Hellos Everyone!!!

Hellos everyone!!!

I finally published my Daycare Attendant x Reader fic so I decided to draw a little something for it!!! It's Mafia/Cafe AU so it will have some violence in it, but don't worry, it will be relatively tame!

It only has Sun for now but don't you worry, Moonie will come out in ch. 3!

You can find it here on my AO3!! Hope you guys like it!!!

I am cooking. Making a delicate pastry.

It will take a lot of work, patience, and an app that doesn't crash every two saves, but it will be done eventually I think. And when I'm done, I will give it to you guys to eat it like the macaroon is will be.

Wether it is a good macaroon is yet to be decided.

Non-sentient Pomni, my beloved.

Something I wrote about cooking bacon.

As the hand presses the prices of bacon down on the searing skillet, the last remnants of an animal, unremarkable in any way, yet with the same instinctual will to fight, its angry spirit embraces the fire that burns it. It embraces the hot oil that melts it's fat and cooks it's flesh, and uses it's torment to act in desperate rage. It's juices let up, the oil starts to boil, and with the merciless flame underneath, the oil cracks and hisses.

A warning for it's eminent retaliation.

And as the cruel spatula descends once again to press the meat down on the burning skillet, its anger explodes in a giant pop of vengeance. It's juices, it's blood, tainted by white hot hatred, transcends the bounds of it's torture device, and reaches higher, higher, straight for it's torturer. In it's anger, it attacks the first thing that it reaches, punishing the sinful hand that has been tormenting it. The sprays of the bacon's pain now become the pain of it's consumer.

The hand flinches. Weak. Unable to handle a drop from the scorching ocean the prossesed pork has endured. The hand relents. The skillet is being moved. The heat is letting up. A victory. One achieved by the burning desire to fight. Not for it's life this time, but as a last ditch effort to achieve something meaningful. To leave it's mark, no matter how small. And it did. It left a raw, red mark on the presteine skin of the omnipotent hand.

But the hand is stronger.

The bacon is long gone. Devoured. As it was always meant to be.

But its mark remains.

Still raw. Still red. Still hurting.

To the hand, it is of no consern. The hand will heal, regrow, forget.

The mind however, despite not getting marked, continues to remember.

In it's breakfast it found something greater. Something human. Emotions it experienced, parallels it understood.

The mark the bacon had fought for was fleeting and insignificant. But what it never lived to see, was that with it's vengeance, it left something far more everlasting than it could ever comprehend.

A post on Tumblr.

Gangle has some opinions...

Don't lie to me, they are.

It's still surprising to see people say that when they see the upcoming strike post I made that this is the first time they're hearing about it, especially because I've seen several posts now talking about the same strike.

That being said: regardless of what kind of blog you are, please spread the news about the genocide, the strikes, boycotts, etc.

Even if you are a small blog, spreading word allows for more people to know what's going on and also do their part in protests and strikes, and maybe even the right people will be able to do more than what you're able to do.

And reminder: there is an upcoming strike on February 18th-25th. Prepare accordingly, protest, boycott, call your reps, and spread the word so more people are aware.