#chicken. the post is about chicken. buy bone in and skin on and skin and debone 50% off grocers hate him

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guess who has filled up another bag of skin and boooones !

[aesethewitch]

Learning to Cook Like a Witch: Using the Scraps

Cooking can create a lot of waste. From peels and rinds to bones and leaves, people throw away quite a lot of scraps in the kitchen. And witches, as you may know, are experts in the art of the cunning use of whatever we’ve got around.

As a witch who spends a lot of time in the kitchen, I’ve had ample opportunities to get creative in my cooking craft. It helps that I grew up in a household defined by scarcity: not our own, by the time I was conscious enough to remember, but my parents’ poverty. It colored the way I learned to cook, using everything I possibly could, making enough to last, preserving what I didn’t immediately use, and creatively reusing leftovers and scraps.

There are some topics I won’t necessarily cover here. Composting is an option, but there are some bits of food scrap that don’t need to be composted — they can be saved and repurposed for all sorts of things, magic and mundane. Likewise, recycling, buying sustainably, and growing your own food when you can are all great options for reducing household waste in the kitchen.

For the purposes of this post, I want to focus specifically on food scraps. This is an organized list of kitchen scraps that I’ve used in a variety of other dishes and projects. I’m focusing primarily on food waste, not so much on packaging (such as reusing egg cartons, milk containers, boxes, and so forth).

Vegetable Scraps

Freeze leftover vegetable scraps to make stock. This is a fairly common bit of advice — save bits of leftover vegetables to make a vegetable stock or another kind of stock. It’s good advice! I keep a bag in my freezer that I put vegetable scraps in to save until I’m ready to make a new batch of stock. Not all veggies should be saved like this and used for stock! Some make stock bitter or otherwise unpleasant-tasting. Personally, I tend to freeze these for stock:

- The skins, ends, and leftover cuts of onions (just be wary of the skins; too much will make your broth bitter) - The ends of celery (not the leaves — they’re bitter!) - Corn cobs - Garlic skins, ends, tiny cloves that aren’t useful otherwise, and sprouted cloves - The ends of carrots (also not the leaves) - The ends of leeks - Pepper tops/bottoms (not the seeds)

I would recommend against putting things like potatoes, brussels sprouts, cabbage, and leafy greens in there. Potatoes don’t add flavor, sprouts and cabbage make the whole thing taste like those foods, and leafy greens end up bitter. If something has a strong, distinctive flavor (beets, sprouts), I wouldn’t add it to my freezer bag. These scraps often form the veggie portion of my Sick-Be-Gone Chicken Broth spell recipe!

Regrow leeks, green onions, and celery. Pop these in a bit of water and watch them grow back! It’s a fun experiment, and you’ll never have to buy them again.

Plant sprouted garlic. Aside from the fact that you can still cook and eat garlic that’s sprouted, you can plant a sprouted clove in a pot. Care for it well enough, and you’ll end up with a full head of garlic from that one clove!

Fry potato peels. Anytime I make mashed potatoes or peel potatoes for something, I always save the peels. Give them a thorough rinse and shallow-fry them in oil, turning them over until they’re golden and crispy. Toss them in a bit of salt and pepper while they’re still hot, and you’ve got tasty chips to snack on while you cook the rest of your meal! No need to cover them in more oil or anything — the heat will cause the salt to stick right to them.

Save leaves for pesto. Yum, yum, yum. Pesto isn’t just all about basil, you know. Save the leaves from carrots, beets, radishes, and even celery to grind up alongside basil, garlic, salt, and lemon juice for a delicious pesto recipe.

Fruit Scraps

Save citrus peels. Peels from oranges, lemons, grapefruits, and other citrus fruits have a multitude of uses. Candy them for a sweet treat, dry them to add to potpourri or incense, or save them to put into a simmer pot for bright, sunny energy.

Juice the whole fruit. Again, thinking mostly about citrus fruits, when you need the zest from something but not the rest, don’t just throw away the fruit. Squeeze out all the juice you can. Even if you don’t need it right now, you can freeze it to use later in simmer pots, fruity waters, or anything else that needs a touch of juice.

Turn extra fruit and berries into jam or syrup. If you’ve got berries and fruit that are about to go off, or maybe the ends of strawberries, don’t toss them! Look up recipes for jam of the specific fruit you’ve got or make an infused syrup. Syrups in particular can be used for cocktails, teas, and desserts for an extra magical kick.

Pickle watermelon rinds. That’s right. Pickle those suckers. They’re so tasty. I’ve seen people make kimchi with watermelon rinds, too, though I’ve never tried it myself!

Save seeds for abundance work. Seeds in general are great for spells geared toward long-term success, new beginnings, and — when there are a lot of them — wealth. Different fruit seeds have properties that tend to correspond with the fruit they come from, so consider their potential purposes before you just toss them! (Note also that some fruit seeds are toxic; these would be suitable for baneful workings.)

Keep cherry stems for love magic. Have you ever done that thing where you tie a cherry stem with your tongue? If I’m eating cherries, I like to save some of the stems for love workings. Tie them into little knots like you might with string while envisioning ensnaring the love you’re looking for. I wouldn’t do this with a particular person in mind; binding someone to you is almost never a good idea. I’ve used it to attract specific qualities in a person of romantic interest: attentiveness, humor, kindness, and so forth.

Use pits to represent blockages, barriers, and problems. I most often use them in baneful workings, typically jammed into a poppet’s mouth or throat to keep someone from talking shit. It could also represent a sense of dread in that way — a pit in the stomach, uneasy and nauseating. But you could also use them in the sense of removal, ritualistically removing the pit or problem from a given situation.

Herb Scraps

Freeze or dry extra fresh herbs. Different drying techniques are ideal for specific herbs. I’d suggest looking up recommended methods before sticking anything in the microwave. If you’d like to freeze your herbs instead, I typically will lay them on a damp paper towel, wrap them up, place them into a freezer-safe bag, and then put them in the freezer. Most herbs will keep for a couple months this way. When you want to use them, pull them out and let them defrost right on the counter.

Make pesto. Again, pesto isn’t just basil! Experiment with tossing in different scraps of herbs to find out what combination you like best.

Reuse steeped tea. Particularly when I use loose herbal tea, I like to lay out the used tea to dry out. It can be burned similarly to loose incense, though the scent may be somewhat weaker than with herbs that are fresher or unused. I find that it’s fine, since I’m sensitive to smells anyways.

Toss extra herbs into your stock freezer bag. Just like with vegetables, extra herbs make welcome additions to a scrap stock pot. I always make a point to save sage, thyme, marjoram, and ginger. You can add just about anything to a stock pot, but be aware of the flavors you’re adding. Not all herbs will match with all dishes.

Protein Scraps

Dry and crush empty egg shells. This is one most witches will know! I use crushed egg shells for protection magic most often: sprinkled at a doorstep mixed with other herbs, added to jars, and spread around spell candles.

Save shrimp, crab, and lobster shells. They’re a goldmine of flavor. Toss them into water with veggies and herbs, and you’ve got a delicious, easy shellfish stock. Use it to make fishy soups and chowders that much richer.

Don’t discard roasted chicken remains. Use them for stock, just like the shells. I like to get rotisserie chickens on occasion since they’re ready-made and very tasty. Once all the meat has been stripped off the bones, simmer the entire carcass with — you guessed it — veggies and herbs for a tasty chicken stock.

Reuse bacon grease for frying. After cooking bacon, don’t throw away the grease right away. Melt it over low heat, strain the bits of bacon out, and pour it into a jar to put in the fridge. You can use it to fry all sorts of things, but my favorite thing is brussels sprouts. They pick up the delicious, salty, bacony flavor from all that rendered bacon fat. So good.

Other Scraps

Use stale bread for croutons or bread crumbs. When I reach the stale end of a loaf of bread, as long as it isn’t moldy, I like to tear it into pieces and toss it into the oven for a little while. Let it cool and then pulse it in a food processor, and I’ve got delicious bread crumbs! Or, cut it a little more neatly, toss it in oil and seasonings, and then bake, and now I’ve got homemade croutons for salads. You can really hone your herbs for both of these, tuning them to be perfect for whatever spell needs you have.

Small amounts of leftover sugar. I don’t know why, but I always end up with a tiny amount of white and brown sugar in the containers. This can be used in teas, of course, but I like to offer it up to spirits. In particular, my ancestors tend to appreciate a spoonful of brown sugar stirred into a small, warmed cup of milk. You can also look up mug cake or single-serving cookie recipes; often, they’re cooked in the microwave, and they only need a little sugar to make!

Keep vanilla bean pods. Vanilla is fucking expensive. When I have a little extra and want to really splurge for a special occasion, I’ll get a couple pods. And because they’re so expensive, I hate wasting any part of them. They’re good for love magic, sure, but you can also toss the spent pods in a jar full of sugar to make vanilla-infused sugar. I’ll often use the pods to make infused milks, too; warm the milk over low heat, add the pods, and let it steep like tea. It goes great in teas and desserts. For a nice self-love spell, sometimes I’ll melt chocolate into the vanilla milk and make hot cocoa!

Save the rinds from Parmesan and Pecorino Romano cheese. You might not be able to just bite into these, but they’re fabulous additions to a stock pot. They add a rich, umami depth to the flavors. I also like to throw these into pots of tomato sauce to add even more flavor to the sauce.

Used coffee is still coffee. After I make a pot of coffee, I’ll sometimes save the grounds by letting them dry back out. I wouldn’t make another cup of coffee with them, since all the flavor’s gone, but they’ll still have attributes of energy generation and smell great. I like to pack used grounds into sachets to hang in places where I want to encourage more energy and focus, replaced every few days or so. Coffee grounds also have high amounts of nitrogen in them, which can help plants thrive; just be careful about pH values in the soil! You don’t want to hurt your plants with too much acidity.

Final Thoughts

I hope you found these tips helpful! There are a ton more ways to save and reuse kitchen scraps that would otherwise go to waste. Sometimes, tossing stuff into the compost or trash can’t be avoided. But I’ve found that being aware of the possibilities can help diminish the amount that gets wasted.

If you have questions or other suggestions for reusing kitchen scraps, feel free to drop them in my inbox, reblogs, or replies. And if you did enjoy this post, consider tossing a couple dollars in my tip jar! Supporters get early and sometimes exclusive access to my work, and monthly members get bonuses like commission discounts and extras. (:

[exoticalmonde]

Arknights Chapter XIII - The Whirlpool That Is Passion (Part I)

GOOD MORNING EVERYBODY AND I WISH ALL THOSE WHO WISH TO BE HOEDERER/VENDELA/VERDANT OWNERS TO BE HAVERS BECAUSE IT'S A WONDERFUL DAY AND I AM SO OVERDUE WITH WRITING THIS ACTUALLY!!!!

WARNING: This post is going to contain a lot of yapping from me about Hoederer and how much I love him and would also have a LOT of spoilers.

I am also a great yume-shipper, so my Dr. and Hoederer are married, that information should help with the weird comments sometimes.

Might make it different parts because all those SS will never fit even up to the part I am right now.

Perhaps first of all I need to mention how the pulling went? Apart from my day being catastrophically long and arduous, I managed to sneak some snacking in-between the one additional hour I had left after returning home.

I was actually shaking. Jittering out of my bones, near-heart attack type of activity was happening on my side of the screen while everybody else watched. I was supposed to take SS of every 10-pull but... I got ahead of myself. I think I had around 130 pulls, excluding the ones that I could buy from the ticket shop and the Originium that I blew for a skin.

I even kind of... Skipped my first Hoederer. The one below is the second one, that I ended my funds for, until I could buy the level 60 pack from the shop.

But we caught the third one.

And as it happens I was underprepared with money and XP cards, though I had all the materials for his skills. Bless the green tickets for allowing me to bulk-buy some of them actually since... My god farming for the RMA70-12 is tedious, fruitless and sad.

If I could get a penny for every single time this loser was being problematic I would have enough to buy them and never have problems again.

In any case, he could be immediately E1 lvl80d, and I have been grinding enough to get him to E2 on the same day. He's currently lvl60, cooking his M3 on S1 with Wishlash giving him a thumbs up every time he pulls out a whole boiled chicken to eat.

Starved Sarkaz, am I right?

Even his little token that you get when he joins you another time... I am actually crying, I love him so much and I am so happy he became playable.

Speaking of, did anybody know that the furniture set is separated into a couple other, smaller sets, or was I supposed to learn this from googling it myself?

Apparently, the whole set is called Mercenaries' Hideout, but the smaller sections of it are:

Writing Is Meaningless

Don't Ever Truly Rest

Secondhand Goods

Maintain Your Health

And I am sitting here, tears in my eyes reading their descriptions... When I first remembered that Chapter 13 was coming with a new set I almost screamed. Dr. Pinkie was making fun of me for calling this jail cell basically the same epithets you would use for a five-star hotel, but it really was close to my heart the way it mixed compact with DIY/'Hey, you'll never guess what I found on the street' kind of interior.

And because it is based around Hoederer, we are going to look through it first and read the descriptions before I actually descend into the story.

Description of the full set reads:

A recreation of a hideout in Kazdel, based on Hoederer's description and a number of additional details provided by Ines. As for anything not recreated from their recollections, it's best not to touch—Anything added by W might just blow up.

I love to imagine that these three have to share a dorm and the Doctor just goes up to Ines and Hoederer and asks if there is anything they can do to make it cosy or somehow homey. Also to think that both of them would have recollections of these 'hideouts' in Kazdel... Meanwhile, W seems like she's never been in those? My memory is kind of fuzzy about just how old the three are in comparison to each other.

Before/After Kazdel is pretty much like Before/After Eve was on the internet.

Basement Flooring:

Flooring that recreates the vibes of the basement where the mercenaries lived back in Kazdel. Ines sometimes muses that the place would be more suitable as a small shop. The two both ignored W's suggestion to sell potatoes there.

Basement Wallpaper:

Wallpaper that recreates the look of the basement where the mercenaries lived back in Kazdel. The gray walls look almost exactly the same as before. This time, when they look out the window, it is not the dust-covered Kazdel that they see.

'Our Current State'

A light tube is attached to a frame haphazardly welded together from multiple iron plates, letting out a warm glow despite its appearance. No matter how unstable it may seem, its light can carry the mercenaries through the dark night.

Somehow this little light contraption is 10000x better than any glaring white LED lightbulb that you could ever introduce to me these days.

Rust-colored Rug

A rug showing signs of age that look almost like rust. For some reason, this makes it blend in with the room's style. Is there a color that better reflects life in Kazdel? At least it's not blood-colored.

WHAT IF I JUST EXPLODE IN TEARS???!!!!????!!!!!

Writing Work Desk

A desk piled with books and documents. There are clear traces of manual craftsmanship. Few of the Sarkaz publications sitting on the desk are actually written in the Sarkaz language.

Hoederer's writing desk, I love him so much. The place he might be writing down the different things he wants to be telling to his class, because you KNOW I will absolutely be filing for sponsorship to get him those books and songs he might want to use. Pull in other Sarkaz on the ship to help. Not sure who I have who could be specifically from Kazdel times, but we will find them for you sweetie.

Intel Organizer

A must-have document pegboard for mercenaries, usually used to confirm target information and locations prior to missions. The photographs are always taken down whenever their owner returns. Yet sometimes, their owner never returns.

... I think I am actually going to die from sadness and we have not even started the chapter yet.

Storage Steel Pipe

A rack welded together from steel pipes and plates, normally used to hang clothes and hats. "How many times do I have to say this? Do not hang your work aprons here!"

I don't know who is speaking but the 'work apron' looks like it's Hoederer's and if I have to assume it's probably Ines who is scolding him about it. Little rebel, does it anyways.

Mercenaries' Bed

A flatbed trolley turned sofa bed. The fabric has frayed, but it is indeed soft and roomy. The broken wheel hubs ensure that it stays in place. For a very long time, this was the only place where the nights were not plagued by nightmares.

Imagine being on your trolley sofa-bed and suddenly RI begins moving because there is an emergency and your silly wheels go squeak-squeak towards the other end of the room at the same speed at which you were sitting still because everything else is moving but the bed is trying to stay at the same spot---

Me: "Do we know how fast RI moves?" Pinkie: "As fast as Czernobog can move towards Lungmen. It has to be fast enough to outrun a tornado." Me: "OH. Alright. Yeah, that makes sense."

"No Overloading"

Originally an exquisite wooden hanging lamp that lets out a warm glow. There are always knickknacks piled on top. It has a warning placed above: "No stacking!" Hoederer asked Ines, "Is this really something we can use?" Ines answered, "Yes."

IS THAT A PHOTO???? IS THAT??? WHAT ARE THEY???? Books???

Simple Study Ceiling Light

A part that the mercenaries removed from who-knows-what and hung from the ceiling. It started glowing, and not only is it very bright, it's also very hot. Ines asked Hoederer, "Is this really something we can use?" Hoederer answered, "Yes."

Hoederer, sweetie, I think if Ines gets to ask 'Can we use this safely?' then perhaps we might not have to use a random fire stick someone found somewhere.

Portable Stove

A stove that's portable, easy to assemble. What's on it likely belongs to a certain dangerous individual. Do not touch. "Oh, the paper in the stove? I ran out of fuel. By the way, Hoederer, you hungry? I cooked some potatoes over there."

YEAH? WITH HIS BOOKS, DIDNT YOU W???

"Versatility"

A bookshelf put together from multiple recycled materials. The lamp at the top was brought back by Ines. She said it was to make it easier to see shadows. The box at the foot of the shelf is full of historical studies.

Yeah, I too need a dowry chest full of books to feel satisfied.

Secondhand File Cabinet

A heavy steel file cabinet containing the historical data of each Sarkaz clan. Today, even the names of many of the clans documented within are indecipherable.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Reflections

Chapter Nine

Master List / Real People Master List / Reflections Master List

Pairing: Mia MacAlsdair x Au Tom Hiddleston

Warnings: language, fluff, 18+ Minors do not interact

A/N: I apologize in advance should my Scottish/English interpretations be incorrect. I am Canadian playing in a world of my own making. Do not @ me.

**I do not tag. **To be notified of updates and new works, subscribe to me or the story on AO3 for email notification, or follow the library blog @tilltheendwilliwrite-library  with notifications turned on so you’re not missing out. An account is required to access my work on AO3. For more information on how to get your FREE AO3 account, see this post.

~

Mia spent the rest of the day distracted, which didn't help when she attempted to read Henry's list. The man had chicken scratch for writing, making deciphering it - and his Scottish colloquialisms - damn near impossible. Thankfully, she'd fed the ducks, geese, and chickens before; the horses were waiting at the gate when it was time to come in for their evening feed, and the dog food was a quick scoop for the pair of good boys.

And, as Henry was gone and they usually bunked with him for the night, she convinced Cora to let them in the house so they could curl up at her feet while she watched her evening telly. As long as they left the kittens alone, they were welcome. The kittens were not so convinced, but neither dog paid them any mind, happy to sprawl out on the floor before the fire. 

"If ye dinnae come back after dinner, ye best text me so I can look after the critters." Cora cackled as Mia clicked her way into the room on short heels. 

The older woman was intent on the television, but when Mia cleared her throat, Cora glanced in her direction, looked back at the television, then whipped around and whistled, causing the dogs to lift their heads and look at her. "My, my. Ye clean up good, lass."

Mia ran her hand down the front of her dress. It was a silk wrap dress she wouldn't in a million years have ever considered buying before Ivy talked her into it. With flirty cap sleeves, a knee-length hem, and tiny gold details on the sleeve cuff, she looked at it on the rack and thought there was no way it would look good on her, but Ivy refused to be denied, saying the colour would be glorious with her hair. Mia was more worried about the fit, but the dress had some sort of magic to it, for when she put it on and tied the fancy bows, it surprised her. That it was Marvel Loki green and made her hair glow like burnished copper didn't hurt either. 

Her skin shimmered lightly thanks to the moisturizer - also insisted on by Ivy - and she'd taken the time to curl and pin back her hair, apply a smokey eye and gloss her lips, and paint her nails a pastel pink she knew would last until tomorrow when it chipped off with the first scoop of a manure shovel.

Her necklace was a simple golden chain with a gold heart with so much sentimental value it was priceless, while small gold hoops dangled from her ears. 

"I look alright?" Mia asked, more out of nervousness than any real fear she didn't. 

"Hot damn!" Cora cried, giving her two thumbs up.

Mia laughed, then breathed out slowly, attempting to calm herself. 

"Jeez, why are ye so nervous? Ye've already tasted his tonsils. This is just dinner," Cora huffed. "Maybe ye get lucky and have a wee snog in the car, but ye dinnae have to jump his bones if yer not ready."

"Cora," Mia groaned, placing the coat on her arm on the end of the sofa so she could fix the strap on her austere black heel. 

"What?" she practically yelled, clearly exasperated. 

"I really like him, okay!" Mia shouted as she crouched down. "And it makes me nervous."

"Well, that's good, as I find I'm terribly fond of you too, darling, and I'm happy to see I'm not the only one nervous."

Mia froze, all but her blood that drained from her face, leaving her light-headed before it rushed back in and blazed brightly in her cheeks. 

"Fuck, you could have said he was already here!" she hissed at Cora before rising and turning toward Tom, who leaned against the wall with a tender smile. 

Dear Gods. The look of him was something else, all long and lean, in a suit that had to be bespoke as nothing off the rack would fit that well. It was a blue pinstripe that complemented his eyes, his shirt a pale pastel blue, shoes shiny black and tie in navy with opposing stripes.  

His smile turned appreciative as it swept from her feet to her face, softening with understanding as he pushed from the wall to cross to her and take her face between his hands. He didn't walk; he prowled with a lazy kind of grace that screamed predator. It was a walk she recognized, having seen it before on the movie screen when he played Loki.

The man should be illegal. 

His lips were whisper soft when they glided over hers. "Don't be embarrassed, love. I let myself in when I saw Cora curled up through the window. I didn't mean to catch you unaware, but I am glad I'm not the only one feeling this pull."

"Tom." She sighed, stroking his chest. The cloth beneath her fingers even felt expensive, making her want to keep petting him until she purred. 

His lips skimmed slowly to capture and pull on her ear before he whispered, "You're wearing my colour."

"Not yours. Loki's," she whimpered, lashes fluttering as her pulse quickened. 

"Mine," he growled. "It was my part. Have you forgotten? Must I remind you? Should I command you to kneel?"

Her knees buckled, but he caught her before she could do more than sag into him. "You're a cruel man."

He chuckled softly. "But I could be such a benevolent ruler."

"Keep flirtin', and yer gonna miss dinner," Cora quipped, smirking at them.

Tom cleared his throat and took a step back. "You look lovely," he murmured, retrieving her coat and helping her into it, even pulling her hair from the back. 

"Thank you." Mia shivered at the brush of his knuckles over her nape and collected her purse. She glanced at the grinning Cora and said, "Don't wait up."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Have fun, but not too much fun! Remember what I said!" 

Mia blushed again, causing Cora to cackle like a lunatic and Mia to rush Tom to the door before he could ask questions. 

Once outside, with Cora's laughter firmly shut inside, Tom took her hand and led her to the car. 

"Do I want to know what she's on about?" he asked, holding the door for Mia as she slid inside. 

"No, you do not." Mia chuckled, admiring the butter-soft leather of the vehicle when he shut her in before hurrying around to the driver's side. "Nice car." She smiled when he slid in beside her. 

The caramel leather and swanky interior of the sporty white car said it was something fancy, but she wasn't exactly a car girl until she looked over and saw the symbol of the leaping cat on the steering wheel and when Tom started the car, it freaking purred. 

"No way. This is a Jaguar!" she gasped, almost afraid to move. 

He laughed. "It is. It's my fancy show-off car. Do you like it?"

Mia nodded, though she wasn't sure if she should wiggle deeper into the plush seat, stroke it like the cat it was named after, or ask the burning question on the tip of her tongue. She didn't know exactly what a car like this cost but knew it was well into six figures. 

He glanced at her and shook his head. "You really don't know the body of my work outside Loki, do you?"

Mia shook her head, entranced by all the fancy lights on his dashboard. "Only what I've Googled, but I'm not much for movies. I watched The Hollow Crown, or most of it, with Cora yesterday."

"Most of it?" He gasped. "Should I be insulted that I can't seem to hold your interest outside of the one part?" he teased. 

She scoffed. "Let me assuage your fears. It had nothing to do with your performance and everything to do with Cora and her inappropriate stories."

He shot her a boyish grin. "Cora tells naughty stories?"

"You have no idea." Mia snickered. "And let's just say I didn't need any clarification on her liberal use of Scottish slang for the obscene bits."

Tom burst out laughing. "Brilliant! I love that woman."

"So do I," Mia agreed, finally giving in and running her fingers over the dash. 

"Ah, well, you wouldn't know about Jaguar's Good To Be Bad commercials then. I was in three, the last with Ben Kingsley and Mark Strong."

"Ben Kingsley! Sir Ben Kingsley, the guy who played Ghandi?" Mia gasped. "Wait, he did a commercial?"

Tom chuckled and shook his head. "Of course, you would know Ben. Yes, but once you see them, you'll understand why. They were very… villainous. I think you'd like them."

The look he sent her caused Mia to squeeze her thighs together. 

"Part of the deal was a car. This car. When everything went tits up after our parents died, I sold it, but when Kip's star began to rise, he bought it back for me. Insisted on it, though I cussed him out for spending the money."

"The same car? He bought the same car, not a similar one?"

"I was fortunate enough to sell it to a friend. He was kind enough to sell it back." He smiled fondly. 

"Pretty good friend."

He glanced at her again as he drove along the winding roads. "He is. He and his wife have remained close, and I'm grateful for their friendship. I don't suppose the name Benedict Cumberbatch means anything to you?"

Mia's jaw dropped. "You know Sherlock Holmes?"

Tom groaned. "Why? Why is it only me you know nothing of?"

"Hey, I didn't know who Kip was either, even worse than you. At least I admired you."

He sent her a sultry smile. "Yes, you do admire me don't you?"

Mia blushed and changed the subject. "Was that the last job you took?"

"Coriolanus, actually. The ads were for the Super Bowl, so they were filmed long before, but I was performing at the Donmar Warehouse from December through February when the news came. I loved standing on that stage, performing live. Theatre was my first great love." He sighed. "Their death came only days after my last performance."

She reached over and curled her hand over his on the gear shift. "I'm sorry, Tom. Both for their loss and for yours. I can tell you miss it, acting."

"I do, but we would have lost Highpark. My family will always come first, not only as a duty but also because many depend on us. My father, for all his good traits, was a poor businessman. He preferred to spend and damn the consequences, no matter who it hurt in the end."

The bitterness didn't go unnoticed, though he tried to hide it with a flash of a smile. 

Mia let it go unacknowledged, drifting her fingers down the back of his hand and around to circle his wrist, where she lightly stroked his pulse point. "There is one thing I don't like about your car."

"How could you not like something in this car?" he muttered. 

She glanced pointedly behind them. "No back seat." She let that sit for a beat as his pulse jumped under her fingers. "And really, the consul makes any front-seat shenanigans difficult." It jumped again and beat hard, making her bite her cheek to keep a straight face. 

"You are a cruel woman," he growled, shifting just a little to spread his thighs.

"Payback can be a real bitch." She chuckled, settling in to enjoy the drive.

~

The restaurant was quaint. It was small, the lighting dim, and the seating secluded. 

It was definitely a date place. 

Mia looked around and found only other couples in singles or pairs as they were led to a table set back in an alcove where the hostess waited to take Mia's coat, pour glasses of water, and leave them with their menus. As she walked away, she pulled a cord that dropped half the swept-back curtain, closing out the restaurant without completely closing them in. 

She smirked at the stripped, tasselled addition and arched a brow in amusement. "Swanky."

Tom snickered. "I may have called ahead and called in a favour to get us this table. It's usually reserved well in advance, but the owner is a friend and made an exception."

"And the people who were supposed to have this table?" she asked, wondering if they'd ruined someone else's special occasion. 

"Agreed to come at a later date and have their dinner comped. They were happy with the arrangement, and so was I."

Mia smiled, glad it seemed so easy and picked up the menu. "So, you know the owner?"

"We were mates at Uni. He was rubbish at acting but amazing in the kitchen. Eventually, he went to Paris and trained there, but he wanted to come home and start this." Tom waved at the walls. "It's very exclusive, and people come from London, Edinburgh, all over really to eat here."

"I'm impressed." And she was. As she read through the menu, she grew even more so. Everything sounded delicious. 

As she was about to ask what Tom would recommend, the curtain swept back to reveal a large, portly, grinning man. 

"Thomas!"

"Malcolm!" Tom smiled, rising to do the manly shake and shoulder hug. "It's good to see you."

"As it's been years since ye've bothered to make the drive, yer damn right it's good to see me," Malcolm blustered. "And ye, calling in a favour without so much as a by the by." Then he turned to her, eyes bright with teasing laughter. "But with such a bonny companion, I canna blame ye for doin' all that beggin'."

Tom huffed. "I didn't beg. I requested assistance."

Malcolm leaned down and whispered, "Begged. Almost in tears, he was."

Mia snickered. "I could see it."

"Camila!" Tom gasped, but his smile said he didn't mind her teasing. 

"Camila, is it? A bonny name for a bonny lass." Malcolm took her hand and kissed her knuckles like something out of a rakish fantasy novel. 

"Leave off flirting with my date, please," Tom grumbled. 

"Oi, territorial, are we?" Malcolm snickered. "She must be mighty special this one."

Mia blushed and glanced at Tom, only to find him staring at her intently. 

"Very much so," Tom agreed, his foot sliding against her ankle. 

Malcolm beamed. "I'll take those." He plucked the menu from Mia's fingers and snagged Tom's off the table. "Tonight, ye eat what ye get. Allergies?"

Mia shook her head, an action mirrored by Tom. 

"I ken ye've none. Ye ate everything and anything put before you for years!" Malcolm muttered as he walked off.

"You have an interesting friend." Mia chuckled. 

"He's something at any rate," Tom agreed. 

"Well? Should we get the tough questions out of the way?" Mia asked, finding his calf with the toe of her shoe. 

He arched a brow. "And those would be?"

"Favourite artist, movie, and colour."

Tom shook his head. "And here I expected you to lead with hockey team. Are you Canadians not known to be wild for hockey?"

Mia rolled her eyes. "Sure, for some people. I never got into hockey, not really. I'll watch it and cheer if it's on the TV, but I'd rather go paint or read."

"That doesn't surprise me." He chuckled. "Rodin, Heat, and blue or red."

"Why Rodin?" she asked. 

"I like the movement in the work. Other artists can create beautiful works of rock, but something about his, perhaps the roughness of the piece rising from unfinished stone, evokes this deeply provocative feeling. It is like looking at emotion rather than seeing the person feeling it."

Mia leaned closer, fascinated by his insight. "Your favourite piece?"

"The Eternal Idol." The intensity was back as he leaned toward her. "I love the language of it. It is worshipful, languid, serene and stunningly sensual. He is enamoured of her, desperate to show her, but afraid to touch the object of his desire. And she, the way Rodin cast her face in this breathless moment of utter adoration as she gazes tenderly down on him. I did not know one could capture love in stone until I first laid eyes on the piece."

"Tom," she whispered, enchanted. 

He caressed her cheek. "She is perfection."

Mia couldn't tell if he still spoke of the statue or not and cleared her throat. 

He grinned and sat back. "Same questions."

It was an out from the thickening tension, and Mia seized it with both hands. "Van Gogh, The Fifth Element, and green."

"Van Gogh? Really?"

She frowned. "What's wrong with Van Gogh?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. I just expected something a little more obscure, perhaps someone less well known."

"I have others that I like, but his style inspired my own. With a little Andy Warhol thrown in."

"That I can see," he agreed. "But I must admit I have never seen - nor I think heard of - the movie you picked."

Mia shook her head and grinned wryly. "It's a guilty pleasure. This very colourful, neon, sci-fi action movie starring Bruce Willis, Mia Jovovich, and Chris Tucker. It's your typical hero/heroine, save the world, fall in love, and have a happy ending."

Amusement danced in his eyes. "You'll have to show it to me."

"Only if you promise not to make fun of me for it."

"I make no promises." He chuckled. "But I will do my best."

The curtain twitched back as the waitress arrived with a bottle of wine, compliments of Malcolm. Tom stopped her at half-pour, indicating he was driving, but Mia accepted a full glass. The waitress left the bottle and slipped away. 

"You can't make fun of it," Mia insisted. "It's my tub movie, and if you spoil that for me, I'll never forgive you."

Tom leaned forward again, bracing his forearms on the table. "What, pray tell, is a tub movie?"

"It's the movie I watch in the bathtub." When he only grinned at her, she shrugged. "What? Like you don't watch a movie or read a book in the bathtub."

"Can't say I'm overly fond of baths. I'm more of a shower man."

"Maybe you're doing them wrong," she quipped. 

His smile widened. "Is that an invitation to see how one has a proper bath?"

Mia smirked over the lip of her wine glass and ran her foot up his calf. "Play your cards right, and we'll see."

"Don't tempt me, love," he purred, shooting heat to her core. 

She swallowed and set her glass on the table before leaning in again. "I do what I want, pet."

His eyes darkened. "Naughty girl. Don't start something I can't finish, Mia."

"But we've established that I'm well acquainted with mischief," she whispered, her grin widening. 

"Darling," he crooned, his gaze drifting down to her cleavage and back up, sparking fires in his wake. "If you keep this up, I will pull your chair over here, slide my hand beneath your skirt, and tease what I can only imagine is a very wet cunt until dinner arrives."

She gasped, excitement adding to the wetness he threatened to find for himself. 

"Fuck, woman," he growled. 

She was moments away from moving her chair herself when Malcolm returned with appetizers. 

He paused as he took them in and asked, "Am I interrupting?"

"No," Mia murmured as Tom growled, "Yes."

Malcolm snickered. "Ye want me to close the other curtain?"

Mia blushed but laughed and shook her head. "Tom was just saying he's ravenous. Thank you for the food."

"I don't think it was the food he was after," Malcolm snickered but made himself scarce. 

"It wasn't," Tom agreed, shifting his chair to the side to grab Mia's seat and scoot her closer to him at the round table. 

The loud scrape of her chair made Mia laugh. "Discrete."

He leaned in and kissed her where her neck and shoulder met. "Discretion is what the tablecloth is for."

His hand was already sliding up her thigh, but Mia stopped him. "Tom."

"Too fast?"

"A little. I know I'm just as bad." She sighed. "I'll tone down the teasing."

"Please don't." He smirked, squeezing her hand. 

Mia shot him a grateful glance. "Maybe it's pitiful, but Colt was my only relationship. Shifting back into dating after five, well four really, years is an adjustment."

His arm found the back of her chair as they shared the tasty appetizers. "How long has it been since you and he split up?"

"Emotionally? Over a year. In reality, a week before I moved here, but we weren't intimate anymore. We were pretty much roommates pretending to be more."

"And he hasn't reached out? Not even to apologize?"

Mia shook her head. "I told him not to. We were done, had been for a long time, and what he did was unforgivable. I had Fergus return the ring when I realized I was still wearing it. By now, I'm sure he's moved on." She tilted her head to look at Tom. "And so am I."

"Good," he murmured, nuzzling his nose against her cheek. "He didn't deserve you. He had no idea the treasure he discarded."

She turned into him and kissed him sweetly before breaking away. "What about you? When was your last relationship?"

"Serious?" He hummed and chewed as he thought. "Before I did Coriolanus, so twenty-thirteen.

Mia froze before looking at him in shock. "Ten… ten years?"

He grinned a little sheepish and embarrassed. "Well, between the disaster that was Highpark, my parent's death, the loss of my career, and then the virus, it became rather insignificant. Dating as a rising star isn't without its pitfalls either, so even before, my serious relationships were few and far between. I had dalliances, but they never lasted, which worked for both parties at the time."

"I'm sorry, that was judgy of me. You didn't gasp when I said I've only been with one man."

This time, he froze before looking at her in bafflement. "Only? As in first and only?"

Mia blushed and nodded. "I… didn't have time to focus on work, living, school, all that and men. The only person I had to count on was me, so if I fucked up, I didn't eat, or have heat, or any number of bad things."

"So you began dating in university?"

She nodded. "Friends first, then dating. He convinced me to move in with him before the pandemic."

He was quiet for a moment before he said, "I can't say I'm sorry it didn't work out because I'm not. You're here with me because he couldn't see how incredible you are."

She smiled. "Even if I talk to Loki?"  

He laughed and rested his forehead against hers. "Especially for that. Though I must admit, I spoke to him yesterday after you left."

"You did?" she whispered, surprised and humbled that he believed her so completely. 

"Maybe we're both mad." He brushed his nose along hers. "But I thanked him… for saving a special child so she could grow into an exquisite woman."

"Tom," she breathed, utterly overwhelmed. 

He cupped her face and held her still as their speeding breaths mingled before he captured her lips in a tender kiss she felt seep into her bones.

A throat cleared. 

They broke apart like guilty teenagers for the second time today. 

"I do appear to have poor timing." Malcolm grinned, setting a plate in front of each of them. "Enjoy. And Tommy, old boy, remember. It's a curtain, not a wall." 

"Fuck off!" Tom snarled. 

Malcolm's booming laughter followed him back to the kitchen. 

Mia giggled and dug into her salad.

Next Chapter

[40sandfabulousaf]

大家好! I attempted the 250 calorie challenge again this week to highlight the hunger faced by Palestinians in Gaza. If this is your first time reading, you can find details in previous posts. This mini ready to eat meal contains tuna, corn, beans and carrots, totalling 171 calories. Even though I ate this for second breakfast in order to make it to lunch, I was very apprehensive. I. Barely. Made. It. But I did. This little meal was tasty even though I don't like beans. There're 3 flavours and I've found all of them palatable. I'll certainly buy them again.

I may not crave fastfood, but I do have cravings for other meals. During our weekly catch up, Grace mentioned her sushi lunch. Suddenly, I was reminded of vinegary pearl rice topped with fresh fish. The craving drove me nuts! Our local supermarket chain has a food hall selling various types of meals, including sushi. That was where I dashed to for my fix. This platter of 10 was mostly delicious. They added a tad too much mayo to the salmon roll; apart from that, I relished every bite. Can't believe I forgot about sushi when it's yummy. I must have it more often!

There was a new dish at the cai fan stall which I visit for lunch on return to office days - stirfried tau kwa with leek. I love leek so I ordered that, stirfried broccoli and cauliflower, fuyong egg and rice. Shredded carrots, sweet peas and onions were incorporated into the dishes. Pork and chicken were available, but I couldn't resist fuyong egg and don't regret my decision to order it. If I must name the reason a meatless meal isn't a difficult choice here, I would give all the credit to our hawkers. Their egg and tofu dishes taste incredible and their prices remain reasonable. I paid $3.20 for this filling lunch. Good luck finding salad or pasta at this price with as much nutrition when you dine out!

https://www.reuters.com/world/middle-east/un-experts-say-famine-has-spread-throughout-gaza-2024-07-09/

We've been having scorching afternoons but we also have thunderstorms and downpours. It can get better pretty cold in the office and malls so I bought a sweater. This fleece one is warm and not only did I find it stylish, Pa did too. The colours match with shorts and leggings in my wardrobe so yeah, I'll get alot of mileage. I've brought it out with me a few times already and wore it when the air-conditioning got too cold. So far, I'm happy with my buy and I'll definitely check out 361⁰ whenever I want cosy sweaters!

Please check out the Reuters article, guys, it's heartbreaking to see children reduced to pi bao gu (skin stretched around bones, emaciated) and dying from starvation in Gaza as a result of this genocidal war. Human rights should be for everyone. If it is only wielded as a geopolitical tool, it just seems hypocritical to me. Frankly, I no longer believe that proponents of human rights are sincere about wanting to make the world a better place. Because watching these Palestinians suffer just feel so wrong. 下次见!

[fuckkbrunch]

Okay I've been putting off writing this post for a week. I totally wasted spent my whole last weekend doing this fucking thanksgiving dinner. I literally didn't sit down for 9 hours on the turkey roasting day. Get ready for a long one...

I thought this would be good to bang out a few recipes in one weekend. My job gives out free turkeys to employees every Christmas, and this year we got two since my partner works with me now. We have a very small deep freeze, so I thought this would also help make some space since we didn't cook either of our turkeys during the actual holidays.

The cookbook has a pretty detailed thanksgiving section, where Tony explains how to set up a thanksgiving dinner over 4 days. First step, make a stock. This took me 8 hours.

Luckily I didn't need to buy any bones. I've had these necks and wings and bits hanging out in my freezer for a while. Scraps from past turkeys, roasted and raw ducks, and maybe a chicken. I added in the neck and wing tips from the new turkey as well.

Roasted those off for about 45 minutes, moving them around as needed. Prepped some mirepoix while that cooked, added it to my brand-spanking new cheapo stock pot, chucked in some thyme, and we're off to the races.

I underestimated how long this sucker would take to bring to a "high simmer". Took about an hour to get there, then had to stay at a medium simmer for 5 hours. At some point I realized it wasn't evaporating fast enough and cranked it for the final two hours.

My resulting stock. A little more than I needed, which turned out perfect. Rapid cooled it in the sink and finished this around 10:30pm. He says that if you've done it right, it should be a deep golden brown, and very gelatinous the next day, which it was. Hooray!

I had planned to get my stuffing together and baked off on this day as well, but didn't manage to. But I got the veg prep for the stuffing chopped up at least. His stuffing is the most expensive stuffing I've ever made. It's the wild mushrooms that got me. Thankfully my grocery store still had roasted chestnuts available in March, but I definitely couldn't find fresh wild mushrooms. So dried would have to do.

The recipe calls for a pound of the wild mushrooms, but this box of dried ones only comes to 70g when rehydrated and it ran me $9.

This sad pile cost me nine fucking dollars. Porcini, chanterelle, shiitake, portabello and oyster. A pretty good assortment at least. I rehydrated them using some of the extra stock I made. Definitely not paying $60 to get to a pound though, so I supplemented with some fresh baby king oyster mushrooms, and topped it off with regular cremini mushrooms.

Now I know the chestnuts might come off as cheating, since they're pre roasted, but I did roast them again myself, as the bag suggested.

The stuffing took me two hours to get together (thank fuck I did the chopping yesterday), then I got my monster 16lb bird ready for roasting. His prep for that is pretty simple. Just a rub down with butter, salt and pepper it and you're good to go. His method doesn't involve stuffing the bird, but I have emotional needs regarding bird stuffing, so I made extra in order to do so.

His stuffing has the giblets boiled and processed to add in at the end, but I couldn't find the giblets in my bird until I was ripping it apart to portion it (who puts the giblets under the skin in the chest/sternum cavity?? Put that shit inside the bird with the neck for fucks sake...) so instead I added in some of the turkey neck meat I had leftover from the stock scraps. I'll try again with the giblets next time.

Surprisingly, the gravy was pretty annoying. All that stock I made was specifically for the gravy, as well as some red wine and shallot reduction. I made the roux using pan drippings from the stock bones from the previous day, but as I was browning the roux I was thinking, damn this is a lot of roux. I've made a lot of gravy in my life and I've never used this much roux. So when I got to the point of adding the hot stock to the roux, it got SO THICK.

He says to continue cooking the gravy until it's "thick enough to coat a spoon", but this was already way thicker than that. I had to dump in all my extra stock, plus some fish sauce and soy sauce (which are optional parts of the gravy recipe) to "water" it down.

That and I may have lightly burned my outside-the-bird stuffing. It was totally saveable though.

This is the proudest I've ever been of roasting a turkey. I sent this photo to my friends as if it was a new baby photo. Just look at it.

Isn't she a beaut?

Basted her every half hour for about 4 hours. Ironically, my overzealous stuffing didn't get hot enough to get out of the danger zone before the bird overcooked, so I scooped it out, mixed it with the lightly burnt other stuffing and baked it off while the bird rested. Oh and I also made mashed potatoes, obviously. I needed a green side, so I also whipped out...

Tony really showed his age with this one. The only time I've ever had creamed spinach was when I was 5 years old, at my grandparents house.

Thank fuck you can buy pre washed, pre trimmed spinach these days, because by this point I was so done with all of this. Nothing more depressing than watching 2 big bags of spinach steam down into a tiny sheet pan worth of wet green. At least it came together quickly. The taste was just okay, something about the texture squicks me out.

Taters, stuffing spinach and gravy. The second money shot of the day. Also a little bundle of asparagus I steamed off in the microwave since it was getting old...

Holy fuck, it's over. Best turkey I've ever done, but man. I don't know if it was worth it.

| Thanksgiving + Creamed Spinach |

Taste is a 4 out of 5. Definitely good, but the stuffing literally tasted like any stuffing I've ever had, expensive ingredients be damned.

Difficulty is a 6 out of 5. Don't try this one if you've never done a thanksgiving on your own. Or recruit help if your kitchen space allows it.

Time was about 16 hours over two days. I'm not kidding. At least while reducing the stock, you can sit down now and then.

I portioned all of this into 18 meals for the freezer so we can have a mini thanksgiving whenever we want.

I wish I could have found some cranberries so I could've knocked out his cran relish recipe as well, but it's late March and beggars can't be choosers. I'll get to that in the fall, when I roast that other fucking turkey sitting in my freezer...

[frostbite-the-bat]

OK this time I wad a less pleasant dream

Warning for mentions of gore and animal harm

- in my dream I heard from mole that someone made a funny pacesetter.exe game using Mario 64 for some reason so I downloaded it but when we tried running it, it didn't work

I continued on my life then, and did my art and other things... Until my computer began acting weird and slow and so I restarted it. The internet has been acting weird in the dream beforehand too but that's unrelated - I went on my switch to play games but then I saw my screen light up and I see my wallpaper has changed

I walk over and it's text saying that my computer is being watched and hacked by devs of the game and that I'm dumb for downloading it - and for me to appease them I have to put Toontown fanart into one of the folders in the game files

I go through the files and there's many gore images, mostly of dead animals. I get to the folders without images and I make a text file and start typing, and here's what I remember typing:

"Hello, I am Guzma / Cathal, but I'm mostly known as Frostbite-The-Bat in the community. (Can't remember) I apologize for whatever I've done that has angered you. Please inform me of any other ways I can appease you -"

And I get cut off and windows start moving around and my cursor starts being hard to control. Another text file opens up and text starts appearing that I don't remember but it was very memey and jokey and clearly tried intimidating me. They used fonts and ominous messages - but I saw these were trolls who do this for fun and so I joined in, hoping that'll get me on their side.

"Oh, and you'll type THAT using the halloween font, right?"

"yeah right"

And then we both began fucking around with the fonts for a while, seeing that a lot of them even morphed into images that'd overlay the whole text. Some were more weird, like a foot frozen in ice and some little animal on an Ai generated green colored torso in a dentists office

Once I had more control again, I continue typing in my own text post:

"I am only typing this formally now, believe me I don't speak like this often. I don't have anything to offer aside from art due to my living conditions. Please, from one TTCC fan to another, what can I do to stop you from hacking my computer?"

Some time then passes and I hear a voice, which sounded Exactly like snapcube Eggman showing me things in a presentation with various drawings - supposedly the images of animals they had were from the group who made this game

"so yknow those machines that exist to make those flavored burgers. you put a soda in the bottom and it squeezes it and it then goes up. WELL SO WE THOUGHT what if we put a chicken in there? and so we did. and when we did it SQUISHED IT and all the organs went up, and the skin and the bones remained on the bottom where it crushes those cans! then yknow how it poops out the soda can remains? it did so with the chick, too, it looked really gross. we read something online that chicks can survive with one drop of water and so we injected it with water in the forehead. then, it slowly got up! with no blood or anything, it was loving again! this was it can grow it all back and we can repeat the process without buying any new animals!"

And the machine looked like this on the presentation:

It then began showing the baby chick in detail, and I was getting really uneasy and so I woke up.

I have in fact overslept my alarm even if it literally fucking blares VINE BOOM SOUND EFFECT. also about my prev post I would be delighted to get The Fabled Ibuprofen We Love On Tumblr for my ouchies however I AM not getting up oh gooedudddgb hbhhhghhgjjjhjhjhjhmhnnjhh

Considering this dream was about Pacesetter I nerd to fill you in on the inside joke that, anytime I'm going through The Monthly Horrors, I call it "I'VE TURNED INTO PACESETTER" so that's that

I'm very glad it was real because getting hacked live like that is genuinely so fucking scary

[network0]

The Ultimate Guide to Raw Dog Food in Johannesburg: What You Need to Know

Welcome to the ultimate guide on raw dog food in Johannesburg! If you’re a pet parent wanting to provide the best nutrition for your furry friend, you’ve come to the right place. Raw dog food has been gaining popularity among pet owners due to its numerous benefits and natural ingredients. In this blog post, we’ll explore what raw dog food is all about, its excellent benefits, and help you find the best places in Johannesburg to buy it. So, let’s roll up our sleeves and dive into the world of raw dog food!

Raw Dog Food Johannesburg

What is raw dog food?

Raw dog food, also known as a raw diet or BARF (Biologically Appropriate Raw Food), is a type of dog feeding plan that consists of uncooked and minimally processed ingredients. Unlike traditional commercial dog food, which is often heavily processed and contains fillers, additives, and artificial ingredients, raw dog food focuses on providing wholesome, natural nutrition.

So, what does raw dog food consist of? It typically includes fresh meat such as beef, chicken, turkey, or fish. This muscle meat provides essential proteins for your pup’s growth and development. Additionally, raw dog food may include organ meats like liver or kidneys to supply essential vitamins and minerals.

But it doesn’t stop there! Raw dog food often incorporates fruits and vegetables to provide extra nutrients such as vitamins A and C. These plant-based components can aid digestion while adding variety to your furry friend’s meals.

The raw dog food diet proponents argue that it mimics what dogs would naturally eat in the wild - a prey-based diet consisting primarily of meat. They believe this approach promotes overall health by improving digestion, boosting energy levels, supporting lean muscle development, reducing allergies or sensitivities, and enhancing coat condition and skin health.

Remember, before switching your pet to a raw diet, consult with your veterinarian first! It’s essential to ensure you’re providing a balanced meal plan tailored to your pup’s needs.

Now that we have covered the basics of raw dog food let’s explore its excellent benefits!

The benefits of raw dog food

Raw dog food offers a range of benefits that can significantly improve the health and well-being of your furry friend. One significant advantage is that it provides dogs with a diet that resembles what their ancestors would have eaten in the wild, which is high in protein and low in carbohydrates.

Feeding your dog raw food allows them to consume nutrient-rich ingredients such as lean meats, organs, bones, fruits, and vegetables. This natural approach can lead to improved digestion and absorption of nutrients, resulting in better overall health for your pet.

Many dog owners also report that their pets have healthier coats when switching to a raw food diet. This could be attributed to raw food containing essential fatty acids like omega-3s and omega-6s, promoting healthy skin and coats.

Another benefit worth mentioning is increased energy levels. Raw dog food gives dogs sustained energy throughout the day due to its high-quality protein content. Dogs on raw diets tend to exhibit higher playfulness and vitality levels than those on commercially processed kibble.

Furthermore, some pet owners claim that feeding their dogs raw food has helped alleviate specific health issues, such as allergies or digestive problems. Eliminating artificial additives commonly found in commercial pet foods may contribute to these positive effects.

It’s important to note that every dog is unique and may respond differently to various dietary choices. It’s always best practice to consult your veterinarian before making significant changes or decisions regarding your pet’s nutrition.

Where to buy raw dog food in Johannesburg

This guide has explored the wonderful world of raw dog food and its benefits. We’ve learned that raw dog food is a natural and nutritious option for our furry friends, providing them with essential nutrients and promoting overall health.

Now that you understand the importance of feeding your dog a balanced, raw diet, you may wonder where to find high-quality natural dog food in Johannesburg. Fortunately, several options are available to ensure your canine companion receives the best nutrition possible.

1. Local Pet Stores: Many pet stores in Johannesburg carry various raw dog food brands. They often stock frozen or dehydrated options from premium ingredients for dogs’ dietary needs.

2. Online Retailers: The convenience of online shopping extends to purchasing raw dog food. Numerous online retailers based in Johannesburg offer a wide selection of quality brands delivered right to your doorstep.

3. Butchers and Farmers’ Markets: Visiting local butchers or farmers’ markets can be an excellent choice for those seeking more direct sourcing options. Here, you can speak directly with suppliers, prioritizing the freshness and quality of their products.

4. Veterinarian Recommendations: Consult with your veterinarian regarding where they recommend purchasing raw dog food in Johannesburg. They may have specific knowledge about reputable suppliers or even provide their brand for sale.

Always check product labels carefully for ingredients and nutritional information before purchasing. Choosing brands that prioritize quality sourcing practices and meet industry standards for complete and balanced nutrition is crucial.

By opting for one of these reliable sources, you can rest assured that you provide only the best for your beloved four-legged friend’s health journey on a raw diet!

So why wait? Leap feeding your pup a wholesome diet by exploring where you can buy top-notch raw dog food in Johannesburg today! Your furry friend will thank you with wagging tails, boundless energy, and a healthy glow!

[soraviie]

spending holidays together.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader  ━ masterlist

━ about: fluff, some angst if you squint  ━  pictures taken from Pinterest

━ a/n: I tried to make this as vague as possible but obviously coming from a country and a family that celebrate Christmas, I was a little bit biased, either way however you celebrate this time or if you're just chilling, I hope you can enjoy this little reaction regardless. Also, there might be a little continuity from previous reactions for some boys

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: “Monie! Come here, boy! Monie!” 

Seeing only the rushing colours of the uncaring crowd, you waddled to the side and began to weep uncontrollably. Monie will get lost and die, and Namjoon will hate you forever. This was your first holiday together and you couldn’t even do this one simple thing.

And perhaps, yes, it was the three cups of Svarak talking which you’d drunk while wandering the Christmas market in Prague and perhaps yes, it was the horrid jetlag clouding your emotional state to the point where light inebriation was the least of your worries. Oh, why did you pressure Namjoon into bringing Monie abroad? Who brings a dog to a romantic getaway abroad anyway?

“He’ll get lonely,” you whined, placing your palms against Namjoon’s chest as you adjusted yourself in his lap. 

“He doesn’t understand that emotion,” Namjoon had snided, hands reaching up to grab your hips. “Or any emotion for that matter.”

“Dogs can feel emotions!” you pouted in the poor thing’s defence whilst Namjoon brushed his thumb over your lower lip. 

“I know, baby,” he affirmed. “I’m just saying he specifically doesn’t have them.”

“You’re so mean.”

Well, this idiot of course. Maybe you should have been meaner too, maybe then Monie wouldn’t think it as funny to rip away from his leash and go running off in between vendors selling gingerbread cookies and hot wine. And now be lost forever. 

“Baby?” 

Seeing Namjoon, trying to hold onto the thousands of gift bags to send home, running towards you, only made you weep all the harder, snot falling onto your jacket. 

Tossing the paper bag into the slushed snow, Namjoon took a hold of your face and fretted, like he always did, a million miles per second. 

“Are you hurt? Are you in pain? Did someone hurt you? Are your bones broken?!”

“You’re going to hate me!” you cried, earning nothing but a confused frown and prolonged worrying. 

“Why would I hate my baby?” he cooed but you fervently shook your head, evading his kiss. 

“I lost Monie! I-I lost him and they’re gonna sell him, Namjoon! Oh god, they’re gonna sell him to some mean kids as a holiday present who are going to pull on his tail and ears! Oh, God, what have I d-done?!”

“You mean this Monie?” Namjoon asked with a smile as he stepped aside and lo' and behold without the slightest hint of shame in the eye stood a white dog, his leash stretching to tie around Namjoon’s wrist. 

“Oh my God, you bastard!”

The little dog was rather displeased by the callous and unrefined way of your hugging but you paid it no attention. 

“I found him some five minutes ago,” Namjoon explained, more than a little bewildered at your outburst. “Trying to steal some poor guy’s chicken kebab.”

“And all the trip you fondled him more than me. I was but a decoration.”

“Okay, I get it.

“I mean, I bring my wonderful partner halfway across the world to the top 1 spot to celebrate winter holidays in Europe and what do I get? Nothing. They spend the entire time not admiring the splendour of a city with more than a thousand years under the belt, no, they spend that time buying dog treats.”

“Would you shut up?” you pressed a palm against Namjoon’s mouth, feeling the vibrations of his laughter against your skin. “It was our first holiday together, sorry for being emotional about failing you.”

“You could never fail me baby,” he muttered softly, taking your hand away. “Happy holidays. May we spent fifty more together.”

With a kiss against your temples, Namjoon tucked your legs closer into his lap. His apartment might not be a city with a thousand years under its belt and perhaps it did not smell of hot wine, but it was warm and comfortable, standing strong against the harsh weather of this year's winter and you were perfectly content on spending the holidays quietly in your lonesome. Either way just like he did in Prague, Monie slept the night away, only waking when needing to beg for some food.

YOONGI: “So which one is yours?”

And because it made sense, your mother removed her glasses, squinting at the TV. 

“The second one on the left.”

“What, broad shoulders with a nice smile?”

“No, mom, that’s Jin! I’m with Yoongi.”

“Is it the little one?”

After a partially amused albeit exhausted sigh, you affirmed. 

“Yes, it’s the little one.”

“He looks…nice.”

“He is nice,” you smiled softly to yourself. The broadcast ended and Yoongi’s face was replaced by a soft strumming of generic winter music. Looking out the window with a tangerine twirling between your fingers, you hoped he was at least warm somewhere in Seoul, warm and resting. As it was yesterday and as it will be tomorrow, there was a sunken pang that came when thinking of Yoongi. In times like these you wished nothing more for him to be normal, or at least a little less remarkable, for it to be ordinary enough to sit here with you, awkwardly nodding to whatever your mother said, holding your hand in his and gorging on these tangerines that you subconsciously bought for him. 

But well…life was what it was and you had to accept him. All of him. 

A ring at the door. 

“Oh!” your mother jumped, startled by the jarring sound perturbing the otherwise mellow evening. “It’s probably those damn singers!” she cursed, rolling up the newspaper as if a bunch of mitten-cladded carolers could be thwacked on the nose like a misbehaving dog. 

“I’ll get it,” you sprang to your feet, rushing to the door. “Hey, listen,” you yelled at the ringing stranger, battling with the rusty lock. “This is not a festive house so don’t expect any - oh.”

“Oh,” Yoongi echoed softly. His might be freezing red, along with his nose and his hat was perhaps so big it seemed to envelop his head as a whole, and he just might be covered in snow from head to toe as though he’d tripped and dove face down into a big pile, but to you, he was nothing but a vision. 

“Happy holidays,” he whispered and stretched out a small parcel towards you which you clutched, head pounding away thoroughly dazed. 

“You don’t even celebrate,” you muttered but Yoongi only shrugged. 

“I’m here to celebrate you, nothing mo - wow!”

Wrapping your arms tightly around his neck you began to truly ponder if wishes could indeed come true in this harsh and unfair world as someone liked to say. 

“You’re choking me here, lil’ heater,” Yoongi gasped for air but you didn’t listen, smelling in his faint cologne and breathing a heavy exhale of relief. 

“Deal with it.”

He hummed lowly, with one palm reaching to pat your back. It might have been freezing but you didn’t even notice. Unbeknownst to you neither did he. 

JIN: “It’s fine, Jin.”

Nervously, he exhaled, still twiddling with the reindeer print of his singing tie in the front seat of the car.

“I need to be perfect,” he muttered, peering through the dark at your childhood home standing in the distance like a menacing shadow of an oppressive rock face. One he had chosen to smash his head against this night. 

“You don’t need to be,” softly, you denied, kissing his cheek. Even with the ring on both of your fingers, he blushed. “But you still are. Don’t worry. As heinous as you are, you're an angel compared to my relatives.”

Because of the panic-filled tremor running up his spine it took a whole two minutes for Jin to truly register your words, during which you’d already climbed out the car, taken the largest bulk of presents in your arm and knocked on the door, fully awaiting to be greeted warmly back home for the holidays. 

“Heinous?” Jin muttered absent-mindedly before shaking himself out whatever terrible spell besieged him. It wasn’t your mother he was so afraid of - 

“Oh, Seokjinnie! How’s my favourite son-in-law doing?!”

No, it definitely wasn’t your mother, though he would appreciate she’d pinch his cheeks just a tad less. 

“So, you’re the fiance that they divorced once already.”

It was your judgmental aunts that had him sweating in consecutive nightmares for many months now. 

“Auntie A, please, let’s be civil,” you pushed yourself in front of the slowly brewing conflict. “Not on the holidays.”

“So, Seokjin, we wanted for you to be more included so we…tried to make some of your home foods.”

Jin didn’t know much of this nice woman who spoke kindly to him. She might be your second cousin twice removed on your father’s side, or your aunt thrice removed on your mother’s side… Either way, the spread on the table indeed looked far more eccentric than he was used to. And ever since you’d entered his life, it had been nothing but eccentric.

With bated breaths, the nice lady and your mom waited for his approval and cringing inside, he gave a hollow, polite smile. 

“I like it,” he vomited a bit in his mouth. 

As soft music travelled from downstairs, muffled multicolour of lights glimmered from the small window of your bedroom behind which stretched vast slopes of snow covered by dark. 

“What are they talking about?” Jin whispered, stroking your hair as you laid on top of him. Usually, he’d never liked it but you’d been more of his firsts than he’d ever thought. He could hear just the end of the conversation but the drunken drawl made the words nearly incoherent. 

“About how much they love you,” you muttered in reply, tracing absent-minded patterns on his chest. 

“Liar, liar, ugly pants on fire.”

“Hey, these pants are not ugly,” you whined and Jin hummed. “And I wouldn’t lie. Not on this season of goodwill.”

“Good will, my ass, are you not grinding against my crotch?”

HOSEOK: “Would you sit still?” 

“Sorry, my nose was just itching.”

“Well, do you want it green?” 

“No, ma’am.”

You smirked slightly before focusing back on the work at hand. Or should you say on the hand. 

Hoseok really shouldn’t be looking this good in nail polish. Especially how immediately much you wanted these fingers up in your…Well, either way the polish would be destroyed then. 

With the lights twinkling in the background and the fireplace burning, the night was swimming away into the late night with gracious, almost lulling ease. And while you drew the golden stars one by one, there might still be that treacherous minuscule pang of discontent in the lower pits of your heart, but you pushed it away. Ironically, the first night you painted matching nails it was a time much like this - winter holidays, here in snow-dusted Seoul. 

“Just say you’re disappointed,” he had sighed. 

“And what would that change?” you mumbled grimly, focusing on dragging the brush with near perfection, coating the nail slowly in all black. 

Hoseok didn’t say anything, only drew yet another heavy sigh, before laying his head in your lap. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. You knew this would happen - no couple shirts, no photos, nothing shared in public, nothing to ever prove that this, whatever that even entailed, was real. You knew all that but if only knowing would hurt the hollow ache taking root. You felt the weight of his stare but rather than confronting it you decided to be a coward and focus solely on painting your nails. Because that’s what mattered when the love of your life had to tuck you away in his home like a dirty sock otherwise you’ll be harassed until mental breakdown. You knew he carried that ceaseless guilt all around, so much so, that even his ever-present smile was cracking at the seams like vinyl in a cold room. 

“Maybe you can paint my nails?”

That at last had you glancing sparsely towards his side.

“You mean…like matching designs?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, the tone sounding completely casual. Almost too casual. “I don’t mind painting my nails and…

“And I’ve never stopped wanting to have a little bit of you with me everywhere.”

“As cute as it is, I think Baloo just farted.”

Hoseok threw a heavy glare towards your old, over-fattened Grinch of a Birman only to have it returned back tenfold. 

“He hates me.”

“Just a bit. All done.”

Blowing on his nails, Hoseok glimpsed outside and you watched as his stare turned wistful, seeing the many rows of families, friends and couples all enjoying outside, trading easy laughter and intoxicated cheer. 

“You don’t regret it, do you?” he muttered, almost incoherently. “Being with me?”

You brushed a hand over his knuckles with a sad smile. 

“Our family might be small and our home might be a little quiet but it’s a good one. I don’t need anything else.”

For a second, Hoseok almost appeared stunned before his eyes softened in the glimmering lights and he brushed his forehead against yours. 

“Happy holidays, baby.”

JIMIN: As the years began to pile up, more and more you began to understand the unceasing back pain all adults seemed to complain about and even more so the sentiment behind Grinch standing on a hilltop and yelling down upon the entire city “I HATE YOU!” The hatred for you came shockingly easy, hey, maybe you were just a bad person but what was not easy was to remember that you’d lost your best friend and the man of your dreams all in one well-coordinated swoop.

Forever didn’t seem so stable when it could be killed by a few petty, anger-driven words. The only forever would be the ceaseless taunting.

If only you would have spoken more; if only he would have listened more. If only you had been brave enough to finally tell your best friend you loved him. If only you were just bold enough to believe that his jealousy was out of fear and not some chauvinistic sign of unspoken ownership. If only you’d have the guts to crawl back and apologise. If only…

If only you’d crashed into him harder and cracked your own skull in the process. Then you wouldn’t have to be standing here, in the middle of a snowing open-air ice rink, with children skating amok, evading the pleads of their exhausted parents; you wouldn’t have to be standing here looking at the stupid face of stupidly endearing Park Jimin, of his stupid red eyes that hinted at not so long before finished crying session, of his stupid mismatched hair, growing dark in the roots and still blond at the tips and most of all you wouldn’t have to be feeling the unmistakable sensation of sheer joy as you were faced with someone whom in anger you swore to hate forever. 

Guess that forever didn’t last either. 

His hands, red and roughened from the cold, shuttered to a halt, previously occupied with dusting off your coat as he’d bumped into you on the ice, hurtling you painfully through the air.

He wet his dry lips and gently ghosted those dry-ass hands of his over your elbows, wanting to trap you? Hug you?

Either way, you were pissed and the crowd as it turned could be extremely lonely. Snowflakes fell in large clumps from the blackened sky, behind which sprawled the infinite Cosmos. Infinite Cosmos! With planets and galaxies and universes beyond your comprehension so why? Why, oh why, did this man hold so much power over you?! 

“Don’t come near me,” you growled. “I don’t want to forgive you!”

Jimin being an obnoxious, catty bastard of an angel leaned into your face, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath on your nose, his own expression marred with sheer spite. 

“So I’m forgiven now?”

There were many things to hate about Jimin. How he made your heart quicken and how well he was aware of that fact. The cocky smile he wore as your face hued in unflattering shades of red. You hated how sad he looked when he was down and how it made you want to ruin the entire world for ever daring to upset him. You were supposed to be unflappable, unapproachable and yet slyly like a creeping cat he had pushed past all those finely built walls to make a home in your heart. 

“I’m angry at you!” you curled up your fists only to receive a harsh scowl in return. 

“I’m angry at you as well!” Then he smirked because, despite all your talk when his arm wrapped around your waist, you made no effort to remove it. 

“Stop doing that!”

“Oh, I’m sorry that my face makes expressions,” he rolled his eyes, pushing you closer.

Ask anyone and they’ll tell you that winter lights were pretty but they were cold, much like the sun at certain longitudes of the Earth, but currently, you couldn’t possibly get any warmer. Your back was positively sweltering acutely aware of his stable touch and the fine line you so inappropriately were skating on. Friends. Not lovers. Friends. Just friends. Not even friends now, ex-friends! Strangers! But the way he was holding you was of no strangers. Of no friends. 

Standing here in this stupid, overpriced ice rink with its stupid golden lights, you felt yourself falter, succumbing to weakness. It was all his fault! So why could you not stop the smile blossoming upon your lips?!

“Park Jimin,” you shoved an accusing finger into his chest that definitely hadn’t been getting more toned as of late. “Will you hold yourself responsible when I experience emotional malfunction?”

“Do you mean feelings?” he clarified, eyebrows wrinkling in confusion. “Because if you do, I've been experiencing emotional malfunction for a long time already. I’m the victim here!”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, but you knew that glint in the eye that had nothing to do with the glimmer of the decorations.  “Kiss it better why don’t you.’Tis the season of kisses.”

“It’s not.”

“It is now,” he growled and pushed his lips upon yours.

TAEHYUNG: Honestly, of all the crazy moments within the last year, it was this one that made you fully grasp just how wild one’s life could get. Here you were on this shaking metal box, after much snivelling and snarling to get a little piece of paper, cramped in between two sweaty dudes and travelling hundreds of miles per hour just to see someone’s son. Embarrassing. And yet you were trembling inside.

Catching a taxi, you tried not to get overwhelmed by the bustling of this foreign city and instead focused on perfecting the tied ribbon, praising the heavens that it didn’t get too smushed in your carry-on luggage. Your family were more than a little concerned and more than greatly disheartened by you skipping away across the world on winter holidays of all time but anyone with eyes could see - your heart was already long gone to that stranger in your phone.

Naturally, you didn’t enjoy seeing Taehyung so glum but the miserable reply of “Doubt so” to your misleading little “Happy Holidays, dear!” did grant you a bit of selfish cheer. He was missing you.

As the decorated trees and many overrun shops breezed past the car windows, you smiled to yourself, nuzzling into the red scarf he’d gifted you. Though when the time came to rap at his door, after getting through the apartment security, you found a sudden knot forming in your throat. What if he didn’t want you to see you? The plans after all had been seemingly set in stone - you return back home and spend the time there. What if he’d been preparing to go out with friends? What if he wasn’t even home? You’d look even more foolish after going through all this trouble. 

Shaking off the nerves, you gathered yourself and knocked before the sliver of cowardice could nestle once again. You could hear Tannie bark on the other side which was a rather good indication he was home and just a second after were elatedly greeted by the sound of slippers shuffling across the floor. You threw a wink at the camera showing his doorstep, barely having the time to jump out of the way when light speed they were thrust into your face. 

“You might get stuck that way,” you teased as Taehyung stood in the doorway, floundering for air like fish out of the water. 

“I thought you were going home for holidays.”

“Well, I couldn’t leave you all alone,” you shrugged. “Don’t say that you’re not - oof!” 

With the gentleness of a raging rhinoceros, Taehyung yanked you into his arms, swaying around as though he was hearing his favourite song. 

“You didn’t even look at your present,” laying on the bed next to him, you pointed at the still-wrapped gift perched on the nearby bedside table. With an elbow braced against his head, he didn’t even glimpse at the gift or attempted to deny the accusations. 

“I will tomorrow,” he promised quietly and you hummed, twirling the button of his loose cardigan that truthfully sat too low on his chest for your mental well being. 

“I’m sorry this probably wasn’t the best winter holiday -”

“It is,” he interrupted without blinking, tone gaining such a lilt of fierceness, you raised your head in astoundment. 

“Did your wish come true or something?”

“Yes, it did,” he answered simply. 

JUNGKOOK: Perching the laundry basket on your hip, you tilted your head to the side, curiously inspecting the green thing attached to the ceiling. You knew Jungkook had his fair share of quirks but putting herbs in the doorway… Shaking your head, you gave a resigned sigh and decided to leave your boyfriend be. But the green thing seemed to haunt you like the world’s shittiest ghost. It wasn’t enough for it to be shoved in a random corner of Jungkook’s own home but soon it invaded yours as well. Waking up, with one cheek pressed against his chest, you shook Jungkook awake, pointing concernedly at the vegetable hovering on the lamp above your head. 

“What is that for?” you inquired, confused but he merely smirked, wagging his eyebrows in nothing but the most annoying fashion.

“Why don’t you tell me?” 

“How would I know?” you grumbled, kicking a leg out of the covers, missing the affronted look Jungkook threw your way, when you missed his puckered up lips. 

As the month dragged on, you grew increasingly perplexed at how Jungkook’s green celery seemed to simply appear wherever your eyes strayed to. You were growing half convinced he had these things half a dozen shoved down his pants. 

“Yes, mom, I got the correct size,” you defended, trying to spot Jungkook’s car in the underground car park of the hellsite that was a shopping centre during the holiday rush. A black car…in a shopping parking lot...like looking for a needle in a stack of needles. Finally, seeing the correct licence plate, you drew a heavy sigh of relief.

“I’ve got to go, talk to you later!”

Upon getting in, you threw the many bags in the backseat, ready to yap Jungkook’s ears off with some overdue complaining only to fall promptly silent when seeing that piece of kale hanging from the car mirror. 

“Ehm…I don’t think it’s an air freshener, Koo,” you gently informed him and he scoffed, lips jutting out in a deeply offended pout. 

“What did I do?” you whined, receiving a dirty glare as an answer. 

“Do you hate me or something?” he glowered after turning his head to the other side and laying his chin on the steering wheel. 

“Why would you say that?”

“You’ve not given me any kisses,” he pointed glumly at his spinach.

“Why would…why would a bundle of herbs equal kisses?” you frowned, failing to see his logic. It wasn’t like it was rare but you’ve never been this confused, especially given how resentful he appeared. 

“Herbs-?” then all of a sudden he broke out in roaring laughter, startling you immediately. Clutching at his stomach, Jungkook threw his head against the seat. “Oh my god, I’m in love with a dummy.”

“Don’t call me a dummy!” you insisted. “Explain why artichoke equals kisses?”

Whatever you said set him off even further and loudly clapping, it would seem Jungkook would commit suicide by choking himself with laughter. 

“ᵃʳᵗᶦᶜʰᵒᵏᵉ,” he gasped, tears streaming down his cheeks and blissfully ignoring your budding irritation. 

“Fucking Elmo laughing ass,” you groused, turning up your nose and hissing when Jungkook pressed a wet kiss against your cheek.  

© soraviii/soraviie 2022-2023

[ohheyitsokay]

Omg I'm SO sorry!!! I'm the soulmates pain AU anon, I was completely aware you were the one with the milestone!! I saw the post through Molly's rb and I was almost completely sure I had opened your blog to send you the ask but alas, the Tumblr app can never give you any certainties. That long-ass message was completely dedicated to you, I still can't quite grasp how I managed to send it to scribbledghost 🙄🙄🙄 Sorry!!! Congrats again, I love you!!!!

for reference a Din Djarin x reader soulmate request where your soulmate feels your injuries and pain

hello, dear heart!

I wanted to say, before anything else, thank you. I've reread your words multiple times since you sent this, confirming they were to me, and they really mean the world to me. thank you so, so much! anyway, your idea is fantastic, I had a lot of fun with this one! I hope you like seeing what I did with your already wonderful thoughts 💕

ps it's well documented that I'm a big fan of sprawling thoughts, so please never apologize for sharing them!

warnings: mentions canon-typical injuries, a bunch of fluff. at least enough for a couple of throw pillows

>>

soulmate requests / follower celebration

<<

There's a short burn on his forearm when he wakes.

Din stares at it, wondering at the dull ache, trying to place the injury from yesterday's adventure when it hits him. Hot and golden warmth, flooding through his chest, thawing his flesh against the cold filtered air.

It's one of yours.

A burn, on his forearm.

And selfishly, indulgently, he pauses for a moment, mind slipping away from duty and expectations to dwell in the daydream of his soulmate.

First, his mind creates an image of a blurry mandalorian caretaker, gently moving around a kitchen in the covert. You stir a pot, tapping the spoon on the side before setting it down. Hearing distant calls, you turn too quickly and oh - a sliver of burn along your arm.

Din wants to help, wants to pull you away from the domestic .... danger, and he rushes forward. Your helmet turns to him and he almost sees it - before his mind can no longer produce the answers he aches for late at night.

The second image is of you, in armor as gleaming as his own, in a thick, unrecognizable forest. The hairs on his neck are at full attention, already subconsciously wanting to shout - but you don't need his help. You're breathtaking in all versions of his daydream - but watching you fight with practiced ease punches the air from his lungs. For a moment he feels self-conscious of his awkward maneuvers and slapdash fighting but then his mind pulls him back. You're protecting someone, or else you wouldn't have messed up - you never do, injuries from you are too rare - but you shove them behind you, shooting an enemy over your shoulder before your helmet snaps back. There are so many - you're surrounded - and a hot, sharp blaster bolt grazes your forearm before your fury is truly unleashed.

He runs his fingers over the burn, almost giddy at the possibilities.

Mandalorians are few and far between, but he's grateful he has a soulmate, and even more thankful you've kept yourself out of harm's way almost entirely, since you'd been connected.

As he dons his layers, the shine of his armor reflects bruises and scrapes littered across the expanse of his skin. His own, from his journey, and one beautiful little burn from his soulmate.

And then they're covered, and the armor is tied securely in place, and he leaves his daydreams in the room as the ship door slides unceremoniously shut.

-

You hiss at the burn, clutching your arm.

Great. Just what you needed - another injury to add to your impressive collection.

At least my soulmate gets a gift from me this time. You roll your eyes.

The vendor next to your stall is a sweet lady, already apologizing for her steaming pots and pans and offering you compensation.

The credits would be nice, but you could hardly justify taking anything, especially since it was your soulmate's fault your body was riddled with aches and pains in the first place.

Waving your hand, you accept her counter offer - a bowl of her perfect broth and noodles - before retreating. You sell cloth, from beautiful dyed lengths tucked away to sturdy, unstainable blacks, and it was days like today that you thanked your stars for that choice.

There's a thick pile in the middle that you perch on, sinking into the folds as your body cries at you, and you sigh over your soup in relief. The burden of waking to webbing bruises and sprawling scrapes and the more-than-occasional broken bone is eased by your stall - sitting and haggling until the sun goes down. That is, unless there's drama in the market, as it seems there is today.

In the distance you hear shouts, more than those of vendors selling meat on sticks to passing warriors and merchants - the taunts of drunkards.

Someone is coming, and you almost laugh when you see his form in the distance, because he's trying and failing to be inconspicuous. It's impossible, with his gleaming armor, but still he ducks into shadowy spots, forgetting - or maybe ignoring - their inhabitants.

"A Mandalorian has graced our market," your neighbor remarks dryly. They were respected, but it was well known that chaos followed them. You share a look, both wishing you were wealthy enough to conpletely pack up shop. If anything, a logical person would put away most of the stock and hunker down for a few hours. Weighing the odds was difficult: if you were lucky, the chaos wouldn't bother your business, and shoppers might be drawn out, hoping for entertainment and spending as they waited. If you weren't, a wayward burst of plasma or blaster fire would destroy your whole month's stock.

You looked at him again, the Mandalorian kneeling down the street. His form was... almost handsome, formidable but careful. He was light on his feet, seemingly with gentleness on his mind, and it drew you in like a moth to flame. You decided to stay, and hope for the best, your curiosity pulsing like your bruises.

And you were lucky, that day, because he ducked away not a moment later, taking the exciment with him.

Until, he came back the next day, this time on the prowl, stalking up and down the edge of Dicer's Row, one hand on his blaster and the other atop a bulky, wriggling bag. This time, you ventured to stand, folding and refolding your displays as you watched him through your lashes.

And then he made his move, and you sighed, feigning a yawn to cover your disappointment from your neighbor's knowing smile. She shouldn't be wiggling her eyebrows over the box wall between you - honestly his type were more annoying than anything. A crash from the alley confirmed it: there was no way a guy like that cared about his soulmate. The gentleness from before was surely a trick of the light.

Your whole side lit up with pain, the impact of something hard against your whole side and you groaned, settling into your mound again. Any curiosity or attraction was snuffed under your annoyance and pain, and your mood soured like fruit left unpicked on the tree.

Selfish, you thought, glaring as a chicken ran squawking from the commotion. What a jerk.

-

The next day, you tried to maintain the sentiment, huffing as he wandered the stalls.

Why does he keep coming back?

You'd have thought his time here was over when he'd dragged that lowlife out of town yesterday. But here he was, buying a crock of soup at the stall next to you, and ignoring her comments about how he couldn't eat it with his helmet on.

She had warmed to him, since he'd put money in her pocket, chattering in a way that kept him stuck for long moments.

It struck you as strange - he almost seemed too awkward to leave, like her returned generosity actually meant something to him. A man like him... surely could've just walked away.

But he stayed for awhile, nodding and looking at the spoons she carved in her free time, and you almost thought he was looking at you, too. Then he ducked his head and planted himself in front of you, and certainly he was.

For all the years you'd spent weaving words to sell your fabrics and goods, you'd never been so speechless. The Mandalorian was large, sharp, shining edges and bulky canvas packs tied to his shoulders - he seemed out of place, filling your whole stall, shuffling as he loomed over you.

He asked for soft brown things - children's clothes.

"Of course, I - I mean, yes, just over here -" you tripped over your words, caught completely off guard by the shape of him, the feel of him just an arms width away, and his request. You stumbled from your seat, nearly toppling in your hurry and his gloved hand wrapped around your arm, catching you.

"You're injured," he stated not really asking. It was... overwhelmingly intimate, him knowing, and acknowledging it, like he cared.

"Yeah, my..." you swallowed, trying not to get lost in the dark glass inches from your face. "My self-centered soulmate keeps getting himself nearly killed."

Even with your heart thumping in your chest, you couldn't keep the bite from your words, bitterness having collected over years of nursing injuries that were consequences of someone else's actions. He didn't let go of you for a moment, his helmet pulling back and tilting, like he was startled.

Then he was cautious, unbearably so, releasing his grip like a child freeing a captured creature when it was time. The topic was dropped, and he made his purchase quickly, but before he left, he paused. The Mandalorian's gloved hand ghosted over your cheek, slowly moving a hair back into it's place, and if you hadn't known better, it was almost an apology.

And then, thick cape swirling in the dust, tiny clothes in tow, he swept away, leaving you along with your whole body alight with a foreign longing.

-

Din felt as though he'd been stabbed.

Hot, hot feelings poured through his chest, spreading fast as fire as he desperately tried to sort through them.

You - you were incredible, fragile and bruised, with the most stunning, determined eyes he had ever seen. Not a Mandalorian, and you had a ... a soulmate, a fucker who left your skin littered with marks, burdening you with ...

He felt panicked, shocked, and guilty, just as he had when you'd told him. It had never occred to him that his soulmate might be there... out there, constantly burdened by his recklessness. His body screamed for attention, something he so often ignored, but this time, he was almost deafened by it.

His feet, legs, arms, chest, heart - all of them wanted him to return to you, in your little fabric stall. To... what? Truly, he hadn't the slightest idea, so his mind won out, shaking a little to try to reign in the muscles that he'd taught to obey him.

He couldn't go to you.

But, he couldn't stay away.

-

He was back in the market, and this time, he wasn't being subtle about staring at you.

Tall and ... slow, he waded through the crowds, making his was towards you like he was following a careful path.

"Can I help you?" You stood, moving almost involuntarily towards him. "Was there something wrong with my -" he was already shaking his head, hands reaching to make you shush.

Waiting, an irrational part of your mind wished he would touch you again, would place his big hands on your skin and sooth the aches that haunted your life. It was unfair, but you didn't stop it, couldn't if you tried.

Carefully, he slid a single finger to your arm, pushing up your sleeve to reveal the little burn you'd gotten.

He was being gentle. It made you want to stomp your feet, jealously welling up in your heart like bile, bitter and hot. How could it be, that someone so powerful had learned so quickly, wanted to, and he wasn't - he wasn't even your -

Then he moved again, pushing up his own sleeve and your thoughts tumbled over each other. It was intimate, even more than before, desperately trusting, as his skin near glowed in the morning light. And there was a burn on his skin, hairs singled like they'd met the edge of a pot of boiling broth.

You wanted to punch him. This man has spent years tossing his body around like he had one one spare, making your own as brittle as bread crust and - you wanted to kiss him. This man had learned after a single day, the impact of his actions, and had been nothing but kind.

The forehead of his helmet pressed into yours, and the two sides of your mind compromised.

Later, words would come - they had to.

But now, your eyes closed, and you sighed. He had the rest of your life to make it up to you - and he would, you were sure.

<<

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[aesethewitch]

Potion of Sick-Be-Gone: Homemade Chicken Broth

If you’ve never made your own chicken broth, I highly recommend you give it a try. It’s extremely easy, more flavorful than store-bought broth, and full of magical potential. I almost never buy broth anymore since I know that my own is always better.

I make this regularly throughout the year, but I always try to bulk up before the weather turns. The winter months often bring stuffy noses and sore throats for me, so having a hearty broth to warm up and sip on anytime is a must. Full of nutrients and hydration, there’s a reason I call this my Potion of Sick-Be-Gone.

Please note: This isn’t a cure-all, and magic should never substitute actual medicine and a doctor’s visit. This recipe is just a nutritious way to boost your self-care before, during, and after sickness. Please, please, please see a doctor if you’re sick!! I can tell you from experience that this will not cure your strep throat... but it can help soothe the soreness and give you some energy. Staying hydrated and full of nutrients can shorten illness or make you feel less like death warmed over, but not cure it.

Ingredients:

Bones of a chicken, already cooked and picked over (you can roast your own, like I did, or you can get a pre-cooked chicken from the store; both work just fine!)

2 Large Onions

2 Ribs of Celery

5 or 6 Cloves of Garlic

2 Carrots (I often leave these out because I don’t like them... but I’m including them here anyways for anyone who does like carrots)

2 to 3 Bay Leaves

10 Fresh Sage Leaves, or 2 teaspoons Dried Sage

Salt and Pepper to taste

Optional additions: Thyme or other herbs and spices

Water to cover all ingredients

Instructions:

In a large pot, place your chicken carcass at the bottom. You can break it down if you want, but I often leave it as it is. Be sure to remove any meat that you still want to eat!

Cut your onions in half and add them to the pot, including the skins. Clean and break your celery in half, then add it to the pot. Crush the garlic and toss them into the pot, skins and all. If you’re including carrots, give them a good clean and rough cut and toss them in - no need to peel.

Add your bay leaves, sage, and any other herbs and spices you like. Add your salt and pepper. I usually do about 2 tablespoons of salt and eyeball the pepper. You can always add more later.

Add enough water to cover all of your ingredients.

Bring the pot to a boil and then immediately reduce the heat to a simmer. Cover with a lid and simmer for 4 hours, stirring occasionally. At hour 2, your kitchen will be filled with the delicious aroma of broth, but don’t be tempted to take it off the heat yet! It still needs longer to absorb all the flavor it can. At hour 3, if you find that your broth is still very weak, take the lid off and simmer uncovered for the remaining time to allow some of the liquid to evaporate. Skim any white film or bubbles off the top and discard. Be sure to enjoy the aromatic steam every time you take the lid off!

You’ll know the broth is ready when it’s a beautiful amber color and when it tastes exactly the way you want it to. Once your broth has simmered long enough, strain the liquid into a heat-proof container. Let it come to room temperature before storing in your container of choice. I like to run mine through a fine-mesh strainer into mason jars so that there aren’t any little bits floating around.

Store the broth in the fridge for up to 2 weeks. You can also use an ice cube tray to freeze the broth and store it all winter long. Use it as soup, in gravies, in sauces, and more.

Optional magic you can include:

Since the purpose of the broth is to be a potion of good health, you’ll want to keep your intentions clear as you chop and add your ingredients to the pot. Humming and singing is a sign of good health in my home - someone who is sick will not want to be singing, but someone who is healthy and happy will - so I like to play or hum music that reminds me of my goals.

Garlic and onion are strong herbs for protection and health. Use them as spell components to cast out sickness and bolster the immune system of everyone who drinks from the potion.

Similarly, sage is a cleansing and protective herb. As you add your leaves of sage (or your dried sage) to the pot, focus on cleansing the body and air of contaminants.

Bay leaves are commonly used in wish magic. I add these one at a time, naming sicknesses I often suffer from in the wintertime - clogged sinuses, sore throats, headaches. You know your body better than anyone, so think about what you usually feel when you get sick. Name them, and assign a bay leaf to the repelling of that symptom or illness.

You can repurpose this potion to be used for an ailment I refer to as “soul sickness.” You might call this the effects of the evil eye - a rash of bad luck, a heavy feeling, etc. - or even a curse. This potion can be used to break a curse or lift the negative effects of a spell. In your cup or bowl, simply stir counter-clockwise and envision the healing energy swirling and activating. As you sip, you will take in that energy. Let the warmth push out the cold and damp, cleansing you from the inside out. (Remember to ward/protect yourself afterwards!)

You could also use it as a post-ritual potion to restore your energy and cleanse yourself of residual negativity. I often feel drained after an intense ritual or spell, and I like to have a hot cup of broth on hand to soothe myself and enrich my body with the cleansing, protective vibes. In my experience, I regain my energy twice as fast!

BONUS: “But Aese,” I hear you say, “I don’t eat meat! How can I make this without the chicken?” My friend, I’m glad you asked. You can easily alter this recipe to be just vegetables! Simply take out the chicken and add more veggies to your pot. I recommend adding mushrooms of your choice and more onions and garlic for extra flavor.

If you make this recipe and enjoy it, please let me know!

Stay Healthy, Everyone! 💛

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 5)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 4.1

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Cirilla and Geralt has gotten into a big fight. Thus, leading to you learning more about witchers and having a soft spot for his child of surprise.

Warnings: Angsty? Kinda? Cirilla's having an emotional breakdown. Geralt being one stern dad and kinda mean? Jaskier being talkative in the wrong times. You being confused at everything. Boner references? HAHAHAHAH.

Words: 5,600+

A/N: You're going to kind of hate Geralt on the next chapter. I can tell. Hehehe? Or maybe noooot? Next chapter will be interesting for me! I think? Heehee! There’s going to be plot hints as well on the next chapter! THANK YOUUUUUU! 

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren't from moi as well.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Seeing the satisfaction of people smiling and humming to the food you cook was a great feeling for a person who loved cooking. Gratification would be an understatement for the feeling you were having as you've watched Ciri and Jaskier munch down on the viands you've poured your heart with.

As per usual, Geralt was only humming in satisfaction after all of his and Jaskier's attempt on making edible food. Sometimes it isn't, sometimes it is. But, most of the time; it was inedible to be eaten.

Ciri was moaning out her extreme satisfaction. Vigorously devouring the Fried Chicken like she had beeb famished for at least a year. Crumbs of the breading scattered all over her mouth and face as she scratched her forehead with the back of her soiled hand.

"How's the chicken, Ciri?"

Dishes clanging and food were being munched in the background. You swallowed your food first before asking the princess.

"Better than ever," she incoherently mumbled. Mouth filled with food as she slightly coughed from not chewing it well as she swallowed.

The bard seemed to have accepted the fact that Kolby was sitting on the far end of the kitchen, eyes twinkling for food to be thrown to him. Though, he was still being ignored by Jaskier as if he weren't in the room; probably just stingy and disturbed for his presence, "This soup is delightful!"

Jaskier waved the bone of his chicken in the air like a flag. Turning his head to look at Geralt who was silently eating his food with an apathetic expression of his that was normal for the man. "Geralt," the bard called out for the latter. "Hmm," the witcher tiredly hummed in response, "We need some ale! Please tell me you've bought one when we've last visited the marketplace,"

You've bit the tendons of your chicken. Kolby has caught your attention as he was staring out of hunger. Again. You've reached out for the grapes that sat in front of you and grabbed onto half the stem before snapping it. Throwing the fruit towards the Hirikka as it caught it with his adorable paws.

"Moop!" Kolby answered as a thank you. A very weird, high pitch sound that disturbed you at first when you heard his voice but slowly and surely getting the hang of hearing it when he was happy, sad, guilty or anything he feels.

"I've finished it all," Geralt mumbled after a second of swallowing his food.

"Oh, you drunkard!"

You've snapped your head at the bard, lower lip jutting out as you were deep in your thoughts. Your head turning as you studied your unfinished chicken.

"I can make one," you blurted out loud to Jaskier's interest, "I've studied culinary enough to make my own wine and beer or ale in this old time,"

His lips formed in an 'O' shape, entirely elated at the skills you've opted. A grin as wide as the Cheshire cat when he'd shook his head out of stupefaction.

"I am certainly wrong in calling you a rat," he gave you a boyish smile before looking at the ceilings; acting like he was talking to God, "You are one of the gods sent from above, Y/N!"

The witcher stopped chewing halfway to give you his attention before he carry on with his devouring and eyed the bard who was mischievously grinning at the bear of a man.

"Geralt here has his ears clapping because you know how to make ale," he gestured to Geralt with a newly taken chicken in the middle of the wooden table, "---now, we can seldomly visit the inns for our brotherly whereabouts or the brothels for your midnight pleasure with your whores---" the devious bard was cut off when Geralt breathed in deep and scolded him with a monotonous pitch. "Jaskier,"

Jaskier winked back at him, now moitioning for what was hidden below his pants; a hasty ridicule sent, "Don't want me stating the stiff of a bird howling out of its nest or your twig-n-berries because Y/N here has mentioned that she knows how to make ale!"

Jaskier was unaware of his hands that was flat on the table. With his fingers widely flattened and having spaces in between. He was utterly frightened when Geralt has brutally stabbed in between the spaces of it with a bread knife he never used; leaving Jaskier stammering like he'd been castrated.

"Ge--Geralt!"

You've gave them a double-take, blinking from Geralt's hostlity and his patience snapping out of a sudden. He was glaring at the bard but Jaskier was already swallowing his saliva and disgustingly coughing out bits of chicken and soup; leaving bits to spill on the sides of his mouth as he shockingly stared at the knife close to his fingers.

"Are they always slitting each other's throats?" you thought out loud, continuing your indulgement. The question sent to the Ashen princess.

"I'm afraid so," Cirilla shrugged as a matter of fact; ignoring Geralt's patience suddenly snapping; like it was their normal.

Cirilla has studied your clothes as you sat and ate silently. The both of you ignoring Jaskier's complaints about how Geralt was close to stabbing his fingers that give people; out of this world epics. It was the fingers that holds a lute which can change the witcher's name and the world. The bard continued raving out as Geralt resumed eating silently with Jaskier bombarding his peace.

"Y/N?" The pretty child called out of curiosity, "---You need clothes!" she continued with a point to your clothing. Her nose scrunching in distaste, "---Proper clothes and not ginormous clothes from Geralt,"

From the mention of his name, the man himself glanced at your direction and scooped the last drop of his soup; eyeing you both in wonder.

"We need to visit Babeth again! I want to buy Y/N a dress," Cirilla gave her best pleading eyes. The meaning of her words have another meaning as well. She probably also wanted to play with some teens she could meet out in the marketplace or if she could play with her best friend named 'Ethelia' whenever they had their weekly visit.

You responded rather hurriedly, shaking your head as you've finished your last piece of chicken; chewing the skin as you left it for your last bite to thoroughly satiate the taste, "Oh, you don't have to because I don't like dresses---"

The princess pouted before you, currently dismayed by your response, "But, you can't leave the house with just Geralt's under-Tunic! People will be looking at you strangely! Very out of the ordinary compared to the women wearing thick, warm dresses," she explained with that puppy eyes she'd been an expert in.

Cirilla was drinking her soup from the rim of the bowl in haste before dropping it with a thud. She leaned her elbows on the table, her eyes twinkling with hope as she gave Geralt the look that gets him to always say yes; all the darn time.

He didn't hate it with Cirilla. The Witcher hated it whenever it was you because he didn't think he would ever get to not say no to another person like a child with puppy eyes. What was even worse was that you weren't even a child and you were having your way that he'd even agreed on having a Hirikka in his home just like a pet.

Perhaps, he was actually short of a marble.

"Can we go to the marketplace and visit Babeth please, Geralt? You've earned enough coins to build this small house! I wanna buy Y/N clothes to wear and make her feel comfortable," she exclaimed eagerly like a child wanting for a field trip.

Geralt gave her a languid blink before studying you who sat beside Cirilla. You've given him a smile when your eyes connected; feeling all tingly on the inside. That overwhelming warmth that makes your face feel mellow with tingly insides.

The Witcher only hummed with an impassive appearance. Last time, they've gotten the chance to visit the marketplace; Jaskier was drunk and had to bed a seller in exchange for a tunic he wanted or maybe he'd just wanted her after letting a man who he had his eyes on and is as youthful as him; run away with a knight who had been drinking back in the tavern. He was probably frustrated and glum after what has happened.

Albreda was beautiful and as sexy as a fox. So, it was also a win-win situation for the bard despite of how he lost to a knight from the castle of Kaedwan. In comparison, what can his lute even do to a sword?

The young princess notice Geralt's neutral response. Never knowing if it was a yes or a big no. She puffed out a breath; slipping her fingers under her thighs as she sat on her chair when she'd hollered for the bard's attention, making him snap out of his prattles, "Jaskier, please tell Geralt that Y/N needs a set of normal clothes for her to wear!"

You smiled; completely unnerving as you wanted to repeal from the offer at hand. Jaskier gave out a hum and a quick nod was simultaneously sent when he did as he dropped the empty bone on his plate with a loud cling. "Alright, alright. I'll give a quarter of coins for Y/N,"

"See! Jaskier approves!"

The quiet witcher bluntly spoke with a rasp after he drank his water; glowering as he drank from his cup, "He doesn't even have the coins to buy his own tunic,"

Jaskier looked at him; faking the offence. Geralt gave him a shrug of his shoulders and a cocky slant of his head from the reaction.

The bard ignored the reiteration; which was a first time for everything and leaned forward on his chair, folding his arms as it rested on the table. Remembering an offer brought to him by one of the villagers back in Durriken's Tavern, "---I've heard the villagers asking for a witcher's help again,"

Jaskier clicked his tongue as he pondered, the crease of his forehead growing deeper in thought, "---Preferrably the butcher of Blaviken," pause. "The first hunt that they wanted was a Bloedzuiger, this was offered by Babeth herself because her husband has seen one in the swamps," he gestured with his index finger pointing on the ceiling like an 'you know' gesture.

Thus, the bard gestured with an 'a-okay' sign with his fingers like he was pertaining to coins as he explained further, "---Second is an Echinops with a lot more coins involved, considering the stories; it is said that its difficult to slay because it can only be seen in places where crimes have been committed or the graves of the dead. But, this was offered near Vizima. Thoroughly far. We have yet to travel,"

You had no idea what they were saying. Your narrowed eyes says so as you stared at them both. A what? you thought inside your head. A bulldozer? Itchynuts? What is it that Geralt does in his everyday life? Does he really slaughter beasts as a job like it was normal in their world?

You were completely an embodiment of curiosity and bafflement. There was a lot of knowledge that has entered your brain since that night but it seems like it wasn't enough. You needed more idea as to what was running in their world. Sad to say, the monsters were even running freely for Geralt who seemed to be needed for a kill.

Cirilla had a frown twisting her face. She'd exhaled; loud enough for the three of you to look at her as she called out for the man who sat across from her. "Geralt," and the witcher only gave a hum as a response. He knew what she was going to say and Jaskier's timing was the worst thing in the world that could happen.

"You're going? Again? I thought you were going to leave the beasts alone when you've realized that people are more evil instead?"

The latter couldn't help but give Jaskier the nastiest scowl he could offer. If anything, he wanted to throw Jaskier in a lake full of bathing Hirikkas to scare the shit out of him.

Geralt sat back on his chair as it creaked, his golden eyes complimenting his chalky white hair that fell on his shoulders in a dazzling way ever. He shook his head to her disdain, "I can't let people be killed by these beasts," his jaw clenched as a frown was etching to grow on his face, "They need my help,"

The blue eyed child was sending daggers to the witcher and you watched them both share scowls at each other from the sudden plan that uncoiled from the moment Jaskier opened his damn mouth.

"I thought you didn't want anyone needing you?" Cirilla simmered as a matter of fact as she crossed her arms.

Geralt could hear the parsimonous tone she'd kept up, making him seeth and his teeth grit as he sent another one of his tight scowls, "Then, why are you here?"

Cirilla loudly huffed to herself, snapping her gaze away from the latter. He sighed a big one, shaking his head again from the argument that is happening. "You're just worried, Princess." he nonchalantly uttered as he blinked and looked away, sounding so tired from everything.

"Of course, I am!" Cirilla suddenly fumed, voice turning a pitch higher than she intended to.

Jaskier raised his hand up after a minute of pure silence. Except for the loud sighs that both parties have been emitting. The bard cleared his throat for emphasis and both snapped their heads to look at him.

"Besides, he'd never stopped, Princess Cirilla," The man who has started the fight, declared like it would help the situation. But, no. It definitely just worsened and it made Geralt send him laser  through his eyes.

A continuous set of rapid blinking happened to you at the words spoken by Jaskier himself. An inquisitive look needing quick answers given to the child sat beside you. "Y-You're a princess? Like a real princess? It's not just an endearment or something?"

"Cirilla is the princess of Cintra," the bard commented, answering your question in haste. You swallowed a lump in your throat, fingers scratching your temple when you wondered how it was possible. It is, in their kingdom and according to their time line, their era would be filled with royal empires or a hierarchy of the royal kingdom, "You mean, a kingdom? A huge kingdom? Like the daughter of a president?"

Nobody answered you at that. With Cirilla still glaring at Geralt and Jaskier looking at you weirdly by what you were blabbering about; trying so deeply to understand you.

Thus, it was as if all clouds started form; a sight of the princess breaking as it could be seen through the windows of her soul. You've took a glimpse of her and that tiny quiver of her lips and cheeks signified a little girl who was terrified of a future that was meant for her, "Why must you lie to me, Geralt?" she whispered, voice breaking as she swallowed and fought back the tears.

Your heart fell for the girl who seemed to be in an emotional battle with herself. It was like you see yourself in her. The fear that consumes her as if she had been all alone, scared and with nobody to ask for help.

She was a broken child. Emotionally.

At the sight of her tear-threatening face. Geralt gritted his teeth, whisper cusses to himself as he saw how he'd upsetted her again and so, his voice tried to soften; be a little more considerate from where she was coming from, "I had to, Princess. You wouldn't have let me go day by day if you knew where I was going," he paused, crossing his sturdy arms as he reasoned, "---besides, where was I getting food every day for us when I don't get to slaughter beasts?"

Cirilla's expression died down a little bit, her heart thumping out of her chest as she tried to dig in to her memories. There was riches under her bed back in Cintra, she remembered. "Grandmother has left gold under my bed, located in a big, brown, treasure box---"

Geralt immediately cut her off, gruffly but calmly spilling the beans for the tenth time for his whole life, "Nilfgaard has already looted the whole castle," his voice sounded stern as he uttered with no remorse; constantly reminding the princess of the truth and letting her understand, "---When I told you there was no going back, I wasn't lying."

You've tried to hold her hand that was tightly fisted across the table, yet you were too slow as she instantaneously stood on her chair with a tight-fitting frown on her face, "We leave tomorrow morning," Geralt declared as he watched her storm out the kitchen slash dining. The door being shut closed; loud enough for the trees to shake as the witcher seemed unfazed by her tantrums and sadness, "I'll give the princess what she wants, in repayment for my mistakes,"

After the accidental argument that Jaskier has made, it was already night time when both parties didn't seem to want nor have the plan to talk to each other like what they always do.

Geralt was out and nowhere to be found, with his horse as you've checked. A sudden want to ask him what happened and what it was about for you to be less of an idiot around the house and Jaskier finally regretting his mouth that ran with no thinking. The princess stayed in her chambers for seven hours already. There was no clock, but you've guessed by the evening twilight. Still, no response from the princess after an hour of convincing her it was time to eat dinner with a dessert of steamed chocolate cake you've managed to make through scrapes that you've specially created for her.

Both you and Jaskier were in front of her door, knocking repeatedly as the bard tried to woo her out of her bed. "Princess Cirilla?" he professed with a tone close enough to be considered as singing.

Seconds later, you've heard a faint yell from beneath the covers, "Leave me alone, Bard!"

The both of you sighed from her stubborness. They were both pretty obstinate; Geralt and Cirilla. You massaged your temples, eyeing the bard who had his ears flat against the door, trying to listen what was happening behind it. "Why is she mad?" it was a soft whisper that could only get Jaskier to hear. The bard shrugged, blinking back at you.

"Because," his sentence was vague, igniting a tight-lipped lour from you; totally unsatisfied by the information that was said.

He'd look at you with a faultless glint of his eyes, wondering what you were waiting for as he said his explainations as to why Cirilla was mad at the witcher. The bard sighed when you've continued to look at him lackadaisically and so he decided it was best to give a proper answer, "Geralt's been the...only one protecting her," he dubiously and quietly whispered, not giving away all the information yet.

Your frown grew tighter, cocking your head as you pondered, "---From what?"

"The people who want her as dead as a door nail," Jaskier stepped away from the door, his voice turning lower if that was even possible for Cirilla not to hear.

Shock was evident in your features. The details sounding like a bellicose. It was difficult to comprehend that somebody wanted to kill a kid who doesn't cause any harm. Or that was what you thought from what you've observed since the day you were with them. She seemed normal and harmless.

"I don't understand?" you trailed off and shake your head in a perplexed manner, "---Isn't she his child? It's obvious that he would protect her with all his life. Besides, where's the...mom?"

The mother. You were sure Cirilla was Geralt's child based on how protective he was with her. He acts like a father towards the princess. Was his wife the queen? you thought and tried to think of how the family tree works.

The bard narrowed his eyes at you; crossing his arms and leaning his shoulder on Cirilla's door with that smirk appearing on his face, "She isn't his child. She's his child of surprise,"

Your face warped into pure confusion, feeling the back of your head twitch because of how muddlesome it sounded, "Nani?! (What?!)"

From how weirder their facts get, the more you didn't even know that your words become incoherent. Jaskier eyed you like you've evolved into a Hirikka and gave you a shrug, asking you 'what?' with that weirdest expression he could create.

Your lips twitched into a small smile before it fell; realizing what he meant, "So, an illegitimate child? Where's the mom?"

The idea of continuously asking where her mother is; gave another meaning for the bard and even to yourself as well. You wanted to cringe so hard as your mouth couldn't stop itself from the utterance of your interest and the cat would be killed if Jaskier would've told you that there was actually a mom and they were a happy family.

You didn't know why your heart was feeling that way. Very intrigued by the witcher's life and not just from his marriage status but by how he or they lived in an era like this.

An era full of singularities compared to your dimension. The question is, how will you live if you couldn't get home as soon as possible? With dragons, beasts, vampires, mages or sorceress freely walking around their dimension would be your end.

Jaskier groaned to himself, his eyes rolling from your naivety and being blind over the fact that the child already has no progenitrix. "THERE'S NO MOTHER!" he whisper-yelled with another groan as he held his forehead because of how he was trying his hardest not to spit any more details that could get you in danger, "---I'm starting to think that you just want to know if Geralt has a missus or not!"

You opened your mouth and eventually dropped it like a gold fish. The grin on Jaskier's face tells he was happy to have seen you taken a bit of karma from the commotion you've brought since the tamed Hirikka came. As you've seen the perversity in his eyes, you were sure you wanted to defend yourself from being misunderstood. That is, if you really didn't meant that.

"I'm--I'm not!" a simple stumble over your own words was enough for Jaskier's grin to grow bigger. The bard loudly chuckled to his felicity at your little crush for the witcher. His guesses were correct then. Well, it always does. Damsels, maidens, princesses and even sorceresses had an eye for his beast-slaughtering friend. Even he so, could prove that Geralt was a handsome, dashing witcher despite of his quiet and grumpy attitude at times.

It definitely adds that 'oohmph' effect for Geralt Of Rivia.

"To answer your undying curiosity, He doesn't have a consort or a lover, understand?!" Jaskier tried to heartened. You crossed your arms like a snob and a fierce glare. The latter's laugh died down as he held onto his stomach, "Besides, It's...kind of knackering to explain,"

The latter gave you a shrug, mouth jutting in a pout with a raised brow, "If you wanna be mother hen to the child, then go ahead. She already had her tantrums last month and it didn't end well for me," he cocked his head to the side and stared out of nowhere then suddenly shaking his head to erase the thoughts when he added, "---I had a bruise on the forehead because she threw a block of wood at Geralt and it bounced on me,"

Jaskier moved away from the door, patting his clothes in attempt to dust away the dirt that didn't seem to be seen. He was actually brushing off the negativity that was happening, "Just...don't make her scream or annoy her any less,"

His warning made you question in interest, "What? Why?"

"You'll die," Jaskier was quick to answer like it was nothing. He grabbed onto his lute that rested upon a wall and inserted the hoop around his shoulders. You watched him strum, "You're joking,"

"A bard makes epics! Not jokes!" he gave you a once over with that smile of his, before ambling away from you and towards the door out of the house. Kolby was crouched on the side as he eyed the bard with curiosity. "Well, seldom, I do...or maybe all the time?" was the only words he mutter before leaving the house and probably plan on giving you both the time alone; believing that you could simmer Cirilla's anger rather than him.

You've exhaled an exasperated breath, staring at the Hirikka who was guiltlessly eyeing you with no animosity.

With one swift turn of your heel, you were face to face towards the door to her room, "Cirilla?" you softly knocked; knowing that she'd heard Jaskier leave. So, it was better because she seemed to not like him knocking on her door, "---Kolby wants to play, would you like to play with us?"

A loud, squeaky sound echoed around the house made by the Hirikka himself as he heard his name from your lips. Thus, you've heard the lock to her door being pulled, alarming you that it was already unlocked and so, you've gently pushed the door open; a quarter of your foot already in her room, "Can I..come in?" you hesitatingly asked. No answer was given so maybe that was a yes.

You stood in the middle of her room. It was plain and definitely dull. All dirt-brown with white sheets like it wasn't a teenager who was resting in her chambers. The room needed a woman's touch and creativity. If you'll last longer in their dimension, then there was no problem because you could help her make her room more cozy and sweet.

She was covered in sheets, obviously not wanting visitors as she was curled away from the door. A typical reaction of a child who was upset about things.

You slowly sat on her bed, making Cirilla turn till she was facing the bulbless ceiling with the sheets covering her face. Only a candle on her bed side table was the only thing giving you light as the day was already night, "What's the matter?"

A harsh breath was heard under the covers; puffing out frustratingly, "Geralt lied to me," she glumly whispered like a secret was being told. You shifted on the bed and laid your back on the bed post, "About?"

Cirilla took a peek under her covers and there you saw those pretty blue eyes gazing back at you with sadness, "---Slaying beasts. Again. I thought he stopped,"

You've crossed your legs like a pretzel; giving her a soft smile and faze of your eyes that could comfort her, "But, isn't that what he always do?" pause.

People have been saying that like it was his job. It was like he was born for that kind of thing; killing beasts and what if's. Thus, you respect it especially that you didn't live in their world and you don't have the right to judge people for what they do to survive with life.

"He is a witcher," you added softly, trying to sound reasonable and for her anger to pass.

Arguments lead to disappointments. Hence, it always only leaves people upset and for their hearts to turn gloomy. You were never a fan of it, as fights just makes you want to cry. As per usual. Growing up sensitive was a pain in the ass because sometimes; with just one loud retort or yell could get you sobbing like a child because you were hurt.

No wonder Cirilla was wailing beneath the covers. There were hints of redness amongst the sea of her eyes and you wouldn't notice it when you didn't have stared.

The princess of Cintra hurriedly sat on her bed, making you slightly bounce at the action. You watch her forehead crease a lot more than it ever does, her eyes now fixated on the candle on her bed side table, watching how the flames sway their bodies like they were dancing under the moonlight, "Witchers encounter all types of beasts. Poisonous, lethal or the uttermost dangerous creatures you can ever meet,"

"You're worried he'd die in a battle," you stated the obvious and nodded in understanding.

Cirilla snapped out from staring at the candle for far too long, giving you a once over as she weakly spoke, "You've never seen him in a real fight," she stated as a matter of fact. You clicked your tongue as you thoroughly tried to remember, "He'd kill an Alghoul?"

At long last, the princess gave a smile as she acknowledged your non-existent ideas about what a real witcher is, "That's just a novice type of beast, Y/N." pause. "---Geralt has encountered more than that. Dragons, werewolves, sirens, archgriffins and more. You name it, he can slaughter them all," Cirilla stated with that certain confidence she had for the only person protecting her through it all.

After a second of cogitating; she'd voiced out, "---Even people, Y/N. If he protects you, he protects you with all his life. He eliminates every beast that cause detriment to villages, if he is given a favor. That's what witchers are painfully trained for; to terminate beasts that inhabits our world,"

Only a shut of your mouth was given to the princess. Your smile falling as you continued to listen like a behaved school girl, and so she raved on to your further knowledge, "---He doesn't care what happens to him. Geralt is not any normal human you may know. He may appear like it, but no. He is disliked by a lot of people. Though, Some are not due to Jaskier's notable epics about him. Thanks to the annoying bard," she snorted after giving gratitude to Jaskier and his poems.

Her smile grew as she tried to lighten up the mood of the topic; even noticing how you were frowning beside her bed. She proceeded to give utter details about the man you've never have thought would experience that kind of future for him, "---He lives longer than any other human, has supernatural abilities and is trained to kill these beasts. He's a mutated human,"

Your mind was shook, heart feeling blue because of the backstory of what he is. There was actually an explanation as to why he was quiet most of the time; only uttering words when he wants to then his mood changes like a woman who has a period for two years straight. He rarely smiles, but when he does; it was as if the world was having multiple rainbows all at once whenever it happens.

He had a nightmare of a childhood probably.

You swallowed the tight knot forming your throat, still grasping at the new information like it wasn't real; that everything wasn't. Especially the way how your heart was left in somber when you should think about how you would go home and not about his past.

Your mind was in a mess. Only you could shut your mouth after hearing those news. You wanted to ask if those supernatural abilities consist of what Superman has and try to lighten up the mood; but you couldn't utter out a word and felt depressing because you've suddenly pop out of nowhere and added to Geralt's problems.

Cirilla secretly inspected your reactions and you were frowning. A new sight for her to see as she was used to seeing you smile all the time: that happy-go-lucky aura you had drawn her into liking you as a member of the house just like Jaskier; or a family which Jaskier earned the spot.

She noted your silence as a go signal for her to rant more, "---He's the only person who takes care of me. After all of my family who has died from the war,"

The war? a question popped inside your head and you've lately realized that it was said out loud for the princess to hear.

She dubiously nodded to your question, biting the insides of her cheeks as she opened herself like a book to you, "Cintra...it has been our kingdom," her voice faltered, growing softer and weaker; the topic appearing to be sensitive for the princess, yet she still continued with her big girl panties, "---Nilfgaard is a kingdom you don't want to encounter; especially the elves. They're still hunting us down,"

They were still being hunted. You wanted to say out loud but decided to keep your mouth shut for the sake of her because she sounded like she wanted to cry again.

Thus, her voice began to grow smaller. Cautious that she might be heard by anyone. She pulled her legs to her chest and slipped her arms under her thighs. Chin falling on her sheet-covered knees. A visible pout obvious to be seen and she appeared vulnerable, "---I'm scared because if Geralt dies, then there's no hope for me. Then, I'll be left...all alone, again." Cirilla's voice cracked, swallowing the cries and never letting it out as it has already been poured for the last seven hours.

Hence, her next words coming off as a whisper instead; like a child telling secrets to her teddy bear, "---with no one, Y/N. Because I have no other family except for Geralt and Jaskier. I don't want to be alone,"

The way she's said it broke your heart. She was just an abandoned child who was slapped with a harsh future for her. You couldn't help but feel more saddened especially when she'd pulled herself more to shape herself into a tighter ball.

You studied her form, a sincere smile traveling up your face as you don't try to let your emotions get to you better than she does. With open arms; you've offered, "Come here," Cirilla gave you a once over; hesitant of your actions, "You think you can give me a hug?"

Thus, the princess of Cintra knew that was all she needed. A genuine hug from a woman's touch that could get her temporarily forgetting the fears and trauma that has been ruining her mentality and continuously.

"A beautiful destiny is always masked with an unbearable truth and thus waiting for a price to pay,"

FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED! PLEASE DOOOOO! IT’LL MEAN SO MUCH TO ME!

Taglist: @alyxkbrl​ @himarisolace​ @barkingbullfrog​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @hellodevilslittlesister​ @vania-marie @spookypeachx​ @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernatural @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​ @marvelousell​ @kingniazx​

[tundrainafrica]

Title: The Day after Christmas

Summary: Uo tries to keep up the Christmas tradition of eating KFC for Christmas and runs into a familiar face while she braves the lines in KFC.

Part three (Final installment) of my present to @hizashi-yamadas for the Animanga Secret Santa 2020

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other oneshots

December 24: Christmas Eve (Kyo x Toru)

December 25: Christmas Day (Haru x Rin)

Note: Hi Elisha, this is the final installment of the gift. If you noticed the way I went about this gift was to take different elements of a Japanese Christmas and incorporate them into one shots of your favorite Fruits Basket pairings.

One one shot for each day of Christmas. I hope you enjoyed it! And I hope you had a really great Christmas as well.

Kentucky Fried Chicken had one of the most silent entrances into the Japanese Market and fifty years ago, no one would have thought it would survive the arduous process of penetrating a market so different from that of the west.

Through some strategic marketing on the side of its CEO then, Kentucky Fried Chicken did make its way to the tables of many families during Christmas day. The line to reserving the Christmas bucket and the reservation lists filled up so fast that many had to reserve by October to secure a bucket on Christmas Day.

Uo had been a fan of that as a kid, having been raised by her father who was as much of a fan or maybe even a bigger fan of those delicacies. She wasn’t a fan of lists, month early reservations and having to consider Christmas a few months earlier than she needed to. They had worse problems to think about after all.

She and her father both agreed though that they still wanted their fried chicken.

That was what pushed Uo to wake up early enough to beat the morning crowd at least. She had learned over the years that by the 26th, if she woke up early enough, she could secure one of the unpurchased buckets without braving the deplorable crowds of the day before.

It’s just a day difference. Of course, she would have preferred to have it on Christmas day. KFC Chicken is KFC Chicken though and usually by the 26th, there were still enough remnants of the day before for her and her father to play pretend with.

Strangely, for that year in particular though, the sun had decided to rise a little later. Having rushed to the nearest KFC, Uo had failed to check her phone for the exact time.

The line for KFC was spilling out onto the streets and as Uo secured her place at the back of the line, she snuck a peek at her phone.

It was already seven. The breakfast crowd started at six. And how should I know people will still be craving KFC fried chicken the day after Christmas? Uo was almost tempted to just sneak her way through the crowds and up to the front counter. Her very Japanese upbringing made her regret even considering that a second later.

The crowds were large and the line was wrong. Uo was grateful to see that nobody was pushing or blatantly forcing their way through the crowds.

It assured her at least that if he just patiently waited in line, she would eventually find herself at the front. All I have to do is wait.

Uo should have noticed at least that  the line was thinning out pretty fast and many of the customers around her started to grumble  in disappointment. She had been too busy scrolling through her phone to notice it though. She was a little too invested in whatever was on her timeline to even notice that she had bumped a few people on the way to the front of the line.

She had been too absorbed in her own world waiting in line that when she had finally arrived at the front she was still hopeful and expecting only to have those hopes crushed a second later.

“Sorry Ma’am, we just sold the last of our Christmas buckets a few minutes ago.”

                                  The Day after Christmas  

Kentucky for Christmas. We always had Kentucky Fried Chicken for Christmas.

Uo had gone to the three nearest KFC’s next to her house, the third closest being three train rides away. It was only by the last one did she find out why exactly the Christmas Buckets had run out so fast.

There was a buy one take one promo for post Christmas purchases.

The nice lady at the counter of the third KFC she went to was the one to explain it. They had suggested instead that she try the fun shots or the hot shots. Uo had to quell that disappointment inside her, knowing that the texture of the fun shots could never match they original chicken breading of Kentucky Fried Chicken.

She had missed breakfast though. She was also currently dealing with the disappointment of knowing she would probably not get the KFC that day and that her father would probably be a little disappointed at that too.

Uo settled for a fun shots set and a pack of fries and ate it at the bench outside the shop. She was in no mood to see crowds, knowing the people inside the shop were probably partially the reason she couldn’t even secure a Christmas Bucket in the first place.

“So you were trying to buy a Christmas Bucket too?”  

Uo had heard that voice a few more times before. The sing-song voice was playful and almost mocking. As blood rushed into her face, Uo felt her fries almost make it up to her nose. She coughed it out before it could get any further.

“Why are you here?” At first it was a reaction of surprise. As Uo gave him a once over, she noticed the two Christmas buckets of chicken by his side and she ended up having to look away to avoid showing him any anger. She wasn’t supposed to be angry. In fact, she was supposed to be happy since it had been months since their last faithful meeting.

“I saw you back in KFC and I thought you’d be going for the same thing. Tough luck, they’ll probably only do that promo this year. The lines were ridiculous and a little chaotic. Looked like a logistical nightmare to me.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t even know about that.” Uo started to shovel the fries into her mouth, two at a time, a coping mechanism to the added stress of meeting Kureno in the state. “My dad and I would buy KFC for Christmas every year.”

“Yeah, I buy KFC every year too.”

“You don’t look like the type to eat KFC,” She commented. That morning, Kureno was in a polo and dress pants. As she commented that, she became a little more self conscious of the hoodie and the jogging pants she had thrown on that morning.

I’m just going out and down the block for Christmas Chicken. She had assured herself then.

“Is a person supposed to look a certain way to eat KFC?” Kureno asked, looking surprised.

“Maybe.” Uo avoided his gaze. She started to feel guilty as she analyzed her own reasons for asking that. At that point, she had been subconsciously looking for reasons to criticize anyone who had secured a bucket and Kureno had shown up as an easy target. Maybe she had sounded a little too abrasive.

“Then I’ll make sure to change to jogging pants and a hoodie before I eat my fried chicken.” Kureno fished out of one of the buckets for some tissue and grabbed a piece of chicken. “Here, Merry Christmas.”

Uo’s eyes widened at the piece of chicken in front of her. She felt blood rush to her face, possibly from the excitement of being able to eat it while the Christmas decorations were still hanging and the music was still playing. Or possibly from the embarrassment of being so oddly excited by such a small thing.

Kureno’s smile looked innocent. She looked at his face to see that he was at least well intentioned as he held the drumstick out to her. When she focused on the drumstick on hand though, she felt a little peeved at having been reduced to a dog who was thrown a bone. Somehow, Uo’s pride was fighting for control.

“I’ll skip the tradition this year.” Uo turned away from the drumstick that was only a few centimeters from her face already.

Kureno’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? But you had this really cute smile on you. I felt like Santa Claus making a child happy by giving gifts for a good few seconds.”

“Oh, so you think some fried chicken is gonna make me happy?”

“It was all in your face Arisa. Your cheeks were turning red and your eyes got all big when I put the chicken right in front of you.” Kureno pursed his lips, blew his cheeks up and widened his eyes as if to mimic what Uo had looked like a second ago.

Uo looked away, trying to hide both the chuckle that escaped her lips and the fact that she was probably as red as a tomato at that moment. I looked like that? “Well, it’s just fried chicken,” Uo said as soon as she recovered.

“Then I hope you don’t mind me eating it now then. I haven’t had breakfast either.” Kureno brought the drumstick closer to his face and took a big bite.

That was when Uo realized how close they were sitting to each other. From her place on the bench, and from her position, she could hear the familiar and nostalgic crunch as Kureno bit into the skin.”

“KFC really does taste good during Christmas. Kentucky for Christmas. Finger Licking Good.”

“It’s just fried chicken!”

Kureno sighed. “Look you’ve been out since seven looking for chicken, give yourself a break already.” He placed the bucket on her lap. “Just get one.”

“How did you know I was out since seven?”

“Because I saw you in KFC?”

“Which KFC did you see me in?”

Kureno avoided her gaze, only returning the question with an uncomfortable smile.

"Where did you buy your fried chicken?” Uo pressed.

“I bought the last three buckets this morning.”

In the first KFC. She should have known. The bucket was cold to her touch. If he had bought it in the KFC in front of them, it shouldn’t have been that cold.

“So, if you got your chicken already. Then why did you go all the way here?”

“Yeah… It was a stupid decision huh? I ended up just getting further from my house following you. And I don’t think Akito will be too happy when I come home with cold chicken.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“Well, I saw you there. And it was Christmas. And you know how they always say to spend Christmas with someone special. I thought... why not share one meal with someone special at least?”

Kureno took a drumstick from one of the buckets and dropped them on her hands. The chicken was cold, but the texture of the skin was distinct. They had advertised the chicken as having a special mix of spices. Uo’s favorite part had always been the characteristic texture of the chicken skin. She brought it up to her mouth and took a bite. Somehow, she had still found it delicious.

“Isn’t your family special?” Uo asked.

“I did go out to buy fried chicken for them.” Kureno answered. “When I saw you there in the shop though, I thought why not share it with you too.”

It turned out, the chicken didn’t need to be served warm. Her cheeks were hot enough, and Kureno’s smile only warmed up her own body quickly. She didn’t care at all that the chicken had been cold to her lips.

She went through that drumstick quicker than she had wanted to. Having felt a little incomplete from that, Uo found herself going through her fun shots and fries quickly soon after. “Thanks for that.” She managed to say in between bites.

“Thanks for spending the day after Christmas with me.”

Uo did not know how long they were sitting in silence, going through that bucket of chicken.

The ring of the phone came out of nowhere, and to Uo it was almost painful. It stung a bit when she heard him apologize on the phone to Akito, and the way he had quickly gathered his stuff.

“Sorry, looks like Akito’s calling.”

The head of the Soma family. She had remembered Toru explaining that to her just a few months back.

“I’ll see you again soon?” He made a gesture with one hand, sticking his thumb and his pinky out. The universal gesture for a phone. Keep in touch.

He shouldn’t have been able to do that carrying three buckets of chicken. As Uo soon noticed, he had left the two buckets on the bench.

“Hey! You forgot---” Uo quickly grabbed the buckets and took off after him. “Your chicken.” She completed that last sentence as she made her way close enough to grab him.

“Those are for you.”

“For me? What about your family?”

“I only needed one bucket. The only person who will probably be eating the head of the family. All the other Soma’s aren’t spending the day after Christmas with us anyway...” Kureno gave a friendly wave and turned his back to her.  

Wait, so why did you buy three?  Uo didn’t need to ask. As she watched Kureno disappear into the crowds on the busy streets as the rush hour in Japan continued, she only needed to put two and two together.

Well, I saw you there.

You’ve been lining up since 7am.

I bought the last three buckets.

Uo could only curse her slow and emotionally constipated self. Somehow, despite the free fried chicken, Uo felt more frustrated than happy.

I didn’t even get to say thank you… Or Merry Christmas…

She found slight consolation in the fact that it was already the day after Christmas anyway. Maybe it would have been a little weird to greet him a ‘Merry Christmas’ then.

I guess it can wait till next year?

[ashtraythief]

I would love to see how Dani and Jared met. Or more about Dani and Jensen's first meeting in the vent. Love this verse!!!

Thank you so much, nonnie! Many apologies for this incredibly late answer. I left this one unanswered because I am planning on writing a meet cute between Jared and everyone in his crew. Obviously, so far I have not succeeded. Going back to my asks, I finally wanted to tackle this. But I was dumb. I’ve grown so attached to the Chad in this verse, even though all the other meet cutes were in the pov of the person Jared was meeting, I started writing Chad POV. And I do want to explore Dani’s story from her POV. Because there’s much more to her story with Jared and why she became loyal to him. But that took some time. So. Here’s the snippet I wrote from Chad POV, at some point I’m hopefully going to rewrite that into Dani’s full story and post it to ao3. But who knows when that will be so have this snippet for now!

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

[Takes place at the beginning of Jared’s last year at Stanford]

The first time Jared really needed to hire an assassin was when he needed an international smuggler gone. He was interfering with Jared’s business. Both Mike and Chad were excellent at their jobs, of course, but their Spanish was rudimentary and they didn’t have the experience to navigate the Venezuelan country-side where the guy was hiding out in his fancy mansion.

So Chad asked around. Harris came highly recommended, especially if you needed work done in Europe or South America. 

They agreed to meet at the Red Room, which was a club way fancier than they usually hung out in, but Jared wanted to make a good impression on this world-class assassin and not meet him in the back-room of a dingy dive bar where they'd been conducting business for two years now. And the booze was better in the Red Room. Just like the view. Fuck, there were a lot of hot girls in short skirts in here.

Chad was trying to watch the door, but really, there was this cute redhead at the bar, with a rack to die for and she was smiling at him and fuck it, they had another half hour until their meeting. Chad could buy a girl a drink.

They flirted, a lot, and Chad really thought he was doing well there until time was running out.

“Sorry,” he said, waving at Jared to indicate that yes, he was giving up a potential hookup for meeting an assassin, “but I have a meeting. Any chance you'll still be here in an hour or so?”

She raised her eyebrows sharply and her cute button nose scrunched up. “Do I look like a girl who’s going to sit in a club for an hour alone?”

Chad looked her up and down, slim figure with spectacular curves in all the right places wrapped in a tight, dark green dress. He sighed. “Sadly, not at all.”

She cocked her head. “You know, that is the first genuine thing you’ve said to me all night.”

“What?” Chad stared at her. “I haven’t lied to you.”

She huffed. “Not lied. But you’ve been hitting on me with a very bad plan and cheesy lines from the start. Like it’s just a game.” She leaned forward and poked a finger against his chest so hard it actually hurt. “And I went along with it because you’re cute and I had to pass the time. And maybe because I wanted to see if you had an honest bone in your body.”

Chad smirked. “I definitely have an honest bo—” 

Her finger pressed against his lips. “Do not finish that sentence.”

Chad swallowed. Hard.

She pulled back with a sigh. “Men. You’re all pigs at heart.”

Chad opened his mouth in protest, but she was already drawing back. “You’ll have to excuse me, I have to go freshen up. You’re not the only one on the clock.”

Then she turned around and walked away with swaying hips. Entranced, Chad watched her long legs and her pert ass and wondered what the hell had just happened to him.

He went back to the booth Jared was sitting in. He’d found his own entertainment, a guy with blond curly hair who was very admiringly stroking Jared’s shoulders. When Chad had met Jared, he’d already had the broad shoulders but was still on the lean side. He’d bulked up the last few years under Rosey’s tutelage and a lot more chicken on the meal plan. And guys seemed to love it.

Jared looked up at Chad and sighed. He leaned into the guy sitting next to him who pouted at whatever Jared said. But the guy leaned in to give Jared a pretty filthy kiss—Chad knew the one, it was the don’t-forget-about-me one—and Jared watched the guy’s ass as he walked away. Well, there was a reason why they were friends.

“So,” Chad said and plopped down next to Jared. “Where’s our mystery assassin?”

“No idea,” Jared said. “But Tom said Harris blends in well. He only said that Harris looks way too innocent for an assassin.”

Chad smirked. “Like the guy who was just up here with you.”

Jared shot him a glare, then he looked past Chad and grinned. “Or the cute redhead you were just flirting with.”

Chad twisted around and there she was, long-legged and smirking. “Wow. I did not see that coming.”

“She’s good then,” Jared said.

Chad rested his hand on his chin and took her in, looked for the clues he had missed the first time. It had been a long time since he’d misread someone so badly. 

She was slim, but there were long muscles under her light skin and a hint of biceps. She balanced well in her high heels, and Chad caught a glimpse of a light scar next to her knee. Her hands were small, but strong. Not soft or delicate. Sure, the red nail-polish distracted, but now Chad saw the calluses on her palm. Damn. He really needed to stop getting distracted by his dick. 

“She is very good,” Chad said.

Harris walked into the booth and raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re not. You know, Mr. Padalecki, if this is the best you have, then I don’t know if we should do business.”

Chad gaped at her. “Wow. Rude.”

Jared’s eyes narrowed, then he picked up his glass. “Chad has other qualities. But if he were a top-class assassin, I wouldn’t need to talk to you.”

“Flatterer,” Harris said.

Jared smiled, popping his dimples. They didn’t miss their effect on Harris, she visibly softened.

“That’s not my style, Miss Harris.” Jared pointed at the couch across from him, right in Chad’s line of sight. “Please, have a seat.”

She sat down, crossed her long legs, dress hitching up a few tantalizing inches, and picked up an empty tumbler. Chad took the bottle of whiskey and poured her a glass. He could see the edge of a black garter belt under the hem of her dress, tightly circling her upper thigh and probably holding a knife or gun.

She shot him a look under her dark lashes, half-smug, half-apologetic. “Other qualities, huh?”

Chad grinned because he never could pass up on an opportunity. “I can show you later.”

Harris huffed. “Alright, Mr. Padalecki, tell me why I should work with someone who’s lieutenant is that human disaster.” She pointed her glass at Chad.

“You know,” Chad said, unreasonably charmed by her insults, “most people are scared shitless of me.”

“An indignant meerkat?”

Okay, enough was enough. Chad pulled his knife out of his back pocket and had the switchblade open and at the inside of her thigh, right over the black weapons garter, on top of her femoral artery before she could flinch. Her hand closed around his wrist with surprising strength for such a small woman, but Chad was pretty sure he’d come out on top in this particular encounter. Her eyes narrowed in reluctant respect.

“Most people underestimate Chad,” Jared said and there was a proud smile in his voice. “Think he’s stupid. Just like they think I’m young and harmless.”

Slowly, Harris looked back at Jared. 

“We liked it that way for a long time, it helped build the business without us getting bothered. But now, we need a shift in strategy.”

“People are catching on to how dangerous we really are,” Chad said, increasing the pressure of the blade. 

“At least here in the city, where they can see what we do,” Jared added. “But it takes the stories a little longer to spread to the far corners of the world.”

Harris leaned back, resting one arm along the backrest of the couch, seemingly unconcerned by the knife Chad still had to her leg.

“So you want me to spread your reputation?”

Jared nodded. 

Harris looked down at Chad’s knife. “I think that’s unnecessary. You made your point.”

Chad left it there for another beat before he pulled it back.

“I have a going rate and I don’t give discounts for cute dimples,” Harris said. “I agree to a contract, I follow through, always. If you double-cross me, you’re a dead man. I will never let someone buy their way out of a hit, but if you skimp on payment, you’re a dead man. See a pattern?”

“I do. It’s why I contacted you.”

Harris pursed her lips. “Where exactly would you want me to go?”

Jared handed her a piece of paper with the name and the address.

Harris took the paper. “That’s a long way.”

Jared nodded. “It’s why I called you.”

“What did he do?”

“He’s interfering with my shipments.”

“You know,” she said slowly, taking another sip of whiskey. “I’ve never heard of you before. I had to ask around for someone to tell me you’re legit.”

Jared nodded. “I try to avoid law enforcement. It works best if you don’t draw a lot of attention to yourself. I think you understand what I mean.”

Harris smirked. Chad hadn’t even known she was a chick, she definitely played things close to the vest.

“Well, not everyone is so... open-minded,” she said.

“Their loss,” Jared said and his voice was hard. “Everyone out there who doesn’t want to do business with us because of who we are can go to hell.”

“Who you are?” Harris asked.

“Let’s just say Jared and I never compete for attention when we go out at night.”

Harris shot him a look, then her red lips formed a perfect ‘oh.’ “I see.” She tilted her head, regarded Jared with a smirk. “Well, certainly a loss for women everywhere.”

Jared laughed. Chad made a face.

Harris leaned over to him, patted his cheek. “Don’t worry, you’re cute too.”

And really, Chad should be so mad at her.

“So,” Jared said, “are we in business?”

Harris nodded. “I want half up front because it’s an out of the country job.”

“Done.” Jared pulled out his phone. “You’ll have the money tomorrow in your account. The other half will be wired after you send proof of finishing the job.”

Harris stood. “Excellent.”

Chad watched her leave. “Hey.”

She turned around.

“My meeting’s over,” Chad said with a grin. “And you’re still here.”

She laughed, throaty and surprised. “I’ve gotta give it to you, you’ve got balls. But I’m a professional, Murray.”

“So am I,” he said with a wink. “Very professional.”

She laughed again. “Like I said, pigs.” Then she walked away and damn, it was a pretty sight.

“You’re playing with fire,” Jared said.

“Yeah.” Chad turned back to Jared once Harris was out of sight. “You know, it would come in real handy to have an assassin on retainer.”

Jared snorted. “I’m not putting a hit-woman on retainer because you want to get into her pants.”

Chad clutched his chest. “That’s just mean.”

Jared laughed and Chad laughed and they poured more whiskey. But Chad had a good feeling about Harris. He’d see her again. And who knew how that would go.

[maviemesregles]

Once I was an Eagle

Aaaaaand, I'm back! I know it's been bloody ages since the last update but I needed a break. I also had been busy with other ficlets so OIWAE was put on pause. But the story is back and I do hope you like this instalment. I really, really like this chapter.

I am absolutely horrible at answering the comments (which I'll fix, promise) but I do see each one of them! I LOVE reading what your thoughts are, whether you liked some moment or a particular turn of phrase, I appreciate it all. No matter if it's one word, emoji, or a big analysing comment. Thank you lovies for staying here with me. <3

Anne, you’re my gem  💜 @eclecticstarlightconnoisseur​

Read on AO3

     Chapter I: The beginnings

Chapter II: Sassenach

Chapter III: Catharsis

Chapter IV: Lovestruck. Part I

Chapter V: Lovestruck. Part II

Chapter VI: Flecks of Sun

Chapter VII: Mince pies & baubles

                                           Chapter VIII: Home

Blood pounded in Claire’s ears muffling the music and the howling wind outside. Jamie’s face blurred as the tears gathered at the brink of her lower lashes. She inhaled deeply, blinking furiously to get rid of the swell of moisture in her eyes. Closing them Claire could feel Jamie moving towards her, gently touching her arm, voice concerned.

“Claire, was it too early? Did I-”

He could not finish his sentence because she dissolved into ugly crying. Clinging to him, gasping for air and in general being an awful mess.

“Shh, mo graidh. Shh. Tis alright.” His hands wrapped around Claire in a familiar way, thumb circling the tender skin at her nape softly.

“I.. I’m going to ruin your shirt.” Sniffing, voice muffled by his aforementioned shirt Claire leaned back to look at the mess she created. Her running nose and damp cheeks imprinted a mascara-black wet blot on green fabric. She could hear Jamie chuckle as he picked her up and sat down with Claire curled on his lap.

“I dinna care one bit about the shirt, lass.” Lips gently pressed a kiss to her forehead. Claire sighed though still gasping for air. The comfort of Jamie’s warmth made her body become limp.

“I’m not crying because I am sad,” Claire whispered, hand cupping the back of his head. “I... I’m crying because I’m happy, Jamie. Happy to live with you.”

Dropping a kiss on the bridge of her nose, he smiled.

“Aye. Me too, my Sassenach.”

* * *

It was the beginning of what seemed like an endless hunt for what would become a perfect flat for us. We spent about three weeks chasing an ideal place, checked at least ten flats scattered all over Edinburgh but none of them was quite what we were looking for (not far away from my work; with a park nearby to allow Jamie to go on his morning jogs. And it needed to have a large living room and be pet-friendly.)

Jamie (bare-chested, skin still flushed from the shower) was performing his magic by preparing the scrambled eggs I loved so much while I sat on the windowsill, feet in fuzzy socks propped up the wall. As I scrolled through rental ads on Jamie’s iPad I felt the pressure of upcoming headache from all this searching. And suddenly, there it was. The place that we were looking for.

A stone-built ground floor house had a spacious kitchen and a huge living room adorned with an old fireplace. The ceilings were so high I thought there is no end to them. “Canna wait to hear yer voice inside these walls” Jamie smirked at me as we followed behind the agent chirping away about how great this flat is. “Whatever do you mean?” I quirked my brow at him. He leaned closer, whispering into my ear, his warm breath tickling the little hairs on my nape. “Weel, those sounds ye make when I-” Giggling, my elbow pressed into his ribs, stopping him before any dangerous and inappropriate (for the agent) revelations could occur.

Grand windows allowed the sun to slip into every little corner of the flat and made it breathe with light. There were two bedrooms with hardboard wooden floors and a small study fully equipped with bookshelves. French doors in the kitchen opened to a garden with a southern exposure was the last deciding straw for me. It had everything we needed. Adso would be welcome to live here, it was a fifteen minute drive from my work and there was a park just across the street. Although it was rather pricey, Jamie ignored my hissing remark “Almost four grand quid? Fucking insane,” and said that we should sign the rental agreement. I kissed him senseless allowing the feeling that this is us now, our own place fill me up.

The rental price had changed our plans a little bit. Forcing us to spend a couple of days moving small furniture and other possessions Jamie and I owned to our new accommodation by ourselves. At the end of it all, sweaty and tired, we sat on the boxes in the empty living room, watching the snowfall outside the huge windows.

“Are ye happy, Sassenach?” Jamie gently pulled me by the wrist to his side. My hands cradled his face as I stood up and found myself a prisoner between his thighs.

“Of course I am, James Fraser,” thumb caressing the apple of his cheeks I glanced around. “Only I have no idea how we are going to organize this mess.” It feels like between the two of us there are millions of boxes and bags, packages. I’ve brought the plants I owned (the only three I managed not to kill), a box full of uncle’s Lamb belongings, an enormous contemporary art painting Geillis got me for my 30th birthday two years ago. Adso had his belongings too, a scratching post, litter tray and his own little blanket. Adso himself was being babysat by Geillis while I and Jamie tried to sort out our moving. Jamie was currently sitting on a stash of my medical books destined for the study.

“We’ll manage, a nighean ” His hands patted my hips, bringing me closer. Planting a soft kiss on the washed fabric over my sternum, Jamie looked up. “We canna do more than our best.”

My stomach had the quite opposite opinion of doing our best and rumbled loudly.

“God, I’m starving” yawning I reached for the cellphone.

Later, full and warm with chicken ramen, curry with prawns and wok-fried greens we had just enough strength in us to unpack most of the carton boxes that said “Kitchen”. In that hour and a half, we managed to laugh, listen to Jamie’s Dire Straits playlist on his phone and argue over ridiculous things. Putting away a bitty family of my mugs and cups Jamie dropped my favourite mug Frank bought me a very long time ago and I never could get rid of it. It was massive and bright yellow, with Friends on it. It was my all-time binge-love TV show. It shattered in yellow pieces atop the counter and floor. I didn't mean to snap. But we both were bone-weary from a long day of moving back and forth, of a week packing before, exhausted from all the searching catching up with us. Suddenly I felt my chin quiver at the sight of my beloved, now broken mug.

“I’m sorry, Sassenach.” Jamie bit his lip, trying to reach me with his hand over the island counter but I shrugged away.

“Why are you so bloody clumsy, ” I mumbled, kneeling to pick up broken ceramic bits. Jamie rubbed his face, clearly wanting to say something, but instead he bent to help.

Annoyed just by him breathing next to me at that moment I dropped collected pieces straight into the bin. When he tried to sweep the floor from the dusty mug remains I snapped.

“Oh, please, just move away, or you’re going to break something else.”

I regretted the words right after I’ve said them but blood was already pounding in my ears and there was no way back.

“I said I’m sorry,” Jamie muttered, looking visibly irritated himself now. “It’s just a mug, I’ll buy ye a new one.”

The tension crackled with its force.

“I don’t want another bloody mug! ” I barked at him trying to busy myself opening a new box. “Frank gave it to me. It was my favourite one.”

Time seemed to stop for a second as Jamie slowly licked his lips looking me straight in the eyes.

“Frank?”

Unable to hold his gaze anymore I turned my back to him staring out of the window.

“Don’t you start playing a jealous boyfriend on me,” I grunted, telling myself to calm down. You know he doesn’t mean it bad.

He grumbled and I could hear him retreating to the living room.

“Why are ye bitching about it, Claire?” He hissed and I thought I could feel his words crawl inside me like a poisonous snake.

“What?” I followed him to the room (aka the mess) full of boxes.

“Nothing.”

“Repeat what you just said,” I demanded.

He didn’t. Instead, we spent the next hour in different rooms unpacking. Or pretending to. I wasn't able to do a proper job and stopped on one box. As the sweat cooled off on my skin and the urge to cry faded away I plodded down the hallway towards the bathroom. Passing the living room I caught a glimpse of Jamie placing my candles (that he hated) on top of the fireplace. The sight gave my heart a painful (and guilty) squeeze. Deciding that taking a shower, putting fresh PJs on and making us both a nice cup of tea would make both of us feel better.

I turned on the hot water. It was blissful and caused me to go limp. Engrossed as I was I did not hear Jamie come in. Shedding his clothes wordlessly, he stepped into the shower behind me. Cupping one breast, he dropped a kiss on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry I snapped, Claire. And I’m sorry for ye wee mug.”

Turning to face him, I nodded and kissed his jaw softly.

“I am sorry, Jamie. I was unreasonable and acted like a jerk.”

Our earlier argument was mended when his lips sealed on my neck, leaving me breathless. Moments later I cried out as I sagged against the tiled wall, him still inside me.

We slept on a makeshift bed that Jamie constructed from his mattress and two blankets just right in front of the fireplace. We laid, limbs entwined, among the boxes and bags, hands lazily tracing hills and valleys of each other bodies. “I love you,” I whispered before my mind drifted away into the realm of Morpheus.

* * *

Weeks later our flat finally started looking like somebody really lives here. With all our mismatched furniture, collection of books (mine mainly botany and poems, and Jamie’s classics and fantasy), with a horrid motorbike engine of Jamie’s (the one he used to drive in his uni days). No matter how much I asked him to throw that away he squealed like a girl protecting her virtue, not letting me come near that metal monstrosity. We agreed to put it away in the second bedroom which initially became a storage room.

One evening as I rocked my hips atop of him Jamie smirked that we marked each room in this flat. “ Aye, we did” I said mimicking him as I yanked my scrub top off over my head. Jamie made my body go limp against the shower tiles; he drew mewling sounds out of me on the kitchen table; my moans bounced off those high ceilings in the living room; his laboured breathing filled our bedroom and crawled up the walls. I gasped at the feeling of him in the storage room when Jamie announced his evident desire for a quickie; and he groaned “Oh, Claire” following his meandering Gaelic cursing as his hands tangled in my curls while I kneeled down unzipping his jeans.

Every time I showed up at work Geillis would never forget to ask me with a wink “So, my darling, how’s yer wee ginger? Loves ye well? I TOLD YE. Yer fucking glowing like a candle, Claire.”

Living with Jamie was a whole new experience. Now I had the luxury to wake up to his sleepy face and mussed curls every day. He would make the most miserable facial expression as I switch on the table lamp, grunting and burying himself under the layers of blanket. James Fraser was definitely not a morning person. “Five in the morning is torture,” he mumbled sleepily as I pressed a goodbye kiss to his forehead. “Normal people sleep at this time, ye ken. Go, save yer humans, Sassenach.” Squeezing my hand he turned to snooze immediately. But as soon as I got to work my phone would beep with his text message every morning “Have a great day, a nighean. Love ye.”

Any other morning I had a chance to stay in bed longer he’d wake me up with his hands, his mouth and his body molding into mine much like matching puzzle piece. I could not remember life without him anymore. Without his perfect morning coffee for me; without our banter or seriousness full talks in the darkness of the night, his hands on my hip, thumb carving the shape of my pelvic bone; without lazy evenings on the couch with Netflix and takeaway, my head resting on his chest, Jamie’s hand wrapped around my waist, and Adso curled on his lap.

Every day I had a pleasure of observing his fucking gorgeous post jog body. But like any other couple, we shared our bit of things that drove us crazy. Jamie had this annoying habit to turn the TV on so loud I had to scream like a banshee from the kitchen to get his attention. He also seemed to be very dedicated at the task of leaving the puddle of water on the bathroom floor after showering. I would not even want to mention his morning cologne spraying session that left a suffocating smell in the hallway. But, I myself was far from perfect. I had to endure him rolling his eyes at me and making disgusted faces as he plucked my hair out from the shower drain. Also, Jamie was patient with me and my attempts to cook and never protested eating ordered food. He would often volunteer for the task seeing me struggle with slimy spaghetti. But all those things did not matter as each night I fell asleep saying “I love you” lulled by his steady heartbeat beneath my cheek.

It had gotten to the point where I found that I could not live without him. So when Jamie had to leave to Inverness for three days I cursed at his business the whole day. Without him, I felt like the part of me was torn away and even Adso purring by my side couldn’t remedy the feeling. That’s why now I shamelessly found my place on Jamie’s lap, sparkling rosé in my hand. Our kitchen was filled with laughter, chats and instrumental indie playing from Google Home speaker Jenny and Ian gave us as a gift. The food was rich and tasty, the wine was pleasantly chill and Jamie’s left hand on my hip too much to handle. We haven’t made love for three days and I was positively flushed with desire. My skin was on fire - a mix of alcohol, laughter and Jamie.

“So, Claire, I do hope ye like yer wee rug?” Angus tried to wink at me sipping his red. I rolled my eyes and looked over my shoulder to have a look at his present again. It was a door rug in a bright green colour with a white cat on it that said: “Don’t forget to pet my pussy-cat”. He shoved it into my hands grinning. I was taken aback and did not know what to say. Meanwhile, Jamie broke into almost hysterical laughter, as I stood mouth agape. “Ye do have a cat, no?” Angus snorted and I only managed to nod as he welcomed himself inside our flat.

“Very thoughtful present,” I said, saluting my glass to Angus.

Untangling myself from Jamie’s embrace I excused myself to the bathroom. I washed my hands and caught sight of my face in the mirror. Cheeks pink coloured I splashed cold water on my face, feeling the drops run down my neck. Hair drawn back in a sweaty knot. When Jamie opens the door there is a trail of loud raucous laughter coming from the kitchen follows him.

“I’ll be right back,” I said thinking he came to get me. But the next moment the latch on the door clicked closed. His lips sought mine and he tasted of whisky leaving the burning sensation on my lips. His hands reached under my sweater, tracing the small of my back and then soft skin on my belly.

“I love them all, but I swear if they dinna leave soon, I’m going to have to kill all our guests” Jamie breathed out heavily as my hands fumbled with his belt, tugging at the stubborn zipper of the jeans. He cursed something in Gaelic that I did not understand when my fingers found his hot flesh.

“I might kill them myself,” I agreed, gently biting at his earlobe. My mouth fell open when Jamie snaked a hand between us, curling and tasting me with his fingers exactly right.  

“Christ, Claire” He muttered under his breath, fingers damp from his exploration. But our moment was rudely interrupted by Murtagh unceremoniously knocking on the door. “What are ye doing there, ye wee beasties? We need more booze.” Grunting in annoyance Jamie slid his belt back in and reached to pull my rolled sweater down. Kissing him chastely, we made it out back to our guests.

Over the next several days, we both were swirled into the routine business of life seeing each other mostly in the evenings. I’ve been extra busy at work and Jamie still had to finish important tasks at the brewery. Both of us exhausted, we barely managed to order takeaway, with me falling asleep on the couch as soon as the food was finished as a new episode of Peaky Blinders played. Jamie would carry me to the bedroom. He crept in beside me covering us both with a quilt. We would touch fingertips and sleep holding each other until the sun came uninvited, crawling inside the room. There was a silent agreement between us and the sex was at bay. There was a day when Jamie’s hands glided over my hips, finger drawing patterns at the panties waistband. Sleepily, I mumbled that I’m gross and disgusting and in need of a shower and shave. The other day I managed to pull off my sexiest face and slowly pull down my knickers I turned to find Jamie had fallen asleep soundly, mouth slightly agape. Chuckling, I picked my discarded underwear and slid under the blankets next to his starfish sprawled body.

Standing in the locker room at the hospital I’ve snapped a photo of myself. I turned myself provocatively displaying my ass to look as if I spent days in the gym (I did not of course) but nonetheless Jamie seemed more than fascinated by this body part of mine. Sending him the picture with capslock text “TONIGHT FRASER” I retreated back to work. All morning and lunch I spent thinking of the upcoming evening. Geillis took me out of my thoughts by grabbing my hand in the hallway.

“Claire, are ye alright?” Her eyes examined my face worriedly. “Ye look as pale as the wall behind ye.” I shook my head, reassuring her it’s nothing but a bit of nausea.

“I’m fine, Geil.” Running a palm over my clammy forehead I felt the imminent need to vomit. “It’s probably that sushi I had for lunch with Joe. I told him it did not look good.”

Giving me judgmental-mother look and shaking her head Geillis still made me sit down and close my eyes.

“Ye work too much, lass. Jamie needs to take ye on a holiday.”

The perspective of vacation sounded like an unreachable luxury at the moment but under Geillis’s superior look I agreed to go home earlier tonight. It started to rain hard outside when I crossed the threshold, dropping the bags of groceries down. Deciding that I might as well cook today instead of having takeaway again I strolled down the kitchen feeling slightly wamble and dizzy. After taking Pepto-Bismol and hoping it’ll help calm down my disgruntled stomach I opened a can of cat food, summoning Adso. But my cat was nowhere in sight. I’ve checked every nook and little corner, under the bed and couch. In the storage room as last time Jamie closed the cat in there by accident. My furry baby seemed to have vanished into thin air and I felt an oncoming wave of worry mixed with nausea. The open window in our bedroom hit me with a realisation. Eyes swelling with tears I dialled Jamie.

“Christ, Sassenach, I must have forgotten to close the damn window and the cheetie ran away.”

He promised to find him. I spent the evening googling stories of cats running away and cried some more thinking of my poor Adso alone in the cold rain, scared and hungry. I was sure I would not see my cat again. It was around midnight when the front door opened, Jamie’s footfalls startling me from my broken sleep on the couch. I rubbed my puffy eyelids as Jamie stepped inside the room.

His clothes were soaking wet, face painted with tiredness. But the smile on his lips was an encouraging sign. Unfolding his jacket Jamie stroked Adso’s grey ear who was nestled against his chest.

“Jamie! Oh, I can’t believe you did it.” I jumped up, taking Adso into my arms. He was wet and dirty, paws leaving marks on my skin. “Where did you find him?”

Taking off the jacket, Jamie leaned down to receive my kiss on his cheek.

"Here, you must be freezing cold." I reached for the bottle of whisky, pouring him a glass. When he gulped it down and his cheeks turn into baby-pink he told me.

“Ye’d never believe it. I spent hours just driving over the neighbourhood, mistaken at least three cats for him, but he was nowhere. And then I had an idea, it was crazy but possible.” Jamie ran his hands through his damp curls. “I drove to yer old place. And there he was, sitting in front of the door of yer old flat.”

“Oh, my poor baby,” Cradling Adso I reached for the towel I had just in case Jamie managed to bring him home. “Why did you run away, you silly?”

“I’m sorry, Claire. 'Twas my fault, I left the window open.” Jamie patted my thigh gently, looking guilty.

Lening in to kiss him, I traced his cheekbones with my fingers.

“You found him, Jamie. It’s all fine.”

* * *

Jamie woke to the sudden absence of Claire in the bed, her side of the blanket looking like a messy ball at the end of the bed. He could hear the water running in the bathroom. Glancing at the clock that showed three in the morning Jamie called out her name. When no response followed, he swung his legs down the bed, worry caused a cold feeling in his stomach as he walked to the bathroom.

“Sassenach, are ye al-” The words stuck in his throat seeing her small figure, curled on the floor next to the toilet. “Christ, Claire, what happened?” He kneeled down, cradling her head into his lap. His heart was pounding away in his ribcage, fear filling every fiber of his being. She looked pale as a paper sheet, sweaty curls stuck to her skin. Shaking her head weakly, she mumbled as quiet as he ever heard her “I’m okay.” But she was decidedly not okay. Her eyes closed then. Jamie picked her up, rushing to the car outside and mentally thanking all existing Gods that the hospital was just fifteen minutes away. Jamie was there in precisely seven minutes.

[foxysanimecooking]

Japanese Curry

Hello my kits! Welcome to a long over due recipe. I apologize to you all but a sudden hospital stay hindered my ability to post this in a timely manner BUT here it is! Anime curry! Gosh so many animes serve this from Narutos curry of life to one of my personal favorites restaurant from another world's version of menu 14. where the curry is served in a lovely silver gravy boat.

*some curry boxs may contain peanuts always check carefully the ingredients listed*

So without further ado here's this week's lovely Japanese Curry recipe!!

Don't be scared by the amount of ingredients while many you'll end up with a HUGE pot and will be eating like a king for days!

♤ingredients♤

1 pack ~ boneless skin on chicken ~I used legs and stripped the meat off the bones for a future broth recipe also I prefer the tenderness of the leg meat but feel free to pick whichever you prefer!

3 carrots ~ peeled and diced into bite sized chunks

2 potatos ~ peeled and diced into bite sized chunks

Half a daikon ~ peeled and diced into bite sized chunks

3 cloves of garlic ~ minced or put through a garlic press (trust me. Get one. Saves time and garlic fingers)

1 small hunk of ginger~ minced fine. Or again put through a garlic press works wonders on ginger too.

1 small onion ~ minced

1 apple ~ don't peel. Mince. I used a Fuji apple for its sweetness.

2 blocks of curry ~ you can buy boxs of curry at most supermarkets or your local Asian super market. I recommend glico curry. Amazing flavour!!! We used mild for this recipe but I've used the medium and spicy and can say both are equally as yummy!!!

Splash of oil ~ enough to cover bottom of large pot

4 cups of chicken stock

1 and a half tablespoon of honey

Salt ~ to taste

Pepper ~ just a pinch

2 tablespoons soysauce

2 tablespoons ketchup

A dash of liquid smoke (optional but I love how it makes it taste)

♡steps♡

1) add the oil to your pot and put to medium heat, when ready add the chicken and 1 clove of garlic.

2) when chicken is fully cooked add the onion, remaining garlic and half the ginger.

3) once the onion is softened but not Brown! Add the carrots and saute slightly

4) add your chicken stock and turn up to medium high heat when it boils then add potatos and diakon.

5) once potatos and diakon soften a bit add the apples! (Remember to grab a slice for yourself no shame in snacking while you cook)

6) then add the honey, salt and pepper. Let simmer for 10min.

7) after the 10min go ahead and add the curry roux block. Add one at a time allowing the brothe to disolve it. You can also stir it in but run the risk of having it stick to the bottom (Now you can go about it several ways I have a fancy serving spoon from my hotpot kit that I use but a laddle works just as well)

8) you curry should be looking and smelling like that delious brown concoction you see in anime! But we arnt done yet! Add that ketchup, soy sauce and liquid smoke. Always remember to taste your food. Adjust to levels of what you'll like!

9) let it simmer on a back burner and make some rice! Wouldn't be curry without rice am I right! A hardboiled egg is also a yummy side to it

10) ENJOY!!!

I hope you all enjoyed this lovely dish! Feel free to leave more suggestions! I'd also love to see if you've made the dishes!!

Thanks and have a lovely day!!

◇Foxy◇