#(just going to let this simmer on low heat overnight maybe)

[rafecameronssl4t]

The weight of expectations || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: I know you guys wanted more soft moments between Rafe and reader in this au so here you go!!!

Warnings: nothing!

Word count: 1,532

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The dimly lit office in the Cameron building had always carried an air of prestige, a reminder of the empire Ward Cameron had built with his own hands. But now, Rafe sat behind the polished mahogany desk, feeling the weight of that legacy pressing down on his shoulders.

His reflection in the window—sharp suit, tired eyes, jaw clenched—was one of a man constantly battling his own demons. Rafe’s phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. The meeting with Mr. Cartwright was scheduled for five minutes ago, but knowing Cartwright, he would make him wait a little longer just to make a point.

Rafe’s lip twitched in annoyance. This was supposed to be simple—sign the deal, deliver, and collect the reward. But like everything in his life lately, nothing was as easy as it seemed. As if on cue, the heavy doors creaked open, and Mr. Cartwright strode in, his presence filling the room with the unmistakable arrogance of someone who thought he could toy with the Camerons.

Rafe hated men like him. Cartwright was older, maybe late forties, with graying hair slicked back and a suit so tailored it made a statement by itself. Still, Cartwright had power, and Rafe knew they needed him for this deal. Rafe’s eyes narrowed, but he stood, gesturing to the chair across from him. “You’re late.”

Cartwright smirked, unbothered. “You’ve got nothing but time, Cameron.” Rafe resisted the urge to slam his fist on the table. The conversation turned cold quickly, escalating from subtle jabs to outright confrontation as Cartwright slammed his hand on the desk. “This wasn’t the outcome we agreed on, Cameron. I expected the deal to be completed two weeks ago.”

Rafe gritted his teeth, leaning back in his chair, trying to play it cool. Cartwright was testing him, seeing if Rafe would break under pressure. “Things take time, Cartwright. We’re working on it. You can’t expect a project this size to wrap up overnight.” But Cartwright wasn’t having it.

“I expected results, not excuses. I trusted your family’s name—your father’s name—when I signed on to this. Now, you’re telling me I just need to ‘wait’? My investors don’t have time for your delays.” Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “I think you forget I was my father’s protégé, and now I’m handling the business. You underestimate me.”

“I don’t care what your investors think. The timelines shifted, and there’s nothing anyone can do about that. We’ll deliver, but on our schedule, not yours.” Mr. Cartwright slams his hand down on the table, eyes narrowing. “Your schedule is putting my reputation on the line. I’m not some small-time client you can string along. My name holds weight, and if your company can’t keep up, I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

Rafe’s eyes flicker with irritation, but he maintains his composure, though his tone becomes icier. “You’re not going anywhere, and we both know that.” He leans forward, his stare sharp. “You’ve invested too much in this project to pull out now. So let’s stop pretending you have the upper hand here.”

Mr. Cartwright scoffs, clearly insulted. “Your father knew how to handle his business. You, on the other hand, seem more interested in playing house with your perfect little wife and children than focusing on the deals that matter.” The mention of you brought heat rising to Rafe’s face.

His jaw clenched as he fought to control his temper. The comment hit too close to home. Cartwright had no idea what his marriage was like, the public façade they upheld, the tangled mess of feelings that simmered beneath the surface. “Mention my wife again, and you’ll regret it,” Rafe spat, his voice low and dangerous.

Cartwright just smirked. “Touchy subject, huh? Maybe if you focused on the business instead of her, this deal wouldn’t be falling apart.” That did it. Rafe was out of his chair, leaning over the desk, his eyes flashing with barely controlled rage. “You don’t get to talk about her. You signed the contract. You’ll get what we promised, but on our terms.”

“If you’re too much of a coward to stick it out, then fine—walk away. But you’re not going to find anyone better than me in this industry, and you know it.” The room was tense, their stares locked in a silent battle of wills. Cartwright didn’t budge. Instead, he straightened his suit jacket, his mouth set in a hard line.

“I’ll give you one month, Cameron. If this doesn’t turn around by then, I’ll make sure everyone knows how your family is crumbling—starting with you. Rafe forced himself to relax, stepping back from the desk, his smirk returning, though there was no warmth behind it. “One month. You’ll get your results. But you don’t scare me, Cartwright. Cross me, and you’ll regret it.”

With one final glance, Cartwright turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, leaving Rafe standing alone, the weight of the confrontation settling over him. He ran a hand through his hair, muttering a string of curses under his breath.

~

It was nearing 8 p.m. when Rafe pulled into the driveway, his mind still buzzing from the heated argument with Cartwright. He had no doubt he could deliver on the deal—he always found a way. But tonight, Cartwright’s words had gotten under his skin in a way that lingered, like a dull throb at the back of his mind.

The quiet of the house was almost unsettling as he stepped inside, the weight of the day’s events hanging heavily on his shoulders. Making his way upstairs, Rafe entered the bedroom, immediately spotting you on the bed, nursing Leo. Your eyes were closed, head leaned back against the headboard, one hand gently patting Leo’s back as he fed contentedly.

Rafe sighed, running a hand over his face, feeling the tension in his body slowly begin to ease. As complicated as things were between you, there was an undeniable comfort in your presence—an unspoken understanding that neither of you acknowledged but both felt. Rafe quietly crossed the room, his gaze softening as he approached.

Leo’s wide eyes met his, curious and bright. Rafe couldn’t help but smile, reaching out to gently stroke his son’s cheek. Leo’s tiny hand immediately grasped Rafe’s finger, holding on tight. A warmth spread through Rafe’s chest, and for a moment, the stress of the day melted away. His eyes shifted back to you.

Your breathing was calm, features relaxed in a way that made you look at peace, despite everything swirling around your lives. There was something soothing about the scene in front of him—something grounding. Leo’s eyes never left Rafe, watching his father with that same innocent curiosity. “Tough day?” Your voice, soft but alert, broke the silence.

Rafe’s gaze snapped up, meeting your half-lidded eyes as you watched him, though you hadn’t moved. He straightened, clearing his throat as he walked to the dresser, his back turned to you. “Just another asshole trying to tell me how to run my business,” he muttered, slipping off his watch and setting it down with more force than necessary.

“Cartwright’s testing me,” Rafe continued, running a hand through his hair before heading turned back around, leaning against the dresser. “Thinks I’m not my father.” Your gaze softened as you watched him. “You’re not your father, Rafe. And that’s not a bad thing.”

His blue eyes searched yours, trying to figure out if you truly meant it. There was a sincerity there, a quiet support that he wasn’t used to. It disarmed him for a moment, making him pause as he watched you with a curiosity that mirrored his son’s. The way you moved so naturally—so gracefully—as you gently lifted Leo and placed him in his bassinet beside the bed was a sight he found himself quietly admiring.

A soft sigh left your lips as you tucked him in, smoothing the blankets before slipping back beneath the sheets. You glanced up at him, still leaning against the dresser, lost in thought. “Are you going to get ready for bed?” you asked, your voice soft but carrying that calm tone you always seemed to have when it came to him.

There was no pressure, just a simple question, but it tugged at something deeper within Rafe. He cleared his throat, standing up a little straighter. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he muttered, his voice low as he turned back to the dresser, his fingers absently fiddling with the cufflinks on his shirt.

But he didn’t move right away. Instead, he stood there for a moment longer, watching you settle into the bed, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around him like a comfort he hadn’t realised he needed. Despite the chaos that always seemed to swirl around them—around him—there was a strange sense of peace in this room, in this space they shared.

Even if it wasn’t always easy, even if things between them were complicated, there was something grounding in the quiet moments like these. And as much as Rafe hated to admit it, those moments were starting to mean more to him than he had ever expected.

[scificrows]

#oof .mp3 #the murderbot diaries #tool & not a toy is kiling me . whos in to start a phd program in murderbot diaries so we can sit around a round table and discuss this #in relation to comfortunits and how mb doesnt bring this up again post ac and how its #casually dropping bits about being chewed on by hostile fauna / seeing people get eaten by hostile fauna / establishes this as a source of #trauma long before sc was even announced. and have like shitty coffee and little badges. whos in (tags via op)

[spooniechef]

Slow Cooker Beef Pot Roast (0-1 spoon)

I know it's been about half-past forever. Between work and some home issues, I haven't really had the spoons for much. But that's kind of perfect because it means that I do have things to say in this particular bit of journal. Yes, mostly I was doing my tried-and-true regular recipes, but this month I decided to further explore the possibilities of my multicooker (Instant Pot kind of thing but without the brand name recognition). The pressure cooker function is great if you want soup or stew, but this month, I tried the slow cooking function. Honestly, this was a bit of a revelation for me, for reasons I'll go into in a bit more detail once I'm done with the recipe. It's all going to be approximates, mind you - but the best recipes generally are.

So, here's what you'll need

1 good-sized chunk of beef (see notes; somewhere in the 2-3lb range)

1 onion, quartered

3 cups of chopped root vegetables (carrots, parsnips, turnips)

Whole garlic cloves (to taste)

2-3 cups beef stock

1 cup red wine

2 bay leaves

Other herbs and spices to taste (see notes)

Here's what you do:

Sear the outside of the beef - you can use the browning function on your multicooker to do that, but doing it on the stove is quicker

Add the onion, root vegetables, garlic, bay leaves, and other herbs to the multicooker

Place the beef on top of the vegetables; add liquid

Cover and cook on low setting for 6-8 hours

Take out the beef to let it rest for 20 minutes

If you want gravy, strain the remaining liquid into a small saucepan, simmer on medium heat to reduce and gradually stir in maybe 1 tbsp cornstarch to thicken.

FEAST

A few notes:

The best thing about the slow cooker is that you can put everything together the night before. While you're putting together one night's dinner, you can just chop a couple of extra veg, spend another five minutes or so searing the meat, then put everything together in the inner pot of your multicooker and leave it covered in the fridge overnight. Just take it out of the fridge 20 minutes or so before you start cooking it.

The other good thing is that this literally needs nothing else done with it. No watching, no stirring, no nothing. You can switch on your multicooker or even set it to switch itself on at the appropriate time, go to work or whatever, and not only come home with dinner sorted, but you will come home with your whole home smelling wonderful. Then, all you have to do is make gravy if you want to.

Yet another good thing about the slow cooker is that it encourages use of the tougher, and generally cheaper, cuts of meat. The slow cooking breaks it down very well - as an example, I used silverside in mine (nearest to the rump, generally known as a drier and tougher cut) and when it was done and properly rested, it was so tender it fell apart when I so much as tried to get the binding string off. So you get several days' worth of lovely meals at a halfway reasonable price.

As to the beef stock and red wine, looking over several slow cooker beef recipes has led me to believe that as long as there's a certain amount of liquid in there for your beef to soak up, you're good. So experiment with whatever liquids, herbs and spices you want. Honestly, next time I'm going for less beef stock and a half-cup of A1.

I'm going to be doing other things with the slow cooker, so I promise there will be more to watch on this space. If nothing else, I'm having a vegetarian friend of mine over to dinner next month and I figure I should share recipes for things like the planned butternut squash risotto and the no-bake gingerbread cheesecake. Also, Sunday will see me take delivery of a small air fryer, which I feel like will very much improve my quality of life and certainly inspire me to new heights of cookery. And hey, running one of those is cheaper than heating up a single portion of tater tots in the oven.

So ... not dead, just reeeeeeeeeally lacking in spoons. But now I've found some ways to save a few, and this is as good a place as any to spend them.

[thedisneychef]

Can You Make Corned Beef and Cabbage? Here's an Easy Recipe to Try

Hi everyone! I'm so excited to share this recipe with you. Today, we're making a delicious corned beef and cabbage dish that's sure to make your mouth water. This is one of my family's favorite recipes and it always gets rave reviews from our guests. So let's get started! Corned beef and cabbage has been around for centuries - first mentioned in Irish literature over 500 years ago. It was traditionally served on St. Patrick’s Day but nowadays, people enjoy the savory combination all year round. And why not? Not only does it taste great, but it's also easy to make! Maybe You Also Like: - Can Cooker Kielbasa Recipe: A Delicious and Easy Meal Idea - Candy Roaster Pumpkin Pie Recipe - Can Green Beans Casserole Recipe Ingredients I'm so excited to share this delicious corned beef and cabbage recipe with you. This classic Irish dish is a favorite of mine, and I think it's going to be yours too once you give it a try! The key to making the perfect corned beef and cabbage is all in the spice combinations. You'll need garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, ground mustard seed, caraway seeds, black pepper, bay leaves and kosher salt. Each one adds its own unique flavor that makes this dish stand out from the rest. Just as important as getting your spices right is understanding cooking times. The slow cooked brisket needs at least 8 hours on low heat until tender enough to pull apart with a fork. Meanwhile the vegetables will get added near the end of cooking time so they don't become soggy or overcooked - around 2-3 hours before serving should do it just fine. Now that you have all the information needed for success, go ahead and give this tasty recipe a shot! It's sure to please even the pickiest eaters - trust me! Preparing The Beef Now that you have all the ingredients for your corned beef and cabbage recipe, it's time to prepare the beef. Slow cooking is key for this dish - it helps make the meat tender and flavorful. Start by brine soaking the beef in a bowl of cold water overnight. This will help draw out moisture from the meat and make sure it doesn't dry out while cooking. When you're ready to cook, place the beef in a large pot with enough water to cover it completely. Add several peppercorns and bay leaves to give the broth extra flavor before bringing everything up to a boil over high heat. Once boiling, reduce the heat to low and simmer uncovered for two hours or until the meat is fork-tender. Once done, use tongs or a slotted spoon to transfer your cooked beef onto a plate so you can start assembling your corned beef and cabbage dish! Cooking The Vegetables I'm a firm believer that the key to making any dish is using quality ingredients. When it comes to braising corned beef and cabbage, selecting the right vegetables for the job is essential. Here are some tips for getting those veggies just right! We want to use a slow-cooking technique like braising with our vegetables so they don't become too mushy or lose their flavor. To get started, choose hearty root vegetables such as carrots, potatoes, turnips, onions and celery - these will hold up better during cooking. You can also add in other seasonal vegetables of your choice; just be sure not to overcrowd the pot! When it comes to seasoning choices, you have quite a bit of freedom here. I like to keep things simple by adding fresh herbs like rosemary and thyme along with salt and pepper - but feel free to experiment with different combinations depending on what type of flavors you're looking for. If you need an extra kick of spice, try tossing in some red pepper flakes before serving. With these tips in mind, enjoy your delicious corned beef and cabbage meal! Putting It All Together I'm going to show you how to prepare a classic corned beef and cabbage recipe. First, you need to make sure you have all of the necessary ingredients. I'll be talking you through cutting the vegetables and seasoning the beef. Then it's time to start cooking the dish! I'll explain how to layer the ingredients into the pot and how long to simmer it until it's ready to serve. Preparing The Ingredients When it comes to making the perfect corned beef and cabbage recipe, preparation is key! One of the most important steps in getting everything just right is storing your vegetables properly. Make sure you choose cuts that are fresh and not wilted or browning around the edges. When shopping for your ingredients, opt for organic produce whenever possible as they tend to have a superior flavor when cooked. Don't forget to check expiration dates on all canned goods too - no one wants an unpleasant surprise at dinner time! With proper storage and careful ingredient selection, you'll be well on your way to creating a delicious meal. Cooking The Dish Now that we have all the ingredients together, it's time to cook up a delicious corned beef and cabbage dinner! There are some traditional methods of cooking this dish - boiling your vegetables in salted water with the beef until tender and then adding butter or other seasonings for flavor. You can also try special variations like braising or roasting the meat for a different texture. Experimenting with spices is always encouraged too - find what works best for you and your family! No matter which way you choose to prepare it, the end result will be sure to please everyone at the table. Serving Suggestions Once your corned beef and cabbage is finished cooking, it's time to serve! Here are a few serving tips that will make sure the meal goes off without a hitch. First, I recommend slicing up the corned beef into thick slices before plating. This ensures everyone gets an equal portion of the succulent meat. If you have leftovers, be sure to store them in an airtight container for maximum freshness. When it comes to side dishes, there are endless possibilities. Potatoes or mashed turnips go great with this dish if served hot out of the oven. Or try some freshly baked bread on the side – crusty sourdough and a pat of butter would be delicious! Alternatively, why not whip up some coleslaw or potato salad? These cold sides provide the perfect contrast against the warmth of the main course. No matter what accompaniments you choose, just remember that presentation is key when it comes to making any meal look beautiful. So don’t forget to garnish each plate with sprigs of parsley or fresh herbs for an added touch of flavor and color! Frequently Asked Questions What Is The Best Type Of Corned Beef To Use? When making a can corned beef and cabbage recipe, it's important to know what type of corned beef is best to use. There are several types, such as flat-cut brisket or point-cut brisket brined with spices for weeks at a time. For the most flavor and tenderness, try using pre-brined cut that has been cured in salt water for two days; this will give you the best texture and flavor without needing additional brining time. Is There A Way To Make This Recipe Without Cabbage? Yes, you can make a delicious corned beef dish without cabbage! Instead of using just one vegetable, try combining a few different ones for flavor and texture. Carrots, onions and potatoes are all great alternatives to cabbage that will still give your recipe the right amount of crunch. You could also experiment with different spice combinations such as bay leaves, mustard powder or paprika - there's no limit to what flavors you can include in this tasty meal! How Long Should The Beef Be Cooked For? Cooking corned beef isn't a quick process, but it's definitely worth the wait. You'll need to brine the beef for up to 10 days beforehand and then cook it at 325°F for 3-4 hours or until an internal temperature of 145°F is reached. It might seem like a long time, but you'll be rewarded with juicy, tender results that will make your mouth water! What Is The Best Way To Season The Vegetables? The best way to season the vegetables in a can corned beef and cabbage recipe is by adding flavor enhancers like onion powder, garlic powder, paprika, or chili flakes. You can also experiment with different spice combinations such as rosemary, thyme, parsley and oregano for added flavor. Don't forget to add salt and pepper too! Adding these spices will give your vegetables an extra kick of flavor that won't be forgotten. Is There An Easy Way To Make This Recipe In A Slow Cooker? Yes, making corned beef and cabbage in a slow cooker is definitely easy! The trick is to adjust the cooking times and portion sizes for your slow cooker. Depending on the size of your slow cooker you may need to cut down the amount of ingredients used or increase the cooking time. If it's too full, there won't be enough liquid which affects how quickly everything cooks. So make sure that all the vegetables and meat are properly proportioned before starting. You can also add extra seasonings like bay leaves, garlic powder, onion powder, pepper flakes or paprika to give it more flavor if desired. Conclusion Making a corned beef and cabbage recipe is an easy way to enjoy this classic dish. When it comes to choosing the right type of corned beef, look for cuts that are leaner so they don't become too tough when cooked. If you decide not to use cabbage in your recipe, other hearty vegetables such as potatoes or carrots make great substitutions. Cook times may vary depending on how thick the cut of meat is, but generally speaking, allow at least two hours for cooking. To add flavor to the vegetables, try adding herbs like thyme or parsley. For those who want a convenient slow cooker option, all ingredients can be added into the pot before setting it on low heat and letting it cook overnight. With these tips in mind, you’ll have no trouble re-creating this delicious traditional meal in your own kitchen! If you're looking for more delicious recipes to try, be sure to check out The Disney Chef's recipe categories! Whether you're in the mood for something sweet like a cake recipe, something savory like a chicken or pork recipe, or something fresh like a vegetable or seafood recipe, there's something for everyone. And if you're a meat-lover, don't forget to check out the beef recipes category for hearty and satisfying meals. With so many options to choose from, you're sure to find a new favorite recipe to add to your collection. Read the full article

[freakxwannaxbe]

Do you mind if I ask how you make sour cherry juice?

Sure, it took a bit of translating, but I think I got it down.

Edit: I made some adjustments as my mom remembered them, and added some pictures as well

All you need is one part sour cherries -after stems and pits are removed- and one part sugar.

When you buy, let say, 1 kilogram of sour cherries, after you de-pit them and de-stem them, they'll lose some weight, so that requires lets say around 800 grams of sugar for 1 raw kilogram (aka the weight with pits and stems included) of sour cherries.

Wash the cherries thoroughly, remove stems, remove pits, put in a pot with the sugar, mix (and squeeze) everything thoroughly and yes, you can even use your hands, and let sit covered for a while. Preferably even overnight.

Extra: Read bottom for more info on using preservatives, it's fine to use them, especially if you're making a lot. If you want to add your preservative of choice, this is when you do it. Put it in the pot to rest with the sugar and cherries.

Check the packaging of your preservative to see how much you should use.

Before, we used to leave it overnight, but today since we finished removing pits and mixed it all with sugar by around 10 am, we're gonna cook it later today, maybe around 6 or 7pm?

Come in and mix the concoction every couple of hours, we do it with our hands, squish the cherries more, make sure to move the sugar that falls to the bottom of the pot to help it dissolve.

Clean your container[s], preferably glass bottles, wash them thoroughly and you can even put them in the oven if they're good fireproof ones on a low heat to further sterilize them. Be careful with this step, if you don't know what you're doing, don't do it, just wash them then. This is just an extra cleaning step that should keep your syrup good for longer.

So when some time passes, from 8 to 12 hours. put it on heat, stirring it and bring it to boil. Keep it on the heat until you feel all the sugar has dissolved. This can take up to 10 minutes. Don't forget to stir. Don't leave it alone while it simmers, it will bubble up quickly and spill over the pot, and let me tell you, it's a very sticky mess to clean up.

Edit: My mother just informed me, when during cooking a thick foam forms, you need to scoop it off. You can also eat this foam, my mom likes to add it to icecream.

Let it cool just enough that you can handle it, and now you can strain and pour the syrup. Use a funnel and a strainer, and have a bowl ready where you'll empty the strainer of chunks. Use a spoon to further squeeze any juice out of the chunky bits.

Edit: Currently pouring it, you don't have to wait for it to cool a little, you can do it as soon as you take it off the heat, but you should be careful, and don't forget: pour it slowly and little by little, let the glass fog up before you continue pouring.

By the way, do not throw the chunky bits away, these can be frozen and used for a plethora of things, from cakes, fillings, jams, they are good in anything.

Slowly pour the syrup with a ladle, you don't want to temperature shock the (glass) container with a hot liquid. Depending on how much you make and if you need more bottles, pour a little bit of the syrup in each bottle and let the temperature adjust. By the time you pour a little in each one, the first one should have already acclimated. Also the heat of the liquid helps sterilize everything again.

After you've filled your bottles, put a piece of food safe cellophane over the top and twist the cap on (this creates a better seal for long storage). Place them in a nice dark place, maybe in a corner or under a desk or table, and importantly: at room temperature. Cover them with something, let them rest and cool off at their own pace for up to three days.

We do three days at room temperature just to make extra sure it's all cooled, but it can take less. You can also use it instantly, but no one likes hot juice. Wait at least a day.

Don't put them in the fridge or wherever before you think everything is nice and cooled down. The whole "don't shock it" thing from before.

After you feel they have cooled to room temperature, you can put them in your fridge/storage, and the syrup should last like up to a year.

When you want to drink it, pour a little bit in a glass and dilute it with regular or sparkling water (you'll get the hang of how how much you should pour depending on how sweet you want it).

You can also use the syrup in alcohol drinks, or even for stuff like a syrup for sponge cakes or whatever else you want. It's super versatile.

Extra: If you are making a big amount (but maybe you should start small, like with 1kg of sour cherries, until you learn how to do it and to find out if you even like it) and are iffy on how long it can last in storage, you can use preservatives as well, like citric acid or whatever your choice is, we just never did because my mom used to make this for us when we were kids to drink and didn't want extra chemicals.

Instead, if by chance a bottle would go bad (she and dad would make up to 20l of syrup a year), if there isn't too much gunk at the top, she'd pour the entire bottle in a pot and boil the hell out of it.

Not everyone is comfortable with this for various reasons, trust me I know, so please, if you are making a bigger amount that you need to last a year, feel free to use preservatives.

[maverique-n00b-witch]

Recipe! Please note this is NOT a quick recipe, it is very time consuming so please don't try making it if you have someplace to be soon!

2 boxes bone broth (or 8 cups of homemade bone broth if you make it yourself, I used boxed chicken bone broth)

1 ham bone with a bit of meat and fat still attached (if you actually have a portion of the meat as well you can chop it up and throw it in)

1 cup dry pinto beans

3/4 medium onion (I used a sweet onion but you can use whatever onion you prefer)

3-4 large red potatoes (this is also personal preference, if you prefer a different kind of potato then use what you like! Peeling is also optional. Just wash em real good if you're not going to peel them)

3 handfuls chopped dark leafy greens (I used a handful each of spinach, kale, and a southern greens blend)

Bay leaves

Minced garlic (I buy it in jars because chopping cloves of the stuff is a pain)

Salt and pepper (I use pink Himalayan salt because pink is a lucky color for me and I like the mineral content but you can use whatever salt you prefer or have on hand)

You will need a big pot ideal for making a lot of soup, a medium saucepan, and a slow cooker/crockpot that holds at least 2 quarts.

Begin a day in advance.

Put the dry beans in a medium saucepan and fill with water. Leave this to soak until tomorrow.

Put the broth, ham bone, and any leftover ham into a big pot and fill the rest of the way with water. Bring this to a boil, then turn to the lowest heat setting, cover, and let it simmer on very low heat for several hours. You can do this in late afternoon or early evening but the next step should be taken close to bedtime.

Before you go to bed, transfer the broth and bones to the crockpot, turn it on low, and let it do its thing overnight and all morning. In the afternoon or evening, you can start the rest.

When it's time to get cooking, fish the bone pieces out of the crockpot. They should be hollowed out as the marrow will have cooked right out of them. Pour the broth back into the big pot on the stove, cover, and turn it on the lowest heat setting.

Take 2 quarters of an onion and slice them. Drop these into the broth. Add a spoonful of minced garlic, a bay leaf, and salt and pepper to taste.

Start on the beans. Strain out the soak water, rinse them, and put them back in the pot with fresh water, 1/4 onion sliced up, a spoonful of minced garlic, a bay leaf, lots of black pepper, and a ladle full of the broth. Make sure you get some pieces of fat and meat with it.

Bring beans to a boil, then turn to medium low heat and vent the lid. Simmer for 2-4 hours, stirring every 10 minutes or so until the beans are tender and the liquid has cooked down to just above the beans. Add salt during the last hour of cooking the beans.

When the beans are almost done, dice your potatoes and throw them into the broth pot with your greens. Bring to a boil, then turn to medium low and simmer for maybe 30 minutes until the potatoes are tender. When the beans are done, add them into the soup.

Make some cornbread to go with it and enjoy!

Someone in a witchy fb group posted asking others to comment a picture that shows the energy they're bringing into 2023, and I posted this soup I made the other night. Literally the heartiest and most protein rich and nutrient dense soup I have EVER made. A ham bone, two boxes of chicken bone broth, onion, potatoes, pinto beans(which I had cooked from dry before adding to the soup), and lots of dark leafy greens were involved in the making of this soup. It's so comforting and nourishing that I can feel something in my soul actively healing as I eat it. That's the energy I'm bringing into 2023 with me. Nourishment for the body and soul, healing, and pride in my work.

Check reblogs for recipe if you're interested in making it yourself!

[emwritesfootball]

Spending The Night | Eric Dier

Ok thinking about a piece for big baby Eric Dier, where him and the reader spend the night together for the first time in their relationship so there’s like cute domestic stuff like her staying at his place and being nervous, but then they hookup for the first time since they’ve been together and it’s like exploring each other’s bodies and figuring out what the other likes and dislikes 😳 sexy

Word Count: 981

Warnings: protected!sex, teasing, etc

Enjoy @balenciagastones xx

- - -

You double- and triple-checked your overnight bag, paranoid that you might have forgotten something. “Get it together,” you muttered to yourself, sighing as you ran a hand through your hair before starting your car with shaking hands.

You took a deep breath as you pulled into Eric’s drive, trying to calm your nerves. Everything dissipated the moment he answered the door, smiling wide as you stepped in for a hug and a welcoming kiss.

“Are you ready to make dinner with me?” He asked after grabbing your bag and letting you inside. You followed him, trying to keep your awe in check as you looked around at his beautiful home.

“I think so. Did you get all the ingredients from the store already?”

Eric shrugged. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” You were confused and it showed on your face.

“Well, we’ve gotta pick a few of them from my garden, first.” Eric took your hand and led you to the back garden, smiling proudly as he showed you all the vegetables and herbs he was growing.

“So, what do we need?” You asked, donning the pair of gardening gloves Eric had handed you.

The two of you worked in tandem, Eric showing you the proper way to dig for the potatoes and carrots and how to pick the basil and rosemary so the plant could still grow. When everything was picked, Eric gave you the basket and you followed him inside.

“You’re all sweaty,” you murmured half to yourself as you watched him walk ahead of you. His t-shirt clung to his back and biceps, and you couldn’t help getting turned on.

“What?” Eric asked, turning and smirking when he caught you staring. “Oh.” He blushed and ran a sheepish hand over his head. “I can shower if you’d like. Before we, um, uh...”

“Have sex?” You finished for him. Now it was your turn to smirk. “If you’d be more comfortable.”

Eric thought it over, setting the basket of veg and herb down on the counter before pulling you into him. “How about we shower together after sex tonight?”

“Mm, that sounds nice.” Something about the way he said it had anticipation pooling low in your belly as you placed a hand on his chest and kissed him. The kiss held promise of more later and you couldn’t wait. Just then, your stomach growled, interrupting the moment when the two of you burst out into giggles at the noise.

“But first: food,” Eric said, taking charge and getting all the pots and pans and utensils out before the two of you started cooking.

Cooking with Eric felt normal and domestic. The two of you worked in sync and it wasn’t long before the food was simmering on the stove and the bread was in the oven. “Timer’s set,” you said, smiling triumphantly as you turned to Eric. “It won’t be long now.”

Eric placed his hands on your hips, pulling you into him so you were pressed flush against him. “Any suggestions as to what we can do while we wait?”

“I can think of a few things,” you replied, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

You explored his mouth with your own, moaning when he slipped his tongue into your mouth and tangled it with yours. Your fingers dug into the back of his neck, the baby-fine hairs tickling your fingertips. Eric pressed you against the counter, slipping his knee between your legs as the kisses turned heated and he trailed kisses down your neck.

“Eric,” you whimpered, tilting your neck to give him better access, “if you keep doing that, I won’t make it through dinner.”

“What’ll happen if I nibble on your earlobe?” He whispered, his hands sliding up your shirt.

You swallowed hard, biting down on your bottom lip. “If...if you do that, our food will definitely be ruined.”

Eric laughed, pulling away and resting his forehead on yours. Both of you were breathing heavily and you couldn’t help clinging to him. “I guess we’re gonna have to stop for now, eh?”

“I guess,” you said, nodding. “But the food’s almost done…”

As if on cue, the timer went off and you and Eric set to work getting the table ready and digging in to dinner.

***

After dinner, the two of you cuddled on the sofa, kissing with a movie on in the background while you waited to go to bed. Eric’s hands wandered all over your body and you did the same to him, both of you figuring out what you liked and disliked.

“Should we move this to the bedroom?” Eric asked hesitantly, looking up at you as you straddled him.

“I think we should,” you replied, climbing off him and following him to his bedroom.

It was fun and awkward, exploring each other. Eric made you feel safe and comfortable in his arms, and you loved the way he made you feel. You showed him just how you liked your pussy eaten and he talked you through how to get him to cum quickly down your throat. You’d originally balked at the size of his cock and joked about how he would get it inside you, but the moment he had you on your back and he was sliding inch by inch inside you, you lost all train of thought.

“Fuck,” Eric cursed, rolling off of you when you’d both had an orgasm. He tied off the condom, depositing it in the bathroom bin and returned with a washcloth to run between your legs. “That was…”

“I know,” you said, giggling and grinning at him. “Maybe we should have made it bad so that those aren’t our expectations we’ve got to live up to next time?”

Eric shook his head, leaning down and dropping a kiss on your lips. “Just wait ‘til morning - I’ve got plans.”

[detroitbydark]

Chapter 10

Title: Tell Me That Your Soul Lies Now

Relationship: Sev/OC/Scorch

Rating: Teen

Characters: Jessa, Sev, Scorch, Walon Vau... Every character imaginable and few that you probably didn't expect to see

Warnings: None!

Summary: Harvest Day is very busy day. The boys head home. Jessa faces some hard questions. Walon has to decide what is right for his growing clan.

A/N: 15K holy hell. Thanks your patience with this one. it was an undertaking! As always thank you to my wonderful @crimson-dxwn​ for letting me bounces ideas off of her and for her beta'ing. Thank @fractiouskat​ for being an A+ cheerleader and thank you to @royalhandmaidens​ for the greatest banner ever!

Kyr’vhetine Tuur comes on a most un-autumn like day with temperatures before the sun had fully risen already beginning to look to those of a cool summer morning. The winds had disappeared almost entirely overnight, leaving only a gentle breeze that barely kissed the nunas’ feathers

It was going to be an excellent day to celebrate the end of the growing season and the bounty of the harvest, Kal had proclaimed before the groups had split off.

Walon wasn’t one to argue the good fortune of a perfect day. He was old enough to know they didn’t come often and still young enough to appreciate it for all it was.

He pulls a deep filtered breath in while his HUD scans the surrounding tree line.

Per tradition, hunting parties had broken off at the crack of dawn in search of game. This would be one of the last good days for a hunt before the snows came and the animals disappeared into the white wonderland of northern Mandalore. It wouldn’t be prudent to attempt again until the heat of summer fell and the mothers had dropped babies and could be more easily avoided.

Rav Bralor and her boys from Yayax squad - as well as the former commander Levet - had come in the night before, much to Walon’s chagrin. Sleeping arrangements were far tighter these days with the various marriages and additional children. He’d had to put his foot down when Kal had offered his rooms up to the entirety of the Bralor clan. In compromise, Walon had allowed Rav and Levet to take up Jessa’s room and she had moved into Scorch and Sev’s while the rest of the clan piled in with the other bachelors.

Walon pretended that he didn’t know his Ad’ika had spent most nights asleep in Scorch’s bed already and simply explained that he didn’t think either commando would appreciate others sleeping in their space. She’d eagerly complied.

She was still asleep when he, Mird, Rav and Levet had gone to meet the other early risers for their hunt.

The verdant summer greens had faded first into jewel toned fallen leaves and finally crisp brown litter that spilled across the forest floor. It added a layer of difficulty that the Mando’ade found a pleasant challenge. Shatual were a finicky creature, as likely to run away from a hunter as they were to attack it. The crunch of leaves under boots was enough to solicit either response and many an unlucky Mando had found themselves enjoying the scent of bacta rather than the taste of shatual haunch after a hunt gone bad.

Each clan of the former training sergeants was represented this morning. Kal and Ordo had set off in one direction while Mereel and Corr had gone another. Rav and Levet had joined in as well. Walon, no human adiike of any ability in sight, had Mird as his hunting companion.

The strill stalks ahead through the tops of the veshuk trees, silent as death itself. The sun had yet to penetrate the forest around him and the stillness, the sheer quiet of the morning calmed him like little else could. Two days and still Fenn Shysa’s intel bothered him on a level he wasn’t familiar with.

Of course the Empire would look to make money where it could. Of course clone lives meant less now than they had to the GAR and the Republic at large.

Maybe it was the fact that they all had adiike still on the ranks - if they’d managed to survive this long - or perhaps it was the fact that they weren’t even being sold as slaves.

Walon, Kal, Rav and the rest of Cuy’val dar had raised competent soldiers, the best of the best. He himself had spouted that they were to be tools of the Grand Army, that their one purpose was fighting for the Army that in the end would give little thought to the clone -the men- they sent into battle. Now, to hear of them being sold as surplus like a decommissioned line of blasters or transports left Vau feeling sick and angry in a way that wasn’t familiar with. Righteous indignation was a state of being for Kal Skirata, but for Walon Vau it was new and uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to do with the rage simmering in his chest.

Mird chirps from his spot in the canopy above, drawing his attention back to the task at hand. He nods carefully to the strill and readjusts his sensors to pick up heat signatures through the dense brush. Not twenty yards away a flare of color through his HUD as a great shatual buck rises from its bed, shaking its head unawares of the danger that waits for it.

Over two and a half meters from top of its dark nose to the white fluff of its tail. The spread on its rack is impressive and would make a fine display on any wall. It makes a low bellowing noise, calling for any unbred females.

Walon can see the lines of Mird’s body strung tight in preparation. It’s almost time and the Mandalorian can feel the cool calm of a hunter’s mind wash over him. There is nothing else in the moment, only hunter and prey. He says his thanks to the Manda for another day of air in his lungs and another opportunity to stalk the dark forest. He doesn’t need to look at Mird any longer. They’ve been doing this since he was a teenager. The strill is ready and waiting for the signal. Walon leans back slowly against a veshuk tree and raises his slugthrower to his shoulder. Only one word leaves his mouth.

“Oya.”

The shatual turns its head in time to see its death, teeth on display bearing down on it from the trees above.

A strill with business in mind will always go for the throat. A tiny shiver of pleasure skitters down the back Walon’s neck as the creature finds its target. It’s satisfying in a way that Walon’s never been able to put into words. The shatual tries in vain to throw the smaller strill off, shaking its big neck from side to side. Strill teeth are long and sharp and Mird will not be budged, even as blood from the shatual begins to run into his eyes. Walon watches his oldest friend readjust his grip, only his back feet touch the ground as he all but hangs from his prey. The shatual makes a forlorn sound as its front legs buckle, sending him down to his front knees.

Walon levels the sight on the slug thrower as the creature turns broadside. It bellows again but it comes out wet and choked. Vau finds the sweet spot, imagining an invisible “x” over the spot he wants to hit. He pulls in a gentle breath, all thought of auctions and clones and adiike pushed aside. He squeezes the trigger on his exhale and the shatual falls silent.

————

Sev doesn’t balk when Scorch asks to make a quick pit stop in Enceri. He doesn’t bat an eye when he forgoes their usual perusal of the blaster smiths for a box of fresh pastries. He doesn’t so much as question Scorch’s motives until they get to the flower shop. Even then it’s just more of silent Sev with extra eyes burning into the back of Scorch’s head.

The words had come to Scorch easily enough, they always did. They needed to woo their intended. He didn’t like the word courting, something about it felt too old timey and proper, not like something two former commandos turned bounty hunters would do. Sev seemed to find his explanation acceptable. He was good for rolling with the punches no matter what anyone else said. He even let his like and dislikes of the various options be known in a series of very Sev-like grunts and scoffs. Scorch liked the red ones. Sev liked the pink. They split the difference and got both and jumbled them together into - what Scorch felt - was a very appealing assortment. It took almost no time and it left the former commando pleased with his previously unknown ability to romance a woman.

And then they were heading home.

The sun had barely crested over the mountains when they arrived at the airfield and performed a quick once over of the Duke. She’d require a more thorough shakedown later but today was Kyr’vhetine Tuur - Jessa and Sev’s first on Mandalore - and in Scorch’s eyes that took precedence. His heart is light and bubbly as their speeder bikes cover the ground between the airfield and Kyrimorut. Last time they’d done this he’d had a half frozen woman wrapped in his arms and now, just months later, he was plotting ways to get her back into them. Into theirs.

He knew his vod enough to know that he wasn’t fully on board with the mission as of yet. He didn’t see the odds of a favorable success and he remained open but unimpressed by the possibility of it all. That was ok. Scorch had enough hope and atin’la for the two of them.

It’s not until Kyrimorut becomes little mounds on the horizon that the jitters start. Scorch has picked up women in cantinas. He’s taken them back to small hotels or their homes. Scorch has left everyone with a smile on their face. He has never properly courted someone. It’s been ten days and he’s starting to second guess what he thought was there. Maybe Jessa didn’t feel the same pull. Maybe the kiss was a fluke.

“Shut up.” Sev’s voice growls through their comms, “you’re thinking too loud.”

Scorch says nothing.

The yard in front of the yaim is crowded with a speeder and a trio of speeder bikes. The Bralors. Scorch frowns. He really doesn’t want to do this in front of an audience.

The pair park in the usual spot and slide from their seats. The sun is bright, its rays warming the wind whipped beskar covering them. Sev’s buyce cocks to the side as he turns toward the tree line. Scorch can make out the shape of their buir from a kilometer away.

“Went hunting without me,” Sev grumbles sounding like a petulant child who’s missed dessert.

Mird takes up position next to Wal’buir and Scorch can just make out the shape between them. Impressive.

“I’m going to go lend a hand.”

Sev is gone, taking off at a brisk jog with his pack still on his back before Scorch can say anything. If he didn’t think it’d get him slotted, he’d call him a coward.

There’s nothing left to do but take the plunge. Scorch waves to Atin and a few of the boys from Yayax squad as they head out toward the livestock pens. Chores would be done in a snap today and everyone can enjoy themselves after.

His HUD takes a moment to auto adjust from the intense bright light of the sun to the dimmer interior of their home. Conn, Burr, and Kad are all playing in the main area of the house. The three boys sit around in the floor with small carved animals playing near but not exactly with one another. Three matching heads of dark hair turn when they see him, eyes widening comically as they scrabble to get up. He’s done this a thousand times now and it never gets old. He swings his pack off his shoulder and, careful to not jostle the bouquet inside, draws out a handful of colorful hard candies. The children are nearly vibrating with excitement as he doles them out. Before he can turn to the kitchen, Conn already has three in his mouth. Bes is going to kill him, he thinks with a grin.

Surprisingly the kitchen is not the hub of excitement it usually was. He glances at his chrono. They must be having a late breakfast because of the hunt. Fi and Parja are pulling pans out of the oven and Laseema is busy filling small pots for the table with different jams and butters. Kyr’vhetine Tuur meant there would be something to eat within arm’s reach all day, so it wasn’t shocking to not see the usual spread of hearty filling dishes lining the long table.

“Scorch! You made it!” It’s Fi’s voice, bright as the autumn sun. The former Omega Squad commando greets him, ambling over and giving him a quick grasp of the forearm and knock against the bucket in greeting.

“Good to be home,” he agrees, feeling disappointment begin to sink in. Parja is grinning his way. “She’s in the walk-in. She’ll be out in a-“

There’s a clatter as a tray is unceremoniously dropped on the counter and before he can turn to see he’s got his arms full. One boot falls back to brace his weight and keep him from stumbling at the onslaught. He tenses for a moment, training threatening to kick in until thin arms are wrapping around his neck and he’s got a visor full of dark hair as Jessa presses in close to his neck.

“If this is how I get welcomed home I’m leaving more often.”

Jessa’s arms around his neck squeeze tighter as he stands straight and pulls her feet off the floor. Her legs come up, knees tightening around his hips. Scorch’s hands grip her thighs because they need support. Yeah, that’s why.

“Don’t you dare.” She whispers lowly.

“Keep this up and a guy will think you missed him.”

Scorch doesn’t see the knowing look that passes between Parja and Laseema. He doesn’t hear Fi’s laughter. It’s just him and his girl and the rest of the world can kriff off.

Jessa leans back, her hands float to either side of his buyce. She stares into the T of his visor like she can see through it. The breath he’d been taking catches in his throat as she leans in and presses her forehead to his bucket.

“I missed you.” It’s so soft his buyce barely picks it up.

“Missed you too, Mesh’la.” If he didn’t have his bucket on he’d kiss her right here right now and not care who was watching. He’d push her back against the wall and he wouldn’t stop ‘til she was breathless. He doesn’t think she’d mind with the way she’s looking at him. Fett bless codpieces because his was saving his shebs from utter embarrassment.

Someone clears their throat behind them and Jessa’s pale blue eyes go wide. She wiggles against him and a small groan slips past his lips as he lets loose her legs. She untangles herself and slips to the floor, cheeks flushed crimson as she wipes at invisible creases in her pants.

Parja’s buyce cocks minutely. Scorch grins from ear to ear under the cover of his own. At Parja’s side Fi nudges her in the ribs. “How come I don’t get that kind of welcome home?”

“Bad balance.” Fi nods in understanding flushing a deep crimson as she continues. “Plus, there is that thing with my mouth-“

The former medic coughs and quickly places his hand over his riddur’s mouth. “Roger that. No need to clarify.”

Scorch reaches out, placing a hand above Jessa’s hip. When she turns he uses two gloves fingers to tip her chin up. She’s a sight for sore eyes. He wants to drag her back to the Vau side of the yaim and keep her all for himself. And Sev. Just the three of them like it was supposed to be. Only, she didn’t know that yet and they had to help her see. Her hand covers his wrist as she looks up, her skin is soft over the small strip of skin between his nerf hide gloves and where his flight suit began.

Jessa’s dark hair is pulled back into a messy top knot and she’s wearing a plain faded tunic that dips low, giving him just a peek of cleavage. She’s never looked more perfect in all the times he’s seen her.

“We brought you something.” It’s regrettable that he has to step away, he misses the contact as soon as it’s gone. He slips his pack from one shoulder and lets it slide around front. He’s careful to open it, glancing up to see her curiously eyeing him.

“It’s not going to explode is it?” The quirk at the corner of her mouth lets him know she’s joking, at least partly.

“Woman after my own heart,” he sighs dramatically. “You want fireworks? I’ll show you fireworks.”

Fi makes an ‘oof’ of pain as both his Riddur and Laseema pop him in the arm at the same time, “I didn’t say anything?!”

“You were thinking it,” Laseema says, arms crossed over her chest.

“But I didn’t say it!”

Scorch shakes his head, ignoring the audience. The bouquet is a little bedraggled, a little more worse for wear for its ride from the airfield to home. A few of the pink flowers have bent at odd angles and one of the red ones, a rose, has lost its structural integrity (and majority of its petals).

The look in Jessa’s eyes lets him know she hasn’t noticed a single one of the issues. They go wide with surprise and then crinkle at the corners as she smiles, clapping her hands together over her chest before reaching out, hand hovering just shy of the flowers.

“Scorch! They’re beautiful! And they’re for me?”

It’s a little confusing because he certainly hadn’t ever thought to bring flowers for Ordo or Atin. He nods his head and presses them into her hands.

“Pretty flowers for a pretty girl. Sev had a hand in them too.” She pulls a long slow breath in through her nose. The scent really didn’t translate through his bucket but she seems to enjoy it.

“Sev? Sev Vau?” Fi’s voice is full of confusion. “We’re talking about the same psychopath we all know and love.”

“Hush.” Parja admonishes her husband. It’s an expected reaction. Sev was known more for his kill now ask questions later, Devil may murder attitude than he was for his softer side. In fact, Scorch was beginning to think the extent of his soft side only existed in a conveniently Jessa sized space. He was good with that. Maybe it was selfish to try to force her into a space they could both be with her. They didn’t even know if she wanted this but they had already plotted out a course of action and he was loathe to change it now. It was the Vau way. Make a plan and push forward until it worked or you died. Square peg round hole? Use a det.

Jessa folds the flimsy wrapped bouquet against her chest. She takes a step forward and Scorch can’t help but admire whatever has come over her in the ten days they’ve been hunting. She grips the back of his bucket and pulls his head down and presses against his again. There’s more confidence in that one movement than he’s seen in all the months she’s been in Kyrimorut.

“We should get those in water.” Laseema’s voice is a blessed interruption from the pure drivel he was about to spout.

Jessa nods and turns toward the cupboards, searching for something. His eyes fall to the round curve of her-

“Ahem…” his eyes snap to Laseema’s skeptical face. She’s got her arms over her ample chest and he suddenly feels the eyes of the rest of the room on him. Ok so now he feels seen. Parja is unreadable under her buyce. Fi’s eyes hold humor and Scorch knows immediately that the whole homestead - and then some - is going to know about this before the day is out.

Good. Maybe that would keep the other hounds from taking to the hunt. Not that Jessa was prey or should be hunted or…

“Scorch?”

Stang. He’s been caught. Jessa’s turned back with a stoneware pitcher and the flowers he’d given her artfully placed inside.

“Mesh’la?”

“Princess.”

All eyes turn to Sev and Walon standing in the doorway. A large shatual haunch is draped over Sev’s shoulder while their buir carefully uses a cloth to clean one of his hunting knives. He’s thankfully forgotten and Jessa passes the table, depositing the makeshift vase. She doesn’t exactly leap into his arms like she had for him but she’s still more than mildly enthusiastic to see the Mandalorian in front of her.

As usual, Sev appears impassive. The slight rise in his shoulders speaks otherwise as Jessa - much smaller than the man in front of her - comes to a stop and absolutely kriffing beams at the former sharp shooter. Wal’buir stands a step behind the pair, looking on with veiled curiosity.

“I like my flowers.”

“I picked the pink ones.” It's a Sev-level simple exchange.

“You did good,” she murmurs softly.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” It’s the first time Scorch has noticed the clean linen bandage wound around her palm. Of course, it would be the first thing Sev noticed. He watches her reaction carefully. His buir watches knowingly as Jessa tries to shrug it off.

“It’s nothing really. A little cut.”

Parja is the one to speak up this time. “Jess’ika tried to take in an entire Imp garrison in Keldabe the other day.”

Behind Sev, buir scoffs. Sev seems unamused as he brushes past her and places the freshly butchered haunch on the open durasteel prep counter and moves to the sink to wash his hands. Buir glances down at her as he passes and moves to the stack of mugs and carafes of caf sitting on the table. Apparently the old barve is going to let it play out without his intervention.

Scorch hovers in space watching as Sev turns back to Jessa. She’s shortened the distance between them and he nods to her hand. It takes a moment. Jessa clutches her wrist tightly and Scorch wonders what the Fek happened. Mird trots in from parts unknown and plops down next to buir. The merc begins cleaning off equal parts blood and saliva from the strill’s mouth as if nothing were amiss.

“It wasn’t really a big deal,” Jessa says, a defense. Fi makes a sound in his throat.

“Anytime now Princess.” As if ordered from a commanding officer she takes the final steps and holds her hand out. Scorch moves to taking up post at Sev’s shoulder as his vod begins untying the wrap.

“How long?”

Their buir answers from across the room. “Three days.”

Scorch lets out a low whistle as the bandage rolls away and the bacta soaked linen is removed. It’s nasty, deep looking. With three days worth of bacta and presumed early cleansing… he works it out in his head. It had been a bad wound. Sev is stock still, holding her hand in his palm.

“What did it?”

“My knife.” There’s no waiver in her voice, she looks him in the eye, a defiant tilt to her chin.

“You mean my knife.”

Jessa mouths falls open a hair before her teeth clack together and she sets her jaw.

Sev is unmoved. “Hand it over.”

And there goes the pleasant welcome home.

There’s more pairs of eyes on them than Scorch is really pleased about. A staring contest in the kitchen was not part of the plan. It’s a war of the wills as Sev takes a step into Jessa’s space. She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t react at all.

“There’s two ways this will go and I end up with the knife in both.” Sev’s rumble is a threat that is crystal clear to anyone within earshot. He holds his unwavering gloves hand palm up between them. Scorch glances at his buir and sees a single shake of his head, fall back and wait.

Jessa pauses the length of a breath. Then she presses her injured hand hard against Sev’s cuirass for support while she pulls her leg up. Scorch has to give it to her. She keeps her eyes locked with his vod’s visor. If she were jetii his brain would probably be frying by now. He wondered if that was even possible and makes a mental note to ask Bardan later if that was a Jedi brain sizzle was a thing.

With her left hand she pulls the knife from the sheath hidden in her boot. For a second he thinks she may just drop it on the floor between them. The thought seems mutual as he glances around and the few inhabitants of the kitchen are watching with unrestrained curiosity. Jessa’s thinking very loudly. He can see it in the way her movements hitch. Had he given off that many signals Sarge would have cuffed him by now.

“Ad’ika, do give the scary Commando the weapon and be done with all the posturing.”

Jessa’s eyes drop but her voice remains steely. “Yes buir.”

There’s a lot for Scorch to unpack there, but his buir doesn’t seem willing to add anything to clarify for either of his confused sons.

Jessa presses the knife handle into Sev’s open hand. Her own ball into fists as she steps away from the larger Mandalorian in front of her. Scorch’s eyes immediately fall to the painfully slow drip of blood from her injured hand as she clenches and unclenches. Her partial handprint is painted in blood on Sev’s cuirass. Laseema notices and grabs a clean cloth. Jessa’s cheeks flush red as she turns away from both of them to face Laseema.

The Twi’lek shoots both men a dirty look as she presses the cloth into Jessa’s palm. She doesn’t flinch as the older woman fusses over her quietly. He makes out a few particularly colorful Ryl words.

“Let’s go to medical and get this redressed, ok?” Laseema’s soft voice belays the fierce glare in her eyes as they focus on Sev. With a huff and a protective arm draped around Jessa’s shoulders she ushers her toward the Skirata wing and medical just beyond.

“Real nice.” It’s Parja now on the attack, arms crossed over her chest in a manner most unwelcoming. She turns to follow the other two women. Their buir sighs deeply and Sev cocks his head at the door the three have just vanished through.

“Well, that could have gone better.” Fi says what Scorch thinks only in a much less exasperated tone than his own inner dialogue. That escalated quickly. A moment’s glance to his brother shows the other Mando is just as confused with how quickly that hit FUBAR status.

Behind them Walon Vau clears his throat. “So would my di’kutla boys care to know what happened while they traipsed across the galaxy?”

———

“You’re getting spoiled and fat, Kal.”

Walon does a fair job of hiding his amusement at Rav’s assessment of their fellow Cuy’val Dar vod.

Not to have his holiday merriment karked up by the Bralor clans matriarch Kal grins and pats the fine layer of paunch, barely noticeable around his middle.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you vod’ika”

That has Walon scoffing into his glass of ti’haar. Kyr’vhetine Tuur called for day drinking and Bralor clan had brought their latest batch, a reason for a lunchtime tasting if he’d ever heard one.

For his part, Mij Gilamar does little to hide his laughter, openly laughing at the Skirata clan leader. Rav was right, as Rav usually was. Kal’s favorite rocker had moved from its home by the hearth of the karyai to a comfortable position where he could lord over the comings and goings of the day. When lunch had been served Laseema had brought a plate loaded to the brim with the best cuts of meat, juicy orchard fruit, and freshly roasted root vegetables.

Kal turns his sharp eyes to Walon, ignoring the mirth dancing in Mij’s. “Nothing to say, Walon?”

He rolls his eyes, lowering his glass from his lips. “Rav’s assessment skills have not atrophied with age.”

Rav makes a disgruntled sound. “Thank you, Walon. I think.”

Mij, quiet to this moment, picks now to speak. “He can’t exactly say anything.”

Walon can’t exactly disagree. His own belly was quite full in part to his newest acquisition. Jessa had given him a plate - while not as loaded down as Kal’s had been - that could have easily fed two commandos. And some for Mird. She’d been very clear that she’d swiped a choice soup bone and some delightful strips of fat for the strill. His pet had taken the scraps happily before he’d been offered the bone and disappeared to do whatever it was that a strill did with bones. All Walon knew is that it would never be seen again and he wouldn’t need to clean up shards of it.

Rav leans back in her chair, not a rocker but still more comfortable than any of them had grown used to over the years, she sips her drink and Walon waits for it.

“When I heard through the grapevine that you’d adopted another I was shocked. And now that I’ve seen her I’m more so.”

There it was. There was no worse gossip in the galaxy than a Mandalorian.

“I feel like I should be offended by that.”

Rav smiles. “Take it as you will. I’m still trying to figure out the why and obviously you are not going to illuminate us with your reasoning.”

Walon crosses one leg lazily over the other as he leans back. In a small shaded area across the open yard Jessa sits happily chatting with the Skirata wives. She looks genuinely happy and that makes him feel warm… or maybe that was the ti’haar.

As if sensing eyes on her, she turns and catches his. Her smile is radiant, like sunshine brought to life.

Walon leans forward and liberates the ceramic liquor bottle from Kal’s side and tops his glass off.

“The little ad has grown on me, much like a tumor.”

Mij, never as tolerant of alcohol as his peers, chortles merrily. “Leave it to you to compare having children to cancer.”

Walon shrugs. “Have one and find out.” Mij scoffs at the idea and the group settles into a comfortable silence.

Jessa and the wives chat idly. Further past the women, the former commandos and Null ARCs are dividing up into teams on the makeshift pitch. Some words pass between one of the Bralor adike and Walon curiously watches as Scorch grips his brother's shoulder and pulls him to a stop.

Meshgeroya would be good. The lot of them needed a good match. The amount of testosterone flying around the yaim as of late was stifling. It would be good for the mass to get it out of their systems before someone had an unfortunate incident.

“Of course it would be yours, wouldn’t it?” Rav sounds about as worried about the averted skirmish as he feels. Boys would be boys and Fett clones would be Fett clones. He hadn’t met one yet that hadn’t gotten at least some of Jango’s competitive nature.

“Who’s to say my lads started it?” He raises a brow in Rav’s direction and she challengingly raises one right back.

Kal clears his throat, drawing the attention of the trio. “We’ve got to discuss the information the Mand’alor passed along at some point.”

“Din’kartay?” Mij asks, setting his now empty glass on the ground. Kal nods. His eyes follow the first snap of the match for a few moments as bodies collide and whoops and hollers rise into the air. His eyes travel over the gathered group, all four of them sharing something no other Mandalorians could - a past and a shared future in the form of their adopted children.

“Surplus auction has been moved up.”

Walon’s eye widen. “Why is this the first we’re hearing of this?”

“Just got the comm this morning, after the hunt,” The greying merc explains, “It’s a week from now.”

“A week?” Rav waves it off. “We’ve planned ops in less.” Walon wasn’t feeling the same sense of comfort as his vod. Something was coming, the proverbial other boot waiting to drop.

“We’ve got a problem.”

There it was. Of course, there was a problem. Kal doesn’t wait to ratchet up the drama of it all thankfully.

“Our intel says the boys are going to be in two separate places, troopers in a subterranean holding bay and the few commandos we're expecting are going to be a part of the main auction floor, two stories up.”

Mij frowns. “So we need a two pronged approach.”

“Which means two teams with one in the actual auction itself.” Walon sighs at the realization. “And none of the boys are exactly inconspicuous.”

Kal nods sagely. “That is the issue.” His eye wanders again and still Walon feels like he hasn’t heard the worst of it. “Bes can’t go. She’s already starting to show and we can’t put her or the baby at risk.” That is valid reasoning. Walon nods slowly. “This is a high end event. The cream of the crop.”

“So that means human…” Mij says shaking his head with disgust, “Las’ika is out.”

“Parja is Mando.” Rav says with an air of pride. “She’s not going to pass for aruetii elite even with time and training.”

This time Walon follows Kal’s eyes when they stray from the group. Jessa is sitting in the small half circle of women while the children run around and play a short distance away. She glances shyly at the commandos playing their game. The shirts have come off and while the buir’e and family could tell one from the other without any issue, to the casual observer it would be hard to seperate a Skirata from a Bralor from a Vau. Parja makes a comment and Jessa’s face flushes bright red. Her anger with Sev from earlier seems to have subsided if the way she’s staring at his shebs has anything to say about it.

“Your Jess’ika came from money.” Kal presses on, a fool’s errand. “She can play in that sandbox as well as you could-“

“No. Absolutely not.” Walon doesn’t even want the idea entertained among the group.

“She won’t be in any Imperial database. She’s got no record. Who would you have go, Walon? Send a twi’lek? Send a pregnant woman?”

“Neither, but I’d also not have my child sent as a sacrifice either.” Rav and Mij are silent. Yes, keep your mouths closed as Bu and Buhi fight, he thinks sourly.

“Doesn’t she deserve the chance to say no herself?”

“Again, absolutely not. She is so eager to please and you with your words of aliit and pats on the head would have her signing up for war before she even knew what was going on.”

“If your worries are about Sev and Scorch-“

Walon holds up a hand, “they are not my concern in this, she is. I put them through the crucible myself. They are more than capable of handling anything placed in front of them. Jess’ika is an unknown commodity-“

“We’ve all been through the ringer at one point or another but-“

Walon raises a brow. “If this is going to be a story about poor Kal the war orphan you can stow it. She has no training.”

“Walon-“

“Gentlemen?” Mij asserts easily. His ire turns from Kal to his own sons as soon as his head turns a cheer of “Oya” rises up between the teams. Sev is on top of one of Rav’s boys raining hellfire while Scorch runs his yappy mouth and does a commendable job of taking a punch from another. The rest of the pack has circled and is shouting encouragement.

“Can we not just have one nice day?” he grumbles, pushing himself to his feet.

“Cov!” Rav snaps at Yayax Squad’s former sergeant from across the open yard. His enjoyment of his brother's tussle is quickly replaced by the stark realization that their buir was on her way and she was not pleased.

Walon watches as Sev slows, giving who looked to be Jind under him, a chance to breathe. He sits back on his heels still atop the prone Mando, chest heaving. He has the decency not to smile but Walon can see the delight from the little tussle dancing in his eyes.

Scorch on the other hand, continues to run his mouth as he trades blows with Yayax’s second in command, Yover.

“And now you keep your eyes where they ought to be.”

Walon can only imagine what started all of this, but he’s very clear in who’s going to be the one to finish it.

“Six-Two!” Scorch’s momentum falters as Walon snaps irritably, “Are you nearly done?”

“Yeah buir- just- about-there..”’ Scorch punctuates the last hit, slipping a foot behind Yover’s and shoving him to the ground. “Finished.”

Walon feels a surge of pride but it is far outweighed by irritation.

“Care to explain what the thought process was for this?”

Sev reaches down and helps pull Jind to his feet. He holds back a smile as Walon glares.

“Verbal correction didn’t work so methods required escalation,” Scorch explains without getting to the actual cause of the whole skirmish. “We’re good now, right ner vod?”

Yover glares balefully from his spot on the ground before nodding assent and holding his hand out. “Apologies, sergeant Vau, we were out of line and needed a quick recalibration.”

Walon’s eyes narrow. Rav has Jind by the chin, turning his face right and left assessing the damage. His eye is already swelling but it appears as if Sev worked his middle over more than anything, really rather harmless in the grand scheme of what he was capable of. The other commando appears no worse for wear.

“You said something stupid, didn’t you?” she questions, and he offers her a lopsided grin in response. Walon watches as she cuffs the larger man, though there is no real animosity behind it. He ducks and offers a sheepish, “Sorry Buir.”

“Nothing’s broken?” Mij joins the group.

“Just my pride Doc.” Jind tries to make his glance over to the group of women casual.

For the love of Fett… Walon rolls his eyes. All of this over a woman. Jessa is looking on with unshielded concern but her eyes follow Sev and Scorch as they fall back to one another’s side

- not the boys from Yayax squad.

“Your adiike ought to be muzzled, Walon,” Rav grumbles, as they step back and the men begin to reset their game.

“Probably, but they’re a bit territorial and I can’t blame them.”

Rav glances over and sighs, “I need to get mine into Enceri. Let them meet a nice girl.”

“What is it you’re saying about my daughter, Rav?”

“She looks sweet Walon but the apple never falls far from the tree, now does it?”

Walon pauses at the thought. It’s a wonder it’s never hit him before. Rav takes his silence as permission to continue.

“So will it be Sev or Scorch?”

Mij hums as if the question has occurred to him as well. Walon curses himself for not asking it sooner.

——

“It’s over with. You can relax.” Besany means well enough sitting cross legged on the blanket the small group of women shared but it’s hard to press the nerves of what she’d just witnessed to the background.

Conn, Burr, and Kad play a short ways away, oblivious to what had just transpired. They stack sticks in a tower trying to see how high they can make it before it topples over and they dissolve into laughter. Bes was probably right. This was probably normal and she needed to relax.

Jessa runs her finger along the hand sewn seam of the blanket. Her eyes follow as the stitches flow in and out of the fabric. Parja pats her hand. Jessa looks up.

“They’re fine, see?” She inclines her head toward the game that has restarted. “Sometimes things boil over, but it’s usually nothing a few well placed punches can’t settle.

“It’s just-“

Laseema offers a gentle smile. “When you haven’t seen it before it’s a little overwhelming?”

Jessa snorts. “That’s one way to put it. Terrifying maybe?” It’s Parja’s turn to scoff.

“If Sev Vau wanted someone dead they’d be dead. And in short order at that.” She gestures to the pitch and the bodies crashing together. “That was just working out a minor disagreement.”

It’s not hard for her to find the man in question among the crowd, the four jagged scars down his back stand out pink and raised over the hard planes of muscle, stark against the deep tan of his skin. Further up she can make out a circular scar, not as extreme as the other ones but perfectly symmetric as if done with a scalpel on the back of his neck. She's curious but not enough to actually ask about it. There’s a feeling that some things were sacred. Some things you didn’t just ask questions about. Even without the scars she wouldn’t be able to miss the way he moved. Like a jungle cat, he stalks from one spot to the next. He’s solid and sleek. He’s a hunter to his very core. No one else moves like him.

Scorch is simple to find for other reasons. It’s not the smattering of burns across his chest and arms or the way his sweat soaked curls stick to his forehead. No, it’s the sheer volume of his voice. Currently he’s crowing over Corr with the ball tucked under his arm. His eyes are sparkling and Jessa follows a bead of sweat as it trails from his hairline down his temple.

Sev appears at his side and butterflies tumble over one another in an attempt to escape her stomach. The sniper nudges his brother with his shoulder and says something and then both sets of eyes look up. Caught in the act of staring, she quickly looks away.

If the other women notice the interaction, they don’t let it dissuade them from the train of conversation that has seemingly jumped off the track and gone from encouraging their young friend to commenting on some of the more enticing aspects of the men on the field.

“Why are they so pretty?” Laseema asks, tipping a bottle of Ne’tra Gal up and taking a drink. Parja holds her own up in a mock toast.

“I don’t know but you’ll never hear me complain.”

“Sometimes I find it hard to believe stronger genetic variation doesn’t exist through the whole batch.” Everyone turns toward Bes. Parja nudges Jessa in the side as if to say, wait for it.

“Literally, how can there be so many perfect shebse?”

There’s a pause and then laughter bubbles up, giggles and chuckles. For a moment they are not mothers and warriors and former slaves, they are just women enjoying the view on a nice day.

“Who has the best?” Laseema asks as the giggles die down. In unison, Bes and Parja announce Mereel as the winner.

“You could bounce a credit off of that ass.” Bes says, barely able to maintain a straight face. Jessa flushes as Laseema agrees. She really hadn’t looked but now that she allows herself to she had to admit it’s a glorious sight. They are all glorious. Stripped of armor and flight suits, of the black under armor tops they all still prefer from their days in active duty they are pristine examples of what a man could be physically.

“You could wash clothing on Levet’s abs.” Parja adds. Bes nods in agreement. And it goes like this through the various family members. Fi’s smile. Atin’s back. Corr’s thighs. Bardan’s eyes. Jessa is happy to sit back and smile, every now and again nodding as the Skirata men are ogled and rated.

“What about the Vau’s?” Bes asks after a few minutes. There’s silence. Jessa feels the prickle of irritation at the quiet until she looks up and realizes three sets of eyes are looking intently at her.

“So…” Parja asks slowly, “you're part of this game too you know.”

For a second she thinks she might just wave them off, say something about not feeling right saying *hose kind of things but Parja is right and though she’s loathe to admit it - she has been looking and not just since the armor and clothes started to get peeled off and piled neatly on the sidelines. She flashes back to this morning in the kitchen when she’d pushed out of the walk-in and seen the familiar gunmetal and yellow beskar’gam and how her wits had left her. His arms had felt so good around her, holding her close after she’d flung herself - consequences be damned - at him. Scorch is an easy answer.

“His hands.”

This seems to be an answer everyone is agreeable with. Laseema hums quietly and all eyes travel back to the field and watch the former commando of the moment. He offers a cheeky smile and wave before the ball is snapped and turns back.

“Opinions on Sev?” It’s Parja again distracting her from the game at hand. The Mandalorian woman has a sly grin on her face. What was she getting at? Of course, Jessa had opinions on Sev. The strong muscles of his arms bracketing her, his thick trunk she could lean back into… jessa takes a moment to slow the race of thoughts.

“Sev doesn’t count in this.” Bes speaks up. The tone of her voice, the dismissive way she says it raises Jessa’s hackles.

“Yes he does.”

Bes startles nearly as much as Jessa does at her own words. Of course Sev mattered. He mattered more to her than any of the Skiratas and just as much as Scorch. “Best shoulders of the bunch.” She adds primly after an awkward moment of silence.

Parja barks out a laugh and watches the next play, Sev has his arms wrapped around Atin, pulling him down to the ground and pinning him face down with an elbow pressed into his back, “ok, she’s got a point.”

Laseema nods while Bes remains red faced and quiet.

The children, Kad, Conn, and Burr offer a distraction from the awkwardness that hangs in the air. The younger two head immediately for their mother while Kad seems to take a moment contemplating which aunt suits his current needs best. Jessa yawns. She hadn’t slept well the night before with strangers just a door away and it was beginning to take a toll.

It’s all Kad needs to see. He is a headstrong child when the mood hits and he was not one to be denied. Having learned both of these things Jessa doesn’t argue as he crawls into her lap.

“Sleepy?”

He doesn’t acknowledge the question but as she’d discovered even if a child was tired they’d be loath to admit it. Kad turns his face into her shoulder and Jessa wraps her arms around him. Bes and Parja excuse themselves. Bes steers the boys toward the yaim for naps of their own and Parja makes an excuse about bringing a tray of food out for the ‘old barves’ to pick at.

Laseema lounges back onto her elbows, eyes following the game that seems to be wrapping up. Jessa isn’t entirely familiar with the rules, but it doesn’t seem like the players are really following any set guideline. More or less they’re playing for the enjoyment of it. Jessa visually checks in on her boys. Always close to one another, Scorch talks rapidly to Sev as he points to Ordo and then to Corr on the other team. Sev nods in acknowledgement at whatever plan has been made.

Kad nuzzles in closer to her chest and Jessa eases the pair of them onto the blanket to lie down. The sun is warm and it leaves her feeling drowsy and content. Kad lays his head on her arm as she rolls to watch the game. His little fingers poke and prod until her other arm is draped over him to his liking.

In the air the song birds flit, taking a break from their southerly migration. The sounds of good natured ribbing and laughing comes from the game field before her and the group of buir’e behind her.

“So which would you choose?” The question catches her off guard. “Sev or Scorch?”

Jessa doesn't speak. Her eyes follow the pair as they play. Never far apart. Working together without words as if they were of the same mind. She can’t imagine one without the other or how it must have been for both before Sev had been brought back from Kasshyk.

The thought of making a choice has never occurred to her because the thought of anything more than the simple life she’s settled into is a seed barely sprouted. She frowns at the thought. If they both wanted to pursue something then of course she’d have to choose one versus the other but It doesn’t feel right, like separating a set. How would they react? Would they be competitive? Would they fight against one another? Would it tear the family apart? She’d rather be alone the rest of her days than see her fragile new family torn apart by her choice.

“Neither.”

Laseema cocks her head questioningly. Her lek curl and uncurl in a soothing manner Jessa can pick up from the corner of her eye.

“I couldn’t choose. I wouldn’t.”

———-

During a mission, when exertion and strain and sweat were a thing, Sev didn’t mind the thin sheen of perspiration that accumulated on his skin. He ignored the beads of it at his temples and the way rivulets of it ran down his back. Afterwards though, it was different. Since Kasshyk a lot of things had been different. Things he’d never tolerated - the loud way his brother chewed for example - became almost reassuring, while things that had never concerned him - like the coating of sticky sour sweat - were intolerable.

A couple of the guys - Levet, Corr, and Mereel - join him on his journey to the locker room after the match. He’d give it to Skirata, this place, their home, had all the bells and whistles. Everything he could want was here. Had he not just needed a quick wash down in the locker room he could have slipped off to the smaller bathroom shared between the twin bedrooms in his clan’s wing of the yaim. But no, the blood pumping and friendly competition had him feeling nostalgic. Locker room it was.

It takes him only a few minutes longer than the others to clean off, an extra few seconds of scrubbing with the mild soap that had followed them since their days on Kamino, while the others joked and laughed. Feeling clean made his bones settle, made them feel less like they wanted to rattle out of his skin.

Levet says something and Sev turns his attention. “Hmm?”

Levet has a towel slung low around his hips while he uses another to scrub at his damp hair. “You gotta excuse the boys. About earlier,” he says.

Sev thinks to tell him he didn’t have to do a kriffing thing, but this was Commander Tactful and even after his service to the GAR had ended, he was still trying to do what he’d always been good at.

Sev doesn’t need defusing. He wasn’t about to go off. He just needed the Yayax boys to understand that the Princess was a hands off, eyes to yourself affair. Levet tosses him a towel as Sev turns the water off. He catches it with one hand and bringings it directly to his face to rub residual droplets from his eyes.

Without the gloves Sev can hear the servos in Corr’s prosthetics whir as the younger clone dries himself off. “Sev is a little protective over his vod’ika,” the former trooper cracks.

That wasn’t quite what he was trying to make clear. He huffs into the towel. Is that really what it looked like to everyone?

“It’s understandable,” Levet agrees, “hear she’s been through a lot. There’s a lot of people who would take advantage of that; my boys aren’t them though.”

Mereel, who’s been quietly pulling clothes back on makes a discontent sound. “Seems to me if someone wanted to court the dal, they ought to make their intentions known the old fashioned way. You know, put it on public record.”

Sev can feel the Null ARC’s eyes on him. “You planning on making that move?” There’s a chill in the questions he doesn’t make any attempt to hide.

With the exception of the slow drip of water from the recently cut off shower heads, the room has gone quiet. Mereel stops where he stands, shirt halfway up his arms but not yet over his head. It’s an interesting time to realize Scorch isn't here to have his back if the sudden tension in the air ignites into something more.

“Are you?” It’s Corr’s smart mouth, he’s got a smile sliding across his face. “Because I was thinking I might stand a chance.”

In unison Sev and Mereel throw damp towels in his direction. He catches one easily with one prosthetic hand, the second - a half second behind - barely misses smacking him wetly in the face.

“Come on, really? Do you see this?” Corr turns to Levet motioning up and down his body with durasteel digits. “I could pull a woman like that.”

Levet, always level-headed and prudent doesn’t even favor him with a grin, “No, vod’ika you couldn’t.”

Mereel gives Corr a hearty pat on the back. “We can’t all be me. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable woman out there for you.”

“Gee thanks, vod.” He makes to sound irritated but Sev can see the smile lines forming at the corners of his eyes. The little bastard was still good diffusing a situation and he’s both irritated and grateful. He didn’t need a three on one but he also had no further intel on what was going on in the karking Null ARCs head.

Sev layers a fresh set of blacks under loose pants and a tunic. He collects his armor in a neat stack. No one else was putting there’s back on and he was going to take the opportunity to try without for once. He knew he’d likely wind up back in it before supper. Armor wasn’t just physical, it was mental as well.

He tries to tell himself that it’s got nothing to do with Jessa, but really it has everything to do with her. And what happened earlier. He follows Levet, Mereel, and Corr from the locker room but when they hang a right to head back outside he takes a sharp left toward his buir’s karyai. He waves off Levet’s curious over the shoulder glance. The others don’t attempt to wait or question.

It should probably sting, but it doesn’t. The Skiratas and Bralors were family but Sev only cared about two- three other people (and a mangy strill) when it came right down to it. Those were the opinions that mattered.

And he had karked up one of them. Or so he’d been told.

He heads straight toward the room he and Scorch shared, directly to the small desk that went mostly unused now that they’d set up shop in the armory. Jessa’s knife - his knife - his buir’s knife sat gleaming on the top, nearly sparkling against the dull grain of the wood, as innocuous as a honed blade of its caliber could be.

Maybe he should have gotten the story from her first. Maybe, as Scorch had suggested afterwards, it would be better to handle these things behind closed doors in the future. The thing is he hadn’t, and it wouldn’t have changed that he was going to take it back.

He was fracking impressed by the sheer gett’se it must have taken to stand up to a fully armored Mandalorian staring her down. She’d had fire in her eyes. It was like he could see her trying to decide what nice cozy intercostal space she could seat the knife in. For aruteii, it was fekking nehutyc. That still hadn’t meant the blade she was going to shank him with was hers.

It had always been too big. He knew the first time she’d held it to his throat - he swallows hard at the memory - that it didn’t fit well in her far smaller hands. He knew it was ungainly for her and awkward to wield but he hadn’t ever really meant for her to be in a position to use it. It was supposed to be a security blanket, something to pacify a terrified girl, but like everything else she’d surprised him. It wasn’t just standing toe to toe with him this morning. Wal’buir had told him what had happened in Keldabe. Before Mird had gotten help she’d been about to take on two fully trained Imperial troopers. Jessa was a smart girl and to Sev that meant she knew what she was getting into and not getting out of. The thought both set his teeth on edge and his kad to stiffening.

“Fekking Skirata.” Like his buir, Sev found it easy to blame the feisty old merc for everyday problems.

He grasps the handle and flips it in his grip. It was still a solid weapon, just not what she needed. He could fix that. Next time there was a blade between them she wouldn’t look at him like he’d done her wrong. Sev didn’t mind the anger and murder in her eyes but he didn’t ever want to see that look of betrayal again. He didn’t want to ever feel like it was her against him unless her life was on the line. He slips the blade into the sheath at his hip. It wiggles more than he liked but he didn’t intend on having it on him for long.

As he’s leaving, he catches a splash of forest green tucked under the covers of Scorch’s bed. He grabs the scarf without a second thought and folds it carefully as he heads out.

——

Parja’s in the kitchen. It’s nice because he hadn’t wanted to go looking. He hadn’t wanted to need to find an excuse to pull her away from the other women, or worse, her gossipy riduur. He knows the Mandalorian woman enough that if he could convince her it was important she’d keep things quiet. Fi, not so much.

She’s stacking a tray high with tidbits of cheese, meat, tiny pickled peppers, and bits of bread. His stomach growls and Parja’s head shoots to him.

“I’m gonna put a kriffing bell on you,” she curses quietly, narrowing her eyes. He didn’t have time for her ire, nor did he have the patience.

“I need you to do something for me.”

“After that stunt you pulled today? You’re lucky I don’t run you through myself.”

He tries to keep his lips from pulling back, he really does. He succeeds partly. Parja is undeterred by the silent snarl.

“You know she’s been a mess with the pair of you chakaar gone? You know she hasn’t been sleeping since Keldabe? You wouldn't know, because the first thing she gets out of you, Sev Vau, is nothing but trouble.” She’s pissed. He knows this because she’s gotten close and is using her index finger to jab an exclamation on each of her final words dead center of his chest. He probably deserves it.

“Can you do something for her then?” he questions. Parja takes a step back, sizes him up, then crosses her arms over her chest.

“What is it?”

Sev pulls the knife from its spot at his hip. Parja’s wide eyes move from the blade to its handler and back. He spins it in his hand, presenting the handle like one would a peace offering.

“I need you to make this work for her. I thought maybe - maybe you could make it into two.”

Parja takes the offered weapon. She studies it with the eye of a craftsperson and the tactical experience of a Mandalorian. Sev waits patiently. Somewhere outside someone is laughing obscenely loud, Mij Gilamar by the sound of it. “So-“

“You know I’m no armorer, no blade smith either?”

“You’re family and I trust you.” He waits again. She’s searching his face. After a moment she nods slowly. He hopes she’s found what she needed.

“Just tell me one thing.”

“Shoot.”

“Don’t tempt me.” There’s a hint of humor pulling at the corner of her mouth. “What are you doing?”

“Say again.” Obviously he was commissioning her to make a set of blades. It really couldn’t be much more straightforward than that-

Parja rolls her eyes, humor once again gone. “Are you and Scorch courting her together or separately? And don’t think you can put me off or lie to me, Sev Vau.”

By Fett, he hated that word - courting - it sounded so… he just didn’t like it. He really didn’t want to have to go all the way to Keldabe to have this done, so he swallows down any apprehension and nods. “Together.”

“Good. Now let me get a few ideas from you.”

——

She sleeps light and dreamless in the spill of warm sunshine. Kad nestles close to her as she shelters his little body with her own, his small hands cling to the front of her tunic. She can hear the occasional voice of someone passing nearby, of footsteps approaching stopping and then continuing on. Months ago she’d have stiffened and been on edge. She’d never have freely offered her back to danger, but now it was different. Everything was.

Kad stirs as a familiar pair of boots scuffs closer.

“Ba’vodu…

“Udessi…” Jessa soothes, quietly trying to coax the child into just a few more minutes of blissful cuddles, “I’m right here.”

He wiggles in her grip, a giggle rising up. “Ba’vodu! Boom!”

Jessa rolls to her back bringing Kad with her. He’s off her chest and half stumbling to still-shirtless Scorch’s waiting arms.

“Boom! Boom!”

Scorch hoists the giggling child into the air. Kad squeals with delight as he’s easily caught. “Yeah, verd’ika, there’ll be some big ones tonight. I promise.”

It’s an ‘oh’ moment, a split second where Jessa realizes as many times as she’s seen the other men around her toting the kids around it’s never looked so attractive as Scorch doing it.

“Ba’vodu Mesh’la!” Kad whines and Jessa cocks her head as if she’s not entirely sure what she’s heard.

“I taught him that. You can thank me later.”

It takes a moment to realize what he’s said, and when her brain finally plays catch-up she feels her cheeks flush.

“I eat food now?” Kad is unconcerned with what is playing out as he pokes at his uncle until the bounty hunter has had enough and pretends to drop him to the ground. He catches him an inch before he hits the ground and Kad acts like it is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him.

Another family member, Bardan, calls his name and he’s off like a shot the second his feet hit the ground without a single look back. It must be nice to be a child without a worry in the world.

Jessa pushes up, resting back on her outstretched hands. She can count on one hand the amount of times she’d seen him out of beskar, the amount of times in this state of undress less than that.

The matte grey of his pauldrons had only served to highlight how broad his shoulders truly were, and now without the added cover she can get a good impression of the muscles that moved down from those shoulders. Biceps and forearms defined by his work lead to the hands she’d mentioned earlier. He flexes his arm. Jessa’s eyes snap back to his. Caught. Scorch grins from ear to ear.

“Did you have a good nap?”

Jessa nods. The sun still has her feeling drowsy and content. “Wasn’t ready to be done with it,” she admits. He drops down to his knees and then flops lazily at her side.

“I’m not Kad, but I’ll offer myself up as a cuddle buddy.” He holds one arm up, inviting her into his personal space like the night she’d had a nightmare and he’d held her until she’d fallen asleep.

A soft breeze blows cool against her exposed skin. Goosebumps rise to the surface. Jessa slides next to Scorch. It’s out of necessity, she tells herself. He’s a human furnace, suiting his name, and she was going to use that to enjoy the last bit of time she would get outside sans layer upon layer of clothing. His arm braces behind her back as she leans into his side.

“You fit good there,” he notes. Jessa says nothing. She feels good this close to him. The light scent of sweat and salt radiates from him.

“You stink,” she murmurs quietly.

“You like my stink,” he hums back. He doesn’t exactly smell bad and she doesn’t argue. She’d spent too many nights with her arms around one of his pillows, buried under his covers to deny what he said.

“What were you fighting about with Yover?” She watches him from the corner of her eye. Scorch looks out across the field, seemingly staring into nothing. There’s a boyish smirk plastered across his face that makes Jessa think all sorts of things, not least of which is what his lips might feel like if he kissed her again.

“Nothing you need worry about.”

Thankfully he’s good at chasing away her soft, reckless thought. It’s not the answer she wants and he laughs at her irritated growl. “If you keep making that sound how are people supposed to tell you and Sev’ika apart?”

She can think of a few ways, but keeps them to herself. She rolls away, putting a shred of distance between them so she can turn to look at him fully. She missed him - them - so much. Scorch opens his mouth as if to say something and then shuts it suddenly. It’s not like him. With a puff of air past his lips he flips onto his back, draping an arm over his eyes.

Given the opportunity, Jessa seizes it. She lets her eyes rove now that he’s not watching. From his arms to his broad chest and tapered waist there is a light smattering of scars. None are particularly deep with the exception of a few to his forearms.

“I can feel you staring.” Brown eyes peek out from under his arm. “Something you like, Mesh’la?”

“You’ve got a lot of scars,” she notes, gaze not wavering from its exploration. Now that she’s begun she can’t find it in her to stop.

“Ah yes, my marks of personality.”

“Marks of…” She offers him a confused expression.

“Buir- Sarge back then, always said scars gave you personality. He helped shape our inherent charm. Have you seen Atin’s face? Vod has tons of personality.”

“Where did this scar come from?” Jessa reaches out and touches the slick looking slice on his flank. Goosebumps rise up under her fingers. A quick glance at his face shows nothing amiss.

“Sev has this great trick for slotting Trandoshans he picked up from the old man”

“But why do you have a scar?” She’s sure that her mind shouldn’t go where his words were leading it. Sev would never- well at least not Scorch, she thinks realistically.

“Spicy dreams.”

Jessa jerks. Scorch’s arm tightens around her. Sev blocks the sun from shining on the pair as he towers over the two.

“Aww Sev, was that a joke? I knew ya had it in ya.” Scorch sits up and Jessa follows, crossing her legs neatly as she does. Scorch eyes her. There must be something akin to the growing horror she was feeling painting her face because he tries to explain more.

“Sev doesn’t like to be woken from his beauty sleep.” As if to accentuate it, the man in question makes a lazy wave at his face as if to say ‘see’?

“I need every bit I can get.”

Undeterred by the look she is wearing, Scorch encourages her to stand up, giddiness and glee coloring his tone like a small child excited to show off a prized rock or funny shaped stick it had found.

“Show her!” Scorch nudges her gently until she has no choice but to stand with a roll of her eyes. “It’s a great trick.”

Sev rolls his eyes back but motions for her to stand in front of him. She’s still angry about this morning but her sense of curiosity is getting the better of her. Sev hesitates as if he knows he’s still not in her good graces but it lasts only a second before he pulls her close and spins her around. It’s a familiar position, the line of his body pressed against her back. They’ve done this once before and she flushes at the thought now of how vulnerable she’d been in the locker room and how Sev had taken care of her then.

“You ever deal with a lizard?” Sev’s voice is gruff. Jessa nods. Transdoshans made excellent slavers. Two had held her still while a fat fingered Gamorrean had branded her after she’d been bought. She presses back into Sev, seeking more of the heat he transferred without the layer of beskar between them.

“They got these… what do you call them?” He looks to Scorch.

“Plastron?”

“Like the belly of a lily turtle?” Jessa asks. “Mother kept them in the water garden.” A strange look crosses Scorch’s face as he nods at her explanation.

“Yeah, Princess, like a turtle,” Sev murmurs, reminding her how close he was. “So they’ve got these plastron across their bellies and the rest of their bodies have these thick scales that do a damn good job of blocking most sharp pointy things.” Sev’s hand comes to rest at her waist just back slightly, his thumb pressing into a spot above where she knew her kidney to sit. “Except right here, where the plastron and scales connect there is a soft spot.”

To emphasize the point, Sev presses his first two fingers into her flesh. Jessa winces and he lightens his touch enough to take the edge of the discomfort off.

“The trick Buir taught us is you’ve got to adjust your grip accordingly so when you get the chance-“ his fingers press forward, sliding along her side til they reach her belly, “you can spill their guts.”

The way he lets them sit there for a minute before he steps away makes her tummy flutter. She’s glad for the separation. Jessa folds herself faintly back into a seated position.

Curious eyes watch from afar. Jessa feels them acutely and glances past Sev. Ordo Skirata is not being covert. He holds eye contact for a second before moving on, one of his young sons clinging to his leg.

“Wonder what Ord’ika is up to?” Scorch says, more to himself than anyone.

“Better be minding his own damn business.” Sev’s voice is a reassuring growl as he flanks her other side.

——-

His belly is full of spicy skewered nerf and deliciously fatty bits of shatual. Sev has never been one to search for a buzz in the bottom of a bottle like some of his vode (Scorch included), but a bottle of sweet Ne’tra gal dangles lazily between his fingers. The abnormal heat from earlier in the day has bled away to an appropriately crisp autumn evening as the sun set an hour before. It felt good.

He alternates between staring up to the cloudless expanse of sky and taking the occasional pull from the bottle in his hand, allowing himself a moment or two to enjoy the sweet barley and hops of traditionally brewed ale. Unfettered by the light pollution of the larger Mandalorian cities to the south, the stars shine like gemstones above. It wouldn’t last long. Fireworks were coming next - Scorch had already kriffed off with Corr for last minute preparations. They’d be lucky if Doc wasn’t working on a new prosthetic by morning with those two at work.

After fireworks the kids would be shuffled off to bed and - so he was told - the real party would start. It sounded like a big excuse to drink too much and do something incredibly stupid by an open flame. Probably would be fun. He still wasn’t sure about the whole thing. He’d been through a few celebrations since being brought to Kyrimorut, but this was his first fall and Scorch had been doing his best for months to talk it up and try to get Sev as excited as he was.

He’d seen lots of things blow up in his life. From one side of the shabla galaxy to the other, he’d seen enough to consider himself an expert of sorts.

Jessa lies in the grass by his side. Her eyes are fixed on the sky above. She’s been quiet since she laid down next to him. It was wrong. She usually said something. Anything. Most times he’d have no fault in the silence, but all around them people were talking and laughing and they were just there. Being weird. Somehow he thinks it’s probably residual from this morning. He sighs heavily. Blue eyes flash out of the corner but then focus back above.

“You looking at the stars?”

Jessa makes a soft hum of agreement.

“Kriff…” he curses lowly, turning toward her, “You still mad at me?”

“I wasn’t mad.” And Palpatine was a well loved public figure.

“You were,” he asserts, “You looked like you were ready to slot me”

“I would never.” She finally turns, fixing him with eyes that affirm his previous assertion.

“But you wanted to.”

She sighs, rolling onto her side and tucking an arm under her head. In the growing dark with her hair spilling around her she is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. It’s taken a while, but he’s finally willing to admit that attraction.

“Too much beskar,” she states bluntly, “Besides, I’d miss you if you were dead.” There’s a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. Sev feels a strange pull in his chest somewhere between asphyxiation and taking a barely controlled ascent down a fast line.

Her smile drops away. “Sev?”

“Yeah Princess?”

“If you ever do something like that again? In front of the rest of the family? I will do it.”

The bark of laughter that leaves him has heads turning all around them. Curious and concerned eyes fall on the pair. Jessa’s eyes narrow. That feeling in his chest intensifies. She looks like a pissed off loth cat waiting to attack. Fekking gorgeous.

“Roger that, Princess. I won’t even fight back.”

She softens visibly, pushing herself into a seated position only a hairs breadth away from him.

“Good.”

With that settled, the pair turn their eyes back up to the darkening sky. The silence doesn’t feel weird anymore with the issue between them blasted to dust.

Sev feels content in the moment.

The sound of the first mortar being released into the air catches his attention. The light of the small explosion comes just a few beats after in the form of neon red that lights the sky. It’s impressive. More follow at regular intervals, different colors and sizes, sounds and shapes. Like burning flowers in the night sky they flash to life only to die a few moments later. The smell of explosives rolls like a fog from the launch point to the onlookers.

Sev glances around and finds the small children staring transfixed as the fireworks erupt into life, their tiny mouths cracked in o’s of delight. He tries to remember the first time he ever saw anything explode or heard a bomb and he can’t quite place how old he must have been. He’d been fascinated, but not nearly as much as Scorch had. Scorch had been obsessed. No one loved blowing something up as much as his vod.

The next mortar explodes with all the force of a sonic boom and Sev finally notices Jessa’s stiff posture next to him, the way she twitches when each firework ignites.

“You ok?”

“I’m fine.” The words rush out of her mouth in a way that lets him know she’s not.

“You don’t need to be scared.”

Her head swings around. “I’m not-“ A pair of twin explosions follow each other in rapid succession and she nearly comes out of her skin. Sev remembers watching another squad when they were just tiny cadets, the way they had all crowded in around a vod who obviously was having issues with the sounds, pressing in until their pod mate had calmed.

“Come here.” He motions to the spot in front of him. Jessa shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” she lies again.

Sev huffs. Did she not see that he knew? Stubborn dal. He should let her stew in her own fear. That would teach her, but then he’d have to listen to a lecture from Scorch and he hated when he got lectured. Before the next can go off he leans over, closing the paltry distance between them and loops his arm around her waist. She squeaks as he pulls her effortlessly into his lap, spreading his legs and tucking her into the spot between them. She struggles for a second. He notices, not for the first time, the she never curses, not in Mando’a nor in Basic. He thinks if she did she would be right now. She squirms against him and he regrets not putting armor back on.

“Stop wiggling,” he grunts into her ear. She stills and Sev takes the opportunity to wind an arm around her and pull her tight against him. Sev doesn’t see the eyes that have followed them or the way other members of the homestead lean in to whisper to one another because Jessa is relaxing back into his grip, melding with him and his brain isn’t sure what to do. The next volley of decorative ordinance pop and she barely twitches. The purple shimmer of rhydonium paints her features in a soft glow as it fizzles out of existence.

He holds her tighter and by the round after she doesn’t move at all. Her head rocks back and rests against his shoulder. He can feel the heat of her all along the front of his body and his mind travels to places it hasn’t in ages.

“You didn’t need to do that,” she murmurs.

“If you say you were fine, I swear-“

“They kept the barracks near whatever tunnel we were working in at that time,” she begins.

Sev nods. This was a Kappa Black thing. He should have known.

“We worked in shifts. You had to try to sleep while they were blowing through the asteroid around you.”

It made sense. If you’d seen any amount of osik the galaxy had to offer you weren’t likely to leave it all behind.

“Odds are you're not gonna get blown up here.”

“How do you shut it off so easily?” She twists, glancing up at him.

“Turn off what?”

“The fear.”

Sev stops. He’s never really dwelled on it. “I don’t turn it off. I focus it. Fear is a tool.” He recites an early lesson. “It’s a blade. You either use it on your quarry or you use it on yourself. Never been much on killing myself.”

Jessa goes quiet, thoughtful. She wiggles in closer as reds and greens and blues light up the sky in front of her.

“Cold?” It seems like the right thing to say. Sev had seen a holomovie once on a stakeout that reminded him of this. He’d had to read lips because he’d been perched in a Corrie window watching it from his scope in a building two over. He got the gist of it though. Romantic osik that made him want to gag on the warra nuts he’d smuggled along. Now though it doesn’t feel nearly as unrealistic as he’d thought back then.

“Maybe a little.”

From the cargo pocket of his tac pants Sev retrieves her scarf, the same one she’d left on Scorch’s bed earlier. It’s not easy to unfurl it one handed, but he manages and drapes it over the front of them. She makes a soft sound, a sigh of contentment as she burrows under the fabric.

“Better?”

“Perfect.”

——

If the flames of the bonfire grow any higher, Walon is sure they’ll be able to see it from Keldabe. Not that you could tell any of the celebrating adiike that. No, drums and Bes’bev and various stringed instruments of unknown origin had been pulled out and now not only was their fire and drink but also music to go with it all.

Rav is beating out a rhythm on her bucket next to Atin, using a hide covered drum of his own making. The rest of the Bralors take turns on the winds and strings. Fi chortles out a bawdy song about a twi’lek dancer and the battalion of troopers that had loved her. Walon can make out the words “seduced by her lekku of love” before uproarious laughter drowns him out. Off to the side, Laseema rubs tears from her eyes barely able to control her laughter.

“They don’t work like that vod!” She manages to get out between giggles.

“Atin?” Someone asks. The former Commando in question offers a toothy grin but says nothing. Walon rolls his eyes. He’d like to think his adiike were better behaved, but Scorch is taking shots of ti’haar with Corr in celebration of a pyrotechnic display gone well. Sev, while not drinking like his vod is encouraging it.

“You gonna let a trooper get one up on you?”

Jessa is pressed shoulder to shoulder between the pair. Her cheeks are flushed with life and she looks happier than he’s ever seen as she fidgets with the thick braid of hair draped over her shoulder. Corr offers her a shot and she takes it like one of the Commandos. She barely flinches. Mandokarla indeed.

Even slightly inebriated himself, Walon can see Scorch’s keen gaze watch her like a mother nuna. Sev’s is more fixed on Corr. A pair of guard massiffs if he's ever seen them.

No, Walon didn’t need to worry about her overdoing it with Sev and Scorch present. Likely, he should be more concerned of their safety should they need to cut her off. The murderous look she’d given his sharpshooter this morning spoke volumes of the personality that was starting to bloom.

“Vau.” His musings are painfully disrupted by the shorter merc easing himself into a sitting position next to him.

“Skirata,” Walon greets.

“We need to talk about earlier.”

Like an obnoxious fly buzzing about, Walon tries to ignore him. Still, Kal’s eyes continue to bore into the side of his skull until, like a fly he cannot help but give him his full, irritated attention.

“You’re trying to ruin my Kyr’vhetine, aren’t you?”

Kal gives him a bemused smile that slips quickly into something more serious. Yes, he was going to ruin it.

Walon’s eyes drift to his children. The makeshift band has begun to play a song the is unmistakably Ryl. It’s heavy drum lead beat and accompanying strings lends itself for dance and Laseema throws her head back and laughs from her spot near Parja.

“Am I being called out?” She asks the group of musicians. There’s an uproarious cheer as she sets her drink down and pushes up off the makeshift log bench. “Fine then.”

Walon watches her bunch her tunic in her hand, tying the loose fabric just above her hip. Blue skin peeks out as she extends her hands at her sides and begins to dance.

Traditional Ryl dancing is almost impossible to look away from. The movements are fluid and driven by the rhythm of the music being played, steady drum beats with a mixture of plucked and strummed strings.

It’s not merely a dance but a delicate balancing act played between the musicians and the dancer. Laseema knows this game better than many he’s seen. Her hips shimmy and roll with the beat as she steps delicately about the circle of aliit. There’s cheers and hoots from the crowd and the smile that graces her face is radiant. Like so many others she had blossomed and truly begun to thrive in Kyrimorut. He was sure no small amount of that was in part to Atin. While he’d taken the Skirata name, Walon had quietly patted himself on the back for creating the man and survivor he was today.

“The auction…” Kal begins and Walon sighs deeply. From his spot at its Master’s foot, Mird glances up, tongue nearly too large for its mouth lolling out to the side. It’s warm by the fire but the strill is loathe to be anywhere Walon isn’t.

“The auction,” Walon agrees. The thought gives him a headache. A year ago he had just become reacquainted with the idea of having an ad and now here he was with three healthy, somewhat adjusted adiike. He was loathe to upset the newly formed balance, but he knew somewhere deep in his gut - as he didn’t trust his dead heart on such matters - that they needed to be part of whatever was set to happen. Each of the Cuy’val Dar sitting around the fire had trained multiple squads and so few were accounted for outside of those that had already been known to have marched on. If there were others they deserved a chance and their buir'e deserved a chance to give it to them.

Kal seems to understand he’s finally got his attention. When he speaks it’s not of someone trying to convince a friend in a fool's errand but instead a hardened mercenary beginning to plan for an op.

“We’ve got so little time to prepare. The lads will do fine but-“

Walon holds a hand up, “I know. I know.” His gaze travels over to how newest acquisition. Laseema is pulling the giggling girl to her feet while Scorch eggs her on. Sev watches with his hands on his knees. He appears relaxed, laconic, but Walon knows what lies beneath - always alert and on guard.

Laseema slows her movements, working her hips in a tight figure eight and Jessa imitates. It’s uncoordinated at first, but with each rotation she seems to sync into the music a little more, so Laseema shows her another step and then another. Parja joins the fray with absolutely no rhythm but shereshoy that cannot be argued with.

“You can’t deny that she’s our only option.”

“I never said I did.” Walon watches as Mereel enters the small fray of dancers and pulls Laseema close. Fi slides in and grabs his wife. He’s just as off rhythm as she, but they both seem oblivious to anything but one another. Jessa spins happily, the green scarf tied in a triangle at her hips twirls out like the layers of a skirt and Walon can imagine her being spun around a dance floor in another life. She’s happy and content and what is about to come could very well ruin that but she’d do it. He knew that in the same way he knew Scorch would spring to his feet the second one of Yayax squad attempted to move in her direction. Honestly, it’s astounding it takes as long as it does but after the correction earlier maybe it’s not too shocking. It’s Cov this time who gets two steps to near before Scorch is sliding in between the Yayax squad leader and the girl. Jessa only seems to see Scorch, beaming up at him as he slips in behind her.

Walon raises a brow. He hadn’t expected either of his lads to move like that.

“Sev and Scorch are not going to like this, I take?”

Walon chuckles. “I don’t imagine, but they also know their place and what an op like this means. They can give their hormones a backseat long enough to get the job done.”

“That’s going to be a mess when they work that out between them.”

From her spot pressed against Scorch’s chest Jessa finds Sev. He’s nursing another drink, only the second of the night by Walon’s assessment. She reaches out, palm up and curling her finger. Sev raises a brow and shakes his head, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as Jessa sticks out her lower lip and pouts. Someone shouts about making her the filling in a commando sandwich. Kal chokes, coughing violently into his drink.

Walon’s never known Sev to willingly do something commonly perceived as fun and dancing… he imagined it would be a cold day on the plains before he’d see his Ad’ika do that.

“I don’t doubt they’ll work it out in a way all their own.”

“That’s what I worry about.”

From the corner of his eyes, Walon studies the Skirata patriarch. He considered (if only to himself) him a friend for a few years now - since Mygeeto at very least - but there was a time when he’d have happily put his fist through the other man’s orbital bone if given the chance. Sometimes he still said things that made Walon’s old arthritic knuckles ache in anticipation.

“They’re not yours to worry on. I feel you have enough without adding my adiike to your plate.”

Kal hums and Walon knows this will not be the last time he will have this conversation. The song being played ends as he’s thinking of the inevitable irritation of having to repeat himself.

“Jessa.” The girl turns her head at her buir’s sharp call of her name. Scorch’s hands tense where they rest at her hips, but she shimmies out of the bounty hunter's grip.

“Yes, buir?” The musicians are mumbling amongst themselves about what to play next.

“Naberrie Waltz.”

Confusion flitz across her face, settling along with the crinkles between her eyes.

Walon is undeterred. “Do you remember it?” Jessa nods once and Walon rises to his weary feet. Scorch hover protectively behind her. With an irritated flick of the wrist Walon shoos him away.

“Show me the waltz.”

“But the music isn’t-“

“I’m aware, Ad’ika. I’m sure your parents spent large sums of money teaching you how to do things that didn’t always fit what you wanted at the time. Has their money gone to waste?”

A bemused look crosses her face as Walon offers a hand. It’s been a long time since he’s waltzed. Far longer than his new daughter has probably been alive but the steps come back as if it was just yesterday as a light hand on her waist guides her in a slow turn. He knows eyes are on them. He can see the flash of mirth in the eyes of the other Cuy’val Dar but that is none of his concern. Jessa’s spine is straight, her head, carriage uniformly perfect. Even though the song is all wrong she doesn’t miss a step. She slipped into it as easily as he feared she would. She could do what Kal was asking, maybe not perfect but she could figure out how to play the part. He glances down and catches her wondering eyes.

“Very good, Ad’ika. Very good.”

She smiles at the praise and allows him to continue to spin her around. Sev and Scorch’s looming shadows stand at the edge of the circle. Those two weren’t going to like what was to come one bit.

———

aglist: @bylightofdawn​ @leias-left-hair-bun​ @skdubbs​ @passionofthesith​ @haloangel391​ @fractiouskat @peacelandbread​ @clonewarslover55​ @cherry-cokes-world​ @nelba​ @jedi-mando @shadylightbearherring @poppunkdee @iamassbuttkingofhell

@royalhandmaidens @wolfswing @generic-geek-girl @captainrexwouldnever @kesskirata @ahhrenata @apathetic-catastrophie

Mando’a translation

Kyr’vhetine Tuur- harvest day (one of four Mando holidays @crimson and I dreamed up)

Mando’ade- sons and daughters of Mandalore

Adiike-children

Riddur- spouse

Din’kartay: sit-rep, or sharing of information/planning

Gett’se- balls

Nehutyc- gutsy (also feisty)

[kjmsupremacist]

Pho IS one of the best soup dishes out there that's true. I just prefer a heavier (?) broth so the soup that shan't be named takes first place for me. SAME tho (as you may have noticed lol) I could probably eat soup every day of my life and not get tired of it~ Especially with a bowl of rice on the side <3 And those sound amazing! would you mind sharing the recipe for both? I can't cook to save my life but I'm willing to try 🔥 (I honestly just like signing with the 🥢 emoji it's kinda pretty)

That's fair lol I think i prefer pho just because i like a lighter broth and pho is light but still super packed w flavor? but yeah literally that was my lunch today, soup and rice haha

and yes!! i'll put it under the cut so that those uninterested do not have to scroll past an entire recipe hehe

all my broth recipes r pretty much the same, regardless of your base (chicken, lamb, pork, whatever)!

wash your base (esp if it has meat attached), and then throw it in your pot and fill it almost all the way up w water. im a true asian which means i never measure (LOOOL) but usually i get a big stock pot and I want the like whole bottom to be covered with my bones/meat, and then just fill it a few inches from the top with water. Lots of water. it'll be heavy.

Heat on HIGH until it's just reached a rolling boil, then take it off and dump it all down the drain. this clears all the weird gunk you don't want, like blood clots and other shit, and also makes it so the broth doesn't taste so strongly of, well, meat. rinse it a couple times to make sure all the weird floaties are gone, then add a couple knobs of fresh ginger and fill it back up again.

Heat on high until it boils, then take it down to like just above a simmer. I usually stir in my spices here; it depends on what flavor profile you're going for but I usually do a healthy pour of: salt, black pepper, white pepper, ginger powder, garlic powder, onion powder (esp if you don't have actual onions to put in at the end!), chinese five spice, and maybe a touch of coriander if you have it on hand. it's a good idea to taste test as u go, but like, don't burn yourself.

Let it simmer for at least 3-4 hours; add any aromatics near the end that you want, like a yellow onion, shallots, or scallions.

You can leave it out on the stove overnight as long as it's not particularly warm, just be sure that if you stick anything in it, even a clean ladle, you bring it to a boil before leaving it!

Usually, the first morning after you leave it out/leave it in the fridge, you'll notice a thick layer of fat that's congealed on top. You can keep this if you like a richer broth, but I find that it makes your broth super oily, and even without it, most broths are still pretty heavy. Sometimes I opt to scrape about 3/4 of it away and leave the rest. the only exception i've found is chicken broth, as chicken tends to be lower in fat. Unless you're going for a thin, low-fat option, I would skip skimming your chicken broth altogether.

And that’s pretty much it! I usually will keep the stock pot and just dish a smaller amt out into a normal saucepan for meals. If you're doing the lotus root, just, yk, boil the lotus root in water beforehand since they are quite thick and i think it's nicer for them to be soft when they're in soup instead of crunchy, etc etc.

If you're doing chicken, I usually just get a whole chicken (cut into parts) + extra drumsticks, and throw everything in the pot except for the dark meat. i marinate the dark meat in salt for a day to make it tender, and then put small pieces of it in when im heating the soup for a meal <3

this same method can be applied when u r making something more complicated, like beef noodle soup, ramen, or pho, it's just that there are extra steps lol (esp w pho. still haven't really figured that one out lol)

anyway clearly i can talk about cooking and soup all day so if u have questions or just want to rave abt ur fave soups, please hit me up hahaha

[unwritrecipes]

Fresh Raspberry Ice Cream

There are three super important reasons why you should make this Fresh Raspberry Ice Cream ASAP—as if you ever really need an excuse for homemade ice cream, or any ice cream consumption, if we’re being honest!

First up, this raspberry ice cream is super duper delicious—intensely raspberry in the way that no store-bought version can deliver. That’s because you make a whole lot of fresh raspberry purée which gets stirred into the ice cream base, so every bite is raspberry and more raspberry through and through!

I’m not even really a raspberry ice cream person, but one bite of this gorgeous looking and tasting version, has me reaching for spoonful after spoonful.

Second, it is freakin’ hot out there and any excuse to indulge in something light, not too sweet and refreshing is a must!!! In fact, I’d go so far as to say that a container of this should be made a mandatory freezer item all summer long!

And third, and maybe most importantly, this lovely pink confection is part one of a two-part pretty stellar dessert that shall have its big reveal tomorrow.

My advice? Start churning today…

Fresh Raspberry Ice Cream

Makes about 1 ½ quarts

You will need an electric ice cream maker for this.

Prep Time: 20 minutes, plus several hours chilling and churning time

Ingredients

30 ounces fresh raspberries, puréed in a blender and strained through a sieve

5 large egg yolks

1 ½ cups heavy cream

1 ½ cups half-and-half

1 cup sugar

½ vanilla bean, cut lengthwise

The Recipe

1. In a medium bowl, beat the egg yolks slightly and set aside. Fill a large bowl with water and ice. Set another medium bowl inside it and place a fine-mesh strainer over the bowl. Set aside.

2. In a medium saucepan, bring the heavy cream, half-and-half, sugar and vanilla bean to a simmer over medium-low heat. Whisking constantly, pour about ½ cup (don’t measure, just eyeball it) of the warm mixture into the eggs and then another ½ cup, all the while whisking constantly. Scrape the mixture back into the saucepan and heat over low heat, stirring constantly with a heatproof spoon or spatula until the mixture coats the back of a spoon and an instant read thermometer says 175ºF.

3. Pour the mixture through the sieve into the bowl in the ice water, Stir in the raspberry purée and let the mixture cool. Then remove the bowl from the water, cover and chill at least 4 hours and ideally, overnight.

4. Pour the chilled custard into an electric ice cream maker and churn according to the manufacturer’s directions. I had to do this in two batches. Spoon ice cream into an airtight container and place in the freezer.

Enjoy!

Note: Recipe from Food 52’s Ice Cream and Friends. I left out the Chambord and simplified some of the techniques.

[idontmeasure]

Vegetarian taco filling

cost: about $4 for probably like 8-10 tacos, depending on how generous you are. price doesn’t include spices or oil or any substitutions. adjust to your level of struggle, friends

time:  This takes me 15 min, from start to shoving it in my mouth. depends on your substitutions and knife skills. 

ingredients:

- 1 tub fresh sliced white mushrooms (8 oz) (this is the most expensive ingredient at $1.79)

- 1 can black beans

- 1 can Rotel (or off brand Rotel - some mix of diced tomatoes and peppers)

- cooking oil (i use olive, but canola/vegetable works, too) 

-minced garlic (i buy mine in a big tub)

- cumin, Mexican oregano, chili power (medium spiciness), onion powder, and garlic salt or regular salt 

optional: chipotle Tabasco (i use it because someone accidentally got an enormous jug delivered to my mother-in-law’s house and she didn’t want it and the company wouldn’t take the return so she gave it to me. free tasty sauce!)

steps:

1. Dice the fresh mushrooms

2. Saute minced garlic (i just dig the wooden spoon into the jar and plop like whatever comes out on the end in there - garlic is gooooooood) in oil (enough to cover the surface of your pan) in a skillet over medium heat. do this about a minute. or whatever, just let it get warm without burning it.

3. after about a minute, plop in the mushrooms.  Saute til they look kinda cooked. maybe another 2 min

4. Dump in drained can of beans and undrained can of rotel

5. Spices: Dump in cumin and red chili powder.  Red chili is 2:1 ratio to cumin. So if you end up with a tbsp of chili, do half tbsp of cumin.  i think that’s probably what i end up dumping in. Sprinkle onion powder (prob half tsp, but i just shake the container and cover the entire surface with a light dusting). Sprinkle salt or garlic salt to sparsely cover entire surface as well. Sprinkle enough oregano to cover the surface area of a fun-sized candy bar. or less. i do less because i’m not that in love with oregano, tbh. Squirt in some tabasco - i like to make a swirl design over the whole skillet because i have mine in one of those squeezy plastic bottles people use for bbq sauce.

6. Stir/mix well. Simmer as long as you want, but prob at least 6 min (6 min is coincidentally how long store brand taco shells that cost $1 a box take to get crispy in the oven - so convenient!). Stir and taste as you go. Add more spices as needed. Can’t tell what to add? try a tiny bit of salt and see what that does. Add black pepper, too.

7. Serve on corn tortillas (be sure to heat them up on a skillet) or hard shells or chips or eat over rice. Add any usual taco fixings, like jalapenos or salsa or sour cream or cheese (if you have a body and a budget that can afford dairy, that is)

Possible Questions Answered under the cut

q. seriously, though, can’t u put measurements on this?

a. no. i dont measure. you came to a blog called idontmeasure.

q. calorie count?

a. it’s relatively low. beans/tomatoes/mushrooms are maybe like 450-500 cals if you eat the entire recipe by yourself - shells/tortillas not included. i don’t count calories, though, so you’ll have to look elsewhere for recipes that do or use a calorie counter.

q: what if i can’t get fresh mushrooms?

a: you could use canned - be sure to drain and dice and saute ‘em. the taste will be a little different. you can skip them, too. i skip them all the time when i’m too broke for fresh stuff or i just can’t get to the store for a while. Cost decreases by almost half if you take out the mushrooms, but the taste is less umami.

q: this looks too spicy - what should i do?

a: cut out the tabasco. use mild rotel. use mild chili powder. use less chili powder. use none! it won’t taste the same, but it’ll still be good and filling.

q: this doesn’t look spicy enough - what should i do?

a: use habanero rotel, but be cautioned that for some people, that will be WAY too spicy. or add a dash of cayenne.  i always dump whatever hot salsa i have and some jarred jalapenos on top afterwards because it’s never spicy enough but my husband can’t eat it if i use habanero.

q: i can’t get rotel or canned black beans

a: use fresh tomatoes and peppers. or just get regular canned diced tomatoes. add canned peppers or jarred green chili. you can also use dried beans - just be sure to soak them overnight. you can also sub kidney beans or pinto beans for the black beans.

q. can i just use one of those taco seasoning packs?

a: sure. it’s cheaper to use the spices, though, and seasoning packs usually include extra stuff like sometimes flour and always anti-caking ingredients, so just make sure you read it

q. onion powder?

a. i actually prefer to use minced onion, but i don’t have one on hand always. so if you have actual onion, use that! if not, use onion powder. don’t want onion flavor? skip it!

q. can i put bell pepper in this?

a. oh, heck yeah. fresh, diced bell pepper of any color is super good in this. you can put the frozen diced bell peppers in here, too. 

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Slide (lemon)

Professional Cuddler AU Masterlist

One would think that Dr. Shirayuki Lyon has been blessed with an interesting life. Never a dull, mundane moment to be had. If you were to believe the tabloids, at least. 

When she was eighteen, she fled her country, befriended the Prince of the neighboring state, and immediately enrolled in Royal Medical School. There, she had the dubious honor of becoming the obsession of paparazzi and journalists and… eccentric nobility alike. Some just wanted her picture through the heavy shade of trees, leaning in close to their beloved Prince. Something to put on a glossy front page. Most, however, were hungry to tear her apart.

Much to their chagrin, she did not give them much fodder. First by passing all her marks, top of the class. Then by becoming the second youngest resident Lilias Research Hospital had ever seen. She was the primary researcher on the Olin Maris Project, pleading her case to parliament, knights circles, to Kings, and meeting success in every direction.

But what no one seems to know, or rather, what no one seems to care about other, is that she also has chronic insomnia exacerbated by a panic disorder. According to the hospital psychiatry department.

Strange how that particular detail never made it into the news.

Not that she was complaining. It’s not that much of a surprise, though. It used to just be generalized anxiety… once, when she could blame her GPA. Or her MCAT. Likely her residency, too. But that was in the past. She has a job now. A career. Respect in her field and esteem among her peers. She should be falling into her bed, curling into that memory foam mattress Yuzuri insisted she buy and luxuriating in a well-deserved rest, but-

Things have changed.

These days, it’s not rote memorization or endless case studies or even the errant photographer outside her window that has her startling awake, heart pounding, but crushed metal and the splatter of water echoing off of empty walls. Each night, with heavy eyes and a heavier heart, she slides between her sheets and hopes that it will be better. And a not so small part of her begrudges her in her younger days, smiling away classmates concerns by proclaiming, I’ll sleep when I have my MD.

What an arrogant child she had been.

But things were… getting better. Slowly. Surely. 

The cameramen and journalists were gone now, for one, off to cover more exciting things than a doctor in mourning. And for every shift she arrived at, vision blurred and eyes gritty, there was a fresh cup of coffee being pushed into her hands by a smiling face, Yuzuri already cheerfully detailing What Kazaha had done this time as Shirayuki slowly reacquainted herself with the world of the living. For every hint of migraine threatening to hole her up in a dark room for just a moment of peace, there was Suzu, flapping some new article in her face, Can you believe the National Endowment funded this tripe? There was Shidan, eyes sliding right past her as he reassigned her to pediatrics when the ER became too much. Ryuu, who would tug on her sleeve as she passed by, claiming he needed an extra set of eyes in the lab. And Garrack, dragging her to a nearby bar to “catch up” whenever she was in town, only to ply her with a shot of gin and a stern reminder to eat.

She was blessed, really, with so much kindness. So many helping hands and warm smiles and gentle encouragement that made each passing day since the accident that much easier. It was therefore that much more frustrating that even with all this support, it still wasn’t enough to get her through the night.

This, however, sometimes was.

Sleep lifts from her sweetly on an inhale, and she wakes as content and warm as her childhood days, buried beneath one of her grandmothers winter quilts in the depths of winter. Everything is hazy, but in a good way. Weighted down into her mattress, there’s a familiar sort of heat at her back, one that has become nearly second nature in the last few months, even more so when mixed with the smell and sound of home.

Home…

Her eyelashes flutter, taking in the shadows of her dresser, her closet door, the lamp on her nightstand, and- that’s right. This isn’t the studio. She invited Obi over to her place. To spend the night. To sleep, even, with all the rules of the Cuddle Clinic and none of the time restraints.

Breath pours out from her, body curling deeper into his hold and seeking every inch of that heat. With just a little wiggle, the low of his belly is flush against her, knees stacked on top of the other like the right pieces to a puzzle, and his hips fitted snugly against her ass.

Behind her, Obi grunts, disturbed, his arms tightening and pulling her closer still. It’s… nice. Pleasant enough to let her eyes fall closed, to let her barely there wakefulness unravel - there’s no need to be awake anyhow, but-

There’s pressure. A wanting sort of yawn between her legs. Desire, warm and sleep damp, but- that’s not unique. The heat coiled deep in her belly is safe and… manageable. It’s always an ever present burn, simmering on low during their sessions and this time is no different. Obi’s doing his job - a rather admirable one if she says so herself - and it’s only natural that her body react. It’s been so long, after all, and she’s so rarely touched these days-

Breath fans out across her neck, palms flexing against her with a sleepy groan, and Shirayuki’s brain fizzles out, overridden by the way her body is suddenly aware.

O- oh.

At her breast one broad hand, tipped with calluses and worked hard, cradles her, the palm of his other branding the flare of her hip, thumb sweeping the jut of her hip bone and-

Shirayuki inhales sharply, thighs clenching against the sudden rush of heat. Catching a whimper between her teeth, she carefully brushes her fingers across the fine bones of his, past the knob of his wrist and the flex of his forearm, dipping towards her own body and confirming what she already suspected. And maybe, in some shameful, hidden place in her heart, wished for.

Her nightshirt has ridden up, all the way to her armpits. She’s bare skin all the way from toes to shoulders and snug against his clothed crotch and torso. The arm circling her stretches her shirt as far as it can go, to the point that the scratch of flannel blanket is more present against her skin than the touch of cotton.

Shirayuki bites her lips, struck breathless, and God, why did she think scheduling overnight service was a good thing? She’s so wet, she can feel it against her thighs and when she remembers to inhale, the skin of his inner forearm so soft again her exposed ribcage, and she- she squirms, involuntary-

Head thudding back to rest against his collarbone, Shirayuki takes a deep breath- tries to steady it out- and this was- this was fine. She was fine. Obi grunts again, the hand cradling her hip shifting her back, other arm banding tighter around her, and oh- oh-

Right against her inner thigh, she feels it. Through well worn fabric, the swollen length of him, half-hard, rests just so against her inner thigh.

And she’s awake now, fully, panting and flushed, the heat between her legs nearly unbearable. All it would take is a shift in angle, a slight parting of her legs, and she could- she could feel him completely, grind herself against his cock and-

And see what he was like when he was ready.

Shirayuki shakes herself, rubbing her thighs together to ease some of the pressure. No, no, this was fine. Manageable and... fine.

Obi makes a sound too like a whimper for comfort, mouth relaxed in sleep resting against her skin in a way that makes her shiver. Stubble drags along the line of her jaw, his lips just barely touching the shell of her ear, and- she’s only human. She moans, the sound slipping from her more like a whine, arching into his palm and it moves, just slightly, his thumb dragging around an already peaked nipple, forefinger coming around to pinch and roll-

Her low back arches like a cats, ass pressing back so she can feel the growing length of him against slip against her.

“Obi,” she gasps.

All at once, he breathes in, starting out long and pleasant before turning sharp, and it’s not fair how quickly he wakes up, the safe relaxed strength of his body going rigid.

“Miss,” he starts, voice rough with sleep, and she wants to tell him more, that she wants to hear him say more against her skin, but he’s pulling his hands away, pulling his body away.

Her hands latch around his wrists, holding him in place, and she rolls her head along his shoulder, arching her neck up to see his face.

“Don’t stop,” she breathes, catching just the shape of his eye as it widens and she lets go of the hand at her breast to reach up and urge his head down. His hair is so soft. “Please. Don’t stop.”

“Ha-” is the only answer she gets before his mouth is on hers, soft and giving and wet as he groans against her mouth. Lips parting to his urging, she opens to him, reaching up with her other hand to sink all her fingers into the bristle of his hair and he slides his tongue against hers, so good it must be sin. Her ankle hooks around his calf, and he tastes like sleep, but- ah, ahh-

The palm at her hip scratches up her stomach, taking her other breast fully in hand and he rolls both her nipples between his fingers.

Shirayuki cries out, body surging up into his hands, and Obi takes the advantage, tilting his head to press his kisses deeper, harder, dirtier, and she grinds back against him, each little spark of pleasure muffled by his lips and tongue, ah, ahh, Ahhh-

For as often as she’s imagined this, for as gentle as he is with her in their sessions, it still comes as a surprise with the way his hold doesn’t bruise, how he can be filled with so much restrained strength even as he takes her in his palms and squeezes.

The sessions-

“Wait,” she pulls back, panting against his lips, toes curling when he whines with want into her mouth. “Wait, Ah-” Her eyelashes flutter, swallowing hard when he pinches, and he does- stop, that is, parted lips resting against hers and he just… breathes into her mouth. “Aren’t you still working?”

“I’m off the clock,” he murmurs, voice raspy like gravel, tongue flicking on her lower lip.

“Oh,” she gasps, fingers fisting in his hair. “Okay.”

Obi hisses, teeth bared against her lips, but he rears back, cock twitching impatiently against her backside.

“Rules?” he grits.

It takes her a moment, maybe even two, but she gains enough clarity to stare at him in disbelief.

“You haven’t gone too far yet.” She bites at his lower lip, goading him to come back to her. “I’ll let you know if you do.”

That’s all he seems to need. Groaning, he takes her mouth again, rolling her beneath him and his hands are everywhere. His palms catch against her ribs, against her thighs, grasping beneath her knees and lifting them sharply up to coil around his waist.

“How are you so damn soft?” he complains breathlessly against her neck, the hard line of his cock flush against her sex as his lips drag across her pulse, teeth nipping at the line of her jaw.

“Salt baths,” she manages, mindlessly running her hands over his shoulders, over his neck, rolling her hips up-

He pulls his away, back shaking, and noses her nightshirt towards her chin. “Is that so?” he murmurs against skin, biting the valley between her breasts.

“Mm.” She can barely see, let alone form words, so it’s something of a miracle that she opens her mouth and says, “It’s very nice. You should try- Ah!”

Obi’s mouth is… very nice. And distracting. Every time he uses it, he finds a better application, a better way to steer her away from her thoughts, and this time is no different. It’s opening, taking her whole nipple inside and sucking, wetly laving at her nipple and nibbling at its peak.

Writhing beneath him, straining against his hands, part of her considers how strange it is that she thought she would feel guilt if she ever… had a chance at being touched like this again. Stranger still how she feels anything but.

His fingers tease across her legs, flirting with the crease of her thighs. And when his knuckles brush against her damp curls, guilt is the last thing on her mind.

“Please, please, please-” she chants, nearly sobbing, grabbing hold of the pillow above her head for dear life.

Humming against her skin, he trades one breast for another, knuckles slipping through her folds, testing-

“Fuck,” he hisses, one finger extended to dip into her entrance. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Whining, Shirayuki bucks her hips, exchanging her grip on the pillow for her own hair. “Then do something about-”

He does. One finger slips deep inside her, crooking just right, and her vision goes white.

“Obi!” Her hands are scrambling now, holding him to her as his mouth slides down the curve of her breasts, licking at the line of her ribs, and he pumps his hand, slow and steady, a second finger sliding in just as easy as the first.

“I got-” She loses track of what she’s got, knees falling to the side when his thumb brushes her clit. Obi hums, interested, pressing a kiss to the dip of her solar plexus.

Hand slamming against the top of her nightstand, it wildly slaps against the surface, knocking over books and her phone until she finds the handle of the drawer and flings it open. Mindlessly reaching inside, she grabs hold of the sharp edges of a paperboard and throws it in Obi’s direction.

It bounces harmlessly off of his arm and Obi lifts his head, grunting a question.

“That’s-” She gestures towards it, she thinks, staring sightlessly at her ceiling. “That’s for you.”

His fingers still in her all the way to the last knuckle, Obi lays his weight on her and takes it in his free hand. “Why, Miss,” he purrs, thumb brushing her clit in reward and she- she whimpers.

“Hurry,” she pants, the flat of her feet against his ribs, coaxing him up.

The box returns to the bed with a dull rattle. “In a minute,” he grins, dropping his mouth back to her belly.

She doesn’t have a minute. She doesn’t even have a second, not with the way she aches. Not with the way each slow pump of his hand makes it worse and not better.

He exhales, sharp and through his nose, the cool air fanning right above the hair of her sex, and that’s all the warning she gets before his mouth his on her, lips circling her clit while his fingers stab sharp and deep.

She screams.

So many things fall from her tongue after that, so many sweet and terrifying and lovely things, but she can’t remember any of them, so completely lost in the way his tongue drags, his fingers curl, his mouth sucks-

It’s really no wonder that she comes apart as quickly as she does, so completely and unapologetically.

Her lungs are burning when she finds herself again, her chest heaving, and Obi is still there, tucked between her legs and kissing her thighs, fingers deep inside her.

“Obi.” She wriggles against his hand, gasping at the sudden jolt of pleasure, and she’s so greedy. “Please. The- you have to- condom-”

Two gold eyes peek up at her, sly and dark, his mouth still pressed against skin. “Condom?” he murmurs, and any other time she would be annoyed at the smug curl of his lips, but-

This was an emergency.

Shirayuki nods rapidly, hands already back in his hair and dragging her to him. “Yes. That.”

His mouth swallows up anything else that he may have said, tasting a little bitter and a little smokey and it makes her strain against him, hopelessly seeking out some bare part of him that can touch her.

Obi takes her by the hips, dragging her down and aligning her sex with his. He’s growling with he pulls back, when he grasps at the mess of blankets for the box and nothing happens when he shakes it.

“Wait,” he pauses, tearing his attention from her long enough to squint at it. “Is this a new box?”

“Why are you still talking?” she whines, grinding her sex against the line of his erection.

A strangled groan leaves him, the sound of paperboard tearing open and plastic tearing along the perforated edge nearly drowned out. Her hands are already at the stretchy waistband of his pajamas when he tears the packaging open with his teeth, pushing them down just far enough that his cock springs free.

Oh.

Oh my.

She’s not given nearly enough time to enjoy the view. His fingers shake when he wraps them around himself, rolling the condom down the length of him, and her hand joins his, pushing it down faster.

He hisses and laughs in equal measure, mouth opening, likely to tease, but she fists her fingers in his shirt with her other hand, pulling him down and-

Ah!

God, it’s been so long, and she was expecting some difficulty, some pain from not being used for such a length of time, but the soft head of his dick parts her lips, disappearing inside her slowly, easily. He fills her up, stuffing her full, and she opens to him just as effortlessly, stretching around the girth of him and wholly thankful for it. Two fingers were not nearly enough.

She can’t breathe fast enough, hands somehow beneath his shirt, petting down the soft skin of his back. “Obi... Oh god, yes...”

Groaning against her neck, his fingers clench on the swell of her hip, pressing her down into the mattress as he slides in all the way and, oh, this is why Yuzuri recommended the memory foam-

When his hips stop, flush to hers, his chest is heaving, whole body trembling. “Miss,” he pants into her hair. “Miss-”

Her ankles hook around his back, hips bucking against his. “Shirayuki,” she whines, nails dragging down his back. “Say my name, Obi.”

“Haa, yes,” he moans like he’s dying, drawing out. “Yes, Shirayuki-”

His pace is fast, deep, leaving her body only by half before surging back forward, filling her up and driving her into the mattress. He keeps one hand at the nape of her neck and the small of her back, pressing her to him as he sinks into her again and again, each thrust that hits her right there drawing out a cry that she muffles against the fabric of his shirt.

“Shirayuki,” he moans over and over like he is making up for lost time, tilting her head back to whimper it again into her mouth. His hands slide up her thighs, lifting her into his thrusts and she wraps her arms around his head and neck, keening against his lips, taking him in every way that she can.

Her body is hot, burning, and her toes sneak beneath the stretch of his waistband, pushing it down so her toes can curl against the hard muscles of his ass, feeling their flex as he pushes deeper, harder-

His pace stutters, no longer smooth but frantic, and he’s still swallowing every one of her breaths and cries when his hand slides up her thigh so his thumb can brush where they join-

She comes so hard tears gather at the corner of her eyes, riding him out as he rides her, as his hips slap desperately against hers and he groans out a high keening noise. With one last surge that nearly drives her up the bed, he comes to a stop. Shivering against her skin, his breath catches and then shakes out of him, and his hips jerk a few times more, trying to press himself deeper before he just… melts, all at once, face landing on the pillow next to her.

“Ha,” he swallows hard, gasping when his hands flexing against her skin one more time. “Haa, I didn’t-”

Shirayuki’s mouth finds his neck, lips catching the rapid rhythm of his heart and holding it beneath her tongue and teeth.

Sighing, the tension pours out of him again, hips squirming against hers. “Ah, ah, stop,” he laughs, breathless. “You’re going to get me started again.”

With a pleased grin, she does, looking up at him beneath the fan of her lashes when he pulls back just far enough to look her in the eyes. When his forehead touches hers, there’s a question there. One that she answers with a smile.

Shirayuki tugs him back down to her, sliding her lips against his, tender and soft, and whatever tension was left in them pour out of them both all at once. Legs sliding down his side, she lets them collapse onto the bed with a whimper and he sighs, pulling his body from hers.

Sitting back on his heels, Obi hisses, just a little, the wet slap of latex echoing somewhere in the dark, and he just… sits there. On his knees. With a mussed head of hair, a used condom in hand, and an adorable look of bufflement on his face as he looks helplessly around the room.

“Next to the nightstand.” Her arm flails absently. She has no energy to do more than that.

Bracing one arm against the mattress, he leans out, neck arching as he seeks out the bin. The second after she hears a dull thud, he collapses onto the bed next to her, drawing him to her.

“Was that okay?” he whispers into her hair, petting back the sticky strands of hair that cling to her face.

Her hands snake under his shirt again, and it’s cool and damp like their skin. “More than.”

[thedisneychef]

Can You Make Corned Beef and Cabbage? Here's an Easy Recipe to Try

Hi everyone! I'm so excited to share this recipe with you. Today, we're making a delicious corned beef and cabbage dish that's sure to make your mouth water. This is one of my family's favorite recipes and it always gets rave reviews from our guests. So let's get started! Corned beef and cabbage has been around for centuries - first mentioned in Irish literature over 500 years ago. It was traditionally served on St. Patrick’s Day but nowadays, people enjoy the savory combination all year round. And why not? Not only does it taste great, but it's also easy to make! Maybe You Also Like: - Can Cooker Kielbasa Recipe: A Delicious and Easy Meal Idea - Candy Roaster Pumpkin Pie Recipe - Can Green Beans Casserole Recipe Ingredients I'm so excited to share this delicious corned beef and cabbage recipe with you. This classic Irish dish is a favorite of mine, and I think it's going to be yours too once you give it a try! The key to making the perfect corned beef and cabbage is all in the spice combinations. You'll need garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, ground mustard seed, caraway seeds, black pepper, bay leaves and kosher salt. Each one adds its own unique flavor that makes this dish stand out from the rest. Just as important as getting your spices right is understanding cooking times. The slow cooked brisket needs at least 8 hours on low heat until tender enough to pull apart with a fork. Meanwhile the vegetables will get added near the end of cooking time so they don't become soggy or overcooked - around 2-3 hours before serving should do it just fine. Now that you have all the information needed for success, go ahead and give this tasty recipe a shot! It's sure to please even the pickiest eaters - trust me! Preparing The Beef Now that you have all the ingredients for your corned beef and cabbage recipe, it's time to prepare the beef. Slow cooking is key for this dish - it helps make the meat tender and flavorful. Start by brine soaking the beef in a bowl of cold water overnight. This will help draw out moisture from the meat and make sure it doesn't dry out while cooking. When you're ready to cook, place the beef in a large pot with enough water to cover it completely. Add several peppercorns and bay leaves to give the broth extra flavor before bringing everything up to a boil over high heat. Once boiling, reduce the heat to low and simmer uncovered for two hours or until the meat is fork-tender. Once done, use tongs or a slotted spoon to transfer your cooked beef onto a plate so you can start assembling your corned beef and cabbage dish! Cooking The Vegetables I'm a firm believer that the key to making any dish is using quality ingredients. When it comes to braising corned beef and cabbage, selecting the right vegetables for the job is essential. Here are some tips for getting those veggies just right! We want to use a slow-cooking technique like braising with our vegetables so they don't become too mushy or lose their flavor. To get started, choose hearty root vegetables such as carrots, potatoes, turnips, onions and celery - these will hold up better during cooking. You can also add in other seasonal vegetables of your choice; just be sure not to overcrowd the pot! When it comes to seasoning choices, you have quite a bit of freedom here. I like to keep things simple by adding fresh herbs like rosemary and thyme along with salt and pepper - but feel free to experiment with different combinations depending on what type of flavors you're looking for. If you need an extra kick of spice, try tossing in some red pepper flakes before serving. With these tips in mind, enjoy your delicious corned beef and cabbage meal! Putting It All Together I'm going to show you how to prepare a classic corned beef and cabbage recipe. First, you need to make sure you have all of the necessary ingredients. I'll be talking you through cutting the vegetables and seasoning the beef. Then it's time to start cooking the dish! I'll explain how to layer the ingredients into the pot and how long to simmer it until it's ready to serve. Preparing The Ingredients When it comes to making the perfect corned beef and cabbage recipe, preparation is key! One of the most important steps in getting everything just right is storing your vegetables properly. Make sure you choose cuts that are fresh and not wilted or browning around the edges. When shopping for your ingredients, opt for organic produce whenever possible as they tend to have a superior flavor when cooked. Don't forget to check expiration dates on all canned goods too - no one wants an unpleasant surprise at dinner time! With proper storage and careful ingredient selection, you'll be well on your way to creating a delicious meal. Cooking The Dish Now that we have all the ingredients together, it's time to cook up a delicious corned beef and cabbage dinner! There are some traditional methods of cooking this dish - boiling your vegetables in salted water with the beef until tender and then adding butter or other seasonings for flavor. You can also try special variations like braising or roasting the meat for a different texture. Experimenting with spices is always encouraged too - find what works best for you and your family! No matter which way you choose to prepare it, the end result will be sure to please everyone at the table. Serving Suggestions Once your corned beef and cabbage is finished cooking, it's time to serve! Here are a few serving tips that will make sure the meal goes off without a hitch. First, I recommend slicing up the corned beef into thick slices before plating. This ensures everyone gets an equal portion of the succulent meat. If you have leftovers, be sure to store them in an airtight container for maximum freshness. When it comes to side dishes, there are endless possibilities. Potatoes or mashed turnips go great with this dish if served hot out of the oven. Or try some freshly baked bread on the side – crusty sourdough and a pat of butter would be delicious! Alternatively, why not whip up some coleslaw or potato salad? These cold sides provide the perfect contrast against the warmth of the main course. No matter what accompaniments you choose, just remember that presentation is key when it comes to making any meal look beautiful. So don’t forget to garnish each plate with sprigs of parsley or fresh herbs for an added touch of flavor and color! Frequently Asked Questions What Is The Best Type Of Corned Beef To Use? When making a can corned beef and cabbage recipe, it's important to know what type of corned beef is best to use. There are several types, such as flat-cut brisket or point-cut brisket brined with spices for weeks at a time. For the most flavor and tenderness, try using pre-brined cut that has been cured in salt water for two days; this will give you the best texture and flavor without needing additional brining time. Is There A Way To Make This Recipe Without Cabbage? Yes, you can make a delicious corned beef dish without cabbage! Instead of using just one vegetable, try combining a few different ones for flavor and texture. Carrots, onions and potatoes are all great alternatives to cabbage that will still give your recipe the right amount of crunch. You could also experiment with different spice combinations such as bay leaves, mustard powder or paprika - there's no limit to what flavors you can include in this tasty meal! How Long Should The Beef Be Cooked For? Cooking corned beef isn't a quick process, but it's definitely worth the wait. You'll need to brine the beef for up to 10 days beforehand and then cook it at 325°F for 3-4 hours or until an internal temperature of 145°F is reached. It might seem like a long time, but you'll be rewarded with juicy, tender results that will make your mouth water! What Is The Best Way To Season The Vegetables? The best way to season the vegetables in a can corned beef and cabbage recipe is by adding flavor enhancers like onion powder, garlic powder, paprika, or chili flakes. You can also experiment with different spice combinations such as rosemary, thyme, parsley and oregano for added flavor. Don't forget to add salt and pepper too! Adding these spices will give your vegetables an extra kick of flavor that won't be forgotten. Is There An Easy Way To Make This Recipe In A Slow Cooker? Yes, making corned beef and cabbage in a slow cooker is definitely easy! The trick is to adjust the cooking times and portion sizes for your slow cooker. Depending on the size of your slow cooker you may need to cut down the amount of ingredients used or increase the cooking time. If it's too full, there won't be enough liquid which affects how quickly everything cooks. So make sure that all the vegetables and meat are properly proportioned before starting. You can also add extra seasonings like bay leaves, garlic powder, onion powder, pepper flakes or paprika to give it more flavor if desired. Conclusion Making a corned beef and cabbage recipe is an easy way to enjoy this classic dish. When it comes to choosing the right type of corned beef, look for cuts that are leaner so they don't become too tough when cooked. If you decide not to use cabbage in your recipe, other hearty vegetables such as potatoes or carrots make great substitutions. Cook times may vary depending on how thick the cut of meat is, but generally speaking, allow at least two hours for cooking. To add flavor to the vegetables, try adding herbs like thyme or parsley. For those who want a convenient slow cooker option, all ingredients can be added into the pot before setting it on low heat and letting it cook overnight. With these tips in mind, you’ll have no trouble re-creating this delicious traditional meal in your own kitchen! If you're looking for more delicious recipes to try, be sure to check out The Disney Chef's recipe categories! Whether you're in the mood for something sweet like a cake recipe, something savory like a chicken or pork recipe, or something fresh like a vegetable or seafood recipe, there's something for everyone. And if you're a meat-lover, don't forget to check out the beef recipes category for hearty and satisfying meals. With so many options to choose from, you're sure to find a new favorite recipe to add to your collection. Read the full article

[wtnvwritings]

Just Past the Mountains (1/?)

AO3 Version

Relationship: Kevin/Reader

Rating: Explicit

First Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: You are on a road trip and your car has broken down. There's a man on the radio, his voice is sweet and happy and he calls himself Kevin. This man says he's going to come and get you, take you back to Desert Bluffs because you are his mate and he's waited so long to find you. You don't know very much about Desert Bluffs or StrexCorp or anything else this man is talking about, but there's something about him you trust.

This is the story about how you find, meet and fall in love with Kevin.

Stupid.

So very, totally stupid.

There is no end to the amount of stupidity in your actions right now, in this very moment. Your car has run dry of gas, you're in the middle of a desert and there is neither a phone signal nor a gas station to be found--not even the slightest flicker of life. You hadn't seen a rest stop for the last hour of driving, so it's not as if you can walk there on your own two feet if you wanted. There aren't even any cars passing by: you haven't seen another car for...you're not quite sure how long.

You're alone.

You're alone and stranded in the middle of a desert, no helped to be seen or called for. The sun is going down, dipping beneath the horizon, bringing with it the fear of certain death--there’s no emergency bag in tour car for something like this, as it's too full of clothes and silly things you thought to bring for a road trip across the country. The trip seems so far away in your mind now, so unimportant when facing the certainty of death all around you in the form of sand and scrublands, maybe even a few hazy, distant low-lying mountains.

You could do a lot of things to keep yourself safe. You could have done a lot of things to keep you safe, the past tense a heavy weight on your mind for the importance of preparation. So what do you ultimately do?

You sit.

And you wait.

It's not as if you can walk anywhere, especially not in the middle of a desert. Burning during the day, freezing at night; your only hope lay in being seen and picked up by another driver, if only to be carried to the next gas station so you could call a tow truck of some sort. Maybe it will be a nice old trucker, or maybe still it will be a small family of four plus a dog in the back seat.

You entertain yourself with these thoughts for a few moments more before you let out a sigh and decide that silence isn't something you care to deal with. You look to your phone, hoping to see if you have any songs or games or anything that could even mildly distract you from the moment, and something catches your eye:

A radio.

Specifically speaking, a radio frequency. It doesn't make any sense to see one working on your music streaming app, considering the lack of data, but you're not exactly in the mindset to question the laws of the universe in how they apply to cell phones in moments of emergency.

Desert Bluffs Radio

Maybe it was coming from a town, close enough that you can somehow pick up the signal--maybe it even meant they were close enough that you'd ultimate be rescued by the time the sun rose, a car from the town surely seeing and helping you out.

With the tap of a button, a voice spills out of your phones speakers.

“Good evening, Desert Bluffs! It’s your most productive and smiling radio host, Kevin!”

The voice is cheerful and bright, numbing away a little of the panic in your chest. “I hope you enjoyed that segment of static--that was the financial news! If you didn't hear the actual words behind the white noise, it means you haven't met your weekly quota and have been identified as needing some good ol’ re-education, courtesy of StrexCorp! They'll have you back into peak value in no time.

I would also like to mention that-”

And then, there is silence. The man simply stops talking as opposed to the station going out on your phone, leaving you oddly tense, your breath held in your lungs and eyes glued to the phone screen.

“...I'm sorry, listeners. It appears that there is someone special listening right now. Very special indeed. It caught me a little off-guard, I'm sure you all know the feeling!”

You blink at your phone and suppress a thread of unnerved fear that settles inside of your chest. It's a coincidence. Pure coincidence.

The man pauses again over the radio, leaving you again almost forgetting to breathe, your thoughts coming to a standstill until he finally, seemingly, moves to a new topic.

“I hope all of you are enjoying the evening, Desert Bluffs,” the voice, Kevin, speaks almost softly through the speaker. For all of a heartbeat it feels as if he’s talking directly to you. “After all, the night sky is such a rarity. All those stars and galaxies out there oh, it makes one feel so small and helpless underneath the desert sky, sitting by themselves. In their car. Listening to the sound of my voice.”

Your brain chose specifically not to listen to a portion of the man's words, and instead on how soothing they sounded, how lulling the tone itself felt against your thoughts. It feels like a gentle trickle of water over your brain, washing away the worries and leaving you with the simple desire to keep listening, you hand clutching tight to your half-dead phone.

“...I don't think I'll be on for very much longer, Desert Bluffs. Temporarily of course--nobody can get rid of me that easily! I know because people have tried, and failed--it didn't end very well for those involved!”

Another short beat of silence, another thread of fear in your chest, brain coming to the conclusion that this all might just be a nightmare, a dream fueled by long nights on the road and one too many energy drinks. You let out a held breath and finally force yourself to move, thumb inching towards the power button on your phone to turn it off and conserve power-

But the sound of the voice stops you cold.

“I'm coming for you.”

You blink. The world around you feels frozen.

“You're scared and frightened and so very alone, but don't worry my dearest mate,” Kevin's voice is low and careful and dangerous. “I'll be there to get you soon.”

And then the phone is off, the radio silent, the world plunged once more into silence. You stare at the device in your hands for a few long, unsure seconds, trying to make sense of everything you just heard. The words are still floating around your mind, seared into memory like some sort of promise you can't shake no matter how hard you try to forget. Kevin's voice echoes in your mind, leaving you to toss the phone to the empty passenger seat as if it burns you, so your eyes can drift up to the rear-view mirror, then the side mirrors, and then finally to the windshield before your face.

The fear lingers long after the air is empty of noise. You don't have much of a desire to use your phone again after that, though you come up instead with the excuse that it's solely to conserve power. You're close enough to a town anyway, someone will pass you by at some point and think to check on you--it's not as if it's normal for people to pull their car off to the side of an empty highway in the middle of the desert.

The sun has fallen completely over the horizon, spilling darkness over the scrublands and asphalt. You're not sure if you feel scared or not of the darkness, but safety and paranoia win out enough that your eyes glance about to make sure all the door are locked of the car. Though animals have yet to master the art of opening a car door, this is road trip safety 101, and...it makes you feel better.

A little bit, at least.

It won't be long before the temperature drops. You’re not quite sure how cold it can get at night in the desert, but like hell are you going to take a risk and freeze to death before someone can even find you.

You’re not equipped for any sort of emergency or overnight stay in your own car. There’s no thick blankets or rations of water or food, no extra batteries or portable charger of any sort, but you at least have some extra clothes packed away, clothes that include a couple jackets. You pick one out from the back seat after going through one of your suitcases, deciding on the one that looks the warmest.

Maybe your car will retain some of the heat of the afternoon sun. It’s a silly thought, but it’s one that offers you even the mildest hope of comfort through the night--what else exactly can you do anyway?

You find yourself staring at the front windshield for a while, off into the deep, unpolluted darkness of the night sky. When is the last time you saw the sky look so bright, so big? There are so many stars up there, painting it like a canvas of speckled glitter and washes of color that you don’t know the origin or name of.

The driver seat is adjusted but a few moments later, leaned back so you can lay somewhat comfortably, feet propped on the console and eyes staring out the window to your side. It feels weird to just….lay there, staring out into the stars, car quiet and world silent around you. Surreal, almost, almost like something out of a dream. Somewhere in the back of your head you still think you’re dreaming, maybe a little bit, and this entire thing is supposed to be showing you something important about your subconsciousness.

What in the world getting stranded in the desert is supposed to mean in terms of enlightenment upon your waking mind, you’re not sure at all, but it’s at least a little comfort when panic is constantly pressing against the back of your thoughts.

Maybe five or so minutes later you think to glance towards the passenger seat. Your phone still sits there, screen black and exactly where you had tossed it sometime before.

“I'm coming for you.”

You remember the man’s promise. It simmers in your thoughts and clings with tendrils of unnerved caution and curiosity, like you're swimming in the ocean, treading water at the surface, the words lurking somewhere below.

You're probably just overthinking things.

You're probably just letting the fear of the situation get the best of you. Yeah. That makes sense--no need to worry about problems that don't exist, especially when there are others needing your attention and planning.

It takes a while--minutes or hours or somewhere yet in between--but you somehow manage to fall asleep like that, face turned to the passenger seat, body curled over the driver seat and your mind trying to keep a hold on itself.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Consciousness comes to you slowly. First the knowledge of your own breathing, then the sensation of your limbs, and finally the hold of your own mind still lapsing over the last few moments of a dream you will assuredly forget.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You take in a deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs until they begin to ache. There’s a dim awareness that you’re mindly uncomfortable, body curled up in on itself sometime in the night in a way that leaves one of your arms uncomfortably over the center console and one of your legs pressed sharply against the curve of the steering wheel.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Your eyes flutter open after a few moments. The world is still dark, or at least the sun has yet to rise. You glance towards your phone instinctively to check for a time, but a groan escapes your lips when you remember that you had turned it off before you fell asleep. With another near-painful breath of air in your lungs, you finally start to make out a dull, rhythmic tapping noise. It’s close, against your car, and you can’t make out what’s causing it--it almost sounds like something on one of the glass windows.

You feel watched.

There’s no trees around to cause such a noise, certainly no wind to brush so solidly against the glass, so it leaves you feeling confusion drip into your otherwise groggy thoughts. The car is cold, all the heat from the day having been lost and leaving you shivering, curled in on yourself--the jacket has done little to help with anything.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

You can’t take that noise anymore. It’s starting to get into your head and stab through your thoughts.

And then it hits you:

The tapping is coming from the driver side window.

Right above you.

Warning bells start going off in your mind before you move, body jumping up and head spinning around in a panic towards the sound. There’s a rush of adrenaline in your system, heart hammering at full speed in a feeling of utter terror that you can’t begin to comprehend or stop--it’s all instinctive fear, a terror that’s been lingering in you since the moment your car broke down and--

There’s a face in the window.

There’s a darkened face a few inches away from the window.

There’s a face with hollow eye sockets and a wide, stitched, manic grin just outside the window. Moonlight can barely show the detail in it, but you certainly don’t need more than a cursory glance with wide, terror-stricken eyes to feel an instinctive gut-reaction crawl up your throat and out your mouth in a scream.

It feels like an eternity, but it’s probably only a few seconds as your brain’s haywire reaction finally settles down. You blink, and the face is still there, not a mere trick of the light or a lingering night terror from nigh-uncomfortable sleep.

And then you see the face’s mouth moving--it’s the face of a man, and he’s speaking, saying something just outside the window; he’s no longer tapping on the glass.

“Hello!”

It’s not exactly what you expect of the first words from someone who could pass as looking like a serial killer.

You merely blink at him, your body all but pushed itself back into the passenger seat, hands clutching at the nearest objects and heart still beating like a drum against your ribcage.

He blinks at you in return with those dark, empty eyes, and you could swear for the briefest moment that there was a little flicker of light in them, staring at you. The man eventually tilts his head, which is solidly on top of a body standing outside of your car.

It’s hard to make out much detail; it’s still dark, and the moon’s soft glow can only help your eyes pick up so much, as adjusted to the lack of sunlight as they are otherwise.

“Who-” you start to speak, trying not to let your words break. “Who are you? What-....what do you want?”

As if the man’s smile couldn’t get any creepier, it grows wide--you’re not sure if it’s normal for humans to smile that wide--and you catch a flash of sharp teeth behind those lips.

“My name is Kevin!” The man says, as if he’s merely exchanging soft pleasantries as the two of you meet on some random street corner and not as two complete strangers in the middle of a desert, at night, when your car is broken down and he looks like someone out of a  goddamn horror movie. “I’m here to pick you up.”

The words go in one ear and out the other, your brain simply can’t filter them right.

“Wh….what?”

“You’re broken down out here,” Kevin says, still so polite, eyes still a void. It’s as if he’s speaking coherently, as if he expects you to understand. “I took a little longer than expected, I suppose I misjudged how far you were from the edge of town! But I’m here, and I’m going to get you back to Desert Bluffs where you belong!”

“I-” you start, sputtering one word into the next. “I don’t--what are you talking about? Desert Bluffs--I--...I don’t think-”

You aren’t allowed a moment to put your thoughts together before you suddenly hear the car door opening (how the fuck, how the fuck that was locked). and the man’s face, now unobscured, peering at you with a hand extended into the car for you to take.

“Don’t you remember?” He has the gall to sound a little offended. “You heard me on the radio a couple hours ago; I said I was coming to get you? Surely you haven’t forgotten my promise already, dearest.”

Promise?

What promise?

You stare at his hand in a dumb-struck silence, unsure what to do or say or even think as Kevin waits patiently for you.

And then, with the weight of a mountain, it hits:

“I'm coming for you.”

The words he had spoken on the radio, the eerie promise that had chilled you to the bone. The words you had brushed off as something on an evening radio show, words spoken to hundreds, thousands of people at once. You can remember the shiver of surreal fear that had filled you at hearing them, but it’s another sort of apprehension entirely when you’re confronted with the same man who spoke them, a stranger , who is still holding his hand out for you to take and presumably leave the car and go...where?

Desert Bluffs?

You’ve heard the name of that town before, yes, it was from the same radio broadcast.

Maybe you’re just….dreaming. Yeah, this is weird enough to be a dream, weird and crazy and not making any sense. You want to pinch yourself or something but can’t, eyes catching as Kevin leans in farther into the car, hand extended so it’s only half a foot or so from your chest. Though it’s obvious he’s wanting you to get out of the car, he’s making no move to force you.

Somehow, the gesture seems sweet.

…

You...take his hand in yours, eventually, after a few breaths and a decision made completely outside of your own brain. You’re not quite sure what compels you to do so after all the red flags practically screaming around you, but you still find yourself being gently pulled out of the car and helped to your feet, standing so close to this Kevin that your chests are almost touching.

His smile hasn’t faded, or maybe that’s just the scars marring the sides of his lips. Maybe that’s why his smile looked so creepy mere moments ago. You’d think that being closer would reveal some detail in his eyes, maybe show that it was just a trick of light that made them look hollow but, nope, they’re completely black, orbs of pure void with only pinprick dots of light to be what you horrifyingly assume show where he’s looking. Pupils maybe? Sorta?

God, you have to be dreaming.

But at least Kevin looks happy. Very, very happy.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to meet you!”

You feel his hands start winding around your waist, fingertips pressing gently against your lower back. Feelings erupt in your head in response to the touch, but you’re not quite sure what those feelings are. Fear? Com..fort? Safe...ty?

You decide not to think about it.

“Oh, by the Smiling God above, what luck is there that you’d break down here, just outside of Desert Bluffs and that you would tune into my very radio station!” Kevin sounds entranced, almost dreamy, his arms around you firmly enough that you can feel him rocking the two of you back and forth together. “This must be a sign that we are simply meant to be--beyond what has been vaguely communicated through prophetic, blood-soaked nightmares of course.”

He sighs and finally takes a step back from you, though one of his hands find your own and gently clasps them together. Since this is all a dream you let him do so, finding an odd warmth in the touch and an eerie comfort in his exuberant joy.

Besides, what else are you to do? Stay at your car and cook when the sun comes up?

“Are you...going to take me to Desert Bluffs?” You finally ask, voice soft and small.

Kevin perks at the sound and his eyes find yours again--despite all of the manic glee, he doesn’t seem to hold any trace of maliciousness; outside of the scarring and void eyes, he’s actually not that intimidating in your eyes, or at least he’s doing very good at not seeming like it to you.

“Of course! I’m going to take you back and get you settled--then I can come and get your things for proper in-processing through StrexCorp and make sure that you have everything you need oh, oh goodness, I’m so excited that you’re finally here!”

Some of his words don’t make a lot of sense, but you opt not to start questioning them when you’re tired and hungry and so very cold. You’re actually shivering, arms tucked around yourself with a jacket on that’s doing absolutely no good.

Kevin stops talking when he seems to notice, peering at you with an unreadable look for all but a breath of time.

“Let’s get you somewhere warm, dearest,” he says, tugging you away from your car, towards another vehicle parked just a bit behind it. The lights are on, too bright to catch the detail of it, but you’re certain that it means that the inside is already warmed up and toasty.

Kevin doesn’t force you to walk with him, he merely keeps his hand wrapped on yours, firm but  not tight. This is a rather surreal dream, but you figure it’s at least a nice one, so you let him lead you to the car, open the passenger side door and let you in.

The other car really is warm inside. It feels nice against your cold skin and body, the seat so plush and welcoming as you lay back into it. Kevin takes his place at the driver side, changing the gears with an audible little rumble and turning the car back onto the road.

“Just rest a bit,” Kevin murmurs after a little while. You feel one of his hands reach over to you and fingertips card through your hair as he stares forward onto the lit roadway. “We’ll be home in Desert Bluffs before you know it. So many years and you’re finally here. With me!”

There’s something rather contagious in the man’s joy, because you find yourself smiling a little as your eyelids droop, vision darken and eventually, you fall back into the soft, now warm embrace of sleep.

[weretheoneswhowrite]

Michonne and Carl Chronicles..

The Little Things

She sensed Carl’s presence even before he reached the threshold of their sun-drenched kitchen. Keeping her back turned, Michonne vigorously washed her hands, pausing for a moment to look through the large casement window framing the farmhouse sink. Smiling, she glimpsed Rick chasing a giddy Judith through the flower beds she and Carl had planted several weeks prior; colorful blooms just beginning to erupt from the previously barren patch of earth.

For a moment, she considered calling out to them not to trample all their hard work. But the sweet sound of Rick’s laughter, coupled with Judith’s blissful squeals changed her mind. They could always plant more flowers.

Shaking her wet hands over the sink, Michonne pulled a clean towel from the drawer to her right, quickly drying her hands before hanging the damp towel on the hook beside the stove. Turning to face Carl, she took in his adorably anxious face.  

“Gonna just stand there?” she asked, walking towards the kitchen’s center island. “Enid’s meal won’t cook itself. You want to be a better cook, make it more ‘fun’ and less of a ‘chore’ right?”

Knowing how much this small, yet thoughtful act meant to Carl, Michonne gave him a moment to relax a bit. Her boy always wanted everything to be perfect. She’d do her best to make it so.

She watched as Carl slowly inhaled through pursed lips and nodded, before making his way towards her. Standing on the other side of the island, he reached down to pull out a stool from beneath the countertop, cringing slightly as its legs noisily scraped against the ceramic tiled floor.

“Ok then, let’s get started on your first lesson,” Michonne said, clapping her hands and gesturing for him to take a seat.

“Where do we start?” he asked.

All of this was for Enid. She was practical, like Michonne. But both also enjoyed those small, kind tokens of affection the men in their lives eagerly laid at their feet. Enid was grateful for anything he brought her and she always let him know.

It’s nice to know you were thinking about me because, I was thinking about you too, she often said.

He looked up at Michonne, instantly finding in her eyes the calming salve he often sought there. She gave him a reassuring look before ducking down to pull out two large plastic cutting boards from a drawer under the island. Placing them on the countertop in front of her, along with two chef’s knives, she created work stations for both of them.

“Lesson number one,” she began. “Always wash your hands. I don’t need extra seasoning in my food!”

Chuckling, Carl rose from the stool, making his way towards the sink.

“Before I forget, lesson one and a half is always and will forever be: clean as you go,” she declared, turning towards him as he neared her side of the island. “You will not bring a mess to my kitchen.”

“I know, I know,” he mumbled. “We cook clean, we’re clean cooks.”

“Exactly,” she replied, opting to ignore the dramatic eye-roll he gave her as he walked by.

Taking time to thoroughly wash his hands under a hawk-eyed Michonne, he theatrically held both up for her inspection. Satisfied, she handed him a fresh towel and waited patiently while he dried his hands, before beckoning him towards his assigned cutting board.

“Now what?” he asked, picking up his knife.

“Now we get organized,” she said. “Put down the knife. That’s lesson number three.”

* * *

“Thank goodness for libraries with central European cookbooks,” she stated, looking over the meat, vegetables, and spices neatly lined up in front of them.

Carl snickered, noting how ridiculous such a request must have sounded to the run crew. But Michonne had been adamant. Once procured, the two of them spent a few nights poring over recipes. Carl dog-earing the ones that sounded similar to what Enid had described, while Michonne figured out approximants for ingredients they didn’t have and wouldn’t be able to locate.

“C’mon Ma, can’t you just do it and I watch this time?” Carl asked, peeking through the thick curtain of hair obscuring his face from her. “I want it to be perfect and I don’t think it will be if I make it.”

“And what do I always say about perfection?” Michonne asked, letting her knife hover over the cutting board as she gave him her full attention.

His affectionate ‘Ma’, a residual effect of Judith’s incessant ‘Mama’ made her heart swell. It warmed her very soul.

“Perfection is the enemy of the good,” he muttered, unconvincingly.

“Precisely!” she exclaimed. “You should know by now the best way to learn is by doing.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m capable of learning by observation only,” he said, stifling a grin.

“Says the boy who couldn’t make his bed until I showed him five times,” she retorted.

“That’s because hospital corners are not a necessity,” Carl smugly replied. “Even dad says so.”

“And what do you know?” Michonne smirked. “I still get your dad to do it anyway. Besides, if you want to make sure she knows how you feel, you put in the time, put in the effort. That’s what she’ll remember.”

“But I’m no good at it,” Carl said, laying his hands flat on either side of the cutting board. “You and dad said so, and even Judith gets an attitude when it’s my turn to make dinner.”

“Don’t give me that,” Michonne playfully huffed. “You know good and well we’re only joking. And Judith? We all know our darling Judy-bear’s opinions go wherever the wind blows.”

“Yeah, she’s not very loyal, is she?” Carl cackled, picking up his knife. “Well, maybe to you. She’d sell the rest of us out in a heartbeat, but you’re safe.”

“True,” Michonne said, sharing his mirth. “This is about making an effort to do something meaningful for someone you care about. It’s the little things, those small acts of kindness that bring some relief to a wounded heart. I’m proud you came up with this and Enid will be too.”

“What do I do now?” he asked, thankful for her advice.

“Here you go,” she said, handing him an onion.

Throwing the large sphere into the air with one hand and catching it in the other, he studied Michonne as she expertly began cutting the venison on her cutting board into perfectly even cubes.

“Should I really be the one chopping the onions? I’m working with one eye here. I’d be in a world of hurt here if we were suddenly attacked and I couldn’t see…”

She snorted, looking up to catch the look of mischief playing across his face. Shaking her head, she watched Carl shrug and get down to business. They worked in silence for a few minutes, before Michonne looked up to catch a sniffling Carl use his sleeve to wipe his eye.

“Ok, ok,” she said, pulling away from her cutting board and moving over to the sink to once again wash her and dry her hands before making her way to Carl’s station. Carl dropped the onion into her open palm, before moving to the other cutting board.

Carl smiled to himself. He hadn’t been that bothered by the onions. He just didn’t want to do it.

“Oh, and don’t think I don’t know you’re half faking it with the onions,” she smugly stated. “And you see what I did there?” she asked, using her knife to point at the flawless cubes of meat she’d already prepped. “Don’t mess it up.”

“Didn’t we just agree that perfection is the enemy of the good?” he queried.

“Touché mon ami,” she laughed. “That was your perfection. You’re not allowed to mess with mine.”

* * *

“Tell me the story again?” Michonne quietly asked, watching as Carl pouring a few tablespoons of sunflower oil into the large stock pot on the stove.

“We were driving back to Alexandria when Enid got pretty quiet,” Carl began, turning the stove to high. “She’d remembered it was the anniversary of her parents’… you know. Said this was the first year she hadn’t started thinking about it weeks before. It threw her off.”

Michonne nodded. You want to forget, yet you pray you never do.

“Her grandma, she called her ‘Nagymama’, lived with them since she could remember. On special occasions, she would make Enid this Hungarian dish she insisted was ‘stew’ but had beans in it. Anyway, it was a little bit of a family joke that it was actually ‘chili’, and Enid came up with the compromise to call it ‘stili’. Enid kept telling me it was silly and she didn’t know why she was crying over it, but I didn’t think it was silly.”

“Of course, it isn’t,” Michonne replied, stopping her chopping to come stand next to him.

“My mom would make chili when I was sick and had to stay home. She wasn’t the best cook, but she made that dish right. She would put cheese on top. When she put it in front of me, it was always something fun. A smiley face, Mickey Mouse, something silly.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, watching as reminiscence caused his eye to mist. “Those are the things you want to hold close forever. C’mon, let’s make a new memory.”

* * *

Carl deliberately dropped handfuls of flour-dusted meat into the hot oil. He jumped back, expecting it to splatter, before using the wooden paddle Michonne had handed to him to stir the meat.

After he finished browning all the meat, he reduced the heat to medium and dropped onions, peppers, carrots, parsnips and spices into the pot. Once the onions were translucent and the vegetables had begun to brown, he returned the meat to the pot and poured Michonne’s homemade stock into the pot until everything was covered.

He added the beans they’d soaked overnight into the pot and gave everything a final stir. Turning the stove to low, he took a deep, satisfying breath. The entire house smelled like heaven. Enid would love it.

“Nice work, but we’re not done yet,” Michonne said, turning and walking towards the dining room. “Time for lesson number four.”

“What’s that?” Carl queried, swiveling his head but staying put in front of the stove, watching as small bubbles appeared on the surface of the simmering pot.

“Setting the table. Can’t have Enid enjoying your delicious meal without the proper accompaniment. We don’t go halfway in this house.”

She walked over to the sideboard where they kept the napkins and silverware.

“C’mon,” she teasingly commanded. “You’ve still got much to learn!”

Laughing to himself, Carl placed a lid on the pot and walked towards her. Of course. There would always be something to learn with Michonne around.

Written by: @nwfan

-We’re The Ones Who Write

[binsofchaos]

The Bittman Project: Our Favorite Ways to Cook Beans

Two words: bean broth. Since I chain-cook pots of plain beans, I like to submerge them in at least four inches of water so there’s plenty of flavorful broth to sock away like stock. The only seasoning I use is a handful of bay leaves; believe it or not, each bean leaves behind a different flavor. Using a reverse-soak method—where you gently simmer the dried beans in a covered pot until just tender, then salt the water, turn off the heat, and let them sit an hour— the beans remain intact, with a lovely creaminess inside and just the right amount of starch released into the cooking liquid. I scoop the beans out with a slotted spoon and put the remaining bean broth in a separate container to either use with the beans or provide the base for soups or pasta sauces. — Kerri Conan

You know me: I do what’s most expedient. Kerri’s method is awesome, and that’s what I would do right now if I wanted beans this afternoon (it’s about 1 p.m.). But I certainly use the pressure cooker (yes, Instant Pot) more often than not – I put them in for 15 or 20 minutes, depending on size, age, with a piece of kombu (always) usually some garlic or onion or other aromatics, herbs or spices, then I release the pressure, add salt and maybe tomato, and go another 10 minutes or so.

Decidedly imprecise, but fast as hell.

I often just cook beans straight: Put them in water, start cooking, add whatever whenever, and cook as slowly as I can. I also soak, and if time is not an issue I soak for a few hours or overnight, in salted water (which, yes, slows things down, but I’ve said time is not the issue), and then drain and rinse and cook very very slowly, even in a low oven, gently but always submerged, until they’re done. That's my favorite technique I guess.

One other thing I like to do is add olive oil towards the end of cooking and cook until it emulsifies into the liquid – makes it a little creamier. A little fresh olive oil before eating never hurts either.

I do think kombu and onion or garlic (usually not both) are almost requisite. Everything else is kind of about how you feel that day, what the beans are telling you to do. But lots of seasoning is important. — Mark Bittman

Rick, my partner who owns a bakery — who’s bean method you can read below — occasionally does pop-ups called "Bean World," and if he could open a shop that only sold beans and breads, he would. Bean World, I’m convinced, would survive: He makes magic beans that are so great they're orchestral — which means I'm not the bean maker in my house: EXCEPT when it comes to black beans. I sauté some red onion, add a bit of roasted jalapeno, add cumin, and a touch of cayenne, then cook Rancho Gordo black beans, usually, in an Instant Pot. Serve with tomatillo salsa on the side and it's dinner. —Melissa McCart

Regardless of which dried beans you have, you want to pick through or at least visually scan them to make sure there is no gravel, dirt, or foreign material. Give them a rinse, then soak them overnight in fresh cold water or place them directly in a pot and get down to business.  

The choice of pot is important. My favorite way to cook beans is in clay. Glazed or unglazed terra cotta makes a perfect cooking vessel. People have been cooking beans in clay since there were clay pots and beans. If you don’t have clay pots, use the heaviest lidded pot you have. Enameled cast iron is a good substitute.  

If you soaked your beans the night before, drain them and give them a rinse. Put them in your chosen pot and cover them with fresh water. You don’t need as much as you might think: enough to cover the beans by an inch or so will suffice. Too much water and the flavor of the beans will be diluted and the cooking water will be less valuable later on.

You can add some aromatics at this point if you like: a clove or two of garlic or an onion, some celery, carrot, parsley, a bay leaf, maybe a few whole peppercorns, depending on what you’ll be doing with the beans. I most often cook beans simply without any aromatics, partly because I like the taste of beans, but also because it gives me more latitude in terms of where and how I use the cooked beans.

There is some argument about whether salting beans early in the process changes the way they cook. If the beans are top-notch, I don’t think it matters that much. That said, I don’t salt until the end of cooking.

Place a lid on the pot and put over a burner on low heat. If you are using clay, use a heat diffuser. If you are not using clay and have a heat diffuser, use it anyway. The idea is that you want to cook the beans evenly and slowly. As they come up to a simmer, skim off any foam or froth that appears and replace the lid. Cook. Slowly. Nice and easy.

Check the beans every now and again. If your beans swell a lot in the process of cooking, absorb a lot of water, and start to look a little dry, top off with some boiling water. When the beans are soft, salt to taste. — Rick Easton, baker, co-owner of Bread and Salt

https://allwayshungry.tumblr.com/post/646367183181692928/hot-and-sour-black-beans-with-bok-choy-makes-4