becoming increasingly more painful the more he slid in, and I really couldn’t withhold the small whimper of pain which escaped. 

“Baby is it hurting? Shit I’m sorry - should I stop?” He frantically questioned. 

My eyes widened, and I said all too fast. “No! No no, i’m fine. Don’t stop. I like it.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes.” I nodded, and as assurance, I placed my hands against his bare back, gripping his skin to pull him further forwards. With a nod he was continuing his journey inside me.

Sliding against my wetness with a strained face full of pleasure. 

“Fuck Justin baby your so big.” I groaned. It was either that or I really wasn’t used to this. Maybe both.

“Shit baby girl, you’re so tight.” He groaned.

My eyes shot open in worry Is that a bad thing?” I trembled. 

At my expression he was quick to shake his head. “No no baby, It’s good. It means more work and more pleasure. For me and you.” One hand was sent to stroke against my face, which I couldnt’ help but lean into.

I hadn’t realised but he was now fully inside me, sitting firmly in position. But I wasn’t satisfied yet. I wanted more. “I’m ready.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes Justin. Move please baby!”

And at this, he smirked. “Your wish is my command.” With a chaste kiss on my lips, he slowly began to pull out, only to begin sliding back in. Then again, and again.

What was this feeling? And why did it feel so good?

“Shit.” Aunt Nat sighed. “I want a Justin.” 

“I want to meet him.” Kennedy sighed. “When can I?” 

“I already told you babe, Justin’s a busy man. He’ll come when he’s free but i wouldn’t hope too soon. I doubt his free for a while.”

“Wouldn’t be too sure.” 

The voice had us all spinning in our seats, eyes wide with shock. He was here. He was really here.

“Oh my god!” Kennedy gasped. “I-It’s you!”

“Of course.” Justin smiled. With a few steps, he was standing directly besides Kennedy’s bed, placing a small but sweet kiss against her dry forehead with a smile. “Aren’t you just beautiful.” 

Kennedy blushed. “Not really.” 

“What do you mean not really? You’re absolutely stunning! From a distance I thought you were a model and I was like to myself ‘Who is that? What runway show have I seen her from?’ but when I got closer I realised that It was just my beautiful girlfriend’s beautiful sister.”

She smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile as well. He was amazing at this. 

Thats when a sudden voice was heard from besides, nearly shocking me to the after life, right out of my state of entrancement amongst my boyfriend. 

“You picked a good one.” Aunt Nat whispered. 

“I did, didn’t I?” 

“he’s a real gentleman.”

“In my books, if a man can my sister smile then he’s a keeper.” I stated. 

Aunt Nat smiled. “Well, guess he’s a keeper then.” 

Yes. I guess he is.

anonymous asked:

You are the Winter Soldiers handler and are responsible for making sure he gets any basic necessities after a mission (food, shower, change of clothes, etc) before being frozen again. After one particular mission you ask if there is anything else he would like. Silently he gives you a look of pure combustible lust. You give him a nod of consent before he rips your clothes off with his left arm and pins your hands above your head with his right. Next thing you know he's wildly thrusting into you.

I’m so here for this 

Sinful Sunday™

Today I went to the grocery store for lunch. My ongoing mission there, besides buying food, is to reduce the accumulated change in my house and my filthy Camry. I use as many coins as I can in the store’s self-checkout machines.

Today was a good day.

There are four self-checkout machines. None were broken. No customers stood in line. As much as I want rid myself of coins I’m not enough of a jerk to make people wait while I carefully drop in coins one by one. One time I found out the hard way (got snapped at by a clerk) that a guy can’t insert coins too quickly or the machine jams. It’s a delicate balancing act where I consider number of coins, speed of coin insertion, number of waiting customers, and my hunger pangs.

My pocket was lighter by 44 pennies and 8 nickels when I left the store a little while ago. Obviously I’m working on the small denominations.

You might think $0.84, big deal. Well it’s priceless peace of mind to me. No one was delayed by my actions. I came home with ingredients for a tasty turkey and gouda sandwich. Fewer coins are in my car and house.

Like I said, today has been a good day.

anonymous asked:

some random hcs for my favourite bamf? ._. can be anything, fluff, angst, just straight up comedy, idc. i just wanna read some more about that cowboy tbh. love you guys T-T (i totally understand admin macaree, that flirting is not pitiful at all :p)

Awww, we love you too, Anon! We went with some domestic headcanons for this one because Admin Macaree has been wanting to do these for a long time! We hope you enjoy these. Have a great day everyone! :D

Also, I’d like to apologize for the lack of updates real quick. My old friends depression and anxiety have decided to pay me a visit again and they don’t really get along with my other friend motivation. I hope I’ll be able to write more the next days! 
~ Admin Moronison

  • The two of you never really worked out a proper plan for the chores. No one does them regularly but every now and then you realize something has to be done. When that happens, you usually take care of these tasks together. However, the cowboy gets distracted easily, either by your presence or by various things you find while cleaning up.
    You know that moment when you find some old toys or other objects filled with memories and you end up occupied with these for at least an hour? Exactly.
    Thanks to the low attention span of both of you, chores tend to take hours to finish, also taking many different turns. Cuddling, tickle fights, or even make-out session. There are no limits to your imagination.
  • Jesse always brings home some kind of present from his missions, mostly food. You rarely have to go grocery shopping because the fridge is filled with so many different snacks from so many different countries.
    When he hasn’t had any missions in a while you are usually the one who does the grocery shopping, simply because McCree often is too tired of busy with other tasks.
    Always remember to buy his favorite chocolate; it will put the sweetest smile on his face! 
  • Since he brings home various ingredients from foreign countries, you use these to try to prepare some exotic meals together. As mentioned before, distractions are not uncommon, cooking is no exception. You might randomly start dancing to your favorite song on the radio and completely forget about the food until you recognize a strange, burnt smell coming from the stove.
  • McCree isn’t really a good cook but surprisingly talented at baking, though only when using a recipe. There’s almost nothing he can’t bake as long as he’s got some instructions. The only thing he knows how to prepare without a recipe is apple pie, his mom taught him ages ago.
    He’s also extremely good at making pancakes. 
  • The cowboy sleeps like a log, there’s absolutely nothing that could wake him up (not even an angry Gabriel Reyes). He also tends to sleep a lot and for quite a long time due to his exhausting missions.
    When sleeping in the same bed, the two of you often end up in a tangle of limbs; he might even roll on top of you in his sleep, making it hard for you to get up in the morning. Just throw him off; he definitely won’t wake up anyway. 
  • He snores, though his snoring is not too loud or weird, luckily. You could call it cute but slightly annoying.
  • He usually wakes up when you are getting ready in the bathroom. He’ll join you in whatever you are doing without bothering to even knock. While you are already awake and busy, he hasn’t even woken up properly; it usually takes him about an hour to completely find his way into reality.
    He’s also extremely clingy in the morning, so prepare to be hugged from behind by your boyfriend who’s almost falling asleep with his head resting on your shoulder. It’s a desperate attempt to get you to snuggle back into the bed again with him, you`ll have to remind him that he has to get ready again which will earn you a sad pout. 
  • When the two of you ever get a day off, you always plan everything weeks beforehand. You organize a trip to the museum, reserve a table at your favorite restaurant, and even get tickets for a movie in the evening. However, you tend to cancel everything and just stay in bed the whole day instead.

janstarforever  asked:

Star and Janna visit Quest Buy.

“I can already tell by the look of this place I’m gonna love it.” Janna smiled widely, looking at all the uncanny merchandise.

Star sighed. “No Janna we can destroy all of humanity later,” she said pulling out a list. “Right now buff frog wants us to get some stuff.”

“Ugh fine,” Janna replied. “What does he need?”

“A giant spinning ball of death, dual sword packs, he needs two of them, and-” Star paused. “-baby food?”

Janna took a look at the list. “The baby food one looks easy, let’s do that first.”

Star took a look around and saw that the giant spinning ball of death was on sale. “Oh wait! Look it’s the giant spinning ball of death! That was surprisingly easy?”

Star and Janna grabbed the item and tossed it in the cart, the item was so big it dented the cart easily. Janna couldn’t even push the cart anymore.

“Ok, are we off to find the baby food now?” Janna said as she made the last attempt to push the cart.

Star pushed the cart with ease. “Well if the giant spinning ball of death was easy to find the dual sword packs must be here some where too.”

Suddenly a bird swooped over their heads. “There are only two dual sword packs left in the whole store, get them before they’re gone!” They announced. “Also please no violence this time, the blood was hard to clean.

But Janna and Star were already fighting their way on to the top. “SWORD PACKS! NOW!” Both of them screamed in bloody murder.

The bird clerk was startled by there appearance. “F-Fine here it is.”

Janna added the sword packs to their grocery. “Well, the last thing we need is baby food.”

“Baby food! How hard could that be?” Star exclaimed.

Janna tapped the bird clerk shoulder, who was still slightly startled by their presence. “Hey, do you mind pointing us to the baby food aisle?” Janna asked.

“Ai-Aisle 39,” the bird clerk replied.

“Thanks dude,” Janna said helping Star push the cart, which Star pushed more than Janna.

As they approached aisle 39, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. “Hey Star doesn’t this aisle feel weird?” Janna pondered.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Star replied. She looked over and found the baby food. “Don’t worry babe, we won’t be here for long. I found the baby food!”

But as she approached the item, the floor began to rumble. “Uh Star!?!” Janna yelled.

“Hold on!” Star yelled back.

Suddenly the floor began crumbling. Janna was desperately trying to move the cart towards Star, and failing miserably. Soon enough, the whole aisle was covered in rubble.

Janna dug her way out the rocks, spitting out a few rocks. She was surprising to seethe cart was still intact. But the only thought on her mind was-

“Star!” Janna said as she began digging.

But then, Star suddenly popped behind her. “Janna! Look! Baby food!”

“Mission accomplished!”


“That would be, three thousand five hundred thirty two dollars please,” the bird clerk sighed.

The two were shocked at the price. “Uh ok, let me just get my wallet-” Janna said. But instead she pulled out a smoke bomb and threw it at the ground. “Quick Star the dimensional scissors!!”

And they were out of the store. The bird clerk sighed. “Ugh, this always happens.”