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vennilavee · 4 years

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pink matter

pairing: levi x reader- grad school/boxer au (set in 2:58 AM//bare knuckles universe) summary: it’s levi’s birthday and you’re his present. word count: 4052 warnings: smoking (shisha), smut in the form of: oral (f receiving), fingering, grinding, oc is lowkey a pillow princess, oc cries (bc levi’s stroke game is too good), edging, spitting (dont @ me). 18+ !!!! a/n: ummm what can i say other than...happy birthday to my mans. and yes i listened to pink matter by frank ocean on repeat while writing this

Levi and birthdays were a tricky thing- he stubbornly refused to do anything over the top every year that you’d known him. His birthday celebrations have almost always been something that his friends have planned, or for the past few years, they’ve been celebrations that you have planned. His birthday fell during winter break, but this year neither of you were heading home. He was staying on campus for his internship and you were staying on campus to apply for jobs and give Levi company.

Besides, your family’s home wasn’t far from campus anyway.

He had had a boxing match earlier in the week, and had come out relatively unscathed with a few still healing bruises and welts over his knuckles. Despite your many attempts to dissuade him from underground boxing, none of them worked. He was good at it, great even, and he made more money underground boxing than he could ever hope to make at his internship. Besides, he had promised you that he was almost ready to quit.

You refused to let him splurge on you the way you knew he wanted to. If he was going to hurt himself to save up money for his mother, then every penny of his boxing money would go towards that.

Levi could splurge on you later, as you often reminded him when it was late at night and he would voice to you how you deserve more. You scoffed at him, telling him that he knew you better than that. Besides, his kisses, his touch, his time was worth more than anything. Him coming back to you unscathed was worth more than a pretty piece of jewelry.

That didn’t stop him from getting you a beautiful gold necklace for your birthday. He needed to get you at least one thing for you to show off. You had protested immediately- you were both struggling for money, to make ends meet as graduate students. But he had silenced you- “Let me treat you just this once.”

And you couldn’t argue with that.

So today, you choose to keep Levi’s birthday lowkey, just how he prefers it. Just you and him. He’s spending most of the day at his internship, and then will be meeting Erwin and Hange for a quick drink. And then he’ll be having dinner with you.

He had asked you several times if you had wanted to join him for drinks, but you waved him off. Telling him to spend time with his friends, and that you’d go to his apartment once he came back.

Levi had kissed you goodbye in the morning, letting you linger over his chapped lips for a few minutes longer.

You’re satisfied in letting him leave in the morning, as you had woken him up early with a birthday blowjob. The rest can wait until after he comes home.

You had given instructions to Erwin and Hange to keep Levi with them for as long as they could. After all, you had to finish baking the mini lemon tarts you wanted to make for Levi, make dinner, and get ready.

You were going to wear your baby pink satin-y dress. The one with thin straps. The one that Levi loved on you.

Anticipation floods through you as minutes tick by. You were multitasking- rolling dough, chopping meat, green chilis and vegetables up for the jiaozi and noodles that you wanted to make for dinner while checking the oven. Levi had given you his mother’s recipe for jiaozi, and you were eager to try it out.

Hopefully it came out as good as his mom’s.

You'd told Levi you’d be heading back to your own place to tidy up and fix up your resume, but really you had just snuck back into his apartment to start cooking with the spare key he had given you.

His kitchen smells wonderful and spicy mixed with sweet. A thin layer of sweat pools over your brow as you make sure that the broth is just right and the tarts aren’t too overdone. You’d even bought wine and whiskey- the wine mainly for you, and the whiskey for him.

Once the dough has rested for long enough, you add soy sauce, rice wine, salt and pepper to the meat and mix it. Then, you cut the dough into thin slices and add the meat filling to it. Before wetting the dough and folding the edges, you pull the tarts out of the oven.

Maybe you had prepared the tarts too early. Oh well, that’s okay.

You cook the jiaozi and pan-fry them, satisfied at the golden brown, crispy texture of them.

You make several servings of spicy Szechuan chili garlic noodles, to save as leftovers for tomorrow. You love noodles, and chili garlic noodles are one of Levi’s favorites.

Perfect. You still have around forty minutes left to get ready. If you move quickly, that’s all you’d need.

The small dining table in Levi’s extended kitchen is set with two plates, a glass of whiskey for Levi and a glass of red wine for you. You had strung more pink fairy lights around his living room and kitchen, giving the walls a faint, romantic glow.

Not that Levi knows what’s awaiting him. He’s not even expecting you in his apartment, but when he fumbles with the keys and sees the pink glow washing over his walls he knows you’ve been by.

But then he sees you sitting on the couch in his favorite baby pink dress with your legs crossed and a soft smile. You swirl your glass of wine at him expectantly, before setting it on the coffee table and greeting him at the door.

“Hey,” You murmur, smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt with your hands, “Welcome home.”

Levi can’t take his eyes off of the red of your lips. He plants his hands over your hips, drawing you in closer to him. He traces over the curve of your jaw, eyeing the necklace sitting nice and pretty at the base of your throat. Levi dips his head to kiss your clavicle easily.

“Hey,” Levi drawls, “You all pretty for me?”

“No,” You roll your eyes, “‘M all pretty for me. You’re just an added bonus.”

“Even on my birthday?”

“Shut up,” You laugh, swatting his shoulder, “Go wash up. I made you something.”

Levi palms and smacks your ass generously, swallowing your soft sigh with his lips before ducking out to wash his hands. You watch him walk away from you, enjoying the way his dress shirt clings to his narrow waist and his broad shoulders. You ring your own hands in slight nervousness, hoping that he enjoys the food you prepared for him.

You know he will. But still, you like compliments and you’re not above admitting that.

You refill your wine glass, nearly jumping when Levi wraps his arms around your waist. His hands are warm against your belly, sending a bolt of desire through your spine.

“Started drinkin’ without me?” He murmurs, voice low in your ear.

“No,” You shake your head, “I had a glass as I was cooking. That doesn’t count.”

Levi’s hand slips up the slit of your dress, squeezing your thighs and trailing up your leg. “You made us dinner?”

“And dessert,” You mumble with a nod, turning in his arms and gesturing to the dinner table. Levi’s eyes soften when he sees the set up of the dinner table- two neatly prepared plates with steaming food. How had he not smelled it when he walked in?

Probably because he was too taken with the scent of your perfume.

“It’s not much,” You mumble shyly, “But-”

Levi cuts your words off with a searing kiss, pulling you into his chest and cradling your neck. “It’s everything, angel,” Levi says, pressing his forehead to yours, “You’re everything.”

Your painted lips split into a bashful smile, and you push his hair out of his eyes to press a kiss to his forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”

Levi kisses you again in gratitude, soft and chaste. His hands are rough over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He takes your hand and seats you in his lap in one swift movement, shifting you until you fit within the crevices of his chest.

You reach over for your plate and glass of wine, waiting for him to take the first bite of jiaozi. His eyes widen in appreciation, a soft hum coming from his chest.

“Tastes so good,” Levi murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder.

“Really?” You perk up, turning to look at him, “It was my first time, I wasn’t sure if I got them quite right-”

“Really,” Levi says, “Thank you for this.”

“Just wanted to do somethin’ nice for you,” You shrug, unable to stop the smile from spreading, “You deserve it, baby.”

Levi hooks his chin over your shoulder, patting your thigh to wordlessly tell you to eat with him. After a few bites, you admit-

“You’re right, I did do a good job,” You giggle, the noise almost high pitched with the addition of wine. Levi tugs your hand into his, admiring the soft lilac color of your nails as he takes a generous sip of his whiskey.

“You did,” Levi trails off flatly, nosing at your neck. You both finish your plates quietly with gratuitous sips of wine and whiskey in between respectively. The soft material of your dress is always within Levi’s touch- he loves this dress on you because it only just ghosts over the nearly hidden lines and curves of your body.

He thinks it makes you look ethereal.

By the time you finish your plates off, you’re feeling the effects of wine curling in your limbs. Making you a little more affectionate than normal, not wanting to let go of Levi’s hand. Always touching him, somehow.

Levi puts your plates away and washes them quickly as you box up the food for leftovers for tomorrow. “Hey, guess what,” You murmur, “I packed the bowl for us-”

You gesture to the living room, where your pink and purple hookah sits tall and pretty next to the coffee table. Your hookah has been your trusty friend for the last few years, and you had even introduced Levi to it. Your hookah has now made a home in Levi’s apartment as well. Even though you had taught him how to use it, he had slowly become the one to pack the shisha into the bowl whenever you both wanted to smoke and clean the water out.

You claimed that the shisha would stain your nails. He had rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. You were such a princess, but you were his princess.

“Oh wow, is it a special occasion?” He says dryly, with the arch of his eyebrow.

“It’s just some guy’s birthday,” You reply without missing a beat, earning yourself a squeeze of your ass. You sit next to him on the couch, legs tucked under you and give him the hookah pipe to take the first pull.

He blows the soft tuft of smoke above your head before taking a deeper pull. A larger cloud of smoke floats out of his mouth. You’re mesmerized by the shape of his lips and the way he holds the clear plastic pink pipe in between his long fingers.

Levi wordlessly hands you the pipe after a few pulls. You lean against his shoulder and thread your fingers through his as you take a few generous pulls. Smoking from your hookah has become something of a stress relief for both of you- sometimes you ended your nights with a nice pack and just sat with each other. It was a good way to wind down after long days and long nights.

It was a habit you knew you might be growing too old for, but you’ll deal with that later.

You start to feel a little lightheaded, a little tipsy and give Levi the pipe back. “Did you have a good day today?” You ask softly, cradling his cheek with your hand.

He hums, “Wish they were paying me more at the internship. But I’m here now.”

You understand his unspoken words- I’m happy to be here now.

“We’ll be okay soon, Levi,” You promise, “We’ll be outta here soon, baby.”

But for tonight, he only wants to think about you. Levi only wants to think about you, you in this pretty dress, you all pretty in his arms. So he puts the pipe on the table and drops the coal from the bowl, ignoring your noise of protest. Levi pulls you into his lap hastily, hands tight over your hips and wandering down to your ass.

“You should suck my cock,” Levi says bluntly, “It’s my birthday, after all.”

He’s only joking- really, he likes seeing the way you pout and protest at him. Like the princess that you are. “Levi,” You whine, “I did this morning, and I can’t get on my knees in this dress…”

“You’re right,” Levi muses, fingers tracing your sides, “This dress is too nice for you to ruin.”

“It’s your favorite dress,” You say. You’re proud of yourself and Levi finds it endearing. Levi draws you even closer and lays you over the couch with your back flat. He clasps the hem of the tight skirt of your dress and hikes it up to your waist and allows his fingers to graze the softness of your inner thighs.

Fingers instantly thread through his dark, silky hair, tugging at his scalp. He groans into your skin, eyes fluttering at the feeling. Levi draws himself up over your body, slipping the thin, pink straps of your dress off of your shoulders and dropping kisses along the column of your neck. You tilt your neck to the side in your hazy stupor, giving him an eyeful of your glowing skin.

You’re so pretty.

Levi kisses the spot behind your ear, the spot that never fails to make you sigh his name airily. He’s intoxicated by you, the sweet smell of your perfume mixed with his cologne clinging to your skin and wrapping you both in a pink bubble. Levi cradles your face with his hand, drawing your eyes towards him.

You leave him a little breathless- far more breathless than after a difficult boxing match. None of that has anything on the way you blink at him with hearts dotted in your eyes, or the way your lips are swollen from his kisses. And especially not the way you trace the hard planes of his chest with gentle calls of his name.

His eyes are blazing, adoration stamped in his grey irises. Levi ducks his head for a sharp kiss, drawing a loud whimper out of you when he puts a little pressure over your neck. He squeezes a little harder when you whine impatiently and lock your legs around his narrow waist.

His angel in pink is just full of surprises.

Levi could kiss you for hours, the soft, wet feel of your red lips against his is something he wants to drown in. He’s certain your red lipstick stains his skin, but he pays it no mind. He knows you’ll get a kick out of it, but right now, you’re only focused on peeling him out of his shirt. You toss his dress shirt on the other side of the couch, where it lands on the armchair unassumingly.

Levi hisses when your lips brush over freshly healed bruises on his chest, but he doesn’t mind the slight sting. Levi firmly pushes you back towards the couch, an excited gasp ripping from your throat.

You like it when he shows off his strength for you. Specifically, when he manhandles you a little bit.

“Be good,” Levi murmurs raspily, taking your curious hands in his, “You gonna be my good girl? It’s my birthday…”

You nod instantly, eager to please, “Y-yes. ‘M your good girl…”

“Then keep your hands to yourself, angel,” Levi says and you pout at him. But you listen, struggling not to touch him.

Levi pushes the top of your dress down and unclasps your lacy black bra in quick succession, your tits spilling out easily. Your entire body pulses when his lips plaster over your chest, his lips sucking and tongue soothing as he slides down your body.

He looks up at you from in between your legs, pleased when your eyes are hooded. You’re doing your best to listen to him, to not touch him. Just because he said so and you want to be good for him. Levi hooks his hands around your hips, pulling you flush against his face.

You buck your hips towards him and hope he doesn’t notice. He does, but says nothing, only pushing the skirt of your dress higher up on your waist. Leaving your legs bare and your clothed pussy in front of him for him to devour. Levi dots your thighs in kisses before his head disappears in between your legs and rubs his thumb over your clothed clit. He presses a kiss there and you shudder, wanting to run your hands through his hair.

But you keep your hands to yourself.

Levi hums when he finally peels your panties off and puts them in the pocket of his pants, not wanting them to get dirty. You choke at the action, feeling your face heat up. Levi spreads your legs apart, hiking them over his shoulders and licks your core teasingly. His tongue is so wet and warm that you can’t help but buck your hips for more with a whine. You tighten your thighs around his head as he gathers your wetness with his thumb and circles your clit in the same motion.

You grip the sofa cushions in an attempt to ground yourself. Your thighs tremble at the first swipe of his tongue over your folds and when he continues to circle your clit. Levi sucks your clit and pushes a finger into your dripping pussy, and you let out a strangled sort of noise. He pumps you a few strokes, your walls already clenching around his finger.

And then he just stops. You whine in annoyance, your brow furrowed and your lips pursed together in a pout. He only smirks at you wickedly, adding another finger into you and holding still. You try to fuck yourself on his fingers, but he won’t have that.

“Thought you were gonna be my good girl,” Levi murmurs, palm flat against your hip.

“Mmm-please, baby,” You mumble, eyes beginning to fill with unshed tears, “I love you, please touch me-”

“Alright, angel,” Levi acquiesces easily. He only wants to please you, wants to maybe see you cry on his cock, come apart with his hand wrapped around your pretty throat. “You know I love you.”

Your eyes light up at that, pout dissolving into a soft smile. Levi kisses your thigh once more and dips his head in between your legs. You move your foot so it’s flat against Levi’s back for more leverage, letting out a loud moan when his tongue presses into your pussy. You rock your hips into his face, nearly choking at the sight of his dark hair in between your legs.

You don’t even realize how lewdly you’re calling his name, as he grinds his tongue into you as if you’re the sweetest honey he’s ever had.

Which you are. Because you’re his angel. You do well with being obedient, not allowing your hands to graze any part of him. So he looks up from in between your legs, your wetness dribbling down his chin and gives you a look that makes your pussy flutter.

“Good girl,” Levi murmurs and ducks his head down once more. The soft praise shoots straight down your spine and Levi tastes it. He threads his fingers through yours and you gasp at his touch, squeezing greedily.

“You feel so good, Levi,” You babble, “Love you, I love you so much-”

You cut yourself off with a wretched moan when Levi presses his tongue flat against your pussy and strokes you with two long fingers in you. Levi knows when you’re close, when your thighs begin to tremble and when you start babbling to him as you are now.

He pumps you slowly, alternating between slow and fast as you gush for him on his tongue. Levi groans in between your legs, the sound reverberating through you and he eagerly laps up another wave of wetness.

“Look at you, angel,” Levi murmurs, pulling his tongue away to play with your clit as he presses kisses on your inner thighs.

“Yours, ‘m yours,” You slur, “Please, baby, make me cum, I’m so close…”

And since you asked so nicely, the lilt of your voice coated with silky adoration for him and him only, he presses his tongue to your pussy once more. Your back arches instantly, thighs beginning to quiver when he sucks your clit and presses two fingers into you again.

“Levi, baby, please,” You beg with tears gathering in the corner of your eyes and dropping down your cheeks, “Love your mouth, love you so much. Wanna be with you always, wanna give you everything…”

God, he loves you so much. The way your eyes water when you’re close, the way you wrap around him perfectly like this. There’s nothing that can compare to your softness meshing with all of his rough edges.

“Cum, baby,” Levi murmurs hoarsely, scissoring his fingers inside of you. He shifts so that he’s over your frame, his fingers still inside of you and kisses you harshly. You taste yourself on his lips, moaning into his mouth. You don’t have the strength to pull away as your orgasm is within reach once more. You clench desperately around his fingers before he’s about to slide down your body again but you stop him.

“N-no,” You mumble, “Kiss me, want you to kiss me.” You yank him down to you, pushing your lips to his impatiently as you rock into his fingers. You look up at him with your lips parted and with heated cheeks, as he rubs your clit with his thumb.

“C’mon angel, cum for me,” Levi says, a soft demand. The headiness of his voice and his blown out eyes make your toes curl. With another few rubs of your clit with his thumb, stars explode behind your eyelids, your heart is about to beat right out of your chest and Levi holds you steady as you ride out your high.

Levi slides down your body to lap up your wetness and you close your legs instinctively from oversensitivity. Your thighs jump at his sudden touch over your clit and you try to shove him away but he pulls off of you himself, hovering above you and settling in your arms.

You give him a dazed, happy smile. Levi licks his lips, letting saliva gather on his tongue and presses his thumb to your chin.

“Open, angel,” He breathes. When you part your lips eagerly, red lipstick long smudged, he drops a ball of spit onto your waiting tongue and watches the bob of your throat as you swallow eagerly. Levi kisses you, coating your bottom lip with spit, just the way you like.

You grin at him, a little messy, a little in love. Levi’s cock jumps as he looks at you below him.

“You’re messy,” Levi says fondly, cradling your cheek.

“You like me messy,” You wink at him and wrap your legs around his waist to push him down to your chest. He rests his weight on top of you and you can feel the hard press of his cock against your thigh. You grind into him teasingly, lightly scratching at his undercut.

“I made dessert for you,” You say forlornly, “Made lemon tarts. With blackberries on top.”

“Lemme have you on top and then we’ll eat your tarts,” Levi says, earning himself a smack to the chest.

Levi carries you to his bedroom after that, and you don’t end up eating the lemon tarts until most of the city has fallen asleep and flurries begin to come down from the sky.

tags: @simpingmaize @captainchrisstan @alrightberries @bbygrgu @phen0l

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi x you #snk x reader #aot x reader

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shatouto · 3 years

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hi yes this is another installment in the raised-as-sith anakin x jedi obi-wan au i co-write with @obiwanobi. we’ve been putting what we got so far on ao3 for archiving/organizing purposes so before you read this pls check it out first if you haven’t bc there is some semblance of continuity, thank you :’) (this installment on ao3)

content note: past psychological and physical abuse, messy healing, please proceed with care

you love him dearly

You stand alone in a great dark hall. There’s no sound but your pulse jolting in bouts inside your ears. Like the footsteps of a scared bantha. And you feel like a scared bantha. You haven’t felt like this in a long time. You used to be worth less than a bantha, with your weak hands and your small body. All you were ever able to do was get yourself and your mom hurt. You felt so bad, so very bad, so bad that you were willing to beg your mom to let you go, when this man came and swept you up. This man who called you the Chosen One. This man who you now call...

“Master,” you say, and waits for your Master to acknowledge you.

Sometimes you think it’s strange, to trade one master for another. But this Master, your Master, is a different sort. Your Master taught you how to hate the right people, in the right way; gave you a crystal and let you forge your own lightsabers. Your Master told you you were special. No, no, it doesn’t matter that you were a slave, you are special, my boy. You know you are different, do you not? That you learn faster than children your age; that your reflexes are sharper, your intuition stronger. You see things before people do, know things before people see, and do things before people know. The future and the past are sometimes indistinguishable in your dreams. Clever child, golden child, you are certainly worth more than a bantha; oh, you are worth more than the population on that sandy speck combined. You are the Chosen One! You are destined for greatness.

You were weak and small and nothing. You deserve so much more, so much more. A pity that the universe has never given you and will never give you what you truly deserve. None of that is your fault, my poor boy; they are simply too blind and puny to appreciate your capacity and recognize your power. But worry not: Your Master will give it to you. Your Master is here to help you. You love him dearly, because you are nothing without him, because the universe is stupid and cruel and you hate it for making you feel like nothing. Your Master, on the other hand, must love you dearly, or else he would not have told you all about how special you are. Would not have trained you to be so strong. Would not have given you the respectable name of…

“Darth Vader.”

The greeting sounds more like a warning, because you deserve it. “I—I’m sorry. I wasn’t strong enough.” Even your voice comes out too small.

“Little need to apologize in words, my apprentice,” says your Master. “You know what must be done. You must learn your lesson.”

You love him, you love him, you love him. You love your Master, you chant in your heart, as you hang your head and tuck your tongue back and wait like the good apprentice you are.

The first blow is always the hardest. You convulse, feeling as if a thousand red-hot needles are exploding from within your sinews. Blinding pain crackles through your body, and you scream yourself…

Awake.

Anakin sits up in his sleeping bag, panting. He thinks he heard the tail end of a scream, his own, but it’s all silent now. He’s alone in the dark, the healed stump of his right arm tingling under the prosthetic cap. He searches his psyche for the tatters of a bond between him and the late Sith Lord; there's nothing left. Darth Sidious is truly dead. Two strides away from him, Obi-Wan Kenobi sleeps soundly in his bed.

His eyes soften. The sight of Obi-Wan soothes him, reminding him of where he is in time and in space. It has been a few months since he killed his Sith Master. He is in the Jedi Temple, in quarters belonging to Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and Padawan Ahsoka Tano. Nobody knows he is here.

Anakin turns away as one would turn away from a too-bright light. You can’t look at the sun for too long or it’ll burn your eyes; especially if you are used to darkness. He breathes in, and out, and shakily pulls off the cover of the sleeping bag. His new metal fingertips nearly tear through the fabric.

“Anakin?”

Anakin doesn’t flinch, but his stomach flips. Obi-Wan’s silhouette slowly sits up in bed, tousled and softly rumpled and Anakin feels frighteningly tender in the chest. He keeps his head down, not wanting to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes right now.

“Anakin, is everything alright?”

Anakin mumbles out something vaguely affirmative, and pushes himself to his feet. “Fresher,” he says, hurrying away. He doesn’t return to the bedroom afterwards, but goes straight to the kitchenette and begins to prepare a rather large breakfast. He knows Obi-Wan doesn’t go back to sleep either. He wills himself to ignore the circles under Obi-Wan’s eyes, come morning.

—

“Anakin, I have been thinking,” Obi-Wan begins, as he takes their empty plates to the kitchen, where a dishwashing droid stands await. “You don’t happen to have a habit of meditating, do you?”

Anakin almost tenses up at meditating, but he only lets out a huff of breath and opens the droid’s compartment doors. He’s glad Ahsoka is away for the night, staying in her friend’s quarters or some such. If she joins in with Obi-Wan it’ll only be harder for him to reject the request. Because that’s clearly a request, no matter how fancily Obi-Wan phrases his question.

I hate it teeters on the tip of his tongue, but Anakin just answers: “No, I don’t.” Obi-Wan likes meditation, as all Jedi do. It would feel bad, be bad, to say he hates something Obi-Wan likes.

Obi-Wan hums. Dishes clink as he sets them in one by one. “Would you be so opposed to it, then?”

Anakin pulls his shields higher so that none of the screaming No no no I hate it in his mind is going to bleed through to Obi-Wan in the Force. He makes the mistake of turning to look at Obi-Wan, because he can’t help it, and he's met with a hopeful smile and gentle, crinkled eyes. He can't bear to see that smile fall. “...Guess not,” he mutters.

“I would keep you company, if that’s fine,” Obi-Wan continues on merrily, like the good-natured Jedi he is. “I mean to invite you to join me for meditation before bedtime, in fact. Is that alright?”

Anakin stares down at his mismatched hands. If there is one thing he hates more than meditating, it’s meditating with someone watching. He tries very hard not to grit his teeth.

“Of course, you don’t have to,” Obi-Wan adds, fingers briefly brushing Anakin’s flesh wrist. The sensation shoots right into Anakin’s heart. That settles it; it’s not even a question. Obi-Wan will be disappointed if he doesn’t.

“It’s alright,” Anakin says, shutting the droid’s compartment door. The timer beeps, unhelpfully helping him count down to the dreaded session.

—

“So this is meditation?” Anakin blurts.

Obi-Wan sits cross-legged on his bed, in his soft robes and sleeping pants. He opens his eyes in a quizzical gaze as Anakin remains standing. Anakin curls his hands into fists and tries not to fiddle with the hem of his tunic. Obi-Wan frowns, unfurls from his position and comes up so near that Anakin wants to hold his breath. He smells like the cotton flower-scented fabric softener, like crisp, warm laundry - he smells like hard-earned safety. “You don’t need to lie to me, Anakin,” he says, a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “I will instruct you from the beginning if you need me to, and I promise to help you with any difficulty. Now tell me: Have you meditated before?”

Obi-Wan says so, but Anakin is not about to tell him about the Sphere; about the long hours spent in that terrible spheroid room with enough space for you to wish you could move from your spot, but the walls were too smooth and curved for you to scale; about how silent it was in there save for his Master’s voice in his mind. Anakin is not about to tell this Jedi about the splatter of blood in the Sphere where he once bashed his head against until he passed out because he could not take it. How Sidious had punished him for it afterwards. How he never dared to do it again.

“...No,” Anakin says. “Show me.”

Obi-Wan nods; his hand slips down his shoulder and runs gently down his arm. Anakin blinks. Obi-Wan's touch always feels so… nice. Unhurried and mellow and never really demanding anything back. “I see. Take a seat beside me. Make yourself comfortable, please.”

Anakin crosses his legs as Obi-Wan does. Nervousness winds his core tight, makes his back rigid and ramrod straight. Obi-Wan is near him, both in physical presence and in the Force, his signature pulsing with the light of sunrays through butterfly wings.

“Relax, Anakin. Loosen your muscles”—his warm hand traces across Anakin’s back from shoulder to shoulder, then down his spine—“and your jaws.” His fingertips brush the hinge of Anakin’s jaws just as he says so. Anakin nearly shivers. It takes him longer than he thought it would, to truly follow those orders.

“...There we go,” Obi-Wan says. He draws back, and Anakin should be glad that the distracting touch is gone, but he feels disappointed instead. “Now breathe in deep. Ah, wait. Do it again, breathe in, deeper, and try to hold it. Yes, like that…”

They spend the next quarter hour or so wrestling with his breathing pattern, keeping it both deep and steady. Anakin goes from counting the beats to counting the breaths to finally not needing to count at all. And then when he thinks he’s gotten the hang of it…

“Let go? You mean I shouldn’t focus on my breathing anymore?” he asks, puzzled, bordering on frustrated. “But you just told me to be mindful of it.”

“Yes, correct, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sounds unfazed. “Be mindful of the rhythm, and keep it up. You’ve done well so far. Now you must turn your focus inwards, and meet the Force within you.”

Anakin’s eyes slide open for a split second and then fall shut again. He doesn’t understand, but he could just try. This isn’t any difficulty that he needs to bother his instructor with. He nods, and begins again. He begins with his breathing. In, and out. Slow, and steady. And now he must not think about the breaths anymore. Now he must...

The Force within him is a well of ink. Ink that glisten from black to crimson like the blood on his hand. Ink that sloshes and laps against the walls and the echoes turn into screams. A bright white fracture crackles from one corner of his vision to the other. Centipede-like arches of incandescence skitter under his skin. Drip, drip, the blood, no, the ink, it drips and it trails and it tickles his skin. There’s the familiar taste of copper at the back of his tongue, flavors just waiting to burst. Cruel laughter echoes from the bottom of the inky well, and somewhere in the thick darkness there is the outline of a woman’s silhouette, of small but strong shoulders and—

Something warm brushes his psyche.

Warm, but too close. Anakin snatches that tendril without a thought and delves counter-current through Force-realm. He forces himself to the other side, even as something shatters around him. He knows the drill. *Your self-preservation can only come at the cost of others', my boy.* Colors begin to flash, gentle and muted, bearing the fuzzy quality of memories. Sunlight flickers, filigree wings flutter, landing on durasteel grounds. He feels tears on his face and tears in his throat and his forehead is pressed close to someone else’s, someone he loves so dearly—no, not him, someone that the person to whom this mind belongs loves so dearly.

“...proud of you. Carry on, Obi-Wan. Live brightly.”

“Yes, Master.”

There's no silence more thorough than a heartbeat evening out into nothingness. There's no solitude more poignant than the company of a vanishing light. Saying goodbye is never an easy feat, even for a Jedi, and the anger and sorrow he felt—

“Anakin! Stop!”

Anakin jolts awake. A thick, ferric drop trails from his nose, warm on his lips. He opens his eyes and finds Obi-Wan beneath him, wide-eyed. His hands are pressing Obi-Wan’s shoulders into the mattress. Obi-Wan, who was teaching him to meditate, who brushed his mental shields in the process of instruction. Obi-Wan, his teacher. And if all of those images belonged to Obi-Wan…

He just broke into Obi-Wan’s mind.

Anakin scrambles back. The ink, no, the blood, now drips down his chin. It tickles. His teeth clatter as shivers rake up inside him. He clenches his jaws and stares at the ground. The sheets rustle.

“I think that’s quite enough for tonight.” Obi-Wan doesn’t sound angry, just somewhat breathless. Even concerned. Anakin doesn’t believe it. “Anakin, you’re bleeding. Do you need—”

“No.” Anakin staggers to his feet and backs away. Nothing worse than asking for more and becoming even more of a burden because everything he takes is a debt and he will pay for it. His Master always made sure he paid. “No. I’ll—I’ll clean up. I’m sorry. I’ll clean up.”

He stands there just long enough for Obi-Wan to respond - with anything, words, blows, anything. In the end, Obi-Wan only says, “Alright. Please, take care.” Anakin’s eyes flick up to find a grimace. He turns away and all but runs to the fresher, more dismayed than relieved.

Because if the punishment doesn’t come right away, that only means he’s going to have to wait.

#obi-wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #raised-as-sith anakin #always-a-sith anakin #ex-sith anakin #so many tags for this au #star wars prequels #shatou writes #obikin #angst

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amelia · 3 years

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related to that last ask but now i actually have a question! what are your favourite episodes for amy as a character? (sorry if i’m pestering you btw you don’t have to answer right away ❣️)

it is absolutely never a bother for me to talk about amy pond!! gosh though this is a Question. okay. i did interpret this as episodes that are my favorite for the lens of My Understanding Of Amy instead of favorite pond era episodes as a whole if that makes sense? under the cut bc i got long as i tend to do

i think my number 1 has to be the big bang, because it really is just like. okay, pond era absolutely runs into the problem of frequently making stories/episodes that should be centered around amy's emotional journey actually about somebody else — but the big bang is all hers. it is all on her! she's leading the show SHE'S the one in the pandorica SHE'S the one who remembers the doctor into existence it is HER choice to say goodbye to leadworth and continue to travel completely without remorse SHE IS THE HERO. it goes from "time can be rewritten, he'll find a way" to AMY being the one who finds the way. rory and river and the doctor all of course get their Moments but it's unquestionably amy's spotlight moment the whole way through

i have also ALWAYSSS been obsessed with starless universe amelia and the way that she still believes in stars in a world where they DON'T EXIST the power of her mind and the conviction of her beliefs is a CORE TENET of amy's character, the doctor has NOTHING to do with it!!! it's just who she is !!! best character of all time <3

other things about the amy's writing in this episode i love: the line "the universe pouring into her dreams every night," space florida outfit <3, ok i obviously do not love this but i think so much about amy talking about the doctor at her wedding and her mother is still like "NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN… i thought the psychiatrists FIXED her" like once again !!! a UNIVERSAL CONSTANT that amy is the one who believes in things nobody else does and is LOUD about it and is RIGHT !!! (let's kill hitler tried to retcon this but it simply won't work on me ❤️ just like anything else about the let's kill hitler flashbacks ❤️❤️❤️), OKAY DOCTOR DID I SURPRISE YOU THIS TIME? <3

number 2, i think, is the eleventh hour itself? like it's just… i've rewatched it so many times and it's still the most captivating character introduction i have ever seen. i know i'm biased but i love it so much. her introduction as a clearly neglected seven year old girl (constantly think about the deleted line that has her talking to aunt sharon and saying "you're not supposed to leave me, i'm seven!" WOOF) who's not afraid of anything except for the crack in her wall… she has drawings up all over her house of burning houses, she draws smiley faces into her apples bc her mom used to do that, she can cook for herself way better than i could at seven, and she desperately just wants to leave. but when the doctor tells her he'll be back in five minutes, amy is already so used to adults leaving her and breaking their promises that she doesn't believe him. but he makes her believe anyway. and he doesn't come back.

and all of the rest of her character hinges on that introduction — of course she has to believe him, he was REAL, nobody can take his realness away from her even if she is the only one who believes. but he also left her all alone for so long, just like everyone else who was supposed to be there for her did, so what good does that to her? so yeah of course she grows up angry and bitter and hiding those layers of hurt deeply under the surface, scorning all attachment and serious relationships because she knows she can't trust them. she outwardly distances herself from her childhood self by changing her name but she IS still just such a child inside.

she's not ready to settle, to grow up, to become what everyone in her tiny village wants her to be, thinks that she should be — so when she gets the chance to GO, of course she takes it. but she's also not just going to let the doctor off the hook for [gestures] her entire life, you know? the exchanges "people always say that" "i'm not people, do i even look like people?" | "people always have a reason" "do i look like people?" "Yes." always just GUT ME. she may trust him but it's NOT a blind trust, it can't be.

number 3 has to be the beast below it just makes me SCREAM how good that episode is at really developing amy through her compassion for other people — right from the start she sees that kid crying and she thinks the doctor must ignore stuff like this all the time, and she says that she could never do that. she's learning and intuiting leaps and bounds about the doctor with everything he says to her — which is another one of my favorite amy character traits, the way she is SO quick to pick up on things about other people and analyze them. everything that she picks up about the doctor allows her to KNOW what to do to save the star whale, allows her to be confident in the fact that the star whale wanted to help the whole time. the choice is IN HER HANDS she IS THE HERO <3 as she always should be. you couldn't just stand there and watch people cry! all that pain and misery and loneliness and it MADE IT KIND. i don't care how overused that quote is it still HITS !!!

um. number 4 is the girl who waited but my very specific headcanon-ridden interpretation and cutting out all that garbage "rory's the most beautiful man i've ever met" "defying destiny causality the nexus of time itself for a boy" bullshit. idk there's so many terrible things about this episode but it also gave me so much to think about when it comes to amy it's on my mind a LOT. one thing i think about is the way it parallels amy's first abandonment by the doctor — not just in the obvious sense but in the way that she's actively fighting for her life in a hostile atmosphere, but nobody else SEES it as a hostile atmosphere. the two streams facility is leadworth like it really is. and what adds a more chilling component is the way the handbots signature line is "do not be alarmed, this is a kindness" — like all the people who were trying to convince amy she was crazy throughout her entire childhood really thought they were doing her a kindness. they thought they were helping her. but they were killing her. because she wasn't made for that environment.

beyond that i am just obsessed with 36-years-later amy she is an icon she is a legend she is the moment i don't care! every mean thing she said about the doctor and rory was absolutely deserved and in fact she should have been so much meaner! she is SO SMART she makes her own SONIC PROBES OUT OF CAMERA PHONES the fact that she even was able to SURVIVE THAT LONG and in COMPLETE isolation and still retain her own mental faculties is just insane to me it speaks so much about her insane mental strength oh my god it makes me sooo emotional i am tearing up a little typing this right now.

i just am always THINKING about the line "there he is, the voice of god. number one lesson: survive, because no one's coming for you. you taught me that" it says SO MUCH about her. oh my god older amy didn't want to die she'll be kicking and screaming and fighting til the end… i fucking hate this show and picking and choosing when paradoxes should apply OLDER AMY DESERVED TO LIVE

number 5 is probably the power of three but my own very headcanon infused interpretation of it. because it's like. the ultimate miscommunication/misunderstanding that exists between amy and the doctor coming to a head. where amy in 7.02 is like "i can't not wait for you, even now. (…) we think you're weaning us off you" (that line always makes me slow exhale … the phrasing of the doctor as a drug) and the doctor keeps insisting that's not true, "you'll be there until the end of me" "or vice versa" (and they have that loaded held stare and you know they're both thinking about what he said to her before he left in the god complex…)

but it's not until this episode where amy starts to actually believe he means it. at the same time she's spent so much TIME preparing for the inevitable moment where the doctor says goodbye and doesn't say hello ever again that she's not willing to fully hope that the doctor really means it when he says that he would never leave her permanently on purpose. and i love that this episode gives amy a lot of space to verbally communicate her emotions because the later pond episodes SORELY LACK THAT. and amy tells him, don't be nice to me, don't stop coming around just because you think that's the kind thing to do. even though she says herself that she doesn't know if she can have "both" — she knows that she can tell the doctor to stay, in her own way, and that he'll listen.

ideally they would have just gone off traveling together forever after that and the angels take manhattan did not happen but unlike what the doctor says about amy, i don't ever get what i want 🙃

also, this episode gave amy friends that weren't rory or the doctor or river so i love it for that on principal <3 i know amy had fun being the bridesmaid at laura's lesbian wedding. and kate!!

( i do hate that this episode ends with that conversation between brian and the doctor. i hate brian as a character and i will forever. won't get into this right now but OUGH )

honestly this list is kind of wobbly and might change if you asked me in a month so i'll just rattle off other favorite episodes / moments real quickly: the good night minisode (it counts!), RIVER SONG DIDN'T GET IT ALL FROM YOU SWEETIE (timeline frozen amy my beloved!), "i remember it so it happened so i did it," vincent and the doctor specifically when vincent tells amy that he hears the song of her sadness…. ow, i could write a whole other essay about amy's choice and how it is so much more complex than people give it credit for but this post is already so goddamn long

#i literally do apologize for how long this got but you have to understand i was holding myself back .#she is…. everything. to me. i could keep going for so long #amy pond #ask #jonismitchell

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animes-trash · 4 years

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Servamp quarantine AU / headcanons

Y’all I assume most of you are stuck like me in quarantine so why not bring our servamp babies with us in our world

Mahiru knew it would happen, he calmy prepared himself and his house

Kuro is living his best life

Honestly it’s just his normal life but without all the shit

Licht and Lawless live with mahiru and Kuro, the hotel they were staying in closed and they didn’t want to go back to Austria, so Mahiru agreed to take them

Team Melancholy bought EVERYTHING THEY COULD in ALL the stores

Tsubaki legit bought all the toilet paper

Shamrock is trying to reason them

But hey have you seen them ??

Sakuya just doesn’t care

But he’s deeply bothered to have to stay in with the noisy team

Tries to murder Tsubaki everyday

Tsubaki is so bored he just lays on the couch and makes unincoherent noises

Or just walks randomly in the flat screaming that he’s bored

Belkia screams with him

Sakuya secretly called Mahiru to check that he’s okay

Lawless believes it’s the end of the world

He has his apocalyps bag with ready

Became the scientist, screams at every (fake) news

Licht is kinda rational, but he often calls Kranz and his parents to make sure they’re okay

Lawless makes fun of him bc who thought the angel could be worried ???

Licht hits him

Though Mahiru is very tired of taking care of those three children boys at home, but he’s very happy to have company

Mahiru is a social person and likes being outside, so it’s a bit hard for him

The others understand and they often play society games at night !!

Monopoly always end up in someone licht or lawless flipping the table over

Licht deeply miss playing piano too, often feels down about it

When they go to the store, Lawless buys ALL the melons for him, and Mahiru leanrs new ways to cook them

They can’t all go to the store together, so they play Mario Kart and the winner has the privilege to go out

Kuro doesn’t even play in that

Licht plays music with everything he can, Mahiru tries to get him to cook to entertain him

Lawless screams on the balcony to talk to people

He becomes a meme lord on the internet if he isn’t already

Mahiru tries to keep everyone in health and with a normal sleep schedule

Now, the chaos has taken over the C-3, almost all the team is confined in it

Jun is at home with his son and his mom

Tsurugi and Yumi are in the C-3 spend time by pranking everyone, especially Shuuhei

Jun is scared of how he will find his workplace after the quarantine

Those three drunkasses probably just sit in one room and drink and have a lot of fun, like when they were younger

Except that Jun is in videocall with them

Shuuhei curses at tsurugi and yumi and then get back to work, I mean does he ever stop ??

Izuna has to yeet him away from his lab and know him off to sleep

Yumi is like lawless, he believes every fake news and is a self taught new scientist

Shuuhei is the only one with common sense about it

Tsurugi’s room is a cemetery of instant noodles soop

Touma just stays quietly in his room

Though he insists on Tsurugi taking the test to see if he’s not infected

Pretends it’s because he doesn’t want everyone sick, but in reality he just cares

Johaness is stuck in his lab doing god knows what kind of way off the chart of the Geneva convention kind of experiment

Misono has to stay at home, and everyone in the household took a test

Mitsuki and Dodo are the only one who go outside to buy groceries, and they wear masks and gloves and everything they can

Mikado is just a paranoid father

Misono, Mahiru and Tetsu are often in videocall to check on each other

Mahiru just need a break sometimes, I mean have you seen who he’s stuck with

Mikuni stays in his shop with Jeje and he’s extremely bored

Goes out at night walking

He sneaks to the Alicein mansion to chech that his brother is alright, but makes sure no one notices him

That’s all I have in my mind for now but I will often edit the post under that sentence, also feel free to add !! Let’s have a long chain of headcanons under that post

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peacefulheartfarm · 5 years

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Cooking Through the Ages

In today’s show, we are going to talk about: Cooking Through the Ages.

The conversation today – and every day – revolves around the value of tradition; traditional food prep and storage, traditional cooking, the new traditional farming practices, and of course, traditional artisan CHEESE. Topics discussed here are designed to create new perspectives and possibilities for how you might add the taste of tradition to your life.

Today’s Show

Homestead Life Updates

Cooking Through the Ages

Cooking on the Hearth – Mary Randolph’s Corn Meal Bread

Homestead Life Updates

It’s snowing again today. Sigh. Will this winter never end?

Creamery Update

The trough drains used to carry waste away from cows doing their thing during milking has a brand new cover. It is covered with molded fiberglass resin floor grates. These are strong, non-slip, non-rust grates; and they look pretty cool to me. Walls in the creamery are going up, slowly. Very slowly. It is still winter and the weather is impeding our progress there.

The Orchard

A regular winter task is pruning the fruit and nut trees in the orchard, trimming and repositioning canes in the blackberries and so on. Done!!

Other projects interfering with getting the creamery done:

We will be trying a new method of separating calves from moms this year. We need a calf pen to accomplish that.

We eat a lot of eggs around here but raising chickens is still on the back burner. Instead we are going to raise quail for eggs and likely some meat as well. This decision is based on time restrictions in building the chicken infrastructure. Making quail cages is much quicker. The birds are easy to raise. Or so they say. We shall see. This is my project. Scott will build a couple of cages, but everything else will be up to me. The incubator is on its way. It will be here later this month.

Cooking Through the Ages

Now let’s take a very quick trip through thousands of years of history. How did we humans survive as a species? What kind of food did we eat and how did we preserve and prepare it? How did we get to where we are now? Let’s start with the Stone Age shall we?

The Stone Age

During the Stone Age, the Paleolithic period, or Old Stone Age (beginning as early as 750,000 BC), and the Neolithic period, or new Stone Age (beginning around 8000 BC), humans began to make and use stone tools and acquire a larger variety of foods in new ways.

Paleolithic Tools and Foods

Paleolithic tools include axes and blades for cutting and chopping.

In order to survive during the Paleolithic period, humans hunted wild animals, birds, and fish and collected nuts, fruits, and berries. Artifacts show that people ate mammoth, reindeer, horse, fox, wolf, and tortoise.

Cooking techniques included broiling or roasting food over an open flame or hot coals. Brazing in clay cylinders over ashes in a pit is also indicated.

The Neolithic Food Revolution

One of the most significant changes in human food habits occurred around 8000 BC, when people in the Near East began to grow food rather than gather it. This is the Neolithic period. Humans started raising cereal crops such as rye and wheat. We began keeping livestock, including pigs, cows, goats, and sheep. Archaeologists have discovered millstones in these areas, an indication that Neolithic peoples were grinding wheat and other grains to make flour for bread.

Changes in cooking methods included using water brought to a boil in earthenware pottery. They also built the first closed ovens for baking. Now let’s move to the Bronze Age

Early Civilizations – the Bronze Age

Advances in food production and preparation in early civilizations had a broad reach. People in Northern Europe began to farm sometime after 3000 BC. Farming practices advanced with the invention of the plow around 3550 BC, and food production increased.

In the Bronze Age, which began around 3000 BC in Mediterranean areas, people began to cook using liquid in pots made of copper and bronze. New tools and utensils also became available.

Mesopotamia and Ancient Egypt

We were figuring out what it took to survive as a species. Banding together in larger and larger groups led to the early civilizations of Mesopotamia and Egypt. These two civilizations shared some food habits and traditions. Although beef, lamb, pork, deer, fowl (excluding chicken), fish, turtles, vegetables, and fruits were all part of their diet, grains were a staple food.

Besides cooking cereals in water as a porridge and using ground grains to make bread, the Mesopotamian’s favored beer as a beverage for festive occasions. Inscriptions on Egyptian tombs -- “give me bread when I am hungry. Give me beer when I am thirsty” – bear witness to the heavy use of grain in the ancient Egyptian diet.

Both the Mesopotamians and the Egyptians developed a system of writing early on and thus had the means to record recipes. The first known recipes come from Mesopotamia and date to the second millennium BC. Excavated tombs have yielded remnants of foods such as figs and bread, which were typical funerary offerings.

Ancient Egyptian food preparation methods such as open hearth baking of unleavened bread and salt preservation of meats and fish are still common today. The Egyptians also dried and smoked foods and stored fruits in honey and fish in oil to preserve them.

Greek and Roman Cooking

As I mentioned in the History of Cheese FarmCast, the Greeks made cheeses. They also baked bread and produced wine. They became skilled in the use of seasoning and spices, made sauces using oil and cheese, and cultivated olives. Meat, such as rabbit, was added to the diet and gained popularity.

Influenced in large part by the ideas of the great physician and teacher Hippocrates (ca. 460-377 BC), the Greeks, and later the Romans, focused on eating a healthful diet. Consuming food items for both medicinal and nutritional purposes, they viewed cooking methods, combinations of foods, drink, and seasonings as contributions to overall well-being. The Greeks introduced a tradition of lavish dinner parties or banquets, which were often followed by a symposium, the ritual consumption of wine.

In the typical Roman kitchen, the master cook supervised food preparation from a platform at the rear of the room. Square hearth fires stood in the middle. Kitchen equipment featured pots made of bronze, brass, clay, or silver, as well as wood-fired ovens.

Formal dining traditions were further developed during the Roman Empire.

The Middle Ages and the Renaissance

Roman traditions continued to dominate cooking and dining practices through the Middle Ages. During the Renaissance, advances in the culinary arts helped set the stage for the development of modern cookery.

Medieval Ways

Medieval kitchens typically stood apart from the main house to reduce the risk of fire. The traditional kitchen was crowded, noisy, hot, and smoky. Vents in the ceiling allowed the release of smoke and heat from the roasting spit and simmering iron kettles. Cooks kept food cold in cellars.

Kitchen equipment included iron pots as well as various hooks, spoons, and knives. The Iron Age produced the cauldron. An iron vessel hanging from a metal arm over hot coals, was the main cooking pot. The typical chimney hearth could accommodate three cauldrons. The cauldron on the left side of the hearth was used for roasting, and the others were used for boiling. Breads and pies were baked in an oven on the side of the chimney.

Renaissance developments

The late 1300s marked the beginning of the Renaissance, an era of revival in the arts and sciences that spread across Europe from south to north. Italy dominated the culinary scene in the 1400s. By the end of the century, it had shifted to Spain, whose explorations and conquests in the Americas introduce new foods and methods of food preparation into Europe. Christopher Columbus and Hernán Cortéz as well as other explorers and conquistadors returned to Europe with tomatoes, chili peppers, potatoes, avocados, corn, vanilla beans, and cacao, the main ingredient of chocolate. These food items had a lasting impact on European cuisine.

By the late 1500s, France rose as Europe’s culinary center. Let’s move on to America.

American cookery

While grand cuisine was taking shape in France, American cuisine was only in its infancy. There were no cities. European settlers in the Americas brought familiar cooking methods and some staple foods from the old world with them and combined these with culinary techniques and ingredients they found in the New World. From the start, American cookery has been a mosaic of ingredients and techniques from a variety of cultures.

Native American food patterns

When Columbus arrived in the Americas in the late 1400s, most Native Americans followed traditional practices. Their main crops were maize (corn), beans, and squash, but other valuable crops included potatoes and sweet potatoes. Domesticated animals were not a large source of food. However, in addition to cultivating crops, Native Americans fished, hunted, and collected other foods. Remember they were still in the Stone Age as far as their tools and equipment were concerned. They devised storage pits for grains, nuts, and other foods, used a variety of cooking techniques, including roasting and boiling in pots, and preserved some foods by drying and smoking. Again, refer back to the information on Stone Age cooking and tools.

Colonial Food Habits

European settlers learned a great deal from indigenous peoples about growing and preparing foods native to the New World. Native Americans taught newcomers from Europe the most efficient ways to cook outdoors and how to prepare beans and corn. Corn breads, succotash, and various soups and stews became part of the colonial cooking repertoire. For their part, Europeans changed the food supply in the Americas, introducing livestock such as pigs, cattle, and sheep, and plant food such as rice, wheat, barley, and broadbeans from Europe.

Soon colonists were comfortable preparing a variety of foods using a blend of Native American and European techniques.

Regional Cuisine in America Today

During the vast land expansion in the 19th century, the American diet began to show variety from one geographic region to the next. Each part of the country developed its own regional cuisine – foods, ingredients, and cooking methods characteristic of that particular geographic region. Several factors contributed to the development of regional cuisines, including availability of local ingredients and the influence of cultural groups.

Immigration the 19th century changed America as cities began to flourish. Nearly 5 million immigrants arrived in the United States in the period between 1830 and 1860. That’s just 30 years. Most were from Germany, Great Britain, and Ireland. Two waves of immigration after 1860 brought people from Scandinavian countries and from Italy, Austria, Hungary, Russia, Greece, Poland, Portugal, and Spain. Asian immigrants also began to make a home in America’s big cities. The various regional cuisines began to take shape.

The Northeast was influenced by Native Americans, Englishmen, French-Canadians, Italians, and the Portuguese. Some of the regional foods they developed include meat pies, fish stews and soups, clam chowder, salt cod, chorizo and peppers, baked beans, succotash, Indian pudding, brown bread, maple syrup, cider, fruit pies and desserts, and cream dishes. Later cheese would become a valuable product for this region.

In the Mid-Atlantic schnitzel, scrapple, sausages, apple butter, sauerkraut, slaw, pretzels, bagels, waffles, pork, and dairy products came out of the Dutch and German influences.

Moving to the Midwest we find jerky, country hams, sausages, gravies, beef stews and pot pies, meatloaf, corn roasts, freshwater fish, cheese, potatoes, root vegetables, rye and pumpernickel bread, wild rice, pancakes, strudel, applesauce, apple juice, sauerkraut, nut candies, poppy seed cake, and lager beer. Influences there include Native American, Polish, Hungarian, Czech, German, and Scandinavian.

The southern region is large and varied. Brunswick stew, country hams, red eye gravy, corn breads, biscuits, barbecue pork and beef, chicken wings, jambalaya, fried chicken, crab cakes, crab and crawfish boils, catfish, butter bean custard, peanut soup, peach pie, key lime pie, greens with fatback or salt pork, fried okra and okra stews, hominy, grits, gumbo’s, sweet potato pie, nut cakes, and rice. This wide variety is due to Scots Irish, English, Welsh, French, Creole, Cajun, and African influences.

The west is even larger and more varied in its immigrant influences introducing cuisine from the Far East. What a variety. Native American, Spanish, Mexican, Chinese, Japanese, and Pacific Islands all contributed. Today you have barbecue, corn dishes, Tex-Mex food, chili con carne, citrus fruits, guacamole, olives, tuna, sourdough bread, steaks, game, grilled lamb, teriyaki, luau pork, salmon chowder, sashimi, fry bread, Asian noodle dishes, stirfry dishes, tortillas, tacos, quesadillas, chimichangas, pineapple, sugarcane, and chilies prepared and used in all sorts of ways.

Changes in Food Production

New ideas and technology in the 1800s had a great impact on agriculture and industry. Established cities were growing rapidly. Today it’s the trucking industry but back then it was the trains that were paramount to people in the city having access to food. Improved tools; new farming methods; and the development of various farm machines, including tractors, combines, and cultivators, increased the supply of food while decreasing the need for small farmers.

The 19th and 20th centuries were a time of great change in the United States. The Industrial Revolution introduced machines that transformed farming and manufacturing. Large numbers of people continued to move to the city. The move from rural areas to the city accelerated and fewer and fewer farmers grew our food. The supply of food increased exponentially but more and more people became separated from the source of their nourishment.

Electricity, gas, and the creation of modern appliances were the icing on the cake. Harvesting, storing and preparing food is a breeze today compared to days past.

Hearth Side Cooking

I took you through quite a journey very quickly. We went from primitive stone implements right up to modern cooking and preservation equipment. I want to step back a little and fill in a blank or two regarding cooking in early colonial America. Specifically regarding baking bread on the hearth. It will tie in with today’s recipe.

Bread Making in Colonial Virginia

Hot breads were presented as part of the elaborate meals served at Virginia plantations in the 18th and 19th Century. Guests often left descriptions of the foods they had enjoyed. Excellent wheat breads were highly praised but cornmeal breads predominated. White cornmeal was most often used in the South

As part of the ritual of good food provided in plenty by wealthy Virginians, an array of well-made breads was essential. They were brought to the table to be slathered with fresh butter and eaten still warm from the oven.

Let’s consider how formidable it was to make bread. There were no handy grocery stores to pick up a loaf on the way home, no packets of dried yeast. Preparing and baking bread was a time-consuming, arduous process, from making yeast to knowing when the oven was ready. Commercial yeast was not available until 1868, and recipes for yeast occupy a large part of the breadmaking sections in early cookbooks. Cook’s kept a starter on hand, made with ingredients that included hops, potatoes, sugar, flour, and water. Combined with more flour to make a “sponge,” the dough would be set to rise hours ahead of when it was to be eaten.

Kneading was (and still is) a major part of the process, and its importance was emphasized. A Mrs. Smith, writes that “the best bread makers who I know knead for at least an hour, with all their might…” Eliza Leslie noted that “the goodness of bread depends much on the kneading.” While Miss Leslie’s statement holds true today, those lengthy times required for kneading are no longer necessary. The commercial yeast now available has shortened the process considerably.

The actual baking was done in Dutch ovens or brick ovens built into the huge kitchen fireplace. A thorough knowledge of the process was vital.

A fire was started in the brick ovens about two hours prior to putting in the loaves. Instructions were specific including the size and type of wood needed to get the proper oven temperature necessary to bake. “If you can hold your hand within the mouth of the oven as long as you can distinctly count 20, the heat is about right.”

Alternatively, with Dutch oven baking it was necessary to preheat the iron kettle before putting in the prepared bread dough. Once filled and covered, the Dutch oven could be suspended from a crane and hung over the fire. Another method was to set the Dutch oven on coals to bake in a corner of the hearth. Additional hot coals were piled on top of the lid.

Whatever the baking method, providing delectable breads was essential

Let’s take a look at a colonial bread recipe and talk about how it would be prepared in a Dutch oven on a hearth.

Mary Randolph’s Cornmeal Bread Recipe

“Rub a piece of butter the size of an egg into a pint of cornmeal, make a batter with two eggs and some new milk, add a spoonful of yeast, set it by the fire an hour to rise, butter little pans and bake it.” Mary Randolph.

This is typical of recipes of this era. Simple measurements of weight or volume, vague measurements such as a spoonful or “some” milk and so on, or no measurements at all. Which spoon? And what constitutes a “little pan”? You really had to know what you were doing.

I just happen to have this recipe complete with a modern list of ingredients. You’ll be able to give it a try with confidence. The instructions for baking this bread on the hearth will be there for you as well – just in case you want a really big adventure in baking.

What You Need

2 tablespoons butter, melted 2 cups milk 2 cups white cornmeal 2 teaspoons dried yeast 1 teaspoon salt 2 eggs

On the Hearth:

Heat butter and milk until milk is warm and butter begins to melt. Set aside to cool to lukewarm.

Combine cornmeal, yeast, and salt in bowl. Stir in cooled milk and butter.

Beat eggs lightly and stir into rest of ingredients. Blend well but do not overmix.

Pour into well-greased baking pan and set aside to rise one hour.

Carefully place filled pan in preheated Dutch oven on trivet, crane or hearth stone ashes. Bake, following general instructions for Dutch oven baking, for about 25 minutes, or until knife inserted in center comes out clean and bread is a rich golden brown.

NOTE: I’m not including the “general Instructions for Dutch oven baking”. Email me if you want those instructions.

Modern Method:

Follow hearth directions one through four, using 8” x 8” square pan.

Preheat oven to 450°F. Bake cornbread 20 to 30 minutes or until done.

Final Thoughts

I hope you enjoyed today’s FarmCast. We will keep plugging away at that creamery and living the life that fills us with wonder and awe. We love our cheese and can’t wait to share it with you. Every one of the recipes you hear on the FarmCast is on our website as well as many others. Sign up on our mailing list so you can receive our monthly newsletter filled with more cooking tips and tricks. From the basics of how to boil an egg – in an Instant Pot – to creating really fantastic and fun dishes like that cheese fondue recipe. I’m going to shamelessly plug that. We had it just last week. It was a lovely romantic evening.

While our creamery is modern, the methods we use are not. Striking that balance between using the traditions of yesteryear while taking advantage of modern technology is the best of both worlds. Life in ancient times or even just a couple hundred years ago was filled with all sorts of dangers and pitfalls. Food was scarce. It required lots of time and effort to prepare it. Tradition was extremely important. Tending your hearth properly meant the difference between living and dying – or at the very least losing everything you owned in a fire. Without modern food preservation, effectively using traditional techniques of preserving food were also the difference between life and death. The art of having safely prepared nutritious food year round meant you and your children might live to a ripe old age. Cheese making was a big part of food preservation. As were drying, pickling, smoking and salting. These ancient food preservation techniques made living through harsh winters possible.

It’s so easy to take for granted what we have today and what we have endured to get here. I will speak on behalf of Scott and myself. Gratefulness fills our hearts as we reflect on the old ways. We look forward to continuing to share our passion for preserving life with you.

As always, I’m here to help you “taste the traditional touch.”

Thank you so much for listening and until next time, may God fill your life with grace and peace.

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