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the-coconut-asado · 5 years ago

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Goodbye Veganuary, Hello Prague

Veganuary came and went and I can’t say I mourned its passing. And for those trying to make Febru-dairy a Thing, leave it out and stop crying over spilt milk.

For someone who auto-smells barbecue whenever a cow walks past and has to start the day with two eggs, I do actually love eating plant-based dishes provided they taste delicious. And since watching Game Changers on Netflix, Adam and I have been trying to eat less meat and dairy during the week so we can improve our fitness. I’m not so fussed about the phallus-lengthening properties of celeriac, but each to their own. If you are bewildered by this reference, just watch the programme.

But I must admit, a surfeit of vegetables and a scarcity of sunlight in January did make me think alot about my trip to Prague last summer, with its abundance of sunshine and array of macho meat dishes. I went with my daughter Lara and best friend Sue, bucking the trend of the wave of stag weekends that spill over into the city when Amsterdam fills up. That said, we saw but a handful of stag-celebrants on segways sporting a mix of bravado and embarrassment, and that was about it.

First thing to say about this extraordinarily pretty city - and this may be a nod to its Men Behaving Badly heritage - is that it ain’t PC. A Picture-Post ‘buxom wench’, embonpoint spilling out of her dirndl top, cheers to you from a poster with two flagons in each fist as you walk through the arrivals lounge; two hours later and the first bar we went into was adorned with discarded bras, mounted on the wall in a possible imagined tribute to Carry on Camping.

More agreeably, the next thing to note is that everything in Prague comes ‘with a twist’. You may be happily surprised by the tourist-to-cocktail-bar ratio in the city. You will be even more happily surprised by the quality of cocktails on offer, just don’t expect business as usual. My Negroni came with a ‘twist’ of passion fruit at Bon Vivants, a cosy little bar with an attentive waiter who made you realise where Borat got the inspiration for his accent; the Winter is Coming cocktail in the legendary Hemingway Bar came in a flagon straight off the Games of Thrones ‘set’.

Perhaps the biggest twist of all is that Prague boasts a vineyard in the middle of the city. St Wenceslas Vineyard (Svatováclavská vinice) sits at the foot of Prague Castle, with its restaurant perched on a hillside at a slightly challenging gradient, a vine arboretum sheltering us from the scorching early September sun.

Wines - delicious. Service - offhand verging on the affronted. But as Flambeed Chorizo was featured on the menu, we took the dodgy service in our stride. Properly torched and served with french fries (of course) it was a meaty treat, and went well with the Estate’s highly alcoholic white varietal.

Lara had managed to seek out some intriguing things for us to do and places for us to eat. Pork Knee featured on the menu at Mlejnice, a classy little bistro on the verge of town - succulent as only a fall-of-the-bone, slow cooked cut can be. And if you craved something sweet, a tiny courtyard tucked off the main tourist trail to St Vitus’ Cathedral offered herbal teas and a toothsome slab of carrot cake, meltingly moist and jam-packed with nuts, raisins and spices in a ‘don’t even mention a light sponge’ kind of a way.

Did I say that the biggest twist of the trip was the St Wenceslas Vineyard? Well, I lied. Lara’s top find was, wait for it…. the Beer Spa. Literally a day spa where you sit in a barrel of beer while swigging pilsner straight from the tap, to the strains of a Czech cover of “Better Love Next Time Baby.” Take a look at their website and you are whip-lashed back into a 1970’s soft porn flick, the men all droopy moustaches and bright grins, the women looking like they are having the most fun you can have in a bath of Budvar while waiting for the ‘plumber’.

Here’s how it works: you book a room for two, three or four for an hour. You sit, alone or in pairs, in a barrel filled with warm beer and beer minerals. Two beer taps are only an arm’s reach away, together with two chilled pint glasses. And there you sit for 30 minutes, drinking and giggling. When the timer goes off (classy touch), you disembark, wrap yourself in a towel and recline on a bed of straw for another 30 mins (you’re barking with laughter by now), before dressing and departing. You’ve no reason to feel shamefaced, but somehow you do, and your punishment is that Dr Hook earworm for the rest of the evening. But the beer was damn good and our mood was upbeat.

We stepped out into an early evening bathed in sunlight and, with skin pleasantly smoothed by all those minerals, we headed for a kerb-side Italian restaurant in one of the achingly lovely cobble-stoned squares that make up the Old Town. This Italian trattoria specialised in gluten-free everything, and their bread basket could almost persuade me to leave gluten alone for the rest of my days. Or at least until I next walk past the sourdough counter at Ole and Steen.

If meat and cocktails with a cakey pudding (or puddingly cake) are your thing, then try out my alternative Sex-in-the-city menu. An otherwise Hungarian Beef Gulyas with a now-legendary Prague twist: parsley dumplings and a helping of flavour-bomb smoked paprika ; mop up the juices with a spicy if gluten-full Turmeric and Shallot Soda Bread. Then let that all settle before you cut yourself a slice of a homage to the carrot cake - this time with Butternut Squash and Ginger.

And flame yourself a chorizo while you’re at it.

Beef Gulyas and Dumplings

This is the perfect Saturday night, curl-up- in-front-of-a-good-movie dinner. It cooks in a couple of hours, tastes even better the next day and freezes superbly. Serves 4-6

Ingredients

1 kilo stewing beef, cubed

2 tbsp. Plain flour

2 tbsp. Olive oil

2 tbsp. butter

2 red onions, sliced

2 garlic cloves, chopped finely

1 tbsp. Sweet paprika dn 1 tbsp. Smoked paprika

Handful of fresh lemon thyme leaves, stripped from their stalks

2 tbsp. Tomato paste

½ litre red wine or beer

½ litre beef stock

1 tsp caraway seeds

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper.

For the dumplings:

15g plain flour

1 tsp. Baking powder

30g salted butter

75 ml milk

Generous handful of flat-leafed parsley, roughly chopped

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper.

How to make:

Toss the beef cubes in a bowl with the flour and season generously.

Heat the butter and oil in a large casserole, and when hot, shake the flour off the beef and add the cubes in small batches to the pot, turning them and letting them brown before removing transferring the meat to another bowl before adding the next batch.

When all the meat is browned. Add the onion and garlic to the casserole dish and saute for about 5 minutes, until softened and starting to brown. Add both paprikas, caraway seeds and lemon thyme, then stir before returning the beef to the pan and giving another stir.

Add the wine or beer, the stock and the tomato paste, bring to the boil then reduce the heat to low. Season again then cover and simmer for 11/2 - 2 hours, or until the beef is tender. At this stage you can cool and leave the gulyas overnight, allowing the flavours to steep, or press on with the dumplings.

If you are going to eat this as soon as it is cooked, then start making the dumplings 10 or 15 minutes before the end of your cooking time.

Sift the flour and salt into a bowl and make a well in the centre. Melt the butter in a pan over a low heat, then add it into the well of flour, along with the milk and the chopped parsley. Stir everything together until a dough forms, then divide the dough into 7 or 8 portions and roll each portion into a ball.

Remove the lid from the gulyas, pop the dumplings on top of the beef in a single layer, then cover and simmer for 15 minutes, until the dumplings are cooked through - wobbly yet firm.

Serve with some buttered, braised savoy cabbage and mop up the juices with a slab of Turmeric and shallot Soda Bread (see below)

Turmeric and Shallot Soda Bread

This loaf, based on a recipe by Sarah Cook, looks like a large yellow rock and tastes of crackling fires (almost like the one burning in our Beer Spa cabin). It has a fair bit of turmeric and that’s a good thing. Serves 6-8.

Ingredients:

225g plain flour

225g wholemeal flour

2 tsp. Coriander seeds

2 tsp. Ground turmeric

1 tsp. Bicarbonate of soda

1 tsp kosher salt

25g butter, diced and chilled

75g Jumbo oats

2 shallots, peeled and finely chopped

375ml kefir or buttermilk

How to Make:

Heat the oven to 200C fan or 180C/ Gas 6.

Toast the coriander seeds in a small pan for a couple of minutes until they start to smell aromatic, then crush in a pestle and mortar. Leave to one side.

Mix together all the dry ingredients except the jumbo oats, then rub in the butter until you have a crumbly texture. Add the oats, chopped shallots and coriander seeds.

Pour over the kefir or buttermilk, then cut into the dry mixture with a metal spoon until just mixed, then get your hands in and knead gently until you have a relatively smooth dough (it will be a bit gnarly, but that’s the nature of soda bread).

Form into a ball and pop onto a baking sheet. Cut a wide cross quite deep into the loaf - almost all the way down. This will allow the loaf to fan out into the classic sourdough shape as it cooks.

Pop into the oven and cook for 30-35 minutes, or until the base of the load sounds hollow when tapped. Cool and serve with your Gulyas and lashings of butter.

Butternut Squash and Ginger Bundt Cake

I slavishly subscribe to all known foodie magazines and am forever ripping pages of inspiration out of them. This recipe is based on one from Waitrose Magazine. I tried it out once and couldn’t believe the texture and depth of flavour. It’s now a household regular and to my mind, much more moreish than it’s carrot cousin. 8-10 slices.

Ingredients

200g unsalted butter, softened to room temperature

225g plain flour

300g butternut squash, peeled and diced

2 tsp fresh ginger, grated

50g golden syrup

1 tsp. bicarbonate of soda

11/2 tsp. baking powder

2 tsp. ground cinnamon

1 tsp. Ground ginger

½ tsp. Kosher salt

50g ground almonds

250g dark brown muscovado sugar

2 large eggs, beaten

150ml buttermilk

For the icing:

150g icing sugar

25 ml buttermilk

A generous squeeze lemon juice

Pieces of chopped, crystallized ginger

How to make:

Heat the oven to 170C/ Gas 3, and grease and flour a large bundt tin.

Steam the squash, or boil, for around 15-20 minutes, then mash with the grated fresh ginger and golden syrup.

Sift the flour, bicarbonate of soda, baking powder, spices and salt into a large bowl, then add the ground almonds and mix. In a separate bowl beat the butter and sugar for a few minutes until pale and fluffy.

Add half the beaten egg, mix again, then add the second half of the egg and beat again. Fold in the flour and almond mixture, the mashed squash mixture and the buttermilk until you have a smooth-ish batter.

Pour the batter into the bundt tin, level out and then pop into the oven for 40-45 minutes.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool for 15-20 minutes in the tin, then turn out onto a cooling rack and leave until cool.

To make the icing, whisk the icing sugar, buttermilk and lemon juice (adding more lemon juice as necessary) until smooth. Pour over the cooled cake, and keep scooping up the pools of icing to re - drizzle over the top. Decorate with chopped crystallized ginger.

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j1p2k · 7 years ago

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D&D 15 1/2

Time passed through the week and everything at the landing started to turn to normalcy, Work continued on defenses and construction rang out in the marketplace. Drax continued to work with the loggers bringing in wood to trade with the centaurs. He was becoming very skilled and proved to be a valuable asset when it came to finding the best regions to log. Vik continued to work with the miner’s guild and even informed them of the copper field he found to the south in the river, teams were sent out and miners began to sift through the waters pulling what minerals they could. Domric spent some time with the weapon smith and some of the crossbowman from the battle to find some better techniques and possibly build a better quiver for his bow. When he wasn’t working on his equipment he was hunting the lands and researching what he could on the regions to the south. Pfett was back and forth between the armor smiths and the church, and more often than not was praying and seeking guidance in her life. Torinn escorted Beau back to Esyle Entheas and a small group of undercover guards that were to investigate the town a little more and report back to solidify evidence of corruption in the city. All the while the team waited for a charter out of port to take them on their journey.

Late one evening at Talon’s Tavern Drax, Vik, and Domric sat having some drinks while Phfett sat near the fire mantle in the corner keeping to herself. A lone dwarf appeared at their table, though the group had no idea where he had come from, they did not notice his entrance. He pulled up a chair and sat down, waved at the barmaid to get him a drink and continued to stay silent. Vik and Drax looked at each other displeased at first, Vik even started to grumble in protest “who invited you to the table” but he was cut short when the dwarf shifted in his seat and doing so his cloak gave way to a fine set of leather armor black as night and the symbol of a red wolf head painted roughly down the center chest piece. Vik knew then that the dwarf was a mercenary and the reason he came to the table was because the group sought information on the whereabouts of the mercenary group as well as Thoruk and Oliver. The dwarf took a swig of ale and relaxed back in his seat, and introduced himself “I am Shadowbasher Opalbrand, and I hear you are seeking out my leaders”. Drax replied and relayed that they had recently been commissioned to seek them out and find out what they were doing. Shadowbasher replied “there is a ship leaving port in the morning, I have arranged that the galleon pass by the volcanic island before returning to the land of Enadai and the castle Ascar. Once on the island I will lead you into the fortress Vameruhm, and the once prosperous home of clan Moltenhammer. We can search for Thoruk and Oliver together.” Vik responded immediately questioning the fact that Shadowbasher didn’t know exactly where they were. “They entered the fortress in the cover of night weeks ago, I was left to keep watch on the shore but when no one returned I decided to get help. I couldn’t enter the fortress on my own, there are too many whispers that flow on the wind and a place like that it not somewhere you enter without……aid.” Shadowbasher replied. After the conversation shifted the party decided to prepare and make sure supplies were in order. Torches and oil were put in backpacks for a journey underground, rations were wrapped tight and preserved since there likely would not be much wildlife on the side of an active volcano.

The next morning Vik, Drax, Domric and Pfett set sail with the mercenary Shadowbasher. It was a quick voyage that only lasted a few hours with strong winds and experienced captains guiding the vessel. The galleon pull up short and launched a single raft with the team. Once on shore safely the galleon pulled away and sailed north toward the land of Enadai. The ground rumbled beneath their feet for a moment, a spurt of lava could be seen splashing up on the horizon further up the mountain side. Shadowbasher pulled his deep cloak up over his head and crouched low to the ground before moving off. “Follow me” he whispered into the wind.

#d&d #d&d character #d&d session #d&d campaign #set up #reaching the home stretch #I'm done #I'll keep posting stories

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quiveringbunny · 8 years ago

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Red Square - Chapter 1 (Bratva Fic)

Привет! (Hi!)

I am excited to post the first chapter of Red Square, the fic I’ve been promising for ages. It draws from the characters we love and shakes up the circumstances quite a bit.

First, thanks for the encouragement I have had from @tinaday3w, who is the greatest (and most overqualified) beta I could ask for and the fabulous @mel-loves-all who has also taken time away from her writing to make me gorgeous cover art. And finally, thanks to darling @scu11y22 for her continued encouragement (i.e. regularly asking when it would be published). You'll notice smatterings of college Russian throughout and cheesy explanations at the ends of chapters where that happens. Note: This story will be at least an M, although the sexytimes won’t happen until at least Chapter 2.

One more bit of business. I have presumptuously tagged my MFM and WBW pals for this first chapter because I wanted you to see Mel’s cover art (including face and pretty. But I will only tag you on future chapters if you let me know you want to be on that list, okay?

Here is @mel-loves-all‘s glorious cover.

If you would prefer to read and comment on Ao3...HERE.

Red Square

Chapter 1.

Two men were killed in a shitty low-rise apartment near the oil processing plant in Kapotnya and their bodies would not be found. Bratva had mechanisms in place, people who took care of such matters. Just like they had people who did the killing. Oliver Queen was one of those people. In recent months, he had become a trusted enforcer of the will and whims of Anatoly Knyazev, a man whose life he had saved years earlier, and tonight his will had been for Oliver to take out Andrej Petrov and Yuri, whose last name Oliver had never learned.

Andrej had been a Капитан (captain) in Anatoly's organization up until Oliver plunged a knife into the man's ribs and whispered parting words from Anatoly about his fate being sealed when he decided to steal what didn't belong to him. Oliver delivered the message in passable Russian, which had improved over the past few months. Yuri was nobody, really. Just a goon who died, as he lived, in Andrej's shadow and also at the hands of the Solntsevskaya Brotherhood's only American member. He got no message beyond the bullet behind his ear.

As he sat in the back of an aging towncar heading back towards the center of Moscow, Oliver closed his eyes and let Petyr, the driver, navigate. Everyone in the organization had their job, after all. Oliver's just happened to be much different than driving and, if truth be known, it wasn't his only assignment.

He had infiltrated the Bratva at the behest of a little-known government agency called ARGUS. Once its director, Amanda Waller, learned that Oliver had an unexpected "in" with the criminal outfit, she had tasked him with renewing his relationship with Anatoly, for the purpose of learning more about their dealings. That was nearly six months prior and after multiple deaddrops of intel, Oliver had no instruction from Waller (via coded ads in the Pravda newspaper) in several weeks. Each day that passed took its toll on the Queen family's prodigal son, but today was worse. He had never felt less like a patriot and more like an irredeemable thug.

Near midnight, Oliver returned to the shabby brick building on Nikolskaya Ulitsa, not far from Red Square, where he spent most of his time. The bottom floor housed a bar that was Anatoly's base of operations and upstairs there were shabby apartments, one of which had been given to Oliver for his use.

He was anxious to get to his rooms. Not to sleep. He rarely got a restful night. He just wanted to be alone and decompress from the night. First a lukewarm shower (hot water was impossible to get in his room) and then a couple of swigs from the vodka bottle he kept on his nightstand. Since he couldn't afford to dull his wits or reflexes when he was surrounded by threatening circumstances, he avoided drinking when he was with other people. Unfortunately, before he could return to his peaceful quarters, he still needed to touch base with Anatoly.

"Oliver, my boy!" Anatoly approached Oliver and wrapped him in a practiced hug.

"Anatoly," Oliver accepted the man's embrace and was relieved when they separated. Anatoly signaled for him to sit down, so he sat in the chair across from his superior.

"I have word that you have completed business tonight. You were able to deliver the message for me?" Anatoly gave him a cold grin.

“Da,” Oliver responded. He tried to employ a bit of Russian language from time to time, just to be respectful and demonstrate he was trying. “it was delivered. The matter is finished, as you requested."

"Good, good. I knew you were the man for the job."

Oliver nodded and shifted in his chair, keen to be released for the evening.

"You know, Oliver, you have not been with us for very long, but you have already proven yourself invaluable to my business."

"I'm glad you think so," Oliver replied. Because if I wasn't, I would be dead, he thought.

"You carry out every task with precision and you are most reliable."

"I have learned much from you, Anatoly. The importance of discipline, efficiency and loyalty."

"Loyal, yes. But you are also smart. Strategic. And now I find that it is time to do some...what the American companies call...restructuring. I have need of a new captain and I have decided it will be you."

Shit. Oliver schooled his reaction carefully.

"Thank you very much, Anatoly for this honor." The sudden promotion was as much a curse as it was a compliment. Now he would have a higher profile in the Bratva, one that would give him access to more confidential matters, but he was also vaulting past scores of other men, dangerous ones, who had tenure and ambition.

Anatoly offered his hand and Oliver shook it with practiced sincerity, nodding his head at the end of the grasp.

"And now, Oliver, I have something special planned for you. You should always remember this night."

Oliver's curiosity was piqued. Anatoly had sociopathic tendencies and he had seen him turn on a dime. He watched the older man grin and wave someone over. Oliver hoped it wasn't someone he would have to fight. It had been a long night already. He was relieved when he realized a woman had joined them. He shifted in his seat and already began to turn on his charm before making eye contact with the black-haired beauty.

"Oliver, this is Katya."

"Hello, Katya," Oliver took the petite woman's small hand and placed a kiss on her knuckle. “Ochen preeyadna.”

The woman's blue eyes flashed at him and his breathing caught with recognition. She smiled softly. He perused her lasciviously, noticing she was dressed in a coat over black jeans and boots, an overnight bag at her feet. Not the typical look for a working girl in Moscow - the ones who emulated extras from old Robert Palmer videos.

"Oliver, Katya is going to take you upstairs now for your gift."

Anatoly had offered Oliver women before. There were a number of pros associated with the Bratva who were at his disposal, but Oliver didn't avail himself of their services or desperate attention. It would be even harder to deflect them now that he was becoming a captain. Latching onto a made man of rank all but assured a woman’s safety in the criminal world. He would have to tread carefully in the future to avoid getting stitched up. But this one was quite different and tonight he knew refusal could not be an option.

He quickly offered his boss a thank you and a wink.

"Upstairs then," he smirked towards the woman, eliciting a cocked eyebrow, followed by an upturn on her pouty lips.

Then, Oliver picked up the woman's bag and took her arm to lead her towards the back staircase. They climbed two flights up the narrow stairwell, wordlessly, then headed down a dark hallway until they reached Oliver's door. He grabbed the woman's shoulder, pulled her toward him and lowered his mouth to steal a hot kiss.

Was it really stealing if it was paid for?

He pressed her petite frame against the wooden door and didn't disengage from her mouth until he coaxed a whimper from her throat. She grasped his arms tightly. Apparently, she was no longer steady on her feet. Oliver fished his keys out of his pocket, unlocked the door, then tugged her inside.

Oliver had no sooner dropped her bag when the door slammed shut. He locked it before he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. He kissed her, hard and long enough for her to become accustomed to him. When he felt her kiss him back, sliding her tongue against his own, he reached between them and pulled her coat off her shoulders, loosening it enough to let it fall away. He did the same with his own leather jacket. He tugged the hem of his worn oxford shirt loose from his pants as he leaned in to assault her skin with his lips, teeth, and rough beard.

Oliver buried his mouth in the hollow of her pale neck and then murmured quietly in her ear.

“Camera in the hallway. I don't know if this room is still clean. Might have been bugged while I was out today. Can you check?"

"Mmm hmm,” he heard her moan in return.

The woman ran her fingers through his hair. It was too long, longer than he usually wore it, but he liked the disguise of it. They kissed again until the woman gently pushed him away.

"Give me a minute to get ready. Then join me in the shower?" She spoke loud enough for a microphone to hear.

"Anything you say, Katya, or should I call you kotyonok? You're so soft." He practically purred. Katya moved away, picked up her bag, and then headed for the open bathroom door. She switched on the light, then shut it behind her.

As Oliver worked to open his shirt, he surveyed the room, looking to see if anything was out of place. He kept everything just so as a way to gauge whether or not his rooms had been entered or his minimal personal items tampered with in any way. He had learned to be paranoid because that was a good student of the Bratva. Bad students didn’t live very long.

When Oliver heard the water commence in the shower, he hung his jacket on the back of a chair. Then he unfastened his shoulder holster and removed the pistol from its cradle. Gun in hand, he slipped off his shoes, then headed into the bathroom.

///—>

For the first few months he was indentured to ARGUS, Oliver trained at their main facility - a secret bunker buried in the foot of the Shenandoah Mountains. There, he learned the lethal arts as well as the stealthy ones. He surpassed most of his fellow trainees in weaponry and physical combat. After the challenges he faced while stranded on Lian Yu, he was grateful to have a roof over his head and a full clip at his disposal. Still, he would rather use his bow, which was stored away in his footlocker beside his bed.

He rarely mixed with his colleagues. His experience on the island with Slade Wilson had left him untrusting of relationships forged in battle. There, at ARGUS OPS, Oliver observed everyone else while he polished the veneer that would be needed in order to do what was expected, preferably without the need to rely on anyone else. Other people were unreliable. Other people died while you were trying to save them. They were a liability.

Robert Queen's son was a quick study and eventually became the lethal errand boy for the division chief, an ambitious and cunning woman named Amanda Waller She appreciated his skills and adopted him as her own blunt instrument. Given a location and identity of a mark, Oliver would render her will with whatever level of violence required. He found he was quite good at it and, given that he had excelled at little more than partying in his youth, and he was technically working for the US of A, he usually managed to compartmentalize any ethical concerns.

By the end of his first year, he received his first long-term assignment. He was ordered to Russia, where he would embed himself with the Bratva. Waller knew that having a man inside the Russian mob might provide valuable intel about their arms sales and Queen seemed like a guy who could handle himself...if something went wrong and he got jammed up or pissed off the wrong hotheaded captain, he was expendable.

Once he arrived in Moscow, it had been easy for Oliver to make contact with the Bratva. All he had to do was pick a few fights (and win) in a few of the seedier dive bars downtown in order to cross paths with Anatoly, a man he had saved from imprisonment by a scientist gone mad, Anthony Ivo, during his time on Lian Yu. Anatoly owed Oliver his life, but over the past months it seemed that debt had been silently forgiven and now Oliver owed Anatoly somehow.

He didn’t like his current situation at all and was keen to get out with his life…because the last thing he wanted to do was get in deeper with Russian organized crime. No, he wanted to return to Starling City and begin addressing the sins his family had wrought there. He wanted to go home.

///—>

Entering the bathroom, Oliver closed the door behind him and discovered his female companion sitting on the closed toilet, eyes trained on an electronic tablet in her hands. She was still fully dressed and the contents of her bag were strewn on the floor and counter, already tweaking Oliver’s gradually developing OCD tendencies.

“Hello,” he spoke and moved toward her, quietly, setting the gun down on the counter.

“Just a minute. You were right about a room bug. It’s a really lousy one. Like old KGB circa 1982 garage sale material. And those cameras in the hall are worse than a lame convenience store. Cheap lenses and the light is so bad out there they can hardly see anything but outlines. So you really didn’t have to do all...that…”

Oliver’s stealthy approach now put him an inch away. He bumped her knees with his own to get her attention. She grimaced and stopped speaking.

“You always were kind of a talker, Smoak,” he sighed.

Felicity Smoak, MIT graduate and ARGUS technology specialist finally looked up at him, slightly agape.

“You remember me?”

Oliver nodded and crouched down to her level, feeling the stretch in his legs. He needed to get to a gym soon and work out.

“Even with black hair. We had a training together, Felicity. I guess you forgot.”

“No,” she might have sputtered. “I just didn’t think anybody noticed me unless I was falling ass over tea kettle on the obstacle course. Not exactly a natural in physical combat. You were the rock star.”

“Yeah, I was good at fighting. Not computers. Not the same things as you. Still, I’m not sure why Waller would send you here when you aren’t a practiced field agent. It’s dangerous to pretend to be a…a hooker around men like Anatoly. You could get into real trouble.”

Oliver studied her face with serious intent. She tried to look tough with a few extra layers of makeup, but there was no question that beneath the cosmetics lurked the same quirky nerd goddess he admired from afar at ARGUS. The first time he noticed her at OPS, he knew right away she was different. Sweet. Street-wise, but not hard. Kind of funny. And fucking brilliant. Not like other women he’d been with at all, which he’d found intriguing at first, eventually attractive, but he knew he was way too damaged to allow himself to get close to someone at the Agency. Someone so lovely.

Felicity’s barking laughter jolted him back to reality. He watched her nestle her tablet between her thighs so her hands were free to cover her mouth and squelch subsequent giggles. Oliver regarded her curiously.

“Well, that explains why you kissed me like that in the hallway. You thought I was, what? Some floozie hired to show you a good time?”

“Yeah.” Oliver shifted uncomfortably.

“But now you’re saying you thought I was miscast? You know, maybe I should be insulted that you didn’t think I was hot enough to be a mob whore. Is it the jeans? A short skirt would have been more appropriate? Or inappropriate as it were? Because that kiss seemed pretty hot. I mean, I rose to the occasion. And so did you, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Felicity,” his voice sounded a little exasperated. “What are you here for?”

“Well, you’re right. I’m not here to be a prostitute. They would have sent Bertinelli for that.”

At the mere mention of Helena Bertinelli, Oliver’s jaw tightened. She was a beautiful woman, alluring and perfectly suited for a Mata Hari-style op, except that she was also quite crazy and had a tendency to fixate on the men she worked with, to their ultimate detriment. He was suddenly relieved Helena wasn’t the person sitting in his bathroom.

Oliver crossed his arms over his chest and waited for an answer. When it finally came, he couldn’t have been more surprised.

“ARGUS informants here in Moscow got word you were being promoted and Knyazev was looking for someone…someone who could do your Bratva star.”

“What? Now you do tattoos?” Oliver shook his head. This night was getting a little too surreal. Felicity stood up, forcing him to rise and stand toe to toe with her. Of course, he had to lower his head to retain eye contact with her. Unfortunately, she now appeared churlish.

“Wow. It’s one thing to think I’m not hooker material, Oliver, but let me assure you I am quite a practiced tattoo artist. I was raised in Las Vegas and my mother’s brother Vince is a legend in that town. He did Ozzy Osbourne’s left arm. And Justin Bieber’s ankle. He taught me everything he knew. Then, I worked professionally while I was on scholarship at MIT, because even full scholarships don’t pay for everything. So, yes, I am quite qualified for this assignment. Overqualified, actually.”

Towering over her, Oliver was reeling from the tongue-lashing and informational download he’d just had from the petite powerhouse in his bathroom. All he could do was nod and purse his lips together to stifle a smile. She was remarkable.

“Hell, I could be a hooker and a tattoo artist, you know.” She was bolder now than he’d ever seen her. Oliver was a little relieved because it seemed she could handle herself.

“Of course, Felicity.” He touched her arm lightly and tried to seem sincere.

“So, we’re doing this,” she continued, summoning up her courage. “Now, if you would, please take a shower. You’re a little ripe…no offense…and I’d rather not risk infection.”

The resolve in her expression and the twinkle in her eye were diverting. His thoughts no longer revolved around the man he’d stabbed to death for Anatoly earlier that night. Oliver nodded and peeled off his shirt, exposing his marred flesh to her. To her credit, Felicity didn’t appear shocked or repulsed. Instead, she looked…intrigued. Tantalized, even. They maintained eye contact until the sound of his descending zipper broke their gaze.

Felicity scrambled to lengthen the distance between them, diving for her overnight bag in search of “something.” Anything, really, to avert her eyes and reduce the tension that seemed to be peaking between them more strongly than ever.

With a smirk and a head shake, Oliver slipped out of his pants and walked into the shower stall to enjoy the spray.

“Are you joining me?” He smiled a little to himself at his question. Nothing entertains a bad boy more than making a good girl blush.

“Maybe later,” she murmured back, diligently studying the tattooing apparatus in her bag.

A part of Oliver was a little disappointed that she wasn’t rushing to his side. He adjusted the temperature of the water to cool and sighed. It was going to be a long night.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Remedial Russian. ;-)

Ochen preeyadna (Очень приятно) translates to “very nice” but is used when being introduced to someone to imply “very pleased to meet you.”

Kotyonok (котёнок) translates to “kitten”. Well, she is soft, isn’t she? :-)

Once again, this is the only time I am tagging you for the story unless you tell me to add you. I don’t want to clutter your feed.

@scu11y22, @tinaday3w, @dettiot, @mel-loves-all, @andjustforthismoment, @aussieforgood, @florence-bubbles, @flailykermit, @lerayon, @diggo26, @olicityaddicted, @thewidowpazzy, @melsanfo, @emilybettqueen, @yourviewingparty, @lynslogic, @tanyaslogic, @angelalafan, @coal000, @triciaolicity, @choiceofluthien, @emilybuttrickards, @seaolicity, @supersillyanddorky06, @swordandarrow, @watsoncroft, @jsevick, @readerkas, @yespleasehawkeye, @geniewithwifi, @bluemorgana, @befitandchase, @caedmonfaith, @myhauntedblacksoul, @casydee, @jamyfan-blog, @awesomeziziblr, @bigdeesmallworld, @alemap74, @angelicmisskitty, @almondblossomme, @callistawolf, @miriam1779, @imusuallyobsessed, @vaelisamaza, @mochababychristy, @juliesioux, @pjcmfalcon, @josephine-in-mirkwood, @i-m-a-fan-world, @ms-mags, @red-devilkin, @ah-maa-zing, @itshandledd, @olicityandsteroline, @turn-thy-paige, @wildirish23, @nlh03, @alanna-the-lionheart, @charlinert, @amytosh, @stygian-omada-fan, @multi-fandom-crazy-fangirl, @machawicket, @biermank, @i-am-wordaholic, @hope-for-olicity, @memcjo, @jaspertown, @itchiygo, @oliverfel4, @tolivers, @ccdimples88, @ap-n, @pleasantfanandstudent, @emmilynestill, @kainesbitt77, @anthfan, @lyricalarrow, @laurabelle2930, @ellefraser17, @ireland1733, @mammashof, @chachurka, @somewhatinvisible, @tdgal1, @buffaleen, @suziesammy-blog, @missyriver, @lovelycssefan, @kh2o, @codebreakinsmoak, @letsnevergrowupfan, @memcjo, @bwangangelic, @arrowolicity88, @thebookjumper

#Olicity fanfic #Bratva #Oliver Queen #sexy times ahead

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networkingdefinition · 5 years ago

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National Maple Syrup Day Quotes

Official Website: National Maple Syrup Day Quotes

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• A sad sort of vulnerability was wafting from her, making the night smell like maple syrup. – Sarah Addison Allen • A waffle is like a pancake with a syrup trap. – Mitch Hedberg

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Maple+Syrup', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_maple-syrup').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_maple-syrup img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • But truth be told, I’m not as dour-looking as I would like. I’m stuck with this round, sweetie-pie face, tiny heart-shaped lips, the daintiest dimples, and apple cheeks so rosy I appear in a perpetual blush. At five foot four, I barely squeak by average height. And then there’s my voice: straight out of second grade. I come across so young and innocent and harmless that I have been carded for buying maple syrup. Tourists feel more safe approaching me for directions, telemarketers always ask if my mother is home, and waitresses always, always call me ‘Hon. – Sarah Vowell • I always go to the lowest common denominator for that ingredient. So if I think squash, I try to think what it means to me — and if it doesn’t mean anything to me, I’m not gonna do well when I cook it. So [squash] means to me: fall, maple syrup, cinnamon, and things just come into your head so you can narrow the vortex and make it a bit smaller and you go with something because there’s no time. – Geoffrey Zakarian • I always have a good quality extra virgin olive oil. A cheap quality oil will end up cheapening your dishes. And I love sweetening my dishes with maple syrup. It has a bit of a bitter kick at the end that works wonderfully in savory dishes. – Nadia Giosia • I am passionate about tea, running, the idea that we are bound only by the limits of our imaginations, and maple syrup. – Misha Collins • I drink maple syrup. Then I’m hyper so I just run around like crazy and work it all off. – Rachel McAdams • I happen to know everything there is to know about maple syrup! I love maple syrup. I love maple syrup on pancakes. I love it on pizza. And I take maple syrup and put a little bit in my hair when I’ve had a rough week. What do you think holds it up, slick? – Vince Vaughn • I think maybe, if I could be a Canadian super hero, I’d have some kind of freezing power and some sort of maple syrup weapon. Could be a little sticky. – Nathan Fillion • If it’s not 100 per cent pure maple syrup, it can’t be called ‘pure maple syrup. – Nancy Greene • I’m not from a maple producing area and so my maple syrup credentials are very much of the eating side. – Nancy Greene • My love of maple syrup. I’ve been known to knock back a can over a couple days: A swig here, a swig there, and next thing you know it’s gone. It’s a habit I have to stave off. I don’t want to lose all my teeth. – Rufus Wainwright • The approach to that movie wasn’t, ‘Lets make this movie about Amsterdam and maple syrup.’ The concept was, ‘Lets go to Amsterdam. Amsterdam is fun.’ So we flew to Amsterdam with our cameras and we saw what happened and then we got back and we sat down and we said, ‘What’s the movie here.’ That’s when we realized that the movie was ‘The Maple Syrup Saga’. – Casey Neistat • The food that’s never let me down in life is porridge, especially with milk and maple syrup, which is delicious. Paris isn’t a porridge place, but I can buy it in London when I’m there and bring it back with me. – Marianne Faithfull • We don’t want you convicted for condiment theft. You go to that prison, you’ll meet big-time operators. Maple syrup stealers. – Deb Caletti • We must keep these waters for wild rice, these trees for maple syrup, our lakes for fish, and our land and aquifers for all of our relatives – whether they have fins, roots, wings, or paws. – Winona LaDuke

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'a', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_a').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_a img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'e', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_e').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_e img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'i', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_i').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_i img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'o', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_o').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_o img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'u', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_u').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_u img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

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equitiesstocks · 5 years ago

Text

National Maple Syrup Day Quotes

Official Website: National Maple Syrup Day Quotes

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push();

• A sad sort of vulnerability was wafting from her, making the night smell like maple syrup. – Sarah Addison Allen • A waffle is like a pancake with a syrup trap. – Mitch Hedberg

0 notes