#fabulous white wine blend

[thegrapewizard]

BONNIE DOON CIGARE BLANC 2019

New post about this legendary producer. Find your Grape !

BONNIE DOON VINEYARD PRODUCER: BONNY DOON GRAPE: 46% GRENACHE BLANC, 34 VERMENTINO & 20% CLAIRETTE BLANC YEAR: 2019 WINEMAKER / OWNER W: RANDALL GRAHM REGION : SANTA CRUZ , CA DRINKING WINDOW : UPTO 2024 WINE REVIEW ​Every once in a while you scan the shelves of a major supermarket and think. ​“I know that they buy large scale producers for the customer base but surely they they can…

[count-alucard-tepes]

Headcanons for my One Piece hotties: What their bedrooms look like

Kizaru✨

His bedroom would have a custom bed that would be over ten feet tall to fit this guy. He likes warm colors so dark mahogany wood furniture and cream bedding and curtains. He’d have large walk in closet for all his fabulous suits.

Akainu🌋

He would have a modern Japanese style bedroom, he doesn’t like to hurt his back by sleeping on the floor so he does have a custom made bed. He keeps the colors neutral and even has a plant that he grew himself in his bedroom. The doors of his bedroom open to face the garden.

Ryokugyu 🌱

He’d have a dark green themed bedroom which has dark wooden floors and furniture. He does have a few plants in his bedroom and the room is well lit because he needs a lot of sunlight in the mornings to feel like himself.

Fujitora 🐅

He has a pretty simple bedroom as he doesn’t see the need to have anything extravagant as long as it’s comfortable that’s all the matters to him. He does prefer a simple Japanese style bedroom.

Sir Crocodile 🐊

He favored a dark and sexy bedroom with large windows that look out at the desert. He has a walk in closet attached to his room which

Doflamingo Donquixote 🦩

His bedroom would definitely be having the beautiful ocean view and a balcony where he could sit out and watch the sunset. He likes warm colors throughout his home. His bedding is of the finest quality and he has a little wine cellar tucked away there too.

Benn Beckman 🔫

He likes a simple and clean bedroom with light colors and wooden floors. He likes that he has a view of the countryside from his bedroom and it puts him in a real good mood when he wakes up.

Katakuri Charlotte 🍡

He has a bedroom with high ceilings for obvious reasons and a very cozy bed so when he lay on it, it feels like a marshmallow (probably made out of it too). He likes a blend of light and dark colors with large windows so that his room is brightly lit.

Killer🔪

He likes a simple and rustic style bedroom with warm colors that isn’t too much for him to deal with. He just wants to rest there and then he leaves so he doesn’t put too much effort into making it too special.

Kaido🐉

He likes something simple but still a little bit classy with high ceilings. He never really had much luxury in his life so he does enjoy having that when he goes to rest if he can make it to his room at the very least. He wanted strong wood floors and huge bed that could handle his weight. He didn’t care for the coyotes as long as he had a balcony to step out on, it was fine.

King👑

He would have a bedroom that was dark and sexy (like him omg King) with selected artworks that he found when he travelled to different lands. The bedding needs to be high quality so that they don’t hurt his sensitive wings and fire proof too. He has a bookshelf with several books that he’s currently reading.

Queen👑

He would have a bedroom that is comfortable for the ladies and himself. He definitely would have a jacuzzi to entertain his company when he has them around. He likes dark colors and super comfy blankets.

Izou🔫🔫

He likes a simple and elegant room with a feminine touch to it. He definitely has a walk in closet where he stores all his beautiful kimonos and make up. He has several floor length mirrors in his room so that he can see himself in different angles.

Dragon D Monkey🐉🐒

He wanted something that still had quite a bit of light coming in and a comfortable bed that doesn’t hurt his bad. He likes neutral colors that don’t stand out too much. He also has some chairs in there so that he could sit and read from time to time.

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 1/5

Book Blurb:

Set in a foreboding Gothic mansion and infused with the heightened paranoia and creeping horror of novels like Catherine House and Crimson Peak, a spine-chilling debut historical thriller from a fresh voice in the genre that will leave you questioning who, or what, you can trust . . . including your own sanity.

England, 1840. Orabella Mumthrope spies an unexpected visitor in her uncle’s parlor. Scruffy in appearance yet claiming to be the scion of a fabulously wealthy family, Elias Blakersby declares a deep desire to make Orabella his wife. The orphaned daughter of a white man and a Black woman—an outsider with no fortune or connections—Orabella never expected to marry. But her uncle has many debts, and Orabella, curious about the seeming devotion Elias bestows upon her, agrees.

The new bride is quickly whisked away to Korringhill Manor, the Blakersby family estate, and far from everything she knows. Expecting splendor, Orabella is shocked to find decay, skittish servants, and curt elders. But her kind new husband’s loving touch, promises of a happy life together, and his assurances she’ll never want for anything soothe her concerns.

Yet there is a darkness deep within this house. Rooms are locked or hidden away, and the walls seem to thrum with secrets. Orabella can never venture outside unattended; she spends her days having tea with a catatonic sister-in-law and evenings at Elias’s side, dutifully hosting lavish dinners. The darkness soon begins to engulf her, too. Becoming dizzy and drowsy after dinner, she falls into a fitful sleep filled with macabre dreams, and is awakened by blood-curdling screams in the night. In the morning she rises from her bed covered in mysterious bruises. Confused and terrified, she begins to question where her dreams end and reality begins. The longer Orabella stays in this place, the more she loses parts of herself . . . how long until she no longer exists?

Midnight Rooms is a sweeping saga with supernatural undertones set in Victorian England. Vibrating with tension, richly atmospheric—haunted by ghosts, guilt, and familial bonds—it is an electrifying story that will linger in your dreams.

Review:

A new bride, a strange house, and a husband that is hiding something much darker about himself and his family...Orabella us a poor girl living with her aunt and uncle is suddenly proposed to by Elias, a man from an extremely wealthy family. Orabella is the daughter of a white man and a black woman, someone with no fortune or connections. She never expected to marry... but with her uncle's debts she is thrust into the marriage mart. Orabella finds herself drawn to Elias's strange devotion to her, his want of her. Yet when she is brought to Korringhill Manor, everything begins to crumble around her. The manor might have splendor... but there is decay all about it. it also does not help that Elias's strange family resides there as well. Orabella begins to notice just how strange everything is around her, from her door being locked at night, her never being allowed to be alone, the off hand comments, the wine that drugs her... and her seeing foxes and death at every turn. Then there is the strange relationship between Elias and his beautiful sister Claresta.... and Orabella begins to realize that this marriage might just kill her if she doesn't find a way to escape Korringhill Manor. This book honestly just gelt like a lesser Crimson Peak. I really wanted to like it because I adore Crimson Peak, but while Crimson Peak actually had a likable protagonist and the twist was fun... in this one it just felt a bit meh. Orabella just is not likable at all, the entire time you are reading the book you just want to shake her and tell her to stop just accepting being drugged, being manhandled and just accepting all the things around her. Also the story feels kind of like a fever dream, it's never really clear and it just doesn't blend itself well enough so that you as the reader can see the distinction and feel like: oh yeah she's going through it and this is what is happening. The book feels like it drags on for a bit and honestly that ending upset me so much. Are you for real? It feels like it's still missing an entire ending chapter. Honestly you would be better off just watching Crimson Peak than reading this, at least that ends better and you dont feel like you've wasted your time. If you like gothic horror with incest, cults, and an unreliable narrator, maybe you'll have a better time with this than I did.

Release Date: July 2, 2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and Amistad for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[pulsdmedia]

The Week Ahead 2/26-3/2

It is that time of the week again where we turn Monday into Funday by picking out some highlights for you to look forward to. On the agenda - one of the top food events of the season, music x cocktails, a whacky whiskey walk, and trend setting sample sale!

James Beard Foundation's Taste America

Eat, drink, and revel in a gastronomic paradise at James Beard Foundation's Taste America! This walk-around tasting at Pier 57's ultra-cool Market 57 will be an exciting gathering of chefs from the New York culinary community, with food stations from esteemed culinary giants, guest chefs, and more talented creators. Plus, it gets even better with a 2 hour open bar serving cocktails and wines to compliment your eats!

In Conversation: COAL + ICE At Fotografiska

Join Fotografiska for a discussion on leveraging art to inspire hope in response to the climate crisis. This talk is featuring Susan Meiselas, President of the Magnum Foundation, and Yasufumi Nakamori, Director of Asia Society Museum!

The 10th Annual Whiskey Walk

Get ready for the ultimate whiskey adventure through downtown NYC with the annual Whiskey Walk! Whether you're a seasoned whiskey enthusiast or just dipping your toes into the world of this legendary Irish spirit, this Saturday soirée promises to kick your weekend into high gear. Just $35 to enjoy 8 whiskies at 8 different downtown locations!

Rizzoli Music Aperitivo

The Colombian duo of Edmar Castañeda & Andrea Tierra offer an innovative fusion of popular Latin-American rhythms, seamlessly blending his virtuosic harp playing with the poignant essence of her own poetry. Plus, sip on a luscious glass of wine, provided by Field Blend Selections while you listen!

The 2024 Jersey City Wine Festival

Wine, wine, glorious wine! Well, 100+ different types of wines to explore and 3.5 hours either on Saturday afternoon or evening to enjoy the wines! Tickets are still priced at just $39 to this walk around tasting of 100+ Exceptional Reds, Whites, Rosés, and Sparkling Wines, from local, national, and international wineries. If you get hungry, food [for purchase] is on the way!

Apparis Sample Sale

Join 260 Sample Sale at their SoHo store to shop luxury, sustainable, and vegan outerwear, apparel, and accessories from the Apparis Sample Sale! Stock up on iconically bold statement pieces and essentials so you can close out winter looking fabulous!

[twotexansituscany2023]

Day Five - Tuesday, March 28

After breakfast at La Foce, we drove to Montepulciano, about 20 minutes away, to begin our E-Bike/Wine Tour experience with Urban Bikery .  It was a little overwhelming, to say the least.  They fitted you for the bike, gave quick instructions, had you download an app (for directions) on your iPhone and sent you off on your own.  We had to stop 5 times to read the app and the directions, before we got out of town, despite a iPhone holder on each of our bikes.  We were assured it was on back country and gravel roads, but the first 1 - 2 km was all in town with cars whizzing by our bikes.  Once we found the trail outside of town, it was little better.

We stopped at 2 great wineries. The first stop was  Il Molincaccio.  This was an organic farm growing sangiovese grapes, the main wine grapes in this region of Tuscany which is used to make Vino Nobile di Montepulciano.  It was interesting to hear Alessandro, the owner and winemaker, describe his reasons for organic wine and how it was accomplished.  We had a great tasting there.

Next, we rode our bikes to Canneto.  We had a great tasting of their whites and reds, with a pairing of local pecorino cheeses.  The views were fabulous.  We didn’t enjoy the red wines as much and the white wines (with a blend of sauvignon blanc and reisling) were a little sweet.  We finished with their Dolce (a very sweet dessert wine) and Grappa di Nobile.  Again, very sweet, but strong alcohol content.

The bike ride uphill into town was an adventure and not to Laura’s liking (to put it mildly) even with the electric motor assist.  We had great weather and beautiful views, but one of us may be getting too old for this type of adventure.

We ate dinner in the town of Sarteano at a Trattoria known as Taverna di Merlino.  It was totally accidental as most restaurants in this sleepy town are closed on Tuesdays (which we didn’t know).   The restaurant was operated by a husband and wife team, with the wife waiting on us and the husband in the kitchen.

Ciao!

[mayaahuja]

20 Ways to Include Pink Colour Décor in Your Wedding

Pink makes its way in almost every décor, and while most look at pink as an overly sweet and cute hue, which we do agree, although it is not just that! There is so much more to the palette of pink, ranging from exuding a playful vibe to an elegant one. Think blush, wine, hot pink, flamingo, fuchsia and more.  

Wedding decoration in shades of pink is simply enchanting, whether it is a combination, adding accents or having an entire pink décor, the colour is sure to punch in oodles of charm. We’ve put together some fabulous ways to incorporate this surreal palette in your wedding décor.  

Backdrop – A wall of pink roses or pink wall color combinations can serve as an excellent backdrop to your celebrations. 

Drapery – Stunning combination of white and pink can make for pretty drapes. 

Grandness Personified - Have a beautiful shamiana with pink fabric, adorned with florals that blend in a pleasant white or peach hue. 

Lounge Chairs – A vibrant pink couch can be the place for the couple on the stage.  

Quirkiness – Inject some drama with hot pink printed bolsters and cushions, ideal for haldi and mehndi. 

Reception Décor – A romantic pink that washes over the entire area. Add in hints of gold and peach. 

Photo Booth – Get creative with unique objects, flowers and shocking pink accessories. 

Arrive in style – Walk down the aisle adorned with blush florals and accents.  

Breath-taking beauty – Create a wonderland with captivating pink flowers, or a combination that highlights the pink hue.  

Exquisite Hanging Décor – Adorn corners and walls with pink hanging accessories. 

Mandapa – For a dream wedding place, make use of pink drapes and florals for your mandapa. 

Fabrics – While blooms can be pretty expensive, especially when it’s a wedding, fabrics can do an equally alluring job. 

Cuteness at Its Best – Decorate the ceiling with delicate tassels and pink carnations. 

Luxurious Infusions – Nothing displays extravagance like pink and white floral chandeliers.  

Centre Piece – Use a combination of pink and gold for an impressive centre piece. 

Wedding Cake – Washed with blush fondant, and topped with an adorable pink cake topper.  

Set the Table Right – Pink table linen with accents of gold or navy.  

An Impressive Stage – Have a palette of pink dominate the stage, from florals to the couch and accessories.  

Unique Sign Boards – For a quirky touch, go over the top with pink sign boards at the venue. 

The Invitation – Let the pink theme flow through the wedding card, perhaps blending with gold or tiffany.  

[riboism]

frontier psychiatrist- [discontinued]

pairing: yunho x f!reader genre: angst, thriller, suggestive? still not sure yet

warnings: mentions of mental illness, reader is a psychiatrist and yunho used to be her patient, abduction, stockholm syndrome if you squint, themes of violence

wc: 0.9k

disclaimer: the actions portrayed in this story are NOT reflective of those who suffer from BPD, depression, or anxiety as a whole. please do not generalize people suffering from these illnesses based on what you read in this story. this is all purely fictional.

a/n: I’m still not sure how many parts I will be adding to this series, or if I’ll even continue it. this has been sitting in my drafts for a while now so I’ve decided to post it. feedback is much appreciated! I don’t really know what I’m doing with this.

series m. list

“that boy needs therapy”- the avalanches

Yunho placed your dinner plate in front of you. White rice, grilled asparagus, and what looked like a grilled chicken breast, were all carefully placed onto the plate. 

“Tried out a new recipe for the marinade,” he said as he filled your glass with wine, “thought maybe you were tired of the lemon basil so I thought I’d change it up tonight. I hope you like it.” 

Yunho shuffled around you, carefully adjusting the small floral arrangement at the center of the table before taking a match and lighting the tall candlesticks that stood next to it. The soft jazz ballad filled the dining room, a nod to when you told him how much you enjoyed jazz music during his therapy sessions. He always put a lot of effort into making these dinners special for you; he wanted you to know that you were well cared for and that everything you could possibly need was right in front of you. 

He finally sat down and placed a napkin on his lap. “Please,” he said, motioning you to start eating. You picked up your utensils, still getting used to the feel of the cool metal against your fingertips. Usually, your hands were restrained in shackles and Yunho would have to cut your meat for you and feed you himself. You remembered spitting out every morsel of food, making him huff in frustration before he’d storm out, leaving you all alone in the dark and cold corner of his basement. 

After showing some changes in your behavior, Yunho allowed you to join him for dinner upstairs. The dining room was small but comfortable. The warm glow from the candles and the yellow lightbulbs from the wall sconces gave you a false sense of security. 

You chewed on the chicken breast, savoring the fresh taste of rosemary along with the sweetness of maple. You had to admit, he was a fabulous cook.

 “It’s delicious Yunho. Thank you.”

Yunho blushed at your compliment, pleased that you enjoyed his hard work. He made sure to be extra attentive to you, noting what you liked and disliked so that he could adjust his menu accordingly. 

Suddenly, you saw a flutter of white in the corner of your eye. Your eyes darted to the window, alarmed to see snowflakes falling. Yunho followed your eyes, chuckling when he saw the flurries collect onto the windowsill. “Look at that, the first snow of the season.”

You frowned a little. It was already winter and you had no clue. You couldn’t remember when you stopped keeping track of time. All you remembered was thinking that it was useless and that there was really no point in knowing if it was a Saturday or a Sunday. The days just blended into each other and Yunho had become your clock. You knew it was morning when he’d come down with your eggs and coffee. And night time when he’d wish you goodnight from behind the basement door.  

“Dr. Y/L/N? Are you alright?” 

Your head snapped back at Yunho. “Oh, yes, I’m fine, sorry…It’s just been a while since I’ve seen snow.” You raked your fork over the rice, playing with your food as you thought about your favorite snow days. How badly you missed going outside and feeling the cold air against your cheeks. You hated shoveling out your car after a bad storm, but now you thought there was nothing you’d rather be doing than plowing snow off your driveway. 

Yunho shot you a worried look. You reached over and placed your hand over his, giving it a small squeeze. “Really, I'm okay.” He wasn’t sure if he believed you but your warm smile melted his heart and he soon forgot about the whole thing. 

After dinner, Yunho walked you back to the basement. You hopped off the last step, looking down at the sad, dusty old mattress before you. Yunho had tried his best to make your space as homey as possible, but nothing could make the eerie environment any more comfortable than a prison cell. You turned around, looking up the stairs at where your captor stood. 

“Yunho?” 

“Yes, Doc?”

“Can I…” 

Come on, you thought to yourself, you’ve been holding back for weeks, just do it already!

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to continue on. “Do you think I can sleep in your room tonight?”

You tried hard not to shiver at the thought of Yunho’s bedroom. It was the one room you never wanted to unlock, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Yunho’s eyes widened at your request.

“M-my room? You want to sleep in my room?”

“Yes.”

He looked as nervous as a teenage boy on his first date. You watched him fiddle with his fingers while he weighed the pros and cons. 

“I don’t know Doc…”

“Please,” you moved up a step, careful not to get too close, “It’s just…It gets so lonely down here and sometimes I can’t sleep. And I like it upstairs, I like being with you. I feel safer when you're nearby.” 

Yunho’s heart fluttered. He took a deep breath as he mulled over your sudden request. Of course, he trusted you more now, but he still had his doubts. He worried if escape was still on your mind. The first few months were tough for him and you, but then there was a shift in your behavior. You were more caring, thankful, and accepting towards him. He figured you finally understood that this was for the best. He couldn’t have been happier. 

After a short while, Yunho finally gave in and nodded his head in agreement. “Okay. You can sleep in my room tonight.”

taglist: @hyuckilstan​ @ateezsatinysworld

please let me know if you want to be removed from the taglist. if you would like to join the taglist, please make sure your age is visible on your blog before asking me (18+ only).

                                                                                       chapter 2 →

[ronniefein]

Passover Orange Cake with Roasted Oranges and Zabaglione

When I was growing up the standard Seder dessert was sponge cake. Everyone made fun of it and said it was true to its name and that frankly, biting into a sponge was not a good thing.

I actually never cared because as long as I got chocolate covered macaroons I was a happy girl.

By the time I began to host the Seders, flourless chocolate cakes had become fashionable and my aunt Rozzie's recipe for sponge cake was tucked away in a recipe file.

Now more time has gone by and my family got bored with flourless chocolate cake. So I spent years experimenting with flourless rolled cakes and cakes made with nut crumbs instead of wheat and going fancy with layers of jelly-roll pan cakes. Some of those were absolutely fabulous.

But a few years ago I decided to pull out the family recipe. That sponge cake isn't spongy at all. The trick is not to overbeat the egg whites, which are supposed to be thick and glossy with tips that fall over slightly (not so beaten that you can cut a chunk off). Also — fold in the beaten whites rather than mixing them in vigorously.

Although the cake is just fine, plain or served with sorbet, I have served it with a rich and creamy zabaglione sauce and some roasted oranges, which provide a tangy contrast to the sweet cake. They also make a plain sponge cake a bit more festive looking, so it’s a good bet for the holiday.

Bonus: you can make all parts in advance!

PASSOVER ORANGE CAKE WITH ROASTED ORANGES AND ZABAGLIONE

12 large eggs, separated, at room temperature

1-3/4 cups sugar

6 tablespoons orange juice

1/4 cup lemon juice

2 tablespoons finely grated orange peel

1 tablespoon finely grated lemon peel

1 cup matzo cake meal, sifted after measuring

1/3 cup potato starch

Passover Zabaglione

Roasted Orange Slices

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line the bottom of a large (10-1/2-inch - 11-inch springform pan with parchment paper and lightly grease the paper. Beat the egg yolks and 1-cup of the sugar in a mixer bowl at medium-high speed for 3-4 minutes or until the mixture is thick and pale yellow. Stir in the orange juice, lemon juice, orange peel and lemon peel, mix thoroughly and set aside. In another bowl, beat the egg whites at medium speed until they are foamy. Continue to beat, gradually increasing the speed and gradually adding the remaining 3/4 cup sugar. Beat until the whites are stiff but not dry, and look glossy. Stir about one-quarter of the beaten whites into the yolk mixture. Gently fold the remaining beaten whites into the yolk mixture, until the mixture is uniform in color. In a small bowl whisk the matzo cake meal and potato starch until they are thoroughly blended. Using about 1/4 of the matzo meal mixture at a time, fold the mixture into the egg mixture until the ingredients are thoroughly blended. Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Bake for 55-60 minutes or until a cake tester inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool the cake in the pan on a wire rack. When ready to serve, spoon some zabaglione onto serving dishes, place a slice of cake on top and surround with some roasted orange slices. (Or serve with sorbet, whipped cream, ice cream, etc. to suit your meal.)

Makes 12 servings

PASSOVER ZABAGLIONE

8 large egg yolks

3/4 cup sugar

2 tablespoons finely grated orange peel

1/2 cup sweet white Passover wine

fresh mint as garnish

Place the egg yolks, 3/4 cup sugar and the orange peel in the top part of a double boiler set over barely simmering water. Beat the ingredients with a hand mixer at medium speed for about 3 minutes or until the mixture is thick and pale yellow. Continue to beat, gradually increasing the speed to high and gradually adding the wine. Beat for 8-10 minutes or until the mixture is thick and fluffy. You may use the zabaglione warm, immediately, or let it cool to room temperature.

Makes about 3 cups

ROASTED ORANGE SLICES

6 navel oranges

2 tablespoons melted coconut oil (or butter)

1 tablespoon sugar

ground cinnamon (approximately 1/2 teaspoon)

2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh mint

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Peel the oranges removing as much of the white pith as possible. Cut the oranges crosswise into 24 even slices (there should be 4 center slices from each orange; reserve the ends for other purposes). Place the slices on the baking sheet. Brush the tops with the coconut oil. Sprinkle with the sugar. Sprinkle lightly with cinnamon and the mint. Roast for about 4 minutes. Turn the slices over and roast for another 4-6 minutes or until lightly browned. Remove from the oven and set aside.

Makes 12 servings

[pale-silver-comb]

Okay, super important question because apparently that's the thought I woke up with this morning. Who are the Leverage gang in the Avengers team? Apparently, sleep-me thought that Hardison was T'Challah (but yeah no, he's most definitely Shuri), Parker was Loki (which... i mean... hell yeah? But also, Spiderman because leaping off towers and stuff?) and sleep-me had Eliot as Thor, but he's totally Black Widow, right? So... Who's who?

Haha, this is so weird because I am literally in the middle of writing a Leverage fic where I’ve made a bunch of Marvel references and have, thus, been thinking about this. 

Okay, for Hardison, I actually see him as several people combined. The first would be Steve Rogers. This may be because John Rogers once joked that Alec is supposed to be this skinny computer nerd but when he takes off his clothes he looks like Captain America. However, with Hardison, it’s more than that. When he learned how to hack, what’s the first thing he did? Pay off his Nana’s medical bills. I bet he did that for a bunch of other people who couldn’t afford them. That’s very Steve Rogers to me. He also finds ways to do the impossible for people who can’t do it for themselves. He takes “it can’t be done” and makes it work.  Also very Steve Rogers. I 1000% agree he is also Shuri though because they both have the greatest minds known to man. That, and they have a designated loved one they can’t resist teasing because it’s just too damn easy (T’Challa, Eliot). Finally though, I would argue there are touches of Bruce Banner in Hardison: endless patience and empathy for the people around him and using his smarts to help people as best as he can. 

For Eliot, I would 100% agree on Natasha Romanoff but I guess you could also see a bit of of Bucky Barnes in there. Bucky because with Eliot there is a lighter, fun-loving side that is totally separate from having fun in battle. It’s very soft and all Bucky cares about is making sure Steve is safe (Steve for Eliot would be the whole Leverage team but mainly Parker and Hardison). However, for me, Eliot is definitely more Natasha. Eliot doesn’t have Natasha’s specific brand of tragic backstory but, unlike Bucky who didn’t choose his path, Eliot and Natasha both made bad choices they wish they could take back and are desperate to make up for by doing good. They are both extremely loyal and are willing to do anything - to go as far as it takes - to protect the people they love. And they will accept that burden happily, even if it costs them something to do it. They have cool exteriors but you know a lot of the time they are hurting. 

Parker is a hard one. I don’t think there is anyone like Parker anywhere. I can see her very much being the Peter Parker of the group but only in the sense she’d probably make a really good Spider-Man; she’s agile, quick on her feet, fast-thinking; she’d have tons of fun swinging from building to building. She’s also awkward but not in the same way any Spider-Man that’s gone before her is. She’d make that role her own.  Honestly, Parker is her own damn superhero. She’s Parker. But yeah, giving her web shooters? I imagine she’d find a lot of clever uses for them. Out of everyone’s powers, Peter’s ability to sense danger and shoot webs, to crawl up buildings without a harness, is probably the powers Parker would covet most.

Okay. You mentioned Loki. Which, for me, is Nate. Trickster. Master manipulator. When it comes to Nate, everyone is basically Thor because they all love him but a lot of the time have cause to be annoyed with him or even hate him. There is also Nate’s sadism and his tendency to play God. Not to the extent Loki tries to play God but there is a...complex there?  The difference is Loki feels entitled to that role, he feels he’s earned it, whereas Nate constantly struggles with the whole black king/white knight dichotomy. He loves being puppet master but he doesn’t like what that says about him. And yet Nate can be extremely scary in this sense- ”I didn’t kill you, God did. I just made sure it took”. The thing about Nate is you don’t know how far he’s going to push. He’s the least predictable in the team. Which is unnerving. Kind of like Loki. He doesn’t outright betray anyone he loves like Loki (far from it) but there is always that sense of “what are you not telling me?” with him that is definitely Loki. And sometimes what he’s not telling you stings. It stings like a bitch. 

Sophie. Sophie, Sophie, Sophie. Smart. Sexy. Badass. All round incredible. For me, Sophie is Peggy Carter (or even Pepper Potts). But more so Peggy Carter: she knows her own worth, she can take control of any situation, and she has that perfect balance of nurture and “I’ve got zero fucks left to give for your nonsense” going on. She isn’t afraid to tell people like it is and is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. The British comparison doesn’t hurt either. Sophie fits into any scenario and her pride never gets in the way of a job. She’s that cool blend of mom and wine aunt. Sophie is her own woman and commands respect on every level. Plus, she looks fabulous in everything she wears. 

[inkedstarlight]

Bittersweet: Chapter Four

Summary: In which Nesta and Elain are introduced to the Inner Circle. Note: Read it on AO3 here! Warnings: mention of eating disorder, weight loss Bittersweet Masterlist

September

Nesta was staring at her reflection when Elain knocked on her bedroom door.

“Feyre’s here!”

“I’ll be right out,” she called back.

Nesta directed her gaze back to the mirror. She didn’t know what to make of what she saw.

Her face was jaunt, the shadows under her eyes resembling purple bruises. Her face had always been angular, but never so bony. Her thick golden hair now hung limply, greasy strands falling into her face. Nesta hadn’t showered in days, and her breath reeked thanks to a lack of nutrients. She was the color of a ghost, nearly blending into her surroundings with her tiny presence. Nesta was shrinking into herself little by little. Until nothing remained.

She had never been so underweight, not even when their mom forgot to cook most nights. At Nesta’s normal weight, her toned thighs touched each other. Rolls formed on her stomach when she bent over. She looked like a woman.

But as she stared at the mirror, Nesta looked like a girl.

It wasn’t intentional. Gods, she’d seen what that sort of thing did to people. Elain struggled with an eating disorder since she was thirteen.

Those couple years were brutal. Their dad was emotionally absent, their mother gone. Feyre was working every day. Nesta did as much as she could, but… there’s only so much she could do. Their family couldn’t afford a therapist or nutritionist. Elain didn’t want to get better.

Then, Elain passed out walking home from school. That’s when Nesta had enough. She couldn’t stand to watch her sister completely disappear right in front of her eyes. So, she talked to Elain’s guidance counselor, Alis, who was the only qualified person there. The other counselors did shit. All they cared about was academics and nothing more. Alis gave Nesta pamphlets for free group therapy. Nesta marched home and told Elain about it.

She refused for a month.

Nesta had never seen Elain so angry and hopeless during those few weeks. Angry at Nesta for getting into her business. Hopeless in the way that she didn’t particularly care what happened to her.

Then, one day, Elain found Nesta sobbing on the floor of their bedroom. When Elain took a step closer, Nesta snapped. She screamed. Gods, did she scream. She begged – begged – Elain to stop killing herself. Nesta was desperate, and she knew the only way Elain would agree to get help was if Nesta asked her to do it for her. And so Elain agreed.

It took a long time; recovery isn’t a linear process in the slightest. But with time, Elain healed. She healed until she was doing it for herself, not just for Nesta. And now… now, Elain cherished her body. She’d once told Nesta that the intrusive thoughts still surfaced, but they weren’t nearly as loud as they used to be.

Nesta’s sudden weight loss… it wasn’t the same. It was the depression that was gnawing at her very flesh, the guilt that was eating her away until it hit bone. She didn’t care to eat. She didn’t care to do anything.

Elain had been trying to get her to eat every day. Three meals a day. She had always been a fabulous cook, baking and cooking until the sun set. Nesta wished she could stomach Elain’s food, but she felt as if she would throw up if she consumed anything more than a piece of fruit.

Nesta sighed with resignation. Turning her back to the mirror, she walked out of her room to find Feyre and Elain lounging in the kitchen. Elain’s profile was backlit by the window above the sink, highlighting her light hair.

“What do you want?” Nesta asked as she approached them, taking a seat on the stool. She’d completely lost energy during the past few weeks, and any semblance of patience was easily lost on her.

Feyre ignored her brash tone. “How are classes going?”

“Fine.” She didn’t bother elaborating. There wasn’t much to tell anyway.

“You look thin,” Feyre commented, running her eyes over Nesta’s barely visible body.

“Are you here to criticize my appearance or can I retreat back into my room?”

“It was just an observation, Nesta,” Feyre told her. Then, she addressed both of them. “My friends and I are having a dinner party tomorrow night at my house. It’s a small tradition that we do every other week. Do you guys want to come?”

“Yes!” Elain jumped up excitedly. She gripped Feyre’s shoulders, the latter smiling widely. “I finally have a reason to dress up!”

Feyre unraveled herself from Elain’s grip and turned to Nesta. “Are you in?”

“I’m invited?” She couldn’t help but ask. Feyre hadn’t exactly gone out of her way to spend time with Nesta. It wasn’t like Feyre was cruel to her; they’d simply become strangers after years of no communication. Feyre had shown Elain around town, but that courtesy didn’t extend to Nesta.

Feyre blew out a breath of air and nodded. “I want to try to fix… this.” She gestured between them.

Nesta would have laughed if it weren’t for the nervousness in Feyre’s eyes. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think I’m ready to meet your friends quite yet.”

I know I'm not ready.

Nesta had been doing better since the semester started; that much was true. Even so, she rarely talked to anyone, save the obligatory conversations with professors as well as her T.A.’s. She only left the apartment for classes and never lingered on campus to study or socialize. Considering it was a challenge to talk with her peers, Nesta was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to make conversation with her estranged sister’s friends.

“It would mean so much to me if you met them, especially Rhysand.”

“I said another time.” Nesta’s voice was hard.

Feyre squeezed the bridge of her nose as she tried to reign in her temper. “Please, Nesta? It would be good to get out of the apartment.” She looked resigned, as if she knew Nesta would refuse. “You don’t even have to say anything. No one there will question your silence, I promise. They’re all easygoing.”

She wasn’t asking much of Nesta. In fact, Feyre was asking for the bare minimum. And as much as Nesta dreaded the idea of being surrounded by a group of complete strangers…

You need them as much as they need you. Her father’s words echoed in her head.

Nesta nodded. “Okay.”

And with that, the tether between them began to mend.

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

Feyre and Rhysand’s house lay at the edge of the city, the stars brighter without the light pollution of the city. Elain marveled at the mountainous backdrop as she and Nesta pulled up to their spacious home in Elain’s old Beetle. Nesta’s stomach twisted when she noticed several cars parked in the driveway. She should turn around and return home, she wasn’t ready for –

“Let’s go inside!” Elain sang as she unbuckled her seatbelt. She wore an off-the-shoulder pink dress, the pastel color complimenting her fair skin. The soft fabric fell just below her knees, a gentle breeze caressing the skirt of the dress. She was stunning. Nesta had told her as much when Elain emerged from her room.

Nesta, on the other hand, had chosen to wear ripped jeans and a black hoodie. How she and Elain were related, Nesta had no idea.

They strolled to the front door, Elain bouncing with each step. She’d gushed throughout the entire car ride about the stories Feyre had told her about Rhysand, which somehow led to Elain rambling for ten minutes about her dream wedding.

Gods, Nesta had never met a bigger hopeless romantic.

Sounds of laughter could be heard from inside as they stepped onto the front porch. Elain didn’t hesitate as she knocked three times.

Feyre answered the door just seconds later. Her golden hair tumbled to her shoulders, an easy smile on her face. Nesta had never seen her sister look so happy. She was glowing, and it wasn’t because of the warm lights behind her.

“You made it!” Feyre exclaimed happily, opening the door wider to let them inside. She noticed the dish in Elain’s hands as they walked past her. “You didn’t have to bring anything, El.”

Elain only scoffed as Feyre closed the door behind them. “Like you would have been able to stop me.”

Just as Feyre was about to address Nesta, a few people – her friends, Nesta presumed – entered the foyer.

“Everyone, these are my sisters, Elain and Nesta.” Feyre gestured to them as they stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Elain and Nesta, this is everyone.”

A tall, dark haired man approached them, sliding his hand onto Feyre’s lower back.

Nesta knew who it was before he spoke.

His violet eyes sparkled. “I’m Rhysand,” he reached in to shake their hands. “I’ve heard a lot about you both.”

Elain really wasn’t lying about his eyes.

 He directed a blindingly white smile at Elain to which she returned. But when his gaze slid to Nesta, his grin slipped slightly, eyes narrowing.

What the hell?

“Well, isn’t this lovely,” a seductive voice drawled. Nesta’s attention was grabbed by the tiny girl who’d spoken, her hair sleek and short. She was standing at the kitchen table with her arms crossed over her chest, staring at Rhysand, and a raised brow that seemed to say, Really?

“I’m Amren.” She flashed Elain and Nesta a wicked grin. “Excuse Rhys’s poor manners.”

Nesta liked her already.

“This is Azriel,” she pointed to the brooding man behind her. He nearly blended into the shadows, his presence calm and quiet. Nesta couldn’t help but notice the scarring on his hands. She instinctively pulled her sweater over her wrists.

The man – Azriel – gave them an awkward wave, his gaze hovering on Elain who returned his greeting with an equally awkward wave of her own.

“I’m Morrigan,” a raspy voice sounded from the kitchen counter. A woman sat at the breakfast bar with a wine glass in hand. Her lips were painted the same crimson color of the drink she held. “But you can call me Mor.”

Another woman stood behind her, hands playing with Mor’s blonde hair. Her skin was a dark hazelnut, waves of thick, black hair framing her face. She wore a bright smile. Together they were regal, the picture of beauty. “This is my girlfriend, Aurra.”

Aurra murmured a greeting, to which Elain reciprocated with a bubbly enthusiasm.

“There’s one more of us, Cassian, but he’s in the Marines. He’s stationed in Turkey right now,” Rhysand explained. He directed the statement towards Elain. He didn’t seem to care to acknowledge Nesta’s presence. “He’ll be back in December.”

“Oh, I completely forgot!” Feyre jumped in. She looked at both Nesta and Elain. “I meant to mention this to you guys when I visited you the other day. Cassian actually lives in the same apartment complex as y’all. I think his place is just a floor above you, so you guys will get the chance to meet each other. It’s hard, though, because he never knows when he’s going to be deployed.”

Nesta nodded absentmindedly, uninterested in these people’s lives. She doubted she would see them again, much less the friend who lived near them.

After the introductions, everyone got settled. Feyre gestured Nesta and Elain to follow her into the living room.

“Dinner isn’t ready quite yet,” she explained, sending a pointed glare where Rhysand stood. He lifted his hands up in surrender. “So, I figured we can just drink and chat until Rhys can cook us something edible.”

Mor snorted from the kitchen at Feyre’s jab. She grabbed Aurra��s hand and they waltzed to the armchair that sat next to the vast fireplace. Aurra pulled Mor onto her lap, Mor giggling as she took a sip of her wine.

Feyre offered them wine. Nesta took hers and followed everyone to the living room. Luckily, she found a seat that distanced her slightly. Feyre sat atop a stool, Rhysand behind her to keep an eye on dinner. Amren lounged on a plush floor cushion, leaving Elain and Azriel on the loveseat.

The conversation came easy. Rhysand and Mor fired question after question at Elain, to which she answered happily. Feyre kept her word; everyone respected Nesta’s space. She was faced only with the occasional, “More wine?” or “The bathroom is over there.” It gave Nesta the opportunity to sit back unbothered and listen to the conversation.

“So how do you all know each other?” Elain asked curiously, gesturing to Feyre’s friends.

Rhysand smiled with fond memories. “I lived across the street from Azriel as a kid. Cassian is my adopted brother, so we all grew up with each other. Mor over here is my cousin. We all went to the same university. Amren…” Rhysand got silent. A small, contemplative smile grew on his face. “I don’t really know how she joined us. I’m pretty sure she approached us and told us that we were now friends with her.”

Amren nodded to confirm as everyone laughed. Her smile resembled the Cheshire Cat.

“And Feyre darling,” Rhysand looked at his girlfriend lovingly. “She stumbled upon us in our sophomore year. That’s a story for another night though.”

Nesta couldn’t help but snort at his nickname for her. Feyre shot her a glare.

After dinner, which ended up being soup thanks to Rhysand’s lack of cooking skills, they all retreated back to the living area. Feyre popped open yet another bottle of wine to top everyone off, and Elain brought out the cupcakes she’d made.

As they were enjoying her sister’s dessert, which was droolworthy like every dish in the past, Elain and Azriel caught Nesta’s attention from the loveseat. She’d noticed they hadn’t spoken much beyond “Hello” and “How are you?” Nesta attributed that to Elain’s innately nervous nature, so she was surprised when she struck up a conversation with him.

“Do you go to school?” Elain asked Azriel timidly, taking a sip of wine.

His head dipped down, tufts of black hair falling into his eyes. “I, uh, work at an animal shelter.”

Elain gasped loudly. She clutched his leg and looked at him with wide eyes. “I love animals! I want to rescue a dog.” Elain began rambling about the bunnies who lived in her garden, the many strays she’d found on the street back in high school, the bird she tended to when she noticed his broken wing.

Nesta watched Azriel smile for the first time tonight. Where most men would cringe from Elain’s incessant chatter, he leaned forward with interest. Nesta could tell he was hanging on to every word that left Elain’s mouth.

As the night went on, Nesta watched the dynamic between everyone. Where Azriel was timid, Mor was booming. She was always laughing at something (usually her own joke), and she made her opinions known. Nesta respected that.

Amren, though? Amren was a creature of her own. She was snarky to her friends, but the love could easily be seen in her eyes. Nesta immediately took to her.

And Rhysand? Nesta was unnerved by how… domestic Feyre and her boyfriend were. They acted like they were a married couple, for gods’ sake. She got second hand commitment phobia just by looking at them.

When it was time for them to leave, Feyre’s friends demanded they join again next week. Elain promised they’d be back again with a giggle, and Nesta swore she saw the light in Azriel’s eyes flare.

So, once a week, the lot of them got together to hang out. Feyre and Rhysand hosted most dinners thanks to their spacious house but occasionally, Mor and Aurra offered their place which was equally gorgeous.

As the weeks passed, Nesta slowly became more comfortable with everyone – though Rhysand typically avoided her, and she did the same. Though she remained near silent during the nights, Nesta found herself looking forward to the dinner gatherings.

And perhaps, perhaps she could find a home here.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Hello! I'm pretty sure I saw you mention a while ago that you were disappointed by confessions of the fox, would you mind explaining why? I've seen mostly good things about it myself. If I misremembered then I'm sorry and I hope you have a good day :))

I think this is one of my less popular opinions. And I understand - we so rarely get historical fiction with trans folk as the titular character (indeed, we rarely get any fiction what that). So I get people’s desire to laud it. 

For me though? It fundamentally didn’t work as a book. As a story.  

Let me count the ways. (Apologies in advance for the length of this.)

First: If you’re trans-ing someone who was historically cis instead of seeking to find a real, historical trans or gender-nonconforming person, I have questions. 

Most of the questions can be summed up as: Why? 

I struggle with historical fiction that takes a cis person and re-imagines them as trans as if there aren’t already literal historical, real trans people out there whose stories can be told. It smacks as (unintended, well meaning) erasure of lived experiences. 

Jack Sheppard, to the best of our knowledge, was a cis dude. There were trans folk in London in the 1710s and ‘20s. You might have to dig a bit for them, but they’re there. Because trans folk have always been there. 

Second: Characterisation 

This is more personal taste, but I found Jack and his girlfriend Bess to be inexcusably boring. How a trans, thief and gaolbreaker in 1720s gin-soaked London can be written as boring is anyone’s guess. But he was. 

Jack had no real personality and I found his story to be uninteresting. Oh, he’s the world’s best thief and gaolbreaker, that’s nice. But on its own it isn’t enough.

He had few to no faults. Childhood trauma isn’t a personality. Nor is being trans. And the author relies heavily on gender + occupation (thief-ness) to equal personality. So it falls very flat.  

Bess, his girlfriend, is a mixed-race sex worker from the Fens (even though actual real-Bess was from Edgeware). She seems to only exist to demonstrate that Jack is good at sex. She also veers a little into the Mystical Woman of Colour Healer Who Aids The White Person on their Journey of Self Discovery trope. 

Neither Bess nor Jack undergo any real change in the book. They exist in a weird stasis and experience no development, despite living through some harrowing things. They’re wooden dolls who move through the story without really engaging with, or being influenced by, the things around them. 

The other “main” character is a modern Academic who “found” this supposed “manuscript” of Jack’s life and is annotating it. His story unfolds in the foot notes and it’s just so messy if not a bit contrived. It didn’t make sense. I think the author was trying to convey that the Academic was in a sort of dystopian future, but if that’s the case it didn’t work. And if that’s not the case, the entire inclusion of the Academic’s story served only to annoy and take me out of the reading experience. 

E.g. There’s a scene where the Academic is being taken to task by the Dean for playing stupid games on his phone during office hours and like honey, lapsed-historian/academic here, trust me the Dean doesn’t give a fuck what you do during your office hours so long as you’re in your office and students can come bother you about their poor marks. 

The manuscript is supposedly being sought after by this pharmaceutical company for nefarious reasons that never struck me as being entirely realistic/believable. Also, the university was spying on this non-tenured, slightly useless Academic as if he somehow mattered? Which made zero sense. Anyway, it was stupid and should have been ripped out of the final version. OR changed substantially. 

Jonathan Wild, the thief taker (main antagonist to Jack), is probably the only interesting person. 

Third: Lack of Follow Through, or, the Fabulism Was Not Used Well 

The book tries to blend in some fabulism to the world by giving Jack the ability to “hear” the thoughts of inanimate objects. This could have been fun and gone to some interesting places, but it failed to deliver. 

I personally found the shoe-horning in of “capitalism commodifies everything” to be sloppy and heavy handed. It was done with little grace and didn’t sit right given that we are dealing with the early modern period. Yes, you can use the past to critique our modern woes, but do it intelligently. Don’t slap modern points of view and understandings of things onto the past and expect them to make sense. 

Anyway, Jack spends the book hearing inanimate objects talk to him, asking him to “free” them, or something. And uh .. .it doesn’t go anywhere interesting after that. 

Also the correlation one can draw from these objects to, you know, slaves, is uncomfortable. Especially as it’s the cargo of the EIC ships that Jack hears. I don’t think it’s intended in any sort of malicious way, but the allusion is there and I always found it to be distinctly uncomfortable. 

Fourth: Misuse of Marxist Theory, or, More Heavy Handed Moralizing that Annoyed the Dear Reader because it wasn’t subtle and, more importantly, it wasn’t done intelligently. 

So, the author is an academic - studies 18th century lit. Which is readily apparent as his Academic (self-insert) character is, I believe, supposed to be a historian and uh ... you can tell that the author doesn’t know enough to wing that. E.g. How he interprets some of the laws and customs of the time. Instead of understanding the social, economic and, most importantly, environmental issues that gave birth to laws like “the corporation of the city of London owns the streets so you can’t muckrake” he chooses to understand them through a very 21st century lens (and a Marxist one at that. I know I’m perhaps a bit uncool for this, but I find the application of Marxist theory to the early modern period to be ... not useful). 

Do you know why, mid/late 17th century London passed these municipal laws? Because of the god damn fucking plague you numb nut. You absolute buffoon. It had nothing to do with “oh the City/government is evil and wants to own you” it had to do with the fact that no one cleaned the goddamn street. So the city took over doing it. 

Prior to this, in London, you were supposed to keep the street in front of your building clear of waste, debris, refuse etc. No one did this, of course. I live where it’s cold and snows a lot and people can barely shovel the 2 sq ft of sidewalk in front of their driveway in the winter. I dread the idea of an average homeowner being expected to keep the street clear and clean. 

Anyway, guess what dirty streets attract? Vermin. Guess what comes with vermin? Plague. Guess what happened in 1665/66? The great plague of London! 

17th century England might not have understood germ theory, but they did understand correlation. (Also, the population of London was doubling at the back half of the 17th century and streets needed to be reliably cleared for through-traffic reasons etc. etc.) 

ugh, sorry, that one in particular drove me up the wall. Not everything is a capitalist conspiracy. Especially when we’re talking about municipal by-laws from the 17th century. 

And I understand the temptation to read a lot of modern interpretation of words like “corporation” and “company” onto bodies that used these same words in 17th and 18th centuries. But the weight, meaning and connotation of “the worshipful company of merchant adventurers” is different from, I don’t know, “the tech company google” or whatever. The early 18th century is when we start seeing the birth of the stock market, of “venture companies” (i.e. merchant adventure companies), of a lot of the language and proto-iterations of what will grow to be economic institutions of our time. But it doesn’t mean they’re the same and that difference is important. Because Jack Sheppard is a man living in 1720 he’s not going to be having our modern 21st century critiques of capitalism because his engagement with the economic systems of his time would have been radically different to our own experiences. 

Fifth:  Unbelievable Top Surgery & Recovery 

So, Jack gets top surgery. In 1720s fever-ridden London. While quarantining in a brothel. 

And he lived! No infection! No tearing! He was up and about in a matter of days. I don’t remember if his nipples survived the operation or not but somehow Jack did. Without anesthetics! Or you know, any concept of hygiene. 

His Mystical Girlfriend Who Exists to Show How Good Jack is at Sex is also somehow Magically Very Literate and also Magically a Surgeon? and performs this surgery on Jack in the middle of a plague. 

The entire ordeal was so poorly handled in terms of believability that I literally set the book down and said “what the fucking fuck” to the empty room then drank wine before finishing the chapter. 

An aside, it is funny thinking about the quarantine chapters at this point. I read COTF when it first came out a few years ago. Sweet summer children, we none of us had any idea how to write quarantine scenes. 

That reminds me: the entire quarantine thing was presented as the government trying to control movement and take away people’s rights etc. instead of a very normal, typical response that cities had been enacting since 1350. Samuel Pepys, who lived through the 1665/66 epidemic, barely even notes the restrictions. He’s like just “hmmm I’d love to go to the pub but I also don’t want to die. so. *shrug*” 

At the time of the author’s writing, most of us in the western world had no idea how normal and day-to-day disease was for our ancestors and yes, sometimes there would be crackdowns to try and curb it if an epidemic hit. That was part and parcel of life. So again, Jack and Bess wouldn’t be like “ooooh we’re 21st century slightly libertarian lefitsts who think the government is doing this to control us and for nefarious purposes”. Much more likely, they would have been like Pepys and viewed it as nuisance, albeit a necessary one. 

Sixth: Overall Lack of Realism 

I think I’ve noted the big moments where I was like “no one in the early 18th century would think that I’m pretty certain”. This isn’t to say people didn’t grouse, complain about London government (and the king etc.), critique or question the world they lived in. They absolutely did! Regularly. With great verve and gusto, if the broadsheets are anything to go by. But their critiques, their complaints, suggestions for bettering life, are not the same as ours. Because how could they be? They lived in a different world, were responding to specific things, grew up hearing and believing certain things etc. 

Jack, aside from having minimal to no character, really did read like a modern slightly-libertarian leftist who was plunked into a novel that takes place three hundred years ago. 

In addition to unrealistic political views, his understanding of body, gender, sexuality and identity also read as incredibly modern. Now this is harder, because we have so few extant sources from that time on those who lived non-gender conforming lives, and from their point of view, so yes creative imagining and interpretation is the rule of the day for writing that. 

But, we do know how in general the average person engaged and understood gender and sexuality and that would, naturally, inform anyone whose experience was different. And that base line of “probably what a typical cis Englishman or woman felt about their body and identity” wasn’t present. At all. 

Indeed, gender engagement at that time was interesting. The concept of the body, the role of the physical body, how it was interpreted is absolutely fascinating and the author could have done some really cool things with that. But he didn’t. He went for slapping a modern interpretation onto the past. 

At this point, write a dystopian novel and make Jack a fictional character. That probably would have gone over better, for me at least. The conceit can remain the same: It’s the year 4056 and an Academic found a manuscript from the year 3045 when the Dystopia Was a Thing - and go from there. 

--- 

I think part of what made this very popular and why people seem so taken with it is that it reads smart. It reads like someone who has immersed themselves in that world etc. because of the slang and language used. 

Yet, for me, as someone who has studied this period extensively, especially queerness in London in the late 17th and early 18th centuries, it read flat and unrealistic. 

I was initially very enthused when I started it. There are some posts to that effect on my blog. But it very quickly went south. It tries very hard to be Radical and Smart and Subversive and Critiquing Everything and so I think it fails at the fundamental thing it should be doing: telling a good story. 

(Note: The book does try and address racism in London at this time. It also felt a bit forced. And Jack seemed to have no prejudices or preconceived notions about Indian and Black folk which isn’t realistic. Like, it might make him #Problematic but my dude, you’re writing a man born in 1702. He’s going to have some iffy views. That can be challenged! Absolutely. But they still would have existed.) 

---

Thank you for the ask! I again apologize for the length of the reply. 

[storydays]

Chapter 1: The Adventure Begins p1

The elven king, Xaius stands on the parapet of a great citadel overlooking a massive, smoldering battlefield. "Archers! Fire on my signal! Catapults! Hold for the next wave!" He turned to give an order, when a hideous creature, a gargoyle made of twisting shadow, swoops in toward him.  Xaius reaches for his sword,as a blast of light catches the gargoyle in the side, blowing it into nothingness. The king turned to see his second-in-command, the battle mage Ellara, approaching with a gentle smile. "It looked like you needed a hand, my love" "I had it handled. What's your status?" Xaius asked. 

"The Shadow forces are many, but they're weak. Our front lines are driving them back. " The elvlen woman smiled wearily. "I-I can't believe it..but we might actually win this th--" She gasped hearing a thunderous roar in the distance. "Gods above...it's the DreadLord! Those madmen actually summoned the DreadLord." Xaius gasped, but looked down to see Ellara's gentle but firm grip. "My love, what do we do?" She whispered.  Xaius turned to her, eyes sparkling, his face hard and stoic. "We fight. We die.  And we pray that some day, a hero will rise to avenge us..someday." 

*Two thousand years later*

In a quaint little tavern in the town of Riverbend, a grinning pair of brothers downed their drinks, as the younger continued telling one of his favorite stories."So what happened next?" chuckled a 21 year old Ezra. His white hair had now grown down to his bottom but he kept it in a braid that hung around his shoulder, bangs brushed to the left side of his face, covering his birthmark, but allowed his gold eyes to peek out. He set down his mug of wine, and locked eyes with his brother across the table.

"The Dreadlord strode down the battlefield, boom,boom BOOM! And then--" His brother was cut off by the grumpy bartender. "We've been hearing this story for years, Kade. The Dreadlord attacked and destroyed the great elven empire." He stated, wiping down a nearby table. Kade scoffed. "Well, yeah, that's the short version....but you don't have the flair for storytelling that I do." Kade crossed his arms and pouted like a child, instead of the 16 year old he was. 

Ezra leaned back in his seat, and looked around. They were sitting at their favorite table in the Dancing Pig Tavern, listening to his brother tell another story. 'It's crazy to think that 10 years ago, we were watching over Kade through his sickness...now he's here telling tall tales like those books he likes to read.'  Kade and Ezra weren't only brothers, but they were also best friends. Kade was well known through Riverbend but not everyone was as easily amused as the elf was. Kade blended in well with the humans, with his short brown hair, bright green eyes, and freckles splashed across his face, while Ezra stuck out like a sore thumb. 

Ezra tuned back into the conversation to hear: "I don't care how well you spin your tales! You still need to pay for your drink." The bartender gruffed at the smaller human. "Barkeep, you wound me." Kade huffed, his mood darkening slightly. Chuckling, Ezra paid his half of the tab and gave the younger a look. "Pay up, Kade. Mother taught us better than that." He stated seriously. "You too, Ezra? I swear, no one in this town appreciates the value of a good tale! Fine, I'll pay. But we're not coming back here!" Kade cried dramatically. 

"Yes we are." Ezra and the bartender laughed louder when Kade added at the end, "Well, not tonight at least!" Ezra downed his wine and Kade finished his soda, before paying his side of the tab, and the two left the bar for the night. Ezra looked around their humble village before letting out a long sigh. "Another night in Riverbend. Same as any other." He mumbled gloomily. "That's not true. Some nights I manage to get us free drinks." Ezra barked a laugh before shoving his brother playfully, unable to stay gloomy around his brother. 

"You know what I'm--" Ezra's sentence was cut off when he bumped into a tall human heading towards the outskirts of the village. "Hey, watch it!" "Ugh, sorry 'bout that."  Ezra stepped back, eyeing the person in front of him. He was a rugged looking man with tanned skin,wavy shoulder length brown hair, glowering brown eyes, and he had a scar on his left eyebrow. He was wearing a cream long sleeved shirt, shoulder guards, wrist gauntlets, green cargo like pants, with a dagger on his left hip. 

"Who're you?"Ezra asked, while the man retorted, " None of your business, that's who." Two people that the elf did recognize followed the handsome man. Town Constable Angus and his tough as nails apprentice Grenn. "This here's Mal Volari, from Whitetower." The elder man  explained. "He's a world-famous adventurer!" Grenn grinned. "Wait, really?" Kade asked shocked. "Well..I wouldn't say world famous, more like continent-famous really." Mal snickered to himself. 

"Well, it's nice to meet you." Ezra said, minding his manners. His poor mother would be rolling in her grave if he didn't at least pretend to be nice. "Yeah, great, nice to meet you too. Now if you don't mind, we've got some important business to get to..." Mal was interrupted by Kade, "Adventurer business? Around here?" "Mal's got a lead on a powerful ancient artifact in the elven ruins to the south! If we can get it, it'll sell for a fortune!" Grenn said excitedly. "Damn the Gods, Grenn, keep it down!" Hissed Angus, "You want everyone in this town to hear about it?" "No need to be so nasty about it." Ezra mumbled, noticing Mal's raised eyebrow at him. 

"You mean...to the north, right? There's no ruins to the south." Kade corrected.  Mal shoots Angus a glare and the man shrugs. "Y-Yes! To the north! That's what she meant!" He fumbled over his words. "Hang on...there's a powerful ancient relic somewhere around here? And you're going to get it?" Ezra spoke up, excitement coloring his voice. "I got a tip, okay? A good one. From someone willing to pay a whole lot of gold. Angus and Grenn here, they're going to help me claim it. Now if you don't mind..." Mal made to leave again when Ezra gasped the man's arm, and stated, "We'd like to come along." "E-Ezra!" Kade gaped. 

"What? It's the chance of a lifetime." Gold eyes playfully sparkle at his brother's expression. Mal eyed the elf before letting out a weary sigh. "No can do. This is dangerous ancient crypt business. I can't have some rookie along bumbling things up." The human noted how the elf stiffened, and prepare himself for an argument.

"I'm not a rookie." glared Ezra. "Really? Ever pried a jewel from the hands of a cursed skeleton, knowing one wrong move would bring the whole room down on your head?" Mal challenged, making Ezra falter. "I mean, not technically.." He deflated. "Ever stabbed a snarling croctopus through the eye on the deck of a burning ship?" Mal continued. "I don't..know what that is." admitted Ezra. "How about this? You ever killed a man? You ever been in a real fight?" Ezra hesitated. ""Yes, I have to both of those." He said darkly, sending chills down everyone's back. "That's what I thought. I like your hustle, I really do. But I don't have time for some kit who's still wet behind the ears." " 'Kit?' " wondered the elf. 

"It's a term for new adventurers..you know, like an apprentice?" Kade whispered." "See? You don't even know the terms. Which means you've got a long way ahead of you. Get out there, have some adventures of your own, learn some skills. Then come find me, we'll talk." Mal walked off towards the village gate, Angus laughing as he followed, Grenn sending her old friend a sad look. "Sorry, Ezra." "Well, that was a thing that happened." Kade laughed nervously at Ezra's silent fuming.  "He's wrong. I could've done it. I'm the one who taught Grenn to be the adventurer she is today! Angus is an old drunk ass who can barely stay on his feet half the time! 'Learn some skills' I've got plenty of skills!"

The duo began walking again, when Kade asked aloud, "Like..what?" "Well Father taught us to fight bare hand, and I've learned some things about wielding a sword from my travels with Mother. I'm not useless." Ezra ran a finger over the silver ring on his left ring finger in habit. "That Mal guy really got under your skin, didn't he?" astonished the green eyed brother. "I don't know, I suppose I'm just jealous. I want to go on grand adventures and explore." He sighed dreamily. "And get fabulously rich." Kade grinned, Ezra matching him. "That too." 

"Aw, don't be hard on Riverbend. This town's been good to us! Not every human village would take such care of a couple of kids like us." 'Or would allow an elf to stay without being treated horribly.' went unsaid between the two. "I know, Kade! And it'll always be my home. I just...want to experience something more. It's not like a great adventure is just going to drop into my lap." Ezra huffed, brushing his bangs to the side again. Green eyes watch his older brother for a moment before clapping his shoulder. "Well, don't worry, brother. We'll experience it all together. " Ezra chuckled softly. "I can always count on you, Kade."

"But for now, all we've got is Riverbend. So, where do you want to start tonight?" Ezra grinned, "Let's head to the night market." "Uh, did you miss the part about having little coin?" Kade raised a eyebrow. "And you think I'm going to let that stop me? Come now, brother, you know me better than that." 

The brothers weaved their way through the  bustling night market, listening to vendors call out what was for sale: Fruits, meats, silks from the capital, and fish from the shore. An elderly food vendor turned and shook her head at the boys with a warm smile. "Well, well. If it isn't my two favorite customers. Two copper pieces will get you the finest pears we have." "Watch this." Ezra mumbled to Kade, before confidently walking towards the vendor, with a sly grin.

"My dear vendor, we don't have any coin..but is coin what really matters in this world?" "Excuse me?" The vendor chuckled, used to the young man's antics. "Love...passion...a moment of intimacy. Why, what is coin compared to that? Surely a beauty like you can understand." The white haired elf purred, his voice smooth like silk, eyes aglow. The woman barked a laugh at Ezra. "You are an absolute rascal, you know that? Now take these and get out of here boys." Laughing, she handed him two fresh pears, as he winked his thanks. 

Ezra bit into his as Kade stared at his back with wide eyes. "How? How did that possibly work?" He raced to catch up with Ezra. "What can I say? I'm the best flirt in Riverbend." His brother laughed before finally eating his pear, walking to the town square when he spoke up again. 

"You see? Riverbend isn't so bad. They've taken good care of us." "You're right. I just wish--" "HELP! Please HELP!" A shout echoed through the air. The duo turned to see a young woman in priestess's robes ran into the town square, before grabbing into Ezra, gripping his arms to keep herself from falling,Ezra eyes her. 

She had long red hair the fell down to her armpits in ringlets, some strands falling into her face, framing her light brown eyes. She was wearing light pink robes, with a silver and violet necklace on her neck. "You need to help me! Please!" She begged. "Whoa there, what's wrong?" Ezra asked. The woman straightened herself out, standing tall. But Ezra could see behind her disciplined posture, was a hint of fear. 

"I am Nia Ellarious, a priestess of the Light. My mentor and I are on a pilgrimage...but we were attacked by an owlbear on the road! I managed to escape while he distracted the beast. But he needs help! Now!" "Have no fear, young priestess..we are brave adventures." "Really?" Kade snorted at his brother's antics. "Shh! Don't mess this up!" hissed Ezra as Nia smiled in relief. "Thank you so much! Please, hurry now. He's just down the road." She began rushing off as Ezra and Kade shared a hesitant look before running after the ginger, but not before Ezra grabbed his sword on the way, strapping it to his left hip. 

"Let's go."

@imturaxamara @bladesappreciationweek #bladesAW

https://bladesappreciationweek.tumblr.com/

[astrognossienne]

aries: cocaine, porn stars, neon bikinis, trashing hotel rooms, driving at 120 mph in a gull-wing mercedes, flying an f-3 upside down faster than the speed of sound, red hair, willful natures, the need for speed, ayrton senna crashing and burning, staying up late, dark alleys with neon signs, leather gloves, big bold personalities, always on the scent of a new conquest, being three sheets to the wind, lightning storms, the thrill of danger, responds to life according to whim and impulse, throwing bottles of champagne, creates colourful havoc, statuesque figures, tempestuous unquiet, living fast dying young and leaving a good looking corpse

taurus: black heels, dining at cap ferrat, men’s only gatherings, well-manicured and elaborate roof gardens, obscenely huge diamonds and emeralds, the scent of hawaiian orchids, givenchy, receives guests in a clawfoot tub, high-end call girls, whatever lola wants lola gets, fur coats over nightdresses, elaborate dinner parties, the joys of food and wine, the sweaty funk of sex, racy lingerie, exotic vegetation shrouded in mist, the feelings of connection to the texture of life itself

gemini: wild 5-star hotel parties, silken voices dripping with lust, flirts, the arms and beds of various lovers, brilliant humour, tequila shots, an aura like an electric light, intrigue, extravagant debauchery, insatiable curiosity, incandescent energy, wanderers banned in several countries, tragically carefree, the laughter of the damned, trying new things, devastating wit and a rapier-sharp mind that verbally decimates anybody who crosses them, not easily forgotten

cancer: elegantly wasted, opium, living in the south of france, big girls don’t cry, voracious maneaters, dazzlingly beautiful and selfish, long-stemmed white roses, wild wickedness, mysterious private clubs that you can’t buy your way into, lunar land plots, silk stockings, whispers becoming screams, very picky when it comes to their lovers, vintage madeleine vionnet couture gowns, spilling the finest vintage champagne in an exclusive icelandic lagoon, has the world at their feet, survives all competition, the cruelest summer, if they don’t wanna be found they won’t be found

leo: crowns and thrones, royal regalia, pomp and circumstance, life lived in a state of ecstatic passion, exhibitionism, jezebels, recklessly getting too close to the sun, bullish scarlet women, a blend of glamour and casual relaxation, straight-shooters, hedonists who yearn for approval, acting on feelings, wearing their clothes with panache, rhythmic music and dazzling fireworks climaxing together, the quintessential society celebrity, fabulous operatic creatures, in control yet over the top

virgo: a member of dark academia who runs away and poses nude for playboy, a provocative earth mother, femmes d’esprits, divas legendarily difficult to please, honey soaps from provence, fiercely intelligent, shamelessly acquisitive, poor individual who makes good, tight corsets, discipline, undiluted bitchery, intellectual snobbery, pleasant yet distant, ancient mansions, throws veiled jibes at the innocent and unsophisticated, brutally honest about the things they choose to be brutally honest about

libra: voguing, black and white film, spilling tea while drinking tea, party planning, the golden age of supermodels, shameless social climbing, a coquettishly charming veneer belies their ruthless egoism, épée fencing, clubbing, vintage gianfranco ferré, l’art de recevoir, a nymphenburg porcelain peacock, swanky costume balls, a marksman shooting a rose out from under someone’s nose while on liquid ecstasy, new romantics, falling truly deeply and madly for someone

scorpio: absinthe, skulls, handcuffs, angels of death, gods who are only satisfied with blood sacrifices, the viper room, kings and queens of the night, emotional time bombs, vampires, the bacchanalia, flamenco dance, fanatical and destructive, dark passion, their only hate springs from their only love, doesn’t exist unless in the middle of a crisis, transactions in darkened rooms, wears black wedding dresses and red to a funeral, darling monsters, unsolvable problems

sagittarius: platinum blondes, breast implants, red patent leather stilettos, low-cut tight dresses, exotic islands, endearingly loud vivaciousness, high-stakes gambling, studio 54, volatile relationships, hot walks of shame, vulgar humour, thrilling storytellers, members of the mile high club, jet skiing in monaco, widespread conflagration capable of burning a million acres, cultural contradictions, moral dilemmas, experiences the world, outrageous, adds insult to injury, takes things way too far

capricorn: dark hashish, ice picks, cut cheekbones, men who are lady-killers, no nonsense, red lipstick, resilience, catching a midnight train, black satin sofas, stainless steel furniture, ebony and gilt bronze writing desks, writing lavish jetsetting off as business expenses, chilled russian vodka, passionate yet practical, prickly charisma, luxury penthouses, long cigarettes, sniffy disdain for certain people conceals inadequacy, bitterly resents their betters, nonentities with fierce ambition, just another heart scared to bleed

aquarius: victorian curiosity cabinets, loves to shock, careless organic sexiness, a luxury ski trip to scandinavia on a private jet, skyr, auto erotic asphyxiation, kinky sex games, no safe word; eccentric socialites; patron of artists, musicians, movie stars and couturiers; surrealist sculptures made from sugar, printed notes back to front with the reversed writing transposed onto a sky by magritte, issey miyake couture

pisces: sickly sweet fragrances, ouija boards, bouquets of flowers from wealthy admirers, a small collection of expensive crystal, blatantly deceitful yet vapidly simplistic, shadowy and enigmatic, shameless gossips, lost children, sheltered, sentimental, and spoiled, blue glass eyes that stare into space like a zombie, uncontrolled crazy, diving into the sea from a yacht, tragic figures, the disorientation after taking a hit of ketamine, l’appel du vide

[juniorformulamotorsport]

Wednesday, 18th September/Thursday, 19th September 2019 – Restaurant a l’Echevin, Colmar

As part of the deal at the Hostellerie Le Maréchal we had two night’s dinners included (not three, no matter what the young man on reception when we checked in insisted) and although you never know what you might get when it comes to hotel restaurants, in what is clearly paradise for gourmets, Alsace and the restaurant A l’Échevin did not let us down. The first night we drank a glass of local crémant in the bar first, alongside a snack of some rather wonderful pastry straws that were as light as you could wish, which suggested that at least their pastry chef was up to speed.

We then moved into the restaurant and were pleased to be shown to our table (Table 2 apparently) in the long, narrow dining room that overlooked the waters of La Lauch and the barques moored outside. We were slightly less pleased with the acoustics that meant we could hear every word issuing from the irritating couple on the table behind ours (Table 1) but that’s not the hotel’s fault! We were on a set menu with matching wines as part of the deal that the hotel had offered so the decision making process had been largely taken away from us. Now to see if the rest of the brigade could cook as well as the pastry chef. An amuse-bouche of a foie gras paté and an apricot sorbet suggested the answer to that question might well prove to be “yes”.

The menu itself started with what was listed as “Presskopf” of smoked haddock and smoked trout, basically the chef’s take on a regional speciality, brawn, but with fish and not the more usual meat. It was light, delicate, the jelly perfectly set and the herbs just providing a lift of flavour to counteract the oily fish. There were tiny chunks of vegetable alongside the chunks of trout and haddock and it not only looked lovely, it was lovely.

Fillet of pike-perch cooked in Riesling, with mangetout turned out to be a perfectly executed piece of fish, the skin crisp and golden, sitting on top of a bed of mangetout, with a puddle of creamy Riesling inflected sauce. Throw in the odd micro-herb and enjoy! It was also a perfect excuse to rip off a piece of the brilliant bread roll and dunk it in the leftover sauce afterwards. The kitchen was having none of that back!

With both the fish dishes we drank a 2018 Alsace Pinot Blanc from Pierre Henri Ginglinger. The wine comes from a blend of Pinot Auxerrois from different parcels, harvested by hand and fermented over several months before being aged on fine lees. It’s a bright yellow in color, with white-fleshed fruit aromas, and peach notes. We liked it enough to make a note of it and to consider whether we needed to visit the Ginglinger domaine. While we pondered that question, the meat course arrived, a serving of leg of deer with cranberries, cross-border pasta specialty spaetzlés (as the French appear to spell it) and fromage blanc. The meat was cooked to perfection, as were the vegetables and to add a fillip to what might have seemed quite a restrained plate, there was also a “pastilla” full of slow cooked meat to enjoy alongside the pink cooked flesh that we’d been expecting. It was all beautifully executed and we knew we’d made a good choice to eat in the hotel.

A serving of perfectly kept Munster cheese from a local farm came next and was just the thing to help us finish off the red wine, a 2017 Alsace Pinot Noir “Les Princes Abbés” from Domaines Schlumberger, one of the big wine names in these parts. The wine itself is made of a blend of Pinot Noir (80% from the limestone Bollenberg plot and 20% from the marl-limestone Saering plot). Vinification occurs during a maceration period of two weeks and it is then matured in traditional tuns for 10 months. What you get is a wine that is cherry red with purple reflections, and an aroma of red fruit scents (blackcurrant, cherry) and a hint of rose. Redcurrant, blackberry, vineyard peach as it opens out and slight woodiness also come through. It was served at what we might consider a low temperature for red but to get the most out of these wines 16°C is what you’re looking for. It was smooth against the punchiness of the cheese and the combination was really rather wonderful. The spoonful of cumin seeds served alongside the cheese were an interesting – and welcome – touch too.

We finished off with a gourmandise du pâtissier which took the form of a gloriously gooey plum and raspberry confection, on a biscuit base that couldn’t be faulted, the ice cream all creamy and rich and the sorbet sharp and cleansing on the palate. It was looking good for our second night, and we went to bed happy after finishing our dessert wine (and cheering when the annoying pair behind us had cleared the room and gone to their own beds). It made the wine taste even better, which, as it was a 2017 Gewürztraminer Tradition – Gold Medal wine from Bott Frères was quite a smart trick. The wine is brilliant and crystal-clear in shades of light green and has a youthful, fresh and flowery (rose and acacia) aroma, added to an exotic taste of pineapple and oriental spices characteristic of Gewürztraminer. Perfect with dessert and on its own, as we went on to prove!

On the second night we wandered out for an aperitif, ending up drinking a glass of wine by the waterside at La Krutenau, for the simple reason that it was the first bar we came across that had waterside views and an empty table. It was another lovely evening so we were quite content to be outside a while longer.

On our return we decided it was getting a little too cold to stay out for a second aperitif so we took to the room just off the hotel’s courtyard for a second glass of wine and some more of their fabulous pastry straws, before swinging indoors to see what was on offer on the tasting menu. As ever they started us of with a delicate little amuse-bouche before things got serious. We’d deliberately avoided anything after the charcuterie plate at Joseph Cattin’s for the remainder of the day because we reckoned we’d be best arriving hungry. We didn’t even do the flammkuechen as aperitif nibbles thing because that seemed unwise. This time they started us with a cheesy mousse and a tiny tomato gazpacho, which was refreshing and sharp.

And then it was into the serious wine and food. The starter was a terrine of duck foie gras with figs and a fruit chutney. It was smooth and rich and fabulous and it probably didn’t need the toasted brioche with it (though I have to say we both caved and ate part of it). Given we also had more of their fantastic bread as well it was overkill, but gloriously so. With it we moved from the crémant to a far more suitable wine, a 2017 Pinot Gris from Maison Martin Jund, who are now entirely biodynamic in their practices. This wine is described as “expressive and tender, from the very beginning, a fruity wine if there is one”. The resulting wine is a golden yellow with metallic reflections, and the aroma is of ripe yellow fruits (pear, peach). It’s perfectly sweet and an ideal match for foie gras.

The second course was a crayfish casserole, tiny and packed with pieces of sweet-fleshed, juicy, tender crayfish tails, dotted with chives and swimming in a creamy sauce. I loved it (and the little Staub cocottes it was served in, which are from a brand that started in Alsace, and that cost an absolute fortune). I pondered the possibility of getting out of there with one hidden in my handbag! the sheer weight of it put me off the idea, if Lynne had not also vetoed it. We already had a fabric heart that was in our room as a present from the hotel when we arrived. That would be far easier to carry… I settled for mopping up the sauce with the bread roll and we sat and waited to see what else we would be fed.

The second fish dish was a piece of nicely filleted halibut, in a saffron sauce. Saffron is tricky stuff – overdo it and you have a sauce that is bitter and deeply unpleasant. Get it right and you have something golden and warm. They got it right and the fish was also perfect, white and flaking and moist, sitting on a small pile of fresh carrots and a pool of pale golden sauce. Both this and the crayfish came with a 2016 Grand Cru Froehn Riesling from Jean Becker. This wine is made from grapes grown on limestone and sandstone at 270 to 300m on soil consisting of dark gray schistose marls, with fine white limestone beds as well as carbonate and ferruginous nodules. The wine resulting wine is floral and fruity, combining richness, finesse and breadth regardless of varietal and there is a fine and strong acidity that becomes salinity and minerality with aging. Am excellent choice once again. Someone really knows their wine and food matches, and they want you to have the best Alsace can offer

The interlude was a palate cleansing lime and apple sorbet which really woke the tastebuds up and prepared us for a meaty main course and a change of wine.

This came in the shape of a pink-cooked beef fillet, with a fine selection of small organic vegetables including a smooth as silk potato puree, some pickled radish and onions (tiny, sweet, giving a lift to the meat), courgettes, carrots, fine beans and broccoli. The meat could probably have been cut with a spoon, it was so tender and perfectly cooked. There is a sure hand at work in the kitchen, in the shape of the head chef, Thierry Chefdeville, who has been here for two decades, producing a very harmonious menu where each dish could stand along but equally fits together. I would happily eat there again, and that was before we made it all the way through the menu.

The wine served with the beef was a 2017 Alsace Pinot Noir from Pierre Henri Ginglinger. This is made from a blend of Pinot Noir from different plots, harvested by hand, then de-stemmed and allowed to macerate for 15 days.  It is then moved to old wooden casks for malolactic fermentation. What you get as a result has a beautiful purple hue, and a nose that is very fruity with notes of cassis and cherries. It’s light, fresh and pleasant with a little tannin and is best served chilled down to between 12 and 14ºC. It also went very well with the assortment of three cheeses which included a relatively young Comté which always makes me happy. But then, Comté always makes me happy, a fact that can probably be confirmed by the bloke at Borough Market who sells it to me and to le Manoir Aux Quat’Saisons!

Pré-dessert was chocolate in a number of forms, including ice cream, and would have been a dessert in its own right (and certainly more than sufficient), especially with meringue as well, and I could have happily stopped there.

I was glad I didn’t stop there though. The pineapple and lemon cappuccino mojito-style might not have been desperately photogenic but it was desperately good, with a hit of alcohol and sharp pineapple, underneath a light, foaming lemon cream.

We ended the night full of food and nursing the dreaded food baby (twins I think), more than satisfied with our two dinners in a fine restaurant. We did get stuck with a second table full of irritating fellow diners again though, who were first minded to be annoyed by the service, which they felt was too slow (OK, it’s not quick but you’re there for an evening out so I’d prefer not to be rushed), and who then talked utter nonsense all night, strong in so many incorrect opinions (the Italians didn’t have any colonies or any colonial “adventures” – tell that to the Libyans, Ethiopians, Eritreans, and Somalians – and the Germans don’t make cheese being just two of them). So if you do go try and get Table 1 so there won’t be anyone behind you!

Travel/Food 2019 – Alsace and Baden, Days 6 and 7, Restaurant a l’Echevin, Colmar Wednesday, 18th September/Thursday, 19th September 2019 - Restaurant a l’Echevin, Colmar As part of the deal at the…

[rollilaptop]

Pink zebra sprinkles

Pink zebra sprinkles free#

Kudos to Pink Zebra for adding such a simple yet fun element to their packaging!Īs I said above, Jennifer generously let me choose the four scents that I want, and honestly, I had to consult with her a few times before I made my final decision! I probably drove her a little batty, but in the end it was soooo worth it because the scents I picked are PERFECT. When I opened up the boxes I got a fabulous surprise of fun, witty little notes inside! Out of the four boxes of Sprinkles, I got three different notes inside reading “Behind every great man is a woman rolling her eyes”, “Wrinkled is not one of the things I wanted to be when I grew up”, and my absolute favorite, “The other day someone said I could make ice cubes out of leftover wine. I couldn’t believe the amazing scent that they put off, even before I took them out of their boxes! Playing off of their Pink Zebra name, the Sprinkles arrived in the cutest white boxes with pink zebra stripes! The first thing that came to mind when I saw the boxes was that they would make a fabulous gift for an expectant mother, or even a bachelorette! The box screams “sassy” and I loved it. When the Sprinkles arrived on my doorstep, I could seriously smell them through the packaging and the shipping box that they arrived in. The variety of scents is incredible and I flip-flopped my mind several times before I finally landed on the four scents that would soon fill my house with a delicious aroma. Pink Zebra Sprinkles are beads of soft soy wax and fragrance oils that are blended together at highly concentrated levels, delivering up to 50% more scent than a typical candle would. Pink Zebra was created by Tom and Kelly Gaines, who after working for a candle manufacturer for over fifteen years, longed to pursue their dream of owning their own business and set off to create a fun, unique, high-quality product that would embody their incredible journey in the candle industry. Obviously, my son’s safety is my priority, but I can’t help miss the smell of a candle burning during the day, so that then poses the question, what can I do to change that? Thanks to Pink Zebra Sprinkles, I can now have the sweet, delicious scents throughout the house, without the danger of a candle! What is Pink Zebra? That’s why I was so excited to hear about Pink Zebra Sprinkles! Why do I love Pink Zebra Sprinkles? Keep reading to find out more about this great new way to make your home smell delicious! But let’s face it, candles and toddlers don’t really mesh and can cause quite the anxiety attack, so unless my baby boy is asleep, I keep the candle burning at bay. Whether it’s watermelon and strawberry scents in the summertime or pumpkin and cinnamon around the holidays, I absolutely love going from room to room smelling the sweet aroma of the candles burning.

Pink zebra sprinkles free#

Blank - feel free to contact her at She is available to discuss consultant opportunities with the company, hosting parties to earn free products or information on any products you may wish to purchase.There’s nothing that I like more than my house smelling delicious. Products include Candles, innovative Sprinkles (soft-soy wax), Simmer Pots, Simmer Lights, Re-sealable Reed Diffusers, Lotions & Soaps, and other home décor products. Customers may purchase products through and may host a party through a Consultant and earn FREE products. Pink Zebra is a Direct Selling Company that offers income opportunities for independent Consultants throughout the United States through high quality innovative home fragrance technology. She has been with the company since February 2012 and has worked hard to introduce Pink Zebra Home to the Midwest. Pink Zebra Home (and MidwestSprinkles) is proud to announce the promotion of Deb Blank as the first Manager for Wisconsin.

[erinlasgalen]

I should post my Yuri on Ice fics too ~

I realized this today lol.

Sooo, enjoy one of the fics I wrote back when the anime  was still ongoing xD

This is who I am, just follow me!    

After the disastrous party, Yuuri eats pirojki, gets kidnapped in the dead of night by a 15 year old secret fan, gets lost in snow, sings a popular (among skaters) song and acquires a new nickname. Not necessarily in that order.

–

It was snowing heavily in Moscow, coating everything and anything in a white blanket. It almost looked like the Earth itself was falling asleep under the lull of the crescent moon that was sparkling with a sneaky glint. It was 4 in the morning and the streets were as quiet as a mother who put her baby to sleep after hours of lulling…

Not even a single murmur could be heard.

“NOOUUUUU!”

Well, except for that unholy hoarse scream that could have woken up the whole neighborhood, that is, if they weren’t walking by the secluded highway that looked like the main setting for a horror movie scene with all the snow around.

What would have looked like an angry grandfather dragging his drunken grandson home for punishment for fooling around with young maidens, was actually a figure skating coach/trainee pair that had gotten a bit lost (not without the immense help from said trainee ) after the party they had disappeared from hours ago.

“I don’t waaaaant t’do another interview”, slurred the younger one, trying to get away from his mentor as fiercely as a drunken kitten, or a piggy, some might say.

Now this boy – well, MAN, was Katsuki Yuuri, Japan’s top figure skater, who always qualified for the finals of every championship there was and always lost spectacularly to everyone. Getting the last place was like his special karma or something. As if he was cursed to always qualify and fail for the whole world to see and laugh.

Nerves, they sure can get to you…scary! Get a grip, Katsuki-san!

Currently, he was cold, wet (partly, his feet were soaked through due to lousy old boots that needed to be changed ASAP!), hungry, and still quite drunk.

“Like hell you don’t!” growled the older man, tightening his vice grip on the boy and dramatically dragging him along the vast nothingness that was Russian Snowfall in the dead of night, or morning.

Whatever.

Now this charming eyebrow (yes he has extremely weird eyebrows that actually grow like that! Talk about hawk eyes…maybe all Italians have unique facial features?) man, was muttering profanities under his breath in a mix of broken English, flawless sexy Italian and extremely weird Japanese ( as if he learned it from watching anime … who the hell talks like that?)

“Not after what you pulled off today at the party! You were supposed to be serious and calm and collected, someone who can deal with anything!” he ranted, pace intensifying along with the force of his grip. Yuuri whimpered. And to think it was him who convinced the heartbroken skater to come to that party…

This man, well, in Yuuri’s eyes a demon currently, was his coach de la italiano, Celestino Cialdini, or “Ciaociao” for short and fluffy. Mind you, the nickname absolutely did NOT come from Phichit’s family dog, King, who coincidentally happened to be a chowchow. Not at all.  He was strict, always to the point and very hard to deal with at times. Also his eyebrows were distracting. And his eyes. The whole image always screamed ‘Lock-on, I am a predator, I’ll eat you alive’. Well, unless you fed him spaghetti or something.

“-..ked, well nearly naked! What was going through that idiot brain of yours at that time? Eh? Eeeeh? Not to mention the pole dancing! Why was there a pole anyways? Who brings a pole to a formal afterparty!!!“

Ah, it seems we got sidetracked a little, let’s get back to our merry duo now, shall we?

“What was that?!” roared the man, ponytail swishing back and forth with the speed they were gaining. It seemed that Yuuri had mumbled a small reply to that rhetorical question, trying to keep his balance and free himself at the same time while stumbling around in knee deep snow.  Luck was on their side or they both would have faceplanted long ago had it been deadly ice.

They would have made charming snow angels! Or devils…

“I said, t’was Chris…”

“Ah, yes”, a snort. “The sparkly eyelashes from Switzerland. Are they all like that? Their men are more feminine than their women!”

Yuuri’s eyes unfocused, remembering a certain Russian skater and their dance. He opened his mouth to say something, probably resembling an "Oh, Victor~” but was cut off with a harsh tug to the middle of the street.

“And you are still not getting off the interview! Come on we need to get a ride! WE are going back to the hotel, YOU are getting some sleep and in the morning YOU and your FABULOUS FLAMENCO self will be giving an interview. And don’t you DARE dodge questions!”

Yuuri gave his best (he practiced on his own sister!) puppy eyes. But of course his coach was immune.

Italians, I say…

Ciaociao narrowed his eagle eyes and grunted, “And no, I will NOT be answering anything in your stead.”

“Bu..but it’s 4! Like, morning 4! Super late night em..early 4!!!”, the whining intensified. “We’re never going t’ find a taxi or ANY car anyways! Can we just…um, you know, just a, uh…”

Well, that really was a problem. Quite a big one, it seemed, I mean, even the angry coach went silent and loosened his grip somewhat, eyes downcast, trying to think of a solution. With both their phones long dead (Celestino’s really WAS dead, as it took a nice long swim during the party in the resident wine pitcher, screen flickering pathetically a few times before dying in the blood of grapes…Yuuri had gone all “Make us free, na splash, kasametta..” at that time, hands together in a silent prayer to the now dead device) it was pretty much impossible to contact anyone or anything.

Why didn’t they keep pagers around anymore?

Yuuri tried to use this momentum to get away. With mysterious ninja-like skills out of nowhere (most probably from all the champagne), he disengaged all his captive limbs and turned to make a beeline to hell knows where, when a beep resonated through the emptiness and an astonishingly white light came right on his frozen face, momentarily blinding him. A screech was heard and a car appeared milliseconds after the light, making an eyebrow raising U-turn and stopping right beside them in a well done drift.

Chris would have approved of it with a low whistle.

The snow whirlwind the driver brought with himself settled down to reveal an old, blue Zaporojets.

A  window rolled down with a little screech along with the layer of snow gathered on it and an enormous furry scarf poked itself outside to greet them.

A few silent minutes they were all blinking at each other, during which it became evident that the ’scarf’ was  actually a human head, wrapped exquisitely in  a white, red and blue patterned  scarf (patriot much?). A small patch of what looked like straw at first was actually hair, the color a magnificent shade of noodles from Yuuri’s beloved katsudon! The only visible part that could be attributed to a human was a sharp, distinctly Russian nose, angry red from the cold and his eyes, a unique blend of grey and green. Those eyes were staring Yuuri down, seizing him.

Yuuri gulped audibly.

Celestino’s left eyebrow started lowering.

“If you need a taxi, I can take you wherever you need to go”, the unknown ‘straw’ spoke up, his sharp, rough English cutting the air like a knife.

Yuuri gulped and took a step back, suddenly becoming keenly aware that they were in the middle of nowhere, without their phones, in the dead of night with their passports in their pockets to top it…

And it was snowing almost as much as Phitchit had shed dandruff from his head that one time when he used the wrong shampoo in Detroit!

“We’ll take that offer, young man! Take us to Aerostar Hotel!”

The stranger grinned so wide that one could see it even with all the mummy scarf wrapping.

Yuuri whimpered once more, dreading the ride.

And dreadful it was, as Yuuri was chewed out by Celestino again and again. And the fact that their stranger Russian driver was right THERE, listening to it all was the worst.

“No, I will not do the interview! I don’t want to talk to the cameras or the people! I don’t want to talk to anyone!” huffed the Japanese, slumping in a defeated lump in the backseat, his drunkedness still evident in the slight ‘whoosh’  his hands were making in the air. “You wanted me to have fun, right? Riiiiight! Well I did, it was my way of loosening up! So WHAT?”

“So what!” the coach took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what! If someone leaks those photos and videos, you are done for! All those years skating and you STILL don’t have a sponsor! There were potential candidates there! Yet you went and ruined it all!”

“What photos? Someone was taking photos?”

A barely audible snort escaped the silent driver. The two in the back ignored him completely.

But the boy kept his eyes trained on the mirror, watching and silently making his own bizarre deductions.

He really should be keeping his eyes on the road though, not to mention BOTH hands on the wheel…

“Yuuri..”

“Ciaociao, pleeeease. I’ll figure something out about the whole sponsorship thing, just..”,he sighed, dejected. “Let me be tomorrow. I really can’t take any reporters, especially after Vicchan..”

His voice broke at the end.

“Let’s just go to the airport! I’ll fly back to Japan, you deal with press!” He sat up with a vigor and gently tapped straw driver’s back. “Please take us to Sheremetyevo, please!”

A hand yanked him back rather sharply.

“Don’t you dare, young man! Straight to the hotel and that’s it!”

“I am NOT doing that interview, Celestino!”

“Oh yes you are! You’re not a Japanese maiden in distress, nor am I chivalrous enough to grant your drunken ass any request! It’s fina-..” His words formed a surprised ‘aaaaaa’ as the engine grunted, screeched like a wet cat and finally came to a stop.“..ah?”

“Wha…whats going on?” demanded the man. Yuuri was looking back and forth, discreetly smelling the air for any kind of weird pre-explosion smoke or something. The grin on his face was a little unnerving though.

The blondie shrugged, turning the key in the ignition a few times in a futile attempt to make it work again.

“Brat!”

“Um…right! We’re gona have to push…” the boy said, already getting out of the car. “It’ll go back up once we give it a little nudge".

The cold air hit Yuuri and he snapped out whatever evil horror trance he had gotten himself into. As he opened the door to get out as well, the blonde snapped it close with a leer. “We need some weight to be inside, you stay, piggy. Mr. Ciaobrows, you come push from the back.”

Yuuri snorted at the nickname, then burst into full blown laughter, not even bothering to smother his guffaws.

Celestino threw his a dirty glare and heavily shuffled out, leaving an almost crying Yuuri inside.

Merrily, they pushed the car in the snow, the Italian old man pushing from the back, the blonde youth pushing right beside the front seat, the door open. Step by step, the vehicle inched forward. Then just as Celestino was starting to feel the burn of muscles in his arms, the blonde hopped into the front seat, with the agility of a tiger, turned the key, bringing the dead engine back to life and the car sped away, leaving the poor coach to scream after them incredulously.

Funny thing was, Yuuri himself was screaming as well.

“Oh shut it!”, yelled the boy, snapping the door shut and turning around to face the Japanese. Yuuri snapped his mouth shut in sheer bewilderment from the death glare (he had to work on it, it looked too cute to be scary) the child was giving him. Yes child.

Somewhere in the process of all this he had unwrapped his scarf. Now it hung low on his neck, exposing his youthful features to the one and only passenger. He was incredibly cute. Women would swoon at his mare glance in the future. Honestly, Russians…

Dimly, Yuuri noted that this he was probably around 17 years old, if not younger. And this child had just kidnapped him.

Cute.

And weird. And scary. And I’m never going to see Kaa-san and Mari nee-chan again!

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Yuuri asked.

“Wh..where are we going?”

“What do you mean where? The airport of course!”

“Ah, of course! Wait who decided that?” He stared at the mirror, trying to be intimidating. Somewhere at the back of his mind he made a note that lighter colored eyes were automatically more intimidating. Right…

“What do you mean who? Yuri, of course!”

Yuuri put a hand to his heart, “I did NOT!”

The teen swung around to face him, one hand still on the wheel.

“Who the hell said anything about YOU, piggy? I said Yuri did, Yuri!”

“Ah…watch the road, please?”

He got an angry huff as a reply.

This kid was precious…like a cinnamon roll.

“So, Yuri who again? Decided, I mean, that we are going to the airport?”

“Plisetsky, remember that! Yuri Plisetsky did!”

“And..who is Yuri Plisetsky?”

“Me!”

“Oh….”

They spend a few more minutes in silence.

“Celestino is alone out there, in the cold, we really should go back. Yuri-cha~n, stop playing around.”

The car came to a halt, making Yuuri collide with the back of the front seat. While he was nursing his nose, the boy fully faced him, nearly hanging off the seat. His expression was a mix between anger, guilt and admiration.

This baffled the skater to silence.

“You wanted to go back to your Japan, right? If we go back now, you’ll have to do that interview! Right?!”

“Yuri-cha-..”

“Stop! Don’t call me Yuri-chan!”

“Yurio then?”

“Wha? NO, no no no!” the blonde reached towards his almost namesake, hands posed as if to strangle him.

“Yurio, he is-..”

“Evil, manipulating, heartless, eyebrow man! The perfect villain! Besides, I actually messaged the taxi center for a car. He will have a ride anyways. What do you say?!”

Yuuri considered it for a minute, finger nearly in his mouth from his thinking pose. Yuri the Smaller raised a perfect eyebrow at the all too familiar gesture a certain playboy had.

“Okay!”

“Okay?”

“Uuun, Okay!!!”

When the old radio croaked to life, Yuuri was in the front, and the boys were munching on some pirojki and having a nice, pleasant chat about this and that (“how old are you Yurio?” “Don’t call me..- uh whatever! I’m fifteen!” “Fif….teen. Ah. I see. WHO THE HELL LET YOU DRIVE? DO YOU EVEN HAVE A LICENSE?” “IF YOU YELL, PIGGY, I YELL TOO! And no, of course I don’t!  But my grandpa lets me drive for practice! I’m goo~d, right? Right?”).

The old player was ignored mostly, until a certain song popped up.

Yuuri started humming almost on autopilot.

“Taaaam, tam pam, paaam, and the starry sky, spreading above~…”

Yuri glanced at him, eyes wide and staring.  The Japanese skated grinned. “I love this song. Actually all the skaters my age  and younger adore it.”

“Really”, Yuri inquired in a slightly disbelieving voice. “No one in my class knows it..like no one! But I really like it! My uncle hates it though…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. No one in my course knows it either, besides me and my roommate Phichit! But he’s a skater, so it’s kind of …Yeah.”, he trailed off, tapping his foot to the beat. “None of the older skaters like it though. Chris always ‘stage vomits’ when he hears it and Victor…ah..”

Yuri smiles mischievously and nods. Yuuri taps his foot, Smallish Yuri taps his fingers on the wheel. On an signal none of them even agreed on, they both started.

“I can rule the world,  JJ, just follow me, I will break the walls, now look at me”, they sing/scream simultaneously, each pointing to themselves like over washed drama queens. “..also be the blind side of the enemy, this is who I am, just remember me..”

Yuuri sprawls himself on the blonde’s lap like a cat not even thinking that this child was actually driving. Yuri glances at him, face flushed from the adrenaline rush and sheer happiness of being able to sing his favorite song with someone who actually knew the lyrics.

“I’M THE KING JJ, NO ONE DEFEATS ME, THIS IS WHO I AM BABY, just follow me..-”

Yuuri raises his hands up like a conductor, while Yuri fake-longingly stares out of the window, eyes downcast.

“..just follow me off the ground”, they sing softly, then burst in a  fit of giggles.

In case you are wondering, no, they didn’t crash on the way, yes, they reached the airport, yes, a certain phone was put to charge and bombarded with missed call messages from a certain coach who seemed to be back in the hotel already, no, Yuuri didn’t return to him, yes, indeed he actually left for Japan, of course not before giving his almost namesake a hug and a promise to sing together again in the dead on night.

Wonderful memories, right?

In case you were also wondering, yes, Yuuri did forget everything after the 9 hour beauty sleep he got on the plane.

Shame…

Well, don’t worry, in a few month those two will see each other once more, when Yuri follows his wayward uncle on his quest of self-discovery ( really, for a man who should be settling down with a  family, self-discovery at his age? Pathetic!), love and inspiration to Japan.

More specifically, for a certain piggy who could hit all the highest notes like a pro in his most favourite song of his most hated singer/skater.

Honestly, JJ should go to hell.

But, maybe record a few songs before that…

Omake:

The car was safely parked in the garage and Yuri Plisetski was munching on the remaining potato bun. “Yuuri is interesting.”, he mused out to the wide sky. “It’s a shame he butchered the performance. Though, the choreography sucked so much.. ugh. But, I’m glad i got to see him!”. He chuckled and took another big bite. Yuuri was his idol, that one and only skater he admired. And it was all because he saw that performance, back when Yuuri was 12. His very first one, and, well the only one he won. Since then Little Yuri followed his namesake’s every move. He even has a photo collection in his phone.

With a password, so no one snoops. A certain silverette no one, that is.

“Well Victor sucks. Still don’t get how that idiot didn’t even recognize .. uh, idiot, stupid Victor!”, he ranted, stuffing the rest of the pirojok in his mouth in one go.  Yeah his uncle ( in reality he adored him probably as much as Yuuri) was an airhead, the biggest idiot the world could have.

Wiping his slightly greasy hands on his jeans like any teenage brat would, he huffed, rolled his shoulders and went on to undertake new mission - sneaking home unnoticed.

“YURI PLISETSKIY! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!”

“Uhh..”