#how to peel prawns

[satoruhour]

I’m a satoru girl through and through but….I saw this headcanon post on tiktok saying that geto would grip the head board with one hand…and I’ve never been the same.

a/n: this got a little kick to it ngl! a little half assed bc i havent been writing properly these few days and rather just rambling. tagging my geto fuckers @na-t0 @crysugu @slttygeto

warnings: fem!reader, reader has a hand kink, fingering, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, sex in geto’s parents’ house, finger sucking, n*sfw under the cut

anyone who’s met geto suguru knows he has pretty hands and arms. when he explains the differences between his curses, you’re only looking at his hands, at how he summons them and absorbs them back into his being. when geto drives, the way his muscles tense and release against the black shirt make you clench your thighs together.

the winning thing to finally get you to release a breath is the hand on your thigh, squeezing and feeling around. it’s routine. he’s always done it, but you aren’t sure why the feeling is so vivid now.

“what is it, darling? you keep sighing.” your boyfriend’s eyes are still on the road, unaware of your predicament before he finally has the chance to turn to you: all hot and bothered and heaving. “are you okay? we can turn back around if you’re feeling nervous.”

you were meeting his parents, of course you were nervous! but all you do is reassure him with a hand to his and a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

but dinner is as difficult as it is — “suguru, may i have a tissue?” his mother calls out, not wanting to bother you even though you were closer to the tissue box. geto reaches over your plate with an apology, muscled arm right up to your face that you suck in a breath. your lover takes four prawns, but you already know he’s on his way to peel two for you.

he digs at the prawn’s skin and pulls, rips out the legs and takes off the head, not even hearing his father’s question about what you’re majoring in because you were too hyper-fixated on suguru’s fingers. you pray that he never finds out about this, but he manages to tease it out of you later in his bedroom which his parents have kept clean. the bed fits you perfectly fine, geto’s fingers try their best.

“this why you were so distracted this evening?” geto laughs into your skin, enjoying the shyness you’re exhibiting. even now, you’re trying to hide the way your eyes flicker to his hands that pump in and out of you, mewling into your shirt.

“y—yeah . .” you mumble, grasping at his biceps to be close to geto.

he coos, “oh, baby . . could’ve just said so.” he indulges you, leaning forward to kiss you as his fingers move at a lazy pace, strictly for stretching you out before you’re left empty. you’re no stranger to geto’s cock, and yet the size always takes your breath away.

“now . . gotta be quiet, ya hear me?” geto nudges his tip past your folds and you’re taking quick breaths. you can barely hold his stare, legs coming around to hug his waist. “don’t want my parents hearing how the sweet girl they met just now is actually a filthy little thing.”

you nod.

“tha’s a good girl . .” geto sucks in a breath when he comes right up to the hilt and he thinks he might just cum with how much you’re clenching around him. you’re always so good to him, so pliant and so caring, little broken sputters of his name leaving your lips.

“su— gu— ru—!” he makes a statement with every accurate thrust, threatening you to let out louder sounds than now. he’s so so afraid of his parents walking in, because despite his instructions, he’s not exactly following. his grunts are getting louder and spiralling into moans, not to mention, your pussy is just crying for him.

“you’re so— wet, sweetheart.” suguru drags a hand down to your clit and plays with it, making you arch your back off the sheets and grind your hips back onto his. he tuts. “aht! down, baby. i know you’re eager, but i want you to— f-fuck . . let me do all the work.”

geto smiles a little when you obey, purposefully flexing his arms a little more to wind you up. if the hand on your clit wasn’t enough, the other works its way up your body, spanning the beauty of your stomach and just feeling you. they trail up even more to your face where you lean into his touch and then they’re above you.

you make the mistake of glancing up, seeing how his grips his headboard so damn tightly it’s clear that your cunt is the only cunt to make him feel this way — his biceps tense and move together with the headboard, the uncomfortable squeaking definitely giving you two away. well, the sounds of his balls slamming into your ass was also another indicator, coupled with the squelching of your pussy.

“eyes up here, sweetheart.” you’re caught. again. there’s a smug smirk on his face at your clueless face, having no chance to apologise before he uses the hand on your clit and sticks his fingers in your mouth. you moan around them, grabbing on his wrist immediately to suck on them. geto twitches in you at the sight, rough thrusts stammering just a little and you give him a smile back.

geto chuckles, “what a slut.”

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[14dayswithyou]

Hi Sai, sorry for no age in bio last time, I thought I had it on this blog!

Have you seen the fruit peeling as an act of love twitter debate sometime back? With an actual list https://twitter.com/arminvincible/status/1747792393837957620?t=-qWF5GR8RfYDOZDBCLdl1g&s=19 ?

How would 14dwy peel oranges for their partners?

✦゜ANSWERED: Thank you for including your age!! I appreciate it sm!! ;v; I've also seen the trend on TikTok a while ago, so I'll base my answers on that (instead of including visuals like da twitter link you gave)

Ren: Casually drops Sacred Ren Lore™️ by recounting how he used to peel oranges for his sister — all while doing the same for you. He’ll even take off the stringy bits if you don’t like them.

[REDACTED]: Casually peels your orange while they wait for their two-minute noodles to cook. [REDACTED] will also hand-feed them to you if you’re close enough. And if you didn't know how to peel an orange, he'd happily teach you how with zero judgment from his end.

Moth: They’d peel it for you in spirit! Obviously, there’s not much Moth can do from behind a screen... ^^; Their online equivalent would be pre-purchasing any movies/anime you were interested in so you can both watch it together.

Violet: Violet already has some oranges peeled because she wanted to share an afternoon snack with you! Probably has some calamansi on hand for her own meal as well.

Elanor: They would happily peel it and pull out the wedges individually to make things easier for you! Elanor also has tangerines and nectarines too if you prefer; just let her know.

Conan: Has experience from pre-peeling all of Alice’s oranges (and other fruits) for school. Like [REDACTED}, he'll also gently teach you how to peel an orange yourself if you don't already know how.

Jae: More proficient with cutting mangoes and watermelons, but he’ll try his best to peel an orange for you! It might be a bit squished with how enusiastic he gets, however.

Leon: Considering how he’d willingly peel prawns and crabs for you, he’d do the same for an orange as well! Will peel half of it as an example before handing the rest to you so that you can try it for yourself.

Teo: Surprisingly, Teo will peel an orange just to prove that he knows how (did he really need to do it with a knife though?), but would eat the entire thing afterwards. You should’ve peeled it yourself if you wanted to eat it too.

Olivia: She asks you to peel it for her because she doesn't know how... So now you’re both at a standstill with an unpeeled orange sitting on the table.

Kiara: ...She doesn’t actually know how to peel them either (it was always Elanor who did it for her when they were younger), but Kiara will happily (and skillfully) cut up some apples, pears, etc. for you if you prefer!

[cherrsnut]

Hostage - Chapter 2

Finnick Odair x Healer!Reader

Summary: Up until now, your life has been a solitary one. Being the sole owner of an herbal shop, and apothecary to many fishermen who have been injured. Just when your life seemed to follow the routine you were so used to, your life turns a 360 when you’re suddenly taken away for the 67th Annual Hunger Games. This turn of events forces you to accept the idea the Grim Reaper is stalking close behind you, faster than you had hoped for. 

Tags: Extremely Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Typical THG Violence, Forced Prostitution, Forced Lab Rat, Injury, Mental Health Deterioration, Psychological/Physical Torture, Death, Alcohol/Drug Consumption, Medical Malpractice, Fluff (bc they deserve it).

Word Count: 4.5k

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Chapter 2

The television was on. Very important Capitol hosts, by which Mr Flickerman was included, were wrapping up scenes of previous Hunger Games. Talking about their ‘favorite’ moments, arenas, and even victors. 

You were sat on an armchair, your gaze fixated on the scene playing out. Two boys, fighting in a game of death. The hosts never mentioned their names, nor from which district they came, but the bloody moment when that year’s victor was messily cutting the other’s throat paralyzed you. The cut was done from an odd angle, and you murmured a curse when you saw the adrenaline of survival almost decapitate his victim. You cringed your nose and eyebrows, and with your surgical knowledge, you could bet your finger that, that Tribute could have been killed in a cleaner, faster, and more painless way. 

You didn’t notice just how your air had been trapped against your throat. So when you released it, your chest felt emptier and cleaner from the bloody mess the hosts were laughing and joking about. 

“Ok so, we need to prepare for the Games” Scarlett, the pinkish escort of District 4 appeared from behind you two, grabbing the remote and turning off the screen. Two more people trailed behind her, an older woman with uncontrollable silver curly locks, and a man all too familiar, especially to the civilians of District 4. 

“But first things first. Let me introduce you to your mentors. This is Mags” Scarlett pointed at the short elder impatiently. Mags simply smiled brightly at the two of us. “You needn’t me to tell you, I know you already know. But still, I introduce you to Finnick Odair” To this Finnick turned up a smug smile with a silent chuckle rumbling just beneath his Adam’s apple.  

Sacreltt went to sit at the crown of the large table. She was impatient and too upbeat, just like a kid waiting in line to ride a rollercoaster for the first time, it sickened you. You went to grab a chair, not before giving another glance at the victor from your District from two years ago. His bronze hair shined with the sun that started to set through the transparent clear window. 

Scarlett called for tea to the nearest Avox girl. Specifying for English tea, with exactly two spoonfuls of brown sugar, and for the drink to be scalding hot. Then she grinned and looked at you and Vito again. 

“Alright, babes. First things first, tell us about yourselves” Scarlett slightly tilted her head to the side. You noticed just how her makeup was still intact. It was rather simple compared to the other Capitol civilians you had seen. A pink tint with a golden shine added onto her lips, with an eyeshadow of the same hue. A purple eyeliner, as a means to contrast colors, curved around her eyes with the added cat tail coming off the corner of her eye. 

You and Vito looked at yourselves, wondering just who to start with. Vito was the first to speak. 

“Well, my name is Vito.” he seemed nervous, or perhaps he wasn’t prepared for the question. 

“I work with my dad on my family’s prawn farm” he looked up at shyly Scarlett, and you had to focus on not getting distracted by how he nervously peeled onto the skin next to his fingernail. 

“My dad, he trained me to be here…” Vito suddenly declared. Leaving you speechless, and questioning as to why he kept it hidden for so many hours. This changed many things for this year’s Hunger Games. And maybe, District 4 would claim another victor this year. 

Scarlett’s eyes sparked up in excitement, and she clapped twice without realizing it. You were glad she was at least, happy about one of the Tributes since it's not like you could offer much more.

Finnick eyed Vito for a second before asking. “Your dad trained you?” a passing curiosity crossed his eyes almost playfully. Just then you could truly take in the treasure of a man he was. Sitting across from you, you could see his facial features quite well. 

The tan of his skin perfectly complements his blonde hair. The way his cheekbones were so prominent it highlighted his eyes if that was even possible when his eyes were so green and lively like nature itself planted a seed, and a forest grew in the summer breeze inside. And still, it almost seemed hypnotizing just how you wanted to trace your fingers across his cheek, then down to his thin lips that were stuffed with the beautiful color of candied pink. His clean-shaven face revealed the otherwise cute face he had. Not hard looking or intimidating, but soft, and just like his eyes. He reminded you of the summer under the silhouettes of maple trees, of warmth and refreshing sunlight.

“Correct. He used to tell me about how he used to train, and how he wished to have gone to the Hunger Games. I guess he wanted me to live his dream” Vito explained, a perplexed look on your face very much visible to the rest of the people present. 

He didn’t add anything else, and you forced a few blinks to take in what he said and try to comprehend as much as you could. Your eyes left to stare off into the wall for barely three seconds, with the only conclusion that some people didn’t deserve to have kids.

“What about you, birdie? Who are you?’” Scarlett spoke in a more reasonable calmer tone than before. But you still struggled to understand the people you are sharing a room with. None of them seemed to be the least concerned about what Vito just said. 

You were more lenient with the victors, especially Mags. You supposed it wasn’t great seeing so many Tributes you mentored, just to be brutally assassinated in the arena, and you supposed she’d already seen her fair share of wild parents stories, all with with questionable parenting skills. And Finnick probably was still succumbed to what he had to go through two years ago.

But why was Scarlett so nonchalant about it? It was rather bitter having her in your surroundings at almost all the time. It wasn’t exactly that she was completely indifferent, but she was excited to see one of the most God awful things in the world, laughing along to the cruelty that many children were subjected to, an you would soon join into that statistic. 

However, you knew you had to get used to her behaviour sooner or later. Even when everything seemed so nauseating, and you knew it was bad when you could taste the bile coming up for your throat. God, you hated this.

So you ignored your sentiments and carried on. Because now taking pity on the way he was raised was not the right moment. Not when the both of you had been thrown into the same deadly game, when anyone’s background means absolutely nothing to spare your life.

Even if you hate to admit it, Scarlett was right, we need to trace a plan, and we only have a day to take a look over every card we were setting on the table.

“Well…” You started. “You probably already know this, by my name is Y/N L/N. I’m fifteen and I’m a doctor” You took a sneaky look over Scarlett, seeing her energetic face come back, and you retracted a bit. “Well, kind of. I work at a herbal shop. It's just a lot of fishermen get injured during the day, they normally come in when they need immediate care” you explained. 

“Immediate care?” questioned the escort’s sparkling eyes. You internally sighed, you could already predict this was going to be a prolonged conversation. Over something that woudn’t be much of use once you’d be dropped off in the arena.

“Yeah.” you confirmed, but you furher continued. “For instance yesterday, a group came rushing to my shop because one of them had slipped and fallen on the deck, hitting his head in the process. They were logically concerned when he wouldn't wake up, even more so when a big bleeding cut appeared from his head” you recalled. If it meant this talk would help in any way, you give away the details of your former life. Still knowing there was barely a chance for you to survive, you still played  along the planning game, even when you’d already convinced yourself of your eventual doom. 

“That’s a pretty big injury, you can take care of that?” now it was Finnick speaking, his gorgeous face directed at you. It was something being in the presence of someone whose beauty was ethereal, but them speaking to you was a bigger milestone. Your heart thumped hard, and you cursed at yourself for just how embarrassing you were being. You took a mental note, one which consisted of berating yourself infront of the bathroom mirror. It was fine being attracted to someone; it was fine to walk by someone and to instantly be charmed by you. But all in its context, yours was exactly of that in a few remaining days of your death penalty would be finalized. You were going to die.

You supposed then you mind must’ve churned itself. You already accepted this fate. You might as well give yourself the privilege to internally comment about someone’s looks, you at least had that last bit of freedom to do that, right?

“Of course. I also can take a look for infected wounds, just like finding antidotes to poisons. I especially like that one” You told him with a small smile appearing. Oh god, that smile. Right there and then was the evidence of his popularity in the Capitol. 

You had to bite your tongue before any of your senseless thoughts spilled all over the table for everyone to hear your most inner provoking thoughts. 

Then again silence to your gratitude. The only sounds of the railing echoing against the bullet train. You went to look over at Mags, and noticed just how quiet she was throughout the whole planning, and you supposed she fitted into a more calming human prototype, one where her peacefulness enhanced her rather ‘listener rather than a speaker’ personality type.

She realized your gaze on her, and she returned it with a small smile. With a continuous electric reaction that zip zapped it ways until it reached her gliting eyes. 

That warmth her embraced you in stuck with you, and you coudn’t help but find her especially so meltingly cute. All the wrinkles were in full display, and it taught you that even after decades of experience, and traumatizing memories of setting foot in the arena, you could still smile just enough that Heaven’s doors would open up for you without further doubt of your light as feather soul.

But even in her gentle smile, and pure eyes, so pure it was easily to compare of that a riverbank flowing down a green mountain. There was still something behind her skull, a lurking darkness swimming in bitter water.

“I think I know why you look so familiar” Finnick changed to a new topic of conversation. He looked at you pointedly, scanning your every pore and mole hidden along your skin. And he nodded once he made up his mind, a sly smirk coming up to his lips. This had to be illegal.

It wasn’t fair just how easily it made you so jumpy, and you hoped and begged to whatever entity, whatever you were feeling wasn’t reflected on the mirror of your body. 

“I’m pretty sure you bandaged me up once, I remember going to an herbal store when I was younger when I cut myself with a fishhook,” he said. His smile should absolutely be prohibited for being under some sort of national scale threat, because the way his eyes landed on yours with that slow creeping smile made your heart trip hard… several times. But then you had to keep reminding yourself. Stop. Being. Weird. 

You needed to think straight, freezing your heart and mind. If you could you’d punch yourself, and open your eyes at what was at stake here. A few more slow breaths and you’d be able to consume yourself with reason, at least you tried to convince yourself of that. But it was hard, the screaming helplessness surrounding you like a heavy poisonous fog, choking and hurting you with the sole purpose to remind you it was just days away for you fight for your own survival; and then, Finnick was the whispering thoughts. He was the only thing taking you out from a self-absored battling arena, almost like a human stoned oasis. You never has spoken to him, at least not that you oculd recall, but if it meant a pretty stranger would be the one to distract your distressing thoughts, then so be it. 

“How old were you though? Edna never let me touch her things until I was nine. Which quite frankly never stopped me from using it behind closed doors…” Finnick chuckled at that last comment. He was slowly removing the bitter taste left on my tongue with his sweet presence. But to you, it was beginning to be a little too much. Having his attention was considered a precious treasure in itself, and you weren’t blind as to why. The way he had some sort underlying flirt in his normal talk was starting to put you on edge. His very own voice was just like caramel that melted in your tongue, and there was no dial it tasted just like high-class pastries. 

The very moment you realized that this was in his nature, you were able to calm down slightly. There was no point getting internally worked up when he didn’t mean anything further other than to make conversation. A sigh of relief escaped escaped your mouth.

“Is that so? I suppose it must have been Edna then…Edna was it?” he trailed off with a more relaxed smile. Yup, you were confident to state that his entire being was a nuclear weapon, and you should fear the day they’d try to put him in use, because you were sure all of Panem would be doomed.

It was increasingly becoming harder trying to talk to someone in a noirmal conversation with your running mind. 

“Very much correct” You leaned back against your chair, to try and find a more comfortable spot. Vito gave an odd look at the exchange of words given between me and the victor, the very same you plasmated earlier. One of indecipherable shock, and you coudn’t blame Vito for the way he was feeling. 

“I. Just. Had. The. Best. Idea” Scarlett stood up, she looked like she was talking to herself in her usual loud manner. Her abrupt pauses were very much loved and used in everyday form by the people in the Capitol, they simply loved that sweet exaggeration they coudn’t get over. “No one will see this coming,” she exclaimed in excitement, and unlike her she mumbled her words out. “Y/N, the Healer of our Capitol’s Darling” She made a movement with her hands, just as if displaying the front title from a big article, and every word that left her mouth, the more she fell in love with your marketing strategy she just came up. 

“Well, actu-” you tried to put out a single sentence. But Scarlett’s ideas were much louder than the what hjappened in reality.

 “If you’ll excuse me for a few minutes” She went to walk away, presumably to her room. So happily she was one step away from dancing around the salon car to her sleeping chamber. 

You exhaled a sigh, not in the mood to refute Scarlett, so you let her go on with her planning. 

“Well, as long as I gain sponsors, I suppose it’s alright for me then” you absentmindedly talked. You felt a yawn crawl out of your mouth, so you went to cover it while rolling your eyes to the window. You were pleasantly surprised to find the beautiful view of the night. The moon and the stars shone across the sea, painting an alluring picture over it. 

“You tired? Maybe you should head back to sleep?” Vito’s voice is concerned. You looked at him, still in a slight trance from the yawn, and smiled briefly at him. “Don’t worry. I’m fine”.

Just then, the red clothing of the Avox came into view. She was carrying a ceramic tray, traced with golden line art. Placed on top, where the cute tea cup along with the teapot and and a differently designed cup for its special use of storing sugar cubes. You concluded the ceramic products were all bought as a designed set. 

The large teapot had a trunk of that of the elephant you have only seen in adventure books targeted to children. You respected the artist’s innovative cheeky drawing on it. Many types of birds, which reminded you of the representation of the higher class of society, things like peacocks and cranes showing their beautiful feathers, all in the shimmering brushstroke gold. The five teacups followed suit with the same design. 

Along with drinks though, the Avox seemed to bring an extra treat. Two layers of plates hung, and above were many pastries you’d never thought you’d be able to digest. Your eye had caught one shortcake specifically, one where the top was filled with freshly cut strawberries, glazed over with molten sugar, its provocative appearance rumbled your belly with eagerness.

Then after placing everything on the table, the Avox gave a knowing look and walked off with the tray, presumably to the kitchen, or perhaps to knock on Scarlett's room and give her the requested drink. 

Your attention was back to the contents of the table. Not wanting to come off as rude, but very impatient to try them out. You looked over the people’s faces. Vito was reclined against the chair, a gloomy expression on his face, and you didn’t need to ask to know why.

So you stopped. And while your belly was moaning for that sugary treat, you ignored it. A sensation similar to guilt washed over your chest. You supposed you wished you felt like him, to be worried about the arena. He felt like he was being skinned by the tumultuous thoughts of his, and tlhough differently, you understood that emotinal pain. However, what set you and Vito apart was that since stepping your foot on the train, you had been accepting your impending death seantence. 

Perhaps you hadn’t truly taken in the situation, maybe the idea you were going to fight in the arena was so disorienting, your psychology couldn’t fully comprehend it. It hadn’t connected the wires, and once you’d be face to face with the rest, you’d probably sink and drown in remorse for not taking this situation as you should have. 

The sleepless nights you’ve been having since the first Reaping you attended left you wondering if you’d be trapped in this hunting competition. Maybe you exhausted your brain with so many different scenarios, that it had simply got used to the idea of your death. 

Just maybe that’s why you took more importance of the delicious snacks you’d never imagined you’d taste, because this is more of a shock than the Games itself. And you could imagine for Vito, who has family and friends beside him, it was much harder to take in. Because for you, the only thing you were leaving behind were just physical, instead of Vito, which were the built relationships he created long his nlife. The memories, the feelings, and the what could’ve been in the future with their company. 

You touched his shoulder, rubbed it slightly to get his attention. His dark-as-coal eyes roamed to yours, worried traces evident on the wrinkles he formed. He didn’t say much else, and he found himself being unable to utter a word, not knowing what to say. You gulped down nervously.

You didn’t quite know what to do in this type of situation. You normally would scurry off and cry alone, but that was because you were used to your lonely life. Edna was your only friend, even adopting as a grandma figure over the decade you had spent together. And even so, she wasn’t a very sentimental person, and you were unable to read off her emotions. Naturally, you eventually learned that side of her, and you kept repeating to yourself you didn’t need anyone to comfort you, that you were just fine to deal with yourself. 

But for Vito it must be different, he grew up in with people surrounding him. When you climbed up the car that led you to the train, you were able to catch fragments of his family. His father was there along with his mother, a baby in her doting arms. Three little girls, all with the same hair color as Vito's, waved him goodbye, with tear-stricken eyes and red cheeks.

He always had someone to talk to when needed to share something, and even if he didn’t, he was used to the physical comfort you lacked. 

He looked away, staring off to the nightly ocean. You forced yourself to be that source of comfort that his sister must have provided him, because his pitiful expression was simply just too much for you. 

“I hope this isn’t strange-” you cut yourself. You got reminded of the way Philip comforted Emi earlier that day. And as he looked up to see what you meant, you got up from your chair and leaned against him. A quick peck over his creased eyebrow while you hand found stability from his jaw, your index finger pressed over his cheek. You never saw his look of surprise, and if you did it would probably make you turn back and awkwardly sit back down on your chair from embarrassment. But you didn't, so with your chin resting on his shoulders, you pushed him further into your embrace. Your arms wrapping around his waist. 

You didn’t say anything, and you obligated your body to relax from the physical touch you had avoided for so many years, for his sake. Because Vito was the one who mattered right now, and not your foreign feeling. 

You closed your eyes. Your arm brushing passed to hold the nape of his neck. “Everything will be alright” you whispered into his ear. Even though you were copying everything Philip said to his sister, you still meant every word from your beating heart. 

He wrapped his arms around you, and in doing so he pressed himself more into your body, in an attempt to hide himself from the rest. His tanned hands went along to grab your shirt from your back. His breaths were becoming shakier, and in some instances you felt him hiccup into your shoulder, whilst also trying to control his ragged breathings. You drew circles around his back for more added comfort, tickling his back with the phantom touch of your fingers slowly flowing around the body of his back.

“You’ll be fine” you whispered again, brushing his ears with the warmth of your breath. You slightly removed yourself from him, finding more room to untangle yourself from him. You noticed how his grip on you had become stubbornly stronger. But you didn't mind. Not when you hand crawled up to his hair and cupped the back of it. Your fingers laced with his onyx hair. You faced him, giving him another peck of his cheekbone. And you found yourself with the salty only tears could make, no matter how salty the sea may be, you let his pure tears flow down your taste glands and welcomed it into your stomach. 

He hadn’t cried much you realized, maybe just two tears, one for each eye. And while you brushed his head, you felt his breath deepen and exhale, trying to calm himself down as well. 

You stood up, your fingers planting over his jaw and nape. Tilting his head upward to you. You could see the shine of his tear river going down to his cheek. A small smile, one you hoped to encouraging, all the while you dried his tears with your thumbs. 

His eyes locked with yours, traces of humidity on his lashes as he looked up at you. A shining sclera evident with the way the light bulb reflected on his eyes. 

“I’ll make sure of it. '' Your smile widens, showing just slightly your front teeth previously hidden by your lips of affection. 

You traced a few messy hair strands behind his ear, and he leaned deeper into your hand’s touch. He suddenly got stuck to you. He missed the warmth your body provided him, how hidden from everyone he felt, and how it made him feel like a little child being protected from the world’s cruelty. 

His head was pressed against your chest, and you only chuckled, a few tones lower than your usual voice. You pet his head, sliding from the crown of your head to his neck, just to put it back up, and repeat that move over and over again. You closed your eyes, and a closed-lipped smile appeared in your features, forgetting the upcoming Games. He needed you to be strong for him, and today, you’d protect him from whatever threat lurked behind the dark corners “I promise” you gave him an oath with the very intention to keep it.

The victors sat across from them looking at the two Tributes. Mags looked over at Finnick, and just repeated what you had just done, she placed her hand over his shoulder. She grabbed onto it tighter, her look reflected on his green eyes. Mags closed her lips and eyed him more intensely. Finnick’s frown was present, and he interlocked his eyes with his mentor. She gave him a small smile, and slightly nodded at her, reassuring she needn’t be as concerned about him.

Finnick played with his fingers as he watched the both of you. He just felt something break seeing the both of you, like the only line that kept him sane, was suddenly cut and he fell to a dark abyss, one filled with the monsters he dreams about. He gulped down hard. And something in him wished for your empathic arms to wrap around him. He for once wanted to feel small and well taken care of, he wanted your words to help him cope at night. But he regretted how that could be disturbing for eyes of others, he was your mentor, and you were a Tribute who was most likely going to die soon anyway. He lamented just then, just how many souls, as clean as the white feathers of doves, would be taken for the Capitol’s entertainment. 

Mags kept her gaze on the child she had started to consider her only son. She felt troubled over him, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty she couldn't erase his fragile and hurt soul.

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Heyaaa, hope you're having a wonderful day bestiess. I hope you're liking this Hostage so far. Just wanted to say two things

I could start preparing a Taglist for you all if you want to of course <3

Second, the next chapters are going to be DEEP, like a lot of emotional turmoil, so ye, be prepared.

[kcrossvine-art]

Youre telling me a shimp fried this rice soup? No.  But with your help it can, for just pennies a day. Today on the the Redwall Cookbook we're making Shrimp'N'Hotroot Soup. 

(you may find the original recipe at the bottom if you’d like to follow along!)-

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Shrimp'N'Hotroot Soup?” YOU MIGHT ASK

Unsalted butter

1 onion

2 leeks

Vegetable stock (or vegetable bouillon)

Milk

3 potatoes

Curry or chili powder

Salt and pepper

Pre-cooked shrimp or prawns

I also added parsley flakes and smoke paprika for serving. The recipe recommends crusty bread!

Crusty bread. Like garlic or a baguette.

Stale potato chips would prolly taste good if ur into that sorta thing.

AND, “what does Shrimp'N'Hotroot Soup taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

Of all the redwall dishes so far this one has the most distinct 'savory' flavor

Smooth, rich flavor

The veggies came out nicer than id thought and i think the simmering and then adding liquid let it seep in.

The seafood smells intense after an hour or so (serve immediately)

The powder and the milk kept separating and i wonder if stirring more or adding the milk earlier wouldve made it emulsify better?

You could strain and serve the contents without the soup part!

Would pair well with a smooth red wine and a 'naked' salad.

Shimp-shimp-shimp-shimp-a-doop

. Used almond milk where milk called for . Used curry powder . Used garlic bread

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

Honestly feel free to just fuckin HEAP on the spices, in classic brit fashion, they have the tongues of arctic babies and you can barely taste the spice with the original portions given. The shrimp is understandably pre-cooked but as is they come out barely changed by the soup or spices, and if someone could tell me the reasoning behind not adding them earlier to soak up some of that good good stuff, id love to hear (genuine).

2 major points on this recipe; As its seafood, it does not keep well, you could maybe save it for later the same day. Beyond that youre playing with your life and it wont taste great. It is very fast to prepare (if you have prechopped veggies). Maybe 40 minutes from deciding to make it from having it in my belly, not counting veggie prep time as i did that the morning-of while reading.

So sorry for having this out late! I've been working on some projects like concept work for an upcoming indie TTRPG, commissions for folks DnD parties, and my own personal stuff. If it makes it up to yall, i did eat this on the 3rd of this month haha.

As much as I love seafood, unfortunately i dont make it much as its hard to store and can be finicky to prepare. This soup could be replaced with a few other centerpieces, or made vegetarian, but for how it is in the book- I give this recipe a solid 6/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again. 5 being average)

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 large onion, chopped

2 medium leeks, washed well and chopped

1 1/2 cups vegetable stock (or 1 1/2 cups water and 1/2 cube vegetable bouillon)

3 medium potatoes, peeled and chopped

1 teaspoon curry powder or chili powder, or to taste

Salt and pepper, to taste

8 ounces peeled, cooked shrimp or prawns, sliced if large

1 cup milk

Method:

In a large pot over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the onion and leeks and cook, stirring, until soft, about 5 minutes (do not let the vegetables brown).

Add the vegetable stock, potatoes, curry or chili powder, and salt and pepper. Cover and simmer until the potatoes are very soft, 15 to 20 minutes.

Add the shrimp and milk and gently heat. Serve with crusty bread.

[greenycrimson]

Have been playing disco Elysium for the first time and I have made some notes:

I cannot bear to choose an option that I think will make Kim think less of me - this included punching a child when I really wanted to

The option to take up smoking every three hours tickles me; I don't know why but it's giving skag butler vibes - an addiction, but civilised. "Would sir care to make a terrible decision? No? Very good sir, I shall check back later." (Yeah I only bought cigarettes so I could set fire to the graffiti)

I shaved Harry and: oh dear, oh dear don't shave Harry. He's like a peeled prawn

I've taken no drugs because I thought it would make Kim sad. I'm aceing that boring cop vibe

I got shot. I don't have a scooby doo how mandatory anything is in this game, but because I keep on flipping through clothes to Min Max for every check I want to make I wear some damn weird shit - complete coincidence that I was actually wearing the stolen armor

Love the thought cabinet; love how utterly insane it is that you can spend six hours pondering over sexuality and the only buff that you get from it is that you can ask Kim if he's queer - or 2 hours thinking about the smell of chewing gum and suddenly you're better at spotting stuff. Mental. Brilliant

shout out to whoever made that post years ago about how you could die if you weren't psychologically ready to sit in a chair

[antaxzantax]

Umbrella Pharmaceuticals - Chapter 57

Summary:

Alfred Ashford and his cousin Auguste torture vagrants in an abandoned factory with the help of Peter.

1

Amelia poured her five o'clock tea. Her cousin Alexia had sat on the carpet with her back against the sofa to draw strange spiral shapes on the Etch-A-Sketch. Groundhog Day: Alexia was engrossed in her hobbies and Amelia was agonisingly bored by Alexia's lack of interest in going outside. She had travelled to Raccoon City to help her father Anthony with some real estate investments suggested by cousin Alexander, and wanted to take advantage of the stay to have fun with her cousins and older brother. However, Alfred and Auguste were away for most of the day, and Alexia returned from being locked in an underground laboratory to lock herself at home. Exciting.

“Lexia, what are you drawing?”

Alexia shook the toy and the figure disappeared.

“Nothing special.” She turned the dials again.

“Wouldn't you like to go out for dinner? Shall we go to Dorsia? On Friday night they serve a special menu.”

“Are you forcing me to be a normie, Alma[1]?” Alexia whispered, concentrating on her new drawing.

“A girls' night out!”

Amelia grabbed her cousin's hands to pull her up. In the manner of passive resistance, Alexia made no effort to lift herself an inch off the floor. The Etch-A-Sketch fell to the carpet.

“Alexia, please, let's go.” Amelia begged her with moist eyes. “I won't stand another day locked up at home doing nothing. We don't even need to call for a reservation. The owner of the restaurant is a friend of your father.”

2

The Dorsia occupied the top two floors of the tallest skyscraper in Raccoon City. The owner, a gay friend of Alexander's who always dressed in a tacky leopard suit, greeted them at the restaurant's main entrance with a bottle of champagne. Alexander's friend seated them in a VIP penthouse booth overlooking the Arklay Mountains. Amelia and Alexia asked for a bottle of water to drink, but Alexander's friend brought them a bottle of vintage wine that only served Amelia two years shy of her twenty-first birthday. For lunch, they selected the most expensive food without reading the contents of the plates.

“It's delicious. Do you like it?” Amelia peeled the second prawn with a knife and fork. Alexia nodded. “By the way, how's work? Any news?”

Alexia shrugged her shoulders.

“Oh, Sasha tells me you're working with another chief researcher. What's his name? William Birkin?” Amelia sipped from her glass of wine.

“Yes. William Birkin.”

“Have you ever worked with another chief researcher before?”

“No.”

“And what is the man like? Is he worth it?”

“He's competent. And he tried to kill me a few months ago.”

Amelia's knife slipped from her hand. Alexia cut a piece of steak.

“Kill you? Is that what you said?”

“Suffocate me.” Alexia pricked the piece and ate it.

“Why... Why...”

“I destroyed his life's work before his eyes. My father slammed him against the metal table. He was in a coma for a couple of days, but he suffered no brain damage. He grabbed my neck and squeezed hard.”

Amelia choked on the peeled shrimp. She coughed and ran to drink from the cup to pull herself together. Alexia cut a second piece of the steak and ate it.

“Oh, my God... Alexia.”

“I'm very selective about who I work with,” Alexia concluded impartially.

“Why are you not normal?”

Alexia skewered the last piece of meat.

“Normal,” she muttered.

“Yes, normal. Am I the only one in this family who wants to be normal!”

Amelia's rhetorical question clashed with Alexia's accusatory silence.

“Normal,” Alexia repeated mockingly. “You're normal.”

“Jesus...” Amelia removed the cutlery because her stomach had closed up.

Alexia finished her main course. Dessert was next.

3

The coffee machine had broken down again. William kicked the machine. From the force of the impact, the plastic cup popped off the spring and fell to the floor. William stomped on the cup several times until it was pressed and unrecognisable. A female investigator caught William in a rage. William saw her and repositioned his tie. He then fled down the corridor without throwing the glass in the bin.

The genesis of his neurosis was identified by several first and last names: Alexia Mary Veronica Elizabeth Anne Ashford-Campbell-Douglas-Stuart. In the week leading up to his reinstatement, William immersed himself in a detective investigation into the life, work and miracles of Alexia Ashford. He uncovered news of her graduation from Harvard at the age of ten and her hiring by Umbrella Pharmaceuticals. But where the fuck had she worked? Not a single reference. Then he read the note about her doctorate at Utrecht University: ‘The youngest doctor in the world.’ Bullshit. ‘Alexander Ashford: nominee for best businessman of the year 1985.’ ‘The Ashfords: the most powerful family in the North of England.’ ‘The Ashfords: a dynasty of Highlanders in the North of England.’ ‘One of the richest families in the world is Scottish and, yes, they wear kilt.’ ‘The Stuarts: the dethroned heirs to the kings of Scotland and England.’ For Alexia Mary Veronica Elizabeth Anne Ashford-Campbell-Douglas-Stuart had been born rich and Queen of Scots. He felt nauseous. What was the daughter of a maharajah doing at a clandestine lab in a crappy Midwestern American city? Were there no laboratories in Scotland?

William walked into the main laboratory. Alexia was not there. He hadn't spoken to her about anything other than exchanging information about the research. They didn't greet each other on the way in and they didn't say goodbye on the way out. They never helped each other and never interfered with each other. If there was a reason for William to hold on to the job, it was to find out the cause of the destruction of the G-virus. William approached Alexia's desk. On the table was a notebook open to a couple of pages written in a flowery cursive handwriting, the capital letters in the illum-illustrated letters of a medieval manuscript. He didn't understand any of the writing.

“It's Scottish Gaelic.”

William hurried back to his desk. Alexia walked over to the desk and closed the notebook.

“It’s poetry.”

Alexia specified the type of text without being asked, ignoring William's inappropriateness. The reason behind this behaviour distressed him - why was she blurting out these comments out of the blue? Why was she ignoring his intrusions in this way? Why had he never seen her father again? He was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

4

“Annie, where's the aspirin? God, my head hurts.”

“In the medicine cabinet.”

The sound was emitted with slight interference. The cassette stopped. He put on the next one. An undercover agent was enough to tap their phones and bug the Birkin residence. Through the eavesdropping, Alexander learned their opinion on a recurring theme: Alexia Ashford. Alexia infuriated William and unsettled Annette. William called Alexander a gorilla, an asshole and violent. He became convinced that the destruction of the G-virus was the result of an orchestrated conspiracy against him, but swore to Annette that he would retrieve the G-virus from the grave if the woman was still alive at Spencer mansion.

He found William's soliloquies pitiful, as well as his nonsense about Alexia. William Birkin was a pathetic, immature, imbecilic being. A freak who accused him of violence for protecting his daughter.

Alexander wanted it destroyed. He wanted him to be torn to pieces by a gang of Hunters. He wanted to wrap him in duct tape and use him as a punching bag. He wanted to cut him up and devour his corpse in the manner of his grandfather Thomas. He wanted to trepan him like his other grandfather Arthur taught him. He wanted to kill him. Kill him.

But Alexia defended him. Why did she defend him? Why did she want to work with him after he tried to kill her?

Alexander played the third cassette. What was so special about that piece of shit.

5

“Dr Birkin.”

Alexia called him from the lab's mainframe. William walked over to see what she wanted. Alexia pointed to a formula on the screen. The formula was an extension of the T-virus's effectiveness in infecting a living organism. William clenched his fists and began to sweat. While he was bemoaning his situation, Alexia had begun to produce results at full speed. The unusual last month had caused him to let his guard down and he would end up paying the consequences if he didn't get his act together. Alexia was literally overcoming him, he could see it with his own eyes. William was furious with himself and the world. He needed to break things.

“Would it be all right if we supplemented it with your study? Have you completed it?”

Wait, what? Alexia looked at William with her usual expressionlessness. William didn't know what to answer. Alexia was waiting for an answer.

“No... Yes,” said William, pressed by a hypothetical premature job loss.

“Can I have the report?”

William obeyed. Driven by inertia, he picked up his last report and handed it to Alexia with trembling lips. He kept his hands in the pocket of his dressing gown so that the pallor they had acquired from the contortion of his fingers clenched into a fist would not show. Alexia read the report carefully and then entered the data into the computer. The result was positive.

“The first phase of the project has been completed. Congratulations, Dr Birkin.”

Alexia handed the report back to him. William took it in distress - what was she playing at?

6

Tom took a seat on his section of the pavement. The cold was piercing his bones and hunger was pressing. The drug no longer worked as a method of self-deception. Late at night, he would sleep until dawn, when he would break camp to seek shelter around the Circular River, hidden from the sight of police and other undesirables. He wrapped himself in the thick blanket and closed his eyes.

The beeping of a horn woke him up. A black car, a BMW, had parked next to him. The co-driver had rolled down the window and saw a red-haired boy motioning for him to come over. Tom was wary of him and prepared to ignore him.

“Hey, are you looking for a dose?” said the red-haired man. “Come with us. We're the taxi service.”

He had not ordered a taxi.

“Get out,” he shouted at the top of his lungs, but the car didn't go.

The red-haired man did something in his seat that he couldn't make out and then threw a hundred-dollar note at him.

“Are you coming or not?”

“Out.”

“Don't you want to see Miranda?”

Miranda was the name of his youngest daughter, the one who had started college after he ended up on the street. Tom disrobed and walked to the car.

“What do you know about my daughter?” Tom threatened alertly.

“She's with us right now. We are your taxi. Why don't you get in?”

Tom spotted the driver of the vehicle. A blond man with half his face hidden by a scarf.

“Go,” said the red-haired man.

Tom got into the vehicle.

The BMW started.

7

Leviathan, the god of Flesh, blessed the ritual that his best aspiring cenobite orchestrated for his latest sacrifice, a beggar who was rescued from the street thanks to a tip-off from his beloved daughter. As in the previous seven rituals, Alfred devised the ceremonies, Auguste fabricated the means inspired by his career as an aerospace engineer, and Peter, a medical student, executed them. So it was decided with the first ritual, when the rapport between the three parties became so evident that none of the three objected or objected to the determination of the roles.

The triad was flowing.

Peter threw himself headlong into the open arms of his macabre reverie. He was doing what he had always wanted to do, and with no limitations. His professionalism was exemplary. His discretion was to be admired. His temperament unheard of. Perhaps Peter had achieved a truce with the voices, or it was because he had been taken in by Lucifer and this had overridden the voices; for there was clarity in his thinking and precision in his actions.

There was lighting.

Lucifer always congratulated him on his good work at the end of the ritual. Lucifer worshipped Leviathan, the god of the Flesh, but the worship of other divinities was a private matter for the Fallen Angel. Peter, as a mortal being, had no right to understand the designs of the Prince of Darkness. The important thing was that Peter had transcended grace into the divine embrace of Lucifer and his hosts, for Auguste was also a Fallen Angel and Lucifer's lieutenant. He wondered if he could become a Fallen Angel and join the Morning Star in his struggle to reclaim Heaven from the hands of God and his angelic minions; for that was the reason he tortured and tore apart, because that was Lucifer's command in preparation for Armageddon.

In this way, Peter did not kill innocent people, but sent mutilated soldiers to Hell to be recomposed as demons. A mission for which he had been chosen. The Chosen One of the Goat. The Ambassador of the Enemy. The Enforcer of the Liar. Peter played an essential role in the recovery of the lost paradise and so he proposed to Auguste to increase the number of sacrifices, but Lucifer's lieutenant refused. The sacrifices they were collecting were enough, for the time being.

“Don't be impatient, Pete. This is only the beginning,” said the lieutenant.

Lucifer's lieutenant manufactured, modified and adjusted the tools Peter used to accomplish his task. Indisputable was his knack for creating ingenuities from all sorts of everyday artefacts, as well as his passion for innovating each one of them. Infinite possibilities, infinite combinations, infinite afflictions. However, unlike Lucifer, Auguste did not torture for pleasure. He did it out of a mixture of curiosity and power. Curiosity to explore the limits of the human body and exploit its limitations. And power to feel what his ancestors felt, those who once sat on a throne and ruled over the will of millions of souls. He wanted to experience the subjugation, the cowardly resentment that bubbled up from their blood, the pleading shrieks they emitted like pigs in a slaughterhouse, the prayers they threw at the Vicar of God on Earth to spare their lives. He imagined himself as the Leviathan flying over the battlefield where his subjects had been slaughtered for him. The chants and harangues that echoed beyond the hills; and the crimson rain that washed over the earth, dissolving the flesh and bones of the fallen in battle, poor spirits forgotten and condemned to wander in the rubble they erected in honour of the Ruin.

Such was his will, and the satisfaction it procured far surpassed that provided by any of the foulest carnal pleasures. But the pleasure of the flesh was qualitatively different from the pleasure of Craving.

Longing gushed from the mire of the spirit. The Craving gushed from the heart like a torrent of primordial desire, like a drive for the possession of Desire in its clearest expression, the god of Flesh being its perfect spawn. The god of the Flesh was that which had nestled in Alfred's mind for as long as he could remember, and which had now matured. Men were born free and good until they were corrupted by society. He may have been born free and good, but God, chance or fate determined that his path should veer towards its own kind of corruption; a corruption that found its expression in the mutilation of flesh and the cries of the afflicted. God had led him to the god of the Flesh as a manifestation of ecstasy.

He learned this when he happened to see the film Hellraiser in 1986. Unfamiliar with popular cinema due to his confinement in a boarding school, Hellraiser appeared as a sign. For the first time, he felt represented by a character: Pinhead. However, he was never able to act as Pinhead, because when the film was released in cinemas he was in college, and in college he lacked impunity. So the lack of a chance to impersonate Pinhead turned into an obsessive fixation on horror films, literature and even video games. Michael Myers, Jason, Splatterhouse, Dracula, Swamp Thing... It didn't matter the format or the quality as long as the work provided him with violence and domination. The same violence and domination he infused into Jacob II; when he himself was the god of Flesh.

That was the point of the rituals in the factory, to revive oneself as the god of the Flesh. But these rituals did not have the same effect as the ceremonies in the attic. He needed to become a child again to experience anew the feelings he captured in illustrations, as he was never able to put them into words. Illustrations that ended up in the hands of shrinks, who mumbled about him as an evildoer, a lunatic and antisocial.

With the second Hellraiser film, his mental universe expanded to Leviathan, which he adopted as the name, image and symbol of the Craving. Leviathan, god of the Flesh, was the Craving and Alfred his best soldier. Just as he served God in the Vatican, he set out to serve Leviathan with the collaboration of Auguste and Peter. Or were God and Leviathan the same thing? The Leviathan he projected in his head had little to do with the Leviathan of Hellraiser. His Leviathan was constituted as a magnanimous and all-powerful being, inhabitant of Heaven, Earth and Hell, existing in collusion with Alfred. Leviathan understood his thoughts and feelings, just as Alfred knew how to act to satisfy Leviathan.

After the first four rituals, Alfred learned a new way to correspond to Leviathan. Auguste smoked marijuana during the rituals. Alfred went for acid. First he bought a dose from a dealer at the university. The DMT sent him into a hallucinatory state of anguish from which he vomited a couple of times in the bathroom and cried inconsolably in Auguste's arms. She had seen Hell. Then he acquired a dose of LSD. The LSD plunged him into a heavy stupor from which he awoke when Peter accidentally hit him on the head with the hand of one of the sacrifices. He experienced a state of dissociation in which he assumed the identity of the shadow he himself was casting on the floor. LSD suited him better than DMT, the former opened fewer doors in his mind, so it became his drug of choice for rituals. But, for that last ritual, Alfred discovered that he had no pills left.

“I have no material left,” said Alfred to Auguste.

“So what? Are you going to go for more?”

“Yes, I'll be right back.”

“Are you sober? Don't you want me to come with you?”

“Of course I am. I'll go alone.”

“Be careful.”

8

Alfred accelerated the BMW above the speed limit on the last stretch to Raccoon City University. He felt terribly agitated even though he hadn't consumed anything in hours. If it wasn't the withdrawal, then why was it: the Craving, perhaps.

He ran a red light.

Sirens. A police car? He thought about running away, but the police car was too close. He pulled over to the side of the road. One distraction and he was off. Two men got out of the police car.

One of them stood at his window and shone a torch at him.

“Identification, please.”

The second one stood in front of him, probably inspecting the vehicle's number plate. Alfred rolled down the window and presented him with his passport and driving licence.

“Hey, Marvin, come take a look at this.”

The second policeman responded to his partner's call. Alfred controlled the impulse to start up and drive off.

“Alfred Robert Willem Edward Malcolm Ashford-Campbell-Douglas-Stuart. Fuck, you've got more surnames than me ex-girlfriends.”

“Alfred Robert Willem Edward Malcolm. Is it possible to fit so many names in one passport?”

“United Kingdom of the Great Britain. You know they don't drive in America like they do in England, right?”

“Hey, Kevin, relax. Why were you driving so fast? Do you know that at night you are more likely to have an accident and hit a pedestrian?”

Alfred squeezed the steering wheel with all his might.

“I'm in a hurry,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“Yeah, and I'm in a hurry too,” Kevin replied. “There's a Spurs game tonight that I'm going to miss if I don't hurry up chasing youngsters like you. Is this the car daddy bought you?”

“Cunt.” Alfred insulted the policeman named Kevin.

“Get out of the car immediately!”

Alfred went to turn the key in the ignition, but Kevin grabbed him by the collar of his shirt with such force and speed that his escape attempt was instantly thwarted. Marvin pulled him until he ended up lying on the tarmac.

“Get up and put your hands on the vehicle, and where I can see them.”

Kevin frisked him while Marvin shone the torch in his face.

“Have you used drugs?”

“No.” Alfred clenched his fists. He was going to explode.

“Alcohol?”

“No.”

Kevin took a wad of a thousand dollars out of his pocket and his wallet. The wallet contained only cards.

Kevin whistled.

“Platinum cards. Your daddy must have a lot of money. Enough to pay your fines.”

Alfred headbutted Kevin backwards. Kevin responded with a scream and Marvin with surprise. Alfred took advantage of the confusion to get into the car, but Marvin slammed the door on him and Kevin grabbed him from behind. Alfred struggled, but Marvin and Kevin had the upper hand.

“Fucking asshole! The son of a bitch almost broke my nose!”

Marvin handcuffed him and put him in the police car.

“Kevin, call the impound. Let them take the damn car away.”

9

Kevin and Marvin dragged Alfred into the police station.

“What's up, Edward? We've got a punk who thinks we're in American Graffiti.” Kevin waved to the receptionist.

Alfred kicked the desk, so Marvin, Kevin and Edward rushed over to restrain him.

“Leave me alone! Get out of the way! Get out! Get out!” Alfred shouted as if he was in the middle of a psychotic attack.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Marvin held Alfred's arms tightly. “Are you sure you didn't take drugs?!”

“We put him in the interrogation room and test him,” suggested Edward.

“Come on!” Kevin exhorted.

Kevin and Marvin lifted Alfred off the ground. Alfred had stopped complaining, but was still resisting.

10

Alfred was handcuffed to the table in an interrogation room.

“Positive for cocaine and marijuana, with traces of LSD and DMT.”

“What's his name?”

Marvin passed him the passport. Irons blanched.

“Chief Irons? Any problems?”

“No, no problem. I'm going to make a call. Don't take him out of the interrogation room until I tell you.”

“Shouldn't we take him to the cell?”

“No! No. Not yet. I have to make an urgent call. I'll be right back.”

11

“Mr Ashford, I am sorry to disturb you, but there is an urgent problem with your son Alfred.”

“What happened, Mr. Irons?”

“You see, a couple of my officers stopped him a few hours ago for speeding. But Alfred resisted and my officers, following protocol, pulled him over. Right now he's in an interrogation room with a positive drug test for cocaine and marijuana.”

“My son has committed no crime, Mr. Irons.”

“No, of course not, Mr Ashford. I was calling you to let you know the situation and if you could come for your son.”

“Release my son immediately. I am going to get him.”

12

Brian Irons ordered Marvin and Kevin to continue the beat. Alexander Ashford arrived at the police station with his bodyguard shortly after the call.

“Mr. Ashford, come into my office. Your son Alfred is waiting for you there.”

Irons led Alexander and his bodyguard around the police station. In the office, Alfred was sitting with his back to the door and his head lowered.

“Mr Irons, you can leave us alone.”

Irons nodded and left. The bodyguard stood in the hallway watching the door. Alexander sat in the spare chair next to his son. Alfred folded his arms and buried his head in his chest.

“Irons told me why you were arrested. Why did you react like that?” said Alexander in Dutch.

Alfred increased the closeness of his embrace.

“Alfred.” Alexander approached him. “Where were you going? What were you going to do?”

“To university,” said Alfred.

“To what?”

“To... To buy LSD.”

“Do you consume alone or in company?”

Alfred bit his lip.

“Accompanied. With Ogie.”

Alexander scratched his beard.

“Uhm. And where do you consume?”

Alfred covered his face with his hands.

“In a factory... abandoned...”

“Alfred, do you need to tell me something?”

Alfred put his hands behind his head and began to hammer his right leg.

“Alfred, trust me. When I was your age, I was on acid and worse. I know how it feels. Do you have an addiction problem?”

“No... It's not addiction.”

“So?”

Alfred raised his head.

“You remember what I told you in therapy about what I was doing in the attic of Jacob II.”

“Yes.”

“It is back.”

Alexander instantly understood what he meant and stroked his head.

“What did it tell you to do?”

“We kidnapped eight vagrants. We tortured them in the factory. Ogie accompanies me. There is a third... Peter... He is my executioner. I am the master of ceremonies.”

Alexander sighed.

“Are they dead?”

“We incinerate the corpses and dissolve the ashes.”

“Do you only kill vagrants?”

“Yes. Dad.”

“Uhm?”

“Great-grandfather Thomas was right. You can't control it. I have seen Hell.”

“What is Hell like?”

“It's our house.”

“It's a hallucination. I've had strange dreams too.”

“Dad, should I become a priest?”

Alexander stroked his son's hands.

“Your destiny is to be by my side. God does not want us to be separated, just as I was never separated from my father. We were born to protect and continue our lineage and heritage. To become a priest would take you away from the family, my love and my protection. Besides, great-grandfather Thomas failed in his vocation for the ministry. Do not repeat his mistake.”

Alfred relaxed.

“Feed the Craving until it subsides, Alfred. I will not allow you to overreach. Not in a foreign country.”

“Can we pray for a moment?”

Alexander and Alfred knelt on the carpet in Chief Irons' office and recited the Lord's Prayer in unison:

“Ar n-Athair a tha air nèamh, Gu naomhaichear d'ainm. Thigeadh do rìoghachd. Dèanar do thoil air an talamh, mar a nìthear air nèamh. Tabhair dhuinn an-diugh ar n-aran làitheil. Agus maith dhuinn ar fiachan, amhail a mhaitheas sinne dar luchd-fiach. Agus na leig ann am buaireadh sinn; ach saor sinn o olc: oir is leatsa an rìoghachd, agus an cumhachd, agus a' glòir, gu sìorraidh. Amen.”[2]

13

“Annie.” William whispered in Annette's ear.

“What's going on...”

“Alexia.”

Annette sighed.

“Will, please, sleep.”

“She is getting closer to me. She wants to possess me.”

“Will, darling, rest.”

“She spoke to me this morning.”

Annette settled back on the pillow.

“She spoke to me about melancholy. And I answered her. We talked to each other and she was not hostile. She wants to use me.”

“What would I use you for?”

“I don't know.”

“Sleep, Will.”

14

Alfred and Alexia sat on the far left of the back row of the classroom. That had been their favourite seat since they both first attended the same educational institution when Alfred started university at the age of sixteen and Alexia decided to pursue her second doctorate. Alfred amused himself by watching the students and Alexia wrote poetry in her notebook. It was the first time they had seen each other after the previous day's detention. Alfred wanted to tell her what had happened, but he felt physically and mentally exhausted. His father recommended that he visit the university to consolidate his alibi, and Alexia willingly accompanied him.

He didn't know where to start. Too many words and none precise enough.

“Alexia, can you hand me a piece of paper and a pen?”

Alexia tore a sheet of paper from her notebook and held out a blue ink pen. Alfred recreated the scene in his imagination before putting it down on the page. However, he stopped at the first few strokes because he could think of a better way to narrate what had happened. He divided the sheet into panels and set about sketching a comic.

The professor ended the class by requesting a rehearsal for the next day. Alfred and Alexia, who were neither students, left the classroom to go to the library, where they reserved a study room. Alexia bought a bottle of water and Alfred a packet of cigarettes. In the study room, Alfred gave his sister the sheet with the comic on it and sat down by the window, which he half-opened to smoke. A tongue of cold spring air drifted into the room. Alexia checked the panels several times.

“Are you going back to the factory?” Alexia put the sheet away.

“No... Not at the moment. I don't know. Should I go back to Scotland?”

Alexia folded her arms and stretched her legs out on the seat, staring at the sheet.

“What's the difference?” said Alexia.

“In Scotland I feel better... I'm in a place I like.”

“What's the difference?” Alexia reiterated.

Alfred threw his cigarette out of the window and lit another with visible discomfort.

“I don't know... Which one do you think it is?”

“Would you have killed the Jacob II boys?”

Alfred was always open with Alexia, she was his confidant.

“Yes, I would have killed them.”

“What is the difference?”

“That I had absolute impunity there and that there were no fucking cunt policemen jumping on my neck. They hurt me, those sons of bitches, and all because of an acceleration. Motherfuckers. I wish I had them in front of me to...”

“What's the difference, then?”

“Our father is supposed to bribe Irons for it... I'm not going to jail... Jail is for riffraff. I haven't done anything wrong. In fact, I've done the council a favour. I've taken out their rubbish without asking for anything in return.”

“There is a death penalty here.”

Alfred blanched.

“What do you mean? We are above that.”

Alfred threw the second cigarette out of the window and sat down opposite Alexia.

“It doesn't matter how high the risk is, does it, Alfred? There will be no one to convince you otherwise,” whispered Alexia.

Alfred ducked his head.

“The cycle repeats itself over and over again. It is inevitable. I can't control it. It is part of me.”

“Do you give up?”

“I don't... I don't want to. But neither therapy, medication nor a self-help book is going to solve it. I'm just walking along and suddenly I run into Peter and Ogie gets involved. I'm not a monster. I punished those kids for survival. It was wrong for me to torture those kids with the prefects, but it wasn't wrong for the teachers to beat and humiliate me? Those bums were going to die anyway. If not us, others would have killed them or set them on fire, and I'm the monster?”

“I think you're trying too hard to deceive yourself. You're going back to that factory and you're going to put yourself at risk again because you still haven't got over father abandoning you at boarding school. You're not over the fact that he never loved you until we ran away from home.”

Alexia's words stuck like needles in Alfred's heart. They ran away from home in the summer of '83, after the incident at the Antarctic base. Alfred, unaware of what had happened, returned to a broken home. Elizabeth blamed Alexander and Alexander blamed everyone. Alexia had just returned from the asylum for stabbing her psychologist. Alfred didn't understand what was going on, but he did understand that Alexia was catatonic and that Alexander looked at him with hatred whenever they passed each other. Elizabeth tried to comfort him, but her hugs were insufficient. In reality, Elizabeth's goal had always been to keep the family she had built with her husband afloat. Losing her son and grandchildren meant losing her husband's memory and her own. That's why Elizabeth's hugs seemed so fake to her.

So, fed up with the hatred and falsehood, he took his twin sister by the hand and they slipped out of the mansion and headed for nowhere. For two full days, they wandered through the Cheviot Hills towards the Scottish border. Hikers caught them as they were about to cross a grove of trees. They were disoriented, malnourished and exhausted. A police patrol picked them up and took them to the nearest hospital. Later that afternoon, Alexander and Elizabeth showed up at the hospital. Alfred heard Alexander shouting in the corridor. He had never heard him shout like that before. Elizabeth answered him in kind, as if they were engaged in a fight. They were just talking about him. Alexander said it was Alfred's fault and that he had endangered his sister. Elizabeth blamed Alexander for his lack of attention to the boy; for ignoring him in such a critical situation. Alexander insisted that it was Alfred's fault. It was always Alfred's fault.

Alexander stepped into the room. He had clenched his fists and his eyes radiated hatred. Alfred was transported back to his first year at Jacob II, when one of the teachers whipped him with a cane. The teacher had beaten him for his bad behaviour, but he was a teacher. Alexander was his father, who was supposed to love and protect him. Finally, Alexander hugged him warmly. He never knew why, but he wondered what would have happened if those fists had never opened to hug him. Alexander could have killed him with one blow. So he interpreted it as his father's first sincere act of love for him. However, it was during the years that followed, when he and Alexander began therapy to improve their relationship, that he felt the emotional weight of abandonment, amplified by his experience at boarding school. It was at that moment that the god of the Flesh emerged.

“Am I going back to the factory?”

“Yes.”

Alfred put his hand on the table and Alexia put hers on top of it. Alfred squeezed hard.

15

“Sasha!”

Alexander Ashford and Robert Graham embraced each other warmly.

“We have so much to talk about!”

Robert bought him a drink and showed him his new office. He had moved into a modern Beverly Hills mansion after the birth of his daughter Ashley.

“How is Ashley?”

“Good. School has just started. We're a bit scared,” he joked.

“And how is your political career?”

“Better than ever! My election as senator from California is assured. From there to the vice-presidency and then to the presidency it's a step.”

“You know you can count on my support.”

“And I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Sasha. My family is indebted to yours for the invaluable support your father gave mine. You see, my father was a newspaper salesman who went to college because Edward gave him a personal scholarship and from there to governor of California. Honestly, there are coincidences in this world that are supernatural.”

“My father was a good man. Unlike others, he never shied away from looking for diamonds in the mud.”

“You flatter me, even if your metaphor is a little offensive.” Robert chipped a bottle of Californian wine. “Although... We're here for a different reason today, aren't we?”

“I have accepted Derek C. Simmons as my personal secretary and adviser. He starts working with me at Umbrella next week. I owe it to his father.”

“Simmons' father is still alive? I thought he had passed away.”

“He is on the verge, but continues as chief of The Family.”

“What we agreed about donations is still in force?”

“100,000 for the Democratic Party and $20,000 for the Republican Party.”

“I've started to mobilise my contacts to get the new pharmaceutical law passed. Wouldn't you advise me to invest in Umbrella shares? You and Spencer are doing a spectacular job, how do you manage it?”

“We only agree on the fundamentals. Now is a good time to invest. Stocks are going to stay high because of the humanitarian crises caused by the invasion of Kuwait.”

“Cool. So tell me, is there going to be a call?”

“Yes, Jacob's Circle has been called to a meeting with The Family at Tall Oaks. You will attend as a guest because of your affiliation with Freemasonry.”

“Do you know the date?”

“Invitations will be sent out from spring onwards.”

“Great. Do you still do boxing?”

“I never stopped practising it.”

“Shall we try?”

“I'll have you know that I haven't lost the muscle either.”

“Oh, you're still a macho man?”

“More or less.”

16

Amelia received the last couple of guests. She had arranged a small party in a rented house with the children of the parents with whom the Campbells were doing business in Arklay County. In all, there were no more than seven of them, and all between the ages of eighteen and thirty.

“Welcome. Come into the main hall.” Amelia led the last two guests into the house for their meeting with the rest of the group. Counting the two hostesses, there were three men and six women. Amelia excused the absence of the two older brothers, Alfred and Auguste, and announced that her own partner, Daniel, could not make it from Switzerland.

Amelia loved to host parties because she enjoyed being surrounded by people more ordinary than her own family members, without extravagance, craziness or bad blood. As soon as she introduced the last two guests, Amelia joined the group, almost completely oblivious to the ghostly presence of Alexia, who, as usual, had retreated to a corner to isolate herself in disguise. Amelia wouldn't bother to integrate her cousin, that was her problem, and she didn't want to break the pleasant harmony that had developed. She didn't want Alexia to spoil the good feeling.

“I told Greg not to bet on the winning horse, as if it were reverse psychology, and then the jerk goes and does it. He lost in the end!”

The group burst out laughing. Alexia watched them in the distance like gorillas in the mist. She was bored. Amelia saw her first get up from the couch and go to the bathroom. John followed behind her.

“Is there a problem, darling? I'm sorry to see such a beautiful woman marginalised in a corner.” John blocked Alexia's path as she went to open the bathroom door.

“What do you want?” Alexia gripped the knob with an exaggeratedly erect back and a hardened voice.

“I want you.”

Alexia opened the door, but John grabbed her hand. Immediately, Alexia pulled her hand away forcefully, but did not go into the bathroom. John's eyes radiated lasciviousness.

“Wait here. I'll let you know,” said Alexia and locked herself in the bathroom.

Alexia plugged the sink drain and turned on the tap with lukewarm water. She rummaged through the drawers for a tool she could use as a screwdriver and carefully unhooked the lamp from the wall, taking care not to make any noise.

“May I come in?” asked John on the other side of the door.

“Wait. Not yet.”

She pulled out the wires and extend them into the stagnant water in the sink. She dipped the copper and covered the wires with a large towel. She turned off the tap.

“Come in.”

John went into the bathroom.

“And that?” He pointed to the lamp.

“It's being repaired. Would you mind helping me? The drain plug got stuck while I was getting it fixed.”

John smiled smugly at Alexia and stood in front of the sink. He took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

“Women.” He dipped both hands in the water.

Darkness.

“What's wrong? Has the power gone out?”

The guests panicked. Amelia stood up and bumped into one of the guests on her way to the light switch. She pressed the switch, but the light did not return.

“Where are you?” The guests shouted to find each other.

“Who are we in the room?” Amelia asked.

The guests raised their voices, except for two. Alexia and John. Where the hell was Alexia? Anxiety gripped Amelia. Where the fuck was her cousin.

“I'm going to look for them. Stay here.”

Amelia went out into the hall.

“Alexia?! John?!”

A door opened. Someone grabbed his hand.

“Alma. I'm going to re-establish the electrical connection. Say goodbye to the guests. Then go to the bathroom.”

“What...”

“I've killed John.”

Amelia was petrified and tears welled up in her eyes. Why couldn't they just be a normal fucking family. Alexia slipped into the bottom of the stairwell and managed to restore the power from the panel. The power came on. Alexia ran back to the bathroom and closed the door. Amelia reappeared in the living room crying.

“My grandfather is dead. Alexia told me before the lights went out.”

The guests expressed their condolences to Amelia and left with a promise to organise a second party. One of the guests asked for John and Amelia said she was chatting with Alexia, who would be leaving later. The guest winked at Amelia and drove off in his own car. Amelia closed the door behind her. Her eye make-up had smudged, smearing her cheeks.

A lump fell to the floor. Alexia appeared down the corridor dragging John's corpse.

“Cardiac arrest,” he informed Amelia. “I'm going to cremate the body and set fire to the house to remove the evidence.”

Amelia looked at John's corpse. His tongue was hanging out and his eyes were blank. Alexia had killed him.

Amelia went to the kitchen and sat on a stool. Alexia mixed several cleaning products in a bucket, which she dumped on John. She lit a match. Amelia covered her eyes with her hands.

The fire devoured the wood like a plague of termites. Alexia pulled and dragged it out of the house. Amelia went down to the grass, while Alexia fanned the flames with solvent and bleach. Amelia nearly fainted from the smell. Alexia went down the porch steps and pulled Amelia to the car. They sat in the vehicle and Alexia started up. The burning house was lost on the horizon.

Alexia drove down a road that Amelia was unfamiliar with. At the end of the path, there was a metal gate and ahead was what looked like an abandoned factory. Alexia opened the gate with a wireless remote and entered the compound. She walked to one of the loading and unloading shutters. She pressed a button and the shutter rose. Alexia drove the car onto the platform. She dismounted and walked to a control panel. The platform disengaged and lowered.

Alexia got into the car. The platform came down through the hole drilled in the ground, and Umbrella? A discreet Umbrella logo attached to a steel hatch.

“The underground laboratory. We will stay here until the situation is sorted out.”

Amelia collapsed.

Notes:

[1] Amelia Campbell penname. [2] Scottish Gaelic version.

[wellthebardsdead]

Evalien: *from our world, got isekaid into skyrim and turned into a dwemer, now walking up to the Riften gates hoping it’d be just like the games so she can get one up over the guild*

Guard: Halt, before I let you in, you have to pay the visitors tax.

Evalien: You’re meant to only be doing this to merchants, not civilians never mind friends of the guild. Do I really need to tell Brynjolf how shit you are at doing a shakedown?

Guard: *knees almost buckling* alright alright keep your voice down just let me unlock the gate-

*a few minutes later*

Evalien: *walking through the Main Street, eyes peeled for a nord as built as her companion*

Kaidan: how on earth did you pin that guys scheme that easily?

Evalien: Because there’s no such thing as a visitors tax-

Maul: Hey. You!

Evalien: *stops and turns her attention to the heavily armoured nord* hm? Wait- *holds her hand up and moves it around in front of his face like she’s gathering his proportions* You’re Dirge’s brother yeah?

Maul: *suddenly caught very off guard* I? Yeah. You know him then?

Evalien: Sort of only really seen him from a distance. I’m a friend of the guild. Is Brynjolf in the marketplace today? Need some dirt off him.

Maul: then we’re speaking the same language. *shifts to a more relaxed position* Yeah, he’s in the main market district, scouting new talent.

Evalien: things must really be bad if he’s the one in charge of recruiting now… Delvin still in town?

Maul: yeah, down in the flagon usually.

Evalien: good got some stuff he might be interested in. Mercer still head of the guild?

Maul: yeah, took over-

Evalien: after Gallus… yeah…

Maul: *fully convinced she’s an old acquaintance of the guild now* yeah… Any other info you wanna know?…

Evalien: Yeah what’s the brotherhood situation in skyrim? If it’s as bad as what I think-

Maul: Well the only information I know is there was a boy from the orphanage who ran away-

Evalien: and is performing the black sacrament. All of skyrim knows about that and Astrid still hasn’t caught onto it… *sighs* things really have gone to shit.

*A few more minutes later*

Evalien: *walks into the Bee and Barb before looking back at Kaidan* Have a rest Kai I’ll be a while.

Kaidan: *still trying to wrap his head around how she knows all of this stuff* alright.

Evalien: *walks over to Sapphire* I’m here about the stable boys debt.

Sapphire: ugh, I know Shadr would try to get out of it.

Evalien: you and I both know this is a set up. You can’t bleed gold out of a stone when the vein was dry to begin with. Why else would he have come to you for the money?

Sapphire: alright alright, I understand. Tell Shadr he doesn’t owe me anything.

Evalien: Good. *turns and walks off over to the bar*

Keerava: Oh hello have a seat I just cleaned the tankards.

Evalien: thank you. *looks over her shoulder then back at her before sighing* I’m very sorry but, I have a message from Brynjolf.

Keerava: *opens her mouth ready to berate her*

Evalien: calm down, I’m not going to take your coin. *sighs* it’s- complicated our relationship. But he was one step short of sending… some more unsavoury people after your family. So I convinced him to let me come talk to you instead.

Keerava: m-my family- no what-what do you want then?

Evalien: I’m not in the business of hurting people- I’m only in riften to try to convince him to abandon this life and come home with me but… I heard you and your fella were looking to sell the inn?… if I can find some people around town for you to train up to run the place for me I’ll happily pay whatever you ask.

Keerava: I?… you… *looks over her shoulder to the other argonian Talen! come here!

Talen-Jei: *walks over* yes love?

Keerava: *whispers to him* this lady wants to buy the inn.

Talen-Jei: I?… are you serious?

Evalien: *nods* yes. I’m very well off. Whatever you ask I’ll pay, within reason of course.

Talen-Jei: I… sure thing.

*A few more hours, a few honeyed words to the prawn owner and threatening to throw a statue in a lake later*

Evalien: *shaking Svana Far-Shields hand* just head over to the inn and tell the argonians Eva sent you. They’ll get you trained up and oh- *hands her a bag of coin* your first pay in advance.

Svana Far-Shield: Thank you so much!! You have no idea how glad I am to be out from under my aunts thumb! *runs off to the inn with her belongings in hand*

Evalien: *smiles and walks over to the market immediately spotting Brynjolfs red hair* there you are… *sneaks up behind him and leans on the stone wall* Bryyyynjolf~

Brynjolf: *jumps ever so slightly and turns around* hm? Well then who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?

Evalien: a friend. Listen, I’m looking for this old guy hiding out in the ratway, goes by the name of Esbern? Heard he’s paying you quite a bit of gold to keep him hidden.

Brynjolf: oh I see, expecting information for nothing then. Tell you what, you help me out with my little operation here and I’ll tell you what you want to know.

Evalien: and let me guess, you want me to plant a stolen ring on that poor dunmer over there whose just looking for his family?

Brynjolf: *eyes visibly widening* How do you know?

Evalien: Your guys are a loooot louder than they give themselves credit for. But really? Is this how far the guild has fallen? I promise I can make him of far more use to the guild than he would be in a prison cell.

Brynjolf: really lass?…

Evalien: Mhm~ *walks off past him and over to the dunmer merchant* hi there! You’re Brand-Shei correct?

Brand-Shei: I am indeed, I bet you were expecting an argonian?

Evalien: it is a very argonian name but I heard you were a dunmer looking for information on your family? House telvanni?

Brand-Shei: I? Well yes. I suppose you met one of the folks I hired to investigate my past.

Evalien: Mhm. *reaches into her bag and pulls out a journal handing it to him* I suppose I should refer to you as Brandyl though with this information.

Brand-Shei: *takes it and flips through the pages with shaky hands and tears growing in his eyes* Lymdrenn Telvanni- I… my father…

Evalien: A casualty of the argonian uprising I’m afraid… but, the journal does have one thing wrong. House telvanni still stands.

Brand-Shei: *looks at her in surprise* wh-what? Th-they do!?

Evalien: yes. I have a few contacts in the higher rankings of the house. Now that I’ve confirmed you’re still alive, I’ll write to them to confirm your place amongst their ranks.

Brand-Shei: I- I have family?… *looks at the journal and squeezes it tight* Azuras mercy I have family. H-how can I ever repay you?

Evalien: well, I just acquired ownership of the inn. If you’re interested I can pay you 200 gold a week to work there, so long as you’re okay serving the more unsavoury of riftens citizens… I don’t exactly want the thieves guild to burn the place down and all you know?

Brand-Shei: yes, yes absolutely I’ll pack up and head over there right away I- *hugs the journal tight* thank you! Thank you again!

Evalien: *smiles up at him* don’t mention it. I’ll write to my contacts this evening. *waves at him before walking back to Brynjolf* meet me in the flagon.

Brynjolf: what did you say to him?

Evalien: you’ll see. But he’s under my protection now. You mess with him, and I’ll end the guild myself.

Brynjolf: …

Evalien: see you in the tavern. *walks off*

*a few more hours and a bunch of murdering later*

Kaidan: so esbern is down here then?

Evalien: Yep, just stay behind me. *walks up to Dirge* Maul told me to tell you to stop drinking on an empty stomach. *pats him on the face and walks past*

Dirge: *his single braincell trying to comprehend what just happened* Ah?

Kaidan: Don’t think too hard mate your head will explode. *pats him on the shoulder following after her*

Vekel: Give it up Brynjolf, those days are over.

Brynjolf: I’m telling you, this one’s different.

Vekel: face it my friend, you, mercer, vex, delvin, you’re part of a dying breed.

Evalien: Yoo hoo- boy this place is in worse condition than I thought.

Brynjolf: Dying breed aye? *looks back at Eva* what do you call that then?

Evalien: Think fast- *tosses a bag of coin* The prawn, *tosses another* The whore *tosses one more* and the Argonians.

Brynjolf: *catches all three and stands there in bewildered shock* how did you-

Evalien: I told you. Your lot are a lot louder than you give yourselves credit for. Wasn’t hard to pick up who owed you money. Speaking of which- *pulls out a copy of the deed to the bee and barb* I think the guild and maven will greatly benefit from my ownership of the Bee & Barb. *hands it to him* So long as you don’t bother my employees, we won’t have an issue. Oh and, I’m a woman who enjoys her deals not falling through. So if any of you target the argonians for the coin I gave them. You’ll wish you’d pissed off the black briars instead of me. Okay?

Brynjolf: *nods visibly shaken by her presence now* I-aye yes. We’ll leave them be. I’ll hand this deed over to maven as well.

Evalien: good. Now I believe, you, owe me something. *steps a little closer, her automated dragonpriest mask close to his face*

Brynjolf: I? Oh, yes *clears his throat, visibly blushing* Through that door, at the furthest end of the tunnels you’ll find him. Heavily armoured door. You can’t kiss-MISS! Miss it- *steps back*

Evalien: *giggles* thank you. *turns to walk in that direction* oh and… Did. Etienne make it back safe?

Brynjolf: you were the one who set him free?

Evalien: yes.

Brynjolf: Heh… aye, he did, he’s resting in the cistern now…

Evalien: Good, I’m glad, he was in a rough way when I found him…

Brynjolf: When you come back, would you mind sticking around? I think you’d do well in our kit.

Evalien: tell you what, if any thalmor come crawling through here, kill them for me and I’ll happily join your ranks.

Brynjolf: can do… can I ask one more thing lass?

Evalien: yes?

Brynjolf: …Who are you?

Evalien: I’m the Dragonborn.

*30 minutes later*

Evalien: *dragging Esbern out of the ratway* Glad you guys finally decided to turn up!!

Lucien: We took the wrong tunnel and got lost!!

Taliesin: WE DIDNT GET LOST YOU FAINTED WHEN A RAT RAN UP YOUR LEG!!

Caryalind: To be fair on his part- *cuts a thalmor agents throat* It was a very big rat!

Serana: *rips another thalmor agents throat out* God they taste terrible!

Kaidan: *cuts another’s head off* What happened to that weasels promise of killing these bastards if he saw them?!

Evalien: I’m pretty certain these ones were already in here!

Taliesin: IM GOING TO KILL DELPHINE FOR SENDING US HERE!

Evalien: You’ll have to wait I need to save a blue cat before we get out of this city!!!

[lorei-writes]

Appurved ~ Lumiere

Grandma & The Mansion Residents Gen Fic Lumiere's POV

My submission for -- experimental -- creation challenge hosted over on @flash-exchange discord server. <3 Inspired by a comment @the12thnightproject made under one of my @writing-wednesday entries... And the need for Grandma. (Who needs speed? Grandma is enough. The one and only Grandma. This time with zucchini).

It is yet another day in the mansion. A fairly ordinary day, save for one little fact: the Grandma has come, much to the distress of my dearly beloved eternally devoted slaves. I, however? I am very pleased, I must say. Grand Mama is well-versed in the ways of us feline kind, giving me milk and pets whenever I like. I don’t even have to ask, and ah, how thrilling it is when she calls me by my name. Lumiere.

It is yet another day in the mansion. A fairly ordinary day, save for one little fact: the Grandma has come, much to the distress of my dearly beloved eternally devoted slaves. I, however? I am very pleased, I must say. Grand Mama is well-versed in the ways of us feline kind, giving me milk and pets whenever I like. I don’t even have to ask, and ah, how thrilling it is when she calls me by my name. Lumiere.

She can appreciate my charm (unlike some others, which will remain unnamed), so it shall be of no surprise that it is her I adore. Ha, I am even as generous as to wrap my tail around her leg…

The kitchen fills to the brim with my worshippers. In fact, I believe that there are a few too many of them present now – in particular, those unfaithful, traitorous, dog-reeking rotten mutts could go and deliver their inferior affections to the foul tail-wagging, howling, barking…! It is beyond me to be calm at the times like this, however, for the sake of mother grandest, I must remain indifferent to their obvious slights. Hmpf.

“Sweetheart, please, give me the knife.” Grand Mama is much too kind to the writing mutt. I seat myself on the counter, and she rewards me with a scratch to my chin. Delightful. Those hands could heal.

“Yes, nanny, here you are.” Handle first. Purrfect. At least he knows this much.

“Now, I will need for Theo and Vinnie to peel the zucchini. Isaac, dearie, help them out. There’s plenty of it. Leo should have the slicer ready soon. Arthur, you will be peeling garlic. Leleon, you’re on the jar packing duty.”

“Yes, Gra-mere!” Good reply, horse-boy. Show your respect to mother grandest.

“You’ve grown to be such a sweet man…” Grand Mama coos, however, her focus is too sharp to allow for any distractions from her objective to purrsist. Meowgnificent. “Jean, you go with Wolf and pay for them. Do you need my purse?”

“No, madmo… Grand Mama.” It was close, prawn. If you did not seem to self-flagellate, I’d consider punishing you with my full meowght. “Le Comte has already done so.”

“Ah, this rascal, I have told him to save his money… Grandmas are for spoiling you children, after all.” So kind-hearted. I could purr. “Go bring them in then.”

I swish my tail and have my ears purrk up. As it should be, all my worshippers are obedient to the wishes of mother grandest. However, vigilance is advised – it is the duty of the cat to look out for threats big and small. I hop off the counter and onto the table, just as the door open for my slob of an owner.

“I have a prototype, nonna.” Oh, so that is this piece of trash? Meowvellous. All according to plan.

“Set it down and get right to work. We’re not leaving the kitchen until we’re done!”

***

Sun has fallen and then risen. On duty I have remained. My slob sleeps on the floor, but for once, he is not the only one. None of my worshippers still stand. Only mother grandest has endured the gruelling hours of zucchini torture. Undefeated. Unbreakable. Pawsitively radiant.

I walk up to her. She deserves my purraise. I slide my body over her legs as she fills the zucchini jars with brine.

“We’re nearly done, Lumiere… Do you think we should buy another cart of zucchini? The harvest went really well this year…”

Oh, mother grandest. Yes. Please. Teach my worshippers your enlightened ways.

--

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[prettyboyhowl]

Which ROs would peel prawns for you?

In a scenario where both are at a group dinner and MC would eat prawns but doesn't want to get their hands dirty/can't be bothered to peel them etc.

(yes this is oddly specific but it's important information ok)

Gil: Doesn't want to peel prawns either but would do it for you if asked. If he notices that you want some but are hesitating, he'll actively offer to. "I can peel them for you if you'd like," he smiles.

Eddie: "MC, did you want some prawns?" Asks if you'd like some when they're peeling prawns for themselves - will happily peel some for you too while they're at it.

Otto: Already peeling some for you. The type to put things on your plate (unless you don't want that), and ask if you want this or that so she can get it for you or make sure it's within your reach so you can get some.

Ernestine: She raises an eyebrow when she notices you eyeing the prawns but not getting any. "Seriously?" She scoffs and starts peeling some for you. "Oh, you don't have to-" "Shut up, how many do you want?" She's doing this for you now. You don't have a choice in the matter.

Lemon Sorbet: "Would you like some prawns? I'll peel them for you," he offers kindly. He wouldn't just put things on your plate but similar to Otto he's also the type to look after you, making sure you're getting fed, and able to access all the dishes you like.

???: Doesn't want to peel prawns either. Neither of you eat prawns that night. If you ask them to peel some prawns for you they'll delegate and find someone else at the table to peel prawns for both of you.

[vnyverse]

A quaint sidewalk, with wild grass growing on its walls, particularly so by a big reflective sign, looking to be washed out, is hidden among the many alleyways in the neighbourhood. After the rain, a thin fog layered itself across the street, the puddles still, until it was time they returned, and little signs of life are present. An orange cone was left behind, probably from whatever construction works that took place on the street itself. The white coloured neighbourhood cat, Neko-chan, adopted by the Japanese lady running the corner store between the so called “haunted streets” would probably be your best bet on any friendly presence in this town. Unfortunately, Mrs. Nakamura was taken away by what was complications of heart disease, her neighbours shared. This street was also where they were last seen, in the middle of 26th and 27th street, in their distinguishable beige school uniforms. The eerie, strange, supernatural, whatever you call it, took a liking to the particular turn from the 26th to the 27th, and as children, it was told to be common sense not to make the turn alone. But they weren’t alone, they were 5, and usually, in a band of 6. Just like that, your closest friends were whisked away, swept to an unknown land, and you prayed for their safety day and night.

Was it always like that? The silence is deafening. What was it like before? Was there a before? Were you overthinking this? Truth to be told, you had no clue. After all, Mr Andre did say that memory was a fallible thing. It was subject to biases.

When they hosted dinners in their shared home, the apartment down on the 28th, where you shared precious memories of the school holidays, crying to one another, laughing with, and at each other, gifting gifts, apologising. Where you laughed at hyein for never having peeled her own prawns because Minji spoils her too much, or when everyone would join in on commenting on Hanni’s height. You missed it, you missed them, the company they brought, the comfort and the relief they gave you.

Who were they? Right, exchange students, they said. They liked the beach, they said they were like found family, and it was one day when you helped them around the school that they decided to befriend you, like a package of sorts. You always thought your analogy was clever, but now you would do anything to have the package be permanent. You’ve spent far too long together for them to just disappear with the snap of the finger, almost like you didn’t matter. But surely that wasn’t the case, right?

Now the ensuing blankness of your desk summons you into your mental ennui. Why was everything suddenly so colourless? You swore your pencil was a lighter shade of yellow, and you only notice your slouching when a voice cuts in. “Why are you slouching again? I taught you to be better than that.” Face to face with a annoyed Minji, even her steely gaze fished out a smile, and you acknowledge her presence even before you register it, tears trailing down your cheek profusely, and you don’t wipe them, with your hands clawing out towards her. Part of you wants to know they’re here, back, and that they wouldn’t ever leave you alone again. You don’t know what to believe. Another pair of hands emerge from behind you, turning your chair around while a frown meets you, evidently worried with how distraught you looked. Hanni now takes the liberty of taking your glasses off and wiping your tears away, like she always did.

The rain comes, and a bolt of lightning sends the town descending into darkness. They disappear, like they were never here, and they never existed. You hated when this happened, there was no trace of them, not when you called out to them on the 28th, outside the dark brown cabin, not when you ran back to school to look in your locker, no letters, no nothing. Just neko-chan following you around town, and you look into her eyes as if she could rightly bear witness to the summer’s events, and attest to your relationship with them.

Cats don’t blink, and your staring contest ends. Your white canvas shoes are now mud-filled, a shade of murky brown, your cardigan a wet mess, it was weighing you down. You take it off, and the raindrops continue to soak through your tee. Stranded, in the middle of nowhere. Your head hurts, your heart hurts. They were so close yet so far. They would never hurt you intentionally.

Or were they the before?

A/n: I felt the urge to write some trippy shit so I made this up in 20mins, SRY FOR THIS IT IS NOT PROOFREAD NOR EDITED TO MY LIKING YET BUT I HAVE TO PUT SMTG OUT SO HERE IT IS

u know what I might make this a full fledged series for all I care I totally don’t have responsibilities like university or work but I swear I’ll make it work if y’all like it enough

[bbina]

UGH to be wonbin’s rockstar girlfriend .. also i’ve never seen anyone fit the icon of a star as much as he does. like he’s so wonderfully fit to be a star it’s actually so crazy he was BORN TO BE A STAR

.. hence why i chose the star as my emoji for the anonverse…. sorry yall i HAD to do it before anyone else did it’s just so right for this anonverse especially on a page for binnie

also i’m gonna ignore how eating shrimp/prawns gives me hives .. bc peeling shrimp is the sea version of peeling oranges 🙏 i bet he’d do that for yn too

eunseok being so supportive when wonbin takes care of her ,, when he could have ripped him to shreds ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 ugh my heart hurts for this btlverse like cmon these people are too good for each other

phew its been a while since i yapped thanks for listening yall

- ⭐️

living the rockstar gf life fr . AND I AGREEEE no one embodies the word "star" other than the man the myth the legend himself.. mr. park wonbin

i know lots of ppl who are allergic to shrimp and cant relate yall missing out on good food 🤩 wonbin would peel anything for yn... the type to peel the skin off an apple with a knife if yn said she was craving apples 🧍 (if u watch chainsaw man, wonbin the type to pull the shit aki did at the hospital when he was visiting denji aka the bunny apples)

eunseok cant stand his sister going through it on instagram and real life......... he knows wonbin means well 😩 in a room full of guys that yn could be with, wonbin is the guy he'll choose for her

HAVENT SEEN U IN MY INBOX FOR A HOT MIN IT WAS NICE YAPPING TO U AGAIN

[outpost51]

Manuscript Search Tag

tagged over here by @writernopal hiiiiiiiii ty ily

my words: means, nobody, palm, view, and eye

tagging: @ceph-the-ghost-writer @mrsd-writes @vakarianfan @ziskeyt @princess-prawn

your words: emotion, replace, weed, approve, glance

means

from Stellar Parallax, Chapter 4: Unfortunate Things

That reassurance didn’t come. “True, but the potential is always there. Like you said, with power comes corruption. How long do you wager you’ll keep your shiny, Commander? A few months? A few years? How long until ‘at any cost’ means writing innocent lives off as collateral damage? My niece was nineteen. Fresh out of the Academy.”

nobody

from Between a Rock and a Hard Place, Chapter 10: Nothing Left But the Fall

Dad grunted as he rose to his feet, using the ship to hoist his massive frame off the ground without putting too much weight on his still-sensitive scars. “Don’t call me that,” he grumbled, only pausing in his lecture to gulp the entire bottle down in seconds. “Ain’t old enough to be nobody’s granddaddy yet.”

palm

from The Unlikely Adventures of Bitchface and Go F*ck Yourself, Chapter 6: Playing With Fire

“Asshole!” she barked as her fist made contact with his palm. He barely blocked it in time, and had he not, she might have actually hurt him a little. Broken her hand, too. “Ah, the little arsonist likes lighting matches, but still doesn’t expect the consequences, I see,” he goaded. Better she tired herself out now rather than ripping his wings off mid-coitus.

view

from Blinding Neon, Shades of Grey, Chapter 14: Wabi-sabi

Frankie peels one eye open. The man previously arguing with Orville is nowhere to be found. Sapphire’s synthetic tits almost block her view of a silenced handgun disappearing beneath Orville’s jacket.

eye

from Stellar Parallax, Chapter 2: Red Fish, Blue Fish

“We never saw them coming.” They wouldn’t see her, either. Eye for a fucking eye. She turned the optical bulb over and over in her hand and snorted.

[rosefrancaise8]

The Nantes-Brest Canal in Brittany.

A train to Redon and a taxi to Saint Martin sur Oest was all it took to get us to the Locaboat base where our little Penichette was waiting. First the paperwork, then a walk into the village butcher, baker and grocery for supplies. The real fun started after that. We were introduced to every part of the boat and shown how to drive it - which included steering it through two narrow bridge pylons, slamming the brakes on, doing a u-turn and handling the mooring ropes. The absurd level of confidence David has in his Penichette driving abilities considering he has never driven one was not misplaced. Without anywhere near the same level of confidence I did all the same moves and even parked it without mishap. A source of some pride for me and delight for David as he wasn’t sure up until that moment that I would be prepared to take the wheel long enough for him to pour himself the occasional glass of wine.

All the locks on this part of the canal have a lock keeper, which means no climbing in an out and up and down ladders while David manoeuvres the boat in. That is a very good and unexpected thing! All I have to do is pass the right rope up to them, they attach it to a bollard and then I hold onto that rope for dear life so that the boat stays put against the wall while the water level rises. We got a few kilometres under our belt that first day and hoped to get through our first lock but was a minute after closing so the lock master wasn’t having it. We moored just down the canal a bit, all on our own, not another boat in sight. The bed on this boat is super small - the equivalent of two skinny singles side by side - and the bedlinen is like a sleeping bag insert. Needless to say not much sleep was had on our first night. I was sure that I could hear someone walking around on the bow and had fitful dreams. Toilet pit stops required some serious choreography.

We now have 3 locks under our belt. The first was a learning experience where it might have really helped to understand French. When David explained that it was our first lock our lock keeper became much more encouraging and by the time we sailed out I think he had forgiven us. The second one was a breeze - we knew just what to do and I think that I looked like a sensible boating person who knows their ropes. I also complimented him on his garden and he told us that the unseasonably cool weather has played havoc with his flowers. The third lock was a bit of a disaster. I handed the lock keeper the starboard stern rope instead of the port stern rope and despite her frantic impatient gesticulations I couldn’t work out what the hell she was telling me. I maintain that this was entirely David’s fault because he left the ropes in such a way that I couldn’t find the right end of the right rope at the right time - and I am sticking to that story - except that I have also resolved to give myself more time to sort my ropes out next time so that such an incident will never happen again!

We moored at Malestroit (behind some very helpful Australians with a flasher Locaboat than us who helped us connect to power) and went to take a look around. The brasserie we were having lunch in was hosting a family celebration - for a baptism we thought on account of church bells peeling and well dressed guests. I wonder if any of them chose the prawns because they were lovely but their shells were deadly sharp. We took the bikes for a spin after that to see the Museum of the Resistance in nearby Saint Marcel, which was the epicentre of the movement in Brittany following German occupation. We arrived back too late to go through the Malestroit lock so will be spending the night here in this beautiful village.

[rogers07]

Can Dogs Eat Prawns

Can Dogs Eat Prawns? A Comprehensive Guide for Pet Owners

As a dog owner, you want to ensure your furry friend enjoys a healthy and balanced diet. With so many human foods out there, it’s natural to wonder: Can dogs eat prawns? In this article, we’ll explore whether prawns are safe for dogs, their nutritional benefits, potential risks, and how to introduce them into your dog’s diet safely.

Understanding Prawns

Prawns are a type of shellfish that are often confused with shrimp. Both belong to the same family, but they differ in size and flavor. Prawns are generally larger and have a sweeter taste compared to shrimp. They are commonly used in various cuisines worldwide and are packed with protein, vitamins, and minerals.

Nutritional Benefits of Prawns

Before we dive into whether dogs can eat prawns, let’s take a closer look at their nutritional content. Prawns are:

High in Protein: Prawns provide a lean source of protein that helps support your dog’s muscles and overall health.

Rich in Omega-3 Fatty Acids: These healthy fats promote a shiny coat, healthy skin, and proper brain function.

Low in Calories: Prawns are low in calories, making them a suitable treat for dogs that need to maintain or lose weight.

Packed with Essential Nutrients: They contain important vitamins and minerals like Vitamin B12, iodine, and selenium, which contribute to your dog’s overall well-being.

Can Dogs Eat Prawns?

The short answer is yes, dogs can eat prawns! However, there are important considerations to keep in mind. While prawns are not toxic to dogs, they should only be given in moderation and prepared correctly.

Potential Benefits of Feeding Prawns to Dogs

Healthy Treat: Prawns can be a healthy and tasty treat for your dog. They are often more enticing than regular dog treats due to their unique flavor.

Variety in Diet: Introducing prawns into your dog’s diet can provide variety, making mealtime more exciting.

Boosting Protein Intake: If your dog is active or requires more protein in their diet, prawns can be a great addition.

Potential Risks of Feeding Prawns to Dogs

While prawns can be beneficial, there are also potential risks involved:

Allergic Reactions: Just like humans, dogs can have allergies to shellfish. Monitor your dog for any signs of an allergic reaction, such as itching, swelling, or gastrointestinal upset.

Digestive Issues: If your dog is not used to eating seafood, introducing prawns too quickly may lead to stomach upset or diarrhea. Always start with a small amount.

Choking Hazard: Prawns should be cooked, peeled, and deveined before feeding them to your dog. The shell can pose a choking hazard and may lead to digestive blockages.

High Sodium Content: Avoid feeding your dog prawns that are prepared with added salt, sauces, or seasonings. High sodium levels can be harmful to dogs.

How to Safely Prepare Prawns for Your Dog

If you decide to introduce prawns into your dog’s diet, here’s a step-by-step guide to ensure they are safe and healthy:

Step 1: Choose Fresh Prawns

When purchasing prawns, opt for fresh or frozen ones without any added preservatives. Check the packaging to ensure they are safe for consumption.

Step 2: Cook Thoroughly

Cook the prawns thoroughly by boiling, steaming, or grilling them without any seasonings or sauces. Avoid frying, as it adds unnecessary fat and calories.

Step 3: Peel and Devein

Once cooked, remove the shells and the dark vein (the intestinal tract) from the prawns. This helps eliminate any potential choking hazards and makes them easier for your dog to digest.

Step 4: Start Small

Introduce prawns gradually into your dog’s diet. Start with a small piece and observe for any adverse reactions. If your dog enjoys them and shows no signs of allergies, you can increase the amount.

Step 5: Moderation is Key

Remember to treat prawns as an occasional treat rather than a staple in your dog’s diet. Too much seafood can lead to digestive issues or an imbalance in their diet.

Anecdote: Bella’s Prawn Adventure

Let’s take a look at Bella, a lively Labrador Retriever who loved mealtime. Bella’s owner, Jane, wanted to introduce new flavors into her dog’s diet. After researching safe human foods, Jane decided to try giving Bella some prawns.

Jane carefully cooked and peeled the prawns, starting with just a small piece. To her delight, Bella went wild for the taste! Jane continued to feed Bella prawns in moderation as a special treat. Bella’s coat became shinier, and she seemed more energetic, all thanks to the added protein and nutrients from the prawns.

Conclusion

In conclusion, prawns can be a safe and nutritious treat for dogs when prepared correctly and offered in moderation. With their protein content and essential nutrients, they can add variety and excitement to your dog’s diet. However, it’s important to monitor for any allergic reactions and consult your veterinarian if you have any concerns.

If you’re considering adding prawns to your dog’s diet, be sure to follow the preparation steps outlined above. Your furry friend might just enjoy this tasty seafood delight!

Hyperlinks:

Can Dogs Eat Oranges

Can Dogs Eat Cucumbers

[norexflavours]

Pineapple Essence in Global Cuisine: How Cultures Use Pineapple Flavoring

Pineapple essence is a versatile ingredient that transcends geographical boundaries, making its mark in diverse culinary traditions around the world. Derived from the fruit's natural oils, pineapple essence captures the vibrant, sweet, and tangy flavor of fresh pineapples, offering a concentrated burst of tropical goodness. This article explores the various ways cultures incorporate pineapple essence into their cuisines, highlighting its unique applications and the delightful dishes it enhances.

1. Tropical Delights in Caribbean Cuisine

In Caribbean cooking, the pineapple is a beloved fruit, celebrated for its sweetness and ability to complement savory dishes. Pineapple essence is frequently used to enhance marinades, sauces, and beverages, contributing to the region's distinctive flavors. For instance, in Jamaican jerk chicken, the infusion of pineapple essence in the marinade adds a delightful sweetness that balances the heat of spices.

Moreover, pineapple essence finds its way into tropical drinks such as piña coladas, where it is used to intensify the flavor of the beverage without the added acidity of fresh pineapple juice. The sweetness from the essence pairs perfectly with coconut cream and rum, creating a refreshing tropical cocktail enjoyed on sandy beaches.

2. Asian Fusion and Tropical Touches

In Asian cuisine, particularly in Thai and Filipino dishes, pineapple essence plays a crucial role in creating balance and harmony of flavors. In Thailand, dishes like sweet and sour chicken or prawns often use pineapple as a primary ingredient. The essence serves as a convenient alternative, allowing chefs to create the same vibrant taste without the hassle of peeling and chopping fresh fruit.

Filipino cuisine embraces pineapple essence in dishes like "Adobo" and "Lechon," where the sweet and tangy flavor enhances the overall taste profile. Additionally, the Filipino dessert "Pineapple Upside-Down Cake" benefits from the concentrated flavor of pineapple essence, creating a moist and flavorful treat that evokes the essence of tropical islands.

3. The Sweet Side of Pineapple Essence in Baking

Baking enthusiasts worldwide have discovered the joys of using pineapple essence to create delicious desserts. In Western countries, pineapple essence is often added to cakes, cookies, and pastries to impart a unique tropical flavor. A popular application is in pineapple upside-down cakes, where the essence enhances the pineapple topping, ensuring a consistent flavor throughout the cake.

Moreover, pineapple essence can be used in fruit salads, smoothies, and ice creams, allowing home bakers to experiment with tropical flavors. The concentrated essence makes it easy to achieve a delicious pineapple taste without needing fresh fruit, making it a staple in many baking pantries.

4. Latin American Influences: From Salsas to Desserts

Latin American cuisines, particularly in countries like Mexico and Brazil, often incorporate pineapple essence to enhance various dishes. Pineapple is a common ingredient in salsas, providing a refreshing and tangy element that complements spicy dishes. By adding a few drops of pineapple essence, cooks can elevate their salsas to new heights, delivering an explosion of flavor that perfectly balances heat and sweetness.

In Brazilian cuisine, pineapple essence is often used in traditional desserts such as "Pavê de Abacaxi" (pineapple pudding). The essence enriches the dessert with the bright flavor of pineapple, creating a delightful contrast to the creamy layers. This application showcases how pineapple essence can enhance not only savory dishes but also indulgent desserts.

5. Middle Eastern and Mediterranean Flair

Although pineapple is not a native fruit to the Middle East, its essence has found a place in modern Mediterranean cooking. Chefs incorporate pineapple essence in various dishes, from grilled meats to fruit salads. The sweetness of the essence can complement savory spices, creating a delightful fusion of flavors.

In Middle Eastern desserts, pineapple essence is sometimes added to rice puddings or cakes, providing a refreshing twist. This fusion highlights the adaptability of pineapple essence, allowing chefs to experiment with flavors and create innovative dishes that merge cultures.

6. The Global Appeal of Pineapple Essence

Pineapple essence's global appeal lies in its ability to enhance flavors while offering convenience. Its concentrated nature allows chefs and home cooks to experiment without the limitations of seasonality or availability of fresh pineapples. Furthermore, its long shelf life ensures that pineapple flavor can be enjoyed year-round, making it an indispensable ingredient in many kitchens.

As culinary trends continue to evolve, the use of pineapple essence is likely to expand, finding its way into new dishes and cuisines. The tropical flavor that pineapple essence brings can elevate any meal, making it a popular choice for chefs looking to create vibrant and flavorful dishes.

[sweetchillidippingsauces]

Enjoy Delectable Recipes with Sweet Chilli Dipping Sauce

At parties, everyone looks forward to tasty food. Great food makes the party more fun and memorable. Whether it's savoury snacks or sweet treats, having delicious options keeps guests happy and excited. And one of the best condiments to make any meal delicious is the sweet chilli dipping sauce. It brings a perfect balance of sweetness and spice, making it a favourite for many. So, if you're hosting a party, make sure to serve food that everyone will love.

If you are looking to buy sweet chilli dipping sauce, then Veeba is a trusted brand known for its quality products.

Here are some simple and delicious recipes to try with sweet chilli sauce.

Sweet Chilli Chicken Wings

Chicken wings are a classic favourite at any gathering. To make them tastier, try coating them with sweet chilli dipping sauce. Here's how: 

Ingredients:

1 kg of chicken wings

1 cup sweet chilli dipping sauce

Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions: 

Preheat your oven to 200°C (400°F).

Use salt and pepper to season the chicken wings.

Place the wings on a baking tray and bake for 25–30 minutes, or until crispy.

Once cooked, toss the wings in a bowl with the sweet chilli dipping sauce from Veeba.

Serve hot and enjoy!

Sweet Chilli Tofu Stir-Fry

Tofu is a great meat alternative and tastes amazing with a sweet chilli dipping sauce. This stir-fry is quick and easy to make.

Ingredients:

1 block of tofu, cubed

1 bell pepper, sliced

1 onion, sliced

2 tablespoons of sweet chilli dipping sauce from Veeba

2 tablespoons of soy sauce

1 tablespoon of oil

Instructions:

Heat the oil over medium heat.

Fry the tofu cubes until they turn golden brown.

Remove the tofu and set it aside.

Add the onion and bell pepper and cook until they are slightly soft.

Add the tofu back into the pan and pour in the sweet chilli dipping sauce and soy sauce.

Mix everything together and cook for another 2–3 minutes.

Serve with rice or noodles.

Sweet Chilli Prawn Skewers

These prawn skewers are perfect for a summer barbecue or a quick dinner.

Ingredients:

500g prawns, peeled and deveined

1/2 cup sweet chilli dipping sauce from Veeba

2 tablespoons of olive oil

Juice of 1 lime

Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions:

In a bowl, mix the sweet chilli dipping sauce from Veeba, olive oil, lime juice, salt, and pepper.

Add the prawns and marinate for 15–20 minutes.

Thread the prawns onto skewers.

Preheat the grill to medium-high heat.

Grill the prawn skewers for 2-3 minutes on each side or until cooked through.

Serve hot with extra sweet chilli sauce for dipping. 

In essence, sweet chilli sauce is a versatile ingredient that can transform simple dishes into mouthwatering delights. You can easily buy sweet chilli dipping sauce online from Veeba, either in stores or online. Enjoy experimenting with these recipes and making your occasions memorable.