#i still need cardamom pods but they can wait

[dokyeomini]

im meeting up with a friend tonight 🥺

[sheirukitriesfandom]

Spicy “Just wing it” chicken & champignons à la sheiruki

Read first please:

Fuck it, I wanna share my favourite recipe creation so far because I'm proud of it. All amounts are estimates (Hence, "just wing it"). Also, know that I'm literally just fucking around in my kitchen; I know jack shit about cooking besides "tastes good" and "doesn't taste good". I cooked this as dinner for myself without any side dishes so I'll view this as one portion. Can be split in 2 if served with something. I'd probably go with a type of flat bread...

For 1 Portion you’ll need:

Chicken steaks/breasts (~400g)

Champignons (250g)

1 Onion

Harissa paste (hot paprika & spice paste found in many MENA dishes)

Tomato paste (concentrated)

Puréed tomatoes

A few pods of cardamom

Sweet paprika powder

Allspice

Sugar

Extra virgin olive oil

3 cloves of garlic

Salt

Pepper

Chili flakes to taste

Sesame seeds (garnish)

Spring onions (garnish)

Something lime or lemon-y (garnish)

1 flat and 1 deep/spacious frying pan

You could probably do everything in one pan but I used two because I first tried searing the chicken in all of the marinade and thus couldn't get that nice, roasted aroma.

Marinade:

Add a generous amount of olive oil to an airtight or at least well sealed container. Peel and press the 3 cloves of garlic (you want garlic purée) and add them to the oil. Add ~2 tablespoons of tomato paste & 1 Tablespoon of Harissa paste (guessing values here but you want more tomato than Harissa). Add ~ 1 tablespoon of sweet paprika powder and ~½ tablespoon of freshly ground allspice. Roast, Peel and add the cardamom (I think I used 3 pods) & maximum a piled tablespoon of sugar. Idk if honey would work here but the types of honey I have were too malty. You want a sweet touch. Mix it all well.

Prepare your chicken, put it in the marinade, close your container and give it a good shake. Put it in the fridge and let it rest for a day (shake in between). The olive oil will eventually congeal slightly but that doesn't matter; the moment you add it to the hot pan it’ll become liquid again. Your chicken may still look pale but don't be fooled.

Frying:

Always make sure you really heat up the marinade-oil to kill off potential bacteria carried by the chicken.

1. Dice your onion and put it aside

2. Quarter your champignons (unless you got the super small ones) and put them aside

3. Take a normal frying pan, add a bit of the marinade so you don't have to add extra oil unless absolutely necessary, and fry your chicken at high heat until it's nicely seared on the outside but not cooked through yet. “Extinguish” with a splash of puréed tomato (~100-200 ml, you don't want to make soup). Turn the heat to low and let it cook for a bit while you focus on the champignons.

4. Take a deep pan, add the rest of the marinade, wait until it's hot and add the onion. Sear at high heat until glassy. Add the champignons and sear the until they shrink and turn brown (taste to check if they're good. They shouldn't be too mushy).

5. Add the chicken-tomato mix, stir well, reduce the heat and let it all cook together.

6. Add salt, freshly ground pepper (black), chili flakes and potentially more harissa to taste. Stir.

7. Once everything has a nice brownish coating of sauce/marinade*, check if your chicken is juicy but completely white inside.

*There can be a bit of extra sauce but most of it should be coating. It mustn't swim in sauce.

8. Garnish with chopped spring onions, sesame seeds and something “fresh” (I used chopped lemon balm but something lime-ish would fit even better. Get creative.)

Enjoy 😋

[tekutiger]

Chai Espresso [1.5 Liter] - Teku's Style

I've been working on this recipe for a couple of months, trying to perfect it to my personal preference and thought I'd share it. I know it wont be everyone's cup of tea (hehe get it?), but perhaps someone else out there will like it. This is a strong Chai Espresso. No light flavors here.

It started when I bought this Pumpkin Spice Latte drink from Starbucks and I got my first introduction to Espresso. I was like wait- this tastes like coffee, but stronger and has more depth. I'm actually not a coffee person, but I realized then that I was an espresso person. I'm also very much a cinnamon person and that carries over to all things Chai and Pumpkin Spice. So here I am combining Chai and Espresso.

We aren't going to do this the lazy or easy route however, we're going to do this the legit route. You can find some shortcuts doing this yourself and I'll offer examples of things you can substitute in and out, but I'll be showing you how I do it and the things I use.

This recipe is also going based off the fact that you have an Espresso Machine that can make 2-4 shots of espresso at a time. You can also make the chai and drink it by itself, just do not add the espresso!

That being said, here's some items you'll see me use, and potentially items you may need. Keep in mind you do not need the exact same brands. Just because I have McCormick cinnamon sticks, doesn't mean you need to have McCormick cinnamon sticks. Infact I just ordered more cinnamon sticks from Spicy World (they appear to be a different type of Cinnamon - Saigon, where McCormick is Cassia). Buy and use what you prefer to use.

Three of the things not shown here that will also be used, is ginger, milk and a pitcher that can hold 1.5 liters. If you're looking for a recipe list:

7 Cups Water (goes into the pot)

16 Cardamom Pods

12 Black Peppercorns

9 Cloves

8 Slices/Coins of Ginger

5 Sticks of Cassia Cinnamon (McCormick for example), 4 Stick of Saigon Cinnamon (Spicy World for example)

1 1/2 tbsp Assam Tea (can substitute out for packets of tea or other favorite loose tea)

2 to 2 1/2 tbsp Milk (adjust to personal preference)

5 tsp Stevia (or substitute out for sweetener of choice, may need to adjust measurement)

3 1/2 to 4 shots Espresso (made via machine and add by preference)

4 Star Anise (optional, I don't add this)

Everything in this recipe is adjustable to personal taste. I put some explanations in parenthesis already but I'll add more in-depth explanations as I go further down the post. I just know people (myself included) like short and simple recipe lists.

If you want to add star anise, I'd say probably add 4 for this recipe and work your way up or down on preference. I personally do not like it so I didn't bother with it 🤷🏻‍♀️

Step 1. Throwing everything into your pot and putting it onto the stove to boil.

This is rather simple actually. To start, add 7 cups of water to a medium sized pot.

We're just going to grab our handy pestle and mortar with our 16 Cardamom pods and give them a gentle pound to open them up.

We're also going to slice up our fresh ginger until we have 8 coins/slices. I find this to be the easiest and quickest way to use ginger. I mean, yeah we can dice it up, or we can cut a piece off and crush it, but it takes so much more time and then we have more things to clean. Trust me, this is easier and we still get all the flavors.

Next we're going to simply grab 12 peppercorns and 9 cloves and plop them into the pot, along with 4 or 5 cinnamon sticks- depending on if they are Cassia or Saigon (and optional star anise). Cassia and Saigon have different flavor profiles and strengths, so there is a reason why we are adding more or less of these.

I set this to my next to highest heat, which is 8 or 9, until it comes to a rolling boil. When it reaches that point, I set it to a medium point, around a 4-5 for about 20 minutes or so.

This does actually take a bit, but you want the spices to release and infuse the water, and for the water to get a nice rich brown color. You'll notice the cinnamon sticks open up, the cardamom pods get poofy, and it'll very much already smell like chai.

2. In the meantime, get your Espresso going. It's as simple as that. My machine will vary from yours so I cannot instruct you here. But prepare 3 1/2 to 4 shots of Espresso of your favorite blend to pair with this chai. When it's finished, set it aside. You can potentially get this done in the time your chai is doing its thing in the background.

3. Back to the Chai

So your cinnamon sticks are opened up, cardamom pods are poofy, your pot of chai actually smells like chai.

It's at this point that I turn down my stovetop even further to around 3, and I add my 1 1/2 tbsp of Assam tea (or other favorite loose tea, or 3 packets of tea).

It only takes about a minute (or two) of letting the tea sit in the pot when I take it off the heat. Letting tea seep too long can make it bitter, so I try not to leave it too long. I know there are some debates that this isn't the case with herbal tea and black tea but I beg to differ with black tea 🤷🏻‍♀️.

Basically when the leaves "open up" or no longer look shriveled as they do in the bag, that's when I take it off the heat. It'll continue to 'cook' in its residual heat even after I remove it off the burner anyways.

This is where we add about 2 to 2 1/2 tbsp of milk. I usually eyeball this but I measured it out for this recipe. You can add more or less depending on your preference, but you're aiming for a caramel color with your chai. As for your milk, I personally use 2% lactose-free milk because its what I was raised on and what I'm used to, but traditionally for chai, whole milk is best. Choose what you prefer.

Remember that small strainer tool from the first picture? We get to fetch that for this next part. We also get to fetch our Espresso from Step 2 and our 1.5 Liter Pitcher.

My pitcher is a little extra, in that it is dishwasher safe and can withstand hot fluids. I don't have to wait for my Espresso or Chai to cool down before pouring them into the container. If yours is not capable of this, you may have to wait until your fluids cool down, which could take a while. Please be cautious and double check any container you intend to use for this before hand, as it may warp or melt.

I always first pour in my Espresso into the pitcher, followed by adding in the 5 tsp of Stevia and mixing well. If you're using a different sweetener, or pure sugar, you may have to adjust the amount of sweetener used as I've never used another type of sweetener.

Next is something you can opt to do or not, it's just a convenience thing. I take a pair of metal tongs and fish out the cinnamon sticks before straining (toss them away in a compost bin or however you choose to dispose of them). I find they like to jump forward at you during the straining process and this makes it a little less messy in the long run.

Take your strainer and strain the pot of chai into your Pitcher. Give it a stir with a paddle or spoon durable of the heat, and you're finished! Viola, Pitcher of Espresso Chai!

Exactly 1.5 liters.

Step 4. All that's left is to drink some in your favorite mug.

(mug is from OctoNation 🐙💓) And no, nothing in this post is an Ad. Everything is just stuff I love a lot.

If you have comments or tips to share, feel free to drop them!

❘✧༻༺༻༺‿︵‿༻༺✧*̥˚‿︵‿ °∘❉∘°‿︵‿*̥˚✧༻༺‿︵‿༻༺༻༺✧❘

[pokerecipes]

Charizard Curry

I ate curry for my whole childhood, when I was really small it was still mild but by the time I was like 8 it was really hot but it was fine, I learned to handle the spice but if you cant, that's fine too. Since it is actually pain you should know your limits.

This will feed 2 adults, it can be stored for maybe 2 days at maximum.

Ingredients

350 g Charizard meat

100g basmati rice

100 g yogurt

1 thumb-sized piece of ginger

2 cloves of garlic

1 Salac berry

2 tablespoons butter

1 medium onion

200 g carrots

400 g chunky tomatoes

100 g cream

1 tbsp. peanut butter

Spices (I use garam masala, smoked paprika powder, cayenne pepper, fenugreek, yellow mustard seed, cloves, cardamom pods, cinnamon and salt)

Instructions

Start by making a puree out of the yoghurt, the ginger and the Salac berry juice.

Cut the charizard into bite sized pieces and put it into the yoghurt puree. Leave it in for anything between 20 minutes and one night (the longer the better)

WASH YOUR RICE. ALWAYS WASH YOUR RICE.

Cook your rice for the instructed time with a little bit of salt.

Cut your onions (after washing them) and throw them with a bit of butter in a pot to steam them. This should take about 8 minutes, they need to be completely glassy and seethrough.

While the onions steam wash and cut your carrots and add them to the pot.

Throw all of your seasonings together until they're one mass.

Once the onions are done you can put your spices into the pot, wait until it smells really well and then pour in your chunky tomatoes.

Cook it on low heat for about 15 minutes and then add your cream and peanut butter.

Give it a good stir.

While the sauce is cooking fry your charizard pieces at a very high temperature.

Once they are done gently yeet them into the sauce and let them sit in there for a minute, maybe stir a little bit

Serve the food, pat yourself on the back, eat it and clean up your kitchen.

ADDITIONAL: You can obviously throw in a lot more vegetables or use other meat, it's always about what you prefer

[ratherbefangirling]

🎭The Truth Untold 🎭

Part 9

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader(main) ; Taehyung x reader.

Genre : Mafia AU, Spy AU, future Soft Yandere, Angst, Drama, Romance, Slow burn.

Synopsis : You discover your old best friend is now the head of the most dangerous mafia in the country. You go in to avenge your brother's death but things are more complicated than they seem.

Tw: threats of violence, toxic relationships, unhealthy dynamics,

Masterlist

Previous / NEXT

Despite the burning need to meet your mother you get busy with work the next day and when you call her, her secretary informs you about an overseas trip she is on. So it's only a week after your encounter with Taehyung that you are able to meet your mother.

You ride up the glass elevator trepidation in each step. The floor of your mother's office reveals. You find her secretary on the desk.

"Miss, your mother is busy in a meeting please wait for a while."

"Oh OK."

"Would you like something to eat or drink."

"No its alright."

You take out a pod of green cardamom from your purse. Your new work friend had given you some pods, telling you to bite the seeds inside to help with anxiety. You didn't know how well that worked but it gave you something to do.

You are just about to go for a short walk not knowing how long it would take for the meeting to end when the door opens and people come out. It is then you receive your very first shock of the day. Out comes Kim Namjoon in his eye-fixing glory. You gasp unknowingly. He looks up and looks past you.

You feel like you've been hit by a train.

You feel disassembled. Your body whimpers as if asking to rush into his arms but your brain still is in control so you ignore the clenching of your heart and hug yourself to protect yourself from the tsunami of what your heart cries over. Sometimes you really wish you were impulsive. You know exactly how dangerous Namjoon is both to yourself and everyone else. Still your heart pleads to give him a chance. In your head two versions of Namjoon exist, your childhood best friend and the gang leader and because somewhere they're two to you not one your heart still hopes.

You move yourself forward suppressing the mental assault and that's why you miss the way his eyes fix on you from the elevator as you enter your mother's office.

He is as cold as ice and still some part of him is relieved to see you. The same part which he thought died reawakened inside as you appeared. He may not have looked at you but he could see clearly. His eyes committing you to memory and folding the picture to save it from the world. You who is precious to him despite your betrayal. Who would remain precious to him if he died by your hand. If he was Julius Caesar then you were his Brutus.

Your mother was busy on the phone as you entered. She motioned you to take a seat as she continued talking. She put her hand up moving her fingers indicating it would take five minutes. You nodded in response.

"Yes Mrs. Kim. Actually that was good Y/n's younger sister has a seminar that day why don't we shift the date to three weeks later. Everyone and everything will be ready by then. Uh .. yes as you wish .. yes we are family after all. Pleasure yes .. let's talk more later. Good afternoon."

You feel the excitement radiate of your mother. She gets up from her desk and hugs you and kisses your forehead.

"My precious daughter."

You already feel your words clog in your throat.

"What was that mom?"

"I know you and Taehyung have been hanging around. Your sister told me. So when Taehyung's mom came forward with the idea of engagement. I understood you were just shy to tell me."

"Mom , no.. there's nothing to understand we aren't.. I'm not seeing anyone."

"That's even better, you're all I could ask for in a daughter. "

"Mom but.."

"What's the problem Y/n .. Taehyung is a handsome capable young man."

"But.."

"Come on, give him a chance. If you really don't like him we will see what we can do. But try for your mother's sake, huh?"

"Fine. But only because you said." Slightly pouty , your mother kisses your forehead affectionately.

"You really are lucky for me. Remember the boy you used to hang our with in school he's partnering with our company."

"'Which boy?"

"Kim Namjoon. CEO of Bangtan."

Your insides twist in warning.

Jimin changed his faces like he changed outfits. He could go from a sweet nerd to a playboy in seconds and from a person who was one of CBI top agents to the one who ended up setting fire to his office. He was all and nothing. Everyone of his personalities and none of them.

Jimin was the son of a butler and maid of a rich household. He was tempted with luxury and denied it, maybe that was why he was both a Prince and a beggar. His childhood was innocent and his teenage daring but surrounded by the gloom of his father's death. So when the opportunity to go to a rich kid college arrived he disappeared at the first ray.

It was there he met Kim Taehyung. The rich and brilliant, always shining and always blooming. They were fast friends. It was like the universe had made someone for him. His soul brother and the person who gave him a fresh new start to be himself. Stuck at the hip throughout their college life. Even after college though the distance between them grew their fondness didn't loose its glow. All the good that was in Park Jimin was Kim Taehyung.

Beyond that Jimin's reality was his loyalty to Kim household, particularly to Kim Namjoon who had seen him and taken him in as a confidant and his left hand man.

"Do you know why you're my left hand Jimin and not my right hand like Hoseok is?"

Jimin shook his head.

Namjoon smiled fondly and ruffled his hair. " What Hobi does is what I can do just differently, we hit, we threaten, we bend but you Jimin-ah do what I can't you hide and change like water different all the time but still the same."

RM made him feel necessary, he was irreplaceable and that's why he became whatever RM wanted and changed to whoever RM wanted. Even when it involved pretending infront of Taehyung and tipping him off so that Taehyung would bring you to him. Afterall meeting and befriending Taehyung who was close to Yoongi was one of RM's schemes.

Coming back to his home felt strange after years of not coming. His mother had come to see him and so had Hobi hyung. He looked around for Jiwoo Noona but luckily she was nowhere in site.

Jimin's history with Hobi's sister was complicated. While she was or at least used to be in love with him he only viewed her in a sisterly way. Though somewhere along the line, her forced confessions had created confusion in his brain. Her constant affection and care and gifts and touches. They all made him uncomfortable but at the same time when she stopped suddenly one day it made him irritable and he wanted what he was being denied. Slowly he had earned back her affections but it still left a sour taste in his mouth.

On that particular day Jiwoo was being particularly clingy like she usually was after her missions while he didn't know the details he had a good idea of what they entailed simply from the occasional bruises she ended up with. Though Jiwoo herself rather than being disgusted by them as Jimin was, enjoyed them and named Jimin's discomfort as Jealousy and his concern as love.

"Noona, I have a meeting with Hobi hyung." Jimin pleaded with a Jiwoo who sat on his lap arms around his neck.

"Hobi can wait tell him you were with me he'll understand."

"N-noona."

"Come on aegi don't make Noona mad. You know Hobi knows better than to go against me." Jimin felt his palms go clammy he was stuck with no way out. Suddenly the door to his room opened.

In walked Namjoon along with Hope and some other guards. Namjoon's gaze turned dangerous.

"Get off him." He said coldly. Jiwoo took her sweet time getting up. Jimin distanced himself slightly and stood stiff as a rod.

"Jimin was supposed to be in my office 16 minutes ago. What is happening?"

"I'm sorry hyung."

"He was with me." Jiwoo interrupted.

"So you're telling me you're responsible for making him neglect his duties."

"Its not a big deal you're not the boss yet heir apparent. Don't give yourself more credit than you're due." Namjoon let out a laugh that send down shivers along her spine but she held her ground.

Jimin didn't know if Jiwoo was brave or stupid.

"You're right I'm not the boss yet but how much do you think I will get punished if I murder someone."

"You can't murder me the boss gave me immunity this year."

"No , not you but I can murder the one's you care about so tell me will you save Jung Hoseok or Park Jimin." RM could see the sweat build up, he took out his gun and used its nozzle to turn her chin towards him.

"Tell me." He says voice low, dangerous.She closes her eyes.

"Hosoek." She says teeth clenching.

" Good choice. Had you said Jimin I really would have killed you because if a women can not belong to her family than she cannot belong to anyone."

"Come on Jimin." He gestured to the boy." If after today I even see you speaking with him I will spill your guts out." He warns.

"Thanks Hyung." Jimin says later when they're alone in Namjoon's office.

"Dont thank me yet. I have to ask big favors from you?"

"Anything." Jimin replied without hesitation.

"Then be here alright, you're like a brother to me and I don't want you hurt.. next time anyone hurts you tell me ok?"

Jimin just nods.

"I promise we will make it Jiminie. We have to." Namjoon said tiredness seeping I his voice , resting a hand on Jimin's shoulder as if seeking strength.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur in the evening he gets ready for the party Namjoon has kept in his honor. There was a toast to Jimin and to Bangtan by Namjoon who had greeted him with warm eyes and open arms. All his doubts about his place in this life melted away to gave in to determination to work for this. For his home and for Bangtan. And later that night as Jimin spent time with Namjoon in RM's office talking like they used to before things got hectic, a part of Jimin that had been restless felt healed. He told this to Namjoon .

"Its strange hyung coming here I feel like myself again even if I have no idea who that was."

"Because Bangtan is your home Jimin-ah and I will always be here to welcome you home. Now rest for a few days then come help me without my left hand working has been tough." Namjoon said warmly.

"Hyung I'm sorry." Jimin apologised suddenly.

"What for?" Namjoon asked taking another sip of his drink.

"About Y/n." He said softly. Namjoon sobered a bit.

"It wasn't your fault. It was her choice. There's nothing we can do about it for now."

It was the weekend once again and Taehyung had invited himself over and you didn't have it in your heart to say no especially when he brought desserts.

Though you were ashamed of the state of your apartment. He insisted his was way worse so it was fine. You cleaned as he talked telling you another interesting story about this game character of a new game he was interested in. Taehyung said weird things all the time. You didn't mind. You just nodded and agreed whenever it seemed you should letting his words pass over you like a summer breeze.

With the room cleaner you felt a lot better. Then you realised you were wearing old pajamas that were holed at certain places.

"Give me a minute." You say.

When you come back after deciding something more reasonable to wear and spritzing yourself with perfume.

Taehyung is in the kitchen washing dishes.

"Taehyung." You say scandalised.

"It's ok. I'm just convincing you to marry me by proving how awesome of a house husband I can be." He says winking at you.

You join him putting the utencils in a proper place.

"Oh and you look very pretty." He comments and you can't help being flustered.

Some mischief strikes Taehyung and he covers his nose with soap suds.

"Look at my nose. Y/n." He says and as you turn to see him he transfers some bubbles onto your nose.

"Tae!!" You say slightly angry.

"Yes Y/n."

"There was .. literally no need to do this."

"I know. We don't always do things because we need to do them sometimes we do them for fun."

Your eyes narrow at him.

"Come on lighten up there's dessert that needs to be taste tested. If you like something we can put it on our wedding menu." He prompts washing his hands wiping of the suds from your nose then his. You put the remaining utensils in place and follow him to the dining table.

"Wah. .. that was so smooth I can't even get angry."

"Smooth like butter." He says giving you a cheeky look.

"I dont even like butter that much." You tease.

"Blasphemy." Taehyung says voice a bit louder than before. "Forgive me breakfast gods or .. I think..food gods anyway I have sinned. I like a lady who no like butter."

"Tae." You say hitting his arm lightly.

" cruel women." Taehyung fake cries.

"Ok.. I am sorry."

"You better be." His face changes in an instant and he purposely deepens his voice.

The desserts are over in a jiffy.

"Did you like them?" Taehyung asks.

"Yes they were very good."

"Now let's go."

"Go where?"

"Out. I meant to take you out."

"It's late though."

"The weather is nice. The company is nice and so are your shoes and legs. Have I ever mentioned you've got good legs?"

"Umm.. no."

"They're very functional."

You look at him like he's crazy because you do think he is crazy.

Nevertheless it's not like you feel sleepy yet.

"Let me put my shoes on I guess."

He too puts on shoes ditching the extra pair of house slippers. You take your cross body purse and accompany him out.

He links your arm with his and you stiffen but don't move it away you're literally getting engaged next month. And this way you come out of the building.

Even if that nagging voice in your head compares his arms to that of Joon.

You inhale sharply.

Taehyung turns to you in alarm. You wave of his concern and point him to your community park.

"You want to sit on the swings." He asks.

You nod. Its been a while. Taehyung helps pushing you. And then you exchange places. After a while you get exhausted and he just squats infront of you. And you talk to him about things of no consequence.

It's later that you check you're phone and realise its past 1:40 am and you're eyes start to turn droopy.

"Let's get you home." He says. You nod to tired to respond.

The person present at your door sends alarm bells ringing through you.

Note : I had f**King 2nd lead syndrome writing this Taehyung, god. The chaos this man has. Also who's the mystery man.... person .

Comments and constructive criticism are welcome. Feel free to tell me what you thing. Remember to reblog. And if you have story / drabble ideas leave them in my inbox 📥. Until next time. Good bye.

Previous/ Next

Taglist: @sweetwolfcupcake ; @scuzmunkie ; @mercurymoons ; @mwitsmejk

[ghostlyhamburger]

The 12 Dates of Christmas

Hey @sumomosketches I’m your @mlsecretsanta! I hope you enjoy this OT4 fluff!

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

Decorating the Tree

“Merry Christmas, Adrien!”

Marinette greeted her boyfriend at the door with a hug. He glanced up to the mistletoe sprig hung in the doorway before pulling her close for a short, sweet kiss.

“I’m not late, am I?” he asked.

“No, don’t worry about it,” she replied. “Alya and Nino are already here, but we waited for you to start.”

“Thanks,” he said with a wide grin, before entering further into Marinette’s house to meet his other girlfriend and boyfriend.

The four had fallen into a comfortable relationship over the years—first as two couples, then, after some deep confessions, as a poly quad relationship. Adrien loved all his partners, so much, and his heart swelled every time he got to spend time with all of them.

“Hey dude!” Nino greeted him, exchanging a complicated secret handshake that ended with Nino dipping Adrien in a dramatic kiss.

Alya rolled her eyes and kissed her boyfriend’s cheek as a much simpler greeting. “You’re just in time to help with the lights.”

The four were gathered to decorate the tree at Marinette’s house. Her parents had put her in charge of it this year, and when everyone’s schedules lined up for a change, she thought it would be a fun way to get some holiday cheer with her partners.

“I can’t believe Christmas is so soon,” Alya commented as she helped Adrien wind strings of lights around the tree. “There’s so many holiday things I wanted to do.”

“We’ve still got time,” Marinette said, sorting ornaments out of a tangled mess of hooks. “Maybe not all four of us before Christmas, but I’m free a lot, I know all of you have time too…actually…”

“Oh no,” Nino groaned. “I know that look. You’re planning something.”

“Just thinking, why don’t we try to have as many Christmassy dates as possible before the holiday?” Marinette asked, almost too innocently.

Alya laughed. “Babe, you have a schedule drawn up already, don’t you?”

Marinette flushed as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled up a calendar app. “…yes.”

“This is actually a really good idea,” Adrien said, glancing over the schedule she’d created. “You thought of everything, Marinette.”

Alya just sighed, an overly dramatic gesture. “I guess you’re lucky I can’t say no to you, M.”

**

Charity Work

Marinette, Alya, and Nino found themselves at a community center building.

“What are we doing here?” Nino asked.

“Volunteering,” Marinette replied. “We’re putting together packages of gift cards and canned food for needy families.”

“That’s not really a date,” Alya pointed out.

“Yeah, but it’s a good cause.” Nino held open the door for the girls with a smile. “Let’s go.”

They found themselves on a makeshift assembly line, placing objects into gift baskets before sticking bows on the top. Nino was on bow duty, and he was directed to throw out any bow that was bent or crumpled.

Instead, he kept sticking the defective bows on his girlfriends, using the decorations as an excuse to sneak up on them and kiss them as he planted a bow on their head or shoulder.

An older woman walked by them and smiled as Nino kissed Alya, then frowned as she saw him kissing Marinette on her return.

“Next time she passes by, we should kiss just to really confuse her,” Alya murmured to her girlfriend.

Marinette giggled. “Why wait?”

**

Christmas Market

“Why do you even go to this?” Nino asked Marinette, no judgement in his tone, just curiosity. “I mean, you make presents every year.”

She pouted. “Am I that predictable?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he responded, taking his girlfriend’s hand in his own. “You’re creative and amazing. It’s just, we all know that things you make are way better than anything you can buy.”

Marinette blushed, and teased, “Well, maybe I’m not putting in the full effort this year. Everyone gets matching keychains.”

“Yeah right,” he said. “You couldn’t half-ass anything if you tried.”

She kissed his cheek. “You’re right. But I like going to the market, there’s all sorts of good food and Christmas cheer and it’s just…nice. Plus, I get to spend time with you.”

Nino gripped her hand tightly, lacing his fingers with hers. “That’s a nice bonus.”

“So!” she said brightly. “Want to go try some pastries and compare them to Papa’s?”

“Your dad’s are the best, but yeah,” he replied.

They amassed a feast of pastries from the various vendors and enjoyed them together, exchanging soft kisses between bites and arguing over who had the better palmiers.

**

Playing in the Snow

“What do you think?” Nino stepped back from the snowman he’d built, a short, squat snowman only one ball of snow tall.

Alya laughed as she formed a ball of snow in her hands. “I think—think fast!” She threw the snowball, and Nino ducked just in time.

“And here I thought I was your favorite,” he teased, bending down to scoop together his own snowball.

“I don’t know what would give you that idea,” she replied innocently.

“It’s because when I said hey, let’s enjoy the fresh snow, you said I was your favorite.”

“I like snow!” Alya said, laughing as she ducked Nino’s snowball. “I’m still getting used to it, you know.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Do they not have snow in Martinique?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, surprisingly, there’s no snow on a tropical island. So this is only my…third winter, ever.”

“Oh,” Nino replied, a sheepish grin in his face. “Okay, that was pretty stupid of me. So, you get one free snowball to the face.”

Alya smirked as she bent down to form a perfect snowball, then lobbed it directly at her boyfriend’s face, letting the snow explode into powder against his cheek.

He laughed as he wiped away the snow. “I’m surprised they teach you how to make snowballs in the Caribbean.”

“You know what else I learned how to make, doudou?” she asked with a wicked grin.

“Yeah?”

“Turtle soup!”

**

Hot Cocoa Tasting

Adrien, Alya, and Nino used Adrien’s massive kitchen to each create their own perfect hot cocoa recipe to share. Adrien didn’t have a recipe, but Marinette was happy to share a simple one since she couldn’t be there.

Alya and Nino were competitive as they rushed around, boiling milk, adding in cocoa and spices. Adrien, on the other hand, stood at the microwave, reading Marinette’s exact instructions on his phone.

He carefully took the mugs of cocoa out of the microwave when it dinged, setting them on the counter with such gentle care. Then, he carefully ripped open the powdered cocoa packets and stirred them into the three mugs.

Alya poured rich, melted chocolate into mugs, while Nino strained cardamom pods into his cocoa.

Adrien sprayed whipped cream on top of his offering.

The three sat around the kitchen counter, a much homier place than the massive dining room table. Alya’s hot cocoa offering was clearly the best, rich and sweet, coating their tongues with chocolaty goodness with each sip.

“Yeah,” Adrien said after putting down his mug. “Alya, you definitely win.”

His girlfriend exchanged a look with Nino, and the two grinned widely before Alya replied, “No, Sunshine, yours is the best.”

“Yeah,” Nino added. “Can’t go wrong with a classic!”

“You’re just saying that,” he responded, but he couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face, the sheer love he felt from his partners warming him more than the cocoa.

“Seriously, though, not lying,” Nino said, slinging an arm around Adrien’s shoulders. “This is the stuff my mom would make when I came inside from the snow, same brand and everything. It tastes like childhood, and you made it—” he kissed his fingers for emphasis “—perfectly.”

“Don’t you mean purr-fectly?”

“Aaand he’s back to normal,” Alya said with a laugh. “I know it’s the holidays, but come on, you don’t need to get all sentimental on us. Just enjoy the cocoa and hang out with people who love you.”

Adrien smiled as he took another sip.

**

Caroling

“So why are we doing this?” Adrien asked Alya as she set up a video camera in her bedroom.

“Because going door to door to sing carols is outdated and videos can be seen worldwide,” she replied.

“Okay, but why the two of us? Why not Mari or Nino?”

She grinned at him. “We’re the best singers, Sunshine.”

She pressed a button on her computer, and the opening notes of “Petit Papa Noel” began to play. The two sang together, overacting the song for the camera, and ending up dissolving into giggles together.

After a few songs, Alya shut off the camera, grinning at her boyfriend. “Damn, I knew you were good, but—that high note, wow.”

Adrien blushed. “Thanks. I was just having fun with a pretty girl.”

“Such a charmer,” she teased, kissing his cheek.

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close and kissing her lips lightly. “You fell for me, didn’t you? My charms worked.”

**

Looking at Lights

Marinette was smiling more brightly than the lights around the Champs-Elysees, her hands clasping both of her boyfriends’. Adrien was also in awe of the lights brightening up the night, and Nino was just happy to be with them.

“This is so pretty!” Marinette exclaimed.

“It really is,” Adrien agreed.

Marinette didn’t turn her head, but said, “Nino, is he doing the cliché thing and looking at me?”

Adrien flushed red as Nino ratted him out with a snickering, “Yeah. But you are pretty, so…”

She blushed, gently squeezing both their hands. “I’m going to die. I’m going to be absolutely flirted to death between the two of you.”

Adrien gave a dramatic gasp. “You can’t die, Mari! We haven’t had our date yet!”

“What do you call this?” she teased. “Are you just ignoring Nino?”

“Well, he can’t die either, then,” he said. “Nino! No dying before our date!”

Nino just laughed. “Wasn’t planning on it. But I am planning on kissing your girlfriend under the mistletoe over there.”

Marinette giggled. “Sorry, Adrien, looks like I’m kissing your boyfriend.”

“Well—then I’m kissing your boyfriend,” Adrien retorted with a wide grin. “And then I’ll kiss his girlfriend.”

The three made their way to the mistletoe, laughing and exchanging kisses under the colored lights.

**

Making a Gingerbread House

Marinette was in charge of baking the gingerbread, and Alya brought the decorations.

Together, they meticulously worked on creating a gingerbread bakery, an exact replica of the Dupain-Cheng building. They piped icing onto the sides, molded little candies into signs and windows.

“You know, if the guys were here, they’d have eaten half the decorations by now,” Alya commented as she placed small candy flowers on the balcony.

Marinette nodded. “There’s a reason I suggested we do this for our date. The guys will have to appreciate the pictures.”

“We’re not saving any treats for them?”

“Well, there’s one spare bag of icing, but I already had plans for it,” Marinette admitted. “Plans involving your lips.”

“M, you naughty girl,” Alya teased. “And here I thought you’d be on the nice list.”

She flushed red. “Can we finish so we can get to the kissing, please?”

“I can kiss and decorate at the same time,” Alya replied, demonstrating her point by kissing Marinette’s cheek. “Learn to multitask!”

“I have two boyfriends, an amazing girlfriend, and I’m a superhero slash student slash designer,” Marinette replied flatly. “I’m pretty good at balancing.”

“True, true,” she said. “But hey, at least I’m cute.”

“You are,” Marinette agreed, giving her a small hip bump.

**

Holiday Movies

“It’s so sad!” Adrien cried, curling against Nino’s side as they streamed a cheesy Christmas movie. “Amber loves him so much but she’s leaving Aldovia anyways!”

“I know, dude,” Nino replied, gently rubbing Adrien’s shoulder. “I know. I’m picking the next movie, right?”

Adrien sniffed. “But—there’s two sequels!”

“Yeah, we’re watching Home Alone next,” Nino muttered. “Look, you know the prince is going to show up and propose to her anyways, right? So why are you sad now?”

Adrien shrugged. “Sometimes it’s fun to be sad about cheesy movies, you know? It helps.”

Nino kissed his boyfriend’s temple as he hugged him close. “Okay. Fair. But I get the next movie and then we can watch the sequels.”

“And Princess Switch?” Adrien asked, turning on the pleading face that none of his partners could say no to.

“Only because I love you, dude.”

**

Ice Skating

“I get the feeling you wanted us to do this one for a reason,” Adrien said with a grin as he skated backwards around the rink, holding Marinette’s hands in his.

She blushed. “I’m sorry, is that weird? I just—we never did get to have the ice skating date I was too afraid to ask you on…”

He chuckled. “For what it’s worth, I would have said yes.”

Marinette smiled, the wide, smitten smile that seemed reserved just for him. “I love you,” she murmured. “I—I mean—”

Adrien pulled her close, twirling around with her. “I love you too,” he said softly. “My Lady.”

They kissed, softly and sweetly, gliding to a stop on the ice as they were lost in each other for a long, perfect moment.

When they parted, Marinette burst into giggles. “I can’t believe I haven’t fallen down yet!”

“Don’t jinx yourself!” he said with a laugh. “But if you do fall, I’ll catch you. I promise.”

She gave him a wide grin. “I know. I trust you.”

**

Wrapping Presents

“Didn’t we already do this with Nino?” Alya asked as she tied a bow on a package in Marinette’s room.

“Well, those were for charity, these are just our presents for family,” Marinette said. “Also a good excuse for my parents to leave us alone for a few hours.”

Adrien grinned as he added tape onto a package that was already more tape than wrapping paper. “I do like that part. Just me and my two beautiful girlfriends here.”

Alya burst into laughter. “Oh, Sunshine, you’re the purest one here. What’s the worst you’d do? Kiss us?”

“On the lips,” he replied, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh no, our innocence!” Marinette cried dramatically. “Alya, protect me!”

Alya dove in front of Marinette with a laugh. “You can’t kiss her till I have!”

“But you have,” Adrien pointed out. “Both of us. Several times.”

Alya glanced up at Marinette with a shrug. “He’s got me there.”

“You two are so lucky you’re cute,” Marinette grumbled.

“The cutest,” Alya agreed.

Adrien leaned over to the two and placed ribbon bows on their heads. “There. Now you’re both pretty gifts for Nino.”

“Oh, don’t phrase it like that,” Marinette said, her cheeks turning pink. “He’s going to think something way different.”

“What?”

Marinette exchanged a look with Alya before the two of them burst into giggles, Marinette falling off the chaise and resting against her girlfriend’s side.

“What is it?” Adrien asked. “Come on, tell me!”

“Maybe in another few years,” Marinette teased. “You’re too young and innocent for this!”

**

Decorating Cookies

“I love you,” Marinette said to Adrien. “But, uh—you spelled Christmas wrong.”

Adrien glanced down at the cookie he was putting letter-shaped sprinkles on. “Oh. I did.”

Nino reached over and snatched away the cookie, taking a large bite. “No use letting it go to waste!”

Marinette gave his hand a gentle smack, not really hurting him. “You can’t keep eating the cookies, or we won’t have any left for Christmas!”

“Lighten up, Mari,” Adrien said, wrapping his arms around her. “Christmas is tomorrow. If a few cookies go missing, who does it really hurt?”

“You’re just saying that because you’ve had seven,” Marinette grumbled.

“How many have you had?” Alya asked. “Because, the way you’re acting, I’m pretty sure it’s none.”

Marinette just pouted.

Adrien lifted a cookie to her lips. “Eat the cookie and enjoy yourself, Mari. Everything’s already perfect. You know that, right?”

“It’s not perfect till we’re done,” she insisted, though she did take a bite of the messily frosted cookie.

“It’s perfect because we’re all here together,” Adrien said. “You, me, Nino, Alya.”

“Yeah, Sunshine is right,” Alya replied. “No worrying. We’re all together, and things are great.” She leaned over, wrapping her arms around Marinette and Adrien.

Nino moved around the table to join their hug. “Love you guys,” he murmured. “Merry Christmas.”

[lo-55]

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 7

Fourteen Days to Conspiracy

Ichigo sits by the river again. The day is dawning, pink in the east.

He can’t see the sword any longer, not since he stumbled back into his body from his inside. His inner word, Zangetsu had called it.

Even still, he can feel it’s phantom weight, familiar and comforting in his palm. It feels like all he has to do is wrap his fingers around it and pull and the sword would be in his hand, gleaming and ready to swing, to block, to guard him.  Holding Zangetsu had felt like coming home.

Despite that, it had also felt like there was something missing. Like his other hand was empty.

Was that what Diarmund had felt whenever he put one of his swords or spears down?

He could  hear all of Achille’s dumbass bisexual jokes at his expense.

Ichigo leaned back on the damp grass, drawing in steady breaths, one after another. Up the incline he could see people waiting for him. Elmelloi, and a happily familiar face and pale hair.

Waver Velvet, or Lord Elmelloi II and his apprentice, a phenomenal mage and prodigy Flat Escardos. Waver had said there was something strange about the town, and now Ichigo has to wonder if he’s not partially to blame. Because of his fight with Uryu and massive monster had tried to crush the city. Because of him and Rukia some high class shinigami had come to visit and started causing trouble.

Ichigo wants to help. Really, he does.  He likes Waver even if he is grumpy. He’s one of the few people Ichigo knows who’s just as shit at actual magic as he is. Waver, like Ichigo, makes due with other means.

He’s an alchemist, and a detective. With no magic lineage to fall back on, and no innate talent for mage craft he uses outside forces to get things done. He draws his power from ores and reagents and uses reason to puzzle out what the best course of action is. Without the ability to fight head on Waver relies on other people for combat, and merely acts as their guide and support.

The one thing Waver truly excels at is teaching.

It takes him no more than a glance to understand how a spell is cast, and minutes to figure out how to teach someone with the right type of circuits how to use it as well. And how to strengthen and improve it.

Waver cannot perform his own magecraft, but he can strengthen and support others.

He, above all others, is one person who understands Ichigo’s abilities.

They are peas in a pod, and it’s almost scary.

Ichigo lifts himself up from the banks of the river and picks his way up to the pair. Flat is as exuberant as ever. Even in snow, surrounded by recovered corpses of Chealdeas, he’d been delighted to be there.

What a weirdo.

“Hey,” Ichigo raises his hand to them. Waver grunts. His long red scarf shifts when the wind changes direction. The breeze comes with the smell of smoke and cardamom.

“Ichigo. You disappeared.”

“Sorry,” he’s not, “Something came up. I’ll be gone for about a month.”

Waver scowls at him.”We need you here. We’re investigating changes of ley lines around the city.  Your city. And you know how I feel about this place.”

Yes, he does. Ichigo’s never gotten the full story, but he knows ten years ago something happened that left Waver embittered to the entire country. The fact that he’s standing on japanese soil in the first place is frankly bewildering.

Ichigo doesn’t say so out loud.

“A friend of mine needs help,” he says instead. “So I’m sorry, but I need to go to her first. I appreciate your help with the house, but this is important to me.”

Waver frowns at him, and even Flat’s smile tilts sideways, like he’s not sure he understands. Ichigo doubts that he does. This child is a freaky innocence that isn’t innocent at all. Somehow he can look at pain and suffering and still thing its ‘cool’.

Ichigo does not envy Waver.

Waver must know Ichigo well, for he looks at him and his stubborn jaw and his hard eyes and he grunts irritably.

“Fine then. There’s no changing your mind,” he knows. “We’ll handle this matter. You help your friend.”

“Not like I needed your permission anyways,” Ichigo points out, but it’s not really angry. For all he’s a cantankerous old guy in the body of a man not even thirty Waver is good natured and nurturing in his own way. Even when he was summoned a servant (and Ichigo still doesn’t understand how exactly that happened) he’d been the same. Maybe that’s why Ichigo is so biased towards him.

“Good luck,” Waver says instead of anything else.

Ichigo nods to him, ruffles Flat’s hair, and makes his way to the Urahara shop as promised.

*

By the time he comes too, Ichigo feels less like a mage and more like a pile of recently tenderized meat.

The sky is burning pink and purple and night air is slow to fade to day. There’s dew settled into his bangs that glistens when the newborn sunlight hits it.

It would be lovely, if it wasn’t for the fact that ichigo could barely lift his head to shake the moisture off.

It’s a bone deep ache.

A lightness in his body that makes him feel like if he isn’t careful he’s going to go flying off into the sky, an empty void of a man.

Mash’s worried face poked in from the side of his vision.

“Master?” her voice is terribly soft, tumultuous with worry. Worry for him.

Ichigo pushes himself up slowly, only his own pride and stubbornness keeping him from falling right down back into the dirt.

Mash rushes to him to help, and her strong arms around him help to ground him back down. He still feels drained and hollow, but the warm hands that hold him steady are a help. They make his body feel more reel. And less like he’s not tethered to reality.

“Hey Mash. How long was I out?” He can’t quite remember what happened. There was a swarm of demons, and Kyo couldn’t handle all of them. Ichigo had-

What exactly had he done again?

Right, he’d shoved all of his reishi into Kyo, so he could cast a spell and destroy the monsters that had been coming at them. Where is Kyo, anyhow? Where are any of the others?

“Mash?” Ichigo asks, touching her side. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Oh,” Mash slowly lets him go, looking off to the side. “We got a cart to carry you in, since we can’t really stop right now. We’re in that now, and the others are laying down outside.”

Ichigo looks down to see that it’s not dirt he would have fallen into, but a scratchy brown blanket.

“How long was I out?”

“The rest of the day and all of the night. About eighteen hours in total. Nightingale wasn’t happy,” Mash grimaced. “She couldn't do anything to help you. No one could.”

Mash suddenly scowls at him and tightens her hold to the point of pain. “You could have been hurt! Master, you need to stop being so reckless!”

Another voice joins in. “Master is awake?!”

The cart rocks and Ichigo finds himself being shaken back and forth by hand so strong they could break his shoulders. “What did you do that for! You could have died! You fool!”

“Me-du-sa. Can’t. Breath.” Ichigo choked. She didn’t loosen her hold but she did stop shaking him so he could catch his breath. He put his hand on her elbows and looked at those ethereal golden eyes. “Sorry. I’m not going anywhere, promise. I just got overzealous. Are you okay?”

“Are we-?!” she bristled. “We’re fine! You were the one that almost shoved your soul out of your body!”

Ichigo blinks at her.

“I did what?”

“You almost shoved all of your reiryoku, your spirit energy, into me.”

Ichigo looks to the side, where Kyo is perched on the edge of the wagon. His dark eyes are fathomless, searching for something in Ichigo that Ichigo isn’t sure he has. There’s a light in them too, one that Ichigo can’t for the life of him decipher.

(Years later he will recognize it as hope.)

“Okay,” Ichigo takes Medusa’s hands from his shoulders and guides her to sit next to him. She looks into the seemingly empty air, but they are all beyond questioning him when he talks to nothing. “It still worked, didn’t it?”

Kyo’s brows furrow minutely. “It did… It was still reckless. I’ve never seen someone do something so utterly foolish in my life. You could have more than died. You could have destroyed your own soul doing that. Feeding your energy into spirit beings is dangerous, there is a reason it isn’t done. Even these heroic spirits contracted to you are a risk. Whether drawing on your life energy or your spirit energy, you put yourself in tremendous danger.”

“I know,” Ichigo tells him truthfully. Kyo is closer than he ever has been, like some wall he’d set up is starting to crumble. His mask is cracking. “I know it’s dangerous. Everything we do is dangerous, but if I don’t do it then everything will end. Everyone will die. All of my friends, all of my family will be gone. I can’t fight on my own. All I can do is strengthen others, even if I have to pay a price for that I will.”

“That’s very noble but-”

“Don’t make me into a saint,” Ichigo cut him off swiftly. “I’m not. If you want one of those you’re in the wrong singularity. I’m doing this because I want my sisters back. I’m doing this because I want to stop fighting and go home already. Every motivation I have is entirely selfish, Kyo.”

Medusa smacked the back of his head.

“Hey!”

“He may make you into a saint but you make yourself a sinner!” She snapped. “In Fuyuki we were on opposite sides of a war. You should have killed me. Even if we weren’t enemies I was, am, darkened by the cursed mud of a corrupted grail. In stead you told me to stop being a lunatic and poured your power into me, so I could stand at your side. You trusted me with your back when I could have easily stabbed it.”

“Medusa-”

“No! You may not be a saint like Jeanne but you’re a good, stupid man!”

Ichigo is so stunned by the fact that Medusa of all people has called him a good man that he doesn’t even notice the fact that she has heard Kyo as well.

It tops as one of the weirdest days of his lives.

* *

Ichigo finally finds himself standing in front of the Urahara shop, the old sign hanging above the doorway. It’s out of the way, stuffed between two towering modern buildings. If one didn’t know what they were looking for they would never find it. It was just an old shop tha hadn’t been converted yet. They’re not common but they’re also not so out of place that anyone would bat an eye if they happened to see it while out and about.

It’s exactly how mages run things and not for the first time does Ichigo wonder just what in the world it is that Urahara is. A mage? A shinigami? Something between? Ichigo can’t get a good read on him, but to be fair he hasn’t really been looking.

He knows his half hidden eyes and he knows he’s willing to help Rukia and help Ichigo. That’s enough for him for now.

He raises his hand and knocks firmly on the door. On the third knock the door slides open, revealing the tall man from before. Tessai.

Ichigo can’t get a good read on him. His glasses bar him from seeing his eyes and the eyes are the window to the soul. Never the less, Ichigo can still see his strength. A hundred times stronger than Ichigo, and now that he’s of a clearer mind when he looked past the man to Urahara he realizes that he’s stronger still.

They aren’t as strong as someone born in the Age of Gods, but they’re at least on par with weaker servants.

How had he missed that before?

Whatever. It doesn’t matter now.

“Hey. I’m here for my training.”

They let him inside. Underneath the shop there happens to be a massive chamber, stretching out in all directions. A mockery of the sky spreads across the ceiling, painted with fluffy clouds that almost seem to move across the sky.

Whoever this man is, he’s not a mage. A mage would never have something so cheerful in their home. Mages were creatures of darkness and shadow. Lonely beings of solitude.

Urahara was no such thing.

He had children, for one thing, and his assistant (husband?) seemed utterly devoted to him. He did not have the cold air of a mage obsessed only with legacy and the enhancement of his crest. No. For all Urahara reminded him of Merlin, he was certainly not a mage.

“So. What do we do first?” Ichigo asks, turning his sights from the sky to the man in front of him. His hat shadows most of his face, save the strange smile beneath that darkness.

“First, we would need to return your shinigami powers to you-”

“Yeah. I already did that part. What’s next.”

Ichigo was treated to the sight of Urahara tilting his head and blinking rapidly at him. It’s the only real sign of surprise on his face.

“You… already did that?” he repeated. He lifted his cane, exposing the flaming skull on the underside, and drives it into Ichigo’s chest.

Ichigo pops out the other side, in a familiar shihakusho with a sword strapped to his back. Zangetsu is actually less of a sword and more of a giant cleaver as long as his body. The curve of the red mark that sits above his heart just barely crests over the white folds of his clothes  

Urahara’s mouth opens but no sound comes out for a few long seconds. Ichigo scowls at him.

“You said I needed to get my shinigami powers and I did. Now hurry up already. We’ve only got ten days before I have to go save Rukia. So what’s next, huh?”

Urahara recovers (not very) gracefully, clears his throat and stands straight.

“I see. So you managed to do that all on your own.”

“Not really,” Ichigo isn’t one to brag, or take undue credit. He touches Zangetsu’s hilt lightly, fingers running across the bandages. “Zangetsu helped me out.”

“You know his name as well? Then I suppose we can skip three whole lessons.”

Ichigo doesn’t like the sudden, calculating look in Urahara’s eyes, but he can’t say anything about it. He understands he’s just done something expected, but doesn’t he always? He’s used to the staring, to the incredulousness of people who are just meeting him.

He misses the familiar presence at his side, at his back. Guarding and guiding him. But with Zangetsu in hand the void where his friends had once been is lessened, even if it’s not entirely gone.

Zangetsu has always been with him. That’s what he’s said, isn’t it?

“Then we’ll move on. Ichigo, your first task is to knock this hat off my head.”

“...huh?” Seriously? What kind of bullshit is this?

Ichigo squinted at him while Urahara drew a sword from his cane and pointed it towards him. A straight blade, thin and deadly he can feel the barely restrained bloodlust from here.

“Awaken, Benihime.”

The air sings with danger and a thrill shoots up Ichigo’s spine. Red light flickers, bloody and dangerous, across the blade until what’s left is no cane but the unmistakable sight of a zanpakuto. The hamon is straight, the tip is sharp and straight instead of tapered.

“There’s no timelimit. So try as hard as you can to knock this hat off with your sword.”

“That sounds like a good way to loose an eye, and if you do I can’t fix that,” Ichigo warns even as he pulls his sword from his back. The ribbon flutters off, wrapping drawing back to reveal the deadly curve beneath. It’s not the type of sword ichigo is used to holding. He’s used to something shorter, but the blade is as light as his own arm in his grasp. Is’t a part of him, he knows for certain. His instincts flare and he dodges just in time, avoiding a strike that leaves a deep gauge in the rock behind him.

“You should really be worrying about yourself,” Urahara says. His voice is deceptively soft, his smile is just as mild, and the shadow of his hat hides his eyes.

As if that would hide from Ichigo the singing his sword does for his blood.

“Fine,” Ichigo adjusts his grip, bounces on the balls of his feet and swings.

Their swords come together in a clash of metal against metal and power against power. Ichigo is raw strength poured forth and an unbending will, straight forwards and unyielding.

Urahara is swift and sharp and takes jabs at any opening, no matter how small. He is powerful, stronger than Ichigo, and when he’d released his sword that strength had more than doubled. There’s no doubt that he could go toe to toe with Diarmuid.

That’s fine. Ichigo meets him blow for blow.

He doesn’t run. He won’t wear scars of shame upon his back. He can’t go backwards now, not when he’s set his sights on his goal. Not when Rukia needs him.

Even with all that, he’s not winning.

He may not run but he’s being force back, further and further with Urahara taking every inch given for his own, eating the ground as he cuts at Ichigo’s defenses.

Ichigo keeps an eye on his unused hand. He knows these men are tricky. He knows shinigami can use kido, and he won’t be taken by surprise again.

Urahara shifts his stance and Ichigo lunges for the opening. Too late he realizes it’s a trap.

He takes a hard blow to his side, and blood drips down into the white fabric beneath the black.

Ichigo jumps back, a hand on his side, and hisses with the pain. It’s shallow. Not even enough to pierce into anything important. When he looks to Urahara he sees not the man but a predator stalking towards him. He’s not even close to running out of energy. Neither of them are, but now Urahara has drawn first blood.

Ichigo remembers red. He remembers the red of Fuyuki, the terror of the grail and the fallen kings. He remembers the blind desperation of the fight with Lev, and barely keeping Olga Marie from being dragged into the red earth. Red was raw destruction, blood and death.

Ichigo is beyond being afraid of it.

“Zangetsu,” the name comes to his lips. Zangetsu. He’s always known it. He’s always had this sword at his back, and now a phantom hand lays upon his shoulder. His partner. His weapon. The means by which he will protect all he loves.

“Forget fear,”  his words echo, and a second hand touches his on the hilt, “  Look forward. Walk forth. Never stop. If you look back you are lost. If you are afraid you’ll die. Swear, Ichigo.”  

He does.

“I’ll never run. I’ll never be afraid. Even if I have to tear the heavens apart, I will win! Zangetsu!”

Power swirls around his sword, Zangetsu squeezes his shoulder and falls into the blade, still crossed with Benihime. They sing together, a song of the hunt and a refusal to die. A cat and the moon, Ichigo pushes everything he has into the sword. Into Zangetsu. He trusts him.

Silver light rips out of the blade. He can see the moment of Urahara’s briefest panic and the last-second switch of his sword. From offense to defense, but it’s not enough to save his hat from the wave of raw energy that shreds from Zangetsu.

Ichigo catches the hat as it falls to the ground, a good sized chunk now missing.

He can’t help the grin that splits his face when he sees the land past Urahara’s red barrier has been torn into a fissure that stretches all the way out to the seemingly endless walls of the room, and cracks it’s way up towards the ceiling.

He lays Zangetsu back along his back and walks over to Urahara, twirling his hat around one finger. It feels good. Fighting with his own power, nothing has never compared to that. Nothing ever will.

Ichigo eyes the cracks and crumbling edges of the red shield Urahara has erected to guard himself, and eyes the sword in his hand. The bloodlust isn’t gone, but there’s something else in it. Ichigo touches that blade, drawing Urahara’s attention away from the new canyon in his basement. The touch is all Ichigo needs for a proper reading. Confusion, curiosity, and off all things hope.

There’s definitely something weird going on here.

Urahara pulls his sword back from ichigo delicately and sheathes her again. “You should be careful,” Urahara warns. “Benihime isn’t nice.”

If zanpakuto reflect the soul of their wielder, does that mean Urahara is also ‘not nice’?

Ichigo hands him his hat. “I think I passed your little test.”

Up close, Urahara isn’t nearly as old as Ichigo first thought he was. He almost looks young, somewhere in his later twenties. Most questions, no more answers and no time to ask them.

“I’d say you did,” Urahara takes it from him, futility knocking dust away from it. “Ichigo, you are one scary kid.”

* * *

“Do you know where you are?”

“Are you going to ask me that every time?”

Ichigo isn’t surprised to see where he is tonight. There’d been a creeping dread that had begun crawling up his throat the closer and closer they came to the day he was to leave.

Merlin toys with a strand of Ichigo’s hair. It’s finally grown past his shoulders these days, and Merlin seems to take some small pleasure in the tactile sensation.

If Ichigo was trapped at the edge of the world for over 1500 years he’d probably be starved for new sensations himself. Or even something as simple as the presence of someone familiar.

He is reminded again that he has sworn to free Merlin from his prison, even if he has no idea how he’s going to do that. He’ll figure it out.

“Perhaps. It’s consistent if nothing else.”

“Everything here is consistent,” Ichigo retorted. “You’ll stop once you get tired of Westworld.”

“Maybe I’ll start with the Game of Thrones references then,” Merlin teased. Ichigo shot him a scowl.

Merlin laughed it off easily.

“Okay, something else then. In the meantime, how has your training been going?”

“My training? It’s fine. It’s mostly been Urahara fighting me. He hasn’t taught me much of anything, but I’m catching up to speed with my new sword at least.”

“Ah yes. And how does he fight?”

“Urahara? I dunno. Sometimes he moves like Kojirou, sometimes like Mordred.”

“Those are very different fighting styles,” Merlin mused, tapping his fingers along his staff. Ichigo nods his agreement.

“It is. More than anyone though, he reminded me of Okada,”  and you .

“A man slayer?” Merlin pretended to startle. “A man equally capable of saber and assassin techniques. What a terrifying concept.”

Merlin didn’t know the half of it.

“Do you fear him?”

Ichigo paused. “Huh? No. I probably should but… he doesn’t mean to hurt me, or my friends.”

“My, my. You always have had a knack for judging people.”

“Don’t make it sound like I’m some kind of mind reader,” Ichigo groans, falling back into the flowers that perpetually bloom aroun Merlin. It really is a very pretty prison.

His gaze wanders to Merlin’s staff.

“Those ribbons,” he says suddenly. “Are they soul ribbons?”

“Hmm?” Merlin follows his gaze and delights. “Aha! No, not quite but they are very close. They’re designed to keep my staff from being stolen or abused. I suppose, in some ways, they’re the essence or the soul of my staff. They work a bit like command seals.”

Merlin was being weirdly forthcoming.

That only happened when it was something Ichigo really needed to know. Why would he need to know that much about Merlin's fancy magic stick?

If he tries to ask, he’ll just be brushed off, so he doesn’t. Instead he engages Merlin in a game of twenty questions, to pass the time until he must leave again.

“Are you worried?” Merlin asks abruptly, breaking their game and starting a new one called ‘try to get Ichigo to talk about his feelings’.

“Why would I be?” Ichigo replies, narrowing his eyes.

Merlin holds up his hands placatingly. “This will be the first time you go alone into something like that. I would think you would be frightened.”

“I’m not alone,” Ichigo says evenly. “I have my zanpakuto, Zangetsu. Besides. This way I don’t have to be so careful. I won’t be leading anyone except for myself, and anyone who inevitably joins along while I’m there.”

“Your charisma is the stuff of legends.”

“I’m not charismatic!” Ichigo argues, scowling again. “People just like to glue themselves to me, it’s not my fault.”

Merlin laughs and Ichigo shifts uncomfortably in his seat, crushing more flowers around him. They’re replaced in second by yet more.

“Will I see you while I’m in the soul society?” Ichigo asks, peering at his friend.

Merlin considers this. “Most likely not. It’s a different world, and the realm of the dead at that. I don’t think I can reach you there.” There’s sadness hidden in his eyes. Ichigo scowls at him for a long moment before he gives in and hugs the grand mage.

Merlin stiffens in his grasp, his air leaving his lungs for the long seconds before Ichigo starts to fade away, back where he’s come from.

If he doesn’t come back, he won’t have Merlin doubting their friendship.

* * * *

Seven days. Seven days, and Ichigo is on his way out of the house.

There had been a festival earlier, and he’d wanted to go with his sisters and give them one last memory, before he potentially ran off and got himself killed on a rescue mission for a girl they didn’t even remember exists.

The fireworks stopped him.

He’s already on edge, already gearing up for a fight, for an infiltration (for a war). He doesn’t want to know what the sound of the sky cracking open and lights and fire roaring over his head will do to him at a time like this.

Instead he’d waited for them, and tucked them in when they’d been too exhausted for anything else. He left breakfast in the fridge so Yuzu didn’t have to worry about it in the morning, and when Urahara’s creepy ass blood message came through the window he switched bodies with Kon and was on his way.

Along the way, he bumps into Orihime.

And at Urahara shop Chad is waiting.

Uryu shows up last and when the door opens he grabs Urahara by the collar and drags him inside. The door shuts soundly behind them.

Ichigo spins them around and shoves Urahara against the wall, baring his teeth at the man. “What the hell are they doing here?!”

Urahara is completely unaffected, and it kind of pisses him off.

“What do you mean? They’re you’re friends, they’re here to help you. Isn’t that obvious?”

“Yeah, I know what they came. I wanna know why you let them?! I’m not letting them come along. They’ll be in danger. I’m not taking them with me!”

“Then what was your plan?” Urahara asks, his playful voice overturned with one that Ichigo has never heard. Dark and serious, with the same edge as his blade. The hat tilts and Ichigo can see his eyes. Old, and intelligent. He’s reminded, once more, of Merlin.

“They’re not strong enough for this,” Ichigo insists. “I would have made friends while I was there to help me. At least three.” Usually closer to ten or twelve.

“That’s the most naive thing I’ve ever heard. Why would anyone turn their backs on their home, on their captains and friends, to help a stranger like you?”

Ichigo bristles. “I don’t know.” But they always do, for some reason. “Rukia has to have friends. I can’t be the only one who thinks this is wrong and people will fight for what’s right if you push them to it-”

Urahara catches his hands and pushes him back. “You can’t rely on a strategy like that. You can’t count on peoples ‘better natures’ or you’ll always be disappointed. Your friends have come to help you, and they are stronger than you’d expect. Likely they’ll be the ones you can rely on. Do you understand?”

Ichigo narrows his eyes at Urahara. “I’m relying on you, aren’t I?”

The air crackles with tension between them, until the door slides open and his friends step inside. They freeze at the picture; Ichigo looming over Urahara, who’s got pinned to the wall.

“Uh.” Says Ichigo eloquently.

“Oh dear!” Cries Urahara, snapping his fan in front of his grinning face. “Whatever shall we do, now that we’ve been caught. Oh Ichig -ow!”

Ichigo elbows him in the side and lets him go. Fine. They were already here, and Ichigo can see their own stubbornness. Chad and Uryu aren't going anywhere, and Ichigo knows even Orihime can fight. He’d been there when Tatsuki was training her. Even with her ability, her personality will be the biggest problem.

Already he feels himself shifting. This is no longer just about him. This is the team he’s been given, and he reads over their strength as best he can. It’s not as clear as a servant, but he’s working on it.

Chad he knows is a brawler, brute strength and fierce dependability. Close rang, and he’s got an insane pain tolerance and durability. He can tell by looking, Chad is stronger now than he was even a week ago. Fine.

Uryu is an archer, through and through. Long rang, he’ll be at a disadvantage if they have to fight up close and personal. He also knows basic first aid. He’s maybe the best person to counter Ichigo, to bring with him. The biggest problem might be his hatred for shinigami. People do stupid, impulsive things when they’re filled with animosity.

  Your anger keeps you warm now, but it will leave you cold in your grave.  

Orihime.

“Orihime,” he speaks to her for the first time, startling her out of whatever daydream she’d been having. “What exactly can you do?”

“Huh? Oh well I guess I’m pretty good at math, and I get good grades in gym class too. I won a volleyball game last year and-”

“I think he means your powers,” Chad corrects quietly. Powers. Good god, what have they gotten themselves into?

“Well?” Ichigo presses. Orihime touches her hair clips, the ones she always wears.

“Well um. I can make barriers that bounce things off of them. And I can shoot Tsubaki at people like a laser light beam. And I can heal too!”

Ichigo doesn’t know who or what a Tsubaki is. He doesn’t know what powers Chad has.

Fuck he hates this.

But healing and shielding are something he can work with too. That’ll make Orihime their third tier, a support class.

Damn it.

And damn Urahara for not telling him about this!

“You need to calm down,” says someone new. Ichigo looks down, and finds the cat from before peering up at him. Golden eyes, and black fur.

“...Oh. You’re  Urahara’s familiar.”

The cat shakes her head. The masculine voice throws him off for a minute.

“No. I am Yoruichi. Kisuke is just an old friend of mine, and asked me to train your friends. The only person here who might have a familiar would be you, Ichigo.”

“I see,” Ichigo says. He looked at the other three, stronger than he’d ever seen them but so inexperienced. He doesn’t want to bring them to this. He doesn’t want them to have the paranoia, the nightmares, the noose around their neck that comes with constant fighting and desperate attempts to win. But there’s no going back now. They’ll follow no matter what he says.

Ichigo bows shortly to the cat.

“Thank you for helping them, then, Yoruichi.”

The feline preens and licks at her paw. “Don’t thank me yet. Thank me when we get back with Rukia.”

“Right…”

He still doesn’t know exactly what he’ll do once she’s safe with them. Probably he’ll have to call in one of those favors from the clock tower. So be it.

“Okay,” he shot one last look at Urahara. “Let’s go.”

Urahara leads him down into the training grounds. The fissure Ichigo had created has been fixed by now, leaving the ground flat and dusty once more. There are conspicuous stitches across the ‘sky’. Everyone else is to busy marvelling to comment.

Tessai goes to get a large square of hollow stone set up in the corner, while Ichigo’s friends watch on. He can feel Urahara come to stand behind him. He’s good, but he’s no King of Assassins.

“You seem to be thinking awfully hard there, Ichigo,” Urahara says. If he expect Ichigo to jump, he’s disappointed.

Ichigo presses his lips into a line before he answers.

“It’s heavy,” He says at last.

“Heavy?”

“The weight of their lives.”

Urahara is silent when Ichigo leaves him behind to stand at Chad’s side.

* * * * *

Ichigo is confined to the cart for the rest of the day, regardless of how he’s feeling or how stubborn he is. No one can outstubborn Florence Nightingale. Not that even Ichigo is stupid enough to try. Not after Medusa offered to chain him to the cart if he didn’t behave himself for her.

He was at the mercy of the nurse. Rama looked smug at the fact that it was finally someone other than him that she was fussing over. When Nightingale’s back was turned Ichigo made sure to flip him off.

The only person who rides with him is Kyo, his legs cross with a his sword in his lap.

Ichigo eyes is speculatively.

“Why don’t you draw your sword when you fight?” he asks at last.

Kyo looks up at him, his brown eyes startled. “Well,” he considers his words, “Mine is not a sword for combat.”

“...what the fuck does that mean?”

“My sword, this zanpakuto, is capricious, and not always friendly towards those that are even my allies. My Kido serves me well enough, and if I’m honest I try to keep her abilities a secret.”

“Oh,” Ichigo says, looking down at the sword. He can’t help being curious. Kyo is such a walled off person, even if he pretends to be friendly.

“It isn’t that I don’t trust you,” Kyo says suddenly. “You’ve proved that you’ll go to great lengths to help me, even if it to save your own skin. And whatever you say, I can tell you’re loyal and your morals are rigid.”

“It’s fine,” Ichigo waves his hand in dismissal. “If you don’t want to tell me, don’t.”

“Ichigo…”

“It’s fine,” he says ago. “You’re not in the wrong. Everyone has secrets, and you’ll only know us until we return to our own time. In 2018.”

“I’ll still be around then, if I’m not killed,” Kyo tells him swiftly. “Shinigami age much slower than humans. At least a tenth as fast, if not slower than even that.”

“That’s great,” Ichigo says, “But honestly it won’t matter if you’re alive or dead. Truth is, you won’t remember us.”

“What?” Kyo’s brows furrow and he sits up straighter.

“You’ll forget about all of this,” Ichigo says again, “When we set the world to right, everything that we’ve done here will be erased from history. Including your memory. There’s nothing we can do for it. We’ve seen it in people we knew before. We met Nero when she was still alive, but as a servant she’s forgotten all about us. The same will happen to you.”

“No,” Kyo shakes his head, narrows his eyes. “No. I won’t! And if I do, you must remind me!”

“How would I do that?” Ichigo asks, leaning back lazily. The idea makes his chest clench and ache. No one will ever remember him or Mash. They aren’t in this for glory. They won’t find any. All that will happen if they succeed is he will return to his family and Mash will return to Chaldeas.

“Find me. Tell me.”

“Tell you? Tell you that I’m a time traveller and I met you two hundred years ago but you can’t remember because we stopped the apocalypse?”

He doesn’t say aloud that if they fail it won't matter. Kyo won’t remember them because Kyo won’t even exist anymore.

Kyo narrows his eyes in thought. He runs his fingers through his curly hair, brushing it away from his face where a single strand likes to fall nearly to his chin.

Finally, he snaps his fingers.

“I’ll tell you something no one else knows,” he announces abruptly. He leans forwards, grasps Ichigo’s hand and brings it to his blade before he whispers into his ear a truth that Ichigo will not fully comprehend for centuries.

Not until he stands on a cliff and looks upon his once friend, flanked by a man with silver hair and a person whose eyes are hidden with thick glass.

* * * * * *

[artificialqueens]

The kind of love you don't believe in (Jan x Jackie) - Pinkgrapefruit

[7337 words]

Jackie takes a deep breath and slams her empty glass on the table triumphantly.

“I’m going to make you believe in love.” She says with such conviction it’s impossible not to believe her. Her eyes twinkle. Jan wonders if this might be easier than either of them think.

“Okay.”

[ divorce lawyer/wedding planner au ]

A/N - i love this fic so much that i’ve tried to prolong it several times to no avail. it’s based off a Tumblr prompt me and jazz saw and ran with and honestly i’d make her a coauthor but she wouldn’t be impressed so instead it’s dedicated to her in the hopes that she’ll actually accept that for all her hard work and amazing comments while writing this. couldn’t have done it without her. i hope you fall as in love with it as i am.

*

Jan picks at the edges of her french-tipped manicure. It’s peeling. She stares at it for a second, examining the way the shiny polish reflects the sunlight filtering through the half-closed blinds. If she’s got her timings right, Bob will barrel through her office door in a minute or two and tell her to go home. Or to eat something. Or to do both which is the most probable outcome and Jan’s always been good at finding the most probable outcomes.

She’s a lawyer. It’s her job.

She’d started in family court and it was fun. There was a joy to bringing a child back home to their parents or filing adoptions and the kids’ faces would make Jan light up. She’d appealed for name changes and gender assignments and she was good, no one questioned that. One corner of her office had a neon rainbow sign and a comfy armchair and some books and some toys and it was usually occupied by a little kid who shouldn’t have to spend their afternoon in a lawyers office. But if she could look up from some paperwork to see a calm little kid - she could be calm and happy.

Then she started taking divorce claims.

And she’s a little less vibrant.

(The world feels a little less magical when your job is to help people split their lives in two.)

The problem is, she’s good. She’s really good. She hasn’t lost a divorce case and she gets a name for them. She gets recommended divorce cases until she only has a couple of gay kids and adoptions and custody agreements a month. Trixie takes the rest - nice, warm, motherly Trixie who makes everyone a cup of tea and asks them about their day and wears pastel pinks and yellows. Jan’s not bitter, she’s just jaded. She turns up to work in her charcoal pantsuits and her red heels, makes her coffee in her matte black mug, spends the day in her office with the door closed and leaves in silence. She’s happy, she’s just not what she used to be.

She tried to explain as much in the kitchenette the firm shares. There are only four of them; herself, Katya, Trixie and Bob - the boss lady. Bob does corporate, Katya does criminal, Trixie does the pro bono work and most of the kids’ stuff and Jan slogs away on divorces.

“I want to do something that feels meaningful,” she whined, pulling her turtleneck over her mouth as Bob pointed at the crossword question she couldn’t answer.

“Accumulation,” Katya said with a mouthful of apple that she crunched next to Jan’s ear, taking pleasure in the way the blonde scrunched her face up.

“Doesn’t fit the clue. It says impatience.” Bob reminded her, underlining it with her finger just to make a point.

“Anticipation,” Trixie yelled from the counter where she’d perched with her tea. “Jan use it in a sentence!”

“I anticipate going home.” Jan moaned to a cackle from the pink-clad woman. She stood, checking her turtleneck in the microwave door before leaving the kitchenette with a sigh.

So she’s waiting for Bob to come in and tell her to go home. It’s the middle of summer but it’s nearing seven and it’s a Friday. She’s got the weekend off for a wedding. She’d rather be in small claims court if she’s honest.

The idea of love becomes infinitely less appealing when you are surrounded by its decay at every turn. She’d rather just go home to her cat who she knows will always love her and cannot file a legal document saying it’s got irreconcilable differences and wants the house but none of the furniture.

No, Marceline would never.

*

Jackie opens the shop at six a.m. because she likes the feeling of the streets in the early morning. The sun is already up because it’s the middle of summer but the city still feels barren. It’s so quiet, she can hear her own heart among the calls of the birds. She enters ‘End Of The Aisle Weddings’ with a peppy smile and relaxed confidence and zero caffeine - saving that for her two p.m. pick me up when she and Rock can discuss their clientele over leftover wedding cake and hot drinks served in novelty mugs. It’s her favourite time of the day after opening.

She checks her planner almost immediately, plays her seventeen-ish voicemails while crossing things off the list and tacking on extra items that brides have found in a frenzy. She has one wedding coming up that should be fantastic but is also draining her more than usual with the number of requests the bride has. She gets about three calls a day making amendments and she’s more than happy to agree to them because most of the time she’s just a little drunk on the idea of being in love.

She calls the florist, the caterers and the photographer before Rock will be out of bed, skidding around the backroom’s slick floors in just her socks as she rearranges goodie bags and vases and table decorations organised by date.

Sometimes, she leans on the sage-green wooden table they use for meetings and looks through engagement photoshoots, planning her own. She imagines her hair in pin curls as her fiance dips her - probably in a field.

With their cat.

And some fairy lights.

She’s spent a lot of time hoping and dreaming and praying for her future wife to just walk through the door like they do in the romcoms she’s been born and raised on. She wants her ‘You’ve got Mail’ moment - a book with a rose in it and a woman she thought she hated but also loved. She wants someone to convince her to fall in love. She wants big moments and small gestures and the sweet warmth she sees in so many couples but she’s alone. It’s a cruel irony.

She hadn’t planned to be a wedding planner. She studies interior design and marketing at uni - interning at a wedding planner and never really leaving. She thought she’d do corporate, or events. Turns out, she’s pretty happy where she ended up.

Just a little lonely. Ever so slightly. Sometimes.

She brews another cup of chai and inhales the scent of cardamom pods, watching the business people on their ways to work through the big glass front windows - rain spattering on them like tiny droplets of light.

*

Jackie plans good weddings. She knows it’s not particularly objective but she knows she’s good at her job. By this point in the planning, she’s known the couple for close to a year so she’s pretty comfortable just to chill at the reception. She puts out fires where she’s needed in her white shirt and tailored black trousers - it’s typical attire for her - a black blazer hung on a hook somewhere, waiting for her exit. She’s comfortable, mobile and most importantly, she has pockets.

She knows she plans a good wedding which is why she’s just a little surprised to see (an objectively gorgeous) blonde woman sat at the bar, holding a tumbler of scotch. She’s in an off-the-shoulder yellow dress but somehow the summery look feels a little off-kilter when faced with her expression. It’s like it doesn’t fit her even though it fits her perfectly (objectively of course).

She scowls at the scotch before taking another sip and Jackie decides to approach as even though she’s terminally delightful she is not someone who enjoys the conga and it’s coming dangerously close.

She sidles up to the blonde girl, ordering a ‘sex on the beach’ with a smile to the bartender who she’s known for years. Jaida just winks, sliding over the drink and walking as far away as she can.

Jackie just sips her drink and watches for a minute or so until the girl flips her curls over her shoulder and stares her dead in the eyes. Her eyes are blue. A soul-piercing blue. But they look lost.

“Jan,” she announces, nonchalantly and Jackie has to blink a few times before she realises that the girl - Jan - is saying her name. She gives a frankly stupid little wave before she replies, voice full of amusement at her own stupidity.

“I’m Jackie. It’s lovely to meet you Jan,” she smiles, sipping her drink through the tiny straw Jaida always gives her after she spilt a particularly colourful cosmo down her old favourite shirt.

Jan nods towards her drink, “ Sex on the beach? All I’m getting from this wedding is a handshake in the garden.” She almost manages to maintain her slightly stormy demeanour but she cracks at the last second, blinding white teeth sparkling as Jackie has to hold onto the bar to stop herself falling off her chair in laughter.

“Not a wedding person?” Jackie asks, once she’s settled herself again and Jan tilts her head like she’s wondering why Jackie is bothering.

“I’m alone drinking expensive scotch at a bar,” Jan responds dryly. “I’m a divorce lawyer, I’m not exactly primed for this sort of thing. There is too much hope in this gazebo.”

Jackie feels the twinge of a smile at her cheeks and forces herself to look down for a second. “Fair enough, how do you know Rose and Nicky?”

Jan waves Jaida down and slips a tenner across the counter in exchange for another tumbler. She takes a long sniff and then a sip before she responds. “Rose - Rosé as we’ve called her ever since she chugged a bottle in uni - she was in my Law program - or at least the social work modules.” Jackie hums in approval and also a sort of understanding. She’s very good at putting the pieces together.

“You never planned to do divorces huh?” She asks but this time Jan’s the one to avert her gaze, staring ahead at the bottles of alcohol as Jackie rolls up the sleeves of her shirt  - it’s a warm day and the gazebo holding the bar and the dancefloor isn’t particularly well vented, she’ll bring it up with the company when she gets back to the office.

“Damn Sherlock.” Jan chuckles when she finally comes up with her response, tugging her dress back off the shoulders from where it’s risen up to. “No, I’m trained for family court - name changes, adoptions, custody - the sort of thing with happy children and good, fulfilling life changes. I’m just naturally good at homewrecking.”

“It’s not homewrecking if they ask for it,” Jackie points out, tilting her glass in a way that makes her look a little bit drunker than she is but then again she’s been on the champagne since ten when Rose forced a glass into her hand and the caterers are so well trained they just top you up.

She stands up, wobbling a bit on her heels and the uneven grass. “Wait,” she mutters, Jan placing a guiding hand on her lower back for stability. “You don’t believe in love do you?” It makes Jan snort in a very unladylike way but Jackie is deadly serious. “I’m a wedding planner. I love love. But you don’t.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in it,” Jan sighs dejectedly, helping Jackie back onto her stool and ordering her another drink, handing out tenners like they’re coins. “I just think it’s underwhelming and disappointing and never ends well. Women will disappoint me. My cat won’t.”

“You’ve never sounded gayer.” Jackie deadpans.

They look at each other inquisitively. Eyes drifting, searching.

“Only one of us wore a suit to a wedding.” Jan points out and they both burst into raucous laughter that makes the conga line (somehow still going) look at them a little strangely.

Jackie takes a deep breath and slams her empty glass on the table triumphantly.

“I’m going to make you believe in love.” She says with such conviction it’s impossible not to believe her. Her eyes twinkle. Jan wonders if this might be easier than either of them think.

“Okay.”

*

19:14

Janet are you busy?

19:18

Why.

19:21

I’m taking you to Karaoke.

*

Jan is pleasantly surprised to see Jackie in a mini dress but she’s also not mad about it. The dress is emerald green, hits just above her mid-thigh and is dangerously strappy and the heels Jackie paired with it make her legs look impossibly long. Jan also dressed up - but her purple mini dress feels more normal - less of a statement.

“Janet!” Jackie shouts from the entrance, clearly already tipsy even though it’s barely gone half-nine. She’s waving rather frantically and it takes willpower for Jan to move towards it instead of away but she reaches the girl who is warm and happy and she feels the stress in her shoulders melt away.

“Hi Jackie,” she sighs begrudgingly, holding the door for the brunette who practically skips into the bar that isn’t that empty. It’s a friday night. She should have expected it.

Jackie spins on her heels when they get inside and she gives Jan a once over with her eyes. “You’re not allowed whisky,” she decides after a little thought and Jan just stands there a little shellshocked as Jackie orders their drinks, winking at the bartender to get them quicker.

When she comes back to the high table Jan picked for them, she’s holding a glass of red wine and something that smells fruity which she sets in front of the blonde. Jan looks at it in disgust.

“What is that?” She asks, hoping she will like the answer.

“Pomegranate Mojito,” Jackie responds, looking smug and not at all phased by Jan’s death glare. “Drink up,” She says in a faux high-pitched tone and Jan mocks her as she sips the unnervingly pink drink.

She makes a face which makes Jackie almost spit out the wine she’d been drinking.

After about half an hour of watching drunk girls from the city university sing Taylor Swift off-key, Jackie decides they’re going to go up.

“I’m picking the song.” She demands and Jan raises an eyebrow, bemused.

“Okay Princess,” she responds because her drink is full again and it clearly had more alcohol than she’d been expecting. She’s a little disappointed that her whisky tolerance didn’t carry over into her weird cocktail tolerance - standing and immediately wishing she’d been sat down again.

Jackie once again leaves and returns smug, pushing the mojito towards Jan in a motion for the woman to down it which she does so dutifully - feeling it slide down immediately - smoother than the vodka shots she’d do in law school but still not quite her favourite scotch.

Bring it fucking on.

The first notes of ‘Nobody But You’ by Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani play and all Jan feels is regret.

She should never have let Jackie on her Spotify. That was a secret.

She is, however, pleasantly surprised to hear Jackie nail Blake Shelton.

*

15:07

Janet, I need to make name cards are you busy?

15:12

Fuck no.

Wait sorry, frick no.

15:20

Jannnnnnnn pleaseeeeee

15:34

I can leave at 5. Meet at yours?

15:35

You know where the key is if you beat me there

*

Jan does not beat her there - it would be impossible - she’s a lawyer who hasn’t left the office before six since she was twenty-two and Jackie owns a wedding planning business that despite having a very cute shop - half resides in her living room anyway. They may both be twenty-eight but they are very different.

Jackie does, however, open the door with a mug of coffee already brewed and a dot of ink on her otherwise bare cheek. It’s all Jan can do not to lick her finger and wipe it away, finding it endearing how the girl’s organised behaviour could turn chaotic on a moment’s notice.

She enters the apartment and relishes in how homey it feels. Her own isn’t as lived in as it should be after five years but Jackie’s is warm and painted in a sage green tone that highlights the light wood floors. She sees the brunette little set up on the rug and feels glad that she keeps a change of clothes in her office as she’s much better equipped to sit cross-legged on the floor in a sweater and some leggings rather than her usual pantsuit.

The coffee is just how she likes it, warm and sweeter than anyone should know about.

Her hair is still in a low bun so she removes one of the hair ties and lets it fall down her back in a wavy low pony, pulling the bits by her ears out so she feels less like she just came from an office and more like she belongs. The apartment always makes her feel this urge to become comfortable and she spends so much of her time uncomfortable she refuses to fight it.

Jackie just smiles as she watches the blonde adjust - it’s like watching a snake shed its skin and even now she looks a little less like the corporate robot she sometimes meets for coffee and a little more like the woman who fell asleep on the couch during ‘Ten Things I Hate About You’ with her mouth open. It’s cute.

They get to work on the cards pretty quickly or at least they try to. Jackie makes her write on a piece of notepaper before she lets her near the nice pens but they both realise rather quickly that her handwriting is chicken scratch.

“I do a lot of paperwork and I have to write fast to keep up with all the yelling,” she whines as she is relegated to writing little notes for the kids at this particular wedding. “How do you even know how to do this?” She asks, gesturing to the fountain pen and the fancy hand-lettered place cards scattered across the patterned rug.

Jackie sighs as some ink blobs at the end of an otherwise perfectly good name card and throws it into the discard pile with a huff. “My calligrapher fell through one time so I figured I could make extra money by doing them myself.” She admits. “Plus it is fun to use colourful pens.” Jan quirks an eyebrow at the mention of the colourful pens, scanning the rug indiscreetly for anything that isn’t black ink.

Jackie chuckles at her indiscretion and stands up, going to the cupboard by the kettle and, instead of pulling out tea or biscuits like one would usually keep next to a kettle, puls out a caddy of brightly coloured pens. She points vaguely to one. “That one’s purple and glittery.

“Purple and glittery?” Jan repeats back with childlike awe that makes Jackie snort indecently with laughter. Jan scowls. “I’m a lawyer, Jaqueline. My special occasion pen is a red biro,” she rebukes with a huff.

“Gimme that,” Jackie makes a grabby hand towards the pen Jan is now clutching and the woman mocks pulling it closer before handing it over. Jackie scribbles it on one of the discarded cards to check it still works and then takes a fresh new one and writes ‘Janet the Boss-Ass Lawyer’ on it in curly handwriting that makes Jan blush. She then fills the edges with hearts and hands it to Jan with a soft smile.

Jan holds it close to her heart before looking at it with tenderness. She examines it in the light of the industrial lamps Jackie has but she decides that’s not enough so she skitters into Jackie’s west-facing bedroom and lets the glitter sparkle in the golden hour sunshine. Jackie’s always three steps ahead of her so she follows slowly and patiently, listening to the soft mutters of the happy blonde who hugs her ferociously once they’re both looking at the sunset.

“Thank you,” she whispers, half holding her breath and Jackie smiles.

“You deserve to always be as happy as you are with that pen.” She tells her, dead serious and Jan nods slowly.

Jackie did not mean for her to take the pen.

*

12:41

Janet do you have my purple pen?

12:52

I know it’s your lunch break Jan.

13:24

I’m just concerned for the safety of the glitter pen.

*

“Even her handwriting is romantic, that fucking bitch,” Jan laments as she fills out the crossword.

“Ire,” Katya mutters, pointing to three boxes going downwards and Jan puts her hand out for a high five, pleased when Katya agrees. The word is neatly put in in purple, glittery ink and it brings a little something to her day - one could venture to call it joy but Jan’s never been that sort of person.

Katya’s only just come out of the storage cupboard she entered seven minutes ago and if Jan is right with her timings, Trixie will exit in a few minutes looking dishevelled and still with a hint of red lipstick on the outer corner of her mouth. She will eat an apple while sitting on the counter and be absolutely no use to Jan’s crossword.

Jan decides she is done with them for the day and leaves them to their own devices as she slinks back to her office. She places the pen down carefully in the holder full of only back biros because she likes to know where it is and pulls the notecard out of her briefcase just to look at it. Again. She would hesitate to call this emotion joy.

The notecard grounds her mind enough to sort herself out for the last adoption case of the month and Jan lets her mouth twitch into a smile when she thinks of the kid she’ll be fighting for. He is small, sweet and tenacious and reminds her of Jackie in a way she did not expect.

When he runs into her office, he makes a beeline for her desk and she ruffles his hair in a form of greeting. He has been there a few times before so he is comfortable and he collects the puzzle book from her magazine rack and peruses her pens to fill it in before retreating to the armchair in the back. He picks the purple one and she cannot blame him. She would too.

She settles the papers rather quickly getting everything ready for the court date set in a week and a half. All they need is for a judge to stamp them and the boy can go home secure. She relishes in the opportunity to provide that for him and she texts Jackie about how hopeful she is. Jackie responds with a pen emoji and Jan chuckles at her through the phone.

15:12

The pen is safe Jacqueline.

15:15

That’s all I wanted to know Janet.

15:23

Is this our first fight?

15:25

Are you already planning the divorce?

15:27

That was low.

15:30

I’m not sorry. Get back to work pen thief.

*

10:20

Are you using the mug?

10:24

It’s an abomination.

10:26

You didn’t answer my question

*

Jackie makes mugs for all her clients. It’s a personal hobby, decorating them with ‘Mrs and Mrs’ or whatever titles. Sometimes it’s a wedding hashtag. Sometimes it’s for a stubborn lawyer who needs a little more sunshine in her life.

She thinks of it as a joke and it is… to begin with. Then she’s on her iPad making mockups on procreate and it just sort of happens.

It’s a big mug - one of those that carry more coffee than you need with room for whipped cream (there should always be room for whipped cream, says the lactose intolerant wedding planner). It’s a white base with small, bright rainbows that says ‘Girl, you’re testi-fine’ in a graphic nineties font and it makes Jackie want to screech every time she sees it (she keeps it on display for this exact reason because nothing brings more joy than catching it in the corner of her eye during a dull moment).

She wraps it up pretty in silver paper and places it into a nondescript cardboard box for delivery. They meet at a coffee shop one morning when Jan is bored and Jackie has a lull in weddings and she hands it over with a devilish grin that makes Jan squint at her to read between the lines. The lines are not obvious.

Jan does not screech. She stares for a very very long time and then, she lets out a very slow controlled breath. And then she loses it. She cackles loudly and the patrons of the cafe look at the two lesbians in the corner with bemused faces and Jackie doesn’t care because this mug is one of the greatest decisions she’s ever made.

Jan takes it back to the office and fills it with hot coffee - three sugars and almond milk and just sits with it for a second. She almost wants people to see it but it’s so awful she will never admit to it. When Katya walks in, however, she is not angry. The blonde takes one look at the garish print and cheerful message and has to cling to the countertop for support - the mug staring at her until she can breathe again.

“That is the best mug I have ever seen and I demand one.” Katya decides and Jan texts Jackie under the table who immediately responds with a selfie of herself with a plain mug and the caption ‘I am plotting.’

Jackie plots exquisitely and makes three more lawyer-y mugs.

Jan is oddly proud.

*

20:32

Jacks.

Are you busy?

I want you to meet my cat.

*

“That is the single gayest message I have ever received,” Jackie announces, stepping into the house from the rain and shaking her umbrella out of the door decisively. Jan is already there with a novelty mug with the slogan ‘gay and can do maths’ printed across it, filled with hot chocolate and too much whipped cream and Jackie takes it readily - soaking up the heat of the house to replace some the early winter climate stole from her.

She sinks onto Jan’s expensive but still plush couch and pulls a blanket over herself like this is a usual occurrence. For all the times Jan has been at hers, Jackie has never ventured into the lawyer’s place and yet despite the blondes complaints about how barren it is - Jackie feels at home.

The walls are a little bare, the colours a little dark and the floor is cold even with the fire lit but she still feels cosy under her blanket, mug held just below her chin. Jan sets her own mug of green tea on the sideboard before she exits the open-plan kitchen-living room, on a mission to find her cat. When she returns she is holding a perfectly happy beige and coffee coloured long-haired cat who snuggles into the blonde’s chest with a purr. She nuzzles her nose into it, a blush spreading across her cheek as she notices Jackie stare.

“Jaqueline, this is Marceline,” she says as she carefully holds out the cat who is perfectly happy to be held. Jackie cradles her carefully.

“Hi Marceline,” she coos and Jan smiles softly as she brushes the light cat hairs off her flannel.

Jackie holds the ragdoll cat with one hand and boops her nose with the other, giggling as she pulls her face back, mewling slightly.

“Oh, what’s Jackie doing to you,” Jan coos in a voice Jackie would usually reserve for babies. “What’s the matter, baby girl?” Jackie just watches as the cat is removed from her arms and burrows back into Jan’s chest as she slides back into the sofa with her. Jackie rests her chin on Jan’s shoulder, peering at the clearly attention-spoiled cat.

“You’re a helicopter parent,” she jibes sweetly and Jan very carefully elbows her.

“You would be the worst helicopter parent,” Jan rebukes but instead of laughing, Jackie gulps and leans back a little bit. Jan puts Marceline down so she can face the brunette. “Hey, what did I say?” She asks, confused.

“Sorry,” Jackie mutters under her breath, “I’ve just always hoped I wouldn’t be my mum if I became a parent.” Jan gets it. Well, she doesn’t really get it but she places her warm, fur-covered hand on Jackie’s bare forearm and leans towards her slightly.

“You would be a fantastic parent Jackie.” She tells her sincerely. “I swear.”

Jackie smiles again and Jan thinks she would do anything for that smile.

*

06:21

Jackie I think I’m sick.

06:23

Temperature?

06:24

Fucking hot.

06:25

I can’t trust you at home by yourself can I?

Screw it I’m coming to pick you up. Wear clothes.

*

Jackie looks at the girl asleep in her passenger seat with a soft but worried smile. She doesn’t look awful - pale and a bit peaky but it’s probably just a fever she tells herself as they drive to the shop. She’s planning to set her up in the back corner on a pile of cushions and blankets scavenged from both of their apartments. Ideally, she’d stay at home with her but winter weddings are just as popular as summer weddings so she’s got a fair few to work on today and she can’t do it from home. Or Jan’s.

She has to wake Jan up when they get there and it pains her a little bit to do so, head lolled against the condensated window - it can’t be comfortable. She rubs a gloved hand up and down Jan’s arm to try and rouse her and she comes around easily but looking sleepy.

“I feel like shit,” she mutters and it makes Jackie laugh because of course, Jan doesn’t become sweeter when she’s sick.

They eventually get her situated with a half-gallon water bottle and a hefty amount of blankets and Jackie will admit it’s adorable to see her cocooned as Jackie sits at the work table with flower arrangements splayed out around her.

It’s just past eleven when Jan rouses from her nap and she squints until her eyes adjust to the relatively bright shop lights.

“What are you doing?” She questions, straining her neck to see what Jackie’s working on. Jackie raises an eyebrow and takes the portfolio over to her, pulling one of the many blankets over her legs and placing a hand on Jan’s forehead as a gauge of illness.

“So,” Jackie starts, flicking open the leather portfolio to the relevant page. “Someone wants a coastal wedding in winter.” She winces in disagreement and Jan lets her head fall onto Jackie’s shoulder.

“Well, love is a beach,” She quips and Jackie rolls her eyes.

“You’re lucky I wouldn’t hit a sick person,” she retorts.

“How do you do this job?” Jan whines after watching Jackie highlight things for ten minutes straight. Admittedly Jan also highlights things but it’s usually in an ugly neon yellow and not pastel blue.

“What do you mean? It’s plan-tastic,” Jackie jokes and Jan looks like she would stab her if she could move her body. “Do you want soup?” She asks trying to change the subject before Jan actually murders her.

“Yes,” Jan harrumphs but she does smile.

While Jackie is making the soup (or warming it up out of the can) Jan flicks through one of the albums Jackie keeps at the back of the shop and finds herself smiling at some of the pictures. She finds the album from Nicky and Rose’s wedding and comes across a picture of her and Jackie at the bar. She’s smiling - they both are. It’s cute.

“She has a heart!” Jackie exclaims when she comes back to the blonde looking at wedding photos and Jan scowls like a petulant child, only taking the soup when Jackie tells her she’ll take it back to the kitchenette and Jan realises she’s not sure she can use her legs at the moment. It’s good soup. It’s good company.

Jackie drives her home at the end of the day, tucking her into bed with a cold compress and when Jan wakes up the next morning she finds the brunette on the couch under ‘her’ blanket with an empty mug of hot chocolate on the sideboard and Marceline curled up by her cheek.

She presses a kiss to her temple and curls up on the other end of the couch with a glass of water, flicking through the channels on the TV until she finds a rerun of Sleepless in Seattle which she watches with the volume on low and subtitles on to let Jackie sleep a little longer.

*

15:34

Jackie?

Are you free tomorrow?

It’s a saturday?

Like 6-12

15:45

Should I ask?

15:47

City LGBT Gala

It’ll be nice I swear

It’s just Trixie’s bringing a date

15:48

Are you asking me on a date Janet?

15:50

Would you say yes?

*

Jan picks Jackie up at six. She stands under the porch of Jackie’s apartment building pressing the buzzer and wondering why you host an LGBT Gala in the middle of January. She leans on the dry wall and watches the spitting rain hit the pavement, grateful for the long black umbrella she’s brought.

She’s in a black blazer with fitted black trousers that end just above the ankles making her short legs look much longer. Under the blazer is a silk camisole in a champagne colour and she’s wearing nude Louboutins to tie it all together. Her long blonde hair is down and she examines herself in the glass door just to reaffirm she looks good. She feels good - better than ever really and as she waits for Jackie she’s pretty sure she knows why.

The Persian is in a floor-length gold dress that fits her just right, her brown hair curled and tumbling down her back.  It all just works and Jan feels like a lucky, lucky woman to be escorting her - she tells her as much.

“God Jackie,” she tells her, eyes wide and honest. “You look… damn.”

Jackie smiles shyly, blushing like she doesn’t believe a word she’s being told. “You don’t scrub up too bad yourself,” She quips back, making a motion for Jan to twirl which the blonde does immediately. “Those trousers are good for your ass.” She doesn’t mean to say it (she does). “Are you sure this isn’t too much?” She gestures to herself this time and Jan shakes her head.

“God no Jacks, you’re gorgeous,” she tells her emphatically and Jackie touches her chin gently in a joking manner to close her gaping mouth. Jan puts up the umbrella and thanks the height of the heels because she’s the almost the same height as Jackie in heels. There’s usually only an inch or two difference but now there’s less than half an inch and she feels powerful.

She helps Jackie into the car and then runs around to clamber in herself - grateful for the taxi.

“So what are we doing?” Jackie asks, nervousness hinting in her voice. She’s playing with the edge of her skirt and Jan takes the hand firmly.

“It should be fun,” she tells her, playing with the ring on Jackie’s thumb. “Me and Trixie are there for our work with trans kids - she’s bringing Katya, you’ll like her. She’s insane but she also does criminal law so it’s to be expected. There’ll be dinner, some activists will do speeches, there’s a queer prom aspect too so we’ll greet some kids and have a chat - you’ll love that. Then we dance and drink heavily.” She takes a deep breath mostly for comedy because Jackie still seems tense and the brunette cracks a smile.

“It sounds fun Janet,” she says, calmer now, intertwining their fingers properly and squeezing.

Jan has to let go of Jackie’s hand to put the umbrella up and they link arms again as they walk into the foyer of the grand looking hotel hosting the gala. They meet Trixie and Katya in the glamorous round-room, Trixie dressed in a rose-pink gown and Katya in a burgundy suit similar to Jans. Jan was right, Katya is insane but she is wonderful and Jackie ends up seated between herself and Jan at the dinner (Jan offered to sit next to the flamboyant charity manager so that Jackie would feel more comfortable and she’s very happy she took the offer).

The first course is Flank steak flatbread with roasted tomato, cilantro, roasted garlic and black cumin mayo. It’s decadent and stupidly delicious and Jackie asks Jan if she can get her the number of the catering company which Jan gladly agrees to, hand on Jackie’s lower back through the opening in the chair. It’s meant as comfort but Katya winks at them both several times and Jackie just blushes until Trixie calls her down. The other people on the table talk to Trixie about her work with LGBT youth and Jackie has to place a hand on Jan’s arm until Trixie points out it’s Jan’s work too and the blonde calms the fuck down. Cocktails are delivered to the table and Jan does not scoff at the fruity beverage. Jackie calls it progress.

For the main, Jan chooses a roasted lamb leg with thyme sauce, ratatouille vegetables and sauté potatoes while Jackie goes for the mixed grill with oriental rice and seasonal vegetables. At some point, Jackie ends up with all Jan’s veg and Jan ends up with half of Jackie’s rice but neither can distinguish when it happened. Nothing much interesting happens in the main course. So far no one has asked why Jackie is here which is a relief to her and no one has openly insulted Jan or said anything particularly incendiary so she feels safe in her peace of mind.

Dessert is cheesecake with berries and it is precisely when Jackie decides she needs to be brought to all future gala events. She whispers this into Jan’s ear and the blonde snorts into a raspberry. Katya watches them both and it makes the brunette feel like she’s done something wrong even when she and Trixie have a perfectly lovely and definitely hypothetical conversation about wedding flowers for people who like pink and red. Jackie assures them that she could do it easily and makes sure to hand over a business card she’s been keeping in the back of her phone for years. As a wedding planner specialising in queer events, she’d figured this could be a good chance for promotion. The whole table ends up discussing Jackie’s business by the coffee and truffles portion of the dinner and Jan just leans back with a proud smile as Jackie hands another business card to the over-eager charity director who wants a ceremony for himself and his longtime boyfriend.

The speeches are good but dull and she drinks her cocktail and then part of Katya’s in waiting for it to be over.

The meeting of the little gay kids in their suits and their dresses and their pronoun pins though is everything Jackie had hoped it would be and more and it makes her heart so happy to watch a teenage non-binary couple slow-dance to Billie Holiday.

Jan hits it off with a six-year-old called Milo who asks her if Jackie is a princess to which Jan replies “yes, she’s the princess of Persia,” and Jackie wants to cry. She takes a photo on her phone of them hugging and texts it straight to Jan because it’s precious.

Somehow, in all the madness, they end up slow-dancing. It’s not really the right song for it and Jackie doesn’t want to get makeup on Jan’s blazer no matter how many times Jan says it’s okay but it’s warm and comfortable and Jackie wonders why she’s spent the better part of eight months not being in Jan’s arms.

They end up on the very edge of the dancefloor because Jackie decides she needs to take her shoes off (she doesn’t) and suddenly it feels more real because Jan is towering above her and she feels like she’s in the rom-com she’s always wanted.

“Jan,” she whispers because the moment feels too important to speak aloud in, “do you believe in love?” She sounds so innocent and she’s looking up at Jan with her brown eyes so fragile that Jan pulls her even closer - the hand on her lower back warm and firm.

“I think we all have a capacity for love,” she muses as they sway out of time with the music. “It’s very human of us. But yes, I believe in love.” Jackie nods slowly, processing what’s being said.

She places her head on Jan’s chest and feels the woman’s shallow breaths in the rise and fall of her chest. She removes her head and looks into the blonde’s ocean blue eyes with a sigh, dropping the hand she’s been holding and wrapping both arms loosely around Jan’s neck.

“Do you know why I believe in love?” Jan asks suddenly. But it’s not sudden, not really, it’s built on layers and layers of coffee dates and mugs and purple glitter pens. Her eyes flick from Jackie’s brown ones down to her lips and back up a couple of times before she answers herself, watching the way Jackie looks completely at ease in her arms.

“You,” she mumbles.

And then they’re kissing and it’s soft but it’s passionate and it tells Jackie everything she needs to know about the way she makes Jan feel. It doesn’t last long, Jackie pulling away before they can scar any small children, but the look in Jan’s eyes is as pure and loving as Jackie has ever seen.

“You did it, Jaqueline,” Jan mutters into her ear, pulling her closer still until they are essentially hugging while moving in a slow circle. “You fucking did it.”

Jackie giggles and presses a kiss to Jan’s nose, having to rise up on her toes to do so, “you planning the divorce yet?” She jokes and Jan rolls her eyes playfully.

“Not a fucking chance.”

*

15:37

What wine did you want again baby?

15:40

Just pick up that red we always get

If you’re late for our own damn engagement party Janet I’m divorcing you.

15:45

I’m on my way babe. I have the wine. Calm down.

*

They’re calling it an engagement party but really it’s their closest friends sitting in their living room petting Marceline and drinking wine. They’re celebrating something everyone knew was coming and eating tortilla chips while they do it.

“Welcome to the engage-Jan-t party!” Jan announces to Jackie, Nicky, Rose and Bob as she walks through the door only five minutes early. They’re very lucky most of the group is usually late and Jackie only reminds her of that by raising both eyebrows at the pun and swiftly opening the wine to try and pretend she’s not stressed.

“What have we got?” Jan asks softly, pressing a chaste kiss to her fiance’s cheek as she peruses the alcohol selection. Nicky turns around on the sofa and winks.

“I’ve brought some rosé,” she jokes and Rose hits her before asking for a glass of wine to take the edge of her wife’s stupidity. Bob calls them all dykes before heading to the bathroom to ask her partner when they’ll get here.

Katya and (a very pregnant) Trixie are the last to show up, Rock and Bob’s partner Jinkx turning up only a few minutes earlier.

“Rosé?” Nicky offers Jinkx and they smirk before shaking their head.

“If it’s your wife, no thank you,” they joke and Jan high fives them with a grin.

They end up spending the evening on Jan’s extortionately large couch eating nachos and questioning how Jackie managed to get Jan to fall in love with her.

Jackie smiles coyly and tilts her head, bumping Jan’s shoulder with her own.

“It all started at a wedding…”

[lilquill]

My Nani’s Nankhatai

Hello friends! This right here is pretty much the only cookie recipe I can’t mess up! My grandmother sent me this recipe and it’s so good I have to share!

Ingredients:

1½ cups all-purpose flour

½ cup besan/chickpea flour/gram flour/whatever name you know it by

⅓ cup sugar

4-8 tablespoons** ghee (clarified butter) or butter

2 green cardamom pods

One pinch salt

¼ teaspoon baking powder

*Note: You need ⅙ as much sugar as flour, no matter what ratio you use.

**Another note: the amount of ghee I’ve added has fluctuated depending on the weather. When it’s colder, there’s more ghee heaped onto each tablespoon because ghee is more solid when cold. When the weather is warmer, I need to add more spoonfuls of ghee because it’s more liquid and runny.

Steps:

Mix the flour, salt, and baking powder in a bowl.

Open up the cardamom pods. Grind up the seeds. (You can use a rolling pin to crush them, that’s fun! Or just use a grinder.) Add them to the bowl and mix well again.

Add the sugar to a different bowl.

Add the ghee to the same bowl as the sugar and mix until it’s fluffier and a lighter color. If you’re unsure of the quantity of ghee you need to add because of the subjectiveness I explained above, err on the side of caution; it’s easier to add more ghee later on if the dough isn’t what it’s supposed to look like.

Add the butter/sugar mix slowly to the flour mix. I recommend using your hands! The dough should be a little crumbly, but it should easily hold shape when you roll it up into small balls in your hand. (See the pics below for a reference!) If you’ve added all the ghee and the dough is too dry, just add more ghee a little at a time. If the dough is the right consistency but you still have more ghee+sugar mix to add, stop and throw in a bit more sugar, then mix.

Once you’ve got the right consistency, roll up small balls and flatten a bit between your palms.

Bake how you would usually bake shortbread. I think it’s like. 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 20 minutes? If you’re using a toaster oven, probably go for around 250-300 degrees Fahrenheit and maybe a bit longer. There should be little cracks on top, and they should  be a little brown.

The hardest part: wait for them to cool. Then, MONCH.

Variations!

If you don’t have any besan, feel free to go just full-on flour! Also, ladoo besan and kala chana besan work in this recipe too!

Replace part or all of the ghee with butter. Ghee isn’t in the cupboard of every family, but using butter gets great results too! Just soften the butter in the microwave for 10 seconds or something so that you can mix it up with the sugar.

Double/triple the amount of cardamom you add! I actually usually add 5 pods because I like to live my life with maximum flavor.

Check under the cut to see pictures illustrating (and demystifying) the process! (Also take a peek there because it has some good notes about my process.)

Our ingredient lineup! I used kala chana besan instead of normal besan or ladoo besan, but it’s fine in the recipe. Usually I would use one of the other two, but this is totally fine! Note the little steel bowl between the kala chana packet and the baking powder. It’s called a katori, and it’s what I use instead of measuring cups for the flour, besan, and sugar. This is important to note because when I’m talking about “cups” in the recipe above, I’m actually measuring stuff in one of these little guys instead. :

Our two flours in a bowl! This was 1.5 katoris of all-purpose flour and 0.5 katoris of besan. :

The amount of salt I used! I just sorta dumped it onto a tablespoon.

The amount of baking powder I used. I was lazy and didn’t want to pull out a teaspoon, so again, tablespoon was used for this one too! :

All of those ingredients mixed up! :

The amount of cardamom I added:

The ground-up cardamom, mixed in with the flour. Since I ground it up pretty finely, you can’t really see it, but it’s totally fine if yours is a little coarser:

1/3 katori sugar, in a bowl:

The sugar mixed with four heaping tablespoons of ghee. As you can see, it becomes fluffier and lighter than the plain unmixed ghee in the contained to its left. Unfortunately I couldn’t grab a picture of the quantity of ghee I added because my hands were greasy, rip!

The dough after all the ghee was mixed in with the flour. It’s still a little too dry:

I added one large tablespoon more of ghee to fix the dryness of the dough:

And here’s the dough at the right consistency:

And here’s one little flattened sphere of that dough, to know roughly the size and shape you’re going to eventually put on your tray and stick in your oven:

And finally, here’s the cookies after they popped out of the oven, with a lighting change because the sun set while they were baking! As you can see, some of them are a little smaller, because my mom rolled up those ones and she makes them smaller. It’s all good though, and you still get great results! Since I used kala chana besan, these cookies are a little darker and a little less yellow than what I usually get, so don’t be worried if yours aren’t this color! :

I hope that was helpful and I really really really love these cookies! They’re very easy to make and super delicious, and they make your house smell so so SO GOOD. I would cry of happiness if you send me pics of your results (or reblog and add your pictures) if you try out this recipe!! Let me know how it goes for you also!!

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

September Song (3/3)

I'm sorry @kitten-wrath that this took so long, but I do hope you like it. @hoodoo12 @xerxezra thanks for brainstorming with me. By the way, @kitten-wrath there's a reference to one of your fics. I'm sure you'll know it immediately, but to those that don't the read her fic here (Link to referenced fic)

I'm really proud of this fic. It references many of my other fics since most of them being to my Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick series. I would list all the references, but there's too many. Though, I can list a few of the bigger references for context (Sentimental Reasons, As The World Falls Down, The Little Big Things)

Also, special thanks go to @her-victori for reading a majority of my fics in a short span of time. You Rock! As well to random anons who leave me sweet words in my ask box.

If you haven't read the first or second of this fic then here's the link. (Read Part1 Here) (Read Part2 Here)

In this fic the reader tries to be more reserved and mature for Rick, but what will he think?

______________

Chapter 3: One hasn't got time

Random fish jumped out of the water, a cricket jumped over his foot, and there you two were amidst the music of the night. You sat on the hood of his car, swinging your feet back and forth, wondering what was going on inside of that head of his. You knew Zeta-7 was studying you, with one his hands in his pocket while the other held your heels, half hidden by the darkness. Was he worried you were going to walk barefoot on the gravel, or preoccupied with the state of your naked feet? Might've been the shade of nail polish you had on your toes, or simply he was thinking of a completely unrelated topic; of which you may never know. Nonetheless, you were compelled to apologize again in order to fill up the gap of conversation. “Rick, I really am sorry if I ruined our date. I should've just talked to you about how I was feeling.”

Walking around the car, placing your discarded heels in the back seat, Zeta-7 opened the trunk and searched around until he found what he was looking for. “Y-y-you didn't ruin our date,” he assured, dropping on one knee beside you so he could slip his sandals on your feet. “you saved it. It's - it's one less thing t-to worry about. Boy, I'm glad I-I still had a pair of flip flops in the trunk. They sure came in handy.”

“How long have those been in there.”

“I'd say a-a few months.”

A few months probably meant they'd been in there since that time you two went to the beach. You checked your now sandaled foot, giggling at the dramatic size differences between your foot and the sandal. “Hmm, I guess this means I'm not Cinderella; the slipper doesn't fit. That's a good thing because prince charming is so not my type.”

When he stood back up, he wondered. “Then what is y-your type?”

You'd think he'd by now that you had never been crazy about guys. Sure, in your teen years you had your random crushes on the guys in your art and science class, but nothing specific came to mind as to why they were appealing to you; you had other more activities which kept you happily diverted. And now, taking in the sharp lines of his suit, and eager want of understanding, you felt your heart flutter as it did when he was especially attractive to you. It wasn't so much in his appearance but in the feelings you had when light-hearted, casual sweetness flitted across the lines of romanticism; when smart, witty repartee translated to golden words, soft touches, and knowing. But to Rick, he needed both the conscious and unconscious understanding; the affirmation that you held him in high regard. “That's a good question Ricky. You know it's not goblin kings or fire-breathing dragons who are cursed princes in disguise, neither is it swimsuit models, or rock stars, and never villains. Honestly, I didn't know I had a type until I met someone who challenged the conventional rules.”

With raised brow, he shifted his weight to his other foot, pleasantly intrigued. “Is th-that so?”

Why the smartest man in the universe had to doubt the validity of his place in your heart and skeptical when varying parties voiced conflicting opinions would perhaps be the ongoing mystery, but you dare not hurt him further. “It is. I like people who are comforting, who can cook and garden. Maybe they'll tell me silly stories, and make me tea before they say goodnight. Being multilingual never hurt, and if they have a cute stutter, they might as well kill me with cuteness when paired with darling buck teeth. Hmm, reminds me of a certain mountain king I knew once upon a dream. Though the only difference between him and you is that he was very lonely, and as for you, I hope you'll never have to be again.”

You looked up at him, with cheeks flaming after this sort confession, finding that your usual open affections were a mix teasing and simple flirtations, but you looked away from his burning, but altogether odd gaze of his since your heart beated wildly in your chest from it; for a great deal of the time, you two were very casual with one another as you had been when you were just friends. Zeta-7 stepped closer, and put his hand under your chin and lifted your face to look at it keenly. “With you,” he smiled protectingly before he pressed a kiss on your forehead. “I-I-I never will be.”

You certainly hoped so. “Rick, I think it's getting late. Should we call it a night?”

“Are y-you tired?”

“Not in the slightest. Why? Feeling like an adventure?”

“Not exactly, but can I take y-you somewhere?”

“Sure. As long as you're there, then I don't mind.”

_______________

You snuggled into his side, trying to steal as much warmth as you could. “Since when did you have a hammock?”

“Since th-this morning. Do you like it?”

“I love it. Especially since it gives me an excuse to just come over and chill in the backyard. Maybe do a little bird watching, flirt with the gardener. You know.”

“Gosh, y-you can come over whenever you want. Mi casa es s-su casa. Remember?”

His home was your home? Well, you always felt it was in a way. As ever there was a feeling of unchangingness about the night sky, and with you two returning to the general lazy routine that was as delightful as it was elusive, you wondered how you were going to convince yourself to leave the comfort of his arms. You were happy that he chose to allow tonight's events go, and focus on the good parts, but while things changed at a steady pace, there were moments like this and in between, like at the ice cream shop which made you conscious of his want of family; of intimacy; of closeness to chase away all the lonely shadows which were always around the corner. You owed him a great deal, and honestly, you were in want of those things too. “I'm happy that you say that Rick,” you answered matter of factly. “because I can't wait for the day when it really is. Well, whenever you're home is ready to receive me.”

The hand which had been absentmindedly rubbing your arm stopped. And again, you heard him sniffle as was typical when he was emotional, and his heart was beating a little fast. You sincerely hoped you wouldn't hurt him with all this excitement. And when he calmed a little, he turned his body to face you, smiling softly at this possibility. “I-I-I look forward to that day too.”

________________

Pots and pans are moved around, and he began to make his special brew. Unlike the mediocre ingredients which you had in your home, Zeta-7 had some of the freshest, and most potent herbs and spices which could be found in this part of the world. If you hadn't known better you'd say they were brought straight from India, and then to your surprise, he proceeded to tell you that they were, and how he regularly visits when he can. With delight, he tells of the exotic culture, of its people, the food, and the points of interest that would never be found in travel pamphlets; painting scenes and landscapes.

Like always he knew how to match your mood to a flavor, and give you just what you needed. From the cabinets, and from the pantry he retrieved what he needed, and lined them up on the counter. Whole cloves, green cardamom pods, cinnamon sticks, which he breaks into pieces, freshly chopped ginger, ground nutmeg, white peppercorns, star anise, and loose black tea. Soon, the air was full of spices, and the Masala Tea was near completion; it was your favorite and made you think of many other similar times when you two sat together over tea to discuss many a topic which was suitable to talk about in the evening. With care, Rick poured his concoction into your new mug, and he poured his into a Shoney's mug and lightened both with milk, and sweetened them with honey. With the spoon he used to stir, he tasted it to be sure, then held it out to you. “I hope it's t-to your liking.”

“You know it always is, for you know what I like.” The first sip is heavenly, and you sigh happily as he watches you in amusement. “Rick, what's so funny?”

He holds your gaze for a moment, before he chuckles. “It's a-a secret.”

You stuck out your tongue, but he doesn't relent and goes on to drinking his tea. Zeta-7 can be a tease when he wanted to be, but he isn't so unkind as to not apologize. “I'm sorry, I-I-I don't mean to offend you or anything, but I'd love to make it up to you if you'd let me. I um - I got something for you.”

Pulling several small boxes from his inner suit pockets, which were definitely bigger in the inside, he handed them to you. “When I was on Mars last month, I saw a few things that reminded me of you. Do you want t-t-to know what they are?”

“Rick, you didn't have to do this. You spoil me enough as it is, but I would like to know.”

“Gosh, I wanted t-t-to do it. After all, y-you are my favorite.”

“I better be.” you winked. “Should I open it now?”

“If y-y-you want to. I hope y-you will like them.”

”

Taking a deep breath, you carefully unwrapped the sparkly gift paper and opened the first box which had a precious rose quartz apple brooch that you had only seen on TV. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Almost. Y-you see, on Mars, they manufacture a-a lot of - many similar products which you could find on Earth, except they tend t-to be more technological. This, for example, was originally made t-to act as a decorative cooling device for those really hot Martian days, but I modified it t-to do this.”

Cupping your hands with his, you gasped as it warmed your hands, and an inner calm took over you. He continued. “It'll calm you down any time you feel overwhelmed, and it doubles as a-a hand warmer. All y-you have to do is think good thoughts, and it'll magnify them.”

Unable to see where the hidden technology and mechanisms were, you wondered. “Is it magic?”

“Hohoho, if y-you want it to be. I-I-I know you don't - don't always like how you're meds make y-you feel and I wanted you to be able to be comfortable. And it'll come in handy when winter comes a-around.”

Trying it for yourself, it made you wonder as it soothed you if he had used properties from those empathic plants that existed on the planet with the ioculus and giant flowers. Who knows, but it felt wonderful, like a balm for your soul. Opening the next box, there was a hair clip in the shape of a puppy dragon. “Oh my goodness,” you gasped. “this is just too precious. Rick, what did you…how did you... ”

“I-I know how much you love them. It's not like th-the real thing, but it's c-cute isn't it?”

You didn't hesitate to clip it on your hair, feeling your smile growing. “Its freaking adorable. Sweet, sweet cookie man, please tell me they make other jewelry with similar designs.”

“Hohoho, they do but th-they sort of double as weapons. The hair clip can only summon them when th-they are within range of-of course.”

“What if I wanted to be queen of the puppy dragons? You never know, maybe I'm a dangerous woman. I can be ferociously adorable. When I want to be.”

Zeta-7 seemed to be considering this idea, and you had to poke him to make him realize you had simply been joking; mostly joking. The last box which laid on your lap was a bit heavier, and there were several layers of holographic tissue paper you had to peel away before you finally saw what it was. You felt tears prick at the back of your eyes sight of it; a miniature glass terrarium necklace, with a shrunken sunflower that had an iridescent shimmer on its petals.“You couldn't have bought this. Did you make it?”

“I-I did for the most part. That's a hybrid sunflower that can only be found on the Citadel, and I used metals that can rival gold and silver in its durability. It's - I-I-I could go into the mechanics of it, but I-I think that would ruin the surprise. M-mi corazón, if-if you look inside you'll see what I-I see when I think of you.”

Staring at it intently, it took a retina scan to verify the user, and then you saw clips of his memories of you. You saw yourself from his perspective, dancing around him while wearing your hello kitty pajamas; of you all sniffly and sick on the couch; that time you had flour on your cheeks after your failure in baking; of you blowing kisses; of you fast asleep amongst all the plants of his conservatory; of your joy as you pointed to things from the ferris wheel; of your hands as you touched up his makeup on his arms; of painting; of your tears and surprise; of huddling for warmth; of feeding his turtles; of you standing in the rain, drenched from head to toe; of you handing him clover; of your right above him, tickling and kissing him in the grass; of your Rick cosplay; of you standing in the half light of the moon; as a princess, confused as to who was who as you stepped into the ballroom; of hundreds of butterflies shielding you; trying to hide a shameless amount of candy; of you commanding plants to your will; of you sitting on the ground with a scraped knee and mess of Doritos and very surprisingly of you as a child handing him a rose from your father's garden before it all faded away. “I can't believe this.” you gasped, looking away in favor of Rick. “You've met me before?”

Scratching the back of his neck, he confessed sadly. “Yeah.”

“So when you said it wasn't the first time you waited for me, then what? You really did meet me as a child? In this dimension?”

“It's a-a long story. You probably wouldn't even remember.”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

“For very similar reasons as t-to why I had to wait in your dream. It's - I've known a-about you even before y-you were born, but that's - that's a-a different story for another day. As I said, it's a-a-a really long story, but I promise t-t-to tell you everything.”

He saw you grow up in real life and in a dream, he must have known about you for years. And yet, he waited. Why? That brought up so many other questions, but for now, you only considered him with a softer, deeper affection. “You're full of surprises aren't you? Always one step ahead of me. I'd say that's not fair, but I don't have a right to. You always have a good reason. You….you really do know me, don't you?”

Feeling warm lips on your temple, he chuckled. “N-n-not everything, but I like t-to try. I doubt anyone could know everything, but I- I like you. I-I-I know you could do better, but I just want you.”

“To think that all I wanted was for you to like me more.”

“Hohoho, I doubt I-I could like you less. Y-you're everything to me.”

Leaning down towards you, he captured your mouth in a firm kiss, and you tugged on his tie to bring him closer. He tasted like cardamom and promises, was everything and you couldn't think of a better way to end your date, but then to you disappointment, you heard the familiar sound of a portal and a couple of guard Ricks stepped through; their dimension numbers worn prominently on thier chests. “Yo ding dong, breaks over. They need you back in the lab pronto!” And when they fully stepped into the kitchen, they joked amongst themselves about how such a good for nothing Rick be capable of knowing what to do with a woman, let alone be so well acquainted with one.

Zeta-7 visibly winced at their laughter since they had come at an inopportune time, but for your sake tried to remain strong. “I-I-I guess our date really is over.”

“It was nice while it lasted.”

“Come on Doofus,” yelled the head guard. “we don't have all day. You can play with her later.”

“I'm - I'm sorry about this,” he whispered. “I sh-should have told you that there was a-a chance of being called into work.”

“Don't worry, I'm sure they need you for something really important. You know I'll be here when you come back. Don't you? I'll be fine, really I will be. Be careful Ricky. I love you.”

Pulling you into a tight hug, he was hesitant to let you go, but at the urging of his superior, he let go with a frustrated sigh, removed his suit jacket, and grabbed his lab coat and followed after them. Once gone, you cleaned up, and wiped down the counters and table. Seeing his jacket, and not wanting it to wrinkle, you picked it up and hung it in the hallway closet. Though, once it was hung, you noticed a slight bulge in one of the inner pockets. You had a feeling, though thinking it could possibly be otherwise, you reached down, and pulled out a box; a single glance to confirmed it. Zeta-7 had intended to make an honest woman out of you.

With shaky hands, you slipped it over your ring finger, and felt hot tears run down your cheeks; you had possibly ruined his opportunity to propose. When you felt that you had worn it for an inappropriate amount of time, you pulled it off and placed it back in the box; it wasn't yours yet. You two only wanted to make each other happy, but there would always be obstacles and peculiar incidents along the way. And this….you certainly hope he wouldn't change his mind and try again; whenever that time would be.

Fin

[exquisitesip]

Cherry Bark Bitters Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

New Post has been published on http://www.buildthebottle.com/2019/11/28/cherry-bark-bitters-liqueur-recipe-d-i-y/

Cherry Bark Bitters Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Cherry Bark Bitters Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Hey Guys and Gals!

Are you looking for an awesome Cherry Bark Bitters Liqueur Recipe? You now have no reason to look any further you have just found what you have been looking for! This is the most awesome tasting Pine Cherry Bark Bitters Recipe Liqueur in the world.

Ingredients

Step 1

1/2 tbsp gentian root

1/2 tbsp wild cherry bark

1 cup 100 proof rye whiskey

cassia chips a few

Step 2

1/2 cups of f bourbon

6 cardamom pods, lightly crushed

2 vanilla bean pods, slit lengthwise and seeds scraped

2 star anise

Step 3

1 1/2 cups of bourban

8 oz dried cherries

Utensils Tips

Here is a list of the simplest utensils that you can use; the ones Mom should already have in the kitchen:)

Utensils: – cheesecloth – saucepan – small funnel – glass bottles, or storage containers, for bottling and serving, you can either use the glass Jar you used before, or just buy a second one. 

Instructions

You will need 3 Jars for the aging process make sure that 1 is big enough to hold 4 cups and all that is listed above!

Step 1.

In the first jar, combine gentian root, cassia chips, wild cherry bark and rye whiskey. Cover and shake well.

Step 2.

In the second jar, combine cardamom, vanilla (pods and scraped seeds), star anise, and 1-1/2 c bourbon. Cover and shake well.

Step 3.

Wash and crack the cherries leaving the pits but removing the stems and 1-1/2 c bourbon combined into a third jar cover and shake well.

Aging, Straining, And Blending Your Cherry Bark Bitters Liqueur Recipe

Store in a cool, dark place for 7 days, giving each jar a good shake daily to help along the infusing process.

After 7 days strain with a cheesecloth Jar number 1.

When straining when you get to the point where you have strained everything out, you can gently wring the cheesecloth to extract all of the remaining liquid and juice.

It helps to moisten the cheesecloth first so the liquid permeates more smoothly.

If you still need to strain your liqueur further due to lack of clarity, you can strain it 1 more time through a coffee strainer.

Wait another 5 days, and repeat the above straining method for Jar 2 and jar 3 combining them both through straining them and putting them together in one jar.

Let infuse for another 3 days and then finally combined what is now jar 2-3 and jar 1.

When blending add the rye in slowly and keep tasting some peaple prefer to go easy on the rye.

Once you find a combination you like, strain the mixture again to remove any last sediment.

Straining Your Liqueur

Congratulations, You Have Completed Making this Awesome Cherry Bark Bitters Liqueur Recipe!

You now need a bottle and a label which are cool enough to compliment your hard work. Honestly, if you put it into a cheap bottle, people will make fun of you. BUT, if it looks good, people will rave about it!

Notes on Utensils and Ingredients

Glass is always preferable when working with strong alcohol. Avoid plastic as much as possible.

Use organic ingredients to avoid pesticide residues.

Other Great Recipes for You to Check Out!

Pecan Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Peanut Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Beet Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Licorice Grappa Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Aronia Berry Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Chili Agave Liqueur recipe D.I.Y.

Gooseberry Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Prune Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Etrog Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Pecan Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Peanut Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Beet Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Licorice Grappa Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Aronia Berry Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

To spirits and cheers,

Binyomin Terebelo, Master Distiller and Drinkologist.

Image by CaStar from Pixabay

[sinthubakes]

Two Tier 18th Birthday Cake

Birthdays are the best opportunity to stuff yourself silly with cake. And that’s exactly what I did.

It's weird to think that I've spent eighteen years on this planet. That's quite a long time.

Birthdays are weird in general. I mean, sure, I love birthdays. I love eating cake, spending time with loved ones and receiving gifts. 

But they always seem to pass by so quickly. In a flash, the day is over. 

And then you have to wait a whole 'nother year again.

I never feel different on birthdays, to be honest. Even though this was the big eighteen, I wasn't too fazed by it at all. 

I'll tell you what did faze me, though: this cake. It took so long to prepare, bake and construct.

I was struggling with what flavours to pick. Last year I went for a top tier of carrot, coconut and banana and a bottom tier of caramel, chocolate and coffee and walnut. 

However, this year, I wanted to be a bit more on the fruity side of things. 

And so, this cake was born.

Of course, I still needed a bit of chocolate in there, too so I settled on a red velvet cake with a cookie dough filling for the top. 

The bottom tier comprised of a raspberry ripple cake (fluffy and light vanilla cake layered with the BEST (or so I've been told) raspberry filling) followed by a rich and nutty pistachio cake soaked in a delicately flavoured rosewater syrup, then a light lemon cake laced with aromatic spices and drenched in a delicious chai tea syrup and, finally, another layer of pistachio and rosewater cake.

It was quite possibly the best cake I have ever made. 

My word, I still cannot get over the pistachio cake. I genuinely believe I could have chugged that rosewater syrup. 

My sister agreed with me that the pistachio was the best and then favoured the raspberry while I cherished the lemon and red velvet. 

My friends had their own favourites too. 

This is what I love about making multi-flavoured cakes. Everyone can take their pick. No one is left unsatisfied.

My mum always prepares a classic butter cake for my actual birthday while I indulge in making my own for my birthday party. 

Can you believe all this cake was for just me and my four friends? And my family of course. Needless to say, it was a lot of cake and I gave a lot away.

I also loved the hazelnut and white chocolate ganache. It was such an easy but creative way to cover a cake and was insanely delicious despite my aversion to white chocolate. I could have also chugged that, too.

I strongly advise using a thick cookie dough recipe for the filling. Unfortunately, I didn’t write down the recipe fro this cookie dough since I pretty much went along with it. I used coconut oil in making it which did make it pretty tasty.

Who doesn’t love cookie dough?

This cake was truly a god-send. The best birthday gift I could have ever given myself. #blessed.

If you haven’t seen it yet, go check out my first birthday post where I talk through my experience of Afternoon Tea at The Ritz.

And here’s a close-up of all the delicious layers!

Until next time, folks!

Yield: A HUGE two-tier cake capable of serving a ton of people or, if you have an appetite like me, a very hungry gal

RED VELVET:

Ingredients:

For the cake:

250ml vegetable oil

50ml milk

1 tbsp apple cider vinegar

3 eggs, separated

270g caster sugar

260g self-raising flour

30g cocoa powder

2 tsp vanilla extract

1 tsp bicarbonate of soda

Red food colouring

+ Your favourite cookie dough recipe

Method:

Preheat the oven to 350°F/177°C and line three 6 inch pans.

In a large bowl, combine the oil, milk, sugar, vanilla extract and red food colouring (add to your desired colour) and mix well.

Once properly combined, beat in the egg yolks and vinegar.

Next, fold in the flour and cocoa powder until just combined.

In a separate bowl, using an electric mixer, whip the egg whites until fluffy at soft-peak stage.

With a rubber spatula, mix in 1/3 of the egg white mixture to loosen the batter. Continue to fold the rest of the whipped egg whites but gently and slowly.  

Divide the batter equally among the three cake tins and bake for 50 minutes or until a cake tester comes out clean.

RASPBERRY RIPPLE:

Ingredients:

For the cake:

227g butter/margarine

180g caster sugar

4 eggs

227g self-raising flour

1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract

For the raspberry sauce, find the recipe here.

Method:

Preheat the oven to 350°F/177°C and line a 9 inch cake pan with greaseproof paper.

In the bowl of a stand mixer with a paddle attachment, beat together on high the butter/margarine and sugar until pale and fluffy.

Next, beat in the eggs one at a time until well combined, followed by the vanilla extract.

Finally, mix in the flour until just combined, making sure to scrape the bottom and the sides of the bowl down.

Pour the batter into the prepared cake pan and bake for 40 to 45 minutes or until a cake tester inserted into the centre comes out clean.

LEMON CHAI:

Ingredients:

For the cake:

235g butter/margarine

200g caster sugar

4 eggs

250g self-raising flour

Juice of 1 lemon

Zest of 2 lemons

2 tsp of spice mixture (Grind together in a spice mixer or with a pestle and mortar: the seeds from 5 cardamom pods, 6 cloves, 3 tsp ground ginger and 2 tsp ground cinnamon. Reserve the rest for the syrup)

For the chai tea syrup:

100g white sugar

100ml water

3 tea bags

3 1/2 tsp spice mix listed above

Method:

Cake:

Preheat the oven to 350°F/177°C  and line a 9 inch cake pan with greaseproof paper.

In a stand mixer fixed with a paddle attachment, cream together the butter/margarine and sugar on high until light and fluffy. It should look near-white.

Add in each egg and the vanilla extract and beat until incorporated.

In a separate bowl, combine the zest, juice, spices and stir to mix. Mix this into the batter.

Lastly, fold in the flour until just combined and no lumps of flour remain.

Pour the batter into the tin and bake for 50 minutes to an hour or a cake tester comes out clean.

Syrup:

In a saucepan over medium heat, combine the sugar, spices and water, stirring until the sugar has completely dissolved.

Bring the mixture slowly to a boil and leave to boil for 1 minute.

Remove from the heat and add in the teabags. Leave to soak for at least 3 hours but it can be left to steep for longer. Remove the teabags before use.

PISTACHIO AND ROSEWATER:

Ingredients:

For the cake:

140ml vegetable oil

150ml milk

200g caster sugar

4 eggs

1 tsp vanilla extract

200g pistachios, shelled and ground into a relatively fine powder

250g self-raising flour

For the syrup:

100g white sugar

100ml water

3 to 4 tsp rosewater extract

Method:

Cake:

Preheat the oven to 350°F/177°C  and line a 9 inch cake pan with greaseproof paper.

In a large bowl, whisk to combine the oil, milk and sugar.

Once well incorporated, beat in the eggs one at a time along with the vanilla extract.

Next, stir in the ground pistachios until mixed well.

Finally, fold in the flour until just combined.

Pour the batter into the prepared cake pan and bake the cake for 50 minutes to 1hr.

Syrup:

In a saucepan over medium-heat, combine the sugar and water and stir until the sugar has dissolved.

Once dissolved, bring the syrup to a boil and leave for 1 minute.

Remove from the heat, stir in the rosewater and leave to cool.

You will also need:

A large batch of buttercream (750g fat, 750g icing sugar)

A large batch of white chocolate ganache (500g white chocolate and 400ml double cream)

50g roasted and chopped hazelnuts

Extra decorations and food colouring

Assembly:

Top tier:

Begin by levelling and layering all three cakes with two or three tablespoons of buttercream and a layer of cookie dough. This should be done on a cake board for easier cutting but I didn't have one so just went without.

Once all layers have been stacked, use the remaining buttercream to fill in the gaps and apply a thin crumb coat. Chill for 30 minutes.

After chilling, apply another thin coat of buttercream. I chose to go for a semi-naked look but you could equally opt for full coverage. Chill for a further 40 minutes

Meanwhile, prepare the ganache and add your desired food colouring. Reserve a 1/3 for the drip and add the hazelnut pieces to the remaining 2/3, mixing thoroughly. Ensure the ganache is not warm and is neither runny nor too thick. It will not hold its shape when spooned over itself but should not be too thin.

Transfer the chilled cake onto a wire rack over a tray lined with foil or cling-film. Begin to pour the ganache all over the cake, starting from the centre and then pouring along the sides. Use an off-set spatula to distribute excess ganache on the top of the cake down the sides.

Leave the ganache to drip off the sides of the cake before chilling for 15 minutes and then repeating a further 2 times or more depending on how thick and opaque you want the ganache to look. Ganache that has dripped onto the tray underneath can be re-used.

Bottom tier:

Level all the cake layers and torte the pistachio cake so that you have two separate pistachio layers. Torte the vanilla cake for the raspberry ripple cake so that you have three very thin cake layers.

Soak all the appropriate cakes with their respective syrups.

On a cake board, secure the first pistachio cake layer with a dollop of buttercream. Spread a thin layer of buttercream on top before placing the lemon chai cake on top. Then, spread another layer of buttercream and place the last pistachio cake on top.

Apply another thin layer of buttercream and place one layer of vanilla cake on top. Spread a very thin layer of buttercream before adding 3 to 4 tbsp of raspberry filling. Repeat this until all the vanilla layers have been stacked.

Take four plastic dowels and cut all to the right height of the second tier cake. Firmly, push down the dowels into the cake with one in the centre and three dowels around it in a triangular fashion, spaced out equally.

Apply a thin crumb coat to the cake and then chill for 30 minutes.

After chilling, apply a thicker coat of buttercream (that still holds the semi-naked look). Divide the remaining buttercream equally into four bowls. Leave one bowl uncoloured and dye the rest in different shades of pink or your desired colour.

Using an off-set spatula, dab small amounts of each colour sporadically all around the sides of the cake and use a bench scraper to smooth and blend the buttercream together. Repeat and adjust accordingly until you are satisfied with the watercolour effect.

Finally, place the top tier (once set) on top of the bottom tier and use the remaining ganache to create drips all around the sides of the bottom cake. Nudge the ganache along the sides with a small spoon or a pipng bag with a small tip for more control.

Finish with your choice of piped details and decorations and then dig in!

[exquisitesip]

Cherry Bark Bitters Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

New Post has been published on http://www.buildthebottle.com/2019/11/28/cherry-bark-bitters-liqueur-recipe-d-i-y/

Cherry Bark Bitters Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Cherry Bark Bitters Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Hey Guys and Gals!

Are you looking for an awesome Cherry Bark Bitters Liqueur Recipe? You now have no reason to look any further you have just found what you have been looking for! This is the most awesome tasting Pine Cherry Bark Bitters Recipe Liqueur in the world.

Ingredients

Step 1

1/2 tbsp gentian root

1/2 tbsp wild cherry bark

1 cup 100 proof rye whiskey

cassia chips a few

Step 2

1/2 cups of f bourbon

6 cardamom pods, lightly crushed

2 vanilla bean pods, slit lengthwise and seeds scraped

2 star anise

Step 3

1 1/2 cups of bourban

8 oz dried cherries

Utensils Tips

Here is a list of the simplest utensils that you can use; the ones Mom should already have in the kitchen:)

Utensils: – cheesecloth – saucepan – small funnel – glass bottles, or storage containers, for bottling and serving, you can either use the glass Jar you used before, or just buy a second one. 

Instructions

You will need 3 Jars for the aging process make sure that 1 is big enough to hold 4 cups and all that is listed above!

Step 1.

In the first jar, combine gentian root, cassia chips, wild cherry bark and rye whiskey. Cover and shake well.

Step 2.

In the second jar, combine cardamom, vanilla (pods and scraped seeds), star anise, and 1-1/2 c bourbon. Cover and shake well.

Step 3.

Wash and crack the cherries leaving the pits but removing the stems and 1-1/2 c bourbon combined into a third jar cover and shake well.

Aging, Straining, And Blending Your Cherry Bark Bitters Liqueur Recipe

Store in a cool, dark place for 7 days, giving each jar a good shake daily to help along the infusing process.

After 7 days strain with a cheesecloth Jar number 1.

When straining when you get to the point where you have strained everything out, you can gently wring the cheesecloth to extract all of the remaining liquid and juice.

It helps to moisten the cheesecloth first so the liquid permeates more smoothly.

If you still need to strain your liqueur further due to lack of clarity, you can strain it 1 more time through a coffee strainer.

Wait another 5 days, and repeat the above straining method for Jar 2 and jar 3 combining them both through straining them and putting them together in one jar.

Let infuse for another 3 days and then finally combined what is now jar 2-3 and jar 1.

When blending add the rye in slowly and keep tasting some peaple prefer to go easy on the rye.

Once you find a combination you like, strain the mixture again to remove any last sediment.

Straining Your Liqueur

Congratulations, You Have Completed Making this Awesome Cherry Bark Bitters Liqueur Recipe!

You now need a bottle and a label which are cool enough to compliment your hard work. Honestly, if you put it into a cheap bottle, people will make fun of you. BUT, if it looks good, people will rave about it!

Notes on Utensils and Ingredients

Glass is always preferable when working with strong alcohol. Avoid plastic as much as possible.

Use organic ingredients to avoid pesticide residues.

Other Great Recipes for You to Check Out!

Pecan Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Peanut Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Beet Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Licorice Grappa Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Aronia Berry Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Chili Agave Liqueur recipe D.I.Y.

Gooseberry Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Prune Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Etrog Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Pecan Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Peanut Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Beet Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Licorice Grappa Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

Aronia Berry Liqueur Recipe D.I.Y.

To spirits and cheers,

Binyomin Terebelo, Master Distiller and Drinkologist.

Image by CaStar from Pixabay