#high-quality steam cleaning

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: How To Master An "Effortlessly Elegant" & Put-Together Look

Table of Contents:

Treat your skin like royalty

Take ample care of your natural hair

Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape

Choose your accessories wisely

Embrace feature-enhancing makeup

Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple

Regarding your signature scent(s)

Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously

Treat your skin like royalty:

Use high-quality skincare twice a day

Wear sunscreen every day

Remove your makeup every night before bed no matter what

Use makeup that doesn't clog your pores/irritate your skin

Change your pillowcases weekly

Eat plenty of produce & drink lots of water

Prioritize sleep

Limit or eliminate alcohol, cigarettes, caffeine, and processed foods/sugary drinks

Keep your skin exfoliated/derma-planed

Take ample care of your natural hair:

Use high-quality shampoo/conditioner combos that suit your hair type & don't cause build-up

Hydrate with a scalp mask 1-4 times a month

Use cold or lukewarm water to wash your hair

Apply shampoo to the roots/hair covering your scalp and conditioner only on the "ponytail" section of your hair

Use a specialty hair towel after getting out of the shower

Always comb wet hair and brush 1-3 times a day when dry

Limit heat on your hair when possible & always use a heat protectant every time you do

Use non-elastic or silk hair ties

Get regular trims at least 3-4 times per year (get your hair layered if it's very thick)

Try to limit how much you dye or, especially bleach, your hair and do elaborate styles with tons of heat & harsh products

Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape:

Embrace minimalist basics (tees, tanks, blouses, sweaters, jeans, trousers, blazers, leather jackets, coats, etc.) in high-quality fabrics (Pima cotton, Merino wool, Tencel, mulberry silk, etc.)

Choose options in black, white, grey, charcoal beige, navy, burgundy, or cream depending on your skin tone and preferences

Invest in a collection of sleek footwear options (black boots, loafers, black pumps, white sneakers, etc.) in minimalist, timeless styles that suit the color palette, hemlines & proportions of your go-to outfits

Ensure your shoes and accessories feel proportional to the weight/silhouette of your outfit, color-coordinate with the rest of your look, and have streamlined hardware from head-to-toe (all silver, all gold, or one piece that mixes silver/gold and another gold & silver piece each to balance out the color palette)

Keep all of your clothes steam and lint-rolled, so they look crisp & fresh all-day

Befriend your tailor to take in or let out clothes as needed when purchased off the rack

Choose clothes/styles that flatter your body shape and proportions

Utilize belts and bra tape to adjust the waist, keep shirts tucked in, and keep straps from falling down or create an impromptu cuff/hem on your pants

When in doubt, select a neutral head-to-toe monochrome outfit

If on a budget, consider choosing black, grey, camel beige items to hide fabric imperfections that could cheapen your look

Choose your accessories wisely:

Select sleek, simple neutral (& almost exclusively) monochrome shoes made with smooth (recycled/vegan) leather with

Pair almost any outfit with a shoe featuring a slight platform, block heel, kitten heel, and/or a sharply pointed toe to elongate your silhouette

Complement your outfit with structured, pared-back handbags with no logos (Focus on quality and construction, not the brand name) in a neutral shade and timeless silhouette

For jewelry, choose at most one statement piece and all others should be focused on different areas of the body (e.g. don't mix statement earrings with layered/bold necklaces or stacked rings * bracelets). When in doubt, choose simple diamond chains or earrings, sleek bangles or chainlink necklaces & bracelets, simple pendant necklaces, and minimalist rings in hardware that all go together

Embrace feature-enhancing makeup:

Cover up any dark circles, blemishes, or hyperpigmentation with a color-matched concealer

Lightly contour with a bronzer that complements your skin tone

Fill in your brows for a naturally full look (or get them professionally tinted)

Apply a light wash of rose, coral, or mauve blush

Use black mascara with a little bit of eyeliner and/or a subtle wash of brown eyeshadow on the lids

Apply a "your lips but better" nude shade or "just kissed' berry lipstick or pigmented lip balm for a subtle wash of color

Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple:

Maintain cut, cleaned, and filed short nails

Opt for a square or almond nail shape

Choose a timeless nail shade (pink, nude, red, beige, dark cherry, navy, dark purple, black) with no nail art

Hydrate your hands and scrub under your nails daily

Regarding your signature scent(s):

Ensure your body wash/lotion and perfume scents don't clash

Test perfumes for a trial day to ensure they smell divine with your unique pheromones

Choose a fragrance appropriate for the seasonal/occasion

Apply a dab on each wrist and on your neck/behind the ears. If the scent doesn't project well on you, try applying these small dabs on the cuffs and shoulders of your jacket/walk into it to get it on your hair (if it would stain your clothes)

Don't layer more than one heady perfume at a time or scents that don't have complementary and/or shared notes

Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously:

Floss every day (after each meal if possible)

Brush your teeth with an electric toothbrush twice a day

Have mints on hand if you're a garlic, spice, or coffee lover

Keep your lips & hands well-moisturized and protected with SPF

Shower your body daily and be extra diligent in scrubbing your privates, everything behind, and under your arms

Don't use very hot water in the shower (it burns/dries out your skin)

Exfoliate 2-3 times a week with a sugar scrub

Moisturize daily or anytime you get out of the shower

Apply SPF on any exposed sun (especially in the summer or when the UV index is high in your area)

[inubaki]

Married to-? ——-

FluffWeek prompt: husbands

I made up an idea of a reincarnated Adam in a modern suburban setting. In which he thinks he has it all. A lovely house. Job. Friends. Spouse. As long as he doesn’t think about it too hard.

—- I talked it over with @libby-for-life and commissioned her to write the story since people seemed interested but I know my own writing is awful.

hope you all enjoy as much as I do. ———-

Adam woke up as he always did, stretching his arms overhead with a wide yawn and a sleepy grin spreading across his face. The sunlight streamed through the thin curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. He turned to the side, his gaze falling on his husband, Sam, who lay peacefully asleep next to him. Smaller in stature, Sam had always been the perfect counter to Adam’s broad frame, and despite his delicate appearance, Adam knew all too well that his partner was far from fragile.

With a growing smile, Adam gently brushed back the tousled blonde hair that had fallen over Sam’s forehead, tucking it softly behind his ear. He admired the way the morning light highlighted the sharp angles of his husband's face and the faint smile that teased at the corners of his lips even in slumber. "I love you..." Adam whispered, his voice barely above a sigh, watching as Sam stirred slightly, mumbling incoherently in his dreams. The sound was endearing, and Adam couldn't help but chuckle softly, thankful for the quiet moments they shared together.

He gently got up to make breakfast for his hubby. Humming to himself, Adam got the clothes he would wear for the day and stepped into the opulent bathroom, his gaze immediately drawn to the luxurious surroundings. The floor was covered in polished marble tiles that gleamed under the warm glow of strategically placed LED lights. Each tile reflected the light like a polished gemstone, creating a mesmerizing effect.

The walls were adorned with rich, textured wallpaper in deep hues of navy and gold. A large, ornate mirror framed in antique gold hung above a double vanity that was crafted from dark walnut wood, its surface polished to a mirror-like sheen. The vanity was equipped with high-end fixtures, shimmering in chrome and accented with intricate detailing.

As Adam walked further in, he noticed the spacious freestanding bathtub, which was a work of art in itself, featuring a sleek, modern design with smooth curves. A waterfall faucet that could have water cascade into the tub, producing a soothing sound that complemented the serene atmosphere. Plush towels, neatly arranged on a heated towel rack nearby, were invitingly soft, hinting at the comfort that awaited.

To the side, a glass-enclosed walk-in shower boasted multiple showerheads and an array of luxurious toiletries displayed on a minimalist shelf. The steam that came from the shower would be a soft haze, giving the room an ethereal quality. 

Adam took a moment to appreciate the thoughtful details—a small potted orchid on the vanity, the subtle scent of essential oils wafting through the air, and the soft, ambient music that played in the background. Sam knew him so well and he still couldn't believe that he designed this bathroom with Adam in mind.

He gently stripped from his silk pajamas, a gift from Sam with a note saying how sexy he would look in the nightgown, and he hopped into the shower. As much as Adam wanted a bath, he wanted to personally make Sam's lunch and that meant racing their cook to the kitchen. Lathering some apple-scented body wash, Sam had a thing for apples that Adam didn't mind indulging him in, and washed himself clean. 

He took his time, running a hand over the scars under his chest. While he didn't used to be, Adam was confident in his body and while his body may not be under traditional gender norms, his lack of dick didn't make him any less of a boy.

Despite the body dysmorphia growing up, Adam did have a good childhood. He was born into a loving family who thought he was a girl and treated him as such. Until he was four years old. 

Adam was in his small bathroom, glaring at the pigtails that his mother had put up in two pretty bows. He hated it. Why couldn't he have the hair that all his friends had? They had told him that girls weren't allowed to play with them. That word. He hated it more than anything. He had taken a pair of scissors and cut his pigtails off, bows and all. 

He immediately smiled at his reflection, liking how short it looked. His parents didn't understand at first but indulged him. To this day, they were still his loving and supportive parents who paid and fought for his right for top surgery at fifteen when Adam realized he wasn't going to be small-chested but be on the bigger side.

And while he had definitely gotten heavier as he got older, and spoiled by his husband, he still had a masculine appearance and Adam couldn't be happier with it. Especially with the beard he had growing.

Adam quickly dried off, the soft cotton towel brushing against his skin, and slipped into a comfortable pair of simple navy pants and a classic white shirt before making his way to the warmly lit kitchen. The inviting aroma of fresh coffee wafted through the air as he moved. He arrived just in time, beating the cook to the kitchen. 

"Ah, Mr. Morningstar. I was just about—" Jerald, the cook, started to say, his voice tinged with surprise.

"I've got breakfast for today, Jerald," Adam replied, flashing a kind smile that lit up his face. Jerald nodded appreciatively, his smile widening, before he exited the kitchen to make his rounds. 

Adam rolled up his sleeves and got to work, carefully mixing the batter for the pancakes, the gentle clinking of the whisk against the bowl filling the air as he added just the right amount of vanilla extract. He sizzled strips of bacon in the skillet until it was perfectly crispy and arranged plump, juicy strawberries on a plate. He could already envision Sam’s delighted expression at the sight of his favorite breakfast.

Moments later, Sam stumbled into the kitchen, his tousled hair hinting at the long night he'd had. A small but tired smile graced his lips, his blue eyes, still hazy with sleep, sparkled with affection as he took in the scene. "And how is my wonderful husband?" he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Adam’s back, warmth radiating from his touch. 

Adam giggled at the affectionate gesture, turning to face him with genuine joy. "Good morning! I'm good, and how about my Ducky? How is he?"

"Good...what are you cooking?" Sam inquired, leaning slightly against the counter, his curiosity piqued

"Your favorite!" Adam exclaimed, his voice bright with enthusiasm. Sam’s smile widened, and his eyes glimmered with love as he watched Adam pour the pancake batter onto the hot griddle, the sound of bubbling batter echoing in the kitchen. They soon both sat down and began to eat their meal.

Sam looked at his watch and nearly choked on a syrup-drenched pancake bite. "Golly! Is that the time?!" He yelled standing up. Adam blinked and watched as Sam quickly ate the rest of his food before kissing Adam on the cheek. "Bye, my love! Don't wait up!" Adam watched with a smile as Sam ran from the kitchen to get to work. His husband was always running late for something.

Adam shaking his head fondly, he cleared the table and placed the dirty dishes in the sink before leaving the rest for the maid to clean knowing she had a particular way of doing it and found it scandalous that one of the Masters of the house would clean when it was her job.

Besides, today was a special day for Adam—he was finally meeting up with some old college friends he hadn’t seen in years. Angelia and David had reached out, excited to shop and spend some quality time with him, and who was Adam to refuse such an invitation? The drive to the quaint little coffee shop downtown was filled with anticipation, the streets bustling with late-morning activity.

As he parked and stepped inside, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the sweet scent of pastries enveloped him. He spotted Angelia and David seated at a cozy corner table, their faces lighting up as they waved him over. Adam smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at the sight of them. He walked over, exchanging hugs as he exclaimed, “Guys! You look amazing!”

David, with his usual effortless charm, leaned back in his chair, long hair casually falling over one shoulder as he placed their orders for lattes and blueberry muffins. Meanwhile, Angelia eagerly leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So, I’ve heard you settled down well! How’s it feel to be married to a big shot?” 

At the mention of his husband, Adam felt a slight blush creep up his cheeks, a mix of pride and affection warming his heart. He couldn’t help but smile as he replied, “He’s amazing... really. It’s been a whirlwind, but every moment is worth it.” The nostalgia of their college days mingled with his present happiness, reminding him just how far they all had come.

"What does he do?" David asked as he gently placed Adam’s hazelnut latte on the table, the rich aroma wafting between them. Adam took a sip of his drink, savoring the warmth, before finally replying, "Oh, he's a contractor." The foamy surface of the latte reflected the late morning light filtering through the café window. As Adam continued to drink, he felt the weight of their stares, a gentle pressure that urged him to elaborate. 

"Well?" Angelia chimed in, her green eyes shimmering with curiosity and a hint of mischief. "Contracting what?"

Adam hesitated, a frown creasing his brow as he tried to dig through the mental fog. "He...uh, you know...I don't quite remember?" he stammered, his mind racing. Sam was definitely a contractor—he owned his own construction company, after all. They often discussed their workday in the evenings, but the specifics were a blur. 

"Wait...you don't know what your husband does for work?" David raised an eyebrow, incredulous. "Don't you think that's a little weird?"

"I'm sure he's told me, but I just forgot!" Adam insisted, laughter laced with nervousness escaping his lips. He tried to sound reassuring, but as the conversation shifted, the nagging thought clung to him—how had he forgotten something so fundamental? What exactly did it mean to be a contractor? Did Sam never explain it in detail? Or had they just never had the chance to delve into such a vital aspect of each other’s lives? They’d been married for four years, for God's sake! Adam has even met Lucifer’s daughter from her work from overseas. They called all the time—Surely at some point, the nature of Sam’s work had come up some variety of their conversations.

He'll ask Sam tonight. That'll clear the whole thing up.

Later on that night, Sam came home in a ruffled suit looking exhausted but perked up when he saw Adam reading on their bed. Adam smiled when he came in, ready to ask his question but stopped when he saw Sam giving him...the look.

Adam blushed heavily. This meant Sam was feeling especially sexually frustrated and Adam was going to have a wonderfully long night. Sam took off his tie, his shirt, and then his pants. He was purposefully teasing Adam and it was working. He bit his lip as Lucifer stood before him naked, his long thick appendage hanging low.

"Addy....are you going to be a good boy tonight?" Adam nodded as Sam showed him the tie he would be using to blindfold him. Adam gently knelt before Sam and he gently tied it around his eyes, obscuring his vision. "Oh, Addy...you have no idea the day I've had...and the only thing that made me sane was thinking about what I'd do to you when I came home." He was roughly pushed onto the bed.

This was Sam’s other side. While Adam loved Sam’s gentler and softer side, the one who loved ducks and could name you the most obscure fact about them to making duck-shaped butter balls to place on toast, Adam also loved this side of Sam as well. Dominating and controlling. An animal in the sheets.

He felt hands glide over his skin, slipping under his nightgown. Fingers pinched sensitive nipples causing Adam to cry out. "Now, didn't I say to be a good boy? Good boys are silent. Don't make me gag you~."

Adam nodded and kept quiet as Sam explored his body excruciatingly slowly. And then, faster than Adam was expecting, he was rolled onto his stomach and his nightgown lifted. "There's the dessert...don't mind if I do." Adam bit his pillow to keep from screaming in pleasure as a tongue entered.

Adam didn't know how it was possible but the man seemed to be able to lick everything inside of him all at once, hitting places that Adam didn't think were possible, it had to be otherwise Sam wouldn't be doing it, but it made the man moan, high and needy for more.

Almost immediately, he whimpered when a palm struck his ass. "I said no talking. A gag is what you need." And then a ball gag was being forced into his mouth, making the taller man's cheeks blaze even hotter. "No talking or I'll take the switch to your naughty ass. Nod if you understand." Adam frantically nodded and a searing kiss was placed on his ass. Sam always ran hot but this kind of sex with him always felt like they were burning together.

Sam finally let go of his pussy with a pop, ruining whatever orgasm he was going to have and growled low in his ear. "Remember your silent safe word." That was all the warning Adam had before he was slammed into. Adam moaned into the gag as the bed rocked with their combined effort and tears soaked through the blindfold and onto the sheets. They both heard creaking and splintering, but neither cared.

"You're mine, Addy! Mine!" Sam bit his neck over and over, leaving bite marks for all to see. Adam knew it would be a mess in the morning but the taller man liked having Sam's mark. It made him feel protected and owned in all the right ways.

Sam came deep into him and Adam could have sworn that he smelt burnt wood as he came as well. They both fell asleep together and Adam knew the tie would be gone in the morning.

And if Adam saw the broken bed in the morning, he would shrug it off as the material being faulty, not knowing that it was made of solid oak.

The questions came around lunch, a time when the sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over their kitchen. Sam had managed to linger at the table longer than usual after breakfast, his caffeine fix pulling him back from the clutches of sleep. The night before had been long leaving them a bit bleary-eyed yet content. 

Adam, sensing the moment was right, decided now would be the perfect time to broach the topic that had been on his mind. He smiled to himself, reassuring himself that this wasn’t an interrogation, just an inquiry. As soon as Sam settled into his chair, looking slightly weary yet relaxed, they exchanged pleasantries, the familiar rhythm of their relationship easing the atmosphere.

Adam leaned forward and asked, “Dear, I know this might sound silly... and you’re free to laugh, but what do you do for work?” His eyes sparkled with curiosity, eager to hear Sam’s response.

For a brief moment, Sam froze, a fleeting hesitation crossing his face that would have gone unnoticed if Adam hadn’t been watching so intently. Then, as though shaking off a brief wave of surprise, he took a sip of his steaming coffee, allowing the rich aroma to ground him. “I’m a contractor,” he replied, his voice steady but still carrying an undercurrent of thoughtfulness. His gaze drifted momentarily towards the window as if searching for the right words to follow.

"Contracting what?"

"Buildings, land disputes, and territory mainly. You'd be astonished how many times the ownership of some land ends up somebody else's the next week and the paperwork involved hurts my brain." Sam winced at the mental image.

Adam nodded but something still felt....off. "Hey, do you mind if I invited some of those clients for dinner then? Oh, it would be so nice. Me and Jerald would—"

As Adam continued talking, Sam seemed to grow more pale. He meant to say that he couldn't possibly ask clients on such short notice for dinner. That it would be unprofessional to ask them over. He needed to get Adam to stop talking.

"Of course, Dear! What time?" No. Stop! You were supposed to shut him down!

"6:00 would be good for guests to come!" No! Say that can't work! "Sounds perfect." You goddamn pushover. 

"Hahaha! Well, I do got to go to work but I'll see you tonight!" This was a disaster!

Adam kissed Sam on the cheek and hummed as Sam practically ran from the table, whipping out his phone. "B? Yes, I have a favor to ask. A big one. Yes, it involves the others."

XxX

Adam glanced over the bustling kitchen, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over him as he helped Jeralod plate the meal. Their teamwork had resulted in a delightful spread: a golden roast chicken, its skin perfectly crisp and seasoned with rosemary and thyme, sat proudly in the center. Fluffy mashed potatoes, infused with garlic and cream, were generously topped with a pat of melting butter, while a vibrant green bean casserole—adorned with crispy fried onions and a creamy mushroom sauce—added a splash of color to the table. Freshly baked bread rolls, still warm and lightly brushed with garlic butter, beckoned invitingly alongside a decadent cheesecake drizzled with raspberry coulis for dessert.

As Adam surveyed the feast, he hoped it would be enough to satisfy the appetites of all who would gather. Sam had mentioned he was bringing six of his clients, and Adam wanted to make a good impression. With the clock ticking, he turned his attention to getting ready, wanting to look his best for the evening ahead.

He decided on something simple but sophisticated. A navy blue suit, black tie, and some polished leather shoes. Adam’s brown hair wouldn't cooperate for a while but eventually, Adam decided it was fine and straightened his tie. Time to impress the masses.

He came down the stairs and was startled when there was a knock on the door. The maid, her name was Elena, came running to the door before smoothing her skirt. "Go, Adam! I'll bring them to the Parlor!" She said and Adam quickly made his way there as the door opened up.

Soon, six tall people came inside. Adam thought they were...taller than average but shook it off as he introduced himself as Adam.

"I'm Beatrice." The blonde one said. "This is Bel, Manny, Levi, Sanderson, and Ozzie." She introduced. Adam smiled at them all and asked, "Would you all like a snack while we wait for my husband?"

"Oh, we couldn't pos—

"Thanks, I'm starving!" Manny said as he flopped on the couch. Beatrice and Ozzie glared at the man but Adam simply laughed. A man after his own heart. 

About an hour in, everyone was laughing and enjoying themselves when Sam came bursting in. "About time you showed up," Manny said and Beatrice punched his shoulder in warning.

"Sorry! Sorry! Um, dinner?"

As they all sat down to enjoy the meal, Adam couldn't help but ask, "So, you all seem very close. Did you all know each other before you became his clients?" They all shared a look that Adam didn't quite understand but they all unanimously said, "Yeah, sort of."

The dinner unfolded with effortless charm, the soft glow of candlelight casting warm shadows across the elegantly set table. Adam found himself enjoying the company, laughter echoing around him, but a nagging feeling tugged at the back of his mind. Everything seemed too perfect as if the evening had been meticulously orchestrated for his benefit. 

As he glanced across the table at Sanderson, who was animatedly chatting with Levi, a flicker of unease washed over him. When he attempted to call Sanderson's name, his voice was swallowed by the cheerful atmosphere. Sanderson, despite meeting Adam's gaze, didn’t respond. When their eyes finally connected for a long time, Sanderson offered a chuckle and shrugged, saying something about getting "spacy sometimes." Adam raised an eyebrow; who forgets their own name in that moment? 

As the evening wound down, the laughter and light banter faded as everyone left, leaving Adam alone with his thoughts. He felt overwhelmed by an avalanche of questions—why had he felt so out of sync? Was he merely overthinking things? Yes, that had to be it. Just a figment of anxiety playing tricks on him. He turned over in their new cozy bed, leaning in to kiss Sam goodnight, but deep inside, the unease lingered like a shadow he couldn’t shake off, despite his best efforts to dismiss it.

Three Months Later:

Adam had a nagging suspicion that he might be pregnant, but he initially chalked it up to the flu that had been going around for weeks. However, after he found himself vomiting for the fifth time in a row, a realization struck him: this wasn’t just the flu—it was morning sickness. 

As he stepped out of the bathroom, a wave of emotions washed over him. He found his husband, Sam, comfortably sprawled on their bed, lost in the pages of a novel. “Dear?” Adam called softly, drawing Sam's attention. 

“Hm?” Sam replied, turning a page without looking up.

Taking a breath to steady his nerves, Adam said, “I think I’m pregnant.” 

“Oh, that’s nice, dear,” Sam responded nonchalantly, his eyes still glued to the book. 

For a brief moment, Adam stood there, waiting, a mix of hope and anxiety coursing through him as he watched Sam process the information. Then, as comprehension dawned on Sam, he flung the book across the room in excitement. “Pregnant?! Do you really think so? Adam!” 

Within seconds, Sam was off the bed, bounding toward Adam and enveloping him in a warm, jubilant hug. Laughter bubbled up from both of them, and Adam felt an overwhelming surge of happiness wash over him as he smiled, finally embracing the reality of their new journey together.

Sam was ecstatic about the pregnancy, his eyes gleaming with anticipation as he envisioned their future as a family. But soon after the announcement, Adam found himself haunted by a series of bizarre dreams that left him both puzzled and disconcerted. 

In one dream, he wandered through a lush, vibrant garden filled with flowers he had never seen before, their colors almost surreal. In another, he labored in a barren, desolate landscape, feeling an unbearable weight pressing down on him as if he were trapped in a world that was entirely foreign.

Among the shadows of his dreams, two faceless women appeared repeatedly, their presence unsettling yet familiar. It nagged at Adam, a deep-seated feeling that he should know them, yet their identities eluded him like wisps of smoke slipping through his fingers the moment he awoke. With every passing night, the intensity of these dreams escalated, distorting reality and blurring the lines between his waking life and the nightmares that consumed him.

Then, a new figure emerged—an ethereal being who radiated light so bright that Adam could hardly bear to look directly at them. This figure embodied warmth and kindness, reaching out to him with an understanding that felt profound and comforting. Yet, beneath the gentle exterior, Adam grappled with a sense of betrayal, as if this luminous presence held secrets that he was not meant to uncover. The conflicting emotions stirred within him; he felt drawn to this figure, even as a flicker of resentment simmered beneath the surface. 

As the dreams spiraled into chaos, Adam felt increasingly disoriented. They grew darker, and more vivid, each one amplifying his feelings of confusion and dread. He was at a loss, unsure of what these dreams meant or how to escape their grasp. The echoes of his subconscious left him restless, wrestling with fears that seemed insurmountable and questions he couldn't articulate. Each morning brought no relief, only a persistent weight that pressed upon his chest, a reminder that something deeper was at play.

Adam sensed something was deeply wrong. A new dream had haunted him—he found himself in a shadowy field, digging desperately in the earth, burying a child whose face felt achingly familiar, though he couldn't place it. He jolted awake, tears streaming down his cheeks, his heart racing. Sam was there, wrapping him in a comforting embrace. 

“The dreams are getting worse,” Adam confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t even know a Seth, and yet, for some reason, I was burying him in that dream!” His sobs shook his frame as Sam gently rubbed his back, offering a steady presence amidst the turmoil.

“I—” Adam tried to articulate the turmoil within him, but the flood of thoughts and emotions spilled out first. “I’m seeing too many things at once,” he continued, his voice breaking. “They all feel so familiar yet I couldn’t have possibly experienced them before! It’s like I’m trapped in someone else’s life, and I don’t know how to escape.” 

As he spoke, Sam held him tighter, sensing the chaotic storm of confusion and grief that enveloped Adam. The weight of his dreams pressed down on both of them, intertwining their fates in a mystery that begged to be unraveled.

"I... Adam? I need to speak with you." Adam sniffed, his heart racing as he looked up into Sam's eyes. A flicker of confusion crossed his mind—were Sam's eyes...red? No, it had to be a trick of the light, he reasoned. But just as he began to dismiss the thought, something even more unsettling happened. Sam told him he—wasn’t Sam? He was the Devil? Adam's heart leaped into his throat, fear and confusion mixing in a tumultuous storm. What was Sam playing at with this revelation?

"I didn't mean for it to go this long without telling you, but when I found you, I was so captivated. You were like a breath of fresh air, a reprieve from the oppressive darkness of Hell. I just couldn't stay away!" Sam's voice cracked, desperation painting his features as tears shimmered in his eyes. "You have to understand! I had to get more of you!" Adam's heart ached at the raw emotion, yet the weight of Sam's words pressed down on him like a heavy fog. He pulled away from the embrace, staring at him in disbelief. "Are you on drugs? The Devil? I’m pouring my heart out to you, and you’re playing this sick game?!"

Adam's mind raced as he tried to process the bizarre situation. He attempted to leave the bed, his instincts screaming at him to find safety, to seek refuge with his mother. But just as he made a move, a firm hand shot out and grasped his wrist, anchoring him in place. The grip was both tender and unyielding, sending shivers down Adam's spine, a mix of fear and a strange longing coursing through him. What on earth was happening?

"Adam, I'm not lying, look!" Adam gasped as Sam began to change. His already pale skin went white. His eyes bleeding into a more vivid red. Horns sprouted out of his blonde hair and wings...three on each side sprouted from his back. "I'm not Sam...my name is—"

"Lucifer." Adam didn't know why but that name had been burning in his brain for the longest time along with those dreams.

Adam sat numbly as he found out that he was actually married to the Devil. He had sex with the Devil. And he was now pregnant by the Devil.

"I—I....need some time to think. Please." Adam said as he quickly packed a small bag. Sam, no, Lucifer watched as Adam left the bedroom but not before saying, "I want you to respect what ever answer I give you." He tried to ignore Lucifer sobbing on their bed as he left the house for his mother's place.

Six Months later: 

It wasn't easy, but Adam came back. He came back to the Devil to make it work. God, what was his life becoming? He made Lucifer lay it all out. No more lies. He answered every question until Adam was satisfied. And then, he had to prove it to Adam. Trust wasn't just given back. It had to be earned.

He didn't try to think too hard on the fact that he was the reincarnation of the First Man Adam. "I mean...it makes sense that you're transgender, Adam." Lucifer said. "You were the First ever male. It's hard to go against what you were made for. Of course it would transcend your mortal body."

Nope. Moving on.

The dreams stopped being so frequent as Adam accepted who he was. Didn't mean he had to be dredging up old memories. The past was the past and Adam was going to leave it there. Of which Lucifer quietly accepted with admittance to having already accepted this division when Lucifer had decided to marry him.

His last bridging gape had been both tender confined, more to a ghost than wards himself, “It’s wasn’t so much that you were different. It’s more that are everything now that you were meant to be…” It quickened something inside himself he couldn’t explain, like a settling Adam never knew was out of place.

In the place of uncertainty something new slowly began to settle between them. Lucifer still had his ‘work’ that judged up a few added details that Adam was happy to shove back till later. Terms like ‘Queen, King’ being tossed around while Adam was only interested in his current settled life. Be it prince or another princess, Adam wanted only the same love and acceptance that himself had been privy too.

"This baby is going to be...normal, right?" Adam asked as he felt another kick from the baby. They were due any day now. Lucifer froze on the snack he was making for Adam. "Uh...maybe? Depends...would you still love them if they had goat hooves?"

Adam recalled his step-daughter Charlie’s unveiled form and snorted when he realized Lucifer wasn't kidding but immediately said, "Lucifer, they could be part snake and I'd love them. Do you know how much of a hypocrite I'd be of I didn't accept who they were?"

Three days later, Adam was holding his little clone baby with a playfully judgmental look. Beautiful big yellow eyes, a long tongue, and a long tail wrapped around themselves making Adam glance at Lucifer. "You know, when I said they could be part snake and I'd be fine with it, I'd didn't mean for you to take it as a challenge."

Lucifer laughed as Adam kissed their son's cheek. "Either way, he's perfect.”

——

This posts from @lisandra-phillips helped the idea along. While the story was being written, @sir-tater-of-the-tot actually took the original prompt I made and drew it! Ahhh!! It’s so cute!! Please check all these talented people out. The rest of the art is sadly by me. Hope you all enjoy. In which, Lucifer was mainly there to fuck with him at the beginning but fall unexpectedly. link here:

[revelisms]

Throwing down possibly the tenderest, goofiest, and most feral smut I've written to date...and of course it's with these two. Features: The mortifying ordeal of being Known, gratuitous banter, laughing during sex, Terzo being filthy, and all-around spicy sweetness ;-)

a taste of honey

WC: 4k | Rating: E, 🔞 | Terzo x Alessio (Sibling of Sin OC) | CWs: Established relationship, self-esteem issues, oral sex, switching, dirty talk Also on AO3

The heavens decided to piss a storm the day the European tour was due to start.

It was a putrid sign, according to Nihil. During the 1970 tour, torrential rains had stranded them outside Vienne, tarnished a quarter of their equipment, and left them to scavenge for spare cables hours before their first show.

Terzo, a stack of entry permits pinned between his teeth, had been too late to care. The bus had already given him a honk of warning. His ghouls, always dutiful, had been more than on time.

Huddled in the shelter of the Ministry's front steps stood his impatient-footed sendoff: the All-Father, slippered and spluttering; the retired Monsignor Emeritus, half-smiled; the recently retired Archbishop Emeritus, perpetually-scowled; Cardinal Copia, relegated to packing the final cases of clothes into the bus's undercarriage, standing now like a drowned rat beside them; and the lead financial advisor to the church, who had intentionally placed themself a few paces from the bickering cavalry.

"They've been waiting on you," Ale hushed, throwing Terzo a look.

"I know, I know—Sa'nts."

He'd cycled through his goodbyes like a stack of swiped signatures. Ale's own had been too quick for them to savor. He'd squeezed them into his neck, a black-nailed hand warm at their shoulder. There'd been frankincense and citrus on his clothes, and a trace of cigarette smoke on his hair.

"See you, little bird," he'd mumbled into their cheek.  

Ale kissed his own. "Break a leg."

"You say that to a clumsy man? Lucifer forbid, you will jinx it, darling—they'll wheel me back in a cast!"

"You know what I mean."

A grin glittered in his eyes. His hand clapped softly over their nape. "I know, I know."

Then, like a spirit, he was gone.

It'd been the last they'd seen of him in two months—and the color and chaos had been stripped away, with him.

No chainsawed bantering over popped corks of wine. No wet footprints all over the floor, from him sauntering half-dried from his bath. No sweltering limbs crowding into their dormitory bed, no half-finished songs hummed over chipped piano keys and black-glossed guitars, no chocolate foils twisted into bizarre sculptures on their desk.

The noise was a given; the mess, a creative byproduct. In the face of their own manicured routines, it may as well have come from a separate dimension. Countless summers with their grandfather had given them an appreciation for a quiet home, and turned them tidy as a soldier: qualities no living soul could seem to train into him.

They'd given up the battle, eventually, opting for daily walks far, far away from pit he called a living space. For their own sanity, they'd learned not to question the last time he'd had his cushions steam-cleaned.

But now, in some cruel twist of irony, they find themself nosing into his rooms more nights than not, scavenging for any crumbs of normalcy they can find.

His papal suite is a cavern of deep reds and violets. Dark walls, dark floors, dark velvet on every surface—if one can find the surfaces, at all, given the dimness of his lamps. Opening his windows helps, on the days he allows it, but then one sees the wreckage: clothes slopped over the backs of chairs and doors, like shedded snakeskins; villages of espresso cups and dessert plates cluttering his tables; trashbins piled high with discarded sheets of music; strange little trinkets littered across his shelves, sporting a healthy layer of dust.

Through all of it, though, he'd be there.

His crooked smiles and crinkling eyes, wrapped in shades of black. His musings about art and poetry and literature. His spitballed song titles between half-finished lyrics, and stories about Barcelona, and Berlin—

"—and Brussels." A set of wine glasses clink across the room. "Only had two days to admire the damned place, of course—but the architecture? Satan, it was gorgeous. And don't get me started on the gardens—would put the old bat to shame, those things. The roses."

He's a week earlier than they'd expected him. In the mad rush to tidy everything, it'd left them numb as a plank in his arms.

He'd reeked of engine exhaust and stale cigarettes, their cheek smushed against the satchel slung over his shoulder: devoured by the heat of his body, his breath, his lips on their hair. Not a single text or call could come close to it.

The greeting hadn't lasted long, though. He'd beelined to his ensuite, desperate to wash the stink of the bus off him.

In retrospect, they should have followed him into that damned bath—but they'd slumped back into a world of lines and numbers, instead, trying fruitlessly to maintain appearances.

Still—

Gardens, roses. 

"Sounds beautiful," Ale says.

They can hear the smile in his purr. "The stars could hardly compare, darling."

Over the rims of their readers, they take him in again—their second attempt to confirm that he's here, flesh and blood, and not just some jabbering figment of their imagination.

His footsteps are weaving unhurriedly through the arm chairs and cocktail tables and haphazard book piles that make up his main room. His hair is still damp, slicked back into a sea of untamed waves. There's nothing but a dressing gown on him. In his hands: two glasses of Casavecchia. 

Weariness mangles with the smirk he tosses them, hangs off his bones like a corpse. This tour is moving at breakneck speed—partly by Sister's doing, and partly by his own—and any urgings to take a sabbatical has seemed to fall on deaf ears.

But he's here.

Their thumb skims over their sheet of expenses, creases it. "You're back," they say eloquently.

His dimples are quick to deepen. A chuckle hisses through his teeth. "I am," he murls, and leans down: trades their glass for a kiss. Bath salt and amber ebbs off him, baked into his skin like ambrosia. His voice melts like satin against their mouth. "Hi."

A smile pricks at the corners of their mouth, and blooms. "Hi."

"Missed me, eh?"

They'd elbow him, if the sight of him wet and half-dressed wasn't enough to have them nearly dragging him off his feet. They settle for nuzzling rather self-indulgently into his chest hair. "Just a little."

He scoffs. "Just a little! You wound me, sweetness."

"Sit down."

"I am in the process of it, no?" He clicks his tongue. "Although...it seems I have a little cuddle spider here blocking my way."

They glare through their glasses, crooked now on their face. It's one of the pet names he favors, knowing they despise arachnids more than anything alive. "Will you sit."

A playful growl sings by their cheek. "Oh, no no no. Now, I have you right here, mh?"

"Terzo." 

His mouth skims over their start of their neck. "Right where I want you."

"Sit. Down."

He plants a kiss on their jaw and snickers. "My grumpy little cuddle spider," he chuffs, slumping beside them, "who is still working." Without warning, their readers are plucked from their nose, finding a home upon the end-table. "And who has cleaned for me," he mumbles on, sinking back into the cushions. "You did not have to do all this for me, sweetheart."

Ale folds up their receipts, slides them back into their notebook. "I wanted to."

His tone skews from playful to petulant. "But you did not have to."

There's a strange thing under his smile. A marker of his tiredness, perhaps—or his inclination to squirm at any tenderness he receives.

He's used to being desired. Not to being cared for.

Some nights, denial still rears its head.

Their stare turns silent; his own, twitchy. "I know," he says quietly, before they can beat him to it. His thumb fidgets over his nails, picking at varnish already chipped. "It's just..."

The words struggle to form, swallowed down, as they often are. So Ale waits for his discomfort to soften. His thumb skims the underside of their palm.

"I love you, you know," they remind him.

His tips them a half-smile, sly and lovely. It almost reaches his eyes. "First, they bandage my weak heart—now they try to woo me, eh?"

Ale lifts their brows. "It's almost like...I like doing things for you," they tease.

His ears perk, in an instant. "Oh—do you, now?" 

"Sometimes."

The grin turns impish. "I see," he hushes, nosing into their cheek. "Well." His voice sinks, then: smooth as butter and burning as a flame, a cavernous thing that never fails to leave them shivering. "Is...now one of those times?"

Ale hums. Their fingers wander, trace a slow pilgrimage down the veins in his arm. "Maybe." Beneath their hand, his blood beats, beats— "Can I...do anything for you?"

He's gone for another drink, but the glass stills. 

Sometimes, Lilith willing, he knows when to shut up. To let their heartbeat begin to rattle in their ears. Their eyes linger, loiter, ache.

He runs his tongue over his teeth, ticks it. His fingertips clink at his glass. "Looking for an invitation?"

Ale swallows. "Maybe," they say again.

He tries and fails not to grin. "Che—maybe, maybe, always maybes, with you—"

They kiss him.

It's fast, and starved, and sloppy—and he melts within it. A sea of warmth, beaded bathwater on his jaw, on that dark freckle on his neck: his chest puffed against theirs, and his head rolling to the side.

Their hands are dragging through his hair to pull him closer. His nose nuzzling beneath their ear, nipping a growl into their skin.

When they got lost in his robe, they don't know, don't care.

"Seems like someone is, ah—on a mission, huh—?"

Their knees stretch, slump to the floor. Their fingers follow the dark hem of his neckline like a tether in a storm.

He watches them go down with eyes bloomed with black.

"You've been gone," Ale finds themself saying, as though that's answer enough. Their hands slide farther, find the silken knot at his waist. "I need to taste you." Slowly, slowly pull it free: a dozy hiss. Their breath jitters. His own stills. "If you—"

He presses his knee into their shoulder. It wrenches their eyes up, and their mouth closed.

For a suffocating moment, there's only green and white, new moons eclipsed, shadowed like the barrel of the gun.

If he was any more a demon than his blood has already leant him to be, that stare alone would have their soul devoured and their bones heaped where they sit.

Terzo's lashes flutter like a royal. Idly, he tips his glass into another sip. Ale watches his throat like a hound.

"Well, then," he rumbles, smirking over his wine, before he unfolds his legs. His robe slithers apart, with them: dark hair and warm skin, soft curves and muscle, baring the damp slopes of his thighs, the pink-kissed flush of his cock between them. "Get on with it."

No banter, to that—nothing they can dream of saying, now.

His glass turns clumsily forgotten, abandoned. His lashes heavy on eyes a touch from rolling closed.

In the quiet chaos of their own artistry, he is the muse; their tongue, the brush glossing down the canvas of his body. Every crease, every curve, every salt-sweetened vein. Satin warmth and silkened musk, blooming on their tongue like nectar.

He fists a hand through their hair. Chokes out a breath.

"Al—ah—"

And they swallow him whole.

His head slumps back into the cushions. 

Tenderness and need mangles beneath his nails. Between it, a primal mindlessness—to take, to fuck, to command. It hangs in the way his palm squeezes on their neck: the way the warmth of his skin shudders down their spine: the way his hips bow off the sofa, aching to drive them down more, more—

But they lay a hand on his thigh. Catch his eyes, hazed with hunger. 

And he eases. Shivers.

Lets them play him like a string.

A slick twist of their mouth; gravel in his throat. "Oh." A lingering stroke of their fist; a river in his lungs. "Hh—" Their lips kissed over every velvet seam; heat jolting on their tongue. "Sl-oh—fuck." His nails paint tremors over their nape. "Slower, sweetheart," he huffs, "that's...mmh, that's..."

They can't resist lifting their eyes. Lost on the marbled arch of his body, that damned freckle on his neck. The flush in his chest, ebbing like a tide—his robe off his shoulder, fine-brushed ink splayed down down down: warm on his thigh, trembling against their cheek.

His voice is pinched, breathless. "Oh, that's g-hh—fuck, that's good—" 

Their hand slithers over his belly, catches at his waist: holds him like a serpent writhing from a kill, a beast fighting free from the confines of its own pleasure. The warmth of his palm anchors on the back of their head. The other scrapes at the cushions. 

"Fuck," he bites out, his face scrunched. "Don't st-ah—oh, fuck, don't stop—don't—oh—oh—"

Ale weighs him down. Devours him. Licks him up like sugar: bittersweet and molten, sweat and spice, the broken whine of his breath delectable.

A symphony to their ears.

When he comes down, he comes down slowly: lungs heaving, hummed. They could stay there for hours, waiting for any final taste he'll give them; for the first slow-thumbed stroke of praise. The lazy grin that peeks through his fringe is more than enough.

"You," Terzo purrs, deliciously low. They swallow around him: watch his lashes flicker, his teeth pit into his lip. "Mh." He smooths the start of tears from their lashes. "My tempter," he hushes on, "my marvel." Their jaw aches when they pull away, cradled in his palm. They wouldn't trade it for the world. "Saints, you're good to me—always so good to me, sweetheart. Come here."

Their legs try. He draws them up the rest of the way, a warm tangle of hands and kisses, his heart beating like a drum at their back. 

Ale tips into his neck, sighing. "Was that—was that all you needed?"

His mouth plants another string of pecks under their jaw. "All I needed?" Clever fingertips at their shirt: squeezing slow and molten over their chest. Ale flinches, arching like a crescent. "You seem...quite strung up, yourself, little one." 

If that's his thigh nudging between theirs—and Hell, it is—he's not all that far off. Not that he usually is. 

He teethes at their ear, a smile playing at his lips. His hand finds the bare slope of their waist: thumbs harder at their back, urging them to grind down again, grind firmer, and—

"Oh—"

There's wonder edging darkly in his voice: prideful as much as adoring. "All this just from tasting me, mh...?"

Ale's fingertips dimple deep on his thigh. Beneath it, muscle firm as marble. "Not just—tasting you," they huff. His fingertips curl beneath the waistband of their slacks. "Watching how you—hearing you—"

The words slither into a gasp. Their nails knit through his hair.

They babble. One of his hands palms lazily against their briefs, matching the rhythm their hips seem intent on setting. The other smooths over their throat, squeezes under their chin.

"Easy, darling," he gravels in their ear. His thumb hushes along their jaw. "You can tell me. Go on."

The words tangle on their tongue. They could manage, maybe, if his hand wasn't doing that—

"I—I—"

The heel of his palm circles hard against their clit, softens to a lazy squeeze. Beneath it, his fingers: sliding lower, and lower still.

"Oh—I want your mouth," Ale blurts. "I want your tongue—I need to you fuck me, fuck—please—"

His breath snuffs to a groan. "Shit."

It all moves too fast: their bones too electric. 

The sofa whuffs beneath their back. Their slacks rustle off their legs, shucked unceremoniously to the floor. A wine glass might have toppled over, or one of the book stacks, or both. A pillow Ale kicks joins them.

"Lilith—you're making a mess, already." He doesn't mean the state of his floor.

Their skin burns. "Terzo," they hiss.

Their briefs snap on their knee, glide quick past their ankle. "What?" He tosses them a toothy smile, nuzzling into their hip. "It is true." He draws in a quiet breath, savoringly slow; rasps it out, on a growl. "Oh...fuck, you smell good." 

Ale drags their thigh against his shoulder. Their fingers pinch through his hair: steer him down. And he plants a kiss to their inner thigh. Lifts his eyes, again. 

Silence bubbles. Their nails cave. His breath is too close—not close enough.

Then, he bows to lay homage to them. 

Worships. Feasts.

His mouth is molten, the slick-skimmed glide of his lips like a hit from a drug. Euphoria buzzes down their bones, and wrenches to a livewire: leaves them whimpering like a dog, already.

Saints beneath, it's good.

Their legs clamp around his head. Their fingers scrape through the waves at his nape. A purr of encouragement sears against them.

"Oh—oh, just like that," Ale gasps. The cushions are drinking them down, another pillow kicked to the floor, his hair slipping between their knuckles. His fingers kiss, curl, glide in. "That feels so—oh...right there, right there...yes, baby, that—"

His tongue laps, licks; paths a burning current over their clit, straight up to their stomach, and trades for a bite.

Their gasp flutters to a giggle. His own joins it, low as a beast's.

His fingers are crooking higher, curling sweet and slow inside them, sliding out to a simmering stroke. Their teeth ache on their wrist. Still, their body sings back with a mind of its own. 

They can feel his breath scattering over their skin, his eyes on them, mapping out the pleasure in their body—every tremble and yelp and panted praise, every twist of their arms and legs. They won't last long, not at this rate: not with his nose teasing through the sweat beaded on their skin, his cheek skimming the glitter his fingers have spread, his mouth sucking over them.

"Terzo—Terz-oh—fuck—!"

They yank on his hair. Feel a grin lavish against them. 

The press of his teeth does them in.

In one go, they lose control of their limbs and their mouth: a half-mooned contortion of stunted shrieks, drowned in bliss that fizzles like a firecracker and bursts like a damn. Where he had come down slowly, they shatter like glass—some overheated sculpture crushed to powder, and smelted, somehow, back to something functional between his hands.

On their stomach: mothwing blooms of warm lips.

"Still with me, sweetness?" Terzo husks, eventually.

They can't feel their fingers. The cushions puff to a crater beneath their hand.

"Yeah?" He tilts his chin over their hip. "Feeling good?"

Another hum, hazy with satisfaction.

"Good. Very good." Terzo pauses, teething a soft smile against their belly. They can hear the smugness in his voice. "I, eh...heh...may need another bath, after that."

They stuff a groan into their arm. "Baby."

"What? As I said—it is the truth!" 

He makes a show of wiping off his cheek, with all the grace of a burlesque artist. And, Satan, he's beautiful. His hair wrecked, his eyes twelve shades of admiring, kissing the sheen off his thumb. 

"In fact," he rumbles on, shimmying closer, "I may just need to have you cum like that, again. Hell beneath."

Their hands slide up to cover their face.

A snicker spills over their belly. "Darling, you are so shy—come on, now." He smooths his hands over their waist. "You do not have to be shy about it."

"I didn't...think I'd get so loud," they mumble, mortified.

"I love when you get loud," he counters.

"I made a mess."

"I love when you make a mess."

"I already cleaned everything."

"And I told you: you did not have to do this, for me."

They groan again.

"Al," Terzo chuckles, speckled still with exasperation. For a moment, he just traces the hair over their knee, turning his mouth into it. His words soften. "Why are you so ashamed, eh?"

"I'm not ashamed."

"You are," he crows. His nose finds its way back to their stomach, smushed into a low burr. "My love, my heart—do you have any idea how much I want you...? How it's been, with all these weeks in between?" They settle their hand gingerly over his ear, stroking the tangle of black from his cheek. He sighs, curling his fingers against their back. "Torturous," he hushes.

Ale bites their lip. Feels their heart fuzz to cotton beneath their ribs.

More honestly melts out of them than they can help.

"I...I don't know what to do with myself," they admit. "I've never felt this...need to just..."

Any straws they grasp for come up short. 

It's another cruel irony, perhaps the cruelest of them all: they, who never needed anything; had been adamant about it, for so many years—

And yet.

They shrug, flushed, voice small. "I want you, so much," they admit, at last—like it's something no part of them should dream of exposing. "I want you all the time."

Terzo's eyes are on them, again. They feel his throat shift. His thumbs stroke down their hips.

"Look at me."

Their breath catches in their throat. Velvet crumples beneath their fingers.

"No thought of you—no memory of you is enough to replace this. Not your heat, your sound, your everything." His lips ghost over their skin, again. "And I..."

Ale swallows, watching as an animal stirs beneath his skin: lust-blind, and raw, and ravenous.

"I want you wet." He sighs a kiss against their stomach. "I want you writhing." Another, beneath their ribs. His palms glide up, splaying along the wings of them, squeezing. "I want you under my nails," he gravels against their sternum. "I want to smell you on my rings." His lips catch beneath their chin. "I want you stained so deep into this fucking chaise, they can't clean you out."

Their pulse batters like a rabbit's, aches into a mew.

"I want you soaked so far into my skin, I can't wash you off," he purrs into their neck. "I want you on my teeth, in my lungs—I want you always."

In four different ways, their body hunts for more of him: hips, hands, chest, mouth. His fingertips dimple at their jaw, before they can steal a kiss—the mingling of his breath slow, sweltering. They can taste themself on it.

"I don't care how much of a mess you make," he hushes on, "because I'll take as much of it as you can give me." A touch catches on the crook of their knee, and tugs: the seams of their bodies melded deliciously to one. Ale loses themself to the heat, the firelight, the shadow. To the trace of his lips on theirs. "And I'm not done making a mess of you, yet."

Their noses bump. Ale's lashes flutter; their nails creased at his shoulders.

No more fingers on their jaw, now—nestled in their hair, in their heart, their tunnel-visioned need to kiss him stupid.

"Fucking Hell," they snarl, entangled with him as close as they can manage.

Terzo preens, breathless. "Good?"

"You keep talking like that, I'll have you buttoned up to your ears for weeks."

They can feel him stir against their hip in the same beat that his bones liquify. "Oh." Their lips trail down the soft cut of his jaw. "I have m-nh—makeup, darling."

"Then you'll need to use it." Ale pulls him back into a kiss, sliding their fingers along his neck. He can't get his hands around them, fast enough. "Take me to bed."

A grin stretches against their lips. "Is that all?" he mumbles between another kiss, and another.

"Take me to bed, and don't trip."

His laughter wheezes like a kettle. "Hell's sake, Alessio." Their own snort mingles with it.

Peppered between their pecks, they slip him a smile. "Please," they add gently. 

He nearly does trip, once he's finally found his footing: his robe tangled up, and his vision clouded by them, hoisted boneless and giddy into his arms. 

"Watch the table—"

"I know, I know—"

But he manages, somehow.

They both always do.

[consistencynevermether]

Summer Festivals (Vere x gn! reader) (Touchstarved)

content: Vere x gn! reader, canon typical violence and swearing, slightly suggestive if you squint but definitely SFW, 2.7k words

A/N: I'm baaaack.This is the 3rd installment of my Vere seasons fanfics! To really enjoy this one, I would recommend reading the other two first (linked below!). I've accepted ill never upload at normal hours lmao. Thank you for your patience and I hope y'all enjoy!

part one (winter nights): here

part two (spring flowers): here

Summer was the worst season in Eridia. You knew this in your heart of hearts to be true as your clothes stuck to your skin, a sheen of sweat covering your entire body. Regardless of how well you handled the heat normally, the humidity here was like nothing you ever faced. It felt like you were breathing in steam the second you stepped out into the swamp that was Eridia. 

You had no idea how the locals did it. After you had finished working for the day, the only thing you wanted to do was take an ice bath and collapse in there for the next three days. Unfortunately, Kuras expected your help at the clinic, so instead you continued to work well into the day, assisting Kuras in any way possible before finally, he mercifully dismissed you. 

When you stepped into the wick, Leander greeted you with a smile and a pail of ice. My god, being friends with a mage was everything when it came to moments like this. 

“You're my savior Leander.” you expressed while grabbing the pail from him and heading up the stairs to your room. 

“No worries!” he shouted up at your retreating form. 

When you entered your room, Vere was already there lounging on your bed sketching something you couldn't quite make out at this angle. 

“Hey,” you said as you headed to the bathroom with your bucket of ice.

“You look awful,” he responded.

You narrowed your eyes at him. You knew he was out all day, so why didn't he also look like a disaster? He has specifically told you he was going out into the wastes today. 

Vere glanced up at your agitated form and gave a breathy laugh. 

“Heat doesn't bother me,” he answered, in response to your unspoken question 

“Heat? Vere, the air is soup.” you sighed. 

“If you can't handle it, that's on you.” he shrugged. 

You simply rolled your eyes and headed to take your bath. You wouldn't let this ice melt while the two of you bickered about heat. 

45 minutes later you felt almost back to normal. You were clean, had brushed your hair, and put on lightweight clothes. You smelled slightly spiced from the products you used in the bath. Vere always kept some here, even after all these months, and it was just expected at this point. The spice of his products now lingered on everything you owned. Which you were perfectly fine with, they were high-quality products. 

When you exited the bathroom, Vere was still lounging on your bed, now flipping through one of your books absentmindedly. 

You walked over and flicked it out of his hands, but Vere didn't mind as he rolled over to make room for you to sit down.

You did just that, and taking the brush you had just been using on your own hair, began to brush Vere's hair. He shifted so his head was now in your lap, his chin resting on your thigh. His hair was just as cool and silky as it was when the heat wasn’t unbearable. Life was not fair. 

“Hey, let's go out tonight.” Vere finally spoke. 

“I'd rather die.” you quipped. 

“Oh don't be dramatic, it's a lot cooler at night here. Besides… there's somewhere I want us to go.”

Now your curiosity was piqued. “Oh? Where might that be?”

“There's a night market that opens around this time of year. So busy there's no chance of a soulless attack. Not that we need to worry about those with me around.”

You rolled your eyes at his obvious pride, but it did sound fun. You had refrained from doing anything stupid like wandering alone at night, but this seemed like the perfect opportunity. 

“Alright, fuck it. Let me get dressed.” you finally relented. “Where's this place anyway?”

“The Amaryllis district,” Vere responded happily, hopping off your bed. 

Ok, so maybe nicer attire, even though it was a street fair. Definitely nothing with any layers. You had no doubt Vere exaggerated how cool the night got in Eridia to convince you to go out with him. But regardless, in less than 20 minutes both of you were headed out the door and ready to go.

Vere led the way, his stride surprisingly quick as he sauntered down the streets to the heart of the Amaryllis district. You followed at your own pace, taking in the nice walk. Vere didn't lie, it was genuinely much cooler at night. The breeze made it almost perfect. 

Soon you heard the heavy murmur of hundreds of people all crowding in the street. The entire main road was lined with yellowing paper lanterns that kept the area well-lit, but not harsh. Vendor stalls lined the street with everything you could imagine. From food to jewelry to wood carvings to clothes to weapons. Everything seemed to be on display, and everyone seemed to be buying. It was… nice. You couldn't think of a single major city that hosted many events anymore, much less ones at night. It made you appreciate being able to live in one of the biggest cities still standing. 

While you were admiring the stalls, Vere wrapped his arm around you and lightly put his hand on your shoulder while walking ever so slightly behind you. A faint presence so he didn't lose you in the crowd. You didn't mind. You were used to it actually, considering he did this whenever the Wet Wick got too crowded to stand. 

You walked the well-lit and perfectly even cobblestone roads of the Amaryllis district. You never felt a particularly strong urge to shop here before, but the quality of all of these crafts had you itching to make a purchase. 

The hand-carved combs, the hair sticks, leather arm bands, cute mini wooden statues, silken clothing. Everything was beautiful. But what caught your eye wasn't something for you, it was something for Vere. 

The hairpin before you was perfect. The silver matched his accessories and the bright red garnets complimented his hair. The silver stick was elegant, but not gaudy, and the gems were arranged in a way that drew your eye while still being subdued. Elegance, not extravagance. Most people might describe Vere as extravagant. Upon first meeting him, you thought the same. But you knew him now. You knew how careful he was in crafting his perfect image, and his genuine knowledge of the finer goods.

Yeah, you were going to get him the hairpin. After all, the night market only appears once a year, may as well make the best of it. You didn't plan on hiding the purchase from Vere, but he seemed preoccupied looking at some bracelets and didn't pay much attention when you handed the merchant the money and she wrapped up the hairpin for you. You could have waited to give it to him when his birthday rolled around next, but that wasn't till November. And you wanted to give it to him now. 

“Hey, Vere” you called out.

“Mhm?” he responded, still only half paying attention to you and half focusing on the bracelets.

You reached around his head, twisting the half-ponytail he wore into a bun, and sticking the hairpin through it to hold it in place.

Vere held perfectly still, allowing you to do what you wanted to do. 

“That's all. Let's keep moving,” you stated, continuing to shift through the crowd to the next stall. 

He reached back to gently feel the hairpin now in his hair while following close behind. He didn't thank you, and you didn't need him to. He would constantly give you his hair products and clothes he thought you would like without so much as a word, and you frequently ordered drinks for him or had some new food in hand to give him whenever you visited. The two of you were beyond needing to thank each other for every little thing. 

Speaking of food, the stalls that were selling some were calling your name. Nothing was better than some good street food (Vere disagreed with this point, but that just meant more for you).

Just as you were about to head to one of the stalls, a man flew past you, landing hard on the ground about 20 feet away from you. Blood poured out of his nose, like he had just been punched in the face and the impact had sent him flying.

You looked from the direction he came, only to see Ais standing there, blood on his knuckles, smirking like the bastard he was. Ah, it was all making sense now.

You and Vere both sighed simultaneously. You both knew how this would end. And just as you both suspected, another man tried to jump Ais and was promptly thrown into the crowd. This caused a chain reaction, and everyone began to push, shove, and throw punches. Great. 

Vere looked just as annoyed as you felt. What about the food? Before you could protest, Vere grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the side alleyways, away from the chaos. 

Luckily due to his quick thinking, you had escaped the chaos currently raging in the main street, and anyone who tried to enter this alleyway was given a glare by Vere so fierce they felt safer going toe to toe with Ais than entering the alley.

You were so focused on watching the fight, that you had forgotten to watch Vere, and hadn't even noticed the position the two of you were in. He had pulled you into the alley so quickly he had half-carried you here, and he hadn't moved away. His face was inches from yours, and you, with your back to the wall, had nowhere to run.

You were now very aware of your surroundings, and how it would probably be a good idea to add some distance between you two. A great idea really, because you could feel your heartbeat accelerate at the proximity. You could feel the mood between the two of you shift dangerously. 

If someone asked you why you shouldn’t be with Vere, you could give them a million reasons.

He was a monster who would live forever.

You were a human who was attracted to life-threatening danger.

He was a prisoner.

You were cursed.

He could never touch you. 

You didn’t know what he truly looked like.

He was a killer.

You wanted to stop killing. 

A million reasons to walk out of this alleyway. A million reasons to smile and pretend you don’t feel this connection that slowly tugged you into his life. 

But the two of you were inches away from each other, all alone in this place. The well-lit main road of this festival casts even this alleyway in a warm orange light. Yet the shadows clung to the two of you enough that this place felt completely private. You could smell some of the food from the vendors faintly, but it was overpowered by the spiced scent of Veres' hair as it pooled on your chest. The same smell your hair had. The air was still warm, but there was a soft breeze cooling everything down. It was like a spell. And for this moment, you couldn’t think of a single one of those million reasons. You couldn’t think, period.

You could only feel. You could feel Vere’s thighs pressed against your own. Feel his hand resting on the back of your arm, claws brushing against your skin, light as air. Feel his breath as it mingled with your own in the oh-so-small space between the two of you. 

Your body moved on your own. There was no control over what happened next.

The second Vere noticed even the slightest shift towards him, he moved to meet you in the middle. As if he had been waiting for your permission. For any sign that you wanted the same thing he did.

His lips were soft. Perfectly captured in your own. The second your mouths met, Vere deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in even closer. 

You placed your hand on the back of his head, pushing him further into your space. The hairpin you had just purchased for him clattered to the ground, forgotten. 

When you finally pulled away from the kiss, quietly gasping for air, Vere quickly adjusted, moving to kiss your collarbone instead. 

It wasn’t some passionate frenzy, it was slow. Soft. Like an act of worship. Every motion was calculated, so you could understand just how much he cared about you without a single word.  

You gently pushed him away from your collarbone and put both of your hands on the side of his face. One cupping his cheek, the other brushing a stray hair out of his face.

Vere moved to nuzzle his cheek further into your hand, and you reacted in kind, pulling him into your arms. 

The two of you stayed like that for a while. Neither one of you wanting to break the spell.  

But you couldn’t stay in this moment forever. And as the moment faded, the million reasons returned to your mind. All the reasons this was stupid, foolish, pointless, doomed. 

But despite every reason, you could only utter one thing.

“Vere.” You choked out. “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You fucking better be,” he responded, without a moment’s hesitation.

“If the Sinobium finds out-“ 

“I don’t care.” he countered, still not a single hint of hesitation.

“Do you love me?” You questioned. 

“I’ve loved you for so long, I think I forgot what it was like to not love you.” He admitted.

“How long?” You whispered.

“I don’t know,” Vere replied. “I didn’t want to admit it for a long time. And then when I did, I-“

“-Could think of a million reasons why it wouldn’t work?” You finished for him.

Vere laughed. “You could only think of a million? I had much more.” 

Vere finally removed himself from your embrace to look at you in the eyes

“I won't change. You need to know that.” He said. “I will not be any nicer to you. I will not stop killing just because you ask me too. I will not become a better person. You need to know that you cannot change what I am.”

You raised your eyebrow. “Why would I want to change you? In case you haven’t picked this up, I like who you are. That’s kind of a big part of this whole humiliating experience of being in love with someone.”

“It is humiliating isn’t it?” He laughed.

“Oh absolutely. And you of all people? The man who almost killed me the first day I met him? I mean, yikes.” You smirked.

“Oh please, you think you have it bad? How could someone who acts like you possibly get someone who looks like me? I really lowered my standards for you darling.” He countered, snickering. 

And just like that, it was back to normal. The banter you two had been using for nearly a year came just as easy as it had before the kiss. The only difference? Those unspoken feelings weren’t so unspoken. 

Vere leaned down and picked up the hairpin that had gotten tossed aside in the moment and handed it to you. Without a word you redid his hairstyle, placing the pin in effortlessly.

Vere offered a hand to you, and you took it. But you quickly decided that wasn’t enough, as you wrapped yourself around his arm, and leaned into his shoulder. 

Vere smirked, clearly enjoying how you were clinging to him, but he loosely wrapped his tail around you and easily matched your walking pace as the two of you stepped out of the alleyway and back onto the Main Street of the festival. By this point, Ais had stopped the brawl he had started, and people were simply stepping over the unconscious bodies to continue shopping.

The warm lighting danced off of Veres' features as you listened to him recount some story from a previous festival. His sharp eyes were soft when they looked at you, and his smile was relaxed as he spoke. You wished you could capture this moment and preserve it for all time, the way he looked at you. As if in this crowded street full of hundreds of people, it was only the two of you in the whole world.

 In the span of a few moments, summer had become your favorite time in Eridia.

[linnaealyn]

Old mod page, abandoned 3/2/24; New mod page @ Godsibb

Finally, after 2 years of work, it is complete. -But still being updated.

There's a Japanese version of the mod now!

今は日本語版のMODがある！

This is a mod for Xenogears using Retroarch's Beetle PSX HW core real-time texture replacement feature. (It requires the Vulkan driver, so make sure your graphics card supports that.) (Duckstation doesn't have a similar option, unfortunately.)

It replaces every single character dialogue portrait, menu portrait, & (almost every) battle portrait (looking at you, Yggdra officer Gear pilots) with high quality, cleaned up artwork, as well as recreated high quality UI while keeping it as close to the original game as possible.

And best thing about it is, if there's anything you don't like about it, like certain aspects of the UI, you can locate and delete that file from the folder. Everything is optional. (if you have any questions as to what's what, drop them into my dms)

Current version: 1.4

現在の日本語版: 1.4

(More screenshots below download info and UI changes.)

Being a real-time texture replacer, it should work with any English version of XG, both base-game and modded/patched. Any fan-translated patch using the US version as a base should display correctly.

There's a separate version for the Japanese version of the game. May need some editing still with other characters' UI ("Ether"/"Spells"/"Arcane"/etc) but for the most part its good to go in terms of battle UI. Let me know if you find any errors.

(I've been using it with the Perfect Works Build mod. Highly recommended!)

(Note!!: If you use PWB mod, don't use its "readjusted portraits" patch when patching your rom, as that patch interferes with this mod's portraits texture replacing.)

(It works on Steam Deck... but don't ask me for details in setting that up in particular, I don't own one 😅)

~~~

Download/ダウンロード

I recommend reading the instructions txt files I included in the DL.

This includes information such as how to set up .cue and .m3u files, swapping discs, renaming the texture folder, Retroarch settings and Beetle PSX HW Core settings to get the mod working, settings suggestions for making a cleaner looking and faster playing XG (YMMV), and settings to fix certain emulation issues Ive come across (freezing on fast-forward, crackling audio during 3D/effects-heavy cutscenes/gameplay, blank screen during Rico flashback, etc).

~~~~~~~~~~

-Changes made to the UI include:

Menu UI:

selection triangle, Walk/Gear icons

menu portraits

▲ ■ ● ✖ button DeathBlow menu icons

ABXY button DeathBlow menu icon- alternate textures

Battle UI and on-foot specific battle UI:

Circular battle palette and tags behind text

Battle palette text, "Combo", "Return", "Enter", "Miss", "EP", & HP/DMG/heal/AP numbers

HP/AP bars

"Time", "fuel", "total damage", AP numbers, "1/2/3 point(s)", "cancel end"

battle portraits

▲ ■ ● ✖ button DeathBlow icons

ABXY button Deathblow icons- alternate textures

Bottom screen mid-DeathBlow ▲ ■ ✖ icons (unfortunately, there's no way to change the other mid-DB quadruple-button icons)

Combo 1-7 and Accept icons

In-Gear specific battle UI:

"fuel" and fuel numbers

"Fuel" (when using boost)

fuel bars (top and left)

All Gear status menus' green text/numbers

Attack level numbers and ∞

Gear menu backgrounds

Gear "power shut down", "camera damaged", "out of fuel", etc, statuses

background UI elements, runes, triple red triangles, Gear lock-on UI (unfortunately, there's no way to change the circular part of this UI)

Misc UI changes:

Red/grey spheres (in the menu and loading screen)

All instances of selection diamonds, both horizontal and vertical

Load/save screen "CARD 1"/"2" text, memory card icon, load/save bar/text

Disc 1 and 2 maps (with alternate color versions; makes the enterable area indicators harder to see though)

NESW compass letters (unfortunately, there's no way to change the circular compass texture)

~~~~~

-Screenshots (before & after and alts):

And Japanese version's (日本語版) UI:

⬇!!Spoilers in images further down!!⬇

--

I won't be showing all portraits here; only the ones worth mentioning.

Portraits created for the mod that have no artwork equivalent:

Portraits to match their sprites vs official unedited artwork:

(default on left, alt on right)

Roni/Medena/Erich edited sprite equivalent vs their official PW art

Citan edited unsmiling (dialogue-only) sprite equivalent vs official smiling art)

Krelian(s) edited sprite equivalent vs official art

Portrait alts created for fun:

Both sides of scar-eyed Bart

Two-eyed Bart

Kim lab coat with glasses

Fei-colored Id

Fei-colored Id with Id's yellow eyes

Fei-colored young & older Emeralda

(might add to this list later. have any suggestions? fun ideas? lmk. It doesn't have to be canon-compliant.)

Screenshots of alt portraits in-use:

I'll continue to update this and subsequently reblog it as new versions are released.

With any new updates, just DL and replace/overwrite the old folder.

In-progress tumblr post of the past as a bit of a time capsule for myself 😄

[dozyarchive]

✦ Patron Saints, Chapter Three ✦

The one where things happen. TW//Sexual harassment

THE FIRST TIME LAURENCE DARROZE MET JOHN PRICE WAS IN WASHINGTON D.C., IN A CAFE THAT THEY PART-TIMED AT. They had prepared him a sandwich and tea, and Mrs. Laswell a coffee and pear pastry. The second time they met him was three weeks after that, when Kate Laswell personally escorted them to their new base. Saint liked Captain Price, even with their limited interactions. And now, Saint was preparing food for him and Mrs. Laswell again. But, it wasn't just them now, there were three more people to prepare for, and Saint could assume that they had large appetites. So, that meant that there would need to be plenty of food to go around.

   “French food, with Romani spices, maybe some Korean influence…” they mutter, grabbing the smaller duffel bag that was brought to the kitchen. They open it, grabbing two boxes. They open one, filled with a wide variety of spices. The other is a set of high quality knives, a gift from a previous employer.

   “Or… Korean fried chicken, as a side, and salad. And, fruit for desert. Tanghulu, maybe…” They mutter to themself as they work, setting up their stations and cleaning tools. The kitchen was well equipped, though there were a few things missing. A Wok, a Tawa, and a Charni, among other things. Though, the Charni could be replaced with a fine mesh strainer. The Wok and Tawa would have to be ordered later.

   “Ma’am?” A voice makes Saint pause, turning quickly. A man stood at the kitchen doors, hands behind his back in a semblance of parade rest. When Saint gives him a once over, his eyebrow twitches, a poorly concealed sneer covers his face. They could feel the hostility radiating off of the man.

   “Yes?” Saint’s voice is low, rough sounding. He narrows his eyes for a half second before speaking again.

   “I have a delivery from the main kitchen, ingredients. Where do you want them?” He gestures to a cart behind him.

   “Produce will go in the left of the main fridge, meat products in the right side. All dry ingredients will be put on the shelves. I’ll organize everything, just put it in the same general area.” Saint is blunt, but they keep their voice even. It wouldn’t be a good idea to start a fight on their first day on base.

   “Yes Ma’am,” the soldier responds, snide. Saint ignores it, turning back to their things. The spices are put in a spice cabinet, labels facing out and in neat rows. The knives are set up in a block, though Saint would prefer a magnetic knife strip.

   “I’ll ask the Captain if one could be ordered, or if there’s an extra in the main kitchen.” Saint whispers, continuing to set up. They can feel the man’s eyes on them as they work, but they, again, ignore it. Saint’s only focus is the meal preparation.

   “How did you end up here? Start cooking and cleaning like a little housewife, barracks bunny for your team? You get kicked out for fucking the wrong officer?” His voice drips with cockiness, disdain, and conceit. It makes Saint pause, the shock of his words. They were so blatantly rude, so vulgar. A cold heat floods them, fingers tingling.

   “You not gonna respond? C’mon now, I’m not gonna tell anybody, sweetheart..” 

   “You-,” Saint begins to speak, turning on their heel. A slam stops them, the kitchen doors bursting open. An electric crackling fills the air as a man with electric blue eyes and a mohawk stares the soldier down.

   “Want to repeat that, private?” he growls, stalking forward. Saint could almost see the anger rolling off of him in waves of steam.

   “What, ye daft or somethin’?! I asked you a question!” he shouts, grabbing his shirt collar and twisting, forming a chokehold. “Ye gonna run yer mouth when there's nobody there tae catch ya, being a little piece of shite-” he twists harder, the soldier’s face turning red at the lack of air.

   “I doubt he can answer you, Sargent. You’re choking the air out of ‘im.” This voice you know. Captain Price Stands at the doors, his stance deceptively calm. His eyes, however, betray the emotions he feels. They were stormy, smoldering into the offending man.

   “Captain…” Saint starts forward, pausing when the man with the mohawk flits his eyes over to them. “I appreciate the concern, but I would like to avoid any conflicts in the kitchen. It would be a sanitary nightmare if there were to be any… accidents.” They keep their voice low and even, eyes flicking between the three men in the room.

   Price hums, pushing off of the doorway. 

   “Fair enough. Let's move this somewhere else, yeah?” He nods at mohawk before gesturing to the doors, then turning to address Saint. “Lieutenant, would you like to file the incident report yourself?”

   “I'm quite fine, Captain. I’m sure you have enough information to fill it out. I would like to continue preparing for dinner, if possible.” The tingling feeling is gone, replaced by the cold. Their eyes are hard where they stare into Price’s, and he can see the tension in their shoulders.

   “Very well then. I’m looking forward to seeing what you prepare.” He turns to walk out the door, calling over his shoulder, “Sergeant, with me please.”

   The sergeant follows, dragging the other man with him, hand still on his shirt. He gives Saint a quick nod before opening his mouth to speak.

   “Apologies for the inconvenience, ma’am,” is all he says as he walks out. 

   Saint takes a deep breath once they’re gone, leaning against the counter for support. It would be eventful here, wouldn’t it?

   “Now,  that’s certainly one way to introduce yourself to your new lieutenant. Though, I think you probably did a lot better than this tosser, yeah?” Price murmurs to his sergeant, leaning back in his seat, Soap behind him. He glowers at the man in front of him as he squirms in a chair.

   “S-sir, I-,” 

   “Stuff it, private!” Soap growls the words, eyes dark and muscles tense.

   “See, I wanna know where you go off thinking you can talk to someone like that, hm?”  Price picks up a folder on his desk tapping the edge against an open hand. “Forget the fact that Saint happens to be your Lieutenant, but that you would say that to anyone. What makes you think you could mouth off however you want?”

   The private is quiet, eyes on the ground. Price would say he seemed regretful if he hadn’t read the man's personal file. A history of sexual harassment, vulgar languages, physical altercations, even peeping into the female dormitories and facilities. Price wondered how the hell this guy hadn’t been discharged yet, but he was sure that this incident would be the one to do him in.

   “I hope you never get to meet Saint again, because I wont be sparing you of their anger.” Price stands up, walking to the door and opening it.

   “Now, get the fuck out of my office and the fuck off my base.”

A/N. Its all fun here :) Please feel free to leave comments with feedback!

1179 Words

[lillywhitefield]

Babe your writing is such high quality it’s worth the wait every time! Though if you felt like sharing a snippet of knot surprising to hold us over I’d definitely not be mad 😂

It's Friday but why not share a bit more just for fun 😊

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

One morning, Pen came to him as he prepared their usual cups of tea in the kitchen. Sweatpants hung low on his hips, and he didn’t have a shirt on, and she wore only his shirt from yesterday, hastily pulled on after their lovemaking twenty minutes earlier.

“Colin, I’m feeling weird,” she stated, her little disconcerted face amusing him.

“Weird how?” he asked, adding a little milk to her cup, and a lot of sugar to his. “Weird like you can feel a cold coming on, or weird like your skin feels too tight and you are craving a drink of water but it would never be enough?”

“The second one.”

“Me too,” he replied, placing a steaming mug in front of her and leaning on the counter. “Your birth control should be effective now, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, glancing at her arm where the implant lay, just before her eyes widened in realization. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” he smirked, taking a sip of his drink. “We shouldn’t plan anything for the next week or so.” Colin suspected that their respective heat and rut were close, especially after Pen scrubbed their shower clean and washed their sheets and blankets the night before. His own skin felt a little—crawling. Like he was sort of itchy but no scratch would ever satisfy.

“The other one came so fast. I know it’s normal to have symptoms before, once you have your first, but I still didn’t know what to expect,” she pondered, biting her lip adorably and taking a careful drink of her hot tea. “I guess I can expect ‘weird.’”

Colin laughed loudly. “I believe when it is described medically, one might say it is a feeling of general discontent and restlessness, combined with a slight fever.”

Pen smiled, rising to her tiptoes and closing her eyes. Colin had learned this meant she desired a kiss, and happily pecked her softly, licking her to taste the milky tea left on her lips. “Don’t you have a meeting with your publisher late next week?” she asked, an arm around his waist now pressing him to her body, their warm mugs in their hands between them like little heaters.

“I did, to discuss things like font colors for the cover and finalize the arrangement of the photographs. I will have to cancel it, seems like,” he said lightly.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized.

“Don’t be. I would drop everything for you, Pen,” he reassured her.

[mariacallous]

What comes to mind when you picture the perfect bowl of matzah ball soup?

As a former Jewish deli owner and longtime from-scratch matzah ball soup maker, my platonic ideal is a version of my grandmother’s: rich golden broth sweetened with carrot coins, served with golf-ball-sized matzah balls that are light and airy, but not too light. There needs to be a hint of heft in the balls themselves, and a heavy dose of herbs throughout the bowl.

I met Sarah Nathan, the founder of Nooish, at a Jewish food gathering when she was still developing the prototype for her instant matzah ball soup. What inspired her to take on such an epic task? “When I was a producer on the The Great Big Jewish Food Fest,” she shares, “I saw how diverse the program was, and I saw how people were connecting to [Jewish] food no matter where they were in the diaspora. I wondered, ‘How can this feeling be replicated anywhere?’”

Nathan was determined to create an instant matzah ball soup that was as good as any homemade bowl, prepared with high-quality ingredients that parents would be proud to serve their children. She was convinced it was possible. I was excited at the prospect, but admittedly dubious. I’ve tried my share of matzah ball soup mixes, and none come close to any scratch-made version. Also, most require you to add eggs and oil to make the batter. It’s efficient, but not instant. 

But it all comes down to taste. Is it possible for an instant soup to avoid the telltale taste of rehydrated vegetables and excessive sodium? Could instant matzah ball soup ever truly rival bubbe’s?

This fall, I was able to find out. Nathan launched Nooish’s instant matzah ball soup this September; two years after conceiving of the idea. The product is currently available for order online, and arrives in eye-catching packaging. The directions are simple: “Pour contents of the packet into the cup with the matzah balls, fill with water and microwave for 2.5 minutes uncovered, and let sit for 1-2 minutes covered (or fill with boiling water, cover, and let it sit for 10 minutes).”

After letting my soup sit for its required time, I opened the lid and was greeted by a waft of pleasant steam. The matzah balls had swelled up and looked invitingly craggly; almost as if they were formed by hand. I took a sip of the broth first, the homey dill flavor hit first, then a hint of onion and garlic, a touch of carroty sweetness; overall, a balanced and well seasoned broth (not too salty!). A dip into the matzah ball came next, it was tender enough to be easily separated by the edge of a spoon, firm enough to not disintegrate into pieces. I took a bite, “How is this possible?” A second bite, the same thought prevailed. I spooned up a thin carrot round, sweet with a pleasant slight chew. This excellent soup made for a warming and satisfying lunch.

Working professionally in food for over a decade, there are few culinary products that surprise me, and this is genuinely one of them. Nooish is onto something. Landing on this level of quality wasn’t instant and Nathan explains: “The broth was the hardest piece. Obviously, the matzah balls took a lot of time and work and I really wanted to get it perfect. The matzah balls are a sponge and they’re going to take whatever flavor in that soup. People have their personal preferences, but for me I wanted to create a broth that felt really right to me… finding the perfect blend of flavors was the most difficult piece.”

At $35.99 for four cups pre-shipping, the price tag is significantly higher than a typical cup of instant soup. Nathan’s response to the question of cost is simple: it’s all about what goes into each cup. She elaborates: “You can feel good about the ingredients. I wanted to be able to develop a clean recipe that doesn’t have that instant soup taste, and be able to create a vegetarian matzah ball soup that anyone would be proud to send someone or feed their children. The quality of ingredients create a lot of depth, especially the Burlap & Barrel spices and Redmond Real Salt.” Also, the soup’s volume leans bowl-sized rather than cup-sized, making it heartier and more filling than traditional smaller-portioned instant soup. 

I will always love making a pot of matzah ball soup from scratch, and ultimately I don’t think that can be fully replicated for the mass market, but Nooish’s instant option comes delightfully close. Many of us do not have the time or ability to spend hours in the kitchen, and those on the hunt for the Jewish food they’re missing now have an unexpected solution. Nathan is already garnering success with orders flying in from Hillels, busy parents and Jewish museums around the U.S.; a few months after launching she’s received orders from 39 out of 50 states. Young and old, from coast to coast, there’s a craving for this Ashkenazi comfort food. To have it arrive on your doorstep and materialize on your table in minutes is a wonder. 

A bowl of matzah ball soup that’s ready in your pantry whenever you crave it offers a new path towards instant comfort.

[championcommercialcleaning]

Carpet vs. Hard Floors: Which Is Easier to Maintain?

Pros & Cons of Carpeted vs. Hard Flooring: Which One Wins?

When it comes to commercial spaces, the flooring you choose can make a huge difference in comfort, maintenance, and appearance. The big debate? Carpeted vs. hard flooring. Each has its perks and drawbacks, so let’s break it down in a way that makes choosing easier!

Comfort & Noise: The Cozy Factor vs. the Echo Effect

If you want a workspace that feels warm and inviting, carpeted flooring is the clear winner. It’s soft underfoot, absorbs sound, and keeps noise levels low—perfect for busy offices or hotels where peace and quiet matter. No one likes the echo of every footstep when trying to concentrate!

On the flip side, hard flooring (like tile, vinyl, or hardwood) doesn’t absorb sound as well, which can make a space feel louder. However, it’s easier to clean spills and doesn’t trap dust, which is a big plus for businesses that need a sleek, professional look. If noise is an issue, adding rugs or acoustic panels can help balance things out.

Maintenance & Durability: What’s Easier to Clean?

In the battle of carpeted vs. hard flooring, hard flooring wins in the maintenance department. Spilled coffee? No problem—just wipe it up! With carpet, stains can linger, and dirt loves to hide deep in the fibers, making professional cleaning a must.

However, carpet does have one advantage: it hides dirt better than hard flooring, which means it won’t look messy as quickly. But beware—over time, trapped dust and allergens can lead to poor indoor air quality. Hard flooring, on the other hand, can be mopped and disinfected easily, making it ideal for high-traffic areas like restaurants, medical offices, and retail spaces.

Style & Aesthetic: Which One Looks Better?

This one really depends on the vibe you’re going for. Carpeted flooring brings warmth, texture, and a cozy feel to any space. It’s a great choice for hotels, office lounges, or conference rooms where you want a more relaxed atmosphere.

Hard flooring, though, offers a modern, polished look that works well in corporate offices, showrooms, and lobbies. Plus, with so many options—luxury vinyl planks, polished concrete, and engineered wood—you can match it to any design style. If durability and a sleek, professional look are priorities, hard flooring takes the lead.

Cleaning Challenges for Each Flooring Type: Carpeted vs. Hard Flooring

No matter how beautiful your floors are, they won’t stay that way without proper care. When it comes to carpeted vs. hard flooring, cleaning challenges can be very different—and some are trickier than others. Let’s dive into the dirt (literally) and see what makes each flooring type tough to clean!

Carpet: The Dirt Magnet That Loves Stains

Carpet may feel warm and cozy underfoot, but it’s also a magnet for dust, dirt, and every crumb that falls. Unlike hard flooring, which lets you sweep debris away, carpet fibers trap everything—and that includes allergens, pet hair, and even odors. Vacuuming helps, but deep cleaning is a must if you want to keep carpets fresh and hygienic.

Then, there’s the stain struggle. Spill a coffee on tile, and it wipes right up. Spill it on carpet? Now you’re in a battle against time! Liquid seeps deep into the fibers, making stains harder to remove. Some messes, like ink or red wine, might become permanent if not treated immediately. Regular steam cleaning is key, but let’s be honest—who has time to do that every week?

Hard Flooring: The Streaky & Slippery Challenge

While hard flooring is way easier to clean than carpet, it comes with its own set of issues. Sure, you can sweep up dirt and mop spills, but not all cleaning products play nice with every surface. Hardwood floors, for example, hate excess moisture. Too much water can cause warping, and using the wrong cleaner might leave streaks or even dull the finish.

Tile floors are more forgiving but come with another problem: grout lines. Dirt loves to settle into grout, and over time, it can turn from crisp white to dingy gray. Scrubbing grout is nobody’s idea of fun, but without regular maintenance, it can make even the cleanest tile floor look dirty. Meanwhile, vinyl and laminate floors need gentle cleaning—harsh chemicals can damage the surface, and too much water can cause bubbling or peeling.

Dust, Scratches & Footprint Woes

Another challenge with carpeted vs. hard flooring is how easily they show wear and tear. Carpet can flatten in high-traffic areas, creating visible paths over time. Hard flooring, while more durable, is prone to scratches—especially if people aren’t careful with furniture or high heels. And don’t even get started on footprints! Glossy hard floors look stunning, but they also show smudges, dust, and streaks way too easily.

Cost Comparisons for Long-Term Maintenance: Carpeted vs. Hard Flooring

Choosing between carpeted vs. hard flooring isn’t just about style—it’s also about cost. While the upfront price of materials matters, what really impacts your budget is long-term maintenance. Some floors need constant deep cleaning, while others require special treatments to keep them looking fresh. Let’s break down the real costs of keeping each flooring type in top shape!

Cleaning Costs: Carpet Needs More Frequent Deep Cleaning

When it comes to regular maintenance, carpet tends to be the pricier option. Sure, vacuuming helps, but it only removes surface dirt. Over time, dust, allergens, and bacteria settle deep into the fibers, making professional deep cleaning a necessity. Depending on the size of your space, carpet cleaning services can cost anywhere from $0.15 to $0.50 per square foot—and most carpets need a deep clean at least twice a year.

Hard flooring, on the other hand, is much easier to maintain. A mop, broom, and the right cleaning solution can keep it looking fresh. However, certain types of hard flooring need special care. Hardwood floors, for example, require occasional polishing or refinishing to maintain their shine, which adds to the long-term cost. Tile floors are lower maintenance but may need grout sealing or deep scrubbing to prevent dirt buildup.

Durability: Which Flooring Lasts Longer?

If you’re thinking long-term, hard flooring wins on durability. A well-maintained hardwood, vinyl, or tile floor can last 20 to 50 years, while commercial-grade carpet typically needs replacing every 7 to 10 years. High-traffic areas wear out carpets faster, leaving them looking dull and flattened. Plus, once carpet starts fraying or unraveling, there’s no easy fix—you have to replace it entirely.

Hard floors, while more durable, can still face wear and tear. Scratches, dents, and fading happen over time, especially if heavy furniture isn’t padded or high heels are a regular occurrence. But the upside? Instead of replacing the entire floor, you can often refinish, reseal, or repair small sections, making it a more cost-effective long-term investment.

Replacement Costs: Carpet vs. Hard Flooring Over Time

Replacing carpet is often cheaper upfront, but since it wears out faster, you’ll spend more money on replacements over the years. Carpet installation costs $3 to $7 per square foot, while high-end commercial carpet can cost even more. Multiply that by every time you replace it, and the cost adds up quickly!

Hard flooring, while more expensive to install, offers better long-term value. Luxury vinyl, tile, and hardwood flooring range from $5 to $15 per square foot, but they rarely need full replacement. Instead of tearing up old floors every decade, businesses can simply refinish, reseal, or repair sections, saving thousands in the long run.

Choosing the Best Flooring for Your Business Needs: Carpeted vs. Hard Flooring

When designing a commercial space, flooring plays a huge role in functionality, appearance, and overall maintenance. Choosing between carpeted vs. hard flooring isn’t just about aesthetics—it’s about finding the right balance between comfort, durability, and cost. Different businesses have different needs, so let’s break down the key factors to help you make the best decision!

Traffic & Usage: How Busy Is Your Space?

The first thing to consider is foot traffic. If your business sees a steady stream of customers, clients, or employees moving around all day, durability is a top priority. Hard flooring is a clear winner for high-traffic areas, as it can withstand heavy use without wearing down quickly. Tile, vinyl, and polished concrete are especially tough, making them great for restaurants, retail stores, and office lobbies.

Carpet, on the other hand, works well in lower-traffic spaces like conference rooms, executive offices, and hotel suites. It provides extra comfort underfoot and helps reduce noise, which is perfect for businesses where a quiet, professional atmosphere matters. However, if placed in high-traffic areas, carpet can show wear and tear much faster than hard flooring.

Maintenance & Cleaning: How Much Effort Are You Willing to Put In?

Let’s be honest—nobody enjoys cleaning floors all the time. If you want something low-maintenance, hard flooring is the better option. Sweeping, mopping, and occasional deep cleaning are usually enough to keep it in top shape. Tile, vinyl, and laminate require minimal upkeep, while hardwood may need refinishing every few years to maintain its shine.

Carpet, however, requires frequent vacuuming, stain removal, and professional deep cleaning to stay fresh. Spills and dirt settle into the fibers, making it harder to keep clean, especially in busy environments. If your business is prone to spills—like a café or medical office—hard flooring might save you a lot of headaches in the long run.

Aesthetic & Comfort: What Vibe Do You Want?

Looks matter, and the right flooring can completely change the feel of your space. Hard flooring gives off a sleek, modern, and professional vibe, making it ideal for law firms, showrooms, and high-end retail spaces. It’s also available in endless styles, from polished wood to industrial-chic concrete.

If warmth and coziness are a priority, carpet is the way to go. It makes spaces feel more inviting, absorbs noise, and provides extra insulation, which can help with energy costs in colder months. Hotels, office lounges, and waiting areas benefit from the soft, comfortable feel of carpeted flooring.

Final Thoughts: Carpeted vs. Hard Flooring—Which One Wins?

Choosing between carpeted vs. hard flooring isn’t a simple decision—it depends on your business’s needs, maintenance preferences, and budget. Both options have their strengths and challenges, and the right choice comes down to what works best for your space.

If comfort and noise reduction are top priorities, carpeted flooring provides warmth and a welcoming feel. It’s perfect for offices, hotels, and areas where a quieter atmosphere is needed. However, it does require regular deep cleaning and can wear down faster in high-traffic zones.

On the other hand, hard flooring is a durable, sleek, and low-maintenance option. Whether you choose tile, vinyl, or hardwood, it’s easier to clean and lasts longer with proper care. While it may cost more upfront, it’s a smart long-term investment that can handle heavy foot traffic without frequent replacements.

At the end of the day, the best flooring choice depends on your business’s daily operations, budget, and style preferences. Whether you go with carpeted or hard flooring, keeping it clean and well-maintained is essential to keeping your space looking professional and inviting!

[storedapear]

Unlocking the Secret to the Ultimate Meal Combination

When it comes to achieving optimal health, few things are as important as the meals we eat. The foods we choose and the way we combine them can profoundly impact our energy levels, immune system, and overall well-being.

But with endless choices and conflicting advice, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. Many of us struggle to find balance—stuck in repetitive eating habits, following the latest fad diets, or wondering if what we’re eating is truly healthy.

The good news? Achieving optimal nutrition doesn’t have to be complicated or restrictive. It starts with understanding how to combine foods in a way that unlocks their full nutritional potential.

The Importance of Meal Combinations

Proteins, carbohydrates, healthy fats, vitamins, and minerals each play a vital role in your health. Individually, they’re important—but together, they’re transformative. A well-balanced meal helps:

Build and repair muscles (thanks to protein)

Fuel energy levels (with complex carbohydrates)

Support brain function and hormones (with healthy fats)

Aid digestion (with fiber)

Maintain overall health (with essential vitamins and minerals)

When we create meals with all these elements in mind, we’re not just eating—we’re fueling our bodies to thrive.

Building the Perfect Meal

So, what does the ultimate meal look like? Here’s a breakdown of how to create one:

Start with Protein Protein is the building block of muscles and tissues. Great sources include grilled chicken, salmon, lentils, or tofu.

Add Complex Carbohydrates These provide sustained energy throughout the day. Choose options like quinoa, brown rice, or sweet potatoes.

Incorporate Healthy Fats Fats support brain health and hormone production. Avocado, nuts, seeds, or olive oil are excellent choices.

Don’t Forget Fiber and Omega-3s Fiber aids digestion, while omega-3 fatty acids are essential for heart and brain health. Add steamed broccoli, sautéed spinach, walnuts, or chia seeds to your meal.

Round It Out with Vitamins and Minerals Brighten your plate with colorful vegetables or a side salad. A mix of greens, cherry tomatoes, and a citrus vinaigrette makes for a simple, nutrient-packed addition.

Tips for Incorporating Balanced Meals

You don’t need to overhaul your diet overnight. Start with one balanced meal a day and experiment with combinations that excite your taste buds.

For example:

Lunch Idea: Grilled salmon, quinoa, and roasted asparagus with a drizzle of olive oil.

Dinner Idea: A hearty salad with mixed greens, avocado, walnuts, and a zesty lemon dressing.

Remember, it’s not about restriction. It’s about smart choices that empower your body.

The Role of Dapear Nutrition

At Dapear, we’re passionate about helping you live a healthier life. That’s why we offer premium supplements designed to complement your balanced meals and fill any nutritional gaps.

Our products include:

Collagen for healthy skin, joints, and hair

Biotin for glowing skin and strong nails

Plant Protein for a clean, high-quality protein source

Multivitamins to support overall health

Fish Oil for omega-3s that boost heart and brain health

Explore our range at dapear.com and find the perfect addition to your wellness routine.

Take the First Step Today

Creating the perfect meal combination doesn’t have to be complicated. With the right balance of protein, carbs, fats, and micronutrients, you can transform your meals into powerful tools for better health.

What’s your favorite healthy meal combination? Share it with us in the comments below or tag us on social media using #DapearNutrition. We’d love to hear from you!

Fuel smarter. Live healthier. Start today.

[femmefatalevibe]

How to be beauty with brains (like Amal Clooney) always looking extremely polished, put together, well educated and being successful and eloquent?

Maintain proper hygiene

Stay consistent with your beauty routines: Skincare, haircare, nailcare, and makeup

Find clothes in high-quality fabrics that fit you well (or are tailored to your shape) that are fairly timeless/contemporary classics that can be easily styled together

Keep your clothes clean, steamed/dry cleaned, and lint-free

Choose your accessories wisely and invest in a classic, high-quality handbag or two, a few pairs of shoes, a selection of jewelry, sunglasses, and cold-weather accessories (if applicable)

Dress appropriate for the occasion and the season

Minimal to no logos

Invest in a quality haircut

Make time to read and/or study every day

Practice active listening, ask thoughtful follow-up questions, and learn to share from a place of assertion & authenticity vs. a desire for validation and social approval

Maintain good posture and learn the art of direct eye contact

Take your time: slow down your speech, mannerisms, and reaction time to your emotions or high-pressure situations

Believe in yourself and adopt a growth mindset

[askwhatsforlunch]

Fruity Christmas Pudding

I've baked this rather special Chocolate and Apricot Figgy Pudding for the Holidays for a few years now, and it's always been a resounding success, both a decadent and moist and light dessert to indulge in until midnight strikes! I wanted to try something a bit different this year, and made this very Fruity Christmas Pudding. Laden with all sorts of dried fruit, mellowed and softened in Cognac, it is just as beautiful as the chocolate one!  Happy Christmas, dears!!!

Ingredients (serve 6 to 8):

half a dozen large Medjool dates

half a dozen prunes

1/2 cup dried apricot

1/3 cup sultanas

1/3 cup dried cranberries

2 satsumas

1/3 cup good quality Brandy or Cognac (like Hennessy)

6 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened + more for greasing

½ cup demerara sugar

1 thumb-sized piece fresh ginger, peeled

3 large eggs

2/3 cup plain flour

½ teaspoon baking powder

1 ½ teaspoon Mixed Spice

1 cup Brioche Crumbs

1/4 cup almond meal

1/3 cup flaked almonds

1/4 cup very good Fig Jam (I used Fig and Almond Jam we brought back from our trip to Menton)

1 clean two pence or one pence coin

1/3 cup good quality Brandy or Cognac (like Hennessy)

The day before, pit and dice Medjool dates and plums. Dice dried apricots.

In a medium bowl, combine dice dates, plums and apricots with sultanas and dried cranberries. Grate in the zest of both satsumas, and thoroughly squeeze in their juice. Add the Cognac. Stir to mix well. Cover with cling film, and leave to soak, at room temperature, overnight.

The next day, cream butter and demerara sugar with a wooden spoon in a large bowl, until light, pale yellow and fluffy. Grate in fresh ginger, and stir until perfectly blended. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. 

In a medium bowl, combine flour, baking powder and Mixed Spice. Gradually stir flour mixture into egg mixture; fold in gently until well-mixed. 

Add Brioche Crumbs, almond meal, flaked almonds, Fig Jam and soaked fruits with their soaking liquid to the batter, and stir well. Drop the two pee in the pudding, make a wish, give a good stir, and give it to stir to anyone who’s at home, so they can make their wish too (from the oldest to the youngest!)

Generously butter a 2-quart pudding basin. Cut a small disc of baking paper and press into the base of the basin. Butter generously as well.

Spoon pudding batter into the prepared basin and press it down with the back of your wooden spoon. Cover the pudding with a layer of baking paper and foil, both pleated in the middle and tie securely with string. Trim off excess paper and foil with scissors.

Put a metal jam lid upside down at the bottom of a large pot to act as a trivet. Place a long double strip of of foil, letting it hang on both edges of the pot, to help you lift the pudding once it is cooked.

Lower the pudding in the pot, sit it on the band of foil, on the jam lid. Pour boiling water in the pot until it comes halfway up the pudding basin. Cover with a lid and bring back to a boil over medium-high heat. Once water is boiling, reduce heat to medium-low and simmer for 7 hours, regularly checking and adding boiling water so it is always halfway up the basin.

When cooked through, lift the pudding out of the pot. It should be a deep brown colour. Let cool a little, 15 to 20 minutes and turn pudding out onto serving plate. If you’re making it in advance, months ahead of Christmas, let cool completely and wrap tightly in cling film. Then place in a large metal tin (like a biscuit tin), and store in a cool, dark, draft-free place until Christmas.

On Christmas Day (or Eve, depending when you have it!) unwrap pudding and place in a buttered pudding basin, securing again with baking paper, foil and a string. Steam for about an hour.

Just before serving, quickly warm Brandy or Cognac, in a small saucepan, about 1 minute over low heat. Ignite carefully with a long match, and pour gently over the pudding, to flambé. 

When flames die out, serve warm Fruity Christmas Pudding with Brandy Ice Cream.

[caterinamkt]

Elevate Your Culinary Business with the Best Commercial Kitchen Equipment in Kenya

In the world of hospitality, the kitchen is the heart of any operation. From restaurants and hotels to catering businesses, the quality of your commercial kitchen equipment can make or break your culinary success. In Kenya, where the food industry is booming, having reliable, efficient, and high-performing equipment is essential to meet customer expectations and stay ahead of the competition.

At Caterina, we specialize in providing top-notch commercial kitchen equipment designed to elevate your business to new heights.

Why Invest in Quality Commercial Kitchen Equipment?

Efficiency and Speed: Modern equipment speeds up preparation and cooking, helping you serve more customers in less time.

Consistency in Quality: Professional-grade appliances ensure uniform results, enhancing customer satisfaction.

Durability: Built to withstand the demands of a busy kitchen, commercial equipment offers long-term reliability.

Cost Savings: High-quality tools reduce waste, energy consumption, and maintenance costs over time.

Must-Have Commercial Kitchen Equipment in Kenya

1. Commercial Ovens

An essential for any professional kitchen, Caterina’s range of ovens includes:

Convection Ovens: Ideal for baking, roasting, and cooking multiple dishes at once.

Deck Ovens: Perfect for pizzas and artisan bread.

Combi Ovens: Versatile tools combining steam and convection cooking for precise results.

2. Refrigeration Units

Keep ingredients fresh with our top-of-the-line refrigeration solutions:

Reach-In Refrigerators and Freezers: For bulk storage.

Prep Tables with Refrigeration: Keep ingredients handy while preparing dishes.

Blast Freezers: For quick cooling and food preservation.

3. Commercial Cooktops and Ranges

Whether you run a small café or a large hotel kitchen, Caterina offers cooktops that cater to all needs:

Gas and electric ranges.

Induction cookers for energy-efficient operations.

Griddles and fryers for specialized cooking.

4. Food Preparation Equipment

Efficient preparation tools make the process faster and easier:

Mixers: Ideal for dough and batter preparation.

Food Processors: For chopping, slicing, and blending.

Meat Grinders: Essential for butcheries and meat-heavy menus.

5. Cleaning Equipment

Hygiene is non-negotiable in a commercial kitchen. Caterina provides cleaning solutions like:

Dishwashers: For fast and efficient cleaning of plates, glasses, and utensils.

High-Pressure Washers: Perfect for deep-cleaning floors and equipment.

Sanitizers: Ensuring health and safety standards are maintained.

Why Choose Caterina for Your Kitchen Equipment in Kenya?

1. Wide Range of Products

From ovens to dishwashers, Caterina offers a comprehensive selection of restaurant kitchen equipment and hotel kitchen appliances tailored to different business needs.

2. Trusted Brands

Caterina works with top kitchen appliance brands to ensure you get reliable and high-performing tools.

3. Expert Support

Our team of experts provides guidance on choosing the right equipment and offers after-sales support, including installation, training, and maintenance.

4. Competitive Pricing

We cater to businesses of all sizes with affordable solutions that deliver excellent value for money.

Who Can Benefit from Caterina’s Equipment?

Restaurants: Streamline your operations and enhance food quality.

Hotels: Equip your kitchen to meet the demands of high-volume cooking.

Catering Businesses: Optimize efficiency and expand your offerings.

Cafes and Bakeries: Perfect for artisanal and small-batch cooking.

How to Get Started

Looking for a trusted restaurant kitchen equipment supplier in Kenya? Visit Caterina.co.ke to explore our range of commercial kitchen equipment. From sourcing the right tools to installation and maintenance, we’re here to support your culinary journey.

Conclusion

Success in the food and hospitality industry depends on more than just recipes — it starts with the right tools. By choosing Caterina’s premium hotel kitchen equipment and commercial appliances, you can ensure efficiency, consistency, and long-term profitability.

Don’t settle for less when you can equip your kitchen for success with Caterina! Reach out today and take the first step toward elevating your business.

[needcake]

@hetaberia-week

Day 4: love language

.

.

1551-1578,

Madrid

Months after Valladolid, Spain received a box of bunny-shaped marzipans. It came with no note, but it was fine, he didn’t need one.

A week later he had a rich velvet sack of their newly-found and beloved potatoes tied with a string of gold delivered to Lisbon, directly from the colonies. In return, a still steaming plate of bacalhoada, codfish layered with tender sliced potatoes, onions, olives and halved eggs, arrived the next day.

A few more months and he received a sponge cake, layered with meringue and fruit, to which he responded with a generous plate of paella, the seafood fresh from the coast.

The plate returned empty, clean, and with a bottle of good wine.

He would send him tomatoes and Portugal would send back pastries. Portugal would send him mangoes and he would send back bottles of high quality olive oil.

There would be entire months of silence, entire years Portugal spent fighting the Ottomans in the Indies and would come back to Europe only to leave again within days, and there were times when Spain would be too engrossed in wars in Europe to remember their little tradition. A couple of boxes of fruitcake went stale and hard on his desk by the time he returned home, deep fried offerings went unanswered. But like a language, he learned to tell when Portugal returned victorious when his servants would announce the arrival of boxes of clams and sardines and fresh fruits from the neighboring kingdom, or when he had suffered a defeat at sea and all he would receive were sad little honey cakes. On those days he would send back whole pieces of jámon, pots full of steaming cocido, bottles of sherry. It was easier to communicate with Portugal like this, without words, without accusations, just two friends sending food and drinks back forth across the border. And for a few years it had been good, it had been enough.

But then it stopped.

[arunarura]

Premier Netraa 20L Pressure Cooker: Cook Faster, Serve Better!

The Premier Netraa Commercial Pressure Cooker (20 L) is a high-capacity, durable kitchen appliance designed for heavy-duty use, particularly in commercial settings such as restaurants, canteens, or catering services. Built with quality and efficiency in mind, this pressure cooker is ideal for preparing large quantities of food in a shorter time, making it perfect for professional chefs and large-scale meal preparation.

Design and Build Quality

Crafted from high-grade aluminum, the Premier Netraa Commercial Pressure Cooker is both sturdy and lightweight. The aluminum construction ensures efficient heat distribution, allowing food to cook evenly and quickly. This 20-liter model is large enough to cook substantial quantities of rice, curries, stews, or even meats, catering to the needs of larger groups in one go.

Safety Features

The pressure cooker comes with a robust safety mechanism that prioritizes user safety. It includes a precision-weighted valve that regulates pressure effectively, preventing overpressure situations. Additionally, it features a gasket release system that acts as a secondary safety measure, ensuring that pressure is released safely if the valve gets blocked. These safety systems are essential for high-capacity cooking, reducing risks in busy commercial kitchens.

Efficiency and Performance

One of the main advantages of using the Premier Netraa Commercial Pressure Cooker is its time-saving capabilities. Pressure cooking can significantly reduce cooking times compared to conventional methods, which is crucial in a fast-paced commercial environment. The 20-liter capacity allows you to prepare large batches of food, and the pressure-cooking method retains nutrients, making the food healthier and more flavorful.

The pressure cooker is also energy-efficient, requiring less fuel or electricity than traditional open cooking methods. Its design helps trap steam and heat inside, making the cooking process faster and more efficient. 

Versatility and Ease of Use

Despite its large size, the Premier Netraa cooker is easy to use, with a simple locking mechanism and an easy-to-clean design. It's versatile enough to cook a wide range of dishes, from rice to tough meats, making it an indispensable tool in any commercial kitchen.

Conclusion

The Premier Netraa Commercial Pressure Cooker (20 L) is a reliable and efficient solution for commercial kitchens that need to prepare large quantities of food quickly. Its robust construction, safety features, and high capacity make it an excellent investment for restaurants, catering businesses, or large households.

Buy the Premier Netraa Commercial Pressure Cooker 20 L Online @ Best Prices in Poorvika!

Click here: https://www.poorvika.com/premier-netraa-commercial-pressure-cooker-20-litre/p

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 7: Moral Slip

“Are you? Using me?” She asks immediately.  “I-of course not!” He protests.  “You are.” She says with realization, her eyes wide.

Part of a Series, full Story on AO3

Astarion x Original Female Character Content (chapter): 18+ story, descriptions of violence, history of abuse mentioned, language, religion, (d&d/Selûne and Shar, not real), sexual themes. Smut & fluff in later chapters, see AO3 tags or for detailed fic tags and warnings.

Astarion knocks on the door, looking over his shoulder as the sun’s glow threatens the sky. If he’s lucky, the clouds will buy him time. To his relief, Celeste is the one that answers. Her surprised expression shifts to one of concern as she takes in the scene before her. 

“Astarion? It’s sunrise. What are you doing here?” She glances past him at the sea, the sun beginning to illuminate the horizon. 

“I…need your help.”

“Are you alright?” The rain muffles her words as it slaps against the muddy cobblestone street behind him.

“Can I come in? Can we talk?”

Celeste hesitates for a moment before nodding, holding the door ajar. “Just be quiet. I don’t live alone.”

From Astarion’s vantage point, he can see a fire beginning to die in the den and hears a tea kettle whistling quietly on the stove. An icy feeling emits from the doorway, telling him he’s not welcome.

“You’ll need to be more precise than that, my dear.” There’s an urgent edge to his voice. 

“Oh, right.” She clears her throat. “Come inside, Astarion.” She beckons him into the house. He rushes in the door, shutting it behind him with a sigh of relief as he sinks back against it. The kettle simmers to a hiss as she places it on the table, watching him with concern.

“Care to explain?” She plucks two mugs off the shelf and pours into them, steam lapping at the rims. She slides one cup to him.

“Gale and I had a disagreement. I’m…not sure if I'll be welcome back.”

“So you came here?” She raises an eyebrow. 

“I…don’t have anywhere else to go.” His eyes are hollow as he speaks.

“Astarion…I don’t think-”

“Please.” He croaks. “If you send me out there, it’ll be a death sentence.”

“Alright.” She emits an exaggerated sigh.

Astarion settles into the chair opposite her at the kitchen table. The two of them drink in silence, Celeste avoiding Astarion’s gaze while his eyes bore into her, studying her every movement. She sets her empty cup down slowly.

“Come upstairs and don’t get my bed wet.” She stands and grabs a set of fresh clothes from the linen bin near the fireplace as Astarion takes in his surroundings, ascending the row house stairs after her. 

Her room puts his attic dwelling to terrible shame. Everything is pristine; high-quality furniture, comfortable linens. Rain batters against two elegant windows, their heavy velvet curtains drawn shut. 

A cloth shoved into his hands interrupts his scan of the room. He nods in silent thanks towards Celeste, removing his boots by the door. Celeste lays the clean clothes on the bed for him as he towels off, mussing his hair until its silver curls take form again. Astarion slides off his wet clothes, pulling on the clean pair of breeches and Celeste sits on the bed, averting her eyes from his form.

“Don’t get shy now, darling.” He teases as he holds a too-large shirt up to his torso. “Whose clothes are these?”

“Craric’s. He and his wife, Orina, rent this room out to me.” 

“Pleasant house. I didn’t realize archivists had such high salaries.” He smirks and discards the shirt on the nightstand, opting to remain shirtless. 

“I get a steep discount.” He raises a suggestive eyebrow in response and she scoffs at his silent implication. “They know what I am. They’re Selûne worshippers. They house me like it’s a high honor.” 

“And is it?”

“I don’t think it should be.” Silence falls between them for a moment. “Tell me how you ended up in a tiff with Gale. He’s so easygoing.” She presses. 

“I…said a few rotten things, admittedly.” He drawls. 

“Such as?”

“I implied he was fussing over you too much. That he was using you as a project to distract him from whatever is happening between him and Shadowheart.” Her mouth opens a bit. 

“That’s…low. Even for you, Astarion.” She says. 

“Not you too.” He groans, “please spare me the chastising.” 

“I will. But only because it looks as if you’ve been tormenting yourself all day already.” 

“Can I just stay here? I can’t go back. Not tonight.” 

“I don’t think you should…” she breathes. 

“The sun’s nearly up! And it’s raining, you can’t possibly send me back out there!” He fusses. 

“I didn’t really have a choice to begin with, did I?” She asks irritably. “But fine. Just keep your voice down.” He lets out a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you, dear.” 

“Now we’re even.” She says firmly, laying back against the well-fluffed pillows. 

“Oh no, no, no. You’re not backing out of our arrangement, are you, dear?” He asks, trying to conceal his anxiety under a veil of flirtation. 

“I’ll still help you. But then you’ll owe me a favor.” She says with a grin. 

“Then let me offer you something else tonight instead…” he says in a sultry tone, crawling towards her on the bed. 

She holds her hand out to stop him.  

“No…please. I’m tired and I can’t do this tonight. You can stay, but that’s it.” Astarion pulls himself back to the other side of the bed. 

“Alright, alright.” He says, resigned. “It’s just that I hate being even, dear…”

“Not everything has to be a power struggle.” She says.  

He grunts in response. 

“About Gale…” Celeste begins, “why were you two arguing about me in the first place?”

Astarion sighs. “I mentioned that you were helping me to find a way to walk in the sun. He felt like I was using you. And I also think he shares your concerns about there being some sort of…risk involved.”

“Are you? Using me?” She asks immediately. 

“I-of course not!” He protests. 

“You are.” She says with realization, her eyes wide.

“It’s not like that, I swear! I just need your help, that’s all.”

“So last night…that was just some sort of scheme? To what end?”

“No! That was entirely separate. I truly just wanted to…I don’t know. Help? Ease your pain?” 

She gives him a doubtful look, and he lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“Look. When I first saw you, you intrigued me. And when I found out you had access to the kind of information and power that could help me, I…I wanted to make you trust me. But last night was different. I hated seeing you suffer. I wanted to give you comfort. Company. I’m not going to betray you, I swear it.” 

“No more lies? No more deception? No manipulation?”

“No more.” Astarion echoes. 

She’s quiet for a moment. 

“That was unfair of you, Astarion, what you said to Gale. I don’t want to be used as a pawn to rile him up. And as for Gale and I’s dynamic…we’re old friends. We’ve both lived in Waterdeep most of our lives. He’s just looking out for me.”

“I know.” Astarion says, running his thumb against the edge of the sheets absentmindedly. “I just wanted to get under his skin.”

“Have you considered that’s the kind of thing that puts you at odds with everyone who cares about you?”

“I have. I think it’s finally sunk in.”

“You need them, Astarion, your friends. Don’t push them away when they start telling you what you need to hear and not what you want to hear.”

As if he cannot help himself, he leans forward and presses his forehead against hers. “Would you like to be a friend to me?” he whispers.

“Astarion…” she groans. 

“I know, I know.” He groans, flopping back against the bed. 

She sets a pillow between them and crawls under the covers. 

“You don’t have to create a barrier, darling. If you want me to leave you be, I will.” He says. 

“This is for me.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know if I want you to leave me be. But you should. Because every bit more I trust you, I worry I’m taking another step closer to my own demise.”

She’s smart, and her words ring true. But he can’t deny the pain they bring him. He doesn’t want her to be right. There’s a part of him that desperately doesn’t want to be a self-fulfilling prophecy of doom for everyone who takes a chance on him. 

He slides the pillow under his head and reaches out to touch her face, stroking her cheek softly. 

“You don’t have to fear anything from me, dear.” 

She sits up in the bed, looking down at him with a furrowed brow.

“Can I trust you, Astarion?” She asks, her eyes narrowing. He sighs dramatically and pushes himself up on his elbows. 

“My dear, I have no plans to-“

“Answer the question.” She says firmly. He sits up, leaning back on his hands and meeting her gaze. 

“You can trust me.” His voice is low and serious. 

“I’ve trusted few people with my secrets and it’s the only thing that’s kept me alive. I’ve had a lifetime of looking over my shoulder and-” she’s cut short by Astarion as he leans forward, holding her chin so that their eyes meet. 

“You’re safe with me, dear.” He says just above a whisper, giving a reassuring nod as he holds her gaze. She averts her eyes, the eye contact feeling far too intense for her. 

Celeste slides back to her side of the bed and lays down again. Astarion lies parallel to her. 

“Tell me more about you. Your travels.” 

He smiles at her request. “What would you like to know?”

She inches closer, settling into the bed and covering herself with the thick duvet.

“Everything.”

He tells her about the Underdark, about the hidden temple of Selûne. Her face lights in wonder, and she listens attentively until her eyelids go heavy and sleep overtakes her. He smirks and rolls onto his back, easing into his meditative state until dusk.