#asks I haven't made fruit bread in over a year

[neverendingford]

.

[firewasabeast]

prompt: buck discovers that tommy is a fantastic baker. its a very casual reveal at first, like tommy makes a loaf of bread for the soup buck makes. as time goes on, tommy starts making more elaborate things - chocolate croissants for a brunch, fruit tarts for a picnic date, a single tier cake with elaborate icing detail on their first anniversary.

This went in a different direction, but I got the baking part! Hope you like it!

“Damn it! Ugh! Damn it!”

Tommy peeked out the bathroom door to where Buck was getting dressed in their bedroom. “What's wrong?”

Buck tossed his phone onto the bed. “I forgot I was supposed to bake stuff for Chris' class. I wasn't working when I told Chris I'd do it, then Mark asked if I could take his shift and I- I forgot.”

“When's he need the stuff?”

“I'm supposed to drop it off at Eddie's tonight so Chris can take it with him in the morning.”

Tommy turned off the bathroom light and walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge. He watched Buck very closely as he put his shirt on. “I can do it.”

Buck froze briefly, his shirt crumpled up at his neck. “I, um, no, it's- it's okay. I'll just order something to be delivered.”

“I'm serious, Evan, I'll do it. I know how to bake stuff.”

Buck sighed, pulled his shirt the rest of the way down. “Christopher is really picky about what he takes in, Tommy, if it's not just right he'll blame me for it for the rest of his life.”

Tommy got up and walked over to Buck, placing a hand on either side of his face. “Ev, I've got this, I promise. I'll take it to Chris tonight, and tell him he can toss me off the edge of a cliff if the desserts are not well received.”

Tommy gave him a kiss to wipe away the apprehensive look on his face.

“Fine,” Buck agreed. “But you better watch yourself if you tell him the cliff thing. He's very strong.”

*****

“What the hell did you do?” Buck called out as soon as he walked in the door the next day.

“Hello to you too, honey,” Tommy answered cheekily, waiting on the couch for Buck to come in the room. “So good to see you after a whole day apart. Oh, a kiss? For me? You shouldn't have!”

Buck entered the room, hands on his hips, and from the look on his face he was not amused. “Care to tell me why I got a text from Christopher this afternoon saying that he no longer needed me to make my famous double chocolate chip cookies for the charity bake next month because, and I quote, 'I want Tommy to make his chocolate croissants and fruit tarts instead.'”

“Seems pretty self explanatory, hun.” And, okay, maybe Tommy was being a little bit of a dick, but he loved when he got Buck all riled up. It was pretty hot.

“You know I know how to use a rotary saw, don't you?” Buck asked pointedly.

Tommy cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, I do too. Evan, are you threatening to chop me up over baked goods?”

Buck kept his glare for a moment before dropping the charade. His shoulders slumped as he plopped down across from Tommy on the couch. “No,” he replied, “but... but you made croissants? And tarts?”

Tommy shrugged. “I am a man of many talents, Evan, and you have yet to scrape the surface.”

“We've been together for nearly a year, there's not a surface on you I haven't scraped... except this, apparently.”

Tommy smiled. He reached for Buck's hand, bringing it to his lips for a little kiss. Buck rolled his eyes, but melted into the touch. “I saved you one of each,” Tommy said, giving Buck that sheepish grin he loved so much.

“Alright,” Buck got up from the couch and headed into the kitchen, “let me go try these life changing baked goods that got me fired.”

Tommy listened to the rustling in the kitchen. He gave it a few seconds, then got up and quietly snuck into the room, watching as Buck took a bite of the croissant.

He closed his eyes, obviously relishing the taste. As Buck went for seconds, Tommy cleared his throat, causing Buck to jump. “Jesus!” he yelped, mouth full.

“Sorry,” Tommy replied with a laugh. “How's it taste?”

Buck tried to play it cool. “S'good... I guess.”

“Really?” Tommy questioned, eyebrow raised. "Just good?"

Buck groaned. “Okay, fine! It's delicious! I had no idea you knew how to bake like this, Tommy. When'd you learn?”

“Lots of stuff going on in my head when I got discharged from the army,” Tommy replied, keeping the topic light. Buck already knew everything about that anyway. No reason to dwell. “I started baking then, because when you're baking you have to focus on the ingredients and what you're doing. Did it more when I started working for Gerrard. Not so much after I started therapy, although I do still enjoy it.”

“Well, you're amazing at it. I can see why I my cookies have been thrown into a bottomless pit to never return.”

Tommy moved closer to Buck, wrapping his arms around the man's waist. He pressed a kiss to his mouth, tasting the residual chocolate that lingered. “Why don't we both bake for the charity thing?” Tommy offered.

“And compete with you?” Buck scoffed. “Hell no. But do me a favor and make me more than one next time. And don't eat the tart, I haven't tried that yet. Also, we're having a celebration at the station next week for Jenny. She's coming back from maternity leave. Do you make cakes? Could you make it look like an open stomach in the middle of a c-section? Oh, Jee will definitely want cupcakes for-”

As Buck rambled out a long list of occasions that required baked goods, Tommy couldn't help but wonder if this was the plan all along.

[schrodingers-romy]

Lemon Blueberry [Suzuri Shuhei x Reader]

Pairing: Suzuri Shuhei x GN!Reader Word Count: ~2300 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: Shuhei bakes for the first time, with you

Warnings: Spoilers for the manga (suzuri's backstory and current occupation); also warning for light mentions of Stuff Pertinent to his backstory as well; no gendered pronouns or terms are used for the reader; kissing; feeding each other food with your hands idk; written with aged up suzuri in mind

Notes: wrote this a while ago and it's barely edited but I haven't seen any suzuri fics so I have to make my own food <3

The light of the setting sun bathed the kitchen in its soft honey glow. Your focus shifted for just a second, away from the finicky stand mixer in front of you to the window, no doubt admiring the clouds cast in their colorful glow. And as cliché as it sounds, Shuhei thought that you are undoubtedly more beautiful than any sunset could ever be.

And to think he used to mock those who loved…

It still seemed like a dream sometimes. Partially the idea of making an honest living, enough for the rent on an apartment and a healthy three meals a day without stretching it; things he fought bloody tooth and nail for in the past were now within his grasp. And even more than that, he was fulfilled emotionally and mentally in a way that he never was before. He had pride in himself now, not the false, vindictively bitter and caustic ‘pride’ he had before, but true pride. The sort that came from improving, and learning, and going to sleep every night feeling content in himself and his actions.

(In his darker moments, he feared going to sleep, just in case when he woke, he was back There and all of this was the machinations of his starved mind.)

If it was all a dream, Shuhei thought, you were certainly the cruelest part of it. You, who befriended him back when he was still the starved, bruised wraith who first started working in the kitchen of a fancy red light restaurant, scrubbing plates until his hands peeled. You, who knew his dirty past from Tsubaki, but never looked down on him for it. You, who treated him like a person, and who made him feel more real than he had in years. You, who through soft smiles and gentle teasing and homecooked meals gave him his first taste of what falling in love must feel like. He never really believed in any sort of benevolent god (what sort of good god would let him suffer as he once did, anyway); yet he prayed every night that this (that you) were real.

Seemingly oblivious to his thoughts, you broke the silence by giving the mixer a theatrical slap on its side, like you were patting the flank of a beloved horse. “Are you ready?” you asked.

He nodded a little stiffly, hoping you hadn’t noticed him staring. (Although, you were a bit oblivious, he thought, because he is horrible at hiding his infatuation with you).

Shuhei had been over to your house a handful of times, mostly to hang out, or for dinner. This is the first time he would be helping in your kitchen. Despite the fact that he had been learning all that he could about cooking from his job, he had never baked something in his life. And that’s where you came in.

After hearing that, the first thing you suggested was for him to come over so the two of you could bake something together, and he had jumped at the golden opportunity to not only learn a new skill, but also to spend time with you (and also to eat good food, but that was a given).

“I hope you don’t mind, I had something picked out already,” you said, as you adjusted the colorful containers of ingredients situated on the counter in front of you. “Cookies are kind of the obvious thing to bake for your first time, but I have a recipe I think you’ll really like.”

“And what’s that?”

You turn the full force of your smile to him, and he squints a bit. “Lemon blueberry bread! I know you like the taste of fresh fruit, so I thought this would be perfect. And it’s not a very difficult recipe anyway.”

You were right…as you usually were about him. He had never told you, but he did gravitate towards fruit when he had the chance. Fruit was a luxury he could never really partake in where he used to live; it spoiled quickly and couldn’t be kept down when it was bad. Even the thought of fresh lemons and blueberries had him salivating, and you laughed at his eager expression.

“You know me so well,” he said, careful to keep his voice from being too sappy.

You flashed him another smile, and presented him with a measuring cup. “Can you measure out the sugar for me?”

-

Shuhei was a fast learner, and it was no different with baking. He had a lot of questions, and you answered them to the best of your ability.

“Why do you add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients instead of the other way around?”

“I’m sure there’s probably a scientific reason for it that I don’t know…but it is less messy than dumping a bunch of powder, and when you pour the liquid, it mixes a bit instead of just floating on top.”

“How do you know it’s done mixing?”

“Depends on what you’re making. Here it should look uniform and smooth…see how there’s still some little lumps in there? It needs to go for longer. Some recipes need to be mixed for a long time, so they get more air in them…doesn’t really matter for this though.”

“Why are you putting flour on the blueberries?”

“It keeps them from sinking when it bakes, so you get blueberries all the way through the bread instead of just at the bottom.”

“Can I eat some of it now?”

You hesitated for a second. “Well…you’re not really supposed to eat stuff with raw egg in it, but we should have a little taste, so we know if we need to add anything.” You pulled a spoon out of seemingly nowhere and dipped the tip of it in the yellow batter. Shuhei expected you to hand the spoon to him, but instead you held it up towards his mouth, and looked at him expectantly.

He could feel his face heating up at the fact that you’re feeding him; and he panicked a little bit. He ended up biting down hard on the spoon when he tried to taste the batter, making an audible click.

The two of you winced in unison, his from pain and yours from sympathy.

“I’d give that a zero out of ten for gracefulness,” you commented, “But anyway how does it taste?”

Shuhei felt even more red than he was before, but through his embarrassment and the pain in his teeth, he can still taste the bright citrus flavor. “It’s good.”

“Knew it!” you crowed, and then you gave him a heart attack by using the spoon to take your own sampling of the batter. “Mmmm. Yeah. We did good.”

You used the same spoon that he had just had in his mouth. That was essentially an indirect kiss.

You were going to be the death of him.

-

After the bread was placed in the oven, and all the dishes were washed and put away, the two of you sat down on the couch to await the ding of the timer.

“So, how do you feel after your first time baking?” you asked, looking at him hopefully.

Shuhei knew you wanted him to enjoy it, and he privately thought it was cute of you to be so invested in his happiness. Luckily for you, Shuhei loved making food (and he loved spending time with you). “I feel good. It was fun, I just hope it turns out good.”

Your laughter leaned more into a cackle than a giggle, but he still thought you were adorable. “I thought you’d like it! And I’m sure it will be delicious, especially since you helped me.” You shuffled a bit closer to him on the couch to give him a teasing poke, your eyes sparkling.

He raised an eyebrow at you, trying to keep the corner of his mouth from twitching up in amusement. “Oh, does my help make it better?”

“Hmmm…I don’t know…didn’t your boss tell you you had ‘the magic touch’ with food last week?” you said, smirking at him. “Maybe you added some of your magic to this bread.”

He scoffed, turning away from you to hide his blush. “My boss is too nice. I just pick things up quickly, that’s all. ‘S nothing special.”

You poked at him again, repeatedly with your finger until he turned back towards you to smack your hand away (gently, because he didn’t want to hurt you). Your face had dropped its previous joking expression, replaced with a painfully open one. His heart caught in his throat at the soft curve of your mouth and the warmth in your eyes.

“I think you’re pretty special,” you said earnestly; your eyes shine with something he can now recognize looks a lot like love.

The timer sounded at that moment, and you sprung up from your spot to go check the bread. You moved suspiciously quickly, like you were embarrassed at your admission.

Shuhei remained sitting on the couch, frozen. He felt more dazed than when Tsubaki had cleaned his clock with a kick to his head. He barely dared to hope…but maybe, just maybe, you also felt for him what he felt for you.

-

The bread was already out of the oven and cooling when Shuhei pulled himself together and entered the kitchen. The two of you stared at the cooling bread in silence for a moment. The kitchen is filled with the warm scent of baked bread and sweet lemon. Shuhei felt the urge to lick the bread so he could finally taste it. His stomach growled, breaking the silence.

“I’m so fucking hungry,” he finally said.

“Oh my gosh, same,” you said. “It smells so good I think I’m drooling.”

“How long do we have to wait to eat?”

“I mean…really we should wait until it fully cools so we can put the glaze on…”

He turned to give you his best starving puppy dog face (a face he has created and perfected in the time he has known you).

You hesitated, glancing between him, the bread, and the unused glass of lemon glaze. He could see the conflict in your eyes, until you finally gave in, shoulders slumping as you sigh.

“Y’know what, it’s cool enough. You wanna do the honors?”

He was a little clumsy with the glaze, and most of it is absorbed into the warm bread, but you applauded him when he was done anyways. “Okay now, you’re officially done with your first bake!”

“Time to eat?” he asked eagerly.

You broke out an oversized bread knife, which glinted in the light. (If you weren’t so cute, Shuhei thought, it would look threatening). “Yup!”

-

You sit next to each other on the hard kitchen floor, each holding a thick, warm slice of bread in your bare hands, because you were both too hungry to grab plates and utensils and move to a table.

You gave him a nod, and he took his first bite.

If Shuhei thought the batter was good, the finished bread was heavenly. It was soft, but still packed a powerful burst of tart lemon flavor, and the blueberries had cooked down into an almost jam-like consistency that gave the perfect sweetness to the rest of the bread. Before he knew it, he had devoured the entire slice ravenously.

When he looked back up, you were still holding your own slice, forgotten as you stared at him.

He felt a burst of self-consciousness. He knew he still ate like a rabid animal sometimes; his mind and body still remembered what it was like to starve, even when his stomach was full.

But you don’t look like you’re judging him. Instead, you have that same shine in your eyes again.

“It’s good,” he said lamely, to break the tension.

You simply smiled at this and broke off a piece of your own slice of bread, holding it out to him, towards his mouth (once again).

Shuhei was careful to be gentle this time. He tried to keep from touching you, but your fingers brush against his lips anyway. His skin burned where you touched, and he burned even more under your unmoving gaze.

He reached out for your bread, breaking off a piece himself. It’s clear you expected him to eat it, but it’s his turn to surprise you. He held out the chunk of bread to you, fingers trembling minutely with his nervousness. He resolutely kept his eyes on you, even though he could feel his face radiating heat, so he didn’t miss seeing the shock on your face, and the light glaze to your eyes as you take the piece from his hand.

Your lips were soft when they touched his calloused fingers, and his heart stuttered when he felt the lightest touch of your tongue.

You finished the slice off that way, feeding each other pieces without speaking a word. When it’s finally gone, he reached out one more time, to grab your hands and cradle them in his own.

Shuhei knew how he felt about you; he never really thought you felt anything more than friendship for him, but this night had opened his eyes. Even if he was wrong, after all of this, he finally had the courage to find out what you really felt.

He waited to see if you pulled away, but instead you edged closer to him.

“Hey Shuhei,” you murmured.

“Yeah?” he asked, breathless.

The way you looked at him was so filled with tenderness; it almost made his eyes water. “I like you,” you said. “I like you, so much. I might love you.”

He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until he let out a shuddering exhale at your words.

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before,” he confessed. “But I think it’s love.”

Your answer came in the form of a kiss.

Your lips were even softer when they were pressed against his own, and the flavor of lemon and blueberry was even sweeter when he licked it from inside your mouth.

[reve-writes]

—why are you at the wake? [2]; leon kennedy.

ʚ leon kennedy x reader | resident evil | 2,4k words. ʚ chapter one. | he wishes he can hate you, but when push comes to shove, he can't help but come to your aid anyway. ʚ non-canon timeline, loosely based on leon's mission to save ashley but most of the details are made-up; injuries; violence; profanity; reader is morally grey (?); suicidal ideation. ʚ a/n long notes from me at the end if you want to read through it.

“We can rest up here. Wait for evac.”

Leon closes the door behind Ashley after she enters. The room is not too big—enough to have space for himself, but also small enough for him to keep an eye on the President's daughter. There are windows for quick escape, covered by grimy curtains that shield them from view, just in case any infected villagers wander this far out.

“Are we safe, Leon?”

The blond girl is shivering. The two of them are drenched from head-to-toe. The rain outside doesn't look like it's letting up anytime soon, too. They're alive. A little cold, but alive. That's all that matters to Leon for now.

“Yeah. We're fine.”

A beat barely passes after he finishes reassuring her when the door swings open with a hard thud. Ashley lets out a startled shriek. Leon has his handgun ready and aimed at the figure stumbling inside. He curses under his breath, already standing to shield Ashley from the doorway.

You slump forward to the floor, the door closes behind you with a quiet click. Breathing heavily, you look up, thinking that you've stepped one foot into death's door. Maybe you've chosen the wrong house. Maybe you've stumbled into a hostile and they're ready to hack you down with an axe.

You blink the rainwater out of your eyes. It doesn't take longer than a second for you to recognise him.

Your posture loosens, shoulders slumping as you heave against the door. Your pistol clatters from your hand, freeing it to push against the blooming red wound on your side.

“Hey,” you stutter out, breathing still very laboured, but you try to sound casual, as if you're not potentially bleeding out to death on some filthy hardwood floor. “Just—give me a second. I'll get out of your hair.”

“Who are you?”

You don't recognise the girl. You assume she's his mission.

“It's okay,” Leon answers for you. His gun is returned to its holster. “We know each other.”

Know is an understatement. You know each other, yes, but also so much more than that. You know the brand of shampoo he has in his bathroom. He knows how you like to take your beverage. You cut the bread crust from his toast for breakfast. He lets you take the olives from his dish because you love them. You haven't eaten an olive in years because it reminds you of him.

“Co-worker?” the girl asks.

“Was.”

Past tense.

“Hi.” You wave meekly towards the girl and tell her your name. She tells you to call her Ashley. You dart your eyes to Leon. Even though he's silent, you can sense the anticipation in his pose, as if he's expecting you to just go and shoot Ashley the way you did to Tracy.

Sighing, you kick your pistol towards him. It skids surprisingly smoothly over the floor, landing just beside his boots. “Calm down, Leon. I don't intend to kill her.”

He stares at the pistol for a second, recognising the carving along its grip. Your initials. He remembers being the one who scratched them into the wooden material. His glare returns to you.

You're a walking contradiction. You left him back then, bid him farewell so coldly without much of an explanation. There was so much blood. The blood of the one he was supposed to protect—the two of you were supposed to protect. He didn't understand until he was told that your loyalty had defected.

He still doesn't understand why you changed your mind as easy as turning the palms of your hand. Doesn't understand why you abandoned him. It frustrates him. That frustration bears fruits of anger. The anger burns with so much hatred for you.

He realises that he, too, is a walking contradiction. He hates you for what you've done. He hates you for what you didn't do. The hatred grows everyday, but it grows along with the longing to see you again. It tries and fails to grow over all the love he has for you. All the love he doesn't know where to put now.

“Do you have a death wish?” Leon sneers. “I told you to stay away. You can't help yourself, can you? Always so stubborn.”

Ashley looks taken aback by the hostility. For all the time she's known him, he has been nothing but kind. A reassuring presence.

“If I had known you were in here,” you hissed. “I wouldn't have entered. Believe me, I'm not purposely trying to seek out the person who wants me dead.”

You inhale, tightening your jacket around you. “I'll take my leave.”

“That's what's best for the both of us.”

You push yourself off the ground, despite the tremble in your legs. A surge of light-headedness wash over you and you fall, barely catching yourself with your hands. Leon doesn't even think before he surges towards you, already placing a hand on your shoulders. His eyebrows knit together.

“Fuck,” you curse, swallowing hard. Your face is blanched. You clench your eyes shut in an attempt to recenter yourself.

“What's wrong?” His voice is gentle. His eyes scan over you to analyse the situation. “Dammit, ___. What's wrong?”

“Fine,” you breathe out, biting your lip. “Nothing's wrong.”

“Something is clearly fucking wrong,” he mutters, tugging on your jacket, noticing the unmistakable slick red of blood. “Jesus, ___. What happened?”

You lean back against the door, letting him tug the jacket off of you. You huff out a laugh. “You used to ask before taking my clothes off.”

He doesn't laugh. Not even a snicker. “What happened? — Ashley, can you find any medical supplies?”

Ashley immediately starts moving around the room, pulling out drawers haphazardly.

“Come on, it was funny.”

He says your name with a heavy emphasis. “I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong.”

“You don't want to help me, Leon,” you sigh out. “I killed Tracy, remember?”

This is pathetic. You've accepted your death way before it happens. Maybe, years ago, you would be more willing to put up a fight, struggle like hell for just one more day. But you're tired. So fucking exhausted of the missions and the guilt slowly eats you alive.

Leon pushes up your shirt slightly, trying to locate the source of the wound. He's so angry at you for giving up that his hands shake. He's biting down on his teeth so hard his jaw is starting to hurt. You can't die. He won't let you, even when you're so willing to walk yourself to your grave. He won't let that happen. He can't.

What will he do with all this hatred then? All this love?

His hand is smeared with your blood when he places them under your chin, turning your face towards him.

“Tell me what happened right now.” His eyes frantically search your face. “Or — or I'll never forgive you. Not if you die right here, right now. I won't ever forgive you.”

His voice shakes. He's making a demand but it comes out as a desperate plea instead. Ashley kneels beside you, setting down a tin box cramped with medicines and first-aid supplies.

You let out a scoff. “You of all people know I deserve to die right here, right now.”

“Stop wasting time, ___.” He's begging now. Panic sinks into his bones as all the colour drains drom your face. “Let me — You have to let me save you. I can't—”

His vision blurs. He takes a deep breath and blink the pooling tears away. “Please.”

Stop. You want to yell at him. If anyone should be pleading for anything, it was you. With your heart in your throat, you whisper, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he clears his throat. “Okay, what's the damage?”

“Knife,” you wheeze out. “A cut, I think, on my side. There — Stop looking at me like that. It's not as bad as it looks. I've just been bleeding out for a while, trying to get away.”

He's capable. It's not a handful of times he's ever had to patch himself or you up from various injuries. His hand works swiftly, disinfecting and suturing the laceration, ignoring your little quips and sounds of protest. He keeps his focus, even when everything feels so unsteady around him.

It's not until your wound is dressed in bandages and the bleeding ceases that he lets out a relieved sigh. The tension in his shoulders melts away.

“You really do have a death wish.”

One corner of your lips quirks up. “You have no idea.”

“Don't die, ____. Let me hate you in peace. You owe me at least this much.”

“You can still do that when I'm six feet under.”

“I can't do that, so” —his jaw tenses— “don't die.”

You only hum in response.

“I mean it.”

You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. “I'll try not to.”

He moves around the room, gathering blankets and cushions to bring towards where you're seated. He's unsure if he can move you without reopening your wound and he doesn't want to risk it. Not when you've lost so much blood. The silence stretches long, accompanied by the constant pitter-patter of the rain splattering on the roof over your head.

“Where's Ashley?”

“Other room,” Leon replies. “She looked like she was going to throw up.”

“Understandable.”

It's silent againt. He props a pillow behind you and spreads a blanket over you. You scrunch your nose.

“Smells like shit.”

“Half the smell is your fault.”

You roll your eyes, trying to focus in the earthy soaked-dirt scent the rain brings instead of the metallic tang left behind or the stench of the old blanket covering you.

“Thank you, Leon.”

“Why did you do it?”

He blurts the question out as you're expressing your gratitude. The room is quiet enough that you still catch his question. His gaze falters, moving to scan over the wall to your right instead of directly looking at you.

“Does it matter?” You ask, tasting bitterness on your tongue. “The reason doesn't change the fact that I still did it.”

“That's the thing.” Leon walks over to where your gun lies on the floor to pick it up. “It doesn't seem like you want to do it. Hell, if there's one damn thing I know, it's that you cared for her. So, help me understand this. Why did you do it?”

His thumb traces over the wooden grip, turning the pistol over in his hand as he walks up to you. He stops at the ridges of your initials, turning to look at you questioningly.

You gulp. “It's — It's the same one.”

The same one he gave you all those years ago. The same one that got you out of Raccoon City. The same one you kept using mission after mission since then.

“This is what I mean.” Leon sets the pistol down by you, taking his place to sit next to you, facing you. “If it didn't matter to you, you wouldn't have kept this.”

Your throat feels dry.

“I keep running it over in my head, trying to pick out what's real and what's fake,” he admits, grabbing your hand in his. His calloused fingers rub over your hand, “and I can't. Everything feels real.”

Because it is real. Can you tell him, though? You don't want to put that on him—the burden of someone's life.

“From Raccoon City. Then, everything that we were after that up until—” He lets it hang in the air. Your ultimate betrayal. “You can't tell me everything was a fucking act and expect me to believe it.”

You want to reach out, desperate to smooth the creases on his forehead, brush your thumb over the plump of his lips. He's so close—the closest he's ever been in the past five years.

He's not stupid. You know he's not. He knows none of this adds up. You were with him for over a year since your faithful meeting in Raccoon City. You were recruited by the government together. You survived together. You even—

It was never official, but you had something. He had told you he loved you and you had said it back.

Then, you left. You said you were working for someone else. Always had the whole time. It didn't make sense.

“They made me choose.”

Your answer comes after a long silence. Too long that Leon has already given up and gotten lost in his own head. He's not sure if he's hearing you correctly, not sure if you've even spoken in the first place. He blinks, searching your eyes.

You clear your throat. “Either they kill you or i kill her.”

“What are they going to do? Huh?” He scoffs. “I would've been able to—”

“That's not a risk I wanted to take,” you retort. “You're capable, yes, but you can't expect me to gamble on your life.”

“You shouldn't have made that choice for me,” he snaps, swallowing harshly. “She died because you were a coward.”

“Yes.”

“Her death is on me, too.”

“I pulled the trigger.” You're reliving it now and it does nothing but worsen your headache. “It's on me.”

There's no taking it back now. You'll have to tell him the whole truth and so you did. How your employer 'recruited' you as you were escorting Tracy Miller, how they threatened your life, and when it didn't work, they threatened his instead. You've been stuck working with them since. Being labelled a traitor by the government. It's not ss if you have much of a choice.

You're blinking away tears as you close out your explanation. “They sent me here to investigate whatever's happening here. I didn't know you were here until I landed. If I'd known—”

His attentiveness spurs you on as you're stringing sentence after sentence together frantically, spilling out everything that has gone unsaid the past five years.

“Do you regret it?” He asks after a beat of silence passes.

“Every single day, but I would make the same choice again.”

He sighs. “We were a team, you know. Maybe we could have done something if you had talked to me.”

You bite your lip. “I'm sorry.”

“I know you are.” He tilts your chin up towards him. “Just don't ever do that again. Don't put my life above anyone else's.”

You pull back, turning away from his gaze. “I'll try.”

He grabs your hand. “It's okay. It'll be okay. Let's just — leave this all behind, yeah?”

Your eyes widen, some of the weight on your shoulders suddenly sloughing off. “What are you saying?”

“We should go. Somewhere Asia, maybe? Disappear from this mess,” he says it with too much certainty. It sounds easier than it actually is. “Leave this all to rot. It'll just be us.”

“Can we?”

He nods resolutely.

[ ]

i'm the first to admit there are so many plotholes in this fic and the timeline is confusing, but basically: raccoon city incident > one year into government recruitment is when reader's forcefully recruited & ordered to kill tracy > for 5 years after that. reader works for the same people who recruited them still. > six years since raccoon city, reader crosses path with leon (who's trying to save ashley graham). reader met leon during raccoon city incident and they were inseparable ever since, becoming lovers. also obviously sherry isn't really a part of this bc leon joined the secret agent to protect her. the ending won't work if she exists. ive been sitting on this for a couple of days because i don't know how to properly end fics?? i imagine reader and leon packing things up (after getting ashley home) for a rural town far far away from all the resident evil chaos, living their best domestic life, trying to heal themselves from their past. i realise i shouldve planned this better because having the reader murder someone is SUPER HARD to justify when writing this part. i wrote myself into a corner. i kept thinking that there's no way in hell reader would get forgiveness??? the titles for the two part are taken from taylor swift's my tears ricochet. it's an angsty song about betrayal. that's it from me. thank you for reading!

[tideswept]

Oh, oh! Made up title: The Midsummer Incident

This could go either very bad or very harmless in my mind lmao and I haven't decided which instinct would win out so I took my time but--I think I finally have a definitive answer.

And it's... a short story? (wait, wait, stop throwing rotten fruit, it's wasteful! your plants want it!)

"Why do houses bleed?" Morkie—whose name on her birth certificate is Helen Camilla Lynch, but who has a particular set of ideas about whether real names are meant to be used or hidden because she's obsessed with faeries—asks.

I continue buttering the bread. "What do you mean?"

My tone is only curious. No matter their advanced vocabulary, five-year-olds are five-year-olds. Combine that with a fertile imagination, and I'm used to just about anything coming out of my child's mouth. Last week, it had been the deeply philosophical question of whether Santa pays his elves.

(I told her I wasn't sure, and that we could write to him at the end of the year to inquire about his business practices to make sure everything was on the up and up.)

Her attention is on the toast, eagle-eyed that I might screw up the butter-to-bread ratio, which would then throw off the marmalade ratio. "Mr. Barbie's house bled last night."

My head cocks to the side to glance out the kitchen window at the squat house across the street from us. Replicas of Italian statues dot his yard, including an exquisite copy of David that the real estate agent had tried to block with her car when she'd been giving us a house tour, not realizing that my daughter had seen more artistic nudes than most art critics by this point.

Mr. Barbie—Mr. Barberio, but again, due to fairy law, real names were something to be protected—had not been the most pleasant neighbor when we'd moved in late in the spring, but he'd warmed up to us after he discovered I was an artist. Digital, but I had my fondness for charcoal and paper, which had convinced him I wasn't a complete barbarian out to stomp on all things beautiful and true.

He was a spry old man, cagey about his age, with a shock of snow-white hair maintained with the precision of a mathematician's formula, slicked back as if to show off what a full head of it he had.

My husband, who's had a widow's peak since he was Morkie's age, had ruefully rubbed his thinning hair and said, "If you leave me for him, I'll know why."

"Mmn." With a flourish of my wrist to indicate a job well done, I slide the buttered toast onto Morkie's plate. "I can't say saw it happening. What did it look like?"

Morkie takes a bite of her toast and bluntly says, "Like blood."

Alright. Point to the smartass. I pull the closest sketchbook to me—I kept at least one in every room, not out of pragmatism but because I lose them and encounter them again like old friends—and start roughing out the shape of Mr. Barberio's house. "Where? And—hey, no butter fingers."

Morkie looks at her butter-slick hand as if it's betrayed her and pulls it back to hover an inch over the sketch. "Here, and here," she explains, pointing at the two upper windows that face the road.

I dutifully shade in those windows. "Like this?"

"Like crying, mommy." Morkie chomps on her toast, sounding exasperated that I'm not picking up what she's laying down. God, I'm going to miss her when she starts kindergarten in a month. Sassy little beast.

"That's a bit sad, isn't it?" I prod gently, pencil unmoving. The sketch remains as it is, the two windows dark. "Did it make you feel sad?"

Morkie nods. She's finished with the bread and is now dragging her sippy cup to her mouth. She can drink just fine out of a glass; she just likes to vary it up with a classic every once in a while.

"When did you see it?"

"When I was sleeping." Morkie sees no issue with this.

Ah. "Like in a dream?"

"Nope," she says, popping the "p" definitively.

I'm weighing whether to say anything at all because not everything needs an explanation when the sirens, muffled by the closed windows, register.

We live in a quiet neighborhood, deep in a maze of residential streets that simply end rather than looping back into the arteries of the city. So any emergency services hauling ass with all lights on aren't simply passing through; this is their destination.

We watch silently as the ambulance stops in front of Mr. Barberio's house.

📚 [send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it;]

🍓 [quick jump to ask inbox]

[major2501]

Living in the Fray: Chapter Eleven

'Good morning Chase fans and welcome to day two of the Convict Chase with me Terry St. Vincent and Naoko Harada Walker! Thanks to Paul for covering the night shift and letting us get some rest so we can be with you for what we hope is another exciting day!'

Terry St. Vincent was an alarmingly happy and cheerful man today especially as he was fronting the Chase show for a change and wasn't in the shadow of Paul Adams. Naoko even got more screen time too which she relished in. Out of the three hosts, Naoko was an actual journalist and hosted many informative documentaries over the years as well as the New Edo ten o'clock news three nights a week. She enjoyed doing something different once in a while to give herself a break from the seriousness and the Chase was the perfect occasion to do so.

'We're coming up for the first twenty four hour mark, meaning we will have thirty hours, twenty three minutes and fifty seven seconds left of this years Chase. If you haven't been watching, here's a recap of the Chase so far.'

Naoko led the way in to a round up segment showing key moments that had happened. Krieger's first kill mere seconds after the Chase had begun, Daisuke Akiyama's disqualification by killing one of his contracts and not one of the cons, followed by Frank's harbour front shooting and then finishing off with Krieger's second kill of convict Andrea Toles by beheading her with her sword, Inazuma.

'So Captain Krieger is currently in the lead with two kills followed by Frank Da Costa with one. Freddie Wilson is yet to get on the scoreboard and Daisuke Akiyama has been disqualified.'

Michael had the right idea and cooked breakfast for everyone as and when they arrived on the Osiris instead of making everything beforehand. They weren't too late though which wasn't that bad. Instead of preparing the weird greasy breakfasts he was made to make at the café place he worked at before he joined the crew he made a wide array of easy dishes. Eggs benedict with fresh muffins from the bakery up the road, lean bacon and homemade hollandaise sauce, fluffy blueberry pancakes, BLT sandwiches on malted toasted bread and even some options for the body building Justin; of scrambled eggs and avocado on whole-wheat toast and protein pancakes made with bananas. Justin was impressed with Michael's cooking and made it clear that he was quite possibly his most favourite person in the galaxy as he knew what to make and make it well.

'Favourite person in the galaxy next to my wife and kids I should say. She'd kill me, if I didn't say that.' Justin cringed a little bit as he corrected himself.

The crew watched the Chase coverage on a small holoscreen mounted in the ships galley as they ate their breakfast. Funnily enough they were watching the Chase Hunters having breakfast. Freddie was in a typical American diner tucking in to what was essentially desert for breakfast; waffles and pancakes. Frank was in some very fancy French Bistro having coffee from a cafetiere with some very intricate pastries and a selection of fresh fruit and yoghurt.

Krieger however was in fact like she had planned, sat in the West End Breakfast Emporium. The English greasy spoon café owned by Ernie and Cindy Carter from good old London, was big enough to hold a fairly small proportion of the British residents of New Edo and coincidentally was the only place on the whole planet that knew what a full English breakfast was. So it got a lot of business; not only from its British regulars but from people who had heard from said Brits that a full English breakfast was the best thing for curing a hangover. And New Edo was the spiritual home of hangovers.

'What can I get you Cas? The usual?' Cindy asked as she wandered up to the table Krieger was just about to sit down at.

'Better make it a large pot of coffee Cindy I got a long day today ahead of me.' She smiled extra hard at Cindy as she saw she was wearing a Team Krieger badge on her apron.

'Sure thing. ERNIE! KRIEGER'S USUAL!' She screamed in the direction of the kitchen at her husband as she walked back behind the counter to fix a pot of coffee for Krieger. Ernie had briefly popped his head out but soon went back in as his wife was advancing.

Krieger's usual wasn't exactly a full English breakfast but it was what she could handle. She went for the standard breakfast but with a few things taken away and a few additions. She never had black pudding or baked beans but supplemented their removal with extra fried mushrooms and an extra hash brown. So on the serving platter sized plate that was eventually presented to her were two fried eggs, three rashers of back bacon, a few plum tomatoes, three hash browns, two pork sausages and a mound of fried button mushrooms with a side of buttered white bread and a huge pot of coffee to wash it all down.

The coffee was the first thing to go. Krieger downed it with an ample amount of milk and sugar that she dumped in to her mug. Cindy graciously brought her out another pot knowing that she would want another. Krieger delved in to her breakfast; shovelling everything in her mouth looking like she barely chewed anything on its way down. Ernie always cooked breakfasts to perfection and this was exactly what she needed right now. She ate everything that was on her plate, mopping up the residual yolky egg with the last piece of bread. Saving Cindy a trip back to her table, Krieger picked up her plate and took it up to the serving counter.

'As always, perfect breakfast.' Krieger said as she handed over her plate to Cindy. Ernie had finally come out of the kitchen in the back, wiping his hands on a blue and white striped tea towel. Krieger noticed Ernie was also wearing a Team Krieger badge on his apron. She approved. Krieger then placed her finger on the scanner on the counter to pay for her breakfast as Ernie began talking.

'Think you're gonna get another today?' Ernie asked while his wife tended to the plate Krieger had given her.

'I hope so, it's up in the air though there's only two cons left and three hunters.'

'Well we're cheering for you anyway Krieger.'

She grinned.

'How much you put down on me winning this year?'

'Five thousand creds.' Ernie chuckled.

'Well I'll do my best and make sure you score big. I better dash, I'll be winning fuck all if I don't get hunting.'

'Stay safe sweetheart.' Cindy called over as Krieger turned to leave. She smiled and waved as she made her way through the door, instantly getting on neural comms to Ronson as her feet hit the pavement.

'Morning babes, you got owt for me?'

'Nothing yet. New Edo's barely woken up and had its first ciggy yet I bet everybody's still hungover from last night, or they're at work already.'

Krieger sighed. She hated slow Chases. It meant a lot of waiting around for nothing to happen and the only time you'd ever really find a con was if you got lucky on your search or if they made the mistake of being pinged on one of the many CCTV cameras dotted around.

'Right.' Krieger squinted her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose as if it would help her think better. 'Um, lets try some profiling see if that gets us anywhere. Get me some info on the cons we have left send it to my ocular.'

'Okay... two secs... There.'

Krieger's left eye HUD lit up with photos of one of the cons and some text showing some statistics; height, ages, weight and so on.

'Okay so this is Jax. Real name unknown but it was changed by deed poll years ago. Six foot two, two hundred and five pounds of what seems to be pure muscle, mixed race black and white. Associated with the Outer World Liberation Front as a mere foot soldier. That's all I got on him, seems like the OWLF are pretty good at getting rid of or fabricating information.'

'You don't think he could be one of their suicide bombers?

'Possibly, they tend to leave that up to the brainwashed underlings. They usually get them to assassinate difficult to reach targets without any regards to the consequences.'

'And is Jax one of them? You got his arrest record?' Krieger questioned. Knowing what some of the OLWF minions were like from previous attacks; if Jax was a disposable soldier then he was most likely going after somebody important or he was planning on bombing somewhere or a whole bunch of people during his time out of jail. Krieger was thinking the latter. The mission was never quite over for them and prison wouldn't stop them from finishing it.

'Ookay.' Ronson started. 'He was arrested a few times back on Earth when he was a member of an Animal Rights Group. Cut to the new galaxy and he's only had two arrests, one for punching a police officer during a supposedly peaceful protest and the second arrest is what landed him in prison. Bombed the trade docks on Moralis. They caught him shortly after about to set a bomb off on the Boston Swing Bridge from the mainland to the dock island.'

'He's not coming out any time soon. You get any breakfast yet?' Krieger asked.

'In a mo, they're replenishing to buffet table soon. Erik can't half put it away.'

Krieger smiled a little imagining Erik towering over the buffet table loading up on whatever he could fit on a plate. She brought herself back round to the real world and lit a cigarette as she walked through the streets. New Edo was wide awake by now and people were going about their business as normal. Of course a bunch of the pubs were already teaming with people watching the Chase on their holoscreens with a cheeky morning pint.

'So what about the last guy, Clements?'

'Sending info now.'

Krieger received the information again on her left eye HUD with more blurb about Clement and a few more pictures that cycled through on a slideshow. They were only shown a few photos of each con before the Chase started. Either way, none of them were good photos.

'Jesus Christ he looks like he fuck a warm muffin.'

Krieger could hear Ronson choking slightly at the comment she made. She could hear him giggle a bit then heard him drinking something, followed by a small cough as if he were trying to compose himself.

'Never mind fucking warm muffins, this sick bastard had a penchant for drunk women and little girls.'

'Oh this guys getting torn to pieces. I'd even let the others do it so long as he suffers.'

'Well nobody has seen him at all. I've had a look at some of his psyche reports and this guy is evil. Nine counts of rape on adult women, five of which were murdered and four counts of sexual abuse on minors; one he molested and raped on and off over 3 years and two of which he also killed. The last one committed suicide several years later when she was only thirteen.'

'He has a compulsion by the sound of it. How long has he been locked up for?'

'Three years and seven months.'

'And he's on the nonce wing?'

'Yep, far away from Gen Pop.'

Krieger's skin was crawling just thinking about this awful excuse for a human being. She figured Ronson was lousy at the thought of this guy too.

'So he's been in all that time, away from everybody else. Yeah he's either gonna keep his head down or he's out to get his jollies one last time before he gets slotted.'

'That's what I think he'd do.' Ronson sighed deeply.

'Ugh I hate when they send pedos for the Chase. I mean this is a fucked up planet but we have barely any of those sick fucks.' Krieger shook her head.

'Even New Edo resident pedos don't last five minutes when they get outed, the locals go after them.'

'Well one of us better get to him before they do. It's still a competition.'

'You better get cracking then. Last proper full day and night to search for these arseholes.'

Krieger could hear a slight sense of urgency in Ronson's voice, meaning he wanted her to wrap this up as soon as possible and get those final kills in. She knew damn well he had a shopping list with expensive things on it waiting to be checked off during a spree and the Chase win money Krieger would give him would pay for it all. He had the money to begin with but he never wanted to dip in to that. Krieger thought it was funny but to be honest, she was exactly the same. The pair of them came from backgrounds that never allowed treating themselves or excessive spending thanks to a disposable income. But now after amassing a huge amount of money they learned how to budget for their treats and daily living expenses; spend money coming to you, not what you already have saved. Krieger knew Ronson was eying up some designer clothing and a brand new kitchen for his apartment. Bespoke as well.

The crew of the Osiris were now busy milling about the ship after the fabulous breakfast Michael had prepared. While they were all enjoying the Chase so far, they were looking forward to the trades holiday that came directly after. The trades holiday happened every year directly after the Chase; three days of all factories on New Edo closing to allow all their staff time for rest and to allow deep cleaning crews and engineers to come in and make everything ship shape and Bristol fashion. But of course with this being New Edo, it meant that those three days would be spent drunk. The crew of the Osiris however like a lot of the people off during this time would spend most of the holiday down at the beach. Sometimes without Krieger if she had been seriously injured during the Chase and had to spend time in a tank of MediGel down at the local clinic. She tried to make sure that didn't happen though, she'd rather spend time with her crew at the beach than stark bollock naked in a tank of some mad perfluorocarbon-esq goop that felt and smelt like wallpaper paste.

'I don't think the boss is gonna get the next one.' Jess spoke up.

'I don't think she will either.' Faye added.

The other's looked at them both, wondering if this sudden outburst was some kind of psychic twin moment. Jess was already placing a bet on who she thought was get the next kill. Faye was doing the same on another betting site. Michael was wondering if they were all in on it, as if Krieger was not getting certain kills on purpose to benefit the crew who were betting on her. He thought against it, she did seem pretty pissed off when she didn't get to Frank's kill on time to steal it from him.

Michael then thought he'd stick a bet on his Boss to win. He had a few hundred credits going spare saved over from his last pay check so he decided to stick a hundred credits down on Krieger to win overall. He'd get a pretty decent return on that bet if she won so he'd have a bit more to stick in his savings pot.

The crew watched their Boss on screen as she walked through the streets of New Edo, stopping occasionally to chat to a few people and sign a few autographs. Eventually the cameras following her were lead to Hideki's bar. The footage then cut from Krieger to Freddie and Frank who were both still having an elongated breakfast. Freddie could be seen from outside Joe's Twenty Four Hour Diner which did an awesome burger and amazing fried chicken but served anything that could be considered dessert as breakfast. Frank however was doing the usual of sitting outside one of the nicer bistros enjoying a leisurely breakfast of pastries, fruit and coffee. And of course it being Frank, several good looking women were sat at his table flirting away with him.

Daytime was usually slow on the Chase. Most of the programme during the daytime and afternoon was filled with segments about greatest kills or spectacular fails from previous years; Krieger appearing many times in both and sometimes with Frank as their competition with each other sometimes came to a head. Frank and Krieger were kill stealers, especially with each other. Frank's most remembered steal from Krieger was when he got some of his big American Football/Rugby playing sports mates to literally tackle and carry her away from her target she was just about to shoot. Krieger's most remembered steal was when Frank was about to shoot his target, but she threw an egg and cress sandwich at his head and it smacked him straight in the face; the egg concoction clung to his face and slid down right on to his designer suede jacket. Frank lost his shit. Krieger lost her sandwich.

'What's the Boss doing at Hideki's' Michael asked his crew mates bar Zach who were all back in the rec room of the Osiris, watching the Chase day two on the big holoscreen. 'They got information for her?'

'Yep.' Devin answered. 'She has a bit of a network who relay info to the guys at Hideki's and Bab's at her bar.'

'Hunters are only allowed to communicate with their handlers via the neuromod, but they are allowed to collect info by other means.' Tony added as he sipped at a hot mug of coffee.

It dawned on Michael that he knew bugger all about the Chase. In fact he knew bugger all about what was going on in the rest of the galaxy. If it wasn't for his workmates he'd still be in the dark about everything.

'She's probably having a mid-morning pint too.' Tony chuckled.

Krieger was absolutely going to have a mid-morning pint. Hideki's bar was quite busy for this early time in the morning but it was also quiet due to some specific customers. There were a small group of Voxon males sat around one of the big tables, all looking at a pitcher of beer with empty glasses in front of them.

'Oh shit.' Krieger said over neurocomms to Ronson as she walked in to the bar. 'There's a bunch of Voxon in Hideki's.'

'Ooof, good luck with that.' Ronson replied.

Krieger sailed past the group and leant on the bar, looking up at Hideki who had been wiping down the counters with a pleading look in her eyes saying "pint now, I beg of you!" He complied instantly without saying a word.

'Oh! Look! That's Captain Cassandra Krieger of the Osiris! Hello Captain. Please come and join us in the drinking of alcoholic beverages.'

Hideki slid the fresh pint over to Krieger with a touch of a grin on his face at what one of the Voxon group who recognised her.

'Here's your alcoholic beverage Captain.' He said through his grin. Krieger picked up the glass and gave Hideki a look consisting of annoyance with a touch of venom. Time to be nice in the face of perfection.

[healthyartsforseniors]

We are the guests we have been waiting for <3

Halwah by Lubna

With December comes our last session together for "Cooking Up Feminism" a program that has been virtually facilitated for the past 11 weeks at Scarborough Arts. Before dispersing for the holidays, the workshops participants came together for one last hurrah, and a whole lotta sweet tooth. It's time for DESSERT as we unfold our final theme, honouring all of the wonderful sweet dishes we have grown up savouring.

Lubna takes me right back to my childhood with this delicious, velvety, earthy brown Halwah. Traditionally eaten for breakfast with spicy chickpeas, potatoes and Puri (deep fried flat breads), Halwah is a treat we would always look forward to, especially around the Eid holidays and weekends. There are many regionally diverse varieties of Halwah and they come in several colours too. Lubna brings us her unique caramelized version. Let's dig in.

"This caramelized Halwah is a dessert. It is made out of Suji (semolina). I would love to cook it for all of you one day. We usually eat this after dinner as a dessert. Because it's rich and heavy, it can't be eaten all the time, but it is a really special dessert that we look forward to in our family. The sugar is cooked in the oil until it is caramelized. We cook this for a long time. It's also important to soak the Suji in hot water for 5-7 mins. The advantage is that when the Suji is soaked, it softens up and when it is added to the caramelized sugar, it thickens the consistency and turns into an absolutely beautiful Halwah. It doesn't require any extra fragrances, essences or additives. The caramel itself has a very aromatic scent. I garnished this Halwah with silvered almonds. I've included a vase in the background of this photograph. I love it. It was a gift from my daughter." ~ Lubna

Mosaic Cake by Ebru

Ebru transports us to happy times during her childhood, when her mother would make the very decadent Mosaic Cake for the family. The chocolaty glaze peeks out from underneath a blanket of crunchy almonds and we can't wait to know more.

"I am a volunteer at a social innovation centre in Toronto. Usually freelancers, creatives and small business owners rent tables here so they can continue their business. We organize cafe chats often and bring food items for everyone. This time I brought the Mosaic Cake from my childhood, and of course some Turkish coffee.

There is no baking with this cake. We can also call it a "student cake" because the ingredients are so simple and basic. It can be gluten friendly as well. The ingredients are simply mixed up and frozen.

This dessert is a staple from my childhood. Whenever my mother would make it, I remember the beautiful, heart-warming smell and how happy it would make me feel. Now, here in Canada, when I have guests over, I love to make Mosaic Cake for them. Usually Turkish women want to show off their abilities, by making very elaborate, time-consuming desserts. But this cake is so simple and my mother would just whip it up for us whenever we asked for it. For me, this is comfort food. The Mosaic Cake is my happy place." ~ Ebru

Sisters by Ann Marie

The holidays are filled with traditions and Ann Marie invites us to take a glimpse into her family's annual get togethers. Every winter, during the Christmas holidays, Ann Marie and her sisters come together to make their family's traditional Jamaican Christmas Rum Cake and haven't missed a single year for over 15 years.

Jamaican Christmas Rum Cake by Ann Marie

"The test to know when your batter is ready, is to stick your wooden spoon into the centre and push it up and down. If it stands still, that means your batter is ready. This is the test our grandmothers and mothers taught us. This is not a light or airy cake, it's a very dense cake."

Jamaican Christmas Rum Cake

"After the baking process, I pour brandy over the top of the cake while it is still warm. Some people pour white rum. When my daughter was getting married, I baked her a cake. I soaked the fruits for that wedding cake for over a year and a half. I laboured over every single hand-made sugar flower to decorate the cake with. When my sisters and I get together to complete our annual holiday traditions, we make sure to begin the process for next year's Jamaican Christmas Rum Cake too. This is how we commit to, and continue our traditions."

~ Ann Marie

After tasting some very delicious desserts from Madhu (refer to Madhu's South Asian Laddoos in previous posts) , Ann Marie, Lubna and Ebru, we finally arrive at Lady P's vibrant and colourful table, where she has created a tea party for us. There are bite sized Jamaican rum cake slices just waiting to be devoured, along with many other sweet treats, such as shortbread cookies.

"I must confess I made all of these desserts on the morning of our workshop. First, of course we have my famous Jamaican cake, as well as my best banana cake and shortbread cookies. I also decorated the table with fruits and nuts. I served some tea in one of my favourite sets. My father gifted this set to me when we went to England. I brought out the good stuff today. Oh, and of course I made my guava jam a few weeks ago. I gave most of it away, but there was some left so I brought it to our tea party." ~ Lady P

Throughout the COVID-19 pandemic, so many of our individual and collective joys and traditions came to a standstill. Hosting parties, gathering with friends and families, breaking bread together, celebrating milestones, these are emotionally sustaining activities that we never imagined would be temporarily inaccessible. The "Cooking Up Feminism" workshop series under the Healthy Arts for Seniors program is a testament to the ways in which online platforms can be used to birth new communities. While this is our last virtual workshop together, this is certainly, by no means, the end, but rather a new beginning. As we turn the page, we are heading into a new year, cultivating deeper friendships and wider networks of support. Next year, in March of 2023, all of the "Cooking Up Feminism" participants and the Scarborough Arts team will be uniting for an in person potluck party. Our "Cooking Up Feminism" matriarchal, feminist cookbook will also be launching in the new year.

***All of the recipes and stories we share in "Cooking Up Feminism" will be published in a unique cookbook by Scarborough Arts, available to the public in 2023, so stay tuned. Bookmark our blog and follow along. Thank you for your support.

~Mariam Magsi (Workshop Facilitator, Scarborough Arts)

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ASOS: Sansa IV (Chapter 59)

My little blueberry! 😻

She threw back the coverlets. I must be brave. Her torments would soon be ended, one way or the other. If Lady was here, I would not be afraid. Lady was dead, though; Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her father, her mother, even Septa Mordane. All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now.

Did you forget someone?

Always conspicuously absent.

+.+.+

Her lord husband was not beside her, but she was used to that. 

[...]

Sometimes the smell of the morning bread from the ovens took him to the kitchens, and sometimes he would climb up to the roof garden or wander all alone down Traitor's Walk.

I choose to believe this has more to do with Daenerys than Joffrey.

+.+.+

She threw back the shutters and shivered as gooseprickles rose along her arms. There were clouds massing in the eastern sky, pierced by shafts of sunlight. They look like two huge castles afloat in the morning sky. Sansa could see their walls of tumbled stone, their mighty keeps and barbicans. Wispy banners swirled from atop their towers and reached for the fast-fading stars. The sun was coming up behind them, and she watched them go from black to grey to a thousand shades of rose and gold and crimson. Soon the wind mushed them together, and there was only one castle where there had been two.

A rose (Tyrell) castle merged with a castle of gold and crimson (Lannister).

I don't understand the black to grey part. Maybe grey is Sansa?

+.+.+

"Come see," she told them. "There's a castle in the sky."

They came to have a look. "It's made of gold." Shae had short dark hair and bold eyes. She did all that was asked of her, but sometimes she gave Sansa the most insolent looks. "A castle all of gold, there's a sight I'd like to see."

"A castle, is it?" Brella had to squint. "That tower's tumbling over, looks like. It's all ruins, that is."

Sansa did not want to hear about falling towers and ruined castles. She closed the shutters 

Where others see a ruined castle, Sansa sees beauty and wonder.

The Tyrell and Lannister union will collapse. Tell us something we don't know.

Shae thought the rich man held all the power. Now she only sees a castle made of gold. Laying it on a bit thick there, George.

+.+.+

It's a new century, my lady. The three hundredth year since Aegon's Conquest." The dwarf took a cup of red from Podrick and raised it high. "To Aegon. What a fortunate fellow. Two sisters, two wives, and three big dragons, what more could a man ask for?"

Pest control?

+.+.+

He is such a timid boy. Sansa had been wary of Tyrion's squire at first; he was a Payne, cousin to Ser Ilyn Payne who had taken her father's head off. However, she'd soon come to realize that Pod was as frightened of her as she was of his cousin. Whenever she spoke to him, he turned the most alarming shade of red.

"Are purple, gold, and white the colors of House Payne, Podrick?" she asked him politely.

"No. I mean, yes." He blushed. "The colors. Our arms are purple and white chequy, my lady. With gold coins. In the checks. Purple and white. Both." He studied her feet.

"There's a tale behind those coins," said Tyrion. "No doubt Pod will confide it to your toes one day. 

Two books later, we still haven't heard that tale.

Gosh I hope they meet again, I want to hear it.

+.+.+

For herself, she tried a little of the Dornish eggs, but the peppers burned her mouth. Otherwise she only nibbled at the fruit and fish and honeycakes. Every time Joffrey looked at her, her tummy got so fluttery that she felt as though she'd swallowed a bat.

Ah shoot, lol.

Dornish eggs, followed by a bat in Sansa's tummy...

He was scaled like a lizard, blind, with the stub of a tail and small leather wings like the wings of a bat. - Daenerys IX, AGOT

Come to your own conclusions, I guess.

+.+.+

When the food had been cleared away, the queen solemnly presented Joff with the wife's cloak that he would drape over Margaery's shoulders. "It is the cloak I donned when Robert took me for his queen, the same cloak my mother Lady Joanna wore when wed to my lord father." Sansa thought it looked threadbare, if truth be told, but perhaps because it was so used.

I'm sure this is a metaphor for all those unions, but it also might be implying the material is cheap because Tytos Lannister squandered the Lannister fortune.

+.+.+

Lord Paxter Redwyne brought forth a beautiful wooden model of the war galley of two hundred oars being built even now on the Arbor. "If it please Your Grace, she will be called King Joffrey's Valor," he said, and Joff allowed that he was very pleased indeed. 

What a great omen for that fleet.

Eat them, Euron.

+.+.+

Indeed, all his courtesy vanished at once when Tyrion presented him with their own gift: a huge old book called Lives of Four Kings, bound in leather and gorgeously illuminated. The king leafed through it with no interest. "And what is this, Uncle?"

A book. Sansa wondered if Joffrey moved those fat wormy lips of his when he read.

"Grand Maester Kaeth's history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good," her small husband answered.

A book. Lmao

Please not Targaryen history. My favourite character is about to expose me. The betrayal!

+.+.+

"If you read less, Uncle Imp, perhaps Lady Sansa would have a baby in her belly by now." He laughed . . . and when the king laughs, the court laughs with him. "Don't be sad, Sansa, once I've gotten Queen Margaery with child I'll visit your bedchamber and show my little uncle how it's done."

It's interesting that this topic would pop up.

+.+.+

Lord Mace Tyrell came forward to present his gift: a golden chalice three feet tall, with two ornate curved handles and seven faces glittering with gemstones. "Seven faces for Your Grace's seven kingdoms," the bride's father explained. He showed them how each face bore the sigil of one of the great houses: ruby lion, emerald rose, onyx stag, silver trout, blue jade falcon, opal sun, and pearl direwolf.

"A splendid cup," said Joffrey, "but we'll need to chip the wolf off and put a squid in its place, I think."

[...]

"The damned thing's as tall as I am," Tyrion muttered in a low voice. "Half a chalice and Joff will be falling down drunk."

Good, she thought. Perhaps he'll break his neck.

"but we'll need to chip the wolf off and put a squid in its place, I think."

Maybe we should ask Tommen his preference, you worm.

I wonder if it was Olenna Tyrell who picked the gift.

Speaking of gifts, Sansa still has her gift. Not perfect this time, but she nailed the correct body part.

+.+.+

Lord Tywin waited until last to present the king with his own gift: a longsword. Its scabbard was made of cherrywood, gold, and oiled red leather, studded with golden lions' heads. The lions had ruby eyes, she saw. The ballroom fell silent as Joffrey unsheathed the blade and thrust the sword above his head. Red and black ripples in the steel shimmered in the morning light.

+.+.+

She wondered if he'd want Margaery to kiss this one.

The guests were shouting out names for the new blade. Joff dismissed a dozen before he heard one he liked. "Widow's Wail!" he cried. "Yes! It shall make many a widow, too!"

Does Margaery wail? Let's find out.

+.+.+

Joffrey brought Widow's Wail down in a savage two-handed slice, onto the book that Tyrion had given him. The heavy leather cover parted at a stroke. "Sharp! I told you, I am no stranger to Valyrian steel."

House Baratheon and House Lannister didn't have Valyrian steel swords, so how is he familiar with the steel?

Do you see where we're going with this?

+.+.+

Tyrion was staring at his nephew with his mismatched eyes. "Perhaps a knife, sire. To match your sword. A dagger of the same fine Valyrian steel . . . with a dragonbone hilt, say?"

Joff gave him a sharp look. "You . . . yes, a dagger to match my sword, good." He nodded. "A . . . a gold hilt with rubies in it. Dragonbone is too plain."

Do you see? Do you?

+.+.+

Shae had told her that this Ellaria worshiped some Lysene love goddess. "She was almost a whore when he found her, m'lady," her maid confided, "and now she's near a princess."

Are you having silly aspirations, Shae?

+.+.+

"I once had the great good fortune to see the Citadel's copy of Lives of Four Kings," Prince Oberyn was telling her lord husband. "The illuminations were wondrous to behold, but Kaeth was too kind by half to King Viserys."

Tyrion gave him a sharp look. "Too kind? He scants Viserys shamefully, in my view. It should have been Lives of Five Kings."

The prince laughed. "Viserys hardly reigned a fortnight."

"He reigned more than a year," said Tyrion.

Oberyn gave a shrug. "A year or a fortnight, what does it matter? He poisoned his own nephew to gain the throne and then did nothing once he had it."

"Baelor starved himself to death, fasting," said Tyrion. "His uncle served him loyally as Hand, as he had served the Young Dragon before him. Viserys might only have reigned a year, but he ruled for fifteen, while Daeron warred and Baelor prayed." He made a sour face. "And if he did remove his nephew, can you blame him? Someone had to save the realm from Baelor's follies."

I had to read this three times to retain half of it.

I don't know anything about Viserys II Targaryen or the other characters mentioned, but I do know we're having a sneaky conversation about an uncle poisoning his nephew king.

+.+.+

Sansa was shocked. "But Baelor the Blessed was a great king. He walked the Boneway barefoot to make peace with Dorne, and rescued the Dragonknight from a snakepit. The vipers refused to strike him because he was so pure and holy."

Prince Oberyn smiled. "If you were a viper, my lady, would you want to bite a bloodless stick like Baelor the Blessed? I'd sooner save my fangs for someone juicier . . ."

"My prince is playing with you, Lady Sansa," said the woman Ellaria Sand. "The septons and singers like to say that the snakes did not bite Baelor, but the truth is very different. He was bitten half a hundred times, and should have died from it."

"If he had, Viserys would have reigned a dozen years," said Tyrion, "and the Seven Kingdoms might have been better served. Some believe Baelor was deranged by all that venom."

Please, mercy.

I'd rather starve than go read about Baelor the Blessed. Was he a great king? I doubt it, he's a Targaryen.

If there's a hidden message here, I'm not catching it.

+.+.+

"Close the curtains, my lady, if you'd be so good."

"Must we, my lord?" Sansa did not want to be shut behind the curtains.

Sansa flies beyond the curtain of light, confirmed.

+.+.+

"I was sorry about your book, my lord," she made herself say.

"It was Joffrey's book. He might have learned a thing or two if he'd read it." He sounded distracted. "I should have known better. I should have seen . . . a good many things."

You probably should have read it a few more times yourself.

Tyrion believes he should have known it was Joffrey who hired the catspaw. Ridiculous, who would ever suspect that? I'm not even convinced that was the author's original plan.

+.+.+

"Perhaps the dagger will please him more."

When the dwarf grimaced, his scar tightened and twisted. "The boy's earned himself a dagger, wouldn't you say?"

Joffrey can get in line.

+.+.+

"Joff quarreled with your brother Robb at Winterfell. Tell me, was there ill feeling between Bran and His Grace as well?"

"Bran?" The question confused her. "Before he fell, you mean?" She had to try and think back. It was all so long ago. "Bran was a sweet boy. Everyone loved him. He and Tommen fought with wooden swords, I remember, but just for play."

This gets brought up a lot. Sansa wasn't even there? How does she remember?

In those days he could run down stairs, get on and off his pony by himself, and wield a wooden sword good enough to knock Prince Tommen in the dirt. - Bran VI, AGOT

x

He remembered the last time he'd held a sword in his hand, when the king had come to Winterfell. It was only a wooden sword, yet he'd knocked Prince Tommen down half a hundred times. - Bran VII, AGOT

x

"At Winterfell Tommen fought my brother Bran with wooden swords. He wore so much padding he looked like a stuffed goose. Bran knocked him to the ground." Jon went to the window. "Yet Bran's dead, and pudgy pink-faced Tommen is sitting on the Iron Throne, with a crown nestled amongst his golden curls." - Samwell I, AFFC

And the same conversation is repeated in Jon II, ADWD.

+.+.+

Deprived of the passing scenery, she chose to stare at her folded hands, uncomfortably aware of her husband's mismatched eyes. Why is he looking at me that way?

[...]

Is this some Lannister trap to make me speak treason? "My brothers were traitors, and they've gone to traitors' graves. It is treason to love a traitor."

[...]

What does he want me to say? "That is good to know, my lord." He wanted something from her, but Sansa did not know what it was. He looks like a starving child, but I have no food to give him. Why won't he leave me be?

Can you imagine feeling this trapped in your own marriage? I just want to hug my baby. :(

+.+.+

"You have never asked me how Robb died, or your lady mother."

"I . . . would sooner not know. It would give me bad dreams."

"Then I will say no more."

"That . . . that's kind of you."

"Oh, yes," said Tyrion. "I am the very soul of kindness. And I know about bad dreams."

Asshole, why bring that up? What happened to not wanting to tell her? It's like he's pushing her to ask.

Final thoughts:

Good news! No more Tyrion in Sansa's chapters.

Bad news! Littlefinger.

-> return to menu <-

[mrsbsmooth]

What cheese would the characters like? Or in terms of a weird personality test. I read your ask about cheese, and it just inspired me to send this wild ask 😂

THIS IS THE BEST ASK I'VE EVER RECIEVED, HANDS DOWN. I fucking love cheese. Like more than life. I am a cheese lover. Now, you didn't mention a season, but because you're such a Marisol stan, I'm gonna assume we're going Season 2 here, as well

What type of cheese do the Season 2 Islanders like?

Fun Game: Think of your favourite before clicking to see how badly you get roasted.

Camembert - Chelsea, Ibrahim, Hannah, Carl, Gary

The basic bitches of the cheese kingdom. Nothing fancy in terms of taste. Plain as the plain wafer they put it on.

Feta - Elijah, Blake, Jo, Jakub

The healthy ones. They haven't had cow's cheese in years, and swear it's been like, so good for their digestion. They hover around the Feta section to try and find people to join their MLM.

Halloumi - Rocco, Henrik, Felix, Graham, Kassam

Like my old roommate, Joe, they put an entire slab of halloumi in a frypan, toast it, and then stick it between two pieces of bread and call it a fucking sandwich. The least give-a-fuckedness vibe of any cheese. Halloumi people are fuckin' wild.

Parmesan / Pecorino - Marisol, Priya, Noah, Shannon

Name a food that isn't made 10x better with freshly grated parmesan all over it. You can't? Oh, that's right, because it doesn't exist. These are people of taste. They know food, and should be trusted to make all management decisions from now on.

Brie - Arjun, Elisa, Lottie, Hope

They had a triple-cream Brie once and literally haven't shut up about it since.

Blue - Lucas

A man of class, a man of taste. Also the only man I would trust to select the right cheese, fruit, cracker, and dips for a proper charcuterie board.

Bobby specifically:

[lvlpin]

I really like writing out the little quotes things into an actual proper text. Also, it's Ms. Torres bc I think Cesar's dad is gone (not sure if its divorce or death he just doesn't exist)and it's only her and Cesar.

Uhhh, alternate's all just kinda have the it/it's pronoun on default but some might adopt identities and gain new pronouns. At least, that's my canon.

------------

"Hey mom? How much does it cost to adopt?" Cesar called for his mom as he shoved another piece of toast at the alternate he had found.

It looked exactly like him, all except for the black and white eyes instead of his brown ones, and was looking through the kitchen. It was completely drench.

Now, a normal person would freak out. Ever since the news of creatures that can shapeshift and are extremely hostile to humans, the general public has been on edge. several creatures being able to shapeshift and having an extreme hostility towards humanity, everyone has been terrified.

A normal person would try to hide, contact the police, just do everything else except for what he did.

The first thought that crossed his mind was a couple of box kittens he had found by the street years ago. He brought them in, convinced his mom to let him take care of them, and cared for the litter until he had to give them away since his mom didn't want to keep a cat.

The alternate just kinda reminded him of the box kittens. It was probably the wet clothings, or the way it rummaged through the fridge, or maybe the wide eyed look when they made eye contact. Whatever it was, it made him pity it.

So he did what a normal person wouldn't do and went to grab some towels to dry it then made some toast for it.

During all of it, the alternate didn't try to kill him, or leave. It just used the towel he gave and then sat on the counter as he mixed the eggs together.

"Well, I was wondering if I could." He stopped answering as he spotted the alternate trying to drink the eggs from the bowl. "Hey! You can't drink those, they're raw." He scolded, pushing the bowl away.

The alternate just looks at him with its creepy eyes and the bowl before trying to sip from the bowl again. It made a weird whining sound as Cesar grabbed the bowl away. He just shooed him and told him let him cook the eggs first before eating.

Cesar poured the bowl into the pan and set a quick timer for about 2 minutes. "Sorry mom, but as I was saying-"

He got distracted when the alternate somehow managed to knock over the fruit stand, which was thankfully empty.

"Cc? Are you okay over there?" Ms. Torres asks, now worried that something is happening over where her son was at. She stood up and rushed to the kitchen when she heard a bang from the kitchen as well as some cursing.

What she found was her son, and another son? One of them was lifting up the fruit stand save for the newspaper that fell out. While the other one picks up the fallen papers.

"Cesar?" She asks cautiously, two heads snapped to look at her. The two of them were practically identical, mirrored right down to the little bit of hair hanging under the cheek. The only difference were the eyes, her son's shocked brown eyes and the others-

She shrieked when she registered the sight of the other Cesar's eyes. Two pale white pupils standing out in the sea of void, unnerving similar to the eyes of a corpse.

The Cesar with the odd eyes didn’t react at all to her outburst at all while her son rushed over and asked if she was okay.

“Cesar, who was that next to you?” She shakily asked before remembering the alternate reports from months ago. Whatever was next to him, it has all the traits of the alternate.

“Is that one of the things from the news?!” She gasped. "Why is it in the house Cesar?"

"Can we keep him?" Cesar asks, hopeful. "Listen, he was wet, cold, and was trying to take our bread."

"You can't just- take an alternate in mijo!" His mom sputtered, waving her hands in front of his face. "Haven't you seen the news? La policía said that you shouldn't go near them."

“But look at him! he clearly needs some food and a nice place to sleep.” Cesar argues, as if he wasn’t trying to house a terrifying creature from satan.

Ms. Torres just looked at her son and alternate, not budging on her decision.

To the alternate’s credit, it hasn’t tried to escape or attack. Just kept its grip on Cesar’s suit, darting its eyes between mother and son.

"He hasn't tried to kill me yet ma, at least let him stay for the night." Cesar pleaded, pulling out his two weapons against his mom which was his baby voice and big eyes, "He could stay in my room, there's enough space on the floor."

"You are ridiculous hijo." His mom sighed, unable to resist Cesar's eyes. "Okay, he can stay but only for tonight and if he lays a hand on you, no more alternates in the house. Okey?" She said, giving a threatening look at the alternate.

“Okay, thanks mama.” He said, giving his mom a hug. Ms. Torres just gave an exhausted nod and hugged her son back. “Love you Cc.”

The alternate just stood there as Cesar and his mom hugged.

Unfortunately, that’s when the kitchen bell rang, reminding Cesar that the eggs were done.

He shot up and ripped himself away from the hug then ran to the kitchen to save the eggs. “¡Ay cagar los huevos!"

The alternate was about to go follow the teenager as well but getting stopped by Ms. Torres placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll let you stay for now but if you lay a hand on my baby boy. I will find a way to kill you all.” She warned it, “Comprendida?"

Sar felt the familiar fear that he always got when Gabriel gets mad with his supposed to be victim's mom. Damn parents figures and their special ability to terrify anyone in the name of their kid. He nodded quickly, then quickly left to follow Cesar and the eggs.

----------------

Google translate Spanish translations cus I don't know Spanish at all La policía (police) Ay cagar los huevos (oh shit the eggs) Comprendida? (Understood?)

-sunglasses anon

shoutout to ms torres for being The Mom Ever(TM)(C) as sar out here fearing for his life fr LMFAOOO

[aineirisha]

Treachery

Kakashi x reader

Summary: Kakashi being jealous. Basically

Warnings: implicit smut... (I think that’s it)

"Natural human reactions," you had explained to him. "If someone makes a fuss about something, people turn around to see. The rest is just about body language and eye contact. There's a fine line between being mad and being sexually aroused. That's the line I'm walking on."

It had worked. It clearly had worked. He counted on you to know what you were doing. He never doubted you. But he wasn't counting on how he was gonna feel once you succeded. He did not know you could walk on that line you said, so perfectly. He wasn't counting on you looking so ravishing. He wasn't counting on the ache in his stomach when he saw that idiot...sama pass his thumb over your lips, nor the clench of his jaw with the way the lord was devouring you with his eyes. And this was just the beginning. If he was to actually help you get through this, he would have to mentally prepare. He shouldn't let his guard down for a pair of pretty eyes, he knew it. This was work, and work and feelings are never to mix.

But he had never felt that way before, and he did not know how to handle it.

"YN-san," Kakashi spoke through the comm. "Eyes on the target,"

He was following the carriage closely. You cleared your throat to confirm.

----

The palace was huge and luxurious. As soon as you got in, Akihiko-sama sent for the servants, "Bathe her and get her ready. She'll have dinner in my chambers tonight."

You followed them into a room with a bathtub and tapestries with cherry blossoms and mermaids carefully painted on them.

The girls filled the water with essences to clean you up and then rubbed oils on your skin. They dressed you from your feet to your hair. It was like a full day at a spa.

The perks of being a slut object of desire

You laughed.

When the night came they led you to Akihiko's room.

It was also huge, like an apartment on its own.  

"Was your bath pleasant?" Akihiko asked you. You nodded, "Leave us," he told the servants, weaving his hand. "Come sit," he pointed at the chair.

The table was set beautifully, full of food; fruits, bread, vegetables, and a particular stew.

You sat down carefully arranging your dress.

"What should I call you, child?"

You were not a child but you figured that was just a way to be polite.

"Uh-" you stuttered. "Yn..."

Damn it you fool!!! You scolded yourself. You should never go by your real name!!!!

But you completely forgot about it.

First mistake.

You didn't want to blame it on Kakashi, but... you knew it had to do with him. This mission was already being hard enough because you could not concentrate. Having him there with you all the time, just the two of you. It was what you had always wanted but not like this. You haven't been this nervous since... well, never. You were a true pro at this type of mission. It was a game, a challenge. You somehow learned to enjoy it over the years. For your own sanity

Like that time, a man, a powerful one, paid a fortune just to get a night with you. He practically begged. It boosted your ego to the sky.

It had made you a confident woman, knowing you were desired that much, even if it hurt you sometimes. You knew being lusted over gave you power, and you liked that. No one like you to make others believe what they wanted to believe... You had never failed, not in one single detail. But this time, with Kakashi next to you in the bedroom, Kakashi close to you as you got ready, Kakashi watching you over his shoulder, his dark eye on you all the time, you were having a really hard time focusing.

That man and his exquisite long fingers and his sexy deep voice...

"Are you really going by your name?" you heard Kakashi over the comm.

Shut up, you fucker, it is your fault.

You thought.

"This is really good..." the food in your mouth had an exotic taste, "What is it?"

"The cook's special dish."

"It taste's like..." you put your hand over your mouth, "Ginseng..." you muttered. The Daimyo’s cousin didn't have to go that far. You smirked and rolled your eyes internally.

What men do to get laid...

Kakashi gasped. Ginseng was famous for being an aphrodisiac root.

That bastard...

His guts turned just to think of what that man seemed to want to do to you.

Akihiko stared at you as you ate. His lustful eyes didn't get you nervous, on the contrary, a perfect chance for seduction. You took advantage of it and made sure each bite had him... thinking of...

He stood behind you, "I'm glad you enjoyed the food," his smooth voice was giving you chills. He sounded like a predator trying to trap its prey.

You felt his fingers run over your shoulders down to your collarbones. "This dress suits you."

You stayed silent, letting him develop whatever nasty fantasy was forming in his mind.

"Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are, Yn-chan?"

The first time he called you by your name.

It sounded like a snake spitting venom.

Kakashi shuddered.

YN-CHAN

The sound of that man's voice echoing in his head. He cracked his knuckles.

From now on, he should stay silent in case Akihiko was too close to your ear. It was a good thing they hadn't made you take off the earing that was actually the comm, but he didn't want to push your luck.

It was a clever move. Akihiko was actually whispering those words to your ear.  

You felt the touch of his lips on your earlobe and down your neck.

"Don't be afraid honeypot, I don't bite..."

You smirked to yourself.

As if a man like him could ever scare you...

You turned your eyes to meet his, parted your lips, and very subtlety lifted them, almost imperceptibly.

"I'm not scared," your sweet, yearning voice made him smile.

He made his way to your neck, tilting your head to the side, "good, good... we will have more fun then...” gentle kisses pressed to the crook of your neck, “I haven't stopped thinking about you," his hands were running down your body and his lips caressing your skin.

Your breath turned heavy.

Kakashi closed his eyes. His brows frowned. You WERE beautiful, and HE had told you. He also hadn't stopped thinking about you. He was thinking about you before that idiot-sama even knew of your existence.

He took a deep breath.

Relax, Kakashi, it's just work.

What a fucking pain in the ass 'just work' was turning out to be.

Akihiko's lips were tender but also full of desire. You could practically feel his arousal.

You knew having Kakashi as a partner could complicate things but you didn't realize how embarrassed it would make you feel to know that he was listening to your fake pantings. You didn't even dare to speak. What would you say?

You have to focus, woman!!

So you closed your eyes and started imagining that those lips over your skin were Kakashi's, that the heat you were feeling over your body was Kakashi's, that those fingertips caressing you softly were those same long fingers the other night had you seeing stars.

You took your hand to his hair and imagined the silver hair you liked so much.

Akihiko's fingers ran over your uncovered chest to the edge of your cleavage. He turned his eyes to you, already eating you alive. "Stand up," he commanded.

You felt the silk dress slide down to the floor, Akihiko's hands tracing down your arms.

The Daimyo's cousin took a step back to fully contemplate you. You heard him grunt.

"I knew you'd please me," he tugged his hands through your hair and pulled you close to kiss you, his tongue deep inside your mouth and his teeth biting your lips... just like Kakashi had done a few nights ago.

The jonin heard you heaving and moaning Akihiko's name. He heard the Lord say all the things he wanted, and was, doing to you. Kakashi wanted to do those things to you too, over and over and over. If you two hadn't been caught up in this mission, he would've found a way to go out with you, or in you, again.

But right now, he could not do anything but to listen to the sound of your moans...

and...

it...

...aroused him.

If there was nothing he could do, at least he'd try to... distract... himself?

So he took his hand to his already hard member and started stroking it. And every time he heard you say Akihiko's name he'd change it to his own. Just like that night you were his, just like that night you came for him. He imagined the touch of your lips, the smell of your skin, the eager look in your eyes.

"YN..." he silently moaned as he came.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Pt 1 Pt 3

Masterlist

[fly-like-a-phoenix]

House of Lust (part 6)

Abbé de Coulmier x reader

Summary: Five years has passed since the events of Quills. The Abbé de Coulmier is released of prision by a misterious event. And he will know again those feelings he never thought will meet again: love... and lust.

Warnings: none, the next part will have smut ;)

You both heard the knocks on the door not so early that morning. Must be eight or nine of clock, the birds were singing, and François woke just to see you from the divan.

"Was it the door?" He said.

"I think so." You responded, covering yourself with the sheets from his view. "Must be my sister."

François sat in the divan, waiting for you to open the door. He looked at you, your lines while you walked, how beautiful you hair moved to every step.

He liked you since the time he woked up in that same room, looking at you and the way you were curing his wounds with so much care.

"Good morning, Abbé. Did you sleep well?" Josephine said. "You'll need that energy today. Y/N, you got to get up too. Give this gorgeous man a bath. We have new clothes."

"Why should I bath him? He can do it alone!" You said, a little angry.

"Well, as I see it, we found you touching his naked chest. Are you gonna be so shy now?" Josephine answered in low voice.

"I wasn't touching him, I was just cleaning the blood he had in his skin because of the hitting."

"Whatever you say, but with more reason you'll help him, Y/N. I don't think he can clean himself at all after that beating. After all, aren't you curious about seeing him naked?"

Josephine had a wicked smile in her face. You turn around a little, just to see François walking to you, hate visible in his eyes when he looked at your sister.

He passed you both, and waited for you standing in the last part of the hallway, arms crossed looking at the large room.

"Don't say you're not!" Josephine added. "I'm very curious about seeing what does he hides inside those trousers."

While she walked to him, you asked yourself if she actually was right. Yes, it was true. You wanted to see him fully naked. But sex wasn't the only thing in your mind as in your sisters'.

You accompanied him to the bathroom, your sister handing you a small towel. She winked her eye to you before closing the door.

"I never saw a bathtub before. I mean, I heard about them. But I never had the chance to take a bath in them. Charenton only had public bathrooms." François said, looking at the porcelain container while taking out his shirt.

You turned to see the wall, your heart beating faster while you briefly saw him getting undress with the corner of your eye. When you felt him entering slowly into the bathtub, you approached to him.

"Is it cold?" You asked.

"No, it's nice. Thank you."

"I guess my sisters prepared it with hot watter just for you. Sometimes I bath with cold water. They're... You know..."

François let you clean his back with the sponge. He didn't say nothing, but he knew what you meant. They're bitches, you were about to say. And he believed that.

"How long you were in Charenton?"

"As the director or as an inmate?" He responded with a crocked smile.

"As the director. I already know about the last five years. And I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be sorry. Maybe I deserved it. And I directed the asylum for six years, since I was seventeen, since I left the seminary."

You both chatted more while you help him to bath and clean the mud and some blood that was still in his skin. He had some purple bruises in his back and shoulder, so you had to be careful.

His skin was soft as the porcelain of the bathtub. His body wasn't so muscled or big, but it was strong and attractive. It was so real....

And seeing him so clean, without the dirt and mud, with the towel around his waist when he was finally out of the bathtub, made you escape your breathing.

It wasn't necessary to see him nude just to feel those butterflies in your stomach.

"We gotta go to your bedroom again?" He said.

"I think we have to, yeah." You said, opening the door and going to your room again, followed by him, some drops of water still falling from his body to the ground.

When you arrived, you stopped in front of your bed. François stood next to you, watching the same you were seeing, his hand holding the towel.

"What a fucking asshole." You said, referring to your sister, not knowing if it was Odelle's or Josephine's idea. "I'm sorry." You apologized.

"Don't be sorry. This is stupid."

François approached more to the bed, and took the robes in his hands. It was a priest cassock and a white shirt, just similar to the one he used to wear in Charenton.

"This is a blasphemy. I'm not such a clerical man anymore, but this is an insult. I can't wear this."

"It seems is the only thing you have, unless you want to dress that towel forever. God... I just can't take this! I need to get out of here."

"I hope we both will." Said he, taking out his towel while you turn again to see the wall, not wanting to see him nude, even when you were so needed to do so.

He arranged his hair better, looking at himself at the mirror. You were looking at him too, the Abbé de Coulmier you fell in love with five years ago, in all his glory.

"How do I look?"

"You're..."

The most handsome man I've seen in my life.

"You look very well."

"Thank you. You're beautiful too, even in your pajamas."

You laughed a little by that, your face blushing because of the compliment. He waited for you sitting in the bed while you got dressed behind a little screen.

"Why do you think your sisters choosed me for... Whatever they planned?"

"I don't know. I haven't read the Marquis de Sade stories, never. But maybe he wrote something about a priest based in you that made my sisters obsessed to do whatever he said. They fantasize a lot. And he's kind like a god for them."

François was about to respond when he turned his head a little to see you, finding you naked from the waist to the neck, seeing your beautiful body. You didn't notice this, and he went to see to the front again.

He felt the same butterflies in his stomach that you felt before in the bathroom.

He liked you more and more as the minutes passed by, and he hoped he could keep spending more time by your side, even if the events that we're happening were not enjoyable at all.

The door opened soon, Odelle coming to get you both to the dining room to have breakfast. François will know the other guests, as she called the degenerate rich people that came every year to enjoy the... Event?

"You will said to everyone that asks you that you were invited here and came by your own. Understood, Abbé? You decided you want to be part of our House of Lust and enjoy every carnal impulse. If I or my sister know that you said to one of the other guests that what I just said isn't true, you'll not pass this night. I hope you do what you think is right."

He accepted, and waited for you until you both appeared in the dining room, fake smiles on your faces, saluting everyone with bows.

He only had eyes for you during the breakfast. Wearing a nice red dress, you also were seeing him. His priest robes becomes him well, you said to yourself. And other girls were seeing him too, including both your sisters.

Around sixty people were eating and drinking the breakfast in the large table, sitting in the magnificent chairs, enjoying the bread, the eggs and cheese, the fruits and everything else.

"So you're an Abbé, is it that right, father?" A bearded man sitting next to him asked.

"Yes, monsieur. That's right. I got the title when I was eighteen."

"But don't you have vows of chastity to follow? I mean, I thought you---"

"I decided to... Try another creed... If you know what I mean. I want to feel other things to finally live a little, away from the decision and the path that my parents wanted for me when I entered the seminary. I just want to try new things and maybe see what happens later."

Suddenly it was all silence. His body was hurting a little because of the hitting, but also for lying so much. He was not used to, but Odelle and Josephine loved the little improvisation.

"Well, as you see, my darlings, our Abbé here is a good poet too. He was a good friend of the Marquis de Sade until he died." Your older sister added.

"Wasn't you the man who killed him? I heard it was the director of the asylum." A young woman said.

"No, mademoiselle. It was a college of mine who did it. I worked in there, but I was transferred to another asylum."

The interrogation lasted a few more minutes, until the servants, including Louis and Claude, closed the red curtains, leaving the place darker.

"I think is time to start this day." Odelle said, clapping, making everyone to celebrate a little. The guests went to their rooms, sometimes three or four in one bedroom.

François started to see what was going on, thinking on which perverted things they did in those rooms. But there he was, and he was a part of this, even if he didn't wanted to.

"Now you, my sweet Abbé, will come with me." Odelle said to him while everyone finally left the place.

François shared a look with you a last time while you went to your room alone, getting in there and closing the door with lock. You hoped he went well through it. It was his first day, after all.

When he entered to the red room, candles lighting the place, it felt like being in Hell. Or at least, in the place were the capital sin of lust must be punished... Or delighted.

Tagging: @darknessisafriend @five-miles-over @yukis-writing @thegirlwho @jokerflecker @missrockabilly99 @luperugorria99 @lyoongx @weirdflecksbutok @skaraboo @stardancerluv @sgtsavoytruffle @ohcarlesmycarles @beautifulyoungprospect @sophiefleck @the-queen-of-things @joaqz-phoenix @ajokerfangirl @bailaycantaconmingo

[marydublinauthor]

Merry Christmas and happy Holidays from my co-author @smol-smoggie and I! Here’s a festive except from our revision of “Valour and Blood”, soon to be dubbed just “Valour” :)

(Warning for ideologically senstive material, human enslavement, human incapcitation)

———————

Every year in the first week of autumn, anyone living in Kier could see the sprawling Aarlith territory turn ablaze with pinpricks of light. Every massive window was aglow with firelight until dawn. No place shone brighter than Phillip's stone fortress, with its dozens of colored glass windows sparkling like jewels. She would sit on the roof with Roman with a bottle of ale to watch the distant spectacle of the Aarlith palace-- one of the few times she had admired the giant kingdom. It was a harmless celebration, apart from the few drunk Juren that would wander too close to the border and frighten the grazing cattle.

Now, living among them, the celebration was so much more dazzling.

Evander explained in the approaching days that the Midnight Jubilee was a celebration of the moon's gift of light in the darkness. To ease the moon goddess' nightly burden, they filled darkness with light, turning the evening bright as day for a few glorious hours. It was so much more than she'd expected-- the care that everyone seemed to place on this day.

From early hours in the morning, Grey watched the excitement in the castle bloom. Even the most surly of castle staff seemed to walk light as air, their beautiful faces filled with light. Servants toiled cheerily to hang candles from the ceiling, each in a small glass jar of a different color. Lanterns were strung from every tree surrounding the courtyard, casting warmth on the foliage as the sun sank lower and lower. Grey's mouth watered at the tantalizing smells that slowly but surely filled every room in the castle.

Paramount of all the celebrations to be observed this day was the feast at nightfall. Having been fasting and making preparations all day, the Jürens’ anticipation was entirely palpable. There was no grander, larger, finer feast than this in the whole calendar -- even Phillip’s coronation ball paled in comparison, he had freely admitted to her. Grey, too, could not help but look forward to the evening ahead; though not without a good deal of trepidation.

She watched from the window as the fledgling dragons soared and gambolled in the air, silhouetted against the dusky sky. From their necks glimmered chains of precious stones. Their flames, like the candles, were to feature in the grand display, refracted dozens of times by the jewels.

The Jüren, to a man, had dressed each in their finest. Servants swept through the halls in silken gowns with silver threads, beaded circlets cresting their heads. Grey, too, had been given her lot. It was a velvet dress dripping with infinitesimal stars, cinched at the waist with a fine belt, upon which hung -- to her initial enthusiasm -- a ceremonial sword. Closer inspection, however, showed her it was made not of steel and iron, but of blown glass.

The insults never ceased. In such a ridiculous costume, she was little more than a polished toy.

Still, she found herself unwittingly grateful as she was herded together with the other five humans kept captive. The two other women-- sisters-- were clothed in shimmering fabric so sheer, nothing was left to the imagination. They had scarcely said a word in all her weeks in the palace, and Grey found herself wondering what crime they could have possibly committed to warrant this cruel fate, as well.

The man who had been brought in for thieving, along with the other who had been here long before any of them, were fitted in armor tonight. They each eyed up the other uncomfortably as they stood there, waiting. Hoping the obvious would be proven wrong.

It was almost a relief when their anxious waiting in the dim hallway was cut short. A servant came in and announced that guests were arriving and the lot of humans were swept up by two pairs of hands. The grand hall was breaktaking tonight, transformed into a paradise of color and warm light. Wine and fruits of every color were laid upon polished silver platters. Grey felt her heart begin to hammer however, when she saw how many giants were milling in. Her eyes skated the crowd as she was carried towards the center of the grand centerpiece. Where was Evander?

Guests entered first, accompanied by well-dressed servants who guided them to their seats around the vast table. Conversations overheard told Grey that they were visitors from a region somewhere to the North of the Snowcaps. Their garb differed slightly from that of the local Juren, favouring shades of maroon and copper along with thick trims of sable -- yet neither the clothing nor the giants themselves were any less beautiful. They chattered excitedly amongst themselves, many not even noticing the living adornments being carefully displayed on the table before them.

The centerpiece was a great, tiered creation of gold. The servant placed them at varying levels, frowning with the concentration of somebody arranging a vase of flowers. Grey found herself jostling for room at the top with the two men in armor, until said servant jabbed her with a finger and administered a warning glare.

“Good goddess,” boomed one of the guests as he lowered himself into his chair. “What are these?”

Turning, Grey found herself the object of his gaze.

“What are what?” Another Juren across the table was peering over, eyes wide, and, before long, the others were noticing too.

At that moment, the rest of the festival-goers entered; musicians, servants bearing platters and jugs, members of the king’s guard in their finery, and finally, the monarchs themselves. Grey could feel the rumbling disturbance of their many strides all the way from the flagstones to her perch.

The chatter died down as the king and queen took their seats at the head of the table, but resumed at a single smile and nod from Queen Fira, looking more elegant than ever in an amber dress that had whispered across the stones when she walked.

“I say, Phillip,” the guest who had spoken before piped up. He sat two seats down from the king himself. If their society operated in any way like Grey’s own in Kier, this meant he must have been of some status. “You have some very strange vermin scurrying around among the strawberries.”

Grey snapped her cold gaze onto the man, drinking him in fully. It was no surprise he was handsome, but there was something genuine in those features that made her falter. His crooked smile was unassuming, not mocking. She decided whatever place he came from was warmer than Aarlith. She could practically see the balmy weather and lush grounds reflected in his mossy green eyes. A paradise that humans could only dream of.

He caught her staring. Leaning forward, he lowered his voice. “Do you have a name?”

Grey scowled. “Of course I have a… It’s Grey, sir.”

“Brandt,” the giant replied with a little bow of his head. “That’s a very pretty name. It suits you.”

The expression of dumb intrigue on his face irritated Grey for some reason. She considered giving him a piece of her mind, but one glance at King Phillip told her this would not be wise. Instead, she stared back at Brandt, unwavering.

This seemed to have the very same effect as hurling curses his way. Clearly, he was not used to seeing humans at all, let alone having one confront his wandering stare. He almost looked embarrassed as he swiveled his gaze to and from her flightily, pink collecting in his cheeks. Bewildered at this reaction though she was, it didn't trump her irritation.

“Relax,” Grey called to him, shifting her place atop the metal tier. “Ogle if you must. One might think you'd never seen a human before.”

He cleared his throat softly, exchanging a self-conscious glance with the Juren beside him. "I haven't. Not this close."

Grey cocked her head at him. “Surely you’re not so displaced from Kier, sir? It’s only a few days' ride by horse, even from here.”

“I’m afraid so. My estate is several days north of the Snowcaps. The only humans I’ve seen are in books and letters.”

Not warm then, Grey remarked to herself. “So, how does the real thing compare?” She lifted her brows and motioned one hand at herself, a silent challenge.

“I’m not sure it’s proper to say so,” Brandt said, stealing a look towards his host, “but you’re quite amazing to look at really. All of you.”

She opened and closed her mouth, defensive retorts dying on her tongue. There was no doubting his sincerity. “T-thank you. I think.”

Brandt grinned boyishly. “It is meant to be a compliment, Miss Grey.”

Much of the table was quiet, enjoying the curious exchange. Phillip’s expression was unreadable. There seemed to be a general amusement, and Grey fancied she could read their thoughts; their confusion at a human being addressed almost as an equal.

“Where did you procure such treasures, your Majesty?” Brandt asked, not taking his eyes off her.

“Here and there,” he answered, motioning for a servant to fill his and his wife’s goblets. “Many are convicted criminals, caught trespassing in our land and making mischief.”

“Not this little one, surely?” Brandt reached out a hand to Grey.

Phillip smirked, appearing now to relish the opportunity to show off. “She’s the wickedest one, my friend. What you have before you is a known Jüren-slayer. The stuff of fairy-tales, yet there she stands.”

The quiet was run through with gasps of horror, disbelief, intrigue. The hairs rose on the back of Grey’s neck. Her face was hot.

Mercifully, at that moment, a deep chime rang out, turning heads towards the vast doors to the south of the hall. Iron carts were being wheeled in, all towering with platters of food. "Main course will be served!" the head servant proclaimed. A small army of others began to transport dishes along the table, mingling meat and bread and vegetables with the already-present fruit.

Once they were done, the king waved the servants to their own seats at one end of the table, where they had access to the same luxuries as the rest. “Please don't wait!” he bade them. “Help yourselves and tuck in.” He lifted his brimming goblet towards them all. “To our Amma above, may she light our path and bless our bounty, always.”

The entire chamber roared in agreement, lifting their glasses in return.

And then it was beautiful chaos: conversation of dozens of giants at once, laughter and a massive crowd eating and ladling food onto their plates. Grey had long since become accustomed to the amplified noise of the titanic race, but so many at once made her ears ring slightly.

As she looked about, she finally caught sight of Evander. Her stomach twisted pleasantly as she took him in; he looked absolutely radiant in his fine clothes— though she made a mental note to tease him about the number of flowers stitched onto his sleeves for warriors of his rank.

She got to her feet at once, not caring what anyone watching thought as she waved to him until his head turned, and he spotted her, too. He was seated much further along the banquet table than she would have liked. There were at least five giants sat between them— he would never be able to hear her from this distance. To her elation, however, he kept his gaze on her and lifted his glass towards her, a silent toast of his own making. Grey couldn’t help the grin that spread over her face, and without thinking lifting her empty hand in a pantomime of the same motion.

Happy Midnight Jubilee to you, too.

They drank together and shared a laugh from across the table. She was sorely tempted to climb down from her assigned perch and make her way to him.

Slight commotion stirred in the corner of her eye before she could devise a proper plan, pulling her gaze from Evander’s mirthful expression. From the walkway along the veranda, a latecomer came striding in. His asymmetrical cape billowed out behind him as he moved, shimmering like the night sky under the light of the hundreds of candles

“By all means, don’t stop on my account.”

Grey’s breath caught as a solid lump in her throat as Alasdair took the empty seat in front of her. The sight of him took her breath away, and she wondered if he had been delayed merely to perfect his appearance. His hair was combed and he had shaved recently— she could smell it. Every Juren was handsome; it was simply in their nature. But tonight… there was no question in her mind that Alasdair was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. With his fair skin and dark clothes, he looked like he could be a god of midnight himself.

And of all people, this deity was ogling her, too.

“My, my, Grey… Whoever dressed you tonight deserves a treasure,” Alasdair greeted her with a purr. “You look good enough to eat in that gown.”

Eat. Grey’s gaze turned steely and flitted to his lips. He was a monster, not a god.

Alasdair cocked his head slightly. Waiting for a reaction. His grin widened into something familiar and wicked. “What’s the matter? Speechless?”

“I haven’t seen you around the palace these past few days,” Grey remarked coolly. “Has Phillip grown sick of you?”

Alasdair helped himself to a seeded roll and buttered it. “I was sent out to investigate a series of supposed attacks in a neighboring village. Miss me?” His sky blue eyes seemed to pierce right through the velvet covering her.

Grey glared right back, ignoring the empty flirtation. “Human attacks?”

“Naturally.”

“Did you capture the intruders? Or did you simply devour them on the spot?”

She felt the humans to either side of her stiffen in their seats. Alasdair, too, looked ruffled for an instant. He placed the bread bun delicately on his plate and offered a smile that did not reach his eyes.

“Now, where did you hear such a nasty rumor?”

Grey crossed her arms. “Your mighty sovereign has a penchant for gossip.”

Alasdair glanced across the table at Phillip, who was laughing loudly at something his wife had said.

“It hardly comes as a surprise,” Grey went on wryly. “I can’t count how many stories I’ve heard about your kind’s… appetite for justice. Little did I know they were all about you.”

His smile never faltered. He resumed loading up his plate. “I guarantee many of my brothers around this very table have done the same.”

Grey refused herself the uneasy look round she instinctively wished to take. She could only hope none had honed in on their conversation amidst the frightful din. “Evander is no man-eater.”

Alasdair’s hand paused halfway through shaving a slice of meat from a bird-shaped thing a little ways along the table. His knuckles were white on the knife. “My. You’ve taken quite the shine to him, haven’t you?”

She refused to be baited. “He’s good to me. Unlike so many others.”

“Good to you?” he snorted.

“He protected me from you, for a start.”

His eyes glittered with cruel laughter. “It was he who delivered you to this castle in the first place. He doomed you to a lifetime of slavery.”

“Oh, thank you, I had quite forgotten,” Grey retorted tersely, ignoring the hammering of her heart. “He was only doing his duty.”

“As am I.” He propped his head in his hand as he ate, eyeing her closely. “You just don’t like the way I do it.”

“Of course not. You’re disgusting.”

He appeared not to have even heard, busy sucking his fingers clean. “You know, you really do look ravishing in that dress,” he said after a moment. “It makes a man imagine things.”

She clutched it to her as though he could rip the garment off with his eyes alone. “I know exactly what you’re imagining,” she snarled.

“I sincerely doubt it.”

“Then you’d better keep your thoughts to yourself.”

“Or what? Will your lover boy descend upon us to defend your honor?”

“He’s not my…” Her cheeks were fire. “Y-you are deluded.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm. Or, perhaps, jealous?” She dared to lean forward. “I know your game now. Your tricks no longer work on me.”

Something cold and dangerous flickered across his face. “Is that a challenge?” he said, in a voice like silk.

[anendlessdawnfalling]

⭐ Berry Berry Benny!! ⭐

Here is my late review and opinion of Kurenai Yuzuru's last dinner show in August. I had a hard time to assimilate everything that happened these last months, beware of it's length and I hope you love Hoshigumi. Good reading! 💖 I'm sorry if it comes up to you completely, I don't know how the tumblr editing works. 😰 (I'm not sure the songs listing is entirely accurate.)

It was an emotional evening I must say, I deeply love Kurenai Yuzuru and it was overwhelming. I must admit that I'm not entirely sure of the rightness of my timeline, since quite some time passed. I attended the event in Osaka on shonichi, and everyone was very nervous including myself. The dinner show was held at the International Hankyu Hotel with approximately 500 attendees. The ladies at my table were very lovely, we chatted a bit and of course the easiest subject to talk about was Kurenai Yuzuru! Beni's parents were also in the audience closer to the stage.

🥂 DINNER 🥂

The dinner itself was very nice, and was a four course meal inspired by French cuisine. The Menu was written in French and Japanese, a very cute touch. Most of the sentences made sens, but there's still some work to be done, my proposition is that Hankyu should stop using Google translate and hire me instead. As hilarious as it is, we wouldn't want another "Nouvelle / Chinois " to happen.

Dinner was served in that order; Hors d'oeuvres was raw Bream with veggies and carpaccio. L'Entrée was a piece of lightly fried tilefish with a celery and chestnuts buttery sauce. Oddly the taste remembered me of my mother's cuisine, so it's good. The main course was red meat topped with mushrooms and a light sauce, it was accompanied by asparagus, cabbage and potatoes. My only concern was the bread they served with it, if you ate Japanese bread before you might know what I'm talking about. I highly despise the baguettes there because it tastes like cheap Subway bread, that was my very Taurus rant. Finally, the dessert was a red Opéra cake decorated with a Kurenai 5 colored coulis, fruits and a star chocolate. It was ADORABLE.

For the drinks, there was a wide variety offered, one of my favorite was the Asahi 紅 beer. The servers kept generously filling my wine glass, which I can't complain about. I preferred being a little bit tipsy because I didn't know how it was going to go.

🌌 SET 🌌

The stage was a very shiny deep blue tone and was adorned with some glossy columns. A very galaxy note! (Or metaphor because Beni's the God of Stars) The room was giant and pretty cozy at the same time, maybe I'm highly biased because I love Hoshigumi fans aura. The last time I was in a room that luxurious was for a wedding, which Takarazuka events always remember me of, weddings. One could say that, I'm easily impressed by gigantic crystals chandeliers and very elegant tables settings.

There were two rows of chairs at the back of the room, and just before the show started a few Hoshigumi seito sneaked there before it went dark. After a quick glance I remember seeing Arisa Hitomi, Asamizu Ryou and Amaki Homare. There were many more of them that I didn't manage to get a good glance at.

✨ SHOW ✨

As the room went dark and the lights started to flashes toward the stage, the audience deeply anticipated Kurenai's arrival. I started to envy the others closer to the stage, that would have a better view and I regretted to not have brought my opera glasses with me. However she didn't appear right away, and took quite some time to make the audience more excited. Guess what? She bursted of the door right behind me in a beautiful red suit, startling everyone while running and singing. I almost had an heart attack and didn't regret petty things anymore. Thus began Berry Berry BENNY!!

The "supporting" cast was composed of Tenju Mitsuki, Kisaragi Ren, Kizaki Reo and Shirotae Natsu. Everyone jumped out of the stage as Sayumi made her arrival and the first song was Berry Berry Benny. Which by that point my table mates and I were quite shaken by everything that happened. Truly only Beni can pull something like that over and over again and still surprise me. ( Throwback to Stella Rossa) After the song, the cast proceeded to introduce themselves and chit chat a bit. Kurenai asked if they were in Tokyo, Mikki corrected her and she kept laughing. (She NEEDS vacations.)

The second song was Ai no rengoku from Anna Karenina, performed by Beni alone. A very dramatic start I must say, Mr.Karenin left a deep impression on her. Her interpretation was very venurable, and truly delightful if you love her non comical side.

Special talk segment 1: Two chairs were set up for Sayumi and a guest plus a life sized shiny cardboard of Beni. However it was not the regular Kurenai Yuzuru who came on stage, but Beniko in one of the most horrible costumes I've seen on her. Renta was the first guest of the Beniko show, they spoke teasingly of other Hoshigumi seito about how everyone was crying so hard on raku. Both of them were diabolically laughing. As the time went out, the Kurenai cardboard would illuminate and menacing threats would come on. Naachan interview was sweeter and shorter than Renta, she admitted that she cried on raku unlike someone else. Beniko, Renta and Naachan proceeded to sing Raimei. I wasn't ready for the absurdity of the situation, and I must admit I haven't laugh that hard in so many years.

To leave time for Beni to quick change costume, Ren and Natsu sang Yume Butai [ À bientôt ]. Their voice sounded really great as a duet! ♡ I was especially excited for this because it meant Renta had an extra special moment before her retirement. Nacchan and her are really positive people and you can feel this vibe as they perform. Furthermore, an upperclassmen musumeyaku is a delight to see highlighted.

Beni-chan no usomitaina honto no hanashi: A magical story of Beni's life. She narrates/sing the whole thing with highlights of her life and her love for Takarazuka. From what I remember; Mikki was child Beni, Renta as the creepy Butler from Meichan, Natsu as what I suppose was Beniko and Reo was André. (I might be mistaken, I'll correct it if that's the case. I have a goldfish memory.) Cute anecdote: Her dream was to be André in the RoV shinko, but she was appointed as the Grand Chamberlain and was very sad about it. They also made passive-aggressive jokes about Koike sensei, it made me crack.

LUCKY STAR ! Or a cute reminder of where she started, I was very happy she included that song and I felt like a mother hen. It was a nice transition with her earlier storytime, it's joyful, energetic and very her. ♡ She gave us a very explosive and all over the place performance.

Surprise drum rolls, what you wanted to know for so long and the answer is YES. The glorious Kurenai 5 made the comeback we were all waiting for, or more so the Kurenai 3. Beni, Renta and Mikki were in their old matching T-shirt and nostalgia hit me hard. I almost missed the mullet Beni used to have. Then entered the missing members life sized cardboard, both Reo and Naachan made their respective member dance through the song. No one was expecting this, the whole room was filled with laughter. They then talked about the origins of Kurenai 5 and what fun experiences they had in the past. They pointed out that the band would officially not work anymore, as it would be just 1. Beni proceeded to tease Mikki quite a lot. Both Ichijou Azusa and Miya Rurika had recorded a message for their dear leader, in which Beni was delighted to hear. Renta and Mikki then proceeded to slam their microphone to the cardboards during the intervention. It was hilarious! Both Miyaruri and Shiiran were at the raku in Tokyo, so if the DVD is that recording we'll have the delight to physically see them. Sayumi thought Shiiran sounded very ladylike and that Miya sounded very sleepy, like she should go to sleep.

Your favorite song by Benny was a segment where she proposed us three different songs that she could sing for us. After the vote she discarded the audience opinion and did the one she wanted, Smile from Meichan's Butler. (Very her to do that) Unlike the other times she walked through the audience as she sang, and I started to get nervous again when she headed toward the back of the room. She was taking the time to look at everyone very carefully and lovingly. Then she was in front of me and the world fell down. It was THE BEST two seconds of my entire life. I was very much horrendously blushing , but hey Kurenai Yuzuru and I shared a glance while she sang the creepy Butler song? Very shoujo like situation, a part of me fell in love with her all over again. Otokoyaku are very convincing at their job, they don't need to do much to amaze me.

Special talk segment 2 with Mikki and Reo.

Beniko came back with an even more horrendous outfit than the first one; another awful red gown orned with lines of gold and silver sequins. Oversized trumpet sleeves with feathers on the end, a wig worthy of a Ghibli old witch and topped with numerous fans of herself.

Mikki's interview was the longest, and the one to which Beni's cardboard was the most aggressive. Both her and Reo talked about the whole taidan situation, the troupe loves so much BeniAiri. They're as emotional if not more than fans about this. Mikki and Reo came back on stage and joined Beniko to sing Killer Rouge. Another absurd situation, where Beni's gaze was her cool otokoyaku look but she was dressed similar to the old ladies she always mocks about.

Hoshi wo tsugumono was MikkiReo's duet. What a very dangerous duo they make, both their voices are pretty warm and l had a few butterflies in my stomach. I'm sorry for betraying you Sayumi!

Random selection ;

I believe it's a free for all section and that must choose a song according to their mood. That night the ensemble sang Om Shanti Om as Sayumi went off stage to get a quick change. Boi do Hoshigumi loves that production, their enthusiasm really shows while singing this particular song. They went through the public and did a few handtouch. Renta stole the fan of an audience member right in front of me and decided to refresh herself with it. Reo was having her usual bright sunshine energy, Mikki was being an Ikkemen far away from me competing with Natsu. The bright wave of Hoshigumi energy was filling the room, and you could feel the love.

Kurenai came back on stage, dressed entirely in white and we all knew what that meant. The final song was A piece of courage, from Scarlet Pimpernel. God does she LOVES that show most ardently. It was her only lead shinko role and her first Grand theater show as a Top Star, she always seemed to live her best life as Percy. She always look so hopeful when she sings this song, it is VERY touching. Special metion to Aachan who sang it as well at her music salon, if it's not being soulmate I don't know what is.

She got a curtain callback and sang Goodbye from Catch me if you can. Yes, she did that again. As if it wasn't enough from the sayonara show and every other opportunity given to her to sing this. I can honestly say a cried a river again and that I'm in a love hate relationship with that song.

This woman doesn't know what to say to her audience, even thought we made her come back twice. She just told us to go home and that it was over in her lovely kansaiben, I love it. ♡

The show was really fun and I'm really happy I got to go, I hope I didn't forget anything. They rehearsed after having to do one if not two performance a day , and only came out late at the night. They've all worked very hard in such a short amount of time, and the result was GREAT. Kurenai Yuzuru is a real entertainer, a star and she adores it. She puts so much love and energy in her work, it's truly admirable. I'm delighted to have been able to follow her career until now and I'm very glad I focused my attention to the wobbly Mercutio many years ago. She made me cry, laugh and dream. I love her SO much.

My final words are going to be her motto:

Never give up!! ☆

[queenofcarrots]

N and Q for end of year asks? If you haven't done them yet? :)

N. Anything you were planning to write that never got written?

Yes! I have a list of prompts for the finnreylo murder au, stories that fill in the plot, and then other things will come along and render those careful plans moot. At one point I was going to have a whole story where Ben and Rey basically propose to Finn and ask him to move in with them, but then I wrote How To Bake Sweet Honey Cake: A Recipe as a prompt for @lovethemfiercely and @flypaper-brain and the topic came up in that story so I ran with it. And my next story will be Finn moving in with them. There are aspects of that original planned story that will turn up later, but the story itself is no longer a thing.

Q. Quote three bits of writing you read his year. Can be your writing, or not. 

Your father is about to ask me the question. This is the most important moment in our lives, and I want to pay attention, note every detail. Your dad and I have just come back from an evening out, dinner and a show; it’s after midnight. We came out onto the patio to look at the full moon; then I told your dad I wanted to dance, so he humors me and now we’re slow-dancing, a pair of thirtysomethings swaying back and forth in the moon-light like kids. I don’t feel the night chill at all. And then your dad says, “Do you want to make a baby?”

Ted Chiang, “The Story of Your Life” (the short story on which The Arrival is based) The whole story is beautiful and I love the use of tenses.

I love everything @lovethemfiercely writes. She is the best person to be writing Statera Trium and I will forever be thankful that she chose to write the prompt. It’s impossible to pick a favorite bit, but this from the most recent chapter is a lovely illustration of the evocative language she uses, and how she effectively keeps the characters together even when they’re physically separated.

Finn had stopped as they saddled the horses and made ready to depart; he was leaning his head against the mare’s side, anxious and conflicted, feeling inside his satchel to touch the book, the Gospels. It was still there, still secret.  At once, his mouth was filled with the taste of strawberries. There’d been no such fruit at breakfast, but the tart-sweet flavor was unmistakable. Eyes closed, he could feel the burst of juice on his tongue, and hear a sound he’d heard only once before;  Ben was laughing. Finn could feel a hand on his own, feel the small shape of the fruit in his palm. He felt hot, and a little confused; but over all of that was a sense of surprise, and delight. It was enough reassurance, for now.

Rey’s raptures over the little handful of strawberries he’d picked were extremely gratifying.  The speed with which she popped the first one into her mouth when he placed it in her hand surprised a laugh out of him; which made her grin out of the side of her mouth as she chewed.  She insisted on sharing, and he was happy to comply. It made a nice addition to their bread and cheese, and Ben knew he’d be looking out for more as they rode. She’d thrown her arms around him in thanks; such a small thing, to make her so happy.  He was still smiling as he lifted her onto Exilium’s back to start their second day’s travel. Making Rey happy was something he enjoyed a great deal.

This last bit is my own, probably not the best or most poetic, but I like it because it’s the first bit in this particular story where I hope the reader thinks, oh shit. It’s from The Beach House, a Lovecraft/M.R. James influenced horror story (Finnreylo) that I wrote at Halloween for @rosemoonweaver‘s ficoween. The lead-up to this is Ben losing his shit because Rey blows a whistle that they found in his dead uncle’s study.

“That was so scary,” Rey whispered to him, “I had no idea he could be like that.”

Finn could only nod, his eyes trained on the horizon outside the window, which was now almost completely dark. “Yeah, that was bad. I’m really sorry, Rey. He’d better apologize.” But Finn didn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t.

As it happens, Ben did apologize. He came up to the bedroom, head hanging, about an hour later. And he was very, very sorry. He explained that he’d used to have anger issues, but he’d been in therapy for a few years, and he didn’t understand what had set him off earlier. It was just a stupid whistle. He promised to practice his calming techniques the next time he felt an outburst coming on. And he cried, too, he wept, and asked them to please, please forgive him.

They did, of course, and their caresses of forgiveness quickly turned heated. Ben argued convincingly that he deserved to be punished for his transgressions, and Rey agreed with this wholeheartedly. And Finn? Well, Finn was happy to go along with this; anything to keep his lovers happy.

Afterwards, when knots had been untied and heated skin was being iced, Finn finally thought to ask Ben what the Latin words on the whistle had said.

“Oh right, I forgot about that,” Ben answered. “It means who is the one who is coming. I can’t bring myself to make a joke about it. Anyway, it’s nothing.” And Finn nodded, and kissed his boyfriend’s lips again, and promptly forgot all about the whistle and its inscriptions.

Narrator: he should not have forgotten.

Thanks for the asks @orkindofamazing!!

[theretirementstory]

Toc, toc, toc, je suis la. It is sunny 24c and I have spent a couple of hours in the garden, drinking tea, chatting to neighbours and updating my gardening notebook.......yes, I really do have one of those, I not when plants start sprouting, when flowers and then fruit appear, disasters and successes.

Apart from he usual things I do in the course of a week, housework, gardening, coffee and cake with Marie-Therese, visiting the bar and the knitting workshop , I have also had Anie round for tea and cake. The refugee ladies at the knitting workshop coerced me into going to a concert on Friday evening. A Scottish lady and a Frenchman (although he wore a kilt), she sang, played pipes, small Scottish bagpipes and also big bagpipes when she played Amazing Grace. This concert was organised by the Maison Pour Tous and I was fortunate to know a number of the staff that were there. I saw Nadine, I haven't spoken to her for some time, Anie and her friend Monique were there and we waved to one another, I saw Francoise whom I haven't seen since before Covid restrictions were put in place and Jeannette was there, minus her husband who is currently in hospital. At 86 years old she looked small, not like the rather imposing lady that she was, and I think that her husband's illnexx has hit her pretty badly.

This is the bargain I got in the week, 3 strawberry plants, 2 peonies and an hibiscus shrub all for one euro from the gaspillage (waste) in Lidl. Yes they look half dead on here but its amazing what fresh compost, a lot of water and feed can do for them. They had picked up by the following day and the hibiscus has now got two new buds open.

I love my garden so much and I have never spent so much time in a garden as I do now. During the lockdowns, it gave me pleasure to sit out in the fresh air, in a peaceful place, just with my own thoughts. It gave me a sense of purpose, as I only had contact with my family through video calls I could have felt extremely isolated, instead in my garden, the birds, the hedgehogs and even the cat were all my visitors.

I found this poem and thought it quite apt:

IN MAY by W H Davies

Yes I will spend the livelong day,

With Nature in this month of May,

And sit beneath the trees, and share,

My bread with birds whose homes are there.

My gorgeous granddaughter had her birthday party last Sunday, she had playmates from Nursery. Grandads and Nana, "The Paralegal" spent a lot of his time helping his niece driving a go-kart and climbing onto haybales, her baby brother was there and seemed to be enjoying the party food, plus "The Mummy and The Daddy" were on hand too, "The Daddy" helping to blow out the candles on the lovely birthday cake made with love by Nana.

Finally, I have stressed myself all week over what to make to take to the barbecue which was held yesterday. My eldest son said "buy something", but when your 92 year old fellow knitter makes cheese gougeres and rhubarb tart, buying is not really an option. So I made chocolate marble cake with chocolate topping, a plain sponge with glace icing and coconut plus a lentil salad.

I was there at 11.20, champagne and aperos were at 12.15, then we sat down to quiche, pizza, salads, a gorgeous beetroot and goat's cheese terrine, all washed down with what looked to be a very nice rose wines (I was on water by this point) then the barbecued meat was ready and red wines to accompany it, next it was the cheese course after which the "guitarist" was getting into full swing (we had had the harmonica playing earlier) everyone was singing along in French when I was then asked to sing "When the saints go marching in" as the words in his book were in English. Now I can say, I will sing in the bath/shower and sing all the time in my own home BUT to sing in front of these people......... well what the heck, why not! I sang said song (badly) then it was Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen (it was getting better as I got to the end) and finally I sang "Sailor", which I think Petula Clark would have applauded if only to get me back into my seat! Then it was time for dessert and coffee, after which we packed everything away, I drove my 92 year old friend home and arrived chez moi at 6pm......what a wonderful afernoon.

So now I will bid you a bon dimanche. Jusqu'a la semaine prochaine.