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shirophantomvox · 3 years ago

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Hold My Hand- Illumi x Reader

OMG thank you! My first international fan! Thank you for this wonderful prompt! This was requested by @illucilfer .

Summary: Today’s story takes place in a 1950s diner by a frequently used Interstate; Interstate 95. We know this dinner for its delicious hamburgers, hot dogs, milkshakes, and jukebox records, but every night one Patreon never returns home. A few men who were angry about your recent arrest have shot you both. As you both stare at each other exchanging mental signals, everyone around you tries to help you to the hospital. Y/N is narrating the story. I seem to have fewer grammar errors that way. FYI, Bold and italicized font will reference a thought or flashback.

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Let’s get started!

The leaves have turned bright yellow and orange, fluttering every second to the ground. I could hear little children a while away laughing and playing in the community park; throwing up the leaves, jumping into piles, and throwing them at each other. The smell of freshly baked donuts brightened everyone’s mood. All you had to do was take one bite and your face would brighten and crack a smile. Dining at Cupid’s Kitchen will always have your heart and interest.

Interstate 95 was always heavy with traffic during this time of year. The folks of Dallas celebrated mulch annually. The “Mulch Fest” was a street fair that stretched 1.5 miles to the east that contained music, drinks, farmer panels, homemaker Q&A, and other activities that southerners enjoy. Illumi and I are only here because of an unfinished assignment. We have worked night and day for countless days trying to catch Jack “Da Hamor” Gilberton, but he was nowhere to be found. Eventually, I allowed my anger to get the best of me and made the executive decision to take a day off. I barred Illumi from searching, tracking, or any form of hunting for our target. The life of a bounty hunter and an assassin can thrill, but it can drive you insane if you allow it.

Ironically, Illumi and I both enjoy fall. It is perfect for cuddling (although he acts as if he’s too good to cuddle), wearing creative hoodies, going to pumpkin patches, and attending apple orchids. I tend to “lose my cool” when we have dates there. When I was a child, my family did not go on trips like these because they were over an hour away from our home and I had 5 siblings. But once I made money for myself, I made it my mission to go to one at least 5 times out of the year. Illumi enjoys the different fudge, hot cider, and candy apples. He almost broke a tooth on one!

“Say cheese snag-a’-tooth!”

“Stop it. It’s not funny!”

“It is! Could you imagine if you lost your two front teeth? You’d look almost adorable as you did in the 1st grade!”

“How did you know about that?”

“Duh! It happens to everyone, but your mother showed me the pictures, of course.”

“Curses!”

Illumi’s sweet tooth is just like Killua’s; both have a weakness for chocolate. Except, Killua will admit defeat while his older brother keeps denying it.

Cupid’s Dinner has been in Dallas for over 55 years. A black woman established it in 1945 by the name of Mary-Lou Benson. Since then, Mary’s family has been running the shop, making sure all of her customers are happy with the service. During the turn of each season, Cupid’s Dinner gives its customer's food options based on the season. The fall options include donuts, candy apples, different flavored cider, fudge, and hot coffee specials. As much as everything looked appetizing, I could not order it all. Our server, Little Ben, placed our drinks in front of us and handed us the menu. I could tell he was happy with his line of work, just as I was to be with Illumi.

“You all take your time. I’ll be back in five.”

Ilumi glanced on both sides of the room, scanning for Jack Gilberton, already forgetting the agreement we established.

“Illumi, what are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“You keep looking around like you’ve seen Da Hamor. Eat your donut and relax, sweetheart.”

“I cannot relax. I must stay on alert.”

“If I can relax, so can you. It’s not that hard.”

“Fine. If I die, it’s on your head… literally.”

The jingling bell rang almost every second when a customer walked in. It was a joy to everyone's ears; the spirit of Mary Lou-Benson was alive and well. An overwhelming feeling of love seemed to have overtaken the diner. After examining the bistro for quite some time now, each customer had been using their cellphones at the table instead of chatting with their families. Many traditional families hated that about this generation but they should be open to new traditions forming. Illumi dislikes using cell phones or tablets at the table unless we use them for missions. He has emphasized how rude it is to be surfing the web about utter nonsense while someone is speaking. This is a pet peeve of his, something I’ll never step on his toe about. Although I think that is overdoing it, I respect it.

Little Ben served our table quickly, leaving us with two dishes of a classic chicken sandwich, kettle chips, one chocolate, and vanilla milkshake. Milkshakes were my weakness; I nearly foam at the mouth when I see one. When I found out that Illumi had NEVER had a milkshake, I almost fainted.

“No. I’ve never had a milkshake.”

“Huh? You’re missing out, pal.”

“What’s the big deal? Isn’t it frozen milk?”

“Not just frozen milk. You can add many flavors, toppings, and whip cream!”

“Well, then. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

We thanked Little Ben for his service as he clocked out for the day.

“I have to admit these sandwiches look very appetizing.”

“You can say that again!”

Before I nibbled on my sandwich, I wanted to take a moment and adore the man before me; Illumi Zoldyck. A man full of mysteries, professionalism, skill, and talent. His enormous eyes were immersed in the large pieces of chicken in between the sourdough bread. He licked his index finger vigorously; allowing the homemade honey mustard to drip enough from the bread to the plate in between licks. Just the sight of him actually relaxing for once has blown me away. For once, Illumi Zoldyck could be himself and I had the privilege to witness it.

“Um… why are you staring at me? Do I have food on my face,” he asked; violently wiping his mouth off with a provided cloth napkin.

“Oh! Ha, ha; no reason. I wanted to see your reaction after drinking your milkshake. That’s all.”

“Why? It’s just a drink.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“Babe? What happened to LuLu or Illumi-Lu?”

I gasped and pretended to be surprised… although I was a little.

“I did not know that you liked those pet names. I assumed it mortified you.”

“Who told you that? That never rolled off my tongue. “What I said was” — He bent closer to the table and to me; glancing both to the right and left to ensure no wandering ears were around — “I prefer Illumi-Lu to be said in the bedroom and LuLu when we’re alone, like how we are right now.”

“Aww…. ok,” I yelled in excitement.

“Don’t blow it out of proportion, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

As we ate, Illumi hummed along to the tune that played a few times on the restaurant's jukebox. Illumi and I were born in the mid-90s, but listening to 50s music was a part of his aesthetic. I was told that he had an “old soul” which sounds romantic at first until you realize how men were during that era. His raging temper was a noticeable toxic trait, but it has drastically improved. Nonchalantly sipping on his milkshake and then eating more of his chips, he grazed the soft part of his left hand over mine as he continued to hum.

“What’s the name of this song? You seem to know it rather well.”

“Put your head on my shoulder, a famous song from the 60s. I heard my parents sing it once and since then, they have addicted me to it. Do you like it?”

“Yes, in fact, I love it. All of this is—”

“A surprise to you? Well, enjoy it while it lasts because once I find Jack Gilberton, this side of me will hide for a while.”

“Understood.”

Damn! I was just feeling connected to him again!

The music swelled; everyone seemed to be happy. Not an evil spirit insight to disrupt this beautiful moment. For once in my life, my raven-haired beauty actually held my hand tight, stole a few of my barbecue kettle chips, and gazed into my eyes harmlessly. His lips brushed against both of my hands, ever so lightly placing kisses on both sides of them. Illumi’s gentle smile warmed my heart as my lingering thoughts of hope stayed intact.

The welcoming bell jingled again. Two men in black leather jackets, stone-washed blue jeans, and tattooed all over their arms came into the diner. The men seemed to be bikers who had just left their own “spot” but one thing struck me as they continued to walk towards the staff. They both wore sunglasses when the sunset for the day. Not to mention that the lights were not dim in the diner and the moon was as bright as ever. The second man had his eyes glued in my direction. My heart beat faster as I wondered if Jack Gilberton had found us. Could you imagine?

Put your head on my shoulder

Hold me in your arms, baby

Squeeze me oh-so-tight

Show me you love me too

I am used to coming in contact with enemies on my hit list, but given Jack’s criminal history; I felt like I may not survive his attacks. Illumi will survive, but just barely. Both men approached the checkout, crowing over Little Ben’s sister. She was a short woman but full of might, and I could tell by the shakiness in her voice she was frightened. I wanted to step in so badly, but I didn't want to blow my cover just in case it was, in fact, Jack Gilberton. After I assume, ordering food, both men stood by the entrance, blocking it from others from entering and leaving. The sound of their old, beat up-lighters crackled as one lit a joint and the other lit a cigarette. This horrid smell ruined the atmosphere because they were not in a designated area and it drowned out the lovely aroma of the food being served.

“If you gentlemen would like to smoke, you need to go outside. There is no smoking in here.”

“What? You think you’re better than me because you don’t smoke?”

“Huh? I never said that, sir. I asked for you to go outside. Not all of our customers can deal with it.”

They did not move a muscle. The sound of their mucous laughter made everyone’s stomach turn. They laughed at the young girl and called her many slurs. Little Ben’s sister didn’t flinch, nor did she cry; she remained still, staring at the men. I had just enough of their obnoxious behavior.

“If you do not leave, I will call the police.”

“The hell you won’t.”

Put your lips next to mine, dear

Won't you kiss me once, baby?

He drew a gun from his left side. He aimed it at Little Ben’s sister and demanded that she emptied the drawer. She refused. Her stone, iron will reminded me of Illumi; no matter the circumstance, they remained intact, determined to fight until the end. Bravery is always encouraged, but too much will cause your life to be taken away. Little Ben’s sister grabbed a fake till that they kept under the real one and threw it at both men. Fake money fluttered everywhere in the small diner, mimicking confetti. Gunshots rang in all directions as the imbeciles recklessly shot, aiming for Little Ben’s sister. Everyone threw themselves on the ground to avoid being shot, but luck cannot spread itself throughout an entire room of people. A young child, an older man, and another worker were shot in their lower leg. Blood reflected from the ground as it continued to seep. Ignoring injured civilians is a jackass move and continuing to deny the fact would prove that the oath I pledge to meant nothing. Sure, bounty hunters must remain hidden, but if someone is injured, I must help them.

The child was lying lifeless on the polished marble floor. He would not respond to my shaking or my silent whispers. When I rolled him over, my heart broke into a million pieces. This child had no chance of survival; a few bullets struck his chest, one just inches away from his heart. A tear rolled down my cheek.

“Why must the good die young,” I whispered to myself.

“... Because snitches get stitches.”

Before I could gain sight of who stated this utterly corny response, I felt an overwhelming amount of pain in my lower back. It felt like a million tiny needles were jabbed so far through my skin that they entered my intestine. I could still hear, but my body would not move. I tried and tried, but my brain would not signal my legs.

Move! Move, damn it!

It’s odd; I could hear myself talk, but my body would not move at all. The sound of another thudding body made my mind jump. My heart had already been pounding enough to try to resuscitate my organs to move, but a familiar semi-blurring sight of none other than Mr. Illumi Zoldyck cleared my sight. My brain went wild. I didn’t know if Illumi died or if he became paralyzed, but one thing is for sure. We finally made eye contact that felt special; something I hadn’t felt since the day I met him. Our contact felt like magnets; an unbreakable bond. Suddenly, my icy hand felt warmth around my palm and fingers. Illumi simultaneously fell in a way that connected our hands. Our unbreakable bond, the warmth of his fingers laying on top of mine, and the gaze we shared somehow made me feel like it was just the two of us alone. I could hear his thoughts loud and clear; thoughts that came from the heart.

“Please help me. Before it’s too late, LuLu,” I cried, thinking I was going insane. “I don’t want to leave if it means leaving you behind.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

“Please! I want to live a life. Life as a bounty hunter, build a support system to our children, and a good lover is all I want to be.”

“You are a warrior and so am I. We have been through worse. This is nothing.”

Mere eye contact is all we need to exchange wandering conversations. The bond that we’ve created is something so strong that I haven’t realized it until now. The warmth emitted from his loose grasp seems to lose its effectiveness. It blurred my vision beyond recognition, leaving Illumi as a near figment of my imagination.

“Oh no. I guess this is it.”

My vision darkened. Illumi was slipping away as my lingering thoughts almost made my heart give out from exhaustion. I was ready to accept my fate, but it seemed like fate had other plans. My vision was still darkening by the second, but my sense of touch remained there. Smooth fingers outline my arms, torso, and chest. I heard muffled voices yelling and screaming about calling for assistance, but I didn’t care if they came or not. I made peace with my life’s end. Bit by bit, my breathing slowed down, but my sense of touch remained heightened. I felt a rubber glove touch my face and neck, examining it for any damage.

The jukebox continued to play Illumi’s favorite song, Put Your Head on my Shoulder. I remembered the day I laid my head on his shoulder; boy, what an endearing moment that was. It was something I took for granted, something I should have savored, for I never knew that this moment would have happened. The song grew muffled by the second verse. That verse repeated every time I tried to force myself to take what felt like my last gaze at my raven-haired beauty.

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe

You and I will fall in love (you and I will fall in love)

-FIN.

A/N: Since you’ve made it to the end, I’ll say something. The reader did not die in the end. They were later revived at the hospital.

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mintjamsblog · 4 years ago

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Hey, I miss your writing! I don't know if you're taking asks but hate-sex? Argument-sex? Make-up sex?

Okay, sorry for the delay, have a horny ficlet

Tommy/Alfie Hate-sex

It's not that Tommy means to be selfish, Alfie's pretty sure of that, it's just that selfishness comes to him naturally. It's no doubt a byproduct of the life he's led, a combination of ruthless self-sufficiency and entrenched self-preservation that manifests in occasionally infuriating ways. He spends so much time wandering around in his own labyrinth of a head that 'e don't always seem to realise where 'e is or how 'e got there. How 'is food got onto that plate in front of 'im for that matter. Which is kind of a case in point.

Alfie scrapes the remnants of an individual salmon encroute into the kitchen bin, dislodging the perfectly-cooked pastry that's now curling upwards, like the ribs of a rotting cadaver, protecting what's left of the messily pecked-out pinkness inside. He can't help being stung that Tommy couldn't even be bothered to finish it. It's as if the cocky little bastard thinks perfectly-prepared dinners-for-one just appear in the oven of their own accord. As if the cupboards are self-replenishing — automatically restocking his favourite whisky and tea (and semi-skimmed milk, 'cause skimmed tastes like dishwater and full-fat's too creamy) every time supplies run low.

But communication is key in any relationship, innit? So rather than run his mouth off half-cocked, Alfie decides to conduct an experiment. See how long it takes Tommy to communicate his appreciation for the things Alfie does.

The answer, it turns out, is a fucking long time — longer than Alfie's patience will last at any rate. When he walks in for the fifth night in a row to find the meal he prepared half-eaten, dirty dishes next to the sink, and Tommy so enthralled by his laptop he barely nods, "hello," well ... Alfie has had enough. He schools himself though. Clenches his fists and forces his voice to taken on a deceptively breezy tone.

"You eaten, treacle?" he enquires.

"Yeah," Tommy answers with a quick glance up. The living room's in near total-darkness, not a single lamp switched on, which means Tommy's lit only by the bluish glare of whatever's on 'is screen. It's not a flattering light. Makes 'im look tired — haggard actually — all sharp angles and purple shadows. Then again, it is one o'clock in the morning. (It'd have to be some quality porn to have Alfie absorbed at this hour, but the sad reality is that it's far more likely spreadsheets.)

"What did you 'ave?" Alfie asks.

"Eh?"

"To eat."

Tommy sighs. "Er ... that thing you left in the oven." He glances up again, irritably this time.

"Hmmm," Alfie says. "Bouillabaisse."

"What?"

"Bouillabaisse. French fish stew."

"Yeah, it was fish." Tommy's typing something now, bashing the keys impatiently — workaholic little prick.

Alfie looks round the room. There's a bottle of whisky on the coffee table and a glass (no sign of a coaster). A sea of stale bread crumbs flecks the sofa — the accompaniment to tonight's lovingly prepared meal. The man himself sits cross-legged, bare feet tucked up into the backs of his knees, socks discarded amongst the pale shreds of sourdough like twisted creatures in a gloomy velvet sea. He doesn't acknowledge Alfie's scrutiny; doesn't even seem to notice.

Alfie would like to start an argument right here, right now, to ask Tommy what his last slave died of and who the fuck he thinks he is. Instead he finds himself gritting his teeth and swiping at crumbs with brusque, rigid movements. He pairs Tommy's socks and collects up the discarded innards of this morning's Financial Times, seething quietly all the while. He's worked damn hard tonight, serving one hundred and forty covers in two sittings, (one hundred and forty three if you count Prince Tommy's dinner. That thought irks him more than it should). He needs a shower more than a row, but he can't help himself from needling.

"Nice was it?" he asks, crumpling the newspaper into the fire-bucket.

"What?"

"Your dinner."

Tommy huffs and finally looks up, dropping his hands from the keyboard to rest either side of his legs. "Is there a problem, Alfie?" he says.

"Problem?" Alfie says, his eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "No, nah. No problem. Just wondered if it was nice? Ya know, the bouillabaisse?"

"Yes. It was nice," Tommy says, digging thick fingers into his eye sockets as if the bloodshot orbs were the source of his irritation. "I have to send this to Pol in the next fifteen minutes or she'll fucking skin me tomorrow. Alright?"

"S'not Pol makes all your dinners," Alfie mutters under his breath.

"What?"

"I said Pernot. Makes all the difference."

"Right."

"To bouillabasisse."

"Fuck's sake..."

"I'm going up for a shower."

"Fine. I'll be up when this is done."

Alfie stands under the hot water and lets his anger simmer, stirs it just enough to intensify the flavours. He pours over the paltry slights, the daily irritations and provocations that come from sharing a home. And alright, each annoyance on its own might not sour the dish, but combined they begin to thicken. Alfie's careful not to let his anger boil, he don't want to turn it bitter, but by the time he walks into the bedroom he can taste it on his tongue.

Tommy is already in bed, one hand tucked behind his head as he reads a document of some kind, several creamy pages stapled together. He tuts and turns the page, without looking over to Alfie. And p'raps that's what does it, finally tears Alfie's patience; he strides to the bed and rips the papers clean out of Tommy's hand, hurling them across the floor.

"What the fuck?" Tommy says. He looks shocked, and slightly bewildered. There's anger there, but dulled by a visible weariness.

Alfie ain't in the mood for concessions; he climbs onto the bed, boxing Tommy in on all fours.

"That's fucking rude," Tommy says, his mouth a mean little line.

"Rude?" Alfie says. "Me?" He laughs so unexpectedly it comes out as more of a bark. "You're fuckin' unbelievable, mate."

Tommy's face hardens in that way that suggests he's about to say something deeply unwise. Alfie leans down to kiss him, hard, before he has the chance. There's a startled sound and a clashing of teeth as Tommy tries to shut him out, but one strategically-placed hand around his throat and he opens for Alfie's tongue with an audible exhale.

Alfie licks into him, probes the inside of his mouth, overwhelmed with a desire to retake what Tommy's withheld: his attention. His full, undivided attention ... by god, he's gonna give it now. Tommy's defences start to weaken — his tongue softens, his mouth falls wide — when he lets out a whorish little moan, Alfie pulls away. He's hard with lovingly-nurtured anger and ready to put it to use. "Over," he says, nudging Tommy's hip with a knee.

Tommy rolls reluctantly, looking rather bewildered. Alfie reaches into the bedside drawer and slicks himself one-handed, cursing as the lube falls noisily onto the floor. Don't matter, he's done enough.

"Got something to say to me, Tommy?" he asks, fumbling in his haste.

Tommy doesn't answer, though he can be in no doubt as to where this is leading. It's a source of unending wonder how he can look so fucking truculent when he's splayed face-down on the bed.

"No?" Alfie prompts. "You sure about that?"

Tommy stays defiantly mute, so Alfie wraps an arm beneath him and slams in with a single thrust. The sound of breath being knocked out of Tommy shocks the air in the room, and sends fire licking through Alfie. He hauls Tommy closer still, squeezing his slender waist as if emptying a soda-bottle of air. His hips and forearm are opposing forces, jaws clamping down on a pelvis — he lets Tommy feel the bite of his strength, of his want, until a cry of anguish fills the air.

Then he waits, breathing slowly through the seconds of charged stillness as Tommy fights to yield. Ten seconds turn into fifteen, twenty, followed by a convulsion — one rigid spasm that travels the length of Tommy's body and ends with a shuddering groan. The precious sound of acceptance. Only then does Alfie ease back, sliding out an inch or two purely for the pleasure of pressing back in and making him cry out again.

"Thank me," he says, voice low as he presses a kiss into Tommy's neck.

Tommy groans and tips his head but doesn't form the words.

"Thank me," Alfie repeats with a thrust. "I want to hear you say it."

Tommy buries his face in the sheets and doesn't make a sound.

"Alright, if that's how you want to play it." Alfie heaves himself upwards, and presses his weight into Tommy's shoulder-blades. "You will thank me," he promises, "if I 'ave to fuck you into next week."

Maybe that's what Tommy needs, Alfie ain't giving any more chances. He builds up the pace with increasingly vigorous thrusts, which Tommy just lies there and takes it. And takes it. And takes it. The sheets come untucked, the pillows bank up against the headboard and Alfie fills with dark delight when Tommy starts to falter, to let little growls and mewls escape. He sounds like a wounded animal. Perhaps he's expecting sympathy ... poor deluded boy. Alfie slows his hips and shifts position, wrapping his arms beneath Tommy's armpits and locking hands in front of his chest. The position puts his mouth against Tommy's ear.

"If you ain't gonna say it, darlin', you'd better shut the fuck up." He pulls out achingly slowly, feeling the grip around his cock before slamming back in with a groan. The angle clearly changes something because this time Tommy sounds desperate — a series of high-pitched sounds ripples out of him, ending with a whine.

"Say it," Alfie growls, repeating the exact same movement to even more delightful effect. He pulls out for a third time, about to fuck in again when

Tommy whispers something that sounds awfully like compliance.

"What's that?" Alfie says, pausing to pull him out of the pillows by his hair.

"Thank you," Tommy says, his voice barely a whisper as he quietly obeys.

"Again," Alfie says as he drives back in, pulling hard on the black locks so that Tommy's neck is bared.

"Thank you," Tommy repeats. This time the response is a gasp, two gasps, but still Alfie isn't sated.

"Again," he says, with another thrust.

"Thank you," Tommy replies; the struggle in his voice drives Alfie on like a racehorse under the whip.

"Again," he says, "again ... again."

"Thank you," Tommy murmurs, "thank, ahh, thank y—"

Alfie lets go of the hair and fucks Tommy hard, cutting off each gasped response before it's fully formed. Soon it's like an echo that follows every thrust. "Thank—, than—, tha— urgh!" Tommy's fingers splay out like flags of surrender but Alfie ain't feeling merciful.

"Again," he growls. "Thank me again, thank me until you can't say it."

Tommy does, he says it over and over, until he's so battered by Alfie's desire that every pitiful, "thank you," is a breath forced into the mattress. Is a plea. Is a please ... "please Alfie, fuck, god, please ..."

***

Afterwards, Alfie curls onto his side and basks in the faintly horrifying afterglow of his own cruelty. It takes a good few moments until he feels his own pinkness subside. Tommy shuffles closer, ducks into the concave space formed by the curve of Alfie's body. His arms slide around Alfie's belly and he holds on tight, in the way he only ever does after a particular type of sex. Alfie bends to kiss the top of his head, a single peck that's suffused, somehow, with more tenderness than an hour of tongued kisses.

"Thank you," Tommy whispers into the hair on Alfie's chest. Alfie strokes the back of his neck and feels overwhelmingly and incongruously protective.

"For the dinners or the sex?"

"Both. You always know what I need."

"Good job one of us knows what's good for you."

"You are."

"Hmm."

Alfie wishes he were more certain of that.

#tommy x alfie #tofie #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #alfie solomons #my fic #tommy/alfie #writing #sholomons #asks #anon #why can't i write anything short?

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aquietwritingcorner · 3 years ago

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Febuwhump Day 14: Can’t Go Home Word Count: 823 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: K/G Characters: Maria Ross Warning: N/A Summary: All Maria really wants to do is the one thing she can’t��go home. Notes: I know that Maria got herself involved in everything by time of the PD, but I’m pretty sure she had a period of time, or at least moments, where her whole situation was completely overwhelming. AO3 || ff.net

______________________________

Can’t Go Home

This was a strange land. Maria had been promised a paradise, and perhaps that what this was to many people. But it was strange and foreign to her. Nothing was familiar. Nothing was similar. Everything from language to dress to food to architecture was different. The family she was staying with was very kind, from what she could understand of them, and treated her well. But it was still, well, foreign to her. From the moment she woke up, until she went to bed that night, everything was different.

When she woke in the mornings, it wasn’t in a bed as she thought of it. It was on what she thought of as a padded mat with a blanket. She didn’t make up her bed. She rolled it up and stored it in a closet. She dressed before she left her room, in clothes that were hanging on racks in a corner, clothes that you wrapped around you and tied off, clothes that she still sometimes got wrong, and the other women helped her redress properly. Her floor was covered in mats of some sort, and there were no chairs. If she needed to use the desk, she sat on the floor. If she wanted to write something, there were no pens, just a brush and ink. The writing system was different too and besides, she had no one to write to. Not anymore.

Going to the bathroom was different as well. The placement of it, how it worked, washing up—there were different customs around it, and she found them difficult to remember when she was tired. Breakfast, too, was different. Different foods, ones that she didn’t consider breakfast foods or that she had never tried were laid out. Nothing was similar, and the spice palate was completely different. Eating with the sticks was difficult as well, and more often than not, she made a mess, which was embarrassing.

The way the food was cleaned up, the way it was prepared, the way it was stored, the way the dishes were treated, it was all such a different way of doing things that she often felt lost. She tried to help, but she had no idea what she was doing, and she just felt like she got in the way.

Entertainment was different. She couldn’t understand the language, true, but she also just didn’t understand what was going on. It wasn’t entertaining to her, it wasn’t engaging, and she had a feeling that she was often misinterpreting what was happening anyway.

The culture, the customs, the food, the day-to-day life—she missed and yearned for home.

She wanted bread, fresh baked, out of the oven. Sourdough bread. She wanted to go eat at her favorite shops, to eat some of her mother’s stew and rolls again. She wanted to reread her favorite books and listen to things she understood. She wanted to sing songs that she knew, hear words she recognized as others talked. She wanted clothes she knew she looked acceptable in, furniture that was familiar and normal for her. She wanted to be able to just be able to slip into conversations and to know where the boundaries were.

She wanted to go home.

But she couldn’t, and she knew that.

Maria sat that night at her desk, trying to master using the brush and the ink. She couldn’t go home. She couldn’t go home, and she knew it. All she could do was mourn her life and try to make what she could of this life here.

With a sigh, she put down the brush. Her strokes were clumsy, and she probably used too much ink on the paper, but she had, at least, gotten out what she was feeling. She had never been one for writing, and very few poems had ever spoken to her. But something about having no other way to express what she felt had left her doing her best to write out her feelings with the brush and ink. She cleaned the brush, left the paper there to dry, and crawled into her bed, the words she had written echoing in her.

“You can’t go home,” the trees outside seemed to say.

“You can’t go home,” the unfamiliar markets sang.

“You can’t go home,” the birds seem to cry.

“You can’t go home,” the wind said with a sigh.

“I can’t go home,” I repeat to myself

As I tie up my clothes with a sash and a belt.

“I can’t go home,” and it’s something I know,

But my heart inside yearns and longs for home.

“I can’t go home,” it is my truth

So, home this is, until time says to move.

Perhaps one day she could go home. Perhaps one day she’d be of use again. But until that day, Maria wondered if it just wasn’t better to let herself believe that she could never be able to go home again.

Author’s Note: I am not a poet, and that is obvious, and I hope that’s not as awkward as it seems to me.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2022 #febuwhumpday14 #Fullmetal Alchemist #fma #Maria Ross

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syifrae · 4 years ago

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Through his stomach

@winteriron-week

Day 3 “But I did it”

Read on AO3

Tony had a secret admirer. Not only that, but he had the world’s best secret admirer because this secret admirer was seducing him via food.

It had started a few months back when Tony had returned from a particularly stressful day at work, fielding calls and actually attending meetings (I mean, he had to go to some otherwise Pepper would literally strangle him). Tony felt tired and hungry and his feet hurt and his head ached and there was just a general aura of blegh all around him.

He had just about managed to drag himself through a shower and into some comfy pants but the thought of having to make food was just overwhelming. He lay in his bed for what felt like hours arguing with himself about the pros and cons of getting up to make something. Of course, he could just order food but for some preternatural reason any time anyone was ordering takeout in the tower Clint found out. This was not necessarily a bad thing, but on occasion, it could result in heavy debating over what to order and half your food disappearing into the apparently bottomless void that was the archer’s stomach.

Right now, though, Tony just really wasn’t in the mood for any kind of human interaction. He loved his teammates, don’t get him wrong, they had become his pseudo-family and he would, at any time, lay down his life for any one of them, but right at this second, he couldn’t stand the thought of having to interact with them.

He knew it was a cruel thought to have, but on the one hand, he’d have to pull up a front that he was fine -which would take a hell of a lot of effort given the facial expression and body language skills of some of his teammates- or let them see how…blegh he was feeling. Neither option seemed appealing to him. One would drain him of all remaining energy and the other would result in (well-intentioned) questions about his mental and emotional state, which again would drain him of all remaining energy.

Just as he was thinking he could risk calling in for pizza and hope against hope that the resident vent mole wouldn’t notice, he heard the ding of the elevator. Tony sighed. How on earth had Clint known he was thinking about pizza? That shit was unnatural and vaguely disturbing.

Only he didn’t hear footsteps, instead, there was the familiar whirr of gears and excitable beeps from his favourite (but don’t tell the others) bot. Sure enough, his bedroom door was pushed open and in trundled DUM-E, carefully carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of something on it.

The smell wafted through the room as Tony scooched up the bed to accept the tray off of the bot.

“Uhh, J?” he began hoping his AI would know what he meant. How is DUM-E up here? Why does he have a bowl of what looks like soup with a side of charcuterie and garlic bread with him? Did DUM-E make it himself? If so, how? Was it safe to eat?

Luckily for him, he had the best AI in the world (if he does say so himself-which he does) and JARVIS somehow knows all his questions and answered them so succinctly.

“Someone who wishes to remain anonymous has prepared a dinner for you and asked DUM-E to deliver it as you appeared fatigued. It is a courgette and almond soup with garlic ciabatta and sourdough toast, assorted cured meats and a mango chutney. It has been safely prepared and monitored on it’s journey, and does not contain motor oil.”

Tony breathed in deeply at the exquisite smell coming from his dinner tray. This was the perfect ending to a low-grade-shitty day. Once everything JARVIS had said was fully registered in his mind he quirked his head in question.

“Someone who wishes to remain anonymous?” he mused, “Well, I mean it’s gotta be someone living in the tower, right? That narrows it down. Plus, it’s gotta be someone who can cook,” That thought leads him to an ever-diminishing list of suspects and he rather thinks he knows who it is.

Tony ducks his head, a dusting of pink colouring his cheeks at the thought. He digs into his gifted meal with gusto, suddenly it seemed like the weight of the day had simply rolled off of him, and he had regained some of his earlier energy. If the person who he thought it was wanted to stay in the shadows for now who was he to put a stop to it? Especially when it might cost him more nights like these with a delivery of home-cooked ambrosia.

And so it had continued.

Not only when Tony had had a bad day either, but almost every other day it seemed he had some new delivery of food. Be it a sandwich left by his elbow to remind him to eat during his workshop binge, a cooked meal when he had had a long day, a tray of cookies, cakes or brownies left on the counter in his penthouse, a selection of petit fours delivered to his office as it seemed just-because. And sometimes they even came with little post-it notes!

They weren’t much to go on, just little ‘thinking of you’s or ‘hope you enjoy’s or ‘looked like you needed this doll’s. With each delivery, Tony’s crush deepened until he was halfway in love with his ‘secret’ admirer, despite the fact that they both seemed to reluctant to acknowledge any of it in public or around the team.

However, Tony was only so patient- ask Pepper or Rhodey, it was a miracle he’d lasted this long in the first place- and he was now determined to… Well not exactly confront, that felt too aggressive a word to use, he was going to gently but firmly (very firmly) encourage his admirer to go on a real date with him. It felt like it might be a bit premature to declare his undying love and devotion to a man he wasn’t technically in a relationship with after all.

This idea however all came clattering down around him when he entered the kitchen at around three am exactly three months and four-day post initial food delivery. He hadn’t even realised anyone else was awake, he hadn’t meant to even be on this floor but JARVIS was a tattletale and would ping an email to Pepper if the coffee machine in his penthouse or workshop was used between 11 pm and 6 am.

It was just dumb luck.

Or unluck as the case may be. Because there in the kitchen, pulling a tray of very familiar looking and smelling chocolate orange and hazelnut cookies out of the oven, was Steve.

It was the wrong one. All this time Tony had believed that Bucky had been his admirer, his personal chef and his culinary hero. All this while, and if he was honest with himself for a long time before that, Tony had been slowly but surely falling in love with their resident one-armed-wonder, and given that he was 87% sure that that was who was making the food he was fairly confident that feeling had been mutual. To learn that all this time it had been the wrong supersoldier was devastating.

Tony felt like the bottom had dropped out of him and his heart had dried up all at once. Not only was he wildly, catastrophically wrong about who had been delivering him all these preciously prepared and lovingly made gifts, it also meant that he was wrong about Bucky reciprocating his feelings.

Not only that, but he now had to confront the idea that it was Steve, not Bucky, who cared for him and how the fuck was he supposed to let Captain America down? I mean yeah they had moved past their first meeting hiccup, gotten over their brief subsequent future hate/resentment/hero worship issues and had become the closest of friends. Or at least, that’s what Tony had assumed. And while his inner sixteen-year-old was very much still attracted to the pinnacle of human perfection, Tony just could not see Steve in that way. Objectively yes, he was handsome and kind, down-to-earth, generous to a fault and stubborn as a mule when it suited him, but to Tony that was just Steve.

Steve was great! Steve was an amazing friend! He’d be happy to talk up Steve as a wingman and be confident that nothing he would say would be a lie because Steve was just that awesome a person! But he was not attracted to Steve himself!

Continuing his approach to the kitchen Tony tried to mentally prepare what he was going to say. How he was going to gently thank Steve for his gifts but let him know that any feelings he had were purely platonic. He was mentally debating if he could get away with not telling Steve that he didn’t know it was him who had been the one behind the culinary delights. On the one hand, it would make him look like an utter dick for letting it go on this long without letting Steve know it was a doomed seduction. On the other hand, it seemed cruel to tell Steve that he was hoping that the man’s best friend (practically his brother) would go out with him instead. Knowing Steve, he’d be extremely supportive and then not show anyone how he was devastated and dying inside.

“Hey Steve, I didn’t realise you were up so late,” He began, coward that he was trying to put off the uncomfortable conversation that was to come.

Steve looked up from the sheet pan where he had been carefully inspecting the cookies, a look of surprise on his face showing that he’d been so concentrated on his task he hadn’t picked up on Tony’s approach. And wow, seeing how dedicated he was just made Tony feel worse about the whole thing.

“Oh, hi Tony,” the other man glanced down spying the coffee cup clutched in the inventor’s hands, “You know that cheating by getting your coffee down here only means that Pepper will be madder when I’m the one to tell her.” He teased.

And god did Tony feel like the world’s biggest tool again, even when Steve was being mean it was just because he cared. Why did it have to be the wrong supersoldier? Why was his life like this?

“Listen, Steve.” Bracing himself for what was coming Tony stepped further into the light of the kitchen, making sure to give the other man 100% of his attention, it was the least he deserved. “I think we need to talk. I am so grateful, really I am, for all that you have done. They were some of the finest and most delicious things I’ve ever tasted in my life, and that comes from a guy who regularly eats at Five Michelin Star restaurants. The deliveries have been a source of joy and comfort, they have never failed to lift my spirits and I have adored each and every one. I want you to know that I will always care very deeply for you,”

Steve had an odd look on his face as Tony tried his best to be brave and plough on, it wasn’t fair to let this go on any longer and he had to get it all off his chest in one go or else he’d put his foot in it.

“I don’t know that I could ever see you in that way. What I feel for you is more of a platonic bond, and a lifelong one at that, but there could never really be any romantic feelings on my part.”

Steve looked downright confused and embarrassed now.

“Uh, Tony that’s great?” He replied, head tilted in that lost puppy look he sometimes had when he couldn’t quite get his head around something. “I’m not entirely sure where all of that came from but uh, I love you too buddy.” Steve patted Tony on the shoulder, looking for all the world like Tony had lost his mind.

“Look Steve, the secret is out alright, I know those are the cookies you made me the other week. I can recognise them well enough, they are just about the tastiest goddamn things I’ve ever put in my mouth and I’ve dreamt of them twice since. I know it’s you who’s been making me food, and I just wanted to let you down eas-”

“But I did it.”

The voice came from behind, cutting through Tony’s very messy 'it’s not you, it’s me' speech, nearly scaring the life out of him and causing Tony to jump about three feet in the air and clutch at his chest as though that would slow the rapid staccato of his heart.

“Wha?” was all that the dumbstruck genius could eke out.

“I’m the one who’s been making you food, doll. It was me, not Stevie here.” Bucky replied from where he was stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

“But- he… I just saw Steve taking the cookies out of the oven? He was even checking them over to make sure they were right?” Tony blurted, head pinging over to Steve as he heard the man huff out a laugh.

“Yeah, cause Buck here hadda go pee and the last time he put me in charge of getting his shit out the oven I got a whooping because smooshed a cookie with the glove. I ain’t making that mistake twice.”

It took Tony a second for everything to sink in. He had a moment post reshuffle in his brain of who had done what that he was mistaken after all. It wasn’t the wrong supersoldier.

“So, wait. Does that mean that you’ve been my secret admirer? Not Steve?”

“Yeah, doll,” Bucky said, shifting his weight and loosely crossing his arms in front of him as if to protect himself. “You mean all that you said about it being good?”

Tony had never heard, nor expected to hear such uncertainty from the other man. Carefully making his way over to Bucky and making sure to telegraph his movements as he did so, Tony lifted his hand to cup Bucky’s cheek.

“I meant every word. And I’m so glad it was you.”

The smile that Tony could feel growing on his own face was mirrored back to him. Flickering his gaze between Bucky’s ocean eyes and his lips he slowly tilted forward, allowing Bucky to decide if he wanted to close the gap or not.

Tony’s heartbeat fluttered as he felt the soft press of lips against his. Something in his chest settling at the feeling of how right this all was. Steve on the other hand was apparently feeling indignant.

“Hey, wait a minute! How come I’m not good enough but this lug is?”

#WinterIron Week #winteriron week 2020 #winteriron #my writing #day 3 #i wrote this at 5 am so let me know if it's full of mistakes #I don't even know what i'm doing anymore #lol #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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outoftownagain · 3 years ago

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The best restaurants in Santorini, Greece

This, of course, isn't a definite list. We didn't even try a fraction of what the culinary world of Santorini has to offer and I am sure there are plenty of equally fantastic or better places. But by these 5 restaurants stood out for us and came recommended by other travelers and locals.

Hope you're not hungry!

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1. Μεταξύ Μας / Metaxi Mas 9FQ5+H2 Exo Gonia, Greece www.santorini-metaximas.gr

Metaxi Mas is a must whether you take a taxi, rent a four-wheeler, or simply walk from the charming village of Pyrgos. (We were advised very strongly against doing the latter by a very nice lady at a souvenir store: "It's not possible to walk, it's in the next village! But it is a wonderful restaurant, you must make it there regardless," she said. We did it anyway and it took about half an hour of walking downhill.) And just like pretty much everyone we spoke to about Metaxi Mas promised, it is absolutely amazing. You won't find your regular horiatiki and moussaka here, but by the time you make it here, you've most likely had enough of those and will be excited to take a quick break. You'll also have a change of view, because the cozy terrace is overlooking the airport and the less photographed side of the island, which may be slightly less iconic but gorgeous nonetheless. We started with Smoked Fish in a Chickpea Stew and the moment we tasted the dish, we knew that it would be the best meal on the island. We continued with Shrimp saganaki finished with ouzo, tomato sauce, fennel and feta cheese, which I will remember for a long time. And then, for a finale, a Spicy fried pork with Assyrtiko Santorini wine (which we were about to learn all about at a nearby winery, Santo Wines) with peppers, onion, garlic, Santorini cherry tomatoes, feta cheese and boukovo—red pepper flakes. Were we full? Of course. Did we want more? Absolutely! It was our last day on Santorini, so we knew we wouldn't have time to return to Metaxi Mas, so we asked our lovely waitress if she could suggest just one more, small dish, simply because everything was so delicious that we'd love another bite. She said that her favorite thing on the menu was Oven-baked asparagus with Cretan graviera cheese and estragon, and we thought that a little asparagus appetizer would be a perfect finishing touch to this feast. Little did we know that the "small dish" is in fact a huge plate filled with lots and lots of hot, melty, delicious cheese (with a little bit of asparagus buried deep under). It was way more than we wanted but way too delicious to leave behind and a taxi to take us to the wine tour at Santo Wines was already waiting. We might have burnt our mouths a little but we finished the asparagus and our wonderful waitress brought us a dessert packed to go because she knew we had to go. If you're in Santorini right now and looking for some delicious food, I couldn't be more jealous of you!

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2. To Psaraki Vlichada Marina, Vlichada 847 00, Greece www.topsaraki.gr

Near the southernmost tip of Santorini, at the end of Perivolos beach you'll find the charming Vlychada port. Arguably the best place to view it from (and definitely the most delicious one) is To Psaraki taverna. You'll have to drive or take a taxi there but the place is worth the trip. The actual restaurant is very nice but you really want to sit at the bright blue terrace across the street, which overlooks the port and the sea. Eating at To Psaraki feels like finding a hidden gem andt also like being on a Greek postcard at the same time. The food is delicious and it starts from the very beginning—each table receives a bread basket and a portion of Santorini tomato paste with olive oil and oregano. (There is a tomato paste museum down the road, but it was still closed due to Covid when we visited.) We continued the feast with Fresh Greek mussels steamed with wine and spring onions (it's hard to imagine a more perfect dish to go with the view of sea and a distant smell of a seaport) after which a gorgeous Grilled Octopus arrived. Can't say that we were hungry anymore, but our main dish — fresh and homely amberjack was only about to be served. Accompanied by vegetables, tomatoes and a lemon, it was wonderful.

The restaurant overlooks the port and a short walkaway is Vlychada Beach with black sand, a beach bar and some amazing view of the cliffs, which makes it easy to spend a whole day in this small area.

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3. Kokkalo 25is Martiou 25, Thira 847 00, Greece kokkalosantorini.com

We arrived in Santorini midday and after the initial shock caused by the overwhelming beauty of the view from the plane, then the taxi and finally from our suite, we were ready to eat. We picked Kokkalo purely because it was the closest recommended restaurant from our suite. It did take some climbing (everything in Santorini involves countless stairs and hills) and then a short walk along a busy, narrow street, but the place was 100% worth it.

We were greeted by a very friendly and quirky lady with a very particular sense of humor and a tray with 2 glasses of strong, local liquor. Day drinking it is! After hearing that we just arrived on the island, she was quick to recommend a local specialty—Santorini tomato fritters. "If you're going to have them, you need to have them here," she said, "we have cooking classes and we teach how to make them here." Tomato fritters are very tasty, but to be completely honest, it is one of those dishes that you try once and don't necessarily need to order again anytime soon.

We also got the Santorini Greek Salad and Chicken Souvlaki, which were both absolutely delicious and anyone could eat them every day for a long time. The presentation of the chicken deserves a special shoutout—it is definitely an attention-grabber when it arrives at the table.

Kokkalo is totally a great spot—it may not overlook the volcano, but staring into the flat side of Santorini with Anafi island in the distance is a pure pleasure! Mix that with great food, chilled wine and lovely service and you have a fantastic experience!

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4. Roka Mpotsari 6, Oía 847 02, Greece www.roka.gr

I'm not gonna lie, Roka was a bit of an accident (a great one though!) We hiked from Fira to Oia and we completely underestimated the time it would take us to complete the hike considering all the stops for wine, snacks, photos and views. They say that the hike takes from 3 to 6 hours and it did take us 6 hours (we're fast hikers but we stopped A LOT along the way to enjoy the views and wine) so when we finally got to Oia, we needed to eat before the sunset and most places were either booked or still closed because of Covid. We basically ran to check out Roka and it is semi-hidden in a maze of small, charming alleyways so we got a little lost trying to find it. We were greeted by a man who looked like he could be in a movie about a mafia-ran restaurant: white shirt and a tie, a sceptical gaze, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, and a brutal silence. He turned out to be our waiter and luckily he turned out to be very friendly, much contrary to our first impression of him.

We were seated at the small back patio lit by the setting sun and overlooking the sea and some less touristy parts of town and the island. The food was absolutely delicious yet presented in a slightly pretentious but cheesy way. It is not taverna food and obviously the chef is aspiring to a higher level of a dining experience. To start we were served rusk with olives and delicious tomato paste, which we learned was typical of Santorini, famous for its cherry tomatoes. Then we continued with ‘Imam Bayaldi’ with eggplant, shrimps, ’Oyzo’ glaze and chilli garlic mayo and Mushrooms Ragout on a sourdough bruschetta with caramelized onions, cream and gruyere sauce. Those two appetizers were quite Huge And Totally Satisfied Our Post-Hike Hunger, But We Had Two More Dishes Coming - Main Courses This Time.

Skioufikta - Traditional Greek Handmade Pasta with Caramelized Onion, Eggplant, Zucchini, Tomato and ’Xinoturi’ From Ios, which was light, delicate and delicious. The shape of pasta is a bit like cavatelli and is a perfect vessel for the summer flavors of this dish. Fresh Dorado Fillet came with fantastic Parsnip Puree, Braised Leek that melts in your mouth with Hazelnuts and was topped with long, thin crisps that gave it an additional texture. Satisfied and excited, we ran to the nearby Castle of Agios Nikolaos for a spectacular and unforgettable sunset.

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5. Naoussa Fira Santorini Next to the Central Orthodox Cathedral of Fira Town Mitropoleos Fira Town, Thira 847 00, Greece naoussasantorini.restaurant

When we arrived at this gigantic taverna, it was empty, with the only two guests eating at a table near the windows. We decided to sit at the other table with a view—right next to the couple finishing their dinner. It turned out to be a quite an unfortunate choice because those guests were an extreme example of a married couple who goes out to talk to other people in bars and restaurants. We spent the entire dinner listening about the wealth, success and amazing life of our co-diners, all the houses, apartments, businesses and countless trips all over the world were described in detail whether we wanted it or not. We also learned the history of their relationship including tidbits like: "Would you believe that after not seeing me for 2 weeks my husband chose to take me out to eat sushi instead of taking me to the bedroom straight from the airport?"

But back to the restaurant, the food was delicious and the sunset view (when we managed to look away from our interlocutors) quite terrific. We started with Dolmades, which are vine leaves stuffed with lemony rice and happen to be one of my favorite small dishes. The leaves are the best when they're delicate and not veiny, the rice needs to be moist and the entire thing is best served room temperature or slightly warm. So good! We also had a tuna salad with hard boiled eggs, which looked a bit like mess but was packed with unexpected flavor. We finished with a whole fish, which was absolutely perfect.

We did drink a lot of wine and we took our time eating, listening to the forced stories and admiring the sunset. At some point the initially empty dining room filled up completely and then it emptied again. It felt like we experienced the whole circle of sunset dining crowd.

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a-medvezhonok · 4 years ago

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Part 5 Sterling x April

Sterling opens the front door. There was April, carrying a basket with seemingly at least 7 different types of flour.

- You rang.

- Yes I believe that is what doorbells are for.

-Oh, yes hmm. Umm… come in. - Sterling tried to take some of the bags of flour to help April, but she was having none of it and stormed through into the kitchen.

- I brought the rye flour, the gluten free flour, whole wheat flour-

- Cool.-Sterling interrupted her- Do you want a refreshment? We have water, orange juice, apple juice, milk, almond milk, smoothie-

-Oh aren’t you a funny one?

-I try. –Sterling said, all perky. April rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but smile.

-Well there’s always room for improvement.

-No, but seriously, do you want a glass of water? - April nodded in agreement. She started looking round the kitchen, whilst Sterling poured her a glass.

-The kitchen looks smaller than I remember. –April’s voice sounded smaller as well.

-Oh yeah, you must have last been here when you were, what 10? 11?

-Yeah during the last project, you didn’t let me out of the basement once.

Sterling laughed. – It was a woodworking shop, but yes. I’m surprised the kitchen looks smaller, you haven’t grown that much since fifth grade.

April couldn’t believe the nerve Sterling had. -I may be Christian, but I hope you know that will absolutely not stop me from killing you in your sleep.

Sterling laughed. – No, I like your height. It’s – she trailed off. Afraid of how she would finish that sentence – So the bread?

-Great save. But yes. If you start making the dough for the rye bread I can start on the sourdough.

-Cool. - Sterling turned on the radio for background and they started working on their dough. After about twenty minutes of mostly comfortable silence between them, that was occasionally broken by April asking where a particular cooking utensil was, Sterling noticed that April was starting to hum along to the radio. She dared not point it out unless it made April stop. Then something magical happened. Sia’s Chandelier started playing and Sterling thought she would risk it and start singing along to it, to see if April would join in. After a beat, April started to sing as well. Not just sing, but perform, to Sterling, who suddenly had no idea what to do with herself, she hadn’t expected her plan to work, and she certainly hadn’t expected for April’s voice to sound so beautiful. What she especially hadn’t expected was for April to hit the notes for the chorus, her voice belting them out perfectly. Sterling stared at her, in awe each time, and then would go back to join her in the song for the verses, using wooden spoons and rolling pins as microphones, the flour was getting everywhere. Finally, the song was over and both collapsed to the floor laughing leaning against the oven. Both girls were out of breath, red in the face from the physical exertion of it all. Sterling looked over to April and spoke.

-I can’t believe you sang that.

-Why? It’s a popular song.

-No that’s not what I meant. I mean I can’t believe you sang it well. You were… exceptional.

-Well, I have many hidden talents. – April said suggestively trying to make the conversation less serious. April found that she was trying to deflect Sterling’s compliment, usually, she bathed in any positive affirmation, but from Sterling, it felt too high a concentrate, pure and overwhelming.

- I love how there’s so much in you, that it can’t help but over-spill sometimes. – Sterling was suddenly aware of how close April was and she wasn’t sure if it was because they were sitting next to the preheated oven, but she suddenly felt very hot. April didn’t say anything back, but her face softened.

-Can I hug you? Or hold your hand, or something, I feel like I’m going to explode.

-Really? My singing did that for you?

-Please? – Sterling looked so genuinely in pain, that April couldn’t help but give way.

-Okay. - She delicately took Sterling’s hand, looked at it for a while, turning it over in her own hands, finally she placed a faint kiss on Sterling’s knuckles and then interlaced their fingers. – But only for one song.

They sat there hand in hand, not looking at each other, just listening to the radio. Sterling felt like the song went on for an eternity, whilst also seeming to go by too quickly. As soon as the song was over April let go and got back to baking. Sterling sat on the floor a little while longer, before she felt ready enough to join in again.

#teenage bounty hunters #april stevens #sterling x april #sterling wesley #stepril #Am I over #Devon Hales #being able to sing #clearly not

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ericsonclan · 4 years ago

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A Visit to the Bakery

Summary: Minnie goes out to buy some bread and meets someone very special in the process.

Word Count: 2905

Read on A03:

Minnie rose with the dawn. It was how she had lived her entire life no matter the circumstances. Living on the street, she’d been sure to wake first each morning to go scouting for food and supplies for the other street rats. She would wake Sophie and they’d head out together, searching for whatever measly scraps they could to survive another day. When she and Sophie were taken by pirates and later on during her time with Lilly and the Delta pirates, Minnie had been expected to pull her weight each and every second of every day. There was never any rest, no time for reflection on the hell her life had become, no peace.

Now she awoke in her own bed, feeling the sun’s rays warm her face as she shuffled out from under her covers. She had a bed of her own for the first time in her life and a roof over her head. She even had her brother back by her side. Tenn was sleeping peacefully in his own bed, a calm smile on his face. She’d let him sleep a bit longer before waking him and asking if he’d like to go to the market with her. Minnie’s eyes drifted over to third bed in the room, now empty. She missed having Sophie around each and every day, but to know that she was living her life doing what brought her the most joy gave Minnie a deeper sense of happiness than she’d felt in the last several years.

Rising to make the morning tea, Minnie tucked her bedsheets back in place, moving around softly for fear of waking Tenn up. He had always been an extremely light sleeper. Minnie approached the cupboard in search of the kettle. One of the pans slid against another as she pulled them out, causing Tenn to stir in his sleep. His chin raised, revealing the beginning of the scar that ran from the base of his chin to the top of his cheekbone. It still haunted her that she’d giving him that mark, taking off a piece of his ear in the process. Tenn had told her countless times that it didn’t matter to him, that the scar had no effect on his own life or happiness, but it still served as a constant reminder of the person Minnie had let herself become.

It was strange living in this cottage, carrying out a peaceful existence by the sea, when their very benefactors were those she had hurt the most. Minnie wondered where they were now. They’d visited a few months ago, so it was probably nowhere nearby. Sophie was likely up by now as well, sketching the sunrise or helping with the morning chores. Minnie hoped the others were doing well too: Mitch, Violet, Willy. The last time she’d seen them, Willy had sprouted up to nearly her height. She’d wanted to say something to him about how much he’d grown, but she saw the fear in his eyes when he looked her way. As much as she might wish them well, Minnie understood why the other street rats no longer trusted her. She’d harmed them too much for things to ever be the way they used to be between them.

She still had her siblings though: Tenn in body and Sophie in spirit. Knowing her sister loved her despite all she had done gave Minnie hope whenever the despair and self-loathing became too much to bear. Taking a seat at the table, Minnie pulled her hurdy gurdy into her lap, playing a short tune as she waited for the water to come to a boil. Sophie had picked the instrument up for Minnie on a whim one day at the market. Minnie hadn’t know what to do with it at the time, but over the months her fingers had began to master the dexterity needed to pluck at its strings and direct the crank embedded in its side at the same time. The tune she played was soft, haunting. It was a ballad she’d heard long ago and had been trying to remember.

The whistle of the teapot went off, bright and cheery. Minnie set aside the hurdy gurdy, rushing to take the kettle off the heat to quiet it. Tenn was already stirring too much though; he was truly awake now. After a few moments he entered the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of one of his eyes.

“Morning,” His voice had grown deeper over the years as he’d grown, but his voice held the same comforting cadence it always had.

“Good morning. Sorry I woke you,” Minnie placed tea leaves to steep within the water then went searching through the cupboards for something suitable for breakfast. “We should have enough for today, but it’s looking like we’ll need to do another market run soon. Would you be interested in coming with me?” Minnie popped her head out of the cupboard to catch Tenn glancing wistfully out the window. “If you don’t, it’s fine,”

“Oh, I can go with you, Minnie” Tenn’s tone was sincere, but Minnie knew him too well to not recognize when he was hiding something.

“You already have other plans, don’t you?”

“It’s just… the sky is so clear today. Was hoping to finish that painting I set aside weeks ago. I haven’t seen that same hue in forever,”

“You should go for it then,” Minnie pulled some bread and cheese from the cupboard, cutting them into slices. “I know how much it’s been eating away at you not being able to finish it. Besides, we could use more pieces to sell anyway,” They did their selling on different days than their shopping. They’d head down in the next couple days to set up their stall and sell their crafts and wares.

“Thanks, Minnie. You always know just what I’m thinking,”

“That’s a big sister’s job, silly. Now let’s eat,”

---

After a pleasant breakfast Minnie bid Tenn farewell and headed out with the large wicker basket to restock their food. Walking down the path from their cottage, she could feel the sea breeze brush at her bangs. The smell was as salty and rich as ever. Despite all the horrors she’d suffered in her life on sea, Minnie still found herself fond of the smell. There was always the promise of something new in the air when living by the shore. She was glad they’d been able to find an isolated plot as well. Even in a quiet port town, Minnie often found the presence of so many strangers overwhelming. Years of bodily and emotional trauma had left her with a limited amount of energy each day. Most times Minnie fell short of what she wanted to accomplish each day because of the chronic fatigue. She preferred the peace and familiarity of her newfound home to the streets of Halverport, but the shopping needed to get done.

Walking familiar streets, Minnie followed her regular route to get everything that was needed. Most of the sellers were familiar with her now, but Minnie still noticed the stares of passerby as they caught sight of her scarred face. She couldn’t blame them. The burn marks were severe, far worse than you’d expect to see on a young woman attending the market. Minnie had accepted them long ago as an everlasting symbol of her betrayal. She’d earned them in the same fire that took most of Violet’s sight. It was only right for her to bear the weight of that guilt in physical form, not simply within. Still, the stares wore her down. They were the only reason Minnie occasionally considered growing her hair out to better hide those scars. Instead she kept her head low and focused on the task at hand.

She’d almost found everything she needed when Minnie found herself stuck on the last item on her list: bread. She’d planned to drop by the normal stall she frequented where the sweet old lady that ran it always slipped an extra roll or two into the basket for her and Tenn. However, the woman was nowhere to be seen today. Minnie hoped she was alright. She didn’t want to travel all the way back up to the cottage with no bread, so she’d have to venture further and find another seller. Swallowing a lump in her throat, Minnie made her way further into the village, hoping the search wouldn’t be long.

Luckily, she was able to spot a bakery only a few streets over from where she usually shopped. Minnie stepped inside hesitantly, hoping the prices wouldn’t be too high and she could at least get enough for her and Tenn until selling day rolled round again. The shop was quiet as she entered, likely having just opened given the early hour. Was there anyone in here at all? Where was the seller?

“Hello?” Minnie called, her throat feeling dry and her voice rather rough.

A girl immediately emerged from the back room, brushing flour off of her hands. She looked to be about Minnie’s age, with warm brown eyes and hair that was pulled to the side in a bun decorated by a single flower. Her face was still covered in flour, but she seemed unaware as she smiled at Minnie. “Well, look at you! A new face come to frequent my bakery! Don’t get a lot of those around here,”

“The woman I usually buy from wasn’t there and-” Minnie cut herself off. This girl didn’t need to hear the entire story, just her order. “I’ll take three loaves of bread please,”

“Alright, what kind? Rye? Wheat? Pumpernickel? Sourdough? Baguettes?” the girl prattled on for a minute before her face fell slightly, recognizing that she was overwhelming Minnie with the list. “Oops, I got ahead of myself, didn’t I? You probably just want some brown bread, am I right?”

Minnie nodded silently. “If you don’t mind,”

“Of course not! Anything for a customer. You know what…” the girl looked around for a moment at her empty store then lifted the part of the counter that could be raised to step through, motioning for Minnie to follow. “Since you’re an early bird, why don’t you come on into the back room and pick out the loaves you like best?”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly…”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! I’ll even throw in some free samples!” The girl was smiling so brightly at Minnie she couldn’t find it in herself to say no. Awkwardly she stepped forward, following her to the back room. “I should probably introduce myself,” the girl called back as she led the way. “My name’s Renata. Yours?”

“Minerva,”

“That’s a pretty name. It suits you,”

“T-thanks,” Minnie found herself distracted as they entered the back room. There were dozens of racks everywhere full of all sorts of breads, sweets and other delicacies.

Renata looked around the room with a proud smile. “Magnificent, isn’t it? Back when my parents ran the place we used to be able to fill up the entire room, but I think I get by alright,”

Oh. Were her parents dead then? Was it expected to say something in condolence to her? Before Minnie could think on the matter further, a warm roll was thrust into her hands.

“Here. Something to munch on while you look around,”

Minnie slowly bit in. The warmth of the bread immediately filled her mouth, filling her with a sort of comfort deep inside. Minnie found a smile crossing her lips, mirroring Renata’s own smile in some small way.

“Good, right? Secret family recipe,” Renata lifted a finger to her lips, winking playfully at Minnie.

Minnie swallowed too fast and choked a bit on her mouthful of bread.

“Are you OK? I’ll get some water,” Renata rushed to get a cup, offering it to Minnie before she’d had time to regain her composure. All she could do was nod and accept it gratefully.

“So, Minnie, tell me about yourself. You can’t have grown up around here, so what brings you to Halverport? Do you live here?”

“Up in the hills along the shore,” Minnie answered. The roll had already been consumed. She meant to start looking for the loaves she needed, but Renata had already placed something new within her hand, this time a sticky bun.

“I love it up there!” Renata exclaimed. She gave an encouraging nod when Minnie looked unsure about the bun. “Sometimes I climb up that way to bother all the seagulls. I didn’t know there was anyone living up that way,”

“Not many do,” Minnie took a bite of the bun and her eyes widened in surprise. It was utterly delicious, even more so than the bread. Renata grinned as she saw Minnie take another excited bite.

“The buns are my favorite. The secret is cinnamon, but a healthy dose of sugar also helps,”

That must be it. Minnie had hardly ever had any sugar in her life. Being given something so sweet and syrupy out of the blue was an unexpected gift. Or was it a gift? Minnie eyed Renata with caution. What did this girl want? Minnie clearly didn’t have the look of someone with money. Did she want a favor then? The bun was already gone, decimated in the throes of Minnie’s excitement. “I can pay for that,” Minnie offered.

Renata waved a hand dismissively. “Like I said, they’re free samples. It’s nice having company in the kitchen again. I should probably get you that bread though, huh?” Renata grinned sheepishly and Minnie found herself regretting that she’d gotten her back on task.

They headed over to the regular loaves. Renata motioned at them grandly. “Take your pick,” she said, stepping to the side.

Minnie certainly wasn’t a bread connoisseur. She picked up a loaf or two, tapping on it then placing it back. Was that the way to test bread? She caught Renata smirking and immediately felt her face burn in embarrassment.

“Want me to pick the best ones out?” Renata offered.

“Please,”

As Renata leaned forward, rummaging through the bread racks, Minnie caught a whiff of something that reminded her of the sticky bun from minutes ago. It couldn’t be the bread though; they were a good distance away from the sweets section. What was that special ingredient Renata had spoken of? Cinnamon. The answer came back to Minnie all of a sudden. She looked over at Renata who was busy critiquing the loaves intently. She smells like cinnamon .

“Here we go!” Renata declared, holding forth three loaves of brown bread in her hands. “The best of the day,”

“I’ll take them,” Minnie began to transfer them over to her basket. She was taken by surprise when Renata used her now free hands to grab hold of Minnie’s and pull her back over to where the sweets lay.

“I’m gonna give you a few more goodies for the road. Gotta make sure you come back for repeat business. And I won’t take no for an answer,” Without waiting to hear Minnie’s protests, Renata began stuffing treats into the top of her basket. She stopped for a moment, looking up at Minnie. “Is it just you at home or do you have family?”

“Just my brother at home,”

“Then I’ll have to pack extra for him!” Renata picked up a loaf and displayed it proudly. “I’ve been told my banana bread’s the best in town. It’s cuz of the cinnamon again…” her voice dropped down to a conspiratorial whisper. “But don’t tell anyone, k?”

“O-OK,” Minnie couldn’t help but feel flustered as she smiled back at Renata. She’d just come here for some loaves of bread. What was even going on? “I should probably get going. My brother will be wondering where I am,”

Renata’s face fell at the news. “Oh… ok. I’ll see you out then,” Quietly she made her way to the front, Minnie following closely behind. Had she insulted Renata by saying she had to leave?

Minnie looked back worriedly once she’d stepped through the divide between the front and back of the store. She found Renata smiling just as brightly as ever though.

“Come back anytime, OK? I want to hear what your brother thinks of my famous banana bread,”

“Will do,” Minnie felt the tension leaving her gut knowing she hadn’t overstepped after all. “Thank you for all the free samples,”

“It was my pleasure,” Renata reached up to itch her nose and looked at her hand in surprise when she saw all the flour on it. “Gosh, have I had this much flour on my face the entire time? I must’ve looked like a clown!”

“No, I thought you looked nice,” Minnie froze at her words. What was she even saying?

The sentiment seemed to be appreciated by Renata though. She smiled brightly at Minnie’s words. “Really? I’ve have to be wearing more next time you come by then too,”

“Alright then,” Minnie wasn’t sure why she was agreeing, but who cared at this point? Nothing seemed to faze Renata anyway. With a final wave, Minnie exited the store. Her feet felt light under her feet as she started the walk home. Usually a grocery run like this would have completely wiped her out for the rest of the day, but Minnie felt a renewed sense of energy now. She wanted to play music or paint… something. She was feeling inspired.

#twdg #fanfic #a pirate's life for me au #twdg minnie #twdg renata #twdg tenn #twdg minata

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usermoon · 5 years ago

Text

TEN QUESTIONS TAG

Rules: Answer ten questions, then come up with ten of your own!

Tagged by @kscriba

1. Have you ever lived abroad? no, i’ve never even left the us so rip,,

2. Have you made sourdough (or focaccia or other cooking projects)? i’m decent at cooking but i’ve never actually made bread.

3. If you could emulate one person’s Sim-style, who would that be? uhhhh i don’t know, i really like the cute/gory thing that @peachy-flesh does but i’m not sure if i could pull it off..

4. Have you ever been emotionally affected by the death of a sim (stealing from @treason-and-plot because I like the question so much!) 1000% yes. in ts3 i had a household that had a shiton of drama (if you’re close to me you know the entire story cause i never shut up about it when i was like 14) but to shorten things up, i had a sim named edgar that had roommates and a whole bunch of drama happened and he ended up with this guy named mahmoud (gay rights) and then i got a notif saying that edgar wasn’t gonna live much longer and to check up on him (by this point their kids had moved out and had their own kids so they didn’t live together) and then at family fucking dinner MAHMOUD not edgar died of old age. it was the sadest shit cause edgar was standing in the corner sobbing. anyway i will always love and miss both of them cause edgar died a short time later and 14 year old me was crushed.

5. If you were to make a Simblr different from your own style (build, CC, storytelling, lookbooks, etc.) what style would you choose? i wish i was good at building and be one of those people who post real great intricate builds but i’m shit at building..

6. Do you like musicals, and if you do, which is your favourite? i used to really like musicals (i was THAT annoying hamilton kid in middle school) but i really don’t listen to them anymore. i saw waitress last year and really liked it. i think my favorite would be phantom of the opera though cause in freshman year i took a choir trip to new york and saw it on broadway with no previous knowledge of the show and fell in love

7. One book that made you cry, and one that made you laugh. ummmmm can it be the same for both?? cause when i read the outsiders in 7th grade it was an EXPERIENCE

8. City, suburbs, or rural? i love the aesthetic of a city but i think i’d get too overwhelmed after awhile

10. What personality test, horoscope, Hogwarts house, etc. do you feel describes you best? i know myers briggs is supposed to be really exact but it truly do be describing me to a T (INFP is you care)

i think we get the drill by this point... i’m too shy👉👈 to tag anyone but this was really fun so thanks for tagging me

#tag #kscriba #thanks bb #non sims

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katekarnage7 · 5 years ago

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After rain + destiel

Whew. Okay. After hours of slaving and pouring my blood, sweat, and tears into this prompt, it’s finally done. And it’s three thousand words long! Yay!

In any case, thank you so much for this lovely prompt, my friend. I’m super happy that it’s finally done and that I can share it with you. You can find it here on AO3 Here we go!

---

Dean trudges through the damp masses of leaves on the ground. Rain falls all around him, pattering softly on the leaves of the forest trees. Every inhale is sharp and freezes him to the bone.

His stomach growls loudly. It’s been days since he’s had anything to eat. He reflects on his decision to leave the compound. Maybe it really wasn’t the best idea. He immediately disregards that thought.

He had to leave. There wasn’t any other choice. The scars that burden his skin are proof enough of that. A bitter taste sullies his mouth at the memory. He hates his scars. They show everyone just how broken he truly is.

His backpack feels like it gets heavier with every step. Memories plague his mind. Every single bit of pain he endured comes back to haunt him. Even though he feels like he’s about to pass out, he keeps moving, those memories spurring him on.

There’s little doubt in his mind that Alastair will be coming after him soon enough. But he will do anything to keep himself from falling into that monster’s grasp. Not again. Not ever again. He can still remember what Alastair had said to him on the first day.

“Don’t be scared, little one. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

Dean proceeded to attempt to escape forty-seven times over five years. He remembers each time like they were yesterday. He would get thrown in solitary or in the punishment room every single time. And every single time, he would try to break out again. It was a vicious cycle.

He still can’t believe that he’s out. Truly out. Flashes of those left behind will probably haunt him for the rest of his life. Kevin, Ash, Benny… He had to leave all of them behind. That bitter taste resurfaces. He’ll get them out someday. Someday soon, hopefully.

He just needs to find some shelter. Eat properly. Then he’ll be strong enough to tear down Alastair’s operation piece by nightmarish piece. Only then will he be satisfied. He shivers as the rain begins to pick up.

The soft patter of rain against the treetops gives way to the rumbling of thunder. It’s a full-on storm now. Gusts of wind hit him full force as he traverses the terrain. The forest floor is slippery and laden with rocks and sudden drops.

Any wrong move could potentially end his life. No pressure, right? The worst part is that he doesn’t even know where he’s going. He had no map, to begin with. He just got out of the compound and ran like a bat out of hell.

A realization hits him. If he doesn’t get out of this forest and back to civilization soon… He might starve to death before he can save his friends. There’s a strike of lightning somewhere off in the distance.

Panic overtakes him.

He begins running through the forest. Rain berates him as he dodges through the trees. Moments later, he slips on a wet rock and topples down into a ditch. The last thing he remembers is the gray sky overhead and the rain softly falling onto his face.

---

He slowly wakes up, keeping his eyes closed. He’s warm and comfortable, something that he never thought possible. There’s a pleasant smell in the air. It makes his stomach growl. His eyes snap open.

The first thing that he registers is the bed he’s laying in. Certainly not his old one at the compound. His bed in the compound couldn’t even be considered a bed. No, this… This is a real bed.

His eyes then land on the door on the far side of the small room. There’s one window off to his left and a dresser next to the door. Other than that, the bedroom is mostly barren of any decorations.

The second thing that he registers is that he definitely isn’t wearing his own clothes. Whatever he’s wearing now is far softer. He looks down to find a gray cotton shirt and wool pajama bottoms.

They’re like nothing he’s ever worn in his life. Not to mention the fact that they’re clean and dry. Totally different from his wet and extremely dirty clothes. He takes a deep breath. That heavenly scent fills his nostrils again.

It smells like soup. Almost tomatoey. Like something his mother would’ve made when he was a kid. His heart pangs at the memory. All in one, his memories rush back. He remembers breaking out of the compound. He remembers the storm. He remembers falling and hitting his head.

A sudden realization overtakes him. Is this what Heaven looks like? A little room in a cabin somewhere? He examines the wooden paneling around him. Definitely a cabin. He never really believed in Heaven as a kid.

Even when his mother said, ‘Angels are watching over you’, he never really believed her. Maybe this is his version of Heaven. Or maybe it’s the starter pack you get when you die. A little cabin in the woods.

Worse ways to wake up, he supposes.

When he was in the compound, he often wondered what it would be like to die. What would happen after. Sometimes, he prayed for death. Anything would’ve been better than his reality in those days.

He’s pretty damn sure that none of his friends - they were more family than friends to him, really - would’ve agreed. Benny, the big teddy bear he is - was? - could always find something positive. He used to shoulder most of the responsibility and workload. Especially when someone else was in need of help.

Death due to dehydration and starvation was all too common in the compound. Sometimes a person would just drop dead. The worst part was that it was usually kids, fucking kids, who would die.

Their bodies just weren’t equipped to handle all of that exertion without proper nutrition. Even the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed new kids would get worn out soon enough. Then, eventually, you would start to see the signs.

Dark circles under the eyes, sadness burdening every feature, and this overwhelming sense of exhaustion. Those were common in just about everyone at the compound. When those signs started to build up, there were two common outcomes; one, they would drop dead. Or two… Two, they wouldn’t wait to drop dead. They’d just…

Well, exhaustion would build up. After a few escape attempts, most stopped trying. That’s when resignation usually set in. That’s why, about two months after they’d get some new ‘recruits’, there’d be a breakout of suicides.

People would use just about anything they could get their hands on to end it all.

A clap of lightning from outside breaks his trance. He winces. He hates thunder and lightning. It always frightened him as a child and it still does now. Lightning in Heaven? He thinks. And then he realizes that this is in fact, not Heaven. He brings a hand up to his head. Sure enough, there’s a bandage over what must be a cut.

His head is pounding and his body aches. This definitely isn’t Heaven. Which means… How the hell did he get to this cabin? Why did his new captor bandage him up and put him in fresh clothing? What in the absolute hell is going on?

There’s a soft clatter from outside of his room. He sits straight up. He’s not cuffed to the bed like he feared he might be. He’s free to move around. Immediately, he jumps out of the bed, being as silent as possible.

Whoever put him here is a new enemy. A new thing to fear. He searches around the room for anything to use as a weapon. There’s nothing. Not even a goddamn vase. He hears footsteps outside of the door and freezes.

The door is pulled open and the form of a man steps through. He’s shorter than Dean. Not substantially. Probably by a few inches or so. Still, it’s enough to restore some confidence in him. Even if he is a gangly nineteen-year-old.

The man turns to face him. He’s holding a bowl of soup with some sourdough bread on a plate. “Ah, good. You’re awake,” the man says in a deep, rumbling voice. It’s almost as if he ate a whole bowl of gravel before coming in.

Dean decides to stay silent, examining the man carefully. He looks to be about late twenties, early thirties in age. He has messy black hair and the bluest goddamn eyes that Dean thinks he’s ever seen. There’s so much intelligence in the man’s features.

It almost throws him off. Almost.

“How do you feel?” the man asks. Once again, Dean says nothing. The man simply stands there, watching him. It feels like a perverted staring contest. Silence hangs in the air.

The man clears his throat. “That cut was quite deep, you know. I’m worried about an infection. Perhaps I need more antibiotics.”

Dean bites his lip. Confusion and suspicion go to war in his mind. On one hand, if this man were planning on killing him, why the hell would he patch him up? Where’s the logic in that? Or maybe he’s planning on using him just like Alastair did.

Or maybe… Just maybe… This guy isn’t bad. Maybe he’s just a good human being. He immediately throws that idea in the trash bin. Everyone Dean Winchester ever met has had an ulterior motive.

With the exception of those in the compound. But even those folks… They were just trying to minimize the pain and loneliness. God, the loneliness. “Do you have a name? Or something I can call you, perhaps?” the man asks, snapping him back to reality.

“I completely forgot to introduce myself. I’m Castiel,” the man, Castiel, says. He sits down on the edge of the bed, offering the soup and the plate of bread to Dean. “Please take this. You look quite hungry.”

He stares at Castiel for a long, hard moment. Distrust and suspicion are overtaken by hunger. A proper meal sounds heavenly. And, as much as he wishes he could, he can’t deny it. If he ends up needing to fight his way out of this cabin, being well-fed will be an advantage.

At least, that’s how he rationalizes it.

He walks over to Castiel and takes the bowl and backs away. He still doesn’t trust this stranger. And he’s not about to sit next to him and pretend that they’re all buddy-buddy now. He’ll accept the food though.

He picks up the spoon and takes an experimental sip. He almost moans at the taste. It’s better than anything he’s had in a long time. Somehow, it tastes exactly how he remembers his mother’s lentil soup.

There’s something so familiar and comforting about it.

He looks up to see Castiel examining him. His head is tilted and he seems to be in deep thought. Belatedly, he realizes that he hasn’t actually said anything to the guy yet. And, presumably, Castiel saved him from a miserable death out in the wilderness.

That doesn’t mean he can trust him but… There’s something about the guy that he just can’t put his finger on.

He clears his throat. “Dean. You can call me Dean,” he says. His reward comes in the form of a gummy smile from Castiel. God, it’s breathtaking. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever seen a smile like that. It’s so genuine and happy. It’s almost infectious.

He has to remind himself that Castiel could potentially be dangerous. Some part of him doesn’t want to believe him. He silences that part immediately. He did not come this far to get killed by his own naiveté.

Dean Winchester knows better than to trust strangers. Still, though, there’s something so trustable about Castiel. Maybe it’s those eyes. God. He mentally slaps himself. Get it together, Winchester!

Silence hangs around them for a few moments. The soft patter of rain outside is the only sound filling the air. Just then, a bolt of lightning strikes. He jumps so hard that he drops the bowl and plate onto the floor. They shatter into a million pieces.

Castiel is on his feet in a matter of seconds. He rushes to Dean’s side. “Are you okay?” he asks, not quite touching him but standing very close with his hands up. Dean nods, confusion overtaking him. He has no idea why the hell this guy is being so gentle with him.

Right now though, he doesn’t care. He can’t help the panic in his chest as a clap of thunder rumbles outside. Part of him wants to bury himself in the blankets of the bed and honestly, he can’t come up with a better idea.

So, like a child, he hurries to the bed and buries himself in the comfort of the blankets. He can feel himself trembling. Every part of him hates this. He hates how fucking weak he is. Weakness was never accepted in the compound.

He should be able to suck it up by now.

Suddenly, a weight pushes down on the bed. “Dean?” Castiel’s soft voice calls out. He puts a hand on Dean’s knee. The urge to kick it away is strong but, for some reason, he doesn’t. It’s comforting. Comfort isn’t something he gets all that often.

“Are you scared of thunder and lightning?” The question comes out so softly. Shame bubbles up inside of him. He’s not scared. He’s not. Fear is for the weak. And Dean Winchester is anything but weak.

“No,” he spits out. Castiel squeezes his knee. The presence of touch from another human being is so… Foreign. He hasn’t felt a comforting touch in a long time. In the compound, you weren’t allowed to touch anyone.

You just got touched. The overseers would make sure of that. If you did something wrong… He shudders at the thought. He saw horrible things in there. Horrible, horrible fucking things. Things that no one should ever have to see.

The compound was a nightmare. One that he hopes he’ll never have to go back to. He hates every scar that mars his skin. That’s a thought that lives in his mind, repeating itself over and over.

Dean hates reminders of the past. That’s what scars are. Plain and simple.

Castiel sighs softly. Almost too softly for him to hear. Almost. He needs to figure out what the hell this guy’s intentions are. Something about him is off-putting. But not really in a bad way. Which makes absolutely no sense to him.

“Come and sit by the fire. It’ll make you feel better, I promise. And then, perhaps, if you feel up to it, you could have something to eat.”

Dean wants to argue. He wants to tell this man that he’s not hungry and that he doesn’t need his help. But, of course, his stomach has to choose that moment to growl like the insatiable beast that it is.

Castiel’s weight disappears from the bed. Dean slowly pulls the blankets down and away from his face. His strange savior is kneeling down and picking up the pieces of shattered ceramic. Everything about the guy is weird, from his too-blue eyes to his clothes that look like they haven’t been washed in five years.

But even Dean will admit that he’s gorgeous. That hair, those eyes… That body. Yeah, no, he’s built like a Greek god. He slowly gets out of bed, his eyes still trained on Castiel whose back is to him.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, he just watches Castiel pick up piece upon piece of ceramic. He does it so tenderly that it’s almost like watching a mama bear pick up its cub. Which is a weird analogy, yes, but Dean stands behind it.

Castiel eventually stands up and turns around. Their eyes meet and wow… Just wow… Castiel’s eyes are the bluest blue that Dean thinks he’s ever seen in his life. Icebergs, the sky, and the ocean all dull in comparison to those eyes.

And there’s a perfect amount of stubble on that strong jawline. It makes him look rugged but still inexplicably gorgeous. And Dean never thought he’d be calling another man gorgeous, but here he is.

Now that he’s not afraid of Castiel - especially since he has at least three inches on him - he can marvel at the other man’s beauty. Perfectly chiseled features. Oh, god. Dean is really, really, just majorly fucked.

Castiel clears his throat. “Would you, um, like to warm up?”

All Dean can do is nod. He doesn’t trust himself with words right now, seeing as the words ‘Kiss me’ could come out more easily than he cares to admit. And, again, there’s something about Castiel which sparks something in Dean other than just sexual attraction. Oh, yeah, he’s really fucked.

Castiel leads him out into the main room. The room is very… Welcoming and warm. There’s a fireplace on the right side of the room. A couch sits in front of the fireplace. There’s a big shag rug in between the two with a coffee table on top of it.

In the left-hand corner, there’s a kitchenette with all the essentials including a microwave. There’s also a dining table off to his left. And all of it is crammed into the small main room of this cabin. It’s so peaceful.

A family could live here. The roaring fire in the fireplace, the blanket that has been thrown over the back of the couch, the picture frames on the mantel… It seems like a family should live here. But they don’t. At least, not to his knowledge.

“Feel free to sit down,” Castiel says with a gesture towards the couch. He nods and crosses over to it. He sits down and immediately sinks into the comfort of the couch. In the compound, there wasn’t comfort like this to be had.

Everything was cold and hard. The comparison is like night and day. Here, everything is warm and soft. Including Castiel himself. Knock it off with that train of thought. He’s certain that the guy who saved his life wouldn’t appreciate those thoughts.

Instead, he decides to focus on the aching pain in his body. He knows that he must look like complete and utter shit. But he hasn’t actually seen himself in a mirror in years. He wonders what he looks like now.

The beauty of the roaring flames in front of him takes his attention. He runs a hand over his face. Fingers dance over coarse stubble. A mirror would be fantastic right about now. Exhaustion pours over him.

He shakes his head. He cannot focus on exhaustion right now. That would be the wrong move. There’s no time for wrong moves. Not when all his friends are still locked up in that compound. He needs to save them. There’s no other option.

That’s his only goal.

Just then, Castiel sits down next to him, a new bowl of soup in his hands. He offers it to Dean with a small smile on his face. Dean takes the bowl and immediately, it warms his hands. He takes a small sip and warmth spreads through him.

“I do have a question for you, Dean,” Castiel says. Dean looks over to see the other man eyeing him carefully.

“Shoot.”

Castiel tilts his head slightly and oh, boy, Dean has to try really hard to not find it completely adorable. “Where did you come from?”

And there it is. The question he was dreading. He sighs, knowing that he has to answer, because if he doesn’t, Castiel might become suspicious and throw him out. Which would absolutely suck.

He clears his throat. “Um, heh, I… There’s a f-facility, north of here, I think.”

Castiel visibly pales. “Alastair’s compound?”

He blinks. “How’d you know?” A thought slips into his head, completely unbidden. What if Castiel is actually one of Alastair’s men? He edges away from Castiel, already forming a plan to run. An escape route at the front of his mind.

Castiel sighs heavily. “I’ve been trying to take down Alastair’s slave operation for years. I… Well, I work for the FBI. They sent me out here to keep an eye on the compound.”

He relaxes a little. An FBI agent, well then. He clears his throat. “My, um, my friends are still in there, Cas. I… I need to save them. I promised.”

Castiel nods, apparently not noticing or not caring about the nickname. “I understand. I promise we’ll take Alastair down, Dean.” Castiel puts a gentle hand on his leg. And for once, Dean doesn’t wince. The contact is actually welcome.

And then… God, Dean has the strangest urge. He looks directly into Cas’s eyes. Their gorgeous blue color is intoxicating. He knows that he shouldn’t be feeling like this. The two of them had just met for God’s sake! But… Wow, he is gorgeous.

Then, suddenly, he’s leaning in and pressing his lips to Cas’s, which elicits a small gasp from the other man. For a moment, the world is entirely forgotten. It’s just them. And Dean knows that all of this is ridiculous.

He should not be kissing this man who he’s just met but he can’t stop himself. Cas is just so… Gorgeous. And kind, too. That much is clear to Dean. If that isn’t enough to be attracted to a person, he doesn’t know what is.

In what could be seconds, minutes, hours, or eternities later, Cas pulls away. His eyes are determined as he stares into Dean’s. “We’ll save your friends. That’s my promise.” A bolt of lightning strikes outside.

The soft patter of rain on the roof rings out. Castiel smiles a little. “Just as soon as the storm passes.” A chuckle spills from Dean’s lips.

Just as soon as the storm passes.

---

All righty, that was the first letter done! Once again, you can find it here on AO3. Thank you so much for reading!

Tag list: @howdoistopthetrain, @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover (let me know if you want to be added/removed. Thank you!)

#destiel #destiel fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #its so gay #i love it #and Dean has big sad boi hours #it's fun guys #it's also 3000 words #we're having a good time

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fionabasil · 4 years ago

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What are the ProMind Complex advantages?

The important relationship between diabetes and the gut microbiome

The trends of metabolic disorders, including type 2 diabetes, obesity and cardiovascular disease, have grown at alarming rates in most developed countries. More than 600,000 Americans die from heart disease each year. Type 2 diabetes remains common as a precursor to cardiovascular disease and its complications.

According to the World Health Organization, "Type 2 diabetes is one of the main reasons of death worldwide by 2030". Ultimately, this disease results in heart attacks, strokes, cardiac arrhythmias, and heart failure. Similarly, obesity levels could be another reason.

However, current research is pointing to another possible reason for metabolic disorders such as obesity, type 2 diabetes, and heart disease; it all has to do with your gut microbiome.

How can type 2 diabetes be related to the gut?

People with obesity, type 2 diabetes, and heart disease have a lack of microbial diversity in their stools; The gut microbiome has a limited number of friendly bacteria, but it is overwhelmed with bad bacteria.

This has already been studied before, however, more systemic studies are still needed that offer greater information potential.

Eventually, in the not-too-distant future, you may see “gut-targeted” glucose-lowering treatments that seek to harness the great benefits of improving gut health and how this relates to diabetes. The microbiome will become an essential part of treating these and other common metabolic diseases.

What is the gut microbiome?

Bacterial cells live in the skin, nose, mouth, and digestive tract. Your GI tract contains a collection of microbes called the gut microbiome. This includes bacteria, fungi, viruses, and parasites. Due to the high amounts of acid in the stomach, these organisms generally exist only in the large intestine or colon.

Friendly gut bacteria try to keep bad bacteria in check; they constantly multiply to leave less room for the bad ones. Good bacteria play a role in the production of vitamins, neurotransmitters like serotonin, and constantly improve the immune system.

This set of microbes varies from person to person and there is no real consensus on what makes the "perfect human microbiome." The microbiome is really the study of "The genetics of bacteria." Your specific biome might work just fine for you and no one else.

So understanding the microbiome can provide answers for conditions ranging from obesity to type 2 diabetes to cardiovascular disease. It has even been associated with type 1 diabetes.

What does an adult have in his microbiome?

A healthy adult harbors between 500-1000 bacterial species or 2 kilos of microbes in the gut. We have 39 trillion bacteria in the human body, that is, we are more microbes than cells.

Additionally, the breakdown consists of approximately 23% Bacteroidetes used to process protein and carbohydrates in the gut and 64% Firmicutes which process dietary fat in the gut. There are other types and smaller amounts of germs.

People with diabetes tend to have a change in the balance of their biomes, having fewer Firmicutes and more Bacteroidetes; having germs out of balance can cause illness. When in the right balance, gut bacteria can regulate hormones, synthesize vitamin K, folic acid, and vitamin B12.

What affects the gut microbiome?

· It all starts with your DNA and a process called colonization.

· Come into the world for vaginal delivery versus cesarean section Vaginal delivery provides the baby with germs from the mother while a cesarean section provides germs from the hospital.

· Breastfeeding supports the development of the microbiome. Being formula fed changes things.

· The gut biome generally stabilizes by 2-3 years, but is always in flux.

· Antibiotics - especially when taken in early childhood, disrupt the development of the microbiome. Antibiotics kill both good and bad microbes.

· The components of the diet - the modern western diet, refined, processed and sugary foods cause a negative change in microbes. A high-fat, red meat diet leads to poor changes in gut microbes; It allows for greater intestinal permeability leading to obesity and insulin resistance.

· Non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs) affect the microbiome.

· Possible negative effects of artificial sweeteners (research is still being done on this topic).

· High levels of physical and mental stress alter the biome.

· Disturbed sleep cycles and disrupted circadian rhythms.

· Antibacterial soaps and hand sanitizers kill good and bad bacteria.

Ultimately, the health of the microbiome is based on genetics, diet, age, environment, lifestyle, and lifetime exposure to antibiotics.

What have we learned?

Several major studies have reported that "dysbiosis" or alteration of the gut microbiome can be a factor in obesity, insulin resistance, and type 2 diabetes. Stress, medications, toxic agents, genetic factors, and age also affect the gut microbiome.

It is also affected by the environment, past and current infections, gastrointestinal surgery, and certain foods. It is known that early in our lives, the development of the microbiome can affect our vulnerability and predisposition to certain diseases later in life.

Our microbiome is constantly changing as we are exposed to different factors throughout our lives. We also know that probiotics could be very helpful, but that each person will respond differently to the probiotic.

Some microbes form toxins and enter the intestine. A bad gut biome can lead to leaky gut, intestinal inflammation, decreased insulin sensitivity, and a change in metabolism.

Less variety and diversity in gut bacteria can also lead to ulcerative colitis, Crohn's disease, IBS inflammatory bowel disease, colon cancer, food allergies, arthritis, migraines, and NASH-liver disease.

Strong yeast formation and bad bacteria in the gut can lead to skin diseases, vaginal and urinary tract infections, and colds. Having a beneficial diversity of the gut biome helps maintain gut integrity.

For example, it provides protection against pathogens and improves the immune system to be able to fight disease. In addition, it helps you metabolize your medications properly and digest and absorb complex foods, obtaining all the nutrients and energy from them.

What about probiotics?

As mentioned above, probiotics appear to be beneficial to the microbiome, but not all probiotics work the same way for everyone. Different strains of probiotics treat different health problems. At this point, there is no specific recommended daily intake for probiotics.

There are systemic studies, but they still lack definitive information. The facts that we already know include: probiotics are live microorganisms that can offer health benefits; They seem to eliminate diarrhea caused by the use of antibiotics.

They are also given to improve constipation problems, in place of stool softeners and laxatives.

What can probiotics do for diabetes?

· They can modulate or change blood sugar levels and insulin levels.

· They decrease systemic inflammation: Inflammation promotes insulin resistance, which is how type 2 diabetes starts.

· They reduce the levels of C-reactive protein (CRP) that indicate inflammation.

· They decrease stress on pancreatic cells and stimulate the immune system.

· They can aid in weight loss.

· They improve heart health.

· Improve mental health: depression, poor memory and anxiety.

Also, probiotics have enough bacteria that survive food processing. Probiotics include plain yogurt with live cultures (bifidobacteria and lactobacilli) and certain aged cheeses (gouda, mozzarella, brie, feta, gruyere, cheddar, and cottage cheese).

Fermented foods are great for getting friendly bacteria. The fermentation process creates lactic acid; This helps preserve food and promotes the production of beneficial enzymes, Omega 3 fatty acids, and friendly bacteria. Simply put, the process transforms certain foods into something totally different.

Some examples of this would be converting milk to buttermilk, soybeans to miso and tempeh, cucumbers to pickles, and cabbage to sauerkraut. Other fermented foods include sourdough bread, kefir, kombucha (tea drink), and kimchi (Korean cabbage). Pickled gherkins and pickled onions are also fermented and very beneficial for the intestine.

If you decide to start taking a probiotic supplement, always consult your doctor first. Choose one with multiple strains, at least 10-30 billion CFU (colony forming units). Make sure it is verified by the USP (United States Pharmacopeia), as that will guarantee that it contains the actual ingredients listed on the label.

And the prebiotics?

Prebiotics are natural plant fibers that the intestinal tract does not digest. They are also a food source for the bacteria that live in your colon. Prebiotics are generally found in fruits and vegetables. They also help the body grow friendly bacteria in the gut and aid in the absorption of calcium.

Prebiotics improve your metabolic health. Some excellent food sources of prebiotics include bananas, garlic, onion, soybeans, peas, Jerusalem artichokes, jicama, soy sauce, chicory root (inulin), asparagus, oats, apples, flax seeds, leeks, dandelions, whole wheat foods and wheat bran.

Possible dietary aspects to take into account if you have diabetes

Many people with diabetes try to eliminate carbohydrates completely or follow an extremely low-carbohydrate diet, as they affect blood sugar. This often leads to a diet rich in animal fats. Unfortunately, this diet limits dietary fiber, which is crucial for intestinal function and the growth of friendly bacteria.

Consider eating more fiber, as it reduces your appetite by making you feel full, prevents spikes in blood sugar, and is good against insulin resistance.

High-fiber carbohydrates also help produce friendly bacteria. People with diabetes often have "dysbiosis," an overgrowth of bad bacteria.

Possible ways to improve gut health even if you don't have diabetes

· Eat a plant-based diet. Having a high fiber / low saturated fat diet helps provide intestinal diversification. Indigestible carbohydrates stimulate the growth of friendly bacteria.

· Eat nutrient-dense foods and buy organic produce whenever possible, including grass-fed meats, wild fish and eggs from free-range chickens.

· Add high-fiber foods: legumes, nuts, seeds, berries, and low-starch vegetables.

· Eat foods rich in Omega 3 such as wild salmon, ground flax seeds or walnuts to reduce inflammation.

· Get outdoors: go to the field, to a camp, to your garden; Any outdoor activity can diversify gut health.

· Stop smoking.

· Avoid refined and simple sugars. Avoid processed foods with a long shelf life.

· If you really have a food sensitivity, avoid gluten and dairy.

· Get a good night's sleep, reduce your stress levels, and get more physical activity.

· Metformin - an often prescribed diabetes pill has "therapeutic effects" on the microbial makeup.

· Polyphenols - foods rich in polyphenols: Green tea, berries, grapes, olive oil, coffee, and wine can diversify the gut microbiome.

· Wash your hands with normal soap and water, avoid hand sanitizers.

Yes, there is a connection between diabetes and your current intestinal flora. More studies are still needed targeting the gut, type 2 diabetes and its treatment.

There is still a lot to prove and more research is needed, but we know there are many strong connections.

Promind Complex is a cognitive and memory enhancer which is manufactured by the company life essential nutrition. The company is in the business since many years and has also launched plenty of other products for the benefits of individuals suffering from health and brain related issues. This supplement works on the fact of improving elements that are essential for the brain. Phospholipids are very much important for the brain function. It is also important for the degenerative brain disease. These essential components are effective in increasing the oxygen to enhance cerebral circulation. Your both short term memory and long term memory can be increased. ProMind Complex Reviews

#ProMind Complex Reviews

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

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[created by: -ily-ylm-] Have you ever said to someone, "Bite Me"? Why did you say that? I don’t think I have, actually.

Have you ever given someone the "Stink Eye"? Yeah.

Are you addicted to Tim Hortons Iced Capps? I’ve never been to a Tim Horton’s, they don’t have one here, but I hear it’s all the rage. I’d like to try it sometime.

Did you like the beach a lot more as a kid more than you do now? Why/Why not? I love it much more now. It’s my place where I actually feel like I can relax.

What's the best way someone can show you they love you? The little things, really. Grabbing me a coffee or my favorite food on the way home, binge watching a show with me, taking an interest in something I’m interested in, remembering little things I’ve told them, being supportive, being caring.

Do you like when people give you big hugs? I like them from certain people.

Have you ever told someone you fucking love them? Who? Not so aggressively, no.

Can you tell when someone who was your friend, doesn't like you anymore? Well, it’s hard to say how accurate or not I am cause I just feel like everyone gets annoyed and tired of me. I’ll notice a change in their tone or something and think they’re annoyed. I’ll wonder how long before they get bored. I’m not anything special or great. I’m not all that interesting. I’m replaceable. I also have always felt like the people I felt/feel closest to don’t feel the same way about me. Not the same level I do, at least.

How about when a guy or crush doesn't like you anymore, can you tell? It’s the same thing I just said. I felt it with Joseph and Ty. Especially Joseph. I just knew he wasn’t into it, into me, anymore. They realized I wasn’t worth it.

Exactly how can you tell? I just get the feeling. I feel their tone change or just how they act when we’re together.

Have you ever seriously rolled on the floor laughing? What from? No. I’ve laughed until I had tears running down my face, knee slapping, and my stomach hurt, but I never literally rolled around on the floor.

Do you and your best friends usually act crazy? No.

If so, do you act like that when alone, or publicly or both? --

Has there ever been a time where you just couldn't stop crying? Yes.

"Everyone has someone that keeps them looking forward to another day" To the statement above, do you agree or disagree? Sadly, no, not everyone. There’s people who feel very alone and like they don’t have anyone.

Have you ever experienced a feeling that was just too much to handle? What emotion or feeling was it? Losing loved ones was extremely hard for me. And these past few years have been really hard for me. It feels like too much.

Do you think you could win at a hot dog eating contest? Ew, absolutely not. I’m a suuuuper slow eater and I get full quickly, but that’s besides the point because I think eating contests are disgusting and horrible. I can’t imagine how sick they must feel. I’ve seen stuff like that on TV and blech it makes me gag.

Have you ever tried to hold on to someone that was impossible to hold onto? Yeah, you could say that.

What do you think of the word "Forever."? It gets thrown a lot.

What's your least favorite time of day? Why don't you like that time? For me, it’s around like 9 until about 130/2AM. I have a schedule and routine and so for me I eat dinner around 8 and then after that I just try and pass the time somehow during that block time until I start my nighttime routine. Sounds weird I know, but I like to do things a certain way. Honestly, so much of day is just waiting until the next thing.

Do actions TRULY speak louder than words? They’re pretty loud. Words can say a lot, but they can also be empty.

If bread was eliminated, would you really care all that much? I’d sure miss sourdough bread.

What if all dairy products were too, then would you care? I’d be really upset about cheese. I love cheese. I always add shredded cheese to my ramen and it’s SO good.

Were you ever a fan of Hilary Duff? Has her music gotten better or worse? Yeah, I liked her and her music.

Do you like your lips? Do you enjoy kissing? My lips are small and I bite/pick at them way too much. I do enjoy kissing. It’s been a longggg time since I’ve kissed anyone, though.

Do you like any music from the American Idols? Which ones? I like a lot of Kelly Clarkson’s music. I liked Daughtry, Adam Lambert, and David Archuleta as well.

Are you someone who just can't get enough of that sugar crisp? Sugar crisp?

Do you and your best friend talk to each other on the toilet? ...No. Eww, that reminds me of that scene from Harold and Kumar with the two girls who play what they call, “battle shits”, which is a game they play while on the toilet. So gross, lol.

Are frosted flakes GRRRRREAT? Why or why not? I think they’re pretty yummy.

Are you cuckoo for coco puffs? Coco Puffs are good, too.

Have you ever loved a total ignorant egoistic jerk? Do you still love him or have you stopped loving him? No, can’t say that I have.

Do you agree that whatever's' meant to be will work out perfectly? I wouldn’t say perfectly, no, but I do believe whatever is meant to be will happen. The problem is it’s not always going to be what you hope for.

Are you SURE money can't buy happiness? It can buy happiness in some ways. You can do things that would make you happy and get things that would bring joy, but it’s fleeting. You’ll feel good in the moment. There’s just some things it simply can’t buy or fix.

Have you ever just thought, "Whatever, screw the calories" ? I don’t care about calories, so.

If so, what did you say that about, like what food? That’s not a concern for me when I eat to be honest.

Could your parents handle you and your best friends as sisters? My best friend is my mom, so...

Instead of dating, would you rather just make out and call it a day? Why? No. I’m almost 32 years old, I’m not looking for a fling.

Is there someone that makes you feel out of your element? Hmm. No one in my life currently.

What is truly, seriously sexy? Define or describe it: Alexander Skarsgard, ha.

Are you what they call a "love addict"? Explain. No.

On a scale of 1-10, how much do you like personal affection? Uh, I mean I like feeling loved and cared for? It’s a good feeling. Kind gestures are sweet. I’m not big on the physical affection, like I’m not a hugger by nature. I show it in other ways.

Have you ever REALLY wanted someone to just shut up? Why was that? Ha, yes. Sometimes it’s because they’re just talking about something ridiculous. Sometimes they’re just talking too much. Sometimes they’re too loud. Sometimes they’re just annoying. Sometimes I get overwhelmed and feel drained talking to certain people.

Is there someone that makes you fall in love all over again every time? No.

Do you believe TRUE beauty is found in the heart? Do you swear by it? I believe so. You can be physically gorgeous, but if you’re personality is shit and you’re a crappy person then that makes you ugly in my opinion. That more so than how a person looks physically.

Has your sarcasm ever hurt someone’s feelings? What did you say? It’s possible.

Do you like when people challenge you? If so, in what? Uhhh. I don’t know. That could make me feel more stressed and overwhelmed and pressured. I don’t want to feel pushed. I want to be supported and encouraged, but challenged? Ehhh.

Do you like to be often reminded that you are loved? I never doubt or feel like my family doesn’t love me.

Do you like when people admit your right when you are? What if they don't? I’m not someone who has to be right or have it be acknowledged by others.

"There's nothing a girl wants more than something she can't have" To the statement above, do you agree? Have you ever been in that situation? I think that’s a feeling many people feel, not just specifically girls. And it’s not a general statement, either. Some people are very content with what they have. I have felt that way at times, sure, but not always.

Could you even live without your best friend in your life? I don’t want to think about that.

Personally for you, is falling for someone way beyond your control? Yes.

Do you agree life screws us all over at least one time in life? Yes.

Explain a time where you got TOTALLY screwed over: The accident that made me a paraplegic is up there on the list. I was 7 months old when I was the victim of random gun violence. It changed my life forever.

Do your friends completely understand your past and accept it?

Do they also accept and believe in your future?

Spell out the letters I-H-O-P, then say ness. Do you get it? I didn’t have to say it out loud to get it.

Do you think ,dream and worry about love? It’s not at the forefront of my thoughts, dreams, and worries to be honest. I’m not seeking that at this time. I’m focused on and wrapped up in other things.

How about do you want love, or looking for it? ^^^

Do you randomly eat when your bored? What do you eat usually? I don’t eat out of boredom anymore. I used to be that way, though. Back when I was a foodie and had a normal appetite and was without the food restrictions I have now.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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easyfoodnetwork · 5 years ago

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Eater Staffers on the Kitchen Tools They Can’t Live Without

Shutterstock

These pots and pans, appliances, and utensils have made cooking in quarantine a little bit easier

As the weeks of social distancing and recommendations to stay home as much as possible stretch on, cooking has taken on both more urgency and more burden. Luckily, there are products that, whether by intention or not, can ease the load, making spending so much time cooking so much easier.

Below, a roundup of the tools and products that have made Eater editors’ kitchen lives better. And if you’re looking for more on what to cook with said tools, check out our guide for folks who literally never cook as well as our pantry-cooking guide.

Pots and Pans

Whirlpool nonstick griddle

“Maybe the best part of a recent move has been playing with the nonstick griddle that straddles two burners atop my new stove. I’ve used it to char tomatoes, peppers, and garlic cloves for salsa, revive leftover steak, toast slices of sourdough, and inflate Indian chapati to accompany this cilantro chutney chicken recipe. A quick wipe down keeps it clean, so that accounts for one less dish to wash while the sink piles up.” — Gabriel Hiatt, Eater DC editor

Cook N Home nonstick wok

“I never knew that I could fall in love with my wok, but here I am. This wok brings me so much joy when I’m cooking. It’s sturdy so it can hold a lot of stuff; it’s big enough to cook a family-sized portion. The pan’s marbling coat makes sure that nothing gets stuck on the bottom, from braising short ribs to frying eggs. I use this pan for everything from stews to fried rice; it’s incredibly versatile! I know it’s overwhelming to look through different wok options, but for home cooks who want to cook many different dishes without having to clean up any residuals, this is the one. The price is also extremely affordable, so what’s not to love?” — James Park, social media manager

Great Jones sheet pan

“This is the first ‘fancy’ sheet pan I’ve ever had, generally preferring basics from restaurant supply stores or else the cheapest available from retailers like Williams-Sonoma. Intrigued by the company’s promise that it doesn’t warp, I ordered one last year and have not been disappointed. Since shelter-in-place started, though, I’ve found myself reaching for it over my other sheet pans, and I’m 99 percent sure it’s because the vibrant color stands out among my pans and makes cooking feel that much more lively. I’ve used it to make cookies, nachos, and all sorts of roasted vegetables, but also as a Bananagrams board and a photo backdrop.” — Hillary Dixler Canavan, restaurant editor

Appliances

Panasonic toaster oven

“I grew up in a toaster oven family — even now, everyone in my immediate family has the same one — but even I, a super fan, did not fully appreciate the appliance until I moved in late March, just as the COVID-19 outbreak hit NYC, and found myself living in an apartment with no gas for about a week and a half. As a result, I spent a lot of time with my toaster oven, sometimes cooking three square meals a day in it. It’s fast and versatile, good for so many things: roasting vegetables, baking brownies and small cakes, and, of course, just toasting bread or bagels or nuts and spices.” — Sonia Chopra, director of editorial growth

Ninja Express Chop

“I never really thought I needed a food processor — big or small, really — until I got the Ninja Express Chop. I had somehow managed to avoid all recipes that required one, since it seemed so bulky to move and a pain to clean. Once I got the Ninja Express Chop, all that changed. It’s small and easy to fit in the cabinet; and it easily comes apart into four simple pieces, all of which fit in my sink or dishwasher, so I don’t mind cleaning it, even when it’s coated with oil from herby salad dressings or flecks of basil from my homemade pesto — all things I never would have made until I got it.” — Ellie Krupnick, managing editor

OXO tea kettle

“Weirdly enough, I have been relying heavily on a tea kettle. I’ve been using it every single day at various times to boil water. I start with it in the morning to make oatmeal for breakfast and continue throughout the day to make tea and repurpose hot tea for iced to switch it up. I am trying to stay as hydrated as possible while I am home.” — Stephen Pelletteri, executive producer

Anova sous vide machine

“We’ve been using the Anova to cook large portions of pork shoulder that we then eat for days and days in tacos, ramen, and more. It’s a multi-day process including a 24-hour sous vide, 24 hours in the fridge, and then oven-roasting before pulling — lots of time, but mostly hands-off. (Try J. Kenji López-Alt’s recipe to start, and then experiment with your own variations. We’ve enjoyed adding a molasses glaze before it goes in the oven.) Hint: Reserve the cooked pork juices after the sous vide process to use with ramen — boil with the water in a one-to-one ratio for the best fancied up packaged ramen you’ve had.” — Rachel Leah Blumenthal, Eater Boston editor

Hamilton Beach panini press

“My cheap-ass panini maker is so much more than a device on which to make grilled cheese, even though that’s its most common use. It’s also a lovely way to make toast (that’s a grilled cheese sans cheese) or just warm up bread enough to apply butter. Going further off-label, I’ve been using it to cook up frozen hash brown patties (they’re done in a flash with a nice crispy crust, way better than the 20 minutes in the oven version) and grill baby asparagus (while full-sized asparagus is too girthy to cook completely, the babies do just fine). Is this why people bought George Foreman grills back in the day?” — Eve Batey, Eater San Francisco senior editor

Utensils

Sur La Table fish spatula

“I’m an evangelist for this tool even under normal circumstances, and have gifted it more times than I can count. One of its purposes is obvious from its name: it’s great for flipping fish without having it break apart or damaging the skin. But I find myself using it daily, whether it’s to remove my meatloaf from its loaf pan or lift up a focaccia to see if it’s browning underneath.” — Missy Frederick, cities director

McoMce plastic bench scraper

I’ve gotten really, really tired of cleaning my kitchen during shelter-in-place, but this plastic bench scraper is a life-saver. It’s good for pushing dough out of bowls or scraping stubborn bits out of pots and pans, but I mostly use it to clean my kitchen sink. It makes quick work of collecting food scraps without having to pile them all into my hand (yuck). Once I’m done cleaning, I rinse it with a bit of soap, so that it’s ready to cut cinnamon rolls, collect herbs on my cutting board, and clean the sink — again.” — Elazar Sontag, staff writer

Storage

Comfy Package plastic kitchen containers

“During this time where I’ve been cooking a lot and ordering a lot of food, plastic food storage containers have been my saviors. It’s a habit I picked up from my dad, who works at a New York City market. The multiple sizes, from the slim eight-ounce cups to the large 32-ounce containers, makes it easy to store anything, from leftover cream cheese to portioned-out frozen lentil soup. The sizes also make it easier to downsize leftovers in the fridge, thus clearing up space for more food.” — Nadia Chaudhury, Eater Austin editor

Ball glass jars

“Last summer we had a crazy infestation of pantry moths, so on the advice of our exterminator I started saving all of my glass jars to store flours and cereals and other moth-attracting ingredients in. Now that my pantry is more valuable than ever, I’m using these jars to keep all of my bulk staples like beans, grains, and pastas organized and easily visible. I use old peanut butter jars for the most part (my kids go through a jar a week), but I’d actually advise going a little bigger if you’re buying them new, with some wide-mouth half-gallon Ball jars or invest in some fancy straight-sided ones like these wood-topped ones from Target.” — Lesley Suter, travel editor

Other Stuff

Final Touch rocks glass with ice ball

“I wanted to up my Manhattan game during the coronavirus pandemic, and the only new tool I bought was this rocks glass that includes a silicone mold to make a round ice cube. The rocks glass has a glass cylinder at the bottom so the round ice cube will roll around the bottom of the glass. It feels sophisticated to drink out of this glass, almost like I’m at a restaurant instead of at home.” — Susan Stapleton, Eater Vegas editor

Aerogarden countertop garden

“Two words: Breakfast salad. Yep, That’s been a thing in my life anytime I have my AeroGarden up and running and this quarantine called for it. Fresh herbs and lettuce in just a few weeks. I even threw some wild flowers in this time for some much needed cheer. Take that shallots-in-a-jar.” — Maureen Giannone Fitzgerald, production executive

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2zxaSRX https://ift.tt/3euFvpS

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These pots and pans, appliances, and utensils have made cooking in quarantine a little bit easier

Pots and Pans

Whirlpool nonstick griddle

Cook N Home nonstick wok

Great Jones sheet pan

Appliances

Panasonic toaster oven

Ninja Express Chop

OXO tea kettle

Anova sous vide machine

Hamilton Beach panini press

Utensils

Sur La Table fish spatula

McoMce plastic bench scraper

Storage

Comfy Package plastic kitchen containers

Ball glass jars

Other Stuff

Final Touch rocks glass with ice ball

Aerogarden countertop garden

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2zxaSRX via Blogger https://ift.tt/2Ajcw9F

#Blogger #cooking #Eater #food #recipes

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emerygoat26-blog · 5 years ago

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7 Truths About the FODMAP Diet Plan (I Wish I'd Known 4 Years Ago!)

Like many of you, when I first heard about the FODMAP diet plan as a way to change my own IBS symptoms, I was overwhelmed. Not just with all the information out there, although that definitely was the case. Sometimes, it was overwhelming how much I didn’t know.

Four years ago, there was very little information to go on, no explanation of the nuances. Suddenly having to change my diet overnight felt very difficult and complex, with no guidance on how to make it work in a practical sense.

There's more info out there now, but I think people can still relate to what I experienced. Also, a lot of the current information is still conflicting or out-dated.

I had to forge my own path. And a huge part of why I do what I do is that I believe that you shouldn’t have to do that to change your life for the better!

(Which is why I started Calm Belly Kitchen!)

Looking back on it, there’s so much I wish I’d known before I started. So many tips and tricks and even affirmations that would’ve made this whole thing a lot smoother—and a lot less emotional.

I've also asked members of the community what they wish someone had told them when they first started out with the FODMAP diet plan. Many of the answers lined up with my experience!

So today, I'm going to share the things that I wish I knew when I first started. Hopefully, you’ll find this useful, no matter where you are in your journey.

#1 Onion and garlic are not absolutely essential for flavor

It seems like such a minor thing now, but this was definitely my number one source of anxiety and fear and stress when I started to grasp what the FODMAP diet really entailed. All those recipes I relied on would have to be modified or thrown out—and at first, I had no idea how to even begin.

(This is also one of the biggest struggles that I hear from folks who send me emails, easily in the top three questions that I receive!)

For years, I made my living as a recipe developer. I love food, and own an embarrassing amount of cookbooks! And I can tell you that giving up onion and garlic is not the end of the world.

Sure, it’s an adjustment, but it’s not impossible. While I, personally, can tolerate a bit of onion, I don’t do great with garlic, and I don’t really keep either of them in the house. It’s worth it, to me, to see the success of following the FODMAP diet plan in my own symptoms.

In a way, whether it’s onion, garlic, or any other food, it really won’t be as bad as you think, giving it up temporarily or even for longer periods of time. I promise.

You can check out this ultimate guide for other ways to flavor food that won’t trigger your IBS!

#2 A major diet change is hard, and it will take you time to get in your groove

Okay, I know I just said that giving up some foods isn’t the end of the world. And it’s not! But any major lifestyle change means changing all of your patterns—even ones you might not be aware you have. It will take time. It doesn’t happen overnight.

Doctors love to give you a little two- or three-page handout that makes it seem super easy to just completely overhaul your diet overnight, but the truth is, not many people can just turn completely change the way that they cook, shop, and eat in one day.

You have to be patient with yourself. You have to give yourself time (and grace!) as you begin the process.

Even though I had cooking skills and already was a healthy eater, I couldn't turn it around overnight. I needed time to get comfortable with the changes in my eating habits.

Whatever you do, don't let beginner overwhelm hold you back from starting.

Just know that it's going to take time to get comfortable, and it's okay to be to be stressed about it when you start. If you mess up, that's okay! Don't beat yourself up—keep going.

#3 Eating in a social setting is less of a big deal than you might think

A lot of people ask me this one, especially as they start to really think about how often we all eat in social settings—restaurants, work lunches, family meals.

When you can control the food, things tend to work fine. But when other people are cooking? That can be a little stressful.

I get it.

If you’re worried about how the changes in your diet will affect eating out at restaurants—whether it’s asking for order changes or worrying about being judged for what you put in your face—that’s normal.

No matter how much we worry that other people are judging us, people are always more concerned about what they are doing, than what other people are thinking. It’s just our nature! We’re all a little self-centered like that.

And if someone does give you grief or side-eye for swapping your asparagus for a side salad? Then they really need to find a hobby.

What you eat isn’t a judgement, or critique, of anyone else’s eating. Refusing a food, making healthier choices, these are all worth it, to make your body feel better.

Prefer to watch? Check out the video below...

#4 You really do need to listen to your body

If you’ve spent any time on this site, then I know you’ve heard this one before. But it’s absolutely true. Listen to what your body is saying—not just with the food, but with all of it.

The great thing about making this kind of diet change is that you have this really excellent opportunity to learn about all the other factors that affect your digestion, besides just the FODMAPs. When you take those away, you start to listen to the other little messages your body is sending.

For example, stress is a big deal for me. It messes with my stomach. Now I can hear that message more clearly, and adjust my lifestyle accordingly.

Another thing I learned was that adjusting the overall volume of food I was eating helped with my symptoms. I was just giving it too much to do! Eating smaller meals, letting them digest well, allowed my body to tell me, hey, you’ll feel less bloated and heavy and gross.

For many of my clients, I often hear that their period sends them a huge message, thanks to fluctuating hormones! As you can see, all of these non-food factors can affect your gut.

Listen to them.

Every body is different. What’s yours telling you?

#5 Sourdough bread is your best friend

For those of you who love bread, this one is really exciting.

(What? Bread is exciting! Especially bread that’s safe and delicious!)

This wasn’t even established when I was first beginning my FODMAP diet journey, but within the last two years, Monash has tested sourdough bread and found that, because of the slow fermentation process, sourdough bread has an extremely low FODMAP content.

The only catch is that it MUST be made using a traditional slow rise process.

Luckily, it’s easy to tell if sourdough is indeed slow rise: Check the ingredients. If the sourdough bread contains yeast or enzymes, then it was not made with the slow rise method.

Traditional slow-rise sourdough requires just three main ingredients: flour, water, and salt. Instead of yeast, a “starter” causes the bread to rise. This happens when natural bacteria occurring in the air slowly ferments by consuming the FODMAPs and other carbohydrates in the flour. This produces gas, which creates the rise in the bread.

Great news if you’ve been missing bread!

#6 You really do need to reintroduce FODMAPs by category

Like most of us, I spent a long time on the elimination phase of the FODMAP diet. Because I was feeling better, and seeing a reduction in my own symptoms, it felt really comfortable just to stay in that highly restricted zone.

And yet it’s really important to test foods and reintroduce them—not just because it’s healthier to have more variety in your diet, but also because that’s the only way you’re going to know your personal FODMAP tolerance levels.

One thing I learned when I did finally reintroduce FODMAPs is that I have a pretty high tolerance for wheat. I can still eat my homemade pizza and croissants, and for me, that’s amazing.

On the other hand, I used to love making sweet potato fries, but now I can only have a few bites. A bigger serving of sweet potato makes my stomach feel heavy and creates unpleasant symptoms the next day. And there’s no way I would’ve known that without reintroducing FODMAP categories one by one.

You might be taking a risk with a certain food during this phase, but the knowledge you will gain will be priceless.

#7 You won’t always feel deprived!

When we talk about diet changes, there is always this lingering worry, this fear of deprivation.

And it makes sense: We’re taking away a lot of common foods that are in favorite dishes, at home and out in the world. It’s a huge adjustment, looking at food in this new way.

Yes, it will absolutely feel like an adjustment. You’re definitely going to hate taking away some foods—but eventually, the feelings of being so healthy and feeling so much better and feeling empowered will begin to outweigh the difficulties.

You may still experience IBS symptoms. That’s totally normal. But overall, you will feel so much better, because you’ll finally have control over how your body feels.

And those are my top seven items I wish I’d known before starting the FODMAP diet!

They’re definitely truths for me, and ones I hear from my clients as well. I hope that they can empower you to begin your FODMAP journey.

If you're in that place of overwhelm...

...and just want a clear guide on what to eat, what to do, and what NOT to do, check out our D.I.Y. program to help you do the FODMAP elimination phase >>> Click to learn about Calm Belly Quickstart...

...because you deserve to have a calm belly too!

Source: https://calmbellykitchen.com/blog/7-truths-about-the-fodmap-diet

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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keyifehli · 5 years ago

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Bernardazzi - A Fine Experience in Odessa

During our trip to Odessa, we had the opportunity to dine at Bernardazzi, which claims to be the best restaurant in the city.

The restaurant in the Philharmonic Building, which offers a unique atmosphere, should be visited just to have a drink in the yard of the building.

Especially if you are lucky enough to listen to the live piano like we were, it is perfect.

Let's first say what needs to be said at last. The restaurant is a solid 7/10. It's definitely not 6/10, but it's not good enough to be 8/10. We would like to visit here, where we can see the naive effort, ten years later, when it is truly an “adult”. Lack of attention to certain details makes it impossible to better note this restaurant. Or, let's put it this way, if this is your first experience in this class of restaurants, you'll definitely like it; however, if you are a bit experienced, the elements that disrupt the harmony of the experience immediately attract attention.

We should also add that, the relatively luxurious space does not show flamboyant manners, like our overall experience of Odessa, and unlike our high-end restaurant experience in Russia. It is a business that really understands the standard and tries to do its job well.

When we settled on our table in the courtyard where we had previously booked by e-mail, we started our experience with a very positive energy with the wedding dinner on the side table and with the pianist who started to play the piano that we sat right behind.

The menu, which, they claim, consists of seasonal dishes, came. It is only a double-sided sheet including desserts and some of it is breakfast. The narrow food menu is interesting, because you are sure that they offer only what they think they do well. However, an extensive wine list is hundred-odd pages and they are proud of it (no wine from Turkey, by the way).

At the beginning, when we saw on the menu “sourdough bread, with two kinds of butter” when we understood that there wouldn’t be any amuse bouche coming.

We ordered the bread and also chicken liver pate.

We intended to order a cheese plate to accompany the wine; but when we learn that all of the cheeses are imported from France and the Netherlands, we gave up. It is strange that there is no local cheese in the restaurant which claims to use local products. Don't you have at least local brands that produce foreign cheeses?

Instead of cheese plate, we added beef tartar to the starters. We ordered duck breast salad and closed the first chapter.

As main course, we ordered the Beef Stroganoff “2.0” which they claim they have re-interpreted the original recipe and the beef fillet.

When our waiter told that he could direct the sommelier for the wine selection, we started waiting for him. In the meantime, we turn to the Ukrainian or Moldovan wines in the menu. Ukrainian wines were very limited and we were a bit upset for that.

The sommelier was trying to guide us with a sincere attention. If he introduced himself with his name, his interest would have been sincerer. We have narrowed the list on election for him. Red from Ukraine, Moldova or Georgia. He proposed a Ukrainian and a Moldovan, with moderate prices.

The proposed Moldovan wine is mainly from Cabernet Sauvignon. We were indecisive between Maluri de Prut, made from two Moldovan local grapes and Grande Reserve Cabernet-Merlot of the famous Ukrainian brand Shabo. Then we were convinced when he told “if you will eat Ukrainian food, why not drink Ukrainian wine” and we chose Grande Reserve Cabernet-Merlot (65% Cabernet Sauvignon - 35% Merlot) from the region of Odesskiy. According to our sommelier, we chose a well-bodied, strong but well-balanced wine.

During the whole process, there is no single question from the sommelier about what we were going to eat. Since the menu included options from fish to duck, it would have been appropriate for him to ask for our choice of dishes. Since we saw him coming directly from another table and without talking to our waiter, he was unlikely to know what we had chosen. Since he was enthusiastic, interested and dynamic, we didn’t dwell on it. We would love to see him again when he is more experienced. At present, he is courageous; but just like the restaurant, a bit naive.

Our wine finally came to the table. After showing the bottle quickly, sommelier opened the bottle with the harmonious hand gestures brought by the habit and poured it into the aesthetic carafe. He leaved cork on the table in a small bowl, and proceeded with the tasting. Upon our approval, he served the wine and collected the service table and left.

It was clear for the sommelier that we were travellers and drinking that wine for the first time. During the service, we saw the bottle for only 3 seconds. Apart from the served liquid, we could not learn what the bottle tells us; we could not relate to our wine and its producer. It's almost like the bottle snatched from us. This was a really big shortcoming in our view. It would have been better for us if they had paid attention to this detail which would have allowed us to bond more with what we drink.

And the wine... The cork was relatively saturated and had veins of wine from its side, though they did not reach the top. This situation aroused suspicion on our side about the storage conditions of the wine. When we first “met” with the wine, we got excited since we got that characteristic smell that you will find in a good French Cabernet-Merlot, but with the first sip, the excitement left its place to unease. The wine, which we hoped would find itself as we continued our evening, was not harmonious with any of the plates served; it was really dominant. It had a rudeness that crushes everything on the palate. This overwhelming character, however, got a little lighter towards the first hour of our meal, but did not match good either with our main courses. In summary, it did not offer us a pleasant experience. It is quite easily understood from the first effect on the nose and on the palate what this wine is trying to be; but what comes next also makes it clear why it can't be “that”.

Now the starters and the salad...

Butters that came with the bread, which were not made clear in the menu, are “salmon” and “classic”. The bread was of good quality; the classic butter was really tasty; the butter with salmon was quite original. A start that makes us happy. It surprised our palate. However, one should admit that salmon butter can be a risk for the restaurant. It is completely irrelevant with our choices, since we did not order any sea foods and this inconsistency might disturb some guests. We wish they had written the types of butters on the menu.

The beef tartar was great with a slightly thick cut of meats, grated mushrooms, deeply tasted foie gras and fried potato mousse. Texture-wise the mushroom accompanied the raw beef really well and their raw tastes were nicely balanced with thickness of the mousse and the foie gras. We should note that the mushrooms were not written on the menu.

The pate was served with grated chocolate, hazelnuts and salted caramel butter. Exquisite. A feast on the palate! Hazelnut, by the way, was a surprise since it was not mentioned on the menu. Salted caramel butter was lightly sweet, exactly as it should be. A layer of butter on toasted bread, a layer of pate and chocolate on top of hazelnuts, you pass yourself. Each piece was beautiful by itself. Together, the taste was in an incredible balance of fattiness, light saltiness and the sweetness of salted caramel and chocolate, while the texture was crunchy with hazelnuts and bread, and the softness of others. We were impressed.

The duck breast salad came with grapes, sweet pears (red ones), pistachios, ponzu and truffle sauce. When the greasy duck meat meets the aroma of the truffle and the sweetness of the pear and grape, again you have a festivity on the palate. There was also a multi-layered texture. Lightly roasted pistachios, soft meat and pears, slightly crispy greens and grapes exploding in the mouth. We were happy in all aspects.

In a nutshell, for the first course, they have chosen a simple formula and applied it to each plate: bring together contrasting but balanced tastes and textures. It's that simple. They did it pretty well too. Kudos.

After this exuberant start, we knew that we would not be so impressed with the main courses, given the effect that we were getting full and from our previous experiences of this class of restaurant. And indeed, we weren’t.

But the environment had an effect on this as well.

First of all, they brought new cutlery before we finished our first course. This is a big “NO”! It should not have been done. If one eats somewhere in this type of restaurants, the guest adjusts the pace; waiter follows the progress, and orders the main course. If he/she hesitates, he/she kindly asks if the guests are ready for the main course. They shouldn't have made us rush. They shouldn’t have dictated the pace of the meal. Very unfortunate.

Delicate lighting of the yard did not also help; because when the plates came in, we could not see exactly what we were eating. On top of that, plates contained “things” not mentioned in the menu.

Obviously, we were not expecting recipes on the menu, but at least write down what you're bringing. Guests might be allergic to materials that you see harmless. Or it is simply possible that they might not like the ingredients that you are missing on the menu.

And a small treat to clear the palate between the first course and the main course would have made it better to taste the main courses.

Anyway, let's get back to dinner.

Stroganoff 2.0 is made of veal tongue. Our waiter warned us about this when ordering, an interpretation which is criticized on the internet; however, we knew that since we did our research before coming. The tongue was served with fried potato mousse with truffle, roasted pine nuts and thin black potatoes. The “black things” on the dish, not mentioned on the menu, were “disclosed” to us by our waiter and we had to ask him again after the first rushed explanation and since we could not understand what it was from its taste and we couldn’t see what it was.

The dish was successful, they cooked the veal tongue really well as it softly fell apart in the mouth without any afford and the characteristic taste of the tongue was somewhat transformed to something new with still holding on to its original taste. Just because of the meat’s texture and taste, one should congratulate the chef. Harmony was also nice with pine nuts and mousse. The crunch "black things" also adds a nice texture to the plate.

The beef filet was ordered medium-rare. It was served with potato puree with wasabi, demi-glace sauce with mushrooms and marinated cucumber. Puree with wasabi was quite original, marinated cucumbers taste resembles to Far Eastern pickles, so it brought us the Far East breeze. In the demi-glace sauce, the mushrooms, once again, were not mentioned on the menu… The meat was rare. It's really hard to cook pieces this size. And they did not manage to do it properly as well. Though, the one who ordered this plate normally eats meat rare, so was not upset by the outcome, ultimately it was a mistake on the restaurants side. Puree, cucumber and meat complement each other in the palate and a dynamic dish in texture. Good enough.

Our waiter warned us that the kitchen was closing and we proceeded to dessert. We ordered chocolate baby fondant, one of the two desserts our waiter told us that was a favourite of the customers (the other one was toffee ice cream), served with salted caramel ice cream, peanuts and buckwheat popcorn.

We also ordered a sherry to accompany the dessert, Aranda Cream.

Have you ever had good salted caramel and specially ice cream of it? If you had, you know how unforgettable it is. The astonishment of that light saltiness on the palate, and then the caramel tickling your tongue… When we heard this was everyone’s favourite, we got really excited for the dessert. And the biggest disappointment of our evening was the dessert. Rather than a dessert, we we had a salty dish. The buckwheat on the plate had a salty flavour, the ice cream was not a bit sweet, but plain salty, and was a huge disappointment, even though they initially made salty caramel butter so well. As fondant was a “baby”, it was quite small, and like a baby, it remained silent to this massacre on the palate and could not intervene at all. In order for this dessert to be a dessert, either fondant should be bigger or ice cream should be sweetened and buckwheat should be reduced. When we took big pieces from fondant and accompanied it with a little ice cream and buckwheat, we understood a little bit what the chef was actually going for.

If they receive constructive criticism and improve themselves by listening to them, this restaurant has a really good potential. We hope that they will be able to show more attention to details like the restaurants in the league they try to be, both plate and service wise.

So, how much is this experience? 2574 hryvnia for two people, around 90€. Quite affordable for this standard. Almost a bargain.

If you ever visit Odessa, make sure to make a reservation to this restaurant. You will definitely taste something that you will never forget.

-Cemile&Onur-

Berdardazzi

Bunina Street, 15 (Building: “Philharmonic”), Odessa

Tel.: +380 (67) 000 25 11

http://bernardazzi.com/en/

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