#i had it simmering on low for like. 25 minutes

[biteofcherry]

Another treat for the Souptember

✨kidney bean soup ✨

Ingredients:

400g dry white kidney beans (NOT canned beans)

4-5 potatoes

3 carrots

1 onion

250g bacon

2-3 smoked sausage

2-3 liters of stock (veggie or meat, your preference)

3 bay leaves

3-4 allspice berries

1 teaspoon of sweet paprika (ground dry spice)

1 tablespoon of marjoram

salt

black pepper

2 tablespoons of tomato paste (optional)

Start preparing the day before, or early in the morning if you plan on making the soup late in the afternoon/evening - because you need to soak the beans in water for at 8-10 hours. It's good to just put them in a water overnight. *make sure the bowl is filled with water to almost the top, because the beans will soak up a lot of water!

(on the left you can see how the beans look right after putting them in a bowl and on the right how they look after 10 hours)

2. Once the beans have soaked for hours, rinse them, then put them in a pot. Pour your stock in. If you want to increase quantity, add water.

3. Add bay leaves and allspice berries. Cover the pot with a lid.

4. Keep the pot on medium heat and bring the brew to a boiling point. Then lower the heat, but keep it simmering and cook beans for 30 minutes.

5. Peel your potatoes and carrots. Dice/slice them.

6. After cooking beans for 30 minutes, add your veggies and keep it bubbling for another 25-30 minutes.

7. While the veggies are simmering, finely chop your bacon and dice the onion. Get the bacon on a heated pan. Fry it until the fat melts and the bits are nicely brown. Then add your onion and fry it with bacon until the onion is softened and golden. Then turn off the heat.

8. Slice the smoked sausage. Make sure you get a smoked, ready to it kind of sausage, not a raw one!

9. Once you had your veggies simmering for 30 minutes, add the mix of bacon and onion to the pot, then add sliced sausage. Stir.

10. Add 1 teaspoon of sweet paprika spice. Add some black pepper. Stir.

11. Keep the pot on low heat for another 10 minutes. Then turn the heat off.

12. Add 1 tablespoon of marjoram. Stir.

13. Taste and decide if you'd like more salt or black pepper and add accordingly. (We haven't added salt before, because stock often comes salty already, as well bacon and sausage have saltiness in them and the soup soaks that up).

14. Eat! 😊 *you can also add at this point 2 tablespoons of tomato paste, but that's completely optional. Personally, I don't add it, but some people like it.

[sga-owns-my-soul]

oh my god i made chilli for dinner and i had to improvise on the spices and it turned out SO GOOD and i'm so PROUD of myself AHHHHH

[fcukfodmap]

Day 41: Low-FODMAP Gluten-Free Stuffed Peppers with Cajun Vibes

After the success I had with sort of Greek stuffed peppers, I thought I'd try my hand at sort of Cajun stuffed peppers. The trouble being that a low-FODMAP diet allows neither garlic nor onions, and both are a component in any given commercially available Cajun seasoning mix. So this recipe adds all the other seasonings in a Cajun mix, and it worked pretty well, I thought. Culinarily speaking, my native diet is about as far from Cajun you can get in the contiguous 48, so be aware that this is completely inauthentic Cajun fare. This is vibes-based cuisine all the way.

Low-FODMAP Gluten-Free Stuffed Peppers with Cajun Vibes

6 red, yellow, or orange bell peppers (not green)

1 lb ground pork

1 1/2 c diced tomatoes, or one 15 oz can petite diced tomatoes

1 tbsp Italian seasoning

1 tsp paprika

1/2 tsp dried oregano

1/2 tsp dried basil

1/2 tsp thyme

1/4 tsp black pepper

1/4 tsp cayenne pepper

1 1/2 c long grain white rice

3 cups water or broth

2 c shredded co-jack cheese

1 1/2 slices gluten-free bread

1/3 c grated Parmesan

2 tsp minced banana pepper rings, plus 2 tbsp of the brine

olive oil, salt & pepper

Preheat broiler and adjust oven rack 6 inches from broiler element. Line rimmed baking sheet with aluminum foil. Halve the bell peppers lengthwise through stem, removing the seed pods but leaving the stem. Arrange peppers cut side down, brush with olive oil, and sprinkle salt on peppers. Broil for 4-5 minutes, until beginning to spot brown but not mushy. Set aside to cool.

Turn the oven down to 400F. Cook sausage in big skillet over medium-high heat until browned, then add Italian seasoning and tomatoes and cook until the liquid is gone. Add the rest of the seasonings and rice, and cook until fragrant, 30 secs to a minute. Add water or broth, cover, and simmer for 20 minutes. Off heat, add 1 1/2 c shredded co-jack, and let cool for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, pulse bread in food processor until crumby. (You should have about 1/2 c.) Combine breadcrumbs, Parmesan, and 1 tbsp oil in bowl. Take two of the bell pepper halves and chop up; you should have about a cup. Process chopped bell pepper, 2 tbsp breadcrumb mixture, banana peppers & brine, 2 tbsp oil, and salt to taste in blender until smooth, about 1 minute. Set aside sauce.

Arrange peppers on baking sheet cut side up, and fill with the sausage-rice mixture. You can really mound them up. Sprinkle with the rest of the co-jack, then divide the breadcrumbs over all the peppers, pressing lightly to flatten. Bake for 20-25 minutes, until well browned and heated through, and then let sit for 10 to cool a bit. Serve with sauce.

A note on various FODMAP concerns: broth is often a problem, because most commercially available broths have onions, garlic, celery, you name it. I went ahead and used the chicken-flavored Better Than Bullion, even though it has onions and garlic, because I'm of the opinion that it's a low-FODMAP diet, not a no-FODMAP diet. Otherwise water is fine, though you might want to add a little salt.

Green peppers aren't allowed, and you can have one serving of other colored peppers, which is one whole pepper. I found an Italian seasoning mix that didn't have garlic in it, but if you can't source such a thing, a mix of marjoram, oregano and thyme would work as a substitute. Tomatoes are similarly restricted, but the amount in any given stuffed pepper should be below the threshold.

Though decently spiced, this recipe could handle more seasoning, especially if you like hotter fare. The banana pepper sauce -- I used a yellow pepper in the mix, so it would be a bright yellow color -- was really cool, adding a note of sour brightness to the dish. You could probably use a hotter pepper, if you can find one without ubiquitous garlic.

The salad we had this with was just a garden salad with a simple oil and vinegar dressing: equal parts olive oil and an elderberry balsamic vinegar, and salt and pepper. The younger kid, who can be super picky, went back for seconds after asking, "Is this really low-FODMAP?" Which seems like pretty high praise.

This diet still sucks, but I'm kinda into how it's forced me to stretch my skills in the kitchen to compensate for all the things I'm missing. This is a weird analogy, but I have a background in poetry and prosody, and these restrictions are like the restrictions in writing a sonnet: it's easy to write a bad sonnet, but when you write a good one, it's sublime.

Disclaimer: I am no dietician. I'm doing my best to minimize FODMAPs in my diet, but it's possible for me to be misinformed or mistaken about various ingredients.

[beardedmrbean]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ad4l4gHqIoM Would you eat Yoshikage Kira's sandwich? (Minus holding it with a severed hand of course)

That looks yum, I had to skip a bit since I'm in a hurry so there may be a nightmare bit going on in there that I missed but if not, looks tasty.

Hopped over to the YT page

0:00 Start 0:02 This time it's the cutlet sandwich from St. Germain's that Kira Yoshikage bought in Jojo's Bizarre Adventure Part 4. 0:10 But the problem is this 0:14 The sauce coagulates as if it has stopped time 0:19 Ordinary sauce is not enough, so I decided to make my own. 0:31 So I made a Shaliapin-style Worcestershire sauce. 0:38 Chop the onions as finely as possible. 0:44 And then color the onions as much as possible. 0:50 Next we heat the sugar to caramelize it. 1:13 Add vegetable juice 1:21 Once the caramelized sugar is melted, add the onions, grated apples, and onions. 1:35 And then the spices. 1:42 Then simmer over low heat for about 30 minutes and refrigerate for 2 days. 1:59 then degas for 45 minutes (1270g) 2:16 Roll up with the slippery side out and let stand for 20 minutes 2:27 Roll out the dough into a rectangle with the down side up 2:45 Fold the rectangle into 3 pieces. 2:53 Close the mouth and weave in both sides again 3:15 Then fold closed side down 3:21 And flatten it out 3:32 Now the second fermentation starts. The required temperature is 35 degrees Celsius, and the current temperature is 12 degrees Celsius. 3:37 So I'm trying to get by with an outdoor electric blanket 3:50 The dough seems to be expanding a little, but it's far from doubled in size. 3:55 The dough is left to rise again while I make pork cutlets. 4:50 Spread milk on the surface and bake in an outdoor toaster oven. 4:57 First, the surface is baked at 1000W. Once browned, it is covered with aluminum foil and baked some more. 5:45 Meat for pork cutlets is surprisingly difficult to identify. 5:52 It looks a little early, but the color of the batter is limited, so I'm going to use the child heat to cook it 6:07 I managed to get it to look like that. 7:41 The cutlets in this cutlet sandwich are also freshly fried and crispy. 7:49 Can't break through the plastic wrap? 7:54 Cat grass! Is it defending itself? 8:10 It's not sticking at all. 8:20 Oh, no! I've broken through the plastic wrap and let the sauce seep out. 8:28 оооооооо 8:39 This sandwich with a hole in it 8:50 Now let's eat! 9:13 Bread with this much flavor may be hard to find, even from a bakery. 9:19 And the aroma of freshly baked bread. 9:25 This alone is worth making it yourself. 9:30 The sauce is like a spicy chuno sauce. 9:42 If it is not this intense flavor, it will be defeated by the bun. 9:48 And the cutlet is the least present. 9:53 If the bread was more puffy, it could hold more cutlets. 9:58 It's hard to encourage the bread to rise outdoors on a rainy winter day. _____________________

"It's hard to encourage the bread to rise outdoors on a rainy winter day."

I need a tattoo that says that

[the-bar-sinister]

In Justice We Trust (120928 words) by thesavagesabretooth

catch up here.

With Simon Blackquill and Athena Cykes assigned as their psychologists, the Phantom and Fulbright must grapple with their identity, their deeds, their future, and their love for the twisted samurai whom they betrayed.

All the while, Edgeworth and Wright find their relationship tested as they walk the narrow path between pursuing real justice, and the dark age of the law.

-

December 25, 12:30 pm

Robert had turned the conversation away, to more mundane things again, asking Athena more about her cooking and taste in food as he ate. It was a good thing that he had, perhaps, because Athena’s long dissertation on the various types of baked pastries she’d seen in Germany during one of her trips there was interrupted by the Chief Prosecutor’s arrival. 

The minute he arrived, she was back to big smiles and exaggerated movements, putting her whole body into the wave hello.

Edgeworth had asked Athena if she minded talking with him in private, and when she agreed, she noticed Halblicht hastily finish his meal and flag down the waitress for some to-go order that he didn't catch. She'd promised to meet the chief prosecutor in the conference room in just a few minutes, and escorted Bobby up to Simon's room again.

Athena was quiet for most of the walk, lost in her own head with the imaginings of what Miles could possibly want to talk about bouncing around her head. But she did speak a little once they got closer.

She wished Bobby luck, telling him to make sure Simon was holding up alright. Bobby had squeezed her shoulder and wished her luck in return, with a smile and a more nervous than usual salute.

And now Athena was at the door to the chief prosecutor's temporary conference room.

She took a deep and steadying breath, before she knocked.

"Come in," the chief prosecutor's clear, warm voice rang out.

Athena opened the door and walked inside with a smile. “Hey sir! Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long!” 

Miles was seated at the table, a number of papers stacked up in front of him. He shook his head, and beckoned her over to sit down.

"Not at all, Ms. Cykes. Thank you for coming."

Athena nudged the door shut before she took a seat opposite Miles with a lopsided smile and a tilt of her head. “Happy to! Is this about the operation today?” 

"It is," he nodded. "I was hoping for a debrief, and an exchange of information."

She snapped a playful salute before she leaned back in the chair. 

“You got it, Chief Prosecutor! So ah…we investigated the crime scene, as you know. There was a lot of evidence…the blood trail, the broken trunk, the bodies switched between the cars and lit on fire to remove identification..” 

Edgeworth nodded, lacing together his fingers and leading toward her. His expression was composed, but she could sense a low simmer, primarily of anxiety and confusion.

"Yes, I heard from Agent Ash about the basics– it sounds like you did fine work."

Athena flushed, and ducked her head with a silly little grin, brushing her fingers through her hair

“Well, we did our best , Mr. Edgeworth…in the end, as you know, we figured out ‘Agent Kelso’ was the target and stopped her from committing suicide when she got cornered…I ah..” She glanced off to the side “according to Detective Halblicht, she’s #24…and she’s much younger than he is.” 

"Number 24," he nodded, and frowned, troubled. "Lang got that much out of her– but not much more so far. How much younger?"

“He didn’t say…I don’t know if he knows for certain. Information is tightly controlled and…and especially when it comes to identifying markers.” Athena rubbed her arm. “his exact words were ‘younger than me by a while’. So…I’m guessing by a fair bit.” 

"I see…" Edgeworth made a note. "That's… just another troubling element of this case, I suppose. One of many. At least we caught her fairly quickly, all things considered."

“At least, and unharmed too.” Athena said seriously “...hopefully we can get the information out of her to track down the person she helped escape.”

She quietly hoped that maybe, just maybe, they could help the girl out too. 

"Hopefully," Miles nodded. "we have the impression that this operation– after the plane ride– was quite rushed. They didn't expect to be followed, so they've made some mistakes. Hopefully those mistakes will lead us further up the chain."

“Yeah…I mean, the asset..” It felt disgusting in her mouth. The word, the idea of human beings as ‘assets’ without identity. The cruelty of it made her physically sick “...o-only had a day or so to get into character, get the mask, all of it. She probably spent all night before we came doing that, and most of the night after….which is why it was full of holes, so to speak. So maybe the handler made mistakes too.”

She punched her palm. “we get them and ACHTUNG, they’re going down! One by one up the chain, sir!” 

Miles chuckled. "Yes, yes indeed. They're going down. We can only hope that Lovelace was as sloppy as his subordinate. You know the broken window of her car?"

“Agent Ash said it looked like it was broken into, sir. Was it not?” 

He wagged a finger. "Wright and I have a theory about that. We're pretty certain she must have shot Kelso through the window, and then smashed it herself to disguise the bullet hole."

“That does make sense.” Athena’s expression fell. “It’d make it hard to see the path the bullet took when you didn’t have time to get rid of the car.”

She reached into her pocket before pulling out the sunglasses she’d stolen, thoughtfully brushing her fingers along their side. “She didn’t have a lot of time at all, so she probably did whatever she could.” 

"I imagine she was quite desperate. I'm hoping that we can get more of her story out of her. But what do you have there?"

“It won’t be easy, sir, I’ve heard a lot about how that organization operates at this point an—” she paused, and looked down at the sunglasses before holding them up.

“These are hers. She seemed to be trying to do something with them when Simon was using the UV light on her, so I snatched him out of her hand. I found a couple little switches on it.” 

Edgeworth went pale and she felt his anxiety suddenly spike. "Ms. Cykes– those could be highly dangerous."

Athena nodded. “That's why I wanted to show them to you, Mr. Edgeworth. In the chaos of the crime scene I hadn’t had the chance to pass it off to anyone…but I think it might be a computing device? I remember Robert had something similar during the trial, connected to his watch.” 

The chief prosecutor relaxed somewhat and nodded. "Yes… that's right. Some kind of computer." He touched his chin thoughtfully. "Probably we ought to turn it over to Interpol to get their opinion on it…"

Athena folded them back up and placed them on her lap. 

“Will they share whatever they find with us?” She was supposed to be involved in the upcoming case, and it was evidence she’d technically found. Whatever was on it could be the very key to her case, as long as she was still given access to it before ‘the day of the trial’. 

"I would like to hope so, but…" he paused. "Ms. Cykes– our suspect in custody will be facing trial soon– although not as soon as usual. Do I still have your commitment to defend her?"

Athena thought back to the woman’s spike of fear and despair moments before she attempted to take her own life, and of the things Robert had told her of the brutal and cold way they’d all been raised.

Number 24 had almost certainly taken the life of Agent Kelso, and possibly the lives of the other two agents as well.

She was guilty, but– the guilty still deserved a fair trial to determine the circumstance, the truth beyond the obvious facts. Athena couldn’t leave someone up there alone without anyone to defend them.

“Of course, Mr. Edgeworth. I’ll defend her with all I've got.” 

The chief prosecutor smiled at her and nodded. "Then put the glasses away, Ms. Cykes. I never saw them."

Athena sighed with quiet relief as she slipped them into her pocket with a smile. “What glasses, sir?” 

He weaved his fingers together, and nodded. "Indeed. Oh, but I did want to talk to you about that trial."

“Alright…” Athena leaned on her hands. “What's up, Mr. Edgeworth?” 

"It's not going to be standard, due to the international nature of the case. I've talked Lang into having the trial in LA, but it's not going to be standard. Interpol will have their hands on her for a week or two at least before we can get her in front of a judge."

Athena grimaced in a performance of her real frustration. “That makes sense, given the international nature of it…but a week or two in Interpol custody huh? Am I gonna get to talk to her in the meantime at all to build my case? Do they have a psychologist on staff?”

"They do, but I'm also hoping you and Blackquill will be able to talk to her. They'll be holding her in LA as well, thankfully. Lang can be… agreeable enough, when persuaded."

Athena’s grimace turned to a bright and curious smile. “He can be? Do you and Mr. Lang have history?” 

He chuckled and Athena heard the mix of affection and annoyance in his tone. "Oh we go way back, I'm afraid."

“Your friend Agent Ash was saying that he’s a pretty good boss…something about how he treats every agent with dignity in ‘the pack’, yeah?” Athena tapped her chin thoughtfully. “the boss told me that you vanished for a while and got caught up with a bunch of Interpol stuff, is that when you met him?” 

"It was indeed," he nodded. "I had a few very interesting adventures back in the day. It seems both long ago and recent."

“And now it’s come full circle, huh? I mean…you’re traveling abroad, you’re working with Agent Lang and his pack. That’s pretty neat, even with the circumstances!” 

Edgeworth smiled wider and she heard a little excitement in his voice. "You may come to understand, Ms. Cykes– there's always circumstances. Admittedly, they're the most fun when they're somebody else's circumstances."

“Then you just get the thrill of the mystery without the personal stakes?” Athena asked with a quiet chuckle. “honestly, I get it. Investigating’s the fun part.” 

"How was this morning?" he asked. "Socially. I know you and Blackquill have acted as opposition in the courtroom up to this point– and will again."

“It honestly went pretty great?” Athena sat up straighter. “I mean…Simon, Halblicht , Ema and I worked really well together. Ema and Halblicht found evidence, which Simon and I went back and forth over until we started getting an idea of the truth and how it all fit together.”

She clapped her hands together. “it was beautiful…like those moments in court when things finally start barrelling towards the truth, but distilled into a moment! I don’t know why the defense and prosecution don’t investigate together more often!” 

"Something I've begun to wonder myself, Ms. Cykes. While we're busy sweeping out the refuse of the dark age of the law, maybe that little notion is something that could be addressed." He leaned his chin on his hands thoughtfully. "Myself, Wright and Gumshoe were doing much the same."

“I hope so…” Athena nodded. “I think maybe the new age of the law should be a brighter one, with more trust and communication between the two sides, you know?”

"On that, my young lawyer friend I very much ag–"

Miles was cut off by a sharp, harsh knocking on the conference room door.

“Hhhhh!??” Athena sat bolt upright, “Uhm…come in?” 

Edgeworth winced, and she felt a sting of his anxiety as she spoke, but he didn't contradict her.

The door opened. 

"Mr. Edgeworth– I was told that I could find you in here."

It was Apollo Justice

December 25, 12:40 pm

Simon had been laying face down on the hotel bed for a while. He didn't know how long it had been. Long enough, he supposed, that when there was a knock on the door, he raised his head enough to gruffly bark out "come in!"

The door pushed inward, and Halblicht stepped in. Simon immediately righted himself, sitting up on the bed, and pushed his hair back. It was still a mess, of course, but at least it was out of his eyes. He rubbed his face, and hoped that the man couldn't see that he'd been crying earlier.

He leveled a dull glower at him. "I see you still haven't made a break for it."

"No, sir!" He saluted. Tucked under his other arm he was holding a white box.

"Good." Simon wasn't immediately able to tell whether it was Robert, or Bobby active, though he guessed the latter. 

This was the first time they'd been alone in the room together since early last night, when Simon had had him handcuffed. It was the first time they'd been alone together since Simon had let himself believe that Bobby was in there, and what that might mean. 

He'd been thinking about it a lot.

In the awkward pause, Bobby smiled and held up the box. "I brought something for you."

"Oh did you?"

It was so familiar. It was how so many of their visits began. Fool Bright arriving at his prison cell: 'I brought you something!'. It sent a wave of nostalgia through Simon, and made him shift uncomfortably. 

Bobby– yes, it was definitely Bobby– smiled nervously and widely. "Well, we were talking about it yesterday, and what with it being Christmas and all…"

He trailed off, until Simon pointed at him. "Out with it!"

Bobby yelped and twitched but the grin never left his face. "Yes, sir! I brought you some cake, Prosecutor Blackquill!"

The cake. The damned cake. Christmas cake again. 

In Japan it was common to spend Christmas as a romantic holiday with your lover, and sharing a cake was traditional. The practice had spread over to America– to LA at least– in recent decades too.

It was obvious what Bobby was doing. It wasn't subtle at all. It had been obvious last year too. It was a romantic gesture.

And Simon had to decide if he was going to accept it.

The events of the last five days flashed through his mind all at once at lightning speed. From the trial, to the sniper, to Edgeworth's request– meeting 'Halblicht' in the hospital, the 14 hours on the plane, the late night therapy session, sleeping beside him with his arm around the man, the thrill of solving the case together, the confession to Athena, and the last agonizing hour or so of reflection.

It was too much to process. 

It was too much to ask of logic and reasoning.

It was simply not a problem that fell in the purview of logic.

It fell to pure emotion, and what would win out. Rage, and bitterness and grief, or love and tenderness, and if not forgiveness, then acceptance. 

Simon fumbled for what to say. His voice cracked and croaked, before he finally managed a sharp, ragged sentence. Halfway to a demand.

"Well I hope there's at least one fork in that box, Fool Bright, because I am not going to let you feed me with those paws you call hands."

As understanding dawned through Bobby, the look that spread over his face really sold the fact that it was Christmas. He looked like a kid who had come downstairs that morning to find that Santa actually had brought him the pony, and the red ryder BB gun as well.

It was a guileless smile of pure joy, written all over Bobby's guileless, idiot face. Even subtly different as it was now without the mask, embarrassed as he was to accept it, Simon had to admit that he adored that smile, and he had missed it.

Bobby saluted again, still beaming. "Yes, sir! Uh, at least I think so– I didn't actually check uh–"

"Sit down, Bobby!" Simon snapped. He patted the bed beside him, fully aware from the heat in his face that he was probably as red as a tomato.

"Ope! Yes, Simon!" Bobby grinned and plopped himself down on the bed next to him, and put the box on his legs. 

Simon felt his shoulder against his own, the warm and subtle moment of contact between them. He'd been missing it for days, until last night. Those casual moments of touch between them. It had been six long years in prison since he had real, tender, casual human contact. Bobby's casual touches, as much or more so than the romantic ones, were such a deeply reassuring relief. And he'd thought he'd never feel them again.

He leaned his head on his shoulder and watched as Bobby opened the box.

"Aha!" the detective grinned and scooped a plastic fork out of the box. Inside there was a quite large and appetizing slice of white frosted cake with strawberries. "There is a fork! Ah, looks like we'll have to share, though."

Simon laughed ruefully. "Like old times, then. When I couldn't legally be trusted with silverware."

"Just like old times," Bobby chuckled along with him, and leaned into him. "But you trust me with this fork, right?"

"Justitia help me, I do. If you were going to try to murder me with a plastic utensil I guess you'd have done it by now."

Simon watched him scoop up a forkful of cake and offer it to him.

"I promise, you have nothing to fear from us, Simon. But especially not something ridiculous like that." Halblicht's voice and expression had both smoothed abruptly. Now it wasn't just Bobby holding out that bite of cake to him– it was the Phantom.

The hair on the back of Simon's neck stood up, and he hesitated.

"Robert," he greeted. He took a deep breath, and shook some of the tension out of himself. "It's obvious where Bobby and I stand, I think, given our last year of interaction, and his enthusiastic displays. But what about you? I need to know. Before this goes any further."

Simon watched the man's face for flickers of emotion and reaction. A little like he had been the day before– right before Bobby had tackled him into the most alarming hug of his life.

Robert was quiet for a moment, still holding out the cake.

"I'm here, aren't I?" he said, finally. "If I wasn't interested in being here, I'd just let Bobby do what he wanted."

Simon turned it over in his mind. "I suppose that's true."

Robert's cool blue gaze met his, tinted through his amber sunglasses. "I was there through all of it, Simon. Every moment of it Every joke, every moment of triumph. Every touch. I don't know my own emotions. I don't know if they're the same things other people experience. But I want to be here."

He felt quiet for a moment, and Simon was about to answer, but Robert spoke again.

"Bobby says I'm in love with you, Simon. I don't know if that's the right word, but I think I want it to be. The times we've spent together– it's time I want to repeat. It's… pleasant."

Simon saw that Robert's hand was shaking now, as he held the little bite of cake on the fork, and Simon felt a swell of emotion overtake him, and a lump grew in his throat.

He thought again about that little child huddled in the dark cement room. About the man so distant from his own emotions that he could kill a woman in cold blood just because he was told to. The man so hurt and unloved that he didn't even know what love felt like. And here he was, holding out a bite of cake for Simon. Managing to express that he enjoyed his company. That he wanted to be in love with him.

Simon dug his nails into his palms trying not to cry as he leaned against Halblicht's body. He swallowed, trying to clear the thickness in his throat.

"If you want to be here, Robert," he said slowly, "then I'm glad that you're here. And I'm glad that you've been there all along." He reached out, and he put his hand on the side of Halblicht's face.

Robert smiled the smallest, most fragile ghost of a smile that Simon had ever seen. 

"Good then," he said quietly. "We have that straightened out now. So… would you like this cake, or should I put it back?"

Simon laughed a heave of a laugh that hurt his chest, and he leaned on Robert. He moved his hand from his Robert's face, to his wrist. "Put the damned cake down, it can wait for a moment."

He waited until Robert had lowered the fork back into the box, and then he pulled him closer.

"Now come here, both of you." 

Careful of the balanced cake box, he pulled the bigger man into his arms, and into a kiss. It was bizarre, and surreal, and tragic, and so, so comforting and welcome. All of the desire, and longing and desperate hurt Simon had been feeling came out in that passionate kiss, as their lips moved against one another, and he felt like it must be the same for the both of them.

He kissed them– Bobby and Robert– deep and eager, until they were all breathless, and he thought that perhaps later he would figure out if he could tell the difference between kissing the one or the other, but that was for later.

Simon took a deep breath, as he watched Bobby beaming again, tears at the corner of his eyes. Simon was sure that both of them looked equally a mess.

"Now," Simon announced, "you may feed me the cake."

[curvycarbivore]

Creamy Carbonara with Tempeh "Bacon" (Vegan)

Yield: 8 servings | Prep time: 10 minutes | Cook time: 25 minutes | Total time: 35 minutes

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

This is like if Carbonara and Alfredo sauce had a vegan baby with less calories. Carbonara is traditionally made with egg yolks, pancetta, parmesan, and sometimes peas, while Alfredo sauce is typically a heavy cream-and-cheese-based sauce. This combines the creaminess of Alfredo sauce with the meaty flavors of Carbonara sauce to get a rich, decadent dish. Topped with tempeh bacon crumbles, this pasta is bursting with warm comfort-food flavors that you won't want to miss out on!

Carbonara Ingredients:

1 box of penne pasta (about 16 oz)

1/4 cup olive oil

3 tbsp all-purpose flour

2 ½ cups unsweetened nut milk (I used almond)

4 tbsp vegan cream cheese

3 tbsp nutritional yeast

1 tbsp parsley flakes

1 ½ tbsp cornstarch (mixed with 3 tbsp water to make a slurry)

1 cup frozen peas (defrosted)

Tiny pinch of kala namak (black salt) (optional)

Salt & pepper to taste

Tempeh "bacon" for topping

Tempeh "Bacon" Ingredients:

8 oz tempeh

2 tbsp maple syrup

2 tbsp soy sauce

½ tsp liquid smoke

½ tsp smoked paprika

1 tsp garlic powder

4 tbsp neutral-flavored oil

Directions:

Start by marinating your tempeh bacon.

Break up the tempeh into small crumbles and place in a bowl.

Add all the bacon ingredients to the bowl, mix until the tempeh is evenly coated, then let it sit for at least 15 minutes.

Heat a frying pan over medium heat. Once the tempeh is done marinating, cook, stirring occasionally, for 5-10 minutes, or until the tempeh is dark brown and slightly crispy.

Separately, cook the pasta according to the directions on the box.

Meanwhile, make the sauce.

In a large frying pan, heat the oil on low.

Add the flour and cook for a few seconds to create a rue.

Slowly add the milk to the pan, whisking constantly so lumps don’t form.

Immediately add the cream cheese and seasonings to the pan.

Bring the sauce to a low boil, stirring occasionally.

As soon as it starts to boil, gently fold in the peas and cook for 1-2 minutes.

Add the cornstarch slurry, stirring constantly so it doesn't clump.

Simmer for another few minutes, stirring constantly, until the sauce thickens.

Optional: add a tiny pinch of kala namak to give this a slightly eggy flavor to mimic traditional Carbonara sauce.

Remove from heat, and mix in the cooked penne.

Serve and top with tempeh bacon crumbles!

Tips and Tricks:

To make this more like a traditional Carbonara sauce, try adding a tiny pinch of kala namak (black salt) to the sauce. This gives it a slightly eggy flavor that mimics the raw egg yolks normally used in the sauce. You can usually find kala namak at specialty food stores or on Amazon.

This recipe makes extra tempeh "bacon" crumbles. You can use the extra on salads, wraps, other pasta dishes, or really pile it high on your carbonara.

Store the pasta and tempeh in separate air-tight containers in the fridge for up to 7 days.

[wholesomebellies]

Pumpkin and Cashew Cream Sauce

Growing up in an Italian family, with my mum as a chef in our family restaurant, this pasta dish was on repeat. It was an absolute hit at the restaurant. Our family restaurant was called Arrivederci (my brother actually still carries on the family business). Anyway, back to this dish! People would come from all over just for “Spaghetti alla Zucca”. And it was always served in this entire pumpkin.

I too was obsessed with it – such a simple recipe with a few key ingredients. But the way my mum made it – wow, it just screamed love and simplicity.

Every time I make it now, it takes me right back to those happy days back at the restaurant – it’s like a warm hug from mum.

Back then, I wasn’t plant-based so this cream had dairy cream in it! And like most of my mum’s traditional dishes, I’ve veganised this using cashew cream! And honestly, it’s so incredible.

I hope you enjoy this dish as much as I do. And I hope when you eat it, it feels like a warm hug too!

Prep time: 5 minutes

Cook time: 25 minutes

Total time: 30 minutes

Serves: 4

Ingredients

2 tablespoons olive oil 5 cloves of garlic, crushed 2 cups grated pumpkin (approx 400 grams) 1 to 2 tablespoons water 1 bottle of tomato passata 1 fresh birds eye chili 1 teaspoon salt

CASHEW CREAM

1 cup raw cashews (soaked for up to 2 hours or boil for 20 minutes) 3/4 cup water Pinch salt 2 tablespoons lemon juice

Method

Saute garlic in fry pan until starting to brown.

Cook the grated pumpkin in the garlic and oil until it softens - this will take about 10 minutes. Whilst cooking add the 1 to 2 tablespoons water as needed to keep the pumpkin moist (or you could add more olive oil)

Add chili and salt to the pumpkin and once the pumpkin has completely softened add the tomato passata. Stir and then simmer on low for about 15 minutes.

Then make your cashew cream by blending your soaked or boiled cashews with water, lemon juice and salt until completely smooth - this is important as you don't want any texture in your cashew cream.

Then add your cashew cream to your sauce and simmer on low heat for 2 - 3 minutes.

Stir through your favourite pasta or even zoodles. YUM!

[drinkingeorzea]

X-Potion

This was the first recipe I attempted from the cookbook, the one that started all of this. I didn't take a great photo because I didn't know that I was going to be doing this at the time. I also had some trouble with my food coloring -- all I have is gel coloring and it's.... not fresh. So my purple came out blue. I added pink to try to get it purple-ier and it kind of worked but was way darker than I intended. Oh well. It tasted fantastic.

I've never had Moscato wine before because I'm generally not a sweet wine person. I accidentally ordered a hilariously huge bottle of Barefoot Moscato so now I have to come up with something else to use this in. Please send me ideas if you have any. ^^

Anyway! The citrus is the star of this drink and the lavender is there on the back end. I think if I make this again I won't reduce the syrup quite so much, as it was very thick and it was a challenge to get it mixed with the citrus juices. I think I cooked out more lavender flavor than I would have liked.

I served the lavender citrus juice to one of my kids along with a splash of soda water. She reported that it was very sour -- probably another effect of the highly reduced lavender syrup.

I also tried topping the alcoholic version of this with a bit of soda water and it was a refreshing twist on a white wine spritzer (white wine spritzer... white wine spritzer... white wine spritzer...).

Source: The Ultimate Final Fantasy XIV Online Cookbook

Difficulty: Easy | Yield: 6 servings

Simple Lavender Syrup

1/2 cup (100 g) sugar

1/4 cup (85 g) honey

1 cup (250 ml) water

3 tablespoons dried lavender

Lavender Citrus Juice

1/2 cup (125 ml) lemon juice

1/2 cup (125 ml) lime juice

Simple lavender syrup

1 cup (250 ml) water

1 drop purple food dye, optional

Per X-Potion

1 oz (30 ml) gin

2 ounces (60 ml) Moscato

4 ounces (125 ml) Lavender Citrus Juice

Instructions

In a saucepan over medium-high heat, stir together the sugar, honey, and water. Once the sugar and honey dissolve, add the dried lavender and bring to a simmer. Reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer for 25 minutes. Remove from the heat and let cool.

In a large pitcher, mix all the ingredients for lavender citrus juice together. Place in the refrigerator overnight to chill before serving.

Combine all the ingredients in a tall glass. Lightly stir together and serve.

If you don't feel like adding alcohol to this, you can enjoy the lavender citrus juice on its own.

[askwhatsforlunch]

Poulet D.G. (Chicken E. O.)

Poulet D.G. --a play on P.D.G* which very conveniently (for once!) translates into Chicken E. O.!-- is a hearty and tasty Cameroonian chicken and vegetable stew. The best I ever had was years ago, very late one night, at my Dad’s aunt, Ma Cri’s restaurant. It had been wort waiting for, and the delicious, generous meal had invigorated me back to wakefulness. Mine is not too bad either, I reckon, and makes an excellent lunch. Especially when coming back from the garden after a morning spent pottering, tilling, trimming and perhaps even sowing! Happy Sunday!

*P.D.G. (Président Directeur Général) is the French-language equivalent of C.E.O. (Chief Executive Officer)

Ingredients (serves 3):

1 tablespoon peanut oil

1 tablespoon olive oil

3 chicken thighs

1 large onion

a thumb-sized piec fresh ginger

2 large carrots

1/3 green bell pepper, rinsed

1/3 red bell pepper, rinsed

1/3 yellow bell pepper, rinsed

1 large garlic clove, minced

2 bay leaves

3/4 teaspoon Red Chili Flakes (or more if you like your food spicy)

2 ripe small tomatoes

1 teaspoon coarse sea salt

1/2 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper

1 1/2 cup water

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 large, just ripe plantain banana

a handful fresh (or blanched and frozen) Wax Beans and Green Beans

Heat peanut oil and olive oil in a large pot over medium-high heat. Add chicken thighs, and brown well, about 2 to 3 minutes on each side. Transfer chicken thighs to a plate, keeping all the fat in the pot; set aside.

Peel and thinly slice onion, and add to the pot. Cook, a couple of minutes until softened.

Meanwhile, peel and thinly slice ginger. Add to the onion, and fry, a couple of minutes more. 

Peel carrots, and cut them into thick slices. Stir into the pot.

Seed and cut bell peppers into strips. Add to the pot as well. Cook, about 4 minutes.

Stir in minced garlic, bay leaves and Red Chili Flakes. Cook, 1 minute more, before returning browned chicken thighs, along with their resting juices, to the pot. Season with coarse sea salt and black pepper.

Dice tomatoes, and stir into the pot. Cook, stirring often, until tomatoes collapse and release their juice. Stir in water, just to cover the vegetables. You may not need all of it. Bring to the boil, then reduce heat to medium-low, cover with a lid, and simmer.

In a small skillet, heat olive oil over medium-high heat. Peel plantain, and cut into thick slices. Once the oil is hot, add plantain slices, and fry them, about 3 minutes on each side. Once well-browned on each side, remove fried plantains slices onto a plate. Set aside.

If using fresh Wax Beans and Green Beans, stir them into the pot after about 20 minutes of simmering, and cook, a further 10 minutes. If you had blanched and frozen them, add Wax Beans and Green Beans after about 25 minutes of cooking, and cook, a further 5 minutes.

Increase heat back to high, remove the lid, and add fried plantain slices to the pot. Cook, about 3 minutes more.

Serve Poulet D.G. hot.

[airplanned]

All the Trashy Novels Part 24

Part 1...Part 23

***

Zelda sought out Purah that night to apologize for shouting, but also to understand why the Sheikah were so adamant.

"I appreciate your defensiveness over me, even if it is misplaced.  And you know I appreciate seeing someone else see through Sir Link's perfect hero disguise.  But I don't understand why you think I have any claim on him."

Purah gave her a look.  "We're Sheikah.  We notice things that aren't even a tenth as blatant as you two.  The last time you were at the tech lab, you two were giving each other longing bedroom eyes the whole time."

"We were certainly not!  Well...Link might have been.  But I did nothing of the sort!"

"Not even when you were kissing behind Lab 2?"

"We--That was angry kissing!  It doesn't count!  How did you know about that!?"

Purah made an elaborate gesture with her hands, covering her face and pulling her hands apart like an opening eye.  "We see all."

Zelda didn't care for that.  Obviously, the Sheikah didn't know everything if they thought she and Link were lovey-dovey.  But they did know far more than she would like.

"And then who's that picture for if not Link?"

"What picture?"

Before she knew it, Purah had slipped the Sheikah slate from Zelda's hip ad was flipping through the photo album.  "This one."  She held it up, and Zelda's face went red.  Okay, yes, maybe those did count as bedroom eyes.

She snatched the slate back and pressed it to her chest.  "That is for me," she said primly.  "I look good."

"You look all breathy and whimpering.  As vanilla as anything.  At least show some cleavage next time."

Zelda huffed.  Despite her constant, simmering irritation with Link, Zelda did not consider herself an angry person.  And yet she was about to lose her temper on Purah twice in one day.

Purah reached out and squeezed her arm.  "Zelda, I'm going to tell you this, because I doubt you have anyone in your life who will: You cannot go after Link if he has a townie girlfriend.  That's tacky.  You have to wait until they've broken up.  Let him get whatever this is out of his system, and he'll come crawling back to you."

Zelda rubbed her forehead, suddenly very tired.  "I know, Purah.  I know."

It gnawed at her.  Not the part where she'd been warned against making Link a cheater, because that was not applicable in this situation.  But the part where Link had to get it out of his system.  Because maybe that was what they were both doing.  They both had a lot of pent up energy and a lot of frustration and didn't know very many people, and, and, and, why did that bother her?  It was what she'd been saying the whole time.

She woke to the sound of rain, feeling miserable.  In a grumpy fog, she got dressed and headed down to get a new book, because a new book might make her feel better?  Would it?  It might make everything worse.

She opened the door to an empty room, and only then realized that she'd been expecting to see Link.  It was raining.  Why wasn't he here?  Where was he?  She tried to frown in annoyance, but her shoulders just slumped. 

She grabbed a new book out of his chest, and then plopped onto the edge of the bed.  A moment later, she flopped to the side, slipped out of her shoes, and pulled her feet onto the bed.

What was she doing here?  What was she doing in general?  

The next thing she knew, there was a soft thump at the foot of the bed, and she opened her eyes to the realization that she'd fallen asleep.  The Master Sword was propped against the wall by her head.  She cut her eyes to the foot of the bed to see Link tug off his boots and peel out of a soaked shirt.  He unbuttoned his damp pants, and Zelda snapped her eyes shut.  A minute later, she opened them again just in time to see his head pop out of the top of a clean, dry shirt.

At which point he caught her staring and stepped around to take a seat beside her.  "You can sleep more," he whispered.  "I can cover for you."

"You're dripping everywhere."   His hair was still wet and soaking the back collar of his fresh shirt.  She pushed herself up.  "Do you have a towel."

He fetched one and she took it from his hands, tipping his head towards her and slipping out his hair tie before scrubbing the towel against his scalp.  She was thorough, firm but not rough.  When she was done, she slowed, hesitating before lifting the towel from where it covered his face.  He was giving her a look, half confused, half devoted, and she only deserved the first half.

He took the towel from her hands and tossed it to the floor, and she scoffed.

For a moment, they stared at each other.

"I thought you didn't train in the rain," she said.

"I wasn't training."

"Where were you?"

"Did you miss me?"

"No."

"What are you reading?"

She sighed.  "I have no idea."

He cracked a smile.  Then he scooted lower on the bed and plopped down beside her, which made her stiffen.  "Read it to me?"

She readjusted herself, sitting back against the headboard.  He propped his chin in his hand and watched her.  Quietly, she opened the book to the beginning.  "The winds were blustery on the sea that night, sending a whistling through the drafty windows in the lighthouse, where Leon sat alone as he always--"  She dropped the book and pulled the slate from her hip.  "Do I look breathy and whimpering in this picture?"

She pushed the slate into his face, and he took it, holding it slightly away so he could look at it.  Then he froze.

She clutched her hands together, then realized she was doing that, and stopped.  She realized she was leaning forward.  "Well?"

"I...Goddess..."

"Goddess good or goddess bad?"

"You're...it's a bit like being punched in the gut.  You know?"

"No."

He took a moment, his eyes scanning, scanning, scanning over the picture.  He rolled from lying on his side to lying on his stomach.  

Her eyes darted from the picture to his face.  "Purah said I look breathy.  I don't know what she means, but I don't like it."

He shook his head.  "No, this is more of a low hum."

The thought made her face heat.  She wasn't entirely sure why.  What were they even talking about?  What noise it looked like she was making in a picture?

"She also said it was boring, and I could take a sexier picture."

He shrugged one shoulder.  His eyes were still locked on the screen.

"Goddess, that's enough," she said, pulling the slate from his hands.  Suddenly she couldn't even look at him.

"So...are you wanting to take a sexier picture, or do you want assurances that this has the intended effect?"

"Intended effect?"

"That I am bothered."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

He shifted, and suddenly he was above her, braced on his hands, leaning in so his face was near hers, his eyes burning.

She swallowed and squeezed the slate tighter in her hands.  "Purah says I'm not supposed to kiss you while you have a townie girlfriend."

"That's wise."

She nodded.

They stared at each other.

"It would be very bad if I liked you," she said.

His face softened.  "I know."  Then he added, "So it's a good thing you don't."

"Yes."

"The king wouldn't like it, and everyone would gossip about how I'm distracting you from your duties, and I'd be transferred off your detail, at which point you would miss me and also be murdered by Yiga assassins."

"Or stray guardian lasers."

"And you would have to admit that you've been a little jealous and petty."

"Which I'm not."

"Exactly."

Something loosened in her shoulders, relieved that he understood.

"It's a good thing you have a fake townie girlfriend then," she said.

Her gave her that doofy smile.  "Yeah," he said.  "I think she likes me."

***

Part 25

[storyofmychoices]

Not on the Menu

[Levi Schuler x Laura Day Masterlist]

Pairing: Levi Schuler x Laura Day [F!MC] Book: Mother of the Year Word Count: ~ 1,100 Rating: Explicit (by clicking keep reading you agree to be 18 years or older, minors DNI) TW: dom/sub dynamic, oral (m receiving), semi-public sex, fingering, hair pulling

Prompts: @choicesoctoberchallenge "experience"; @wackydrabbles #118 (prompt in bold) ; @misskinkywrites Kinktober 25: blowjob | hair pulling | public sex (all three)

Synopsis: Levi and Laura try out a new restaurant but quickly find what they want most isn't on the menu

"Mmm," Laura hummed as she wrapped her plump lips around her fork. Her eyes closed in pure bliss, letting the rich, buttery flavors melt in her mouth. "This's amazing."

He traced her lips, watching as she relished each savory bite.

"What?" She covered her face hesitantly with her hands, noticing his intense gaze.

Levi shook his head, tossing his dark brown wavy hair back. His lips curled into a simmering smirk. "Just admirin' the view."

Her nose wrinkled as her face scrunched under the compliment.

It was late. The once-bustling restaurant had settled into a soft lull. Hushed conversations filled the atmosphere, each table content with the quieter ambiance.

"You've got a little—" Levi pointed to her face. "Here, let me." He brushed his thumb carefully over her tender cheek, gathering the creamy alfredo sauce near the bottom of her jaw.

"Wait!" She grasped his hand, pulling it back. Without thinking, she closed her mouth around his thumb, gathering the sauce. "It's too good to waste, even a drop."

"Careful." The word rumbled lowly on his lips.

"Why?" She questioned innocently, ready to return to her meal.

A hushed growl slipped from his lips, and with his darkening gaze, she understood.

"Oh!" Her face flushed, though she couldn't help but steal a peak, licking her lips at the discovery. "I can—uh, help with that," she offered apprehensively, her head gesturing toward the bathroom tucked in a quiet corner of the building.

"I didn't think you were into that?" Levi's voice rose curiously.

Her heart raced at the thought of the new experience. "I could be...only one way to find out."

His eyes clouded with desire; her innocent gaze coupled with her suggestive proposal was too much. "Go now. I'll follow in a minute," he ordered, his tone low and commanding.

"Yes, sir." Fire burned through her as those two words slipped out unintentionally. His assured grin was the last she saw before hurrying off. Her dinner was nothing but a distant memory. There was only one thing she had an appetite for now, and it was not on the menu.

She tried to calm herself as she waited for him. The seconds felt like hours as her craving grew. She studied the tiled bathroom floor. It wasn't the Ritz, but the hunger ravishing at her core left little care to her surroundings.

As soon as he entered, he pulled her into him, locking the door behind them. He tangled his fingers through her hair as he claimed her mouth, kissing her breathless.

"Look what you've done to me." He angled her head down toward his pelvis.

Laura licked her lips, swallowing hard at the sight of his bulging erection, straining against his dark denim.

"Dirty girl," he cooed. "Kneel for me."

She nodded, lowering herself to the ground.

"So good for me, beautiful." Levi brushed her hair away from her face before undoing his pants. He dragged the zipper down slowly, enjoying how eagerly Laura sat at attention, gaze transfixed, waiting for her next course. "Do you want a taste?"

"Yes, please."

"Such good manners." He rubbed the tip of his cock over her warm lips, wiping his precum on her. "That's good, isn't it."

Laura hummed, salivating on the first taste, hungry for more.

"You're going to take me all, do you understand? We don't want to make a mess, and I know how you feel about wasting something so delicious. Not even a drop, if I remember your words correctly," he teased.

Her mouth watered as she opened it for him.

"Wider, sweet girl. That's it." He guided his tip into her warm opening. "Fuck, you look so beautiful like this."

Laura sucked softly on her new treat, bobbing her head slowly against him.

Levi ran the back of his hand over her cheek, caressing her tenderly. "You're perfect, Laura."

She slipped him out of her mouth, swirling her tongue around his tip, eliciting a throaty moan. She traced down his thick vein, kissing and sucking, teasing him as she knew he liked, enjoying how he slowly came apart under her attention.

Her gaze met his as she took him back in her mouth, bobbing shallowly for a few motions before taking him in fully without warning. Slowly, she backed away, letting her tongue tantalize him as she sucked harder.

His hips bucked against her, driving his dick deep. His fist tangled in her hair as he fucked into her mouth, moaning as his tip settled in his throat.

Laura grasped at his thighs, eyes beginning to water as Levi's unrelenting pace increased.

Despite the discomfort, heat pooled between her legs. She rocked on her heel and pressed her thighs together, trying to find friction for herself. Her face flushed in embarrassment as a knock sounded at the bathroom door.

"Just a—a minute," Levi blurted out between groans, not caring who heard him. His pupils were blown with lust, watching her take him like this. He inhaled deeply, a familiar scent catching his attention. "Fuck. I can smell you from here. This is turning you on, isn't it." His pace slowed. "Touch yourself."

Laura didn't need to be told twice, she slipped her fingers beneath her dress, rubbing her thumb over her swollen pearl. Sparks filled her vision at the contact. Her moan vibrated against his length, spurring on his increased pace again. His cock twitched in her mouth as he thrust himself deeper. He threw his head back falling off the precipice, his hot cum shooting down her throat.

She cried as she rocked on her hand, chasing her own release.

"Swallow, beautiful," he reminded her. "Every drop or I won't let you come."

She moaned, attempting to focus on him once more, despite her need to let go. She carefully cleaned every drop, humming her gratitude for her meal.

Levi brushed his thumb over her lips. "So fucking, beautiful."

She leaned into his touch, as he caressed her face, wiping the tears that had fallen. Her eyes glazed over as she rocked steadily on her fingers hidden beneath her dress.

"Such a good girl. Do you want to come?"

"Please," Laura panted.

He nodded, giving her the permission she had been waiting for. "Come for me, gorgeous. You earned it."

Laura cried out in pleasure, burying her face in his thigh as she rode the waves of pleasure.

He stroked her hair, letting her come down gently. "Shh, I've got you."

After a minute, he helped her clean up and straighten their clothes.

"Sorry!" Laura cringed, her cheeks warming as she averted her gaze, brushing quickly past the older woman waiting just outside the restroom.

The two returned to their booth, trying to wipe the bliss from their face. Their matching smiles only grew into shared laughter at the memory of their private dessert.

I hope you enjoyed my second attempt at Dom!Levi. 🙈

Tags in a reblog, please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

Thank you so much for reading. Smut isn't my favorite to write, but I do enjoy trying new things and stepping out of my comfort zone from time to time.

I apologize for any typos. I didn't really have time to edit.

[creamupuffuu]

✿YOᑌᖇᗴ KIᗪᔕ ᖴᖇIᗴᑎᗪ ᑕᗩᒪᒪᔕ YOᑌ ᗩ ᗰIᒪᖴ 😕

KᗩᖇᗩᔕᑌᑎO:

(Daichi, Tanaka,)

ᗪᗩIᑕᕼI:

❥It was around 3:25 o'clock—you had just started preparing dinner for your 15 year old son and your FIREFIGHTER husband (cause you sure as hell wasn't cookin' for no cop) when you heard the door open. Placing the roast in the oven you bent down—mits on your pretty hands and ass damn near presented to the world in the pretty sundress you wore.

"Hey Ma!"

"Hi honey!" You called out as you stood up discarding your oven mits onto to counter you turned around tilting your head. "Whose this?"

"This is Takashi, we have a project to work on so I figured it was ok if I brought him over for a bit, is that ok?"

❥ While your conversating with your son you failed to notice the way Takashi's virgin eyes took in your pretty (slim/lean/plump) body—eyes racking over your subtle bust that noticeably sat upright and nice around the ruffles of your dress—the same dress that hugged your curves just right, a nice and frilly apron tied neatly around your waist. "Well it's nice to meat you Takashi" you giggled sticking your hand out for him to shake—blinking the boy rubbed his neck.

"A-Ah, it's nice to meet you too Mrs. Sawamura..." he uttered, seemingly very focused on they way your breast bounced with each shake—(Your son's name) nudged him noticing the way his eyes lingered. "Anyway, we'll be on our way Ma—let go of my mom's hand ya freak" he grimaced causing Takashi to chuckle sheepishly as you waved them both away.

❥ "Dude," (Y/S/N) whispered as they sat in the dining room "What?"

"Don't what "what" me—why the hell were you starin' at my ma like that?" Looking around Takashi made sure you weren't paying attention as you stirred the mashed potatoes. "Dude your mom's a total milf." Your son pulled one of the most disgusted stank faces he could muster as he stared at his friend in utter disgust. "Mf wha...?"

"No dude, I'm serious—like look at her, she has the whole milf persona down pact. She's sweet, kind and has a baggin' bod man."

"You've literally just met her..."

❥ Any other time you were a force to be reckoned with, a hazard to society—this just happened to be one of the days you felt generous enough to grace the house with your charitable contributions. (Y/S/N) recognized the dangerous tint your eyes held when he told you he invited someone without your permission and expected you to be cool with it—what you were merely doing was putting on an act as the "Sweet milfy mother" and it was working out wonderfully.

Too wonderfully

"Naw man, your mom's a milf."

"Dude..."

"Like—she gave me this look dude—you know "that" look" the poor boy, he had no idea what was approaching upon him.

"Bruh..." (Y/S/N) tried again, but to no avail as Takashi continued on.

"No no no, cause get it—if given the chance bruh, I'd fuc—oh my gosh, what happened to the light?" with a choked gasp the boy could only stare in pure shock at the sight of your towering husband—expression stoic, but the way his eyes flared into the child made him piss himself he was so scared. (Imagine a 5'9–hell maybe even taller—beefy man staring you down with the most meanest ass look)

"I'm sorry, You'd what to my wife?"

(Y/S/N) lifted a few papers and patted them against the table to straighten them as he watched his friend get chewed out by his father. "A-Ah...M-Mr. Sawamura, I didn't...that didn't come out right—I meant uh, yeah y-you know...."

"No, I don't know—why don't you explain to me what exactly you'd do to my wife given the chance—cause I'd love to hear it." Daichi hadn't felt so pissed in his life (aside from when he was made a meme on several social media platforms—put thats a different story for a different time) and honestly it was disgusting having some brat in his home—his sanctuary, a place where he comes to feel relaxed and loved to sit here and try to explain to his own son how he'd fuck you if given the chance—where the hell was the damn belt when you needed it?

❥ "Daichi—is that you babe?" You're sweet voice rang from the kitchen as you glossed your cornbread with your honey and butter mixture—turning his attention back on the boy Daichi glowered at him.

"If I ever hear something like that come out of your mouth in my presence I'll make sure you never step foot in this house again."

And with that he smiled, turned and caught you as you leaped into his arms placing a nice kiss on your cheek. "Hey love, dinner smells great." He grinned, guiding you both back into the kitchen, a giggle escaping your pretty lips as you go on to ask about his day.

❥"Yeah, yo ass most definitely ain't invited to the cookout." Your son snorted taking in his friends pissed scared expression.

—————

TᗩᑎᗩKᗩ:

❥It was actually your daughters girl best friend who called you a milf and Tanaka winded up agreeing with her 💀

Here's how it happened, you and Tanaka had planned a trip to a nearby water park since the last few days had been hot as a bitch—so you allowed your daughter to invite her friend and of course she agreed—as long as your daughter and her had been freeness she had never gotten the chance to officially meet you, she'd always been around your husband since your daughter was a daddy's girl.

"Ryū, do you have everything packed?" You asked as you poked your head out from the side door of the house—your lean husband packing what looked like unnecessary junk in the back seat of the car. "Yeah, Yep baby—" he nearly slipped trying to shove four lounge chairs, the picnic basket and several other things in the car. "I've got everything packed—just waitin' on (Daughter name) and Naomi to come."

Nodding you poked your head back into the door to change—a nice bikini and thin shawl to go over it—it's better if I show it to you—

❥ Now before I see any comments sayin' "My stomach said no" "Tits, ass and thighs have left the building" I want y'all to know that Tanaka does everything in his power to make sure you feel happy and loved, it's what made your confidence boost since high school and the self love you had for yourself only skyrocketed the longer you stayed with him and you truly understood the true value of yourself. You felt happy and comfortable in your own skin, that didn't mean you didn't have days where you felt off about being in your body, but those thoughts would simmer down when your adoring husband cane into view.

Stripping from your pajamas and bunny slippers you placed the bikini on and folded the shawl in front of you as you made your way downstairs to sit in the living room.

Ten minutes had passed and (Y/D/N) and Naomi had finally returned—greeting your husband Your daughter asked where you had wandered off to

❥ "Your mother? She's in the living room last I seen her, (Y/N)!! Come on love we're ready!"

"Just a second!" You hollered back slipping on a pair of slides and exiting out of the house—time seem to stand still as not only your husband, but Naomi too drunk in your form—the swimsuit definitely serving you justice. "You all ready?" You asked, "Y-Yeah hon...w'we're ready." Smiling cheekily you grinned.

"Yo, (Y/D/N)"

"What? What's up??"

"Your mom is literally hot as hell."

"..."

"Deadass, she looks like one of those hot ass milfs..." she muttered watching as you lightly scolded Tanaka for putting the sandwich iron into the truck. Turning around you bent over to grab the toaster—tits nearly spilling from your top as you made your way back into the house. "Yeah, a milf."

"You said it." Tanaka whistled placing his folded arm on top of Naomi's head. "M-Mr. T-Tanaka, oh my gosh I am so sorry...I shouldn't have—" Your childish husband barked out a deep laughter at the scared expression on your daughters friends face. "Calm down kiddo, I'm not mad—if anything I'm glad someone recognized it." He uttered whipping his head to stare at his daughter.

"I am not referring to mama as a milf."

❥ Tanaka smacked his lip, a low whistle coming from his mouth as both he and Naomi stared at the way your ass flexed through the thin material of the shawl

Up and down and up and down

And up and down and up and down

❥ "Damn," they muttered in union

"You two are literally disgusting."

—————

Chapter from my Wattpad account :p

Danish_Taco

[keyofjetwolf]

Part character-based guessing game, part cooking show.

This anime is clearly, in some part, a love letter to food, and so I feel I’d be doing a massive disservice by not logging the preparation portion of the program. Particularly as it lasted three minutes and fifteen seconds of an episode that only lasts 13:25, so nearly a quarter of its length was in cooking the thing. It’s a ton of caps to get all the recipe, so I’ll sprinkle them amongst the text. SEASONING IF YOU WILL. I myself am not anything approaching a cook, I am actively a hazard in the kitchen, so I don’t have much to say about the recipe or techniques or anything, but extend a hearty welcome for commentary from you guys if you have it!

~~~

Soup broth is what you use as the base for your noodle broth. You fill a saucepan with sweet rice wine. Bring it to a boil to let the alcohol evaporate. Turn down the heat, add sugar and cook until it dissolves.

Add soy sauce and heat it at a low simmer, so it doesn’t burn. Once it starts bubbling around the rim of the saucepan, and you see white foam rising to the surface, turn off the heat and skim off the foam. Set it aside to cool, and your soup broth is done. Next, the kelp I left to soak since yesterday...

You combine water and kelp, leaving it to soak, pour it into a saucepan, then remove the kelp just before it comes to a boil. After lowering the heat, add bonito flakes, and simmer for 30 to 40 minutes. Later, strain it with a straining cloth, and you’ll have your kelp broth!

The leeks should be chopped finely. The mustard spinach should be boiled, then cut into bite-size slices. The fish cake should be sliced into eight-millimeter chunks. And now the tempura...

Remove the shell and digestive tract from the shrimp, then cut off the tip of the tail to remove any liquid. Then rub and rinse the shrimp with a little salt, potato starch and sake. Next, prepare the batter. Mix the eggs thoroughly with cold water. Then after adding the flour and stirring, coat the shrimp with the batter, and deep-fry them at 170 to 180 degrees Celsius.

Now combine the broth with the soup broth, and season to taste. After boiling the soba noodles al dente, rinse them under cold running water and drain them. Ladle the broth onto the noodles you’ve heated up in hot water, and your shrimp tempura is done!

Mustard spinach, fish cake, Japanese leeks... And citron rinds are your garnish... Here you go! Toshikoshi soba!

~~~

These caps in no way fully capture the PUREST LOVE in this food animation. I’m pretty sure they brought in an entire special team just to deal with animating the liquids, some sort  wetworks squad, But Not Like That Though. It’s unreal. LOOK AT THIS NOODLE RINSING

Another bit of the animation that totally struck me was how Chef Master Genghis Kahn, or whoever the fuck he’s supposed to be, gives the shrimp a little wiggle in the towel, AND IT LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE IT SHOULD. I don’t know how to better articulate this, until this moment, I wouldn’t have told you this had such a specific appearance, BUT IT REALLY REALLY DOES I NEED YOU TO LOOK AT THIS SHIT I HAVE TO GIF IT ONE SECOND

It has just the right amount of resistance and springiness, and I’m not sure I could’ve described even HOW to do that before seeing it right here on loop in front of my face. And it’s all of about four seconds! The attention to such an insignificant detail impresses the heck out of me, and while I know the animation isn’t a marker of the writing, I’m extra hopeful for at least a few equally wonderful character touches to come.

[saphie3243]

First Solstice

For my Secret Snowflake @tomtenadia

Nesta spends her first Solstice sober in Illyria, unable to bring herself to brave the inner circle celebration for a second year in a row.  

Word Count: 5500+

Read on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28297182

There  was something soothing about a room being so crowded it became hard to breathe. Better still when the music was so loud you can’t hear yourself think. Best when bodies are grinding, booze is flowing, and something to smoke is being passed around. Everyone was here for the same reason, everyone wanted a distraction. Amren had made several comments that she couldn’t believe Nesta got males to go home with her when she smelled like sweat and a distillery. She apparently didn’t understand that everyone smelled the same at places like this. 

The band was better than usual. The music was… actually good. Maybe that’s why the bar was extra packed today. Or maybe it was because Solstice was tomorrow and no one wanted to think about all the ways they’ve disappointed their families this year. 

Disappointing. The male she dragged into the bathroom was just that. He wasn’t even worth the time she wasted not getting another bottle of wine. She didn’t even let him finish before booting him out and stumbling back to her favorite stool. The bartender knows her by now and has mulled wine waiting. 

It’s warm and more mulled than wine. She nodded to him. They know how to take care of her here, she certainly spends enough. Leo is decent enough to warn her off of the less than savory types that might be interested in more than even she was willing to give. She sighs back into the glass. Why she felt the need to judge herself when tomorrow she was going to get 5 times over from Feyre and insipid little family was why she needed another glass. 

She turned around in her stool, facing back out, watching the crowd move in a formless mass. This band had changed over. The new one wasn’t nearly as good. Several months haunting bars and clubs to all hours in the morning had provided Nesta a proper sampling of Velaris’ bands, and, in her mind, gave her a liberty to criticize as she saw fit. This crater-faced crooner was pitchy and couldn’t move a room if he winnowed them. That earlier one had a woman out front. She was unusual for a Fae. She was beautiful, yes, but she wasn’t the wispy waif most fae women were. She was tall and built, covered in a layer of extra fat that filled out wonderful curves and jiggled when she danced. But that wasn’t what made her remarkable. Her voice took your heart by the ears and pulled you into the emotion she wanted you to feel.

“Weird compliment, but I’ll take it.” 

__

“Lor-Cass said you weren’t going home this year,” Emerie placed the breeches she was folding into a pile of identical wares. 

“I didn’t go home last year, either,” Nesta swished the black liquid in her cup as she reviewed the ledgers. Last Solstice only served to remind Nesta how much of a stranger she was to her own family, to Feyre’s new one. She would never be able to call that debacle “going home.” This year, however, she could avoid Velaris. Being banned from the city meant Feyre no longer had the ability to force her into attending farcical family meals, no matter how pissy she was about it. 

She closed the books with a sigh and placed them back into a drawer. “Numbers look good.” 

Emerie moved her pile of pants over to their shelf. “Thanks for looking over them, I haven’t had anyone to check my math since dad.” Nesta nodded and pulled out the books and notepads Emerie kept hidden with her accounting ledgers. 

She leafed through to the furthest marked page. “You didn’t get much further last night,” she commented. 

“Ah, no time, had to process a big shipment.” 

“It’s fine,” Nesta muttered. 5 words underlined. Not the most, not the least. She reviewed the best-guess at the words definition in Emerie’s notebook. Most were correct. She added pronunciation guides next to some. “Macabre means bloody, gruesome.” 

“Why is there an R in it?” 

“Because the gods are cruel.” She heard Emerie’s answering laugh. “You’re doing well though. We can probably move on to actually writing.” She didn’t really think it would be that hard for Emerie to learn to read and write. She ran this business - she was clearly whip-smart, just uneducated. It could easily be remedied.  

“In the meantime, can you answer the orders?” 

This little arrangement worked out nicely. Nesta lended her books and made her literate, meanwhile she would help out with store correspondence and would review the books. Reviewing the books was less about checking Emerie’s math - that she had a natural understanding for - and more about making sure each transaction had sufficient notes. 

She took another sip from her night-black liquid. The best part of Illyria, in her mind, was this coffee thing. It didn’t grow locally, needing a warmer climate for the source plant to thrive, but it had become a staple in the tribes as a way to keep troops moving with minimal sleep. Hot and bitter, it really shouldn’t have been as pleasant to drink as it was, but she found herself unable to stop. 

“When does Lo- Cass head down south?” 

“He should be meeting everyone Solstice morning and be back the day after.”

“What are you going to do?” 

Stare at the liquor bottles he filled with water to tease me.  Drink my weight in coffee and stand outside Devlon’s house at 2 am sending waves of power over the door to fuck with him until some asshole walks by and works up the balls to ask me back to their place - or die of exposure. Whatever’s first. 

“Not sure, why?” 

“Would you… I don’t know… want to spend tomorrow with… me?” Emerie had approached the table, tapping her fingers with each phrase. Nesta looked her up and down. If it was anyone else, she would have thought Cassian put her up to it. But she was also alone for the holidays, and Nesta knew that was probably a much bigger deal for the Illyrian than it was for her. She had mentioned once that she didn’t have many people since her father died. Adding in that Emerie didn’t do anything she didn’t want to do... If she was asking, it was because she wanted to spend this day with Nesta. 

She smiled at her friend, “Come over whenever.” 

___

Dinner was hot and ready when she came in. Cassian always made sure that their meals were piping. His own way of combating the awful wet cold of Illyria. She had to wonder if part of it also had to do with keeping the fires low in the house.  

Nesta kicked off her boots by the door and carried them to the fireplace. She set them down next to Cassian’s - the secret to warm feet, he’d said. Their coat rack was also by the fireplace for similar reasons. She gently felt the socks left hanging there- warm, thank the Wall. She pulled off her damp knits and left them in a pile on the floor while pulled on the fresh clothes. They went up to hang immediately after.

“Do you need to take every peg? Emerie’s store is only 5 minutes away,” Cassian called from across the house. He was standing in the kitchen with two bowls of stew. 

“Five minutes flying, 25 walking,” she turned to him. “Through a foot and a half of snow.” 

She pointed to the bottom of her dress and the crust of ice that had formed there. He grimaced. 

“I would have picked you up if you asked.” 

“Unnecessary.” She pulled the dress over her head and left it to hang on the coat rack. After months of living together, they had long overcome the initial discomfort with mild nudity. Not that she was anywhere near naked. She still had the chemise that ended at her knees, her wool sleeves, her knitted belly warmer, and a double layer of wool hose. She was more covered than either Amren or Morrigan on any given day. Finally in only dry clothes, she marched over the kitchen and took the bowl from Cassian. 

Four months of living with Cassian in Illyria was… surprisingly easy. The mountains were peaceful, simple. The way of life here is more similar to the human society she grew up with than the magical speed of Velaris. Emerie was a pleasant discovery. She still wanted a drink, desperately, but the biting cold had a similar numbing effect if you stood out in it long enough. The worst part was being dragged out of bed at dawn for “training”. Though her training was less about learning to fight herself and more about standing around the training rink terrifying males while Cass tried to teach little girls to throw a punch. 

Coincidently she hadn’t gotten laid in 4 months either. 

“As much as I love seeing you in your underwear, you do have very nice, very warm leathers.” 

“Bite me,” she said as she shoveled food in her mouth. She had made it this long avoiding putting those damn things on. She wasn’t going to cave now. No matter how much imagining the fur lining made her whimper. 

He smiled down at her, making a point of flashing his teeth. “Gladly.”  Whatever mischief was running through his thoughts cleaned itself up as he changed subjects. He was the other surprise. The animosity between them was turned down to a polite simmer. Oh they still bickered, and they flirted. They never said it, and God willing never would, but any edges of disgust in their banter had long been smoothed by fondness. “Az will be picking me up at 7 tomorrow. If you change your mind about coming with me, be ready to go then.” 

“I won’t,” she answered, choosing not to tell him that she would be spending the day with Emerie. 

Surprisingly, he didn’t push. 

“Oh good, you’re up. I’m making breakfast, if you want.” 

__

Nesta woke up in a bed that was far too clean to be her own. Her head ached, her throat was dry, and she was naked. She sat up and took in her surroundings. This room was not hers. She had less furniture and more piles of shit everywhere. She was trying to figure out how she got there when the door opened and a woman came wandering in. 

Nesta recognized her as soon as she spoke and finally recalled the night prior. She was the singer for that band. They chatted each other up at the bar for hours, getting progressively drunker. By the time the bar closed they stumbled home - going to hers because it was closer. They jumped each other as soon as the door closed. It was a new experience for Nesta, being with a woman. And it was good. The singer sounded as lovely when she came as she did when she belted. 

Staying for breakfast would be nice. Something real in her stomach to soak up the alcohol was very needed. And if she played it right, there was a chance for as lovely a morning as there was a night. 

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.” 

Nesta waited until her partner had left the room before she pulled on her dress and snuck out the window. 

Lovely wasn’t what she deserved. 

___

No training didn’t mean that Nesta didn’t wake up at first light. It just meant she didn’t need to get dressed. Part of the initial torture of first arrival was learning that Cass put her in an east facing room with larg windows on the walls - and refused to let her have curtains. Privacy apparently wasn’t as important as making sure she didn’t have oversleeping as an excuse.

She swore at the sun, as she did every morning, and felt around in the bed next to her. Before getting out from under the covers, she pulled on her fluffy robe. This little trick she learned back in the hut. Sleep with the clothes you’re going to wear if you want them to be warm in the morning. 

She trudged out to the main room and kitchen, beginning the process of preparing breakfast. Another rule of the house, if you are up first, you cook first. Same for dinner and coming home. Lunch they were on their own. There was a housemaid when she first arrived, but… she didn’t last long. She found the tea kettle and set about making hot water while she poured oats into bowls. From their icebox - a box they just left sealed outside to let winter keep cold - she pulled out a package of cured bacon. The kettle whistled, and she used the entire batch to steep the coffee. The next round of water was for the oatmeal.

The shadows between the windows grew and darkened. Before he even stepped out, Nesta greeted him. 

“I’m making coffee. Get a cup if you want some.” 

“Thank you. I’ll take bacon, too, if you don’t mind.” 

“It’s Cass’s money,” she answered, adding three more pieces to the griddle. 

Azriel was the only one from Velaris that visited with any sort of regularity, mostly due to how closely he needed to work with Cassian. He would come up about once a week for updates or meetings or to winnow Cass somewhere. He had begun to make a habit out of arriving early to chat with Nesta. Sometimes he just came up to hang out with them. He probably only came up to spend time with Cassian, but since she was usually around, they included her.

No one else from the Inner Circle bothered to visit. Rhysand and Feyre came up once, but that… did not end well. Elain felt too guilty to come see the sister whose banishment she had consented to. Morrigan wasn’t even on the island, so it wasn’t a surprise she didn’t stop by. And Amren… Amren was keeping her vow to not speak to Nesta until she apologised to Morrigan. Something Nesta still didn’t think she needed to do. 

Morrigan spent 4 nights a week at a gay bar. How the fuck was Nesta supposed to know she wasn’t out? 

“Elain asked me to bring this,” he conjured a set of books and hand-knitted socks into existence, placing both onto the table while pouring himself a cup. The books were tied together with ribbons and decorated with small bows, clearly meant to be her Solstice present. The socks - well, Elain had taken up knitting sometime in the last year and had Azriel deliver a pair every time he visited. 

“Why didn’t she just ask Cassian to bring it back with him?” Nesta scooped some brown sugar into her oatmeal. 

The ever so slight blush on his cheeks told her what his answer did not. “She wanted to make sure you had a present for the holiday.” 

“Because she knows how much I care about holidays,” and it had nothing at all to do with you leaving from her room this morning and it seeming convenient at the time. They wanted to be discrete, and Nesta accepted that - no matter how bad they were at hiding it. She poured in the hot water into her breakfast and stirred. “Any messages with that present?” 

“The bacon looks done.” 

“Azriel.” 

He sighed. “No.” 

Nesta tightened her jaw and moved the bacon from the stove to a plate, allowing him to have a piece. She wasn’t sure if she was more pissed that he didn’t have a message or that she was still hoping he would. Either way she was going to play it off. “I’m surprised they didn’t have you hock me about going, too.” 

Az cocked his head. “Cass made it pretty clear you weren’t ready for that.” She snapped up at him. 

“And what was his barometer for knowing if I was ready?” She sneered. 

But Az only shrugged, well accustomed to playing referee for Cassian and Nesta by now. “You not wanting to go.” 

__

Nesta was still thinking about Azriel’s answer by the time Emerie came over. She couldn’t decide if Cassian was being a presumptive ass or if he was being genuinely considerate. He had a habit of being both interchangeably. Like when he finally made his way to the kitchen, fully dressed and demanding breakfast. He added in some last minute jabs about coming back early if she got lonely as Az winnowed away with him. And even through the mocking tone, the message was clear. “If you don’t want to be alone, just say the word and I’ll come back.” 

He still didn’t know she was spending today with Emerie then. 

“Do you not own any decorations or do you just not like them?” she asked, looking around the room. 

“What decorations?” Nesta strained in her thoughts, there was a lot of extra shit in Feyre’s living room last year… 

“Solstice decorations.You know, candles, holly, garlands,” Emerie explained. It sounded like what Feyre had up - and what most of Velaris had up -  but in all honesty she was not sober enough last year to make the connection that it was for the holiday and wasn’t just some seasonal nonsense. Emerie squinted at her and placed a wrapped box on the table. Presents! 

Fuck. That’s right. Fae exchange presents on the Solstice. 

“I honestly don’t know.” 

Emerie squinted at her. “What do you mean you don’t know?” 

Nesta shrugged. “Humans don’t have holidays.” At most they had festivals, but they were distinctly not holidays, just an excuse to drink and dance with as many strangers as possible. The closest thing they had to a formal holiday was Treaty Day, and even that was not the intimate affair this seemed to be. She hadn’t even heard of a Solstice dinner until Feyre asked her to go last year. 

“How do you not have holidays?” she asked. 

“Holidays used to be very dangerous days to be human.” There were plenty of horror-stories around the suffering of human slaves on religious days. Whether they were being traded as gifts or killed as sacrifices...  even if the stories were exaggerations, it led to whole-sale rejection of everything religious by human society. 

“So you know nothing about solstice?” Emerie placed a hand on her hip. 

“It is the longest night of the year.” 

Emerie made it her mission to instruct Nesta on the finer points of an Illyrian solstice. First and foremost, every 5 years it was the last day of the Blood Rite. The theme of doing battle still continued in the other years, most tribes had hunts or tournaments for the men to mark the occasion. Women were expected to work the day to prepare for the night. The night of the Solstice was the only true peace Illyria ever saw. Solstice nights were for feasting, music, and dancing. Fighting after dark was strictly forbidden. Gifts were expected between families, friends, and especially rivals. It symbolized an acceptance that though Illyrians may compete with one another, they were still members of one army. 

“Does this tribe have a tournament?” Nesta asked. Cassian hadn’t mentioned anything about it, or a feast afterwards, but he might not have thought her interested. Or ready, she thought ruefully.

“Devlon hosts a melee tournament. Puts all the entrants in the ring together and waits to see who comes out. The large feast at the end is prepared by entrant’s families,” Nesta knew she meant women in those families, “For the entrants and their families. Dad didn’t enter, so we would just watch the tournament and then spend the night at home.” 

“Do you want to watch the tournament this year?” 

“Yeah but you’re still in your pajamas,” Emerie laughed. 

She watched by the door as Nesta dressed in her warmest clothes. Watching men fight on her day off wasn’t exactly Nesta’s idea of a good time. But Emerie wanted to go. And Cassian had tried to make the decision of whether or not she should go by not telling her about it, so that in and of itself made her want to go. Because neither were entering, and certainly neither were cooking, they wouldn’t be able to attend the feast after. But that’s just as well. A night back at the house with hot drinks and Cassian’s pantry seemed just fine to both of them. 

The tournament took place in the training rings. Normally the 5 or so rings were roped off from one another, allowing different ages and skill levels to train separately. But today Devlon had taken down the separators, providing an obnoxiously large space for his melee. But it was needed. It seemed every one of Devlon’s soldiers signed up for the tournament. About 200 competitors, ranging from small boys to grown men. There were even some father-son pairs helping each other warm up in the ring. 

Outside the rings, there was yet another crowd of voyeurs. Women and girls taking breaks from their preparations to watch, the merchant families - like Emerie’s, and the men too old and frail to compete anymore. Standing at the head of it all was Devlon, a poor-man’s Cassian. He caught wind of them walking up and immediately flared at the sight of Nesta before turning back to the tournament. Being a witch in Illyria had certain perks. Devlon’s apprehension being only part of it. The crowd parting for them, allowing them to stand at his side and have the best view, was another. 

“Soldiers!” Devlon called as he stepped forward. All 200 men turned to him at attention, well trained by now. “You know the rules. No siphons, no weapons, no flying, no killing. You fall, you’re out. You yield, you’re out. You get knocked out of the ring, you’re out. The last men standing at sunset wins.” He raised his arm in the air, making it visible to all. He took one last look around the ring, took a breath, and dropped his arm and stepped back as he bellowed, “Lay on!”

The chaos was immediate. One of the younger kids, there without a father to hold them up, fell immediately. The rest were at each other's throats, kicking, punching, wrestling. Part of her was worried that the battle-royale would be too similar to the war. But without the clang of steel and the geysers of blood, she found this was more similar to the crowded dance halls in Velaris. Devlon, now standing next to the girls, kept his eyes on the mock-battle as he spoke. “I thought you’d be with Cassian today.” 

“And miss a battle royale? Honestly Devlon, do you know me at all?” She smiled at him, relishing how he flinched at her grin. “Can’t help but notice none of the girls are competing.” 

His jaw tightened. “The Solstice melee is not training. It’s tradition.” 

“Now you said the same thing about the girls training, too, did you not?” Nesta had no interest in ever learning how to fight herself, and didn’t really care if girls trained or not. But there was a difference between choosing not to do something and not being allowed to do something. 

“If Lord Cassian wants to insert his views here as well, he should be here to do it himself.” The harsh words were undercut by the bead of sweat racing down his cheek. He wasn’t wrong. That was part of the reason Cass was stationed up here full time. Changing the rules around women required full time intervention. In Nesta’s mind, it also required more input from the women, but that was a discussion for another time. 

“Maybe next year,” Nesta yawned. She watched the battle progress. After the initial early eliminations, they had plateaued into a minor stalemate. Some alliances also became clear. Groups of friends or families fighting together, watching each other’s back, catching each other before they fell. She didn’t cheer as the crowd or Emerie did. Rather, her and Devlon seemed to be the only calm people there. 

Then… something odd happened. One of the teenage boys fell suddenly. He didn’t seem to get hit particularly hard, for one. And secondly, he didn’t get back up. Both Devlon and Nesta leaned forward, looking closer. She saw it first, sniffed it out. Blood. The boy had been hit in the side and was bleeding from the wound. 

“Devlon,” she said very carefully. 

“I know, I didn’t see who did it.” 

“We need to get him out.” 

“His friends will get him out.” 

She held her breath, watching. No one came. She hadn’t been watching him particularly, but she didn’t remember him teaming up like the others. The way they walked around him… “He doesn’t have friends,” she snarled. Even Emerie gulped as Nesta’s anger stirred the well of her power. Cass told her stories. Back when the shakes and cold sweats were unbearable, he stayed up with her and told stories, trying to distract her through it. Trading one dark truth for another. She told him about watching her mother die, he told her that he was alone for years until Rhys. A bastard that was left to fend for himself, potentially to die if he wasn’t strong enough. From the way they walked over this kid, he was the same. She needed to get him out of there. He was bleeding out and no one was doing a damn thing about it. 

“We cannot interfere with the melee,” Devlon said, “it’s against the rules.” 

“So is weapons, but someone clearly has a knife,” she spat. Devlon didn’t say anything to that. He just kept scanning the make-shift battlefield, searching. “There!” he shouted, and his green siphon flashed. Another teenager was plucked into the air by his wings. He kicked and thrashed, a small knife in his fist. Devlon pulled the kid to him, releasing his magic’s grip and decking as asshole as he got in range. The boy went down with just that one hit. 

But the first boy was still out there. He was still bleeding out. Alone in a crowd. He was going to die. He was going to die in this little mock battle where killing was strictly forbidden. Was this why Cassian didn’t tell her about it? Did he have holidays like this? Did older boys gang up on him and try to kill him without anyone noticing? Was he left alone to bleed on his own? 

“Nesta!” 

Emerie’s voice was farther away than it should have been, and muffled by a crowd of idiots fighting with one another. She wasn’t entirely sure how she got here, but Nesta was standing over the fallen boy. As they registered her presence, one by one the soldiers stopped. “The witch.” “It’s the witch.” “Why is the witch here?”  She ignored them all, kneeling down to the injured. He was pale and grimacing, having lost a lot of blood - still losing it, actually. The knife had gotten him just below the ribs, catching who knows which organs. Without another word she picked him up, allowing his head to rest against his shoulder and his body to rest on her torso. 

She turned back to Emerie and Devlon, one watching with concern, the other pissed as hell. She stepped towards them, slowly, carefully. She didn’t want to jostle the kid’s injuries more than necessary. No one came near her as she walked out of the ring. At first she thought it was the same as the audience, that they were simply afraid of the witch. But a glance around gave her a different answer.

Her power extended around her in a sphere, creating barriers of ethereal flowing silver. The grass around her withered and died, and no man here wanted to see what would happen if they touched the walls of silver flames. When she got to the edge of the ring, the rope touched her power and rotted to nothing. She didn’t know how this boy still lived in her arms, but he was still breathing- barely. She spoke to both Devlon and Emerie. 

“He needs a healer.” 

“I’ll find Marta and have her meet you at the house.” 

Nesta nodded to her friend and turned to walk the familiar path to Cassian’s house, her power dying down as she crossed the threshold.

__

Marta arrived at the same time she did. They set the kid down on the kitchen table as the old woman got to work. The boy did get stabbed, but only in the liver. It took longer than Nesta would have thought, certainly longer than the battlefield-healing she remembered from the war, but Marta was able to stabilize him and stitch him up. She left them with instructions to make sure the boy didn’t get infected or pop a stitch in the night. 

“Not how you planned to spend the Solstice, I’m guessing?” Nesta asked. 

Emerie tilted her head, “No but seeing every warrior in the village piss himself is worth it.” She slumped down on the couch. “We have a moment, want to open your present?” she gestured to the box on the table. 

“Y-yeah, just let me grab yours.” Nesta ran back to her room. She grabbed the stack of books Elain bought her, still wrapped from this morning. Definitely a faux paus, but she would never know. 

Nesta came back out with the present and set it in front of Emerie. “Happy Solstice.” The look of awe and excitement was worth it. As Emerie began to untie the books, Nesta began to unwrap her present. Under the paper was a long, thin box. She unlidded it to find a set of leather and wood hair pins - Illyrian style hair pins, made to not get cold in winter. 

“Thank you,” she said, still admiring the etching on the leather thong. 

“I’d thank you but, I think mine goes to Elain.” 

“What?” Nesta whipped her head up to see the first book open on the table and Emerie holding a hand written note. She was clearly reading it but let Nesta snatch it from her anyway. 

“So should I let you borrow the books or-”

“Shush.” Emerie laughed and paged through the first novel as Nesta read the note. 

Dear Nesta, 

I know you are still upset with me, and with Feyre, for sending you away. And you are right to be upset. You were there for me, after the Cauldron and after Grayson. You held our family together after Feyre left. And when you needed us, needed me, I didn’t know how to help. 

I don’t know if it is the power or just my own knowledge of you, but I knew there was nothing I could do. I knew that if I tried to help, I would only fail. And that is not an excuse. Fear of failure does not make not trying ok, but it is what I did. And I am sorry. 

I know putting this in a letter hidden in a book is still the coward’s way, but I don’t think I could face you if I didn’t apologize first. I hope to have Azriel take me for a visit after the Solstice if you would have me. 

Your sister, 

Elain

___

They stayed up most of the night, playing cards, reading, and watching over the boy. Nesta had planned to stay up the full night, but using her power that day and waking up at 6 am had taken its toll. She found herself drowsing into her cards. Around 3am, Emerie sent Nesta to bed, agreeing to stay up and keep watch. Nesta’s head barely hit the pillow before she was out. 

She woke in darkness. Not odd for her. Waking up in the middle night was fairly common. But when she looked to her window, she saw that it was not night. There was sunlight shining behind the makeshift curtain someone had thrown over her window. She pushed herself up. Who? 

“You’re up.” 

She turned her attention to the chair on the other side of her bed. Cassian sat there, watching over her with an indecipherable expression. She sat up.

“When did you get home?” 

He ran his fingers through his hair. It was down and knotted, unusual for him. There were bags under his eyes. “Last night, before dawn. Az brought me back,” he brought his hands together and looked at her. “Emerie told me what happened. You lost control again.” 

“How’s the boy?” 

“Petros is fine. I moved him to my room to sleep off the rest of the potion the healer gave him.” 

“That’s good.” 

“No, you couldn’t,” his hands gently reached out and lifted her face to look at him. “Why couldn’t you?” 

Cassian moved to the bed, sitting next to Nesta. “You lost control for him.”

“I-I couldn’t just let him bleed out,” she explained, staring at a spot on the bedspread.

Because he reminded me of you. She didn’t know if she said the words out loud or not. But Cassian’s answering kiss was so soft, so gentle, so sweet, she didn’t care. She responded to his kiss in kind, her hand cupping his face, finally feeling those perfectly chiselled cheekbones. His tongue passed over her lower lip and she opened for him, inviting him deeper. She met his tongue with her own and wrapped her hands around the back of his head, pulling him closer. He grinned through the kiss, gently placed his hand on her shoulders, and pushed her back down on the bed. 

It was the first time Nesta stayed for breakfast after.

___________

Tagging potential readers:

@perseusannabeth

[myloveisinthefood]

balsamic glazed chicken roast

i do my Sunday roast a bit differently. i begin by making a balsamic glaze: in a pan, 1/2 cup of balsamic vinegar, some sprigs of thyme, and a peeled garlic clove. simmer over low heat until reduced by half.

while the glaze is reducing, prepare the rest of the ingredients. i start with chicken marylands, and separate the thigh part from the drumstick. into a large roasting tray, i add potatoes (one per person, peeled, cut into chunks), onion (cut into sixths), white flat mushrooms (roughly quartered), and garlic (a few cloves, peeled). i coat all the veggies in a good amount of olive oil, and then shift them around in the tray to make room for the chicken. make sure the chicken isn’t resting on top of any veggies.

now for the glaze! brush it generously over all the chicken pieces, and drizzle some more balsamic over the whole tray before seasoning with salt and pepper. throw in the thyme from the glaze, and the garlic clove too if you like… or you could eat that as a chef’s treat, because it’s so delicious.

roast in a 180C oven for 25 minutes at first, after which you can baste the chicken with the balsamic in the bottom of the tray. roast for a further 20 minutes, or until the potatoes are tender and the chicken is cooked but still moist. the skin should be thoroughly caramelised and dark from the vinegar.

i served up a thigh and some veggies each, leaving me the drumsticks for my lunch tomorrow. i also had a light green salad on the side — it’s a hearty dish that needs some crunch and freshness!

anything balsamic hooks me immediately, but this is seriously one of my favourite recipes. it’s super easy, super delicious, and will be your new favourite roast for sure!