#sun dried apricots

[inayva]

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[apiswitchcraft]

altars for kemetic/egyptian gods

hi yall, another purely based in UPG, new agey post! historically, deity offerings for the ancient egyptians often took the form of art/sculpture/hymns, incense (like frankincense or myrrh), or offerings of food (especially meat and bread) and drink (wine/ale, mostly). dialogue with the gods was often facilitated through the pharaohs or funerary rites, but your average person had access to daily magic and regular temples as well.

RA

Colors: yellow, orange, red for the sun

Offerings: eye of ra, dates, figs, grapes, apricots, sunflowers, morning glories, chocolate, pastries, orange juice, honey

Crystals: sunstone, yellow/red jasper, citrine, carnelian, honey calcite, angelite, kyanite

Animals: falcon

SHU

Colors: white, blue for the air/sky

Offerings: feathers (especially ostrich), sandalwood, gardenia, anise, paper fans, cornflower

Crystals: white/clear quartz, angelite, selenite, blue calcite, fluorite, blue lace agate

Animals: lion, ostrich

TEFNUT

Colors: white, blue for water

Offerings: sea salt, reeds, shells, water, coral, water (especially dew), lotus root/flower

Crystals: blue calcite, sodalite, lapis lazuli, amethyst, larimar, ocean/blue lace agate, aquamarine

Animals: lioness

NUT

Colors: blue, black for night. white for stars

Offerings: amber, sandalwood, sycamore, moonflowers, morning glories, milk

Crystals: lapis lazuli, star jasper, azurite, obsidian, smokey quartz, black tourmaline, labradorite, sodalite, moonstone (especially black)

Animals: boar, cow, sow

GEB

Colors: green, brown for earth. black for the underworld

Offerings: grain, beans, yarrow, cinnamon, coffee, egg shells, foliage, dirt, rocks, snake shed, milk

Crystals: jasper (various types), aventurine, moss/tree agate, unakite, obsidian, jade, malachite

Animals: snake, goose, rabbit, bull

OSIRIS

Colors: green for renewal, black for death, white for rebirth

Offerings: bandages, dark chocolate, dried fruit (especially oranges or dates), dark chocolate, coffee, cedar, vetiver, bones

Crystals: lapis lazuli, moss agate, jasper (various types), malachite, obsidian, smokey quartz, pyrite, jade, howlite, star jasper (for his astral form)

Animals: heron, ram, cow

ISIS

Colors: white, grey for the moon. blue, black for the night. green for life and resurrection.

Offerings: the tyet symbol, cow horn, milk, sycamore, feathers, dried fruit (such as raisins or dates), pomegranates, nuts, pastries

Crystals: star jasper, moonstone, rose quartz, amethyst, fluorite, bloodstone, red jasper, carnelian, labradorite, aventurine

Animals: birds (especially a kite hawk or vulture), cow, cat, scorpion, sow

HORUS

Colors: blue, purple for insight and intuition. white and red for pharoahship.

Offerings: eye of horus, weaponry/iron, lotus flower/root, feathers (especially hawk or falcon), yarrow, chocolate

Crystals: malachite, aventurine, pyrite, amethyst, lapis lazuli, jasper (various), howlite, sunstone, aquamarine, labradorite, hematite

Animals: falcon

NEPHTHYS

Colors: black for darkness and funerary rites

Offerings: beer, linen, feathers (especially of a crow or vulture), bones, coffee, nuts, milk

Crystals: obsidian, smokey quartz, black moonstone (because of association with Isis), black tourmaline, red jasper, bloodstone

Animals: vulture, crow

SET

Colors: red, black for chaos and storms

Offerings: lettuce, sand, alcohol, dragon's blood, patchouli, yarrow, vetiver, charcoal, dark chocolate, black pepper

Crystals: red jasper, black tourmaline, howlite, obsidian, labradorite, sodalite, bloodstone, malachite, pyrite

Animals: the set animal (which resembles a canine, giraffe, and aardvark), donkey

THOTH

Colors: grey, blue for intuition/intelligence. white for the moon

Offerings: quill, ink, pieces of writing/books, feathers, rosemary, citrus, sage, moon water, lavender, nuts

Crystals: amethyst, lapis lazuli, malachite, moonstone, selenite, howlite, angelite, sodalite, fluorite

Animals: ibis, baboon

ANUBIS

Colors: black, grey for funerary rites/death

Offerings: bones, ash, charcoal, red/black peppercorns, marigold (associated with the dead), linen, yarrow

Crystals: hematite, obsidian, black tourmaline, howlite, jasper (various, but especially red), smokey/rutilated quartz, bloodstone

Animals: canines, especially a jackal

BASTET

Colors: white, red for pharaohship

Offerings: ointments/perfumes of most types, cedar, anything cat related, rosemary, black salt

Crystals: tiger's eye, cat's eye quartz, bloodstone, red jasper, black tourmaline, howlite, milky/smokey quartz, pyrite, carnelian

Animals: lioness, cat

SEKHMET

Colors: red for war. grey for justice

Offerings: sand (especially red), scales of justice, iron, cypress, red pepper, black salt

Crystals: bloodstone, red jasper, carnelian, garnet, ruby kyanite, jade, smokey/clear, hematite

Animals: lioness

HATHOR

Colors: pink, red for love/sexuality

Offerings: dancing, dried fruits (especially figs/dates), pomegranates, sycamore, milk, honey, pastries

Crystals: rose quartz, amethyst, citrine, carnelian, fluorite, jade, aquamarine, garnet/ruby

Animals: cow, lioness, cobra

KHONSU

Colors: white, grey for the moon. blue, black for the night.

Offerings: lavender, sage, mugwort, dried fruit, moon shaped items, moon flower, ash

Crystals: moonstone, selenite, sodalite, obsidian, black tourmaline, smokey/milky quartz, jasper (various), blue lace agate, lapis lazuli

Animals: falcon

[dicaeopolis]

an elderly woman from Maine tottering out to the porch, smiling up at the morning sun with a face as soft and wrinkly as a dried apricot, and then taking an enormous bong rip as her live-in caretaker watches in quiet horror

[steampunkforever]

You must long for the summer of unripe apricots. It comes only once. You will scrape your elbows and knees on the bark as you climb up the twin trunks in the side yard of a woman who will break her neck in a car crash ten years later but still come out all right. You will shake the boughs till the fat golden fruit tumbles from the branches and to the waiting tarps below. You will bring basket after basket home that summer and you will long for it. There is abundance in these baskets. The fuzzy orange skin ripening to sunset gold. You will never reach the bottom of the baskets and crates and boxes full of apricots you can only taste in your dreams. The fruits at the bottom will spoil before they see daylight and this will not matter because two more baskets are coming tomorrow and a third will be sent home with your dad. You eat the unripe ones, their taste almost chalky, slightly bitter, texture just firm enough to be crisp, yet still sweet past the traces of bitterness of tang. Yearn for this, you'll only get this once. This is the summer of unripe apricots. Take part. You eat as many as you can but there are always more. Your mother bakes cobblers, your dad packs half a dozen into his lunches, the fruit ends up in jams, jellies, preserves, canned and jarred and candied and syrupped til the smell of warm apricot permeates the kitchen, the car, the yard filled with the small teardrop stones leftover from your orange gold feast. Their texture in the dry sun is like the dark cracked nose of the old dog that has just been napping on the patio. She snuffles you with it, and it is as warm as her lazy flanks, not yet licked to wet coldness by the warm tongue currently tasting the sweet apricot juices that ran down your forearms and dried to summer's stickiness. You eat as many unripe apricots as your stomach can hold. Yearn for this. A misremembered number of weeks into the summer of unripe apricots you will eat too many. The gastrointestinal distress resulting from this will turn you off the taste of apricot for approximately a decade. Your body will harness foraging instincts not used in your bloodline since your great uncle crashed his fighter plane in North Africa. Every apricot is poison. The golden orange hue the glow of a deathly mushroom or the shade of the killer dart frog's skin. You know better than this, but the primordial revulsion within you is as strong as the ancestral crags it was formed in. Your summer of unripe apricots will never bear fruit again. The next year the frost kills buds sprouted too soon. The year after high winds strip the branches bare. The next year it's been ten years since you tasted the abundance of those two apricot trees. Yearn for it.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Raspberry Lips

Elain x reader

a/n: sapphic playlist to read along to, if you’d like 🧡💛

word count: 896

The sun shimmers atop the rippled surface of the Sidra, glittering gold undulating between soft pinks and peachy oranges, mixing with the aquamarine blue of the painted houses and the warm magentas from storefronts below. The two of you remain quiet as you take in the wonderful vista from atop the small balcony, held up on oxidised copper, pale blue and a little patchy in places but tinged with an almost mossy green, artfully curved into bars that swirl and wrap around to form a railing.

Her sundress flutters in the late evening breeze, the floppy straw hat she’d chosen sitting pretty atop her gently curled hair, forming soft ringlets of golden brown, like the tops to the perfectly baked goods she makes. Small wildflowers are tucked behind her elegantly pointed ears, left over from your lunch in her carefully cultivated garden—picking a few of the unplanned but not unwelcome flora that had cropped up in the grass.

She opens up the wicker basket, pulling out something swaddled in pale cream cloth, setting it down between you, carefully revealing the contents to be two slices of pie. The pastry looks perfectly flakey and crisp, with powdered sugar dusting its surface, sun-dried raspberries lining the circumference. The cross-sections appear a mix between a spongey and custard-like texture, rhubarb baked into the main body of the pie.

“I made this yesterday,” Elain pipes up, raising a slice from the fabric, perching it upon her dainty fingertips, offering it up. Your heart flutters a little as it usually does around her, your lips helplessly curving into a smile as you lean forward across the chequered picnic blanket. It’s easy to bite into, teeth and tongue able to effortlessly pry it apart with little effort, slightly crumbly on top but soft and plaint in your mouth.

You hum, hand coming to cover your mouth as you chew, pulling back a little, swallowing. The setting sun sparkles in her cocoa eyes, like melted chocolate that swirls as it sinks into gently simmering milk. Rosey lips soften, curving to reflect your own as matching grins broaden your mouths.

“You like it?” She asks through her laugh, eyes crinkling as her cheeks warm with an apricot flush, rounding as the corners of her mouth lift upward, smiling with her slightly uneven teeth. It has your own smile broadening, eyes gleaming with affection as you manage a nod. “It’s perfect,” you reply through your smile, meeting her twinkling gaze. “Just like you,” you murmur, vaguely aware of how her hands have lowered the slice, making room for the two of your to gravitate toward one another.

Her lids lower a little, lashes obscuring some of the fascinating colours of her irises, but then her head is tilting a little, and you’re only a few inches apart.

Your lips tingle with heat as they settle against hers, soft and plush, and you’re almost certain some powdered sugar has gotten between you. Maybe she’s just that sweet.

Your hand raises, cupping her jaw as you kiss her, feeling how she pushes against your touch, mouth slanting against your own as she copies your movement, her thumb brushing the crest of your cheek, middle and forefinger tucked behind your ear. Lips stretch out, smiles playing on soft, sugared mouths as you pull away, keeping close.

Elain blinks, smile fading a little before widening into a sunshine-filled grin that has your heart aching, throat tightening.

“What?” You ask, voice lilting with laughter at her smile. “You’ve got sugar on your cheek,” she whispers over your mouth, thumb stroking over the area. The two of you crane together, mirth ringing between you as your stomach flutters.

“I should’ve known that’d happen,” you mumble, fingers gently wrapping around her wrist to ply it away. Her laughter is still prominent as you swipe the tip of your tongue over the pads of her digits, removing the sweet powder she’d so carefully dusted the pastry with. “That tickles,” she laughs softly, watching as you move to her thumb, sliding it over your lower lip as she presses down a little.

Her flush deepens as you press a soft kiss over her skin, observing with a quiet heat that has your skin warming.

“I love your hands,” you murmur into her palm, raising it higher until her fingertips could brush your brows, nosing at her skin. “They’re so clever.” Her flush deepens, neither of you really able to look away. “So good at making things,” you mumble into her palm, feeling the slight roughness that’s begun to surface from the incessant pruning of the plants in her garden.

“I like yours more,” she says breathlessly, leaning closer again, making your eyes twinkle as she pulls away, cupping your jaw. “Why’s that?” You reply, so eager to press your mouth to hers again. To feel them. To taste them. Taste her.

“You’re so gentle with them,” she answers, feeling as her words take shape on your lips, so, so, close. “I love it.”

Your mouths push together, slow, soft motions echoing between you, lips parting to feel the other, flicking gently—as she’d wanted. Elain makes a small noise, breathy and hot as she applies more pressure, opening a little wider, food forgotten as a new appetite is stirred within her.

Stirred within both of you.

Soft and sweet.

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644

[doctor-annie]

Annie is singing about... Her life on earth "It's not the effect of poison ivy...I go hiking carefully, How come they want me on TV..? Am I really that much of a freak...? Why ever would I come out of hiding When nobody's nice to me? How could anyone think I'm lovely When they retch at the sight of me....? I'd like to get groovy, to drink a mango smoothie, I'd like to watch a movie without everyone, and the sun..Telling me that I look dumb....Hate my buds, just because there's not enough room for us...They forced me to eat ice...Then I broke my teeth and cried... Jekyll, Hyde, Dragon, Slime...The only ones who are kind..Not my fault my body's spots resemble dried apricots..." She lifts up her sleeve revealing cigarette burns "Beedo, Appadeebin...Wish I did, but I don't believe him, All I want is a quiet evening...And now you're telling me my dream's not one that's worth believing in? Eedo, Appigo Appadeeben..Yeah, I'm ugly, but there is a reason, I came out of the oven too seasoned, Sometimes there's a casserole that just isn't worth eating...I imagine self-worth and inner peace... Tastes like artificial cherry, No, wait, maybe more like ice cream, Either way, I really could use some flavouring...Come one, everybody, come one, come all The circus clown has dropped the ball 'How about we give her a face full of pie?' For some reason, in return, you'd still expect a smile...And, whenever you get mad. I'm your walking punching bag, Can your conscience handle that...?" She eventually started sniffling and that sniffling turned into crying

[@call-me-dickmaster ]

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for wanting to be left alone?

(mentions of violence and death)

I (?? F) was born with a naturally occuring, monster making condition. What look like raisins are plastered on my skin. I've been constantly tortured because of it. People think it's the effect of poison ivy, and put me on tv because I'm really that much of a freak.

Why ever would I come out of hiding when nobody's nice to me? How could anyone think I'm lovely when they retch at the sight of me?

I just want to get groovy, to drink a mango smoothie, I'd like to watch a movie without everyone, and the sun, telling me that I look dumb.

But they forced me to eat ice and then I broke my teeth and cried. It's not my fault my body spots resemble dried apricots.

All I want is a quiet evening and now they're telling me my dream's not one that's worth believing in.

Yeah I'm ugly, but there is a reason. I came out of the oven too seasoned, sometimes there's a casserole that just isn't worth eating.

Whenever they get mad, I'm their walking punching bag. Can their conscience handle that? It shouldn't be them, the one who's feeling bad. Not with all their intact arteries.

If you look like me, don't go out at night, to a man on edge you could.give a fright.

And in self defense he'll take out a knife.

Wouldn't want to cause a scene.....

Looking like it's time for me to fly away! Maybe I'll see you another day

Psych, you're probably going the other way! So give a smother to my brother when you see him okay?

Made of stone their evil hearts must be, could be that their cups of love are filled with liquid savagery.

Take it from me, looks couldn't kill, but they can get you disowned.

[the-fae-folk]

Truck or treat? Yeah, no trick option, i do NOT trust any kinda fae related person with a trick option. My apologies, have a good day-

(Jokes aside, I love your writing and your lore stuff :))

Honey drizzled from the comb onto sun dried apricots and tangerine slices. Such a sweet treat, the taste of a lingering summer that has begun to fade at last, sweet and yet melancholy in its joy. When you come in from the cold, your face raw and red from the chill bite of the wind, and your bag weighed down with candied delights, you might pour yourself a cup of hot chocolate. Rich and creamy, it warms you from within. Such wonderful treats to taste, such lavish candies to try. Won't you come in from the winter air? Won't you join us by the merrily burning fire? Won't you come into our parlour, little fly, and join us with a hot drink and a few tasty treats?

[bluebellhairpin]

Katsuki Bakugo X Reader

Summary: The heat of December is scorching, and on the hottest day - where you want nothing more than to crawl into a freezer and never come out - Katsuki drags you out to the beach.

Warnings: An Australian summer. You've adopted Katsuki's potty mouth.

Listening to: 'Heat Waves' by Glass Animals - "Road shimmer wiggling my vision, heat, heat waves I'm swimming in a mirror."

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-fi

Half the Shatterdome’s air conditioning went out and it was far too hot. 

You thought to yourself as you sat in the control room next to the only unoccupied desk fan in the facility, that you bet they never had such a problem at the Anchorage Shatterdome being too cold. At least they could always put on more clothes - when it gets hot you can only take so much off. 

You hadn’t seen Katsuki all day, and if he were anything like you he’d be looking for a cold spot but unlike you he’d probably have had the luck to have actually found some place with a nice cool breeze. You mostly hoped he’d stay away for today - you didn’t want to deal with this heat and his attitude all at once. 

He had gotten more bearable over the last few weeks - being deployed to fight a few times and a couple more test runs with the neural link had you both working together well. Knowing how his brain - being inside it - helped you understand and tolerate him much more than anyone else in the entire city, let alone the Shatterdome.

You doubt you’d have warmed up to him so fast if you didn’t. 

But that didn’t mean you would actively seek out his company on a day with weather that made you want to rip someone's throat out. 

The only thing you could think of being worse was a Kaiju attack was having to get stuffed into your pilot suit - which would be like trying to fit a latex bodysuit onto a cow. And even if you were sharing a brain, and tolerated him more than you were currently tolerating the sun, you doubted your ability to not argue long enough to get a kill in. 

A stack of papers landed on the desk beside your propped-up feet and you were met with Shinsou - a young LOCCENT transfer from Hong Kong with purple hair and cheeks like a cooked lobster. 

“Been out on the beach?” you asked, grabbing a booklet and fanning yourself with it since the desk fan was being useless. 

“No,” he grumbled before moving off to the water dispenser, “Just ran up to the helicopter pad for those.” 

“You don’t run in this weather mate, that's how you get heat stroke and die.” 

“Well tell that to your boyfriend.” he said, flopping in the seat next to yours and tipping half his cup down the front of his shirt. “Either he likes how hot it is or he’s gone insane.”

“What?” you barely conjured the energy to turn your head in shock. “I mean he’s normally a little shit, but like,” your voice lowered, “How bad is it?” 

“Man was up on the pad and soaking it all in like a solar panel.” Shinsou likewise was soaking up the mild breeze through his wet shirt. “He’s gonna die.” 

“Maybe I should rescue him.” you mused, although not wanting to move. “Can’t have my co-pilot shriveling up on me like a dried apricot.” 

“He didn’t look so bothered. I think he’s more reptile than he lets on.” 

“Maybe I could just call him here over the intercoms.” you altered your suggestion - the both of you now having separate conversations. “Make him come to me instead so I can check he’s still alive.” 

“Not a snake. But he's not much like a crocodile either.”

“I’d get in trouble though. Might get an exception because it’s so hot but.” 

“A dragon. Dragons are reptiles.” 

“What the fuck are you both talking about?” You dipped your head over the back of your seat to meet upside-down red eyes. Speak of the devil, and Katsuki appears. 

“I’m glad you’re here. Was thinking you had a death wish.” He frowned. 

“Why?”

“Because you were outside.” His frown only deepened.

“It’s nice out there.” He said, even if the sweat dripping down his forehead says otherwise as you scoffed. “Have you even been out there yet today?” 

“Unfortunately.” Shinsou muttered. 

“No I have not. But I can tell.” you sighed deeply, wishing the warm air did more to cool your lungs. “Live here long enough and you gain that ability.”

“Bullshit.” 

“You never believe me Katsu.” You raised your arms, letting the breeze hit all your sweaty spots. “It’s not fair.” 

“C’mon.” Katsuki said, rolling your chair out and practically pulling you to your feet. “We’re not on duty and I think you need to go somewhere to cool off. You're talking nonsense.” 

“But poor Shinsou -” 

“Yeah poor me, getting abandoned for air conditioning and -” 

“Leave him, you know I don’t socialize well.” Katsuki said. “Let’s go.”

Katsuki, despite the fact he had a strict stick up his arse, had commandeered one of the Shatterdome’s Jeeps, fastened you into the passenger seat with little fight. 

Not that you had the energy to kick and scream at him to leave you be like you wanted to. 

You had half a mind to ask where you were going, and another half to remind him which side of the road he was supposed to be driving on - America brainwashed you, you’d told him, and he slammed on the breaks at a red light as payback. It almost sent you to your death through the front windscreen as California Gurls played loudly from the radio. 

You almost died to Katy Perry, which would’ve been his fault, and you would’ve haunted him for forever. 

When he pulled up at Bondi Beach - of all the places - you crossed your arms. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Bondi is so full of tourists,” you groaned, sulking into your seat, “I know we aren't the most popular Rangers, but if someone recognises us we won’t be left alone. A Ranger is still a Ranger.” 

“That’s why I’ve got these,” he reached behind him into the backseat and pulled out an array of clothing accessories, “Hide those pretty eyes and stuff your hair under that cap. No one will look twice.” 

You huffed in defeat, snatching a pair of too-big sunglasses and a cap with a bright orange X across the front from his hands. 

“Enough attitude, or I won’t get you ice cream like I planned to.” 

“Who are you, my dad?” you said, stepping out of the car and closing the door with a loud thud. 

“Sure ain’t.” Katsuki said, then a wicked grin grew on his face and you knew you were in for it. “But I’m sure I know as well as you do that you’d like calling me -”

“I am not listening to you! Not!” you said, stomping away and making a beeline for the water despite the fact you had to trudge through the heat past the carpark and sand, or that you had no swimmers on. 

He barked a laugh behind you, and you could tell - you knew it because you knew him that well already - that he was still looking at you. And you knew - because you did - that he’d get you your ‘pity me because of the heat’ ice cream no matter how you acted. 

That’s what happened when you were in someone's head. You knew what they thought about almost anything. You knew what he thought about you, despite how he tried to shove it off into the most unreachable corners of his mind. 

He liked you. You didn’t mind. 

[ethereousdelirious]

Sicktember Day 2 - Too Much of a Good Thing

My OCs everybody get used to them. Vaguely steampunk universe, the plot/premise is '?????' I just like pretty boys in period clothing

Gilles leaned, heavy, into Sterling. His weight shifted with each limping step, his breath coming short and pained.

Sterling wiped the sweat from his brow, his eyes fixed on home. Beside him, Gilles burned and panted and shivered in the heat.

“What happened?” Sterling asked, still staring at the glare on the front windows.

Gilles hesitated for a few heavy breaths, pushing his fingers through the rows of his locs. “You may have had a point about not overdoing things,” he said vaguely, and shuddered.

Sterling finally chanced a glance downward. He’d suspected a sprained ankle at first, but maybe it was broken…? Or— no. That wasn't it at all. Gilles’ ankles —or the contours of them through his high socks— were symmetrical, with neither showing the telltale swelling of an injury. But his left calf contorted and clenched, the muscle rippling in spastic waves. Gilles shivered in earnest now, and let out another short breath, followed by another gasping inhale.

“You're dehydrated,” Sterling said. The sun beat down on both of them, baking him through his admittedly impractical black dress shirt. 

“I'm… ah, a bit embarrassed,” Gilles said. His feet scraped on the cobblestones and he stumbled, throwing a bit more of his weight into Sterling.

Sweat soaked his collar, ran in rivulets down his temples— good. Good. Sterling could manage this at home, if they ever reached the door.

Sterling had ensured a nice crossbreeze in the townhouse. He sat Gilles down in front of the window with stern instructions not to further exert himself and hurried into the kitchen.

Water, sugar, salt. He worked methodically, steadying himself with deep breaths. Gilles would be fine. He took to suffering with frightening aptitude

Even now, a quick glance into the living room revealed him seated upright on the couch, kneading his calf and looking for all the world like he wasn't in agony.

He was, of course.

Three days of overexertion in the heat, three days of dehydration, had landed him with a nasty case of heat exhaustion and muscle spasms.

Sterling left the kitchen with his tools on a silver tray: the hydration solution, a damp rag, dried apricots in a dish.

“Drink this,” he said, not even bothering to set the tray down. “As quickly as you can, and don't argue.”

Gilles squinted at him, his manner indicating less suspicion and more of an intolerance to light. But he drained the glass, and that was all Sterling could ask for.

“There.” Sterling set the tray on the coffee table and settled into the chair closest to the couch. “Alright, now you can get it out of your system. Tell me you're fine so I can ignore you and get on with things.”

“I do appreciate it, Sterling.” Gilles had turned his face down, his hands resting limply against the still-spasming muscle in his calf. A flush burned through his dark skin, tinting his cheeks and forehead with a deep burgundy.

So much for easing his shame with a bit of levity. Every attempt at coaxing Gilles out his deep aversion to vulnerability only seemed to make things worse.

“I know.” Sterling gestured at the tray. “Put that rag on the back of your neck and try to eat if you can.”

Gilles obliged with the rag and lowered his head. “I'd like to— I'd rather go to bed.”

“Your head hurts,” Sterling said. Obviously. “Ah, and you have a delicate stomach, don't you?”

Gilles covered his face with his hand, the other grasping feebly at his calf. “I'm really alright. I do appreciate it…”

He wasn't going to make this easy. He never did. Sterling got to his feet. “Lie back. You're too hot. Try to move your ankle if you can; it will help with the cramping.” This shyness was going to be the death of Gilles someday. 

But in the meantime, he had Sterling. And he was lucky for it.

In the kitchen, Sterling wet as many rags as he could find and brought them back to Gilles, who hadn’t moved.

“Lie back; I mean it. You're going to get worse if I don't get you cooled down.”

“I could— I can—” Gilles wet his lips, not looking at Sterling.

“Yes,” Sterling huffed, “but you don’t have to.” He knelt by the couch and Gilles winced, but he finally unfolded himself to rest his legs and head on either armrest. “Good. Now make circles with your toes. It will help.”

“I'm not dying,” Gilles said, a petulant set to his lower lip.

Sterling placed a damp rag over his eyes. “Why have you been out running so much these past few days? It’s nearly 80 degrees and it’s only half past 11.” No, wait. “27, sorry.”

“It was such a gloomy spring,” Gilles muttered, flinching when Sterling set another wet rag low on his chest. “I may have gotten a bit… overenthusiastic.”

“Overenthusiastic,” Sterling agreed, setting the last of the cloths on one of Gilles’ wrists. “And undertrained, yes?” It had been a remarkably lax spring for both of them. He'd nearly forgotten his training schedule at the boxing club, spent long hours laboring over his viola to an accompaniment of rain on the window while Gilles listened on the stairs. Even Hewitt had lost some of his saturation.

“It's not a mistake I'll make again,” Gilles said. He brought his free hand up cautiously and rubbed his temple, the dramatic line of his jaw tightening to a sharp ledge.

“I'll leave you for a bit,” Sterling said. “When you feel a little steadier, try taking a cool bath. And please do eat something if you can.” He took another breath to speak and held it. He might apologize to Gilles for embarrassing him with all the attention, but then… Then Gilles would inevitably feel worse. A whole spring under the same roof and he still thought himself the intruder. A burden.

“Alright.”

“And please, call for me if you start to feel ill.”

Gilles’ mouth turned upward at the corner, the ghost of his many charming smiles. “You'll be back, won't you? I'll hear your footsteps.”

“You can't fault me for worrying about you,” Sterling said, unable to stop himself from adding, “my friend” in the same breath.

“Mais non,” Gilles muttered, relaxing a little. “No, I suppose… I couldn't fault you for that.”

Sterling took a few steps toward the stairs, his footsteps louder in his ears than they'd ever been before. “Don't fault yourself either.”

Gilles waved a hand at him in dismissal. “Thank you, Sterling. Truly.”

“Rest well, Gilles. I'll be back.” 

[themadknightuniverse]

Lalo and Nacho going to South France

Lalo renting a nice house on the periphery of a little old town. It’s not too big, but the property itself is of a decent size with a garden all around it, a gigantic fig tree in a corner, a large patio half hidden under various kinds of trees and rose bushes, a pool, and a stunning view on the old town, all sand colored houses and church at the highest point, lavender and vineyards plantations among the rest of the nature left wild, some swallows flying often over their heads, singing as they rush by, a constant cicadas noise in the background.

They take their meals on the patio, trying the local food they got at a market not far, goat cheese, saucisson, apricots, honey, and some figs plucked right from the tree in the garden. Lalo enjoys the dried meat the most, meanwhile Nacho devours far too many apricots.

They go visit the old towns scattered around the area. Most of them are so isolated from bigger cities, the streets are calm, local people mostly staying inside their house when the heat is at its highest. Lalo and Nacho are used to the heat, so it doesn’t bother them much. The old towns have a charm that seduce them both. The old stones seems filled with history. There are a lot of tiny streets with arches and flower plants that are a delight for the eyes. Lalo can’t resist to take pictures of Nacho as the man wanders the old streets. They stop by the fountains to just sit there, taking in the mood of the places, the water proximity making the air less hot. The romanticism of it all make them hold hands often as they visit, hugging as they take in the views in the highest towns.

They go hiking in the hills and little mountains, narrow paths snaking into the wilderness, revealing some ruins in the old roman sites. They enjoy the view points at the top of the reliefs, the wind catching in their clothes, the warm wind barely helping cooling their sweaty bodies. They take selfies with the distant mountains behind them.

One afternoon they go down in a valley, looking for an unoccupied spot near the water current. They find one in the curve of the river, the banks is a bit rocky but they don’t mind. It’s a bit of a sport session to reach the bank, but it’s worth it. They spend hours there, diving in the water, playing, kissing, touching each other in the semi private place, lounge under the sun after massaging sunscreen on each other, reading their respective books in comfortable silence, the cicadas and water the only noise accompanying them, eating little snacks and drinking beers from the cooler Lalo brought with them.

They spend most morning being lazy in bed, and the nights looking up at the stars.

[ask-cardi-c]

Copia, what is your ideal first date?

Getting some ideas hehe

Ooh, my ideal first date? Hmmmm.

Well.

I have not been on many first dates. Too busy at the Ministry. These tax forms won't fill themselves out, you know?

But, ehhhhhh...

I think I would like a picnic on the Ministry lawn, under the cherry blossom tree. I would bring Italian foods for my partner to try. Olives, sun dried tomatoes, stromboli, a cheese board with mozzarella and pecorino and freshly baked foccacia... We would have white wine, or grape juice, if they do not drink. Oh, there would also be grapes and apricots and figs and strawberries. Little nibbles, si? For dessert, eh... Torta della nonna, I think. It is like a custard tart. Very sweet. Has to be homemade. Mmm. Very good.

After our lunch, we would go on a walk around the grounds. I would take them past Papa Primo's secret garden. If no one is around to watch us, I will even steal a rose from the prized bush that he keeps hidden.

After we have had our walk, I would invite them back to my rooms to play some classic video games. Driving Miss Daisy, Mortal Kombat, Demon's Crest. Of course, there is no obligation for them to come back to my rooms on the first date, but it would be a nice way to finish the date.

[chasseurdeloup]

A package arrives from Harry & David with a card inside for Kaden:

“Thanks for being cool about the mime stuff. Share this with your cousins.”

Along with the card is a list of the contents included in the box:

Creamy Coppinger cheese

Peppadew pepper white cheddar cheese

Aged yellow cheddar cheese

Blueberry Wensleydale cheese

Espresso pecorino cheese

Fig and rose goat milk cheese

Apple-smoked cheddar cheese

Ubriacone wine-bathed cheese

Blueberry vanilla goat milk cheese

Mobay cheese

Wasabi horseradish cheddar cheese

Moliterno al tartufo cheese (truffle-infused)

Maple bacon cheddar cheese

Black truffle salami

Peppered salami

Italian bresaola

Salami piccante

Dried strawberries

Turkish dried figs

Juicy apricots

Crystallized Thai ginger

Dried tangerines

Dried mango slices

Sun-dried tomatoes

Candied walnuts

Caramelized pecans

Pepperoncini

Sweet sesame almonds

Everything seasoned cashews

Dijon seasoned pistachios

Fig and orange marmalade

Tangerine- and chili-marinated green olives

Sparkling prosecco cordials

Chocolate espresso bean mix

Rosemary and olive oil crackers

Tart cherry and cacao crackers

Everything spice crackers

Bamboo cutlery kit (20 fork pickers, 2 mini spreaders, 2 mini spoons, 4 tongs)

Acacia wood serving board, 17 in L x 13 in W x 1.5 in H (43.1 cm x 19 cm x 3.8 cm)

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Vicarious (Part 34)

Esukutai is an never ending feast of fruit; freshly cut slices of pineapple and squares of mango sit in bowls on window sills, sharing sweet aromas with those who walk down the streets. Even if everyone slammed their windows shut and kept their bowls to themselves there is plenty of produce to come by. Shop stalls and stacks of crates are absolutely teeming with fruit that has yet to be sold and then cut. Restaurants arrange slices of peach and lemon to look like the sun with a cherry for an eye. The more artful of them shape lemons, peaches, oranges, and strawberries into dragons and phoenixes and likenesses of Zuko’s face. Fruity interpretation that make her glad, for once, that she has fallen out of favor with the general public. At least she will never have to witness fruits being arranged to look like her face only to be picked at and eaten later. Intentions are appreciative in nature but, if she did say so, morbid when more thought is put into it. 

Many of these restaurants and houses have dried fruits hanging in pouches from the rafters. Some of them rest on platters while other folks have simply left the slices on their tables. No matter how they are arranged, it would seem that fruit is a manner of expressing oneself and one’s creativity in Esukutai.

It is doubly creative in that it is a clever work around in nation that banned dance and most forms of music. Whose theater, for the longest time, had been overran and bogged down by wartime propaganda. 

Azula is alone in the crowd. 

No one else is awake. 

At least not anyone from her group. 

The people of Esukutai, on the other hand, seem to rise as early as she—firebenders to the core, right to their internal clocks. Azula thinks that she could find a way to feel at home in this village. It is tiny and leisurely in a way that is exactly the opposite Caldera City. It would be hard to adjust in that regard but at this point, Azula craves quietude as much as she craves the frantic ways of the palace life. 

She scans the crowd, there is a man with a beard down to his ankles, peppery black and strewn with wooden beads. There is a woman with tired eyes and bracelets and bangles all the way up her boney arms. Fanning herself on a thatched porch there is a plump woman with the prettiest green eyes and her husband who very proudly wears a hat embroidered with the Earth Kingdom insignia. 

Behind one of the fruit stands is a girl with a crooked smile and a coiling scar upon her bicep. She passes an apricot to a little girl with chubby, rosy cheeks. Azula presumes that the girl with freckles on her forehead is the girl’s older sister. The next woman steps up, thick black curls bounce to her waist. She asks for a plum or two. 

And then there is the man whose hair looks like a fire. She has seen dyed hair before. Only once at an Ember Island show. She can’t say that she has ever seen anyone color their hair just to have it colorful. 

Esukutai is an expressive, colorful little village. 

Somehow it makes Azula’s heartache. 

She could have lived here. Things could have been simpler, had Ursa thought to take her with her. She wouldn’t have had to endure so much pain. She clutches her wrist—she wouldn’t have so many scars. 

Zuko could have lived here. He wouldn’t have any scars. Perhaps the two of them would have never grown as resentful as they had towards one another. They could have lived mundane, yet vibrant lives. 

By all accounts, Esukutai seems as though it has never been touched by the war. 

Azula shields her eyes against the sun as it peeks between the stalls. She ducks around a vine of grapes and inspects a display of handmade jewelry. They are all fine pieces, most of them crafted from stone or glass. A few have been fixed with small gems. 

She finds a wooden piece cut to look like a dragon with topaz tongues of fire tumbling from its mouth. She takes a few coins from her pocket and hands them to the man wearing seven necklaces. He nods and thanks her and she slips the necklace over her head. The dragon settles at her breast. Until she takes the pendant in her hand anyhow. She looks it over, admiring the woodwork as she walks along. 

Admiring the woodwork until she crashes into the woman with the thick black curls. 

With Esukutai being smaller than Hira’a—a village that is a very distant cry from large or even decently sized—Azula probably should have guessed that running into her mother in the crowd wouldn’t be outside of what was possible and what was not. 

Not that she would have been able to pick out the woman’s face but the woman could pick out hers. 

And she does. 

Right away. 

“A-Azula.” She gasps. 

Azula swallows.

Spirits, they had all been so focused on this idea that Ursa might be someone wholly different that they hadn’t even stopped to consider that the woman might still be tethered to her memories and all of the distress and regrets that come with them.  

Azula parts her lips but no sound comes out. 

“Azula.” She repeats so, so softly. It is almost a squeak. 

She should have slept in with the rest of them.

[askwhatsforlunch]

Honey Semolina Cakes

These Honey Semolina Cakes are easy to prepare and make a wonderfully comforting dessert, the sort of treat one wants to enjoy when the sun has seldom shone all day! Happy Wednesday!

Ingredients (serves 3):

a little unsalted butter, softened

2 cups semi-skimmed milk

1 teaspoon Homemade Vanilla Extract

2 heaped teaspoons local fragrant honey, like heather, lavender or orange blossom

1/2 cup fine semolina

1/3 cup caster sugar

soft dried apricots, to garnish (optional)

Generously butter three ramekins. Set aside.

Pour the milk into a large saucepan. Stir in Vanilla Extract, and heat over a low flame until just simmering. Stir in honey with a wooden spoon until completely melted.

Remove from the heat and let cool slightly.

In a small bowl, combine semolina and sugar; give a good stir, to mix.

Add semolina mixture all at once into the warm honey milk, and return saucepan over medium heat. Cook, stirring constantly until semolina absorbs the milk, and mixture just thickens, about 3 minutes.

Pour semolina mixture into prepared ramekins, levelling with the back of the wooden spoon. 

Place ramekins in the refrigerator, and chill, at least a couple of hours.

Tor serve, run a knife around the edges of the cakes, and carefully turn them onto serving plates. Garnish with dried apricots, cut into halves, if desired.

Serve Honey Semolina Cakes immediately.

[falseandrealultravival]

Umeboshi, homemade (cooking)

Umeboshi is a preserved food made by pickling plums in salt and then drying them in the sun. So it's not a "pickle", it's a dried food. It has a strong sour taste, increases appetite, kills bacteria and prevents food poisoning. It is also good for "morning sickness" in pregnant women. Japanese wisdom.

This year, at the beginning of June, 3 kg of plums and 20% of the weight of the plums were alternately mixed with salt(600g), and the liquid was squeezed out. In July, "red perilla" is added to make it red (this red perilla also has a bactericidal effect), and at the end of July, a sheet is laid out and dried on the veranda for three days and three nights. And the result is the "Umeboshi" in the first photo. The second one is the process of mixing with salt first.

Note: Ume is a slightly different fruit from plum in Japan, and is more like an apricot.

(2022.12.09)

梅干し・ホームメード（料理）

「梅干し」は、塩で梅を漬けて、のちに天日で干した保存食です。だから「ピクルス」ではなく、干物なのです。効能は、強い酸味で、食欲を増進させ、細菌を殺して食中毒を防ぎます。また、妊婦の「つわり」にも良いです。日本人の知恵。

今年は、６月の初めに、梅３ｋｇと、塩を重量で梅の２０％で(600g)交互に混ぜ、液を絞り出しました。７月に「赤シソ」を加え、赤く着色させ（この赤シソにも殺菌効果がある）、７月終わりにシートを敷き、３日３晩、ベランダで干します。そして出来上がったのが１枚目の写真の「梅干し」。２枚目は、最初、塩と混ぜる工程です。

注：梅は日本では、plumとはちょっと違う実で、むしろアプリコットに近いです。

　（２０２２．１２．０９）