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supernovafics · 11 months ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 (𝟏)

PART ONE | PART TWO

pairing: singledad!steve harrington x divorcedmom!fem!reader

word count: 9.4k words

summary: in which you hate him and he hates you— and that mutual disliking is perhaps the only thing you and him agree on. you make it your mission to avoid and ignore steve at all costs, and nothing more or less than withering stares and annoyed eye rolls are shared among you both whenever you have to see each other, which luckily isn’t that often. but when your son and his daughter end up in the same first-grade class and quickly become friends, it forces things to change between you two. it means that you and him also have to be friends, or, at the very least, tolerate each other’s presence. which is something that is much easier said than done

warnings: modern!au, enemies (to friends) to lovers, steve and reader are in their late 20s/early 30s, bestfriend!eddie, mentions of cheating/an affair (reader’s ex was an absolute asshole), explicit language, some angst

author’s note: i had the idea for this lil two part mini series (and have been working on it on and off) for like a thousand years at this point and i'm so glad and excited that it's finally free from the jail cell that is my google docs lol. i really really wanted to finish this and have it up before this year was over, so part two is coming new year's eve<3333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

For the first time in the past two weeks, you were early. Granted it was only by two minutes, but you still counted that as a win.

You stepped out of your car and headed to where the other parents were on the sidewalk, waiting for school to be over and the kids to come out. You inwardly ran through the list of things that you still had to do today— on a Friday that should’ve been calm, but instead, it had been pretty hectic.

It felt like pure luck that you were able to step away from your coffee shop for thirty minutes to pick up Oliver from school. God bless Jude for being willing to take over the rush that was happening. She was your favorite employee, and you knew that she definitely deserved a raise for being able to effectively keep up with the insanity that the last two weeks brought.

That transition from summer into the beginning of the new school year was harder than you had anticipated, and you knew it was mainly because this time last year you weren’t running a business full-time when Oliver had been starting Kindergarten. Instead, the coffee shop was still just an idea, a dream, that felt like it solely lived in your head; even though it had actually been in its final stages, and with each passing day, you only got closer and closer to that October opening date. And when the long-awaited opening finally came, it actually didn’t alleviate an ounce of your stress; instead, it was only increased practically tenfold.

You’d never say it out loud for fear of being deemed as a bad mom, but it was so fucking hard juggling everything and trying to handle it all.

However, somehow, you were doing it and you were actually doing it pretty well. Although at most times it felt like you were so close to drowning, for the time being, your head was completely above water.

You kept running through your mental to-do list as you waited for the time to go from 2:29pm to 2:30pm, indicating the official end of the school day.

Call the vendors that supply the coffee beans and teas and see if they can change the next delivery date, finalize the work schedule for next week, prep the ingredients for the pastries that will be baked tomorrow—

Your eyes instinctively went to check the time on your watch right as the first handful of kids came barreling out of the front doors.

When you saw Olly, you waved until his eyes landed on you and he immediately smiled.

Suddenly, you couldn’t care less about the time and the rest of the shit that you needed to do throughout the day.

“I made a new friend!” Were the first words he said to you when he came over to where you stood.

“That’s awesome!” You kneeled down so that you were pretty much at eye level with him. Hearing him say that made your heart feel so happy. You knew how shy he could be and he rarely ever talked about any kids that he was friends with, especially not with this much enthusiasm. “Who is it?”

“Maddie,” He answered and then pointed in the direction of where you assumed the girl was standing.

There were a handful of kids standing with their parents in the direction Olly was pointing to about ten or fifteen feet away, but when he further specified that she was “the girl holding the blue lunchbox,” you saw her. A girl with brown hair who was smiling at her dad who was smiling back at her and holding a hand up so that she could give it a high five.

You recognized him immediately.

In your mind, his name was “the worst person in the world.” In reality, his name was Steve Harrington.

You didn’t really pay attention to him until this past January because your kids weren’t in the same Kindergarten class. You actually didn’t even learn that he was the only other single parent in the grade until then.

It was one of your New Year’s resolutions to become more active and involved in school activities, PTA meetings, etc. Mainly because you knew that the other Kindergarten moms were judging you for barely doing anything aside from the occasional bake sale and the school was way too small for you to slip under the radar and not be noticed; those moms noticed everything.

Therefore, on the first meeting back after the Winter holiday break, you were there— five minutes late, but there nonetheless. Although, it could’ve been assumed that everyone thought you were an hour late with the amount of withering looks you received when you entered the gymnasium.

You offered a small apologetic smile and made a mental note to never be even a minute late again.

Leslie, the PTA president, was droning on and on about what big things were planned for the second half of the school year— somehow dragging out a short list of things that you thought could’ve been simply sent out in a mass email— when Steve walked in fifteen minutes after you. You fully expected him to receive the same type of annoyed looks that you had gotten, and maybe even more because he showed up later than you, but he got nothing but happy smiles from the majority of the moms.

That complete opposite reaction severely confused you and you wondered how he was able to receive such niceness when all you got was the coldest of shoulders.

Meeting after meeting it was continuously proven that he was the favorite among the moms, and it didn’t take you too long to learn why. He was a charmer, which everyone absolutely loved, and he seemed to effortlessly throw money at any school activity or fundraising event, another reason why he was so goddamn adored.

You were probably the only one that didn’t give a fuck about his charming personality, and instead, you would inwardly roll your eyes or scoff at pretty much anything he’d say and how easily the moms ate it up. Because when you really looked at it, you two were pretty much doing the same exact things— only moderately participating in events, showing up to the big monthly meetings instead of the weekly ones (and he was still always late to them), and not signing up for fields trips or activities that happened during school hours because of how overly demanding your jobs were; you’d learned from one particularly chatty mom that he worked at a pretty intense marketing firm. However, there was such a stark difference in treatment because he was the “hot single dad that gave a lot of money;” all of the moms practically fell at his feet and seemed to only tolerate you.

Maybe it was a hint of jealousy talking, but he still always managed to piss you off and you didn’t like him at all. It was an animosity that was perhaps just one-sided, and you hated yourself for caring so much, but that changed in April; during a moment where if the circumstances were different, it would’ve felt like some sort of romcom-esque “meet cute.” But, you basically despised Steve, so instead the whole situation just made your blood boil.

It was a Thursday at almost five o’clock during parent-teacher conference week; it was the only day that could work in your insanely busy schedule and you managed to get the latest time slot with Oliver’s teacher. You were pacing in the hallway where all three of the Kindergarten classrooms were; a coffee in one hand, because it was the only thing keeping you going that late in the day, and your phone in the other as you texted back an employee who was having problems with the oven. You were seconds away from calling him— because you knew that the issue would probably be solved quicker if you did so— but before you could, you were bombarded by someone who was quickly coming around the corner and they crashed into you. The abrupt collision was forceful enough to make your drink spill on you and your phone slip out of your hand.

You glanced down at your now coffee-stained white shirt and then up at the person who had caused this mess, and of course, it was Steve Harrington standing in front of you. You had to fight the immediate urge to roll your eyes.

“Oh, shit. My bad,” He quickly said. “I’m minutes away from being late for my parent-teacher meeting, so I was rushing from the parking lot. Now it really does make sense why teachers always said no running in the halls, right? Because something like this can happen.” As he rambled, you picked up your phone off the ground, glad that it wasn’t broken, and then you tossed your now mostly empty coffee cup into the trash can nearby. When you looked back at him, you saw that he was fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. “Anyway, maybe I can pay for your dry cleaning? Or so you can at least get another coffee later or tomorrow?”

If it had been anyone else, you would’ve thought that the gesture was nice. But, since it was coming from Steve Harrington it only pissed you off because, of course, money was his immediate thought solution.

That time it was too difficult to not allow yourself to roll your eyes at him. “Y’know, throwing money at everything doesn’t make you a good dad. It actually makes you kind of an asshole.”

You knew that you were being a little too harsh, but it was still too hard to feel completely regretful about your words; you were pissed at this current situation that was fully caused by him and you were also pissed simply because he was him.

You weren’t sure what you expected Steve to respond with, but he easily matched your angry energy. He narrowed his eyes at you. “Well, at least, I can do something. You barely show up to things and can’t give money to make up for it, so how much of a ‘good mom’ does that make you?”

Before you could say anything in response to that— a response that probably would’ve started and ended with a simple “Fuck you”— you heard your name being called from behind you by Oliver’s teacher. With everything happening with the man in front of you right then, you’d almost forgotten the meeting you were at the school for in the first place.

Instead of saying anything to Steve, you simply buttoned up the black cardigan you were wearing to cover the majority of the coffee stain on your shirt and then walked away from him, putting on a smile and greeting Miss Wilson.

It wasn’t outwardly stated right then, but it was pretty much sealed then that this disliking could no longer be confused for being something that was one-sided. You two hadn’t said any words to each other since that moment in the hallway, and instead only annoyed looks and glares were shared anytime you saw one another; which lucky for you, actually wasn’t too frequent.

On the first day of school, you learned that his daughter was in the same First Grade class as Oliver due to the emergency contact form all the parents had to fill out, which was then condensed into one sheet and shared among everyone for “just in case” purposes, and Steve’s name and number was on there. You really didn’t think it would be that big of a deal because you could still avoid him like the plague that he was, and that was exactly what you’d been doing for the last two weeks.

However, you did not think that your kids would become friends.

“Can we have a playdate tomorrow?” Oliver asked.

You racked your brain for a response; a way to say no without actually saying it because you really did hate disappointing him. “Oh, um, this weekend is gonna be really busy. But, maybe soon though, okay?”

He frowned a bit but still nodded. “Okay.”

You held out your hand so that he could slip his in and then you started heading to your car.

“We have to go back to the coffee shop for a few more hours before we can go home. But, how does pizza for dinner tonight sound?” You asked as you buckled him in his car seat. The offer was an attempt to cheer him up and you hoped it worked; probably like every other six-year-old, Oliver loved pizza.

He smiled at that. “Ooh, yeah, that’s good.”

You smiled back at him and inwardly hoped that this playdate idea would blow over over the next few days. And that the thought of you having to spend any sort of willing time with Steve Harrington would become a scary thought that only occasionally haunted your dreams, instead of it being something that actually became real.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Of course, it did not blow over.

Excuse after excuse would fall from your lips, but Olly was determined and your words of “Today’s really busy” or “This weekend probably won’t be good” didn’t discourage him from continuing to ask.

As the days came and went and a week passed with Olly asking the same question each day, you were so close to sucking it up and calling Steve and finally setting something up, but you were still way too fucking prideful to do so.

That didn’t stop you from thinking about doing it most days, though. But it was easier not to think about it when you were busying yourself at the coffee shop, and it was almost too easy to make yourself busy in some way there. And that was something that didn’t change on this Friday.

Oliver was sitting in his favorite booth working on homework and you were behind the counter, making a simple hot chocolate for the older woman who would come in almost every afternoon, typically around four o’clock.

“Enjoy,” You said with a smile as you handed her the drink.

Things in the coffee shop were calm and quiet, and you were about to go see if Oliver needed any help with the worksheets he was doing, but then your phone started vibrating in your back pocket. When you grabbed it, you saw that it was a random number calling, and maybe you should’ve thought about that fact more before answering, but you didn’t.

“Hello?”

“Has Oliver asked to have a playdate with Madeline?” You quickly recognized Steve’s voice.

You let out a small sigh. “At least once a day since last Friday.”

“Same here with Maddie,” Steve said and then let out a sigh of his own. “We need to let this happen. I don’t think either of them are gonna let it go.”

At first, you didn’t say anything in response to his words. You wanted to disagree with Steve, but you knew that you couldn’t because it was the truth. And then there was the fact that every time you gave some sort of fake excuse to Olly, you would feel like the worst parent ever, so maybe it would be best to just finally let this happen. “You’re right. Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yes,” He answered. “We can just do a quick thing at the park if that’s good?”

That was exactly what you were about to suggest, but you didn't tell him that. “Yeah, that’s fine. Is twelve okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Steve didn’t say anything in response to you and instead simply ended the call there. The lack of an actual goodbye almost made you want to roll your eyes in annoyance, but you didn’t because you knew that you probably would’ve done the same thing to him.

You put your phone back in your pocket and walked over to the two-person booth Oliver was sitting at, sliding in across from him. “Hey, bud, I have really fun news. You and Maddie are finally gonna have your playdate tomorrow.”

Seeing the elated grin immediately take over his face made the fact that you’d be spending a few hours with Steve Harrington tomorrow worth it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You never thought you’d witness a moment where Steve was actually on time for something, but for once he was. When you pulled into the small parking lot of the park, you already saw him sitting on one of the wooden benches that surrounded the playground watching Maddie go down a slide.

Moments after the car was put in park, Oliver was unbuckling himself and rushing to get out so that he could head over to where Maddie was. You could only smile at his enthusiasm before telling him to slow down and be careful.

You took your time walking over to where Steve was because of how much you were dreading it, and for a moment you debated whether or not you should sit next to him or go to the bench that was empty and a few feet away. Ultimately, you decided to just sit next to him; you could be civil for a couple of hours.

“Hi,” You said as you sat down on the wooden bench.

He looked at you just for a second before turning back to the playground. “Hey.”

“How are you?” You asked. It was always easy to go into the mundane small talk you’d have all day with customers; aside from the ones that were the regulars that you knew too well and couldn’t simply ask how they were doing without actually meaning it.

“Good,” Steve responded. “You?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You answered with a small nod.

A silence that could only be deemed as awkward began to linger in the air because it felt as if there was absolutely nothing else to say. If he was a customer, you would’ve simply taken his order and he would have walked away by now, but obviously, this wasn’t that kind of interaction. The only sound that could be heard was the handful of other parents with their children and your own kids looking happier than ever.

It could’ve been easy for you to make some joke to Steve about how weird this entire situation felt because of how much animosity you had toward each other and now there you two were on a sort of playdate of your own because of your kids. And then the two of you would have laughed about this current set of circumstances, and maybe that would’ve allowed things to actually start to feel somewhat okay. But, it just felt way too hard to let yourself actually be civil toward him, even though you had told yourself that you would be.

“I’m very surprised you’re actually on time for something. After all the PTA meetings, I thought you were incapable of it,” You said, still staring straight ahead as you then took a sip from the water you had in your hand.

“And you’re late, which is not surprising,” He told you with a small scoff.

Aside from that first time you had been late for the meeting, there was one other time where you were late again and, of course, that was also the one time where Steve managed to be a little bit earlier than you. Given that he had been late countless times, you felt that it was both stupid and unwarranted for him to use the single time he saw you late against you.

“Whatever,” You said as you rolled your eyes. “Not that I even owe you an explanation for being only five minutes late today, but the coffee shop was starting to have a rush right before me and Olly were about to leave, and I didn’t want to leave my employee right then to completely fend for himself.”

“That’s interesting because every time I drive by the place, it looks the complete opposite of busy.”

Perhaps this entire conversation immediately taking the shittiest turn was your fault because you “fired the first shot,” but his words felt equivalent to a low blow. You pretended as if you were completely unaffected by them and tried your hardest not to recognize the slight validity behind them— the coffee shop had its peak times and also its deserted moments, and maybe sometimes it did feel a bit more deserted than not, but you were surviving and right then that was all that mattered you.

You glared harshly at him although he wasn’t even looking back at you. Muttering a “Fuck you” was right on the tip of your tongue, but you bit it back and instead got up from the bench and started moving to an empty one. Steve didn’t say anything else to you and instead seemed completely unfazed by you walking away from him.

You watched Oliver and Maddie talking and laughing at the top of a slide that was big enough to fit both of them and they went down it together. Seeing how happy Olly was and knowing that this was the first friend he actually wanted to spend time with outside of school, made dealing with Steve’s bullshit right then completely okay with you.

When two o’clock rolled around, you were waving Oliver over to you, much to his dismay.

“I know it’s time to go, but can we all get food together?” He asked when he walked over to you.

For once, the excuse for saying no that you were about to tell him wasn’t a made-up one. “We gotta go pick Eddie up from the airport, remember? Also, he told me that he has a bunch of cool stuff to give you from California.”

“Oh, yeah,” Oliver said, a smile taking over his face. “I almost forgot he was coming today.”

He went over to where Maddie was now standing with Steve and he gave her a quick hug goodbye before running back over to you.

Instead of giving any sort of verbal goodbye to Steve, you simply gave him a small wave. It was hard to wrap your head around the fact that you’d now probably have to see him more often than not. With how happy Oliver and Maddie looked playing together, you knew that today definitely wouldn’t just be a one-time thing.

Somehow with the wave Steve gave back to you, you could tell that he knew that too.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You were in no way related to Eddie Munson, but he felt more like family than your actual family.

He was the first person you met when you moved to Hawkins three years ago. After going through a messy divorce that felt like it had actively taken at least ten years off of your life, it felt so goddamn nice to immediately make a friend in this town that was completely new to you.

Coming from Chicago, a city that had always felt way too big for you, any small town sounded perfect in your eyes, and you were able to find a cheap-ish house in Hawkins, so it was the winner.

You met Eddie at a grocery store a week after you’d moved in. It was also your birthday, a fact that three-year-old Oliver didn’t fail to tell Eddie when you accidentally bumped into him— quite literally crashed your cart into the guy— in the bread aisle.

“Happy birthday,” He had said to you and you gave him a small smile before proceeding to say another sorry for bumping your cart into him. He then looked at Oliver. “Are you gonna bake a birthday cake for her?”

Oliver visibly brightened and turned to you. “Ooh, yeah, can we bake a cake?”

“Sure,” You nodded and smiled at his eagerness.

He smiled widely and then looked back at Eddie. “Can you come over and help us make it?”

“Oh, um…” Eddie’s eyes met yours to see what you wanted him to say.

“You can, if you want,” You told him and you genuinely meant your words. He seemed normal, and even though this was a small town, he was the first person who had been so outwardly nice to you and Olly.

“Okay, yeah, I’d love to help,” He said with a nod. “I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You told him your name and then gestured to Olly. “And this is Oliver.”

“Sorry for suggesting this idea and contributing to the sugar high that will probably be happening tonight,” Eddie told you as you moved to the next aisle where all of the baking stuff was, you were giving Oliver full reign over what cake mix you got.

“Apology not accepted,” You responded but still smiled at him.

Many hours later, when the cake was baked and Oliver was tucked away in bed after having two pieces of it, you pulled out a bottle of wine for you and Eddie to drink. And then because of the wine and because of the fact that birthdays always managed to bring something severely melancholic out of you, you started crying to him about your divorce that had just been finalized, the affair that your husband had with his coworker being the catalyst for said divorce, and how you felt so weirdly alone in this new town but also not at all alone because you had Oliver.

Somehow none of that managed to scare him away— even though you would’ve been completely understanding if it had— and a friendship had been cemented ever since.

Eight months ago, he moved to California because of a huge opportunity he got with his music; it was something he had been waiting for for so many years. You had called it a “big break,” but he thought that sounded too pretentious.

You hadn’t really wanted him to leave, he was your best friend— your only friend in this town— but you were also so happy for him. And the distance actually managed to feel somewhat okay because you two would talk all the time and he’d visit every few months.

Oliver especially didn’t mind the distance because whenever Eddie did come back to Hawkins for a visit, it always meant that he’d get some cool new toys from him. And this time proved to be no different.

The three of you were in the coffee shop. It was quiet right then— you didn’t think about Steve’s words from earlier— and you watched Eddie smile at Oliver as he animatedly talked about something, you assumed he was telling Eddie about Madeline.

Moments later, Eddie walked over to where you stood behind the counter, beginning the clean-up process because you were closing in about an hour.

“It’s really nice seeing how fucking– I mean fudging,” He turned around to see if Oliver heard what he’d just said, but Olly was too busy playing with his new red toy car to hear anything. “Happy he is. All he’s been doing is rambling about his new friend.”

“Yeah, it’s really great,” You said, smiling as you thought about how happy he had been at the park earlier. You then thought about Steve and inwardly sighed. “Well, for the most part.”

“Why? Is she a bad influence or something? I didn’t think there could be bad influences in first grade,” Eddie said and then laughed a bit. “Actually, scratch that, I was definitely a bad influence in first grade.”

An amused look crossed your face. “You talk a lot about this “bad boy persona” you used to have, but I don’t know if I really believe it because all I see is a guy that actually enjoys buying toys for a six-year-old.”

He smiled at that. “I changed. Turned over a new leaf.”

“Mhm, got it,” You responded, your voice slightly sarcastic because it was still hard to imagine Eddie as anything other than the nice guy who baked a cake with you and Oliver on your birthday. “Anyway, though, it’s not the girl that’s the problem; she’s really sweet and nice. It’s her parent that’s the worst person in the world.”

Eddie nodded. “Okay, tell me all about this mean mom drama.”

“It’s a dad, actually,” You said and then started explaining everything that you had never said aloud before. You told Eddie all of it— how Steve was so easily able to throw money at anything the school needed, how he was basically treated like a King among the other moms because of that, the incident that happened last year during parent-teacher conference week where everything between you two fully came to a head, and the shitty conversation you had with him at the park only hours earlier.

“Wow, I’ve missed a lot. I can’t believe you have a nemesis, and I also can’t believe you never told me about him.”

“He’s the last thing I ever want to think about, let alone talk about. If it wasn’t for Oliver becoming friends with his daughter, you wouldn’t be hearing about him. Also, I feel like “nemesis” is a bit of an exaggeration.”

“I can call him your mortal enemy, if you want,” Eddie said with a teasing smile and you only rolled your eyes in response, refraining from flipping him off. “What’s his name? Maybe I know him. Aside from you, people rarely ever move to this town for fun, so he’s probably been here his whole life.”

You actually never thought about the potential of Eddie knowing Steve, although it was completely plausible given the reason your friend just mentioned.

“Steve Harrington.”

“Oh.”

From Eddie’s reaction, the answer to your next question seemed pretty obvious but you still decided to ask it. “You know him?”

“Yeah, we were in high school at the same time.”

“Okay, what was he like?”

“All the typical high school stuff. He was a popular guy, played sports, was kind of a jerk but pretty much all of the girls still loved him.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “That sounds very accurate.”

“By the end of it, though, he seemed like somewhat of a changed guy. Got his heart broken by the nice girl, and then became friends with actual good people,” Eddie told you, and that was the one part of his description of the Steve that he had known that managed to actually surprise you. “I didn’t know he had a kid now.”

“Yup, and he’s also changed back into the jerk that you originally knew him as in high school,” You said. “And the most fuc— fudged up part of it all is that we should be friends. Which probably makes me sound crazy because of everything I just said, but it’s true. Me and him are basically in the same boat— the only single parents in the grade, we both have time-consuming jobs, and now even our kids are friends with each other. It would just make sense if we were actually friends too.”

“I mean, you still could be, right?”

You immediately shook your head. “Wrong. There’s no way that could ever happen.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The rest of September and most of October flew by with what felt like an abrupt kind of quickness.

Absolutely nothing changed between you and Steve, even with Eddie’s idea that maybe it could. The only time the two of you talked to each other was if it involved your kids and if you were setting up the day and time for another park playdate, which quickly managed to become a weekly thing because of how adamant Oliver and Madeline were— just like you assumed they’d be.

It may have seemed a little weird, these brief conversations you’d have with one another that were nothing more and nothing less than transactional, but it worked perfectly for you two.

“This weekend is gonna be pretty busy for me, so is tomorrow after school good?” You asked Steve. A PTA meeting had just ended and you and him were lingering by the same exit that the kids would come out of when school was over.

You were pretty close to not showing up to this Thursday night meeting, but you knew that you had to because it was about the Winter Carnival happening in December. It was a huge event that would be an “all hands on deck” kind of situation, which was why they talked about it so far in advance and why attendance at any meeting discussing it was pretty much mandatory.

Steve shook his head at your question. “I have this big work thing tomorrow, so I have to pick up Maddie and then drop her off at the babysitter before rushing back to the city.”

You nodded understandingly at his words. A part of you knew that you should have left it at that, because you tried to set something up and that should’ve been more than enough of an effort, but instead, you found yourself saying, “I can pick her up and take the two of them to the park tomorrow if you want.”

Steve was quiet and your words simply lingered in the open air. You almost regretted making the suggestion because you felt as if he was somehow going to find a way to be a dick about it, but then he looked at you curiously, and another look that you couldn’t decipher crossed his face too as he said, “You sure?”

You nodded at him. “Yeah, it’s really no problem.” And it honestly wasn’t a problem in the slightest; Madeline was the sweetest girl ever. She reminded you nothing of Steve, so you assumed that she got her personality from her mom; you still had no idea what that entire situation entailed. “What time will you be done with work?”

“Hopefully around five or six,” He answered. There was still that look on his face, which you still couldn’t tell what it said, but you really wanted to know.

“Okay, after the park, I can take them back to my house and you can pick Maddie up from there when you’re done with work,” You said, only a little surprised at how easily this idea came together. “Olly’s been wanting to show her his new fish, anyway.”

“Yeah, I think she’s mentioned his fish to me probably a thousand times. It’s blue and purple, right?”

“Yeah, it’s a betta fish; Barnaby.”

“Barnaby?”

You shrugged. “I have no idea how Olly came up with that name, but I will admit that it does sound more like the name of an old sailor lost at sea rather than a fish. But, in some weird way, both of those things are actually kind of related.”

Steve laughed at that and somehow it didn’t sound the least bit mocking or condescending, it was more amused. Hearing that sound coming from him shocked you as much as it, surprisingly, made you inwardly smile.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The amount of dark clouds in the sky didn’t necessarily faze you until a raindrop hit your cheek as you sat on a park bench watching Oliver and Madeline on the playground. It was a light drizzle that transformed into something heavier in a matter of minutes and you realized that you probably should’ve been more mindful of what the weather was going to be today.

Neither of the kids really minded the rain putting an end to their time at the park though, because Oliver was happy to go home so that Maddie could finally see the fish.

They bounded up the stairs to Olly’s room the second you unlocked the front door, and you headed to the kitchen, sending a simple text to Steve in the process.

You: Had to leave the park because of the rain. We’re at my place now

At first, the lack of a response from him didn’t surprise you because it was only around four-thirty and he was probably busy. He was also Steve Harrington and he rarely ever responded to you in a timely manner.

You heard the sound of footsteps racing down the stairs and you looked up from your phone, after checking it for probably the hundredth time in the past hour, to see Olly and Maddie coming into the kitchen.

“Can you convince my dad to get me a fish?” Maddie asked as she and Olly joined you at the small dining table.

You smiled and nodded at her. “I can try.”

“Thanks,” She said, smiling back at you. “The only time I get to see any pets is at my Aunt Robin’s house. She has a golden retriever.”

“Oh, that’s really cool. What’s its name?”

“Willow. She’s a girl.”

Oliver looked at you. “Can we get a dog next?”

“Let’s just worry about Barnaby for now,” You told Olly, giving him a small smile. You could only imagine how much more hectic your life would become if you two got a dog anytime soon. “I was thinking about doing dino nuggets and french fries for you guys for dinner. How does that sound?”

They both perked up at that and nodded and you got up to turn on the oven, purposefully leaving your phone on the table because you wanted a break from impulsively checking it every few minutes. It slightly annoyed you that you heard nothing from Steve yet, and it annoyed you even more that the lack of a response felt personal. You wondered if he actually hadn’t seen your message yet, or if he was simply being an asshole and not responding with a simple “Okay” or even a thumbs up to it on purpose.

It wasn’t until the time was a little after six, and you still hadn’t heard anything from Steve, that your initial annoyance toward him not responding to you and not giving you any sort of updates on what was happening with him over the past few hours, morphed into something that resembled worry.

You walked out of the living room and into the kitchen and pulled your phone out of your back pocket so that you could call him. Your gaze moved toward the window as you pressed your phone to your ear; the weather outside still looked pretty shitty. The call went straight to voicemail and you sighed as you waited for the beep.

“Hey, um, it’s me. That’s probably very obvious. Um, anyway, you said you’d be done with work around five or six, but I haven’t heard anything from you in the last couple of hours… I hope everything’s fine. Um, any sort of update would be really nice. Call, or at least text me, whenever you get this. Okay… Bye.”

You hung up and slipped your phone back in your pocket.

It was an obvious fact that you didn’t like Steve Harrington, but that didn’t mean you wanted anything bad to happen to him.

The only thing that managed to not make you feel completely worried was that Maddie seemed okay and not worried at all. Instead, she and Olly were in the living room playing in the fort you made for them out of couch cushions and throw blankets.

You went back into the living room and sat down on the small loveseat that was the only piece of furniture that still had its cushion left.

“You guys okay in there?”

“Yup!”

“Yes!”

Hearing their chorus of happy “yeses” made you inwardly sigh in relief and lean back into the chair, letting your eyes shut just for a second and muttering to yourself that everything was and would be fine.

Your phone was still glued to your hand as you grabbed the remote with your other and turned on a random Disney movie for the kids to listen to as background noise and for you to take your mind off of Steve, even though all you were waiting and hoping for was for your phone to vibrate in your hand with a call or text from him.

You didn’t realize that you’d fallen asleep in the chair until you were startled awake by the sound of the doorbell ringing. The abruptness of it actually managed to scare you, so much so that you could immediately feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears when you opened your eyes.

The second Lilo & Stitch movie was now playing on the TV and through your half-awake haze, you found the remote to pause it. You then peeked inside the fort and saw that Olly and Maddie were asleep.

As you rubbed the slight tiredness out of your eyes and got up from the couch, you checked your phone and saw that the time was 8:11pm. The doorbell rang again as you unlocked the door and the first thing that you noticed when you opened it was that it was no longer raining, you were unsure when it had finally stopped.

“Hi.”

Seeing Steve standing in front of you managed to immediately wash away the worry you had been feeling for the last couple of hours. And it was quickly and completely replaced with the annoyance you’d initially felt. “What the hell happened?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Hearing a genuine apology come from Steve Harrington’s mouth actually managed to baffle you. “My meeting at work ran over, and there was no way to get out of it, not even for a second. And then there was a ton of traffic because of the rain, so a drive that typically only takes thirty minutes took longer than an hour. Also, I have the worst and probably oldest phone in the world because it never holds a charge anymore, and it was plugged in during the entire drive but didn’t turn on at all. So, I’m really sorry that I haven’t been able to call or text or anything. These past few hours have been hell.” He let out a sigh and then looked at you, concerned. “How’s Maddie? Is she okay?”

There were a lot of words that had been thrown at you during Steve’s ramble, but hearing his full explanation and how apologetic he was made your annoyance with him dissipate into nothing just like your worry did. Instead, you felt a little bad for him because of all the shit he had to endure in the past few hours. You pushed the door open further to fully let him in.

“She’s good. She’s okay. She and Olly are sleeping in the living room. I made them a little fort,” You told him as he walked in and you pointed to where the kids were in the living room, and he nodded when he saw the construction of couch cushions and blankets.

You looked at Steve and hesitated for a moment. You knew that this was where the goodbyes for the night should’ve started, but it didn’t feel right to have him leave just yet; he still seemed sort of frazzled and stressed about everything that happened. You started heading toward the kitchen and he followed you. “Do you maybe, uh, want something to drink?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, I have water and juice boxes,” You told him and turned around to meet his eyes, he was leaning against the small island. “It’s moments like these where it sucks being the “good influence/leading by example” parent because I can’t offer you something fun, like a soda.”

Steve laughed a bit; it still felt so foreign hearing that sound from him. “A juice box is fine. That’s probably all that lives at my house too.”

You grabbed one from the fridge and then closed it. “I hope you like apple.”

“My favorite, actually,” He said as you handed the drink to him, and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but you didn’t have enough time to really ponder that before he completely changed the subject. “How was Maddie when you picked her up? When I told her about it this morning, she seemed excited about it and about hanging out with Oliver after school too, but was she really okay?”

You nodded at his question. “She was great. They both had fun at the park and didn’t even mind the rain because they really wanted to come here and see the fish.”

He smiled and you could see the immediate relief wash over his face. “Okay.”

“She also wants me to try and convince you to get her a fish.”

“Of course she does,” He said before taking a sip from the juice box. You had to admit, it was a little funny seeing a man wearing professional clothes, that were probably so expensive, drinking from a tiny juice box meant for little kids.

“I’m honestly kinda surprised that you pick her up every day,” You told him as you turned and went back into the fridge to pull out a water for yourself. “Given your job, I thought you’d just have a babysitter or someone pick her up most of the time. I had no idea it was half an hour away.”

“I didn’t used to do it… Her, um, her mom would,” He said and you could tell by the way he said those words that whatever happened involving Maddie’s mom was a touchy subject. It sounded similar to how you’d usually sound whenever you talked about Oliver’s dad— a little sad and a lot like you’d rather talk about anything else.

Your mind started desperately trying to think of a way to change the subject; it was what you would’ve wanted him to do for you if the tables were turned. But, before you could say the first thing that came to mind, which was, “So, I wonder if it’s gonna rain tomorrow too,” Steve started talking again.

“It had become a routine because of how hectic my job is. She’d always drop Maddie off and pick her up. But, she, uh… She left last year, so that changed everything,” He told you. You closed the fridge and turned around to face him; you forgot to grab your water but that was the last thing on your mind right then.

This conversation suddenly felt like completely uncharted territory between you and Steve because you two did not talk about touchy subjects— you and him barely talked about anything at all. But, for some odd reason, you didn’t necessarily mind the serious turn to the conversation because maybe it was a shit ton of honesty that was needed for you two to actually, finally, not dislike each other.

Steve ran a hand through his hair and pulled his eyes away from yours. He instead fixed his attention on his juice box in hand. “It happened around this time in October. She dropped Maddie off at school, but didn’t pick her up.”

Hearing him say that surprised you as much as it confused you because you had absolutely no idea that happened last year. But with how busy you’d been then, and since you weren’t friends with any of the “gossipy” moms that somehow always knew everything, it did make a little sense why you knew nothing.

“Maddie was waiting in the office for about two hours after school was over before I could get there because I was in a meeting and didn’t see the calls coming from the school. She didn’t really know what was happening, but she was still so sad and I think that somehow a small part of her did know.” He shook his head and sighed, a look that could only be deemed as melancholic crossed his face. “I never want her to feel abandoned like that again, so I always make sure to drop her off and pick her up now.”

As he said his last words, something managed to shift inside of you in a matter of a split second. Suddenly, his name was no longer “the worst person in the world” in your mind.

In all of your months of having this “nemesis relationship” — as Eddie would call it— with Steve Harrington, you never thought that your opinion of him would ever be able to change. However, in this moment of you two standing across from each other at your small kitchen island as Steve held a freaking juice box in his hand, it finally did. He was a good person, a really fucking good person.

You were able to see it so goddamn easily then— the exact ways that he and Maddie were just alike. She got her personality from him, you were now quite literally certain of it. And you immediately felt bad for ever thinking differently.

“I’m sorry about what I said last year during conference week,” You told him, suddenly ready to give him your own burst of honesty. “I was pissed that you spilled my coffee all over me, and I was even more pissed because it was you, and you annoyed me so much. Because even though we’re kind of in the same boat with the amount of “active” things we do for the school, all of the moms love you so much and I swear they hate me, and it’s just so annoying.” You let out a small sigh and then met his gaze before saying the words that you didn’t think you’d ever say to him. “Anyway, you’re a really good dad, and I’m so sorry for telling you differently.”

“I’m sorry for what I said that day too. You’re a really great mom,” He said, giving you a small smile, and it slightly shocked you how much hearing that meant to you. Aside from Eddie, you couldn’t remember the last time someone said that to you. “And I don't think the moms at school actually like me. I think they just pity me because of everything that happened, and how they basically saw it all blow up in real time. Since pre-school, Maddie’s mom was dropping her off and picking her up, and suddenly one day she was completely gone. I swear the number of times I got phone calls that were a bunch of them saying, “We’re here for you,” but they really just wanted to get the full story about what happened, was insane during those first few months.”

“Jesus, small town moms are the worst,” You said as you shook your head. “Or, at least, ours are.”

You looked away from Steve and turned around, finally going back to the fridge to grab a water. “Oliver’s dad was kind of the same way. He left too. Or maybe it’s actually not the same because I made him leave— he was having an affair with his coworker. But, he also wanted to leave and be with her, so maybe it actually is a little similar. Sorry, now I’m just rambling about that asshole,” You said and rolled your eyes at yourself. You weren’t sure why you even decided to circle the conversation back to your exes.

“Do you and Oliver ever see him anymore?” Steve asked, and when you closed the fridge and turned back to face him, you shook your head at his question.

“Not since we moved here. He does the bare minimum and sends Olly checks for his birthday and Christmas. Which I think is dumb because no kid wants a check as a present; even I would rather get an actual gift than a stupid check,” You told Steve as you opened up your water. “Does Maddie ever see her mom, or does she ever come around sometimes?”

With the way she left, you were almost certain that the answer was no, but you were still curious.

“No, she hasn’t, and I don’t think she would ever want to,” Steve answered and you gave him a small nod of understanding before he continued. “I remember about a week after everything happened, and after avoiding my many calls and texts, she finally called me. She was really apologetic about the way she decided to leave, but she said that she just couldn’t do it anymore because none of this life that we had here was making her happy, and she didn’t want me to try and convince her to stay. When she said that, it made me realize that the smallest part of me knew that this would eventually happen. Maddie was completely unexpected and our relationship had already gotten pretty bad before we found out, so neither of us was remotely ready to be parents, but we still decided to do it and try to make it all work. Right when I saw Maddie for the first time I knew that she was the best thing that ever happened to me and I couldn’t imagine my life without her, and that never changed. But, it wasn’t the same way for her mom, and sometimes it seemed like she felt the complete opposite way. So, in a way, I can understand why she knew she had to leave. I hate the way that she did it, but ultimately I understand that this wasn’t the life she wanted, and she’d never want it.” A sad smile took over his face.

“We don’t have to keep talking about this if you don’t want to,” You told him, suddenly feeling bad that you had been the one to bring the conversation back to this in the first place. “We can change the subject to anything else. Maybe the weather? I wonder if it’s gonna rain again tomorrow…”

“No, it’s okay,” Steve said. “I really never thought I’d say this because we’ve never had a real conversation before, but I think I actually like talking to you.” He shook his head at his words. “I’m sorry, that probably sounds fucked up.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I feel the same exact way. Ten minutes ago I couldn’t really stand the thought of having any sort of conversation with you, and now I feel like an idiot for hating you all this time. So, this is insanely fast progress,” You said and then immediately thought of something. “Wow, I really wish I had some alcohol for us to drink right now because us actually not despising each other anymore is a milestone that truly should be toasted to.”

Steve laughed a bit; it was nice hearing that sound after all the sad stuff that had just been shared by both of you. He raised his juice box toward you a bit. “This will have to do, I guess.”

You raised your water and “clinked” it with the juice box. “Cheers to… whatever we are now.”

It didn’t feel entirely like a friendship, but it, at least, felt like you two could actually be nice to one another and not feel pained to do so.

“Cheers to that,” Steve said with a quick nod and then finished off the rest of what was left in his small juice box. “I should grab Maddie and head home. She has dance class at eight in the morning. She hates it for the most part, but she has a recital next week and I told her that she should push through until that and then we can quit. A part of me is kind of glad that she hates it, though, because classes are insanely expensive.”

“Olly’s starting soccer at the end of the month,” You told him. “It’s for boys and girls. You should see if Maddie wants to do that.”

“If Oliver’s doing it, she’ll probably say yes.”

You nodded at that and how true it was on both sides. “I’ll text you the information.”

“Thanks,” He said and smiled.

You followed him as he walked into the living room to get Maddie. She was still fast asleep as her arms circled around his neck when he picked her up. You grabbed her bookbag that she and Oliver left by the front door and helped Steve hook one of his arms in it.

Somehow something was silently exchanged in that last look shared between you and him before you said your final goodbyes for the night, and you softly shut and locked your door behind him. It was a look that expressed that you both were glad about what happened in the past twenty minutes— the honesty-filled conversation that led to you two finally understanding one another and realizing how you were actually more alike than either of you had ever thought.

It was a realization that was simultaneously surprising and refreshing.

“Goodnight,” You said, giving him a small smile and he smiled back at you.

“Goodnight.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

PART TWO

let me know ur thoughts<333

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najia-cooks · 8 months ago

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[ID: A pyramid of crystalline snow topped with deep orange syrup on a bright blue plate. End ID]

بقسمة / Buqsuma (Palestinian snow dessert)

بُقْسُمَة ("buqsuma"), or بوظة الشتاء ("būẓa shitā'", "winter ice cream"), is a dessert, possibly of Aramaic origin, eaten in cold and mountainous rural regions within Palestine, Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, and Turkey. It consists of freshly fallen snow topped with grape molasses (دبس العنب; "dibs al-'inab"), date molasses, pomegranate molasses, or storebought snow syrup (شراب الثلج ; "shrāb aṯ-ṯalj"). In Lebanon it may be topped with honey or orange syrup; and in Syria and Lebanon it may also be called سويق or سويقة ("sawīq" or "sawīqa").

Buqsuma is eaten for only a few days a year at the end of the snowy season in February. An old rhyme cautions against eating snow too early in the season:

أول تلجة دم تانية تلجة سم تالتة تلجة كل ولا تهتم

("ʔawwal tallaja damm "tānya tallaja samm "tālta tallaja kul wa lā tahtamm")

("The first snowfall is blood "The second snowfall is poison "The third snowfall, eat and don't worry")

Journalist Hussein Saqr speculates that the intention may be to allow the first snows to clear the air from summer and fall dust and other pollutants before the snow is safe to consume.

During these late winter days, eating and sharing buqsuma becomes a social ritual; guests are invited to share the dessert from a wide platter, or given individual bowls to dress to their taste with syrup, milk, and sugar. Children bring bowls of snow inside and eat buqsuma by the fire to warm up and recuperate from a day at play.

In Syria, buqsuma is prepared especially in the مُحافظة السويداء ("Muḥāfaẓat as-Suwaydā'"; Suwayda Governorate) in the south; in the طرْطوس ("Ṭarṭūs") and إدلب ("'Idlib") Governorates in the northeast; and along the جبال لبنان الشرقية ("Jibāl Lubnān ash-Sharqiyya"; Anti-Lebanon mountain range) from جبل الشيخ ("Jabal ash-Shaykh"; Mountain of the Sheikh / "Mount Hebron") to the جبال القلمون ("Jibāl al-Qalamūn"; Qalamoun Mountains) in Damascus Governorate.

In Palestine

Within Palestine, buqsuma is eaten only in الخليل ("Al-Khalīl" / "Hebron"), in the occupied West Bank. Palestinian food writer Reem Kassis points out that the regional specificity of the dish is due to the nature of the land: Al-Khalil is one of the few places in Palestine to receive snow.

Al-Khalil is also famous for its viticulture. "It is well known among Palestinians that Al-Khalil grows the best grapes," according to embroidery artist Wafa Ghnaim. Though grape vines have existed in Palestine since antiquity, Al-Khalil was one of the few locales to maintain them even during the Crusades, which caused the abandonment of olive and grape orchards elsewhere. As with oranges and pomegranates, an association between terroir, agriculture, and design reveals itself in Palestinian art: the قطف عنيب ("qiṭf 'inab"; "bunch of grapes") motif is common in Al-Khalil embroidery (تطريز; "taṭrīz"; often transliterated "tatreez").

Around 1700, Rabbi Gedalia mentions Al-Khalil's grapes as being particularly praiseworthy:

ויש בא"י הרבה פירות האילן, כגון ענבים, תאנים, ורמונים, זתים […]. והענבים הם גדולים ועגולים בירושלים. אבל בחברון תוב"ב הם מרובים וגדולים מן הענבים אשר בירושלים. וכשמוכרים את הענבים של חברון בירושלים משבחים אותם וצועקים: בואו ותקנו הענבים של חברון ! ומענב אחד מתמלא הפה ממשקה. And there are in the land of Israel many tree fruits, such as grapes, figs, pomegranates, and olives [...]. The grapes are big and round in Jerusalem, but in Hebron they are more numerous and larger than the grapes in Jerusalem. And when vendors sell the grapes of Hebron in Jerusalem, they praise them and shout: Come and buy the grapes of Hebron! And one grape fills the mouth with nectar. (pp. 337-8)

Al-Khalil's viticulture is closely integrated with Palestinian food culture. Three distinct harvests yield different products. In the early spring, some of the leaves from the grape vines (وَرَق الدوالي; "waraq ad-dūwāli") will be harvested, when they are young, tender, and sour: good for stuffing with rice, meat, and vegetable fillings to make several popular Palestinian dishes.

Later in the spring, grape farmers harvest early, sour grapes (حصرم; "ḥiṣrim"; Levantine dialect "ḥuṣrum"). Some of these will be pressed to make عصير حصرم ("'aṣīr ḥuṣrum"; "juice of sour grapes"), a tart liquid that may be drunk plain, or used to give acidity to soups or salads. Others will be pickled in brine, or dried and ground to make a sour condiment called "سماق الحصرم" ("sumāq al-ḥuṣrum," "sour grape sumac").

The third harvest is in the late summer, when the grapes have fully ripened. Grape farmers in Al-Khalil may sell some of their summer harvests to Palestinian wineries and arak distilleries. Other ripe grapes will be pressed and their juice boiled down and dried to produce مَلبَن ("malban"), a Levantine fruit leather. And still more of this juice will be reduced into dibs al-'inab, which is then used to make buqsuma, added to tea as a sweetener, or mixed into tahina and scooped up with bread; it is especially popular during Ramadan as a quick way to boost energy.

Dibs al-'inab has been produced in Palestine for hundreds of years. Rabbi Gedalia describes grape molasses, which he calls "grape honey" ("דבש של ענבים"; "dvash shel 'anavim"):

שמבשלים את התירוש היוצא מן הענבים מיד כשסוחטין אותן, והוא אז מתוק מאוד כדבש ממש, וכ"כ מבשלים עד שנעשה עב כמו דבש. They cook the must which is expressed from the grapes immediately after they are squeezed. It is then very sweet, like real [bee's] honey. Then they cook it again until it becomes thick as honey. (p. 338)

The recipe below is for buqsuma with Al-Khalil-style grape molasses.

[ID: An extreme close-up on snow crystals topped with syrup in bright white and various shades of orange; bubbles are trapped throughout the syrup. End ID]

Viticulture Under Occupation

Today, the tending and harvesting of grapes in Al-Khalil take place under the shadow of Israeli settlements. Israel encourages the transfer of settler populations to settlements in Al-Khalil—including particularly fervent Israeli nationalist cells in the middle of Palestinian areas—with financial incentives and the creation of infrastructure that only settlers can move through freely. Palestinians are forbidden to drive in the "H2" area of Al-Khalil, which encompasses the central Old City and the الحرم الإبراهيمي ("Al-Ḥaram al-Ibrāhīmī"; Sanctuary of Abraham), and has been under Israeli military control since 1997. Israel conducts regular raids in the nominally Palestinian "H1" area, forcing people to leave their homes, destroying property, and committing arbitrary arrests and imprisonments.

The rapid expansion of settlements in the areas around Al-Khalil, such as those in what Israel calls גּוּשׁ עֶצְיוֹן (“Gush Etzion”; Etzion Bloc) and גִּבְעַת חַרְסִינָה ("Givat Harsina"), pushes Palestinians into ever-smaller and denser areas surrounded by settlements, rendering them still more vulnerable to Israeli control.

Alessandro Petti describes the strategy by which Israel fragments and isolates Palestinian areas, while allowing flow of movement between territories for non-Palestinians, as a distinction between free-flowing settler "archipelagoes" and Palestinian "enclaves." Infrastructure such as patrols, roadblocks, barriers, curfews, strip-searches and thorough searches of luggage—to which only Palestinians are subjected—make travel a time-consuming, nerve-wracking, and uncertain process: one that may end with being denied a permit, turned back from a border, or jailed for driving on a road which turns out to be prohibited to Palestinians. Because the rules are constantly changing, Palestinians may continue to avoid a road that is no longer actively barricaded out of fear that attempting to traverse it will lead to arrest.

Official Israeli military policy and settler violence alike cast a pall on Palestinian agricultural tradition and innovation. Farming and shepherding communities in the southern hills of Al-Khalil have been subjected to harassment, home demolition, and forced displacement at the hands of settlers and military bulldozers. Settlers burn grape and olive orchards and cut down mature grape vines. Palestinians are no longer allowed to access ancestral agricultural land that has been overtaken by colonists. Israeli military orders and settler harassment emptied Al Khalil's Old Souq of its vegetable and fruit markets in 2000; in 2019, plans were made to raze Palestinian shops and build a new settlement atop them. These plans would move forward in July of 2023.

Reprisal and collective punishment in the wake of militants' October 7th attacks on settlers have been felt in the West Bank and also impact agriculture in Al-Khalil. Grapes rot on the vine with farmers forbidden to tend them. Streets have been closed, shutting Palestinian farmers into their homes, while Palestinian shepherds in villages in the Al-Khalil area have been displaced and harassed with drones. Settler attacks and destruction of crops, already on a continual uptick for the previous several years, increased to a new high in 2023.

Olives, Grapes, and Resistance

Agriculture has been an important site of Palestinian resistance to settler incursion as, despite harassment, surveillence, and violence, Palestinians insist on staying on their land and in their homes. The Palestinian minority who inhabit the H2 area of Hebron, continuing to tend their olive trees, prevent the area from becoming settler-only and keep alive the hope that Al-Khalil will not become a "ghost town."

Various projects based in Al-Khalil combat settler technologies and strategies. Farmers in Al-Khalil launched the Cooperative Society for Agricultural Marketing and Processing in 1984 to increase grape farmers' self-sufficiency, reduce produce waste, and contribute to the production of Palestinian grape delicacies. The 2022 Counter Surveillance project, launched by Palestinian activist Issa Amro and artist Adam Broomberg, meets the Israeli security cameras stationed among Al-Khalil's olive groves with its own video feed, livestreamed online and to art museums.

Palestine's annual grape festival at حلحول ("Ḥalḥūl"), just north of Al-Khalil, took place in 2023 as scheduled; farmers displayed boxes of grapes of all colors and varieties, and sold dibs, malban, raisins, and jam. And Palestinian farmers and activists contribute to resurgences of indigenous seed varieties—such as the دابوقي ("dābūqi") grape, historically particularly prominent in Al-Khalil—in an effort to preserve Palestine's biodiversity and economic self-sufficiency.

Buy seeds from the Palestinian Heirloom Seed Library

Help Palestinian families evacuate Gaza

Contribute to an eSIM donation drive

Ingredients:

For the syrup (makes 2/3 cup):

2.5kg (5.5lb) tart green grapes, stems removed

For the base:

A large bowl of fresh snow

If it doesn't snow where you live, you can try making shaved ice using a snowcone machine; putting water in an ice-cream maker until you achieve a slushy texture; or running ice cubes through a blender.

Instructions:

For the syrup:

1. Remove grapes from their stems and rinse.

2. In a large bowl, mash and muddle grapes with your hands or a potato or bean masher; or pass grapes through a blender, food mill, or juicer.

3. Strain mashed grapes through a metal strainer, and then a cheesecloth (if you used a juicer, skip right to the cheesecloth). I had 4 cups (1 litre) of grape juice at this point.

4. Pour grape juice into a thick-bottomed pot with a large diameter, preferably one with a light-colored bottom. Heat on medium to bring to a boil.

5. Continue simmering juice, skimming scum off the surface as it arises. Occasionally wipe down the edges of the pot with a wet pastry brush to prevent sugar from sticking and burning.

6. Eventually scum will stop rising. Continue to simmer until several shades darker in color and bubbling vigorously. Syrup should still pour freely, and just barely coat the back of a spoon. I had just over 2/3 cup (160 mL) at this point.

7. Remove from heat and allow to cool slightly before pouring into a jar. Allow to cool to room temperature before refrigerating. If you want to keep the syrup for multiple months or at room temperature, use a sterilized jar.

Compost the grape peels, or reserve to make fruit scrap vinegar.

For the dish:

1. Set a large bowl out several hours into a heavy snowfall; or collect just the top layer of freshly fallen snow after it has been snowing for several hours. Snow that falls earlier in a snowfall, or that has been sitting out for a longer period of time, is more likely to contain pollutants.

2. Compact the snow with a spoon to make the texture homogenous. Some people run it through a blender. Fill individual serving bowls with snow.

3. Pour cooled molasses to taste onto the snow and mix.

#Palestinian #Levantine #Al-Khalil #grapes #grape molasses #dibs

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readychilledwine · 1 month ago

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Till Death Do Us Part

SJM Villains Week - Day One - Origin Story

"Are people born wicked, or do they have wickedness cast upon them?" -Wicked the Musical

Summary - Beron had known love once in his life, and even that was ripped from him

Warnings- This fic has some heavy topics. A whole species of fae is hunted for their wings until extinction. While it is not done in great detail, if that will potentially trigger you, please consider skipping this.

Other warnings- reader Death, spousal abuse, domestic, and child abuse inferred, loss of a spouse, death of a mate, in summary, just not my normal happy love story. Edited and formated on my cellphone, long story, if you see errors, you definitely didn't 👀

A/n - Happy @sjmvillainweek day one. I was sent a request about Beron losing the love of his life being his villain Origin story. I bounced between doing this as a mini series or as a one shot, but landed on the one shot due to mini series that end with reader Death not being a personal favorite of mine, plus, writing reader's death after writing 3 parts of her and Beron falling in love was rough. If you all want it, though, let me know I guess? Today is very out of my box, as you all will see with my Maeve fic queued for later, so to those of you who frequently write reader/oc deaths, I truly admire you. This was hard.

🪽Peep the Wings of Prythian headcanons Here 🪽

🗡Villains Week Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡

The stake set in the middle of the grounds was the seal on the impact of Beron's actions. 100 years, 100 happy years of keeping her safe, and now he was locked in his own room, trapped as her execution was set up.

He should have known better, should have hid her better. Her kind was already rare and in the last 100 years, she was finally the last one. One last trophy to hunt and he had led his father right to her.

Lifeless wings hung high on his wall, still fresh with the scent of her blood. The luster they carried was fading, the vibrant burnt orange now a muted tone of its former glory.

Beron put his head in his hands, the faebane chains around his wrists clanging with laughter as he did. He forced his mind back to a happier time.

Fire Festival had you running around the small market near where the Leaf Folk lived. Mother needed flour. Father needed wine. Your sisters wanted candy. The first of October was special to you all. To your whole race. It was the start of a 31 day process where the females of your race were courted, married, and the hopes of young offspring came. .

Fire Festival was for lovers. It was for passion. It would be your first year to partake, and while you knew it took some females 3 attempts to meet their match, your wings couldn't help but flutter in hope you would meet yours this year.

As you day dreamed, supplies in a basket, you were blind to the male watching you. An outsider that had vendors closing their doors and windows with customer's inside, mamas rushing their children into their homes.

A voice cleared behind you, pulling you from your daze, “My lady.” It was instant, that snap of the mating bond tugging and tying you two together into a cursed string. ..

The dark-haired male put his hand to his heart, blindly stepping closer to you. Dark hair sat on top of his head, styled and brushed into perfection despite the evidence he had arrived on horseback. His slender face was handsome. Sharper cheekbones, full lips, a nose reminding you of a hawk beak. His clothing was high end, hugging his body as if he was poured into the material. “Beron,” he spoke to you, ripping you from your study of his figure.

“Y/n,” you whispered back, wings moving slightly to be out of sight.

“I have no interest in those,” he motioned towards them. “Only in the rumors of elder flowers in this area.”

You blinked at him, the olive branch you were about to offer him was dangerous, “I can show you if you vow to never speak of this place.”

Beron fought against his father as he was pulled to the temple. He knew the female he was being forced to marry was nice enough, beautiful, wealthy. He was forced to stand at the altar, a knife held to his little sister's back as he did. Aurelia entered either her normal grace, her own face solemn as the fae stood and she was escorted to him by her own proud father.

Her dress reminded him of a princess from tales of old. Far too large, puffy, and in a shade of white that did not compliment her porcelain skin and hair like fire.

They were both silent as they took their vows and the count down to your execution began. 2 hours. 2 hours he'd be forced to spend drinking and all that did was encourage more memories of you.

The pull of the bond became too much the following October, and the letters written on oak leaves could no longer be enough for either of you.

You were taking a huge risk, using the first feast and bonfires to sneak to his hunting cabin just a few miles away from the hidden edge village you'd spent your life in.

Beron was waiting on the porch, eyes coming alive as he heard the sound of your leaf-like wings crinkling as you flew over to him. ..

He caught you quickly, arms going around your waist, pulling your head to his chest. .

The first hug of many.

The first night filled with laughter and stolen kisses that'd come with the next 99 years.

He carried your one bag, frowning at your lack of possessions.

"Is this all you have, my love?”

”All I need,” Your tone was confused. “Did you expect more?”

He had. He had expected more than just the 7 dresses he pulled out. More than the one necklace he had given you. More than one more pair of leather shoes.

Beron glanced at you, chocolate eyes slightly sad, “I'm going to give you the world.”

Beron and Aurelia watched in silence as people drank and danced. “You said you were running,” he whispered under his breath to her. “You said you were leaving to prevent this.”

Aurelia looked at him, her whiskey colored eyes narrowing, “Do you think I didn't try to get him to come grab me? Do you think I sat and did nothing despite our deal?”

He rolled his own eyes, “Careful with your tone, wife,” the word felt like ash.

“Am I your wife? Or is she locked in the fox holes waiting to be the final show for our wedding? Who else has their marriage start with the burning of their husband's who-”

The slap that came before she could finish that sentence made the room fall into silence. Another beginning. Another drastic change. Beron knew Aurelia had sold out the location he kept you in. Her father had been the one to drag you in, bleeding and crying, dress torn.

Beron's father motioned for the night to continue like nothing had happened, as if he was beaming with pride at his son striking his wife.

“Just because he didn't want you after you willingly handed him your cunt, doesn't mean I didn't want y/n. I hope you enjoy both of us being as miserable as you clearly are.”

She sat wordlessly next to him, holding her cheek. She'd been warning of the heavy hands the Vanserra males carried, but Beron had never been aggressive. He'd always been kind to her. But she knew she was you and clearly Aurelia had gotten herself into dangerous territory.

Beron watched the clock as it ticked an hour. An hour to day dreamed about you.

The wedding of the Leaf Folk were not performed in a temple, an odd thing for Beron as he stood under the oldest apple tree in the groove. Its twisted trunk and tangled branches were almost menacing as you followed his eye.

You took his hands, whispering in the old tongue and making the tree light up with runes and stories of lovers wed under its branches. You were the last of your kind. The village somehow found and pillaged in one night. The groove of apples around you both was struggling, dying off slowly as its caretakers became a lost memory. “What do we do now?”

"We close our eyes and feel. We will know if the land blesses our union,” you smiled as you answered, closing your eyes. Fireflies began to fill the area, a slight breeze carrying the sounds of gentle music. You both opened your eyes to the deer to the fireflies.

“What the hell,” he paused. “What is this?”

"Approval from the Mother. She has blessed and signed off on our union,” Your hand went to the new rune in the tree, eyes watering as you followed the curves and slopes. “We're married.”

Beron was forced to stand, shackled again as guards made him and Aurelia walk to where he'd be forced to watch you burn. His family and Aurelia's father too spots near them, the other High fae in attendance whispering as they also took places. Public execution in Autumn was a favorite pastime for the rich high fae. They loved watching the poor, the criminals, the low fae burn or be gifts to the trees, consumed root by root.

His father had known that wasn't an option with you. Had he given you to the trees, the trees would free you. No true crime was committed, and on top of that, your kind was so closely linked to the trees, your life forces depending on each other.

Beron had tried to warn his father what killing you would do, how his family would lose control of the trees and the forest, how that was a magic given to his family by the Leaf Folks elders hundreds of years ago. A promise not to hunt them, yet every Nobel here had a pair of those wings on their walls. Fresh ones.

Beron pulled against his chains as he heard you fighting and screaming in the tongue of your people. He watched as you spit on the male dragging you, watched as you spit on his father.

You had, in many ways, made Beron's life easier. You had killed two of his brothers during your capture, making him the clear heir. You had stabbed his father with something rumors from the healers say wasn't closing, festering in his skin and muscles like an infection. The look of pride as you looked down from your nose towards his father made Beron smirk. You'd die a warrior. Die with not an ounce of fear but instead a river of rage.

His wife. His powerful fearless wife.

That sneer didn't change as you were tied to the stake. It didn't change as your so-called charges were read. It didn't change as you waited to be given the ability to speak one last time.

“The last of your kind, yet you won't beg for your life?”

“No,” you answered his father plainly.

The High Lord seemed surprised as he spoke again, “So you will curse my son to a life of madness?”

“I've cursed your son and court to so much more than that already,” you glared

It was then that Beron noticed the runes carved into your body in captivity. He held his breath as he read each one. As he read the fate your death would seal for this court and for him.

You had been lied to, told he gave away your location, that he handed you away willingly in exchange for the bride sitting next to him. All lies he would never be able to change.

It looked as if you were praying, but Beron knew the signs of Leaf Folk magic now. He knew what was happening as the wind picked up and lightning struck as your pyre was lit.

Beron shot out of bed, shaking his head as the nightmare replaying her death was fresh in his mind. He still blamed himself, still blamed Aurelia. 700 years later and he wasn't over her.

But how could he have been? Her curse was a plague on Autumn. A deep rot that settled into the remaining signs of her village first. Then that grove he had married her in. Then the surrounding forest and villages. It was choking off life in his court. Illness, famine, and death followed in its path.

Her curse had not just taken the forest, though, it had taken him. The lifeless mating bond was doubled by what she had down. Beron lost all sense of emotion and Humanity once she was gone. He lost himself. That much was clear by the scars littering his wife and children. By what he had done to Lucien.

He had no one to blame but himself.

He knew she was forbidden. A female considered low fae with wings like the rustling leaves of this very court, but Beron couldn't stop himself. He couldn't resist the feel of her soft skin, her scent of spun sugar and apples, her soft hair. Her eyes were his favorite thing, so light and bright. Full of life.

As he held his chest in bed, his sleeping wife was next to him. It was those eyes that haunted him. Those last words whispered before an execution.

“A plague on your houses, a plague on your court, until a son brave enough to kill for what's right comes forth.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

#elizabeths.updates #send asks #acotar #acotar x reader #beron vanserra x reader #beron vanserra #beron x reader #beron x you #beron x y/n #beron vanserra x you #beron vanserra x y/n #sjmvillainweek #sjmvillainweek day 1 #prompt - origin stories #beron vandaddy #high lord of autumn

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angelismmm · 2 years ago

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hello! can you please write for liyue’s men (with like tartaglia/baizhu/scaramouche too) and their types? like what they look in a s/o and what kind of s/o they’d like/it would suit them best? thxxxxxx

⟢ my kind of woman ft. liyue men + tartaglia & scara ・synopsis. what kind of person are they into? or really who'd match them best? ・notes. yay jing yuan and blade theme my baes, anyways!! i love this sm ive rly wanted to write ab smth like this!! oh also this is really just my thoughts plus relationship headcannons :D ・warnings. suggestive , GN!READER. title is inspired by mac demarco's song :)

opposites attract, the olive theory, i like to believe that most lovers are usually the opposites of each other, or atleast disagree with something in a way. ・for zhongli, having to deal with childe and hu tao everyday, it isn't a breath of fresh air when it comes to an s/o that's overly affectionate and loud, not that he finds it annoying, finds it very cute, every little bit of affection you give him makes his day always. other people might find you overtly obnoxious, but he'd never, everything about you honestly is really.. perfect.. to him. can't describe it in words, even if you were to be similar, he's the type to always expect it, and be the only person not being scared by you, and he's honestly okay with that, hu tao is probably your guys' matchmaker! will trap you both in a closet together while you visited the funeral parlor, gives it about... 15 minutes.. and small hickey can definitely be seen on you and him, is both happy and goes "ew... get a room!!" and also the person to stash both of you guys into a cramped area when she knows very damn well you both like each other.. well took you both long enough honestly, definitely got impatient and pushed you guys... a bit..

・alatus xiao... definitely will tell you you are annoying at first, but you are the annoying he loves <3. the only annoying person he will listen to, and give forehead kisses to, and cuddle all night 'till he sleeps. you really are an exception... but if he'll be totally real with himself, he loves it when you bug him to tell him about what happened today, or who you've talked to, or if you've seen anything new, falls in love all over again every time that you do. likes zoning out when you rant, and all he can see is your pretty smile going on and on about some vendor who gave you free food. likes to shut you up with a kiss, does it often, and makes both of you red. whenever you hear him say something like "do you ever shut up?", it translates to "please keep talking with that soothing voice of yours." i promise he loves you so much, just is still getting used to it.

extrovert x introvert kind of way, one that talks alot, one that listens alot. ・oh loverboy childe/tartaglia.. literal devil x angel type of relationship, in this case, he's the devil. loves bothering you, like even if you give him something while he waits for you to be done with whatever you need to be done, he can't be distracted from distracting his lover?! still a huge sweetheart, don't get me wrong, the type to really memorize things about you too, notices so many little things about you, like even things you don't even notice. but someone who can tolerate his shenanigans are the best match for him. the best hugs ever too, so when you're stressed, just ask for cuddles and kisses and he'll be there to talk to you, even if you don't wanna talk about it, he'll talk to you about his day to comfort you instead. loves you like you are an angel from heaven that blessed him, because you were, and you did.

・kaedehara kazuha.. in this case you are the extrovert, likes to listen you rambling about something from work, the type to hold you close to his chest and hum a familiar tune to get you to sleep, likes to just watch and listen to someone who tends to talk a lot with no one listening to them, but he's always there for you. such a sweetheart with it too, loves to hold your hand while you do, if anyone tells you you're annoying best bet he'll deal with them, with words. isn't shy to say you're his s/o, unintentionally tells everyone about you, "honestly s/o is such a dear for me. they ---." he's ranting to a toucan by the way.

grumpy x sunshine, this is scaramouche with his s/o, if i do say so myself. literal showers of affection in private, 'cold-hearted' in public, promise he doesn't mean the insults he spits at you. still willing for a bit of pda though, basic holding hands is the only kinda he allows tbh, lowkey flexes you when he's with someone else, "oh you know, s/o would've done better than you." so even if you haven't even met them, probably one of his coworkers or friends are already fed up with you (as a joke and seriously), if he's ever upset, he'll really just come over to you, ready for your little kisses on his cheeks, and your head on his lap, just adoring each other, like no one else would.

sun x moon is what baizhu and you would be. and goes so far to already decide what to call your children together. stars. in this case, you're his sun, loud, kind, caring, everything he could imagine, him? oh he's not all that special. he thinks you fell from celestia because wow you really shine, and he's more than thankful everyday that, and likes to spend time with both you and qiqi. so he also does call qiqi a star too <3. just like kazuha, he likes listening more than talking, does the zoning out thing too, changsheng has to tell him to stop so he listens to you, a bright person with someone like him really just.. he knows how much he's been blessed by archons.

❀ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈）taglist: @edit-me-prettyplease | wanna be tagged for my posts? click here!

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tmwcs · 1 year ago

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₵Ⱨ₳₱₮ɆⱤ ₣ØɄⱤ

T̞͍̼ͤ͝H̼͍̻ͤ̑͒͌̕ͅE̛͖̼ͫ ̧̝̞̪̯͙̄̈́̆O̩̻̟̥ͯ́͘T͉͕̫̪̬̺̯̽̊̈́̀H̵̥̥̙͔͍̥̳̼̓ͬE̡̞̝̰̒̑͌̎R͈͈̻͈͋̃̕ͅṢ͎̟͓͈̱̖̰͋͠I͉̪̪ͬͧ͜D̥̩̩̼̪͓̗̦ͦ͡Ě̶̟͔̗͆͌

Pairings: HS x Y/n, Jake x Y/n, Sunghoon x Y/n (three different y/n's)

Warnings: Non-con, straight up non-con turned to dub con smut. Mentions of rape, kidnapping, imprisonment, stalking, and bullying. There are time skips and relapses, male leads dip in and out of memory. This is chapter four of The Otherside (TO) series pinned on my homepage. Male leads (HS, Jake, and Sunghoon are not good guys) this is not how i see them, this is merely all fiction and fantasy for the sake of the story.

The train continues to make the stops at every destination point. Jake watches you as he notes your lack of attention in your surroundings, how careless for someone who was so adorable, so pretty and delicate, yet had the feistiness of a panther. You looked up to see that the next stop was one you had to get off at. Preparing to exit, you stand upright from your seat and grab hold onto the rails, waiting for the train to come to a complete pause in its momentum.

Remaining nonchalant, yet closely nearby and ready to exit right after you, the young man finds himself too infatuated with your mannerisms and features. It was as if you had bewitched him. Watching you leave the train, he follows after you undetected, managing to keep you within his sights. There was something about you, aside from your rightful stance in providing justice to that poor girl that was harshly bullied, Jake had an inkling, an urge to see more of you. Trailing off on a long walk, passing by numerous food vendors and a labyrinth of crowded figures that practically drowned you from his sight, he kept his focus to stay behind.

A local boutique catches your eye, and you decided to make a stop in. It was a shop that sold specialized items for aromatherapy, the wonderful scented candles and the beauty of home decor items was something you took pleasure in viewing, so why not do a little window shopping?

Walking in, you took your time to admire the beautiful wax figurines, the glass bowls, and the marble statues while also partaking in sniffing the wide variety of candles the store offered. Observing you, Jake softly smiles to himself as his eyes remained locked on. How precious were you, finding comfort in something so simple, yet you deserved everything and much more, for what you did for that girl.

His eyes began to trail as he kept his distance and remained close by.

".....I wonder.......was this it?.....Was this what he talked about....when he first saw her?...."

Admiring the way you dragged your finger tips along the series of faux mink blankets, his mind goes back and picks up on the memory of when he had visited Heeseung's apartment....shortly after he got her.

*Knock knock*

“Oh, is that Sunghoon?” Jake exclaims as he turns over towards the door.

“Yeah I’m sure that’s him.” Heeseung replies back, making his way to the door and disabling the locking feature using the finger pad.

“Hey yo! The fun has arrived!” Sunghoon greets with a smile as he walks in with his arms spread wide, displaying a wide grin with abnormally sharp canines. Jake and Heeseung merely chuckled as they took turns in greeting their friend.

“Ah the vampire has finally arrived. How you doing man?” Jake nodded up as Sunghoon sat on the barstool next to him, exchanging a handshake with a shoulder bump and partial hug, the two continued to converse. “I’ve been good man, how have you been?” Sunghoon responds as he pats Jake on the back. Heeseung digs into the fridge and takes out a drink, places it on the counter and slides it over. “Ah! Muchos Gracias!” Sunghoon exclaims as he pops the cap open from the bottle. “So, is tonight the night we get to meet the her?” Sunghoon chuckles before taking a gulp of his drink, Jake joining in on the laugh.

“Yeah. Actually let me go see if she’s awake right now.” Heeseung smirks out as he tosses an olive in his mouth and takes his momentary leave. Entering the massive bedroom, he avoids flipping on the light switch, seeing as he left the lamp on to give the room a dimmed appearance so that your eyes would gently acclimate to its surroundings when you woke back up.

“Baby?...You awake?” He softly speaks out as he walks over and crawls onto the bed, hovering over you. “Or are you still worn out from earlier? Hmm? " he scoffs as he licks the base of your neck and traces the tip of his tongue up to your jawline. "My girl......taking me so well....you make me so happy."

Hearing his words made you flinched, it was a harsh reminder of the many times he took you, despite your crying pleas for him to stop……it had only been a few days since he took you away….and yet, the amount of times he ravished your body….it was far too much, more than you ever experienced in your entire lifetime. You weren't necessarily waiting for marriage, dabbling in on a couple of boyfriends in the past, yet you had always remained frugal and reserved with you went into bed with. The moment this man took you the first night upon 'rescuing' you from your initial kidnapper, you felt the horror sense of shame and guilt as you were helpless to stop him....a man who you had never met or seen before, taking you, over and over again.

“God damn you’re so pretty…….” He whispered as he admired your face.

You remained stoic and unresponsive, what could you possibly say after being kidnapped for a second time, repeatedly raped and bound to this man’s room.

“Aww…don’t be that way baby…you still mad about earlier? Come oooon…..we both know you enjoyed it. Remember how good I made you feel?” His hand slid down, in between your breast and found its way under the hem of your dress, smoothing his palm over your bareness, he had ripped off your undergarments from the first time he had you, and never bothered to replace them as he kept enjoying himself with you. Much to your ever lasting shame, you would never admit it openly, but there was truth in his words….he did get you to feel good…too good….it was the most pleasure you’ve ever felt….you never knew pleasure existed until he forced it on you. You tried to reason with yourself mentally, noting that it couldn’t be helped, you were only human, and your body merely reacted to what he was doing to you…..but…..did he really have to remind you?.....

Earlier that day…..

“Ugh! Ssssssstop! Stop! Please stop! I….I don’t want this…..”

Ignoring your words, he performs his usual activity of four play as he lays down a trail of soft kisses on to your nude body, starting with your breasts. How you grew to hate the sound and sensation of his mouth latching on to your nipple, with his tongue flickering back and forth, coating you with his saliva.

“Stop! Stop! Get off! Don’t! Please dont do this! Not again.....”

Without breaking his momentum, he remained focused on delivering his oral fixation onto your areola with sensually shut eyes. His free hand made its way around the back of your neck, softly stroking his thumb up and down on your soft skin while the others gently tapped along the side of your neckline.

“S….stop……..mmmmm…please…” you started to moan out, your tone was less harsh and you began to whimper out your pleads versus sobbing them out. Your body instinctively arched up as your back separated itself from the mattress, pinning your rear harshly as your head tilts back and your mouth gasp wide open, releasing out a prolonged moan of pleasure the moment you felt his tongue drift lower….and lower……and even lower.

The warmth of his tongue makes its way onto the flat surface of your skin, right above your slit. With the same flickering motion he applied to your breasts, he taps against your clit, administering slow licks from bottom to top, right over your center. His free hand never leaves the back of your neck, it remained there, constantly rubbing your skin to gently ease you into a state of relaxation, cooing you out of your fears and objection as you started to succumb to the pleasures of euphoria from how he was orally loving on your soft spot.

“Oh my God! Please!” You harshly whimpered out in a whistling tune as you continued to arch your back, yet the restraints on your wrist and ankles that bounded you to the bed frame only allowed you to move so much. Feeling his tongue gently shoving itself inside you, rotating as he explored you once again, he taps the tip against your inner walls and softly sucks onto the skin each time he pulls away, only to reengage once more.

With his hand, he gently separates your two folds, and buries his tongue back in between them. Noting your whimpering display of pleasure, he became even more diligent in giving you his all….

“Yeah?.....You like that baby?” Harshly licking from bottom to top, he gently inserts two fingers inside as he starts to softly thrust them in and out, all the while the tip of his tongue traced tiny circles on the very surface of your clit.

“UGH!!! Wait!!....ssssssss……stop………ugh….please…”

“Come on baby, tell me how good I make you feel….”

Increasing the pace of his fingers, the squelching sounds of your moisture matched with the friction of his skin rubbing in and out of you filled the room. Before you knew it, your body was producing more fluids than you had realized, leaving you no choice but to allow it to gush out slowly as it coats his entire hand, his wrist even. The hot temperature of the liquid oozing out as he forced it back in and right back out with his fingers had stimulated your body as you felt the warmth of his fingers thrusting in and out.

“uuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh! ooooh my God please!”

You moaned out and couldn’t contain yourself anymore….this…..was only human nature, you had no choice. Its not like you wanted this, you were very clear in verbally stating that. Its not your fault that he wouldn’t listen….that he wouldn’t honor your wishes….that he decided to do it all against your will……..it’s not your fault that he did it so good……that he was making you feel like the most desired and the most yearned….he made you feel so good…..so pleasurable.

“its….its not my…….even if I…….its not…..because I really want it….its because….he…..he……he…….”

Your mental thoughts come to a halt as you watch the handsome man continue to make love to your womanhood with his mouth, his eyes shut as he sensually took his time to give you pleasure that caused your eyes to roll back, and your toes to curl in, you couldn’t help it when he gasped out a heaving breath as he tells you....

“Come on baby…..come on…..”

“Ugh!....I’m cumming!!” you yelped out as you screamed out a moan of pleasure and felt yourself release, all of which took your breath away and caused your body to jerk uncontrollably.

Rolling your hips back and forth, your body yearned for more…..it yearned for him......you hated yourself for feeling that way but it was the most real feeling you ever experienced.

“Its not my fault….its not me……..its not me………I don’t want this…I really don’t want this…….but my body….i….i cant help…..i cant help it….”

Kneeling in between your legs, cupping your slit as he feels the waves of your hips dipping and rising from the immense pleasure, he leans in and gives you a deep kiss…..and you took it…..you received it……and you gave it right back.

Moaning into his mouth, the combination of your saliva seeps from the corners of your mouth, the sweet scent of your body's product penetrates your nostrils as it stains his lips. Breaking the kiss, he speaks against your lips ever so softly....it was sickening.....yet so addictive. You felt turmoil as you found yourself in a state of self loathe and desiring more of him.

“You want it?” he softly asks, his lips tapping against yours as he spoke.

Shaking your head, you turned your face away…..he already knew….he had known since the first time he took you….because he remembered how you reacted…how you moaned and screamed in pleasure and returned his kisses. How you wiggled your wrists, desperately trying to break free just so you could wrap them around his neck and pull him close as you felt the throbbing pants of pleasure beating every inch of your physical sense.

He knew…yet he found the need to taunt you by asking….already knowing the answer.

“Tell me baby….i wanna hear it. Tell me…..you want it. Say it.....tellme that you waaaaaaant it.”

The aching throbs in between your legs were relentless. Your center core beneath your folds needed to be plunged…it needed him. As much as you hated yourself for doing it, you responded….

“Y-yes….yes…….” with your face still turned away, you couldn’t bear to look at him when you admitted your answer. If you had the chance……if you had the means…you would have escaped….gone far away from him…..and never look back. You didn’t ask for this, nor did you seek it…..yet he made you want it….and that feeling…it grew…more and more vibrant as each day went by.

Gasping against your lips, he exhales slowly and whispers as he sadistically chuckles….

“Heh…my girl…….my fucking girl……lets give you what you want, hmm?” reengaging the kiss, he slowly enters inside and started off slow….deep…..and tender……responding to your moans, he smirks into his kiss….

“Yeah baby…..let me take care of you….let me love you…..let me fuck you….forever.”

“Come on….you know you liked it…..what? You need a reminder? Hmm?” leaning in, he forcefully kisses you, shoving his tongue inside your mouth.

You remained aloof, not once returning his affections as you had done earlier.

“Its not like I wanted to….he forced himself on me…I have to get out of here…I have to escape…..I can’t be here with his deranged lunatic…….”

Shaking your head in response to his offer, you harshly turned your face away and remained emotionless with your expression. Chuckling, he notes your manners and shrugs it off.

“Okay…..not right now, but I’ll have you begging for it again….later.” with a soft grin, he admires your hair and gently shifts each piece aside and away from your face.

“Got some friends over. Wanna bring you out so you can meet them. You gonna behave? No trying to break free like last time, otherwise I'll have to keep you chained up like this….” Tapping on the chains and cuffs that held your wrists and ankles in place, he raised a brow as he stared right into you, biting down on his lip.

“I have no problems in keeping them off…but you gotta be good and not go near the door…..and no touching the finger pad either. You broke it the last time.” He teases as he nuzzles his face against your cheek, placing a tender and squeaky kiss on it. “You promise to behave for me, baby?”

You nodded in response, you had no choice but to abide by his rule, given his friends would aid him and limit your ability to escape had you tried anything, yet the real reason you agreed was because you had become overwhelmingly desperate in getting out of the chains and off this bed. Your limbs were starting to ache and you needed the release of freedom as you felt yourself rotting while you were forced to remain on the bed for hours.

“Okay, we’ll see…” he chuckles, reaching over for his key and unlocking the cuffs attached to each chain, he softly caresses your cheek as he spoke. “Go ahead baby, stretch it out.”

You slowly shifted and rolled away from his hovered frame, the joints and muscles in your arms and legs felt sore…incredibly sore. Not to mention, the soreness in between your thighs was a lot more pungent now that you were able to move, it hardly felt this painful when you simply laid stagnant in bed.

Caving your chest in as you cuffed your hands in between your legs, curving your back as you slightly whimpered in pain, he crawls over to your side and cradles you in his arms.

“Shhh….its okay baby…..we’ll take a break for a few days….hmm? Just don’t misbehave because otherwise…I’m going to have to punish you again.”

He sighs out as he stands up and extends his hand out to you. Begrudgingly, you took it as you remained facing away and wincing in annoyance at his loving display of compassion. Leading you by a strong grip, he cradles you against his chest and lovingly kisses your neck as he presents you to Jake and Sunghoon.

“Baaaaaaby…..say hello to my friends, hmm?” Admiring your side profile as he continues to hug you from behind, he tilts his head and places another peck on your cheek, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

“Hey, nice to meet you. I’m Jake.” The young handsome man smirked out. He also displayed a habit of biting down on his lip, or so it would appear as he issued his greeting.

“Hi, I’m Sunghoon. Its nice to finally meet you.” the other man greets, issuing a gentle wave.

“Say hi baby……you shy?” burying his face into your neck, he continues to tease “you shyyyyyyyy baby? My baby girl shy?” Standing with a lifeless expression, our body motionless and lacked any sort of ounce to live on. You felt the sting of fresh tears forming in your eyes. You hated this….all of it. Why did you…of all people, had to be kept against your will like this? What did you ever do? You were always kind, thoughtful, and did your best to help others. Why were you being punished into being forced to live in this apartment, and forced to ‘love’ this man who claims that you were his everything. Why? Why did this have to happen to you?

............

Finishing the thought process of his memory in meeting Heeseung's girl, Jake adoringly admires you as you finished up and checked out. Purchasing a couple of candles, you held onto the gift bag as you slightly swung it while walking jovially back home. Following you, Jake couldn't help but display a soft smile as he grew to yearn more of you. His eyes remained focus on your frame from behind, when suddenly a dark shadow from the side appeared.

With his smile disappearing, Jakes countenance was replaced with a rather vicious look as he recognize the gleam in the man's eye. The man himself, he didnt know, but what he was familiar with, was the way the man looked at you......craved you.......watched you as he looked around and blended in with small crowd as he follows you, cutting in front of Jake not knowing that he too, had been following.

................

"Better to be the sheep, rather than the hunter.

For even though his luck ran high, his smile growing deep,

He knows not what is present, unlike the watchful sheep.

While he crawls closely to the herd,

Gaining distance, while falsely lured.

The sheep all aware, by the scent and sound,

Of the watchful Lion, that prowls low to the ground.

For though the sheep may be gentle and easy,

They knew from careful senses, that danger was afoot.

Merging away, the sheep disappear, while the hunter stands confused on foot.

And there is the Lion, ready to kill.

The poor hunter, outdone by his own sought out thrill."

Taglist: @nshmrarki , @lprww , @baekxo07 , @m7omo@nikstrange@heeshees@moonmoongi@heesitation@heeseung-min @addictedtohobi @nctsslut

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meklarian · 2 months ago

Text

about me

hi, my name is paul. this pinned post is where you might see who i am, what i am doing with my life, and where else you could find me.

basic stats

gender & pronouns: male (cis), he/him residence: los angeles aversions: olives, crowds affinities: sweets, driving occupation: software engineering diversions: photography (mostly birds), doodling (code, art, and music), fruit hunting, writing pizza order: cheese pizza + artichokes drinks: diet coke, coffee, tea

facecards here

socials

these are my tumblrs:

@meklarian - main

@meklarianb - reblog / sp / goofing off account

@mekplaylist - queue of music i have heard or want to bookmark

@meknotes - this is a queue of things i want to remember or have learned

@meksynthesis - my music exploration and journey account

you can find me at the following locations as well:

twitter - paul_shinn

threads - meklarian

insta (main) - meklarian

insta (food) - plated_plant

insta (people) - plastic.anemone

github - meklarian

glitch - meklarian

twitch - meklarian

stack overflow - meklarian

ko-fi - meklarian

pc part picker - meklarian

discord - meklarian

in gaming i'm mostly doing solo things, but i have profiles at these places (inquire within if you want to add me as a friend):

steam

nintendo switch

bnet

tools

just going to mention vendors / major names; inquire privately if you want to know what specific gear, materials, or software i use.

photography: nikon, zeiss, adobe, capture one, epson, canson, moab, ilford, wimberley, rrs music: nord, waldorf, arturia, roland, focusrite, reaper art: wacom, dahle

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ak319 · 2 months ago

Text

Yan G!P Princess x fem reader

Part VII ➺Part VI

Your name is Deniz here

It was your first night in Marrakech, and all you wanted was to erase the events of the day from your mind. Standing in the middle of the suite, your eyes were fixed on the footage of your arrival at the airport. Despite Kade's insistence on keeping it discreet, the Prime Minister and his wife had still shown up to welcome you. Their gesture was kind, but it only heightened your anxiety. In two days, you’d be heading to Rabat, where the real pressure awaited--meeting the royals.

Kade was in the shower, so you seized the chance to turn off the television and call it a night. Too much Kade in one day was migraine-inducing.

Moments later, Kade emerged from the bathroom, humming softly. She paused mid-step, towel in hand, as her eyes landed on you, curled up on the couch with your back to her, the comforter draped protectively around you. She sighed, but despite your obvious avoidance, a faint smile tugged at her lips. It was just like you to be headstrong and determined--especially when it came to avoiding her.

"Darling?" Kade's voice was low and raspy as she stood over you, but you kept your back turned, refusing to acknowledge her presence.

"You really gonna sleep here?"

"Absolutely. Now go away. Don’t wanna hear another word."

"Deniz, how about I sleep here, and you take the bed, love? Hm?"

"I said not another word."

"Fine, love, fine. Have a good night..." Kade’s tone softened with reluctant acceptance as she walked to the bed, but her eyes never left your form on the couch.

‘Is this how our first night will be? Or worse... every night? No, Kade, she just needs time, that’s all.’

The thought weighed heavy on her, the distance between you more painful than she'd anticipated. She lay down, heart aching with a quiet, unfulfilled longing to have you in her arms. But sleep didn’t come easily, the empty space beside her a sharp reminder of what she wanted--and couldn’t yet have.

════∘◦❁◦∘════

"Try this, it's so good. Here," Kade said, offering you a spoonful of tagine, the fragrant stew rich with saffron, preserved lemons, and olives. Without a word, you took the spoon from her hand and ate it yourself.

"Yum, right?" she grinned.

The breeze slips through the open window beside the sofa where you two are currently eating, your head peeking from the window gazing out. The air enters carrying with it the scent of spices and distant wood smoke. From here, the sounds of the streets drift up, muffled but unmistakable--the chatter of traders haggling over rugs, the calls of vendors selling fresh oranges and carpets. The view stretches further, past the bustling marketplace to where the city melts into the horizon, the Atlas Mountains looming beyond, their snow-capped peaks a sharp contrast to the sunbaked desert landscape. The room behind you is quiet, luxurious even, but it can’t hold your attention the way the city does, especially when she's here, in front of you.

You took a slow sip of your tea, savoring the warmth, when Kade’s morning voice reached your ears. "Today, we’re going shopping for you, love. So when you meet the Queen, you’ll be as Moroccan as she is," she teased, a chuckle slipping through.

You rolled your eyes. "You couldn’t have sounded more like a colonizer."

Her smirk widened, never faltering. "What?! How- even--Damn, you really just love blaming me for the sins of my ancestors for everything, don't you, love?"

"Well, not my fault you talk and even act like them."

"Oh, I do?" Her eyes gleamed, her voice dropping an octave. "If that’s the case, darling, let me tell you something. That Kohinoor sitting in a museum---worthless when compared to you. Offer me a million of those, and I’d still choose you."

" Nobody offered it to you anyway. And I would always choose the diamond." She ignored your comment.

"I’m not joking. And damn right, I’m colonizing--" she leaned in slightly, her voice taking on a dangerous edge, "I’d colonize any country if it meant having you."

You could barely believe your ears as you backed away, disbelief washing over you. "Kade, for fuck’s sake! You sicko!" You couldn't wrap your head around the fact that she was romanticizing colonization first thing in the morning.

Her playful smirk didn’t falter, though her eyes glinted with an intensity that made you uneasy. "Oh, come on, love. Don’t act like you don’t enjoy the finer things in life."

"Finer things? At the expense of someone else’s unwillingness and by force?! Wow," you snapped, unable to hold back any longer.

Kade’s teasing expression faltered, replaced by something colder, darker. “What’s wrong with me giving you finer things?” Her voice had lost its playful edge, now tinged with frustration.

You crossed your arms tightly, standing firm. "Just--listen Kade! You might not realize it, but the way you talk sometimes... it’s too much and all bullshit. Just stop."

Kade sat there, confused, her brow furrowing as she watched you storm off to the dressing room before deciding to follow you. Her presence was right behind you as you started rummaging through your bag, searching for something to channel your anger into.

She took a step closer, towering over your frame, her presence overwhelming as her voice dropped to a low, almost dangerous whisper. “I only want to give you the world, but if you’re going to fight me every step of the way…" The intensity in her words sent a shiver down your spine. As her hand reached out, you jerked your waist away, refusing to be drawn into her grasp. Without a word, you headed to the bathroom, leaving her standing there. Her smirk returned as she inhaled the faint trace of your scent lingering in the air, lips curling in quiet satisfaction.

════∘◦❁◦∘════

With no more than three bodyguards and in disguise, she took you to the bustling markets, where you did feel a thrill of excitement as you browsed and shopped. A feeling that you had become unfamiliar with. As your fingers traced an intricate piece of jewellery, her low voice brushed against your ear, making you jump. You shot her a glare through your shades, but she clearly didn’t care, a grin spread across her face. She was enjoying this way too much. Why wouldn’t this bastard will?

"You should buy it. Come on. You know, if you command it right now, Princess," she said, cocking her head to the side and leaning closer as you looked away, "I’ll empty every stall for you."

"No, thank you. And yes, I am buying these." You pulled out your own saved money---something your dad had withdrawn for you--and paid the vendor.

"Wha--Deniz? What was that?" She demanded, her tone sharp as you continued browsing another stall, smiling at the vendor.

"I’m asking you something. Why did you do that?"

"Why did I do what? Pay for myself? With my own money?"

"Deniz, we talked about this! I told you not to bring your wallet, and yet you did."

"Exactly, because it's my wallet, and I can." The frustration on her face was evident, but she fell silent. "Give me your wallet."

Ignoring her only made her more annoyed. "Deniz, don't make a scene. Give me your wallet--" Without waiting for your response, she snatched it from you and tossed it to her bodyguard.

"What the fuck--" You started, but she placed a finger on your lips.

"Shush." She dragged you into an indoor shop, her grip on your hand unyielding.

════∘◦❁◦∘════

"Why the fuck are you so insecure?! YOU DON'T EVEN LET ME DO SOMETHING THAT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE I STILL HAVE SOME, LIKE SOME FUCKING AUTONOMY LEFT IN MY LIFE!"

She shook her head with a mock laugh as she set the last bag on the sofa and walked toward you.

"Right, and how long does this autonomy of yours last? One week? One month? Because that wallet, along with the bank details I just received, only says... about three months, love." She is still stalking you even after marrying. Of course.

"Can you fucking stop looking into my things for once , you creep!? Do you think I’m not going to get a job after this? I definitely fucking am."

"Deniz! You need to accept that you are now a PRINCESS! A DUCHESS! That is going to be your job! Are you telling me you want to do your old job or something?" At your approving silence, she pinched the bridge of her nose, laughing in disbelief.

"I just don’t understand why you say such... it hurts to say it, but it’s plain dumb, Deniz. You’re being childish. Whether on purpose or not."

"Just--give me back my wallet--"

"NO! Do you even realize how pathetic and spineless I felt letting you buy the very first thing on our HONEYMOON? Deniz, my money is YOUR money, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you spend your own here! Is this what you wanted? To marry some... civilian who just stands there and watches you buy things with your OWN MONEY?! Was that your dream life?"

"YES! Because, Kade, you are foreign to the idea of free will! That is what normal people DO! I TOO FUCKING FEEL SPINELESS!" Tears brimmed your eyes but you didn't back down. "You can't keep doing this shit to ME!"

"Oh, well, call it whatever you want. Now, I’m going to give you a few minutes to clear your head, and when I come back, this topic should be forgotten." With that, she stormed out, leaving you sitting dejectedly on the couch. You got up with a huff and poured some water for yourself.

"God, this is going to be so hard." Your eyes drifted to the bags on the sofa, and you decided to put them in the dressing room. Facing the mirror, a sigh escaped your lips. Is this your life now? To just always listen and accept things? You had to decide something here for your own peace of mind, otherwise, you would go mad. Either you keep being like this, make her life hell and pray daily that Kade realizes her mistake and divorces you, or just accept your fate and start living like before.

You scoffed at the idea of the divorce.

"Can you get me divorced from her in the future, then?"

"That would be possible when I become Queen. I could grant you permission. But that time seems far off, and...There are other factors to consider, including Kade’s own consent."

And the way Kade always used a contending tone whenever she expressed her love for you---always, forever, irrevocably. Will she even consent? "But I still love you. Never forget that. Ever. I won’t let you."

You were scrolling through your phone when she returned, her expression calmer and a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

A talk with your father about the money had helped ease her frustration.

"Deniz, love. Here." She handed you your wallet, and for a moment, you weren't sure how to respond.

"Take it. Spend it if you want. But just don’t stop me when I want to buy you things, okay?" You accepted it, curious about what had changed her mind.

"Now get ready, we’re going out for dinner."

"Why not just eat here?"

"Deniz, we can’t dine at the hotel all the time. Come on, get ready. I made a reservation."

And the days in Marrakech passed like a gentle breeze. Waking, shopping, eating, and dozing on the couch became your routine. What frustrated you was the long list of things you wanted--or needed---to do, yet couldn’t bring yourself to. The fear of being publicized, even while you diligently avoided your name on the internet, gnawed at you. And then there was Kade. You hated wearing the ring she insisted on checking before every outing. The thought of presenting a sombre face to the Moroccan royalty felt suffocating, it would only fill you with guilt instead of hurting Kade, and you weren’t rude by nature.

Kade, on the other hand, relished how you remained kind to others, fully aware of your internal struggles. Her hands and voice offered consistent comfort, even as you subtly rejected it, hiding your turmoil behind forced smiles. This was what she admired about you, your ability to shine for others despite your own darkness--a quality befitting a royal, especially as her wife. But it also drove her mad. She longed to be the one who elicited your genuine smile, not the one left in the shadows of your charm.

“Just a few days more…”

════∘◦❁◦∘════

The 13-day honeymoon in Morocco finally ended, and as you stepped onto the plane, waving for what felt like an eternity to the endless crowds, you collapsed into one of the plush seats with a deep sigh. Your body ached from forced smiles, from playing the role you never wanted.

“Tired, love?” Kade’s voice came from behind you, dripping with the warmth you had grown used to but never invited.

“Duh.” Your response was flat, lacking the energy to engage with her usual teasing.

She chuckled, settling into the seat across from you, a sparkle of amusement in her hazel eyes. “Wear your seatbelt,” she instructed softly, watching as drinks were brought over.

The cabin hummed softly with quiet luxury, but the tension inside you never quite unraveled. You lifted your drink, not in a celebratory mood but simply seeking any kind of relief.

“So,” Kade leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand with a mischievous grin, “Now you know what it feels like, being royal and all.”

“Mhm. How nice of you to give me the full 4K experience, Kade.” Sarcasm laced every word, but you couldn’t muster the strength to fight her today.

“Mention not, wife,” she replied, eyes glittering with something deeper as she settled back. “But of course, this is just the beginning...” Her voice trailed off, a promise hidden beneath her words that sent a shiver down your spine.

For her, this was a game--one she was winning. For you, the game had barely begun, and you were already exhausted.

After waking from a nap, you blinked groggily, realizing it had been three hours--and you were still in the air. Confused, you rubbed your eyes and glanced out the window, expecting to see the familiar descent, but all you saw was the endless sky.

“Kade?” Your voice was thick with sleep as you yawned. “Um--why haven’t we reached yet? Isn’t it late? Like...”

Without even looking up from her book, Kade responded in her usual composed tone, “Oh, we took another route, love. Have some tea. We’ll land in about an hour.”

You sighed, a bit annoyed but too tired to argue, and took the tea offered by the attendant. The cup was warm in your hands, the scent of spices soothing, but as soon as you took a sip, your vision blurred. Two Kades swam in your gaze.

“K-Kade...what’s...um--” Your voice slurred as your body felt heavy, your limbs turning to lead.

Before you could process what was happening, Kade stood up swiftly and scooped your limp form into her arms, her touch firm but surprisingly gentle. She carried you to the cabin room, her strength never wavering as she placed you carefully on the bed.

“Sleep well, love,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Sorry, I had to.”

Her voice, soft yet resolute, echoed faintly as darkness pulled you under. There wouldn’t be another screaming match, not tonight. She couldn’t bear to see that look in your eyes again--the fear, the resentment. She was going to fix it. She had to. All those negative feelings clouding your heart... she would take care of them. For sure.

➺Part VIII

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cecilxa · 1 year ago

Text

the boba theory

summary: ayato likes boba, but he loves you even more

contents: fluff, humour, lightheartedness all around, ayato is down bad, gn!reader (use of they/them pronouns), reader really likes boba sorry if you don't like it (bobalover!reader), quite dialogue adjacent

cw: food

a/n: longer than usual, but i thought it was a really cute twist on the olive theory and just ran with it! @ibitekaeya i promised i would write more ayato :)

wc: 1.4k

Ayato can feel your gaze on him. But strangely, he doesn’t feel it on his face, nor his arms, nor his, ahem, behind (which you, for some reason he pretends not to know, seem to like looking at). No, he feels it on one of his gloved hands, the other one presently holding one of yours. But even then, no, that doesn’t seem right either. So what could you possibly be staring at?

Oh.

It’s his boba. The smooth, creamy milk tea of his dreams combined with chewy tapioca pearls creates a sensation that’s refreshing for his palate and also soothing to the throat. It’s really quite a perfect drink to enjoy at all times, even when it’s cold out. You also seem to agree, given how you’ve been looking at it the whole time on your walk through the street.

He can’t help but feel a little jealous. It’s one of the rare off days he gets, and you’re more interested in his boba than him? The betrayal. Sure, it may be somewhat (and he’d like to stress the somewhat) childish of him, but what’s he got to do to be able to receive some attention? You haven’t even noticed how his eyes have drooped slightly, or how his smile is ever so strained around the corners of his mouth, or how his grip has tightened, which is causing some pearls to slowly creep up the cup…

“Ayato!”

He startles, his grip lessens, and those sweet, sweet tapioca pearls are saved for today. And his dignity, you guess.

“Yes? Was there something you saw that interested you? I’ll gladly pay for it.”

“No, it’s just that your boba was going to spill–you were gripping it so tightly.”

“Oh.”

He silently thanks the Electro Archon. It’s only the second date, and he’s not sure whether he’d be able to handle the late nights in his bed replaying the horrifying moment of his boba spilling all over his clothes while his crush looks on. He’s cringing just thinking about it. Sure, he’d be able to play it off, but hotpot nights would definitely be a little more intense. Maybe she also has a fondness for similar milk-based drinks?

To steer the conversation away from embarrassing moments, an idea strikes, and he ushers you towards a nearby stall on the street, one that gives off a slightly sweet scent.

“A boba tea, please.”

The vendor’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of Kamisato Ayato ordering a simple drink, and while with a supposed significant other?! Just know that the rumours will be spreading as soon as you leave the stall–not that they’ve not started already.

“Right away, sir.”

You look at Ayato questionably. He already has a boba, so why would he need another one? Similarly to the vendor’s expression, your eyes also widen, although much more subtly than the person shyly peeking up to grab another glance at the esteemed Yashiro Commissioner.

Without even having to look at you, Ayato chuckles again, but with something akin to fondness.

“You’ve guessed it. It’s for you. I would offer you mine–I don’t really like it anyway–but I doubt you’d want it with all my saliva.”

The white lie falls off his tongue as if he were actually telling the truth.

He turns to hand the vendor some cash, but before he can properly give it over, you grab his hand and shake your head.

“It’s mine, right? So I should pay. I’ve paid for stuff in the past when we’ve been together; it doesn’t matter whether we’re on a date or not.”

He hesitates, then retracts his hand. He then smiles–one that lifts the corners of his eyes, and one that reveals the crinkles of his mouth.

“Of course. If that is your wish.”

You proceed to give the vendor some cash and take the boba from their hands. If only you were looking at Ayato instead.

“Your patronage is greatly appreciated!”

Walking away, Ayato dips his face towards your ear and whispers softly, his hot breath tickling your neck.

“Is this your first time?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“A secret for our next date.”

He winks. You can feel the blush spreading across your cheeks. Why did he have to be this attractive? To cool yourself down (and to avoid keeping eye contact), you decide to take a rather large gulp of the drink, which even Ayato is slightly concerned about.

“Don’t drink too violently. The pearls could get stuck in your throat, and I don’t think either of us would appreciate a surprise trip to the doctor’s on only our second date, hm?”

You nod absentmindedly, but then the flavour hits your tongue. And then your eyes light up in a way that makes your whole face glow. As you chew on the tapioca pearls, a smile grows on your face, which widens as time goes on. The soothing sensation! The mesh of textures! The subtle sweetness! What a delight to experience!

All the while, Ayato’s now the one staring at you with widened eyes. The look on your face is nothing short of extraordinary. Something in his heart stirs. Seeing you this happy, he’s now certain of the fact that whatever you ask for will be granted if the smile that graces your features is one that he gets to experience. It’s somehow only now that he realises you really have him wrapped around your pretty little finger. His eyes crinkle.

“You never fail to amaze me.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Please, carry on.”

–

It’s been a few months since that incident, and Ayato still recalls it fondly whenever he’s feeling down or for motivation to finish his work quicker so that he’s able to spend some much-needed quality time with you. He smiles softly, chuckling at the expression he so vividly remembers. The look on your face is so endearing that he wonders how lucky he must’ve been when his ‘hunch’ ended up being the source of one of his most cherished memories.

“What’s so funny?”

Your question grounds him in reality as he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you towards him.

“How I’m looking forward to beating Thoma in our hotpot game today; the look on his face will truly be something… hehe.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can respond, said housekeeper walks in, carrying a tall drink of boba. You gasp a little, something only Ayato can hear, and he grins. However, said housekeeper also adds a message that makes his heart not-so-subtly skip a beat.

“My lord, here’s your boba that you requested. It’s your favourite flavour too.”

Thoma then sends a greeting your way, which you reply to with a grin. A pause, and then Ayato hears what might possibly be the loudest laugh you’ve ever let out.

“Good joke, Thoma! I even believed you for a second there. He even told me yesterday how much he disliked it. It’s quite sweet, actually. He always has one with him so that even if we’re not near a drinks vendor, I can still have one, even if he’s not expecting me to be there.”

Thoma awkwardly laughs along, sending questioning looks towards Ayato, to which he responds with a smile that contains little to no mirth at all. Through gritted teeth, Ayato also laughs, although it sounds much more like a bark than a proper chortle.

“Darling, could you excuse Thoma and me for a quick moment? I promise we won’t be long.”

Poor Thoma.

“Oh, sure. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Ayato strides deftly out of the room, with Thoma following behind. He also doesn’t want you to notice the faint heat that he feels spreading across his ears.

“My lord, what are you talking about? Everyone in the Kamisato Estate knows how much you like boba.”

Ayato sighs.

“Their happiness is the one thing I hold most dear to my heart. If that means sacrificing some… drink, albeit one that I also hold dear, then I would not hesitate to purge it from my diet. They make me do foolish things to my heart, and subsequently make me do foolish things in return.”

Thoma is left stunned, while Ayato swiftly dismisses him to go back inside. He does turn back, however, and gives him a smile that never means good things.

“I’m looking forward to our hotpot today. Make sure to be sufficiently prepared.”

Poor Thoma.

Ayato pads in quietly, his footsteps silent as a cat’s, but pauses. He lets his gaze linger on your satisfied expression, and his ears pick up a pleasant hum. How wonderful. How so, so wonderful you are. When the time comes, he guesses he’ll have to reveal the grand truth, but for now, he’s perfectly content basking in your happiness.

What you do for love.

a/n: likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated!! 💙 (blue for ayato)

#ayato x reader #ayato x you #ayato fluff #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x you #kamisato ayato fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin x you #i miss my inazuma boys

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musicallisto · 4 months ago

Note

clara my dearest role model, clara my devoted friend, clara my delicate muse... i am sending this right as i'm finishing the final chapter of romancing mister bridgerton on audiobook, so forgive me for being so inexcusably brief </3. might i request one of these 💿 lovely surprises with literally any f1 driver, i want to see a violent characterization of these loser men from my most respected author friend yuki tsunoda? i am, in all things, horribly on brand.

· · · · ♡ EXILE (yt22)

… starring yuki tsunoda x f!reader ... based on exile by taylor swift ft. bon iver ... 1.2k words ... in which yuki tsunoda, fresh from his formula 1 debut, returns to a tokyo both familiar and foreign, where ghosts and feelings still linger. ... i really hope you enjoy this my darling olive!! when i saw i had pulled exile out of all songs i freaked out a little,, this song has gotten me through a lot so i had to pay homage </3 happy august 1st to those who celebrate!!!

"I can see you staring, honey

Like he's just your understudy

Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓, 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐄 comes to Tokyo, always brings her heat with her.

More than the temperatures, it's a joyous sort of effervescence that coils around the street corners, trickling down like the first monsoon rains. Day after day, Tokyo attires itself in the most festive of summer colors, until all of a sudden all the festivals, open-air markets, and traditional dances flood the city like budding poppies. Here, rows upon rows of sunflowers sway to the soft breeze in Kiyose; over there paper lanterns float off into the night sky over the Sumida river, each cradling an unspoken wish.

To Yuki, August is always the best time to return to the capital. Or rather, the second best; nothing beats the cherry blossoms of late April, but late April is home for Imola now, and it's been years, really, since he last saw the sakura of home.

He doesn't mind the heat—he never did, and his Japanese friends joke that he was already a fiery character before his time in the West made him brazen. He's always glad to be back home over the summer break. Even more so since he debuted in Formula 1 six months prior.

It's Yuki's first time returning to Tokyo since he started racing with AlphaTauri, and one of his increasingly rare visits to his homeland. He's been eagerly anticipating the break; to recharge, certainly, and most importantly to meet with his family. In the cloudy skies the plane traverses, Yuki can see his elders' crinkled eyes, beaming with pride as he, the picture of practiced humility, answers every question about the sport, about Italy, about the world he made it big in. It matters not they won't understand much about racecars, or the FIA—he's coming home aureoled in a gladiator's glory. Honor to his family, to the Tsunoda bloodline! He smiles to himself as the plane touches down on the tarmac.

Yet as Yuki steps into the urban jungle he's so ardently missed… he finds the city changed. Not transformed, entirely, but… almost misplaced. As if street names and trees and playground slides have been shuffled over his time abroad, all of them still there but in a disposition unknown to him. Sure, he is a child of the suburbs, and Tokyo a fidgety creature—maybe Italy's stone roads have eroded his memory. But wasn't there an old laundromat on this corner, on which the papier mâché dragons would cast fantastical shadows as they snaked down the street? And the brand new KFC—this was a pet store, where he'd press his nose against the glass to watch the colorful fish and guinea pigs until his mother forcibly dragged him away.

This is still home, he tells himself to soothe the unease away. Things change, but they don't leave you behind, he repeats as he checks his phone to make sure he's going in the right direction.

They're all little details. Like when he stops at a food vendor's cart and has to repeat his order twice, taken aback by the sound of his very own mother tongue coming out of his mouth. Six months without speaking Japanese to another person, other than the odd calls to his parents, have left his voice chalky. The woman looks at him for a brief second, quizzical, but hands him the sugary buns; he thanks her, seamlessly this time, and it's all back to normal. Yuki Tsunoda is home.

They're all little details until they aren't. Until he turns on his heels, biting into the snack, and catches sight of her.

It's unmistakable, and it's her. Even with the facemask, it's the same silky hair and smooth skin, same little bounce to her step, and even the same linen pants she used to wear in high school. Tokyo's immutable certainty on the other side of the street. Y/N.

Yuki stops dead in his tracks as their eyes meet, thirty feet away, and a flash of recognition has her almost recoiling, but she holds firm onto the hand she's holding and stays immobile. A man's hand; he's a little taller than Yuki, black hair in a neat middle part and dark eyes distracted by an advertisement on a screen. Wearing nice clothes, sunglasses hanging from his neckline, shoulders relaxed but holding Y/N with the casual affection of a man who cherishes a great treasure.

Yuki's throat dries up. He thinks about reaching out—to say what? Giving her a polite wave—but what for? High school confessions play in his head, back when he loved her as zealously as he raced, and when her laugh ringing in his ears, more than the trophies and the European circuits and the million-dollar contracts, was his only belief.

"So when do you plan on coming back?" she'd asked him the last time they'd ever seen each other, sitting on a park bench that cherry petals flecked.

"Eight months to a year, maybe," he'd answered after a little while, knowing there was no return once he said it.

"Eight months?" she'd exclaimed, disbelieving. "Yuki, I can't… I don't think I can go eight months without seeing you."

"I don't think I can ask you to do that, either," he'd said, sounding sadder than he'd wanted, though he had rehearsed the moment over and over in his head.

She'd stared at him wordlessly, her incomprehension feigned. She knew what he was about to say, but pretended not to. He'd wished she'd piece it together on her own, admit it to herself so he wouldn't have to say it out loud, but…

"I think it's best for both of us if we just… go our separate ways. I don't want to hold you back, and you deserve to be happy here. With someone who's here with you."

You are among the twenty best in the world, Yuki, had told him Franz Tost after some F2 race he couldn't remember, when news had broken out into the world the Japanese rookie would be AlphaTauri's shiniest, newest addition. It's rough getting here and it's only gonna get rougher staying here. The engineers may cut out what's slowing you down… but you need to do it too.

"All right," was all Y/N had said, her eyes glassy. Steel. Dignified, like he'd always known her. Like he sees her right now, staring at him from the other side of the street.

Her new boyfriend taps her shoulder to show her something in a shop, and she turns her head, breaking eye contact with Yuki. Up the road, the lights turn green, and a flock of cars of all shapes and colors buzz past, invading the crosswalk and hiding the couple from view.

Twenty seconds later, when the street is quiet once more, and Y/N eagerly turns her gaze from her boyfriend to the opposite sidewalk, she finds moms pushing strollers and well-behaved Inus on leashes, but no trace of Tsunoda. A flame, gone in a flash. Her heart drops.

She squeezes her boyfriend's hand, and they keep walking.

I'm not your homeland anymore, so what am I defending now?

You were my crown, now I'm in exile, seeing you out

I think I've seen this film before

So I'm leaving out the side door"

… tagging @retvenkos @heliads @faerieroyal (the f1 girlies🥺)

… masterlist here

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #yuki tsunoda #yuki tsunoda x reader #yuki tsunoda imagine #yuki tsunoda x you #yuki tsunoda x y/n #soooooo .. yea lol i wrote something after 2 years i lost the war on rpf #if you hear me screaming mind ur business my laptop is acting up and its making this layout look like shit #f1 debut!!!!!!!!!! it's yuki!!!!!!!!!!#mywriting

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izvmimi · 2 years ago

Text

the only good thing about a super early doctor's appointment on a weekend (it was the only time they were available, and specifically open for you) is the fact that you are finally awake to frequent the neighborhood's farmer's market.

it's a quaint but well-frequented and bustling place, a short drive off the main highway, and for once the parking lot (which is moreso a wide field of grass) isn't filled with cars fit together in a manner similar to tetris. you pull into a space that's not too far from the ribbon-decorated entrance and immediately make a beeline to the very first stall that sells strawberries.

it's not like you knew better, after all.

there is a small crowd through which you weave to get to the stall and you assume that the harvest is good due to its popularity. the young woman who owns the stall smiles widely at you as she sells you on the harvest and you nod emphatically, tasting a strawberry she hands you and marveling at its sweetness.

before you can tell her you'll buy a bunch, she's distracted by an elderly lady who's trying to heckle her about the price of rhubarbs, and then you receive a gentle tap on your shoulder.

startled, you turn, and look at a man so tall and broad he seems to block out the sun.

"oh!" your immediate assumption is that you are somehow in his way, and you step aside but he seems to follow you, and leans in to tell you, in a voice that is deep yet oddly gentle,

"don't buy these, there's a better stall out back," he says in a tone that's meant to be hushed, but carries because of the timbre of his voice. you quickly whip around to see if the seller has noticed his bold statement, but she's now arguing with an older lady shaking a bag of coins at her as she talks animatedly.

you look again at the young man, wondering what to do next. he seems to be waiting for you to agree with him, his sharp olive eyes rested on your expression. he doesn't wave for you to come with him, but he turns and starts to walk, and naturally you follow him. as you watch him from behind, moving through the path he makes for you through people and bales of hay and fixtures and commotion, you notice his cleanly cropped olive-brown hair, similar to his eyes, and the relaxed way his shoulders slope, as if he's never been so correct about anything in his life, except that he is taking you, a stranger to see the sweetest strawberries.

and you realize he is right. the stall he brings to you shows an older lady, whose hands are as wrinkled as her face, but her smile is wide and well-worn, eyes lighting up when she sees him. you notice this is a less frequented part of the market, quieter, and you wonder if the woman has trouble selling. there are much fewer bells and whistles at this stall, prices written in shaky handwriting on a chalkboard, but the strawberries are redder and sweeter than anything you've ever known, and plentiful.

"wakatoshi-kun, did you pluck a customer from the front for me?" the old lady teases.

wakatoshi shrugs and bites into another strawberry from an elaborately decorated basket, and you wonder if the cozy in which it sits is home-made as well.

"i just told the truth."

the lady reaches high to squeeze his shoulder, and he returns a small but warm smile. you find yourself smiling as well.

"i'll take a basket," you offer.

---

you meet wakatoshi again a week later at the farmer's market.

this time he's peering over apricots with an almost studious expression, and the middle-aged man that runs the stall appears to be getting impatient at the man who's staring so hard at his fruit, hands folded behind his back.

you find yourself stifling a laugh, then make your way over to him, but then pause, your feet sticking to the ground. should you say hi? does he remember who you are? or are you just a girl he managed to enjoy his favorite vendor's strawberries?

as you ponder, wakatoshi has moved his attention from the apricots to you, and again, you find yourself caught off guard. attempting to salvage yourself, you wave politely.

"ah, we meet again. strawberries?" you start.

he gives you a blank look, and you wonder if you should bury yourself like a seed, but then he quickly redresses his expression.

"ah, yes." he smiles, and you feel something akin to sprouting. "i never got your name," he adds.

the farmer, impatient at the fruitless analysis of his labor, coughs to interrupt and demands an answer if wakatoshi is willing to buy.

wakatoshi looks at him, unaffected by his annoyance, enough that the farmer grumbles and looks away.

"two, please." wakatoshi asks.

"just two?" you ask, then wonder why you spoke out loud, face warming. he turns to you.

"one for me and one for you."

---

wakatoshi does finally get your name, but after you've ended up shopping together that morning, talking about everything and nothing - he finds a way to draw information out of you and you offer it freely. just hours later, you dash out of your apartment after putting away your harvest, and meet him at a café downtown for brunch. he tells you about the seeds that he's growing in his highrise apartment that he worries won't get enough light. over an omelette and coffee, you tell him you know nothing about his plants, but you'd love updates.

wakatoshi sends you pictures of enlarging bell peppers every few days, and you meet at the entrance of the farmer's market every week.

eventually you no longer just follow him, but he takes your hand in his, and you peruse together, discovering more and more

you make your own apartment garden with his advice, and send him pictures just as frequently.

both of you buy indoor lemon trees, you name his and he names yours.

you buy more strawberries and realize his kisses are just as sweet.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #for kendyyy #daydreams: hq #thoughts: ushijima #mimi’s notes

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captn-trex · 3 months ago

Text

technical devotion, part eight: playing the part

content warnings: minor description of panic around crowds

last chapter | next chapter | master list | join the taglist

“What the-”

Kan jumped as she reached the bottom of the stairs and looked at the droid that was sat lazily at the kitchen table. She then realised it was not a droid at all.

“Echo, you scared me” She laughed slightly, and Echo flipped up the mask of his disguise.

“Pretty convincing right?”

“Yeah, maybe if you weren't sat like a man” She smirked at his distinctly human posture and he chuckled. “I've gotta say, when you said you had a disguise this is not what I was expecting”

“Well maybe that bodes well for my disguise then” He smirked a little, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yep” Kan smiled, grabbing her bag, “Let's get going”

Kan and Echo ventured into town, having heard there was a market in the square today. They were yet to really meet anyone here, and Echo had decided it was easier for him to walk around as a ‘droid’, going unnoticed, instead of trying to explain to people why he was more machine than man, as he often put it.

The square was bursting with life. It was wonderfully decorated with banners and plants, and the large fountain in the middle served as a place of rest for parents and a play area for their kids. There were vendors selling an assortment of things, from food to spare parts and clothes, and it was positively a melting pot of people from all over the galaxy. There was not one presiding race, and Kan was thankful, her olive green Mirialan skin not making her stand out for once.

Despite the cheerful cast of characters in the square, it was lined by men in white plastoid armour, the only ones who managed to stand out in this environment. Stormtroopers.

“You should get talking to some people” Echo said quietly, his voice modulated by his mask. Kan almost didn't realise it was him talking to her.

“Yeah alright, give me a minute” Kan looked around, a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of things going on. She figured she'd start at a food vendor, somewhere they could actually do with visiting.

“Hello there ma'am, how are you today?” The Weequay vendor smiled warmly.

“I'm well, how are you?” Kan replied.

Echo couldn't refrain from rolling his eyes as Kan got into a conversation with the vendor that could not be described as short. She asked about her life, how she had ended up on this planet and about her family. Though it was sweet how much she truly cared about other people and wanted to connect with them, this really wasn't the time for it.

As they walked away from the stand with a paper bag full of vegetables, Kan got distracted by another stand selling food, and Echo grabbed her arm subtlely to stop her.

“We’re not just here to chat and buy food, start talking to some of the locals” He said quietly.

Kan huffed, “Alright, fine”

“I'm gonna take a walk around, see what I can hear” Echo said, walking off to her right before she got the chance to reply.

Kan looked around the square, and decided to just take the plunge. She approached a friendly looking Zabrak woman who was sat by herself at the fountain, smiling at the children playing in the water.

“Excuse me, I'm sorry to disturb you” Kan began, and the woman looked to her with an openness that made her continue, “I'm new to town, could you possibly tell me a little bit about what goes on around here?”

“Of course” She smiled, and patted the place next to her.

Kan took the seat, and they fell into conversation about the customs of the town, market on every second and fourth day of the week, and a communal celebration every few weeks on the fifth day, which included mostly food stands and dancing, among other festivities. The Zabrak, who had since introduced herself as Rhidi, told her about the mayor, pointing them out amongst the crowd of small children that they were playing with.

“It's lovely here, the community seems to be really thriving” Kan said, looking back to Rhidi to see her hesitancy before speaking.

“It is, I must admit it has been different lately” She said, a twinge of indignance in her tone.

“How so?” Kan asked, feigning innocence.

“There's just… a lot more of an imperial presence here nowadays” She began, trying to gauge Kan's opinion on the matter, “Which is fine! of course, it's just… different”

“Oh right…” Kan said, looking around at the stormtroopers patrolling the square, “When did they get here?”

“Around two standard months ago, there was suddenly double the troops, then triple, it happened so quickly” Rhidi said, keeping her voice hushed.

“Something important must be going on then” Kan prompted her.

“They've set up some kind of base for experimentation, technological I think, but that's all I know about it” She said, then sat up straighter, “But anyway, that's pretty much there is to know around here”

Kan understood and followed suit, “Thank you so much Rhidi, it was a pleasure to meet you”

“And you…”

“Oh! I'm uh- Ech-a” Kan immediately cursed her stupid mouth for speaking before she could think properly about what she was saying. “Short for Gekavi” She tried to salvage her blunder with the reasonably common Mirialan name.

“Well, I hope to see around again Eka” Rhidi said with a smile, standing up and brushing off her skirt as Kan cringed at the use of the name.

“Me too” She managed to smile before Rhidi walked away.

Kan stood and looked around the square for someone who seemed like they might know something more about the imperial presence here. That's when she noticed a man in an imperial officer's clothing watching her, a subtle smirk on his lips. She tore her eyes away and made her way around the outside of the square, and then back towards the man, bumping into him with her shoulder a little too harshly.

“Oh! I'm so sorry, forgive me” She looked up at him with widened eyes and all the innocence she could.

“It's no worry miss” He smiled at her warmly, readjusting his uniform, “You're new around here aren't you?”

“Oh dear, is it that obvious?” She said, her hand on her cheek out of fake embarrassment.

The officer chuckled, “I just don't remember seeing you before”

“Ah well, I've just moved in. I'm Gekavi” She doubled down on the name while holding out her hand and he took it in a soft grasp.

“Captain Levy” He gave his own name. He was truthfully quite a handsome man, dark curly hair that fell over his forehead neatly, dark blue eyes, and a pleasant smile.

“Captain huh? That's impressive” Kan smiled up at him disarmingly.

“Should be Commander soon” The Captain smirked at her a little, and Kan could tell he was all too happy to show off to her. This is too easy.

“Woah, how come?” She asked innocently, a small smile quirking the corner of her mouth.

“Cant tell you that I’m afraid Miss, top secret” He said with a little wink.

“Aw, that’s too bad”

Echo looked around the square from the corner, trying to keep his appearance distinctly droid-like. He finally found Kan, but his breath caught as he saw her fluttering her eyelashes up at a man - an Imperial officer - and touching his arm gently. He couldn't help the feeling of jealousy and borderline anger that bubbled up in his gut, and he made his way towards them slowly.

Kan caught the sight of Echo over Captain Levy's shoulder and felt the need to wrap up the conversation.

“Well I should be getting home, it was nice to meet you Captain, almost Commander” She smirked up at him.

“It’s Drass, but it was nice to meet you too Gekavi” He replied with a charming smile, and Kan waved goodbye before she heard him calling out to her again, “Will you be attending the festivities tomorrow?”

“I'm not sure, I still have a lot of settling in to be doing” She replied a little nervously to invite him to try and convince her.

“Well, I hope to see you there nonetheless” He smiled.

She batted her eyelashes at him for a moment, chewing on her lip, “I'll think about it”. She smiled at him and then left, noting him watching her walk away. Echo came to walk beside her as she rounded the corner to their dwelling, and she jumped a little at his sudden presence.

“That was great” She grinned at him, and his heart sunk just a little.

“It was?” He looked at her, jaw grinding when she nodded, “We're not here to just flirt with Imperials you know”

“I wasn't really flirting” Kan screwed up her face at the accusation, placing down the grocery bag on the kitchen table, “But that man is one compliment away from spilling everything. I think we should go to these ‘festivities’ tomorrow”

“So you can flirt with this man some more?” Echo asked, and Kan looked at him with disbelief and apprehension to his strange line of questioning.

“Fake flirting, there's nothing attractive about being with the empire” She pointed out, “I think he's a good first try in any case, and if we go to this thing tomorrow we might find other opportunities”

Echo conceded with a grunt, “Okay, if you say so”

Kan frowned as Echo walked into his room and shut the door. She was getting a little tired of the way he would suddenly act different around her, and she couldn't help but feel that she had done something wrong, once again. She didn't like the way his mood affected her own thoughts, and didn’t understand why she would let it happen. Had it not been the right thing to do to get the attention of an Imperial Captain? Or soon to be Commander, if he was to be believed - that seemed like a good connection to have made.

“Echo, are you coming this thing tonight?” Kan asked from outside his bedroom door.

Echo had taken to staying in his room any time that he wasn't eating or out walking around town and listening in on conversations. That was the way he had found out where their main base of operations was earlier on in the day.

He opened the door, the crease in his brow softening as he looked down at Kan. She wore a short white sleeveless dress, a red waistcoat with the top button done up, and a pair of brown leather boots. Her collarbones were adorned by a small golden necklace, and her hair tied into two pigtails with white ribbons. She looked positively breath taking, and Echo's breath had certainly been taken.

“Uh- I, um- I might stay here” He stuttered out, rubbing his neck as he looked away from her.

“Oh, okay” She said, her shoulders slumping a little.

He noted her deflated tone, “Did you want me to come?”

“I mean… yes. I'm a little nervous about talking to this officer again… and people in general really. It might just be reassuring if you were there, I don't know” She spoke, looking down at her feet, “It's okay if you don't wa-”

“No, I'll come” He replied quickly, “Let me just get changed quickly”

“Okay” Kan smiled as he closed the door, and she sat down at the kitchen table waiting for him. Within a few minutes, the door opened again and Echo stepped out in his droid disguise. Kan desperately wanted to ask him why he had chosen to disguise himself as a droid for this mission, but she decided that another time would be better.

The pair left their dwelling, into the darkness of the night, and made their way to the park just around the corner, where the event was taking place. Echo noted the way that Kan's hands tightened into fists as she looked around the festivities nervously.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” He asked quietly.

“No, I mean- maybe stay close by, but you don't need to be right here if you don't want to. I- I'll be fine, uh- being by myself, um, if you're nearby” She replied, her brain scattered by the amount of people around.

“Hey” Echo said, pulling her around the corner and out of the view of everyone else. He flipped up his mask to talk to her, “If you're uncomfortable, we can go back, you're under no obligation to get information this way”

Kan looked up into his eyes as he leaned his hand on the wall next to her. She found them entirely captivating, a soft brown colour that was different from any of the other clones she had encountered. The intensity of his gaze calmed her from her previous worries, but his proximity had her heart racing.

“No, it's okay. I just- crowds can be a little much for me, but it's fine”

“Are you sure?” He asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Yes, It'll be fine” She assured him. and he stepped back, flipping his mask down.

“Okay, let's do it” He said, gesturing for her to re-join the celebration.

Feeling emboldened by his actions, and having a need to feel safe, Kan grabbed ahold of Echo's hand, and pulled him gently through the crowd.

Echo felt as if his body had been set alight by the simple touch, and he knew that his cheeks must be bright red under his mask. His knees felt weak just from such a small gesture, but he kept his form rigid, continuing his droid-like appearance. He looked down at their hands and smiled to himself. Kan's hand was so different from his own. It was smaller, with slender fingers, but that made it fit so perfectly into his.

As they emerged from the crowd, they noticed that they were at the edge of a dance floor. Couples danced around giddily, some old, some young. With Echo's hand grounding her in the uncomfortable situation, Kan looked around and truly appreciated the beauty of the moment.

Echo felt Kan slip her fingers between his, and he looked over to her to see her looking around the festival with a smile on her face. His heart lurched at the sight. The orange glow of the warm lights scattered around the park lit her face so perfectly, bringing out each curve and dimple there was to see. For the first time, he noticed a thin scar that ran along the back of her jaw, stretching towards her ear. The urge to reach out and trace his finger along it almost overtook him, but his thoughts were interrupted as someone approached them and Kan took her hand from his.

“Eka! It's good to see you” Rhidi approached Kan with a wide smile, who in turn cringed at the fake name.

“Rhidi, you too” She smiled politely.

“I'm just on the way to find my wife, but I'll see you later!” She waved as she made her way past them, and Kan waved back, though Rhidi wouldn't have seen it.

“Eka huh?” Echo said tauntingly from beside her and Kan rolled her eyes, “Sounds awfully like someone I know…”

“Ugh, I panicked okay?” She looked at the clone, “From now on, if anyone asks my name is Gek-”

“Gekavi! You came”

Kan turned and her eyes landed on Captain Levy, making his way towards her with a wide grin. She plastered a similar expression on her own face as she greeted him.

“Captain Levy, how lovely to see you”

“Please, just Drass is fine” He insisted, “And I must say, you look absolutely gorgeous tonight”

“Oh, thank you Drass” Kan replied shyly, “You look pretty handsome yourself”

Echo felt like throwing up.

“Thank you my dear” Drass held out his hand, “May I have this dance?”

“Oh” Kan said, genuinely surprised, and hooked her pinky finger with Echo's for a moment. The Captain had not acknowledged him at all, and still didn't as he slipped the rest of his fingers into Kan's and gave her hand a firm squeeze - a quick reminder that she didn't have to do this.

“Okay then” She said, and took his hand with her free one. She looked back to Echo as she did, her hand lingering in his as she let herself be dragged away by the other man.

Echo hated the sight of it with a burning passion. His hand dropping from hers and her walking away with another man. His infatuation with Kan was admittedly rather new, but the sight in front of him just felt wrong, and his jaw tightened with indignance. He watched as the man, perfect in all ways as far as Echo could understand, swept Kan off her feet figuratively, and then literally, as the dance called for it. He tried to reassure himself that Kan was just pretending, but either she was a really good actor, or she was genuinely enjoying herself.

Self-conscious thoughts crept into Echo's mind from the dark corners of his brain, clawing their way out from hiding. I could never dance with her like that. Even if she wanted to, I don't have a hand to offer her. She looks much happier with this man, and he's an imperial of all people. And the worst thought of them all, she would never want someone like me.

Echo's breathing became shallow and he struggled to keep his rigid exterior. Kan danced with Captain Levy for a few songs, and Echo just tried to focus on the music, the band playing instruments he had never seen before. If he wasn't so distracted he'd be interested in finding out what they were. It seemed that the pair were talking about something in depth, swapping thoughts on a subject.

Then, it was time for a slow number. Kan looked hesitant, but the Captain seemingly convinced her, and they took up a more intimate position, swaying to the music together. They appeared to still be conversing a lot as they did so, Kan asking lots of questions, as was her inquisitive nature.

Echo was so vividly jealous that he started feeling dizzy.

Luckily, the song ended, and Kan said goodbye to the Captain and made her way back over to Echo. She grabbed his hand and said firmly, “We're leaving”

The feel of Kan's hand in his once more dissipated the rage that his jealousy had caused. She gripped him tightly as she wove her way through the crowd and out the other side. She didn’t relent in her grip until they were back in their dwelling, and she was pacing back and forth.

“What happened? It looked like you were enjoying yourself” Echo noted, and Kan whirled on him, pointing a finger to his chest.

“I was not. That man is nothing if not vile. He-” She said angrily, and Echo was taken aback. He had never seen her be angry at all, let alone so fiercely like this.

“He what?”

“He was- It doesn't matter” She shook her head, “He let slip the nature of what's going on here, among other things”

“Oh wow, you work fast” Echo tried to ease the tension with a small joke, and she did chuckle a little before her face fell.

“It's some kind of weapon, something that can be fitted to one-man fighters, or used on the ground. He didn't say exactly what it did, but he definitely used the word ‘destruction’ more than once” She spoke solemnly.

“Oh kriff” Was all Echo could say.

“Yeah” Kan sighed, and slumped into a kitchen chair. She pulled her knees to her chest as she often did.

“Why didn't you enjoy yourself? What did he do?” Echo asked, taking a step towards her.

“He-” She huffed, “He was just saying some really nasty stuff” She looked away from him, and Echo knelt on the floor in front of her.

“About you?”

“No, about… clones” She admitted.

Echo sighed, “Well, that's to be expected maybe, he is an imper-”

“That's not the point. The clones- you're a person Echo, and people just talk about you like you're a piece of dirt on their shoe. It's disgusting that people can be so cruel”

Echo found his heart melting at Kan's words for the millionth time. Her anger on his behalf was admirable.

“It’s okay Kan, that's just how it is”

“Well it shouldn’t be” She pouted, crossing her arms over her knees. Echo couldn’t help but smirk at her childlike actions as he stood again. “You're laughing at me”

“I'm not laughing” Echo smiled wider, a small laugh escaping.

“Yeah yeah, and I'm the queen of Naboo” Kan rolled her eyes and stood from her seat, making her way towards the stairs.

“Kan” Echo called after her, and she turned to look at him. He hesitated a little before he spoke, “Look, that man may have been an idiot in the end, but… he was right, you look really nice”

Kan smiled broadly at the compliment, her cheeks darkening, “Thanks Echo”

He just smiled at her, “No problem, I'll see you tomorrow” He walked over to the door to his room and disappeared inside.

Kan stayed stood at the bottom of the stairs for a moment longer, her blush only growing deeper. Though she would not admit it, she truly had Echo in mind when she dressed herself for the night's festivities, and despite the devastating news of this weapon the imperials were building, she felt elated that he had acknowledged her appearance, and even complimented it. Maybe I'm getting somewhere with him…

#trex writings #arc trooper echo #bad batch #star wars #tbb #tbb echo #the bad batch #clone force 99 #echo x oc #501st battalion #501st legion #clones #echo my beloved #divider by cafekitsune

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najia-cooks · 10 months ago

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[ID: A circle of overlapping semi-circular bright pink pickles arranged on a plate, viewed from a low angle. End ID]

مخلل اللفت / Mukhallal al-lifit (Pickled turnips)

The word "مُخَلَّل" ("mukhallal") is derived from the verb "خَلَّلَ"‎ ("khallala"), meaning "to preserve in vinegar." "Lifit" (with diacritics, Levantine pronunciation: "لِفِتْ"), "turnip," comes from the root "ل ف ت‎", which produces words relating to being crooked, turning aside, and twisting (such as "لَفَتَ" "lafata," "to twist, to wring"). This root was being used to produce a word meaning "turnip" ("لِفْتْ" "lift") by the 1000s AD, perhaps because turnips must be twisted or wrung out of the ground.

Pickling as a method of preserving produce so that it can be eaten out of season is of ancient origin. In the modern-day Levant, pickles (called "طَرَاشِيّ‎" "ṭarāshiyy"; singular "طُرْشِيّ" "ṭurshiyy") make up an important culinary category: peppers, carrot, olives, eggplant, cucumber, cabbage, cauliflower, and lemons are preserved with vinegar or brine for later consumption.

Pickled turnips are perhaps the most commonly consumed pickles in the Levant. They are traditionally prepared during the turnip harvest in the winter; in the early spring, once they have finished their slow fermentation, they may be added to appetizer spreads, served as a side with breakfast, lunch, or dinner, eaten on their own as a snack, or used to add pungency to salads, sandwiches, and wraps (such as shawarma or falafel). Tarashiyy are especially popular among Muslim Palestinians during the holy month of رَمَضَان (Ramaḍān), when they are considered a must-have on the إِفْطَار ("ʔifṭār"; fast-breaking meal) table. Pickle vendors and factories will often hire additional workers in the time leading up to Ramadan in order to keep up with increased demand.

In its simplest instantiation, mukhallal al-lifit combines turnips, beetroot (for color), water, salt, and time: a process of anaerobic lacto-fermentation produces a deep transformation in flavor and a sour, earthy, tender-crisp pickle. Some recipes instead pickle the turnips in vinegar, which produces a sharp, acidic taste. A pink dye (صِبْغَة مُخَلَّل زَهْرِي‎; "ṣibgha mukhallal zahri") may be added to improve the color. Palestinian recipes in particular sometimes call for garlic and green chili peppers. This recipe is for a "slow pickle" made with brine: thick slices of turnip are fermented at room temperature for about three weeks to produce a tangy, slightly bitter pickle with astringency and zest reminiscent of horseradish.

Turnips are a widely cultivated crop in Palestine, but, though they make a very popular pickle, they are seldom consumed fresh. One Palestinian dish, mostly prepared in Hebron, that does not call for their fermentation is مُحَشّي لِفِتْ ("muḥashshi lifit")—turnips that are cored, fried, and stuffed with a filling made from ground meat, rice, tomato, and sumac or tamarind. In Nablus, tahina and lemon juice may be added to the meat and rice. A similar dish exists in Jordan.

Turnips produced in the West Bank are typically planted in open fields (as opposed to in or under structures such as plastic tunnels) in November and harvested in February, making them a fall/winter crop. Because most of them are irrigated (rather than rain-fed), their yield is severely limited by the Israeli military's siphoning off of water from Palestine's natural aquifers to settlers and their farms.

Israeli military order 92, issued on August 15th, 1967 (just two months after the order by which Israel had claimed full military, legislative, executive, and judicial control of the West Bank on June 7th), placed all authority over water resources in the hands of an Israeli official. Military order 158, issued on November 19th of the same year, declared that no one could establish, own, or administer any water extraction or processing construction (such as wells, water purification plants, or rainwater collecting cisterns) without a new permit. Water infrastructure could be searched for, confiscated, or destroyed at will of the Israeli military. This order de facto forbid Palestinians from owning or constructing any new water infrastructure, since anyone could be denied a permit without reason; to date, no West Bank Palestinian has ever been granted a permit to construct a well to collect water from an aquifer.

Nearly 30 years later, the Interim Agreement on the West Bank and the Gaza Strip (also called the Oslo II Accord or the Taba Agreement), signed by Israel and the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) in 1995, officially granted Israel the full control over water resources in occupied Palestine that it had earlier claimed. The Argreement divided the West Bank into regions of three types—A, B, and C—with Israel given control of Area C, and the Palestinian Authority (PA) supposedly having full administrative power over Area A (about 3% of the West Bank at the time).

In fact, per article 40 of Annex 3, the PA was only allowed to administer water distribution in Area A, so long as their water usage did not exceed what had been allocated to them in the 1993 Oslo Accord, a mere 15% of the total water supply: they had no administrative control over water resources, all of which were owned and administered by Israel. This interim agreement was to be returned to in permanent status negotiations which never occurred.

The cumulative effect of these resolutions is that Palestinians have no independent access to water: they are forbidden to collect water from underground aquifers, the Jordan River, freshwater springs, or rainfall. They are, by law and by design, fully reliant on Israel's grid, which distributes water very unevenly; a 2023 report estimated that Israeli settlers (in "Israel" and in the occupied West Bank) used 3 times as much water as Palestinians. Oslo II estimations of Palestinians' water needs were set at a static number of million cubic meters (mcm), rather than an amount of water per person, and this number has been adhered to despite subsequent growth in the Palestinian population.

Palestinians who are connected to the Israeli grid may open their taps only to find them dry (for as long as a month at a time, in بَيْت لَحْم "bayt laḥm"; Bethlehem, and الخَلِيل "al-khalīl"; Hebron). Families rush to complete chores that require water the moment they discover the taps are running. Those in rural areas rely on cisterns and wells that they are forbidden to deepen; new wells and reservoirs that they build are demolished in the hundreds by the Israeli military. Water deficits must be made up by paying steep prices for additional tankards of water, both through clandestine networks and from Israel itself. As climate change makes summers hotter and longer, the crisis worsens.

By contrast, Israeli settlers use water at will. Israel, as the sole authority over water resources, has the power to transfer water between aquifers; in practice, it uses this authority to divert water from the Jordan River basin, subterranean aquifers, and بُحَيْرَة طَبَرِيَّا ("buḥayrat ṭabariyyā"; Lake Tiberias) into its national water carrier (built in 1964), and from there to other regions, including the Negev Desert (south of the West Bank) and settlements within the West Bank.

Whenever Israel annexes new land, settlers there are rapidly given access to water; the PA, however, is forbidden to transport water from one area of the West Bank to another. Israel's control over water resources is an important part of the settler colonial project, as access to water greatly influences the desirability of land and the expected profit to be gained through its agricultural exports.

The result of the diversion of water is to increase the salinity of the Eastern Aquifer (in the West Bank, on the east bank of the Jordan River) and the remainder of the Jordan that flows into the West Bank, reducing the water's suitability for drinking and irrigation; in addition, natural springs and wells in Palestine have run dry. In this environment, water for drinking and watering crops and livestock is given priority, and many Palestinians struggle to access enough water to shower or wash clothing regularly. In extreme circumstances, crops may be left for dead, as Palestinian farmers instead seek out jobs tending Israeli fields.

Some areas in Palestine are worse off in this regard than others. Though water can be produced more easily in the قَلْقِيلية (Qalqilya), طُولْكَرْم (Tulkarm) and أَرِيحَا ("ʔarīḥā"; Jericho) Districts than in others, the PA is not permitted to transfer water from these areas to areas where water is scarcer, such as the Bethlehem and Al-Khalil Districts. In Al-Khalil, where almost a third of Palestinian acreage devoted to turnips is located [1], and where farming families such as the Jabars cultivate them for market, water usage averaged just 51 liters per person per day in 2020—compare this to the West Bank Palestinian average of 82.4 liters, the WHO recommended daily minimum of 100 liters, and the Israeli average of 247 liters per person per day.

As Israeli settlement גִּבְעַת חַרְסִינָה (Givat Harsina) encroached on Al-Khalil in 2001, with a subdivision being built over the bulldozed Jabar orchard, the Jabars reported settlers breaking their windows, destroying their garden, throwing rocks, and holding rallies on the road leading to their house. In 2010, with the growth of the קִרְיַת־אַרְבַּע (Kiryat Arba) settlement (officially the parent settlement of Givat Harsina), the Jabars' entire irrigation system was repeatedly torn out, with the justification that they were stealing water from the Israeli water authority; the destruction continued into 2014. Efforts at connecting and expanding Israeli settlements in the Bethlehem area continue to this day.

Thus we can see that water deprivation is one tool among many used to drive Palestinians from their land; and that it is connected to a strategy of rendering agriculture impossible or unprofitable for them, forcing them into a state of dependence on the Israeli economy.

Turnips, as well as cabbage and chili peppers, are also grown in the village of وَادِي فُوقِين (Wadi Fuqin), west of Bethlehem. In 2014, Israel annexed about 1,250 acres of land in Wadi Fuqin, or a third of the village's land, "effectively [ruling] out development of the village and its use of this land for agriculture." Most of this land lies immediately to the west of a group of settlements Israel calls גּוּשׁ עֶצְיוֹן ("Gush Etzion"; Etzion Bloc). Building here would link several non-contiguous Israeli settlements with each other and with القدس (Al-Quds; "Jerusalem"), hemming Palestinians of the region in on all sides (many main roads through Israeli settlements cannot be used by anyone with a Palestinian ID). [2] PLO executive committee member Hanan Ashrawi said that the annexation, which was carried out "[u]nder the cover of [Israel's] latest campaign of aggression in Gaza," "represent[ed] Israel’s deliberate intent to wipe out any Palestinian presence on the land".

This, of course, was not the beginning of this strategy: untreated sewage from Gush Etzion settlements had been contaminating crops, springs, and groundwater in Wadi Fuqin since 2006, which also saw nearly 100 acres of Palestinian land annexed to allow for expansion of the Etzion Bloc.

All of this has obviously had an effect on Palestinian agriculture. A 1945–6 British survey of vegetable production in Palestine found that 992 dunums were devoted to Arab turnip production (954 irrigated and 38 rain-fed; no turnip production was attributed to Jewish settlers). A March 1948 UN report claimed that "[i]n most districts the markets are well-supplied with all the common winter vegetables—cabbages, cauliflowers, lettuce and spinach; carrots, turnips and and beets; beans and peas; green onions, eggplants, marrows and tomatoes." By 2009, however, the area given to turnips in Palestine had fallen to 918 dunums. Of these, 864 dunums were irrigated and 54 rain-fed. This represents an increase in unirrigated turnips (5.8%, up from 3.9%) that is perhaps related to difficulty in obtaining sufficient water.

Meanwhile, Israel profits from its restriction of Palestinian agriculture; it is the largest exporter of turnips in West Asia (I found no data for turnip exports from Palestine after 1922, suggesting that the produce is all for local consumption).

The pattern that Ashrawi called out in 2014 continued in 2023, as Israel's genocide in Gaza occurs alongside the continued and escalating killing and expulsion of West Bank Palestinians. The 2014 annexations, which represented the largest land grab for over 30 years and which appeared to institute a new era of state policy, have been followed up in subsequent years with more land claims and settlement-building.

Israeli military and settler raids and massacres in the West Bank, which had already killed 248 in 2023 before the حَمَاس (Hamas) October 7 offensive had taken place, accelerated after the attack, with forced expulsions of Palestinians (including Bedouin Arabs), and harassment, raids, kidnappings, and torture of Palestinians by a military armed with rifles, tanks, and drones. This violence has been opposed by armed resistance groups, who defend refugee camps from military raids with strategies including the use of improvised explosives.

Support Palestinian resistance by buying an e-sim for distribution in Gaza; donating to help two Gazans receive medical care; or donating to help a family leave Gaza.

[1] 918 dunums were devoted to turnips according to the Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics (PCBS) report for 2009; the 2008 PCBS report attributes 253 dunums of turnip cultivation to Al-Khalil ("Hebron") for 2006–7.

[2] Today, Gush Etzion is connected to Al-Quds by an underground road that runs beneath the Palestinian Christian town of بَيتْ جَالَا (Bayt Jala).

Ingredients:

Makes 2 1-liter mason jars.

500g (4 medium) turnips

1 beetroot

1 medium green chili pepper (فلفل حار خضرة), halved

2 small cloves garlic, peeled

1 liter (4 cups) distilled or filtered water

25g coarse sea salt (or substitute an equivalent weight of any salt without iodine)

Some brining recipes for lifit call for the addition of a spoonful of sugar. This will increase the activity of lactic-acid-producing bacteria at the beginning of the fermentation, producing a quicker fermentation and a different, sourer flavor profile.

Instructions:

1. Clean two large mason jars thoroughly in hot water (there is no need to sterilize them).

2. Scrub vegetables thoroughly. Cut the top (root) and bottom off of each turnip. Cut each turnip in half (from root end to bottom), and then in 1 cm (1/2") slices (perpendicular to the last cut). Prepare the beetroot the same way.

If you need your pickles to be finished sooner, cut the turnips into thinner slices, or into thick (1/2") baton shapes; these will need to be fermented for about a week.

3. Arrange turnip and beet slices so that they lie flat in your jars. Add garlic and peppers.

4. Whisk salt into water until dissolved and pour over the turnips until they are fully submerged. Seal with the jar's lid and leave in a cool place, or the refrigerator, for 20–24 days.

The amount of brine that you will need to cover the top of the vegetables will depend on the shape of your jar. If you add more water, make sure that you add more salt in the same ratio.

#Palestinian #pickles #turnips #beets #gluten free #long post /#tarashiyy

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