#made it again today along side some oatmeal cookies i made for my cousins

[espytalks]

I made the first recepie, the chicken parm casserole, today, and im sharing it cause it was pretty good, and very easy.

The only changes id make is add a bit more salt, add more cheese instead of breadcrumbs (i had eyeballed the measurements for the cheese and breadcrumbs) and cut the chicken up smaller.

I used whole wheat penne that i happened to have instead of the bowties she used, and they came out a biit too soft, i think; I'd add less water and cook it maybe 5 or 10 minutes less, but id check it, cause ya workin with raw chickin here.

[right-brain-of-froggy2]

Christmas in July Chapter 7

Day 7 is here! Prepare the milk, because today is all about cookies with Wonderful Christmastime.

A little author’s note: The Tracy cookie baking day is based on my (and Froggy One’s) own family's tradition of exactly this story. We get up really early, our grandparents, aunts/uncles, and some cousins come over and we bake cookies from dawn until night. Once everything is finished around 9PM, we distribute them amongst ourselves and make up plates multiple kinds for other family members. And all the ones listed are real ones we make too! Writing this today really made me crave some Christmas cookies...

Ao3 link here!

“I’m gonna die of hunger, Mama.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“Really. You won’t see me ever again ‘cept in the ground. Dead. ‘Cause you won’t feed me.”

“I don’t want you dead, Scotty!”

“At least Virge cares…”

Lucy pats on a sulking Scott’s head as she whisks the eggs and sugar together for the next batch of cookies. Her oldest son does not appear amused.

“We just ate lunch an hour ago.”

“And an hour ago we didn’t have those!”

Scott points directly to the oven where the Andes Mint cookies are baking. Virgil immediately copies his older brother. Being only three means copying his brothers in the most entertaining thing in the entire world. Scott smacks down Virgil’s hand so he’s the only one pointing. Having a glass front oven is tantalizing thing for a little boy with an endless stomach.

“You’ve already had five cookies, Scott. Give your stomach a break.”

Her little boys pout and whine to no avail. She’s not breaking her stance on this one.

The Andes Mint cookies finish in the oven, and she has to nudge Scott and Virgil out of the way. Lucy places perfectly sized dollops of cocoa dough on a fresh baking sheet. Despite telling Scott no to more cookies, even she can’t resist those baby blue eyes staring up at her. She hands off the now empty bowl with bits of raw batter still stuck to the sides to Scott and Virgil.

Raw cookie dough is an even better treat than the cookies themselves. Virgil especially enjoys running his finger along the edge of the cool glass bowl to scoop up any leftover dough.

She waves a dirty spatula at Scott trying to sneak bites of the cooling cookies behind them. “That’s all you’re getting for a while, Scott Carpenter. Go find your Dad.”

Scott has lost interest with the definite answer of no more cookies and runs to find where Dad and John have gotten to. Virgil takes up his abandoned perch on a chair by the kitchen island.

Lucy peers into the oven as the cocoa cookies are halfway done baking. The Rolos in the center of each are melting down in perfect gooey blobs. Little bubbles of caramel pop as the chocolate of the Rolos melt further in the cookies’ dough.

“Well, Virgil, it’s just you and me now.”

“You ‘n me.”

“Which ones do you want to make up next?”

She flips through the homemade book of recipes, handwritten by her own grandmother, her mother, and now by Lucy herself with a few of the Tracy’s own recipes sprinkled into the book. There are certainly plenty to choose from. Some like the oatmeal cookies have to be refrigerated overnight (Jeff’s favorite: he already made up the batter late last night) while others like the Oreo balls have to sit in the freezer for a few hours. Sure, they aren’t all the typical Christmas cookies, but each one holds a special memory in the Tracy family hearts.

Virgil turns the pages intently as if he’s reading the cursive handwriting of each recipe. He stops at a recipe and points to it.

“This one.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes!”

“It’s a lemon cookie.”

“I like lemon.”

“No you don’t, Virgil. Lemons are the yellow fruits.”

“Icky. Only Daddy and John like those.”

Lucy pokes her nose into Virgil’s hair to earn a giggle. She turns the pages, finding a recipe better suited for Vigil. Making the cookies means sneaking bits of the batter with no repercussions. “How about these? New twist cookies?”

Virgil’s eyes light up like the kid he’s going to be on Christmas. He reaches for the nearest clean bowl to start mixing. Lucy takes that as a yes.

The timer for the Rolo cookies will go off in five minutes or so; and then, they still have two more trays of raw cookies to bake. That should give Lucy enough time to make the new twist cookies while corralling a toddler. The new twist cookies are her grandmother’s take on chocolate chip cookies: a cookie bar topped with a brown sugar meringue that’s to die for.

Lucy measures out each ingredient and hands it to Virgil to dump into the bowl. He mixes up the base of the bar, pausing only to pour in the ingredients his mom gives him. By the time Virgil’s chubby little hands are packing down the cookie bar base in a ceramic dish, the Rolo cookies are done. Lucy passes over the rationed amount of chocolate chips to sprinkle out over the dough while she gets the next batch in the oven. While the first batch is now cooling, Lucy throws the next set of pans in to bake.

“Look, Mama!”

Virgil is all smiles as he shows her the unevenly spread chocolate chips.

“That looks so yummy, Virge! Good job!”

Oh well. John’s not the biggest fan of chocolate anyways; maybe she can cut him one of those pieces devoid of any chocolate chips. They move on to the meringue topping to finish off the cookie bars before putting them in line to bake.

The Christmas music playing softly in the background is drowned out as she whips up the eggs in the bowl to a stiff peak. She carefully mixes in the brown sugar and a splash of vanilla once the eggs are able to stand on their own. Her finger swiped a dollop from the edge of the bowl. Virgil’s own are plugging his ears against the beater’s loud noise. A smile comes to her lips as the flavor is exactly what she’s looking for.

Yup, tastes just like Grandma’s.

The next step is to layer it carefully over the chocolate chips and base. With practiced flourish, Lucy smooths out the meringue with swirls. The timer dings and Lucy swaps the Rolo cocoa cookies and the bars.

She looks over to the second card table set up against the wall of the living room open to the dining room. All the extra ingredients are laid out in neat rows and groups. Extra bags of flour and sugar are here, some butter left out to soften next to the baking powder, molasses there. The odd ingredients like peppermint chips, apricot jam, and lemon cake mix are farther to the back of the table. John’s been put in charge of organizing every year and takes his job very seriously.

Virgil yawns. She helps him off the chair with instructions to find his dad to help him clean up for a nap. As Virgil leaves he passes by Scott. Her eldest son wanders back into the dining room to stand by her side. A mess of incriminating cookie crumbs line his lips.

He reaches for molasses and jar of freshly ground ginger to hand to her. Gingersnaps are one of Scott’s favorites, and always a classic.

“Just how many cookies did Daddy let you eat?”

Scott shrugs. “A few.”

At the sound of John Lennon’s “Wonderful Christmastime”, Lucy can’t even find herself to be mad. If anything, she’ll make Jeff deal with the sugar crashing children and clean the whole kitchen while she goes to bed early. Now that’s a pleasant thought. Lucy helps Scott get out the first scoop of molasses.

Baking cookies and singing along to Christmas music, who could ever be unhappy doing that?

 . . .

 “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” is playing in the background as Lucy takes small amounts of the thickened pineapple mixture sweetened with sugar and plops them in the center of the shortbread dough. Armed with a plastic cutter, John trims the square pieces of dough so they could be folded up into star shapes. Lucy instructs her middle son on how to fold up the dough to resemble a pinwheel star.

Looking at the time, she realizes that it’s already nearing five in the evening. The whole family’s been helping bake, but she’s been in here all day for over ten hours after starting at six this morning. She deserves a breather. Lucy washes her hands at the sink overflowing with dirty dishes that are soaking with soap. While she had been washing the spatulas and bowls all through the day, it would only take minutes before they would be in use again for some other cookie recipe.

Jeff popped by in the kitchen around two to start his ‘world famous chili’ supper so she didn’t have to cook. (Read: Jeff and Scott dumped in cans of beans and tomatoes and mixed it with seasonings, peppers, and cooked ground beef from two nights ago). Either way, Lucy’s relieved to not have to make dinner tonight.

“I think this is the last batch, Johnny,” Lucy says, hands on her hips as she surveys the damage to the kitchen.

“I counted all the others. We made so many!”

“Did you count the tallies too?”

John nods. Each person is meant to keep track of how many cookies they eat to get an exact count in the end. He leans in lose to whisper to his mom. “Scotty ate eleven!”

“That child…” Lucy shakes her head and leans in close to John. “Well… how many total then?”

“Um…” John takes a moment to think. He then pulls out a piece of paper with crayon scribbled on it with a neater number written blow in pen. “Daddy helped me. We have seven hundred and two total cookies!”

Pineapple, Andes mint, snickerdoodles, pecan tassies, Oreo balls, fudge, jam thumbprint, gingersnap, lemon, snowcaps, plain chocolate chip, new twist chocolate chip- they made every type of cookie imaginable and more. So many more. Every year, Lucy forgets that one family is even capable of making that many cookies.

The oven dings. The last of the pineapple cookies are finally done baking. Lucy takes them out and allows herself to collapse down into the living room couch. John follows her straight to the couch. He climbs up and sits in his mom’s lap.

“Done already?”

Lucy shoots Jeff the stink eye as he trudges in from outside. He pulls down the mask from his face.

“You’re tracking snow everywhere.”

Jeff looks down at his coat wet with freshly melted snowflakes. Scott trapezes in with his own coat wet and nose red.

“It’s just water, Mama! We learned it in science class,” Scott clarifies. John nods seriously from her lap.

“Well, whatever it is, go hang your coats up and dry off. You and Daddy are on plating duties. We’ll eat supper and then drive these cookies out to people. We can even start with Grandma Sally and Grandpa Grant if you want.”

Scott and John whoop with excitement.

[illyriantremors]

Beneath the Stars Chapter 21

Chapter: I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII XIX XX

AO3 Linkage

Summary: Christmas brings about new beginnings for all, and for the first time in Feyre's life, hope. Final chapter excluding epilogue and bonus chapters.

Chapter 21

I woke up three days later on Christmas morning to a house full of people I’d never expected would be there again. For a long time I stayed in bed nestled under the covers staring at the little stars I’d painted on my ceiling. When I heard mom yell at Nesta downstairs that she was letting the bacon burn, I smiled and pulled the covers over my head.

At the end of a very long, taxing day at the hospital, mom had driven me home. She went to her apartment only long enough to get some clothes before returning. I was going back to the apartment with her after Christmas was over to spend the holidays with her, but once break was over, she was breaking her lease early and coming home so I could finish out senior year with as few road bumps as possible.

Nesta and Elain stayed too, though they were going back to their respective homes at school the day after Christmas. Too much grading and research they’d missed out on from taking emergency time off.

“I made French Toast,” Elain said, setting a delicious looking plate in front of me when I sat down at the table. It was hard passing the living room knowing dad wasn’t going to be sitting in his chair. We hadn’t even decorated the house. Neither of us had felt like it.

“It looks amazing,” I said. My sister beamed at me.

“Nesta - what did I tell you about the bacon!”

“Fuck all if I care.”

“OH!” Mom threw down her towel and stomped her foot. I broke out into a laugh. “You think this is funny, Feyre?”

“Actually, yeah, I kind of do.”

Nesta threw her head back and cackled. She mussed up my hair on her way to the cabinets for something or other and whispered, “I knew you were really on my side.”

Elain sank into the chair next to me trying to hide her grin behind her large coffee mug.

At noon, we drove to the hospital. Dad mostly slept, he was so heavily medicated. Part of me was grateful we didn’t have to talk. I was angry and sad for him all at once, but dealing with mom was enough for now. I didn’t think I could handle both of them at once just yet.

But watching him sleep and knowing he would live brought me some small comfort. It would be hard and we would all have to help him fight, not just me anymore, but he could do it. Every time I thought about him slipping away again and never coming back to me, I broke out into tears. That night finding him on the bed and screaming my head off was going to haunt me for a long while yet.

It was one of the biggest reasons I asked mom if I could see my own therapist. After spending the better part of a year resurrecting myself from the dead only to keep finding myself in pockets of despair, not always knowing how I got there, I decided it was time I needed help. I couldn’t keep fighting on my own anymore.

And mom was home. And my snarky sisters actually felt like real sisters for the first time maybe ever. And my first semester grades were halfway decent. Things were really looking up, especially when it came to -

My phone pinged. Rhys was waiting in the parking lot for me.

Should I come up?

Nah i’ll meat you outside.

Yes, darling.

…

*meet

Prick.

But a handsome prick whom you love for helping you read and write better.

It is your only talent.

Feyre, you wound me. I have many other talents as your lips well know by now.

That remains to be seen.

A slew of shocked face emojis flooded the next text and I smiled as I put my phone away and put my coat back on. We’d been at the hospital sitting with dad for well over an hour. Nesta never complained once about the time nor dad’s silence.

“Is it time already, Feyre?” mom asked.

“She’s in luuuuuv, mom,” Elain crooned, giving me heart eyes. “Time waits for no one when you’re in love.”

“This is the young man who was waiting with you when you came in with your father?”

She addressed this question to me.

“Yes, yes it is.”

“At six in the morning?”

My cheeks blushed and I lowered my head, pretending to straighten my hair to hide the redness. “Mhm.”

“It was Winter Formal the night before,” Nesta said. “So naturally, Feyre was up late.”

“You’re one to talk, Nesta.”

We glared at each other hotly. Mom simply said, “Well I hope you’re being safe. Both of you.”

“Oh my gosh, can we not?!”

“Bye honey,” she said with one of those mom smiles that took way too much pleasure in embarrassing the crap out of their kids. “And don’t think we aren’t going to talk about this Rhysand when you get home tonight, which you will do at a reasonable hour.” She kissed me on the cheek and spun me towards the door. “Have fun!”

“Yeah, got it, thanks!”

I ran out to Rhys’s car and flung myself into the front seat. “She’s awful!” I screeched, buckling myself in. “She wants to talk about you and I and, I think, about sex tonight when I get home. I haven’t had to have the sex talk with my parents since… well I can’t remember the last time!”

Rhys chuckled. “So she’s being a good mom again then?”

I sank into my seat with a sigh. “Yeah, she is. Heh.”

We smiled and sped off towards Rhys’s house. Morrigan showered me with her presence the moment I was through the door. I was the lone exception to the family-only rule today given that I wasn’t staying for the entirety of Christmas vacation while I went with mom and life had been kind of hectic. Rhys convinced his dad I needed a break.

“Feyre - hey!” Rhys’s dad came in from outside wearing a grilling apron and holding a metal spatula. A delightful mix of barbeque and herbs wafted in from the outdoor deck. Thank goodness for California weather for letting us get away with a barbeque in the middle of Christmas.

“I brought you this. Merry Christmas, sir.”

I handed over a small package wrapped in tinfoil. I think it took him by surprise. Rhys eyed me curiously as his dad opened it.

“Oatmeal cookies!”

“I told you she’s a knockout, dad,” Rhys said, coming to put his arm around me.

“You barbeque for Christmas?” I asked.

“Every year. Family tradition.”

“Rhys, get out here and help your old man for a second. Give Feyre a break from looking at your sorry face too much.”

Rhys whistled. “Well, I see where you and Mor get it from.”

“Hey!” Mor bumped into me and pulled me toward her. She was a physical one, Miss Morrigan. “I resent that. Come on, I got you a present!”

“You tell me you resent me by getting me gifts?”

“Shut up.”

She traipsed toward the tree and removed a small, flat rectangular package from underneath it and handed it to me.

“Well open it!”

I tore the wrapping paper off and discovered a simple wooden frame containing a picture - one of me and Rhys. It was from when we went camping together. Early morning judging by the faint yellows and pinks cresting the skyline along the trees. Rhys and I were nestled together in our sleeping bags up on the hill I’d found him on when Mor kicked him out. She must have woken up extra early to get this pic on her phone.

“I can’t believe you have a picture of this! Morrigan, this is magnificent. I could kiss you.”

“Please do, Feyre. I’d love to see my cousin’s face. He says you’re a good kisser. I can’t get him to shut up about it.”

“Just talk about how lovely Azriel’s tongue is. That’ll shut him up. How thick and hot and skilled it is, among other things I’m sure-”

“Feyre Archeron!” Morrigan blushed the deepest shade of scarlet I’d seen on her yet. “I shower you with gifts and look how you betray me.”

“You know it’s true.”

“What’s true?” Rhys asked, coming back in from outside.

“Nothing!” Mor shouted. Rhys cocked his head curiously and came up behind me, murmuring wickedly in my ear.

“What did you do to my cousin and how do I get in on it?”

I laughed heartily, much to Mor’s dismay and shoved the picture at him. “Look what she gave me.”

Rhys was startled when he saw what was held within the frame, but he broke into the most beautiful grin afterward and nuzzled into my neck. “A night I’d very much like to repeat now that I can kiss you, darling.” His lips descended onto my neck.

“Oh you two are pigs.” Morrigan huffed herself outside while I turned around and laughed myself silly into Rhys’s chest.

“That really was a wonderful night,” he said.

“It was. You know, I don’t think I’d have made it had it not been for that night. That entire trip, really.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was the first time in forever I’d felt like myself again. That I’d felt happy with friends.” I paused a moment, playing with the buttons of his shirt, finely pressed as always and today cherry red Christmas, before continuing. “I asked my mom about seeing someone - a therapist.”

Rhys’s brow flicked up in surprise. “Did you now?”

“Yeah, it’s time, I think.”

He took my hands and led me to the couch where we could sit down. I crossed my legs and sat sideways next to him.

“And how do we feel about that?”

“Good. A little nervous. But I think could have used this ages ago. I’m ready.”

He flicked me lovingly on the nose, a gesture only he could ever get away with, before tucking my hair behind my ear. I leaned in to the touch. “I’m proud of you. You’ve made a lot of progress and you’re kicking ass.”

“It doesn’t always feel like it.”

“Sometimes it won’t, but the important thing is you’re trying and hopefully sometime soon you’ll have more days of ass kicking then you do days you don’t.”

“You speak from experience?”

“Actually…”

Now it was my turn to be surprised. Rhys blew out hot air nervously before meeting me square on.

“I called Tamlin.” My jaw plummeted. “I thought that might be the reaction.”

“When?!”

“Last night. I told him I had talked to you and that it would be nice if we could move on in peace. He seemed grateful that I had called. I don’t think we’re ever going to be friends again like we were as kids, but… it’s nice to know we can pass each other at school now and not feel like we have to hate each, even if we don’t… well.”

Sliding into his lap, I kissed him slowly sending all the love and considerable warmth I felt about him into his lips. It was a chaste kiss. A sweet kiss. A kiss that said I love you.

“What was that for?” Rhys said, a little breathless when we broke apart.

“You’re not the only one who’s proud of someone today,” I replied. Rhys hummed low in his throat. “In fact,” I said sliding my fingers down his chest until I was dangerously close to his waistline an inch above his pants, “I’d say we’ve earned ourselves a reward.”

“My father is not more than sixty feet from this couch Feyre,” he said, but he chuckled over every word.

“You have a basement. Use it.”

Rhys stood scooping me up as he went. “As milady commands. Though you really should have told me about this doing it in public kink of yours before we started dating. I would have taken out an insurance policy given the risks.”

“Pft!” I scoffed. “Why? Scared you won’t be able to perform under pressure? Maybe I should take out the insurance policy. High risk of disappoint-”

His lips cut me off as his bedroom door opened. “Rhys?” his dad called from outside. We closed the door, pretending not to hear, and descended into his room in a chorus of hushed snickers and reckless kisses.

It was the most hopeful I’d ever felt.

The End

xx