#my sister is fabulous at baking though and i have No Idea about that

[picnokinesis]

What are your three favorite family recipes?

Oh man, okay so this has been in my inbox for AGES (I'm so sorry!!) because I was like damn, this is such a cool ask, but honestly I wouldn't say my family has any 'family recipes' so to speak, at least not anything that I'm aware of as something that's been passed down, y'know? I think this is mostly because my mum is a fantastic cook, and generally found/came up with her own recipes rather than doing anything my gran taught her haha. I learnt pretty much everything about how I cook from her, which is what I would describe as 'a vibes-based approach', where rather than precise measurements, she'll say 'oh a bit of that, a bit of this', and also ignore half of what the recipe says and do her own thing. She makes roux sauce without measuring anything and by pouring all the liquid in at once, and just whisking it like a mad thing to get rid of the lumps hahaha

So then, following on from that, I figured actually whilst I don't really have any passed-down family recipes (other than like, my mum's amazing quiche, which I do not know how to make myself rip), I do have recipes that I've made up, based on other recipes! So I'll quickly tell you about those!

Courgette Pesto Pasta Ingredients:

Pasta (I use 50g of penne per person)

1 onion (or half if you're only cooking for one person)

Mushrooms (like. a bunch. follow your heart)

Courgette

Bacon (2 slices per person)

Pesto

Lemon Juice

Butter

So you'll need to chop up everything before hand (or, if you're like me, time it with how long it takes the kettle to boil, but I have a gas kettle that takes 5-10mins to boil, and also screams at me). So: chopped onions, sliced mushrooms, sliced courgette, and cut the bacon into little squares. Then - kettle boils and pasta goes on. By the time you're done with cooking everything, the pasta should be about ready.

Put the courgette in a small pan, and add a lump of butter, some lemon juice and a bit of some of the boiled water left over from the kettle. The aim of the game here is that the water/lemon juice is gonna boil off and leave the butter behind to fry the courgette a little before adding it in with everything else, so only have enough liquid that it doesn't quite cover the top layer of courgette. Then whack that on the heat. Grab a wok, throw some oil in and start frying the onions. After a few, throw in the mushrooms. Then, add the bacon. I personally like my wok-fried food a little seared, so when it's getting crispy, the courgette will hopefully be beginning to fry in the other pan. At this point, I usually tip the courgette AND whatever liquid is left in that pan into the wok, and start frying it all together. By now, it should have been about five or ten minutes, so test the pasta, see if it's cooked. When it's ready, drain the pasta, turn the heat down on the wok and then add the pasta. Then mix in a healthy teaspoonful of pesto for as many people as you're making it for, and that's it!

Potential variations:

So my mum makes this one differently - no lemon juice, no courgette, no pesto. Instead, she cuts up a red bell pepper and adds that into the wok after the bacon, and adds in a ton of Philadelphia cream cheese for the sauce. It tastes incredible haha. I've also made a variation on this where it's the same as my mum's version, but I add in a couple of teaspoons of sun-dried tomato pesto as well, which was glorious. And then the other day I made up a new variation, which takes my version of the recipe as outlined above, but uses grilled vegetable pesto instead of normal pesto - and then, before serving, beat one egg per person in a mug, and pour that into the wok and stir it in throughout. That was AMAZING

Quail Egg Carbonara Ingredients:

Quail eggs (5 per person)

Pasta again

Single cream

Butter

Parmesan cheese (1 hearty tablespoon per person)

Mushrooms

Bacon (again, two slices each)

Okay so you don't have to use quail eggs. However, I get quail eggs for free from work because we have like, six or seven quails HAHAH so we get a ton of eggs and most of my co-workers don't eat them so I make the most of it. This recipe is based on a recipe from a cook book that I have, but the proportions are kinda whack, so I riffed off it, and I use quail eggs because the yolk to egg white ratio works out better, I think? However, you can absolutely try and use a chicken egg - my mum tried this the other day and just used one chicken egg per person, and she said it was fine, just a lot more liquid than my version haha.

Anyway. This one is so simple. Make the sauce first: beat all the eggs together in a large bowl, then add a lump of butter and the single cream (I'm so sorry. It's like - okay, last time I made it, I wanna say I used about 100ml cream to cook for three people, and a healthy sized lump of butter. But it's a vibes based approach. Follow your heart) and then 1 hearty tablespoon of parmesan cheese per person. Yes, it's a lot. That's because this recipe is good for the soul. Anyway - important note, do NOT MIX the ingredients together. Just throw them into the bowl and let it stand. Put the pasta on to cook, and then fry the bacon in a frying pan (oh, the bacon and the mushrooms should be chopped). After the bacon is getting on, add the mushrooms. Again, we love these slightly seared. THEN. When the pasta is cooked - do NOT turn off the heat, but turn it down, and then drain the pasta and return it to the pan. Add the mushrooms, bacon and pan juices into the pan with the pasta, put it back on the low heat, and then pour everything in that bowl into the pan and mix it together. The og recipe was like 'turn the heat off, the heat of the pasta will cook the eggs!!' but I don't trust that lol so I do keep it on the low heat as I stir it for about a minute or so, and then I take it off the heat and serve it immediately. With more parmesan on top, of course.

The other three main things that I cook that are actually pretty decent/interesting come from some recipe books that I have, but they are: Sausage and Bacon Casserole, Chicken in Cider (this one is AMAZING and also so easy but looks very impressive haha), and Pork in Apple Gravy (also amazing, but less simple - you kinda make a roux sauce but use apple juice rather than milk!). I also like a lot of vegetarian food, so my mum and I work together to make a really lovely nut roast from an old recipe book, and also stir fry with cashew nuts fried in soy sauce, and I'm actually hoping to try and make a vegan version of that first recipe with pine nuts and cashews rather than bacon for my vegan friend who makes her own pesto at some point!

Anyway!! Hope the person who originally asked me this sees this lol, and if not I hope it's interesting for other people! I'm always interested in new recipes that don't involve spices because I'm very weak when it comes to heat in food (like......peppery sauces taste spicy to me RIP) so if anyone has any recommendations, send them my way!

[sleeping-lilies]

robin era jason, dick, and babs headcanons because there’s too much comedic potential to ignore

- dick and babs were the ultimate gossip buddies. whenever dick was with the titans for long periods of time, babs always filled him in on everything

babs: dick you’ll never believe what hal said to bruce last night, i even have videos. dick, the look on his face please—

dick, immediately locking doors so his teammates don’t hear the mad shit about to be dropped on main: tell me everything

- vice versa too, dick filled babs in on everything going on with the titans and all they can say is thank god those lines are bat secured with no villains being able to listen in, imagine deathstroke hearing through bat gossip that joey’s dating who?!?! 😳

- batkids have been and always will be the holder of superhero gossip. it’s a business, you see, but we’re getting off topic 😡

- lmfao anyways this is literally how dick finds out about jason

babs: anyways, jason—

dick: who the fuck is jason

babs: ....

dick: barbara?!?!

babs: ok promise you won’t freak out

- babs and dick’s first reaction upon meeting jason being “why is he so small i wasnt that small” “dick you were literally nine when you were robin—“ “he’s tiny” it’s like those two share the same braincell

- i’m making it so that dick gave jason his number earlier because i feel like it 😡😡😡 (not that it changes much other than the fact that i want more gossip dropped in dm’s)

- when dick gave jason his number, he went to babs like “give me jason’s number” “didn’t you literally just give him your’s?” “ya but i’m gonna make sure he texts me” “ya ok that’s fair”

- whenever jason didn’t want to be in the manor (fight with bruce, boredom, etc) he went to wherever the fuck babs lived and they would facetime dick and talk mad shit. it was a thing.

- despite them all being able to drive, babs was the only one during this time with an actual, legitimate, legal license (jason was too young to have a license and dick is too lazy/busy/whatever-excuse-he-wants-to-use to take the permit and driving test) so babs drove them around everywhere and it was a mess™ consisting of a bunch of backseat drivers

- “dick omg look at this video i found from the batcave” “omg he said robin gives him magic” “robin gives him magic” they both cry about it for years to come

- babs sometimes kidnapped jason after school after telling the head of wayne manor (alfred) and took him to get ice cream, then to the library while she worked. jason was the greatest kid in the library, he even had his own throne special chair just for him whenever he came provided by library staff who adored this absolute angel.

- jason 🤝 babs 🤝 dick -> i believe in annoying yet endearing nicknames supremacy

- nicknames include (some used by some more than others or just one, or by both equally because they’re annoying pick and choose my good people)

little wing (iconic, we all know this one fellas and who uses it)

red (used for babs, absolutely fantastic, but in the future it gets confusing because some people with their goddamn hero names 😡)

boy wonder (classic, babs calls them both that)

barbie (for babs, jason uses this one and he’s the only one able to get away with it)

dickie (jason just really gets away with everything huh)

dickhead (jason’s lucky he’s cute)

baba black sheep (jeez i’m on a roll with babs’ nicknames she’s so nickname-able and that’s very cool and sexy of her)

jay z

jay allen

jay jay jay (shut up, dickhead—)

big bird

and a bunch more i’m too tired to look for them in canon or make new ones up, but you get the idea

- dick can totally bake, and babs and jason keep bugging him when he’s baking and add more chocolate chips while pretending to not notice that he can see them 😡😡😡

- headcanon that jason had hero worship for babs and dick because they’re so cool in and out of costume and it never really went away when he got older listen his older brother and pseudo sister are so cool and that’s not his fault but he’ll never admit it

- barbie movie marathons because barbie is an iconic legend and they all recognize it. they have the fucking “she’s the queen of the WA-A-A-AVES” song memorized along with all other barbie movie songs, they sing it on patrol.

- dick and jason’s sibling dynamic was and is basically “ur a little shit and i hate you but i will literally kill for you”

- dick had tension with bruce while jason was just a little shit who would totally cause drama for the sake of it, and people never take advantage of this absolute power duo for destroying bruce

- dick sending cryptid texts to jason through a burner phone because he’s dramatic jason totally knew it was him about things that drive bruce mad, like leaving the shower turned to the coldest setting before bruce got there, leaving the lights in the batcave on, etc. jason, a wise little child, totally took advantage of this. bruce came to accept his fate

- the gc names, guys the group chat names

- jason crashing into titans tower whenever he wants and dick doesn’t bat (hAH) an eye, occasionally he very sweetly asks babs to come with him and she agrees but only sometimes because some people have jobs, jason—wait dick is being flirted with by who?!?! i’ll leave it up to your imagination ;) and they totally crashed titans missions too

- one time bruce was busy with the league while alfred was on vacation and bruce absolutely could not dip (i’m imagining bruce getting a call from the headmaster during an honest to god fight and bruce just picking up while punching the daylights out of some asshole) (“mr wayne, what is that noise in the background?” “sorry, headmaster, the cat is having a seizure”), so when jason got into a “fight” (read: some jackass picking on jason before he snapped and yelled at him and the bitchass kid tried to punch him and jason’s no quitter) bruce called dick who was an adult and legally family (yes dick is adopted sometime after jason was, stay mad) like “son... son please” and dick was like “oh no need to plead with me, this is too good” but of course this bitchass doesn’t have an actual lisence yet and he was hanging out with babs anyways so he and babs rolled up to gotham academy and the kids stared at them like “holy shit they’re so cool” ya dick and babs are those power couple, whether romantic or not, that turn heads, they’re just that powerful strolled into the office, bailed jason out while intimidating the headmaster because the altercation was the result of school staff negligence of actual bullying like those cliche tropes, said “ayyy you got that brat good” and get him chili dogs or whatever the fandom made robin jason’s favorite food. omg i just made an entire fanfic in rough draft form someone please steal it and write it in full form and send me the link

- jason is very very tiny, you see. babs and dick pick him up and move him for any reason, whether because they want to sit on that chair or to just throw him out of harm’s way and take the bullet for themselves.

- jason and dick both get adorable blushes on their faces it’s genetic yes that’s how genetics work shut up meanwhile babs’ ears turn red when she’s embarrassed and all three of them clown each other for it

- i yelled about this to my mutual (cough cough @littlespaceboii) who also added to this absolute dogshit headcanon and then in the discord full of mutuals, but the basement of wayne manor is haunted. dick found it when he was a little gremlin (i stand by that dick was the original demon child) (“you see damian, before there was you there was me” the real reason he was good with damian lmfao) and was like “omg this is so cool” @littlespaceboii came up with that it was just alfred fucking with bruce and so when jason first came and dick was comfy around him he was like “so have you been in the basement” and jason was like “im literally robin i’ve been in the batcave?!?!” and dick goes “no the basement, the haunted one” and jason’s like “hAUNTED?!?!” cuz jason has at least some self preservations and knows not to fuck with the spookies until he too became a spooky and bruce was like “there’s no ghost it’s not haunted” because he’s a skeptic and a party pooper and babs is like “no go on let him finish” even though she knows full well there are no ghosts or does she? and uhhhh basically they becomes ghostbusters 2.0 but cooler and funnier

- this trio is basically baby pan/bisexual jason and two resident expert pan/bisexuals solidarity but that’s literally canon. they go to pride every year that jason’s alive what who said that?

- they all tease each other for their crushes like all siblings/family friends do, i don’t need to say it but it’s important that’s emphasized for my well being

- yelled about this in the discord to the mutuals who added onto this absolute train wreck too, but jason used to play baseball during his robin days, and dick never showed up to those games with being busy as an excuse, but babs always showed up with bruce and alfred and took pictures for dick so dick could be like “mlb players are jobless now that little wing is on the scene” babs (and sometimes bruce) always shouted loudest for jason whether he was in the field or in the dugout and jason would get this extremely adorable blush on his face (jason finds out in the future why dick never showed up (cough cough ptsd from two face’s massive baseball bat which led to everything that came after including being fired and veangance academy and nearly killing two face and omg that’s a ride) and is like oh my god my childhood is even more ruined—)

- remember when i said dick got adopted after jason did in this new absolutely fabulous canon i just created? bruce did that because “ahhh fuck that’s my kid and i want him to know i love him through every means possible since i have the ability to do so” i believe in good dad bruce supremacy and made a whole thing where he invited dick to dinner for like a week to work up the courage and bonding to ask him and show him the adoption papers and then everyone cried :) bruce decided to finally adopt dick after jason referred to dick as his brother and bruce was like “...oh” and alfred was like 👀

- dick, as the first child hero and one of the first heroes period like at least a year or two before babs, holds the “back in my day” card over literally everyone in the hero community in general and pulls it out to annoy babs and jason even tho babs literally joined the scene only a year or two after dick

jason, shaking in his panties: it’s so fucking cold

dick, standing strong in his tits out outfit, who had to wear the panties on his own decision: oh, you’re cold? back in my day—

babs, throwing her boot at his face: god shut the fuck up—

and then dick doesn’t give back her boot and it becomes a whole thing with lots of tackling and play fighting and someone nearly gets thrown off they rooftop for funsies but anyways

also on a side note, babs would take off her cape and wrap it around jason whenever she noticed his discomfort with the weather, or use the weather as an excuse whenever she saw him uneasy for whatever reason and they never mention it to each other

- yelled about this in the discord to the mutuals at some point too holy shit i have friends, but those three are team rocket. they went out as team rocket for halloween one year after bullying bruce to let jason out only jason because he can’t tell dick and babs what to do and jason is under his care and when they do convince him, dick and babs bully jason into being meowth. manifesting jason in a meowth onesie ARTISTS PLEASE—

- dick finally took his license seriously and took his driver’s test after babs became paralyzed.

- those were a rough few months for those three. and then another rough few months for those two

- yikes, sorry to throw angst at you (sorry (unfeeling)) anyways, in the future alfred finds those old photos and shows the rest of the fam, so dick and babs bully jason, 6’2 jason that towers way above both of them, and once again bullies him into being meowth “for tradition, little wing!” “shut up, dickhead” the rest of the batkids lose their shit over this, naturally. bruce and alfred stand in the back teary eyed reminiscing the old days when things were a little more simple.

- discowing walked so terrifying handsome squidward red hood helmet could run (even tho the ugly helmet tripped and fell and missed the mark because discowing wasn’t ugly and will always remain superior, i feel i have committed a terrible crime comparing the two)

dick: jason what the fuck is that

jason: it’s fashion

dick: it’s terrifying

jason: i’m only following in my older brother’s footsteps 😔

dick: listen here, you little shit strangles him haha just kidding that illegal wait theyre vigilantes they don’t follow the law—

- these three and cass refer to the rest of the batkids as “the kids” (if she’s older than jason, sometimes she is and sometimes she isn’t and i’m really confused but whatever)

- babs and dick’s relationship with jason pre death literally shaped how jason treats his siblings post pit madness like he literally goes “what would red and big bird do?!??” when he needs to go into big brother mode over the “little ones” (“little” because tim and steph are adults and duke is nearly an adult himself oh my god he’ll graduate from high school soon and jason never got to do that himself he’s totally going to the ceremony legally dead or not) 🥺

- holy trinity continue hanging out with each other, whether lunch or games or whatever, and just enjoy each other’s company after long, rough years

[fleckcmscott]

Another Year

Summary: Arthur’s birthday is coming up. Y/N wants nothing more than to make it great.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 3,892

A/N: This request came from the one-of-a-kind, fabulous @sweet-nothings04​! Thank you for asking for this. I enjoyed writing it a lot! 

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open! Keep them coming!

Y/N hadn't realized how much she'd missed putting together birthday celebrations. Not until the unexpected serendipity of falling in love again. Her ex-husband had preferred not to make a big deal of them, had stated he hated getting older. (Considering he'd been in his twenties, she'd found that assertion silly.) As her father had slipped away, special events and gifts had gone by the wayside to focus on routines that wouldn't throw him off kilter. She'd been invited to her sister's and brother-in-law's parties but had only stayed for the hour or two she'd hired a sitter. And while she wasn't the most attentive aunt, she always ensured her nephews and nieces at least got a card and money for a treat.

From what she'd gathered, birthdays had never been an important facet of Arthur's life. That had become obvious upon learning his was 11/21/1946 by reading documents instead of from him. When she'd discovered he'd turned thirty-five and hadn't even told her. But unlike her ex, it wasn't because he didn't want them to be. It was due to neglect, isolation, and the inability to connect. As much sympathy as she had for Penny, for her own illnesses and suffering, for what had been done to her, the wounds she'd inflicted on her son hurt Y/N’s heart. There were so many lost years. She was determined to make-up for them by spoiling him.

The diner where Patricia and she often met for lunch was halfway between their two offices. A five- or six-minute walk for them both. Y/N arrived first. She sat at the white and gold Formica counter and perused the menu. (Though she'd already decided to get her usual pastrami on wheat, garlic pickle, and coleslaw.) Patricia strolled in as the waitress jotted down Y/N's order, and told the young lady she'd have whatever Y/N was having.

They caught up quickly. The Wayne Foundation case was going to have a preliminary hearing in three weeks. Y/N couldn't have rolled her eyes harder. ("Thank god I won't be there. They'd have to drag me off the stand.") Patricia listened with interest while Y/N went on about a dispute involving break violations at Ace Chemicals. And Patricia invited her to stop by the office soon, claiming Matt had realized he'd been stupid to let her quit. ("I'm sure he misses me being a pain in his ass.")

Y/N was picking at the crust of her sandwich when she changed the subject. “I need a favor.”

Patricia arched a brow at her. “Is this going to involve me lugging boxes of files to your apartment?”

“Only if you want the workout.” Chuckling, Y/N shook her head. “Arthur’s birthday is next Saturday. You bake the best cakes. If I’m left to my own devices, he’s going to get something out of a Universal Foods’ box.”

“Mine are out of a box. I just modify the directions and make my own frosting.” Patricia used the rest of her bread to sop up her coleslaw’s dressing. “How old did you say he’s going to be? Thirty-five?”

“Thirty-six.”

Swallowing her last bite, Patricia quirked up the corner of her lips. “I still owe you for running those supplies to the office when my foot was broken. What kind does he like?”

Y/N hugged her tight across the shoulders. After a short discussion, they decided on chocolate with vanilla cream frosting - a safe choice. It would be small, since it was only for the two of them. Arthur had a job the day before. That would allow her to take it home without him seeing. She’d just have to keep him away from the fridge the rest of the evening.

They talked about the other things Y/N had in-store for him, the reservation, the gifts. She giggled, pleased at having successfully hidden it all from him so far. “You’re putting a lot of work into this,” Patricia said. “What did you do last year?”

“I didn’t know about it last year. He didn’t mention it.” Though Patricia was already aware of some of Arthur’s past, Y/N had kept the details to a minimum. She tried to think of an elaboration, one that respected his privacy but was honest. She started in on her pickle. “With Penny being sick - with everything he was going through...”

Sipping her coffee, Patricia spun her stool to face Y/N fully. “You don’t need to say anymore. I remember. It was hard for you both.”

The empathy in Patricia’s gaze prompted a smile. And reminded Y/N how grateful she was for a friend who was frank but unjudgmental. “Back then, he thought needing or wanting anything from me was a bother. But he’s getting better at letting me love him.” Y/N put a hand on her chest. “And now he’ll never need to mention it. It’s locked in here for good.”

~~~~~

Yesterday had left Arthur in a funk. One that showed signs of adhering to his brain the way flies had stuck to the tape he’d had to hang from the ceiling of his old apartment every spring. He’d spent close to twelve hours dancing and waving a “Store Closing! Everything 50-70% off!” placard in front of Dave’s Pleasure Emporium in Gotham Square. (The city must really be fucked if its denizens’ finances were shitty enough that adult shops were shutting down.) It had been his least favorite gig in months. But the slow season was coming on, and the pay had been decent.

The dull ache in his lower spine, radiating to his hip, had made it harder than usual to sleep. And soreness was seeping from familiar spots to sinews he’d forgotten were there. Even the tips of his toes hurt. Two more ibuprofen tablets and acetaminophen went down easily. Carefully, not wanting to rouse her, he removed Y/N’s hand from his stomach, wincing as he shifted onto his left side to alleviate the pressure on his right.

Thirty-five was too old for this. While he loved performing for children, he should have made it as a comic by now. And he should have finished school. He’d be able to do more than be on his feet all day, then. Have more options. Opportunities...

Or maybe he simply shouldn’t have taken that particular job.

The ability to stop catastrophizing, adjust his way of thinking, was new. And rare. He made a mental note to write today’s accomplishment in his journal and share it at his next appointment. The therapist would be impressed with him. Dozing, he thought his funk might abate after all.

It could have been five or fifty minutes later when he felt the comforter being dragged down. Heard the zip of the shades being rolled up. But he was in that snug state between wakefulness and slumber and refused to react. Then there was a pinch on his chin, a light weight on his scalp. “What are you doing?” he mumbled gravelly.

“It’s someone’s special day today,” Y/N said.

Oh. That’s right. He was thirty-six now.

Squinting in the bright sunlight filtering through their sheer curtains, he propped himself on his forearm. She was half-reclined next to him, draped in a short, black nightdress. The one she found a tad tawdry but he liked. He rubbed his eyes, his forehead. Thin cardboard stopped him when he reached his hair. His fingers followed it, found it tapered into a point.

A party hat. She’d gotten him a party hat. He couldn’t hold back his snort.

In his line of work, birthdays were for kids. He’d stopped caring about his own as a teenager. Penny had seemingly been glad he was around. But she never remembered. Hell, he’d had to remind her of her own. But the last acknowledgment of it, the last one before meeting Y/N, had been by a teacher. He’d gotten an extra five minutes of recess and escaped punishment for inappropriate laughter for the day.

This was his first birthday with a person who saw and loved him. Understood who he was. Knew he was more than some image projected onto him. A person who appeared thrilled he existed and to be in his life. As a husband. Every sit-com and film he’d watched had clued him in: wives deemed them important. They hid gifts, cooked special meals, sneaked around arranging parties. There hadn’t been any sneaking on Y/N’s part, none that he could detect. He wondered what she could have planned.

The kneading of her thumb in the hollow of his hip, briefs slung too low as usual, gave him a good idea of her plan for this morning. The entangling of their legs confirmed it. “I got donuts. Coffee’s ready.”

“You, um-“ He cleared his throat, closed his eyes at the brush of her thigh against his length. Which was getting harder with each touch of her lips to the crook of his neck. “You didn’t make breakfast?”

“No.” Her chuckle was throaty, full of desire. “I wasn’t going to torture you with burnt eggs.” She was pulling at his biceps, trying to get him to settle over her. “Let’s work up your appetite, Mr. Fleck.”

But he flinched and halted her movements. The painkillers hadn't kicked in yet. His muscles burned. "We'll get to it later," he promised between languid, lingering kisses. The kind that made him feel safe. Loved. Famished for her. She guided him onto his stomach, stroked him affectionately. Breaths mingling, they chatted lazily until they both cooled off.

Once his stomach started rumbling, Y/N insisted they get up, despite his protestations that he wasn't hungry. That staying under the covers with her for hours would be fun. That they could eat in bed, crumbs be damned. His back would get worse if he continued laying like that, she told him. He needed to stretch and move. Although he grumbled, his experiences with injuries, whether from overwork, assholes, or sleeping on a couch most of his life, had taught him she was right.

Following a cigarette on the fire escape, he went to the kitchen, grabbed a mug, and did a double-take at the round table in the dining nook. He approached it in disbelief. He tensed as he ran his hand along the rectangular gifts and their shiny red paper. Squeezed the puffy, tan winter coat. Fingered the silver ribbon tied to the chair, dangling from an aluminum helium balloon. The lump in his throat forced a short laugh. But he didn't cover his mouth, not having to hide from her. He shook his head, wiping at the sudden wetness in his eyes. "All this is for me?" He did his best to sound normal.

"No. They're for my other husband, Carnival." She came behind him, hugged him around his torso and splayed her fingers on his chest. "You may have met him. Has a penchant for making balloon animals? Wears pants with the cutest patch on his bottom?" He grasped her forearm, held her tight to him as his shoulders shook with mirth.

It wasn't yet eight o'clock. And the day was already shaping up to be one of his favorites.

~~~~~

At the vanity on Arthur's side of the bed, Y/N was attempting to create the perfect oval eye with brown liner. The wide smile creeping onto her face wasn't making it easy. But it couldn't be helped. Everything had gone wonderfully so far. Had more than met her expectations. She hoped his had been met, too.

She'd been badgering him to get a winter coat since last Christmas. (His teeth had chattered almost the entire time they'd stood outside to watch Gotham's Christmas parade. The hot chocolate from a vendor hadn't done much good. A long bath had been necessary to finally warm him up.) The one she'd picked out fit him well, and he'd seemed to like it, hanging it by the door next to his tan jacket. And she'd known he was attached to his trusty, foil razor. But it was over fifteen years old, taped together, and on its way out. The new one had a rechargeable battery. He wouldn't be tethered to the outlet over the sink if he wanted to move around a bit.

The twitch of his nostrils, his hitched breath as he'd whispered, "Thank you," had compelled her to kneel next to his chair. The poignancy of his reaction had affected her keenly. Hollowed out her core and filled it with compassion and love. He'd frowned and wiped his nose with the back of his knuckles. "Sorry," he'd scoffed, glistening eyes darting to hers. "I don't mean to be weird."

"You're not, Arthur." She'd gently removed his black and red polka-dotted party hat, set it on the table. "You're being you."

After a quick lunch, they'd leisurely strolled arm-in-arm through the neighborhood, including a visit to the nearby park. Arthur had wanted to stop into the used record shop three or four blocks away. She'd caressed up and down his back, observing his content visage as he flipped through the LPs. It was lovely to see him treat himself to a couple without hesitating to worry about the cost for too long. At home, he'd settled on the floor by the record player and put them on. He must have been feeling better, because he'd kept his earlier promise: they'd made love on the carpet. Unhurried, sweet, and giggling like idiots.

The opening of the bathroom door broke her out of her reverie. She started blotting her darker-than-usual red lipstick with a tissue. "It was nice of Patricia to get me aftershave," he said.

She smoothed the lines of her champagne color, mid-length dress, adjusted its petal sleeves, then twisted around just as he entered the bedroom. Her movements halted. Would his handsomeness, his beauty, ever fail to stun her? Gaze roaming his slender form, she stared at him. He'd only worn his black and brown oxfords seldomly, saving them for special occasions. The wrinkled white socks didn't match his black pants, but they paired well with him.

It was the teal button-up, patterned with white circles of various opacities and sizes, that caused her to need a few seconds to process his remark. It'd hung in the corner of his old living room; she'd eyed it in their closet since he'd moved in. It was such a contrast to his usual conservative clothing. Quite unlike him, she'd assumed. But seeing him standing there in it, the way it complimented his lithe figure and brought out the light green of his irises, made him look a little less withdrawn, she realized she'd been mistaken.

"She thought it'd suit your new shaver." He gave a gentle hum in response, bashful smile appearing. Such gestures were unfamiliar to him. Eventually, they'd become such an integral part of his life he'd grow tired of them. Y/N would make sure of that. The idea prompted a grin and she stepped around the bed to approach him. "You look great. Are you ready?"

“Yeah.” The crook of his mouth, the furrow of his forehead alerted her to his nervousness. He rubbed the back of his neck, flitted his look to hers. “It sounds fancy.”

She kissed him soundly and he eased into her embrace. “You don’t have to impress me,” she said. “You already did that. Use whichever fork you want.”

The restaurant was in Gotham’s Little Italy district, only a block or two from Chinatown. Y/N had never been to Bamonte’s but her colleagues had given it good reviews. (One had said he and his wife went there every anniversary.) Arthur gaped when they went inside. She watched him survey the lavish, red curtains decorating the walls; the dim lanterns suspended from the ceiling; the faux-marble floor. Huffing, he turned to her, concern clear on his face. She grasped his elbow. “It’s all right. You belong here as much as anyone else.”

The maitre’d led them to a secluded table, behind its own drawn back drapes in the rear corner of the smoking section. Arthur traced the edges of the three lit, tulip-shaped votive holders. Caressed the cream color tablecloth as he sat in the fabric covered chair. An anxious chuckle left him and he smoothed his palm over his thigh. “I hope I don’t spill anything.”

Y/N assisted Arthur with the menu, explaining some of the more exotic-to-him dishes. He was interested in the antipasto, which wasn’t unexpected, since he always kept a jar of olives in the fridge. The gnocchi with tomatoes, spinach, fresh basil, and mozzarella was what he thought sounded best. She chose an old favorite, chicken in a mushroom and white wine sauce and a Caesar salad on the side. Arthur picked the least expensive Moscato on the wine list. When the bottle was opened and left on the table, he blinked at it, then shrugged and filled their glasses.

After a couple of sips, he crossed his legs and puffed on his cigarette. “I wrote a new joke. Well, I really just changed an old one.” He reached across the table to graze across the back of her hand. “Why didn’t the old man like having insomnia?”

Her eyelids fluttered, his gossamer touch setting her aflame. She ran her toes along his calf, his resulting twitch causing her to giggle in delight. “He wanted to sleep with his wife?”

Dark brows shot up in surprise, his eyes lighting up. Their fingers laced together. “How did you know?”

Leaning forward, she traced his crow's feet, prominent due to his beaming smile. Then her touch drifted to his jawline. “It was the first joke you ever told me," she murmured. "How could I forget?” Clutching her hand, he pressed a kiss to her wrist. He held her to his lips, hard enough to feel his teeth. And he grew quiet. “What is it?” she asked after a minute.

His eyelids shut. She could feel his pulse quicken together with hers. “I- I wanna sleep with you forever,” he breathed.

Out of anyone else’s mouth, she would have taken that to mean sex. From him, however, she knew it meant mountains more. Adoration welling in her chest, her fingertips weaved into his loose, chestnut curls. “You will.”

~~~~~

Once, in high school, Arthur had gotten a hold of some grass. It was supposed to induce giddiness and euphoria, make a person relax. God knows he could have used it back then; Penny had started declining and he’d had to learn to run a household. Plus, he’d thought at the time, it’d make him one of the guys. All the cool kids were doing it. Maybe he’d be able to connect with one and learn how to be popular. But all it had done was make him nauseous and paranoid. There hadn’t been one iota of the “high” he’d imagined. He’d thrown it out and never tried it again.

Now he wondered: was it possible to be high on a person? To be drunk on their presence? To feel their essence down to the cell? Necking on the sofa with Y/N, their coffee forgotten on the coffee table, he figured it must be. Enraptured, he wanted to capture her ragged breaths, take her into his lungs, make her a perpetual part of his being. Perhaps he’d stay happy naturally, then, like everyone else. Even if that didn’t work, she’d always be close.

Giggling, she pushed him off her and headed towards the kitchen. “Wait here. No peeking.”

Laughing softly, Arthur pushed his hair out of his face. She’d already gotten him gifts. Let him make love to her. Taken him to an eatery where he was totally out of place and managed to make it comfortable. What else could she possibly do? Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long. He eagerly followed at the call of his name.

The loveliest cake he’d ever seen was on the counter. Dark chocolate shavings embellished its round border. And it was the perfect size for the two of them. Y/N was rushing to light a mass of candles on it. “Quick, make a wish before wax drips onto the frosting.”

He mused for a moment. He no longer needed to pine for daydreams and delusions of companionship - he had Y/N. In spite of the icons his mother had had in every room of their apartment, he’d long ago stopped praying to what he suspected was nothing for his conditions and illnesses to go away. Then it occurred to him. Bending to blow out the candles, he wished for his innate comedic gifts to be recognized. To be validated as the stand-up he knew he was. And to provide for Y/N. To be what she needed. To make her happy.

Although he was grateful for Patricia’s thoughtfulness, and he knew Y/N’s baking wasn’t better than his own, part of him had wanted her to be the one who made the cake. But he tried to push that aside and appreciate it regardless. The slice she gave him was far too generous. He ate it all, anyway, because it was delicious. The sponge was fluffy. And the chocolate could actually be detected, instead of a vague, sugary flavor. The frosting tasted finer than that on the grocery store bakery cupcakes he’d sampled in the past.

As he was rinsing off the cutlery, Y/N saddled up beside him and held out a bright purple envelope, inscribed with “Happy Birthday!” in her pretty longhand. He leaned his hip against the counter as he grasped it, intentionally brushing his hand against hers. Gingerly, he lifted the flap and pulled out the card.

The cardstock was a vibrant gold and white. Two mugs, one green and labeled, “Yours,” one pink and labeled, “Mine” sat on sketched coasters. The shiny purple letters underneath proclaimed, “You get me. I get you.” Pressing his thin lips together, he opened it. And sighed when he read the rest: “Hope you know how happy that makes me.”

One of his wishes had already come true.

The elation coursing through his veins made him shudder. He nearly missed the stiff papers that fell from the envelope. Y/N retrieved them and gently placed them in his palm. A wide smile spread across his cheeks as he read aloud. “‘Gotham Pops presents A Night with Gershwin?’” He double-checked the date. “These are for New Year’s Eve.”

She nodded. “I snagged them as soon as they went on sale. They’re orchestra seats.” Then she squeezed him flush to her side, bumped her nose to his. “Don’t think I haven’t heard you sing to yourself in the tub.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, eyes tracing the diamond pattern of the grey, linoleum floor. “I thought I was quieter.”

“I’m glad you weren’t.” Enthusiastically, her lips pulled at his before she grinned up at him. “Did you have a happy birthday? Was it worth getting older?”

Arthur’s answer came without delay. “Yes.” There wasn’t a way to explain what it meant to him, to explain that she helped him feel good to be alive. How full his heart was. That she patched cracks in his soul he hadn’t known existed. He longed to do the same for her. He cupped her jaw on either side, guiding her to his mouth and rasping, “I don’t mind getting older with you.”

~~~~~

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[allie1804-fan]

Please Assist Me (Chapter 3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

He said

Not long after that conversation with Alex, it was the party for my mom. Karina had insisted that Sophia and the kids come given the work she’d put into planning it and it was an informal affair with other kids coming and some entertainment laid on for them in the hotel gardens. After the meal, I caught up with Sophia as she needed to go through some travel requirements with me. Once that was sorted out, the conversation turned to some books she’d ordered for me and how I was getting on with them.

“So how’s the Dostoevsky?” she asked

“Oh I’m not onto that yet, I’ve read it before but I lost my copy. I thought I’d take it on the trip – something to pass the hours in the lounge and on the plane”

“Would you recommend it? I’ve not read any of his before”

“Oh yeah, it’s amazing, the characters are so real – it’s kind of dense, you know, but worth the effort. What do you like to read?”

“Oh well, I don’t read enough. It’s hard to find time with the kids  - Javier really didn’t like me reading either”

“What! Why?”

“Oh because once I start I can’t stop! You know if we were on holiday and I took a book, I’d just be, poor company I guess and he doesn’t read – not fiction anyway so, I guess it was one of the many things we didn’t agree on!”

“Well that’s his loss! So you never said, what you like I mean”

“Oh, classics I guess like Jane Austen and Hardy. And some new stuff – you know, thrillers like “Gone Girl” and I did just read a new book, the sequel to The Handmaid’s Tale, “The Testaments”

“Oh right, good?”

“yeah really good – just as disturbing as the first but also a gripping tale, almost an adventure really, you know wondering what will become of each character you follow”

We carried on talking books and screen adaptations. It was really the first time we’d talked about something other than her work tasks and I enjoyed it. It got my thoughts drifting back to what Alex had said.

The trip I was going on was in New York for 4 days -  it was a casting trip where I’d be meeting up with Anja, a casting director to finalise a few roles for a future  project.

We had fun and the casting was successful. I enjoyed Anja’s company and I noticed that she was being a little flirty. There was  no time for more than an informal bite in New York but she grasped the bull by the horns and suggested we go out when we got back to LA.

I agreed – I guess I was trying to shake off Alex’s words and thought that maybe a relationship with her would be more appropriate than starting something with Sophia  -  after-all, I didn’t even know if there was a chance Sophia could like me in that way.

I couldn’t think where to go for our bite so ended up suggesting that we have a low key meal at my place. I texted Sophia, asking for  help again with the prep though I can’t deny feeling a certain awkwardness about doing that after what Alex had said about my possible feelings for her.

After the casting trip, I arrived back home from New York  in the early hours of Friday, earlier than I’d planned and headed straight for bed. I’d hopefully be able to thank Sophia later when she came over with the groceries that I needed for the meal the next day.

 She Said

I remember when things started to get complicated in my heart. We’d had such a nice chat about books at his mum’s party and he’d given me a hug to thank me for my efforts on his behalf with sorting all the arrangements. By now, I definitely felt like he was a friend as well as my boss.

Shortly after the party, Keanu went to New York to do some casting sessions. I got a text from him the day before his planned return asking for some help with another dinner. He didn’t say who was coming which led me to believe it must be a woman. For the other meals I had helped him with he’d always made a point to say who the guests were (how many, their names etc) Maybe it was the casting lady from the trip – he’d said she was also based in LA.

My feelings were unnameable  - at least I didn’t want to name them as they made me ashamed. There was a mix of the protective in there but also jealousy for sure. I scolded myself for my crazy feelings.

It only got worse when I went to the house to make sure everything was fine there, feed the fish etc. There were some clothes on a clothes airer in the kitchen that I’d thrown in the washer for him after he left. I folded them and headed to his room, opening the door without a care only to find the room in semi darkness and Keanu lying asleep on the bed. He was on his back and I was fairly sure he was naked. The sheets barely covered his modesty and I almost dropped the laundry at the sight. I turned on my heal quick as a flash to get away in case I’d disturbed him enough to wake him.

I felt hot  - my thoughts flitting between wondering why he was home already and marvelling at his  lovely body.

I headed back to the kitchen with the laundry pile and distracted myself by making a start on the food prep for his meal tomorrow. About an hour later a sleepy Keanu emerged, surprised to see me standing chopping onions at the island

“Sophia, I thought you were coming later. Everything OK?”

“Yeah, all fine” I reassured him “I just couldn’t get a sitter for the kids after school and I thought it would be better to get this done on my own, without the rug rats causing mayhem”

“Oh sure. I came home earlier ……….” He stated

“Yes I know”  I replied a blush rising in my cheeks” and I couldn’t help but glance in the direction of the laundry pile

“There’s some laundry there for you  - I didn’t want to …… disturb you by bringing it in”

I could see the flush of embarrassment rising up his neck and above his beard

“I took you by surprise didn’t I?”

“Just a bit” I chuckled and the mood relaxed a little

“Sorry” he said rubbing his chin, still blushing.

“No problem. Anyway, I’m all done now so I’ll leave you in peace. Hope your dinner goes well”

“Sure, thanks Sophia, I really appreciate it”

 He Said

My dinner date with Anja went really well. She loved the food and we had a lot in common  - some of our friendship and professional circles overlapped so the conversation never ran dry. There were still parts to cast for the project so I knew we’d continue to see each other, so there was time for things to develop. I actually got the distinct impression that she wouldn’t have minded if I’d made a move on her then but that wasn’t my style anymore on a first date. I’d got more cautious in my old age  - at  least that’s what I told myself. In retrospect, I wonder if something else was holding me back. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to get laid but as she left to get her Uber, I just went for the kiss on the cheek and we said we should arrange something else soon - probably after our next casting session in a week or so.

It was the Autumn of 2019 and things were quieter for me workwise though I started to go to the gym regularly knowing the Matrix 4 was around the corner.  I didn’t need Sophia so much for household tasks but there was still some travel and for once I started to think about Christmas quite early rather than making a last minute dash to Neiman Marcus on Christmas Eve!  

Sophia was once again in her element choosing gifts for my mom and sisters. She’d also built a friendship with Karina after the party for Mom so she was able to check out her ideas for Kim and Mom with her.

Things had moved along with me and Anja too - we’d had 3 or 4 dates and for the next one, I had invited her to mine again for a dinner. Once again I roped in Sophia to help me with shopping, prep and baking a pudding. She was going to bake me her fabulous brownies which I’d tried when she left me one as a little treat one day. It was in a cute little container with a post it on it saying “eat me!”

I’d returned the favour but not with food, leaving her my recently re-read copy of “The Brothers Karamazov” on the kitchen counter with a post-it saying “read me!”

Anyway, after tasting her heavenly brownie I knew it would be perfect for the meal I had planned. and she baked it at my house so it would be super-fresh, leaving the kitchen smelling enticing.

I served a simple steak for our meal with asparagus and baked Portobello mushrooms.  Anja was full of praise for the main and thrilled with the brownie,  closing her eyes and making yummy noises that made my groin contract and my pants tighten.

“For that you have Sophia to thank, not me!” I admitted.  

“Your PA bakes for you?”

I chuckled

“Yes she is quite the multi-tasker! I basically defined the role myself so it covers many of the standard PA things and a few unique extras”

“Like what?” Anja enquired, a quizzical look on her face

As I described the things she did, Anja started laughing

“So basically, you designed the job of a 50s wife without the complication of a relationship?”

I blushed bright red at that, especially as exactly that thought had crossed my mind when I decided I needed a PA”

I held my hand up

“You caught me! Anyway, put it this way, she’s made my daily life a whole lot easier”

“Well thank her from me for the delicious brownie”

“I’ll be sure to - so shall we go through to the living room to digest?”

Anja gladly accepted and I was thrilled to be changing the subject from my 50s wife/ PA! We took our wine through and settled on the sofa, deciding to listen to some music. I invited Anja to look through my vinyl collection and pick something. She was about 10 years my junior so we hadn’t grown up with the same music -  I had to describe various bands to help her pick something. It wasn’t exactly the right atmosphere for the Pixies or Ramones! She picked the Doors which was very chill - we snuggled up and I nestled my face into her hair. Slowly she tilted her neck to the side, an unspoken invitation to nibble her neck which I gladly did and soon we were kissing. We’d kissed before but this time I could feel that it was leading somewhere which was only confirmed when Anja shifted to straddle me. I grasped her ass and pulled her closer, whispering in her ear that maybe we should move things to the bedroom.

Once in the bedroom, Anja and I made short work of removing our clothes and were very soon having sex, I say that very specifically as it wasn’t making love, at least not for me. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed it and she said she did too but I’ve never felt so disconnected or remote whilst having sex. Anja is beautiful too and a nice person but some level of spark was definitely lacking. I could feel myself looking ahead to my new year schedule and using the excuse of being away to put a lid on things. That made me feel shitty and ashamed.

 She Said

Through November, my role continued as usual as did my regular contact with my boss  as we checked off the Christmas gifts and I supported him in keeping his home running smoothly. By then, he was dating his casting agent Anja which I knew from the gossip rags as well as direct from the horse’s mouth as he’d got me to bake him my brownie for a dinner he’d had at home with her.

I wasn’t sure what to make of it really – I couldn’t put my finger on it but something seemed a bit off Maybe it was the way he talked about her or more how he didn’t. You could always tell when he was passionate about something, whether it was a book, a meal, a project and so I assumed that would carry over to people  - it did with his family. Maybe he was just being guarded but, as I said, we were on very friendly terms by then so I did wonder how into her he really was.

It turned out that Karina suspected the same. We’d met up for a coffee to look at gift ideas for their mother when she brought it up.

“So what do you think’s going on with Ke and this Anja woman?”

“What?!” I spluttered, surprised that she was gossiping with me about her big brother.

“Oh you must know, you know everything” she smirked

“I do not!” I protested.

“I bet you know if she’s slept over”

I blushed as she was right. I did know. I’d seen the tell tale signs after I’d made the brownie for them  - I had spotted a couple of her things left in his bathroom when putting fresh toiletries in his vanity unit in the bathroom.

I swallowed and told her what I knew.

“Let’s just say that I loaned him the book “Normal People” a few weeks back  - and I don’t think he needs a book right now for satisfaction if you know what I mean!”

She nodded, grinning.

“Do you think it’s serious”

“Come on! I can’t say, I know I’ve worked for him for almost a year now but we don’t talk about that kind of stuff and I don’t know him well enough to judge”

“Oh, I think you do, if he was in love, you’d know”

“I don’t know about that!” I blushed secretly knowing she was probably right. I could read him pretty well by now.

“Well I do, I’ve seen you together, you know him now. I mean what was the first personal thing you did for him?”

“Buy Kim that coffee set, I guess”

“Yes, and when he talked about Kim, you knew right away, didn’t you?, how very much he loves her and how important it was because he talked about her with passion. I remember you telling me that and how he briefed you for my tagine and Mom’s party.

“Yeah, yes I guess you have a point”

“And how does he talk about her?”

“Like….” I pondered a few seconds “like a colleague” I admitted.

“Exactly, he’s just getting laid if you ask me and it won’t last come the new year when he’s off to San Fran”

I shrugged. It wasn’t my affair to worry about.

“Well they’re grown-ups aren’t they – hopefully neither of them will get hurt” I said glad to close the topic. I felt like I was talking out of turn even though it was with his sister.

@fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithkeanu @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @keanureevesisbae @penwieldingdreamer @witty-wallflower @paperplanesandwallflowers @bitchyslut99 @ladyreapermc @toomanystoriessolittletime @fanficsrusz @keanuficfiles

[rosebudmendes]

La vie Est Belle (Shawn AU)

Part 2

Description: She has to take care of her ill father. He has to provide for his younger sister. Just when they think their lives couldn’t get busier, fate intervenes. 

Warnings: alcoholic tendencies, anxiety, anger management issues, terminal illness

Word count: 2,483

Reblog & send me your thoughts! I hope you enjoy!

Part 1

———

A loud crash startled you out of deep sleep. The room was mostly dark. There was the smallest amount of sunlight beaming in through the curtains. Following the shattering of glass was a loud groan and anger filled stomps, the clock on the wall reading 5:30 am. It was far too early for your dad to be out of bed. You wrestled with the thought of going to investigate but stopped at the fear of running into a highly intoxicated version of your mother.

You tried to stay clear from her path if it was clear she had been drinking. This meant that you hardly were around her. She always seemed to have a drink in her hand or a migraine that made her irritated at the slightest sound. It used to bother you. In the past, you couldn’t control your anger and your mom was the perfect outlet for irrational yelling. Even hearing her pour herself a drink would send you into a fit of passionate hate. It took a few years of counseling for you to have a grasp on those furious thoughts.

As much as you tried to ignore the sounds coming from the kitchen, you were now wide awake. You still knew it was better off to let time take its course and let her find her way to the bed herself. To fill the time you pulled out your phone. You weren’t expecting to have any messages as you aren’t very close with any of your friends back home. Actually, for the last 6 months, you had kind of been a loner. There was too much pressure on you to take care of your father and be there for your friends. Eventually, everyone stopped inviting you out. Even when you did go out it was rare that you felt alive and appreciated.

This morning, though, you had a message from Shawn. You tried to ignore the tingly feeling the notification gave you, but it was too difficult. Your cheeks rushed with blood and your toes curled slightly.

“I enjoyed talking with you, (y/n). Thanks for returning my wallet xx”

You wanted to reply in a heartbeat, but you stopped when you heard another loud bang come from the kitchen. This time you couldn’t help but rush out to see what was the matter. You opened the bedroom door and what you saw left you in a feeling of despair and shame. It wasn’t your mother at all. She was still passed out on the couch with a drink still in her hand. That meant it had to be your father, and that meant there was something wrong. You scanned the room frantically. He wasn’t in the living room and there was a wet substance on the kitchen tile. Not worrying about the mess, you ran to the bathroom. The door was locked but you could see the light shining brightly through the crack.

“Pops? Are you alright?” It felt like a redundant question; he was probably throwing up. You have learned that as a grown man, he wants to feel in control. He hated when people treated him like a sick puppy. Few people knew what to ask him and when to stand their ground and do what was best for him.

That’s what it all came down to; his health. It didn’t matter what the time was, what day of the week it was, or even what country he was in. This illness was deadly and it had no sense of boundaries, it was relentless. You didn’t bother waiting for an answer, you ran to your phone and instantly called for an emergency vehicle. This may have just been a reaction to the changes in the altitude from traveling, but you didn’t want to take any chances. You were your father's everything, he was all you had. Your mom was probably going to drink herself to death, and your relationship’s all fizzled out. Without your father, you’d be on your own.

Quickly and swiftly, you wiped away the tears that appeared and you started packing bags. The last time your father was admitted to the emergency room, you guys ended up staying for a week without a way back home for clothes. You threw in clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, and an envelope that included all the insurance information and a credit card that had never been used and was the last possible resource.

Just then an aggressive knock on your door alarmed you and woke your mother up. You let the kind doctors in while also updating your mother on what was happening. She only nodded and frantically brushed her hair, shoving a piece of gum in her mouth and putting eye drops in her eyes. You just scoffed and walked away from her.

Now was not the time to worry about appearances. Until now you weren’t aware of what clothes you had on. Pajamas, appropriate enough to wear in public on occasion but obviously sleepwear. You didn’t mind though. You knew about zero people in the city and didn’t feel the need to make a proper first impression.

The emergency vehicle was parked right outside of the resort lobby, the overstimulating lights and sirens making you feel uncomfortable. Although the severity of the illness, there had been only one other time an ambulance was needed for your father.

It was before you were the main caregiver and you had just walked home from school. No one informed you that your dad was even home from work, let alone not feeling well. You remember what it felt like to hear those sirens, watch him be pushed out of the house on a stretcher and not know if he was going to come back. That same feeling was with you now, and you felt as small and helpless as you did back then.

You couldn’t focus on the pain and grief now. He was still alive, he was still breathing. You needed to move forward and prepare yourself for what was next. The hospital was a place of sadness and sorrow. You hated it with all your heart. The only happy memories that anyone ever experiences at a hospital is a birth, and the rest was all too depressing.

The smell of latex and hand sanitizer stung your nose, mixed with the sound of small sniffles and light whispers from one family member to another. It was all so miserable. You knew it was going to be a long day.

You and your mom waited in the waiting room for what felt like days but was only an hour. The doctors finally came out and said some medical stuff that basically meant your father was getting worse. Your mother broke down into hysterical tears, and you remained calm and thanked the doctor.

You hadn’t checked your phone at all and didn’t realize Shawn had texted you again. Even though you were in a state of high emotions, you somehow felt a quick sense of calmness seeing his text.

He sent a picture of him and his younger sister, baking something in the kitchen. The photo was followed with “Sheila wanted to thank you with some homemade bread. Anywhere we can deliver this heavenly loaf? xx”

You smiled internally at the thought of them baking something for you. There was something about his presence that made you feel like life was worth living. Even a simple text message from him, a small token of appreciation for your existence. It almost made you believe that life is beautiful.

You finally replied to both messages from him. “I had a great time at the Diner, too. You can hand deliver any packages to your royal highness at this address…” You tried to come off cheerful as flirtatious as you could. There was no need for him to know what was going on, or that you would be spending the day in a hospital with your terminally ill father. You tried to ignore the idea of his existence so you could focus on the stability and health of your father.

You were allowed to see him after he had been fully examined and the insurance was processed. He looked pale and grey. He was wearing one of those stereotypical hospital gowns and IV cords as unwanted accessories. The tears pricked at your eyes, but you did whatever you could to push them back. You had to be strong for him, you couldn’t let him know to see him like this hurt you. He desperately wanted to be the strong and sufficient father figure that every man aspires to be, but now that he physically couldn't you had to pretend you didn’t need any fatherly help. Even if you did, you never let it show.

“Hey Sweets, how do I look?” He joked. No matter the situation, he always made a humorous comment.

“I think you’ve looked better, Pops.” You sat at the chair close by his bed, and you grabbed his hand that was resting on his side.

“Oh, come on now I think I look pretty darn fabulous” He was resilient, nonetheless.

“Pops, you should know-“

“I’m not getting better am I?” His voice cracked, and he squeezed your hand gently. You nodded, and let the tears fall. His eyes were filled with tears as well.

Neither one of you acknowledged the hurt that found its way between your bodies. You both felt it, knew its presence had never truly gone away. It was stronger now. The hurt was more powerful every day your father lived. The longer this illness was dragged out for, the stronger the pain, the harsher the hurt.

It was going to take a miracle for your family to remain. It would take more than a miracle to keep yourself sane. You brought your lips to his hand and pressed your cheek against him. He was still warm, that was a sign of hope.

You ended up falling asleep next to your father. When you woke up you realized it was almost dark already. You didn’t know if you were so exhausted from jet lag, or from the tiring events of the day. Either way, you needed energy. You went to the coffee station in the hospital cafeteria and sat down at a comfortable lounge chair. On your way over you grabbed a sandwich and a water. Might as well try and eat something, even though you weren’t that hungry.

You were minding your own business when a doctor approached you. “(Y/n)?” He asked, continuing when you nodded. “I regret to inform you that we have strict guests policies in this part of the hospital…” You didn’t have any idea where he was going with this statement. “Unfortunately, only parents and spouses are legally allowed to stay overnight.” He was swaying side to side with his hand glued in his long white jacket. You were confused, tired, and now angry. You didn’t want to lash out at him, you were really trying not to say anything.

“Ok, thank you.” Your response was short and choppy on purpose. He asked if there was anything he could do for you, and you ignored him. You slammed the coffee and food onto the counter table and stormed away.

Sometimes the anger you felt was stronger than any meditation guide and breathing technique. You wanted to scream. You felt like you needed to scream. You ran out of the hospital and sprinted to the resort. As angry as you were that you couldn’t spend the night next to your father, you were relieved that you would be able to sleep in your own bed.

When you arrived outside the resort you felt calmer. Not completely calm, but enough to have a civil conversation with the doorman in passing. You were standing outside the elevator when you felt someone’s presence behind you, Shawn.

“Oh, hi.” You pushed the loose strands of hair behind your ear and fidgeted with the ends of your stained t-shirt. You were not expecting to be seeing him at all today.

“I was just delivering a thank you gift, flowers, and banana bread.” He nervously chuckled. You nodded and awkwardly stood near, waiting for him to say something else.

“Gosh, (y/n) did you get any sleep last night? You don’t look so good.”

“Wow, you sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself.” You would rather make a joke out of his comment than tell him the truth. You could tell by his expression he was not on the same page. “My father, he is in the hospital.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know the surprised look in his eyes. Everyone was stunned when they first hear about his illness, over time you just know better than to watch them process such information.

“(Y/n), I had no idea. I-“ He hardly finished his sentence before setting down the small gifts, and pulling you into a tight hug. One arm was wrapped around your waist, the other was holding your head to his chest. He was so much taller than you, so much stronger than you. Instead of fighting against his act of affection you leaned into it. You wrapped your arms around his muscular waist and inhaled. He smelt of vanilla and cologne again.

“I’m sorry, I don’t like to talk about it.” You mumbled, tears streaming down your rosy cheeks.

“Hey, no need to apologize. You just need to get some rest.” His voice was deep and soft. He somehow managed to show that he was not judging you in the way he spoke and held you. Without letting you go he pressed the elevator button again, and the doors immediately opened.

He was about to pull away, about to leave you alone. Something about the idea of him leaving you made you feel unsettled. You squeezed him harder, hoping he would get the hint.

“You could stay if you want.”

“Is that what you want?” He was swaying gently now, the warmth between you becoming thick and excessive.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Shawn kissed the top of your head and you practically fell, becoming weak in the knees. He swiftly turned you around and laced his fingers between yours. This feeling was incredible. More intense than anyone you had ever touched before. It was almost as if you had met in a past life and were being reconnected. The universe has a funny way of making things happen, and for once you were able to understand the beauty in all of this pain.

Taglist: [thanks to @stockholmshawn for helping edit this, go give her a follow!] @lou-and-me @yellowitsmendes

[reactionaryhistorian]

Memory Love

I couldn't sleep so decided to try watching an episode of Korean drama. I keep on hearing about K-drama and someone on twitter commented that part of its popularity was a much higher moral standard than Western shows which piqued my curiosity. I chose Memory Love at random because it came up on a YouTube search for K-drama and amnesia. I had heard that lots of K-drama contained amnesia and figured it would be fun to note my thoughts of the first episode.

Memory love is actually a Taiwanese drama which I only discovered after I had watched the episode. It's Chinese title is 噗通噗通我愛. That I failex to realise this is a demonstration of my profound ignorance of Asian dramas and renders moot my desire to check on the moral fibre of Korean shows but I'll give my thoughts anyway.

It starts with a young woman, Qiao Jia En, returning from overseas. In the airport she bumps into a young man Xing Shao Tian. Future love I interest I presume. He offers her a cake as a apology but she refuses.

She meets up with her fiance, Wang Xiu Kai, and two 'friends', Zhao Ai Li and a guy whose name I don't recall, who are (I think) a couple. I put friends in commas because they act so badly in this episode that it will be very hard for me to be convinced that they are anything but parasites. Still she seems very close to them referring Ai Li as her sister.

Jia En's has never met her father who is apparently fabulously wealthy. She possesses only a box from her dead mother (I think she is dead) that he gave to her. She debates if she should contact him. Her fiance is supportive either way but her friends say she should. They jokingly remark that they hope for some fortune when she is reunited with her father. Or at least Jia takes it as a joke, based on future behaviour I suspect they're entirely serious.

The group are suddenly attacked (in broad daylight on a busy street) by a group of thugs. Apparently the two friends have been borrowing from some less than reputable lenders. They flee and in the ensuing car chase both Jia En and Xiu Kai wind up unconscious. Simultaneously we see Shao Tian baking in some sort of show. Apparently he is an ultra high flying Chef. Mid way through he collapses and all our main characters make there way to the hospital.

At the hospital fiance dies. His heart is donated to pastry chef saving him. Finally, Jia En awakens. But she has completely lost her memory. Her friends, proving their devotion, to her decide that they should tell her that she is Ai Li so that the real Ai Li can take her place and approach her father.

At this point there is a time skip. Jia En is working at what I think is some sort of farm/rehab trying to recover her memory. This is probably not help by the fact that her two best (and apparently only given that no one is their to call them on the scam) friends are feeding her lies.

Ai Li is living with Jia En's real father the life of a millionaires daughter. And then we have a awful lot of cooking deserts, encounters between Shai Tian and Jia En, Jia En working for Shai Tian and learning to cook desert, a birthday, a celebration and all concludes with Jia En's father encountering Jia En and noticing that dun dun dun she is wearing his daughters bracelet. All in an hour. It certainly isn't slow paced.

So what were my thoughts. The acting was good. The plot, whilst relying heavily on coincidence and high notes of drama in an almost Victorian fashion, was enjoyable. I can't really comment on originality since it is the second Asian drama I have ever watched. The subtitles were very average and probably contributed to my occasional confusion about what was going on.

It was interesting to note that a girl taking the place of another as a powerful man's daughter is also the plot of the only other Asian drama I have watched 'Return of the Pearl Princess'. Is this a popular theme.

My main problem is that the show seemed to be asking us to sympathise with Ai Li. But her behaviour is utterly evil and the utter helplessness and trust in her of Jia En only makes it worse. If Ai Li is going to be a main character she needs to give me more reasons than occasional guilt to root for her. Maybe this is a fault of mine though.

I was interested to note the amount of English words used. Do Taiwanese really speak like that or is it a trendy drama thing.

Various pop songs were scattered throughout the movie at dramatic moments. They were rather annoying.

I have no idea if Taiwanese dramas share the good morals apparently present in Korean ones but there was no swearing, nudity or anything else unsuitable. It seemed clean. Of course this is only the first episode but modern western shows are often simply saturated from beginning to end.

Overall, I will watch another episode to see where it is going. Enjoyable if not a masterpiece.

[avaalons]

Chris Evans Fic: Hiking and Hypocrisy (Chapter 1)

This was born from a prompt given by the fabulous @yourtropegirl based on Anthony Mackie’s 2015 assertion to E! that all Chris Evans needs is a normal girl in his life. And, as always, I got totally carried away with it.

Hiking and Hypocrisy also features basically every trope known to man, including everyone’s favourite: there’s only one bed! Enjoy!

“Chris needs a regular girl. Chris needs a girl who is just down to earth, who’s smart and that’s hard to find,” Mackie revealed to E! News exclusively before playing golf at the 11th annual Irie Weekend benefiting the Irie Foundation. “Those girls are not celebrities. Those are not girls you know.”

Mackie continued, “Chris just needs a regular and down to earth smart girl…Somebody that can take care of him you know because he is Captain America.”

***

‘Honey, you know I love you and I know you mean well, but she’s not going to thank you when she figures out what you’ve done and I’m telling you right now that this is a bad idea,’ Sheletta tried reasoning with her husband, who was currently scrolling through his contacts to find your number.

‘How can this be bad? They’re both single and haven’t I always said that Chris just needs a steady, regular girl? I don’t know why I haven’t thought about this before now,’ Anthony’s thumb hovered over your contact, ready to call. ‘Let’s just have them over for dinner. Just once. Please?’

Sheletta threw her hands up in surrender, ‘Okay, baby, but this is on your head and yours alone. Let it be known that at this very moment, I told you it was a bad idea. I know you think Chris needs a steady girl but wants and needs don’t always match up with that guy. If she ends up getting caught in some Hollywood crossfire and getting hurt, it’s your fault, got that?’

Her husband nodded, barely even listening to a word.

‘Now I got to go get the kids from school but I’ll host on one condition: you tell her straight up what the deal is. That way she can back out if she wants to. Don’t send her in blind Anthony, for the love of God.’

‘Got it. I’ll tell her. See you in a little while honey,’ he finished as his wife walked out of the front door and he pressed ‘call’ under your name.

***

‘Hey stranger!’ You’d heard your phone ringing and a smile stretched across your face when you saw who it was. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

‘I think it’s about time we had you over for dinner. Sheletta misses you, the kids miss you and, to a lesser extent, I miss you too,’ you rolled your eyes in amusement at his comment, ‘so we need some catch up time. How’s next Friday for you?’

‘Yeah, I can do Friday. I’d love to come round and see Sheletta and the kids and, to a lesser extent, you. Any special occasion I should be aware of?’

‘No, nothing at all. Just a nice family dinner with friends.’

‘Okay, sounds great. See you around seven? I’ll bring dessert as usual.’

‘I’ll let Sheletta know. See you Friday!’

***

You’d finished work on Friday, making sure you had planned your lessons for the Monday and Tuesday and put your resources in for copying. You decided on taking your smallest class of work home to mark over the weekend and packed up your bags to head out.

You popped your head in at the door of your closest colleague’s classroom to wish them a good weekend.

‘Got any nice plans?’ Nina looked up from her pile of marking on her desk to smile at you, a wry nod towards the amount of bags you were taking home.

‘Just a tiny bit of marking this weekend, I swear! I’m going for dinner at a friends’ house tonight, I need to get home to bake dessert to take with me.’

‘Oooh, what kind of ‘friend’ are we talking here?’ She was instantly interested, marking pen paused in her hand.

‘No, nothing like that! It’s a couple that I’m friends with. They take pity on my single state every once in a while and invite me round for food so I don’t need to cook for myself on a Friday.’

‘Sweetie, you need to get out more,’ Nina shook her head, ‘I know we’re teachers but we are allowed our own lives, not just spend all our weekends marking and planning.’

‘Who are you trying to convince here, Neen, me or you? Because it’s five pm on a Friday and you’re the one still sat at your desk,’ you grinned.

‘That’s because I’m going out tomorrow. I plan to spend all tomorrow getting pampered and all of Sunday lying in my bed nursing a very bad tequila hangover. Leave the bag of marking here and come out with me and my friends tomorrow.’

‘I need to get these done though…’ you knew Nina could hear the weakness in your voice. A night out did sound incredible.

‘Come on, stop being coy. Go dump it in your room and I’ll text you the details. We need to find you a man, or get you under one at least.’

You’d already started walking back to your room but still heard her crude comments and told her so.

‘I heard that Nina!’ You called back.

‘You were supposed to, dumb ass!’

***

A couple of hours later, you were on the doorstep of the Mackie household, clutching your handbag, presents for the kids, a chocolate pecan pie in a ceramic pie dish and two bottles of wine, struggling to balance everything as you reached up for the doorbell when you heard a deep, melodic voice from behind you.

‘Here let me get that.’

An arm snaked past your head and a finger pushed the bell. You turned to look at who this mysterious stranger was, only to find a man you knew was Chris Evans.

He smiled before reaching for the pie dish and taking it from your grip so you could hold the wine bottles properly.

‘Wouldn’t want you to drop anything, especially something that looks this good,’ he told you, nodding towards the pie.

All you could do was stare, unable to find your words. What the fuck was he doing here? You knew he and Mackie had become friends over their years working together, but he’d never visited the family home as far as you were aware. You’d always figured they were ‘bros’ at work, but that their friendship hadn’t really extended into having dinner with each other’s families. Apparently you were wrong.

It was all you could do to blink and as you heard the door open behind you, you spun around to see Mackie’s smiling face.

‘So you two have already met, I see!’

And you instantly knew what was up.

***

‘Letta! He’s totally blindsided me!’ You whisper-shouted at her in the kitchen as she poured you a large glass of wine.

Mackie had taken Chris out to the back garden where he was planning on grilling dinner. You could see them through the window, laughing and drinking from beer bottles as the boys ran around playing soccer and you rolled your eyes, frustrated mainly at Mackie but also for some reason at Chris. Just his presence was annoying you, considering what Mackie had tried to set up.

‘I know sweetie, I’m so sorry. I told him and told him this was a bad idea. I told him to tell you what the deal was when he called. Asshole.’

‘What can possibly have made him think that I’d be interested in Chris fucking Evans? Does Mackie know me at all? Do I look like the type that wants to spend an evening with a dumb jock? I’m a high school teacher for Christ’s sake, I deal with enough of them at school.’

Sheletta sighed, clearly sympathetic, but then she tried to placate you, ‘Look, it’s just dinner, right? I’m going to having a few words with my husband later but it’s just a couple of hours and you never need to see Chris again if you don’t want to. But I would say, he’s an okay dude, no worse than your average charming guy who likes sports and drinking with his buddies. I think Mackie was thinking some, you know, not famous company might be good for him.’

You evened your breathing and took a sip of your wine before resolving to make the best of a bad situation.

‘Don’t worry Letta, I’ll play nice, for you. But don’t expect me to laugh at his stupid jokes or bat my eyelashes at him.’

Sheletta raised her glass to yours in a cheers, ‘I would never expect you to.’

***

‘So what is it that you do?’ Chris asked from your right hand side. Of course Anthony had manoeuvred the seating so you were sat side by side at the outdoor dining table.

Granted, it hadn’t been too awful so far. The kids had kept you entertained for the most part and Mackie and Sheletta were clearly working hard to keep the conversation flowing and prevent any awkwardness. But there had been a lull in the conversation as Mackie helped Letta take the dishes inside from the main course and fetch more beers, and the boys had run off to play with the toys you had brought them. You’d tried to get up and help Sheletta but Mackie insisted you stay exactly where you were so you slumped back in your seat reluctantly, realising you were about you be left on your own with Chris and that was exactly what Mackie wanted, of course.

You reached for your glass and settled in for some mundane and predictable conversation.

‘I’m a high school history teacher,’ you told him.

‘Brave lady,’ he grinned. ‘My mom teaches theatre groups but it tends to only be younger ones and they-‘

‘-choose to be there? Yeah, not so lucky with high school. I got to drag them all through, one way or another. They’re not bad though, it’s less of a battle than you’d think, mostly.’

‘I bet you run on sarcasm though, right?’

‘Me?! What would ever give you such an idea?’ You purposefully over-egged it for comedy effect.

‘There it is. A teenager’s best friend.’

You raised an eyebrow at him, ‘Know a lot of teenagers, do you?’

‘No, but I was one, once.’

‘And I bet you still are in your head, right?’

He inclined his head in acknowledgement, ‘Sometimes. Probably more than I’m willing to admit. But being grown up one hundred per cent of the time isn’t much fun, is it? Besides, my niece and nephews would never forgive me if I tried to be too mature all the time.’

Family man? You hadn’t expected that.

‘How many do you have?’

‘Three, two nephews, one niece. All siblings. My sister Carly’s kids.’

You worked out the implication in his words, ‘So I guess you have more than one sibling then?’

‘Yeah, two sisters, one brother. Carly, Shanna and Scott. Shanna, Scott and I all remain childless so far though, leaving the favourite child title to Carly. My mom loves being a grandma.’

You saw your opening to tease him. May as well have some fun while you were here, right?

‘Oh, so the hunt for a baby mama is on, is it? Try and get back in the good books?’

He laughed at that: at your openness or shamelessness, you didn’t know. You waited to see if he would bring up the obvious set up arrangement of the evening, but he didn’t.

‘Nah, I’m her oldest boy, I can do no wrong,’ he smiled around his bottle as he took a mouthful. ‘How about you? Big family?’

‘Not really. My parents live on the other side of the country. I don’t really see them that often but we check in from time to time. My brother is high up in a law firm in Chicago. Divorce law. I see him even less,’ you had to stop yourself rolling your eyes. You and your brother couldn’t be more different if one of you had been adopted.

‘Not a big family girl then?’

You thought for a moment. Was Chris trying to scope you out? You felt immediately on the defensive, affronted that he found it so easy to pass judgement against you. You almost told him he didn’t need to bother, that you had zero intention of ever seeing him again after tonight, but you remembered your promise to Sheletta.

‘It’s not that. I guess my family aren’t ‘big family’ people. That’s why I live out here I think. I made my own family out of friends. I’m basically a fake auntie to the Mackie kids, for example. There’s plenty of people I consider to be as close to me as family.’

You looked at him to see what his reaction was but he just smiled at you, not giving much away, and then there was a lot of hustle and bustle as the Mackies returned to the table. Anthony was weighed down with beer bottles and wine and Sheletta carried your pecan pie dessert and a jug of cream.

‘Sweetheart, this looks delicious,’ Sheletta told you as she placed the dish in the middle of the table. ‘Boys! Come and get dessert!’

‘You should serve it up, it being of your own creation and all,’ Anthony addressed you, handing you a cake knife.

‘Okay, but I’m warning you, no little slices around here. Go big or go home,’ you said jokingly but you subtly glanced at Chris as you began serving extra generous helpings of pie, expecting him to make some gym-related excuse as to why he couldn’t possibly enjoy a slice of dessert, but he didn’t. He took the plate you offered him with polite thanks and moaned his appreciation when he ate a huge spoonful.

‘This is incredible! Wasted as a teacher, clearly!’

There he went again, making assumptions about you and your life. And you resented that he talked down your career so easily. Who did he think he was to make a comment like that? He had no idea about anything to do with you, so why did he keep on insisting that he did? It would have been so easy to have made a ruthlessly sarcastic comment back, but you kept your mouth shut and your eyes trained on your dessert.

Whether Mackie and Sheletta noticed your discomfort or not, you weren’t sure, but they kept the conversation going between them and aside from the few comments that made you bristle, the evening wasn’t a total disaster you supposed. You felt exhausted though, probably from being so on edge all evening, the large elephant in the room (or patio, as was the case) shaped like a blind date weighing you down. You always had hated feeling the expectation that came with dates, like you were supposed to just switch on this charming, flirtatious version of yourself. You hated that it seemed to always be down to the woman to make the man feel at ease, feel attractive, feel funny, even if she didn’t really like him. You… well you wanted someone to feel like they needed to work a little harder to get your attention. Why should it be all on you?

The conversation circled around to weekend plans and you were asked if you were going hiking this weekend. The boys instantly tuned into the conversation and you got a chorus of ‘when we can go with you again?’

You smiled at them indulgently. You loved that they enjoyed the outdoors as much as you did, and you loved introducing them to all the skills they needed to hike safely for a whole day or even a weekend. You hadn’t done a camping hike with them yet, but you had done a full day, teaching them how to make the most of their food and how to make water drinkable if they ran out.

‘Not this weekend boys, I have somewhere to be tomorrow night. Next weekend maybe? Do you want to do all day Saturday?’

You looked to Mackie and Sheletta to check that would be all right with them and Sheletta began to nod slowly, obviously checking her calendar mentally, ensuring they had nowhere to be.

‘Wait, you hike?’ you heard Chris’ surprised voice next to you.

‘Yeah, it’s quite a normal hobby, you know, for regular people,’ you kept it light so it didn’t appear too cutting but this man was working your last nerve.

‘I just meant… I’ve always loved the outdoors and loved the idea of getting into hiking but I wouldn’t know where to start on my own and I’ve never known anyone that was into it.’

Before you could tell him that the Internet was a wonderful invention if he ever wanted to do some research, Mackie interjected.

‘Hey, I’ve got an idea, why don’t we all go next Saturday?’

There was a millisecond of silence before everyone launched in at once. Sheletta glanced at you awkwardly before saying ‘Babe…’ to her husband in her most quiet warning voice, the boys yelled out their excitement, Chris was at your side declaring that he was, in fact, free next weekend, Mackie was grinning around the table, clearly pleased with himself for coming up with such a wonderful idea and you could hear the beginnings of excuses desperately tumbling from your lips but it was no good. You’d basically walked yourself into this one by telling the boys you’d take them next weekend.

Sheletta tried and you loved her for it, ‘Anthony, she’s an expert, she doesn’t want to be stuck with three kids and three adults who are hiking amateurs. That’s hardly a good use of her weekend when she’s so busy the rest of the time with work.’

But Mackie waved her off, clearly too wrapped up in his own matchmaking attempts to pick up on the edge in Sheletta’s voice.

‘She doesn’t mind, do you?’ He stated, rather than asked, looking to you, ‘The boys go with her all the time and it’s only a one day hike. We won’t take up her whole weekend. It will be fun, all of us together. You’re up for it Chris, right?’

‘Yeah, course, count me in. Just tell me what I need.’

‘Take Chris’ number so you can text him the details,’ Mackie was on fire now. You subtly rolled your eyes at his transparent attempts to keep this thing going when you knew full well it was a pointless activity.

‘I’m sure Chris doesn’t want to give his number out to just anyone, Mackie. Can’t you just forward the details if I send them to you?’

‘That seems unnecessarily complicated. Just take it off him, he doesn’t mind.’

You sighed quietly, thinking that Mackie seemed to know an awful lot about what people did and didn’t mind tonight, but dutifully took out your phone to take Chris’ number.

‘Do I need to put you in under a pseudonym?’ You asked him teasingly as you tapped out his digits.

‘Depends, how likely are you to have your phone hacked?’ He joked back.

‘Hmm, low to zero, I would say, given my ‘nobody’ status.’

‘Then ‘Dumb Jock’ should work just fine. Unless you feel like you deal with enough of them already?’

You looked up sharply and he was grinning, knowing he’d caught you out earlier. How had he heard you say that? You and Letta had been in the kitchen and he’d been outside, hadn’t he?

‘I think I’ll just settle for Chris E,’ you looked back down quickly when your face flushed, not wanting him to see your embarrassment. You made to put your phone away when he stopped you with a hand on your arm.

‘Will you give me a callback, so I’ve got your number and I know who it is when you text?’

You looked down at his hand where it was making contact with you and you fought the urge to shake him off. Hollywood types were always so touchy-feely all the time.

When you answered, you knew you were being purposefully difficult and frosty but this was a guy who must have been so used to getting what he wanted, you just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

‘You’ll know it’s me when you get a big list of all the kit you need to get hold of by next Saturday.’

[shitkkwrites]

Closeted Feelings; Ch.1: Red Day Shenanigans

Hello @paladinquen, I’m your NedCan secret Valentine! Due to the rather wide scope of genre you gave me (honestly when I found out you were my Valentine I kind of freaked out, rip me), I decided to go focus on the Red / White Day shenanigans featuring these two fabulous dorks. This is actually split in two chapters, due to following the trend of February 14 being Red Day, and March 14 being White Day. Yes there’s a rejection scene in this, but the (happy) resolution will present itself in the second chapter, so enjoy!

Also on: ao3

Léa - Belgium, Lars - Netherlands, Henri - Luxembourg (only mentioned in passing)

2018.02.11; 3 days to D-Day

Why did he like putting everything off until the last-minute?! What was it with him and rushing things, anyway? He didn’t know why, but he was lucky to have scored the last packets of baking chocolate in the shop he’d dropped by, albeit the shop clerk had grumbled in his direction that he was cutting it way too close to the ‘rush’ that was Valentines’ Day; also known as ‘Red Day’ among the student body.

He’d even gotten a rather cheeky leer from the shopkeeper about last-minute presents and had given him a couple of molds half-price for him to make use of once he’d gotten home. Once his purchases had been wrapped up—and he’d been all but shooed out of the store—he then made his way back out on the streets and began skirting his way through the crowd. He could see a lot of people as giddy as he was, running around and making last-minute purchases for the special occasion coming in a few days, and he couldn’t blame them at all—everyone wanted the fourteenth to go off without a hitch.

To be honest, so did he.

After brushing some stray bangs that were falling into his line of vision, he looked up and continued to make his way back to his apartment—he’d agonize over all the details in private later.

2018.02.11; Brotherly Conversations

“Why are you so uptight about the fourteenth, anyway?”

That was the question that Matthew had asked his younger brother, Alfred, as the other was busy running around the kitchen in a panic. While he’d already purchased all of the obligatory chocolates that he was going to hand out in a couple of days, Alfred had insisted on making his own chocolates.

“Alfie, brother, you’re doing it wrong. Most of the obligatory chocolates, you buy. Why’re you making all of yours?” he continued, watching as his brother continued to rush around the place, trying not to melt down and cause a disaster. “I’m all set to go on that day, but you’re losing your head over something so small and trivial.”

“Mattie, bro, you don’t understand, I really want to leave an impact! Which is why I’m making it all from scratch!” the younger blonde exclaimed as he ran over to the boiling pot on the stove so he could stir the melting chocolate without risking it burning for staying on the fire too long.

“Alfie, how many times do I have to tell you, you’ve got it reversed? You only make the chocolate for the one you want to confess to! Don’t tell me you have someone in mind already?!” he exclaimed, watching as his younger brother turned around to glower at him with an embarrassed blush on his face.

“Sh-shut up, Mattie! I’m not like you, you’re oh-so-completely oblivious when it comes to acknowledging your own feelings for other people! Admit it, you’re just scared because of what happened to you before…” Alfred retorted, not realizing he’d overstepped a line in the process. He then grew silent the moment he remembered what he said, before muttering a hasty apology and returning his attention to the chocolate he was melting.

Maybe he does have a point… but… I would rather think not… the older of the two pondered to himself after listening to his brother’s tirade (yet again). It was a very sore topic for Matthew, at the very least when romance or anything similar to it was mentioned; which was why he tended to avoid it altogether. But he couldn’t help himself, though—how come this guy from another class kept on, well, trying to talk with him? He’d already made it very clear he wasn’t interested in him…

“…Alfie, do you think…” Matthew began, staring at the table while gathering his thoughts. “…do you think that exchange student…” he continued to mutter, biting his lip as he tried to find the right words to say.

“Bro, I already told you once, I’ll tell you again: quit being dense. Honestly, it’ll get you into more trouble than you’re asking for…” Alfred trailed off, holding the wooden spoon up before sighing and attacking the mound of melting chocolate in the pot. “I find it weird that I’m the younger between us, but you’re the one having problems like this. ‘s kinda weird, you know…”

“…I know, I know I’m weird, shut up,” Matthew retorted as he then stood up from the table. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

2018.02.13; Tension in the Air

“Hey, Keeks! I… I have a question for you,” Alfred called out, once he’d spotted his friend through the crowd of students. They didn’t share as many classes together as they could’ve, so talking to him in the hallways was the next best thing.

“Hai, Alfred-san, what is it?” the Japanese exchange student asked, stopping in his tracks to allow the other to catch up with him. Once the loud blonde had come in view, Alfred then blurted out the question without even thinking, “Keeks, did I get it wrong? Mattie told me that the handmade chocolates are the ones you’re supposed to give to your friends… or is it? Or did I remember this all wrong again?”

That earned a bit of a smile from the other, before he replied, “You got it wrong, you know. Your older brother is correct—the handmade chocolates are supposed to be for the person you want to… well, confess your feelings to. Everything else is the obligatory chocolates that everyone gets handed. Don’t tell me you did—” he trailed off, watching the coloration on Alfred’s face drain.

“I—what?! Seriously?!” was all he could exclaim, before the other student nodded and looked over his shoulder. “Oh, speaking of which, your brother’s here, I must go,” he muttered before giving a small bow and leaving Alfred to turn around right in time to avoid crashing into Matthew.

“See, Alfie? I told you so. You got it all wrong,” he began with a teasing grin on his face, to which Alfred responded with a very pointed eyeroll. “Yeah, yeah, no need to rub it in, geez… at least I have a lot of chocolates to eat later… wait, why’re you here? Aren’t you supposed to be in--?”

“I know, Alfie, but that’s not the point, I just wanted to talk to you about… well, remember what we talked about a few days ago? Guess what… he dropped by my class again! And this time he even talked with Carlos, so I definitely think he’s trying to stalk me!”

“What? No way, bro? He talked with Carlos? What for?!” Alfred asked, wiggling his eyebrows in Matthew’s direction.

“I don’t know! Hell, when I asked him about it, Carlos only gave me a look that said ‘it’s for me to know and for you to find out’ without even telling me what it was about! I don’t know, Alfie… things are getting weird around here…” he groaned, running his hands through his hair. He honestly had no idea why the freakishly-tall guy frequently came by to talk with his classmates before hurriedly leaving the scene whenever Matthew would catch him around the area.

Seriously, what was with him?!

2018.02.13; 2 hours before ‘Dawn of the Final Day’

“Sister, do you think I’m doing it wrong?”

The video call was on, and he was busy typing up an assignment that he had to turn in the following day. Never mind if his visits to Matthew Williams’ classroom were becoming more and more frequent, he was trying to get the courage he needed so that he could do what he was planning to accomplish tomorrow! While he’d heard from most of the students that ‘Red Day’ was when people swapped chocolates with each other, he knew that there was at least a significant difference when it came to store-bought chocolate and handmade treats.

“Well, this isn’t the first time you’ve tried doing this, right? What’s stopping you now?” came the reply from his sister over the video call. While it was pretty late for Lars, it was early morning over in Belgium—he was lucky to catch his sister Léa before she’d left for her university classes. “I know you’re nervous. I mean, it’s pretty damn obvious…”

“You think?” he continued, typing away as he added onto the essay he was trying to cram for the next day. “I don’t know if he’ll actually take the chocolate, you know. It was hell looking for the cheapest block I could find!”

“Seriously… seriously, Lars? You’re going to make chocolates, and then you use the cheapest kind?! If you’re really hell-bent on ‘confessing’ to him,” she continued, using ‘quotation marks’ as she emphasized the word ‘confessing’ before smacking her palms to her face out of sheer annoyance, “…you should’ve gone all-out and used something much better! Don’t tell me you nabbed the discount chocolate?!”

“What?! Is it so bad for me to try and save money?” he countered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the camera as he continued to type away, before realizing that half the paragraph he was working on was wrong. Huffing to himself as he highlighted and erased what he’d written, he then sighed before continuing, “You know I’m living on a budget here! It’s hard enough as it is, and I have to try and keep my scholarship! That leaves me with little to no time to look for a part-time job,” he grumbled as he snorted and began rewriting the paragraph he’d crossed out.

“Yeah, I know you are. It’s just that… do you really have to take your frugality that far? Seriously, brother… seriously…” she tsked, shaking her head and chuckling for a few moments. “Anyway, I have to go now, do you have anything you want me to tell Henri?”

“Well, just tell him I said hi, and to keep his nose out of other people’s business. You know how incredibly nosy he can get…” he grumbled as he then waved with one hand before eventually disconnecting the call. Sighing, as he knew that he might’ve messed up, he then turned his attention to the small box that contained the chocolate he was going to give Matthew the next day.

I hope nothing too bad happens… he thought to himself as he rubbed the sides of his head as he returned his attention to the essay he needed to finish.

2018.02.14, ‘D-Day’

Both Matthew and Alfred, along with the rest of the student body, had turned up to school carrying large paper bags full of the obligatory chocolates they needed to give out. While Alfred had gone to join his classmates (and was seeking out his friends in other courses), Matthew had mostly distributed his chocolates to his classmates as well as teachers he’d met throughout the day.

He’d even managed to give some to Kiku as well, and had a laugh with the Japanese exchange student as he told Matthew what Alfred had been up to, having eaten most of the chocolates he’d made the night before (and was now literally distributing handfuls of Kisses chocolates to his friends instead as some kind of weird compensation). After they’d exchanged the obligatory friendship chocolates, Matthew then made his way back to his homeroom—only to be stopped in the hallways by the person he was secretly hoping to avoid.

It was Lars van Meijer, the tall Dutch weirdo who’d stalked his classroom every single chance he could get for the past two years now. Hell, he didn’t even know why the guy had spoken with Carlos and Paolo (as well as everyone else he could approach without scaring them off in the process). Was he asking about information on him?! Who knows.

“W-well, fancy seeing you here. What do y-you want… are you…” Matthew began, stammering for a few moments before managing to pull together his best impression of a glare, looking the taller one down as a pair of light-green eyes stared at the light purple that were now boring a hole right into him. “What, i-is there something on my face?” he stammered out, suddenly running a hand over his own features to check for whatever blemishes were there—which were of course, nonexistent.

Now that Lars had finally managed to corner Matthew Williams, he’d lost the ability to articulate properly, and had settled instead for staring at the slightly shorter one, clearing his throat several times before eventually reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small, giftwrapped box.

“Cat got your tongue?” Matthew continued, now looking at him and observing the other’s actions with a curious light in his eyes. Just as he was about to skirt around the other and return to his classroom, he then felt something being pushed into his hands. Blinking at the sudden action, he then looked at the other, before staring at what was being shoved into his hands—and felt a wave pf panic rising up inside him.

No. Oh, no. No, no, no, no! What the hell is this?! He thought in a panic, before looking at the other—who was now avoiding having to look at Matthew directly. Lars was waiting for the other to accept the gift he’d made for him, his ears turning red as he waited for something—anything—to come from his intended recipient.

“…I’m sorry, I—I… I can’t accept this,” Matthew finally managed to say, once he recognized the package in his hands. “I—I would really want to, but… I c-can’t. I—I hope you understand…” he said, before dropping the box in the process and making a mad sprint down the hall towards his classroom; the better to put as much distance between himself and the strange one as fast as humanly possible.

It had taken a few moments for Lars to comprehend what had happened—a few seconds ago, Matthew Williams was right in front of him; and then when he’d thought to blink, the blonde had vanished. He thought all had gone right until he looked down and saw that the giftwrapped box he’d tried to give the other had fallen there…

What had he done wrong?!

[frivalousfelix]

Heyo i was tagged by the fabulous evidence sock @draemers. I guess i will do the taggy thing then.

How tall are you?  Idk taller than my sister called Lucy but like a centimetre shorter than my friend called Lucy. 

What colour are your eyes?  Blue but they got a cool coppery coloured ring around my pupils.

Do you wear contacts and/or glasses?  yup to the glasses and no contacts I do not wish to feel my bare eyeball

Do you wear braces? Nope, I used to though.

What is your fashion style? Mishmash things i found on my bed room floor plus my iconic green coat which is years old, smells and is actually slightly to small for me now. Oh and when i am sad i wear hoodies and fluffy socks

When were you born? 10th of November

How old are you? 17

Do you have any siblings? I have a sister plus a half brother.

What school/college do you go to? A college that needs a better heating system or I just need more adorable sweaters.

What kind of student are you? A mess that comes to school in fluffy socks, never studies but still somehow doesn't do bad in exams and refuses to answer questions by staring down teachers. Plus yesterday I pulled a crumpled folded essay out of by coat pocket and my teacher seemed slightly concerned. 

What are your favourite subjects?  English lit and religious studies

What are your favourite movies? I don’t really watch many movies but probs like Donnie Darko, any Winnie the pooh movies (i am only slightly squishy inside),  Finding Nemo, there are probs loads more i could mention but my brain isn't working. 

What are your favourite pass times? Reading, sometimes i bake, if i can be bothered I go out then I will take photos.

Do you have any regrets?  Besides my existence? I probs shouldn't have taken Biology for A level and I mean yeah I enjoy it and I could get a good grade but I am not particularly passionate about it and I kinda wish I took classics or photography or some other more humanities based subjects.

What is your dream job? I would like to write for a living but I am too unmotivated to write in the first place so umm yeah that isn't happening.

Would you like to get married? Not particularly I would get a load of cats instead but I could not look after even one cat really. I can barely look after myself.

Do you want kids? How many? I am getting a fish in ten years time and my family will beg for grandkids and I will say you have one, Gerald the Goldfish is right here. 

What was your scariest dream? Probs that one dream where I couldn't move and this monster thing was slowly like gliding towards me and so stupid me stuck my fist out so I could catch it in the face but the bastard bit me and like severed bits of fingers and stuff. Or like I have had a couple of rape themed or rape dreams I can remember. Or that dream where I was having a completely normal dream and then suddenly everything went black and I was tied up and couldn’t move and I could hear someone whispering in my ear. Basically, if I remembered the dream it was scary and all my scary dreams are horrible. Also I could talk my creepy dreams for ages.

Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend/significant other? Hah, No. 

Put your playlist on shuffle and without skipping list the first 15 songs:

well excuse my horrible music taste but:

Jdnt- Glass animals

The Beautiful people- Marilyn Manson

Destroying angel- Sneaker Pimps

As if its your last- Blackpink

Gee - Girls’ Generation

Gasoline- Halsey

Yobanashi Deceive- Jin

Tsuki To Sanagi - boku no lyric no bouyomi

Sober (live) - Bigbang

Worldwide (feat. Dok2 & The Quiett) - Jay Park

I feel you - Wonder Girls

Kantannakoto - The Oral Cigarettes

You Know what they do to guys like us in prison- my chemical romance

Ghost- Ashmute

The vampire club- Voltaire

I am tagging no one cos the idea of tagging other people is rly scary. 

[goddessofphilosophy]

True enough, they were back in New York City the next morning, in a new timezone, welcomed by Amberleighn, Hyacinth's little sister, the only one left of her siblings still residing in their Manhattan Mansion with their mother, ready for the New York Fashion Week. The Descartes' matriarch was timelessly and effortlessly beautiful as ever. Druella embraced her daughter ardently and exchanged greetings. "Hello, mother! I missed you so much!" "Oh Hyacinth Athena, you're always a darling, sweetheart! We have to discuss later about the book you published regarding motherhood. I was extremely touched." Writing was a trait she inherited from her mother. At an early age, her mother has inspired her to put into words her thoughts, to make use of her time to create and stamp memories in history. Druella was an inspiration to her though Hyacinth matured as a realist as opposed to her mother's romantic characteristics. "Later?" Hyacinth particularly noticed they were heading out, prepped up for an exciting day. "Yeah, you do your wife duties while Mom and I act like normal females," Amber teased deliberately. "This is insane! Why didn't you tell me?" Hyacinth exclaimed. "Tell you what?" Amber demanded innocently. "You never wear our family's crest unless it's Fashion Week!" Amberleighn Vernice managed to stay in New York City to work as a model, always a fan of the glitz and glamour of the fashion industry. She also helped their mother handle Vogue, a few clothing lines in collaboration with Astoria, and the chain of cafés/restaurants where their mother cater her baking and cooking skills. Hyacinth almost did an adult-tantrum but her husband was gently dragging her away from them, "Excuse us, we need to get ready for an event," then mouthed an 'I hate you' to her little sister while going up the grand staircase. Her little sister stuck her tongue out like they were still too young to even care about manners and giggled. They never grow old anyway, but when would they grow up? That's probably a never. They are kids trapped in an adult body. "My love, focus," Andréas rested his arms on his wife's lower back, ushering her towards their room and continued in a hushed voice, "This is your chance to get some of your terrorism theories across a significant audience. You can also let them know the truth about the e-mails. However, I have to warn you that some of the Trumps would definitely be there for socio-political reasons. Melania and Ivanka, perhaps. I doubt Donald is brave enough to conquer the enemy's territory. We are expecting some visitors from other states and we can turn some tables." She stood still and lingered in his eyes, she pondered how he could have deserved this man standing in front of her and she was brought back to their dinner date last night. While waiting for their orders, the waiter poured some champagne in their glasses. They have always preferred a private booth and the ambiance was perfectly soothing. There was a magnificent chandelier accented above their table, gold vases with white ribbons holding soft pink peonies, and textured beige walls which complement the baroque-style theme. "Have you heard about the Stanford rape case?" he knew better that this is a good conversation starter when it comes to his wife, asking casually knowing well she has some opinions he would like to hear. She sighed, "Oh my goodness, hon, why do you have to remind me?" She was clearly disappointed then continued, "Leah consulted me regarding the case and we knew it was coming. The crooked justice system in California, I wish we could do something about it. How could anybody sleep at night without thinking he destroyed another life? We cannot tolerate how even the justice system inculcate this unpleasant rape culture treated lightly. History will definitely repeat itself. There will be more victims. What if it was one of our greatgrandchildren? Poor kids living in a dangerous world." She sipped her champagne and relaxed a little. Although she hates to admit that she already has tons of grandkids, she always thinks about them and inspire her to continually raise awareness to make a better world for them. "What if it was our grandson who did the crime? Or what if it was our granddaughter who was the victim? I have faith in your good parenting skills, my love. Our kids will definitely raise good kids. And we'll always be here to help them out," he smiled at her, hoping she would accept the compliment. She never did, "It's not me. You have better parenting skills." Fortunately, the waiter arrived with their orders and set them up in the table. He mentioned that if they need anything, he'd always be at their service. "Thank you," they both told him, almost in unison. And then he excused himself. They started savoring the food. Hyacinth brought up her favorite topic on the table as well, "So, is Hillary sick?" Andréas took a bite of his steak and thought about it carefully, "Let's hope not. I'd like to believe she was exhausted from all those campaign endeavors. She's just human after all." "Even if it's true, I'd vote for her any day. Her platform's more feasible, beneficial. I would like to support her health system vision." "It's heartbreaking really how some people could not afford it. A sound health is a need, not an option. A healthy lifestyle is quite expensive in America. You need to spend more to survive. Alleviating the price of medicine isn't a band-aid solution, right?" "Right. Besides, where are all these talks of Trump about him being a good businessman coming from? How is that a basis for presidency? Business is different from politics. Clinton's more than prepared to carry America towards greater heights in the international realm. I'm so excited to see, for the first time, a female President for the United States. And, I already miss Michelle as a First Lady. She's just brilliant," she beamed. It's no secret she adores Michelle Obama as a friend and a person. "The Republicans choosing a presidential candidate speaking like an uneducated person," he shakes his head, "it should have been clear who should become the next President." "Are you secretly working for the Democrats? Why didn't I meet you sooner?" she giggled. He purposely caressed her one hand resting in the table, "If you are so proud of me, why aren't you wearing your wedding ring?" "I suppose you know where it is located if it's not in my finger," she avoided his eyes. "It's in your jewelry box in our dream house. But that's not important." Their dream house is in Switzerland, a two-story glass house on top of a hill, overlooking the breathtakingly wonderful city of Geneva. It was after the genuis idea of Andréas himself. It has been Hyacinth's favorite place, where she writes her books and research papers. She thought it's best to just tell him the truth and pray he will not be offended, "I knew it! There is a tracker in that ring. There is also a tracker in that white car you gave me on our first Christmas together," then she continued, losing the seriousness again, "There is no such thing as free lunch in economics, hon. It's hard to get free drinks when I wear that ring. Let's just eat, shall we?" she grinned. Once again, inside their New York City bedroom, she chose to get acquianted with her sometimes inappropriate humor instead, "You sounded like I'm going to be the bait in a den of lions." "You're more like the lion in this story," he laughed lightly. She smirked, "I hate to break this up to you now but I think I am falling in love with you all over again," she said while disentangling his necktie. "That's good," he kissed her forehead, "I love you even more." On his way to the bathroom, "Can you help me out of this dress, please?" she asked. He unzipped the back of the dress and it fell at her feet. It was his turn to ask a favor, "Won't you take a shower with me?" "I'll pick something to wear first," she pushed him to the bathroom. After ten minutes, he was out with a towel around his hip, "Tell me you are not wearing a soft purple robe in the opening of the 9/11 memorial museum." "I don't know which one to wear," she frowned at him. He's done this a thousand times before, with time his patience has become a flowing stream, free from scarcity, "Why don't you go take a shower and I'll choose for you?" She nodded and obeyed him. When he was ready, he knocked at the bathroom door and said, "Love, please don't take your time. I'll get the car. I'll be waiting for you outside." Another ten minutes later, she finally emerged from the grand French front doors of the Descartes Mansion, looking fabulous. Then she noticed an Alfa Romeo Coupe approaching with her dashing husband driving it, smiling from ear to ear. "Hey beautiful, do you need a ride?"

[tenortower6-blog]

roasted garlic hummus

This roasted garlic hummus recipe is one of our most popular recipes and always wins rave reviews. The garlic, lemon and creamy texture are just perfect!

I originally shared this Roasted Garlic Hummus and the story of the Beirut Restaurant here on March 11, 2013. I have slightly altered the text and added new images today. 

How I Fell in Love with Hummus

As ubiquitous as hummus is today, really good, authentic hummus holds a special place in my heart. Specifically, that place is also reserved for The Beirut Restaurant in Allentown, Pennsylvania. In the eighties, in South Eastern Pennsylvania, this was THE PLACE to go for delicious authentic Lebanese food. My father had spent his junior year studying at the American University of Beirut in Lebanon, and he LOVED Lebanese food. And, after eating Lebanese food at the Beirut Restaurant, I too loved Lebanese food.

Though it was an hour from where we lived in Bucks County, he made a point of being in the area a few times a summer. We’d go with a large group of my parents friends and their kids for a day trip to the fabulously tacky and kitschy amusement park, Dorney Park. We never ate the junk food at the park, because we’d save our appetites for The Beirut Restaurant afterwards. After having gone there a few times, my dad made friends with Jameel, the owner. And being the brazen guy that he was, my Dad unblinkingly lead my sister, my best friend Amanda, and me through the kitchen to get into the restaurant through the stoves with bubbling pots of fragrant delicacies. He would joke and banter in broken Arabic to Jameel and the cooks. We’d wind our ways past the life-sized plaster camels and velvet and bead-draped doorways into the main dining room where the walls were muraled with desert scenes.

There the patrons dined on mezze tables covered in small, shared plates of amazing, fresh Lebanese food. My Dad and the adults would unpack the cold six-packs of Rolling Rocks they had brought, it was BYOB; we would settle into the heavily cushioned banquettes, under the twinkle-light bedazzled ceiling. And then the food would start to come. Tabbouleh with tons of parsley and mint, supremely smooth and slightly smoky baba ghanoush, crispy nutty kebbeh and oily and pungent olives. And my favorite always was their garlicky and lemony hummus, bathed in bright green olive oil and dusted with sumac. Piles of warm pitas were tucked into any spare patch of table, but Jameel and his servers would keep the plates coming. I don’t even remember if we ever had to order, I think they just knew what we liked, and kept bringing us more and more delicious food. And if there was ever room for dessert, there was a rolling cart with all sorts of golden, nutty, honey-drizzled treats.

Perhaps the most tantalizing specialty of the house were the gorgeous and scantily clad belly-dancers, gyrating through the mezza tables. My mom (jokingly) griped that Jade, the belly dancer, was the real reason my Dad insisted we stopped there for dinner. But in truth we all loved the whole experience. It was all like another crazy ride at the amusement park.

My Dad tells me that the Beirut Restaurant is no longer owned by Jameel. Along with my memories of The Beirut Restaurant my love of really good hummus lives on. This is my roasted garlic variation. I hope it gives you a little taste of what I remember from all those years ago.

How to Make Hummus

1. Roasting garlic can be done on the stovetop or in the oven. For this recipe, I opted for roasting the garlic in the oven because there are only two heads.

2. Two heads of garlic may sound like a lot, but once the garlic is roasted, the flavors mellow quite a bit, and you’ll find they give a pleasant amount of roasted garlic flavor to the dish.

3. To roast the garlic, remove the loose papery outer pieces of garlic skin. They will become soaked with the oil, and can get mixed into the garlic otherwise. Just rub them with your fingertips to remove.

4. Cut the tips of the garlic head to expose the cloves. I like to use a serrated knife to do that which helps if the variety of garlic has a hard inner stem.

5. Place the garlic root-end down in your baking dish and then drizzle with a little oil. Cover to keep the garlic moist. Roast the garlic until it is browed and softened. To tell if it is soft, just give the heads a little squeeze: They should yield under the pressure. (Use tongs as the garlic will be hot!) Alternatively, you can poke the garlic clove to see if they are soft. They will be falling apart when they’re ready.

6. Allow the garlic to cool, then squeeze the garlic out of the skins.

7. I used canned chickpeas for this recipe, but making chickpeas from dried beans is fine. For canned chickpeas, look for those that are packed in cans that are free from BPA lining. Drain them and rinse them with cold water to remove excess sodium and starchy water.

8. The ratio of salt to lemon is important. If you want to use kosher salt instead of regular table salt, make sure you read this about subbing kosher salt for table salt first! And if you want to read more about the balance of salt and acid you can read this here.

9. Puree the hummus really well for the creamiest texture. I like to scrape the sides a few time to ensure the rough pieces are blended in.

10. At the Beirut Restaurant, the hummus always came sprinkled with sumac and drizzled generously with olive oil. I highly recommend it too though it is optional.

More Homemade Hummus Recipes:

Black Bean Hummus

Edamame Hummus

Thank you for reading. If you make this recipe, please come back and leave a star rating and review! It is so helpful!

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Description

This garlic hummus recipe never fails to win rave reviews. The roasted garlic and balance of lemon and creamy chickpeas is just perfect! Readers have reported that they make it over and over.

Ingredients

2 heads garlic

4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided

1 15 1/2-ounce can chickpeas, drained and rinsed

3 Tablespoons plus 1 ½ teaspoons fresh lemon juice (from about 1 juicy/large lemon)

2 tablespoons tahini

¾ teaspoon salt

optional garnish: sumac powder, chopped parsley and more extra-virgin olive oil for garnish

Instructions

Preheat oven to 350ºF. Rub extra papery skin off of whole heads of garlic. Cut tips off each clove of garlic with serrated knife to exposing a bit of garlic. Lay root side down on a sheet of aluminum foil or in a small baking dish. Drizzle 2 tablespoons oil over the cut end of the garlic. Crimp foil closed or cover the baking dish with foil. Roast until the garlic cloves are soft and fragrant, 45 minutes to 1 hour. Open foil and let sit until cool enough to handle.

Squeeze the garlic cloves out of their papery skin. Discard skin and transfer the cloves to a food processor. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons oil, chickpeas, lemon juice, tahini and salt and puree until completely smooth, about 1 minute. Serve sprinkled with sumac, parsley and drizzled with more olive oil if desired.

Notes

Hummus will keep covered in the fridge for up to 4 days.

Nutrition

Serving Size: 2 tablespoons

Calories: 95

Sodium: 176

Fat: 8

Fiber: 2 g

Protein: 1 g

Keywords: garlic hummus, how to make hummus

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Source: https://www.healthyseasonalrecipes.com/roasted-garlic-hummus/

[atombail7-blog]

roasted garlic hummus

This roasted garlic hummus recipe is one of our most popular recipes and always wins rave reviews. The garlic, lemon and creamy texture are just perfect!

I originally shared this Roasted Garlic Hummus and the story of the Beirut Restaurant here on March 11, 2013. I have slightly altered the text and added new images today. 

How I Fell in Love with Hummus

As ubiquitous as hummus is today, really good, authentic hummus holds a special place in my heart. Specifically, that place is also reserved for The Beirut Restaurant in Allentown, Pennsylvania. In the eighties, in South Eastern Pennsylvania, this was THE PLACE to go for delicious authentic Lebanese food. My father had spent his junior year studying at the American University of Beirut in Lebanon, and he LOVED Lebanese food. And, after eating Lebanese food at the Beirut Restaurant, I too loved Lebanese food.

Though it was an hour from where we lived in Bucks County, he made a point of being in the area a few times a summer. We’d go with a large group of my parents friends and their kids for a day trip to the fabulously tacky and kitschy amusement park, Dorney Park. We never ate the junk food at the park, because we’d save our appetites for The Beirut Restaurant afterwards. After having gone there a few times, my dad made friends with Jameel, the owner. And being the brazen guy that he was, my Dad unblinkingly lead my sister, my best friend Amanda, and me through the kitchen to get into the restaurant through the stoves with bubbling pots of fragrant delicacies. He would joke and banter in broken Arabic to Jameel and the cooks. We’d wind our ways past the life-sized plaster camels and velvet and bead-draped doorways into the main dining room where the walls were muraled with desert scenes.

There the patrons dined on mezze tables covered in small, shared plates of amazing, fresh Lebanese food. My Dad and the adults would unpack the cold six-packs of Rolling Rocks they had brought, it was BYOB; we would settle into the heavily cushioned banquettes, under the twinkle-light bedazzled ceiling. And then the food would start to come. Tabbouleh with tons of parsley and mint, supremely smooth and slightly smoky baba ghanoush, crispy nutty kebbeh and oily and pungent olives. And my favorite always was their garlicky and lemony hummus, bathed in bright green olive oil and dusted with sumac. Piles of warm pitas were tucked into any spare patch of table, but Jameel and his servers would keep the plates coming. I don’t even remember if we ever had to order, I think they just knew what we liked, and kept bringing us more and more delicious food. And if there was ever room for dessert, there was a rolling cart with all sorts of golden, nutty, honey-drizzled treats.

Perhaps the most tantalizing specialty of the house were the gorgeous and scantily clad belly-dancers, gyrating through the mezza tables. My mom (jokingly) griped that Jade, the belly dancer, was the real reason my Dad insisted we stopped there for dinner. But in truth we all loved the whole experience. It was all like another crazy ride at the amusement park.

My Dad tells me that the Beirut Restaurant is no longer owned by Jameel. Along with my memories of The Beirut Restaurant my love of really good hummus lives on. This is my roasted garlic variation. I hope it gives you a little taste of what I remember from all those years ago.

How to Make Hummus

1. Roasting garlic can be done on the stovetop or in the oven. For this recipe, I opted for roasting the garlic in the oven because there are only two heads.

2. Two heads of garlic may sound like a lot, but once the garlic is roasted, the flavors mellow quite a bit, and you’ll find they give a pleasant amount of roasted garlic flavor to the dish.

3. To roast the garlic, remove the loose papery outer pieces of garlic skin. They will become soaked with the oil, and can get mixed into the garlic otherwise. Just rub them with your fingertips to remove.

4. Cut the tips of the garlic head to expose the cloves. I like to use a serrated knife to do that which helps if the variety of garlic has a hard inner stem.

5. Place the garlic root-end down in your baking dish and then drizzle with a little oil. Cover to keep the garlic moist. Roast the garlic until it is browed and softened. To tell if it is soft, just give the heads a little squeeze: They should yield under the pressure. (Use tongs as the garlic will be hot!) Alternatively, you can poke the garlic clove to see if they are soft. They will be falling apart when they’re ready.

6. Allow the garlic to cool, then squeeze the garlic out of the skins.

7. I used canned chickpeas for this recipe, but making chickpeas from dried beans is fine. For canned chickpeas, look for those that are packed in cans that are free from BPA lining. Drain them and rinse them with cold water to remove excess sodium and starchy water.

8. The ratio of salt to lemon is important. If you want to use kosher salt instead of regular table salt, make sure you read this about subbing kosher salt for table salt first! And if you want to read more about the balance of salt and acid you can read this here.

9. Puree the hummus really well for the creamiest texture. I like to scrape the sides a few time to ensure the rough pieces are blended in.

10. At the Beirut Restaurant, the hummus always came sprinkled with sumac and drizzled generously with olive oil. I highly recommend it too though it is optional.

More Homemade Hummus Recipes:

Black Bean Hummus

Edamame Hummus

Thank you for reading. If you make this recipe, please come back and leave a star rating and review! It is so helpful!

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Description

This garlic hummus recipe never fails to win rave reviews. The roasted garlic and balance of lemon and creamy chickpeas is just perfect! Readers have reported that they make it over and over.

Ingredients

2 heads garlic

4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided

1 15 1/2-ounce can chickpeas, drained and rinsed

3 Tablespoons plus 1 ½ teaspoons fresh lemon juice (from about 1 juicy/large lemon)

2 tablespoons tahini

¾ teaspoon salt

optional garnish: sumac powder, chopped parsley and more extra-virgin olive oil for garnish

Instructions

Preheat oven to 350ºF. Rub extra papery skin off of whole heads of garlic. Cut tips off each clove of garlic with serrated knife to exposing a bit of garlic. Lay root side down on a sheet of aluminum foil or in a small baking dish. Drizzle 2 tablespoons oil over the cut end of the garlic. Crimp foil closed or cover the baking dish with foil. Roast until the garlic cloves are soft and fragrant, 45 minutes to 1 hour. Open foil and let sit until cool enough to handle.

Squeeze the garlic cloves out of their papery skin. Discard skin and transfer the cloves to a food processor. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons oil, chickpeas, lemon juice, tahini and salt and puree until completely smooth, about 1 minute. Serve sprinkled with sumac, parsley and drizzled with more olive oil if desired.

Notes

Hummus will keep covered in the fridge for up to 4 days.

Nutrition

Serving Size: 2 tablespoons

Calories: 95

Sodium: 176

Fat: 8

Fiber: 2 g

Protein: 1 g

Keywords: garlic hummus, how to make hummus

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Source: https://www.healthyseasonalrecipes.com/roasted-garlic-hummus/

[heliumrelish1-blog]

What to eat when things aren’t going so well

I. On a Sunday afternoon

I am making three lasagnas, one for a family member who was just diagnosed with lymphoma, one for a friend with a brand new baby, and one for my sister.

The baby and the cancer happened so quickly, seemingly days apart. Events like these make me broody about mortality and humans and life. In darker moments, it feels relentless, this onslaught of new babies and people I love falling sick, as if I will never possess arms open enough or heart big enough to welcome them and give them the tenderness they deserve, the protection they need. Three lasagnas: the puniest of offerings.

I bring the lasagna to family dinner, and everyone has seconds. Everyone is quiet while they chew. It is not okay. And yet.

II. On a Tuesday night, oh wait, now early Wednesday morning, oh god

I am not one to wallow, really. I think things can be really, really bad, but not apocalyptic. Modernity is simultaneously more fragile and more resilient than we think. I believe in work. Which is probably why it was a very bad idea to take off a week of work during the election.

We are having talks about normalization in our household and in popular media, and I have opinions about it. What I want everyone to know is that it’s human to normalize things, so you shouldn’t feel guilty when you do. Should you fight it? Yes. Set yourself a calendar reminder every morning at 8 am to write to your senator about Aleppo or Bannon or campaign finance reform or immigration. Automate your donations. Use behavioral psychology to help your poor lizard brain keep its focus on important issues of which it will tire. And it will tire. You will want, soon enough, to post a photo of the yuppie naturally leavened bread that you baked.

When bad things happen, there’s a bizarre insistence from other conscientious folks that we stop talking about flip things like what’s for dinner, but the fact is that we all still eat, and that the bad things are there, every single day. Similarly, the work never, ever ends. Timeliness of our response is important. Consistency, though, and settling in for the long haul, is paramount. We have to be able to, every single day, keep our brains and hearts open enough to fight injustice where you see it and drive yourself to work and take care of your babies or your health or your girlfriend and sometimes to eat dinner. These things are not of equal importance. But there they are, all contained in the span of the same 24 hours.

I’m stirring a pot of soup while calling my senator (How is he doing? I ask the answering machine. Must be weird to be that-guy-who-was-almost-vice-president). Some people’s day jobs are writing about food. Some people’s day jobs are working at a bank. Some people’s day jobs are being Senator-Almost-Vice-President. My day job is working on health systems in poor countries, but for some reason I’ve also been writing a silly blog about food (sort of) for six years. I want us all to keep our day jobs and our silly blogs and keep cooking dinner and keep fighting. These things are not mutually exclusive. I want us to work to keep them not mutually exclusive, not just for ourselves, but for everyone else. Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone else could cram fighting and working and also enjoying a meal into their days?

This is what I am committed to, the victory of the ordinary-that-is-not-ordinary. It is popular to act like sitting down to a reasonable dinner at the end of the day is a small, humble act. What a joke. It is a big, hard act, and it is a privilege.

I have a nurse practitioner friend who says that everyone medicates in some way or another. I drink more wine than I should.

III. Early Wednesday morning

We have a small copse of woods on our property, around 4 scrubby acres. It’s not much, but it’s a veritable nature preserve for the surrounding area, as the developments close in around us. Coyotes, white-tailed deer, pileated woodpeckers. The deer are a plague. We signed up for a service that links small landowners with hunters, with the aim of letting some bow hunters into the woods this season. (Yes, this is basically AirBnb for hunting. What a world.)

At first, I wasn’t sure how I felt about having strangers out killing animals in our woods. But I’ve been surprised how nice it feels to share our small sanctuary with people, and grateful for their respect and kindness. One is a wine importer, and brings gifts of ground venison alongside bottles of Brut cava. Another, an older gentleman who has retired to the aforementioned dreaded developments, is so enthusiastic it’s catching. “This is God’s country!” he shouts as he walks back in, cheeks cold and shiny red. He’s convinced there’s an eight-point buck out there. They drive in before dawn.

One day as I headed out, Tom, the wine importer, huffed and puffed through the yard, dragging a doe behind him. “Did you just get her?” I asked. “No,” he said, “I got her at first light, clean. She dropped where she stood. But then I sat and watched the morning.” He promises to bring the backstrap – the choicest cut – for us, and I promise to share with him the best venison chili recipe. He drives home, and I drive into DC.

IV. Yesterday I have been writing an essay about Dairy Queen for about six months now. I got it into my head the last time I visited my grandparents’ farm in Indiana that I was going to write this piece about Dairy Queen and taking refuge and hockey-puck-shaped Dilly Bars. I planned to take a grand writer road trip to confirm that, per this outdated website, the original Dairy Queen in Joliet, Illinois became a church and then an auto insurance office. Sometimes I overshare and tell people all about this fabulous essay that I’m sort of in the middle of writing, and I have a lot of it done, like a lot, like 10,000 words a lot, which actually is definitely too many words to write about your personal feelings about Dairy Queen.

In any event, I consider it something of a creative failure to have only been able to write part of a long, bad essay about Dairy Queen for six months. I don’t need to tell you the kind of paralyzing, sneaky, hate spiral this can send someone into, one where one doesn’t do anything at all because of the aforementioned clear creative failure.

But I do want to write more, and yesterday, at a very low moment, decided that even if it’s just a LiveJournal rant about feelings, thinly-veiled politics, soup, and dead deer, that I would do so, today. So here I am. Ben is at a conference (farmers have conferences in the winter). I am eating cold leftover Kung Pao tofu. I am writing.

Tomorrow I’ll call Tim Kaine’s answering machine again.

***

I. This lasagna – the creme fraiche is a true stroke of genius. It’s almost annoying how fabulous all of Julia Turshen’s recipes are.

II. This soup: Kenji for president

III. Best ever venison chili: Molasses! Coffee! Many chiles!

IV. Get your wok out, I made Kung Pao tofu that’s a mash-up of this (without the deep frying, sorry President Kenji), this, and this recipe. It is a process, but good. Chinkiang vinegar if you can get your hands on it; 1 tbsp red wine + 1 tbsp balsamic if you can’t.

V. Places to send your ducats, if ya got ’em: – Southern Poverty Law Center – Planned Parenthood – NAACP – Council on Islamic-American Relations – Consider supporting your local or regional or national news outlets! We need strong free press more than ever.

Source: http://casayellow.com/2016/12/06/what-to-eat-when-things-arent-going-so-well/

[clamjumper5-blog]

roasted garlic hummus

This roasted garlic hummus recipe is one of our most popular recipes and always wins rave reviews. The garlic, lemon and creamy texture are just perfect!

I originally shared this Roasted Garlic Hummus and the story of the Beirut Restaurant here on March 11, 2013. I have slightly altered the text and added new images today. 

How I Fell in Love with Hummus

As ubiquitous as hummus is today, really good, authentic hummus holds a special place in my heart. Specifically, that place is also reserved for The Beirut Restaurant in Allentown, Pennsylvania. In the eighties, in South Eastern Pennsylvania, this was THE PLACE to go for delicious authentic Lebanese food. My father had spent his junior year studying at the American University of Beirut in Lebanon, and he LOVED Lebanese food. And, after eating Lebanese food at the Beirut Restaurant, I too loved Lebanese food.

Though it was an hour from where we lived in Bucks County, he made a point of being in the area a few times a summer. We’d go with a large group of my parents friends and their kids for a day trip to the fabulously tacky and kitschy amusement park, Dorney Park. We never ate the junk food at the park, because we’d save our appetites for The Beirut Restaurant afterwards. After having gone there a few times, my dad made friends with Jameel, the owner. And being the brazen guy that he was, my Dad unblinkingly lead my sister, my best friend Amanda, and me through the kitchen to get into the restaurant through the stoves with bubbling pots of fragrant delicacies. He would joke and banter in broken Arabic to Jameel and the cooks. We’d wind our ways past the life-sized plaster camels and velvet and bead-draped doorways into the main dining room where the walls were muraled with desert scenes.

There the patrons dined on mezze tables covered in small, shared plates of amazing, fresh Lebanese food. My Dad and the adults would unpack the cold six-packs of Rolling Rocks they had brought, it was BYOB; we would settle into the heavily cushioned banquettes, under the twinkle-light bedazzled ceiling. And then the food would start to come. Tabbouleh with tons of parsley and mint, supremely smooth and slightly smoky baba ghanoush, crispy nutty kebbeh and oily and pungent olives. And my favorite always was their garlicky and lemony hummus, bathed in bright green olive oil and dusted with sumac. Piles of warm pitas were tucked into any spare patch of table, but Jameel and his servers would keep the plates coming. I don’t even remember if we ever had to order, I think they just knew what we liked, and kept bringing us more and more delicious food. And if there was ever room for dessert, there was a rolling cart with all sorts of golden, nutty, honey-drizzled treats.

Perhaps the most tantalizing specialty of the house were the gorgeous and scantily clad belly-dancers, gyrating through the mezza tables. My mom (jokingly) griped that Jade, the belly dancer, was the real reason my Dad insisted we stopped there for dinner. But in truth we all loved the whole experience. It was all like another crazy ride at the amusement park.

My Dad tells me that the Beirut Restaurant is no longer owned by Jameel. Along with my memories of The Beirut Restaurant my love of really good hummus lives on. This is my roasted garlic variation. I hope it gives you a little taste of what I remember from all those years ago.

How to Make Hummus

1. Roasting garlic can be done on the stovetop or in the oven. For this recipe, I opted for roasting the garlic in the oven because there are only two heads.

2. Two heads of garlic may sound like a lot, but once the garlic is roasted, the flavors mellow quite a bit, and you’ll find they give a pleasant amount of roasted garlic flavor to the dish.

3. To roast the garlic, remove the loose papery outer pieces of garlic skin. They will become soaked with the oil, and can get mixed into the garlic otherwise. Just rub them with your fingertips to remove.

4. Cut the tips of the garlic head to expose the cloves. I like to use a serrated knife to do that which helps if the variety of garlic has a hard inner stem.

5. Place the garlic root-end down in your baking dish and then drizzle with a little oil. Cover to keep the garlic moist. Roast the garlic until it is browed and softened. To tell if it is soft, just give the heads a little squeeze: They should yield under the pressure. (Use tongs as the garlic will be hot!) Alternatively, you can poke the garlic clove to see if they are soft. They will be falling apart when they’re ready.

6. Allow the garlic to cool, then squeeze the garlic out of the skins.

7. I used canned chickpeas for this recipe, but making chickpeas from dried beans is fine. For canned chickpeas, look for those that are packed in cans that are free from BPA lining. Drain them and rinse them with cold water to remove excess sodium and starchy water.

8. The ratio of salt to lemon is important. If you want to use kosher salt instead of regular table salt, make sure you read this about subbing kosher salt for table salt first! And if you want to read more about the balance of salt and acid you can read this here.

9. Puree the hummus really well for the creamiest texture. I like to scrape the sides a few time to ensure the rough pieces are blended in.

10. At the Beirut Restaurant, the hummus always came sprinkled with sumac and drizzled generously with olive oil. I highly recommend it too though it is optional.

More Homemade Hummus Recipes:

Black Bean Hummus

Edamame Hummus

Thank you for reading. If you make this recipe, please come back and leave a star rating and review! It is so helpful!

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Description

This garlic hummus recipe never fails to win rave reviews. The roasted garlic and balance of lemon and creamy chickpeas is just perfect! Readers have reported that they make it over and over.

Ingredients

2 heads garlic

4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided

1 15 1/2-ounce can chickpeas, drained and rinsed

3 Tablespoons plus 1 ½ teaspoons fresh lemon juice (from about 1 juicy/large lemon)

2 tablespoons tahini

¾ teaspoon salt

optional garnish: sumac powder, chopped parsley and more extra-virgin olive oil for garnish

Instructions

Preheat oven to 350ºF. Rub extra papery skin off of whole heads of garlic. Cut tips off each clove of garlic with serrated knife to exposing a bit of garlic. Lay root side down on a sheet of aluminum foil or in a small baking dish. Drizzle 2 tablespoons oil over the cut end of the garlic. Crimp foil closed or cover the baking dish with foil. Roast until the garlic cloves are soft and fragrant, 45 minutes to 1 hour. Open foil and let sit until cool enough to handle.

Squeeze the garlic cloves out of their papery skin. Discard skin and transfer the cloves to a food processor. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons oil, chickpeas, lemon juice, tahini and salt and puree until completely smooth, about 1 minute. Serve sprinkled with sumac, parsley and drizzled with more olive oil if desired.

Notes

Hummus will keep covered in the fridge for up to 4 days.

Nutrition

Serving Size: 2 tablespoons

Calories: 95

Sodium: 176

Fat: 8

Fiber: 2 g

Protein: 1 g

Keywords: garlic hummus, how to make hummus

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[chardscarf12-blog]

roasted garlic hummus

This roasted garlic hummus recipe is one of our most popular recipes and always wins rave reviews. The garlic, lemon and creamy texture are just perfect!

I originally shared this Roasted Garlic Hummus and the story of the Beirut Restaurant here on March 11, 2013. I have slightly altered the text and added new images today. 

How I Fell in Love with Hummus

As ubiquitous as hummus is today, really good, authentic hummus holds a special place in my heart. Specifically, that place is also reserved for The Beirut Restaurant in Allentown, Pennsylvania. In the eighties, in South Eastern Pennsylvania, this was THE PLACE to go for delicious authentic Lebanese food. My father had spent his junior year studying at the American University of Beirut in Lebanon, and he LOVED Lebanese food. And, after eating Lebanese food at the Beirut Restaurant, I too loved Lebanese food.

Though it was an hour from where we lived in Bucks County, he made a point of being in the area a few times a summer. We’d go with a large group of my parents friends and their kids for a day trip to the fabulously tacky and kitschy amusement park, Dorney Park. We never ate the junk food at the park, because we’d save our appetites for The Beirut Restaurant afterwards. After having gone there a few times, my dad made friends with Jameel, the owner. And being the brazen guy that he was, my Dad unblinkingly lead my sister, my best friend Amanda, and me through the kitchen to get into the restaurant through the stoves with bubbling pots of fragrant delicacies. He would joke and banter in broken Arabic to Jameel and the cooks. We’d wind our ways past the life-sized plaster camels and velvet and bead-draped doorways into the main dining room where the walls were muraled with desert scenes.

There the patrons dined on mezze tables covered in small, shared plates of amazing, fresh Lebanese food. My Dad and the adults would unpack the cold six-packs of Rolling Rocks they had brought, it was BYOB; we would settle into the heavily cushioned banquettes, under the twinkle-light bedazzled ceiling. And then the food would start to come. Tabbouleh with tons of parsley and mint, supremely smooth and slightly smoky baba ghanoush, crispy nutty kebbeh and oily and pungent olives. And my favorite always was their garlicky and lemony hummus, bathed in bright green olive oil and dusted with sumac. Piles of warm pitas were tucked into any spare patch of table, but Jameel and his servers would keep the plates coming. I don’t even remember if we ever had to order, I think they just knew what we liked, and kept bringing us more and more delicious food. And if there was ever room for dessert, there was a rolling cart with all sorts of golden, nutty, honey-drizzled treats.

Perhaps the most tantalizing specialty of the house were the gorgeous and scantily clad belly-dancers, gyrating through the mezza tables. My mom (jokingly) griped that Jade, the belly dancer, was the real reason my Dad insisted we stopped there for dinner. But in truth we all loved the whole experience. It was all like another crazy ride at the amusement park.

My Dad tells me that the Beirut Restaurant is no longer owned by Jameel. Along with my memories of The Beirut Restaurant my love of really good hummus lives on. This is my roasted garlic variation. I hope it gives you a little taste of what I remember from all those years ago.

How to Make Hummus

1. Roasting garlic can be done on the stovetop or in the oven. For this recipe, I opted for roasting the garlic in the oven because there are only two heads.

2. Two heads of garlic may sound like a lot, but once the garlic is roasted, the flavors mellow quite a bit, and you’ll find they give a pleasant amount of roasted garlic flavor to the dish.

3. To roast the garlic, remove the loose papery outer pieces of garlic skin. They will become soaked with the oil, and can get mixed into the garlic otherwise. Just rub them with your fingertips to remove.

4. Cut the tips of the garlic head to expose the cloves. I like to use a serrated knife to do that which helps if the variety of garlic has a hard inner stem.

5. Place the garlic root-end down in your baking dish and then drizzle with a little oil. Cover to keep the garlic moist. Roast the garlic until it is browed and softened. To tell if it is soft, just give the heads a little squeeze: They should yield under the pressure. (Use tongs as the garlic will be hot!) Alternatively, you can poke the garlic clove to see if they are soft. They will be falling apart when they’re ready.

6. Allow the garlic to cool, then squeeze the garlic out of the skins.

7. I used canned chickpeas for this recipe, but making chickpeas from dried beans is fine. For canned chickpeas, look for those that are packed in cans that are free from BPA lining. Drain them and rinse them with cold water to remove excess sodium and starchy water.

8. The ratio of salt to lemon is important. If you want to use kosher salt instead of regular table salt, make sure you read this about subbing kosher salt for table salt first! And if you want to read more about the balance of salt and acid you can read this here.

9. Puree the hummus really well for the creamiest texture. I like to scrape the sides a few time to ensure the rough pieces are blended in.

10. At the Beirut Restaurant, the hummus always came sprinkled with sumac and drizzled generously with olive oil. I highly recommend it too though it is optional.

More Homemade Hummus Recipes:

Black Bean Hummus

Edamame Hummus

Thank you for reading. If you make this recipe, please come back and leave a star rating and review! It is so helpful!

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Description

This garlic hummus recipe never fails to win rave reviews. The roasted garlic and balance of lemon and creamy chickpeas is just perfect! Readers have reported that they make it over and over.

Ingredients

2 heads garlic

4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided

1 15 1/2-ounce can chickpeas, drained and rinsed

3 Tablespoons plus 1 ½ teaspoons fresh lemon juice (from about 1 juicy/large lemon)

2 tablespoons tahini

¾ teaspoon salt

optional garnish: sumac powder, chopped parsley and more extra-virgin olive oil for garnish

Instructions

Preheat oven to 350ºF. Rub extra papery skin off of whole heads of garlic. Cut tips off each clove of garlic with serrated knife to exposing a bit of garlic. Lay root side down on a sheet of aluminum foil or in a small baking dish. Drizzle 2 tablespoons oil over the cut end of the garlic. Crimp foil closed or cover the baking dish with foil. Roast until the garlic cloves are soft and fragrant, 45 minutes to 1 hour. Open foil and let sit until cool enough to handle.

Squeeze the garlic cloves out of their papery skin. Discard skin and transfer the cloves to a food processor. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons oil, chickpeas, lemon juice, tahini and salt and puree until completely smooth, about 1 minute. Serve sprinkled with sumac, parsley and drizzled with more olive oil if desired.

Notes

Hummus will keep covered in the fridge for up to 4 days.

Nutrition

Serving Size: 2 tablespoons

Calories: 95

Sodium: 176

Fat: 8

Fiber: 2 g

Protein: 1 g

Keywords: garlic hummus, how to make hummus

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[quicksilversquared]

The Mock Wedding

Alya and Nino eloped. Their friends and family, not willing to be cheated out of a wedding, throw their own.

Of course, just throwing a simple celebration would be too tame. So their friends decide to mix things up.

(a sister story to Scoring the Wedding)

(AO3) (FF.net)

Saying that nobody was happy when Nino and Alya eloped while they were on vacation was quite possibly the understatement of the year.

"But I wanted to walk you up the aisle," Alya's dad said mournfully.

"But I was going to make your dress!" Marinette exclaimed.

"But I wanted to throw flowers!" Alya's sisters cried.

"But we wanted to get revenge for the prank you pulled at our wedding!" Alix and Kim complained in startling unison.

"It was just so romantic on vacation that we couldn't wait," Alya said with a sheepish smile. "We did get pictures, if that helps?"

It did not help.

"I wanted to plan something great for their wedding," Kim sulked later that afternoon as the whole crew (minus Alya and Nino, who were with Nino's parents, and plus Alya's sisters, who had tagged along with Adrien and Marinette) crowded into Adrien and Marinette's apartment. "I don't know what, exactly, but it would have been great."

"Maybe Alya and Nino could have a reception sort of thing in Paris?" Rose suggested. "I think I've heard about things like that being done before, like when someone has a destination wedding but wants to be able to celebrate it when they get back. Maybe they could even do a renewal of vows sort of thing or something beforehand."

"Typically, vow renewals are not done until the second anniversary at the earliest," Max said, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose. "They are more common at five, ten, fifteen, or more years."

Kim groaned. "I am not waiting for fifteen years to get my revenge on them."

"So just a reception sort of thing, then," Mylene said. "That would be easy enough to do."

"Except then they'll be expecting it," Alix objected. "They'll just be waiting for us to do something. It won't be a surprise."

"So what can we do?" Kim asked, frowning. "We can't just not do anything..."

There was a long pause as everyone thought.

"Maybe we could...act out a wedding?" Mylene suggested timidly. "And make it funny somehow?"

No one looked particularly convinced. Alya's sisters exchanged a look.

"This whole thing just seems backwards to me," Nathaniel said with a sigh. "We're throwing a wedding for them and inviting them instead of them throwing their own wedding and inviting us. What else are we going to do backwards?"

"Oh," Alya's sisters said in unison. They turned to each to each other and whispered to each other, giggling as they did. The whole group watched as the two girls whispered and giggled for a long minute.

"Do you guys have an idea?" Kim finally asked when it because apparent that neither girl was particularly inclined to share. "Because we'd love to hear it."

There was another shared glance and a giggle before Angele spoke up. "You wouldn't want to do it."

"Kim will do anything if you dare him," Marinette said with a shrug. "And maybe your idea will give us ideas we could use."

"Well, we thought if you were doing things backwards, maybe you could dress backwards, too," Marie explained.

There was a confused pause.

"Like, put our shirts on the wrong way?" Nathaniel asked, confused. "And our pants? I don't think I'd be able to sit if I put my pants on backwards."

"Or- oh! Do you mean, like, the girls dress up like guys and guys dress up like girls?" Alix asked. Her face lit up. "Hey, Kim, I bet you would look fabulous in a tutu."

Kim froze and then sent a glare towards his wife. "I'm not gonna wear a tutu!"

"I dare you to wear a tutu to Alya and Nino's wedding event thing," Alix said immediately. Kim spluttered.

"Oh, come on! That's not playing fair!" Kim complained, ignoring the snickers going around the room. "You know I can't turn down a dare- fine! I'll do it, but you have to find one that fits me!"

"No problem," Alix said cheerfully, and they shook on it. As they turned back to the group, Alix winked at Marinette and they both grinned in silent understanding. Whatever tutu Alix found would be bedazzled to the limit before it got handed to Kim.

"I like that idea," Rose said.

Juleka nodded in agreement. "It would be rad."

"You would like it, you're a girl," Kim pointed out. "Girls can wear suits and look normal. Guys can't wear dresses and look normal!"

"Actually-" Adrien started, before he was cut off by Kim.

"You don't count, model boy!"

"You'll be wearing a tutu anyway, Kim," Marinette pointed out. "So I don't see why you're protesting so much. If all of the other boys are wearing dressed, you won't look so weird."

There was a pause as Kim considered that, and then he nodded frantically. "Actually, I've just had a sudden change of heart. 100% yes, let's do this."

Max and Nathaniel both groaned and Ivan made a face. Adrien didn't look particularly bothered.

"Next question: where do we get the outfits and when should we do this?" Alix asked. "I obviously wouldn't fit into any of Kim's suits."

"I'm sure that between all of the boys we can find something that at least kind of fits," Marinette pointed out. "I can use fabric tape to do some temporary hems if pant legs and sleeves are too long."

"Does that mean that you girls will be letting us borrow dresses?" Nathaniel asked.

"Or skirts and blouses," Rose said. Her eyes lit up and she clapped her hands to her face in glee. "Ooh, I have this lovely purple blouse that would look great with your hair!"

"We could either do this on a weekend or late on a weekday," Marinette said before they could get too deep into discussion about women's fashion. "It might be hard to do on a weekday, since Alya works late sometimes. We'd have to put it on their schedule in advance."

"Wait, how are we going to surprise Nino and Alya if we need to tell them about it first?" Ivan asked. "They'll just see it coming- well, they won't see the outfits coming, maybe, but they'll know we're up to something."

Marie perked up. "Hey, we could get our parents to tell Alya and Nino that they want to have a picnic with their new in-laws! We would need to go on our mom's day off or get her to take half a day off for the picnic, though."

"When's her day off?" Marinette asked immediately.

"Wednesdays. There aren't as many people in the hotel then. But she can usually get Tuesday afternoons off without a problem," Angele said. She pulled out her phone. "I can text Mom now and ask! Then we would know for sure."

"Make sure she won't tell Alya," Rose said as Angele texted furiously. "Or be vague about it and then tell your parents the details later. Will your father have trouble getting time off work?"

"Oh no," Marie assured them. "He never does. There's enough interns at the zoo to keep things running, as long as at least one of the head zookeepers is there. He'll just have to give them a week's notice of how much time he wants off."

The room fell silent for a moment, and then Angele's phone let out a ding and she pulled it out. She read the message with Marie hanging over her shoulder, and then both of them grinned. "Mom approves! She's texting Nino's parents to make sure they can do Wednesday afternoon, two weeks out."

"Wouldn't it be a riot if we could get the parents to dress up as well?" Alix asked with a grin. "Imagine Nino's face if his father wore a dress!"

"But then we would have to see our parents dressed up funny," Angele complained, making a face. "I'd be scarred for life!"

"I think it would be funny," Marie said immediately. She practically pounced on Angele as her phone let out a ding. "What did she say?"

"Date and time is confirmed," Angele announced. "Wednesday, two weeks out. If we do it after five, then we won't have to worry about them taking any time off. Mom suggested that we set up earlier so we're ready and then Nino's parents will drive them to wherever we're having this and since it's summer, we should have plenty of daylight still."

"So we still need to find a park," Marinette confirmed.

"I can do that," Mylene offered immediately. "Most places don't need reservations for a picnic, but I can always check."

"That would be great, Mylene!" Marinette exclaimed. "Okay, so does everybody have that down? Wednesday the 16th, be at the park probably around three-thirty to four to set stuff up and get ready. I'll see if my parents can bake us a few treats."

"And we can ask my mom to cook some things," Marie volunteered. "She was planning on cooking for Alya's wedding anyway."

"I'll bring drinks," Rose called.

"Wait, the 16th?"

The jovial mood in the room promptly froze at the question. All eyes turned to Adrien, who suddenly looked more than a little uncertain.

"That's the week my cousin is visiting," Adrien explained with a grimace. "I really want to do this, obviously, but I don't know if I'd be able to make it. My father would probably want me to spend time with Felix while he's here."

"Well, he could come along," Kim said with a shrug. "The more the merrier."

"Felix isn't exactly the kind that would enjoy something like this," Adrien said with a laugh and another grimace. "He's...serious."

"Well, there's no harm in asking, right?" Marinette pointed out. "Maybe he'd be interested in meeting all of us. Or maybe he'd want to spend a day with your father."

"I'll ask," Adrien said after a moment. His grin turned rueful. "Felix isn't going to know what he got himself into."

   Felix Agreste wasn't quite sure what he had gotten himself into.

He had come to Paris to visit his cousin and uncle for a week before returning home and for the first day, everything had gone normally. His cousin had picked him up at the airport, accompanied by his chauffeur, and they had driven back to Agreste Mansion. Adrien normally didn't stay there anymore, his cousin had explained, since he shared an apartment with his fiancée, but he would be returning to his childhood home for the week so he could spend more time with Felix while he was in the country. Felix had met the fiancée in question later that afternoon, and she seemed kind and pretty and normal enough.

Felix was starting to regret that first assumption.

"I don't understand," Felix said as he watched his cousin join a small blond pixie of a woman in hanging paper flowers in the park that they had driven to, just outside of the city limits. "What are you trying to accomplish here?"

"Our friends Nino and Alya went and eloped while they were on vacation," Adrien informed Felix, tacking one end of a flower chain to a tree branch. He reached for the end of a long, gauzy bolt of cloth to hang next. "So none of us got to go to their wedding. That was very rude of them, since we've only been looking forward to it for forever, so we're making up for it with staging another wedding."

"I see," said Felix, who really didn't see at all. "And is your fiancée joining us for this mock wedding?"

Adrien grinned, as he seemed inclined to do whenever Marinette was mentioned. It was slightly sickening. "Yeah, she is! She and her family will be coming later. They're making a cake for us. Alya's family is making some other refreshments."

"Isn't that the person who eloped? Her family knows about this?" Felix was more than a little puzzled about that. "Wouldn't they tell her? They're going along with this?"

The blonde pixie- Rose, Felix thought she was called- giggled from over where she was erecting a flower-covered arch in the front of the clearing they had claimed. "They weren't happy about Alya and Nino eloping either. We were brainstorming about what we could do in front of Alya's younger sisters and they hopped on it and persuaded their parents to get involved." More giggling. "They came up with the twist, too."

"A twist?" That was the first Felix had heard of a twist. "Do I even want to know?"

The snickers that came after his question told Felix that no, he probably did not want to know. He sighed, groaned, and buried his face in the novel he had brought with him.

More and more people arrived as the afternoon dragged on. More decorations went up, turning the park alcove into a full-fledged wedding set-up. Folding chairs were set up in rows, a couple flower pots decorated the front, and two long tables were set up at the back. Rose abandoned her decorating for a few minutes to dash off and returned with a rolling cooler and a punch bowl. Snacks filled up the table once what Felix assumed was Alya's family arrived, and Felix found himself dreading the day even more once he saw the age of Alya's sisters. He had thought that they would be about the same age as Adrien and his friends, hopefully a little older or only a little younger.

Instead, they appeared to be in their early teens. Felix didn't want to know what kinds of ideas girls at that age might come up with for a "twist" for the wedding.

Adrien cheered and abandoned his preparations as Marinette's family's car pulled up. A giant of a man got out of the front and gave Adrien a high-five before rounding to the back and pulling out a large cake box. Marinette and her mother hopped out of the car as well, and Felix could hear Adrien's squeal from all the way across the park when he saw the box of croissants that Marinette was carrying under her arm.

Felix remembered his cousin being a lot more normal the last time they saw each other, but perhaps that was because Adrien had been visiting him and his father had been around the entire time.

Another girl was getting out of the Dupain-Cheng car, pulling a large box out behind her. She, like Marinette, was for some reason wearing a suit.

Actually, now that Felix really looked around, quite a few of the girls in their group seemed to be wearing suits. Even Rose, who had been dressed in a pretty floral skirt and a pink blouse earlier, was now wearing a light grey suit. It looked a little funky- clearly it wasn't tailored for her measurements- so Felix guessed that it was probably borrowed. Most of the other suits looked the same way.

Felix was puzzled, to say the least.

"We can use the bathroom as a changing room!" a short guy with glasses- Matthew, maybe? Max? Felix wasn't certain- called over the chatter from the group. "No one else is here right now, it'll be fine!"

Felix was suddenly struck by a feeling of dread. No one else is here? Changing room?

Why was anyone changing anything? It didn't make sense.

"D'you want to join, Felix?" Adrien asked, popping up next to him. In one hand Adrien held an hanger with a red dress hanging from it. On any other day, Felix would have said that it was a gorgeous dress- it was a lovely shade and with a fabulous design. The cut was absolutely stunning.

But Felix was suspicious now, especially since he had just spotted a blond wig in Adrien's other hand.

"Join what?" Felix asked suspiciously. "I want to know what I'm getting into before I agree to anything."

Adrien laughed at that. "We're dressing up for the 'wedding'. Marinette found this-" he held up the dress, and Felix spotted a plunging neckline "-for me to wear."

Yeah, how about no.

"I think I'll pass," Felix managed, taking a step back. "Uh, you go do you."

Adrien shrugged, apparently unconcerned by Felix's disinterest. "Okay. See you later, then."

Felix held his tongue as his cousin trotted off, still holding the dress and the wig. The whole mock wedding thing was weird in the first place; this cross-dressing, which had to be the "twist" that Alya's sisters had dreamed up, was beyond weird.

Felix sure hoped that some of the refreshments were alcoholic, because he was going to need it at this rate.

The group of friends and assorted family members grew larger. The women looked all right, even with the ill-fitting suits. Some had opted for dress shirts and dressy slacks, which on the whole looked better, but Felix could tell that the shoulders were designed for someone with larger shoulders. The men...

Well, he was going to need either therapy or a whole lot of alcohol after this.

To be fair, there were times when men could look good in dresses, Felix knew that. He had been around the fashion industry long enough to see it done fantastically.

This was not done fantastically.

While the ladies had at least been fairly consistent with their outfits, then men had not bothered. Adrien was wearing the slinky red dress with a plunging neckline (Felix wanted to scrub his eyes), and a couple of the other men were wearing proper dresses as well. Ivan and Marinette's father were wearing dress shirts and appeared to have tied curtains around their waists.

Oddest yet was the man wandering around with a dress shirt, slacks, and a tutu that looked like it had been hit by a glitter bomb or ten. Little pink rhinestone hearts decorated the fabric.

"It was a dare," the man insisted when he caught Felix staring, like that explained everything. It didn't. He held out his hand. "I'm Kim. You must be Adrien's cousin."

"That is correct," Felix managed before Kim and his tutu were off again.

"Alright, everyone! Nino's parents are driving Alya and Nino out now," Marinette called as she hopped up onto a chair. Everyone's attention went to her. "If you could all get into place, that would be great! If you have a wig, put it on now. We have a couple more but they're, uh..."

She held up a brilliantly yellow wig. Felix guessed that her next words would probably have been either "ugly", "tacky", "godawful", or all of the above. Those were the words that he would have used.

There was a stampeding of feet as people jumped into their chairs. Marinette tucked her hair into a cap and took her place up near the front of the room. She was apparently serving as the Best Man.

"I still don't understand the point of the cross-dressing," Felix said when Adrien swung by to check on him. "It's utterly bizarre."

Adrien grinned, adjusting the low-plunging neckline on his dress. Felix cringed and tried not to stare. "It makes it funny. Otherwise, we're just faking a wedding. This makes it memorable."

"I'm gonna have to bleach my brain."

That garnered a laugh from Adrien. "Come on, Felix. It's not that bad."

"You're wearing a wig. And high heels. And that dress."

"It's a perfectly lovely dress," Adrien argued with a grin. "It looks fabulous on Mari."

Felix could believe that. However, it did not look fabulous on Adrien, not by a long shot. It didn't fit, especially around the hips, and the proportions were off-

-and yeah, he definitely needed a drink or five if he was already starting to try to figure out how to fix everything and make it look good.

"It's not meant to look good," Adrien said with a laugh, and Felix realized he had accidentally spoken aloud. "We're trying to embarrass Nino and Alya. It's the funny factor."

Felix wasn't even going to try to argue with that, mostly because it was going to give him a headache.

As people settled, Felix fled to the back row, closest to the refreshments table. He eyed it up, trying to decide if he wanted to snitch anything. He wasn't immediately spotting anything remotely alcoholic, unless the punch bowls were spiked.

Considering the presence of two young teens, he sincerely doubted that.

Felix eyed up the coolers under the table next. Those looked a little more promising, but he wasn't about to go digging around there, since he was a guest. It would be rude, and he wasn't going to stoop down to that.

Well, not yet, at least. He was keeping it as an option. It was very possible that as soon as the "wedding" got underway he would be in immediate need of a stiff drink, but he could maybe manage for now. Maybe.

(It was looking less and less likely by the minute.)

Felix sat in silence for a few more minutes, watching as people rushed to and fro. Marinette rushed past him at one point, directing the girl who was apparently her cousin to sit in one of the remaining open chairs. Felix wondered for a moment why her cousin wasn't sitting with Marinette's parents, and then he realized that her mother was standing in as the minister and her father was being the "mother" of the "bride".

"You look like the only remaining sane person here," the girl said with a laugh as she slid into the chair next to Felix. "They couldn't persuade you to wear a skirt?"

"They didn't try. My cousin knows that I would not partake in such foolishness." Felix straightened his spine as he eyed his new neighbor. She was dressed in a suit, just like her cousin. It seemed to fit her a bit better than some of the other suits people were wearing at first glance- the hems weren't dragging, and the cuffs weren't hanging over her hands- but this close up, Felix could see the fit issues and where the hem had obviously been taped up. It was a Gabriel design, which made Felix suspect that Marinette had probably raided Adrien's closet for the pieces. Knowing Adrien, he probably hadn't protested at all.

The girl laughed again, seemingly unperturbed by Felix's coolness. "Lucky. My cousin wouldn't take no for an answer and then my aunt and uncle ganged up on me. I didn't stand a chance."

"They all seem quite excited about it," Felix commented, inclining his head towards the rest of the chattering group. "Even with the wigs."

His new neighbor outright snorted at that. "Those are quite awful, aren't they? Marinette bought them yesterday. These aren't even the worst of the lot."

Felix raised an eyebrow at that. "No?"

She grinned. "No, the worst is this awful tomato-red wig that's, like, nearly a meter long. The 'bride' is wearing it."

Felix groaned.

"Oh! I've forgotten my manners." The girl extended a hand towards Felix. "I'm Bridgette, Marinette's cousin. I dropped in on my way back from London and found them getting ready for this."

Felix shook her hand. "Felix Agreste. Adrien's cousin." He sent a dark look in his cousin's direction. "My cousin knew I was coming but somehow thought I might enjoy this."

The group abruptly fell silent as the sound of a car crunching over the gravel grew louder. Everyone turned eagerly towards the sound, waiting for Alya and Nino to appear. Felix turned despite himself, watching as the car pulled to a stop. The door swung open and the newly married couple stepped out, looking torn between confused and amused as they glanced around at the assembled group.

Felix could tell the exact moment when they realized that the clothing had been swapped on their "guests". Alya's eyes went wide first and she elbowed her husband, pointing to Adrien. Nino's mouth dropped and he groaned, turning away to bang his forehead against the top of the car.

"You guys, what on earth," Alya said with a laugh, stepping forward and letting her eyes sweep over the crowd. "What are you doing?"

"We were expecting to attend a wedding, and we were robbed," Marinette said from where she stood at the front. She grinned at her friends. "And since it's a bit backwards for us to throw you a party, we decided to do some other stuff backwards as well."

"Oh my god."

"Now sit, sit," Nino's mother said, hopping out of the car and pushing the new couple into the chairs that had been set out specifically for them. "Sit and enjoy, now."

Then, to Felix's horror, what could only be described as dubstep wedding music started pouring out of an old, beat-up radio someone had brought along. The "groom" (one of Alya's sisters) appeared at the altar, joining the mock wedding party, and the "mother" and "father" of the "bride" escorted the red-wig-wearing monstrosity down the center aisle.

The fake bride was so dressed up that Felix couldn't even figure out who they might be. It was a guy for sure- the very flat chest and broad shoulders kind of gave it away- but their face was completely obscured by the awful red wig. Long bangs covered the eyes and the rest of the wig hung loose, hiding the person's cheeks as well. Someone had managed to persuade whoever-it-was to put on lipstick in a red that clashed with their hair. They had even managed to find a wedding gown of sorts, though it looked like perhaps it had been either in an attic for a while or scavenged from the discount bin at a thrift store.

Felix's hand twitched towards the cooler.

The dressed-up trio headed up the aisle and then the "ceremony" started. A few people passed by their group, staring curiously as they went, and Felix found himself sinking lower in his seat every time. He definitely should have taken up his uncle's offer to show him around the business. It would be boring, yes, but he also wouldn't be squirming around in his seat from intense secondhand embarrassment. Or maybe he should have run off to a cafe or a library for the afternoon, that also would have been a fabulous idea...

"Look at Nino and Alya," Bridgette hissed, elbowing Felix's side. "Oh my god, their faces..."

Felix glanced over in the couple's direction and had to smile. Nino and Alya looked just as embarrassed as he felt, probably because they actually knew this group of weirdos.

"I gotta take a picture of that," Bridgette said with a grin, holding up the camera that had been laying in her lap and snapping a few shots. She then turned and took a few pictures of the "wedding party" up front. "Oh, this is great."

"You're one of them," Felix accused, pointing a finger at his neighbor. "You're enjoying this."

Bridgette shrugged. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. It's better than hiding away behind a book like you're doing." She snapped another picture. "And it's fun. C'mon, can't you see at least a little humor in it?"

Felix grumbled.

By the time the "bride" and "groom" exchanged cheek kisses, Felix had finally caved and snuck around to the refreshments table to snatch a bottle of wine from the cooler. Bridgette had accepted a few sips before going back to snapping photos, so Felix sipped away at the bottle by himself. Both his father and his uncle would have an aneurysm if they saw him, but Felix wasn't about to tell either of them. By the time the "wedding" finished and everyone filed back to the "reception area" (aka the tables of food, but apparently they couldn't just say that), nearly half of the bottle was gone.

"Really, Felix," Adrien sighed, trying to swipe the bottle from him and missing. "Did you really have to?"

"I did," Felix said haughtily, taking another swig. "How else am I supposed to bleach the image of you in that dress out of my brain?"

   Alya and Nino were having a wild day- or, rather, a wild afternoon. They had planned for a nice dinner with their parents and Alya's sisters in a park just outside of a city, and so when they got there they were more than a little surprised to walk in on what at first glance seemed to be a wedding.

On second glance, it turned out to be a wedding sort of thing where a bunch of weirdos were cross-dressing.

And on third glance, it turned out that the weirdos were their friends.

"I regret ever becoming friends with these people," Nino hissed as someone who possibly may have been Nathaniel headed down the makeshift aisle in a tacky wedding gown, followed by Marinette's father in a makeshift skirt and Alya's mother in a suit.

"Kim did say that he was going to get revenge on us for the scoring," Alya hissed back. "I guess this is the revenge."

"I'm gonna die of embarrassment," Nino groaned three minutes later as a large family passed by the clearing, staring all the while.

"That's what they want," Alya said grimly as she watched her sister recite possibly the most ridiculous "vows" she had ever heard. Unless she was hearing things, Marie had just promised "not to get married without inviting my friends and family".

So apparently this was one part revenge for Alix and Kim's wedding and one part revenge for eloping. And their families had even gotten involved, the traitors. The only reasonable people left were Adrien's cousin, who was looking as though he was seriously regretting his decision to tag along with Adrien, and Marinette's cousin, who was sitting with him.

Of course, calling the latter reasonable might be a stretch. She had pulled out a camera and was snapping photos of everyone. It would probably be fabulous blackmail material- Kim had somehow been roped into wearing the most bedazzled tutu they had ever seen, and Adrien was wearing a gorgeous red dress of Marinette's. It looked better on Marinette.

"Adrien probably picked that dress out himself, the nerd," Nino said as the "wedding" wrapped up and everyone cheered. "Kim was probably forced."

"Kim was probably dared," Alya corrected, standing up and pulling Nino to his feet so they could greet their friends. "That's all it takes to get him to do anything."

"True enough."

"How did you like the wedding?" Adrien asked, coming up to them with a grin. "Wasn't it great?"

"Couldn't you have worn a different dress?" Nino groaned in response. "Really, anything would have been better-"

"Almost anything," Alya corrected as visions of Adrien trying to fit himself into a little black dress filled her mind. Hopefully he wouldn't take Nino's words as a challenge.

"You sound like Felix," Adrien said cheerfully, adjusting the left shoulder of the dress so it wasn't in danger of slipping off. Adrien's gaze slid to the side for a moment and he sighed. "Speaking of Felix, excuse me for a minute. I need to go steal that bottle away from him before he drinks all of it."

"I think Felix had the right idea," Nino hissed as Adrien took off again, wobbling a little in the high heels he had donned. "Drink this out of our memory."

"Nino."

"He couldn't have picked a more cringy dress if he tried," Nino insisted, and Alya sighed again.

"It isn't that bad," she insisted even as the "bride" passed them, waving and nearly tripping over the hem of their outdated dress. "He could have been wearing Mari's short black dress- you know, the one she bought specifically for teasing him because it shows so much skin? That would have been bad."

Nino looked slightly ill. Alya laughed and turned her attention to the friends that were coming up to talk to them. They all looked ridiculous, but their enthusiasm was undeniable. Congratulations poured in from all corners as Alya and Nino visited with their friends and snacked on the mountain of snacks and treats that Rose, Alya's family, and the Dupain-Chengs had provided. It was actually pretty enjoyable, even with the cringe-worthy costumes.

They could deal with the embarrassing friends- they knew exactly what they were doing, the nerds- and they would exact their own revenge on their other classmates as they, too, paired off and got married. It really wasn't anything more than they had done to Kim and Alix.

Alya let herself snort with laughter as she reached for an unopened can of nuts. She'd let this slide, just this once. At least their goofy friends had thought to provide some snacks for them to eat after they finished with their caricature of a wedding-

She popped the lid off and a paper snake shot out, making her scream. Around her, people gasped in surprise- all except one, who wore a very suspicious smirk.

Oh, he was going down.

"KIIIIIIIM!"

Like Scoring the Wedding, this was also based off of something that happened during a wedding in my (extended) family. One of my mom's cousins got married in secret (something about her husband-to-be not wanting an ex-wife to find out), and as a sort of revenge the rest of the family threw a "wedding" and cross-dressed for it. My great-grandma played the role of the minister.

This event was also the first time my dad met the rest of my mom's family. When my dad first met my mom's brother, my uncle was wearing a skirt and a bright yellow wig. I am impressed that he didn't go running for the hills.