#plain plantain

[wildfoodsandmedicines]

[thechoppedmenu]

S2E4: "Floundering Around"

Appetizer Ingredients: Beef Shoulder, Fish Sauce, Canned Pumpkin

Entree Ingredients: Flounder, Yellow Plantains, Baby Bok Choy, Mini Watermelon

Dessert Ingredients: Plain Donuts, Tomatillos, Creme Fraiche

Judges: Aarón Sánchez, Amanda Freitag, Scott Conant

Chefs: Julio Lazzarini, Marc Spooner, Massimo Felici, Christine Campbell

[elinorasims]

Build | Strangerville | Ziggy's Diner

Lot Info

Type | Restaurant Lot Size | 30x20 World | Strangerville Value | 94,857 Baths | 3 CC | No Packs | Unrestricted Ziggy's Diner is a classicly retro mashup of Googie and passenger train inspired styles situated in Strangerville Plaza.

Ziggy's is a compact restaurant and bar combo with a Strangerville twist: classic red booths and an elongated mid-century modern bar layout meets sci-fi inspired and 50's-kitsch inspired cluttered decor..

It's giving the diner from the movie 'Paul'. I hope. lol

Ziggy's has a fully customised menu featuring some Mountain States inspired comfort dishes and some American classics (full menu below the cut).

DOWNLOAD >>

Interior Tour

Bar

Staff Areas

Floor Plan

| hi my loves

hopefully you like this one- it was super fun to build and I'm finding my feet a bit more building for this save, i think!

it's been playtested (briefly lol) and should be fully functional and a smooth enough restaurant experience for your sims to enjoy.

i love Paul so much aha we watched it this past weekend and i was immediately like 'yup. gotta go do a strangerville build now.'

| dag dag fn. <3

Ziggy's Diner Menu

Drinks water ; lemonade ; milk ; orange juice ; coffee ; cream cola ; fizzy fruity drink ; pitch black ; root beer float ; soda ; tang and zing ; boiler room ; eapa ; juice on the rocks ; wrench ; galactic vita-water ; silent film ; sour punch ; sunset valley ; alien juice ; cupid juice ; space energy drink ; jet juice

Appetisers chips and salsa ; mac and cheese ; bowl of olives ; bread roll ; french fries ; whole wheat bread ; popcorn shrimp ; garden salad ; cheesy bread ; grilled plantains ; seafood chowder ; soft shell crab cake ; empanadas ; watermelon salad

Mains mac and cheese ; chicken nuggets ; popcorn shrimp ; baked potato ; hot dog ; lobster roll ; veggie burger ; chicken and waffles ; fried chicken sliders ; mushroom waffles ; sausage and peppers ; scrambled eggs with bacon ; seafood chowder ; tofu dog ; fish tacos ; hamburger ; fried fish ; pancakes ; aubergine Parmesan ; sweet corn pizza ; mushroom steak ; french toast ; vegetable chilli ; egg white omelette ; mushroom soup ; bbq ribs plate ; blackened bass ; gumbo ; steak

Dessert neapolitan ice cream ; rainbow sorbet ; vanilla ice cream ; alien fruit tart ; cream filled donut ; cream snack cake ; honey cake ; plain waffles ; rainbow brownies ; hamburger cake ; chocolate chip cookie ; apple pie ; banana cream pie ; pumpkin pie ; simcity cheesecake ; fruit cobbler

[mariacallous]

Imagine for a second, a group of Jews cooking a slightly different version of challah for Shabbat, matzah for Passover, and donuts for Hanukkah. A group of people whose ancestors were forced to convert to Catholicism against their will, yet continued to practice Jewish customs underground, even at the risk of being ostracized and tortured for doing so. Meet The Silent Jews.

Sometimes referred to as Crypto-Jews, anusim (Hebrew for coerced ones), or conversos, Silent Jews are descendants of Spanish Jews expelled from Spain and Portugal in 1492. Most left medieval Iberian territories for the Ottoman Empire or North Africa; others fled persecution and settled in new frontiers in the New World, where many found refuge. 

I come from one of those persecuted families who came to South America around 1532 and discreetly practiced Jewish rituals, living in fear of being hunted down by the Inquisition. I only found out that my family was actually Jewish as a teenager, that all our colorful, fragrant, crunchy dishes were deeply rooted in Judaic culinary traditions from 16th-century Spain. That the ingredients and aromas of my mom’s kitchen resembled dishes from the Sephardic gastronomy repertoire. 

When the pandemic struck, the combination of lockdown, curiosity, and melancholy led me to knead, mix, and eat plates from my mom’s Jewish inheritance passed on through several generations of women in our family. The kitchen was the right place to honor their sacrifices, bravery, and perseverance to maintain tradition, despite centuries of fear and persecution.

My locked-down days soon began to be filled with ingredients such as eggplants, spinach, leeks, and turnips, which mingled with the scents of cinnamon, anise, cardamom, and nutmeg, coming together with dried fruits and legumes.

Arroz con garbanzos (chickpea rice) was one of those dishes. With its characteristic aroma of bay leaf, caramelized onions, and raisins, it’s cooked with turmeric to give it its signature yellow color. As a kid, it was often mixed with a fried egg, with parsley sprinkled on top. In my search for Sephardic recipes, I became aware that this dish is very similar to pilaf with saffron, a Mediterranean spice my ancestors did not have access to since it didn’t grow in their new home.

Another delicious dish that also appears in the kitchens of Sephardic Jews from Turkey, Greece, and Morocco is estofado de berenjenas (eggplant stew). Made by sautéing eggplants in olive oil with garlic, onion, and cumin, this quick stew is served with smoked cheese or feta and an abundance of cilantro. My family pair it with homemade bread or corn arepas, an example of incorporating local ingredients.

On the most stressful days of the past year, comfort food became a necessity. A hearty dish of huevos con tomate (eggs with tomato) afforded me a sense of tranquility and a break from the chaos and uncertainty that surrounded me. This dish, which closely resembles shakshuka, was cooked at my house with ají dulce —the Caribbean’s colorful semi-spicy pepper— chili flakes, and smoked paprika. It’s so piquant and fragrant, I usually pair it with plain white rice or bread. However, my mother served it as a second course to complement her traditional pescado mermao, a hake fish stew cooked over a slow fire in an iron skillet with a mixture of garlic, peas, and eggplant, smothered in a sauce of chilies and tomatoes. The last touch included a bunch of fresh cilantro leaves and a hint of sour lime juice. It filled our entire house with a thick, citrusy aroma.

And the desserts! Buñuelos, small balls of fried dough with a sweet or salty filling; mine are usually made with raw cane sugar syrup, cloves, and nutmeg. There was always cake — plantain cake with cinnamon and smoked cheese, or traditional bizcochuelo, a sponge cake that was ever-present in my school lunchbox. Similar to pan d’Espana, which Sephardim took with them to the Diaspora, my mother put her own spin on this soft, light cake, using cornmeal instead of ground almonds, substituting orange blossom water with a few drops of rum, and swapping grated orange peel for the peel of a lemon, instead. 

Reconnecting with my roots through food during these difficult times has helped me to cope with stress, anxiety, and loneliness. There’s still so much to cook, eat, and share; I’ll continue paying homage to each and every one of the dishes that my family preserved with such dedication and courage. This is the only way I can celebrate — and always carry with me — their everlasting legacy.

[kedreeva]

What’s a good food that peafowls tend to really like! I have tried blue berries and they seemed to really enjoy that!

I have some fruits at home and I can safely feed them as they live in my city

Mainly mangos, plantains,Asian pear, and apple!

They can eat mangos, plantains, pears, and apples, but they probably WON'T eat mangoes or apples. they MIGHT eat pears, and they'll probably eat plantains (idk how sweet plantains are, but if they taste anything like bananas, then peafowl love banana so they should go for it). They prefer small bites of things, but I've never had a bird who enjoyed the taste of plain apples or was particularly impressed with mango, if they'll even try it in the first place. I've never had a pea willing to eat papaya at all, they won't even touch it here.

Beloved favorite fruits here are blueberries, watermelon (cut in half and just put out, they will Destroy it with glee), cantelope (more hesitant, but once they figure it out they love it just cut in half and put out for them), blackberries, cherries (pitted), raspberries (especially black raspberries), bananas (cut up), and cut grapes (they'll SOMETIMES eat whole ones if they're small but they may ignore whole grapes if they're too large to be appealing and they can't taste juice). They prefer darker grapes to green grapes. If they're offered nothing better, they'll eat cutup strawberries, pears, apples, peaches, and honeydew melon, but it's Under Protest. Mine won't touch papaya or kiwi or citrus fruits (except Bug, who loves canned mandarin oranges).

I know it's not fruit, but they will also eat veggies, just less enthusiastically. I've found boiling carrots to make them just a LITTLE softer gets better results. They love cucumber, tomato, and basically any kind of pepper (even hot ones, capsaicin doesn't affect them like it does mammals). They can be offered cooked potato, but raw should be avoided. Raw or cooked sweet potato is fine, but they're more likely to eat cooked. Pumpkin is also fine in any state, and they will delight in Destroying a raw one cut in half- same goes for any pumpkin-like squash like spaghetti or acorn or whatever.

They also really like cooked pasta, like elbow macaroni, roasted peanuts, raw shrimp (cut up), small raw fish (minnows, guppies, goldfish, mollies, platies, baby panfish like bluegill fry, etc), f/t pinkie mice, live bugs (crickets, dubia roaches, superworms, mealworms, waxworms, hornworms (domestically raised blue ones, the green ones that have fed on tomato plants may contain toxic amounts of solanine), silkworms, etc), and leafy greens (though if yours are free range ferals that's probably not as appealing). You can by processed treats, they really like suet nuggest, preferably in blueberry or other fruit flavors, but they'll eat the normal stuff too.

Mine also really like a bowl of their normal chow, with water added to make it soft. They can lack enthusiasm for a lot of raw/fresh foods, but they always bicker over who gets to eat the wet chow first.

[loominggaia]

UEKORAN CUISINE

OVERVIEW

Uekoro is a Matuzan territory located in the Midland Jungle. This jungle is bountiful with resources, including a diverse variety of meat and forage that the ancient Uekorans cobbled together into delicious recipes. These recipes were passed down over many generations and are still enjoyed today. The Uekoran palette prefers intense sweet and spicy flavors.

BONANCHI

A bonanchi consists of honey and a slice of banana sandwiched between two crispy millet wafers. The top wafer usually has chocolate frosting and coconut shavings on it, but the wafers themselves may be either plain or chocolate flavored. They may be eaten cold, but are traditionally toasted. These little sandwich cookies are a popular snack for children, as they’re sweet and simple to make.

FOWL AND SPINACH

The Midland Jungle is home to many species of colorful birds, and all of them are as tasty as they are beautiful! The Uekoran people are not picky about the fowl they eat, but parrots are historically the most common bird on their plates. They prefer to roast these birds over a rotisserie for several hours, then serve them with spinach leaves, beans, and some kind of grain–usually millet or rice. Sweet pineapple sauce is a common glaze.

SKROBA

Skroba is made by boiling millet starch with goat’s milk and sugar, then stirring until it has a thick liquid consistency. It is a sweet and filling drink that is popular with all Uekorans. Sometimes cocoa powder is added to give it a chocolatey flavor. Skroba can be fermented into an alcoholic version called “Skrobaki”.

KUKULU

A kukulu is a boiled plantain leaf stuffed with minced meat, beans, chunks of pineapple and plantain, and flavored with spicy chilies. Kukulus are a popular staple of Uekoran cuisine, but only for the poor and working class. Upper classes consider them “peasant food”, as they are hard to eat without making a mess. Most Uekorans, however, are willing to suffer a few minutes of looking undignified to taste this delicious dish.

EKUMELA FOLD-OVER

A flat, floppy piece of bread flavored with cinnamon and chocolate, folded over to contain a gooey filling of honey and ekumela chunks. Fold-overs are a popular dessert all over Matuzu Kingdom, but this ekumela filling is what gives this version its unique Uekoran flavor. Like kukulu, fold-overs are another dish that Uekoran upper classes tend to avoid because of its messiness, which makes them appear “undignified” as they eat it. It is so delicious, however, that many nobles eat them in secret.

COCONANA

Simple coconut water is not enough to satisfy the Uekoran tongue, so they prefer to mix it with blended bananas, pineapples, and limes to make a powerfully flavorful smoothie. This drink is packed with electrolytes, which are essential in such a hot and humid place as Uekoro. It is traditionally drunk from a coconut shell.

RED SOUP AND OFO

A common comfort food of the Uekoran people. Red soup is a blood broth containing chunks of tomato, yam, and the meaty drumstick of a fowl. This dish is usually accompanied by starchy rolls called ofo, which are made by pounding plantains, yams, and spices into a sticky meal, rolling the meal into balls, and then baking them. Red soup and ofo is enjoyed by peoples of all classes, found in the hands of peasants and also on the tables of royalty.

WAIRUNTU EGGS

Its name translates to “irresistable eggs” in the local language of Galsungi, and for good reason! These hard-boiled eggs are marinated in a sauce made from fish, chilies, and tomatoes, then glazed with honey and served over rice. This dish is known for its intense flavor, but some find it too rich. Wairuntu is associated more with upper classes than the common folk. It is traditionally eaten with a special golden fork, which is said to enhance its flavor even more.

MILLET CHIPS AND HOT YAM DIP

Uekorans make a lot of things from millet, and one of those things is crunchy chips. They taste good on their own, but they’re even better served with hot yam dip, which is simply mashed yams spiced up with hot chilies. This dish is simple yet addictive, and massively popular in Uekoro and beyond. Uekorans especially like to eat this while watching sports games at their local arena.

OTHER DISHES

Ekumela pie and setsiki brain soup are also traditional Uekoran dishes. You can read about them in the Matuzan Cuisine article.

SEE ALSO

Cuisine Masterpost

Ask - Cuisine

Ask - Uekoro

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

[theoriginalmarke]

Food Porn: Que Bola in Des Plaines. One of my favorite dives in the Chicago area. Perfect cuban sandwiches, homemade sweet potato chips and plantain chips, and a Ropa Vieja Sandwich that is too good for words.

[deliciously-vegan]

Vegan Tapado

(Guatemalan “Seafood” Stew)

[[MORE]]

2 tbsp coconut oil 1 onion, peeled and chopped 3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced ¼ tsp chili flakes 1 red pepper, cored and chopped 2 Roma tomatoes, chopped 2 sweet potatoes, peeled and chopped 2 plantains, peeled and chopped

2 cans (400 ml each) coconut milk 2 cups vegetable bouillon 1 tbsp basil paste 1 tbsp cilantro paste 1 tsp oregano 1 tsp thyme ½ tsp achiote (or paprika) a pinch of cayenne 500 g vegan crab or shrimp (or tofu) 4 green onions, chopped 2 tbsp vegan fish sauce (or soy sauce) 1 tbsp coconut sugar 1 tsp sea salt ¼ tsp black pepper

Heat coconut oil in large saucepan over medium-low heat. Sauté onion for several minutes. Add garlic and chili flakes and sauté for another minute or two.  Stir in the; red pepper, tomatoes, sweet potatoes and plantains. Stir in the; coconut milk, vegetable bouillon, basil paste, cilantro paste, oregano, thyme, achiote, and cayenne. Turn heat to high. As soon as stew comes to a boil, reduce to low heat and simmer for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Turn heat off and stir in; mock crab, green onions, vegan fish sauce, coconut sugar, sea salt, and black pepper. Allow to heat through for about 5 minutes. Ladle over plain white rice or coconut rice.

Coconut Rice

1 tbsp coconut oil 1 onion, peeled and chopped 3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced 2 cups white rice 1 can (400 ml) coconut milk 2 cups water 1 tbsp coconut sugar ½ tsp sea salt

In a medium-sized saucepan, heat coconut oil over low heat. Sauté onion for several minutes. Add garlic and sauté for another minute or two. Stir in the; rice, coconut milk, water, coconut sugar, and sea salt. Turn heat to high. When it comes to a boil, reduce to low and simmer for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally to avoid the rice sticking to the pan. (Alternatively cook in rice cooker.)

[vulpes-fennec]

Love on Water Lilies 🪷 (Ch 1)

Summary: Prince Lucien Vanserra of the Autumn Kingdom is all play, no work. Elain Archeron, a waitress and aspiring restaurant owner in the city of Colibri, is all work, no play. Caught in a larger scheme of politics and war, Lucien and Elain are turned into frogs. Will Elain get her restaurant back? Will Lucien ever become Fae again?

Read on AO3

An Princess and the Frog inspired story for @elucienweekofficial Day 5: Nature 🍃

“Fried plantains and fresh fruit salad! Two vanilla golden toasts with honey syrup! Banana pudding!” The line cooks’ voices rang out from the sizzling kitchen.

“Coming right on up!” Elain Archeron plastered on a bright smile and cheerful voice as she dished out plate after plate of breakfast at Roy’s Cafe. The heavenly smell of fresh coffee was barely enough to keep Elain awake—she was exhausted. Elain glanced at the clock. Five more minutes…

Her shift at the Purple Flamingo Cabaret last night had certainly taken its toll, for the Summer Kingdom’s Mardi Gras festivities had begun. The swamp city of Colibri, known for good food and even better music, drew thousands of visitors every Mardi Gras. And this year, a special celebrity was in their midst: Prince Lucien Vanserra of the Autumn Kingdom, who had arrived just yesterday.

Although Elain hadn’t seen this prince yet, she heard plenty about him last night at the Purple Flamingo. The fourth and youngest son of King Beron Vanserra, Lucien was young, rich, handsome…and most importantly, single. He would probably remain that way, too, for word on the street was that Lucien was a total flirt. Gallivanting his way across Prythian’s kingdoms, taking on new lovers each week, partying all night long…

Elain grabbed a beignet to-go when she finally clocked out. Gulls squawked in the distance, green-painted trolleys clanged as they rolled by. Mardi Gras revelers walked by, decked out in chic outfits of green, purple, and yellow. With her food-stained yellow apron, worn ballet flats, and frazzled honey-brown hair, Elain felt a pinch of resentment.

Must be nice to never have to work a day in your life. Every year, the promise of generous tips during Mardi Gras dangled before food service workers like a carrot, tricking them into taking extra shifts.

It wasn’t always this way. Elain remembered the Mardi Gras celebrations of her childhood, the way she and her sisters danced to lively jazz and ate their way through delicacies all night long. The Archeron home used to be in the Marigold District, where all the wealthy Fae lived. But then Elain’s mother passed away, leaving her father depressed. Reginald Archeron rallied himself enough to fight in the Hybern War seven years ago, but lost his leg during one of the early battles.

Elain loved her father dearly, but it was plain fact that he had practically given up on life after becoming handicapped. The familial roles had reversed: instead of their father ensuring his daughters’ needs were met, Elain, Feyre, and Nesta were forced to take odd jobs in order to survive. Nesta delivered and occasionally edited for The Colibri Tribune. Feyre cleaned the art studios and landed the occasional art commission. Elain juggled multiple shifts between Roy’s Cafe, the Purple Flamingo Cabaret, and Emile’s Seafood Bar.

Though her shifts were grueling, Elain tried to view them in a positive light. It was career training of sorts: she paid attention to different management styles, brushed up her conversational skills with all sorts of Fae as a waitress, and improved her culinary skills as a cook. Ever since she was a little girl, a riverfront cafe to call her own had been Elain’s dream. When her family fell from wealth seven years ago, that dream was almost lost.

But now, Elain was closer to achieving that dream than ever. She was fairly confident in her capabilities as a cook and waitress. She had strong accounting skills, enough to ensure her restaurant wouldn’t go bankrupt. And more importantly, she had been in serious talks with realtors for a decrepit riverfront pavilion. The pavilion was a little run-down, but it was perfect in Elain’s heart. She juussttt needed a little more money…which was where the Mardi Gras cooking contest would come into play.

Because in addition to the multiple parades, balls, concerts, and parties, Mardi Gras featured local cuisines in a series of cooking concerts.

Today was the jambalaya cooking contest, which was taking place at Firefly Square. Tomorrow, Elain was slated for the baking contest, where she planned to wow the judges with her peach cobbler. The day after, she would participate in the fry contest, having perfected her fried chicken spice rub.

Elain stopped home to briefly freshen up. It was a tiny, cramped space—an utter downgrade from their old home. She and her sisters had squeezed three narrow beds into a room, the sole closet overflowing with clothes. The living room wasn’t much better: Feyre’s art supplies were strewn across every available surface, and Nesta’s second-hand books tilted in precarious stacks. Only the kitchen, Elain’s domain, remained spotlessly clean and organized.

Elain powdered her face, brushed her curls, dabbed a bit of lipstick, and donned a new dress. She needed to look fresh and proper, and a cute face never hurt.

She then hurried to Firefly Square, wheeling a little wagon full of ingredients and her trusty steel pot. Savory dishes were not her specialty, so Elain needed all the luck she could get. However, she was fairly confident that her jambalaya would at least place in the top three. Her best friend, Vassa La Bouff, and her sisters had helped refine the recipe over the last year, and the ladies could be trusted to give their honest opinion.

“Name?” The event attendant held a clipboard at the check-in table.

“Elain Archeron,” Elain replied cheerfully. The event attendant wrote her name on a wooden placard and placed it on the scoring rack. The five judges, a mix of renowned cooks and locals, were seated under a rich purple tent. Onlookers had gathered on the sidelines of Firefly Square to watch the judges sample each entry and announce their points.

Several other participants were already present, busying away at their own cooking stations. While there was no set “start” time due to the participants’ varying culinary skills and recipes, the judges would begin tasting at one o’clock in the afternoon. So Elain got to work.

First, she braided up her honey-brown hair and donned a flowery pink apron. Then, she began expertly mincing: peppers, celery, onion, garlic, and tomatoes. The heated oil sizzled the chicken and sausage, bringing fragrant notes of paprika, bay leaf, and thyme into the air. The meat was taken out, the vegetables added in. Elain cleaned the rice, poured in homemade chicken stock, and added more salt, pepper, and herbs.

Elain stirred the bubbling mixture, using the time to observe the other participants. There were ten competitors total. Some appeared to be seasoned chefs, others looked like novices. Regardless, everybody was making good progress on their jambalaya. And more importantly, everyone looked like they were having fun.

Elain’s mouth watered from the scents wafting from her pot alone. The consistency of her jambalaya was thick, but not mushy—it was all coming together nicely. Elain did a final taste test and smiled. Spicy, savory, and tangy…it was her best pot of jambalaya yet.

The judges seemed to think so, too, when they sampled her dish.

“Wonderful aromas.”

“The chicken is the right amount of tender, Miss Archeron.”

“Tastes just like my grandmother’s home-style jambalaya!”

This—this was exactly why Elain loved to cook: seeing people enjoy her food made her happiest. She was the last contestant up for tasting, which meant the score the judges awarded would be her final placement for the contest. Elain’s breath caught when she tallied up the judges’ marks. Third place…third place! Oh, she was going to walk away with prize money! Elain ducked her head and tried to squash her victorious beam. One step closer to—

“Excuse me! Excuse me!”

The most beautiful male Elain had ever seen strode into the courtyard, lugging a steaming pot with bare hands. His skin was a burnished brown, his long red hair tied up in a haphazard bun. She found herself eyeing his corded forearms, exposed thanks to the rolled-up sleeves of his white linen shirt. The male’s straight-legged olive green pants accented his muscled thighs, and his shiny black shoes with their gold details indicated expensive taste.

An entire entourage of Fae, mostly female, had followed the male into Ironwood Square, inevitably shoving Elain to the back.

“It’s Prince Lucien,” the crowd murmured to each other. “What is he doing here?”

Prince Lucien? Well…that explained how he could hold such a hot pot without any oven mitts. The Autumn Kingdom’s royal family possessed fire magic, which meant they could manipulate flame and were essentially immune to burns. Elain even overheard at The Purple Flamingo last night that Autumn males—especially the royal princes—fucked with an intensity that matched the fire in their veins.

Elain had practically snorted upon hearing such words last night, though looking at Prince Lucien now, it was certainly believable. But the delighted giggling of several females when the prince stepped up to the podium snapped Elain out of her reverie. Ugh! Prince Lucien was a playboy at best, a heartbreaker at worst, she reminded herself. No, she would not encourage the fantasies that had been surely planted in her mind thanks to his impromptu appearance, lest she turn into a tittering female over a male like him.

“Good afternoon, honorable judges.” Prince Lucien’s voice was rich and buttery, with a slight accent. For some reason, it reminded Elain of sunlight. He turned towards the crowd, and Elain stifled a gasp upon seeing the scar that ran down his face and cut through his left eye, which had been replaced by a mechanical gold eye. Such a brutal injury, yet the prince was made more handsome even with the scar.

“Welcome, Prince Lucien!” The lead judge leapt to her feet, a wide smile on her face. The crowd cheered again. Some females even screamed hysterically.

Prince Lucien gestured grandly to the entourage that followed him, gold earrings twinkling off the tips of his pointed ears. “I am here to enter the jambalaya competition. As there was no kitchen in my hotel suite, I had to borrow the kitchen at Restaurante Genevieve. Chef Michel and these citizens can attest that I made the jambalaya all on my own.”

The prince peered intently at the scoreboard, already stacked with ten other names and numbers. Elain could have sworn his brows raised in subtle surprise.

“Though I see now that I was tardy…” Prince Lucien trailed off as his eyes swept the crowd, as if he were looking for someone.

“The entry period closed thirty minutes ago but ah…we can make an exception, can we not?” The lead judge said quickly, and the audience clapped in agreement. The other judges nodded eagerly, clearly delighted at the presence of royalty. “Well, Your Highness, we would be honored to sample your jambalaya!”

Elain’s jaw slackened. A prince, participating in a jambalaya contest? She had never heard of such a thing. Royals had their own chefs. They probably wouldn’t even know how to boil an egg.

The prince’s russet and gold eyes were still scanning the square with unusual interest. Elain eyed him skeptically from the back, observing the confident smile on Lucien’s face and the swaggering cut of his broad shoulders. There was the off chance that Prince Lucien possessed culinary skills…but he was from the Autumn Kingdom. He wouldn’t know a thing about authentic jambalaya, Elain told herself. Elain relaxed, knowing she was safe and secure in third place as the judges sampled Lucien’s entree.

“Cauldron, this is absolutely divine!”

“Look at the colors on the spoon! So vibrant, so fresh!”

“I could eat this for the rest of my life and die happy.”

“Last call to score…and…first place! We have a winner!” The crowd cheered raucously.

Elain’s mouth completely fell open when the score attendant placed Prince Lucien Vanserra’s name placard on the top of the board, shifting everybody else down. Which meant…which meant she had been knocked off third place.

Elain was in shock. She wasn’t going to make it to the podium, and she wasn’t going to earn any prize money. Prince Lucien bowed, and then turned to the crowd that had gathered.

“Good food is meant to be shared! Please, feel free to finish the pot!” he announced, voice dripping with pride. More cheers and claps rang out as Elain was jostled out of the way in the mad stampede for the winning jambalaya.

This was not possible. This could not be happening.

Elain’s face grew hot with embarrassment, as she hurriedly packed up her wagon. It was time to go; she could not bear to spend another minute in the square with knowledge of her loss. Elain half-wondered if she should join the crowd and really try Prince Lucien’s jambalaya for herself. It couldn’t be that good. But the notion of a rich, playboy prince edging her off the podium in a cooking contest he had no stakes in was too shameful to consider. She could’ve done better. Should’ve done better.

Elain didn’t look back as she wheeled her wagon home, the rusty wheels click-clacking over the cobblestoned streets. Her half-full pot of jambalaya would become leftovers for her sister and father. At least they didn’t have to spend more money on groceries this week.

Some humility would do her good, Elain knew, as she was not a “professional” chef yet, but gods…would she ever be? If a prince could beat her in a cooking contest? If she couldn’t even win a couple judges’ favor, how was she going to draw the Colibri Fae to her restaurant?

—Later that evening—

After a fitful afternoon nap, Elain decided to stop by her cafe before heading to Vassa’s house. Well, it wasn’t hers yet, but Elain had recently begun treating it as such. She sat on a bench, listening to the lapping of the Mayhaven River, watching the steamboats chugging by.

“I’m almost there,” she whispered to herself. “People are going to come here from everywhere, I’m almost there.” The riverfront pavilion was a shabby brick building that had been a mess hall for dock workers in its previous life. The interior’s open layout would be the perfect place to install a stage for local musicians. Each table would have fresh flowers, the walls would be painted a creamy tan, the big windows would offer river views and plenty of natural light… oh, it was all coming together.

The door swung open. Hudson Jennings, Elain’s realtor, walked out with a folder tucked under his arm. Elain leapt up from her bench, ready to bid him hello. But she froze when a head of red hair ducked through the doorway. No…it couldn’t be…

“Pleasure doing business with you, Your Highness,” Hudson said, shaking Lucien Vanserra’s hand firmly. Even without his entourage of fans, Lucien held himself with a regal grace and winning smile.

“Of course,” Elain could hear the prince respond smoothly. “I look forward to establishing a second residence in Colibri.” Elain could only watch in horror as the realtor handed Lucien a set of keys before parting ways. Keys to her riverfront cafe!

“Mr. Jennings!” Elain ran as fast as her little feet could carry her as soon as Lucien had walked away. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods. This must be a bad dream.

“Oh! Miss Archeron!” Hudson blinked his cat-like eyes in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here!”

“Mr. Jennings, did you just sell the property to Lucien?” Elain was breathless. Please say no, please say no, she begged silently.

“Ah, yes I’m afraid I just did.” Hudson patted the folder of papers. “I know, I know…you have been eyeing that property for some time, Miss Archeron, but the prince showed up with ample cash! We have several other properties available in town for your cafe, though. Let us talk more next week.”

“But—” Elain tried to say, then deflated. Her realtor was already walking away. There was no use. Unless she somehow managed to alter Hudson’s memory, rip up the sale papers, and steal the keys from Lucien, the property was gone. And so were her dreams of owning a riverfront cafe.

It seemed the prince was hell-bent on ruining her life. Lucien had fame and fortune, and got everything Elain wanted because of his name. Perhaps Elain had angered the Mother, somehow. For how else could so much go wrong in less than 24 hours?

Elain tried very hard not to cry as she rode the trolley to Vassa’s house. One, she was in public, and ladies did not cry in public. Two, the La Bouff Mardi Gras ball was starting in a few hours. Elain had been looking forward to the event all month, and crying right now would make her eyes puffy.

The La Bouffs resided in the Dorado District, the richest district in all of Colibri. Vassa’s “house” was actually a grand, three-story mansion of pale white marble, elegant columns, iron lace accents, and sweeping gabled roofs. When Elain arrived, the bustle of the musicians tuning their instruments and the servants, the gurgling fountain, and the beautiful lanterns of green, yellow, and purple faelight made her smile. A good party always made her feel more alive, even though she attended very few of them in recent years.

Vassa’s parents were one of the Mardi Gras royalty this year, and had invited Elain to the La Bouff Mardi Gras ball. Vassa was a true friend: she didn’t shun Elain after the Archerons fell into poverty, and for that Elain was eternally grateful. The footmen, used to her comings and goings, offered Elain warm greetings when she entered the mansion via the servants’ gate.

While Elain spent her days working, Vassa spent her days studying. The young La Bouff was finishing her last year at the prestigious Colibri Academy for Witchcraft, and was determined to be the top of her class. The only thing in Vassa’s way? Briallyn, a rival witch from the Continent. During the unfortunate occasions Elain had to interact with Briallyn, Elain felt the witch resembled a beady-eyed lizard.

Elain made her way down the spacious hallway and knocked on Vassa’s bedroom door.

“Elain! I’m so glad you’re here!” Vassa threw her arms around Elain. Her best friend’s orange hair was styled into loose waves, her bright blue eyes already lined with gold shadow. “Come, let us get ready together!”

“Vassa, it’s so good to see you,” Elain sighed, her voice still thick with emotion from earlier.

“What’s wrong?” Vassa asked, her brow creasing with concern. “Was it the jambalaya contest? Did you not get first place? I mean, second place is also fine, and so is third.”

Elain sat down on Vassa’s bed, hugging her knees to her chest. “The jambalaya concert was fine, until Prince Lucien Vanserra showed up at the last minute,” she said bitterly. “I had placed third, but that was before the judges awarded him first place. I got bumped down and I didn’t get any prize money.”

“Oh no,” Vassa rubbed Elain’s back sympathetically. “I’m so sorry, Elain.”

“It’s just not fair!” Elain complained, her face heated with anger. “The judges gave him special treatment, letting him enter the contest even though the judging window had closed! Lucien was cooking off-site, how could anybody truly tell he was the primary chef? And perhaps they didn’t want to upset a prince, so they put him first even though he didn’t deserve it!”

“I see what you mean,” Vassa hummed. “Did you end up tasting his jambalaya? Surely it couldn’t be as good as yours. Those judges must not have working tastebuds.”

“No, but that’s not even the end of it. I found out he bought the riverfront property from Hudson Jennings this afternoon. Vassa, you know how long I’ve been saving up for my cafe! To think the perfect location would be gone, just like that…”

“Cauldron boil and fry him,” Vassa muttered darkly, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, Vassa. I know you’ve been looking forward to meeting Prince Lucien, that you want him to court you.” Elain sighed. “I shouldn’t be bad-mouthing him.”

“No, no, no,” Vassa shook her head. “Of course, I want Prince Lucien to court me, have you seen how handsome he is? But, your restaurant is something that I’ve been waiting for ever since we were little girls, Elain…when I see him tonight I will convince him to rescind the purchase.”

“Thanks, Vassa,” Elain smiled, feeling better. What Vassa set her mind to, Vassa achieved. She had no doubt her friend’s beauty and persistence would get the prince to change his mind. “He did say he wanted the property as a second residence.”

“Well! It wouldn’t be too hard to convince him to buy property in other Colibri districts!” Vassa raised her brows excitedly. “He could move in with me.” Vassa jumped to her feet, trying to inject some more life into Elain’s forlorn posture. “Now I know today hasn’t been the best day, Elain. But this ball will turn it all around! I have just the perfect dress for you, and I know you’ll have plenty of males to dance the night away with. It’s in the closet, come see!”

***Lucien***

“Just look at all of this, Jurian,” Lucien said to his best friend when they regrouped after the dance ended. “One of the best parties I’ve been to in a while.”

He had left his entourage of pretty females at the La Bouff mansion gate. Not that it really mattered, since there were even more females inside the ball. The musicians played lively tunes, inviting attendees to kick up their feet and whirl across the marbled outdoor dance floor. The La Bouff Mardi Gras decorations were simply exquisite, from the soft faelight lanterns hanging off trees to the flower arrangements on tables. Fae wine and cocktails flowed freely, wait staff walked around with platters of delicious food.

“Don’t tell Tarquin, but I’m enjoying myself far more here than the Mardi Gras balls in Adriata,” Jurian slurred slightly. The male lifted a pair of deviled eggs off a waiter’s tray and handed one to Lucien. “Though it is positively boiling in Colibri.”

“Of course, we’re near the Bog of Oorid,” Lucien remarked. He had donned an emerald green jacket with embroidered gold leaves at the cuffs, a freshly pressed white shirt, and black pants. The layers made him sweat profusely, though Lucien wicked away the excess moisture with a slight release on the damper of his magic. He looked good, and that was what mattered at the end of the night.

“Gods, I’m so hungry,” Jurian muttered as he inhaled a fried catfish filet within seconds. “They ate all your jambalaya before I could eat some.”

Lucien laughed. “Better clean up those crumbs and drink some mint julep before the next dance, Jurian. The females won’t appreciate fish breath.” Jurian only rolled his eyes as he turned his attention to a slice of Mardi Gras king cake.

Lucien scanned the rows of vendors, looking for the baked goods. But none of the vendors’ name tags read “Elain Archeron”. He sighed inwardly. He had no idea what Elain Archeron looked like, but had been hoping to try some of her famed treats. Tarquin, Prince of Adriata, could not stop talking about the hummingbird cake, peach cobblers, and powdered sugar beignets Elain made when she catered his Mardi Gras event in Adriata last year.

“If you’re visiting Colibri, you must try Elain Archeron’s food,” Tarquin had told him. “Elain’s cafe should be open by now. She is a very kind female as well, and please tell her I said hello.”

Elain Archeron had been one of the jambalaya contestants earlier in the afternoon, but the female did not bother introducing herself to him. Odd.

“Looking for Vassa?” Jurian inquired. Lucien was supposed to meet the Mardi Gras princess and ask her for the first dance, but her parents claimed Vassa was running late for the ball.

“I suppose,” Lucien murmured, even though that was not the case. Jurian knocked back another glass of Fae wine beside him. “Cauldron, Jurian. Save some space for the mint juleps before you get too drunk.”

“Aha! That reminds me…I’ll find those mint juleps while you’re looking for your princess. All this heat has me parched. Be right back.” Jurian clapped Lucien on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

Lucien lingered on the side, trying to assess which pretty female he would dance with next, when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. A pale-faced female, with onyx black hair and equally dark eyes, was standing behind him. There was something cunning in her face, something odd Lucien could not quite place. Nevertheless, the female was dressed as one of the wait staff and innocuously offered him a platter of powdered beignets.

“Beignet, Your Highness?” she asked, her voice peppy. “I heard the prince has a sweet tooth.”

“Thank you.” Lucien picked one up with a napkin and absentmindedly brought it to his mouth. It was only when Lucien swallowed his first bite that he realized something was wrong. The beignet was slightly bitter, the powdered sugar chalky on his tongue. Suddenly, everything seemed bigger. Everything was bigger.

Lucien blinked, feeling like his eyes had doubled in size based on how long it took for him to fully blink. The grass…it was eye-level, the blades of green sharp and extra vibrant. His body was hunched over on all fours. He was…a frog?

Oh gods. What the hell just happened?

A looming shadow darkened the space around him. Lucien looked up just in time to see the waitress, monstrously tall with a wicked glint in her eyes, poised to slam a bowl over his head.

Act first, think later.

Booiingg! Lucien moved on instinct, his frog legs launching him into the air like a spring. He dove straight into the crowd of Fae party-goers, stalling the waitress from pursuing him any further.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. That was new. Fear seized Lucien like a vise, the adrenaline sending him into flight mode. Where the hell did Jurian go? Everything was so damn big…the distance he normally crossed in three quick strides now required multiple leaps.

There! Jurian was near the tree line, mint juleps in hand. Lucien hopped towards his friend, gaining more mastery over his new limbs with each leap.

“Jurian!” Lucien blinked, surprised that he still retained the ability to speak. “Jurian! Down here!” he called out, louder this time.

The Fae male above him glanced down and promptly dropped the drinks in shock. Lucien flinched reflexively when minty sweet alcohol rained down, but it didn’t matter any more. As a frog, he had no clothes to protect from spilled drinks.

“Fuck, I must be more drunk than I thought.” Jurian blinked twice and chuckled. “I could have sworn that a frog with Lucien’s voice just spoke to me.”

“That’s because it is me!” Lucien hissed, hopping up and down insistently. “Jurian!”

“Holy shit.” Jurian knelt on the ground, scooping him up in his hands. “Lucien, is that you?”

“How many times do I have to say it’s me?” Lucien grumbled. Jurian’s green-brown eyes peered down.

“Cauldron, you still have your scar and your gold eye. Well, it’s not made of metal anymore, but…fuck.” Jurian lifted Lucien up to perch on his shoulder. Lucien brought a webbed hand to his face, feeling at his left eye. Sure enough, he could see out of both eyes—truly see, without relying on a metal contraption. “Fuck, I probably look like I’ve gone mad, talking to a frog.”

The male took some deep breaths, pacing back and forth. Lucien clung onto Jurian’s purple jacket for dear life. “Jurian, can you stop moving?”

“Sorry. We need another drink.” Jurian swiped two goblets of wine off a passing tray and ducked behind a drooping willow tree. Lucien hopped down, sitting on all fours on top of Jurian’s thigh. “Okay, Lucien. What the fuck happened?”

“I ate a beignet from this waitress, and then I turn into a frog and she’s trying to trap me under a bowl!” Lucien glanced furtively at their surroundings, but did not see the wretched female’s face.

“What did the waitress look like?”

“High Fae. Pale, with black hair and black eyes. She was wearing the La Bouff servant’s uniform.” Jurian’s gaze darkened with protective instinct.

“Why would she put a curse on you?”

Lucien shrugged. “Not sure. She knew who I was, though, so that’s strange. I’m Beron’s youngest son, with a slim path to the throne. What good would come out of cursing me?”

“Perhaps she wanted money. Ransom a prince, you know.”

“As if Beron would pay more than a couple coppers to get me back,” Lucien said bitterly.

“You’re right, your father is a bastard.” Jurian frowned. “Could you undo the curse yourself?”

“I can try.” Now that he had Jurian to keep watch, Lucien closed his eyes and tried to tunnel deep down into his well of magic. He had always had a knack for spells and curses. It wasn’t like that of witches, who required specific ingredients, tools, and conditions to generate any effect. Rather, it was pure magic—power that stemmed from being the son of a High Lord.

He found the dark stain of the curse, but despite all his efforts to extract it, the stain remained stubbornly present. It was as if it was interwoven into his very essence. Lucien yanked and prodded and threw wave after wave of magic against it, but to no avail.

“It’s not working,” he announced glumly.

“We should find the La Bouffs…tell them that one of their staff, or the food they served, turned the visiting Autumn Prince into a frog,” Jurian proposed, his fists clenching with concern. “If they cannot resolve this, then they should be held liable.”

“Isn’t that a little harsh?” Lucien replied dryly. “Lord and Lady La Bouff can only do so much. But Vassa…she’s studying to be a witch. I heard she’s the top of her class…perhaps she could assist with undoing the curse.”

“Perhaps,” Jurian mused doubtfully.

Lucien hopped onto the rim of the wine goblet and stuck his tongue into the chilled liquor. The sweet and tangy notes were far more sensational thanks to his new taste buds. Unfortunately, his added weight was an imbalance to the delicate stem, and Lucien promptly tipped backwards. Red wine poured over his entire underside, drenching him.

Jurian began to laugh.

“You know frogs absorb liquid from their underbelly skin, right? You’ll be drunk in no time.” Lucien stuck his tongue out at Jurian and rolled around the grass for a bit, trying to clean himself off. “I suppose Vassa would be glad to help a prince for fame, or fortune.”

���Also, we have the old tale of princesses kissing frog princes,” Lucien reminded Jurian. “With the laws governing witch magic, it’s very likely that this curse follows the same path of resolution.”

Jurian snorted. “Good luck trying to convince a princess—even if it’s a Mardi Gras princess—to kiss a frog. We are better off pleading directly.”

Lucien tried to grin, but it felt strange with a new mouth and new facial muscles. “You seem to underestimate me, Jurian.”

“Let’s bet on it: if you can get the princess to kiss you, I’ll walk Eris’s dogs for the next month.”

“I do enjoy a challenge. I offer you this, just for fun. If the princess kisses you, Jurian, then I’ll buy you a new sword. Out of Illyrian steel.” Lucien stood on his hind legs, straightening his back and tilting his chin up with the regal air of a prince. Jurian rolled his eyes.

“As if a princess would want to kiss a lowly Autumn Kingdom foot soldier over its prince.”

“I beg to differ, Jurian. I’m a frog this time…I think that evens the playing field.” Lucien winked. “Besides, stop discrediting yourself. You’re one of our most skilled warriors. Anyways…best of luck, I’m off to find the princess!”

“You bastard,” Jurian muttered darkly, shaking his head with amusement. He finished his wine in two large gulps, holding the empty glass up in a mock toast. “I would say I hope you lose, but life would also be boring if you were stuck in frog form.”

With that, Lucien hopped off towards the La Bouff mansion. There was a slim chance Vassa was still getting ready for the party—truly, females needed all the time possible plus more for these elaborate events.

Most of the ball’s festivities were taking place in the garden and first floor, and Lucien could hear Lord and Lady La Bouff—the Dorado Mardi Gras King and Queen—chatting with guests. That meant the light emanating from the window on the second floor was none other than Vassa La Bouff’s.

Clinging to small nooks in the marble, scaling up vine to vine—which was made harder thanks to his slippery frog mucus, Lucien made his way to the golden window.

Princess Vassa was standing on the balcony, and simply put, she was the most beautiful female Lucien had ever seen.

The female’s wide eyes were cast towards the heavens, her expression a mixture of hope and despair. Honey-brown hair was swept up into an artful bun studded with luminous pearls. A tiara of rose gold rested on her brow, glittering in the moonlight. Her soft curves and elegant shoulders were accented by a strapless lavender gown with a heart-shaped neckline.

“Please, please, please,” the ethereal princess whispered, clasping her gloved hands to her chest. “Please.”

Lucien hopped closer, the world spinning out of view. Ah, damn it. The alcohol was kicking in faster than he’d anticipated. Princely charm now had to be mobilized in full force if he wanted to receive a kiss.

He cleared his throat, but only a ribbet came out. The princess glanced down, spotting him. Gods, she was beautiful. Those doe brown eyes, that golden skin still warm under the silver moon, and those pretty rosebud lips that hooked Lucien in like a moth to a flame.

“If you wanted a kiss, all you had to do was ask.”

[virgobingo]

Hello, how are you? I saw your post talking about miles is Puerto Rican heritage. Could you do something with food like like certain foods I hope this sounds weird like how they taste and everything I feel like this is a weird question but yeah thank you

hi hi! i’m doing good. not a weird question at all. a lot of our main dishes have been described to me by friends that are not puerto rican as salty! when I think about it it’s true. a lot of our meats are seasoned with a lot of adobo which is essentially:

* Sea Salt, Onion Powder, Garlic Powder, Black Pepper, White Pepper, Paprika, Cumin, Coriander, Dried Oregano, Turmeric

it’s probably why the meats are often paired with amarillos/sweet plantains, rice, or blander root vegetables such as ñame/yam that are doused in plain olive oil (bc otherwise they can be pretty dry). for the sake of balance.

i’ve said this before but we really don’t eat a lot of spicy stuff. if you see hot sauce (pique) on a table, that usually means drinks are involved. it usually goes into soups or frituras, which are essentially our version of street food. alcapurrias, empanadillas and rellenos de papas were my favorite frituras as a kid. they’re crunchy, savory and go really well with icees

our breakfast is very americanized atp so nothing too different there besides maybe corn meal porridge/harina de maiz, maizena/breakfast custard that are very smooth and sweet! cinnamon is often sprinkled on top

this website has some pretty accurate descriptions of other food we eat https://www.discoverpuertorico.com/article/guide-to-traditional-puerto-rican-food

[anthrofreshtodeath]

P FKN R Intro

I'm at work, sort of working, sort of tinkering with some writing stuff at lunch, especially the beginning of P FKN R in hopes that I might manufacture some inspiration. Too soon to tell, but maybe if I share it here that will spur me on some more. Here we go!

___

Jamaica Plain’s cars were jammed onto its narrow streets, effectuating a one-way rule by default; those that did crawl through broadcasted an amalgam of sounds into the Latin Quarter: Spanish talk radio, classic rock, and of course, full and knocking reggaetón beats.

Jamaica Plain’s three-story homes groaned as they expanded at high noon, stacked and running from one end of Chestnut Avenue to the other, one of those narrow streets in the time-honored New England style. In another facet of that tradition, its air rippled in a summer scorcher, wafting smells over from La Isla café on the corner: the strong oil-sweet of fried plantains and roasted pork, the kind Jane Rizzoli liked to order with a side of rice when she sat down at one of their vinyl-topped, worn-in, peach-colored tables. 

JP pulsated at lunch time. 

Jane’s stomach gurgled when she remembered her last meal: a chugged cup of coffee at the marble counter in the Beacon Hill home of the woman kneeling over the body they’d been called to investigate. The image of it was made more grotesque by the contrast of her Aeron skirt and Bottega Veneta heels with the contorted limbs of the man on the walkup in broad daylight. 

Jane still liked it, Maura Isles’ high-class wardrobe and the attitude it brought to neighborhoods like this, neighborhoods like her own. That attitude, the I’m the hottest in the room chest-beating, shoulder-brushing mindset, matched what Jane always knew about Boston’s real cultural pockets. The ones with subsidized housing and community gardens and spots like La Isla. “Watcha got for me?” Jane said by way of greeting.

Maura looked up, her long, highlighted hair swishing to the other shoulder when she shook it out. Her green eyes shimmered and she smirked when Jane winked. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Saw ya like thirty minutes ago,” said Jane. “And if we hurry this up, cut the pleasantries, I can take you right on over to that restaurant and introduce you to the best lunch you’ll ever eat in JP.” She pointed to the wide-open window view of the restaurant just a football field away.

“Hmm,” Maura replied, “I could be persuaded, I suppose. Penetrating wounds to the chest and abdomen, surrounding shell casings would indicate he was shot.”

Jane pursed her lips and smiled at the same time. She crossed her nitrile-gloved hands over her hips and shrugged under her blazer for some relief from the beads of sweat rolling down her back. She should not have worn black in late June. “You don’t say,” she teased. But then, quickly back to business, she pointed to the decedent’s broken ankle, distorted and impossibly angled toward midline. “That from this fall?” She asked.

Maura stood, narrowed her brows at Jane’s narrowed brow. “Can’t say right now,” she answered. “But these steps are narrow and uneven. It’s possible.”

“Even if it isn’t, he wa’n’t goin’ very far,” Jane commented. She clenched her jaw, and her masseter muscle clicked in investigatory concentration. “What’s on his hand?”

“Burns,” Maura said. They shared a look, one that only experience, only dozens and dozens of murders, could engender. A car door slammed and footsteps approached as they communicated about the man on the ground without words.

Maura never went to JP unless there was work to be done, and Jane? Jane really only traveled out this way for murder anymore, which was a damn shame because the food was good, and so was the company - even if that company happened to be related to the asshole walking up to them now. “Hey oh - the hell are you doin’ at my crime scene?” barked Jane.

Rafael Martinez, lieutenant of the Drug Control Unit.

Tall, dark-skinned, in a baby blue v-neck stretched against his defined chest, with a Boricua jawline that showcased his trimmed beard like art. He ran his hand over his shaved head once, and licked his lips on his way to the woman shouting at him. “I could ask you the same thing, Rizzoli,” he said through a wicked smile, all white teeth and innate pride. Just as he held out his arms to really rub in his obtusity, a lowered, electric green and black Impreza roared past them, changing Martinez’s mirth to ire, now directed entirely to the street. “Ey!” he shouted, the car already long gone. Then he stepped onto the sidewalk and dusted his dark, slim fit jeans. “Swear to god if one more lowrider tries to run me off the road, I’m outta this city.”

Jane scoffed. “You already were outta this city, remember? Almost a decade. They ain’t got those in New York, Mr. Hot Shot?”

Martinez stared at her, awed by both her attitude and her mouth, until he shook his head of its disbelief. Maura smiled at him as if to commiserate, and held her medical bag in front of her as she faced him. “Not that we’re not happy to have you-”

“We’re not,” Jane interrupted.

Maura glared with a good-natured, nonverbal shut up that worked, at least for the moment. “Like I said - not that we’re not happy to have you, but a federal task force in New York City with the chance for so much more? What brings you back to Boston?”

“Homesick, I guess, doc,” Martinez replied with a cheeky grin. Maura nodded and out of habit, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Jane was unmoved by his obfuscation and his easy Boston-Latin accent. “Bullshit,” she said, “you live for that. You live for the thrill. And the juice.”

Rafael shrugged. “Whatchu want me to say, Rizzoli?” he overtrilled the r of her surname on purpose, in the way that both Italians and Puerto Ricans do. “Me voy a caballo y vengo a pie, eh? Didn’t turn out, no matter how bad I wanted it. When you come from the neighborhoods that Paddy Doyle runs, the Bureau gets certain ideas about where your loyalties are. Especially if you BPD.”

Maura bowed her head in embarrassment, and Jane actually twitched her nose at that one. A droplet of perspiration ran down it, a sign that she’d been in the sun too long. “Well that sucks. Sorry. Still don’t answer why you’re here, steppin’ all over my toes.”

“That,” he started again, pointing to the victim sprawled on the porch of the house they surrounded, “is one of the main earners of the Kill Shot Gang. New crew muscling their way into JP. And I…” he drew out the pronoun for emphasis, “needa find out who did it. I already got your bro out there runnin’ ops for me.” He threw his head in the direction of the strip mall at the intersection of Chestnut and Weaver, a block that saw a lot of traffic. Literal and metaphorical.

“You got an Italian infiltrating the Latin drug trade? Sounds like all you’re doin’ is lookin’ for ways to get him killed,” growled Jane. She marched her long body toward him, her posture designed for intimidation. 

Martinez laughed. “Would you calm down? I know what I’m doing,” he told her, stepping into her aggression, opening his chest to it, bringing his face close to her hers. He smiled when she glared. “And other Rizzoli’s a grown man. Despite you and your ma’s best efforts.”

Just as Jane initiated her lunge, Maura caught it, her fingers wrapped firmly around Jane’s bicep. “Jane-”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Jane, body bridled for the moment, unfurled some biting words, “don’t think I don’t remember your mommy comin’ down the station with sack lunches for all of us.”

“Alright, alright, listen,” Martinez put up his hands when he acquiesced, because she had a point. “One: I don’t remember you complaining about all that food when it was put in front of you. Two: I will personally make sure that he stays safe. You got my word.”

Jane pulled out of Maura’s grip and sighed. Rafael’s deep and steady voice, when divorced from deceptive intent and real life experiences at his side, inspired faith. It made people want to believe. But Jane had been his partner for too long. She had been in his bed for too long. “Yeah, that’s my worry,” she grumbled quietly. She took stock of his eyes one last time, brown and expressive and alive, and let them give her that little jolt they had before all the history came seeping in. 

He took stock right back, and the passion that had always burned in him shook her, passion for her that she could never reciprocate. She broke first, turning her head to Maura at her side - Maura, who had a pretty indulgent grin on her face. “It seems you have business,” Maura said, hand on Jane’s back. “I can take a rain check for lunch. Meet me for the autopsy?” 

“Y-yeah,” Jane stuttered. 

“But don’t wait up for her too long,” Martinez butted in. He winked at Maura, in a way that reminded her of Jane. “Because I’ve got a task force on KSG that I have a feeling Detective Rizzoli here is gonna want in on.”

Maura regarded him for a long time, without regard for the social rules on how long a person should stare, before she decided on a smile of her own. “I’m the Chief ME, lieutenant. I’ll wait for whomever I want, however long I want.” She winked back, clearly in mockery of his previous display, and then bid them her goodbyes.

Jane held in her laughter as Martinez withered under both the midday sun and Maura’s retort. “Man it’s hot. Let’s get this processed so we can get back to the ranch.”

[jazlynriddle]

Welcome to your life - Pt 1:

Everybody Wants To Rule THEIR World Ch 13:

Summary:

"You need only close your eyes to it and be happy and safe with us."

The Keeper (player) has already secured the repository and Sebastian's loyalty, emboldening his descent into darkness. Now, they just need to win over Ominis, cure Anne, and create a domain to call their own.

And not necessarily in that order.

The Keeper's tale, a post-game story of a morally-grey, pragmatic, Chaotic Neutral, non-binary, muggleborn, orphan player character, so burned by 1800s orphanages, that they became a power hoarder who demands more payment for quests, burns paintings but doesn't want to rule the world, just their own territory and the two boys who'd caught their eye.

Warnings: Sebastian x MC x Ominis! Spoilers! Dark content! Slow-burn canon-compilant corruption! Fucked up 1800s orphanages! MC has no love for Anne or Solomon! Dubious happy ending (it's happy for MC, Seb and Ominis at least).

You can also read on AO3! (chapter specific warnings below)

Notes:

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of blood and injuries, all that fun stuff.

So, I'm about to be a Game/Dungeon Master for a homebrew DnD campaign for the first time tomorrow, and I'm absolutely terrified- wish me luck and I hope ya'll like the chapter! TvT

Ominis hummed absently as he tended to the small garden outside the Feldcroft house. The Keeper had brought back some Plantain seeds with them from their last trip to Dìon Castle for him to plant in their garden.

It never hurt to have some on hand, in case they needed a healing salve for internal injuries that wiggenweld couldn't heal.

Hearing the sound of the front door opening and footsteps approaching, Ominis lifted his head curiously. From the light and carefully measured footsteps, it was likely to be the Keeper, since Sebastian’s stride was more quick and confident.

"Heading to Dìon?" Ominis asked with a small smile.

He’d come to realise over the school break, that the Keeper was always doing something. The only time they were still, was when they were thinking and planning, or sleeping.

He really wished they did the last one more often, Ominis simply couldn’t understand how they could function with so little sleep. Somehow, they’d even managed to find the time to complete their holiday homework while juggling their management of the castle.

The Keeper's voice reached his ears. "Yes, I'll be checking on the elves and I found a cave down by the lake I wanted to search for limestone."

"Alone?" Ominis' concern was plain in his voice, exploring was dangerous, especially without magic.

The Keeper chuckled fondly. "No, I will be exploring with Sebastian and Tynx, if and when Sebastian finally gets off the bed."

"I'll kick Sebastian awake if he doesn't get up soon then." Ominis shook his head with a wry smile.

"Tell him to get his arse to Dìon or I'll go without him." The Keeper's voice drifted away with a playful lilt, followed by a gust of wind.

Ominis brushed a hand over his hair, checking for any stray strands that might have been tossed by the Keeper’s broom. How did they even get such a fast one-

"Was that the fifth year mudblood?" A scathing masculine voice grated on Ominis' ears from somewhere off to the right. It sounded vaguely familiar.

"Looks like, what the fuck is that thing doing in a wizarding village like Feldcroft?" That voice was easier to recognise, a boy from the Macnair family, which helped Ominis place the other voice as Selwyn.

What in Merlin's name were those sixth-year bullies doing here?

"Oh, Sallow's guest? Well, they've been living with him since the break began." A feminine voice replied, one of the Ndiaye twins, Ominis easily figured.

"Sallow? I guess he has been hanging with it recently, can't believe he'd let that thing live with him, doesn't it stink the place up?" Selwyn sniggered nastily and Ominis struggled to quell the anger that swelled in his chest.

"We should teach it that it doesn't belong in a village like this, let alone our noble House." Macnair spat. Ominis tensed in alarm.

"Babe, come on, let's not waste time talking about other people." Another voice joined the conversation Ominis was eavesdropping on, that was definitely the other Ndiaye twin sister.

"Yeah, it's not every day we have the house to ourselves." The first sister's flirty voice reasserted itself.

"...fine." Macnair's voice was reluctant but quickly switched back to a cocky drawl. "Did I mention that we're able to use magic outside of school now?"

"Wow, really?" The second Ndiaye twin tittered in exaggerated amazement.

"Of course…"

Ominis relaxed as the giggles of the girls and the boys' voices faded into the distance. It looked like the Ndiaye twins were dating a pair of sixth year Slytherin bullies. Great taste. Or maybe it was their money the twins liked.

He'd heard of Macnair and Selwyn bullying half-bloods and muggleborns relatively often. Sadly, with Professor Black as the headmaster, ruffians like them were getting away with it far more than they should.

Hopefully they wouldn't try anything, the next term was their seventh year after all. Surely, they wouldn't compromise their own graduation by doing something stupid only a week before the new school year.

"What's down that alleyway?" The Keeper asked curiously as they shoved the last textbook they'd purchased into their pouch.

Sebastian glanced in the direction they were pointing. "Oh, that's Knockturn Alley."

"Doesn't seem as popular as Diagon." The Keeper mused, noting the way the crowd flowed past the entryway, as though trying not to acknowledge its existence.

"For good reason, Knockturn plays host to many dangerous and unpleasant people." Ominis muttered darkly.

"You've been down that street before, then?" The Keeper asked, their interest growing at that statement.

"Unfortunately." Ominis grimaced. "My family often has dealings with unpleasant people. So, I've been forced to accompany my parents now and then. Trust me, you don't want to go there."

"Well, at least while we can't use magic." Sebastian whispered into the Keeper’s ear with a grin.

"I heard that." Ominis glared in Sebastian's direction. "Trust me, having magic wouldn't make it any less dangerous, particularly for you, Sebastian."

The Keeper shook their head. "I agree. Your emotional self-control is still not ideal for a dangerous encounter that can't end in murder."

Sebastian grumbled but, to his credit, didn't argue. Ominis looked mildly unsettled by the Keeper's wording but also relieved to have had them on his side on the subject.

"Let's get going then, we still need to buy potion materials and I want to check out the rest of Diagon Alley." The Keeper nudged the boys along as they continued past and away from the fork leading into Knockturn Alley.

If Ominis thought the Keeper wasn't eventually going to explore Knockturn Alley on their own, they weren’t going to correct him.

Sebastian'd had a point, traipsing into a dangerous place without magic would be foolish. As such, the Keeper would simply wait till they got an opportunity to investigate during the school year. For now, they would focus on acquiring the materials and textbooks needed for the new term.

Hopefully they’d still have time to see everything Diagon Alley had to offer. They'd already burned a decent amount of the day in a meeting with Fixtlick Flitwick. He'd given them their shiny new vault key, made of goblin silver, and they'd then spent the rest of the meeting discussing the wards they wished to place on the Dìon Castle grounds.

The Keeper had requested some basic wards; the unplottable ward that removes a location from all maps, the anti-apparition ward that prevents apparition within its borders like in Gringotts, a distraction ward like the one on the Leaky Cauldron entrance to Diagon Alley, and an illusion ward that made the plot appear to still be a hill with some ruins rather than a proper castle.

They also got a rather expensive blood binding ward that gave them full control of any magical aspects they add to their territory. Such as detection charms that would go off if anyone approached their land and allowed the Keeper to track intruders. As well as grant or deny the ability to apparate freely and permit access to management of the wards.

These protections would have to do, till they could figure out how to cast the Fidelius Charm. Which would render a majority of the basic wards moot, but the Keeper wasn't going to risk their sanctuary just to save some galleons.

The Keeper paused, noticing Sebastian staring into the window of a gaudy looking shop. They couldn’t imagine what could possibly be attracting his attention in there.

"How much money do we have left?"

"No."

"Come on, Ominis, I haven't even said what I wanted to buy!"

"You don't need to, Sebastian, we don't need it."

"Ominis!"

The Keeper's eyes were narrowed in concentration as they measured and calculated the quantity of limestone that they had been collecting for the last three days from the caves they'd explored with Sebastian. Scribbling notes on the journal that they were using to keep track of the work they'd been putting into the plot over the past five weeks.

It had been slow going, but it wouldn't be very long before they were ready to lay the foundations. Though that would have to wait till after school began in four days. Deciding to keep as many rare plants as they could had turned out to be even more complicated than the Keeper had anticipated.

The sheer amount of rare and valuable plants growing in random spots across the castle grounds had necessitated a tedious amount of planning in order to avoid losing them during clean up. Forcing Ominis and the Keeper to spend hours selecting various locations to temporarily move the potted plants to, where they wouldn't, well, die immediately.

The house elf magic of Tibsy and Tynx had been instrumental in the actual uprooting, potting and relocation of the plants and, over the course of working together, it seemed that the elves were becoming more comfortable around the Keeper.

"Master, we've finished tending the plants, perhaps Master should consider retiring for the night?"

Well, the elves still insisted on calling the Keeper 'Master' despite having been given free rein to call the Keeper literally anything.

The Keeper shot Tynx a lazy smirk. "Giving me orders? You've been spending too much time with Ominis."

"Not at all, Master, merely a suggestion." Tynx lowered his head respectfully, adjusting his coat as he did. "Tibsy has already returned from preparing dinner at the Feldcroft house."

"Is that so?" The Keeper sighed, tucking away their journal. "Very well, Ominis would be upset if I skipped dinner."

"I'll speak with Sebastian about the ratio of clay to limestone needed and give you and Tibsy the verdict tomorrow morning." The Keeper summoned their broom, grasping the handle loosely. "For now, you guys can move the limestone Sebastian and I found to the Keep ruins."

"Yes, Master, have a safe flight." Tynx nodded as the Keeper mounted their broom, waving as they shot off into the night.

The Keeper smiled to themselves, honestly, the development of the castle was going much faster than they’d expected. In the muggle world, such an undertaking would be beyond ludicrous for three sixteen-year-old kids with two slaves.

In the wizarding world, it only took them a little over a month to get reasonably close to being ready to start mixing and compressing the materials to create the foundations. The collection of materials that they needed to build their castle fortress was going surprisingly smooth, thanks to Sebastian's tireless research.

The caves in the area were good sources of limestone and one could easily harvest clay from soil. Fortunately, the dry and cracked earth by the northern mountainside seemed to be particularly rich in said clay. Making cement from them shouldn't be too difficult as long as they got the ratios correct.

Same went for the Cement-stabilised Rammed Earth that they were going to use to craft the castle walls, roofs, and foundations. They'd selected this material for its ease of crafting, incredible durability, unshakeable stability, weatherproof properties, insulating capabilities and excellent shock absorption.

Cement and clay were already checked off the list, sand was easy to gather from the coast, and soil was literally everywhere.

The elves had spent the last three weeks sifting soil for clay, mixing the loose soil with water, and waiting for an hour before pouring away the debris and collecting the wet clay that sank to the bottom with bags made of fine thread. It took about a day for a bag of clay to dry enough to be used, so the Keeper and the boys had kept busy gathering everything else while the elves prepared the clay and tended the plants.

They would soon have somewhere safe to hide the repository and the Keeper could then start experimenting with their power. They could barely wait.

With these thoughts in their head, the Keeper's mood was pleasant as they arrived in Feldcroft, hopping off their broom, tucking it away, and casually strolling down the dirt path to Sebastian's house.

Which was probably the reason that they were caught off guard by a depulso slamming into their side, throwing them into one of the stone fences around the Feldcroft house.

Searing pain erupted across the Keeper’s side as they crumpled to the floor, a few stones coming loose and falling with them. Ignoring the agony, they scrambled to their feet, tucking, and rolling out of the way as a diffindo slashed uselessly against the rock behind them.

Every breath made their side scream in protest, but each throb of pain only pumped more adrenaline through their veins, sharpening their mind and senses. The instinct to fight drowning out their body’s distress.

The darkness was a disadvantage since they couldn't use magic to cast a revelio, but it seemed like their attackers didn't have enough intelligence to shut up or hide.

"Just- hic- die mudblood!" A young male voice spat, slurring through half his sentence as he threw a reducto at them.

"Nowhere to- urk- run! Expulso!" A second target shouted, sounding equally as intoxicated as the first.

The Keeper rolled again, dodging the second spell while the first shot went wide, stopping their body’s momentum behind the temporary safety of a crate.

Taking the momentary respite, the Keeper knocked back a shot of wiggenweld, tossing the bottle aside and rolling again as a bombarda hit the crate.

Seeing the boys staring stupidly at the crate, the Keeper took the opportunity to map the area, their targets were standing just a few feet from each other. Good, it'll be easier to take them both out quickly if they clustered.

Unfortunately, there were many more feet between the Keeper and their targets. The Keeper ducked a glacius, feeling their ribs creak in their chest, the wet cloth covering their side sticking heavily to the ripped skin that was still knitting itself closed along their side.

The Keeper knew they wouldn't be able to fight for very long, so they would need to focus on disarming the targets and prevent them from using their magic.

Pushing themselves, the Keeper sprinted towards the closest boy, dropping to the floor, and swiping their leg out to knock the first target onto his arse.

With a curse the boy went down, and the Keeper wasted no time, punching him square in the face. They felt a satisfying crunch against their knuckles and the boy fell backwards with a muffled wail.

"Galen!" The boy still standing shouted, stupidly throwing a diffindo that barely missed his friend's thrashing form.

Dodging his spell, the Keeper shot towards the second boy. Ducking under his outstretched wand arm, the Keeper threw themselves into his waist, tackling him to the floor.

Twisting their limbs around the boy, the Keeper kicked his wand out of his grip, stomping on his hand and hearing his fingers crunch under their boot. The boy's mouth opened to release screeches of pain, but before they could escape, the Keeper grabbed a fistful of his black hair and shoved his face into the dirt.

"Now, who the fuck are you and why are you trying to kill me?" The Keeper growled into the pinned boy's ear.

Hearing a sound to their left, the Keeper grabbed a rock off the floor and flung it at the other boy as he tried to crawl away. The rock landed square in the cowardly boy's back, knocking him back to the floor as he choked on the blood streaming from his nose.

The Keeper tightened their grip on the pinned boy's hair, about to lift his head so he could answer their questions, when they heard Ominis' worried voice.

"That way Sebastian!"

The Keeper paused, the red haze of battle clearing slightly from their mind. They probably wouldn’t be able to torture their would-be assassins with Ominis nearby. A part of them hissed at being deprived of satisfaction, but a larger part of them couldn't bear to worry him longer than necessary.

With a reluctant sigh, the Keeper raised their voice, feeling a bite in their chest as they did so. "Over here guys."

"What happened!?" Sebastian called out, as he and Ominis rushed over, alarm sharp in his voice when he caught sight of the red patch of torn cloth along the Keeper's side. "You're hurt!"

The Keeper was mildly amused when Sebastian stepped on the other boy’s back, pushing his face back into the blood covered floor uncaringly as he hastened to their side.

"How bad is it!?" Ominis exclaimed, worriedly hovering behind Sebastian.

"I'm fine, I already took some wiggenweld." The Keeper reassured them, standing gingerly. "These two drunk bastards decided to try and kill me out of nowhere."

"You fought off two wand wielding attackers without magic?" Sebastian asked, sounding impressed.

The Keeper shrugged. "I've known my way around a fight long before I took up a wand, and these morons relied too heavily on theirs, didn't even know how to dodge. I don't suppose either of you know who they might be."

The boy they'd been pinning struggled to his knees, trying to crawl away. It was a truly pathetic display.

"I recognise this one from our house, a year above us I think." Sebastian turned to glare at the boy who he'd stepped on before. "That one I'm not sure."

"Selwyn and Macnair, I believe they're dating the Ndiaye twins." Ominis grimaced, feeling guilty for not having mentioned what he'd overheard a few days ago.

"Ah yes, I believe I saw them bullying a half-blood that one time in the Defence Tower." The Keeper mused.

As they spoke, the two injured boys dragged themselves to their feet, standing together as though that would make them look more intimidating.

"Fucking mudblood, I'll tell my father and you'll be sorry for this." Selwyn spat, the words coming out nasally thanks to his broken nose.

To the Keeper's surprise, Ominis scoffed imperiously, his voice cold and biting. "Just try, if we report you to the ministry, the only damaging spells they'd find here are yours."

His sightless eyes narrowed dangerously. "I wonder how humiliating it would be for everyone to know that a wandless muggleborn laid you both out without any effort."

Macnair snarled at the offence, but backed down when the Keeper cracked their knuckles threateningly.

"You'll regret this!" Macnair growled instead, cradling his broken hand as the two bullies limped away.

The moment the two boys were out of sight, the Keeper doubled over with a groan, placing a hand over their ribs. The bleeding had stopped thanks to the wiggenweld but it felt like their ribs were still fractured.

At their movement, Sebastian quickly reached for them, supporting their weight, and letting them lean against him. "Merlin, I thought you said you were fine!"

"I am." The Keeper huffed with a pained grimace. "Relax, it's probably just a fracture, the wiggenweld closed the gashes and started the mending, but it's not as fast as a healer's treatment. I just need some rest before the bones heal fully."

Sebastian shook his head with a sigh. "Come on, let's get you back to the house."

Ominis placed a hand on Sebastian’s arm. "I'll go on ahead to start mixing a plantain salve. It should accelerate the healing process."

"Good idea." Sebastian nodded and Ominis hurried back towards the house at a brisk pace, while Sebastian refocused on the Keeper. "Alright, let's take it nice and easy."

The Keeper chuckled, wincing at the burn it caused. "My hero."

"Here to rescue your victory lap from the tragic fate of ending on your face." Sebastian grinned as he helped them stumble towards the house.

The walk felt far longer than the Keeper thought it should have, but after much effort, they were finally hobbling through the doorway and limping towards the sofa.

Pausing, the Keeper braced themselves against the backrest while Sebastian carefully cut their clothing off their body. Removing their garments, Sebastian placed the bloody cloth on the table and returned to the Keeper's side.

"Easy now…" Sebastian murmured as he helped them settle on the couch carefully.

"We need to clean off the blood." Ominis dragged the tub they used for bathing out from under the kitchen table till it was beside the sofa. "The elves would probably be helpful to give us some water for that."

The Keeper grimaced, they must be more out of it than they'd believed, to not have thought of that sooner. "Tibsy."

With a pop the small elf appeared, immediately she gasped in shock at the drying blood covering their left side. "Master! Are you alright!?"

"I'm fine Tibsy, could you summon some water in the tub?" The Keeper reassured her.

"Of course!" Tibsy snapped her fingers, conjuring water in the tub immediately.

"Thanks." Sebastian nodded, grabbing the cloth that the Keeper normally used to wash with and dipping it in the water.

Wringing out the excess water, Sebastian began to gently clean the blood off the Keeper's torso. "Does it hurt?"

The Keeper shook their head. "Don't worry about that, I'm more eager to be clean so I can lie down."

Ominis sighed as the Keeper evaded the question, shaking his head as he mixed the salve together, grounding up the Plantain with chamomile and adding the powder to a bowl with the wet ingredients.

"There, that should do it…" Sebastian nodded, dropping the cloth back into the, now red, water. Wincing at the sight of the dark bruise forming on the Keeper's skin.

He should have been there. Fighting by their side.

Sebastian felt his stomach twist.

"Hey. Don't do that." The Keeper chided, glaring at Sebastian. "I'm used to magic-less combat, you aren't. You would have been a liability."

Sebastian blinked. "...I don't know if I should feel comforted or offended."

The Keeper shrugged. "Take it however you will, it's simply a fact. Without a wand your presence would not necessarily have prevented my injury. It might have even been worse. So, stop beating yourself up for this."

"They're right Sebastian, we would have been useless in that fight, now move please." Ominis chimed in, holding up an armful of bandages and the bowl of mixed salve.

"Fine fine, I'm just in the way, I get it." Sebastian rolled his eyes as he moved to sit on the other side of the Keeper. While Tibsy snapped her fingers, vanishing the bloody water from the tub.

Ominis placed the bowl and bandages in his lap, searching out the Keeper's left arm and placing it on his shoulder. Running his fingers over the swelling bump, he carefully scooped a handful of the salve to apply over their skin.

"Thank you, Ominis." The Keeper sighed as the cool goo was gently massaged into their side. Ominis would definitely be a great healer, his careful handling of their side was delicate and steady.

After a few moments, Ominis wiped his hand on a cloth and began to bandage the Keeper's torso, Sebastian helping him hold the bandage from the other side intermittently.

The Keeper closed their eyes, they and Sebastian had tended each other's wounds often during their adventures but using magic and wiggenweld was much less personal than doing so the muggle way.

The way that they were used to.

Except that they'd always had to tend their own injuries, no one else had ever given a damn what they were feeling at any given point. So, the Keeper found themselves savouring the feeling of being so gently and lovingly cared for.

"Take a deep breath, how does that feel? It's not too tight, is it?" Ominis asked worriedly as the Keeper took a careful breath, testing the bandage to be certain that they could breathe without issue.

The Keeper shook their head, opening their eyes and gently caressing the back of his neck with the fingers hanging over his shoulder. "No, it feels just right."

Ominis smiled with relief, carefully tying off the end of the bandage and tucking the ends neatly into the folds. After that, he carefully felt the Keeper's left arm and fastened a sling around their neck for their arm to rest in.

Satisfied with his work, Ominis nodded. "There we go, try not to move your left arm too much. Now, all you need to do is rest."

The Keeper gazed at him fondly, Ominis was so sweet. They leaned forward slightly to press a kiss to his forehead. "Yes, Healer Gaunt."

Sebastian covered his laugh with a cough and Ominis rolled his eyes. Leaning back, the Keeper sighed and glanced over at the anxious house elf hovering by the sofa, wringing her soft blue dress in her hands.

Softening their voice, the Keeper gave her a tired smile. "Relax Tibsy, I'll be good as new by tomorrow evening. Could you clean up a little here before returning to Dìon? Let Tynx know that I was injured by some stupid kids and that I won't be dropping by tomorrow."

"O-of course, Master!" Tibsy beamed, quickly snapping her fingers, vanishing the remains of the salve ingredients from the table, sending the bowl to wash itself in the sink and setting the table with dinner. "Please eat, Master, Tibsy will be going now!"

The Keeper snorted in amusement as the house elf popped away and Ominis lightly bopped them on the head in response. "See? Even the elf thinks you should eat more consistently!"

"Both of them apparently." The Keeper chuckled as Sebastian stood.

"Come on then, better follow Healer Gaunt's orders." Sebastian grinned as he helped the Keeper to their feet, supporting them as they made their way to the table.

Ominis sighed in resignation as he followed behind, it looked like the nickname was going to stick. Well, it wasn’t like he really minded that much, especially if it got his reckless lovers to actually take his concerns seriously.

Sitting beside the Keeper, Ominis carefully moved his hand along the table till he found the Keeper's plate and slid it closer to himself. After using his knife and fork to examine the steak's position and size, Ominis carefully began cutting the meat into bite size pieces.

"You could just ask me to do that." Sebastian protested as he poured a glass of water for the Keeper.

Ominis shrugged. "Surely I'm allowed to help too."

"Of course, you are. Thank you, Ominis." The Keeper shot Sebastian a glare as they accepted the glass of water.

Sebastian winced. "I- yes, sorry Ominis, I didn't mean to imply…"

Ominis gave him a wry smile. "It's alright, I understand, and I appreciate the concern."

"You're spoiling him." The Keeper shook their head.

Ominis smirked as he slid the plate back over to the Keeper. "As if you don't."

"Do you have to talk about me like I'm a child?"

"You are."

"I believe you are."

"Oh, come on!"

Notes:

Ominis be like "it's dangerous to go alone, take this." *Picks up Sebastian by the back of his shirt and drops him in front of Keeper.*

Am I the only one who thinks Ominis' hair is incredibly neat? Like, wow, man must spend ages combing and gel-ing every morning.

And I mean, the last fight that Sebastian got hot headed during resulted in a death sooooooo, self-control man, gotta work on that. Also Ominis totally can't even see that the shop Sebastian was looking in was gaudy-

If you're interested in the type of bricks I'm using in this story, do check out some of the coolest bricks I've ever seen! Literally too heh heh xP https://youtu.be/9SCyGAaXvJE

[artsof]

A Hare in the Forest | Hans Hoffmann | 1585 | Getty Center

"Nibbling on a leaf pulled from a stalk of Lady's Mantle, an alert hare sits at the edge of a pine forest. Unlike the darkness one would expect to find in a forest, Hans Hoffmann painted a theatrically illuminated scene. Each plant and insect - snail, cricket, beetle - is seen in vivid detail. The finely wrought leaves of the thistle, the sprawling fronds of a plantain, and the bright blue flowers of the Hare Bell attest to Hoffmann's meticulous treatment of the subject. In fact, none of these plants could have coexisted in the natural world. Hoffmann imaginatively combined numerous individual nature studies in a single painting.

Hoffmann's golden-brown hare is based on Albrecht Dürer's famous and influential watercolor which, much like his Stag Beetle, shows a hare against a plain ground. Hoffmann had seen Dürer's hare while in Nuremburg. Later, when he went to work in the court of Emperor Rudolf II, he helped the Emperor acquire the watercolor for his Kunstkammer. Hoffmann's hare differs from Dürer's, however, appearing amid a striking arrangement of elegant plants and insects. At the time it was painted, this arrangement of nearly life-size subjects was entirely unique, not only within Hoffmann's body of work, but also within the tradition of German nature study."

[jogallice]

Aujourd’hui, mardi 27/08/24, une journée sans Journée qui va ravir celles et ceux qui ne les aiment pas, qu’elles soient locales, territoriales, nationales, européennes, internationales ou mondiales 😆 Bonne journée sans Journée 😎

Ligue 2 : à l’issue de la deuxième journée, le FC Annecy pointe à la dixième place (3 points). Neuf clubs ont gagné (3 points) et neuf clubs ont perdu (0 point). Aucun match nul donc. 27 points pour les dix-huit clubs engagés, zéro pour Annecy qui a perdu son match contre Martigues ⚽

Deux marchés le mardi à Annecy : marché de la vieille ville (rue Sainte Claire) de 7h à 13h et marché de la place des Romains de 7h à 19h (marché alimentaire le matin et produits divers toute la journée) ℹ️ Carré des Producteurs de 16h30 à 19h30 à Saint-Jorioz (Grand Annecy) 🧺

Troisième jour du festival le plus tendre de l’été : Au Bonheur des Mômes 🐮 32e édition 🎫 Pass semaine 23 €, Pass journée 6 €, gratuit -4 ans et personnes en situation de handicap, spectacles payants et sur réservation de 4 à 15 € 📆 Du 25 au jeudi 29 août 2024📍Le Grand-Bornand, Aravis ⛰️

Olympic Breakshow (danse) : lors d'ateliers, compose la musique des JO en utilisant la MAO et crée une chorégraphie breakdance avec Antonin Hirtz de la cie Terre de Break ℹ️ Dans le cadre d'Un été culturel 🎫 Gratuit (spécial adolescents) 📆 Du 26 au vendredi 30/08/24 de 10h à 12h📍L’Auditorium Seynod 🎼

Concert Luni Duo (classique et poésie) ℹ️ Dans le cadre du 6e Toujours Festival (du 20 au samedi 31/08/24) 🎫 13 € (tarif unique) 📆 Ce mardi 27/08/24 à 18h30📍Jardins du Château de Menthon (Menthon-Saint-Bernard, Grand Annecy) 🎶

Diego & Joanes (Théâtre de la Toupine en partenariat avec le festival Au bonheur des Mômes) ℹ️ Dans le cadre de la 2e édition de Plages en scène (dernière journée) 📆 Ce mardi 27/08/24 (ouverture à 18h30, spectacle à 20h30, buvette et restauration sur place)📍Espace du Plant (Veyrier-du-Lac, Grand Annecy) 🎭

Kermesse avec le collectif la Cabale (théâtre) ℹ️ Dans le cadre du 6e Toujours Festival (du 20 au samedi 31/08/24) 🎫 26,40 € & 17,60 € 📆 Ce mardi 27/08/24 à 21h📍Esplanade du Château de Menthon, Menthon-Saint-Bernard, Grand Annecy 📽️

Le retour progressif à des conditions plus estivales devrait favoriser la formation d'ozone et entraîner une hausse des concentrations pour ce polluant 📈 Les indices de qualité de l'air devraient cependant rester moyens à dégradés compte tenu des seuils 💨 Ils seront bons pour les particules fines 👌

Dans la cité lacustre et ailleurs, au niveau de vos déplacements, privilégiez vélo, trottinette, marche à pied, etc. et au niveau de vos activités physiques, privilégiez les parcs, les zones piétonnes et les rues peu circulantes pour vos activités de plein air 🌬️

L’indice de risque pollinique à Annecy est moyen (niveau 2). Ambroisies, graminées, plantain et urticacées : niveau 1. Platane et saule : niveau 0 ➡️ Indice communal valable du 24/08/24 au vendredi 30/08/2024 inclus 🤧 Personnes allergiques : aérez le matin tôt ou tard le soir car les pollens sont moins présents 😷

Trois dictons du jour pour le prix de trois : « À la sainte Monique, ne te plains pas si le soleil pique. » 🌞 « Beau temps quand à midi ciel vilain, minuit ciel serein. » 🌃 « Temps dérangé par tempête et foudre, restera dérangé neuf jours. » 🌩

Je vous souhaite une très bonne journée annécienne et un très bel été à Annecy, dans les 33 autres communes du Grand Annecy, en Savoie ou ailleurs 🏖️

Bon deuxième jour de la semaine à tous et à toutes ☘️

Bonne fête aux Monique et demain aux Augustin 😘

📷 JamesO PhotO à Annecy le 27/08/24 📸

[whitesinhistory]

Itty bitty titty committee The world with me, your girl with me And I don't even really like pussy That's the homie Tony Island call Poseidon Cry me a river, you could cry me a metaphor A megaphone, screaming out Dream about revolution, air pollution Same solution, socialism They ain't really fucking with my niggas though

Off the grid, we just love the community garden Off the grid, you could be a martian 'round here Settle down here, we could love, love Drive up to the motherland and learn about what was And if the world don't budge, then eat me out, sweetie I wanna smile tonight, I only got one lap around the sun And he going down tonight, yeah, yeah So maybe I'm going down too Yeah, maybe I'm going down too

Yo, I never need no man I got a little bit of love and a couple of friends Picture me rolling up the bud in the south of Sudan Yo, I never need no, no, no

Yo, I never need no man I got a little bit of love and a couple of friends Picture me rolling up the bud in the south of Sudan Yo, I never need no, no, no

Noname, where she came? We could stand in the rain Maintain a good life, we could fry plantain Same day the airstrikes strike down Iran I ran into the house with a blunt in my hand, let's smoke I don't wanna see death no more, let's fight They got the devil hiding in plain sight That's you, that's me, the whole world is culpable Why complacency float the boat the most? I don't really get it, y'all ain't really with it

All that eat the rich, tax the rich, y'all ain't really about that shit Bitch, if you want some money, you can say that You deserve the payback 'cause niggas took everything Let's go get that and take it to the hood though Share it with community, we soldiers in plain clothes

Everybody got their role, don't be an opp Everybody got their roles, I'm a play mine Like Scooby-Doo in a haunted house I see the ghost that they talking 'bout, I see the signs Read in between the line at the crime scene I ain't fucking with the NFL or Jay-Z Propaganda for the military complex The same gun that shot Lil Terry Out west the same gun that shot some Samir in the West Bank We all think the Super Bowl's the best thing

Go, Rihanna, go Watch the fighter jet fly high War machine gets glamorized We play the game to pass the time Go, Beyoncé, go Watch the fighter jet fly high War machine gets glamorized We play the game to pass the time

Go, Kendrick, go Watch the fighter jet fly high War machine gets glamorized We play the game to pass the time Go, Noname, go Coachella stage got sanitized I said I wouldn't perform for them And somehow I still fell in line

Fuck, I never need no name I got a little bit of love and a memory lane Picture me rolling up the bud, I don't play them games Yo, I never need no, no, no Uh, I never need no name I got a little bit of love and a memory lane Picture me rolling up the bud, I don't play them games Yo, I never need no, no, no