#matzo ball soup year round

[jewish-culture-is]

jewish culture is talking to a jewish friend about jewish holidays and theorizing about a drag show for purim, which turns into "what if I start a jewish drag bar that has daytime programming for minors (and adults) and nighttime programming (for adults only) to be a queer inclusive jewish space somewhere (which we queer jews desperately need more of), and seriously starting to consider it, so now you have to think about what you'd name it if you DID make it (taking suggestions for my hypothetical jewish drag bar)

[saltysideblog]

Salty imagines...

Sick Basterds

Inglourious Basterds x Reader

Request: Yes! By anon 🤍

What would the Basterds be like with a cold?

During the war, there's no time for whining. Expect lots of spent tissues being hastily stuffed into coat pockets in between rounds of fire and more than one Basterd nearly choking to death trying to keep a cough quiet...

Aldo:

Even before the war, Aldo was a resilient little bugger. Has hundreds of absolutely vile tasting home remedies he swears by and will refuse your help.

"S'jus' a cold, sunshine, ah can take care of it..."

His voice is rougher than usual and his nose is lookin' a little red, but he promises to rest if you insist. When he lays his head in your lap and feels your fingers threading through his hair as you coo about how strong he is, he feels like a million bucks. His very favourite home remedy. No fish oil required.

Donowitz:

When Donny gets sick, he reverts back to his ten year old self; a spoiled mama's boy. Will insist on wearing his pajamas all day, pouting,

"I'm sick..." is his only reply when you ask him to put on some real clothes. Will come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist when you cook,

"Come back to beeeed..."

"Don, I'm busy."

"I want ice cream."

"I'm making pasta."

"But I'm sick..."

Kiss his forehead and serve him some matzo ball soup just like his ma did. It'll buy you a few moments of peace... until...

"Babe?? Come cuddle with me..."

And if you don't answer immediately,

"I'm sick..."

Wicki:

The only way you know Wicki's been sick is when you get sick after kissing him. When you confront him about it, he just shrugs,

"I didn't want you to worry."

Loves when his partner dotes on him. He thinks it's very sweet that you care, even if he can handle it. Will probably end up taking care of you instead, bringing you hot cups of tea and honey and running you a bath (to be shared, of course.) The bathroom windows are all fogged up as you both sink into the warm water,

"Feels like a lot of steam."

He'll kiss your shoulders and chuckle,

"Yes, but I can breathe again."

Stiglitz:

No one has ever seen Hugo get sick. But as his partner you know the truth; he just secludes himself in the guest room until the illness passes, like a wounded animal crawling into a hole. Will not let you near him,

"You will get sick."

And that's final.

He becomes a spectral figure, a vampire stealing food from your kitchen and retreating back to the shadows. Only emerges once he's his usual chipper self. He appreciates all the little notes you slip under the door more than you know; keeps them all in a shoebox in the closet.

Utivich:

Tries to soldier on, will wrap himself up in a big blanket, walking around like one of the caped heroes he writes about. You'll find him half asleep at his typewriter, barely holding onto his cup of now cold coffee. He will never ask you to take care of him, but he makes it difficult not to. You get him over to the couch and tuck him in, he lets you know just how much he appreciates what you do for him, sleepily mumbling,

"I love you so much..."

Before dozing off.

In a few hours, you'll have to do it all again, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

Omar:

Very difficult to wake up in the morning... or the afternoon... or any time he dozes off. Omar's a sleeper and whether or not you dote on him makes no difference to him... because he'll be asleep. It does put a smile on his face when he wakes up in the middle of the afternoon and there's a box of his favourite snacks with a glass of water on the coffee table for him.

Feel better!

He runs his fingers over your handwritten note.

He likes knowing you think of him, even if he's not the most interesting conversationalist at the moment.

Hirschberg:

Does not cover his mouth when he sneezes so you will get sick at the same time he does. Gets a little upset about it, because who's gonna take care of you now?

"I can't, I'm sick too!"

"Sweetie, we're adults, we'll take care of each other."

Pouts and whines about it but it makes his heart flutter when you say things like that. Each other... he's not a romantic by any means, but the thought of there always being "each other" could make him swoon. Still won't cover his mouth.

"It's nasty! I don't want that all over my hands!"

Doesn't seem to understand that he can wash his hands but you can't wash the air.

Sakowitz:

Much like Wicki, Sakowitz doesn't want to bother his partner with a silly little cold. The only time he might ask for anything is when you're walking past him and he grasps both your hands, looking deep into your eyes with a sadness only known to orphaned pups... it makes you a bit worried,

"What is it, honey?"

He holds that serious look on his face as he very delicately and politely asks if you could make him a cup of hot chocolate,

"If it isn't too much trouble."

He's more than happy to dote on you when you're under the weather though,

★ Bonus ★

Hicox:

"Stiff upper lip, luv, won't let a little cold bring me down."

*immediately gets upset because he can't taste his tea with a stuffy nose*

[kingpreussen]

Irina was the first person Peter met on the outside who smiled at him.

New York wasn't a very "smiling at strangers" city. In fact, someone who smiled that brightly and warmly at you was probably moments from pulling a box cutter and slashing your face and was therefore to be avoided. But Irina, holding a baby on her hip and watching a small child tumble around with other kids on the playground, turned and beamed at Peter as he passed on 8th street and he felt the slightest bit more welcome in the city he had lived in his entire life.

"It's different, than I remember," Peter said at Irina's kitchen table, watching her eldest son Alex show the baby, Dima, how to play Mario on his handheld console.

Despite the narrow halls and dilapidated nature of their Section 8 apartment, Irina made the place her own. Peter felt like he had walked into 19th century Russia, or the tea room downtown that closed even before Peter was locked up. All heavy velvet drapery and overhead chandeliers and busily patterned upholstered wooden furniture, the red wallpaper in the living room as mesmerizing as it was headache inducing, paintings in round frames of old Russian writers and intellectuals.

Here are there were more modern touches. A nice sized television with another console on the stand underneath was mounted on the only white wall in the entire home, that Peter had seen. The kitchen was less drastically changed, with an electric stove and real tile on the floor.

Peter didn't know where someone like Irina, a single mother with two children, got the money to decorate her home this way. He also knew it wasn't his place to ask. Suspicion over other people's source of money is what got his Uncle killed after all.

Peter was thankfully knocked from his maudlin thoughts when Irina placed a bowl of matzo ball soup in front of him. He looked up--Alex and Dima were already served, the former with a sandwich and chips and the latter some green and orange baby food.

"What's different?" she asked, her voice heavily accented and stern. Peter was reminded of the time he spent in Brighton, summer days wiled away on the beach followed by stuffing his face with Russian pastries before the trip home.

"Alphabet City. New York, in general."

Peter picked up his spoon and cut off a small part of one of two matzo balls, soft and full of dill. The soup itself looked like homemade chicken noodle--not the way his Aunt prepared it, but the Jewish diaspora in the city spanned multiple continents. He was grateful all the same.

Irina tucked a strand of blonde hair that escaped the bun on top of her head behind her ear. "Six years, you said?"

"Almost. Basically."

"The city has not changed as much as you think." She smiled at him again before returning to the kitchen. "New phones, new technologies, but the people are the same," she called back.

Peter ate slowly so he didn't get sick. The soup melted in his mouth, filling him with warm memories of home. He tried not to get sick on those either.

"Manhattan is the same. My block is the same," Irina said, sitting next to Peter at the final chair around the table and placing a cup of dark tea behind his soup bowl. She had one of her own, a small spoon inside of the cup and the tea pale with milk.

"It feels... off."

"I think it is you that's different," Irina said. "You have become a man. You see things differently now."

Peter glanced over at her, watching the way her green eyes sparkled with mischief. Peter got put away too early to truly be a ladies man but he could see himself sweeping her off her feet, if even for one night. If he wasn't homeless and destitute and depressed. He looked back down at his soup.

"Not to be rude," Peter began to ask, and then his eyes flicked over to Alex and Dima. "Never mind," he said, taking another spoonful of hot soup into his mouth.

"You were going to ask about my husband, weren't you?" Irina asked. Her smile wasn't as beaming now, but it was still there, playing around the edges of her pink lips. "You don't need to worry, I did not lose him in a way that... ah, lost me money? Financial risk?"

Peter nodded. Alex was playing on his handheld again, sandwich half eaten and chips gone, and Dima made a perfect baby mess all over himself with his food but he was laughing and cooing to himself.

"What happened?" Peter blurted out, before his brain caught up with him. "Sorry, I just--"

Irina shook her head and pursed her lips. She took a sip of tea, set the cup back on its saucer, and said, "He was not kind to me. To our sons. And there is someone in this building who was able to get help for me."

Her gaze pierced him, pale eyebrows lowered, head bent slightly forward. "There is a man who helps people like me. I was sure he would charge me more than I could spare but he... didn't. My husband was gone. And later, I found money under a coat that was draped over a chair." She didn't look at all close to tears but her voice was low, amazed. "More money than I had seen at once. He left no way for me to contact him, to thank him."

Peter listened to her story with wide eyes. The mercenaries and guns for hire he had heard about in prison were ruthless, and expensive. Whatever whisper network this guy had set up for saving battered wives and little children fell more into the Robin Hood category of violence.

"That's... I'm glad, Irina. That you had someone looking out for you."

Irina nodded. "Yes. I am glad as well." She finished her tea and stood again. "Finish your soup and shower, if you'd like. I am sure what is left of my husband's clothes will fit you."

"Thank you," he said to her retreating back.

When he left the apartment, Alex hugged him around his leg and Dima grabbed his hair. Irina just continued to smile.

Maybe there would be other people as kind and generous as her, but Peter didn't want to rely on charity for the rest of his life. And while Irina was right, that the city hadn't changed and he was just seeing it with new eyes, he still felt off kilter and out of place. He didn't want to go back to Forest Hills, to crawl into his Aunt's home and beg forgiveness and pretend like he could return to the life he had before.

Soon after he parted ways with Irina he found himself shelter in the ever-present construction on the north end of the East River greenway. The public bathrooms at that park were open from 8 am to 4 pm every day, so he could keep at least marginally clean. The East Village was out of the way enough for him to keep a low profile without running off to Long Island with his tail between his legs.

Wary of scaring the hipsters into calling the police on him, Peter didn't travel further west than Avenue D when he could help it. He tried his luck finding work at the Jobs Plus on the edge of his boundary but that was a dead end. Peter couldn't blame them; the city required him to have a permanent address to be placed with a job coordinator, but Peter needed money to get a permanent address, which meant he needed a job.

The intake person at the desk was sympathetic to his ranting, probably because he kept his hands to himself and didn't raise his voice. When he was done, she gave him a pamphlet of directions to shelters and food banks for the homeless in the area. Peter went to some of the soup kitchens when his hunger got too bad, but he didn't like taking food out of the mouths of others. People that were in more need than him.

Although he didn't see Irina again, nervous about skirting the rules that didn't allow visits by non-residents for longer than eight hours and sure she would offer him a warm night's stay, he was treated kindly by other families in Section 8 housing. He'd receive food and clothing from them sometimes, people who couldn't have been making enough money to even support themselves.

Two months passed this way, the city transitioning from an unusually warm fall into a rainy winter. Two months that could have been a lot more painful than they were, given his circumstances.

After days without human contact, curled up under a metal sheet supported by a scaffolding frame, Peter decided it was time for another walk to the soup kitchen. It was only open from 11 am to 1 pm on certain days, and Peter didn't exactly have a calendar on him, so he had to assume by the laws of probability that it was a weekday.

Moving around in the daylight was an effort that he didn't like to exert until his hunger became painful. He didn't look like himself anymore--hair long and unkempt, beard and mustache wild and covering the lower half of his face. He kept himself covered with an overlarge hoodie from Irina's closet, partly because of the cold and partly because he didn't want to see his own emaciated body.

When he wore it out of Irina's place it had fit fine, maybe even a little snug.

The only thing that remained of the old Peter, of his former life, were his Uncle's glasses that were thankfully returned to him by the COs when he was released. One of the lenses had been lost somewhere on his journey from Ossining back into the city, but he didn't need them to see anyway. He had popped the other lens out so he didn't give himself a headache while wearing them.

After the sun had risen enough that Peter could assume it was mid-morning, he carefully bundled the tarp and blanket he was using to sleep and hid them under some more metal sheeting. He stood carefully, unsure if he had pulled anything by sleeping wrong, and then walked down to the public bathroom.

The door to the men's room was open, thankfully, which meant it was after 8 am. Peter didn't like to loiter around the soup kitchen too much, afraid of making the women and children and normal people too nervous to eat, so after he used the toilet and washed his hands and face he walked to the Section 8 building at the corner of 6th and the FDR where he knew he could see a clock through the front doors at the right angle.

It was 11:15. Perfect. And there didn't seem to be many people inside the community center that he passed, so it must be a work day.

Peter stood on the corner of 6th and D for a few minutes. His hands shook in the front pocket of his hoodie. Once he passed this boundary he would truly be in the city, he would be seen. He waited for the next light cycle to pass and then at the white walking man signal he finally crossed the avenue.

After the initial hurdle, Peter felt more confident about walking to Trinity's Food for the Homeless. He kept his head down when he entered and said please and thank you to everyone he interacted with, receiving a plate of mashed potatoes and gravy and vegetables and real fucking steak that threatened to make his fangs drop. He consciously resisted, but sat at the back of the hall facing away from the hot food line just in case.

He was still hungry afterwards, to be sure. He stood and threw his plate away when he was done, saying more thank yous to the volunteers, and slipped out the door as quickly as he entered. It would be enough for now, giving him just enough energy to continue to look for work.

Peter returned to his shelter with the day's local newspaper and scoured the classifieds for anything that would take him as dirty and felonious as he was. He mentally marked a few to call the next time he was able to use the public phone at the library. Then he read the rest of the paper cover to cover.

Besides the hunger, and the loneliness, the thing Peter hated most about being homeless was the boredom. He couldn't exactly take a jaunt around the park or visit a museum or see a show. Even free events were off limits to someone looking--and probably smelling--like him.

On some days reading could get him through it, and on others he felt restless, moments from gnawing on his own arms like a trapped animal. Today was one of the bad days.

Peter got up and took probably his last chance to use the bathroom of the day before starting a trek along the FDR downtown to the Williamsburg Bridge. Wasting energy on moving probably wasn't a great idea when you were starving, but when had Peter Parker ever had a good idea?

The walk was 30 minutes on a good day. Peter moved slower than usual, shivering, head pounding. The air around him was cold but when he kept moving he could usually stay warm enough to function.

By the time he returned to the city, the sky had gone dark--it had taken him much longer than an hour to cross to Brooklyn and back. Darkness was good for cover and very bad for thermoregulation. If Peter didn't get back to his shelter soon there was a good chance he'd pass out on the sidewalk somewhere and be woken up the next morning by the cops.

Not having any identification on him was a blessing and a curse, when it came to pigs--they couldn't find out he was already a felon and torture him for it, but they also knew he was a vagrant and not some drunk who had a hard night.

Peter was minutes from reaching his shelter, crossing Houston at a snail's pace, when he heard an argument on 3rd. It didn't sound like a normal domestic disagreement, this was frantic and angry.

"Fuck off!" a woman shouted, and then a much deeper voice grunted in pain.

With the very last of his energy, Peter jogged up Avenue D and around the corner, finding two people partially hidden in the dark doorway to the right of the already closed Dollar Plus. Peter had to do something--to call out, to run forward, to distract this woman's attacker so she could get away.

Instead, she punched the man square in the jaw and he dropped to the ground like a ragdoll.

Peter could only stand at the end of the street with his mouth open, watching her adjust her jacket and the duffle bag slung over her shoulder before stepping over the man on the sidewalk. She caught sight of Peter and he flinched, unsure if he should hide, which would make himself look suspicious, or simply try to run.

"He didn't try and mug you too?" she asked, sounding concerned.

"No," Peter said immediately. "Sorry, I wanted to help. It seems like you had everything handled?"

The woman smirked at him, red lipstick not even smudged. "I've been around the block a few times. And I can tell by your accent you're not new in town. Haven't seen you around here before."

"I don't really hang out," he said. He took a step back, shoving his trembling hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. "Sorry to disturb you."

Peter had already turned around when the woman called, "Hey! Wait, dude." He turned his head and she came much closer to him than anyone had in months, reaching for his arm. He flinched again and she paused with her hand in the air.

"You look like you could use a drink," she said sympathetically. "I work at this place nearby, Hellhouse. You heard of it?"

"I haven't. I don't have any money...," he demurred, but she didn't seem the type to take "no" for an answer.

She waved her hand dismissively. "On me. Come on, Tiger. One drink. What d'you got to lose?"

Peter opened his mouth and then closed it again. "Nothing," he said.

Companion piece to the theoretical first chapter of Hunting!Spiderverse.

Ft. Depressed!Peter escorting MJ to her place of work- otherwise known as "How Peter Ended up Working at St. Margaret's."

[jamidblogs]

Blog 1

Being raised in a Jewish Household, food is an integral part of my background. Although I wouldn’t consider myself a particularly religious person, my family and I celebrate major Jewish holidays each year, including: Hanukkah, Rosh Hashanah, and Passover. One of the meals steeped in my core holiday memories is Matzo Ball Soup. The recipe my family makes was written by my maternal great-grandma. The key ingredients are: carrots, celery, chicken bullion, noodles, parsnip, and as the name entails, Matzo Balls. Matzo has a deep religious meaning in Jewish culture. Matzo’s legend goes back to the tale of Exodus, where Isrealies, in an attempt to flee from Egyptian slavery, had to leave their homes so quickly they were not able to wait for their bread to rise. In our house, making Matzo ball soup is a multi-person process. My Dad mans the cutting board, prepping vegetables. My Mother and I make Matzo Balls by hand. By the end of it, we make gallons of Matzo Ball soup, enough to freeze and eat over the winter. 

My family’s tradition of Matzo Ball Soup reflects both traditional and modern food systems. We break away from other Jewish families by eating Matzo Ball Soup all year round. Many jewish people eat it in a more traditional manner, where it is reserved for Passover, a holiday in which leavened foods are intentionally not eaten. I also think that my annual Matzo Ball Soup prep with my family brings me closer to my roots, reflecting the pieces of Judaism that I do align with. 

Matzo, matzo, matzo: A passover tradition - history. (n.d.). Retrieved January 5, 2023, from https://www.history.com/news/matzo-matzo-matzo-a-passover-tradition 

https://www.history.com/news/matzo-matzo-matzo-a-passover-tradition#:~:text=According%20to%20legend%2C%20the%20fleeing,the%20desert%20than%20regular%20bread.

[babbushka]

hey sweetie! Happy new year! yayyy im so excited for the new writings coming up! i've got a request that i think it will be pretty funny with biker kylo! ''its a fancy dress new years party, and person a is shook seeing peson b all dressed up for once''. i feel like they wouldnt go to a party with a lot of people but maybe she could ask him to dress nice? just for the two of them? like a date? smutty-ish? pretty please?

A/N: Hello my dear! Thank you so much for this request, I think it's so sweet and though it started out funny it turned sappy, lol. I hope you enjoy the little ficlet I've come up with. Wishing you a very sweet new year!!

1.2k, warnings for descriptions of food, mostly fluff!

You had said to get there at sundown, and to dress nicely. Kylo didn’t know what the fuck that meant, dress nicely. He spends most of his days in stained and torn t-shirts and faded black jeans, what was nice? He couldn’t ride his bike in nice clothes, he’d burn the shit out of his legs right through any trousers he might have stored in the back of his closet -- all of this internal monologuing is why he’s late.

He’s not that late, not really, the sun only went down twenty minutes ago, but Kylo had had damn near a nervous fucking breakdown throwing his clothes everywhere, trying to figure out what he could wear that would be nice.

It’s the first Rosh Hashanah that you’re spending together, and he doesn’t want to blow it. You’re the woman he would take home to Ma, if he still spoke to his mother, he doesn’t want you to think he ain’t serious about this relationship that you’ve built together. He is serious, and that’s why he’s late.

He’s late, but he thinks he looks nice. He’s praying that he does, anyway.

To try and soothe some of your potential anger, he stops by the florist on his way to your apartment and picks up a big bouquet of your favorite flowers, and tries not to crush them on the drive over. Parking his motorcycle in the dedicated spot, he climbs the four story walk-up, and runs his free hand through his hair, before ringing your doorbell.

Not even a full second goes by, before you’re yanking the door open, and Kylo is about to brace himself for being yelled at, but when he sees your big grin, he lets out a sigh of relief.

“You made it!” Throwing your arms around his huge frame, you hug him tightly. If Kylo had been a smaller man, he would have been knocked backwards from the force of your embrace.

“Of course I made it, why the hell wouldn’t I? You told me to be here, so I’m here.” Kylo hugs you back, holds you tight and walks you backwards into your apartment enough that he can shut the door behind you.

Kylo doesn’t spend a lot of time at your apartment. It’s not because he doesn’t want to or anything, it’s just a little further out of his way than his own place. You both work close together, and his apartment is closer to work, so it always tends to just be the meeting place.

He likes your apartment though, it’s nice, cozy. It’s very you, which sounds stupid, but is something that always makes Kylo feel at ease. He likes the way you decorate, the way you so clearly have put your touch on everything -- it’s so different from his own approach that he has half a mind to be embarrassed. Maybe he should give you his keys and let you make that damn apartment feel more like a home, but then that would mean you’d never be allowed to leave.

“I thought maybe you couldn’t get the time off work.” You grin at him when he finally releases you.

“I’m my own boss, sweets, I make the schedule.” Lighting up a cigarette and puffing on it for a few seconds, Kylo winks at you, “Whole shop’s closed for the holidays.”

Crossing your arms in front of your chest and cocking your hip, you look him up and down, licking your lips and smirking, “That’s very impressive, you know Just like your outfit. I didn’t know you owned a suit.”

Kylo gives a sarcastic little spin on the heel of his boot, showing off the black ensemble that he had managed to dig out of his closet. It was just a jacket and trousers, with a tie that he had actually tied himself, not one of those bullshit clip ons. He’s got a white button down underneath, and he’s grateful for the way his hair covers the tips of his ears because you can’t stop lookin’ at him.

“Just the one.” Kylo blushes despite himself, still not used to the pleased scrutiny you often subject him to, he mutters, “Surprised it still fuckin’ fits.”

“It’s a little tight.” You whisper playfully, pinching at the shoulder seam where the fabric is struggling to contain him. He only huffs out a laugh, a big plume of smoke going with it.

“Alright alright. Where am I takin’ you?” He offers you the flowers, which you happily accept.

“Nowhere, come in.” Throwing the invitation over your shoulder, you walk into the kitchen to find a vase for the flowers.

Confused, Kylo frowns and follows you like the duckling he is, “What do you mean nowhere -- oh.”

In the formal dining room, Kylo is confronted with a long table completely covered in food. There’s so much food that he actually can’t see the tablecloth underneath all the serving platters -- gefilte fish, potato latkes, matzo ball soup, fennel and apple salad, roasted cauliflower and pomegranates, kugel, the biggest fucking brisket that Kylo has ever seen, and of course, an even bigger round braided challah taking center stage.

“Do you like it?” Nervously, you look at him from the kitchen, and Kylo snaps out of his reverie to make his way to you.

“Goddamn you are divine.” Kylo picks you up, kisses you all over your neck and cheeks, “It smells fuckin’ delicious, this can’t be all for me. It’s way too fuckin’ nice for me.”

He doesn’t put you down yet, not yet, wanting to keep you in his tattooed arms forever and ever.

“Now you know why I told you to wear the suit.” You laugh, feeling silly that it’s just the two of you, but, “It’s a special occasion, I wanted to do it up right.”

“You did good, sweets.” Kylo nods, trying not to get too emotional. “Come sit real close to me and tell me all about it.”

The last time he had a big spread like this for a holiday was...damn, he can’t actually remember. When he was a kid, before he fucked off and ran away from home at fifteen. No one’s cooked for him in general in just as long, probably.

Kylo takes his suit jacket off because it really is too tight around the shoulders, and sits down at the head of the table, pulling you directly onto his lap, your pretty self snuggling right up against him even though there’s a perfectly good chair next to him. Kylo starts kissing your neck again, making you squirm and laugh from the way his teeth scrapes against your skin, but then Kylo pulls away abruptly.

“Wait -- there ain’t any fuckin’ fish heads, are there?” He asks, surveying the table for the traditional dish.

“No, those always creep me out.” You scrunch up your nose, and Kylo lets out a sigh of relief.

“Me too, I don’t like shit that’s still got its eyeballs in it.” He shudders dramatically, “Makes me feel bad.”

“I know what you mean, but rest assured this dinner is head-free.” You pat his cheek lovingly.

Kylo catches the hand and pulls it to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to your palm.

“Well... maybe for dessert?” He looks at you expectantly, and it takes you a second to pick up what he’s saying, but when you do, you roll your eyes and groan.

“You’re so annoying.” You say, really meaning I love you.

“Yeah.” He replies with a toothy grin, really replying I love you more.

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Tagging some Kylo lovin' friends!

@mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @schopenhauerdeathsquad @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @caitlin-was-here @icarusinthesea @princessflip @goddessofsprings @mrs-gucci @baubub @bucky-j-barnes @mindyoshiii @beachwoodmonet @darkhairedmenrule @eagerforhoney @nekonaomitard @einmal-im-traum @justlenastuff @0nihiime @ohsolonelyghosts

[septemberbells]

an hour before zoom shul my sure hands wove our challah dough into beautiful braids while thorndyke called a friend who, like me, has family in ukraine

i left one of our challot braided straight and long and rounded the other, and then thorndyke added the egg wash and the everything bagel seasoning but when she returned to the call

the news was bad, her friend had to leave right now, with family now in confirmed danger, new bombings, we later learn that miraculously the family is still alive

i still have no news of my family there, not in over a week, and it may be weeks, months, before my mother's family, and then my mother, and then i can learn any more

ten minutes later my partner logged on to the zoom services for refugee shabbat and i busied myself with finding the wine and a center for my fears, my hopes

i was mostly holding myself together, turning to my partner for comfort and soothing her in turn, until a woman was introduced as a guest speaker to share her family's story as refugees

weeping, i listened to her tell her family's story as i separated and whisked eggs and then combined with matzo meal, oil, seltzer, salt, oregano, and sumac

thorndyke chilled the mixture, started the broth, shaped the matzo balls, brought us kedem biscuits, prayed, sang, and held me in turn through my tears

i sobbed for the stories i sobbed when two members of the congregation read a poem before aleinu saying aleinu — it is on us — because our families have so often been driven out, have fled, because our people know what it is to find home both nowhere and everywhere i sobbed because i am just one generation removed from that truth i sobbed when i realized it was time for mourner's kaddish and i wasn't ready because how could i be, when my heart was still in my throat, because every week when we recite kaddish our rabbi adds that we say kaddish too for our six million who died in shoah and from covid who have no one else to say kaddish for them because goddamn that's my zaide's parents, aunts, uncles because i know some of our congregants live in a fascist town still it is beautiful to shoulder grief together with my community but it is a difficult prayer when the grief is too heavy to carry even when we all do it together

and then it was over and it was time for soothing soft safe and for realizing i threw my back out crying, again i turned on the audiobook for gathering moss, curled up under the covers, coming out only when the matzo ball soup was ready thank god there was matzo ball soup and challah for when i was done crying my eyes out then i went over to the bath and pulled out my phone because the sacred time i take away from my phone is to protect me and keep me holy, not leave me alone in the charybdis of fright and night, i texted otter and pulled out my comfort game and realized goddamn if my favorite character isn't that partly because he, too, lost his family to genocide, and then otter texted back, and i played a full route that i hadn't touched in a year all these little bits of comfort wove themselves together to send me to sweet safe sleep to another day for me and, i hope, all my family

[consolecadet]

[image description: two screenshots of a comment from user bagelman01 on Chowhound.com. He says: “My wife and kids love matzo balls all year round, and wife and oldest eat them plain on a fork without soup.

So, Twice a week I make 36 matzo balls, I drain them well and refrigerate in a tupperware container that was made for vegetables, it has a grid on the bottom that allows the matzo balls to be held off the bottom of the container. This keeps them from getting mushy. They last three days with no problem.

If I am going to make a large batch for the freezer. I place the cooked matzo balls on parchment paper on baking sheets to freeze (this only works if you have ample freezer space, them when frozen I place them in freezer quality zip loc bags. This is like IQF chicken. If makes it easier to pull the quantity needed for an individual meal.”

bagelman01 is a hero even if his wife and kids have...interesting matzo ball preferences

[sarakuper]

New York, New York

Stop #28, Sept 28-Oct 6

We arrived in Connecticut to meet my dad and Denise, his parter, who graciously offered to keep our truck and trailer on her property while we spent time in NYC. My dad gave us a ride into the upper east side of Manhattan to stay with my mom for the night. She came downstairs with my childhood dog, Rocky, so we could introduce him to Jaxon and get them comfortable with one another. While walking them together up and down the block Mikey and Laura arrived and the 5 of us had dinner together. It been so long since we were all together for something as casual as dinner. It was so nice to all be together! Mikey and Laura slept in Inwood (upper Manhattan) that night at my Aunt Frema’s while me Sean and Jaxon got comfortable at my moms place.

Sunday morning we slept in, ate breakfast together, then my dad picked me Sean and Jaxon up to head to my Bubby’s in Queens for the first night of Rosh Hashana. Aunt Frema was preparing chicken soup and side dishes while also panicking about the caterers who had yet to arrive with the food they ordered for our meal. We helped set the table and get organized, meanwhile everyone else started to arrive. Denise and her son, Mikolo, Michael and Laura, and then Aunt Alane, Uncle Lew, and my cousins Aaron and Jack (who are like brothers to me). We were a total of 14 in my Bubby’s apartment and she couldn’t have been happier to have everyone there, although we missed Shelly who flying back to the states from Israel. By 6:30pm the food had finally arrived only 6 hours later than they originally called for. 

Rosh Hashana was always one of my favorite Jewish holidays growing up. It celebrates the new year and we get to dip apples and challah in honey to represent a sweet year ahead. Not to mention, the main food is always delish! To our surprise, even though we catered this year, everything still tasted home made. There were FOUR types of kuggel, which is not surprising considering this is a Kuper gathering. But seriously, four!? My dad made the classic potato kuggel in addition to the cauliflower, broccoli, and noodle kuggels. There was also chicken soup with matzo balls, chopped liver (which sounds totally gross but is SOO delish), brisket, chicken cutlets, and way more dishes that I couldn’t begin to name. 

I haven’t been with my family for this holiday since I moved to Colorado, and quite honestly it was so great to be together again for a happy occasion. We drank lots of wine, yelled conversationally across the table, and ate until we were stuffed. We could have had a second seating with the amount of food that was left, but again, this is typical for our family. We have major portion control issues! 

As the night came to a close Bubby handed out goodie bags to all the “kids”. She usually bakes for everyone, but with her current health and age she decided it was time to buy the cookies to give out. Everyone left one at a time leaving me, Sean, Jaxon, and Aunt Frema; we all slept at Bubby’s. 

On Monday morning I woke up to join my Bubby and Frema relaxing on the couch. My Bubby has the most comfortable couch in the world and I take a shloof (aka nap) on it almost every time I’m here. So, as per usual, I made myself comfortable with them. 

An hour or so later my Dad arrived to go to shul (aka synagogue) at Young Israel, my Bubby’s local soul. After he gets back we  have a “lighter” Rosh Hashana lunch with the many leftovers from the previous night, but before we that Aunt Frema and I went for a long walk in the neighborhood with Jaxon. My dad got back and we had a late lunch that ended around 4pm. We were so full, and I couldn’t believe that Sean and I were going over to Lew and Alane’s for yet anther Rosh Hashana meal with Alane’s side of the family. We were having ANOTHER massive meal only 2 hours later. I found Sean laying down on the couch in the room we slept in and he stared at me as he said “I… can’t… do this… again” referring to the large amounts of food we’ve eaten in the last 20 hours. Well, we did!

By the time we got to Alane’s, also on the upper east side, Sean and I decided to go very slow. Eventually we were able to eat another full meal of chicken soup with matzah balls, brisket, and lots of side dishes leaving our bellies stuffed once again. Most of the Jewish holidays are like a marathon of eating, and Sean certainly got to experience it first hand. 

We slept in the next morning, still totally full, and hung out with my 13 year old cousins Aaron and Jack who actually look 16. We brought over pizza and then walked to the park to play basketball. I love these boys so much, they are like my brothers! They are also my favorite people to hang out with when I come to NYC. 

Our dinner plans with friends got canceled, and so Sean and I decided to have a night downtown to ourselves. Sean also wanted to stop by Soho Ink, a tattoo shop not far from Chinatown where we planned to eat dinner, and at the last minute decided to get the tattoo right then and there! He has lots of gaps between his current tattoos that he “needs to fill” and so this time he got an axe. It turns out the artist who was available to tattoo him was a finalist on the most recent season of Ink Master, a TV show.

After the tat Sean and I walked through Little Italy and Chinatown to get our “must eat while in NYC” soup dumplings. Usually we eat at Joe Shanghai for soup dumplings, but we wanted to try something new. We headed to Tiny Shanghai and ordered 2 rounds of soup dumplings, cold sesame noodles, scallion pancake with sliced beef, and chicken broccoli with white rice. Overall the food was delish but way less authentic than Joe’s. Since we were in the neighborhood we went to some of my old stomping grounds like Whiskey Tavern and Ryan’s daughter. At both places, to my surprise, someone who worked there when I still lived here still remembered me and welcomed us with free drinks and a good time. It was a fun date night for me and Sean! I kind of got the feeling Sean would like to live here for a little bit, maybe just a year or two. I would never do that again! But, I really do enjoy visiting. 

Wednesday morning was a lazy morning until my mom got out of work early to spend the rest of the day with me, Sean, and Jaxon. We walked around the upper east side en route to a nearby park, but it was so hot walking on the streets we decided to sit in the shade at an outdoor table for coffee and ice cream. The rest of the late afternoon was spent prepping my favorite dish that my mom makes, fried pork cutlets with sweet cabbage and potatoes. Sam came over to join us for dinner before heading out to meet her friends. Theres nothing like a home cooked meal from my mamma <3

Thursday was meant to be spent hiking with Sam somewhere upstate but because of the cold rain we decided to skip it. Instead Sean and I met her downtown and went straight to Joe Shanhai’s for a soup dumpling lunch! Yes, soup dumplings again… we could never eat too many of those. We ordered 5 rounds between 3 of us for a total of 40 dumplings. Sean only had about 8 and the rest were split between Sam and I…. yeah…  :) We continued to walk around downtown heading to the lower west side and got ice-cream at a Japanese style ice-cream spot called Tayaki on the way. Sean and I had a war of throwing shredded coconut at each other. 

^^ This is what the entrance to Joe Shanghai’s looks like ^^

We walked to a place in the west village called Uncommon which had coffee, drinks, and snacks but offered endless games! I immediately thought how much the Elser’s would love it here! We paid for an “all day” pass which was $10 each or $5 if you have a student ID which Sam does. Sitting for almost 2 hours we played Ticket to Ride and Phase 10. Eventually Sam had to leave to head to class and Sean and I went uptown to take care of the puppers at my moms place. Almost immediately we all went back downtown to Uncommon to spend the rest of the night gaming. This time Tomo, Sam’s partner, met us and we started a new game of Phase 10, which really is so similar to Kaluche. For the first time in what feels like forever I won!!!! :) AND I whooped everyones butt. FINALLY! It was killing Sean, which gave me so much joy. He was trying so hard to get everyone to come after me so I would win, but Sam has been reading my posts and while she didn’t help me win, she definitely wasn’t going out of her way to try to make me lose. What a friend! 

Friday morning I had brunch catching up with my friend Sarah, whose getting married just before Thanksgiving! In the evening Sean and I went to Hoboken to go to visit my life long bestie Toni and her husband of 1 year, Ross. They have a lovely apartment and welcomed us with a beautiful Shabbat dinner. After dinner me and Tone spent the rest of the night watching youtube tutorials of how to do the shuffle (dance moves) and were sad by the realization that we don’t have the same dance skills we once did. Ross and Sean were watching sports but were totally amused by our efforts to nail these dance moves. Sweaty and tired, we did not reach our goal, but we did laugh our butts off. After saying goodbye and being sent off with a bunch of goodies we headed back to my mom’s apartment for a short night of sleep; we were waking up at 4:30AM to go on a fishing trip with my pop and two cousins.

4:40AM quickly came and me and Sean got ready for a long morning on a boat. We walked to my cousins place only 15 blocks south where my dad picked us all out to head to Sheepshead Bay. We fished from 7-12pm and had such a blast! After I took a quick nap on the boat I woke up with enough energy to fish and caught 5! At one point I caught 2 at once, and in total only 2 of them were keepers. Sean caught more than 10 fish, 1 being blowfish which was so fun to see!!! My dad and cousins caught a few too, and the ones we kept were filleted on the boat and packaged to take back for my aunt and uncle to cook for dinner. On our way back to the city we stopped for lunch at Roll and Rooster, an old school place thats been around for a long time! On the drive back in me and my cousins all fell asleep in the back seat, and of course Sean snapped a picture. 

The rest of the day was spent napping before one final dinner out with my dad and Denise. Being exhausted from the long day we didn’t stay out long and went to bed shortly after. Both Rocky and Jaxon put us to bed that night. I think they had the best time together! And Jaxon certainly loves his grandma Annette (my mom) because maaaaan did she give him a lot of food and treats!

Sunday morning my dad gave us a ride back to Denise’s house in CT where we packed up our stuff, prepared the trailer, and hit the road to head back to Colorado for Taylor and Ej’s wedding! It will take us 4 days to get back to Colorado, but we couldn’t be more excited to celebrate the love and marriage of two of our best friends!!!! 

Thanks for reading fam, love you all! 

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 49

Title & Song: Hounds of Love

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count:  8400+

Summary: Gen spends the holidays with the entire Shelby family at her place. All the kids bring up a lot of feelings, and Alfie isn’t helping her hormones stay stable. She has to face a lot of hard truths about what she wants out of her future. 

Warnings/Tags: Language. Angst. FLUFF. Babies. Alfie with babies. You’ve been warned of potential ovulation.

**Chapter song is Hounds of Love by Kate Bush.*

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes, asks and comments feed me to write more! Let me know if you’d like tagged in my work.

My Masterlist. (Includes Parts 1-48)

Weeks pass and you nurse Alfie back to health. By the time he's set to leave to go spend the holiday with his family, he's up and about and working on getting the strength in his arm back.

The words you'd finally spoken had put an ease over the two of you. Without the expectation of sex, you'd found other ways to spend your time together.  You'd drawn him as he rested and even as he was awake, placing a crown of laurels on his head to practice for a painting. Even though he hated it, he let you. You read together, finally getting around to the Oscar Wilde book. He'd even worked on some writing of his own which you praised him for. Both of you using art both together and separately seemed to help you both cope.  You'd been cooking together, or rather he would instruct you and you would follow, doing all the work yourself as he couldn't because of his arm. He teaches you how to make proper challah and matzo, which in turn you made matzo ball soup with. You'd been taking walks in the garden together, even showing him some basics in painting as you tried to capture the beautiful gloom of the winter landscape of your estate. He thought he was shit at it as he put it, but you, of course, thought he was doing wonderfully.

If anything the time together brought you closer, you weren't sure if that was a good thing, but you were certainly happy there was no looming gloom above the both of you. You trusted that when the time was right, he'd tell you what was wrong, and you held onto it so tightly to get you through the moments when your heart would thump for his touch. 

--- He was gone for what felt like weeks, but in reality, it wasn't. You did keep yourself more than busy in the time being, celebrating Hanukkah with those you shared your home with. You put out the breathtaking Menorah, you read the passages you sang the songs and lit the candles every night. You baked and cooked and fried every sort of thing you'd always wanted to eat but weren't allowed, you gave gifts and even played the piano some nights, trying to give something of yourself to those who helped you every day. --- Alfie returns, seeming to be feeling better, the color back in his face even if his eyes did read as tired.

You're in front of the fire in the big family room in the guest wing. You'd readied the house for the appearance of all the Shelby's, rooms dressed, presents wrapped and home decorated for Christmas. You didn't feel wrong celebrating Christmas with them, even if it wasn't something you had to do anymore, it still felt right to be with them and if you weren't celebrating Jesus with them, you were celebrating a chosen family. Realizing Alfie wouldn't be around for Hannukkah, you had called Tommy to see if they all wanted to come to stay at yours for Christmas. You told him about what happened with your father and he understood, he didn't want you alone on Christmas either. Your home was plenty big enough for them all, a grand nursery and many maids and cooks to accommodate everyone so he gives you the go-ahead to start planning for the flood of Shelby's.

The night before they are scheduled to arrive, you're sitting and staring at the presents under the tree. You'd gotten carried away but you needed someone to buy presents for and you'd spent a great deal of time picking things out for every adult and child. You're in the floor, cheek resting on your knee with your back against the couch as you sit and try to think about any good Christmas memories you might've had. They mostly involved you playing with the other children, and even as an adult that was a part you were looking forward to most. You loved the late night drinking and laughing, the overeating and the gift giving.

But there was something so wholesome and pure about a child around Christmas time, and knowing Elizabeth would've been celebrating her first as a mother made your mind overthink about whether you'd be like her and never have such a thing yourself. For now, you'd just have to be content with the many baby Shelby's that would be calling out for your attention. A Shelby child at every age to let you live out a mothering fantasy for yourself. You'd thought that maybe one day you'd have a child. It wasn't something that was ever at the forefront of your mind, but you'd gone this long and not gotten pregnant you were wondering if that was the result of good planning or luck. Whether that luck was good or bad you weren't so sure.

"Genevieve?" you hear Alfie's voice call from the doorway of the large room, taking you from your thoughts about happy children with his appearance as you hide a frown from him. To say he hadn't been involved in some of your thoughts about children would be a lie. Even if you didn't like to admit to yourself that you were being silly enough to imagine such a thing. You hated yourself for feeling so pregnant with emotion this time of year to even indulge in such thoughts.

"I'm in front of the fire, dear." you call out, waving a hand in the air so he can see you. He appears as he rounds the couch, a stack of presents in his hands. "You adding some to the tree as well?" you ask with a half smile and a tilt of your head.

"Nah, luv." he gruffs out as he sits in the floor next to you. "These are for you."  he says pushing them between your close bodies. "Dinnit get to give ya any over our holiday did I? Since I'm not really a part of this holiday celebration ya got goin' on I wanted to give 'em to ya tonight before the fleet of gypsies comes in." he grins.

"That's actually not a bad idea." you say slowly, head turning towards the tree. You crawl over to the large decorated and shining tree. He laughs at the sight.

"What ya doin'?" he thumbs his nose as your bum sticks up in the air as you reach into the stacks of presents.

"Getting your present, silly." you say obviously.

"Ah...ya did get me somethin'."

"Of course I did," you say in the same tone, tucking it into the pocket of your wooly jumper before crawling back and facing him with crossed legs. "You've gotten me so many grand things, what kind of person would I be to not give you something in return, hmm?" you say with a smile, retrieving the box from your pocket and handing it to him.

"You first." he says, laying the box on the couch cushion behind you.

"I do have more." you grin an almost childlike smile.

"As it should be." he says with a shake of his head, handing you the biggest box first.

"Thank you, Alfie." you say softly, eyes connecting for a breath or two before you tear away at the paper. You pop the lid off of the box, and inside is a roll of new paint brushes rested on top of a new mixing palette with tubes of paint piled to fill the rest of the space in the box.

 "You couldn't have chosen better, darling." you say cheerfully. "RIght brand and everything, clever man." you lean over and kiss his cheek and it even brings a slight flush to his face in the painful absence of your touch. "Thank you. They'll be put to use as soon as the Shelby's are gone. I guarantee it."

He relishes in the happy look on your face, knowing he could still cause such a thing. "I knew you'd been drawin' me too much so I thought you could use 'em since you keep saying you're working on something big." he shrugs.

"You don't have to make excuses, it's perfect, truly, thank you." Your sweet smile makes him sigh. "You want to open yours or should I go for another?" the smile that reaches your eyes stays put and he hands you another wrapped package.

"Another. Even us out." he says in an almost sleepy way as he felt relaxed at the sight of you happy with him in the light of the fire.

You unwrap it with eager fingers and as always he loves to see the expression come over your face. There's no box this time, but a leather-bound book and your mouth falls open, a small gasp as you reach out and grab his forearm, wide eyes meeting his amused ones.

"Alfie! Where on earth..." you whisper out, eyes returning to the book.

"France of course." he grins, entirely happy with himself as he should be.

"It's the first edition." you coos, fingertips running over the gold embossing 'A rebours by Joris-Karl Huysmans'. You turn the cover to reveal a signature by the author. "ALFIE!" you squeak, slapping his arm and he lets out a belly laugh. "I've not been able to find this."

"Ya like it?" he coos at you.

"I fucking LOVE it! My word this is...I don't even know what to say it's absolutely perfect." you clutch it your chest. "You...ugh!" you let out a frustratedly happy noise as you lean over to wrap your arms around his neck. "It's brilliant. YOU'RE brilliant!" you almost squeal in your excitement. You'd never met a man more thoughtful and observant. A man who would remember the most worn book on your shelf and seek out a rare copy just for you. In your happiness, you feel that familiar pang in your gut that you couldn't thank him in the way your mind and body were telling you to. You wanted to kiss him and not stop until the sun came up.

"Ya still got one more, luv." he laughs, returning the hug with one arm, the other hand lightly on your back.

"I don't know if I can't handle another," you say keeping the book in your lap. "But I have one left and so do you so you open yours." you say with enthusiasm.

"If you insist," he says with a charming smile, large fingers picking away at the paper around the small box. He didn't know what he expected, but not this. Inside sits a very large gold, diamond, and black ring. A thick and unmistakably masculine band of gold, a solid square of black atop it, a diamond in each corner of the square and a large S so delicately laid in thing gold outlining tiny diamonds that compose the inside of the letter. "Fuckin' 'hell Gen." he says softly. "It's...it's gorgeous, luv." his eyes swing up to find you chewing your thumb nail nervously.

"You like it? I had it made special for you." you say with a still unsure face.

"How could I not have you seen this fuckin' thing?" he grins, leaning in closer to you to emphasize his seriousness.

"I hoped you wouldn't find it too much. I know I have a flair for the dramatic in my tastes." you smile sheepishly.

"You?" he scoffs, holding up his hand that had multi rings, all large and borderline obnoxious and it makes you laugh.

"It's not just a ring though," you say, moving to your knees and scooting closer to him. "Put it on, please." you request of him so politely. You take his hand in both of yours. "You see...I had it weaponized for you."

"Weaponized?" he says with interest piqued in his voice.

"The diamonds, all of them are shaped and polished into points, they're very sharp. The little gold wires are also very thin and capable of cutting," you explain as you point out things on the ring but he keeps looking at your captivating face so close to his. "I'd been considering how to get weapons into places when we're so often told we can't bring them. So I thought that jewelry might be the answer. The corners are capable of cutting through rope with enough time and pressure and a solid hit from your strong arms to someone's face with this would easily draw blood and slice them open." you look up to see if he's following, as he'd fallen quiet but you find him already looking at you. "I thought it would ease my mind a bit...knowing that even if you get tied up or find yourself without anything else...you'd have this to get yourself out." your voice falls softer as you both look at each other.

"Genevieve you clever, clever, woman. No one else could've thought of something like this...let alone design it and bring it into existence. I should like to steal your words and say it's brilliant and so are you, luv."

Your lashes flutter at the praise and you lower your head from his gaze as you feel the heat creep into your face.

"And you have one last gift, my dear." he says motioning to the box that left sitting on the floor.

You take it without words as they've got caught in your throat as you decide to nod and smile instead. You pick open the rectangular box, a black velvet case sits in your hands as you take off the lid to reveal a necklace.

This was the look he'd been longing to see. Your eyes in awe and wide, your perfect lips in an O shape as your lashes flutter for a moment.

"Alfie," you whisper, eyes not leaving the pendant. He sees tears appear in your eyes that he does not expect, but as he considers the cause, it starts to make sense to him. Your reaction also gives way for his selfish heart to imagine what you might look like to receive such a thing as a sivlon (Jewish gift of engagement) instead of a mere gift. Inside he curses himself for having the thought at all. Why must he insist on torturing himself so?

You take the thin gold chain from its weak restraints in the display, a gold circle with a border of tiny sapphires around it, in the middle sits a large sapphire hexagon that sits inside a silver Star of David. It hangs from the chain by a teardrop shaped gemstone,  inside the points lay tiny little aquamarine stones. You gulp noisily, wanting to cry but you take in a ragged breath and try to compose yourself. You'd never had anything like this. No heirlooms to wear to signify your heritage, it hadn't even occurred to you yet to do such a thing.

"Here, luv." he says softly, taking it from your hands and opening the clasp. You gulp and nod hurridly, gathering and lifting your hair and turning your back towards him, as he rests the cold amulet on your chest and the touch of his fingertips alone along your spine send waves of heat throughout your body. The feel of his breath on the back of your neck makes you sigh and close your eyes. There had been no man to light you afire in such a way before. You were afraid of what it meant and afraid of losing it and him as it felt to find someone else that could make you feel this way would take another lifetime.

You turn back towards him, pushing back tears and hoping it just read as appreciation. "I hardly have words for it Alfie." you manage to whisper out, looking down at the pendant in your fingers. "It's... breathtaking." you manage to say. "I never even thought of wearing such a thing." you shake your head subtly, raising your eyes back to his. "But you were so very right in choosing it." you give him a small smile.

"Wanted you to have one worthy of you to wear." a subtle shrug of his shoulders. "You deserve more than simple lines of silver or gold. Although there is something beautiful in the simplicity. But nothing about you could ever be simple." his voice is soft and quiet, his brow furrowed slightly in thought as he takes in how it looks so perfect against your skin. Like it was meant to be there, and he was the one meant to put it there. "You've come so far to even know it about yourself, I thought it proper you had a way to let others know without a single word uttered." his mouth hangs open slightly, his hooded eyes pensive.

"And in my favorite stone." you give him a smile that warms him down to his very soul. If he still had one at this point.

"'Course, luv." another charming smile and he wasn't even trying to be.

"I feel thank you isn't enough." you let out a huff of a laugh, uncertain about how to express how you felt. "It means the world to me that you got me this." You move again, and slower than the last time as your wrap your arms around his neck. "I really mean that. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart thank you." you hide the tears as your face is buried in his shoulder, his arms slowly encasing you back.

He can hear the pain in your words, feel the tension in your muscles as you keep a tight hold on him. "You went through hell to know it about yourself, to not hide it. You deserve a reflection of yourself as beautiful as you are." His thoughtfulness makes the tears break free from your eyes. He hears the sniffle before he feels the hot tears fall to his neck. "Oh Genevive, darling." he says in a warm and comforting way. Sweet words so quiet and said into your hair as his arms move protectively around you. A hand moves to the back of your head, the other held fast against you.

"You're right." you whimper, planting a kiss to his cheek before pulling away. "It's the best gift I've ever received."  your fingers hold the pendant as you swallow loudly.

He uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away your tears and you let out a little huff of a laugh at the gesture.

"Thank you. For being so thoughtful." you say again.

"No, thank you." your eyes ask him for what. "For reminding me that I am still capable of such a thing." his words feel strained and genuine and it hurts you both to hear them. ----- The Shelby's all file in, from Tommy to the newest of John's babies. Poor Esme looks tired but is wide-eyed at your house as you hold the new baby, taking in the new baby smell before handing it back to her. You greet everyone with hugs and kisses and holiday greetings. You show everyone to their rooms, taking Charlie and placing him on your hip as you settle everyone else in, maids scurrying about and tending to all whims.

You announce when dinner will be, and let the quiet fall across the halls as everyone rests and freshens up. You sit with Charlie in the nursery, talking to him about what he wanted for Christmas until he falls asleep on you, straddling your lap, arms limp at his sides and face planted into your chest. He snoozes away and you stroke his hair, a kiss to his baby soft hair from time to time, humming to him. You end up laying your head back just a bit too long, the boys peaceful snoozes causing you to take an impromptu nap as well.

A deep chuckle wakes you up. You flutter your eyes open, hands moving instinctually to around the boy in your lap.

"Motherhood would suit you Genny." you hear Arthur's voice as you focus in the darkening light of the room. You let out a yawn and Charlie grumbles against your chest.

"I've found myself wondering about it myself." you say after a yawn.

"That so?" he nods with a thoughtful face, like he hadn't expected the answer.

"With the passing of Elizabeth and all this with my family I'm afraid it's forced me to think about it." you say softly, not wanting to wake Charlie.

"I am sorry you're having to go through that Genny..." he says with a frown, a strong hand on your shoulder.

"Thank you sweetheart." you say patting the comforting touch.

"If you're wantin' little ones yaself ya might want to get on that ya know." he lowers his chin at you.

"Don't ruin the sweetness, Arthur." you give him a grin and push his hand off your shoulder.

"I"m just sayin' ya ain't as young as ya used to be, mum had most of us by your age."

"I'm painfully aware of how old I am Arthur." you shake your head and smile with a sigh, Arthur wasn't ever very good with words. You knew he meant well.

"I'd just like to see ya with some babes of ya own is all. You'd make a brilliant mum. Ya fierce, yer kind, no one would dare mess with 'em." he laughs, causing Charlie to stir.

You hold him close and stand, adjusting him as he whines against your chest. "Well if the opportunity arises I suppose I'll have to start considering it now, won't I?" you tilt your head at him and he shrugs.

"I ain't been his biggest fan but...watchin' him with the kids out there this evenin' I'm not entirely against Solomons as a suitor for such a thing. I know ya ain't exactly...traditional in yer ways Genny. I 'spose if you like 'im I gotta get used to the idea of 'im not being such a fucker as I've known him to be before." he shrugs, trying to be supportive and helpful with the suggestion but having someone else say it out loud, to know he's out there playing with children makes your chest hurt just a bit.

"Linda let you talk like that around Billy?" you smirk, avoiding the subject.

"Aw, fuck. Aw, hell. Aw...damn." he curses, trying to find a substituted word for his cursing as you snort and cover Charlie's ear as his other is against your body as you laugh and he follows you out of the room. ----- The next day is Christmas Eve,  the children have been shaking the boxes under the tree, the older ones telling the younger ones which were and weren't theirs as the younger ones can't read and just want to guess what's in the ones meant for them.

You've been very busy and distracted between children running around the house and trying to do some of the cooking yourself. You wore your hair half up, you wore no makeup and a simple dress, the Shelby brothers looked at you differently, not really seeing you dressed down in such a way before. The women seemed to count you amongst their own, even Linda as she kept complimenting your modest dress, cooking and your clear affection for the children.

You've been in the kitchen, and you follow one of John's girls, two fists full of ribbon running into Alfie's study.

"I got more!" she shouts, feet carrying her as fast as they can as she rushes into the room.

"He's so much hairier than daddy!" you hear the younger of the two girls say and you narrow your eyes in thought as to what they were doing.

"I got a lot 'a bows!"

"He's wike a bear!" the young one giggles as you peek around the corner.

You see Alfie, lying on the couch lengthwise, feet crossed with a book in his hands, looking surprisingly unbothered for what the girls were doing to him.

"Gimmie da bwush!" the little one demands, taking it roughly to his beard, the oldest tugging his hair and putting bows in unorganized tufts.

"Eh, take it easy there little one." he laughs as he's smacked in the face with one of your hair brushes.

"Sowwy." she mumbles, holding his cheek in her little hand, tongue stuck out in concentration as she brushes his face in a much more gentle way.

"You're not doing it right." the older on says. "Switch." she demands, snagging the brush and putting it directly on his beard as the other fumbles with trying to tie another bow in his hair but her little sausage fingers just can't manage it. "Like 'is!" the one announces while she separates and ties a bow in his beard.

You can't contain the smile on your face, and your laugh is only held in as you have your hand tightly over your mouth. You'd never seen Alfie around children and the way he was letting them manhandle him was beyond hilarious. He's wearing an indifferent face, eyebrow arched as he tries to continue reading as the girls smack away at him, asking him questions as he grunts and nods and speaks to them very lovingly.

Aggie calls for afternoon tea from the main hall. The girl's heads turn towards the door, seeing you standing there.

"CAKE!" they both yell and starting tugging on Alfie's shirt.

"Yes, yes...Cake girls. There will be cake." he says with a laugh as he looks up to see you watching you watching him and he raises to a sitting position.

"You've never looked more handsome." you say with a huge smile and a hand to your chest. It would seem in jest, but it's the honest truth. Something about a good looking man letting a little girl dress him up and being so sweet to them warmed you down to your bones.

"Yay!" the older one says, fluffing his beard.

"Ya comin' girls?" you hear John come up behind you before he bends over in a laugh.

"We made da bear pwetty daddy!" the little one says hugging Alfie's neck.

"Ya look great, Solomons, I gotta say." he snorts and elbows you. You give an encouraging nod.

"Feelin' beautiful Johnny boy," he says with an equally amused face and tone. "C'mon then treacle," he says as the girl hangs from his neck, scooping her up and she continues to pet his hair. He did have much more hair than John, so it was understandable they'd want to mess around with it. "I got this little monkey." he says, giving the go-ahead to John to take the older one's hand and walk to the dining room.

Seeing the way your face was lit up, your beaming smile at him made his chest feel heavy and warm. "Never expected to see this." you shake your head and walk beside him down the hall.

"I got little nieces, yeah?" he says as an excuse. "And I just got back from having them assault me over the holidays so I'm just lettin' the little buggers have their fun." he smiles at the girl who isn't paying attention and tugging on a bow on the top of his head. He sets her down in the doorway, turning to you before he enters the room. "Little help, luv?" he asks with a charming smile.

You happily oblige him and start to untie the knotted ribbons. "Do you..." you almost hesitate to ask. "Like children?" you try to remain indifferent in expression and tone but you think your voice stuttering gives you away as you notice him look towards your face.

"I don't mind 'em. Pain's in the arse but...they're honesty is endearing." he shrugs.

"I find them to be beyond charming."

"So you..." he pauses in the same way you did. Both not asking what you meant. "Like children?"

"I love children." you say wistfully and sigh, moving to the bows in his beard.

He nods in response. You feel his eyes looking over your face and part of you hopes he's thinking the same thing you are and the other half wants to run away screaming at the insinuation.

Tommy leaves the doorway,  parting the two of you "Gotta go get Charlie from a nap."  he grunts.

"Don't be silly, I'll get him. He's so precious when he's sleepy." you say with honesty that Alfie notices. You were such a fierce and career driven woman he'd never stopped to consider that you might want children for yourself, or a family more like the Shelby's. Preferably with less betrayal and chaos but he stops and considers it for a moment as he sees the kind look in your eyes when speaking of your godson.

He misses the days of sleeping with you with no thought to the future. It'd been so simple. Now with more secrets known to him, more sides of you that you were exploring and showing willingly, the thoughts of a future with you had hit him hard, fast and frequently. Especially watching you with the children the past few days and coming back from time with his own family. He pushes it down and swallows it as he turns to enter the room of babbling Shelby's

"He's so good with the children isn't he?" Aggie whispers as she walks arm in arm with you to the nursery.

"He is. Surprisingly so." you nod and she sees a sadness in your eyes she doesn't understand.

"I've seen you watching him with them." she nudges you with her elbow and you give her a weak smile. "Lucky for you that there are so many clocks around." she says as you give her a puzzled look.

"Are you okay?" you huff out a laugh. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Because they cover the sound of your biological clock ticking so loudly." she smirks.

"Oh fuck off Ag's." you say with a louder laugh. ----- He can't escape the thoughts of you he's been running from over the next day, he hears our laugh, see's you running after children during the day and drunk adults at night and he's enchanted.

He sits in his study, as to not seem like he's a part of what's going on in the house, but the seat he takes gives him a clear shot down the hallway to the nursery and you come and go all the time.

"Papa said we're going to the zoo in the spring!" he hears a little boy's voice echo down the hallway.

"My goodness! I love the zoo! Have you ever been?"

"NO!" he shouts as if he's offended by the fact.

"What's your favorite animal you'll be going to see?"

He sees you walk into frame, holding the boy's hand as he jauntily walks, a smaller child on your hip, drooling and fast asleep.

The boy roars loudly, letting go of your hand and putting up his fingers like claws. You dramatically jump back, hand to your chest and declare that there's a lion in the house and you call for help before laughing and clutching the baby to your chest and running into the nursery, the little boy growling and chasing after you. You would make a spectacular mum. ---- He's sat back with a glass of wine in the corner of the family room, the women except for you have gone to bed and the men up drinking and gabbing.

Esme appears in the doorway with the newest baby crying. "John, for fuck's sake, help me out with this one," she says in a drawn-out way. "I've fed her, changed her everything she just won't hush and I'm so bloody tired." she yawns.

"Mind if I have a go?" you ask, your dress makes you look as if you floated towards her.

""ave at it." John says with a shrug.

"Maybe she can tell mumma's at the end of her rope." you say with a smile, taking the baby from Esme. "You go get some rest, I'll deal with her." you pay her back and she drags herself out of sight. "Say goodnight to daddy." you coo and wave the babies hand to John. "And to uncle Tommy and uncle Arthur." you say with a laugh and a smile as the baby's red and angry face makes indistinguishable noises as it looks slightly confused at the new happy tone that's being used around it. "And to grumpy 'ol Alf." You laugh. "Who you resemble right now I must say." you snort and smile at him, waving the tiny hand still. He rolls his eyes, a wave, and a nod as he watches you leave, bouncing and cooing the unhappy child.

When he looks back to the rest of the men, they're all looking at him.

"Fuckin' what?" he says with an exaggerated expression of confusion.

"Fuckin' Genny that's what." Arthur says with an amused grunt.

"What about her?" he says defensively.

"Ya gonna tell me that watchin' her bein' all motherly with these babes these last days ain't stirrin' somethin' in ya?" he says with raised brows.

Tommy laughs into his glass and Alfie narrows his eyes.

"If you won't admit it I sure as fuck will." John laughs. "Certainly got the tits already dunnit she?" he snorts.

"I'm just drunk enough to agree." Arthur says with a loud laugh. They both look to Tommy.

"I'm not a part of this conversation." he says with raised brows and closed eyes, shaking his head and lighting a cigarette.

"You and me...we've had our bad blood but if Genny likes ya..." Arthur shrugs and takes another drink. "I 'spose I'll have to get used to ya, eh?"

"I think you all have a gross misunderstanding of Gen and I's relationship." Alfie with a frown that isn't angry.

"Do we?" John smirks. "I don't know no man, yeah? That could watch that pretty little thing chasin' after these babes and not want to put one in 'er." he holds his hands up in the air in enthusiasm.

"You'd send half of fuckin' London up the duff if you could John." Tommy says snarkily.

John and shrugs and takes another drink, sitting back in his seat. "They're wild when they're pregnant." he grins.

"Maybe it's 'cause I've 'ad one now, but I can certainly see she should be a mum. Make a proper woman out of her. I know she wants some babes of her own...and your the only man she's been with so I'm just sayin'...happy accidents." he gruffs out.

Hearing that you'd confided in Arthur that you indeed wanted children was the cause of his deep intake of breath but he'd play it off like it was an annoyance. "I ain't the kinda man who likes accidents." he says with pursed lips.

"So there's in a plan in place, eh?" Tommy smirks and his shoulders shake just once with laughter.

He's never been more relieved to see a pair of children as one of John's middle children come in holding Charlie's hand.

"He woke up and said he wanted auntie Genny but I can't find her." the older boy says with a yawn as he rubs his eyes.

"Fuckin' 'ell." Alfie grumbles quietly. "I'll take ya. I'm going to bed anyway." he volunteers.

"Thanks, mate." John says with a nod.

"Already a proper papa he is!" Arthur says waving his glass in his direction.

"C'mon lets go find auntie Genny." he says taking the boys hands in his. ---- You've gotten the baby to quiet by letting it suckle on your finger, you're still singing away softly, the older children in the other room fast asleep. You're looking at the tiny little potato of a babe in your arms, swaddled up and chubby-cheeked. You hold it's head under your nose and feel the softness of its skin and hair, taking in that new baby smell while you had the chance. Why did your hormones have to be so aggressive, you thought with a frown. You go back to humming and bouncing the baby, looking out the window into the tree line, trying to not think about your future.

"Quiet now, little ones are sleepin'." you hear Alfie's hushed voice as you see him carrying Charlie in his arms and guiding the older child back into the room by its hand. "Your little boy here woke up and started askin' for his Genny." he says with a half smile.

"What is it my love?" you say, moving the baby to one arm and reaching out and stroking the boys hair as Alfie held him. Alfie's eyes held steady on you and your movements.

"Bad dream." he mumbles, rubbing his face.

"Daddy not very good at helping with the bad dreams?" you say with a smile, knowing Tommy's strong suit wasn't telling someone, even Charlie that everything was perfectly fine and it always would be. Which is what he wanted to hear. He murmurs and shakes his head and it makes Alfie smile. "You need me to put you back to bed darling?"

"Pwease." he quietly asks. He could swear the words almost put tears in your eyes.

"Alright my little prince, come to your Genny now." you say as he brings his hands around your neck and you manage to hold him with one arm.

"Ya got him?"

"Don't have much of a choice." you smirk. "I'll be right back." you say with a wink.

Alfie's left with the other child, he looks down at the sleepy boy. "Time for you to go back to bed then." he says with a nod.

"Can I sleep in here?" he asks pointing to a small bed. "My sisters in here, I sleep next to her at home."

"Ah, gotta look out for little sis eh?" he says as he walks him over the bed and grabs a blanket and a stuffed animal on his way back. "You like sleepin' with 'ese?" he asks, wiggling a stuffed bear at him.

He nods and grunts, taking it to his chest. Alfie tucks him in and starts to rise.

"Could you read to me?" he asks with big blinking eyes.

"Ah, 'hell." he whispers, finding himself bending willingly to the polite boy's wishes. "Alright lad." he says moving to the shelf. He sits on the edge of the tiny bed and starts to read him a story about a dog.

You've put Charlie back down, a plush horse he'd gotten for Christmas bribing him to be a big boy and go back to sleep.  You walk in with a fussy baby, and see Alfie reading to the boy and your heart flutters.

He gives you a nod as he continues reading and you move to beside the crib and bounce and hum quietly. His voice is so soft and gentle, kind and caring, all the things you'd want a father to sound like while reading his child to sleep. You get caught up in your emotions. You shut your eyes and hold the baby close, letting it hear your heartbeat. You turn your back to him, after watching him animatedly but quietly tell the story was just a bit too much for your weak heart to handle. Maybe you'd had too much wine, maybe you were more tired than you thought, but instead of warm feelings, the hurt started to ache in your stomach. Elizabeth would've been doing much the same you were right now if she'd lived. Perhaps even you could've been doing this with your own children if you'd done things a bit differently, but you push that thought aside as you know it's useless.

You're left with your thoughts of the now, and the huge questions that loomed in your future. Why were you getting so damned upset? Did you really even want to marry Alfie? It seemed like such a ridiculous notion to you. You...married. You almost scoff aloud at it. And to have children? With him? Even more asinine.

But a little voice comes forward in your head. Why is that so crazy to want? What made you think you didn't deserve to expect those things out of life? You're hit with anger as you realize your father keeps haunting your thoughts even when you don't realize it. Just because you'd left and refused all your suitors, citing you'd never give him want he wanted from you, a married and obedient daughter and grandchildren to carry on his line. But it wasn't about him now, was it? It was your life, your decisions and you clearly had some big ones to make for yourself. You weren't old by any stretch, but you weren't getting any younger either. You knew you should be primed for marriage and children, having built a business for yourself, taken care of yourself and your money. But was the next chapter really this close? And was it really marriage and children? There was so much left that you wanted to do, and could you do those things if you had children? You'd thought romance dead until Alfie snuck his way into your heart and mind. You would've proudly proclaimed it from the rooftops that it was decaying and buried in a moor somewhere to never be heard from again. But it seemed Solomons had done the unthinkable and raised the dead for you. You don't know why you felt so foolish for wanting romance in your life. Perhaps it was because you'd thought it a childish notion, a girlish fantasy that could never live up to reality so you'd shunned it entirely after finding that everyone always let you down in that department.

He's finished the story, the boy now asleep as his eyes turn to you. You're swaying back and forth, humming with eyes shut, giving little pecks of kisses to the baby that rests on your chest. It's little hands grasp at your breasts and smack as it fuss's and you remain perfectly poised and patient. You do look a bit tired, your shoulders low, more than a few strands of hair had fallen, but he doesn't know if you've ever looked more lovely. It could be the way the moonlight hits you, the troubled but stoic expression looking like a statue of Madonna and child. He knew the Shelby brothers were right. If you wanted to be a mum, you more than deserved it. You looked born for the role as he watched you with a baby small enough to let him have the outlandish thought that it could've been yours.

You're so caught up in your own thoughts you don't notice that Alfie's stopped reading, the boy fast asleep and is now shushing another young one in the crib next to you. You wipe a tear that had gotten loose and realize the baby in your arms in asleep. You watch him coo and whisper, lips pouted as he speaks softly and rubs the baby's cheek with a thumb that looks so gigantic next to the wee babe's head. He hums quietly as it smacks its lips and gurgles, he lets out a soft amused laugh, smiling down at it. The way the moon came through the windows, the blue light reflecting off the snow outside, the warm feelings from being surrounded by your what felt like, extended family, everything hits you so hard and so fast. You can't stop the tightness in your jaw or the tears in your eyes. You realize you do want to look at someone doing exactly what he is but have it be all yours. The man doing it, the baby sleeping. Perhaps you can even imagine the glint of a wedding band on your finger as you wipe away a tear. You never thought admitting that you truly wanted such a thing for yourself would hurt so damn much.

His smile fades quickly as he turns his head when he hears you let out a sniffle. "Genevieve, darling, what's wrong?" he whispers, eyes wide and honest, finding yours the opposite. His warm hand brushes a strand of hair out of your face, those rough padded fingertips wiping away the tears that come.

"Can-." you gulp noisily and grit your teeth. "Can you take her?" you choke out, not meeting his eyes. You move closer to him, holding the baby by the head and bum. When he does nothing but look at you as if you were speaking a language he didn't understand you finally look into your eyes and all he can register is pain and question. "Please?" you say with a furrowed brow.

He nods silently, eyes darting over your face for answers as you move your sleeve to wipe away more tears and move quickly out of the room, your body language reading like that of a scolded dogs, leaving with low shoulders and your tail tucked between your legs.

He watches you leave, holding the baby close, mouth open and the heat of confusion in his face, the sting of uncomfortable tears comes after he lays the baby down, standing in the middle of the room, eyes moving to nothing in particular as he wrings his hands. This was his fault, wasn't it? He fights the tears, he feels his eyes burn and turn red. He grits his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut tightly. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath and tries to not feel all the guilt that's washing over him in heavy, suffocating waves. ---- It's the night before the Shelby's are going to leave. You're tired and doing one last round of the halls before going to your room. You're crossing the entryway, passing through the beams of moonlight that are coming through the window in the top of the domed ceiling under the stairs, strips coming from the tall windows around the front door.

You hear the family sound of Alfie clearing his throat as you stop in a shadow and don't turn right away. You hadn't talked about you crying and leaving, of course, and it was all building up and hurting you inside.

"Geneveive." he says your name as the sound beckons you to turn slowly to face him.

You say nothing but blink rapidly before meeting his eyes. He walks into a beam of moonlight, his face cast partially in shadow as it tilts to reveal an expression that's warm and not confrontational and the tension in your body lessens.

"There's one tradition I've always liked about Christmas, ya know." he says with narrowed eyes that read as playful now. You walk towards him slowly, passing in and out of the light.

"What would that be?" you ask standing away from him still. He points up, and your eyes move to obey the directional instruction and you see mistletoe hanging from the chandelier. You let out an involuntary soft laugh that he's never been gladder to hear. You both knew this was just a thinly veiled excuse to do what both of you wanted, but for some reason unknown to you, couldn't.

His eyes are softer when yours return to his. He extends his hand out to you and you stare at it for a few seconds before moving towards him against your better judgment. He feels so warm as soon as your skin touches his. He puts your hand, fingers laced with his against his chest to pull you as close to him as he can. You almost felt ashamed with the thoughtless compulsion that drew you towards him. You'd had too many deep thoughts the past few days, too many emotions and hormones mixing in a dangerous cocktail that made you willing to turn into something desperate and pliable under his strong hands.

Neither of you speak, only each others breathing being spoken. His other hand moving to the side of your face and he's as gentle with you as he had been with the baby in the nursery. You look at each other for a few heavy moments, eyes blinking and moving across the others face as if you might've forgotten what they look like as they mist over and glance at lips and pained expressions.

Without a word, he kisses you. And you welcome it. He leads you gently to him, a kiss of the same nature. He feels your body melt at his touch, your chest pushing against his. You don't pull away or stop him, your lips giving way to what his wanted as they keep moving slowly against yours. You feel his chest rise, putting the hand he held up around his neck as he lets his arm wrap around your lower back and pulls him tightly towards you with both arms. He let's go of your face and a splayed hand rests between your shoulder blades. The kiss goes on longer than either of you intended, but wasn't that always the case when you would give in and let yourself show what you truly wanted with things besides words?

It's not rushed, it doesn't hurt either of you as you expected it to, it just felt so satisfying. He could feel your pulse and knew your skin must've felt as sensitive and set aflame as his own. It was hard to want to stop, but he knew it couldn't go on forever, so instead, he rests his hand on the back of your head and dips you, your foot popping out as you smile and laugh into his mouth. He kisses your cheek as he lifts you back up, one hand rested on your hip.

You stand with your hands on his chest a moment, feeling his heartbeat, the rise, and fall of his chest, the hum of his breathing you longed to fall asleep to. You look up to him and find he's already studying you. He's so thankful to find your face now happier than when he found it. He hated having this power over you now, something he'd longed for for so long. You shouldn't let a man like him influence your emotions, you were better than that.

"I find myself rather fond of the tradition as well." you give him a sweet smile that warms him to his bones. You open your mouth and close it, not knowing what to say. There was no reason to be demanding, or ask for more.  "Goodnight 'Fie." you whisper. It was the first he'd heard the pet name in weeks. Thankful you'd broken the silence with the heavenly sound as you pull away from him.

"It is, my luv, it is." he says with a small shake of his head, fingers laced and not letting go as you pulled and turned, staying clasped together as long as they could until they broke apart and you turn to walk to your room.

Pt. 50 Make Up Your Mind

@fangirlfreakingout @jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester@lookuptheskyisfalling-blog @brianaisasongbird @cry5t4l-w4rri0r@iliveonchocolateandnetflix @jess2464 @hardygal69@thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons@pootle@negansdirtygirl22 @musingsby-night @wtf-is-wrong-with-this@shine-dont-shadow @inkinterrupted @vale0413 @lafayettes-baguettes-1 @sxlomons @aphnxrising @emerald-bijou @elaenom

[westernskynaida]

This marks the second year of me and @lilyenderborn lighting the candles together

Two rounds of Matzo ball soup and I think got it. Currently waiting for the actual stuff to cool and boil

[loveforpreserumsteve]

All Grown Up: "ALN" Story (Pre-Serum Omega!Steve and Alpha!Bucky Modern Domestic AU [[REUPLOAD]])

Twenty-Six:

If people thought that Steve was an awful patient with his stubbornness and unwilling to be waited on, they weren’t prepared for Bucky.  Honestly, Steve never would’ve guessed that the alpha would be even worse than he, himself, was.  It was a large feat, and Steve could only wish for a speedy recovery for his bonded. Whether that was for Bucky or himself, he wasn’t sure.

Has it really only been three days since they arrived home?

BING! Cori’s cellphone received another text message.

BING!  BING!  BING!

“Do you have to have the volume on?”  Steve asked through clenched teeth as he made the recovering alpha some homemade matzo ball soup per his husband’s request.

“You’re the one who lectured us about being aware of our phones,” Cori continued getting notifications.

“Yeah, when you’re not at home,” Steve clarified.  Even though he knew that the kids didn’t know there was going to be an emergency that night and had simply gotten lost in the fun of the Homecoming Dance.

BING!

“Cecilia!”  Steve demanded, harshly slamming the ladle down on the counter in his annoyance and his ever-thinning patience.

“Sorry,” Cori softly apologized.

Deflating, Steve rounded the kitchen island to where the fifteen year old was sitting at the breakfast bar.  Wrapping her up in a hug, he apologized, “I’m sorry, sweetie.  I’m not upset with you, I promise.”

“I know,” Cori assured, squeezing him tighter before removing herself from the embrace.  Peeking at her phone, she asked, “Is it alright if I spend the night with Deena?”

Steve smiled, “Yeah, that sounds fu–“

“POPS!”  Oliver called from the master bedroom.

Rushing towards the other side of the house, Steve called over his shoulder to his daughter, “See if Kit can drive you!”

Before Cori could reply, Steve was in his and Bucky’s bedroom. No one was in there, so he hurried into the ensuite where Ollie and Bucky were arguing. Entering, he found his mate naked as the day he was born, sitting on the edge of the tub, and Oliver looking as though he was ready to physically restrain his alpha father all while the shower ran.  And while, yes, the alpha could take showers, he was advised to do so with the assistance of the shower chair and with the proper covering concealing his sutures.

“Stevie, will you finally talk some sense into your son?”  Bucky complained.

Steve directed his attention to their oldest child and asked, “What the hell happened?  I thought you were doing physical therapy.”

“We were,” Oliver confirmed.  Then, he sheepishly admitted, “But then I had to take a call and left the room.”

Seeing that his husband was completely nude – and knowing that it took the alpha some time to change his clothes – Steve asked, “How long was the call?  I mean, look at him!”

As Steve turned off the water so he could get the shower chair situated in the enclosure, Ollie defended himself, “It wasn’t that long.  And besides, dad said –“

“I’m right here,” Bucky grumbled.

“– that he’d wait,” the twenty-four year old finished.

With the recommended chair in place, Steve moved over to the linen closet so he could get the water-proof patches. Noticing that the walker wasn’t in the master bathroom with them, Steve asked Bucky, “Did you walk in here by yourself?”

“I’M NOT A BABY!” Bucky growled, causing both omegas to look at him with wide eyes, shocked at the outburst.

“James Buchanan,” Steve reprimanded, just as if he was one of their children.

Feeling the tension, Oliver quietly exited the bathroom so his fathers could have this argument in private.

Steve wasn’t used to being on this side of things before.  After all, how many times had Bucky gotten onto him about not waiting for assistance?  How many times had Bucky reminded – kindly putting things – Steve that he needed to use his shower chair?

“I’m not one of the kids,” Bucky crossed his arms along his chest as he sat on the edge of the jacuzzi bathtub.

“Yeah, neither am I,” Steve agreed. “But that’s never stopped you from bossing me around when it came to my health.”

That got Bucky to quiet down.  His gaze fell to his hands, and he admitted, “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Easing himself down on his knees so he could properly bandage the incision site, Steve assured, “You’re not a burden.  But you’re also an adult and should know better than to possibly injure yourself after getting surgery.”

“Yeah?  Then why’s it like pulling teeth whenever you’re in this position?”

“Because I’ve been there my whole life,” Steve shrugged his slender shoulders. “When your body never works the way it should, you start ignoring it.”

“I just want to be better.”

Seeing the way tears were building in Bucky’s aged steel-blue eyes, Steve gave his husband a soothing rub over his newly water-proof bandaged thigh, “I know, babe.”

“’Wanna be your big strong alpha again.  How else am I gonna get you to stick around?”

“Are ya kiddin’?” Steve good-humoredly huffed.  “You couldn’t get rid of me if you wanted to.  I told ya, I’m always gonna be here.  In this life and the next.”

Bucky wiped his escaped tears, but a small smile finally tugged at his lips.  Steve pressed a kiss to each of his cheeks and then his mouth.  He didn’t know if he had ever seen his husband so vulnerable in his life.  And his heart hurt for his beloved. Even as Steve knew that sometimes pain meds caused the emotions to come out and the insecurities to take over.

“You’ll get better,” Steve reaffirmed. “But ya gotta follow the rules to do so.”

Briefly nodding, Bucky leaned forward so he could rest his forehead against Steve’s.  Steve tried to cheer up his mate, “Besides, now we can roleplay as the sexy nurse and the dirty patient who needs a sponge bath.”

“Is that so?”  Bucky husked, running his hands down Steve’s sides until he could grope his ass.

Steve nodded. Dramatically, he let his eyes salaciously drink in that gorgeous alpha body.

Bucky chuckled and played along and said, “Well, I guess I better wait for the night-shift, yeah?”

“Oh, definitely,” Steve confirmed.

Helping his alpha get dressed, the previous heat simmered just below the surface. Their bond was flooded with all of their love for each other, and Steve stood on his tiptoes so he could give his husband a sweet kiss.  Steve knew that he would never leave this man, and he hoped that Bucky knew that deep down.  Because it was always him.  It was always them.  Forever.  Always.  Till the end of the line.  And even longer then.  Because Steve knew, the line would never end.  Never ever.

[kpoptimes]

Manischewitz  Matzo Ball & Soup Mix Kosher for Passover & Year Round Easy-to-prep, Classic Matzo Ball Soup. The perfect mix to create your favorite dish.

[babbushka]

hi hi :))

absolutely cannot get the image out of my head of kissing flip between bites of apple and your lips being all sticky and sweet with honey. maybe some gets in his facial hair and it’s a big thing.

excited to see what you come up with. i’m sure it’ll be brilliant !! 💖

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! It has my heart completely warm and fuzzy, I hope you enjoy this little ficlet, and happy new year!

1k, no warnings just fluff!

It’s late, the sun gone down far behind the Rocky Mountains that your home is sat nestled against. Everyone is asleep, all your friends and family gone to their own homes at the end of a long celebration. Your day was spent at synagogue, mingling with the familiar faces of your temple, the kids laughing and clapping at the blowing of the shofar.

You of course, hosted a delicious dinner complete with the most beautiful round challah anyone has ever seen -- or so, that’s what they all said. Now though, the guests have gone, and it’s just you and Flip in the big quiet house.

The two of you have collapsed down on the plush couch in the conversation pit, the fireplace crackling slowly as the flames begin to die down. September evenings got chilly in the mountains, a perfect excuse to snuggle up and simply breathe for a minute or two, the tiredness of hosting creeping into your bones.

Flip, the mensch, has your legs draped across his lap, one of his big palms smoothing up and down your calf. You crack an eye open at him and see that his face is completely and utterly relaxed, which makes you smile. He works so hard, you think. Grateful that Bridges gave him the holidays off, you hope that he’ll use the sporadic days to rest.

It’s then that your stomach growls, and you realize that oh shit, you haven’t actually really eaten anything. A product of making sure everyone else had everything they could possibly need, you had accidentally neglected your own hunger. Now though, it’s come back with a vengeance, and it growls again, so loud that it makes Flip crack a grin.

“Snack time?” He whispers, unsure if you’re awake or not. When you start to smile, he knows that you are, and he pulls you by your hips down down down the couch to wrap his arms around you properly, hugging you to his chest tightly.

After the hustle and bustle of a huge dinner, it’s so nice to just be like this, to simply take the time to unwind and breathe together. If you train your ear to the window, you might hear the gentle pitter patter of rain over the crackle of the fireplace, which only makes for a more cozy atmosphere.

“What do we even have?” You try to recall who brought which leftovers home. They fight for them all the time, your friends, knowing that they won’t find a better meal anywhere until they come over and visit again.

Flip pulls his eyebrows together in that way of his where he’s trying hard to concentrate, as if he too is imagining where the brisket and kugel and matzo ball soup and honey cake and and and all went.

“There’s some apples left over, honey too.” He says between small kisses to your cheek, his hands caressing your back as you lean against him on the couch, “I know we’ve got some challah that I set aside so you can make us special breakfast in the morning.”

That makes you chuckle, of course he would stash some of the bread. If there was one thing that Flip loved more than anything about the holidays, it was the opportunity to have challah french toast alongside a piping mug of coffee.

You always make it for him, because how could you say no to this handsome man of yours? Just like he never says no to you, even when you ask him to do absurd things like, “Carry me.”

Flip counts to three in his head and then pushes off of the couch, supporting you under your ass as he walks you through the living room and to the kitchen. Setting you down on the kitchen island, he opens the fridge and pulls out the platter of sliced apples that was stashed in there to keep cold and avoid turning brown from being left out.

There were all different kinds; gala, granny smith, fuji, macintosh -- but the best one in his opinion was always honeycrisp. Setting the platter down next to you, he pulls out the jar of honey from the pantry and unscrews the top, holding it out for you to dip a slice of your choosing in. The crunch it makes when you bite into the apple is so satisfying, as is the bright sweetness that coats your tongue.

Sighing out happily as you down slice after slice, you smile at your husband, who opens his mouth expectantly. Automatically, you pick up a honeycrisp and dip it in some honey, offering it to him. He playfully tries to bite your finger and you swat at his shoulder, the both of you chuckling.

“Hey, guess what?” Flip breaks the silence with one of his dimpled grins.

“Hm --?”

He swoops in and kisses you square on the lips before you can properly answer him, the surprise of it all having you giggle against his mouth.

Kissing one another like this makes you feel like teenagers in love, sneaking downstairs to meet when your parents have gone up to bed. It’s strange to think that you’re the parents now, that this is your house and you’re not sneaking anywhere. You could kiss him all night long, tasting the apples and honey on his lips, on the little bit that gets stuck in his mustache.

“You’re sticky.” Saying as much, your arms smooth up his broad shoulders and wind around his neck, keeping him close, “Sweet.”

“You like it.” He murmurs playfully, making you grin. “I love this dress, you look so beautiful tonight, just like always.”

“I hoped that you would, when I was out shopping with Patrice I saw it in the window and thought you’d go for it.” Filled with smug pride at having gotten it right, you shimmy your shoulders a little.

“When have you ever been wrong?” Flip pinches your nose and gives your face a little shake, and you can only laugh, now it's your turn to try and bite at his fingers.

He kisses you once more, firmly, passionately, right there with you sitting on the cool counter of the island in the middle of the night, the rain picking up outside. But inside, it’s safe and warm, the two of you enjoying the company of one another.

“Shana tova, ketsl.”

“Shana tova, Philly.”

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Tagging some Flip lovin' friends!

@mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @caitlin-was-here @icarusinthesea @princessflip @goddessofsprings @sweetlyours @mrs-gucci @baubub @bucky-j-barnes @mindyoshiii @beachwoodmonet @darkhairedmenrule @eagerforhoney @nekonaomitard @einmal-im-traum @justlenastuff @0nihiime @ohsolonelyghosts

[ronniefein]

Roasted Mushrooms and Tomatoes

My Seder menu has been more or less stable for the past few years. I change a recipe occasionally, add a new one now and then, but for the most part it's been mostly the same.

Until this year.

I changed quite a bit this Passover. I was bored with some of the old stuff.

Chicken soup with matzo balls? NEVER BORING! Of course I served that!

Also, I served turkey (like my grandma and mother before me) as well as brisket. I also made my old favorite, spinach pie with matzo crust.

But, there was a new haroset (nut-free).

And lots of new vegetable dishes. Like this one, which was incredibly easy and I set it all up in advance and just popped it into the oven minutes before it was needed.

Of course, this dish is a year 'round thing. And it was so well-loved that I know it will be on my menu throughout the year.

Roasted Mushrooms and Tomatoes

12-14 medium-large mushrooms, cut into chunks

16 grape, cherry or mini-Kumato tomatoes

3 scallions, chopped

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

3 tablespoons olive oil

salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or aluminum foil. Place the mushrooms, tomatoes, scallions and garlic in a bowl, pour the olive oil over the vegetables and toss to coat all the pieces. Spoon the vegetables onto the prepared baking sheet. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Bake for about 20 minutes, turning the vegetables once or twice during baking, or until tender. Sprinkle with parsley and serve.

Makes 4-6 servings

[freonsuit52-blog]

‘Top Chef Kentucky’ Recap: A Fusion Feast in Macau

Continuing their stay in Macau, the contestants on Top Chef Kentucky encounter new challenges and a few major surprises during the second part of the finals.

At the start of the episode, the four remaining cheftestepants — Eric, Michelle, Sara, and Kelsey — seem excited and a little nervous about moving onto the next round of the finals. “Whatever happens next is going to determine who’s going to make it into the finale,” Eric says. “If you don’t feel the pressure, you ain’t really alive.” Although Kelsey had a triumphant victory in the Lunar New Year challenge, she’s also anticipating another intense round of cooking ahead. “These chefs are really, really good,” Kelsey remarks. “I know exactly how hard they work. Knowing that I’m amongst a group like that, that’s a lot of intimidation.” Michelle, meanwhile, is eager to face off against her friends in the next competition, telling the camera, “My plan is to pick them off one by one.”

When the chefs arrive at the A-Ma Temple, a historic space dating back to the Ming Dynasty, they are greeted by host Padma Lakshmi and James Beard Award-winning chef Abe Conlon of Macau-inspired Chicago restaurant Fat Rice. Padma and Abe have brought a trunk full of Durian with them, because this week’s Quickfire challenge — the last of the season — is all about cooking with the pungent local delicacy. The winner will get an extra hour in the elimination round.

“Durian smells like if you took really stinky French cheese and put it in a plastic bag with socks that you had just mowed your lawn in,” Sara observes. Meanwhile, Kelsey quips, “My idea of making a dish with this thing is throwing it away and making a dish.” Clearly, none of the chefs are used to cooking with the famously smelly fruit, but they all manage to whip up fairly complicated dishes using durian in the short amount of time allotted for this challenge.

Left to right: Michelle Minori, Eric Adjepong, Sara Bradley

Carmo Correia/Bravo

Michelle cooks an “espuma of chilled durian” with coconut cream and shrimp ceviche. Eric prepares a tomato and celery salad with pickled sea bass and a durian vinaigrette. Kelsey puts together a “breakfast parfait” with yogurt and durian. And Sara makes crispy sea bass with durian curry. The judges determine that Sara and Michelle’s dishes are the most balanced, while the others suffer from execution problems. Ultimately Padma and Abe decide that Michelle has the best dish of the challenge. “You did what the fruit does —you had a dish that was both savory and sweet,” Padma tells the chef from San Francisco. “It feels amazing,” Michelle says. “If I can do what I just did, then I’m feeling really confident going into the finale.”

Now that the Quickfire has drawn to a close, Padma reveals that this week’s elimination challenge is all about the chefs cooking dishes based on their heritage while also highlighting local Chinese ingredients. “As a young chef, I read about the Macanese people preserving their heritage through a unique blend of Portuguese [and] Chinese, but also with Malay and Indian flavors,” Abe explains to the crew. To help them get a better understand of that style of fusion, the Chicago chef takes the contestants to one of his favorite Macanese restaurants, Cafe Litoral.

Once they arrive in the dining room, the four chefs are surprised to see members their families sitting in the restaurant: Kelsey, Sara, and Michelle’s moms all made the trip to Macau along with Eric’s sister. The chefs and their family members are also joined by Cafe Litoral’s proprietor, Manuela Ferreira. As they sample the various Macanese dishes, the chefs start to get ideas for their elimination challenge creations. “Dish after dish is unique and layered with flavor, and I love how simple and clean the flavors are, which is very similar to the way that I cook,” Kelsey says.

Carmo Correia/Bravo

After lunch, the chefs and their family members go shopping at a local market for their ingredients. The grocery excursion goes relatively smoothly, although Kelsey’s mom loses her cart at one point, much to her daughter’s chagrin. “If my mother doesn’t find this cart in like the next five minutes, I might throw like a 13-year-old temper tantrum,” Kelsey says. “I was really good at those then. I do not need to kill my mother on national television.”

The morning of the challenge, Michelle tells the other chefs that the event marks a special moment for her. “This is the first time that my mom’s really eating my food — like, restaurant-style food,” she explains. Michelle started cooking for her family as a teenager, right after her dad died, and now she can show her mom how much she’s grown as a chef. She’s preparing a ciopinno with beans and vegetables, as a nod to her Mexican-Italian heritage. Sara is working on a version of matzo ball soup. Eric is cooking a West African-inspired egusi stew with fufu dumplings and shrimp balls. And Kelsey is planning a version of a Lowcountry boil with local seafood.

The elimination round meal is served in 360° Cafe, a rotating restaurant at the top of the Macau Tower. As a special surprise, after serving each of their courses, the chefs get to sit down and eat with their family members as well as Tom, Padma, Abe, Manuela, and judge Nilou Motamed. Most of the judges like the flavor of Michelle’s cioppino, but a few of them wish that she had used a sauce in her dish instead of a broth. Sara’s matzo ball soup goes over well with the judges, while Eric’s stew and Kelsey’s seafood boil generate mixed reactions from the crowd.

Left to right: Abe Conlon, Padma Lakshmi, Eric Adjepong.

Carmo Correia/Bravo

When the meal has wrapped up, Tom tells the chefs, “It is hard when you’re shopping in another country, with packages that you don’t understand, and I thought you all did a great job just jumping in.” Abe from Fat Rice also remarks, “You all embraced what China and Macau is all about by getting those local ingredients, and taking some risks.” Padma notes that they all served “beautiful, soulful, creative food” but there was one standout from the meal: Sara’s matzo ball soup. Tom has had a lot of matzo ball soup in his day, and her broth really impressed him.

Moving onto the bottom three plates, the judges mostly liked Kelsey’s seafood boil but thought that Michelle’s cioppino was perhaps too complicated. Meanwhile, Eric’s stew had some elements that didn’t quite gel for all the judges. “You know, chefs, this has really been a fantastic season,” Tom tells the crew. “I think that the four of you have really proved that you guys can cook on a world’s stage. There are no losers right now.” But, unfortunately, the judges have to eliminate one chef, and that chef is Michelle. “The challenge was to get Chinese flavors into your dish, and we just didn’t feel that you went far enough,” Tom explains. This is, of course, Michelle’s second time being asked to pack her knives and go, since she was eliminated after the Rupp Arena challenge and later reentered the competition by winning Last Chance Kitchen.

“To go home so close to the end is disappointing, of course,” Michelle says. “I’ve gained a lot of closure in my personal life, and a lot of self-awareness. There were a lot of times where I didn’t see a future, and it was really dark. And I’m so glad that I had this adventure here on Top Chef, and I’m ready for what the future has in store.”

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Source: https://www.eater.com/2019/3/8/18256078/top-chef-the-tao-of-macau-recap-season-16-episode-14

[grabtee]

Dinosaur Bunny Happy Eastrawr Easter shirt

New Post has been published on https://lazadashirt.com/trending/dinosaur-bunny-happy-eastrawr-easter-shirt/

Dinosaur Bunny Happy Eastrawr Easter shirt

But what about in the Dinosaur Bunny Happy Eastrawr Easter shirt, during Passover? No matter how pink the tulips or yellow the forsythia, when Seder-celebrating cooks plan their menu, a stodgy brown brisket is almost always on it. It’s as traditional to the meal as gefilte fish and matzo ball soup, a gravy-covered centerpiece year after year.

Dinosaur Bunny Happy Eastrawr Easter shirt Hoodie, Sweatshirt, Longlived

The Dinosaur Bunny Happy Eastrawr Easter shirt doesn’t have to be that way; there are plenty of other entrees that will bolster you through those four glasses of wine. But even if a platter of tender brisket is as central to your family’s holiday happiness as matzo toffee, you can still try something new.

Dinosaur Bunny Happy Eastrawr Easter shirt Hoodie, Sweatshirt, Longlived

It’s based on the Dinosaur Bunny Happy Eastrawr Easter shirt pot roast that my mother used to make, a recipe she got from Edda Servi Machlin’s “Classic Cuisine of the Italian Jews.” Ms. Machlin’s recipe called for eye of round as the beef to be pot-roasted. But my mother always used brisket, which works equally well and seems more fitting for the Passover table.